Catch your enemy off-guard, hit them hard and by surprise.

—Bansenshukai, Manual of the Shinobi

Sai

It was after midnight in the gardens at Dokan-yama on the outskirts of Edo. Moonlight leached all the color out of the landscape and shrouded its beauty in inky shadows. The gardens were famous for varied plant life, meandering paths among the trees, and many hidden nooks. It was the perfect place for a romantic tryst—or for murder. I would be using it for one or the other tonight, but I hadn’t decided which.

The scent from the plants and flowers carried on the light breeze combined beautifully with the incense I wore on my kimono. The heat of the day had receded enough that the temperature was actually pleasant with the slight movement of the air.

You’re being incredibly stupid, Sai.

I crouched in the shadows of the trees, watching. A man came into the clearing.

So this is Mori Shichirō. He’s big. A fight with him might not go well.

I licked my dry lips. This was only the second time I’d been sent out on an assignment on my own, but I’d assured my chunin I could handle it. After all, I was seventeen, not a child who needed to be watched. 

Shichirō peered around in the darkness. He whirled around violently at the sound of a squirrel running through the underbrush.

He had ample reason to be nervous. He was carrying on a romance with a serving-girl in Edo Castle, a beautiful woman by the name of Yumiko. Liaisons between a high-ranking samurai like Shichirō and a female member of the Edo Castle staff could lead to execution for both of them. However, Yumiko had caught the shogun’s eye, and the shogun had other plans for her. So, a high-level meeting had taken place, and it had been decided to have Shichirō disappear.

I was an expert at making people disappear—I was a kunoichi.

My plan required Shichirō believe I was Yumiko. She was a half-head taller than me, so I wore extra-tall geta to help disguise my height. I also had extra padding around my hips and bust to add curves to my boyish figure. While I would have liked to be beautiful as much as any girl, I didn’t envy Yumiko her situation. I didn’t know if she wanted to be the shogun’s concubine, but she had no choice. And now, she would lose her lover. Her beauty hadn’t left her many options.

I was disobeying my chunin’s orders and exposing myself to danger. But if my plan succeeded, Yumiko could reunite with her lover once the shogun lost interest in her … or maybe I had been attending too many kabuki plays.

I stood there, torn between duty and dreams. I chose the name of Sai when I joined the shinobi because I loved the look of that strange, three-pronged weapon. I intended to become a weapon in the hands of the clan. A shinobi should be like a weapon and attack as directed. So, what was I doing now? What would happen if a sword decided it no longer wanted to kill?

I closed my eyes and imagined the two lovers meeting again in a faraway place. I could see their happiness in my mind’s eye, basking in their shared love. I imagined them having a family. I smiled at the thought.

It was certainly worth some risk to allow them to live happily together. But Akiyo-sensei would beat me senseless if she discovered me doing this.

A kunoichi must strike swiftly and unseen, then withdraw—especially when the target was bigger and stronger. I liked to believe the people I killed deserved death, but the only crime Shichirō had committed was falling in love with the wrong woman.

Shichirō might not have to die to disappear—running away would work almost as well.

I took a deep breath and stepped out from my hiding place. I walked towards Shichirō with the moon behind me, casting my features into deep shadow. The dim light barely illuminated his face.

Shichirō gave a start when he heard me, and his hand drifted to the hilt of his katana. He peered at me through the darkness. 

If my disguise doesn’t fool him, I’m in real trouble.

He relaxed and released the grip on his weapon. “I received your note. What is so important that we have to meet in the middle of the night on such short notice?” 

“Oh, Shichirō-sama,” I whispered to disguise my voice. “The shogun has asked me to be his concubine. I agreed, but he also asked about you. They suspect something between us.”

A look of fear crossed his face. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing! But what if the secret police question me?” I spoke quickly, pretending panic. “We must run away, or they will execute both of us. I know a place they’ll never find us. We can meet there.”

“Run away? And lose my position?” He hesitated, his eyes darting side to side. “Yumiko, my dear…”

I sensed a change in him. Words may lie, but actions are always true. I saw his right hand creeping towards the hilt of his katana again. Disappointment flooded through me.

