by Paul Kidd
“Great abbot! I am Juno Hasakawa, from the Hasakawa breweries. I have come running from our warehouse to stop a dreadful accident!” The woman put a hand against her heart. “Your men took the wrong barrels from our warehouse. Amongst them was one barrel of condemned sakē. Please allow me to inspect the barrels and remove the offending sakē from these sacred precincts. By way of apology for this error, six fresh barrels are being brought here in replacement.”
It was that damned ninja woman! Sura instantly surged forward, trying to block all view of the ninja with her sleeves.
“Nonsense! This brewer is mistaken. Those barrels all have a purity seal! They are guaranteed fresh.” The fox tried to hustle the ninja off stage. “You are mistaken. The barrel of condemned sake is not here.”
The ninja ducked under Sura’s arm, enthusiastically standing before the abbot.
“Great abbot! It is in the best interests of this festival to at least allow me to check!”
Sura put a hand upon her heart, as though offended and aghast.
“These barrels are sacred! The best that loyal, pious people can provide!” She turned to the abbot. “Surely it belittles their gifts if we merely open the barrels and peer inside them, like workmen inspecting the plumbing?”
The abbot and his inner circle began to confer. Chiri hastened to the edge of the stage, where Tonbo and Kuno came to meet her. The rat bent down to whisper hurriedly.
“Kuno san! That is the ninja woman from the Akai Nami! We must tell the abbot!”
Kuno seemed quite pained. “Shh! What we did at the castle is illegal! There may be trouble if we do not keep up a valid pretence of innocence.”
Tonbo calmly leaned on his tetsubo. He had every confidence in Sura’s abilities.
“Watch.”
The ninja woman, however, suddenly took up a large sakē cup. She proudly brandished it above her head.
“This is a tasting ceremony! Let me take the first taste from each barrel. Then, if one barrel does offend, no one is harmed but myself. The barrel will immediately be seized and disposed of by my colleagues from the brewery!”
The abbot pounded the butt of his spear onto the stage in approval. “Ah! A good suggestion!”
Sura seized hold of a sakē cup, and hastened to the fore. “As a representative of pious people everywhere, I protest! I shall taste the sakē myself!”
Men all about the stage bellowed their opinions – the Ishigi contingent cheered for Sura. The abbot finally waved his hands, then pounded his spear again and called for order. With the entire assembly joyously watching, the big man boomed out his decision.
“Both claim the right to taste the sakē. So both will taste!” He gestured towards the great rank of barrels. “You are well matched! Drink from the barrels – one full cup from each. Spill nothing! Drain the cups dry before you move on.” He held up gleaming gold coins. “If the bad barrel is found – one gold koku! If one girl out-drinks the other – one gold koku!”
The yamabushi roared out in approval, waving their spears. Lords and monks cheered. At the edge of the stage, Chiri felt a dreadful clutch of panic. She called urgently down to Kuno just below her.
“Not Sura san! She could get drunk on a thimble of vinegar!”
Kuno was utterly at a loss. “You heard the abbot. It has to be an even match…!”
Chiri steeled herself, then suddenly pushed forward. She seized the cup out of Sura’s hand.
“My colleague is in holy vows! I shall stand in her stead!”
Sura hastily tried to regain possession of the cup. “No no! They’re not that holy!”
“Yes they are! They’re terribly, terribly holy!”
The wind streamed Chiri’s long hair heroically back behind her. Daitanishi and Bifuuko whirred buzzing at her side. Chiri raced up to stand before the abbot, sakē cup in hand.
“Ready!”
The entire courtyard was swiftly organised, the yamabushi racing about with eager speed. Soon the centre of the yard stood empty. The long line of sakē barrels gleamed: fifty large kegs, all bound in white cloth. A pair of judges – young yamabushi with sharp eyes and keen senses – knelt to observe the action, each holding a flag.
The entire crowd ringed the courtyard, talking and cheering. Money clashed as bets changed hands. Lord Ishigi was making a substantial bet with another lord – clearly backing Chiri to the hilt. Yamabushi, sohei, samurai and retainers, peasants, mountain mystics – all were eagerly waiting to cheer their champions on. Little elementals looped above the crowd here and there, dancing eagerly about for a better view. Sura, Kuno and Tonbo were out in the front row, ready for anything. Daitanishi and Bifuuko sat on the edge of a shed, watching everything with considering little eyes. They observed the ninja woman like hawks, ready for the slightest sign of treachery.
