Sisters of the Sword

by Maya Snow

  Ken-ichi’s face twisted angrily. “You won’t find a worthier lord than a Yamamoto,” he snapped. “My father is the most skilled samurai in the world. He killed Lord Yoshijiro battling one-on-one! He told me all about it.”

  Hana and I were across the hall, busily reaching up to light the lanterns that swung from their tall iron stands, but I stopped to listen when I heard Ken-ichi mention a battle. What battle? There had been no battle. Only dishonor and murder…

  “The old Jito invited my father to a kaiseki ryori,” Ken-ichi told Tatsuya. “But that most friendly of celebrations turned into an ambush. Lord Yoshijiro had gone mad, like a rabid dog! He attacked my father for no reason, forced him to defend himself.”

  I stared across the hall at Ken-ichi, rage boiling up inside me. Lies! I wanted to shout.

  “And when my father bested him and offered him the chance to die an honorable death, to commit seppuku by slicing himself across the belly and going to his death cleansed by pain—Lord Yoshijiro refused!” Ken-ichi let out a snort of disgust.

  Hana put her hand on my arm to hold me back.

  Across the hall, Tatsuya had an expression of curiosity on his face. “What happened to the rest of Lord Yoshijiro’s family?” he asked Ken-ichi.

  “Dead,” Ken-ichi said briskly.

  “All of them?” Tatsuya was astounded.

  “Every woman and child, and all the servants too,” Ken-ichi told him. “The whole household was put to the sword for their part in Lord Yoshijiro’s treachery, as is the noble custom.”

  Tatsuya looked shocked. “The nobles have strange customs.”

  Ken-ichi shrugged. He turned on his heel and strutted away from Tatsuya, looking like a peacock as he swept through the practice hall. Students scurried out of his way, some of them bowing low as he passed.

  It was all I could do not to leap across the hall and attack him, fingers clawing and hands chopping like knife blades.

  I had a sudden vision of my foot connecting with Ken-ichi’s jaw, all the power of my body surging through my leg as I kicked hard and knocked against his teeth. Bright crimson blood would splatter the polished wooden floor of the practice hall….

  A stern voice broke into my thoughts, and I turned to see Master Goku standing in front of me.

  “Kagenashi and Otonashi,” he said. “Follow me to the meditation room.”

  He strode away. Hana and I exchanged a quick, worried glance and then followed him. My mind was in turmoil. Had Goku guessed that I wanted to attack the Jito’s son? Or, worse, was he going to tell me that he had no choice but to inform Uncle that I had reached for a knife in the tea pavilion earlier? Was he going to throw us out of the dojo?

  My hands were trembling by the time we reached the meditation room. I hid them by tucking them into my sleeves. Master Goku turned to look at me.

  “Light the lanterns and set the sticks of incense to smolder,” he said flatly. “We will meditate.”

  I bowed, trying to keep my fear under control. After we had done as he asked, Master Goku indicated that Hana and I should sit down, side by side in the center of the room. He took his place opposite, arranged his black robes around him, and was silent for a moment. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and regular. Hana and I placed our hands on our knees, palms upward, and let our eyelids flutter closed.

  The peaceful atmosphere and the sweet perfume of the incense was a balm. I could feel Hana relaxing beside me, her soul soothed, but I was jumpy and could not settle. I tried counting my breaths, as the Master had taught us, but calmness escaped me. Instead my spirit burned.

  Why were we here? Was Master Goku keeping Hana and me under his watchful gaze while guards rode hard to the Jito to alert him of our treachery?

  “Calm yourself, Kagenashi,” Goku said, and I finally settled into relaxed meditation.

  I don’t know how long we sat in silence, but when I next opened my eyes the long incense stick had burned away to nothing, a line of gray-brown ash lying in its place. It must have been near midnight, and I had the feeling that we three were the only ones awake in a world that slept.

  Master Goku was looking at me. I forced myself to meet his gaze, resigned now that he would turn me in because of his loyalty to the Jito.

