CHAPTER EIGHT—THE FIRST AND THE LAST

With a smile Adrienne dropped the coins into the gatekeeper’s hands, their papers were stamped and the guards watched as they strode into the darkness of the rounded gate. The doors were only cracked, but that mere crack was wide enough for a double horse-drawn carriage to pass through.

There were at least ten guards standing about and even more in the small rounded towers build into the walls on either side of the gate. During a battle, they could loose down through murder holes should they need to do such a thing.

As they walked through the massive gate, Haru’s heart began to pound with anticipation, his head swiveling and his eyes darting about. They were entering the city! And now that he thought of it, he knew, seeing all these guards and their towers, that they would have never been able to get through without Adrienne’s help.

“Mm,” Hiro noised with a contented nod and a smile. “Now, we go into the city.”

“Easy, right?” Adrienne asked as she turned, walked backwards as she led the way like she tended to do. Soft warm light from above bathed her features. “All you needed was me.”

“That’s right!” Fuwafuwa chan exclaimed excitedly as he appeared on her shoulder.

Hiro laughed and looked at Haru, who was very distracted. Hiro had never been to the Twin Cities, but he had traveled before. He was no young pup like Haru-kun. His curiosity did cause him to act the newcomer in a manner, but not in the ways that Haru behaved. He was happy to see the young man so excited.

The inner gate was dark, save for the orange-yellow glow of lantern light above. Hiro glanced up to see the big rounded lanterns hanging by large chains from the ceiling. Ahead, another set of double doors awaited, also cracked with more guards.

By the sheer size of the walls and the large space inside—which felt more like a tunnel of sorts, epic and majestic were the words that came into his mind, but he did not utter them. “Wait until we get into the actual city,” Adrienne said. “This is nothing—but it does make for quite the entrance, would you not say?”

“Hai,” Hiro said with a nod. “Yes, it does.”

Despite the sunny morning, that bright promise earlier was now occasionally overshadowed by intermittent cloud cover that blotted out the sun like a blanket every so often—a new storm clearly on the horizon when glancing across the waters from the village, and Hiro did just that, one last time, look at the waters from within the darkened recess of the inner wall.

“We need to get you two something decent to wear.”

The samurai nodded together as the light of the overcast moment of the day hit them as soon as they exited the dark interior of the gate. This gate was the She Zhao Gate, or the Serpent’s Claw Gate. It was nothing but a side entrance, or exit, depending on what the city needed at the time. It was much smaller than the Great Serpent Gate, or so Hiro had thought when remembering the size of the front entrance. It was large enough to admit ships!

The light of the day shaded the street and Haru shivered. Before them, the city loomed, but was hard to see in the thick air—a sort of blue-grey haze that hung within the city. It gave off an air of mystery and calm, the young rōnin thought.

They stepped into the light that crossed the street at a sharp angle, the sun high enough to strike the street when the roofs and walls were not obscuring the light, but it took the trio some time to venture far enough in for that cut of light, which shone along the street stones—large square blocks—many hundred paces ahead of them.

“All right,” Adrienne said with a gesture of her hand as she rested the other on the pummel of her rapier sword. “Follow me and we’ll get you something to wear real quick—oh,” she added at the end, taking a look at them both.

“What is it?” Hiro asked.

She glanced between them. “You both need a shave?”

Hiro touched his face. “A shave?”

She scoffed with surprised .”Yeah.” She turned. “Come on, boys.”

Boys? Hiro thought, mirth rising in him, though he only smiled a little as the short girl with golden hair, a minor noble from a land far from here, led the way. Though she was of the Twin Cities. She had been born here, Hiro thought. It was very interesting.

A concern had touched his mind for her well beings. Drinking in taverns and meeting strangers from across the sea was no safe thing. Clearly the girl’s parents had no idea how she spent her days. But there had been something she said the day before—something about sword skills and magic.

He smiled. This girl… there was more about her than met the eye, and he knew that she could take care of herself. That, and she was a local. Surely she knew the ins and outs, the dangers, hidden and otherwise. He could tell by his careful observation of her attitude, her street smarts.

She was no golden-haired and expensively-appareled noble that would cry if she tripped and scuffed her wrist. This girl was a tough little cat with a yōkai for a pet. Kami-sama!

Adrienne led the two men up a series of winding stone steps with a thick red balustrade. But the time they got to the top, they were all breathing more heavily, though Adrienne only slightly, while her little demon yōkai smiled in satisfaction while atop his perch, which was her shoulder.

