You can prevent your opponent from defeating you through defense, but you cannot defeat him without going on the attack.
—Sun Tzu, Art of War
Sai
I awoke, stomach upset and head pounding. Forcing myself to my feet, I staggered down the stairs to the ground floor. Sensei and the other two girls were already up.
“Sensei,” I croaked. “I don’t feel well.”
Her eyes danced. “How much saké did you and Inspector Asano have last night at the theater?”
“A hangover? I have a hangover?” I started to shout and then stopped after my head broke open and shattered from the noise.
Both Kaguya and Hanae continued working, ducking their heads to hide their laughter. It didn’t help—I could still hear them quite clearly.
“It’s not funny,” I moaned, praying the pain would go away.
That seemed to make it even funnier to everyone.
Akiyo-sensei finally took pity on me and brought me some cold rice and pickled vegetables on a tray. “Here, eat some of this—food will make you feel better. And drink some tea.”
As usual, Akiyo-sensei was right. Shortly after eating, my stomach felt better, and the pounding in my head subsided to an almost bearable ache.
“I am never drinking saké again,” I vowed.
Further laughter.
“Drink some more tea,” Akiyo-sensei said.
“Did you enjoy your time with Inspector Asano last night?” Kaguya asked.
I told them about the evening, leaving out the part about the gambling. They made me describe the puppet show in great detail.
“Oh, can we go see it, Akiyo-sensei?” Hanae begged.
“We will see. Enough about puppets. Kaguya, tell Sai what you learned.”
Kaguya sat before Akiyo-sensei. “I went to the Sakura teahouse. It was ugly. A bunch of White Hilts were in there, drunk, angry, complaining bitterly about their losses. Then Daichi, their leader came in. People started shouting. Several quit the gang, saying it was too dangerous.”
She glanced at me. “You were right—someone paid them a lot of money to kill Yujirō-san. Now, they were angry at Daichi for taking the job. Daichi overrode them and reminded them they hadn’t complained about the job when he gave them the advance money. But, he had a solution. He knew how to kill Yujirō-san. He led them outside.”
“A solution?” Akiyo-sensei asked. “This doesn’t sound good.”
“I waited until they were out on the road and then followed them.” She looked up, her face drawn. “Daichi took them into a nearby alley where there was a blind beggar. He drew a tantõ and gave the beggar just a little cut on his arm. The beggar yelped when he was cut. Then, he complained about his arm tingling. He got up and tried to walk away, and then collapsed onto the ground. His breathing became ragged, and his limbs began twitching. Just after that, he stopped moving. He was dead.”
Akiyo-sensei took a quick indrawn breath.
“Was it torikabuto?” Kaguya asked.
“Yes, once again we see the hand of a rogue shinobi,” Akiyo-sensei answered.
Kaguya nodded. “Daichi just watched. He laughed when the old beggar died, and seemed very pleased with the results. He and the rest of the White Hilts walked away, discussing how they were going to kill Yujirō-san. I couldn’t follow without drawing attention to myself.”
“That aho. I will kill him for that!” I said.
Akiyo-sensei turned to me. “You need to tell Yujirō-san about this, immediately. Go now.”
I groaned. My head was still throbbing. There was no help for it, though. I went upstairs, finished getting into my schoolboy disguise, made sure I was properly armed, and headed to the Maeda house. Maeda-sama had insisted that Yujirō stay at the family home until they finished their investigation.
Yujirō was waiting near the gate, pacing back and forth. “We need to get going. It is already late,” he snapped.
He started so quickly I had to run to keep up. The bouncing was bringing back my headache and upset my stomach.
“Wait a moment,” I gasped. “I have something I need to tell you.”
He kept walking. “What is it?”
“The White Hilts are going to try and poison you.”
He stopped dead, turned, and stared at me.“What?”
“It wasn’t an accident they ran into us. They’ve been hired to kill you. They don’t think they can beat you in a fight, so Daichi, the leader, is planning to stab you with a poisoned blade.”
He scowled. “How did you hear this?”
“Do you remember Kaguya, from the shop?”
“The pretty one? Yes, what about her?”
