Sisters of the Sword

by Maya Snow

  “We’ll be careful,” Hana said.

  I nodded. “Thank you for warning us.” I knew now that my cousin had changed completely from the boy I had known. Not only had he become arrogant, but he was also cruel.

  “That’s not all,” Ko continued. “Ken-ichi likes to find out every little thing about you, all your secrets, and then use them against you when you’re least expecting it.”

  As Ko reached up to light the last lantern, Hana and I glanced at each other in alarm. If Ken-ichi found out that we were girls, then we’d be finished at the dojo. And if he realized we were hiding from the new Jito, we’d be marched to the gates and thrown out into the road, once more at the mercy of Uncle’s samurai.

  “I don’t imagine you two have many secrets, though,” Ko said, turning back to us. With a cheerful grin, he blew out his taper. “Come on—we’ve finished in here. We’d better go back to the kitchens and see what else that old bear Choji wants us to do.”

  “The head servant seems stern,” Hana murmured.

  “That’s just part of his act,” Ko told her. “The only time he ever really gets mad is if we don’t do our work!”

  We were busy for the rest of the afternoon: raking the gravel pathway that led through the garden to the practice hall, sweeping the floor in the kitchen, and polishing dozens of eating bowls and tea bowls, stacking them on black-and-red-lacquered trays ready for the ceremony. Exhausted, Hana and I struggled on. Our backs ached and our hands and feet were blistered from work we weren’t accustomed to.

  The sun was just slipping behind the curving red rooftops of the dojo when Choji told us to gather up our laden trays and follow him back across to the practice hall.

  When we stepped inside, I caught my breath. The high-ceilinged hall was crowded and buzzing, filled with a warm golden light. Row upon row of students sat on small round cushions on the wooden floor. Some were much older than us, calm and serious-looking, their dark brown sashes showing their seniority. Others were much younger, with white sashes and open, friendly faces. They sat in orderly rows around the edges of the hall, talking quietly. Dotted among them were a handful of young masters in their black jackets and hakama trousers.

  I caught sight of Ken-ichi and his two friends. When he saw me, Ken-ichi shot me a look of surprise, which turned into a sneer when he took in my blue servant’s uniform and the black-lacquered tray in my hands.

  Ignoring him, I followed Ko and Hana. I couldn’t worry about Ken-ichi because acting like a servant was taking up all of my concentration. I tried to remember the way the maids at home had been almost invisible at times, moving silently and unobtrusively through our compound, making sure our lives had been easy and comfortable.

  Choji raised his hand in some kind of signal. My heart thumped because I didn’t know what he meant and I exchanged an anxious glance with Hana. Were we going to give ourselves away so soon? But then the other servants began to move among the students and young masters, kneeling to serve tea. Immediately Hana and I hurried to copy them.

  A few of the students glanced expectantly at the raised platform at the far end of the room, and moments later, Master Goku swept in and took his place there. He looked even more impressive than when I had first seen him at the gates, and the atmosphere in the room seemed more energized once he arrived.

  He bowed to his students, his ceremonial robes rippling. He wore a long kimono, its shimmering silk like a rushing blue waterfall beneath an over-robe of the darkest green with elaborate stiffened shoulders. His long gray hair had been smoothed, plaited, and then coiled on the crown of his head in the way I had seen my father’s styled when he was visiting the bakufu in Kamakura or the Imperial Court in Kyoto. He carried two ornate swords on his left side, showing his status as master and samurai.

  “I am honored to welcome you all to the ceremony that opens kenshu,” Master Goku said, “our period of intensive training.” His deep voice was soft and almost musical, but it carried to the far corners of the large hall with ease. “I know that the older students among you will be surprised to see me standing alone on this platform. After all, it is customary for our great Lord Steward, the Jito, to begin our ceremony. Sadly, however, Lord Yoshijiro cannot be with us tonight.”

  When I heard my father’s name, my heart jumped in shock and I almost spilled the tea I was pouring.

  Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I sat back on my heels to look around the hall for Hana. She stood motionless a few paces away, her lacquered tray held stiffly in front of her. She was staring at Master Goku like a lifeless statue.

  I got up and hurried to her side, stepping quietly so as not to draw attention to my movements. I nodded purposefully at her tray, and then slowly and deliberately kneeled to serve tea to the nearest student.

  Hana seemed to gather herself together. She moved silently along the row, kneeled, and poured tea just as before.

  Master Goku was still speaking. I tried to concentrate on what he was saying as I carried on with my duties.

  “I received a message yesterday morning explaining that Lord Yoshijiro was unable to attend our ceremony,” he continued. “An emergency has taken him to another part of the province, and he will not return in time for tonight’s event.”

  Yesterday morning! He had received a message yesterday morning? I realized with horror that Uncle must have cancelled on his behalf—in advance of the murder the night before!

  I felt a chill settle around my heart at the thought of Uncle’s cold-blooded plotting. I tried to remember whether there had been any change in him, perhaps some hint that his betrayal was coming. He had always seemed so close to my father, and yet all the time he must have been nursing a deep and bitter resentment. More than resentment—hatred! Uncle…of all people. I despaired as I remembered his laughter, his many kindnesses, the way he had always pinched my cheek so affectionately.

  But then I had a sudden glancing memory of another side to Uncle Hidehira. Like the day he had flared up at Ken-ichi for accidentally breaking a tea bowl or the time I had seen him whipping a man-servant for lack of respect.

  How long had he been planning to murder my family?

  “I have sent a messenger back to the Jito,” Master Goku went on, “inviting him to visit us upon his return. I am sure that he will come here to the dojo very soon, to see how his loyal samurai students are progressing.”

  It was clear that Master Goku didn’t know of Father’s death. I swallowed hard as I wondered what information the messenger would bring back to the dojo. What were Uncle’s plans? Surely he could not hide the burned-down buildings of the Jito’s home. What would he tell Master Goku?

  “Lord Yoshijiro sends his best wishes,” Master Goku said, “and tells us to look forward to the future. And it is indeed the future that concerns us all tonight.”

  The future? I thought bitterly, seeing the hidden message from Uncle within the words that had been sent to Master Goku. The future is Uncle as Jito.

  Master Goku’s robes rippled as he took a step forward, closer to the edge of the platform. “As many of you are aware, we are about to enter a new regime of training. This intensive kenshu will end as usual with the annual tournament on the bright and clear first day of the Seimei period, more than forty days from now.”

  At the mention of an annual tournament, the atmosphere in the hall became charged with excitement. Boys shifted and nudged each other.

  “For those of you who do not know,” the Master said, “the tournament is a great event in the school calendar. Each year we throw open the gates of the dojo and people come from far and wide across the province to watch as students of all grades and experience pit themselves against each other. From nobles’ sons to servants, anyone can compete.”

  Hana and I passed each other midway along a row of students, and she raised her eyebrows as if to say, Anyone can compete…that means us. But I shook my head. We had to stay beneath notice, make sure that we stayed hidden. If we were lucky, Uncle’s men might give up loo
king for us soon. I didn’t know how long we could stay at the dojo, but I knew we couldn’t do anything to draw attention to ourselves.

  Up on the platform, Master Goku was explaining how the tournament would proceed.

  “By the end of the day, one student will emerge as our champion,” he said. “And we will honor him, because he will have proved himself to be the most gifted student in this dojo and worthy of the title of samurai.”

  A flutter of applause and cheering went up, and Master Goku smiled. “I must remind you all, however, that the tournament is not about glory. It is about honor, courage, and self-discipline. Champions are not born, they are made…and every boy in this school has it within him to become champion.”

  I kneeled to serve Ken-ichi and his two friends, holding my sleeve back and pouring with as much grace as I could.

  Ken-ichi watched me with a sneer on his face. “What did you say about kneeling to no one, rice boy?” he hissed. “Isn’t that what you said just before I defeated you?”