Why was he doing this? I was giving him a chance for happiness.

I stopped listening to him and stilled my thoughts, waiting. He was skilled in iaijutsu and could draw his katana and kill an opponent in one blindingly fast strike.

I felt his sakki, his malicious intent, and dropped to the ground to avoid his blow. The blade sliced the air just above my head.

Aho! I was trying to help you.

As I came to my feet, I drew a small tube from a fold of the obi at my waist. Raising it to my lips, I blew metsubushi powder into Shichirō’s face.

He screamed as the red pepper mixture burned his eyes, and I rolled away again.

He swung his katana around wildly as he tried to rub the blinding powder out of his face with his left hand. “Who are you?” he gasped.

I kicked off my sandals and stepped beyond the reach of his sword. He must have heard my movement because he turned and struck in my direction. I ran a few light steps to the right.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

My right hand slid up to my wig, and I silently removed one of the decorative pins. This hairpin had a sharpened point, was made of the same steel as a katana, and was longer than my extended hand. When I placed it in the wig earlier that evening, I had thought it an excellent weapon. It now seemed badly outmatched against Shichirō’s blade.

Shichirō was still trying to wipe the powder from his eyes, but his pain and blindness didn’t keep him from spinning and slashing his blade around him.

I could escape him easily enough, but then I would have to tell Akiyo-sensei I had failed. Worse, explain why. She had shown great faith in me by allowing me to carry out this assignment alone. She had only given me a few assassinations, but I had always succeeded. I couldn’t fail this time, but how could I slip past his sword?

“Who are you?” he cried again, this time a scream. “The secret police?”

“Karma,” I answered.

Katana cutting the air in front of him, he charged toward the sound of my voice, as I expected. I sidestepped and dropped to one knee, extending the other leg as he rushed past. He tripped and fell, but struggled to his knees. I jumped onto his back, driving him to the ground. With my left hand, I seized his topknot and pushed his head forward, exposing the back of his neck. The needle encountered little resistance as I plunged it into the base of his skull, angling it up to pierce his brain. With a shudder, he gave a great sigh and became still.

I took a shaky breath. My victims were not supposed to have a chance to fight back.

What had I been thinking? I had risked my life and my position in the shinobi to help this aho? 

“What kind of a person tries to kill his lover?” I stomped on his back. “What were you going to do with her body, anyway? Throw her in the canal? Didn’t you care for her at all?” I kicked him in the ribs.

From now on, I vowed to myself, I will attend only historical kabuki. No more romances.

I tore off my wig.

We were in heavy shadows, but sunrise was near. I had to hurry. I could already see the sky in the east growing lighter. Calming myself, I went back into the trees and retrieved a handcart I had hidden earlier and dragged it next to Shichirō. I put my elegant kimono and wig into a basket. From a different basket, I pulled out a set of cheap laborer’s clothing and changed into that. Now there was nothing to set me apart from thousands of chonin going about their business in the early morning streets of the capital.

Except for the body. The next part was going to be unpleasant. I hated handling dead bodies. Normally, I would never have to touch something dead, but having a friendly eta come by and dispose of Shichirō for me was probably not going to happen.

I stripped off his kimono, set it aside, and inspected the corpse. I felt a touch of pride as I examined the wound. A small pinprick at the base of the neck and two drops of blood were the only signs of how he had been killed. I picked up the kimono and examined it carefully. There was no blood on the collar—the high-quality pale green silk of the kimono appeared almost new. I tossed his kimono and hakama into the basket with my disguise. No point in letting an expensive outfit go to waste. A little dye and no one would ever recognize it. I removed everything else from the body that might identify him. The corpse would never be found, but Akiyo-sensei taught me to take no chances.

His katana and wakizashi were magnificent. They were real works of art, with gold-chased hilts and pearl-inlaid scabbards. They could be sold for an excellent price. I sighed. It was too bad, but I had gone against my training once too often that night, and any attempt to sell them might be traced back to us.

I threw them in the grass next to the cadaver.