They had come to an elevated portion of the city, which, Haru thought as he glanced about in awe, that this place was a veritable mesa of human design and elegance. The square was massive—so massive, he strained to see the structures clearly on the other side.

But before the structures farther in the distance, something else loomed. There was a park there with trees and bridges, and a small river. And fountains. Many market stalls and vendors were present, and many, many market goers as well and men and women walked across the square toward obvious other destinations, many of them carried by little cards with two wheels, either by small mules or men who trudged like beasts of burden—a think never seen in Mikuma.

The young samurai could not help but smile at the grandiosity of this city. But why was it called the Twin Cities?

“Mm,” Hiro hummed deep inside his throat as he glanced about. On the edges of the square were all manner of structures that climbed high into the sky, their tiered roofs with upturned corners clearly visible, though at the higher levels, levels that he had seen silhouetted in the haze above the wall when they had first arrived on the boat, were somewhat hard to see. “Is it very far?” he asked.

“Not too far,” Adrienne said. She pointed. “It’s down an alley on the other side of the square.”

“Adrienne-san?” Haru asked.

She turned. “Yeah?”

“Why do they call this place, the ‘Twin Cities’? I thought you would know, since you are from here?”

“Of course I know.” She pointed a finger without turning her head in the direction of their left. “Look over there.”

Both of them men glanced that way. For the structures, they would not have been able to see much, save for the narrow alley. The razed square clearly dropped off, probably by a series of steps where other smaller structures were situated.

“If you go that way, you cross the Serpent’s Mouth River you foreigners like to call it, and on other other side is Darxien. Right now we’re in Xanjer.”

“Oh…” Haru said with a nod. “Hai, wakarimasu.”

“And,” Hiro said curiously, “where does this Serpent’s Mouth River go?”

“Oh it winds around, called the Winding Tail. It forms an island where the emperor’s palace is at. It’s called the Okukan Palace.”

“That sounds Mikuman.”

She shrugged. “The Twin Cities has a pretty complicated history—wars, foreigners—a lot of foreigners—and all manner of other moments in history involving trade companies and land ownership.”

“Mm—very complicated.”

She smiled. “It will tie your brains in a knot of you think about it too much.”

“Hmph,” Haru noised with a smile.

“Come on—we’re wasting time.”

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Their guide and newly acquired business partner took them to a shop with the name Shufen Liao Shang, a clothier with a tiny door surrounded by an overhanging eave of grey-green tiles hemmed in on both sides with angry statues depicting armored soldiers with curved swords and serpent masks with long mustaches. The sign showed tools of the trade and a symbol indicating the the shop as a clothier.

When they entered, both men had oohed and ahhed at the depth of the shop—these foreigners were funny—and how the tiny door had been misleading. The inner corridors stretched far deeper into the structure of stones than either of the two swordsmen would have thought.

There was a warmness about the shop. Several women worked in a back room, cutting and fashioning clothes. They measures and spoke among themselves in a language neither Hiro nor Haru could understand. Of course, Adrienne understood perfectly, though the many languages of the Twin Cities were in a way, foreign to her, as her first language had always been that of Machezelle—her true homeland—or how her parents liked to remind her when they thought was slipping too far into the ways of the Twin Cities.

Men also worked in the shop, sweeping the rugs that sat across warm tiles, loading wood and tending to the little metal ovens that kept the place warm. It was a wonder how such a simple shop—clearly run by a matriarch, her children and their wives, could surprise Hiro so much.

In any event, it was not long before they were both outfitted in various garments, clothes the owners and their children had assisted with assiduously. The clothes were finally paid for with smiles and a hand-clasped bow by the older woman. When they stepped out into the street, Hiro felt like a new man as he waved goodbye to the family, who all smiled and bowed politely.

What a wonderful city, he thought.

Adrienne skipped past them and turned to take them both in, nodding with satisfaction. Did they look good? “You look…” she began, but trailed off.

“What?” Hiro asked, spreading his arms? “You said I looked good inside the shop.”

She nodded, wanting to get a look at them both in a more natural setting outside of the clothier. The older man had chosen the brown-grey trousers, sandals, and the sleeveless tunic along with the lacquered leather jacket—also without sleeves. It also had a very presumptuous color. Down the front were green strips where the wooden toggles could catch if he wanted to close the jacket, which cut off sharply at his beltline. With his hair tied at the back, and his exposed arms—they were big arms—they made him look like a richly appareled enforcer for one of the companies.

