Sisters of the Sword Read online

  “Of course it’s not poison, you idiot,” Ken-ichi said with a snort. “I can tell the difference between poison and sake, you know!”

  Hana and I exchanged a glance. Ken-ichi and his friends were drinking alcohol!

  “How do you tell the difference?” one of the boys asked. “I thought that was the whole point with poisons. They’re easily hidden, and easily mistaken for something else. What if this is…poisoned sake?”

  I heard Ken-ichi slurp from the bowl. “It isn’t,” he said stoutly. “I got it from the kitchens. They’re hardly going to give the Master something that’s poisoned, are they?” He gave a snort. “Although…if I was going to poison someone, slipping it into a drink like sake would be so easy!”

  “You’re so clever, Ken-ichi-dono,” the other boy said in a fawning voice. “You know everything.”

  “I make it my business to know everything,” Kenichi said. There was a pause, and then he added, “And right now I know that we’re being spied upon!”

  Before Hana and I could find another place to hide, he was striding through the hanging laundry, tearing it down from the thin ropes until he was standing face to face with us, three white sheets and a kimono twisted around his arm.

  I shoved Hana behind me, snatched up my wooden paddle, and held it in front of me defensively.

  Ken-ichi took one look at me and snorted with laughter. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Lather me with rice bran and paddle me to death?”

  “How did you know we were here?” I countered.

  “I heard you crashing around before we even got here,” he sneered. “You were pathetic! I’ve seen girls fight better than you two!”

  I flushed and forced myself to stare at the ground. It was clear that he was just trying to insult us, but it made my heart jump to think that he might be close to uncovering our secret. Behind him, his two friends sniggered.

  Pleased with himself, Ken-ichi went on, “I wonder what that old fool Choji would say if he knew two of his slaves were messing about up here instead of working. Eh?”

  I clenched my fist so tightly around the wooden paddle that my knuckles turned white. “We’re not slaves.”

  Ken-ichi looked us up and down. “You look like slaves to me,” he said, and glanced at his friends. “What do you think? Do they look like slaves to you?”

  “Definitely slaves,” one of the boys said with relish. “I think you’d better inspect their work, Kenichi-dono.”

  Ken-ichi grinned. “What a good idea,” he said, and deliberately dropped the armful of clean laundry he’d been holding. Still grinning, he placed his sandaled foot squarely in the middle of the pile and ground the fabric into a muddy puddle. “Oh dear,” he said slowly, his dark eyes spiteful. “I think you slaves will have to clean these again!”

  Turning on his heel, Ken-ichi walked away. His two friends went scurrying after him, sniggering and nudging each other.

  At that moment, I felt like I couldn’t contain myself any longer. My fists clenched around my wooden paddle and I thought about smashing it down on his head—but then I stopped. I remembered my vow to myself. I would not dogfight with Ken-ichi. My time for revenge would come.

  I felt Hana’s hand on my arm. “Leave him,” Hana said. She was watching him too, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “There is a time and place to see justice done.”

  “I know,” I said. “But he wants me to challenge him.”

  “If that’s the case, then you will punish him more by not giving him what he wants,” Hana reasoned.

  Hana was right. I watched Ken-ichi strut down the pathway and finally disappear around the corner of the bathhouse.

  I knew that if I was patient, the opportunity would come to deal with him calmly and effectively. Once and forever.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “You’re late,” grumbled Choji when we finally appeared in the kitchens to help prepare lunch. “What were you doing up there—washing everything twice over?”

  As a punishment, he made us skip our afternoon weapons training and told us to scrub the kitchen floor with hot water and sand. “When I return, I don’t want to see a single spot of grease anywhere!”

  He turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Hana and I glanced at each other in surprise.

  “What’s wrong with Choji?” I asked Ko, who was busy kneading noodle dough at the table.

  Ko made a face. “He’s been like that ever since he came back from the village without any supplies,” he said. “One of the other servants said that there’s little food available to buy. The village is almost deserted. The Jito has samurai soldiers posted on every street corner. They take a percentage of any food that comes in for the Jito and what is left over is not enough…. People are beginning to go hungry.”

