Sisters of the Sword (17 page)

C
rimson blood seeped out around the blade and darkened Master Goku's white shirt. Behind me, Hana let out an anguished cry. I turned to see her rushing forward. She seemed to fly past me through the stunned crowed, her gaze fixed on Goku.

Finally the crowd parted for me and I fell to my knees at Hana's side in the dirt of the courtyard. Master Goku's eyes were closed, and there was a trickle of blood at one corner of his mouth.

Hana kneeled too and slid her hand under his head. “Sensei,” she whispered urgently. “Sensei, don't leave us.”

All around us, people crowded in close. I was aware of Choji leaning over us. “Sensei, open your eyes,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse with distress.

Master Goku's eyes fluttered open. He glanced first at Hana and then at me. “S-silent Fist,” he whispered. “And Shadowless Feet…” His face
twisted and pain seemed to overwhelm him for a moment.

Behind him, Ken-ichi dropped his
yari
spear. “It…it was only supposed to slow him down,” he muttered. He looked suddenly like the little boy who I'd played with all those years ago.

I turned back to see Master Goku struggling to speak.

Hana was shaking her head. “Please, please don't leave us.”

“Beneath the cherry blossoms,” he said to me with a groan, gripping Hana's hand tightly. “Look beneath the cherry blossoms….”

Still kneeling at his side, I glanced across the courtyard to the cherry blossom trees that lined the walls. A slight breeze stirred their branches and the pink and white petals began to fall to the ground, as if the trees were weeping.

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “Look for what beneath the cherry blossoms?”

Master Goku's gaze fixed on mine as he struggled to take a breath. His chest rose, then fell…and was still. His eyes widened, staring up at the sky, and I saw that he would never tell us what he meant about the cherry blossoms.

“He's dead,” Choji said in disbelief. “Sensei is dead. May the Buddha bless him and give him peace.”

A woman in the crowd made a shocked sound, and an old man nearby bowed his head in sorrow. I felt my throat go so tight that I could hardly breathe. Hana let out a muffled sob and leaned forward until her forehead was touching Master Goku's shoulder.

I glanced up to see that Ken-ichi was motionless. His face was as white as the sand beneath his feet. He caught me looking at him and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

I stood up. “Murderer!”

“I—I didn't mean to,” he stammered.

“Yes, you did,” I cried. “You had every intention of killing him or you wouldn't have
poisoned
him!”

A shocked gasp rose from the crowd.

“Poison?” Choji said, looking up at me in surprise.

“This slave has gone mad,” Ken-ichi said quickly. “He's babbling. He doesn't know what he's talking about. How ridiculous, to accuse the son of the
Jito
!”

I shook my head. “You poisoned him,” I said firmly, narrowing my eyes as I studied my cousin. How could I prove it? Did he still have the poison on him? The only place he could have possibly hidden it was…

His sash.

In one fluid movement I drew my sword and
sliced it downward across Ken-ichi's knotted belt. With a whisper, the fabric parted and dropped to the floor.

A tiny black leather pouch landed at Ken-ichi's feet.

In a heartbeat, Choji had snatched up the pouch and loosened the drawstring. When he took his fingers out, the tips were covered in a fine green powder.

“That's nothing!” Ken-ichi said. “Just a little ground seaweed to flavor the soup at lunchtime….”

Choji sniffed the powder and frowned. “Ground seaweed, you say? Then you won't mind tasting it, will you?” and he thrust his fingers under Ken-ichi's nose.

Ken-ichi went even paler and I thought for a moment that he was going to faint. He stared at Choji for a moment. All around us the crowd shifted restlessly.

“No,” he said at last. “I won't taste it. I'm the son of the
Jito
and you'll have to take my word for it.”

“Your word doesn't count for much,” I said sharply. “For you are no longer the son of the
Jito
. Remember?”

Ken-ichi shot me a venomous look. “Shut up, rice boy,” he snarled. “I knew you were trouble. I should have cut you down the day you first showed your
filthy peasant face at the gates of the dojo!”

My sword was still in my hand and I leaped at Kenichi with a yell of blind fury. He just had time to draw his own blade and defend himself before I was slicing at him again. He knew he was not fighting for the title of champion anymore, or his honor. He was fighting for his life. Everything that I had held back since my father's murder came surging up through me in a torrent of rage and fury. I could feel power humming through my sword arm.

Ken-ichi buckled beneath my attack. But my anger made me clumsy. In a moment he recovered himself and came back at me, spinning and slicing, his nimble feet dancing back and forth. He leaped sideways, then twisted his body, bringing his sword downward in a glittering arc.

Gasping, I ducked backward, only just able to get out of the way of his blade….

Emotion is the ally of your opponent.
I could almost hear Goku's voice drift into my head. A breeze stirred the blossom trees on the far side of the courtyard, releasing another shower of petals, and all at once I felt a great calm descend upon me. I slowed my breathing, focused my mind, stilled my emotions.

