Gloria Oliver

by In Service Of Samurai

  The geisha said, “I’m very pleased to meet you, Chizuson-san.”

  He glanced away and said nothing, in no way feeling the same. He was also surprised she’d added the honorific to his name. Why would a demon give him such a courtesy?

  “Won’t you have tea? If you’re hungry, I’ve some rice cakes as well.” Her voice was kind.

  He stared at the floor and said nothing.

  “Won’t you do me this small courtesy? It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to serve tea.”

  Delicately, Miko lifted a steaming cup and held it out toward him. “Please, Toshi-san?”

  His stomach rumbled as the green tea’s aroma drifted toward him. His cold hands and feet insisted a little hot tea would do no harm. He wondered why she’d decided to use his given name instead of his surname. That was normally a habit of people who knew each other well.

  “Hai.”

  Keeping his blanket snug about his shoulders, he rose hesitantly to his feet and advanced to the small table set in front of the geisha. Making sure the table stayed between them, he sat down.

  Without comment, Miko placed the cup on the table before him.

  Waiting until her fleshless hands were well away from it, he took the steaming cup. Thrilled by the warmth flowing from it into his hands, he just held it, his eagerness for the drink itself gone for the moment.

  When he finally drank, he closed his eyes, grateful for the warmth spreading inside him. He quickly placed the emptied cup on the table, inwardly hoping for more but not daring to ask.

  Miko lifted a plate full of seaweed wrapped rice cakes from a tray beside her and put it before him.

  “Won’t you have some?” She then proceeded to refill his cup.

  Studying the rice cakes and figuring they looked safe enough, he reached out for one of them and took a small, hesitant bite. Finding that it tasted as it should, he gobbled it down and reached for another. Before he realized what he’d done, he’d eaten them all.

  “Toshi-san, how old are you?”

  He almost smiled, content now that he was full, until he glanced up at his unusual hostess and remembered where he was. “I’m almost sixteen.” He wondered why a demon would want to know, but he wasn’t about to ask.

  Miko held his attention as her head tilted slightly to the side, making the small bells in her hair ring. By the way her shoulders were gently shaking, he got the impression the geisha was laughing behind her white mask.

  “All young boys are always in such a hurry to grow up, to go out into the world and meet their destinies.” Miko’s broad green sleeve rose up to cover the smiling mask’s mouth.

  He felt his cheeks grow hot. Yes, it was true he was only fifteen, but he would be sixteen—a man—soon enough. What difference did a few months make? Especially to demons!

  He stared at his teacup, stung by the geisha’s silent laughter. Unhappy about this, he said the first thing that came to mind in an effort to distract her.

  “Why do you wear a mask?” He noted with satisfaction that the geisha lowered her sleeve away from her mouth.

  “I wear it out of politeness,” she said. “You see, I have no wish to make you afraid of me. My features are less handsome than I would desire and don’t complement my profession very well at this time.”

  “Then, you and your lord look just like the crew?” The question had left his lips before he’d given it proper consideration.

  “Yes, we do,” she answered. “Asaka-sama thought it would be less of a shock to you if we minimized our current states in your presence.”

  Asaka-sama, or Lord Asaka—the honorific said it all. Asaka was their master, and he looked just like the rest. A small chill crawled down Toshi’s back. He tensed as he gathered the courage to ask the only thing he really wanted to know.

  “Why am I here?”

  Miko’s masked face turned away from him, the bells in her hair ringing softly as she moved. “Lord Asaka needs a navigator, one who can read the more detailed maps of the gaijin.” She turned to face him again. “It’s partially because of the knowledge we lack that we have come to be as we are. It is our hope that with you we’ll now be able to complete what we must. To follow the way and regain our honor.”

  He stared at the geisha. He had no reason to disbelieve her, though who could honestly ever trust a demon. Yet, this couldn’t be all they wanted from him. And since when did demons follow Bushido—the samurai code of conduct?

  “You mustn’t judge Asaka-sama harshly, Toshi-san. I know all of this is a major change for you,” she said, “but Asaka-sama wouldn’t have done it had our need not been so great. You’ll be safe with us. No harm shall come to you.”