“She went to the Sakura teahouse where the White Hilts gather and listened to their conversation. She heard them planning it.”
He stood for a moment, unmoving, then started striding purposefully in a different direction.
I struggled to catch up. “Where are we going?”
“To the Sakura teahouse to kill the rest of the White Hilts—and their leader. One should never let an enemy choose the time and place of battle. Attack when they least expect it.”
He’s crazy.
“No, wait, you’re not just going to walk in there, are you? If you wait a little while, I might be able to get a commission to kill the leader.” I grabbed his obi to try and slow him, but he just kept walking, dragging me along behind.
He shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. “You want to ask the people that probably hired him to approve killing him? ‘Without braving the tiger’s lair, how can one catch her cubs?’”
I was getting desperate. There had to be some way to get him to stay home. “He’s only a ronin. No one is going to care if I kill him. I won’t get in any trouble.”
“I am not going to huddle in my grandfather’s house, cowering in fear while someone else fights my battles for me.”
I hate samurai.
I ran after him. “Daichi has a poisoned knife. A poisoned knife! The smallest cut will kill you. Don’t you understand?”
He kept walking.
I tried arguing with him. “If you just walk into the tea house and challenge everyone, you are going to be overwhelmed.”
“I can handle them,” he said, still walking.
His hard-headedness was beginning to annoy me.
“Would you listen to me!” I screamed at him.
He finally stopped, turned and looked at me. He gave a deep, theatrical sigh. “If you will stop yelling, I promise not to just barge into the teahouse and attack. Once we arrive at the teahouse, we will examine things, and then we will decide how best to proceed. All right?”
I nodded my head and followed after him. At least he had promised to look at the situation before doing anything.
Just out of sight of the teahouse, he said, “All right, what do you suggest?”
“Let’s observe the teahouse from somewhere they won’t discover us. I see a place we can use to get to the top of the building across the street. We can lie on the roof and see what they’re doing, then make further plans. With just our heads above the roofline, no one will see us.”
Shaking his head, he followed me as I led him to a two-story warehouse across the street from the teahouse. There was a wall on either side of the building. I hopped onto the wall and walked along it to the roof. It was an easy climb to the eaves of the overhanging roof.
Once up on the building, I turned around and beckoned Yujirō to join me. His gaze shifted from the wall to the roof. “I don’t think I can do that,” he said.
“Why? It’s easy.”
“I can’t climb like a little monkey.”
“A little monkey?” I said, louder than I intended.
He reddened slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t really mean that. But, I can’t climb the way you can. I’ll just do it my way. I admit that walking into the tea house might be a bad idea, but I think I have a better one. You can watch from the roof.”
I had my doubts about how good his plan would be, but I slid my way up onto the peak of the roof where I could see the teahouse.
Yujirō stood in the street outside the teahouse. He cupped his hands around his mouth and, at the top of his lungs, he yelled, “Oi! Kisama! You White Hilt apes couldn’t beat up a chonin grandmother.”
I closed my eyes and put my head down.
That is a plan?
A clatter came from inside. It sounded like cups hitting the floor and perhaps a table being overturned.
The White Hilts came pouring out of the teahouse.
…five, six, seven. Seven of them? He’s crazy.
Everyone else on the street scurried inside nearby buildings or dashed around corners to get away from the combatants. Faces peeked out through partially closed shutters, waiting to see what happened.
The seven White Hilts stood about four body lengths from Yujirō in a ragged semicircle.
He stood with his hands tucked into his obi. “So, prove me wrong. Why don’t the seven of you go find a chonin grandmother and beat her up?”
Of course, there were more than that last night. Do these baka actually think they stand a chance after he beat them so thoroughly last time?
The White Hilts drew their katana.
Oddly, Daichi was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, I understood. These idiots were merely a distraction to keep Yujirō’s attention. Daichi had to be nearby, planning to take Yujirō unawares. I searched the street.
Without warning, one of the White Hilts threw himself forward and swung a vicious cut at Yujirō.
Yujirō grabbed the hilt of his katana with one hand and the placed the other on the scabbard in his obi. With a blinding flash of sunlight reflecting off the polished steel of his blade, he struck the charging White Hilt in the torso. Bright red blood fountained from the White Hilt’s chest.