The crowd became still and silent. All through the temple, the air seemed to crackle with anticipation.
Chiri and Hako faced one another, each at their own end of the long rank of barrels. Both womens’ long hair stirred in the breeze. They stood poised, sakē cups in hand – eyes narrowing as each tried to take the measure of the other.
The rat was lean and rangy – sweetly beautiful, but with a spirit of pure steel. The ninja – disciplined and glowering – flexed her hand, tightening it slowly about her own cup…
The crowd stilled into absolute silence. A single dry weed blew across the courtyard between the two women. Hako glared at Chiri, and the rat stared back with intelligent, eerie pink eyes…
The mountain abbot rose up from his seat on the stage. He set himself into position, muscles flexed, then puffed out his mighty chest. The man looked at the two contestants, glaring from one to another, and then suddenly swept down his spear.
“Drink!”
Chiri and Hako both went for their cups. They each ran to their own end of the line wrenched the top from a barrel, plunged in their cups and drank. The sakē was good: the women marked a cross on each barrel with pieces of charcoal. Moving forward to their next barrel, they splashed their cups in deep and drank as swiftly as they could.
The crowd cheered, with the yamabushi calling out praise for their champions. Ninja and rat both drank like heroes, quaffing sakē and moving on. Chiri shook her head, making a terrible face. Hako drank a fourth cup and almost choked. She swallowed and moved on, racing onwards as she saw the rat pulling ahead and already drinking her fifth. The rat looked ill, but was drinking hard and fast, tipping her cup upside down each time to show that she had drained the very dregs. Hako tried to move faster, drinking deep and flinging herself forwards to the next barrel, and then the next. She checked each barrel to see if it contained the baby carp spirit, then drank as swiftly as she could.
Over on the sidelines, Sura kicked at a rock and grumbled as she watched the drinkers racing forwards cup by cup.
“I don’t know why you all didn’t just let me do it!”
Tonbo watched the race with his big arms folded.
“Because you’d be drunk, painted blue and hanging from the Tori gate by the third cup.”
The fox sulked.
“That was just once, and I told you, I’d had a bad day!”
Lord Ishigi had come to stand at the front of the crowd. The man cheered for Chiri, urging her on as the rat plunged into her twelfth cup. Kuno turned and spoke to the mighty lord in some amazement.
“Forgive me, Ishigi Sama – but you have bet money upon Chiri san?”
Lord Ishigi beamed, watching the race with utter confidence. “Of course! She’s a rat! Rats have iron stomachs!”
Kuno walked aside and watched Chiri with rather more anxiety.
“Unfortunately, this rat is quite sheltered and genteel…”
Chiri drank and drank, now moving in a steady plod from barrel to barrel – lifting lids, drinking then marking the barrel. She moved doggedly onwards. At the other end of the line, Hako came towards her one barrel at a time, becoming more and more nauseous with every draught. She wove
her way forward, feeling haggard, and managed to croak a few words out towards the rat.
“M-my body is inured to hardship! Give it up, Spirit Hunter!”
Chiri tossed back yet another brimming cup.
“Never! P-purity is my armour!”
Both women were feeling decidedly sick.
They moved on, converging towards the centre. Chiri’s initial plan had been to drink swiftly, before the alcohol could go to her head: it seemed she had been far too optimistic. Her cheeks blazed, and she was weaving on her feet, but still she drank. The ninja woman came onward, one cup after another. Chiri forged forward, coming briefly to a halt as she felt her stomach churn. She slumped and clung to a barrel, then pushed herself on, plunging in her cup to drink yet again.
Twenty cups…
They drew closer together. Hako fell to her knees, trying not to vomit as she forced yet another cup of sakē down her throat. Chiri staggered on – drinking again and again. Hako reached for another cup of sakē – began to drink, and was suddenly sick all over the gravel. Chiri reached the central barrel, dipped in her cup, and as the crowd cheered her, she drank - tipping it upside down to show that every drop was gone. She drank from one more keg to absolutely prove the issue, then let her cup drop. The crowd thundered their acclaim. One of the judges raced forward to hold up her arm in victory. Tonbo and Kuno came running from the crowd to help bear her up. They steered her over and away towards the sheds, where she could throw up in private.
