Risuko (25 page)

“I?” I gasped. “All alone?”

“Well,” he said, “guess yeh're an initiate and all now. So I'll send Moon-cake over t'help yeh. Though I'm thinkin' he'd rather be talkin' to Smilie, right?”

“Thank you, Kee Sun
-san
.” I was so pleased that I wouldn't be preparing the meal alone that I didn't even mind him making fun of my friends. A question occurred to me. “Kee Sun
-san
? Did they—? Did Masugu
-san
really ask Mieko
-sensei
to marry him?”

I watched his shoulders bunch—a grimace or a shrug, I couldn't be sure. “I tell yeh, Bright-eyes. Men and women? A bloody mess. Every time.” And that was all that he said on the subject.

—

Not long after Kee Sun had left with another dose of the spicy-scented tonic, I found myself standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding the long stick that Kee Sun kept to shoo away the rats. Gripping it in both hands like a sword. Like a samurai's
katana
.

Could I?
I wondered.
Could I be like Mieko and the rest? Could I be like Father?

I was in the starting rest position, feet spread, sword in front of me, balanced.
The Two Fields.
I stepped to the side, bringing the stick up at an angle as if to parry a downward cut.
The Bamboo Bud.

I heard a noise behind me and whirled, not even thinking, bringing the stick above my head and down...

Down onto Aimaru's head.
The Key of Heaven.

The stick snapped, leaving me holding just a stump.

I can't tell you who was more astonished, Aimaru or me. “I... I'm
so sorry!”

“I'm all right!” Aimaru said, falling to his knees. “I'm all right! You didn't hurt me.” He touched his hand to the top of his head, where a dark bruise was already starting to rise. He shook his head and added with a grin, “Well, not too much.”

“I'm so sorry,”
I repeated, clutching the shattered end of my erstwhile sword to my chest.

“What...?”

“I didn't... I was thinking about the dance, Mieko's dance, and my father's sword exercises, and, and I am
so sorry,
Aimaru!”

He dismissed that apology with a wave of his hand and staggered to his feet. “I'll make sure never to sneak up on you.”

“I could have hurt you!”

“With this head?” He grinned at me a bit blearily and looked down. At first I thought he didn't want to look me in the eye, but then I realized that he was staring at my new sash. “You're... an initiate.”

“Yes, I'm an initiate. So you can talk to me.” I took a breath, trying to block out the thought of what I had just done. “I'm sorry.” I tossed the bit of stick away. “I... I have to make the mid-day meal for everyone.”

“I know,” he said. “Kee Sun asked me to help you.”

“Great.” I tried to think what jobs I could give him. The small barrel by the stove that held rice was nearly empty. “Do you think you could get us some rice from the storeroom?”

He frowned. It still wasn't an expression that I was used to seeing on his open face, but had been seeing more and more.

“That's all right,” I sighed. “Here. If you can watch the fire and make sure that it stays hot enough to boil that big pot of water, I'll go get the rice.”

Now he smiled. “I can do that, Murasaki
-san
.”

I picked up the longest shard of the stick that had broken over Aimaru's head and ran to the storeroom by the stables. As always, there were rats in the stores, glaring at me as if I were the intruder. I slashed at the closest with the broken stick (
Key of Heaven
...
), and they all scattered, gone before I could pull back the stick for another swing.

“We should have a cat,” I grumbled, trying to still my trembling. There was a half-empty sack of rice against the right-hand wall, and I grabbed it. It was only once I'd lifted the sack to my back and was almost back to the kitchen that I realized that it had taken all three of us to carry a full sack on the day of our arrival at the Full Moon.

I suppose all that rock-carrying is good for something after all,
I thought.

—

As we prepared the meal, Aimaru told me what little there was to tell about Masugu—which wasn't anything I didn't already know. He asked me how I had earned the sash, and I had to admit that I didn't have the slightest idea.

And of course neither of us had any idea who could have poisoned the lieutenant—though I told him about Mieko's suspicious behavior. He seemed more relieved that Lady Chiyome didn't suspect me than anything else. “Someone must have been looking for... something.”

“Yes,” I murmured, “but what?”