The White Hilt screamed and stumbled past Yujirō, finally falling face-down in the road behind him. The packed dirt of the road slowly darkened as it absorbed the blood from the terrible wound. The body twitched a couple of times and then went still.
Yujirō attacked.
One of the White Hilts tried to strike him from the side. Yujirō dropped to one knee to avoid the slash and cut at his new foe. The man screamed and staggered back holding a bloodied hand.
Movement behind the building next to me caught my eye.
Daichi skulked in the shadows of the buildings, approaching Yujirō from the rear.
Staying on my belly, I crawled across the roof toward Daichi.
The White Hilt with the injured hand had quit the fight. Another had lost his nerve and fled. The remaining four clustered together and made several half-hearted attacks. Yujirō slid to the right, avoiding their weapons.
“Cowards,” he hissed. “Why don’t you join your friends and hide? You know you can’t beat me.”
From behind Yujirō, Daichi frantically signaled the men. They attacked. Once Yujirō was fully occupied, Daichi took a deep breath and carefully slipped a tantō out of his obi with his right hand. Holding the weapon well away from his body, he walked toward the street. I slipped my sai out of its hidden sheath and waited.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
As Daichi passed under me, I jumped from the roof and landed on his back, knocking him to the ground. He rolled and had the tantō between us before I could pin him. He rose to his feet.
Seeing me, he laughed and slashed the weapon back and forth in front of him. “Run away, little boy, the slightest cut from this weapon will kill you.”
“Aho,” I scoffed. “Learn what it means to face a true shinobi.”
He leapt forward, stabbing at me with the tantō.
I stepped to the side and trapped his arm with the prongs of the sai. Slipping my leg behind his, I tripped him. As he fell, he dropped the tantō. It spun as it fell, cutting his leg. I kicked it out of his reach.
He stared at his leg. “No,” he screamed. He squirmed away. “No!”
Che! I need to get the information from him before he dies.
“Didn’t your sensei give you the antidote? Mine would never send me out with a poisoned blade without the antidote,” I said.
He looked at me desperately.
“Torikabuto, right? I might have something for that.”
Hope flickering in his eyes, he nodded.
I made a show of searching inside my obi. I pulled out my tube of metsubishi powder.
“Ah, here it is. All you have to do is to tell me where you got the metsubushi powder and the torikabuto, and I will give it to you.”
He struggled to get to his feet.
I kicked him, knocking him on his back. He levered himself to a sitting position.
“You know,” I confided in him, “torikabuto is probably the deadliest poison the shinobi use. Death will come quickly, but the old beggar already demonstrated that, didn’t he? The antidote must be given immediately.” I stepped back. “Where did you get it?”
“A shinobi,” he choked out.
“I know that, baka. Who is this shinobi and where can I find him?”
“He … a middle-aged man. I don’t know his name. Please give me the antidote.”
“You’re lying. You really don’t have the time for these games.”
I heard a step beside me and took a quick glance to my left. Yujirō approached. Two White Hilts lay dead in the street. There was no sign of the other four.
“Hajime-sensei. An old cripple.” Daichi was almost screaming. Fear made his voice crack like a twelve-year-old boy just coming into his manhood. He tried to get up, but he could no longer move his injured leg. “My leg!” he shrieked.
“Better. And where can I find this Hajime-sensei?”
“Etamura. A large house very close to the east gate. You can’t miss it. Now please, give me the antidote.”
I smiled. “I lied. There is no antidote for torikabuto. If you had been properly trained, you would have known that.”
Daichi dying from the poison was a nice bit of karma after the way he killed the beggar. A samurai killing a hinin would not even be investigated by the police, but maybe the kami did care.
Daichi sank to the ground as his arms gave way. He struggled to breathe.
I bent over and whispered in his ear. “I hope you suffer the torments of all the hells for one-hundred million years, aho. I know of very few people who deserve it more.”
I turned my head at the fading sound of pounding feet to spy the last four White Hilts rounding the corner of a nearby building at a dead run. Yujirō flicked the blood off his blade, returned his katana to its sheath, and walked over to me.
