Death's Kiss

by Josh Reynolds

  “Gen’s dead because of you – because of your blasted family!” Ikki snapped. The smile was jolted from the young man’s face. He stepped back, his expression clouding.

  “I had nothing to do with that. He was my friend too.”

  “Maybe you should go, Reiji,” the fat one said. “Find your fun somewhere else for the moment.”

  Reiji turned and hurried away, pushing through the crowd. Kitano watched him go. He turned back only to find Ikki glaring at him. “Your master can go to hell,” the samurai said. “I’ll not speak to any Iuchi dog, whatever his colors.”

  Kitano nodded. “A shame.” He paused. “I fear my master will not take this well. He is a hard man, and prone to violent fits. If only there were some way to convince you…” He trailed off and gave his kimono a twitch, causing the koku in his pouch to rattle. Ikki’s eyes narrowed, and a familiar gleam came into them.

  “I know,” Kitano said, voice mild. “Maybe a wager would do it, eh?”

  Ikki licked his lips. “What sort of wager?”

  Kitano picked up the dice and let them roll across his palm. He smiled ingratiatingly.

  “A friendly one, my lord.”

  •••

  The night was crisp. A gentle breeze wafted across the balcony. Shin and Batu stood, looking down into the foothills below. At this time of night it reminded Shin of a swarm of fireflies, rising up out of the dark.

  Batu had procured a jug of sake from somewhere, and two clay cups. The cups were crude things, made by unskilled hands. Batu’s hands, as it turned out. “I needed a hobby,” he said, somewhat defensively.

  “I make no judgment,” Shin assured him. “I have delved into the arts myself, on occasion.” He peered at a cup. “Though your technique could use work.”

  “Some of us have to work for a living. Not all of us have the leisure time to perfect our skills at the pottery wheel.”

  “It wasn’t a criticism, merely an observation.” Shin leaned atop the veranda rail and looked down. “I can see why you chose this place now. The view is stunning. Too high up and you wouldn’t see it at all.”

  “Yes.” Batu took Shin’s cup and filled it. “I have placed myself at the exact midpoint of the city. Equidistant between high and low.”

  “Easy to find, you mean.”

  “That was my hope.”

  Shin studied his host over the rim of his cup. “I gather from your tone it was somewhat in vain.”

  Batu took a stiff slug of sake before replying. “The heimin here had their own way of settling things before the clan took an interest. They’ve held to it over the years, despite the efforts of my predecessors and myself.”

  “Northern Owari,” Shin said.

  Batu nodded. “It’s been a suppurating boil on my hind end for the entirety of my time here. But there’s little to be done about it. I don’t have enough people to patrol it effectively, and the families aren’t interested in helping – not when they enjoy their vices as much as the commoners.”

  “Surely the Iuchi would send reinforcements if you requested them.”

  Batu shrugged. “In theory. I do not wish to put it to the test, though.”

  Shin sipped his sake. “No, I can see where you might not wish to know the answer to that particular question. It seems somewhat short-sighted, however.”

  “We are a pragmatic clan. Why discard something useful because it is unsightly?” Batu refilled his cup. “Regardless, at the moment I have no authority save what the clan gives me. And what little authority I have been given is mostly concerned with keeping Hisatu-Kesu afloat – and that includes the bits I don’t particularly like.”

  “It is much the same in the City of the Rich Frog,” Shin said. “The wheels of progress roll over the unjust and just alike. Speaking of which – have you made a decision yet?”

  Batu looked at him. “Have you found out anything new?”

  “Not as such.”

  “Then no. But I will have to, before long. Already there is talk.”

  “It sounds as if this matter has united them after all.”

  “Yes,” Batu said, sourly, “Against me.”

  “It could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “It could have united them against me.”

  Batu gave a snort of laughter. “I’ve never known you to be concerned about such things. You always seemed to take such pleasure in making enemies.”

  “It is true, not everyone appreciates my wit.” Shin looked at Batu. He felt a sudden pang as he did so, but forced it aside. The past was the past, and he lived like water – always moving. He swallowed and said, “I do understand – whatever you might think of me. I understand the pressure you are under. And I understand that convenience is a powerful drug. But this sort of thing can fester. A sop to hard feelings might serve in the short term, but the truth is the only thing that can cleanse the infection.”

  “And what is the truth, Shin?”

  “That someone engineered this tragedy for reasons we do not yet know.” He paused, considering his next words carefully. “I have a theory, if you’d care to hear it.”

