Sisters of the Sword (7 page)

I looked up to see Hana was knotting her sash, and I realized instantly that she was tying it with the knot open to the left.

“No, Hana!” I whispered urgently. “A
lady
ties her sash to the left. A man ties his sash to the
right
.”

Hana paused but didn't look at me. For a moment her chin wobbled and I thought she might cry, but no tears fell. Instead she silently
untied her sash and retied it with the knot open to the right.

“Hana…?” I said her name gently.

She turned to look at me, her face grave. “My name is Otonashi.”

I
hugged her. “Okay then, Otonashi,” I said, my throat tight. “Let's go and start work.”

We found Choji in the kitchens, a square single-story block between the servants' quarters and the largest of the dojo's many practice halls. When we arrived, another young servant boy called Ko was standing at a wooden table chopping vegetables so quickly that his hands seemed to flutter like the wings of a hummingbird. He looked up when we entered and grinned. We grinned back.

Choji turned to see who had come into his kitchen. “Skinny boys!” he ordered. “Come over here. I need someone to taste this soup for me….” He slammed two enormous wooden bowls of fish stew down on the table.

As we made our way across the kitchen, I was aware of Hana swaggering in a boyish way. I adjusted my stride too, taking longer steps and letting my hands swing loosely at my sides.

“Come on—eat up!” Choji urged. “And then tell me what you think. Too much salt? Not enough sugar? What does it need, eh?”

I emptied my bowl with hungry gulps, trying to remember when we'd last eaten. Was it last night, before the
kaiseki ryori
? “This soup is delicious,” I told Choji, swiping my cuff across my mouth like a boy. “It needs nothing!”

“Nothing?” Choji barked, and tasted the soup himself. “I'd say it needs more salt. You'd better have some more, so you can taste what I mean.” He ladled more soup into our bowls.

After the soup, Choji gave us huge balls of sticky rice and a platter of sweet bamboo shoots to suck on. “If you're going to work here,” he said, “I will have to feed you up. I can't have skinny boys in my kitchen—the students might think there's something wrong with my cooking!”

His eyes sparkled as he glanced at me, and because of the extra blankets and bowls of soup, I could see that despite his gruff exterior Choji was a kind man.

When we'd finished eating, he led us to a storeroom and gave us our first assignment. “Tonight's opening ceremony is going to be held in the practice hall,” he told us. “I want it clean and tidy. Here, boy,” he said to Hana. “Sweep and wipe down the
wooden floor, then polish it thoroughly with these rags. And take fresh tatami mats and lay them on the raised platform for the Master to sit on.”

“And you, Kagenashi,” he said, turning to me, “I want you to place these lanterns on their stands all along the walls and light them for when the students assemble at sundown. Then help with the polishing.”

I bowed and nodded, my mind reeling. My brothers Nobuaki and Harumasa had often talked about ceremonies at the dojo, describing thrilling demonstrations of combat and skill. But they had never mentioned how much work went into preparing the practice hall! I realized I had never noticed how much work a
kaiseki ryori
ceremony must have been for our household servants.

Choji left us to gather up the mats, lanterns, and their stands, and with an armful each Hana and I hurried across a small garden to the practice hall.

The hall was a huge, airy room, with an ornate roof supported by rows of square pillars. Open gaps along one wall gave a view of the elegant gardens and lily ponds. The enormous wooden floor was dull from repeated footwork practice or body rolls, and we would have to get it gleaming in time for the ceremony.

We spent the rest of the afternoon preparing the
hall. Ko, the young kitchen boy, came to help us.

“I heard you had a fight with Ken-ichi,” he said to me as we finished buffing the wooden floorboards. “I hope you got in a few jabs that hurt.”

I glanced sideways at him, surprised. For some reason I had thought that my cousin would be popular here at the school. “Don't you like Ken-ichi?” I asked.

Ko shook his head and stood up. “He's a strutting peacock who needs his pride sliced in half with a sharp blade,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody else could hear him. “I expect he told you that he's the nephew of the
Jito
? And if he hasn't already, then he soon will! Ken-ichi never lets anyone forget how important he is.”