Kuno looked back at Hako, utterly amazed.
“The ninja never found the barrel! So where can it be?”
Chiri looked up at the man. She was thoroughly green.
“It – it was the first barrel on my side, Kuno san. I had to drink it with a straight face and carry on.”
Sura arrived at a run, stopping only to pluck Hako’s straw hat up from beside the fallen ninja. She came hastening over to Chiri, jingling the rat’s prize money in a little brocade purse.
Polite as ever, Chiri bowed – looking absolutely, wretchedly ill.
“Sura san – I have drunk twenty five serves of sake, and a cup of warm, rancid fish water…” She took a firm grip upon her friend’s arm. “I wonder if you could show me a suitable place where I might be ill?”
Sura passed her the ninja woman’s hat.
“Sure. Here!”
Chaos reigned. With all of the barrels opened, yamabushi ran forwards with dippers and began serving sakē to the jubilant crowds. Tonbo and Kuno took possession of Chōisai’s barrel and lugged it swiftly towards the stables, where carts and cart horses waited in droves. Hako saw them go and weakly tried to follow, but could hardly see her hand in from of her face. Sick and wretched, she collapsed on the ground and watched her prey slip clean out of her grasp.
“H-hate… Rats!” Hako slumped flat.
“Hate… Foxes!”
A huge drinking party began, with gongs, drums, shouts and dances. The ninja was thoughtfully dragged out of the way by a passing monk, who propped her beside a pair of horses near a rain barrel. The ninja threw up copiously against a wall, and the two horses wisely stepped aside and looked for a better place to pass the evening.
The Spirit Hunters headed out the gates, and rode off into the sunset.
The next dawn saw Raiden patrols still combing their lands like an angry nest of ants. Foot soldiers were in the villages near the main castle, while mounted samurai ranged further out along roads and pathways. But there was nothing to be found – no sight or sign of the intruders. They had somehow used fox magic to vanish off the face of the earth. The Raiden lord spent a night of restless rage, pacing and inspecting the guard. His men raced to impress him with their zeal, keeping every guard post double-manned and marching patrols all through the castle yards.
Lord Raiden had heard no news from his agents. His fish ponds seemed to mock him. Frustrated, he threw himself into his armour before dawn, and rode with his hatamoto bodyguard out into the valley.
The horses thumped across the dry earth and dew-soaked weeds, racing south towards the border lands – out through the trees and up onto a great hillside stirrup-deep with grass. There, as the dawn first lit the mountain slopes with a sliver of pale yellow light, Lord Raiden reined in his horse and stood high in the stirrups, slashing his crop and glaring at the dark.
He whirled his horse in the gloom, feeling out with his hunter’s instincts. He finally led his dozen armoured men galloping hard and fast up and across the hill, angling to the fold between two mountains. He struck out for the south, heading back towards the carp spirit’s lands.
Two hours after dawn, the riders saw a pair of men running towards them from the high mountain-backs above. Lord Raiden Katsura drew up his horse, with his two dozen armoured riders clattering to a halt around him.
The two men running down the mountain slope raced up to the group and knelt briskly before Lord Katsura. Two of Hako’s ninja, they had been running hard.
“Lord! We have pursued your quarry.” The senior ninja turned to point to the west. “They took brief refuge in the Pine Bough Temple, then headed to the plains during the night. They will have reached the village of Sugimura.”
Lord Katsura flexed his reins between his armoured gauntlets.
“A minor fief. They dare not oppose us.” He gave a curt nod to the two ninja. “Excellent! You have done well!”
He flicked his horse into motion.
“Let us regain my property. My guests will begin arriving in two days!”
Lord Raiden and his men thundered up across the hill, onto a country lane that led off into a hinterland of scrub and trees.
