Samurai Son (5 page)

Chapter Seven

Kasumi sat on her pallet and stared through the window into the moonlit sky.
 
It was late when she finished her bath.
 
It had taken several good lathers to scrub the demon scent from her skin and hair.
 
Even though the demon stench had dissipated and her skin was perfumed with the scent of jasmine and lavender, she could not completely remove the memory of it.
 
A part of her could still remember the stink of demon long after she had rid herself of it.

Perhaps this was the curse of being Neko, she wondered.
 
The cats were enemies of the demons.
 
It was an old war started at the beginning of time where the Neko protected the world from the demons who threatened to come through the demon gate.

She had tried several times to sleep, but each time she did, she awoke with a start.
 
She would see the oni as it glared upon Nanashi.
 
Each time in the dream, it would turn its baleful gaze onto her.
 
Its slavering mouth drooled in anticipation of Neko meat.

She forced herself awake each time.
 
This last time, she had woken in a cold sweat and gripped her knees tightly to her chest.
 
Was this dream a warning from the gods?
 
Did the demon know she had seen it.
 
Could it now be pursuing her?
 
Was she truly in danger?

Kasumi couldn’t answer the questions.
 
Oni were very tricky at best.
 
She couldn’t be sure if the oni
had
seen her or whether her dream were just the work of her overactive imagination.
 
Feeling frustrated and tired, she rose and dressed, tying the wakizashi and the katana to her belt as she finished.
 
Keiko would speak to the Guardian, she reminded herself.
 
Keiko was wise; she would find out what course of action the Neko could take.
 
Kasumi would be discharged from her duty, and wiser and greater Neko than she would take on the task of gathering allies.

And yet she wondered what the Neko could do.

Kasumi stepped lightly across the floorboards and opened her door carefully.
 
As she did, she felt a presence close by.
 
It was like a shadow flickering in the oil lamp’s light as she turned and looked but saw nothing as she scrutinized the window and shades.
 
She snuffed the air and caught a scent that smelled like, but not entirely like, demon.

She froze.
 
Had it followed her here?
 
Her hand strayed to the katana’s hilt, and she waited, taking slow, measured breaths.
 
Her senses were on high alert as she tried to listen for movement or smell anything in the air.
 
And yet even as she did get a whiff of something, the scent soon vanished.
 
She frowned.
 
Had she imagined it?

You know you smelled of demon when you came back,
she reminded herself.
 
A part of her agreed with the assessment, but another part remained on edge.
 
The fact that Nanashi had summoned even one demon here on Kyotori-jima, Imperial Island, was disconcerting.
 
The demon could be seeking out its old enemy, the Neko, that were on the island, or the demon could be seeking out her.
 
Either way, she was in danger.
 
But then, Nanashi might be using the demon to spy on his samurai or do some other errands.
 
That, too, left her uneasy.

“It must be my imagination,” she whispered to herself.
 
That had to be it.
 
She was edgy after seeing the oni.
 
It would be natural for anyone who had seen a demon to be wary and frightened.
 
Still, she remained unconvinced.

Kasumi stepped slowly toward the window and drew her sword, holding it in a guard position parallel to the ground, slightly behind her body.
 
It would be least noticed there, she thought.
 
She moved one hand to the shades and slid them across.

The moon glowed softly over the horizon as she looked out across the city streets.
 
Shadows moved in the pale light as she shifted her gaze from one street to the next.
 
She drew in a slow breath, letting her cat senses study the smells carefully.
 
There it was again: a whiff of demon.

Kasumi drew back instinctively but saw nothing beyond the shadows in the alleyways.
 
She tried to convince herself that she had carried the demon stench back from Nanashi’s, but she knew better.
 
The smell had already dissipated, but Kasumi knew the truth.
 
There was a demon still out there, somewhere.

There was a chance that the demon knew she had been there.
 
If it did, why did it let her go free?
 
She couldn’t fathom the demon’s reasoning.
 
She closed the shades again and said a quick prayer to Maneki Neko, hoping that the cat of good fortune would keep away the demon.

Chapter Eight

Akira had just entered the hallway when Ikumi, his mother, peered around the corner.
 
She was a lovely woman with dark eyes and long black hair.

She smiled as she saw him.
 
“Get cleaned up, Akira.
 
I won’t have you smelling like a monkey at dinner.”

Akira laughed and made chimp noises at her.
 
He grinned as she covered her mouth to hide her laughter.
 
He ran to his room and grabbed clean clothes before nearly tripping over the servant girl who was carrying a hot kettle of water to the bathhouse.

“I’m sorry, Miko,” he said as the girl nearly sloshed the kettle’s contents.

She bowed but looked somewhat annoyed as he walked into the bathhouse where a tub filled with water stood.
 
Miko walked in, bowed to him, poured the water into the tub, and left.
 
Akira stuck his hand in the water and found it warm enough to bathe in.

He stripped naked and slid into the tub.
 