I cut off a piece of Daichi’s obi, picked up the tantō by the hilt with two fingers, and carefully wrapped the knife in the fabric, putting several layers around the blade. “I will take this to Akiyo-sensei.”
I looked at Daichi again. He was dead.
Yujirō grunted. He started walking away. “We go to the etamura to find this rogue shinobi. Cheng Yü said, ‘Take him unaware by surprise attacks where he is unprepared.’ He is unaware and unprepared.”
He wants to die. There’s no other explanation.
“Shinobi are always aware. They assume an attack can happen at any time. Besides, we have no idea of the number of his followers.”
He stopped. “How many followers can he have?”
“I have no idea, but I think I should scout the place. If you just walk into a shinobi’s lair, then you are the one who is unprepared.”
He looked at me for a moment, lips pursed, and then nodded his head. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
He started walking again.
The etamura was the home of the eta and the hinin, those who were not even people. Samurai did not go there. People did not go there.
“No! Samurai don’t go into the etamura. Everyone will be watching you.”
He scowled, not slowing his pace. “I will leave my swords behind and wear my old clothes.”
“Your posture and walk declare you a samurai. They would still know.”
“And no one would suspect you?”
“My parents were hinin, street performers, and I was born in the etamura. It has been a long time since I was last there, but I will fit in better than you. I will scout it out after class.”
I stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “This is a shinobi clan affair, and both Maeda-sama and Akiyo-sensei expect the shinobi to handle it.”
He stepped around me and resumed walking.
“We are supposed to be protecting you, not letting you fight our battles for us,” I shouted at his back.
He stopped again, and turned to me, his fists clenched. “Those people killed Estêvão.”
“They were merely a knife in the hand of the man who truly killed Estêvão. The man who hired the shinobi.”
Yujirō looked as if he had bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “Fine. You are late for class. We need to go.” He didn’t say anything for the rest of the way to the Academy.
In class, I found my mind continually returning to the fight on the road with Daichi. My distraction was so great that Emiko-sensei had to scold me three times.
“Seiji! Are you paying attention?”
“Sorry, Sensei.”
I couldn’t keep my thoughts off what Akiyo-sensei had asked me. Could I give up killing to become a normal chonin girl? If this morning was any indication, I couldn’t. Had I been a simple shop-girl, Yujirō would be dead and Daichi alive. Would that have been a better outcome? I didn’t think so.
After class, I escorted Yujirō-san back to his grandfather’s house and returned to the kimono shop. I sat on the tatami in the back room, relaxing, trying to remember the days before the brothel. To remember my family and living in the etamura.
Akiyo-sensei came in. “Well, did you discover anything?”
I reached into my obi, and pulled out the poisoned tantō in its cloth wrappings. I handed it to Akiyo-sensei. “Yes, Sensei. The leader of the White Hilts told me that the old shinobi was hiding in the etamura. Yujirō-san was ready to launch an attack right away, but I convinced him that it was none of his affair.”
Akiyo-sensei looked at the tantō. “I should have guessed,” she muttered under her breath. “Where else would a beggar live?”
She smiled at me. “Good work, Sai. We don’t want anyone else involved in this.”
“I will go to the etamura once I have put together an appropriate disguise.”
“Fine. Have Hanae help if you need it.”
I dragged myself to my feet and went through our old kimono pile looking for suitable clothes. Bright, garish, and cheap. That was the sort of clothing entertainers wore when they were working. But they wouldn’t wear costumes wandering around town. I tried to remember my mother and visualize the clothes she wore. A simple cotton kimono. A short one that she would wear over some loose pants. Those were very common clothes. I wore almost exactly the same thing when I practiced with Akiyo-sensei. A simple outfit, but my mother always combined it with a bright scarf for a touch of color.
That would be easy. The only tricky part would be finding a nice scarf.
I changed into some light gray practice garb. Then I went through our stocks looking for a suitable scarf. I finally settled on a linen scarf of a vibrant orange color. Hanae helped me add a hairpiece to my short ponytail.
