The normal sounds of the night were muted, as if the crickets had been muffled one by one. Miko’s sure grip kept him steady as they got off the stairs of stone onto the weed-filled path and then, later, to the road. Eventually, they reentered the forest. He could clearly hear his footsteps as they crunched on fallen leaves and twigs. He could hear none of the others, though they walked right beside him. If not for Miko’s hand on his arm and the occasional flash of light from their eyes, he would have sworn he was alone.
He kept his gaze riveted forward as the scent of fish and salt water filled his lungs. With an eagerness that surprised him, he looked out over the sea as they exited onto the beach, wanting to catch a glimpse of the vessel that had been his home for what seemed like forever. It sat on the dark water like a beacon in the night.
Without delay, Asaka signaled him and Miko to the skiff grounded on the beach, a sentry at its side.
Getting in, he sat on the bottom of the boat as he had done before as it was pushed out into the water.
Asaka and three others joined them, filling the boat to overflowing. Two more swam at the craft’s sides.
Keen dead eyes stared out over the water, scrutinizing the starlit darkness.
Toshi held the kettle on his lap. He wrapped his arms around it, making sure it wouldn’t touch one of the others. The ride back to the ship proved uneventful.
With a sense of deep relief, he climbed aboard, knowing his part of the quest was done. He looked up, abruptly self-conscious as he found those on board staring at him with lit eyes. Trying to ignore them and the way their hard stares made him feel, he turned around to watch the others board. Mitsuo appeared beside him and helped Miko aboard. Once everyone had disembarked, the small boat returned to shore for the rest.
Toshi followed the geisha and the samurai as they climbed up to the higher deck. Mitsuo disappeared.
Asaka ignored everyone and everything as he went to sit at his usual place. Toshi remained standing, surrounded by his ring of guards, the cold already working through his sandals.
Though the men guarding him had never seemed to pay much attention to him before, he now found them occasionally glancing over their shoulders at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. Miko stood beside him, still silent. Since he had some light, he tried to study her as indirectly as the guards were studying him. From what he could see, almost all signs of what had happened to her during the day were gone. Her bones appeared as white as ever, and her kimono was once more filled by the illusion of a womanly form. The only thing that hadn’t returned to normal were her clothes. Though bright yellows, pinks and greens still filled the red fabric, somehow he suspected they were not as bright as they had been the night before.
Mitsuo returned during Toshi’s study of the geisha and brought him a pile of his blankets. Gratefully helping the samurai to set them out, Toshi sat down and placed the kettle beside them. As he wrapped one of the covers around his shoulders, Miko sat down as well.
Soft murmurs filled the lower deck as the skiff returned with the last of the crew. Through it all, Asaka sat as if nothing unusual had happened that night. Toshi didn’t understand it. It wasn’t the way someone who had gotten something they’d desperately been seeking would act.
As soon as everyone was back on board, the boat was brought on deck. All eyes turned toward Asaka as the skiff was tied down in an unobtrusive place.
With a crawling pace that was maddening, Asaka rose to his feet and faced his people.
“Just as duty decreed, the item has been recovered.” The snarling demon mask turned in his direction.
“Toshiro.”
Hoping he was guessing right, he stood up and held the kettle high. The guards parted before him so the crew could see it.
A loud cheer boomed from the lower deck. He continued holding the kettle aloft even as unexpected joy bubbled up inside him at having helped make this moment possible. Feeling a little giddy, he lowered his arm as the cheers subsided.
“Now, the last part of our journey will begin,” Asaka announced.
Toshi sat back down as the crew bolted for their assigned stations. Mitsuo disappeared again, but soon returned carrying the basket of instruments. The ship was prepared to get under way.
Still warmed by the emotion he’d witnessed, Toshi set the kettle on his lap and stared raptly at it. Though it surely was the cause of all his miseries, it was also the means for these people’s salvation. As he thought of all he had gone through because of it, he felt the threats pale when compared to what had been achieved. For some crazy reason, fate had chosen him to make a difference, and he had. It felt good.
