by A. L. Knorr
I took the stairs to the next level up but soon realized that the upper floors were not in use. A draft swept across the dusty floors and the walls up here were crumbling, the wood covered in spider webs. Here, the fortress looked as though it had not been touched in a hundred years. I went back down the stairs all the way to the foyer and took the hallway past the great room. I slowed my gait when a few couples came the other direction, keeping my eyes down and acting like I had every right to be wandering the castle alone.
I went through a door into a square courtyard. The moon illuminated an old well in the center. A scraggly garden reached its vines and hedges up the wooden arches to the second level. Circling the courtyard, I poked my head into the next door. Raucous laughter sent me scampering back to the courtyard and on into the next archway. Teetering on my ridiculous platform flipflops, I was sorely tempted to drop them down the well.
Hiding in the shadows, I waited until the laughing voices passed through the courtyard and went toward the great room. Sneaking back through the courtyard, I went through the arch and passed two sets of stairs going in opposite directions.
Just as I was wondering which direction to go in next, a voice startled me.
"Are you lost?"
My heart in my throat, I whirled to see a tall, barrel-chested man approaching. He wore a black suit and held a lit cigar between the first two fingers of his right hand. A quick scan showed no missing fingers. He walked slowly, leisurely, stopping close enough that I could smell his spicy cologne. His hair was clipped very short at the back and his white teeth gleamed. Painfully handsome and confident, he oozed menace like a black scorpion.
If this wasn’t Raiden, then I was a real geisha.
I put on a simpering laugh that I hoped didn't sound like I was just a bundle of nerves. "A little," I said. "I was admiring the fortress with Ryota and he had to slip away for a moment."
"Lucky for me," the man said, grinning like he meant it. "I was just going to a meeting and I was wishing for some feminine company. Won't you join me?"
He turned and held out an arm toward the empty hallway.
"Ryota should be—"
"I insist." His voice went dangerously soft.
"Certainly," I said, trying to sound like my voice was dripping honey but suspecting I sounded like a mouse caught in a trap instead.
He held out an elbow, and I took it.
"I'm Yokana," I said, as we walked further into the bowels of the fortress. I steadied myself as I waited for him to confirm that I had just accidentally stumbled upon the owner of the sword I needed to secure my freedom.
He clamped his cigar between his teeth and looked down at me. "Mr. Yukimura. Pleased to meet you."
Chapter 16
"You are lucky, too," Raiden said as we turned down another hallway. The air grew cool and we passed through an arch into another small courtyard.
"Why is that?"
"We will be having a ritual tonight," he said as we took a set of stone stairs up an open tower staircase. "You will be able to experience what only very few guests get to see."
A bad feeling took seed deep in my belly. My mind clambered for a reason to dismiss myself without insulting him.
At the top of the stairs, we walked along a balcony with a wooden railing. Dim lights were visible through the thick paper walls to one side of us. Between every support beam, sturdy paper had been nailed in place to form walls. The pagoda roof’s wide overhang protected the paper from the elements. I hadn't seen paper walls since my childhood. A stab of longing for my family pierced my heart. What would they think if they saw me now?
“I love these old Imperial Army fortresses,” said Raiden, as we walked. “This one was built after the han system was abolished in 1871. It was an interesting year for Japan. The privilege once given only to the samurai was then open to every male between seventeen and forty in order to bolster the army defenses.”
“What privilege was that?” I asked, focusing more on keeping my breathing steady than the conversation with Raiden.
A door slid open as though someone standing at it knew Raiden was coming, and as we stepped into the paper dojo, I couldn't help but gasp.
“The right to bear arms,” Raiden said.
Fastened to nearly every beam were racks holding weapons of all kinds. The long katanas the samurai were famous for, wakizashi, and the shaku—daggers and knives. Spiked metal knuckles, throwing stars, long blades with even longer handles called su yari, and iron claws I had heard Toshi refer to as tekko-kagi. These were not unlike weapons that Kito had manufactured with his ovens and molds. If my wakizashi was anywhere in this fortress, it was here.
