Chapter 12 — Novices | Ghost

Kunoichi Companion Tales — Ghost

Kunoichi Companion Tales

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Ghost

The Way of the Warrior, Chiyome knew, teaches that one must fight without anger and kill without hatred. That a warrior must act always out of duty and never out of personal need. She knew this because her mother had taught her so. She knew it because her father and her husband had died acting so. She knew it because because her annoying servants Mieko and Kuniko always seemed to act so.

And yet, staring across the shōgun’s banquet hall, all that Mochizuki Chiyome could think was that she hated Uesugi Kenshin; that she wanted to cut off the far-too-pretty lord’s nose, wanted to strangle him, wanted to rip out his heart.

She considered it a great act of restraint to have remained sitting through the long feast commemorating the new alliance.

Lord Uesugi leered at her, and her restraint shattered.

“Mieko?”

“My lady?”

Chiyome leaned closer to the young woman who looked like nothing so much as a perfectly sweet companion for a perfectly harmless old lady. “If I were to ask you to kill that insufferable fop Uesugi, could you do it?”

Mieko dipped her chin in a modest nod. “Does my lady wish it?”

“How would you go about it?”

Kuniko leaned in. “I could do it.”

“Oh, Kuniko,” chuckled Chiyome, “of course you could. But your approach would be to march across the hall and thrust a carving knife through his ribs. Not very subtle.”

Kuniko grunted, but clearly conceded Chiyome’s point, kneeling back.

Mieko tilted her head slightly, her perfect lips slightly pursed. “Would my lady wish it to be done here?”

Chiyome sighed. “At the moment, I feel as if I have to take one more breath while looking at that evil, simpering face, I may commit suicide just to save myself the annoyance.”

“My lady.” She gave a minute frown. “Poison would be the obvious method, but difficult. He is having his servant Kurotachi taste his food.”

It was true, Chiyome realized with a start; each dish, each cup passed through the hands of the oily little man at Uesugi’s shoulder who took a discreet nibble or sip before passing it to his lord.

Now Mieko tilted her head the other way, as if examining a flower arrangement from the other side. “A thin blade beneath the base of the skull — but it would be very difficult to manage without notice. Not impossible, my lady, but if you wish subtlety . . . The same would be true of a knife through the ribs.” She tapped her closed fan lightly against her hand. “A scratch with poisoned blades . . . ?”

Chiyome laughed and shook her head. She had forgotten the retractable, envenomed blades in the fan. The death they brought would be excruciating . . .

Mieko nodded. “Yes. Again, difficult to manage without detection.” Then a small smile grew on the girl’s face.

“What, you insufferable show-off?”

“My lady’s humble servant has merely considered a possibility that she thinks would meet with her wise lady’s approval.”

Humble. The idea of either Mieko or Kuniko as humble in anything but show was almost laughable. “Yes?”

Fugu.”

Chiyome felt her eyebrows shoot up. “Puffer fish?”

“Yes, an extract of the liver. It is a slow-acting poison; administered in the sake, it would make the taster and his lord seem slightly intoxicated at first. By the time the four bells struck, they would both be dead.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” Now the girl truly looked anything but humble.

“And you have such a thing?”

“Not here. It is in our rooms, among my cosmetics. If my lady wishes —?”

Chiyome stopped the girl from standing. “No. No, not tonight.” She smiled across the hall at Uesugi; whatever he saw in that smile put a dent in his smirk.

No, she thought. No, I will simply enjoy knowing that if I wished it, that you would be lying in your rooms tonight, flopping like a fish out of water, you evil, silk-wrapped dandy.

And that image made Chiyome smile more broadly still.

Having decided against murder for the night, Chiyome expected to see anything but a ghost in the banquet hall, but there she was: a white-haired apparition, floating among the servants between the tables. “Mieko.”

“Yes, my lady?” Mieko whispered, always managing to be just where Chiyome needed her to be.

“Do you see that astonishing creature staring at us? The one with the white hair?”

A moment. “Yes, my lady.” The pause — a heartbeat’s worth, perhaps — was in Mieko a sign of utter shock.

“One of your victims, perhaps?”

No pause this time. “No, my lady.”

“Hmm.” She spoke over her other shoulder. “How about you, Kuniko? Do you recognize her?”

Monosyllabic as always, Chiyome’s larger attendant simply said, “No.”

“Hmm.”

The apparition had the face and body of a girl, and yet her hair was as white as egret feathers. Her eyes, on the other hand, were as sharp and black as obsidian. She was dressed in a servant’s garb, though there was no mon visible.

The other servants walked around her as if she weren’t there.

“Kuniko, go ask the baggage what she wants. If she is supposed to bring us something to eat, I say we emulate my lord Uesugi — I wouldn’t be surprised to find the food poisoned, if only because she carried it.”

Kuniko bowed and rose.

“My lady,” murmured Mieko, watching Kuniko saunter toward the girl, “I do not believe she is truly a ghost.”

“No.” Chiyome felt a laugh bubble up. “If she were, she would be the most boring ghost I’ve ever heard of.”