She nodded again, satisfied at what she saw. Very good. “You look the part perfectly,” she said, though a tiny doubt about her judgment on the matter did niggle in the back of her mind.

The younger man, Haru, smiled, and she looked at him too. The man, much younger that Hiro-chan—shun-chin—whatever, had chosen Twin Cities apparel more akin to his homeland of Mikuna. Or was it Mikuma? He wore a low tunic that resembled what they called kimonos and a sash. She almost rolled her eyes at their shared choice of sandals and white foot wrappings. But the wide sleeves would not distract him if he ever needed to use his sword—and Adrienne knew they probably would.

There was always the chance that her farce would lead to something real, and if she was going to make a name for herself, start her own mercenary company, then some real actionable substance would be needed sooner or later. And if that never happened, she might be satisfied making a name for herself as the greatest scammer and thief in the Twin Cities.

“Why are you smiling?” Haru asked. “Are you dissatisfied with our choices?”

“Hmm?” she asked, pulled out of her musings. “Oh—no! No, you two look good, and we need to get you shaved next, then we can go to the Lanchiu’s.”

“Matte,” Haru said.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Gomen—“

“I don’t know what that means, either.”

With a subtle air of embarrassment, Haru corrected himself and used fewer Mikuman words. “What about Ujiro-san? Are we just going to leave him?”

Hiro raised an eyebrow, realizing he had forgotten about their friend. How could this be! “That’s right! He owes me a month of drinks.”

“Is that all you can think about?” Haru asked reproachfully.

“Hey,” Adrienne said, “I could go for some more drinks—but later, okay?”

“Mm,” Hiro noised with a nod.

“I am here,” an gravel-like voice said from behind their group.

They all whirled on their heels to find an older man with greying hair standing before them. In his left hand was a staff and his left eye was terribly bruised. Hes stared at them, his eyelids hanging low, his chin tucked in.

All was silent, save for the sounds of the muffled voices of city people now too far off going about their day, completely unaware of the confrontation in the street below.

Adrienne’s eyes widened.

“Ujiro?” Haru exclaimed, his surprise so strong that he had forgotten to address the man properly.

“Hai,” he said, and strode forward, making Haru swallow with anxiety. Then he stopped, his knuckles whitening as he griped his staff.

Then he moved, raising the weapon over his shoulder. The rōnin screamed and charged forward. All at once, Adrienne took a step back as Fuwafuwa thought “Uh-oh!” Haru put a hand forward, about to call out to the older man to be sensible as his heart lurched into his throat.

Hiro narrowed his eyes, his thoughts containing one word. “No.”

Ujiro swept across the street stones with such force and ferocity, his feet practically gliding over the stones—no they were gliding over the stones in some whirlwind of martial skill as he pulled back his staff to strike, his teeth bared and his howl like that of a blood-crazed samurai in the heat of a duel.

He swing the weapon.

His feet touched down.

And all at once, the whirl of motion from the battle crying samurai’s charge halted, his staff a finger’s breadth from the forehead of the long-haired swordsmen with thick arms.

Adrienne glanced at the attacker, at Hiro—unable to believe what she was seeing. He did not move a muscle.

“Nani?” Haru breathed. “…shiteruno desu… ka?”

“Hmph,” Hiro scoffed. “You owe me drinks, old man.”

The look on the other guy’s face hardened, but Hiro smiled impishly like a sodden fool—the way he did last night in the inn. “Hey!” Adrienne said, pointing. “You guys know this bum?”

Fortunately, none of the men heard her say that, and especially Ujiro. Suddenly his face softened, and a smile appeared. He laughed. “No, boy. It is you who owes me a month of drinks!”

Haru let out the breath he had been holding, wanted to curse in frustration suddenly as Hiro and Ujiro laughed loudly as if they were in their yōkai-cursed cups and embraced.

“It is good to see you!’ Ujiro said, slapping Hiro’s back. His eyes flicked up to the other man. “And you, Haru­­-kun!” He pointed a finger, which turned into a quick beckoning motion.

The younger man smiled and nodded, genuinely happy and relieved to see their third member appear before them. “But how did you find us?”

What the… Adrienne, thought, her muscles still tensed. She could hardly believe these fools!

“Uh?” Ujiro said. “Oh, I have my ways, you young samurai would never know the likes of.”

Hiro laughed amicably, as was his way in almost all things. “I am happy you found us, old man.”