  I flushed with anger, but I remembered Goku’s words to Ken-ichi about controlling his pride and didn’t respond. Determined to follow the Master’s advice, I finished pouring for Ken-ichi and moved on.

  When everyone had been served tea, I returned to Choji, along with Hana and Ko. We waited silently for our next orders.

  Master Goku’s dark gaze swept the hall as he spoke, seeming to take in every face. “You are all here because you have been chosen,” he said. “I have watched each of you fight and selected you because you each possess a core of inner strength. And it is my belief that each and every one of you can be a champion. Work hard. Keep your focus. Allow determination and passion to burn within you, and you will be rewarded with success.”

  A ripple of anticipation went through the students. Looks of sturdy determination appeared on the faces of the older boys while a few of the younger ones began to whisper eagerly to each other. I saw Ken-ichi exchange a glance with one of his friends. A smile of superiority curved across my cousin’s lips, as though he had already decided that he would be champion. I gritted my teeth, hoping with all my heart that Ken-ichi would not succeed. If he did, his vanity and arrogance would be unbearable!

  The students were still chattering, and as the level of noise rose in the hall, Master Goku smiled and held up his hands for silence. “Enough with words!” he cried. “Let us see action. I declare the kenshu open…and may the demonstrations commence!”

  Immediately the hall took on an atmosphere of expectation as a pair of young warriors in full combat dress sprang onto the central practice mat. One was a short, stocky boy with a face as round as a pumpkin, the other had bushy eyebrows that reminded me of caterpillars. They bowed to Master Goku on his platform and then to each other, their faces composed. Then they leaped into action, arms poised and legs kicking high. I could see that both were skilled, and I found myself studying their moves carefully, hoping to learn what I could from them.

  After several minutes of sparring, it was clear that the boy with the bushy eyebrows was the victor. Cheers rose from the assembled students as he bowed and accepted a word of praise from Master Goku.

  At a whispered instruction from Choji, Hana and I hurried out to the center of the hall to wipe down the floorboards that may have been scuffed during the combat. Afterward we swiftly made our way back to the head servant and waited for the next demonstration.

  A pair of combatants came in carrying jo. They sparred elegantly with the long, straight wooden poles, but with a deadly ferocity that stole my breath. When they had finished, four of the younger students dashed into the ring and displayed the twelve movements of the kata. Their small faces were taut with concentration as they moved slowly and gracefully, striving hard to please the Master. At the end of their bout, they stood in a perfect line and bowed low, their faces pink with pleasure as the applause rang out.

  “You must help with the next demonstration,” Choji whispered to Hana and me. “Set up the archery target!” and he pointed to the far wall.

  We had just returned to our places at the edge of the room when Hana nudged me. A student was making his way through the crowded room. I recognized him as the boy who had been practicing alone in the outer courtyard when we had first arrived at the dojo. He was bright faced, cheerful-looking, and I guessed that he was about my age. He was holding an elegant longbow as he stepped confidently into the mat area.

  “Tatsuya?” I heard Ken-ichi scoff at the boy’s name, just loud enough so Tatsuya could hear. “Why is that peasant doing a demonstration?”

  Tatsuya blushed but ignored Ken-ichi’s taunt. He took his place in front of the archery target, bowed to Master Goku, and fitted an arrow to his longbow. Everyone fell silent as he took stock of the target, eyes narrowed. Then he turned and strode to the far end of the hall.

  Slowly Tatsuya raised his longbow until the arrow was level with his nose. Elbow high, he drew back the strings and took aim. The longbow flexed, its supple length curving backward. Abruptly Tatsuya loosed his arrow. It sliced through the air, straight and true, piercing the target dead center.

  Almost before the first arrow had hit, Tatsuya was loosing a second, and then a third. The second arrow split the first straight down the middle of the shaft to embed itself in the same spot at the center of the target. The third split the second, so that all three arrows were held in the same hole.

  I gasped, impressed. Tatsuya beckoned to Hana and she leaped to her feet. He pointed to a tall, thin paper screen that stood against the wall near the target.

