Assassin's Tea

Assassin’s Tea

By Abigail L. W.

         Kyoto had started to turn from winter into spring; slowly the city began to wake up from its long cold sleep. The trees began to bud new brightly colored green leaves, drawing the birds back to nest. The gardens, while maintained during the winter, were manicured once again into their stately manner, mimicking nature while being totally sculptured.

         Sorano had a resolute understanding of the world around her; being only a female limited her options in life. At best she could hope that her father’s position as Teishu, a Tea Master, would place her as an excellent bargaining chip to further his position politically with the samurai class. But even at best, she knew she would always be in the shadow of men, being only a female seemed to mean she could not appreciate the meaning of life; she would never see true brutality so she could never understand true beauty.

         She scoffed internally at this as she sat in her family’s garden listening to the water trickle down the bamboo troughs into the pool. It was spring and the blossoms were preparing to open on the cherry trees that lined the fence separating her father’s tea house and his family home.

         She would often help her father maintain the garden on the other side of the fence, it was a spare and clean garden, devoid of flowering plants; it was the place to prepare oneself to enter the chahitsu, the tea room. Not that Sorano was ever present within the chahitsu while her father was performing the Chanoyu, Tea Ceremony. She entered the 3 foot high sliding rice paper door plenty of times to clean and prepare the room for the ceremony in all its stages, but, as only a female, she could not appreciate the Zen of Tea. She could, however, clean up from it.

         Sorano had already developed a great deal of resentment towards the samurai by the age of eleven. Her father’s business, and therefore her wellbeing, depended on appeasing the morally superior warrior class. She often sat in the outer halls of her home listening to the Tokugawa samurai demean the women of Japan as simple minded; best kept quiet and wrapped in colorful silks. She would find herself grinding her teeth at the idea that these self indulgent men were superior to her. Yet she knew she could never act on those feelings.

         Spring led into summer with an uneasy quiet in Kyoto, there were rumors of the southern clans banding together to displace the Tokugawa and there would be weeks when many of the Samurai were elsewhere.

         Summer went into the colors of fall and Sorano found herself helping her father at the tea house even when most of the Samurai were elsewhere. On one afternoon, as she waited to prepare the chahitsu for the second part of the ceremony, she heard an odd dialect, a southern dialect, as she continued to listen she heard her father’s voice join in the conversation.

         “Gentlemen, I hope you have enjoyed your time in Kyoto. Hopefully this visit will find us in good standings in the future,” her father’s voice carried its usual edge of flattery and charm. She imagined it as a thin layer of slime, as if left by a snail, that the listener would inevitably be covered in and absorb. She had never met a man or woman that her father could not charm.

         A harsh voice of one of the four men answered him, “Should we ever find ourselves in Kyoto again, we will surely make the time to come by.”

         That was all that was said, and her father, several minutes later, was behind her checking her preparations and scroll choice for the second part. She never chose the pottery, but as many of the scrolls were her work it seemed a default responsibility of hers. It was one of her more simple scrolls, saying “be calm”, but it was also one of her better examples of hand control. Her father nodded in agreement with her choice and that was her cue to exit. She kneeled and crawled out the back door just before her father signaled for the guests to enter the front of the chahitsu.

         Several weeks went by and no more men from the South came, but Sorano’s father continued to speak about them to her mother, his talk was often filled with an excitement he failed to restrain. Sorano was quietly lying on her bed, breathing slowly, pretending to sleep. She was listening to the night sounds of winter. It was still too early for snow, so the footsteps of the guards could be heard in the gentle rustling of dead leaves and pebbles being crushed together.