As he scrubbed himself with rice bran, Akira replayed the events from the day.
 
How lucky he was to have found the Tengu.
 
It was obviously a benevolent spirit, perhaps sent by the gods to help him out.
 
He marveled at the Tengu’s teaching style and at its patience in dealing with his obvious mistakes.
 
Perhaps he was destined for greater things, Akira reflected.

And why not?
Akira thought as he rubbed the rice bran through his sweaty hair.
 
I am a samurai, the son of a major daimyo.
 
Certainly the gods would have taken notice of him already.

He winced as he touched the bruises on his arm.
 
Was this how the great warriors such as Yoshitsune were helped by the gods?
 
He would have to get tougher if he wanted to be a great warrior.
 
Obviously the Tengu, the wind kami, thought he was something special.
 
He frowned at the bruises.
 
Did great warriors have bruises from bokken strikes?
 
He didn’t know.

Rinsing himself off, he got out of the tub and picked up the cloth used for a towel.
 
He dried himself as well as he could and slid into the clean clothes Miko had left for him.
 
He was hungry and he looked forward to seeing Ikumi.
 
He wished he could tell her about the Tengu, but he knew the Tengu would not help him unless he kept the training secret.

He finished getting dressed and went back to the dining room, sliding open a shoji screen.
 
The delectable scent of cooked rice and fish filled his nostrils.
 
Ikumi already sat at the table that Miko and the other servants had brought.
 
She smiled at him as Miko poured a cup of tea for her.

Akira bowed.
 
Ikumi was more than just his mother; she was the lady daimyo and held power as surely as his father, Takeshi, did.
 
She answered his bow with a nod and glanced where she wanted him to sit.
 
Akira removed his sandals before entering the room and took his place beside her.

He thanked Miko quietly as she poured him tea and set some rice and fish in front of him.
 
He picked up his chopsticks and began eating.

“How was your day, Akira-chan?” Ikumi asked.

Akira swallowed, wondering how to explain his day without mentioning the Tengu.
 
He drank some tea.
 
“Rokuro is very difficult but I’ve managed.”

“What are you working on?”

“
Swordwork
.”

Ikumi nodded.
 
“Rokuro is a tough teacher, but you should respect him.
 
He has taught Takeshi and me how to fight.”

Akira looked up from his rice.
 
“You learned under Rokuro?”
 
He hadn’t considered that Ikumi would have learned her fighting skills from the old sensei.

“Not exactly,” Ikumi said with a slight smile.
 
“But he did help me refine certain techniques.
 
They say he is so good that even the kami have come to him for help.”
 
She picked up a sweet rice cake and nibbled on it.

Akira shifted.
 
He didn’t like how this conversation was going, and he wondered if Ikumi guessed that he was being taught by a Tengu.
 
That’s ridiculous,
he thought.
 
There is no way she would know that I was training with the Tengu.
 
“I didn’t know Rokuro was so powerful.”

“There are many things you don’t know, my son,” she said.
 
“You need to get better as a warrior, especially if you plan on taking your father’s place as a daimyo some time.
 
There are plenty of samurai lords who would be happy to take Tsuitori-jima from a young samurai.”

“But the land comes from the emperor, doesn’t it?”

Ikumi smiled.
 
“Yes and no.
 
The emperor granted us these lands; as daimyo, your father technically owns these lands.
 
They can be taken away by force by another samurai lord or by the emperor himself.
 
We must protect our lands in order to keep them.”

“But what is the use?” Akira said.
 
“If the emperor decides to take our land away, there is nothing we can do.”

“True,” Ikumi said, “for if we fail to give up our land, we will become ronin, and all those samurai will not respect us.”

Akira shook his head.
 
“But if we give up our land, no samurai will respect us.
 
This doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Akira stared at Ikumi.
 
He hadn’t expected her to agree with him, yet she smiled at him enigmatically.
 
He wasn’t sure if she was joking with him or was serious.
 
“I don’t understand.”

She laughed.
 
“Someday you will, Akira-chan.”

Chapter Nine

It was still dark, but the sky was growing lighter in the east by the time Keiko entered their home.
 
The servants had not yet awoken for their daily chores, and Keiko suspected Kasumi still slept.
 
Their home here on Kyotori-jima, Imperial Island, was not as large as their home on Naotaka-shima, but it was large enough and well appointed.
 
However, a cage was still a cage, and those of the Neko line found living under Nanashi’s rule very difficult indeed.

When the truce had been arranged, Keiko had agreed to become a consort to one of Nanashi’s samurai.
 
The samurai, Naotaka, was an honorable man, but Keiko was no more than a second wife.
 
She had not even given birth to a son, which many samurai found desirable.
 
She didn’t understand the differentiation.
 
In fact, the Neko considered girls more desirable.

After all, we are the ones who hunt,
Keiko thought.
 
We are the ones who control our clan.
 
The Guardian is female, after all.

She entered the stairwell where stairs led up to the sleeping quarters.
 