  “Would you bring that forward, please?” he asked her with a friendly smile. “Position it so that I cannot see the target.”

  Hana did as he asked, and the two bowed to each other before she returned to her place beside me.

  Tatsuya’s face was blank, his eyes dark and unreadable as he stared at the paper screen. Then he fitted a fourth arrow to his longbow, took aim, and loosed…

  The arrow whistled as it flew through the air, cleanly piercing the screen with a neat hole and hitting the target with a thud.

  There was silence in the hall as Hana hurried to remove the paper screen. Immediately everyone in the room could see that Tatsuya had speared the three previous arrows with this fourth—and hit the center of the target with almost impossible accuracy.

  The students burst into wild applause and some of the younger boys shouted out encouragement. I noticed that Ken-ichi was not applauding, his face set in a hard frown. His jealousy of Tatsuya was obvious.

  Master Goku smiled. “A perfect demonstration of all that can be achieved with self-discipline, tenacity, and long hours of practice,” he said. “Despite your humble beginnings, Tatsuya, you have the makings of a warrior of the finest class.”

  Choji beckoned us back, and as Hana and I threaded our way between the rows of students I saw that Ken-ichi’s face was so sour it looked as if he had sucked the juice from a whole barrel full of citron fruit. He caught my gaze and jerked his chin up.

  As I drew level with him, he shot his foot out and caught me hard across the front of my ankles.

  His movement was so swift that I did not have time to take evasive action. I pitched forward like a felled tree, arms outstretched. I knocked against another student and spilled his bowl of tea into his lap.

  The student leaped to his feet. “Watch out!” he cried angrily. “Clumsy idiot.”

  Everyone in the hall turned to see what the commotion was about. Master Goku was frowning, an expression of displeasure on his usually tranquil face. I scrambled to my feet in time to see a furious-looking Choji bearing down on me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said to Choji through gritted teeth. I was furious with myself for not remembering Ko’s earlier warning about Ken-ichi’s habit of tripping servants. I had just ruined my plan for not drawing attention to myself. “It was an accident.”

  “Accident or not, you will apologize to this student,” Choji said tightly.

  I bowed low. “My humble
apologies,” I said sincerely.

  The student gave me a curt bow and Choji pulled me off to the side of the mat.

  “You must be more careful, Kagenashi,” he said in a stern voice. “We must never disturb the students in their learning. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Choji,” I said meekly.

  As Choji stared down at me, his gaze hard, I silently prayed that his kindness would stop him short of throwing me out of the dojo.

  “Let there be no repeat of this clumsiness,” he said at last.

  “No, Choji.” I bowed.

  As the head servant turned away from me, I caught a last glimpse of Ken-ichi. He looked so pleased with himself that it took all my self-control to stop myself from leaping at him and punching the smirk off his face.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After the demonstrations, the ceremony continued with a feast. At a gruff word from Choji, Hana and the other servants hurried to bring long, low tables.

  I glanced at the head servant and he gave me a curt nod. “You, too. But be careful. I’ll be watching you.”

  We positioned the tables and began to serve food. The students gathered around, kneeling and helping themselves eagerly to balls of sticky rice, rolled seaweed, and platters of fish that had been crisped on a hot griddle.

  At Ken-ichi’s table, I noticed that my cousin was sitting beside Tatsuya, who was holding his longbow across his lap. They were talking quietly, their dark heads bent together.

  As I served rice and fish nearby, I strained my ears to hear what Ken-ichi was saying.

  “…and ceremony also demands that we never use our hashi chopsticks to point, or to share food with another student,” Ken-ichi told him. “To use your hashi like that would be most impolite.”

  “Thank you, Ken-ichi,” Tatsuya said. “I’m grateful that you’re taking the time to tell me these things. It’s so difficult to remember all the rules, and I’m terrified of offending Master Goku in some way.”

  “I don’t suppose you learned such things as etiquette, growing up in the rice fields as you did,” Kenichi said.