         These sounds had become comforting, a sign that all was well and that in truth no house guards were needed. As she listened this night, she heard unfamiliar noises to the north end of the house, something moving quickly and attempting to do so quietly. More noises joined that, all moving towards the house. Yet the guards did not stir, almost as if they had fallen into the idea they were in fact unnecessary.
Sorano sat upright and quickly considered her options. If it was indeed nothing she would be ridiculed for bothering her father while there were guests in the house, worse still as the guests were samurai. But if it was something to be concerned about she might receive praise for hearing danger when the guards and even the samurai heard nothing. It was a tempting idea, and the chance to humiliate the samurai guest was enough to pull her out of her bedroll.

         She got to her feet and covered herself with the outer layer of her kimono; she did not feel she had the time to put on all fifteen silken layers. She took her tanto, a small dagger appropriate for a women to carry, and went to find the one man whom she felt might listen to her concerns seriously and, at the very least, send men to check the northern side of the house.
As she rounded the corner the captain turned to look at her, “Mistress, you should be well asleep by now. Back to bed.” He pointed back down the hallway, the direction she had just traveled, much like what one would do if directing a disobedient dog.

         Sorano refused to turn around, but rather quickened her pace to stand directly in front of him, “I heard something at the northern end of the garden.”

         The captain smiled and had to pull his hand back as he went to pet her on the head, “There is nothing to worry about. The house is guarded and there isn’t anything in the garden but plants. Now back to bed.”

         The captain gave a short whistle and a guard came trotting up to him to escort her back to her room. She knew the guard would stand at her door for the rest of the night to ensure she didn’t leave to disturb the captain, or others, again for the night.

         But, rather than lay on her bedroll, she remained on her knees with her tanto in her hands, listening to the noises of the house quiet down as the hours crawled past. The guest samurai left and her parents and others within the house prepared for bed.

         The house and garden remained quiet for several hours after the guests left, but then Sorano heard what sounded like deliberately quiet running coming from the garden towards the house. Then there was the sound of something heavy being laid down. Finally there was a pain filled cry from one of the guards and the house woke up frightened. Sorano could hear the sounds of katanas being pulled from their saba. Bodies dropped to the gravel covered ground and the fighting moved from the garden into the house. Her mother came running into her room followed by two guards; the one who had been standing guard at her door and another following close behind her mother. Sorano got to her feet and pulled her tanto from the sheath; the blade gleamed, hamon sparkling like a cold fire dancing on the blade. Sorano knew the edge would cut deep; she had spent hours polishing the blade just for that. She knew they were to stay there and hope the fighting was stopped well before it could reach them.

         Sorano could not help but smile; knowing that the guard captain was now wishing he had listened to her. If he had there would have been samurai within the house to help him defend it. Now he only had the soft guards, softer than even the over indulgent Tokugawa samurai. She briefly wondered if the runner had gotten out to call for help, briefly, but realized more than likely not.
Sorano’s mother clutched to the arm of her kimono, whimpering. Sorano had to pull her arm free and listened to the sounds coming from around the house. She heard foot steps, fighting, screaming and bodies hitting the wooden floor. The sounds continued to move closer to Sorano’s room, causing both Sorano’s mother and the two guards to sweat nervously.

         Sorano couldn’t tell how long the fighting went on until it reached her room, but she knew it was shorter than it felt. Sorano could hear what sounded like three to four men running towards her room from the north. When her rice paper door was sent flying into her room she could see two intruders. One charged directly into the two guards protecting her mother and herself. The other was forced to turn around and battle with the Captain as he followed them into the small, and now crowded, room.
Sorano’s mother grabbed hold of her hair, which was braided, and pulled her harshly further into the corner of her small room while the captain pushed further into the room. The two intruders fought back to back; one fended off the captain while the other was able to quickly dispense with the two house guards in front of Sorano and her mother. The intruder’s katana swung and caught one of the house guards in the torso, nearly slicing the guard in half.

         Sorano’s mother let out a high pitched scream as the blood splattered on the walls and her. The intruder pulled his blade free, sending the body to the floor, where it settled in a reddish pool. The second guard did no better, his head rolled towards Sorano’s feet as the intruder began to move towards her and her mother. The captain continued to push his battle partner further into the back of the other intruder, limiting the amount of room each of them had to maneuver. It also pushed Sorano and her mother further into the corner where they had no route to escape as their intruder had room to make one last swing with his katana.