"I'm bringing an unexpected guest," Raiden said lightheartedly to the more than dozen men who turned to face him. All talk was silenced. "I know you won't mind," he said, addressing an older looking man.
"As you say, Oyabun," answered the man with a drop of his chin.
Raiden strode into the circle of men and they parted as he passed through them. I stood at the door, still in shock, my eyes scanning the vast array of weaponry around me.
"Come," Raiden said.
Only when I became aware that every eye was on me did a realize he'd been speaking to me.
Raiden was already seated in an elaborately carved wooden chair that had been set up on a low platform, on a stage of sorts. There were no other seats in the room.
I crossed the room, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, in spite of the cool evening. Take small steps. Glide. Do nothing quickly.
"Sit here, beside me." Raiden gestured to a thin, dirty pillow on the floor.
I lowered myself to my knees as gracefully as I could manage. A difficult task in my layers and layers of kimono. I imagined this was what sausages felt like.
"Don't be anxious," he said quietly. He straightened and flicked his fingers at the older man he'd addressed earlier. "Come, Fujio. Let's hear your proposal and begin."
The crowd of men shifted to allow Fujio to come stand in front of Raiden. They stood off to the side, silently, hands clasped behind backs or arms crossed.
"I have committed offense to my Kumicho," said Fujio, addressing Raiden as 'Grandfather,' his eyes downcast to the floor in front of Raiden, "for which I have come to atone."
The hair on the back of my neck stood up at the name that I had used to address my captor for many decades.
"The offense?" Raiden asked. "So all can hear." His voice was almost jovial.
"I am unable to pay my debt by the agreed upon date, and humbly request an extension."
The room grew quiet. I stole a glance up at Raiden. His eyes narrowed, his fingers stroking his chin. Although he looked thoughtful, I had the impression that he already knew what he wanted—he was being pensive just for show.
"You may have your extension," he said, finally. "But a delay in repaying a debt, especially one as large as yours, will require an answer." He paused, lips apart.
I thought of Inaba and closed my eyes. I knew what was coming and what Raiden had meant by ‘ceremony.’
“Yubitsume," said Raiden. As simply as though he’d asked for a coffee, Raiden ordered Fujio to cut off a finger joint.
My eyes flew to Raiden, horrified. Only with great effort did I pull them back down to the floor.
Fujio's face remained impassive, completely void of all expression. He bowed once. There was movement behind me as a man crossed the room and out of my view. He reappeared carrying a small wooden table which he set down in front of Fujio. A small white cloth, no larger than a napkin was produced from his back pocket and laid over the table’s surface. He moved off to the side again, where I couldn't see him behind Raiden's chair.
Fujio knelt at the table and sat back on his haunches. He rolled the cuffs of his shirt up his forearms, his movements slow and methodical.
The man who had brought the table reappeared holding a long blade. He held it out with both hands, open flat for Fujio to take. But Fujio put up a palm, declining the
blade.
My heart thudded with dread and the cold fingers of disgust wrapped around my spine.
Fujio reached to his belt and pulled out his own knife, one I hadn't noticed as it was hidden in the folds of his clothing. He spread his left hand out flat on the white napkin and the tip of the blade near the end of his pinkie finger. I noticed that he'd already lost the first knuckle of his left pinkie. Fujio had done this before.
I stifled a gasp as he brought the blade down hard. No different than cutting through a sausage. It happened so fast I had no time to look away. The napkin blossomed with red from the wound, but Fujio made no sound of pain. His face remained as it had always been—impassive.
I felt unable to tear my gaze away from the small segment of flesh and bone sitting there on the napkin. The man who'd delivered the table handed Fujio what looked like a bandage. Fujio took it and wrapped up his bleeding stub. Immediately the bandage soaked through with red.
I was certain that every person in the room could hear my heart pounding. A burning sensation hit the back of my throat and I closed my eyes, thinking I might be sick. How did I get here? All of the little muscles around my spine were trembling with anguish for the man who'd been forced to mutilate himself. Sitting there on my knees on the thin mat, I could barely keep my eyes on the floor as Fujio wrapped up what was left of his pinkie finger in the white cloth and stood. His face had been leeched of color, but still he made no expression of pain.