“Indeed, my lady.”

Of course, it was at that moment, while Mieko and Chiyome were both focused on Kuniko’s progress through the mass of servants and entertainers, that an oily voice spoke softly into Chiyome’s ear.

“My lady Mochizuki, my lord Uesugi sends his greetings.”

Chiyome suppressed a shudder. “Kurotachi. How nice to see you.”

“My lady.” The little weasel touched his head to the floor. “My lord Uesugi wishes to know if he might attend on you after the banquet?”

The image that flashed through Chiyome’s mind was of Kurotachi and his lord. Both flopping on the floor like fish. She fought down a smile. “Oh, Kurotachi, an old widow like myself needs her rest.”

“But my lady —”

“No, Kurotachi, I do not wish to see Lord Uesugi tonight.” Not tonight. Not ever.

“My lady.” He touched his head to the floor again and slithered off.

Chiyome took a long breath and picked up her cup.

Mieko filled it. “I could get the fugu before the final course is served if my lady wishes.”

Chiyome peered at the girl. “Does my servant wish to knock off the nasty lord and his nasty follower?”

Mieko gave another miniscule smile. “I do not like them, my lady. Yet it is not proper for me to think such things.”

“Oh, my dear girl, I think it is very proper. Very proper indeed.” Feeling less miserable than she had through the whole interminable evening, she took a sip of the truly excellent sake.

Someone at the head table was making a speech. Reading a poem, maybe. In Chinese.

As she put the cup back down, Kuniko sauntered up and knelt. “Well?”

“The girl wants to come to the Full Moon.”

No beating about the bush with Kuniko. “Does she now? Does she know what that means?”

Kuniko shook her head. “I do not think so. She said she wants to learn to be a miko. I told her come by your rooms later.”

“Did you, indeed?” A part of Chiyome was annoyed; when this evening was finally over, all Chiyome wanted to do was take a hot bath and go to sleep. Still, Kuniko’s instincts in these matters were excellent. She was the one who found Akiko and Hoshi. “Do you think she’ll make a worthy addition to our . . . school?”

“I think so, lady. She said she’s been a servant her in the palace for the past two years, but there’s something about her . . .” Kuniko frowned. Imagination and intuition were not her strong suits. “I think she might be very good at our work.”

“Excellent. Did she give you a name?”

“Fuyudori, lady.” Snowbird.

“Interesting.”

When Chiyome and her maids returned to her cramped quarters, the girl was already haunting the door.

“My lady Mochizuki,” she said, and touched her head — far whiter than Chiyome’s own — to the mat.

“Come in, child,” Chiyome growled, fatigue and a night’s swallowed irritation bubbling over.

Once they were inside, Chiyome carefully examined the girl. Right on that knife-edge between girl and woman — perhaps a bit younger than Mieko and Kuniko had been when Chiyome first met them. Pink, soft cheeks at odds with her hair, a small mouth and nose, but yes, Chiyome could see as Kuniko had done the steel beneath. Could see it in the girl’s bearing, in her black gaze.

“Your name is Fuyudori?” As Mieko and Kuniko brought Chiyome’s traveling desk, she remained standing.

The girl bowed low again. “Yes, my lady.” Her voice was high and musical.

“And you wish to join us at the Full Moon?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“What do you know about my school?”

“One of the Takeda servants was talking about it, my lady, saying that you were taking in orphan girls and teaching them to be shrine maidens. I . . . I do not wish to continue to serve in the palace.”

“No? I would think it was a cushy job.”

The girl looked down, shaking her head. “It is very hard . . . for young women.”

“I see.”

“Also, I miss the mountains. I too come from Dark Letter Province, up the valley from High Field.”

“Not far from Mid-River Island.” It was hard to say that place’s name without tasting bile.

“Not far, my lady.” The girl’s incongruously pretty face darkened.

“How did a mountain girl come to the capital?”

The flush deepened. “I . . . My village was destroyed, my lady. My family killed. That is when my hair . . .” She gestured at her own head as if this were enough explanation — which it was, for now. “I had two directions to escape — one would have taken me down the valley toward you. The other took me toward the emperor’s city.”

Kuniko placed the traveling desk at Chiyome’s feet. As Chiyome knelt, Mieko placed a brush, paper, and ink before her.

“And you wish to serve the gods,” Chiyome asked.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Hmm. Can you dance or play an instrument?”

“I can play the flute a little, my lady.”

“Well, that’s better than Mieko here can say, isn’t that right, Mieko?”

“Yes, my lady.” A slight pinkening of Mieko’s ears and the back of her neck were the only signs that Chiyome’s dig had landed, but they would do. There were few things, it seemed, at which Mieko did not excel. Music was one, and Chiyome never lost an opportunity to remind the self-satisfied girl of the fact.

Smirking, Chiyome turned back to Fuyudori. “And can you read and write, my dear?”

A slight frown marred the girl’s face. “A little, my lady.”