  He turned away to hide his expression of confused suspicion, his hand rising subconsciously to brush back his mussed hair. He never felt the leather band that held his hair in a ponytail loosen and fall on the floor. His long black hair spilled over his shoulders. Only too vividly, his mind recalled the demon mask with its glowing green eyes and the deep voice booming from behind it. He recalled his first view of the crew, and that white skull with the menacing red glowing eyes staring at him. That he would be safe and unharmed here was not something he was in any way willing to believe.

  He gazed at nothing, a shiver moving through him, as he remembered the implied threat he thought he’d seen in that one crewman’s red eyes.

  “Let me fix that for you,” Miko said.

  He heard the rustle of silk as the geisha stood up and moved behind him. He saw her reach for the fallen leather band. As her skeletal hand rose, it finally dawned on him what she meant to do. With frightened eyes, he jerked away before she could touch his hair.

  “No!”

  He turned on the geisha in a half-crouch, waiting for her to try to come after him. Instead, he found her sitting perfectly still, her hand half-raised in the air.

  “What’s wrong?” Miko leaned forward. He scooted away from her. “I was only going to tie your hair. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

  He watched her suspiciously, even as she harmlessly held out the leather band for him to see.

  “No, that’s all right, thank you,” he said quickly. “I would prefer to do it myself.”

  Miko turned her head to stare at him at a curious angle. To his amazement, she suddenly bowed before him, her forehead touching the floor.

  “Please forgive my thoughtlessness, Chizuson-san. I had forgotten that all you’ve had from us so far was the paralyzing touch. I had not meant to frighten you.”

  He felt foolish, seeing her apologizing to him. He was just a peasant boy; she was a geisha and a demon.

  That wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen in the world.

  “I just thought…”

  Miko’s white mask looked up as he hesitated. “Of course. You had no reason to believe otherwise. But it isn’t true. When we touch others, it doesn’t have to be the paralyzing touch they feel. We can make our touch warm, if we like. Almost as warm as a living human’s.” Miko sat up. “Won’t you let me show you?” With a fleshless hand, she gestured to the floor right before her.

  His misgivings showing on his face, he slowly nodded and then inched toward her. Turning his back to her, he knelt on the floor. Despite what she had told him, he bit his bottom lip, waiting for her cold touch to creep into his skin.

  He tensed as a comb gently sifted through his hair. He hardly dared breathe as the small comb descended past his shoulder, stopping once to painlessly take care of a tangle. Miko continued to comb his hair, her soft silk kimono occasionally brushing against his arm.

  He stiffened more as he felt her gather his hair. The burst of cold he had expected as her hand brushed past his neck, however, never came.

  “There, I’m finished. It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Her voice was close.

  He shook his head as he gingerly turned to face her again. “Why … why are you being so kind to me?”

  Miko stopped in the middle of placing her small comb ba
ck into her hair. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be?”

  He stared at his coarse blanket, not knowing what to do with the unexpected rebuttal.

  “No. Well, yes,” he said. “I’m not a noble or a samurai. I’m a peasant, a lowlife. You shouldn’t be wasting your time on someone like me. You are geisha! You are of art, of beauty, of dance, all those things. Why waste your time on one such as me?”

  He dared not mention that spirits and demons weren’t known for their kindness, either. While his babbling could get him into trouble, he still had no wish to offend Miko, in case her thoughtfulness was, for whatever bizarre reason, genuine.

  The geisha laughed out loud. It was a soft and gentle laugh.

  “Oh, dear Toshi-san, where do you think geishas come from? While some may like to forget their humble origins once a wealthy lord has bought their contract, their past is still the same. I, like you and countless others, was sold as a child to a merchant who favored me and trained in the arts of the geisha since I was three. I have been lucky compared to those who’ve ended up in the red lantern districts, and I’ve never forgotten it. Every evening I send a prayer of thanks to the gods.” Her eyes glowed. “You and I have more in common than I do with any of the nobles and samurai I have served during my life, Toshi-san. Do not belittle yourself.”