  “Oh, by all means,” Batu murmured, pouring himself a new cup of sake. He set his elbows on the rail beside Shin’s. Shin was suddenly reminded of past nights, and past talks, and he felt the pang again. He looked up at the stars.

  “Shiko Nishi considered Aimi unsuitable, because Aimi was already in love with someone else.”

  Batu frowned. “Do you know who?”

  “I do. Or at least I have a good idea.”

  “Who?”

  “If you think about it for half a moment, you’ll guess it yourself.”

  Batu made to reply, stopped, and sighed. He set his cup down on the rail. “Ruri.”

  Shin nodded. Batu had probably known as well, without consciously realizing it. “It’s obvious, in retrospect. Why else would Gen try to assuage his honor by killing her? Only Gen wasn’t half the swordsman he thought he was.”

  “Do you think whoever told him meant for him to kill her?”

  “I think it didn’t matter. I believe the confrontation itself was the point – a rupture in the burgeoning alliance between the Zeshi and Shiko.”

  “But what would anyone gain from that?”

  “What indeed? That is the question, isn’t it?” Shin tapped the rim of his cup. “There’s something we’re not seeing.” He chewed his lip for a moment, and then asked, “Was this the first such arrangement between the families?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have they tried to make peace before?”

  Batu nodded. “Since the Shiko arrived, practically. The negotiations have been ongoing since almost before my time.”

  “And none of them took?”

  “No, sadly.”

  “Why?”

  Batu paused, cup halfway to his lips. He cut his eyes to Shin. “You think this isn’t the first time someone has meddled.” It wasn’t a question. Shin was pleased – Batu had been paying attention after all. “That someone has been deliberately stoking the conflict. But why?”

  “As I said, that is the question.” Shin looked at Batu. “I do not know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The Zeshi and the Shiko are relative newcomers to this city. Neither family has been subtle about their intentions to control the flow of trade. Someone might well resent their growing influence, and hope to undermine them.”

  “But it would have to be someone close to the families,” Batu said.

  “Social proximity is an obstacle that can be easily overcome, if one but has the wit.”

  Batu shook his head. “I knew you were going to overcomplicate this.”

  Shin laughed. “Admit it, you’re having fun.”

  “You’re having fun. I’m enduring it.” Batu upended the sake jug. When not
hing came out, he peered into it. “What now?”

  “Now, I take the mood of the city.” Shin leaned over the rail. “Someone down there knows something – and I intend to find out who, and what, in that order.”

  “Is that why you sent that scruffy servant of yours into Northern Owari without telling me?” Batu asked, drily. Shin glanced at him, somewhat guiltily.

  “Ah. You know about that.”

  “I know everything that goes on in my city.”

  “Clearly not, else I would not be here.”

  “You know what I mean,” Batu said, testily.

  Shin nodded. “I sent him to find the cousin, Ikki.”

  “Why?”

  “He was with Gen when he made his ill-fated challenge. He might know who told Gen there was something to be mad about.”

  “Has your man come back yet, then?”

  Shin shook his head. “Not yet, but I am confident he will return soon.”

  “You have a lot of confidence in such a disreputable looking character.” Batu paused. “I have already questioned Ikki and his cronies, you know.”

  “But did you ask the right questions?”

  Batu was silent. Then he set the jug down on the rail.

  “I’m going to get another jug.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lady Aimi

  Dawn’s light danced among the trees as Kasami stepped inside the outbuilding. She had awoken early, to practice in the quiet hours before the rest of the household awoke. It had been her habit for some time, and she saw no reason to change it simply because they were not at home. She had dismissed the men on duty with a nod, wanting to be alone with the prisoner. That they had listened to her was somewhat surprising, but she supposed Batu had given orders to that end.

  Her feet made barely any noise as she moved down the line of cells. She did not know why she was here, only that she felt it important to see the woman they had come to save. No, not the woman – the ronin.

  Even the word repulsed her. There was a fundamental wrongness to it, a repudiation of all that was certain. Everyone had their master. That was the way of the world; masters and servants; order and purpose. But ronin were outside of that order. They had no master and no purpose. Some, she knew, found it by choosing a new master. Those, at least, were better than the sort who turned to brigandage.

  But even in choosing to serve, there was an implied disloyalty. If one could select a master, what stopped one from doing so again? How could you trust such an individual, especially with your life, or the lives of those most precious to you?