  After a moment, his gaze settled on Hana.

  They seemed to talk silently, their eyes communicating without a word being uttered. Occasionally Master Goku nodded, and after a while I could see tears welling up in Hana’s eyes. Her breathing deepened. Then a single tear overflowed and rolled down her cheek, leaving a sparkling trail on her skin. Her resolve had broken finally, and my sister wept.

  Master Goku leaned forward and took her hand in his. “You are safe now, my child,” he said gently. “No one will harm you here. You are hidden, and you may remain here in secret for as long as you need.”

  Still holding Hana’s hand, he turned to me and bowed his head respectfully. “As Lord Yoshijiro’s daughters, you have my allegiance,” he said softly. “I swear that my sword will defend you, my house will shelter you, and my food will nourish you.”

  I stared at him, numb with shock and relief. “You know who we are?” I asked breathlessly, my heart beating faster.

  “I suspected,” he confirmed. “I knew that something strange was happening that day you presented yourself at my gates. But I wasn’t sure who you were then. I believed that you were boys…but I knew there was something different about you both. I have observed you, and I’ve been impressed by your humility as well as by your skills.”

  “But…but how do you know?” I couldn’t think of when we would have given ourselves away so plainly.

  “I saw you in the shadows the night that the samurai soldiers came. It was not difficult to make the connection between the so-called servants they were looking for.” He smiled gently. “No ordinary six-year-old would be of concern to the Jito’s guards. That, added to the incident when my messenger was refused an audience, confirmed my suspicions. I guessed that there had been a power struggle and that Lord Yoshijiro’s family had escaped. The boy they were seeking must have been the youngest heir.”

  I nodded. the Master missed nothing. “I am Yamamoto no Kimi,” I said, bowing low to the floor. “And this is my sister, Hana. We are the daughters of Lord Yoshijiro.”

  “Kimi and Hana, your secret is safe with me.” Master Goku paused for a moment. “I am going to ask something of you now, but it may be painful for you…will you tell me the truth of what happened the night your father died?”

  My stomach tightened, but I nodded firmly. “You have been so good to us and we are grateful. I will tell you.”

  My voice seemed strange to me as I talked, quiet and calm despite the rage inside me. I told him everything. “But now that you know who we are, surely you cannot continue to give us shelter,” I said. “After all, it is against the bushi, the warrior’s code, for a samurai to harbor the enemy of his master.”

  Master Goku shook his head. “I will not turn you out,” he said. “For two reasons. First—if it is true that your brother Moriyasu lives, then Lord Hidehira is not the real Jito, for the title would pass to the son until he was defeated. Therefore Hidehira is not my master. And second—when he killed your father, Hidehira himself broke the bushi code. I owe no loyalty to a murderer.”

  Relief washed over me. We would not have to run again.

  “Thank you, Master Goku,” Hana and I said quietly, bowing low and long, with our index fingers touching at the tips to show the greatest respect.

  Hana sat up, wiped her tears with the cuff of her jacket, and smoothed back a few wisps of silky black hair that had escaped from her topknot. “Why would Uncle do this to our family?” she asked softly.

  Master Goku sighed. “I remember Hidehira and Yoshijiro when they attended this school,” he said. “When they were young, they were inseparable. You never saw one without the other. But as they grew older it became clear that Yoshijiro was more skilled in his fighting and more dedicated to hi
s studies. Yoshijiro won the tournament three years in a row, defeating his elder brother in the final bout each time. His father—your grandfather—heaped praises upon him, and over time Hidehira grew jealous. He felt his father favored the younger son unfairly.”

  Across the room a lantern flickered, making shadows dance upon the walls.

  “When your grandfather named Yoshijiro as his successor,” Master Goku went on, “Hidehira must have been bitterly wounded. I spoke to him about it, here in this very room. But he masked his anger and his hurt, convincing me that he would support Yoshijiro.” Goku frowned, watching the dancing shadows on the walls as if they were the shadows of the past. “That day, I praised his dignity and humility. But now, I must wonder if he was planning his terrible revenge even then.”