  “But, Akiuji-san, you have no idea of what I’m like.” He stared at his hands, not sure why he was saying these things to her. “I could be evil or vicious, maybe even a pervert.”

  Miko’s eyes shone a bright blue. “I don’t think I have to worry about keeping my virtue intact anymore, do you?”

  Realizing he’d yet again made a fool of himself, he nevertheless grinned as Miko’s sweet laughter once more filled the room.

  “Even if I had to, I wouldn’t worry while in your presence.” Miko leaned toward him for a moment. “I’ve always had good instincts for people, and it has rarely failed me. I like you very much already.”

  He blushed at the flattery and turned away so she wouldn’t see. Before he could think of something to say, a bell sounded just outside the door.

  “I’m sorry, Toshi-san, but I must go now.” Miko’s hand rested for a moment on his arm. “Try to get some rest. Asaka-sama will want to test your skills this evening, once it is safe for us to rise above water.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll meet with you again before then with your meal. Perhaps you would enjoy some music as well?”

  Without waiting for his answer, Miko stood and silently slipped past him toward the door.

  “Rise above water?” He stared at her, perplexed.

  Miko turned back to face him for a moment. “It would be wise if you didn’t try to go above during the daytime.” With a rustling of silk, she left the room. A cold shiver coursed through him as he forced himself to sit back down.

  Alone, with nothing else to do, he examined his room. Other than the small table in the corner with its half-filled teapot, his cup and an empty plate, the glowing room contained nothing else but him, his blanket and two empty buckets sitting against the far wall.

  He stared at the closed and possibly unlocked door of his room as the weight of his predicament once more settled down around him. For a moment, he thought of trying to escape again, yet Miko’s parting words and his own recollection of the ship as it rose from beneath the water made him realize there was nothing he could do, except maybe die. It was amazing he wasn’t dead already. The concept of being underwater, yet still able to breathe, seemed more than he could ponder. And he had other problems besides those. He was to be tested by the samurai that night. He shuddered at the thought. In the unfamiliar silence of his room, he wondered what would happen to him should he fail the test. He doubted Asaka would be gracious enough to return him home. His mind easily pictured his most likely reward.

  Now colder than when he had awakened, he curled up in his blanket and returned to his corner.

  Chapter 3

  “Toshi-san. It’s time to get up. Toshi-san.”

  His heavy eyelids flickered open as he felt himself shaken by the shoulder. A bright silver kimono with glowing gold and red flowers filled his field of vision as Miko knelt at his side. Smiling slightly, glad she was there, he let his eyes close again.

  “Toshi-san, it’s time to eat. Asaka-sama will be coming for you shortly.”

  The demon’s name brought him fully awake. With a grimace, he opened his eyes and pushed up into a sitting position. Rubbing his face, he gradually became more alert as the scent of freshly brewed tea wove into his nostrils.

  “That’s much better,” Miko said. “Now, come, let me serve you. We haven’t much time.”

  He draped his blanket about himself and rose groggily to his feet before sidling over to the small table in the corner of the room. Serving him tea, Miko also placed in front of him a plate filled with dried fish and rice cakes. To his delight, he also noted she’d brought him a couple of sweet cakes.

  As he ate, he watched the geisha as she rose from the table and headed to the door. Sitting beside it, propped against the wall, was a koto . He watched with some awakening interest as she picked up the long, gently curving wooden instrument and set it on the floor before her. Miko bowed to him then picked up a small pick after sliding small wooden blocks beneath each of the strings over the main body and setting them up in a specific pattern. Long, lonely notes filled the room as she wove her music for him.

  Downing a second cup of hot tea as fast as his throat would tolerate, he listened. With a bit of surprise, he found he was caught up in the music as it turned from sweet melancholy to a brash, more upbeat pace.

  He became fascinated just watching her play. He slid his plate from the table to set it before him so he wouldn’t have to look away to eat. Miko’s movements were so fluid, so precise, her fleshless fingers handling the instrument almost as if it were a part of her.