They rode hard and fast, hooves pounding and grass hissing past their stirrups – past the base of the mountains and on into the flat lands beyond. They burst out into a land of little farms and villagers of forest folk. Tanuki spirits were gathering herbs high in the woods. The commoners all stared as Lord Raiden and his armoured men came thundering past, galloping onward in a great cloud of dust.
The cavalcade finally came splashing across a little stream and out into an open field. They drew in as a local samurai – a young man armed with a bow and dressed in armour with plain purple lacings – rode forth from across a little ridge of land. The young man was followed by two foot soldiers with long naginatas.
The young samurai recognised Lord Raiden. He drew up his horse, looking at his visitor in shocked amazement. The young man immediately gave a bow.
“Raiden Katsura sama! I am Kinoshita nō Toshiro, fourth son of the Kinoshita clan lord. Welcome to my land! This is unexpected. Most unexpected.”
Lord Katsura nodded a brusque bow in return, keen to be on his way.
“Kinoshita san! Forgive our trespass. I am here upon a mission. We will be brief.”
The young samurai pushed back his helmet in amazement.
“Lord this is indeed a day of honours!” He swung his horse about, lifting a hand to gesture off across the field. “Please, honour my fief and join our other guests.”
From the ridge beyond the field, a dozen banners suddenly arose. Foot soldiers bearing the banners of Imperial Magistrate Masura rose up into view. The men gave a cheer, waving towards Lord Raiden in welcome. Lord Raiden angrily yanked at his reins, sawing his horse aside. He stared in fury as a sudden slew of mounted samurai came riding out into the field – all of them cheering for the new arrivals.
Imperial samurai!
There was nothing to do but keep face. Lord Raiden and his angry hatamaoto walked their horses forwards across the field, accompanied by the bewildered local samurai.
At the far side of the ridge, a camp enclosure had been raised, with stiff curtains printed with the imperial mon. There were pages holding horses, and a small group of imperial samurai. Banners flew and guards stood to attention, their spear points glittering in the sun.
Against this glorious backdrop, Magistrate Masura – one of the Imperial administration’s right-hand men – sat in state upon a camp sto
ol. He was guarded by his heavily armoured lieutenant, Hijiya Hoichi – a scarred, glowering veteran of many battles. His bodyguards were beautifully equipped and thoroughly alert.
Ranged about Magistrate Masura were the carp spirits – the beautiful Tosakingyo Asuka and her husband, with several of their armed and armoured kin close at hand. Beside them was Priestess Reiju – sternly dressed in full Shinto finery.
To Lord Raiden Katsura’s intense displeasure, the Spirit Hunters were sitting beside Magistrate Masura. The fox, of course, was eating and drinking. Her two samurai companions were travel stained but dressed for battle. At their side, a slender white-furred rat spirit sat looking woefully ill.
A broad tub of water stood beside Tosakingyo Asuka. The woman held a bright, beautiful goldfish in her arms – her little son, Chōisai. The woman glared sheer murder at Lord Raiden as he approached.
Magistrate Masura was dressed in a hunting outfit, with a page holding his bow beside him. He kept a wonderfully pleasant smile upon his face as we welcomed Lord Raiden to his camp. Lord Raiden dismounted with his men and stalked forward, bowing to Magistrate Masura. The magistrate beamed and indicated that his guests should seat themselves nearby.
Hijiya Hoichi gave a brusque bow. He bellowed forth so that the assembled troops could clearly hear.
“Greetings to Lord Raiden Katsura from Imperial Magistrate Masura!” He turned and shouted out across the fields. “Ten thousand years to the Emperor!”
The imperial samurai cheered, bellowing out three thundering shouts. Magistrate Masura nodded in approval, then waved towards Lord Raiden.
“My lord Raiden Katsura! How pleasant to encounter you on such a sunny morning!”
“Imperial Magistrate Masura!” Raiden Katsura came forward, stiff faced, hands clenched. “It is a surprise to see you on our neighbour’s lands unannounced.”
“But a pleasant surprise, I trust! My astrologers informed me that this was an auspicious direction to travel in today.” Magistrate Masura cheerfully drank tea. “But then, when one is the Emperor’s direct representative, every direction is surely as auspicious as the next. It is too long since I enjoyed the unique beauty of the provinces here.”