Aimaru shrugged and prodded the fire. “Well, they searched there before. And the stables.”

I had forgotten about that. “And maybe in Lady Chiyome's rooms. Though why they'd want to do that, I have no idea.” It seemed like a good way to ensure a very painful death.

“Well,” he mused cheerfully, “whoever it is can't have found anything, or they wouldn't have almost killed Masugu
-
san
.”

He was very quiet when I told him what I had realized about the nature of the
kunoichi
. That they were nothing but killers.

“Oh,” he said, ladling out the rice. “I thought it might be something like that.”

“I won't do it. I'd rather die.”

He smiled at me—that sunny, open smile. “All that lives, dies, Murasaki
-san
.”

“I know that. People keep telling me that. And... Just Murasaki. Or Risuko. Please, Aimaru.”

He nodded, the smile undiminished.

We distributed the meal around the compound. Only Chiyome
-sama
and the Little Brothers ate in the great hall. Kee Sun was with Masugu
-san
, and the rest of the Full Moon's inhabitants were in the Retreat. The red of their robes, which I had always associated with good luck, now seemed instead to be the stain of blood.

—

As we were cleaning up after the meal, Kee Sun returned, looking even more tattered and grumpy than usual. “Got one of those Little Brothers sitting with him now,” he said in answer to the question that neither Aimaru nor I had voiced. “He's past the worst of it—he's sweatin' the poppy juice out at this point, and the tonic'll help that.”

He must have seen my relief, because he added, “Mind, he's goin' to be weak as a puppy till after the New Year, I shouldn't think. No goin' around kissin' young ladies for him!”

Aimaru blushed, even as he smiled his usual smile. “We served the meal to everyone, Kee Sun
-san
.”

“So I noticed,” chuckled the cook. “And nobody else poisoned that I've heard tell! Yeh'll do, yeh'll do. Now get outa my kitchen with yeh, Moon-cake. The other of them Little Brothers is waitin' to give yeh a lesson.”

Aimaru obeyed immediately, bowing to Kee Sun so that the bruise on the top of his head showed and smiling at me for just an instant before disappearing out the door.

“Did yeh break the rat-chasing thingee, Bright-eyes?”

“I...” I picked up the remains of the stick I'd broken over Aimaru's head

“And would yeh breakin' it have anythin' to do with the lovely bruise atop Moon-cake's head?”

“I can't,” I whispered.

“Can't?”

“Can't...” I waved the stub of my pretend sword. “Can't.”

“Huh.” Kee Sun plucked the handle from my hands and tossed it into the fire. I watched the pine smolder and then catch flame.

My eyes filled as I watched the sword handle burn. “My father...” I choked down the thickness in my throat. “My father... last thing... he said to me... ‘Do no harm.'”

“Huh.”

“When Lord Imagawa... wanted him... to be a samurai... again.”

Sharpening and wrapping his swords, then putting them away. Putting on his best scribe's robes. Bowing to
Okā-
san
, who was trying not to weep, then to my sister, and finally to me. He had turned and left, but I had run after him. He stopped, just past the old cherry tree that grows over the little shrine to the forest spirit. I had wanted him to turn, but he had not. I had wanted to touch him, to pull him back to the house, but I could not. ‘
Otō-
san
!' I had called.

His back straight, his feet at shoulder width—
The Two Fields.
Then—in the quietest voice imaginable, Father had said, ‘Do not follow me. Do not follow my path.' He had begun to walk again, but before he had taken three steps he had stopped again, his face still away from mine, and had said, in a terrible sob, ‘Do no harm, Murasaki. No harm.' And then he had walked away.

While this scene played itself out in my memory, Kee Sun cut up ginger for the soup. The scent was sharp and sweet and hot, and I found myself thinking that perhaps smells could be like herbs, balancing our elements; I know that I felt dark and sour in that moment, and the smell of the ginger was like a tonic.

I watched the flame licking at the stick so that it looked like a snake.

“I met yehr father,” said Kee Sun.

“I know. Lady Chiyome said.”

