Risuko

by David Kudler

  His speech was perfectly clear yet incredibly difficult to understand at the same time, hard-edged and musical.

  Fuyudori smiled politely. “Kee Sun, these three will be taking over kitchen duty from Shino and Mai. Emi. Toumi. Risuko.” She pointed to each of us in turn.

  As he smiled, Kee Sun’s scar twisted too. “Never seen a scrawnier crew.” He shook his head. “Least there’re three of ‘em.”

  He squinted at me, then at Toumi and Emi. “Gotta get better names for yeh all. I can never remember those silly Japanese handles.” He scratched his chin and pointed at Emi. “Yeh’re easy. Yeh’ll be Smiley. Yeh,” Kee Sun said to Toumi, “I think I’ll call yeh... Falcon. And I won’t trust yeh with any fish, either.” He grinned at Toumi, who looked as if she had no idea what to do with this strange man.

  Kee Sun rolled his eyes back to me. “Hmm... Much harder. Did Ghostie-girl here call yeh ‘Squirrel?’”

  I nodded.

  He shook his head and ran his thumb along his scarred cheek. “I don’t think so.” Then he snapped his fingers and grinned. “Bright-eyes! That’s yehr name, there, right enough!”

  I bowed my head.

  “So yeh’ll all be working for me here, and out in the hall, cleanin’, fetchin’ from the storehouse, cleanin’, fetchin’ from the gardens, choppin’, and cleanin’ again. Understood?” He fixed us all with a glare until we had nodded that we indeed understood.

  He looked to Fuyudori, who turned to address us.

  “These duties are yours for as long as you are the youngest here,” she said. “It is your honor to help Kee Sun as he sees fit in the kitchen, and to assist in serving the food. You will eat after the rest of us have finished.”

  I looked to the girls beside me. Toumi was fuming, as I might have guessed, no doubt angry at being forced to do such menial work. Emi, on the other hand, looked plainly confused. “Fuyudori-san,” she began, and then stopped, chewing on her lip.

  “What is it, Emi-chan?”

  “Well,” Emi continued, “didn’t you say we weren’t to speak to the men?”

  None of us had any idea what Emi was talking about. Then she went on, “If we’re not supposed to talk to men, how are we supposed to answer all his questions?”

  Fuyudori goggled at Emi, and then looked to Kee Sun.

  He smirked, put his hands on his hips, and said to Emi, “I don’t count as a man, yeh see, Smiley. I’m a Korean. And besides,” he said, a smirk twisting his scar, this time into a frightening mock grin, “as long as the grub is good, Lady Chiyome don’t give a hoot what’s goin’ on in the kitchen.”

  For the first time since I had met her, Emi burst out into loud, belly-rumbling laughter.

  Fuyudori’s eyes went wide in surprise, but Kee Sun roared along with Emi, and, soon, so did I.

  13—A Banquet

  We began by fetching a large bag of rice from the storehouse. A pair of rats stared up at us when we entered, but Toumi growled at them while I swooshed the long stick that Kee Sun had given us to shoo them with, and they scattered. The bag was heavier than I was, and it took the three of us to drag it to the kitchen. Toumi muttered the whole way, and I would be lying if I said that Emi and I didn’t join her once or twice.

  Kee Sun kept us busy, hanging pots over the fire to steam the rice and soy beans in, lowering a battered metal grate to serve as a grill, fetching more charcoal. As the sunlight began to fade from the room, we lit candles in the kitchen and in the hall.

  When we came back into Kee Sun’s lair, we were overwhelmed by the thick scent of the strips of sizzling, black-marinated beef that were laid out over the fire.

  I remember a few times when an old cow had died in the village, everyone coming together for a feast, roasting the poor, stringy old thing. There had not been even such a cow in a long time, however—not in our village.

  And still, as good as that beef may have smelled and tasted, it was nothing to this. The air was rich with the scent, and we all stopped, our mouths watering.

  “Don’t stand there lookin’ pretty like a bunch of Kwan-um statues!” snapped Kee Sun. “Grab the kimchee from that barrel, there, put it into these six serving bowls and get ‘em out to the tables. Quick, quick!” he yelled, hands clapping.