Ko lit three long-handled tapers and handed one each to Hana and me. Together we moved down the hall, lighting the dozens of lanterns that I had hung on their stands. Our shadows began to dance on the walls as we moved back and forth.

“Be wary of Ken-ichi,” Ko said, after a while. “He's the kind of boy who bears a grudge. So be on your guard around him, because he's already been grumbling about losing his free hour.”

“What could he do to us?” Hana asked quietly.

“He might stick out his foot and trip you when you're hurrying down a walkway with a tray full
of tea bowls,” Ko said. “And when you look around for someone to blame, he's melted away, leaving you to explain to Choji why all the tea bowls are smashed.”

“Has that happened to you?” I asked.

Ko nodded. “Ken-ichi thinks it's hilarious. And Choji thinks I'm clumsy.”

“We'll be careful,” Hana said.

I nodded. “Thank you for warning us.” I knew now that my cousin had changed completely from the boy I had known. Not only had he become arrogant, but he was also cruel.

“That's not all,” Ko continued. “Ken-ichi likes to find out every little thing about you, all your secrets, and then use them against you when you're least expecting it.”

As Ko reached up to light the last lantern, Hana and I glanced at each other in alarm. If Ken-ichi found out that we were girls, then we'd be finished at the dojo. And if he realized we were hiding from the new
Jito
, we'd be marched to the gates and thrown out into the road, once more at the mercy of Uncle's samurai.

“I don't imagine you two have many secrets, though,” Ko said, turning back to us. With a cheerful grin, he blew out his taper. “Come on—we've finished in here. We'd better go back to the kitchens
and see what else that old bear Choji wants us to do.”

“The head servant seems stern,” Hana murmured.

“That's just part of his act,” Ko told her. “The only time he ever really gets mad is if we don't do our work!”

We were busy for the rest of the afternoon: raking the gravel pathway that led through the garden to the practice hall, sweeping the floor in the kitchen, and polishing dozens of eating bowls and tea bowls, stacking them on black-and-red-lacquered trays ready for the ceremony. Exhausted, Hana and I struggled on. Our backs ached and our hands and feet were blistered from work we weren't accustomed to.

The sun was just slipping behind the curving red rooftops of the dojo when Choji told us to gather up our laden trays and follow him back across to the practice hall.

When we stepped inside, I caught my breath. The high-ceilinged hall was crowded and buzzing, filled with a warm golden light. Row upon row of students sat on small round cushions on the wooden floor. Some were much older than us, calm and serious-looking, their dark brown sashes showing their seniority. Others were much younger, with white sashes and open, friendly faces. They sat in
orderly rows around the edges of the hall, talking quietly. Dotted among them were a handful of young masters in their black jackets and
hakama
trousers.

I caught sight of Ken-ichi and his two friends. When he saw me, Ken-ichi shot me a look of surprise, which turned into a sneer when he took in my blue servant's uniform and the black-lacquered tray in my hands.

Ignoring him, I followed Ko and Hana. I couldn't worry about Ken-ichi because acting like a servant was taking up all of my concentration. I tried to remember the way the maids at home had been almost invisible at times, moving silently and unobtrusively through our compound, making sure our lives had been easy and comfortable.

Choji raised his hand in some kind of signal. My heart thumped because I didn't know what he meant and I exchanged an anxious glance with Hana. Were we going to give ourselves away so soon? But then the other servants began to move among the students and young masters, kneeling to serve tea. Immediately Hana and I hurried to copy them.

A few of the students glanced expectantly at the raised platform at the far end of the room, and moments later, Master Goku swept in and took his place there. He looked even more impressive than
when I had first seen him at the gates, and the atmosphere in the room seemed more energized once he arrived.

He bowed to his students, his ceremonial robes rippling. He wore a long kimono, its shimmering silk like a rushing blue waterfall beneath an over-robe of the darkest green with elaborate stiffened shoulders. His long gray hair had been smoothed, plaited, and then coiled on the crown of his head in the way I had seen my father's styled when he was visiting the
bakufu
in Kamakura or the Imperial Court in Kyoto. He carried two ornate swords on his left side, showing his status as master and samurai.