She had not stepped on the first step when she saw Kasumi peer down the stairway.
 
Keiko motioned to the young samurai and led her into her private quarters, which looked out over the courtyard garden.

“Walk with me, Kasumi-chan,” Keiko whispered.

Kasumi bowed and followed her mother into the garden.

The oil lamps had already burned out, but there was enough light from the pale sky.
 
Of course Keiko and Kasumi needed little light to see by.
 
The darkened indigo heavens were touched with rosy shafts of light.
 
The crickets were still chirping loudly, and the nightingale was still singing its mournful song.
 
A small path led through bonsai trees and lovely flowers.

Keiko took a few steps, but Kasumi grasped her sleeve and tugged on it urgently.
 
“Did you speak to the Guardian?
 
Did she believe me?
 
What happened?”

“Shh!” Keiko said.
 
“You must learn patience, my daughter.”

Kasumi lowered her head.
 
“I’m sorry, Mother.
 
It’s just I want to know.”

“I understand,” Keiko said.
 
“But there are spies everywhere, even here within our apartments.”

Kasumi looked around, her brow furrowed in confusion.
 
“I see no one,” she whispered.

“Trust me, my little Neko.
 
Nanashi employs ninja and other unsavory types.”

“But I thought the ninja were our friends….”

“Shh!
 
You must be silent about that, my daughter.
 
The ninja serve whoever pays the most money.”
 
She looked upon Kasumi with a critical eye.
 
The lovely seventeen-year-old had long black hair braided down her back.
 
Her face was angular, rather than oblong, with high cheekbones and a small nose.
 
Her hair had not changed to the tawny color of the Neko yet, as Keiko’s had done.
 
Keiko’s hair appeared black, but she dyed it to get it that color.
 
No one need know the kami marks of the Neko.

“I’m sorry, Mother.
 
Please forgive me.”

“You should not apologize for something you do not know,” Keiko said.
 
“Yes, I spoke to the Guardian.”

Kasumi looked at her, interest in her eyes, but much to her credit, she said nothing.
 
She waited for Keiko to continue.

“The Guardian trusts my assessment of your skills, Kasumi-chan.
 
I know that you spoke the truth.
 
The Guardian is not so easily persuaded, but I still have much influence.
 
However, there is little the Guardian can do from Neko-shima.
 
We know of one who may be able to help us, but she is on Tsuitori-jima.”

“Tsuitori-jima?
 
It isn’t that far from here.”

Keiko nodded.
 
“The Guardian wishes for you to go and speak with Ikumi, the consort of Takeshi.”

Kasumi trembled but bowed low.
 
“I will not disgrace you, my mother.”

Keiko smiled.
 
“I know you wouldn’t, my daughter.
 
But this must be a covert mission.
 
If you were to go alone, Nanashi might suspect something.
 
This is why I need you to take one of your half brothers with you.”

The look in her daughter’s face told Keiko that Kasumi didn’t think much of that plan.
 
“Why, Mother?
 
I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” she said, “but that is not what is at stake here.
 
If Nanashi finds out our plan, we will all be executed.”

Kasumi looked down but did not argue.
 
Instead she shuffled her feet a bit.
 
“Who could I take?”

Keiko frowned.
 
She knew her husband’s sons, and not one of them was trustworthy.
 
“Ichiro is too old and is already with the army.
 
Hideki and Mamoru are not even teenagers.
 
What about Jiro?”

“Jiro?
 
Mother, you must be joking.
 
Jiro is an ass.”

“He is about your age, isn’t he?”

Kasumi crossed her arms.
 
“He is a self-centered idiot.
 
I can’t possibly take him.
 
He will make a fool of us all.”

Keiko smiled wryly.
 
She knew that Kasumi thought little of her siblings, but she also knew that her visiting a rival daimyo would be viewed with less suspicion if Jiro were present.
 
“I’m certain, Kasumi-chan, that you will ensure he will not make a fool out of us.”
 
She paused to consider her words.
 
“If Jiro or anyone asks you why you are going to Tsuitori-jima, tell them that your uncle is ill and you wish to visit the healing shrine to ask Kuan Yin for healing.
 
It is natural that you would stop by and visit Takeshi since they are the rulers of Tsuitori.”

“Couldn’t I go to another shrine?”
 
Kasumi looked unconvinced.

“The shrine of Kuan Yin is the closest one and also the oldest and most revered.
 
Not many people make the trek to Tsuitori, except those who follow Kuan Yin.
 
Since you are Neko, many will overlook practicality.
 
As far as they’re concerned, you’re just gaijin like so many who live in the outer islands.”

Kasumi nodded slowly but Keiko could tell that her daughter was having a difficult time accepting the explanation.
 
Still, she bowed.
 
“I will do as you ask.”

Keiko nodded.
 
“Good.
 
Then let’s not talk of this tonight.
 
Tomorrow you must prepare for your trip.
 
I will have your passage prepared for you.”