  We served a small lunch to the students, and all the servants sat in thoughtful silence to eat their own thin fish soup. Choji wasn’t present. Ko said the head servant had gone to talk to Master Goku. He was hoping the Master would appeal to Lord Hidehira for more food.

  Hana and I worked hard, and by the time we made our way to the meditation room that evening, we were almost dead on our feet. Our arms ached from wringing laundry and our hands were raw from spending most of the day being plunged into buckets of hot water. Our bellies growled with hunger.

  As soon as meditation began, I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting away….

  After the session, the relaxed atmosphere remained. Students talked quietly as they left the meditation room in small groups. Hana and I went around with the other servants, sweeping up the ash beneath incense sticks and putting out lanterns.

  Suddenly Hana dug her sharp elbow into my ribs. A messenger was standing in the doorway, his clothes dusty from the road. He bowed low and approached Master Goku.

  “Greetings, Sensei,” he said breathlessly. “I bring word from your friend Master Jin of Sagami to the south.”

  Master Goku signaled to one of the other servants to bring cha. “What does my good friend Master Jin say?”

  The man bowed again. “He apologizes, but he cannot continue his correspondence with you. Alliances between neighboring estates are being dissolved upon the word of your Jito. Lord Hidehira has announced his intention to seize the surrounding territories for himself. Therefore Master Jin says that he regrets to tell you that from this day onward, you and he must be considered enemies.”

  Master Goku closed his eyes briefly, and for a moment he looked like an old man. “The alliances are being dissolved.” His voice sounded heavy and tired. “And it is as I feared….”

  I knew Father had worked hard to build alliances throughout the kingdom, to bring peace to neighboring estates and form relationships with other provinces. But Uncle was destroying everything.

  When the servant returned with cha, Master Goku dismissed us all and drew the messenger into a quiet corner, obviously to question him further.

  Outside in the hallway, Ken-ichi was strutting like a peacock. “Soon the whole kingdom of Japan will be in my father’s grasp,” he bragged. “Before long he’ll be Jito of all the estates between here and the southern islands. He’ll be Shogun!”

  Behind me, Ko and another servant boy, Sato, were whispering.

  “Lord Hidehira has raised taxes on all farmers,” Sato said. “My father is headman of our village and he says the new taxes will cripple them!”

  “I heard that the local people have a new name for the Jito,” Ko said with a nod. “They are calling him Kaminari.”

  Kaminari…Thunder. It seemed an appropriate name for Uncle. He was unleashing a storm upon our lands.

  Up ahead, Ken-ichi suddenly wheeled around, his dark eyes flashing. “Who said that?” he demanded.

  Ko turned pale. “It was me, Ken-ichi-dono,” he stuttered.

  Ken-ichi strode back along the hallway until he was standing in front of Ko. He towered over the younger boy, who began to tremble. “You filthy peasant,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “How dare y
ou insult my noble father!”

  “I—I meant no insult, Ken-ichi-dono,” Ko said.

  “Whether you meant it or not, you still insulted him,” Ken-ichi said. “My father is the Jito—and he’s your lord and master. You owe him your loyalty.”

  Ko bowed low, his face ashen. “He has it, Ken-ichi-dono.”

  “You called him Kaminari,” Ken-ichi insisted. “And you must be punished for that!”

  Ko began to tremble as Ken-ichi glared around at the other servants. “Someone fetch this peasant a sword so he can defend himself,” he cried, his hand on the hilt of his own nihonto.

  They were going to fight!

  “This isn’t a matter to be decided by the sword,” I said, quickly stepping in front of Ko to protect him. “Ko didn’t give your father the name Kaminari. He was only repeating what he heard.”

  Ken-ichi flushed angrily. “Who asked for your opinion, rice boy?” he snarled. “Now, get out of my way.”

  “No,” I said firmly.

  Our gazes locked and held.

  There was a soft metallic whisper as Ken-ichi drew his blade, and in a heartbeat the tip was pressed against my throat. I could feel the chill steel pricking my skin.

  I caught my breath, not daring to move.