Once Akiyo-sensei’s approved my disguise, I made my way north through the busy streets of Edo. I worked at putting a bit of a sway into my walk, struggling to remember what I could of my mother. Did she smile at men as she walked down the street? I couldn’t remember, but I remembered how she smiled at me.
I shook myself out of my daydreams. This was not the time to lose myself in memories of my long-lost mother.
My eyes fell on an emaciated woman shaking her begging bowl and crying out to passersby. Three equally gaunt children crouched at her feet, looking on hopelessly. There were so many beggars in the streets. At least this woman hadn’t abandoned her children. Instead, she chose to stay with them and starve to death.
As I approached her, I slipped a silver monme out of my purse and threw it to her, moving on quickly before she could thank me. I did not wish to be mobbed by other beggars hoping for similar generosity. It probably wasn’t a kindness to give her and her children anything. The money would allow them to eat for a few days, no more. If nothing else changed, they would still die. Perhaps I was just prolonging their suffering. They might earn a better life in their next incarnations. No matter what I did for them, I was afraid that their end would come soon. If the cost of rice didn’t come down, their deaths were certain. We needed to discover what Maeda-sensei had been investigating.
I straightened up and began walking a bit more quickly. It wasn’t far before I passed through the gates of Edo. The roads outside the city were wide, running between rice paddies. The results of the famine were clearly visible from the brown and dying rice stalks filling the fields. It was only a short trip until I came in sight of the etamura. My pace slowed and my heart constricted as I neared my childhood home. It felt strange to be there after so much time.
“Sai, you have a job to do,” I whispered to myself.
My feet dragging with reluctance, I walked through the south gate and entered the town. Looking around, nothing much had changed. Ramshackle houses thrown together from whatever scraps the builder could find crowded together in crooked streets. Edo was carefully planned. The etamura simply grew. Larger, well-constructed houses sprang up at random locations, with ramshackle huts built from discarded junk sometimes right next door. Some eta got rich, but they were never allowed to live outside the etamura. It had all seemed normal when I lived there as a child, but now the effect of grouping all these differing types of buildings in one place struck me as very odd.
The stench was terrible. I had forgotten about the stink of the tanneries that overlay the entire area. When I lived in the etamura, I was so used to the smell that I didn’t even think about it most of the time.
Some of the better-constructed buildings were stores, but there were no identifying banners hanging from the eaves here. Only the people of the etamura shopped there and they already knew what each business sold. Beggars sat in groups, talking. They didn’t beg here. No one had anything to give them. Naked children played in the narrow, dusty streets, screaming in excitement as they raced back and forth.
A few people glanced at me curiously, but no one paid attention for long. I breathed more easily. My plan was going to work.
I should have been heading for the east gate, but my feet took me north until I stopped at the street that passed through my old neighborhood. The houses were all different from what I remembered. Even the direction of the road had changed. Fire must have destroyed the area, forcing everyone to rebuild. Probably more than once.
I walked along the houses, feeling as if I had lost a bit of myself. At the end of the lane, I turned around—only to trip over a large black cat.
“Nyan-dono?” I gasped.
Nyan-dono had been a large, long-haired black tomcat I found when I was six. This cat looked just like him. He rubbed up against my leg, buzzing with purrs, and then looked up at me expectantly.
It’s only been nine years since I left, he could still be alive.
When I was a child, we barely had enough food to feed ourselves so my mother wouldn’t let me feed Nyan-dono. Instead, I would take him out near the storage huts where the rice and grain were kept and throw pebbles against the walls of the buildings. The noise drove out the mice living in the huts and he would catch them for his dinner.
And here he sat, waiting for me. With a laugh, I picked him up in my arms. I carried him over to a storage hut and put him down in the road. Bending over, I scooped up a handful of pebbles and threw them against the side of the hut. Mice came scurrying out of the building, scattering when they got into the open. My childhood friend went racing off after one particularly large and plump mouse, disappearing into the reeds around the river.
I was still smiling as I came in sight of the east gate.
Just as Daichi had said, there was a large, well-built house surrounded by a high wall almost next to the gate. It stood a full three-stories high, almost unheard of in the etamura. As I stood examining the estate, I felt the soft touch of fur against my leg.