Everything around me slowed, too. I closed my eyes and let images of Goku's dead body fall out of
my mind like leaves from a tree.

And then I heard Ken-ichi advancing toward me, feet crunching the sand, sword whistling as it was raised to strike. I opened my eyes and brought my blade up and defended easily. As he gathered himself for another backhanded slice, I used the force of his attack to propel my sword around into an attack on him, forcing him to turn his strike into a block.

He was off balance for a moment and I saw my opportunity. I spun, twisting my hips and snapping my foot forward to kick him. I heard my foot connect with his chest, and he staggered.

Ken-ichi's mouth opened wide in shock and I knew he was shouting something, but I couldn't hear. My ears were filled with the sweet sigh of the warm spring air. I felt a huge energy pulsing inside me and I channeled it all into my right foot as I unleashed the same
yokogeri
kick that had felled the willow tree.

This is for Goku!
I thought triumphantly.

But sound came crashing back in as Ken-ichi stepped to the side and snatched at my right foot. He trapped it beneath his arm, hard, and I had a sudden memory of the way he had injured the young student in training a few days ago. With a triumphant sneer and a chuckle, Ken-ichi twisted,
and I knew that this time he wouldn't hold back. He would break my ankle.

I went with the motion. I let him twist, but I twisted too, using the strength in my cousin's grip to spin my body in midair. My other foot came up and for a moment I was flying. Time stood still as I spun horizontally through the air, channeling all the power in my body through my left leg. I felt a jolt as my heel connected with Ken-ichi's chin.

He staggered, pain etched across his face. His arm loosened and suddenly my right foot was free. I landed lightly on my feet, my back to him.

My kick had stunned him. His feet were planted wide. His sword dangled limply at his side.

I didn't hesitate. I launched myself forward into another
yokogeri
kick. My foot slammed into Kenichi's chest and he went flying backward, face amazed. He went flying through one section of the crowd, which parted like a hastily raised curtain, and slammed into the wall of the courtyard.

He was motionless for a moment, looking breathless, like a butterfly that had been pinned. Then slowly he slid down the wall into a crumpled heap.

Around me, men and women in colorful kimonos surged upward and suddenly everyone stood, roaring and applauding. But I couldn't think about them now. All I could see was the sword in Ken-ichi's hand.
I strode toward him and stepped on the blade, pinning it to the ground and aiming the point of my sword at his throat.

“It is over now,” I said, and my voice sounded loud in the hush that fell on the courtyard. “Yield!”

K
en-ichi looked up at me. For a moment I could see a look of surprise flash across his face. I realized that he had expected me to kill him.

He was still breathless and there was a tiny trickle of blood beneath one of his nostrils. He shook his head, refusing to accept that he had lost.

“Yield, Ken-ichi,” I said in a gentle voice. “You've been defeated.”

“That's what you think, rice boy,” Ken-ichi growled. “A Yamamoto is never beaten.”

I know that,
I wanted to say.
Because I am a Yamamoto through and through. And after everything I have been through, I am still not beaten.

But I knew that now wasn't the right time to tell Ken-ichi who I was.

I took my foot off his sword. “Get up,” I said.

He stared at me for a moment; then he scrambled to his feet, re-sheathing his sword in one movement.
“You may have beaten me in this fight, rice boy,” he said. “But you haven't won anything. I'm still the son of the
Jito
. And you're still nothing more than a filthy peasant.”

With that, he abruptly turned and ran away across the courtyard. For a moment he was silhouetted in the gateway, and then he was gone.

“Ken-ichi!” I yelled, and I would have gone after him but Hana appeared at my side.

She took my hand in hers, her grip surprisingly strong. “Let him go,” she said. “He has to run away.”

“Why?” I asked

She gazed at me, her eyes clear pools of light. “If he stays, he would be dragged in front of the
Jito
to stand trial for his treachery,” she said simply. “He's a murderer now. And a murderer cannot expect mercy, even if he is the son of the
Jito
.”

She was still gazing at me when the crowd suddenly surged forward and surrounded us. People reached out to thump me on the back. “What a victory!” someone cried. “The Master is avenged!”

But I felt no sense of satisfaction. I didn't want revenge for Master Goku's death—I wanted the Master alive and well, standing at my side. My heart ached as I thought of the deaths I had seen since that afternoon when Uncle had arrived at our compound—Father, Harumasa, Nobuaki, all our faithful servants, and now Sensei, too.

I walked through the crowd to kneel once more at Master Goku's side. Choji, Tatsuya, and Ko were kneeling beside him, their heads bowed in prayer.

Choji stood up as I approached, and placed a hand on my shoulder. I swallowed hard, but it was no good. I could not hold back the tears.