  A silence fell around us. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Master Goku. He came forward and placed his hand firmly on Ken-ichi’s nihonto blade, pushing it away from my throat.

  “Sheath your sword, Ken-ichi,” he said to my cousin, his voice hard and cold.

  A muscle flickered in Ken-ichi’s cheek, but he didn’t move. His unflinching gaze stayed locked on mine, his eyes full of hate.

  Master Goku’s face hardened. “You will not draw your blade against a member of my household.” Goku’s eyes flashed, and he raise his voice. “If there is a dispute, you will bring it to me!”

  The silence around us deepened. Then slowly Ken-ichi lowered his blade and rammed it back into its sheath.

  Master Goku’s hard gaze swept the assembled students. “There are five days left before the great tournament that marks the end of kenshu training,” he said. “If there is one more incident like this, any student involved will be forbidden to enter the competition.”

  With everything that had happened since our arrival at the dojo, I had almost forgotten about the tournament. I held my breath as the silence stretched thinly around us all. A few boys looked at the floor as if they were ashamed. Without a word, Ken-ichi turned on his heel and stalked away.

  Master Goku turned to Ko and Sato. “Repeating gossip is an activity more suited to washerwomen by a stream,” he said. “I expect better from servants at my dojo. Go and find something more worthy to occupy your time.”

  The two boys scurried away, Ko shooting me a grateful glance over his shoulder. The other servants and students soon followed, and Hana and I were left alone with Master Goku.

  “Stay out of trouble,” the Master said, his voice gentle. Then he dismissed us.

  As Hana and I walked away, I couldn’t help thinking about how bad things had become. Uncle was starving the country and Ken-ichi’s ego was raging out of control.

  Master Goku was keeping him in check—just. But I wondered how long things could go on like this.

  Later that night, we met up with Tatsuya for our usual practice session. He had heard from one of the other students about my encounter with Kenichi.

  “Ken-ichi’s a menace,” Tatsuya said, gathering up rocks in preparation for his tea-pouring practice.

  “Ko told me that Ken-ichi’s already been boasting that he’ll be champion of the tournament,” Hana said. “He says there’s no one here who’s good enough to beat him.”

  “I might compete,” I said thoughtfully. “I stand as good a chance of winning as anyone else. Ken-ichi would have to stop boasting then!” And, I thought, as champion of the tournament, I would be in a good position to challenge Uncle.

  As Tatsuya and Hana began their tea-pouring practice, I perched on a nearby rock, lost in thought. Whoever became champion would be celebrated, and that honor could be used as the grounds to face Lord Hidehira openly. Uncle would not be able to refuse the challenge.

  But could I win the tournament and become champion? Could I eliminate all the competition and be chosen as the best student in the school? During my time at the dojo I had put in hours of sweat and dedication. I excelled in many forms of fighting. Choji had told me recently that I was one of his best students with the naginata spear. Thanks to many moon phases of hard practice with the kitchen knives, I had become skillful enough to fight anyone in hand-to-hand combat with a tanto dagger. And my ability with a nihonto had improved dramatically since my swordfight with Ken-ichi at the dojo gates.

  Above all, I was beginning to learn that it was not strength that mastered a blade—but precision. I knew that, with or without a weapon, I could find a weakness in every opponent.

  I could do it, I told myself firmly. I could win the tournament. And once I was crowned champion, I would have proved that I could fight anybody and win. Thus would I be a worthy challenger to Uncle, and I would have my chance at revenge! My heart beat faster as I saw the way forward in my mind’s eye, like a walkway lit by a shaft of bright moonlight. In five days’ time I could face my uncle and avenge my father and brothers.

  Above us the night sky deepened to midnight black and a faint breeze brought me the scent of blossoms. I sat quietly on my rock, as Tatsuya and Hana finished their tea pouring.

  “That was much better this time,” Hana told him.

  “Thank you,” Tatsuya said with a small bow. “Your teaching has helped, and I think I have improved. But…” He gave an anxious sigh. “I’m still nervous about serving tea to Goku. It’s one thing doing it right during practice, but entirely different in front of the whole school and all the masters. What if my nerves get the better of me again, and I’m clumsy?”