  While he sat there, he dared to try and imagine how the geisha might have looked in life. That a spirit could create such beauty dazzled him. He wondered if she were trying to imprison him in some sort of spell. He found that, at the moment, he didn’t care if she was.

  He continued to eat, lost in the music, until a sudden knock on the door reverberated through the room.

  Miko stopped playing. The door to the room opened.

  Toshi felt his throat go dry as the still-armored samurai stepped into the doorway. He swallowed hard as he bowed.

  “Come, boy,” the samurai said.

  Toshi darted a glance toward Miko and saw her nod. Hiding in his blanket, he stood up and shivered, wondering if he would feel the samurai’s cold touch tonight.

  “Leave it.” A bony hand pointed at his blanket.

  Toshi released a heavy sigh. He let the only warmth he’d had fall off behind him and walked to the door as the samurai moved from the doorway.

  Asaka walked down the hall, leaving him to follow. The samurai stopped, blocking the way to the exterior door, as splashing sounds rang faintly beyond. They stood there for almost a full minute before the samurai reached to open the door.

  A blast of night air smashed into the boy’s shivering body as the door was momentarily ripped from Asaka’s grasp. As the latter stepped outside, Toshi grabbed for the doorway when the ship abruptly rocked to the left. Nervously, he stared out at the wet, glowing deck. Two columns of skeletal men sat toward the bow of the ship, all holding long oars they were using to move the flat-bottomed vessel. He looked away from them and their fleshless bodies, a shiver crawling up his spine.

  Stepping out onto the deck, he noticed the overcast night sky. The blowing wind slapped his face. The ship shifted to the right, and he felt his filled stomach knot up. Doing his best to ignore it, he carefully climbed the ladder next to the doorway, following Asaka. The ship tilted again, but he held on, his stomach knotting up a little more. Reaching the top, he stood uneasily on the glowing deck and waited for the samurai to tell him what to do.

  “You’ll now
determine our present position. Do not attempt to lie, for I already know the answer.”

  Hating the fear growing inside him at the words, he glanced behind the samurai as a stooped skeleton approached them at Asaka’s signal. Stopping before the boy, the retainer offered him the map Asaka had taken from Master Shun’s store and a number of gaijin instruments.

  Trying to keep his footing as the rocking of the ship grew worse, Toshi took the map, avoiding any contact with the skeleton’s hand. His gaze swam for a moment. The map’s contents seemed to move with the tilting of the ship.

  Attempting to ignore his sudden dizziness, he returned the map and took a heavy coil of measuring rope with a weight at one end and a round cork on the other. Leaning against the rail, he dropped the weighted end into the rolling waves below. He dared not look at the moving water, which strove to make his dizziness worse, as he tried to get a depth measurement as quickly as possible. The choppy water wouldn’t allow an accurate assessment, but he was sure the samurai wouldn’t care for the excuse. As soon as he thought the bottom had been reached, he noted the marked depth of three fathoms on the rope where the cork bobbed and began to carefully coil the rope up again. He hurried as much as was prudent, his dizziness making his stomach knot up worse than before. Due to the roughness of the water, he decided he wouldn’t try for a speed reading.

  Returning the coil of rope to the waiting skeleton, he next took a large compass. The small bowl-like contraption had a colorful card face showing all the major directions that was submerged in liquid to keep it still. Quickly looking it over to make sure it was in working order, he stood as still as possible to get a directional reading from the bulky instrument. When he was done, he traded it for a cross-staff. With that, he looked up into the cloud-crowded sky, trying to catch sight of the North Star. Finally spotting it as a bank of clouds broke for a moment, he lifted the cross-staff in its direction. He felt his dizziness worsen as he put the long bar of the cross-staff against his eye, his gaze following the rod upward to the North Star. The ship kept shifting, making the star weave in and out of his sight. He stubbornly fought to keep it in view. He slid the crosspiece over the scale to align it against the star and the horizon to find the angle of their latitude, just as Captain Valez had taught him.