“I saw him fight. Saw him fight the Old Soldier at Midriver Island. He was a warrior, yehr daddy.” Kee Sun dropped mushrooms and slices of radish into the soup. He gave a thoughtful grunt. “Now yeh know, seems to me, just walking across a field, yeh do harm—to the grass and the ants and such.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“And I'd've thought, if a body had a blade and the way of usin' it proper,” he went on, measuring handfuls of dried onion greens into the broth, and then stirring with his long-handled spoon, “that protecting folks that didn't have swords and such from bandits and the like would be doin' less harm then standin' aside and doin' nothin'.”

I stood there, crying, wiping my eyes and my nose with the sleeves of my jacket. “But... The
kunoichi
...”

“It's true. They kill now and again. Serpent-girlie?” He whistled. “Yeh'd be dead and yeh wouldn't even know it, and she'd be out o' the house with a smile and not a hair outa place and no one the wiser till yeh hit the ground. But some? Some of ‘em have the talent o' findin' things out. Take Flower-girl that teaches yeh the music.” He gave a snort. “Not a killer, that one. But she's very good at makin' menfolk very happy and talky, so's they tell her all the things they're not supposed to, and when she's gone, all they can remember is how much she made ‘em laugh.”

“But she... Sachi said her hunting...?”

“There's huntin', yeh see,” said Kee Sun, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. “An' then there's
huntin'.”

“Oh.”

“And some of ‘em are good at keeping folk from gettin' hurt. Dressed up like a serving girl if they want, or a cook, or a lady's maid, or a nun, and no bandit watchin' some silky lady go by in her little box is goin' t'think that our girlie is ever a bodyguard, but that she is, and a good one.”

“Oh.”

I walked over and peered into the pot.

Kee Sun leaned down and took a deep whiff of the steam from the now-simmering soup. “Yeh'll be glad t'hear that Masugu was askin' about yeh.”

“He was?” I sniffled.

“Ayup. Durin' one of the times when he wasn't sleepin'. Seemed quite put out that yeh'd been snoopin' on him and Serpent-girlie from atop the Retreat.” Kee Sun turned and winked. Seeing my face, he sobered and turned back to the soup. “Kept talkin' about the chimney. I think he was worried yeh'd fall.”

I actually laughed at that.

“And as I was walkin' back to strain the soup before yeh got back, I ran into Ghostie-girlie tryin' to sneak in to see him. All flustered and pink she got, too, when I caught her. Told me it wasn't her moon time yet, and she just wanted t'see that the good lieutenant was all right.” He snorted. “Told her he was sleepin' fine, and that she was too late anyway—he'd already asked yeh to marry him.” He chuckled, and I tittered along with him, even though I had already heard too many jokes on that subject.

I walked over and looked into the enormous pot. The vegetables looked delicious—red, brown, white and green in the clear, golden broth. Perfect. I took a deep whiff. “Kee Sun?”

“Hmm?”

“Doesn't it smell a little... bitter?”

He grunted and took a sniff. “Huh. Perhaps. A bit. Must've overcooked the stock. A bit o' garlic'll take care o' that. Mince some up for us, Bright-eyes.”

Without even thinking about it, I went over and found a garlic bulb and the small chopping knife. I had that garlic reduced to fine bits in no time—and I wasn't even feeling sorry for myself as I did it. I brought him the bowl into which I'd scooped the garlic.

He took it from me and poured it into the pot. He inhaled deeply. “There yeh go.” He motioned me closer. “Take a sniff now.”

I did. “Mmm.”

“Right!” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Grab us the big tureen there, and all o' the bowls.” Quickly, he transferred most of the soup into the big serving bowl—the tureen, as he always called it—and covered it with its flat lid. The bowls stacked easily on the lid. “Now, let's see if all o' that rock carryin' has done yeh any good. Can yeh pick that up without droppin' it?”

Carefully I lifted the big bowl, and all of the crockery.

He hung a huge serving spoon from one of the handles. “There yeh are. Now bring that out to the Retreat and to the guesthouse. I'll serve the lady and the Little Brothers.” He gave me a smile, his scars twisting, and opened the door to the outside, letting in a blast of chill wind. “Get on with yeh! Don't let that soup get cold! And I'll wait t' eat till yeh're back. A body shouldn't eat alone.”