“Yes,” Ujiro said. “And it seemed you are well taken care of.” He glanced at the two younger swordsmen again to better take in their apparel. It was very interesting to see them wearing such. Where did the coin come from? he wondered. But then his eyes fell upon their little companion. “Who is this young lady in your company?”

“Oh!” Haru said suddenly. “Gomen!” he said with a clasp of his hands and a bow to the young girl.

“I told you, man—I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“We are so sorry for forgetting to introduce you properly,” he said.

“You need some ice,” she said.

“Nani?”

“Still don’t know what it means!”

“Haru-kun,” Hiro said consolingly as he put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Calm yourself. There is no need for such formality. We are in a new place. Relax yourself.”

“That is right!” Ujiro said. “You should listen to Hiro-san. For all that he is a fool, he is also a wide man of the sword.”

Haru nodded stiffly. “Of course. I am sorry”—they looked at him. “I—Yes.”

“Hmph,” Ujiro scoffed with a smirk. “Now where did you get the money for these cloths?!”

“Hello?” Adrienne asked, a tinge of annoyance in her tone. These men were scatterbrained. “Were you not about to introduce me? Gods!”

“Ah,” Hiro said. “Yes, Adrienne, this is our friend and companion, Kagawaru Ujiro-san.” He gestured to the older swordsman who nodded respectfully.

“Pleased to meet you, Kagawaru,” she said, bowing eloquently like she had the first time when meeting Hiro and Haru. “As they have said, my name is Adrienne, or rather, to put it fully, I am Adrienne de Valaincourt. My parents hail from Machezelle.”

Ujiro flinched, though his reaction was so slight, only Hiro noticed, but he was certain the older samurai knew right away of Adrienne’s noble heritage.

“Please,” Ujiro said. “Call me Ujiro.”

She nodded flippantly. “You got it, Uji.”

“Uh…”

“Oh! and Ujiro-san,” Hiro interrupted as he glanced between Adrienne and him.. “She is our new business associate. She has been kind enough to outfit us with new apparel in exchange for our help.”

He nodded, stepped forward and bowed to her as if she were a Mikuman princess. “It is an honor to meet you, and I look forward to working with you.”

So that was how they got into the city. How easy. He wanted to growl in frustration and jealously, but the truth was, they had probably beat him into the city? No, not possible!

“So…” she said, “this is it, right? There’s no more of you old guys waiting in the alleys back there ready to join my band of misfits?”

“Old guys?” Ujiro asked.

“Ah,” Hiro said with a smile, though his tone was one of diplomacy. He sighed. “It’s what she calls me too, Ujiro-san. It cannot be helped.” He spread his hands.

“I see,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“In any event,” Adrienne said, “this is Fuwafuwa.” She introduced her yōkai, of which Ujiro was quite impressed by—and even gave the little creature a scratch on the neck. Fuwafuwa really seemed to enjoy that, and he expressed his strong approval of Ujiro-san.

“Well,” Adrienne finally said. “Now that we have our last member…” she let that word hang for a moment. “I guess we’ll get you something to wear. Gods, the day is getting late. We need to hurry, okay?”

Ujiro nodded gratefully. “Yes, of course,” and as spry and physically capable as either of the other two swordsmen, he eagerly led the way back into the Shufen Liao Shang clothier.

“Maybe it’s a good thing we have an older member,” Adrienne mused.

“Eh?” Hiro intoned.

“It gives our group more weight.” She snapped her fingers, looking to further expand on the word she thought came just short of what she wanted to express.

“More credence?” Fuwafuwa suggested.

“Yeah! That’s it!”

“Ah,” Hiro said with a nod. “I understand your meaning perfectly, Adrienne-kun.”

She made a little face, but he was unsure as to why, but what the rōnin did not understand was that the golden-haired girl simply wanted to understand the honorifics they used when addressing each other, and of course, her, which she had little to no knowledge of despite a great Mikuman presence in the Twin Cities.

Shaking his head and following the others back into the clothier, Haru wondered how neither of the two older swordsmen—samurai, even if they were rōnin samurai—could have such little shame when taking Adrienne’s offers to buy them things.

They seemed so at ease and in their element, a new element surely, but Haru could not help but feel a mild sense of shame, and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. That was why he had chosen the cheaper, more conservative choice of what he was wearing—and if truth be told, the choice he felt most comfortable wearing.

Ujiro however…

Well now that he was in the shop, he had evidently left his shame back in Mikuma. Kami-sama!—quite clearly he did!