Fujio approached Raiden solemnly and bowed, holding out the napkin containing his sacrifice. "Thank you, for giving me the opportunity to make amends."
My jaw went slack and I had to snap it closed. Thank you?
"Wait," Raiden said, raising his fingertips from the armrest of his chair. "One last thing and you will be absolved of all offense."
Fujio dropped his chin and waited, his eyes on the floor.
Raiden stood up and took off his suit jacket. He stepped down from the platform and strode toward the wall of weaponry, looking it over casually. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, undid the cufflinks at his wrists and tossed them to one of the men, who caught them. He turned back to Fujio. "Choose your weapon," he said with a smug smile.
For the first time, Fujio wore an expression other than emptiness and a mirrored vacancy. The shock came and went in a flash, but it was clear as crystal that he had not expected this.
I scanned the other faces in the room and there were a few looks shared among the men, but most kept their faces serene. This was an unusual turn of events. Clearly, Raiden wanted to fight, but what did that mean? To the death? Only until enough blood had been spilled to satisfy him? Fujio had just lost the tip of his finger. Blood dripped onto the floor from the soaked bandage. How was he supposed to wield a sword?
I couldn't watch, and squirmed on my mat, my eyes darting for the door. I struggled to maintain the focus on why I was here as the horrific events unfolded in front of me.
As Fujio walked the wall of weapons, every eye in the room was on his back. Perhaps no one would notice me sneak out. I leaned forward and pushed myself halfway to my feet, moving slowly.
"Stay," Raiden said.
I looked up and caught his eye. His gaze nailed me to the spot like a rail-spike through my spine. His voice was soft, but it was not a request; it was a command.
I knelt again, my mind racing. I used the opportunity to scan the wall of blades, working hard to keep my face neutral and use the time for a focused search instead of watching the grim story unfolding in front of me. Beads of sweat gathered at my temples. My scalp itched and my makeup felt sticky, but I didn't dare scratch or rub my face.
My eyes skimmed each weapon in turn, homing in on short swords. The lighting was dim. A handful of sconces between the beams cast a yellow glow over the scene. Striped and warped shadows fell along the walls and floors.
My eyes fell on a short sword at the top of a rack of weapons. I needed bird vision to be able to tell its color from the distance I was at, but I could tell it was a lighter tone, and I could make out a design of some kind on the sheath. I continued to scan, ignoring the murmurs of conversation going on in the room as the men helped prepare Fujio to fight.
A handful of other wakizashi came to my attention, but I thought that the colors were either too dark, or the designs on them didn't seem to be of trees. I kept going back to the one at the very top of the rack, more and more convinced that it was the sword I was seeking. I stared at it so hard my eyes began to water and I had to blink to clear them.
When I glanced at the men again my heart leapt into my throat.
Raiden had unbuttoned his shirt all the way, exposing the intricate tattoos the yakuza were known for. The front of his chest was tattooed with swimming koi. They spiraled over his shoulders and chest, and swam toward a cluster of chrysanthemum blossoms across his belly. But it wasn't the flowers or the fish that made my blood turn to ice. For in between, evil faces surfacing from the water and droplets falling from their red skin, were three Oni. Raiden dropped his shirt and handed it to one of his men, turning his back toward me.
My skin puckered with goosebumps and I suppressed a shiver of horror. Across his back was a horrifying, three-headed demon. Glaring green eyes, red skin, black talons on its hands and feet, and a spiked club lifted and ready to strike. Cherry blossoms wrapped around its legs and disappeared under the waist of Raiden's belt.
Raiden gestured to Fujio to choose his weapon first. Fujio took a slow turn about the room, scanning. The remainder of his finger had been re-bandaged, though spots of blood had already appeared. His face appeared pale and waxy, even in the yellow light. I thought I saw his hand tremble as he choose a long katana from a bottom row. It was encased in a black lacquer sheath, and gracefully curved. He grasped it by the leather-wrapped handle, unsheathed the silver blade, and held it up for everyone to see. The tip of the blade wavered slightly in Fujio’s weakened grip.