  We were all silent for a while, each of us held captive by our own thoughts and memories of Hidehira.

  “What do you intend to do now?” Master Goku asked eventually.

  “We want to find Mother and Moriyasu,” I said, and told him about the message we had found at the old shrine in the forest. “We think they may have gone to the town. It would be easy for them to hide there.”

  Master Goku considered this for a moment. “It is easy to hide two people,” he said. “But not four. For your own safety, as well as that of your mother and brother, I would urge you to stay here under my protection for as long as possible. And maybe one day you will be able to set things right.”

  The lantern flickered again and Hana reached out and took my hand.

  “But I am not talking about murder, Kimi,” Master Goku went on, fixing me with a stern look. “There is no room in the bushi code for murder. To attack Lord Hidehira from behind, with a hidden blade, would be dishonorable and cowardly. Such an act would make you as treacherous as he is.”

  “But my uncle deserves to die for what he did!” I protested.

  “Perhaps he does,” Master Goku said mildly. “But you will not murder him with a knife in the back at a cha no yoriai. And you will not attack his son with feet and fists.”

  I felt the shame of what I had wanted to do and vowed that I would never allow myself to walk the path of treachery and dishonor.

  “No,” the Master went on, “if you wish to restore your family’s honor, you must challenge Lord Hidehira openly. You must fight him fairly.”

  I took a deep breath. “You’re right, Sensei. I will face my uncle in open combat, and win. If he defeats me, so be it.”

  “Harness your talents, concentrate your mind, focus on training.” Master Goku turned to Hana. “Although it is not yours, the name Silent Fist was truly inspired. Your opponent rarely knows when or where your fist will come from, Hana. You must perfect that skill.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

  “And you, Shadowless Feet,” he said, turning to me. “Your heels ache to kick out, so I think I will set you a target. Tomorrow, when you have finished your chores and Mister Choji releases you, go to the small courtyard beyond the rock garden. In the center, there is a dead but firmly rooted willow tree.”

  “I’ve seen it,” I said, wondering why he was bringing it up.

  “I would like to see you knock down that tree with a single kick,” he said. “Your uncle is one of the mightiest warriors in Japan. When he was a student here, long ago, the only man to defeat him in practice sessions was your father…. Understand that Hidehira will not be defeated easily. But you are your father’s daughter, Kimi. With experience and training, you could be a great fighter. Kick down the willow tree, and you will move closer to your goal of matching Hidehira in combat.”

  I nodded, determined to seek out the tree in the morning, as soon as I had finished my chores.

  “You will both train hard,” Master Goku said. “And meanwhile, I will do all I can to help you find your mother and young Moriyasu. I will send letters to various friends in the town, and see what I can discover.”

  The Master ushered us out of the meditation room and into the cool night air. Hana and I quietly made our way through the gardens and along the walkways. When we reached the servants’ quarters, I paused for a moment on the steps and glanced up at the night sky. Stars were sprinkled across the deep blue, like silver fish sewn across a dark kimono. I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  I let Hana go indoors ahead of me, saying I wanted to stay outside for a moment longer.

  When I was alone, I took a deep breath and brought my hands together, bowing my head as I offered up a silent prayer of thanks for Master Goku’s support.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For Hana and me, life seemed a little easier after our meditation session with Master Goku. Our hearts were filled with hope.

  the Master never mentioned our true identities again, and nor did he seem to treat us any differently than he had before. But whenever he looked at us, I could feel his silent approval of the mission we had set for ourselves—and I remembered that he had promised to try to find our mother.

  Every evening Hana and I met Tatsuya in the rock garden, or down by the lily pond, sparring with bokken and jo as well as hand-to-hand combat, knife techniques, and wrestling. Often he brought a straw target and some bows, and Hana and I loosed arrows until long after the other students had gone to bed.

  Once, as I was practicing my bokken kata, Hana was practicing her Silent Fist techniques. Her feet were silent on the grass, her fists seeking the weak points of an invisible enemy.

