by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney
Gradually her breathing became steadier. Hanzo lowered himself to the floor, but remained where he was so she could have her privacy. It would have been impolite to ask what had happened, so he didn’t ask. He didn’t say anything.
“One day, he’s going to kill me.”
She was no longer crying. Instead her tone had become flat and chilling in its finality.
“It will be because I’ve lost my voice or I choose a song that doesn’t please him or simply because the moon is full. He’ll lift his sword and strike me down—”
“No.”
Hanzo could hear the rise of his own breath stirred into a panic.
“No,” he repeated.
“I will finally be free.”
She brushed her hair back revealing a blank expression. The side of her face was swollen and she bled from a cut on her lower lip. Hanzo’s hands curled into fists.
How badly had Mizunaga hurt her? How often did he do this? All questions Hanzo wanted to ask, but they would have been useless things to say, dragging up hurt and hopelessness without offering anything in return.
“I wish I could—” Hanzo paused. What could he possibly tell her? “I wish I could help you be free.”
I’m hurting because you’re hurting, was what he truly wanted to say. He wasn’t at liberty to throw such sentiment at her. They hadn’t spoken a word since that night she’d wandered into his workshop.
Lady Yura smiled faintly at him. “You can come sit closer.”
He moved across from her and settled down onto the tatami mat. They faced each other as if at a tea ceremony, but the lonesome cup remained between them, untouched.
“When I was brought to Koriya from Edo, I thought it an honor,” she confessed. “I was to be courtesan to a great lord. My future would be so bright. But all I do every night is sing. I stay on one side of the screen, singing one song after another. Lord Mizunaga doesn’t even see me. Sometimes, I wonder if he even listens, but if I stumble or falter, he becomes agitated. If I stop, he wakes up enraged. Only when he is completely still am I allowed to slip away.”
“You keep the nightmares away,” Hanzo suggested.
“Nothing can keep them away,” she retorted. “Lord Mizunaga is haunted by ghosts only he can see. I’m afraid to move or take one wrong breath, lest he awaken with sword drawn. Lord Mizunaga may seem like a fearsome warrior, but he’s afraid all the time.”
Her bitterness tainted the very air around them. Hanzo glanced to the windows, hoping no one happened to overhear them. To accuse a daimyo like Mizunaga of being afraid, of being weak in any way was an unspeakable insult.
Hanzo recalled what Chancellor Sakai had told him. “Lord Mizunaga must have become more fearful after his brother’s death.”
Yura glanced up sharply. “His brother was daimyo of this domain. Lord Mizunaga was the one who had him killed.”
They both fell silent once more.
“Tell me something, Hanzo-dono,” she implored. “Anything. For a year now, I’ve barely seen the sun. Lord Mizunaga’s chamber has become my cage.”
He cast about his workshop until his gaze settled on the shelf behind his workbench. “The nightingale,” he began.
“The nightingale.” Yura waited.
“There is a small device inside him, like a metal comb pressed very thin. The teeth of the comb vibrate in the presence of sound. That is how the nightingale is able to sing back when one imitates his call.”
He demonstrated the nightingale’s song and the clockwork bird dutifully responded.
Yura frowned, her eyebrows arching. “But I don’t understand. How can the bird hear you?”
“Each tone causes a different part of the comb to vibrate. The same thing that happens when one speaks.” Leaning forward, Hanzo took hold of her hand to place her fingers lightly over her throat. “Can you feel it? Here?”
Her lashes fluttered as she met his gaze. “I can.”
He could feel the beat of her pulse where his hand was pressed against hers. “The mechanism triggers when specific parts of the comb vibrate, causing the nightingale to sing in response,” he explained, his throat suddenly dry.
Her gaze fixed onto him, her eyes dark and wide. They were close with hands touching, yet he longed to be closer still.
“You have a kind heart, Hanzo-dono,” she said, her voice low and soft.
“So do you, O-Yura.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t.”