         Sorano made a conscious decision to move as the man swung his blade. Her mother was not as thoughtful and Sorano heard the sound of the arterial spray as the man cut into her mother’s throat, then her mother’s body fell to the floor with a thud.

         Sorano raised her tanto, gripping the handle with her left hand and charged towards the man who had just taken her mother’s life. He didn’t have room to take another swing with his katana, as his counterpart was at his back fighting the captain, so he stabbed towards Sorano.

         Sorano felt a sharp searing pain come through her left shoulder as the katana slid though her to the hilt and the tip hit into the solid outer wall. Just as the intruder began to pull up on the handle of his blade Sorano found his soft belly with her tanto and once the blade was as deep as it would go she also began to pull up. Her left arm was nearly useless, but her right had strength and working with the upward facing blade she was able to cut up until his breast bone. With her final energy she pulled her blade free and the man fell to his knees. Blood pooled at his knees as he clutched his abdomen, trying to hold in his organs before falling on to his side.

         Sorano still had her tanto in her left hand, felling something warm oozing into her hand. As she wondered what it was, she watched the captain cut the last intruder down. She thought the sound of his blood splattering the rice paper walls sounded more distant than it should.

         “Sorano?” the captain called to her, and she swung her head to look at him and felt dizzy. She fell to the ground and finally took a look at her hand, blood from the intruder oozed from her tanto and her own down from her shoulder wound. She was shocked to see the katana was still buried into her up to the hilt. The caption stood above her, looking worried.

         “Teichou?”

         All was blackness and gray. Sorano could not remember where she had been or what day it was. Time slowed and sped up with brief flashes of men and women looking down on her. The only thing that reassured her that she was still alive was the throbbing pain she would feel from time to time.

         When she was finally sure she was lucid and awake she tried to sit up, only to find there was no strength in her left arm, so she remained lying. Eventually the nurse attending her returned and there was too much commotion about her waking up.

         The captain made it a point to visit her, “Gomen nasi, if I had listened to you many may still be with us. I cost you your mother.”
She nodded and publicly accepted his apology, such as it was. But privately she was smug and felt a grudge building against this man. His ego had cost him his pride, perhaps he would learn to listen to mere women now.

         Several days after her mother’s funeral her father had a visitor come by, unlike many of his visitors, he came to their home and not the tea house. They sat together, sipping tea and talking about the brewing conflict between the Tokugawa and the southern clans. Sorano could hear it all as she was just in the room over and only rice paper walls separated their hushed talking.

         Slowly the conversation turned to the attack on the house, the lost guards and finally her mother’s death. Listening to her father made Sorano feel as if she were dripping with sticky, rancid honey. His flattery was like perfumed oil applied too heavily, leaving a person feeling sick from the smell and putrid from the over greased skin.

         “Yes, now I must worry about my lovely daughter; she nearly didn’t survive the attack. Luckily the captain was able to defend her. But with my house guards numbers cut, how will I be able to defend my home again?”

         Her father’s sentences hung in the air, waiting for the sympathy they were suppose to illicit. Sorano felt her face heat up listening to his lies. She defended herself; the captain could have prevented it all, but his pride was too full to listen to a female.

         Sorano heard a tea cup being set down on the cloth mat and the stranger shifted his kodachi, “from what I understand, your daughter defended herself, even suffering an injury while you were no where to be found.”

         Her father seemed to be caught off guard, chocking on his tea. Perhaps he was surprised that, unlike the samurai, this man was not subdued by his flattery. “Yes, but the question still remains; how am I to protect myself and my family from another unwarranted attack?”

         “This attack was not unwarranted and there will be more unless something is done.”
Her father was shocked into silence for what most of been the first time in Sorano’s memory. She was enjoying listening to the stranger politely rebut her father’s lies and half truths with short and simple answers.