“Nyan-dono? Are you following me?” I reached my hand out toward him and he sniffed it. I sat in the dirt in the shade under a tree and stroked him while observing the house. The sound of shouting came faintly from the other side of the grounds. It sounded like someone was doing weapons drills.
I put Nyan-dono down and walked around the wall until I could see the hovels crowding up against the rear wall of the estate. Picking the one that looked least likely to collapse, I climbed to the roof and crawled to a position where I could see over the wall and into the yard. Nyan-dono jumped onto the roof, settled beside me, and began cleaning himself. We watched as an old cripple directed a group of four fighters practicing a very familiar kata.
They were practicing with the bo, a three-quarter length staff. In unison, the four stepped forward, struck a blow to an imaginary foe, stepped forward again and reversed the staff, striking the unseen opponent in the leg with the other end.
A dog in the yard came racing up to the wall, standing directly under me and barking wildly. I slid back down the roof a ways, hoping no one would see me. Nyan-dono walked to the edge of the roof, looked down at the dog disdainfully, and resumed cleaning himself. The four trainees halted their drills and the cripple came limping up, leaning on his staff. When he saw the cat on the roof, he struck the dog across the head. “Idiot cur! Can’t you tell the difference between an intruder and a stupid cat?” Yelping in pain, the dog tucked its tail between its legs and fled.
I raised my head from where I had ducked down behind the crest of the roof and let out a long breath.
That was close.
The old man limped back to the training group, but he kept looking back over his shoulder at the roof.
It would be dark soon, and I wanted to head back to the kimono shop. I had no desire to be caught outside of the city at night. But I didn’t dare leave until a little more time had passed. The old man ordered the trainees to continue their drills. I watched them complete three full rounds of training, then Hajime clapped his hands and shouted. The trainees laid down their weapons, and together they tramped back into the house. Two more figures detached themselves from trees in the garden and followed the group into the house.
At least six, maybe more inside.
I had seen enough to know we were in very serious trouble. There were at least six shinobi with Hajime and they appeared to be quite skilled. Daichi was not representative of those the old man trained. I could think of only one way we would have a chance of defeating the rogue shinobi and his men.
Nyan-dono followed me back most of the way to the theater district, then he stopped in the middle of the road, sat down and cried until I picked him up. He started purring.
I entered the kimono shop with him in my arms. Hanae saw me and rushed over to pet the purring cat.
“Sai, what did you fi—what is that?” Akiyo-sensei asked.
“A cat?” I knew she didn’t like cats, but how could I turn him away?
“Yes, it certainly looks like one, although that is one of the mangiest, dirtiest cats I have ever seen. Why is it in my shop?”
I put the cat down and whispered, “I think he’s not just a cat but really a kami. He looks exactly like Nyan-dono, the cat I had when I was a child, but he helped me when the shinobi’s dog caught my scent. He will catch mice and bring us good luck.”
Akiyo-sensei was unmoved. “You call him ‘Prince Meow?’ So, not only is he a kami, but an imperial prince? You don’t have the time to care for a cat, Sai.”
“I will help, sensei,” Hanae said, still petting Nyan-dono.
“We do have mice in the storeroom,” Kaguya added.
Akiyo-sensei glared at us in frustration. “If it sharpens its claws on just one kimono, I will kill it.”
I grabbed the Nyan-dono and carried him out of the shop and into the next room.
“Wash that filthy thing before you let it loose in the house!” Akiyo-sensei shouted. “And I still need your report.”
I told her everything I’d seen while Nyan-dono sat in the soapy water and yowled mournfully. It took all three of us girls to get him clean and brushed. The minute he got loose, he raced away to hide under a ledge in the storeroom.
When we were done with Nyan-dono, I found Akiyo-sensei seated in front of the butsudan, watching the candles burn.
“Sensei?” I approached her.
“Oh, Sai, it’s you.” She hesitated. “I’ve decided it would be best if I handled the rogue shinobi on my own.”
Oh, no. You’re not going to do this without me.
“Sensei, I know the two of us can’t kill Hajime and his men by ourselves. I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”