Lady Yura was an experienced courtesan while he had never been so close to a woman before. Recklessly, Hanzo pressed his lips to hers and kissed her. Gently. As gently as he could. She was bruised and he couldn’t bear to hurt her any more than she had already suffered.
If Lord Mizunaga cut off a man’s ear for having listened to Yura sing, what would he cut off for this? But none of that mattered here, in these stolen moments inside a madman’s castle.
When Yura didn’t pull away, Hanzo kissed her again. And felt his blood soar.
Chapter Five
‡
Chancellor Sakai had the training yard cleared for a morning demonstration. The official attended alone, situated in a covered chair as Hanzo positioned his archer. The target lay directly ahead at the far end of the yard.
Hanzo had fashioned a suit of armor out of lacquer and paper mâché to cover the frame. From afar, the karakuri was a samurai warrior from its very stance to the ornate helmet and mask it wore. The trigger mechanism was hidden beneath the shoulder plate of the suit of armor. Hanzo reached inside to pull the lever down before standing back.
In one fluid movement, the automaton lifted the bow and fixed its stance in an archer’s pose. The mechanical arm pulled back to its farthest point before the jointed fingers released the arrow, sending it home to the center of the target.
The chancellor watched from his seat, unmoved.
The karakuri pulled another arrow from its quiver and repeated the first shot without error. Then a third arrow joined the first two inside the target.
Chancellor Sakai rose to his feet. “Very good, Hanzo-dono.”
He moved closer to inspect the target before nodding. Despite all the outward signs of approval, a knot formed in Hanzo’s stomach. He’d come to know the chancellor’s carefully measured expressions.
“An exceptional recreation,” Sakai remarked, approaching the automaton now. He circled the armored figure. “At the start, what was Hanzo-dono adjusting behind the machine?”
“A dial used to set the distance from the target, Chancellor.”
“Hmm.” Sakai ran a hand over his beard. “Then your archer is only able to hit a target directly in from of him?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, but what if the target was set off to one side? Wouldn’t it be beneficial to allow one to direct the arrow?”
This was what Hanzo had come to expect from Sakai. Always another suggestion, another improvement. But now Hanzo knew why. The chancellor had always been designing a weapon.
“Chancellor Sakai is very wise,” Hanzo admitted. “Such a feature would vastly improve the design.”
Already his mind was working. A change to the structure to allow the archer to pivot. The replacement of several joints with a ball and socket fixture. He had the human body as a model.
“This is why I value your skill, Hanzo-dono. Every challenge is an opportunity to you.”
Hanzo bowed in a proper show of humility.
“There is a feast planned for the next full moon. The daimyo’s most loyal vassals have been invited. It would be a great service to show off the archer at the banquet.”
“Of course, Chancellor.” Once again he bowed, keeping his expression veiled.
Only a few months at Koriya Castle and Hanzo was no longer blind. Chancellor Sakai had an intended target in mind. Someone who would be attending that banquet.
Weapons-making was an honorable trade, but there was no honor in assassination. His creation would be used to cheat someone out of his life
. It would appear to be an unforeseeable accident. The misfiring of a mindless machine.
In that same moment, Hanzo would lose his life as well when he was held responsible. His name, his honor, his future…all gone to dust.
You grant them your intentions, Yura had told him.
If he was to be made complicit either way, then Hanzo could very will choose his own target. One worthy of his sacrifice, and one that would allow Lady Yura to think well of him.
He would move mountains for her. He would touch the sky. He would keep her safe, the only way he knew how.
“I will begin work immediately,” Hanzo promised. The full moon was less than two weeks away.
Attendants came to drape a canvas over the karakuri to transport the machine back to the workshop. Hanzo meant to take his leave, but Sakai stopped him.
“A final word, Hanzo-dono.” Once they were alone, the chancellor spoke in a lowered tone. “I say this as a friend. Lord Mizunaga is very protective of what belongs to him.
Hanzo stiffened and Sakai detected the change.