Keeping her eyes on the girl’s face, Chiyome drew out a piece of rice paper, dipped her brush in the ink, and drew the three marks she’d used to test each of the girls who had joined her service: the hiragana character ku(), the katakana character no (), and the Chinese kanji ideogram ichi ().

Fuyudori’s face twisted. “Ku . . . no . . . ichi?” Her eyes met Chiyome’s for the first time. “Nine in one?”

“Yes, my dear. Nine virtues in one person.” Strong, Silent, Stealthy, Swift, Steadfast, Spirited, Self-sacrificing, Solid, Sharp. “What about this?” She used the same three marks to create a single ideogram:

The girl’s grimace deepened for a moment, and then disappeared. “Onna?” She looked up again — pleased with herself this time. “Woman?”

“Yes, indeed.” Not educated then, to have to think about it — but not stupid, no, not at all. “A kunoichi is . . . a very special kind of woman. If you proved yourself worthy, you could become one yourself, in time, as Kuniko and Mieko here are.”

Wide-eyed, the girl nodded. That was always the response — though it most likely would not have been if Chiyome had told them the whole truth.

“Well, my dear, if there are —”

A knock came at the door. “My lady Mochizuki?” Kurotachi’s loathsome croak set Chiyome on edge.

She was about to bark at the man to go away when she thought of a better idea. “Fuyudori, here is a small test for you: get rid of that man.”

Get rid, my lady?”

Kuniko looked as if she were about to volunteer to toss the creature out on his ear herself, but stood down when Chiyome shook her head.

“Yes, Fuyudori. That man is a servant of a lord who will not leave me alone. He wishes to use this new alliance to subvert my allegiance away from my lord Takeda. He wishes to win back what he lost at Mid-River Island.”

A black fire caught in the girl’s eyes. “Yes, my lady.” Sharp, indeed! Fuyudori stood and strode to the door. “Who is there?” she all but snarled.

“Girl, open the door,” simpered Kurotachi.

Her face now set in what Chiyome recognized as a maidservant’s neutral mask, Fuyudori opened the door a crack and said, “My lady is in bed. She is not seeing visitors.”

“Girl,” answered Kurotachi — he was probably aiming for manly and imperious, but he sounded like nothing more than the weasel he was — “step aside. I come on important business from Lord Uesugi.”

Fuyudori’s fists clenched. She stared through the crack at the man, who was not much taller than she. “I told you to go away. Don’t make me come out there.”

Well, well, well!

“To whom do you think you are speaking, girl!” Now Kurotachi’s voice was quavering, and it sounded even more girlish than Fuyudori’s.

“I’m talking to a servant, and a stupid one who thinks he can force his way into Lady Mochizuki’s chambers. Go. Away.”

“Insufferable —!” Kurotachi slid the door open with a yank and tried to push past Fuyudori.

He didn’t even make it into the room.

Two maneuvers that Chiyome had watched Kuniko and Mieko use to great effect on armed soldiers: a swift blow to the throat with the knuckles or side of the hand; a foot or knee between the legs. Fuyudori delivered these to an utterly unprepared Kurotachi — not as elegantly as Mieko might have done, nor as forcefully as Kuniko, but with a vicious thoroughness that dropped the creature gasping and moaning to the tatami.

And she did not stop there.

“My lady?” Mieko asked, eyebrow crooked as the girl launched herself at the prone figure.

“No, Mieko, do let the girl have her fun.” It wasn’t as if Kurotachi hadn’t brought it on himself.

The girl landed a series of kicks and blows that most likely rendered the little weasel’s gaudy yellow robes unwearable — not that Kurotachi would was going to be able to taste his lord’s food in the banquet hall any time soon. It sounded as if she might have broken a few of the man’s bones.

Kuniko grunted. Even she was impressed by the girl’s assault. She had taught Hoshi and the other younger girls to strike quickly and eliminate the man’s ability to strike back; Fuyudori had already learned that lesson, and more.

Though perhaps not the one about when to stop.

“Cease, girl,” said Chiyome once Kurotachi was no longer even trying to fight back. “Girl. STOP.

Breathing heavily, the girl blinked up at Chiyome and then at the quivering lump at her feet.

Guards,” moaned the ball that was Kurotachi.

“I don’t think so,” said Chiyome. “You trespassed on my quarters. And even if the shōgun’s guards didn’t toss you in the cells for doing that, how do you think you’re going to explain how you were beaten into jelly by a barehanded girl without them laughing in your face?”

The mass whimpered.

“Now, weasel,” said Chiyome, walking toward him. “Do as my servant asked, and get out of my rooms. Before I let my bodyguards use you for practice.”

Another whimper, and the mass slithered its way out the door.

Chiyome slid it shut and looked to her two servants.

Mieko and Kuniko nodded.

Fuyudori was still breathing heavily, red-cheeked and wild-haired. Her knuckles were raw and she’d lost one of her shoes. But her eyes were just as black and bright.

Oh, yes. You’ll do. “Welcome,” Chiyome said, “to the Full Moon.”

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