Tatsuya got to his feet. “Goku-sensei was like a father to me, and Ken-ichi murdered him,” he said in a bitter voice. “I am not sure he deserved the mercy you showed him in letting him go.”

“Goku-san was like a father to me, too,” I murmured. “We have each lost two fathers, Tatsuya—our own and Sensei.”

Choji squeezed my shoulder once with his powerful hand, and then he patted Tatsuya on the back in a comforting way before turning to speak to the crowd. “The tournament must be suspended,” he said, spreading his arms wide to encompass everyone present. “I beg all of you to accept our apologies. Return to your homes. Leave us to mourn, and to prepare for the funeral of our Master.”

Merchants and craftsmen shuffled and murmured. Choji gave a few instructions and people began to move away from the fight arena. Some of them came forward to bow respectfully to Master Goku's body.

Hana was still kneeling at Goku's side. I put my arm lightly around her shoulders. The touch of my
hand on her shoulder seemed to release a wave of emotion. She began to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks to wet the sandy floor. There was nothing I could say to comfort her, so I simply held her for a moment. A few men and women glanced curiously at us.

Tatsuya touched my arm. “Why don't you both go inside?” he suggested. “You can get away from the crowds.”

I looked at Hana, and she nodded. Tatsuya helped us both to our feet. “I'll stay and help move Master Goku,” he said quietly.

A few samurai came to stand in a row nearby, hands on the hilts of their swords, as if forming a guard of honor to escort the Master to his resting place.

Hana and I began to make our way across the arena, weaving through the crowd. All at once, she stopped in her tracks and stared at the cherry blossom trees on the other side of the courtyard.

“What's the matter?” I asked.

“Beneath the cherry blossom trees,” she murmured, her voice so quiet I could barely hear her. “What did he mean, Kimi?
Beneath the cherry blossoms
…”

“I don't know,” I said.

“I want to look over there.”

“We can't,” I said, glancing around at all the people. A few of them had gone, but most were still milling around, talking quietly as they packed up their belongings. “Not now, Hana. But we can come back later tonight, when everyone's gone.”

Her gaze still seemed drawn to the trees. A breeze stirred the branches and more blossoms fell softly to the ground. But at last she nodded and let me lead her away through the gardens. Gravel crunched beneath our feet. The sounds from the courtyard grew more and more faint.

As we passed the meditation room, Hana hesitated. A frown creased her brow. Abruptly she pulled away from me and hurried up the steps. She kicked off her shoes and entered silently.

I followed her inside, expecting Hana to kneel and perhaps meditate. But her stride didn't hesitate. She made her way across the room to the opposite wall, where she stopped and gazed at a long scroll hanging on a red silk ribbon.

I caught my breath.

The scroll was covered in elegant brushstrokes. Beautiful thick lines swept upward, curved out, and then fluttered in a series of tiny white paint flecks…the perfect depiction of a cherry tree in blossom.

“‘Beneath the cherry blossoms,'” Hana said in a
soft, breathless voice, and she reached sideways to hold my hand as we both looked down.

Below the scroll was a low lacquered table. The front was screened with a blue silk curtain.

I kneeled down and drew aside the curtain. Under the table was a cedarwood casket. My hands trembled as I lifted the casket and set it on top of the table. I glanced up at Hana, a question in my eyes.

She nodded. “Open it,” she whispered.

Carefully I lifted the lid.

A breath of perfumed air seemed to puff out, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms. Peering inside the casket, I saw seven tiny scrolls, each with a broken wax seal and a scarlet ribbon.

I took out the first one and carefully unfurled it. “Oh, Hana!” I murmured, immediately recognizing the elegant brushstrokes and perfect
kanji
. “It's a letter from Mother.”

My mother's writing blurred as tears sprang to my eyes. I could almost hear her voice, saying the words.

“Mother has reached the town,” I said to Hana,
quickly reading the rest of the letter. “She is staying with an old friend of Father's.”

Hana reached sideways and gripped my arm. “And Moriyasu?”

I scanned the scroll. “He's well,” I said, relief making me light-headed. “She says he asks for news of us every day, and she's glad that she can now tell him where we are.”

My hands moved among the other three scrolls, hastily unrolling each one, scanning, and moving on to the next. “She and Goku have been corresponding for the past few weeks,” I said. “But she doesn't say where they are.”

“We will find them,” Hana said, clutching one of the letters in her hand. She took a deep breath, and I could see the resolve on her face. “Our time here at the dojo has given us strength and purpose. Master Goku may not be here, Kimi, but we will carry him with us in our talents and sword skills.”

I put the letters back into the box and embraced my sister. “Together, we can do anything.”

As we held each other, Hana continued, “We will search for Mother and Moriyasu…and we will find them. And one day, we will avenge Father and Harumasa and Nobuaki, and the honor of the Yamamoto family will be restored.”

Our journey had only just begun.