“Toshiro.”
He got to his feet. “Yes, Asaka-sama?”
“Please place the kettle in your room and then come back,” the samurai said. “A guard shall be posted there to watch it in your absence.”
“Hai.” He left to do as he’d been bid, his guards still around him.
Once he returned, the excitement that had been flowing through him started to recede.
“Would you like me to make you some tea, Toshi-kun?”
“I, um, that would be nice, Miko-san,” he said.
She sent a small nod in his direction and then headed below. The crew started a song as they put their all into their oars. The steersman turned the ship around and set a course to take them back the way they’d come.
Miko eventually returned and served him tea. “Careful, it’s very hot,” she said.
“Thank you.” He took the offered cup and, while doing so, noticed Asaka looking straight at him. He drank his tea to hide his surprise, trying not to let the fact unnerve him. He wasn’t accustomed to getting much attention there—or anywhere, for that matter. The samurai had never before even given him a second thought. Goose bumps crawled up his arms as Asaka continued to stare. He didn’t like it, though he had no idea what it meant.
Miko had just refilled his cup when he heard Asaka stand up. To his surprise, the samurai walked over to the ladder. Never before had he seen him leave the deck like this. His heart almost stopped as Asaka turned around to look in his direction.
“Akiuji-san.” He stared at Miko.
“Hai, Asaka-sama,” she responded.
Asaka turned back around and prepared to go below.
“Toshi-kun, I must go now.” Miko rose to her feet as she spoke, “Please try and get some rest.”
He stared at her as she left, feeling a sudden surge of dread.
He lay down but couldn’t sleep. Time flowed by, and Miko didn’t reappear. The longer she was gone, the more he worried over her.
The steersman called for a reading, and he moved through the familiar steps, his mind only partially on his work. The steersman said nothing as Toshi showed him their approximate location. Even distracted as he was, he couldn’t help but notice the steersman’s gaze as it lingered on his unnaturally white hair.
Miko still hadn’t returned, though he had already been called to do three readings. He fought to stay awake in case she did, but he was pulled down by what was left of his previous exhaustion.
Mitsuo awakened him later so he could go below. Once inside the protection of the hallway, he rushed to his room as soon as Mitsuo would allow it. The cold surrounding him couldn’t match the cold fear in his heart as he found that Miko wasn’t there waiting for him.
Mitsuo placed the blankets on the futon, but Toshi didn’t hurry to bury himself in them. He stared at Mitsuo in indecision as the latter headed toward the door.
“Sensei?” he asked.
White points of light flashed in his direction.
“Do you think Miko-san is all right?”
“Why shouldn’t she be?” Mitsuo asked.
He was taken aback by the tone of surprise in the bent skeleton’s voice. “Ah, uh, no reason. I just hadn’t seen her in a while.”
The old samurai nodded but said nothing. Toshi felt foolish.
“Perhaps we should see what you remember of your
lessons,” Mitsuo said.
He almost groaned at the suggestion but made himself nod instead.
Mitsuo had him go through all the routines he had shown him, criticizing his movements now and again.
Toshi felt smug about how much he remembered of what he’d been taught so far, though it’d been a number of days. His congratulations were short-lived, however, as Mitsuo drew his own boken and launched himself at him.
He barely blocked the first attack and was hard-pressed to protect himself from the second and third.
The fourth slipped easily past his guard, and Mitsuo slapped him hard on the arm. Without thinking, he moved to block the fifth and was able to do it, only to have the air knocked out of him by the sixth.
Holding onto his stomach with his free arm, he dropped like a sack of grain.
“Your movements didn’t entirely crumble when pressed by surprise,” Mitsuo said. “That’s good, but not good enough. Begin again from the first stance.”
Breathing heavily, his abdomen still protesting from the stinging blow, he inched his way back to his feet.