“I am honored to welcome you all to the ceremony that opens
kenshu
,” Master Goku said, “our period of intensive training.” His deep voice was soft and almost musical, but it carried to the far corners of the large hall with ease. “I know that the older students among you will be surprised to see me standing alone on this platform. After all, it is customary for our great Lord Steward, the
Jito
, to begin our ceremony. Sadly, however, Lord Yoshijiro cannot be with us tonight.”

When I heard my father's name, my heart jumped in shock and I almost spilled the tea I was pouring.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I sat back on my heels to look around the hall for Hana. She
stood motionless a few paces away, her lacquered tray held stiffly in front of her. She was staring at Master Goku like a lifeless statue.

I got up and hurried to her side, stepping quietly so as not to draw attention to my movements. I nodded purposefully at her tray, and then slowly and deliberately kneeled to serve tea to the nearest student.

Hana seemed to gather herself together. She moved silently along the row, kneeled, and poured tea just as before.

Master Goku was still speaking. I tried to concentrate on what he was saying as I carried on with my duties.

“I received a message yesterday morning explaining that Lord Yoshijiro was unable to attend our ceremony,” he continued. “An emergency has taken him to another part of the province, and he will not return in time for tonight's event.”

Yesterday morning! He had received a message yesterday morning? I realized with horror that Uncle must have cancelled on his behalf—in
advance
of the murder the night before!

I felt a chill settle around my heart at the thought of Uncle's cold-blooded plotting. I tried to remember whether there had been any change in him, perhaps some hint that his betrayal was coming.
He had always seemed so close to my father, and yet all the time he must have been nursing a deep and bitter resentment. More than resentment—hatred! Uncle…of all people. I despaired as I remembered his laughter, his many kindnesses, the way he had always pinched my cheek so affectionately.

But then I had a sudden glancing memory of another side to Uncle Hidehira. Like the day he had flared up at Ken-ichi for accidentally breaking a tea bowl or the time I had seen him whipping a man-servant for lack of respect.

How long had he been planning to murder my family?

“I have sent a messenger back to the
Jito
,” Master Goku went on, “inviting him to visit us upon his return. I am sure that he will come here to the dojo very soon, to see how his loyal samurai students are progressing.”

It was clear that Master Goku didn't know of Father's death. I swallowed hard as I wondered what information the messenger would bring back to the dojo. What were Uncle's plans? Surely he could not hide the burned-down buildings of the
Jito'
s home. What would he tell Master Goku?

“Lord Yoshijiro sends his best wishes,” Master Goku said, “and tells us to look forward to the future.
And it is indeed the future that concerns us all tonight.”

The future?
I thought bitterly, seeing the hidden message from Uncle within the words that had been sent to Master Goku.
The future is Uncle as
Jito.

Master Goku's robes rippled as he took a step forward, closer to the edge of the platform. “As many of you are aware, we are about to enter a new regime of training. This intensive
kenshu
will end as usual with the annual tournament on the bright and clear first day of the
Seimei
period, more than forty days from now.”

At the mention of an annual tournament, the atmosphere in the hall became charged with excitement. Boys shifted and nudged each other.

“For those of you who do not know,” the Master said, “the tournament is a great event in the school calendar. Each year we throw open the gates of the dojo and people come from far and wide across the province to watch as students of all grades and experience pit themselves against each other. From nobles' sons to servants, anyone can compete.”

Hana and I passed each other midway along a row of students, and she raised her eyebrows as if to say,
Anyone can compete…that means us
. But I shook my head. We had to stay beneath notice, make sure that we stayed hidden. If we were lucky,
Uncle's men might give up looking for us soon. I didn't know how long we could stay at the dojo, but I knew we couldn't do anything to draw attention to ourselves.

Up on the platform, Master Goku was explaining how the tournament would proceed.

“By the end of the day, one student will emerge as our champion,” he said. “And we will honor him, because he will have proved himself to be the most gifted student in this dojo and worthy of the title of samurai.”

A flutter of applause and cheering went up, and Master Goku smiled. “I must remind you all, however, that the tournament is not about glory. It is about honor, courage, and self-discipline. Champions are not born, they are made…and every boy in this school has it within him to become champion.”