  The bowls were beautifully glazed, pale green like the ocean on a sunny day. Gingerly I picked one up and carried it over to the barrel. Balancing the bowl in one hand I tried to open the barrel-top.

  “Both hands, both hands!” shouted Kee Sun over his shoulder, one hand flipping the strips of meat with long chopsticks, the other painting them with a black sauce. I couldn’t tell whether he wanted me to hold the bowl with both hands, hold the wooden lid with both hands, or somehow to manage both two-handed, like some four-armed demon.

  Toumi brushed past me, still muttering. “Stupid,” she snapped, and for once I knew she wasn’t talking about me. She picked up the lid, pulled out the ladle that was hanging on the inside of barrel, and began filling my bowl, which I held tightly in two hands. The kimchee was pickled cabbage, sharp-smelling and bright green and red.

  I walked as quickly as I could without spilling any of the cabbage. By the time I had laid the first bowl at the head table and was coming back, Emi was shuffling out of the kitchen, her face a grimace of concentration.

  As I walked back in to the kitchen, I saw Toumi starting to pick up a piece of the kimchee to taste.

  “No!” shouted Kee Sun, slamming down his metal-tipped chopsticks so that the grate rang. “No one tastes in this kitchen except me, yeh hear!” A smile played briefly over his damp face. “That way if anyone dies, it’ll be me, right?” He shook his head and turned back to the hissing grill. “I knew yeh’d be a falcon-girl, swoopin’ in for the kill!” He demonstrated a hawk’s dive with his chopsticks and chuckled, turning back to the fire.

  The sky had now gone completely dark outside, and candlelight flashed in Toumi’s eyes, bringing to mind an unsheathed blade looking for a place to bury itself.

  We laid the tables with bowls of kimchee and boiled soy beans, mounds of rice, and bottles of rice wine from the pantry. Kee Sun barked out orders as he loaded three huge platters with the beef, the smell of which had now worked its way into our hair and our clothes, so that we were reminded of the delicious meal we could not yet eat even when we weren’t in the kitchen. Then he grabbed an unused ladle, stepped over to the back door of the kitchen, and swung the spoon at an enormous, dented gong that was hanging outside the door.

  From the hall came a great cheer, as the entire company—Lady Chiyome’s household plus Lieutenant Masugu’s soldiers—flooded in to the dining area. The smell of the dinner had drawn them like moths to a campfire.

  Kee Sun fussed with the platters, placing a bunch of watercress at the end of each, then he turned to us, gravely, and said, “If any of yeh drops yehr platter, I’ll skin yeh with the dullest, rustiest knife I’ve got, yeh hear?”

  We all three nodded and said, “Hai.” Emi, though, began to titter, which caused Kee Sun’s fierce look to soften.

  As we carefully walked through the doorway, which Kee Sun held open for us, Toumi, Emi, and I were greeted with tumultuous cheers. Many of the men and women had clearly already helped themselves to the bottles of sake; most of them sported ruddy cheeks.

  Chiyome-sama was seated in the middle of the head table, Mieko on her left and the other women arranged to that side. Just next to Mieko there was an unclaimed space with a bowl and a pair of old chopsticks. I couldn’t imagine that someone hadn’t heard the gong; who was missing? Mieko spooned some rice neatly into the latecomer’s bowl.

  Masugu-san sat to Lady Chiyome’s right, with his troops beside him. The Little Brothers and Aimaru were at the bottom of the men’s table. Aimaru smiled at me as I laid my platter at his table.

  He seemed to be about to say something when I heard a loud voice from the other
side of the hall call out, “Look at the new novices! They’re so small! No wonder they call that one Squirrel!” The women’s table exploded with laughter.

  The voice had come from one of the blue-clad girls at the end of the table furthest from Lady Chiyome. That must be Shino and Mai, the junior initiates, I thought. Shino had a thick nose, as if someone had flattened it with a skillet. Mai’s face was sharp, every angle. I knew in a flash that Kee Sun had probably called her Foxy-girlie or something along those lines. “Squirrel,” chuckled Mai again, and Shino snorted.