He could take this. So far, the two blows he’d received were no worse than those given to him by Master Shun in his beatings. He stood up straight and began from the first stance.
As he worked, his abdomen quieted. His stomach, however, then decided to complain it was empty. He ignored it, but its protest for food had also reminded him of his worry for Miko.
He heard the door open. Hope sprang to his eyes as he half-turned to look. Mitsuo chose that moment to attack.
He saw Miko framed by the half-open door as Mitsuo swung forward, cut through his guard and caught him between the neck and shoulder. With a yelp, he fell hard, his arm numbed. Mitsuo placed the tip of his boken against his heaving chest.
“If the first blow hadn’t killed you, you would still be dead,” the old samurai pointed out. “You must never allow yourself to be taken by any kind of distraction, but you must also make sure you remain aware of all that is happening around you.”
Toshi didn’t move from where he lay, just nodded weakly.
Miko came into the room carrying a laden tray. “Mitsuo-san, Asaka-sama asked for you to come and see him when you had the time.”
Mitsuo bowed to them and left the room. Toshi sat up, trying his best to minimize the pain shooting from his shoulder. He watched Miko place her tray on the small table. Gingerly, he placed his covers over his shoulders. He was sure the bruise that would soon develop there would remind him of Mitsuo’s lesson for a number of days.
“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Miko said. “I hope it wasn’t too inconvenient.”
“No, Miko-san, it’s fine. Mitsuo-san kept me entertained.” He flinched as he made the mistake of reaching for Miko’s offered cup with his right arm. He then reached for it with his left.
“Yes, I saw that,” she teased.
He looked away, remembering she’d seen his disgrace.
“Don’t worry, Toshi-chan. Mitsuo always tries to teach a degree of humility to all of his students.”
He wondered if it could be true—a samurai teaching another samurai about humility?
“You really should eat, Toshi-kun,” she suggested, “before it all gets cold.”
With his left arm, he reached out to put his empty teacup on the table and grabbed the steaming bowl of rice sitting there. “Miko-san, did anything bad happen?”
“Bad, Toshi-kun?” She tilted her head slightly to the side.
He wanted to ask her about all the time she’d spent with Asaka. He wanted to make sure she was all right. He had no good way of finding out.
“I guess I just wanted to know if you felt okay.”
“I returned to normal not long after the sun went down,” she said. “I feel all right. Don’t I look all right to you?”
He hesitated for a long moment, looking her up and down. “Yes, I guess so.”
“You really shouldn’t worry about me. I’m already dead, after all.”
That had so far never made a difference to him, but he didn’t say so. Instead, he let the matter drop.
Moving his right arm slowly, he held his rice bowl while awkwardly handling his chopsticks with his left hand.
“I missed your company on deck,” he told her. “You were gone so long I started to think maybe something had happened to you.”
“Lord Asaka just had a lot of things he wanted to discuss with me.” She didn’t look in his direction.
He swallowed hard, not sure how he should take what she’d just said. “Was he very angry?”
“Angry, Toshi-kun?” Miko sounded surprised by the question.
His brain told him not to ask, he’d be prying, but his heart just wouldn’t leave it alone. “Yes, Miko-san.
Did he hurt you?”
She stared at him and then at her lap. He could feel his anger against the samurai kindling again, assuming there was only one possible reason for her silence.
“Oh, Toshi. How can you think such things? Asaka-sama is not like that. Why do you find it so hard to believe?”
He felt his anger drown out with her words.
“Yes, it’s true he wasn’t overly pleased by my recklessness, but it was overshadowed by his happiness that we were both fine,” she said. “He would have been the one calling out to you and taking the risks if we would have ever allowed it. He is our lord, and keeping him safe is our responsibility. He would never hurt me for doing for him that which he wanted but could not do for himself.” She reached out and touched his hand.
“I know he’s seemed quite harsh to you, Toshi-kun, but it couldn’t be helped. The weight he carries on his shoulders was never meant for one man to bear.”