  A moment later I heard the sound of her running feet. I looked up just as Hana launched herself into the air and scaled the wall like a shadow warrior, using the air as a staircase until she was running along the top. She reached the corner and then flipped herself backward off the wall to land on her feet in the middle of the pathway as lightly as a cat.

  I grinned. “Show-off,” I said. But seeing my sister run with such skill made me think about the task Goku had set for me.

  I remembered how my father had once said to me, “A good warrior knows his enemy, Kimi. He studies him until he knows exactly how he works, what makes him who he is. Only when you truly know your enemy can you ever hope to defeat him!”

  With Father’s voice ringing through my mind, I went to the dead willow tree and sat for a long time studying it. The tree was not an enemy, but it was a target and so I observed its shape, how it had grown twisted at certain points, where it might be weak, and where it was strong.

  I did not feel that I was ready to try to kick it down yet. So instead I begged a few empty caskets from Choji and half filled them with sand so that I could practice on them. At first, the dull thud of falling caskets drew a few students, curious to see who was making the noise. But soon they got used to me and drifted away, back to their own training sessions.

  As each night surrendered to a new dawn, I could feel myself becoming stronger, my muscles more toned, my punches and kicks more powerful.

  But all the while, our cousin Ken-ichi grew more arrogant and unbearable. He demanded that the other students address him as Ken-ichi-dono, adding the term of respect for nobles, and insisted that they make way for him when he was walking along walkways and through narrow halls.

  “I take precedence,” he would say, “because I am the Jito’s son!”

  I avoided him as much as possible, because I couldn’t trust myself not to disobey Master Goku and attack my cousin with fists and feet!

  One day, Choji assigned Hana and me to a new duty instead of cleaning rooms.

  “It’s a fine spring day!” he declared. “The sun is shining and there’s a light breeze. I thought you’d enjoy being outside….” For a moment I thought Choji was going to give us a day off, but then he continued, “It’s a perfect day for doing laundry…come with me!”

  He took us up a winding gravel pathway that led behind the bathhouse and showed us the well for drawing water, the deep wooden barrels where linen was scrubbed with bran bags, and the long, thin drying ropes strung from tree to tree.

  �
�Be finished by midday,” Choji said. “And then come to the kitchens to help prepare lunch.”

  When he had gone, I made a face at Hana. “Bran bags? What about soapwort?”

  “I think it’s too expensive,” she said, rolling up her sleeves and reaching for a bucket. “And bran bags probably work just as well. At least we can have some fun with this. Beating the dirt out of the breeches and bedsheets will strengthen our arms and make us better fighters!”

  We worked hard for the rest of the morning, scrubbing and rinsing and hanging the laundry from the trees. It was a struggle to get things right at first, but we quickly realized that kimonos and hakama trousers needed to be stretched when they were hung out, so that they would be smooth when the sun had dried them.

  Working together, we finished with time to spare, and I challenged Hana to a duel, wielding my long-handled washing paddle as if it was a jo. She grinned and grabbed the pair of wooden tongs she’d been using to transfer wet clothes from one tub to another, to use as a bokken. We danced back and forth among puddles that sparkled in the spring sunshine, leaped up onto a low wall, and then ducked down beneath the kimonos and table linens.

  We stopped abruptly when we heard the sound of three pairs of feet crunching up the gravel pathway toward us.

  “Come on…follow me!” someone said. We couldn’t see the speaker because of the laundry strung from the trees, but the drawling arrogant voice had become as familiar to me as my own.

  Ken-ichi.

  And it sounded as if he had his two friends with him as usual.

  I exchanged a glance with Hana. Quietly we laid down our weapons and retreated behind an extra barrier of hanging laundry. After a moment there came the sound of liquid being poured and the clink of bowls. Someone made a slurping sound and almost immediately began coughing.

  “By the Buddha, that’s disgusting!” The boy’s voice sounded half choked. “How do you know it’s sake rice wine, Ken-ichi-dono? For all we know, it could be poison.”