Raiden wandered the room more slowly than Fujio had, basking in the eyes taking in the art on his naked torso. He brushed his long fingers against the sheaths of several weapons. The room felt like it was holding its collective breath. I was definitely holding mine and had to consciously remind myself to inhale and exhale.
My eyes darted back to the wakizashi, trying to formulate a plan to take the weapon, but I couldn't focus on the short sword anymore. The tension in the room had risen to an unbearable level. Sweat dampened my lower back and my fingertips were freezing. Was I about to witness a murder? I tucked my hands into the folds of my dress in an effort to warm them.
Raiden reached up high and pulled down a long red sheath encrusted with shiny black stones. Black leather ties dangled from the hilt as he pulled the sword from its sheath. The silver blade reflected a dull gold in the light. It was the size of it that took my breath away. I was certain that stood on its tip next to me, it would tower over me by several inches.
Raiden gripped the hilt in both hands, holding it straight up. His face hardened and focused. His sharp widow's peak hairline cut a jagged frame on his brow and reminded me of portraits of Dracula that I'd seen in art books in the school library. He made sweeping motions with the sword to warm up, rotating his arms and taking light quick steps, like a dancer. His muscles jumped under his skin and the faces of the Oni on his back seemed to come alive. The blade swiped through the air, cutting through the space with sharp whooshes of sound. Had I been Fujio, I would have been filled with terror. As it was, I had tremors of empathetic waves of fright coursing through me on behalf of the older man.
I glanced at Fujio. He was making an effort to appear unintimidated but he swayed slightly on his feet and his eyes were not so impassive as they had been. My heart ached for him. I reminded myself that like Inaba's son, he chose this life. These men gave themselves to the yakuza way. They couldn't be surprised when they found they were in peril because of it.
Chapter 17
Raiden and Fujio moved to the center of the room, standing a few s
trides apart.
"Ready, ojiisan?" Raiden snarled as he raised the gold-gleaming sword to shoulder height. The blade’s cruel light matched the shine of the Oni faces upon the oyabun's trunk.
Fujio took a steadying breath and then, his mouth a grim line, he gave a sharp "Hai!" and it began.
I found myself frozen to the floor, unable to look away as Fujio came on, katana sweeping from low to high with a simple, strong swing. It looked like it was made to cleave from the inner thigh to up under the chin. He never got that far, though.
Raiden stabbed his long-bladed sword downward, arresting the rising blade with a ringing clash. He then stepped into the deflection and snapped an elbow forward to smash across Fujio's brow and send him staggering backwards. The muscles around my spine and in my abdomen quivered with terror as I realized this was no play fight. Raiden didn't follow up with another sword stroke, though. A look of sadistic rapture spread across his face as he watched his prey flounder.
Fujio grunted as he righted himself, blood blackening the gray hair at his temple before tracing a thin crimson bead between the valleys of his weathered face.
"Come on, old tiger," Raiden chuckled, a sound devoid of mirth or sympathy. "Don't you have any teeth left?"
I slumped in relief, thinking that it was over before it had begun, but something flashed through Fujio's pained eyes. Ferocity, or perhaps just the memory of being fierce, rippled over him and he held his katana with new strength, despite the blood that dribbled from his bandaged hand. I wanted to scream at them to stop, but there was too much at stake for me. Instead, I sat frozen in silent horror.
"There they are," Raiden bellowed and the two duelists rushed to meet each other again. Raiden came in with a sweeping swing, a blow easily capable of taking Fujio's head from his shoulders. The older man had come in for a thrust, but seeing the reaper's stroke descending, his stab morphed into a ducking crouch. The long blade whistled by and Raiden gave a surprised uuumpf as Fujio surged upward, shoulder first, to deliver a heavy body-check. The oyabun staggered and Fujio, eyes shining with a wild mixture of fear and pride, raised his blade as if for a killing stroke.