         “Can we get to the heart of why you asked me here? You felt you could create an alliance behind the Tokugawa with the Satsuma, only they do not trust you. Which is the best course of action, given your habit of charming snakes. Now that the Satsuma have made an attempt on your life, you want protection, as your house guards couldn’t hold a katana to the Satsuma. Only, you can not go to the Tokugawa; so you come to me. Correct?”

         Sorano could tell her father was uncomfortable speaking so directly, but he did give a weak verbal yes. Next the stranger seemed to sit in contemplation, leaving the air still between them. Sorano couldn’t help but wonder what the man would say next.

         “Your daughter, I would like to meet her.”

         Sorano was shocked, just as shocked as her father, as he had dropped his tea cup. She listened to it roll on the wet mat before someone stopped it. Her father stuttered, calling for her nurse. Sorano couldn’t hear any of what was said between her father and the nurse, but shortly after she came in and began to dress Sorano; she could only assume to go and meet the stranger.

         Once the full fifteen layers of silk were wrapped around her and her obi was fixed, she began to walk towards the door when her nurse stopped her. She was brought back to her bedroll and made to sit down. She heard her father and the stranger get up, and eventually, the rice paper door slide open softly.

         Her father entered first, followed shortly by the stranger. She tried to stand up to greet him, but the nurse kept a hand on her wounded shoulder, pushing her down. She managed a polite bow as they sat down.

         “Fukuyama Akiyana, please meet my only daughter Kurioiriguchi Sorano.” As Sorano’s father introduced them he betrayed his nervousness by wringing his hands.

         Sorano looked directly at Akiyana and was initially surprised by his appearance. While he carried a blade at his side, he was dressed as a simple rice framer. Now she understood why he was not at the tea house.

         “Pleased to meet you Sorano–san. I understand that even now you will not release your tanto.”

         Sorano slowly brought out her sheathed tanto from the folds of her kimono’s sleeves. “Yes Akiyana-sama, the guards were not prepared and I am not willing to place my life in their hands again.”

         Akiyana nodded and turned his head to Sorano’s father. “Your home will be protected and no further attacks will fall on you.”
Sorano’s father seemed to breathe new air and smiled his normally slimy smile, “good good, now I know my home and daughter will be safe.”

         “Yes, your home will be safe. Your daughter is my price.” Akiyana now turned his head towards Sorano, watching her reaction. She fought a moment of fear. Was she being sold as a Geisha? She had to force herself to think as she realized this man could not be the head of a geisha house, it was one of the few roles of power held by females, and beyond that, he was dressed to simply.

         Her father on the other hand, stuttered and sputtered, turning white, “my daughter? Just what do you think I am? Can you imagine what you taking my daughter will do for my reputation?”
“That is my price. I require a pupil to replace the one I will be sending here to protect you and she already has an understanding of death.” Akiyana never took his eyes from Sorano.

         “But my reputation!” Sorano was not surprised that her father was more worried about his reputation than her safety.

         “Do not worry about your reputation.”
“But my daughter to be trained as a ninja? Just what am I to tell people?” Sorano’s eyes widened; ninja? First her father attempts an alliance with the Satsuma and now he was hiring a ninja?

         “Your samurai friends will believe she is going to your relatives in Edo, as you fear for her safety. She will spend a night in Edo, the next morning I will send Yuki for her. She will change into appropriate clothing and accompany Yuki into the mountains where she shall begin her training.” Akiyana stood up, bowed and left the room.

         Several weeks past and Sorano healed. Her father never brought up when she would leave, but he would often speak of how she was leaving to be with relatives when she was strong enough to travel.

         The day eventually came, and as she waited to begin her journey outside of the gate, her father came to her, “remember the honor of this family.”

         Sorano’s hand tightened around the handle on her tanto she had concealed in her sleeves, “Otousan, I am the only honor in this family.”