“Be careful of your friendship with Lady Yura. She is one of Lord Mizunaga’s most prized possessions.”
“I understand, Lord Chancellor.”
Every challenge was indeed an opportunity.
In many, Hanzo spoke through his karakuri. They were an extension of his own hands, his own arms. This newest creation would be the same, accomplishing what he could not. Accomplishing what everyone else was afraid to do.
*
Hanzo didn’t know how Yura had slipped once more into his room, or for how long she had stood in the corner watching him. Only when he heard his name did he look up.
“When did you last sleep?” She looked over his ragged appearance. “When did you last eat?”
Yura was only ever released from Lord Mizunaga’s service when morning neared. If she was here, then Hanzo had reached the end of another night without success. He stared back at the archer. Half of the armor had been stripped away and he had his hands deep within the nest of control wires. “You shouldn’t be here, O-Yura.”
What had seemed like a simple addition to Chancellor Sakai, had in fact required the entire construction to be rebuilt. Now that it was done, the aim remained inconsistent. Each snap of the bow rattled the frame, requiring the entire assembly to be re-calibrated. Hanzo needed to work and think of nothing else. The moon was waxing full.
“Hanzo-dono.”
He’d found what was wrong. A socket joint that had come loose. Perhaps he could tighten it there, or would it be best to disassemble the entire section?
“Hanzo-dono.”
Yura was still there. She gestured towards the lanterns and Hanzo stared at them for several long moments before he understood. Everything within the chamber cast shadows onto the paper panels. They could be seen.
Once he extinguished the lanterns, she came to him. “You’re making yourself ill, Hanzo.”
He gripped her upper arms, fighting against her as she tried to draw him away from the karakuri. Away from his work. Yura was stronger than he expected, or perhaps he’d become weakened.
“If Mizunaga finds you here, he’ll kill us both,” he said grimly.
“Is that why you’ve been hiding away? Every night, your lanterns are lit, but your door remains closed.”
She had known about all those times he’d stood in the doorway to watch for her. Hanzo closed his eyes. He was exhausted, and the scent of her skin was making him light-headed.
“It isn’t why. I have to finish this.”
He wasn’t only talking about the karakuri. Over the last week, he’d finally seen what he’d been blind to all along. The entire castle was terrified of Mizunaga. They all lived in silence with their heads down. The only one who seemed clear-eyed and unafraid was Chancellor Sakai.
“I know why I was brought here.” Hanzo let out a long sigh. It was fate. “I know what I must do.”
“This task will be the death of you.”
Yura touched her hand to his face. They hadn’t done any more than kiss before she had disappeared into the night. Out of instinct, out of longing, his arms wrapped around her, sliding over warm skin and smooth silk. He’d touched nothing but sharp and cold metal for days.
This was what human hands were meant to touch, but he’d denied himself, reaching out instead through his karakuri. Only allowing himself to connect with others from afar.
Hanzo rested his head against Yura’s hair, letting the strands brush against his cheek. “Then let it be a good death, Yura.”
She drew him trembling into her arms. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” she whispered into his ear.
Yura took him by the hand. Hers was delicate and soft, while his were calloused and scrubbed raw by copper wire. Hanzo let her lead him to the sleeping compartment in back. Even in the dark, with the workshop strewn with tools and parts and devices, she never faltered.
By the time she untied his yakuta and pushed the cloth from his shoulders, Hanzo was breathing hard.
“You’ll go mad if you don’t sleep.” Her feather-light lips pressed against his shoulder, then his throat.
Yura was a courtesan, more worldly and experienced than he was. He was grateful as she helped him with the ties of her kimono. Then she guided his hands to her bare skin, sighing as his palms curved over her breasts.
It was his first time with a woman, but Hanzo learned as he always did. Through exploration, first with his hands and then his mouth, knowing each sweet, stolen moment could mean his death.