  “You won’t be clumsy,” Hana said firmly as she replaced the rocks around the shadow-filled garden. She took Tatsuya’s hand. “You will believe in yourself, and you will remember everything you’ve learned here in this garden.”

  “I hope so,” Tatsuya said quietly.

  They bowed to each other in preparation for their usual sparring session. Hana was using a garden rake to defend herself from Tatsuya’s jo.

  “Higher,” Tatsuya told her. “Bring your elbow up, like this.” He demonstrated. “And use your left foot more.”

  Hana stepped forward with her left foot, swung her rake, and then ducked to avoid Tatsuya’s jo.

  “Here,” he said with a grin. “Swap weapons with me. I’ll use the rake to show you a better hand grip….”

  They sparred on, swinging and cutting, weapons slicing the air. They leaped and pirouetted, using walls and rocks and even the air as stepping-stones, looking more as though they were dancing than fighting.

  Tatsuya swung the garden rake again. Hana ducked once more, too late this time, and gave a little shriek as the tip of the rake swept across the top of her head. It caught in her topknot, and all at once her long hair came loose and tumbled down over her shoulders.

  Horrified, she scrambled to twist it back up.

  But there was too much of it! Long hair rippling in a waterfall of black silk…

  I leaped to my feet. I had to do something before Tatsuya realized!

  Tatsuya dropped the rake and stared at Hana, openmouthed.

  “You’re a girl!” he gasped.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  At last Hana managed to twist her hair up and secure it on the top of her head. “You are mistaken,” she said quickly.

  But Tatsuya shook his head. “I know what I saw,” he insisted. “You’re no more a boy than this garden rake is a lethal weapon!”

  My heart was racing and I stepped forward to go to Hana.

  Tatsuya quickly stopped me by barring the way with the rake. He stared into my face, a questioning look in his eyes. Across the garden, a frog jumped
into the pond with a plop, the sound disturbing the stillness of the night.

  “Both of you?” Tatsuya asked.

  There was no use trying to convince him. We had to confess. I bit my lip and nodded.

  “But why—?” he demanded.

  I glanced at Hana and she gave a tiny nod. I took a deep breath and told Tatsuya the truth. “We’re the daughters of Lord Yoshijiro.”

  Tatsuya looked astounded for a moment, then he fell to his knees in front of us and pressed his forehead to the ground.

  “No!” Hana said in alarm. “Don’t do that. Please get up.”

  Slowly Tatsuya raised his head to look at us, but he stayed on his knees. “Forgive me for any rudeness I may have shown you in the past—” he began.

  But I interrupted him. “You’ve never been rude, Tatsuya,” I said, pulling him to his feet. “And you don’t have to treat us as if we’re ladies of the Imperial Court. We’re ordinary girls now. Our father’s dead and we’re in hiding.”

  “But why are you in hiding?” Tatsuya looked at us both, a sudden realization dawning across his face. “I remember Ken-ichi boasting to us all,” he said, and gasped in horror. “Lord Hidehira’s men put the household to the sword for their treachery. He said it was the custom!”

  “Except that Hana and I escaped,” I said quietly. “Uncle’s samurai were charging through the house, smashing everything in their path, and slaughtering our servants….”

  Tatsuya held up a hand. “Wait,” he said. “I think you’d better start at the beginning.”

  So Hana and I sat in a shadowy part of the rock garden with Tatsuya, far away from prying eyes, and told him our story. We started with our real names, and then took turns describing the night at the compound when Uncle had massacred our household. One of us took up the tale when the other found it too hard to go on.

  Tatsuya’s face grew serious in the moonlight. Every so often his dark eyes flashed with anger.

  When we reached the end of the story, he clenched one of his fists and pounded it into the palm of the other. “How dare he?” he growled. “Lord Hidehira hasn’t just broken the bushi code; he’s ripped it to shreds and trampled it into the ground!” He looked at us fiercely. “If you ever need my help…,” he said. “We’re friends, and friends look out for one another.”