  Fuyudori, our white-haired senior, was smiling, but coldly, I thought—disapprovingly.

  Masugu-san’s voice rang out. “Murasaki-san is small, it’s true. But the smallest squirrel will fight fiercely when provoked.” He smiled across to the younger women. “I would think that the women of the Full Moon would know that to be true if anyone did.”

  Mai and Shino looked as though they had been slapped.

  Mieko spoke, her voice low and pleasant, but her eyes flashing as she poured wine for Lady Chiyome—and for the missing guest. “It is most gratifying to learn that the men who visit the Full Moon have learned that lesson, too.” She looked down toward where I was standing, but it was not to me that she was speaking.

  “Ha!” laughed Lady Chiyome as she picked up a piece of meat with her chopsticks. “I said it would be entertaining having the two of them here!”

  The older women, those dressed as miko, roared with laughter. Mieko smiled primly, while Masugu turned bright red.

  I gave Aimaru a small wave and then sprinted back to kitchen with three empty rice wine bottles.

  When I came back, Toumi had already resupplied the men’s table, so I brought the sake to the women.

  “Bring that here, Risuko!” called the youngest of the initiates. “Having fun serving at the tables?” she said, bright red circles marking her cheeks.

  “You would know, Mai,” said Fuyudori, “since you were serving here yourself at lunch.”

  Next to the white-haired girl, two of the older women chuckled.

  “Least I’m not ‘fraid of soldiers,” slurred Shino.

  Fuyudori’s face blanched, until it was almost as white as her hair. “I am not afraid. But I have cause to be cautious.” I thought of the story of how her hair had turned white—the attack on her village. “Do not we all?”

  “Do not we all?” mimicked Mai. Shino snorted.

  “Are those peas?” Fuyudori asked me, turning away from the two drunk girls.

  “Uh. No.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “No, Risuko-chan?”

  “No, no, thank you, uh, Fuyudori-senpai.” A bead of sweat dripped into my mouth. “They’re soy beans.”

  “Oh.” Fuyudori’s smile remained, but she looked a bit embarrassed, and I hate to say that her discomfort made me feel better.

  I took an empty bowl from that end of the table and brought it back to refill it with kimchee.

  As the meal went on and we brought out more and more sake, Lady Chiyome’s band of women, her kunoichi, began teasing the soldiers across the way. I had seen some of the women in our village do that sort of thing, and the soldiers had teased right back, answering one rude joke with another.

  Here, however, the men seemed almost too terrified to answer. And the quieter Masugu-san’s troops became, the rowdier the women got. As the meal finally wound down, the women began to make the sorts of indecent comments that would have gotten any Imagawa soldier slapped in our village. But these men took the comic abuse in silence.

  As I began cleaning up at the men’s table, I leaned over to Aimaru. “How are you doing?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Better now. I was hungry. But... oh, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

  I shook my head. Only the raucous conversation had kept my stomach’s rumblings from being heard all over the hall through most of the meal.

  “It’s hard not being able to talk to anyone,” he said. “It’s not so different, here, from life at the temple, but even there I had friends I could talk to sometimes.”

  I smiled. “It’s only until we become initiates.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “No idea.”

  “Well,” he said, grinning back, “let’s make sure that happens soon.”

  As Emi, Toumi and I began to clear away the last of the empty platters, a deep bell rang from the back of the hall. All of the noise faded, like flames under rain.

  The larger of the Little Brothers stood in front of the shrine. He had closed the doors and sealed them with a twist of white paper.

  Mieko picked up the chopsticks at the empty spot beside her and thrust them into the bowl of rice, sticking straight up.

  It was as if the whole building held its breath.

  “Seven days ago,” said Lady Chiyome, her voice just above a growl, “we lost one of our number. One of the first of our number. She fought bravely, and she fought well; it was all that she would have wished.”

  Some of the women grunted. A number looked as if they might be holding back tears. A few—Mieko among them—failed. The soldiers still looked uncomfortable, but they shared the solemn silence.

  “Remember her,” said Chiyome-sama, and I was shocked to hear her voice catch. “Remember her, and strive to honor the red and white robes that she wore so well.”