*
Hanzo held Yura naked in his arms, surrounded in darkness. In the aftermath of their joining, he’d confessed everything to her. The creation of the clockwork assassin and his suspicions about Chancellor Sakai.
“Why are you telling me this? I am nothing but a lowly servant here. I could inform the chancellor of your treachery and you’d be executed.”
Yura was tucked into the crook of his arm with her head against his chest. He couldn’t see her face as she spoke, but he didn’t need to. He’d watched her for a long time now, with more care than he’d spent on any other subject.
“I don’t believe you’re just a servant.” He threaded his fingers through the black silk of her hair. “If I succeed, I die. If I fail, I also die. I have nothing left to fear.”
He was condemned either way, but now that Hanzo had resolved to aim the machine at Lord Mizunaga himself, all knowledge and skill had failed him. The karakuri was broken. It wouldn’t work.
“Are you doing this for me, Hanzo-dono?” Her fingers trailed a line over his chest to hover over his heart.
“You will be free.”
She fell silent. The tick of the lantern clock out in the workshop continued to count down the minutes. Hanzo was content to let time pass, breathing in the jasmine scent of her hair.
“When I first came to Koriya, I thought I would be brought to Lord Mizunaga’s bed,” she told him.
Hanzo tensed at the thought of the warlord’s hands on her. Yura had known men before him and there would be others when he was gone. He tried not to let that thought poison this moment. This moment was theirs, his and hers alone.
“But the daimyo is too cautious to take a mistress so carelessly. I’ve become his shield. Another one of his many guards. While I sing, he believes all is well.”
Hanzo glanced at the windows. “It’s almost morning, Yura.”
She went on regardless. “Mizunaga fears assassination with good reason. Many men have tried to kill him. They all failed because they either lacked the skill, or the patience to wait for the right moment to strike. Most men, however, are not meant to kill another man. It’s important that you hear this, Hanzo-dono.”
Yura raised her head to look into his eyes. Hanzo would have liked nothing better than to remain as they were, even if the talk was about treachery and death. As long as she stayed, and as long as she kept on looking at him like that.
“You are a good man, Karakuri no Han
zo. There is a cost to taking a life, and the reason that you struggle now, the reason you cannot build this machine when you have created so many other miraculous devices is because your heart will not let you. You do not hate Lord Mizunaga enough, nor do you hate yourself enough to kill him.”
His heart pounded as he struggled with Yura’s words. He wanted to argue with her: she was wrong. Mizunaga was a tyrant. He was a lunatic who killed family, friends and strangers with the same impunity. One day, Mizunaga would kill her unless Hanzo stopped him.
But Hanzo said none of those things. Yura sank back against him, bringing warmth back to the part of him that had started to go cold.
Cold, but not cold enough.
He held on to Yura while the light filtering in through the windows went from silver to gold. The sun was rising. She would have to go, and he would have to let her.
“Sing for me,” he implored.
Pressed close to his side, Yura hesitated. “Lord Mizunaga doesn’t allow me to sing for anyone but him.”
“Then softly, so no one else will hear.”
She did sing for him, very softly, while Hanzo closed his eyes and tried to absorb every sound inside himself. He could feel the melody resonating inside of her while they embraced.
When the song was done, he sent her away and forbid her to come to him in his chamber ever again. He had much work to do.
Chapter Six
‡
Just before dawn, the karakuri master’s shadow could be seen inside his workshop, bent over some task with a tool in hand. Once in a while, the figure would lay down his tool, pause, and pick up a new one.
In Lord Mizunaga’s chamber, Lady Yura stood on her feet, singing from dusk till near dawn as she always did. Her silhouette was visible through the translucent panes of the mulberry paper with her silk kimono draped over a willowy form. She’d been in that same position for hours now. While she sang, the guardsmen knew not to disturb their master.
In the glare of the morning light, the courtesan was still singing a melody sweeter than any she’d ever sung. Mizunaga must have found it quite pleasing. He slumbered past the early morning, something the restless warlord was never known to do.