A reed mat from the cart would hold the body. I laid it on the ground, shoved the body to one edge, and rolled up the mat. Inside the mat, Shichirō formed a long, shapeless bundle. The weapons and other belongings I rolled into a smaller mat. I tied both mats closed with rope and tossed the belongings in the cart.

Now for the body.

Everyone underestimates women. That makes it much easier to get past a target’s guard, but trying to hoist the mat up and into the cart made me wish I had the muscles of a sumo wrestler. Dead bodies are awkward and heavy. I finally got him inside, but I was so tired I had to hang on the side, gasping for breath.

The rim of the sun had just appeared above the horizon, and people would be wandering through the garden soon. It would be a terrible idea to be caught with a freshly killed corpse. So hard to explain. I wheeled the cart out the garden gate to a boat waiting to put out into Edo Bay. It was a small fishing vessel no different than hundreds of others, except it had a rather gaudy red sail with a black dragon on it.

When I showed the captain two silver monme, I saw the flash of his smile in the early morning light. Three of his crew sprang forward and dragged the reed mat bundles from the cart. He took the money and said, “Give my regards to your sensei.” The captain gave quiet orders to cast off, and I heard the rattle of chains as they wrapped them around the body. He and the crew would deposit the anonymous bundles containing Shichirō and his belongings in deep water where no one would ever find them.

Goodbye Mori Shichirō, you faithless dog.

*****

The sun had fully risen by the time I made my way through the busy streets to my neighborhood. Edo was a city of gates. The closely spaced gates on even the largest streets were just opening. The gates were supposed to prevent gangs from roaming the streets and creating disturbances, but they didn’t stop everything.

The guard for my block in the center of the theater district was nowhere in sight, and the gate was still closed. I reached through the fence and banged on the guardpost.

“The sun is out. Wake up!” I shouted.

A young man stumbled out and squinted at me with bleary eyes. “Oh, Saiko, it’s you. What are you doing out so early?” He fumbled the door open. 

I lived above a fashionable kimono shop halfway down the block. The business was a cover for our little group of kunoichi. I slid the door open and went inside.

From the back room, I heard the slow shuffling steps of Akiyo-sensei. The rising sun shining through the window behind her made her white hair glow like a fiery ring around her head. “Is it done?”

“Yes, Sensei. Shichirō-sama has gone to join his ancestors.”

“Good.” Slowly, she lowered herself to the floor and knelt on the tatami.

“Sensei, what do you think will happen to Yumiko? Do you think she will kill herself when she realizes Shichirō is dead?”

“Kill herself?” Akiyo-sensei laughed. “If she intended to do that, she would have done it before she wrote the note that lured her lover to Dokan-yama.”

My mouth dropped open. “She lured him to the garden? I thought the secret police forged the note.”

Still smiling, Akiyo-sensei said, “I am sure the secret police forced her to write the note if that makes you feel any better.” She shook her head and continued gently, “Child, people are selfish creatures. Remember that and use it. A kunoichi needs to know how to manipulate people. A scheme relying on self-sacrifice is likely to fail.”

I winced. My plan had certainly failed. I thought Shichirō and Yumiko were in love and yet they betrayed each other. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be part of a world where even lovers sacrificed each other to protect themselves.

“Is there no true love?” I asked wistfully.

“Be patient, girl. You will find love. Just don’t expect it to be like your kabuki plays.” She stared off into the distance. “Real love is far more complicated.”

Akiyo-sensei reached over and touched my cheek. “Now, let me see those dimples. Perhaps this will cheer you up—we have a new assignment for you. As of tomorrow, you are to disguise yourself as a boy and infiltrate the Confucius Academy, a school on the grounds of the Edo Workers Association.”

Edo Workers Association? Hitoshi works there! I can’t go to the Academy, he might see me!

I put on a bright smile. “Sensei, this might be a good chance for Hanae to try a mission. Surely this won’t be too dangerous—”

“Sai,” Akiyo-sensei cut in sharply. “You have been finding far too many excuses lately for avoiding your studies. You will go to this academy, and along with reports of what happens at the school, I expect to see an improvement in your reading and writing.”

I sighed.

Confucius Academy? Sounds boring.