  The banquet ended then, as all of the Full Moon’s guests and inhabitants left the hall, grave and quiet.

  14 —Squirrel on the Roof

  I was certain that Kee Sun wouldn’t let us eat until after all of the cleaning was done. But as we brought the last of the dishes in from the hall, we found the cook smiling and gesturing to the small feast that he had laid out for us on the low cutting table: grilled beef, kimchee, soy beans, rice—even sake—was set out just as it had been for the banquet.

  “Magnificent!” crowed Kee Sun. “Perfect! Not a drop spilled, and everything served hot! The three of you girlies made the last two look like the clowns that they are.”

  We sat, and that was almost as glorious as the tempting smells wafting up from the table. We picked up our chopsticks and started serving ourselves. Emi picked up a handful of edamame and began shelling the soy beans directly into her mouth. I had the beef right in front of me, and so I slid the succulent-looking meat into my bowl along with a serving of rice.

  Toumi, who had been denied the kimchee earlier in the evening, grabbed a huge clump of the pickled cabbage with her chopsticks and plopped it into her bowl.

  As I began to lift my first bite of beef to my mouth, I saw Kee Sun start to say something, then turn away with a smirk on his face.

  The beef was unlike anything I’d ever tasted—tender, juicy, sweet and peppery. It was the best food I’d ever had. Just as I was swallowing that first bite and reaching for the next, Toumi sputtered loudly, kimchee flying out of her mouth. She let out a howl, and grabbed for the sake.

  Before she could drink it, however, Kee Sun handed her a huge cup of water, which she drained in heavy, rapid gulps. “What are you trying to do, kill us?” she gasped.

  Kee Sun smirked. “Well, you wanted it so much before dinner, I thought yeh knew it was spicy.”

  “Spicy!” yelled Toumi. “That’s pickled fire!”

  The scar on Kee Sun’s face stretched and twisted as he rocked his head back and laughed. “Better get used to it, Falcon-girlie,” he said, shoveling rice into Toumi’s bowl. “’Cause the Old Lady loves my food, and the people here seem to also. Yeh Japanese and yehr food—yeh like everything sweet or as tasteless as the washing water.” Toumi was still panting, as if trying to blow out a flame inside her mouth. “Balance! Everything in balance, yeh hear? Eat the rice, Falcon-girl—it will take away the fire,” Kee Sun said.

  “Mind,” he added, “I think yeh’re goin’ t’need to stay away from hot foods anyway. Yeh got t
oo much heat in yeh. Anybody could see that.” He scratched his beard. “I think we’re goin’ to feed yeh up with some nice, cooling yin food.”

  Toumi gawked at him as if he were speaking in gibberish—which, in fairness, he was. Then she gave a disgusted snort, and began shoveling rice into her mouth.

  The rest of the meal passed, uneventful and delicious. Emi and I even tried a little bit of the kimchee, which was very tasty and not really too hot to eat, especially if you knew what you were about to put into your mouth. It took Toumi a little while to get over her shock and discomfort and to trust the rest of the food, but hunger won out, and soon all three of us were groaning with contentment.

  Kee Sun poured some of the rice wine into little sake cups and mixed ours with water. Then he poured a large mug-full for himself—undiluted of course. “Don’t think I’m going to be able to feed you like this every night,” he said. “But you certainly earned it.” Then he lifted his mug. “Wihayeo,” he said in Korean. “Cheers!”

  We toasted him in response, sipping at our sweet wine, and feeling the warmth of it, so different from the heat of the spicy kimchee, spreading through our stomachs.

  Even Emi was smiling as we finished cleaning the kitchen.

  The night was clear, cold and bright. Shivering, we stumbled back to our room. An almost full moon was directly overhead, surrounded by a glowing circle of light. In the mountains, you can see so many more stars, and they are so bright that you feel as though you could climb right up the stars of the River of Heaven like a ladder.

  As we went into the building, Fuyudori was sitting cross-legged on her bed, brushing her white hair. “You have done very well, for the first day,” she said, with her sweet, mocking smile. “After you have gone and bathed, you should sleep. I will do my best to make sure that you are ready for helping Kee Sun serve breakfast.”

  We all groaned.