He bowed his head, his cheeks coloring with shame. He believed their lord capable of doing horrible things, though in truth he’d never done any of them. Perhaps he had been wrong about him all along.
“Yes, I must admit he’s hardened a little, but I think we all have during our ordeal,” she added. “The treachery and deceit we’ve encountered since the beginning of our mission has been greater than anyone would have ever expected.” Miko fell silent.
“You know of Bushido, the way of the sword, do you not?” She asked him.
He nodded, not raising his eyes.
“It’s the code by which samurai live. It is the essence of what makes them the great warriors they are.
“Yet, though samurai have a code of conduct and philosophy, there are always reports of traitors, assassins, political maneuverings, things that in one way or another go against the very code that forms their existence. The code is abused, misinterpreted and worse. There are even those in the higher aristocracy that don’t try to live by it at all.”
He looked up involuntarily, stunned by her words. “But that—”
“Think about it, and you’ll see the truth of what I say. Ninja are considered the lowest of the low, yet lords, who should be in every way the living embodiment of the code, hire them indiscriminately to spy on their rivals, kidnap their enemies’ children, kill people in the most dishonorable of ways.”
“But, Miko-san—”
“Samurai are just men,” she kept on. “They love, they hate, they have greed and they have morals. They have more responsibilities than you or I, but they’re still human. They’re not all-knowing, all-seeing, not even indestructible. Yes, most are willing to give their lives at a moment’s notice for their lord, but they will also take lives. The more powerful they become, the easier it grows for them to ignore the code or use it to their advantage.”
Could all that Miko said be true? It would explain some things that had seemed unexplainable before. If so, a lot of Master Shun’s idle gossip about the seedier dealings of those in power might be closer to the truth than he’d ever realized.
“I’m sorry, Toshi-kun, perhaps I’ve gone too far,” she said. “But you need to know these things. Your eyes must be opened to the truth.”
Something in her tone made him
look up into her face. His food turned into lumps in his stomach.
“Why?” he asked. “Why do I need to know? I have little to do with samurai.” Dread covered him as he saw her turn away from his question.
“Asaka-sama wants to speak with you after your training is over today. There is something he wishes to discuss with you.”
His dread grew deeper. “What does he want to talk to me about?”
“It is not my place to divulge this to you.” Miko wouldn’t look at him. There was a resignation in her voice he’d never heard before.
He stared at his hands as it dawned on him that perhaps his part in their quest was far from over. Though he’d never been truly told this, he’d always assumed they would free him once they’d returned to the coast. What else could they want from him? His navigating skills were the only thing they’d told him he’d be needed for, though that had already proved untrue.
“Toshi.”
His eyes stung as he figured out what they might want him for. With a clarity all too vivid, he recalled the flash the kettle had made when Asaka had tried to reach for it. He wouldn’t be going back. They needed him still. How much longer would they keep him from home and all he knew? He heard Miko shift toward him. He turned away, not wanting her to see his face.
He said nothing as he heard her rise and leave the room. He still said nothing when she returned a short while later. He in no way acknowledged her as she puttered about.
He wanted her to leave, though she obviously wouldn’t. So, he said nothing, not wanting to talk to her.
Soft music drifted toward him. With unfocused anger, he placed his hands over his ears, not wanting to be soothed. When Miko didn’t stop, he lay down on his futon and buried his head under his blankets, trying to muffle the sound. It didn’t help much. The music didn’t stop.
Not long after, he heard the door to his room open.
“Chizuson-san, it’s time for us to continue with your lessons.” It was Mitsuo.
Miko continued playing.
Toshi made no move to unbury himself from his covers. He was beginning to think perhaps Mitsuo had gone away when something poked him, landing directly on the sore spot on his right shoulder. Biting his lip in order to keep from uttering a cry of pain, he threw off his covers and glared at his teacher.
Gloria Oliver Page 15