  And yet, many samurai did. And many ronin prospered from such alliances, clawing back the honor they had forsaken, one generation at a time, until their sins were forgotten and they were simply another loyal retainer.

  Most, she knew, did not keep their names when they left the path. They chose new ones, or went without. What was a name worth, after all? But some did not. She did not know why the Katai had allowed Ruri to keep her name. Perhaps her sin had not been great, or maybe they were hoping she might return. Or maybe they did not care.

  Katai Ruri did not look up as Kasami stopped outside her cell. “It is not time for my meal,” she said, after several moments had passed. Still, she did not look up. Kasami studied the prisoner, then turned her attention to the straw floor of the cell.

  Shin’s opinion of her skills at observation aside, she knew what to look for. Signs of disturbed straw, of exercise and practice. Even here, the habits of a lifetime were hard to break. Her gaze fixed on a curious shape beneath the rough tatami mat that served Ruri as a bed. “What is that beneath your mat?”

  Ruri froze. “It is nothing. An amusement.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Ruri looked up. Her gaze was flat, her face stiff. Slowly, she reached out and flipped the mat aside. A sword lay there. Not a sword of steel or wood, but one of straw. Woven into shape over the length of her imprisonment.

  Kasami stared at it, trying to imagine the patience and coordination it had taken to complete such a project. She was surprised Shin hadn’t noticed it. Maybe Ruri had known better than to leave it in such an obvious place when she’d spoken to him.

  “For practice,” Kasami said, without accusation.

  “Yes.”

  “Admirable. Many in your position would not bother.”

  “Many in my position would already be dead.”

  Kasami grunted and turned. She leaned against the wall beside the cell, arms crossed. “You sound angry about that.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  Kasami nodded. “I would.”

  “It is not right. I know what must be done. Why not let me do it?”

  Kasami did not reply. She heard Ruri get to her feet and begin to pace. A lioness in her cage. “If I could do it with this sword of straw, I would. But it has no edge, no point. I must have a blade.”

  Kasami heard her stop. Heard the inhalation. But before Ruri could speak, Kasami said, “I will not procure you a blade.”

  Ruri sighed. “I was not going to ask.” She paused. “Why does he do this to me?”

  “He was asked.”

  “I did not ask him.”

  “No.”

  “I do not like being a pawn in their games. It is why I… why I…” She trailed off. Another exhalation, softer than the first. “Every day, I awake at dawn. I clean myself as best I can with a bucket of water and straw. I dress, and I practice. I mark the steps and calculate the width and length of my world anew every morning. It does not change. I eat. I sleep. I mark the steps. Over and over again.”

  Kasami closed her eyes. “At least it is not a complete waste of time,” she murmured.

  Ruri gave a bitter laugh. “Trust a Crane to say something so asinine.”

  Kasami stiffened. “And trust a Lion to slap away a friendly hand.” She turned and found herself looking into the other woman’s eyes. “If you want to die so badly, stop eating. Stop drinking. Slit your throat with a chip of stone, or smash your skull against the wall. There are ways, if one is determined.”

  “Those are the ways of a heimin,” Ruri said, after several moments of shocked silence. “Those are not our ways.”

  “Our ways? And what are you? A clanless woman. Do you think you deserve any better death than a dog for what you have done?”

  “What I’ve done?” Ruri snarled. “What I’ve done? I saved my mistress! I did my duty! I do not deserve a peasant’s death!” She gripped the bars of the cell. “Give me a warrior’s death – I have earned it.”

  “How?”

  Ruri blinked. The question struck her like a dart. “What do you mean?”

  “How did you earn it?” Kasami leaned forward. “Tell me about the duel.”

  “Duel?” Ruri laughed bitterly. “Is that what they are calling it?”

  “Was it not a duel?”

  “It was not anything,” Ruri said, softly. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the bars. “A red moment, there and gone.”

  “Tell me.”

  “He cursed her,” Ruri murmured. “Called her… called us such awful names. She is deaf, but she can read lips, and he made sure she knew what he was saying. Swept his sword out. I do not know what he intended, nor did I wait to find out. I saw the sword and – and…” Her hands tightened on the bars, until the knuckles were white and bloodless.

  “Acted,” Kasami said. She sighed and looked up at the roofbeams. “He was right, you know.” The words came grudgingly. She did not like being wrong.

  “Who?”

  “Shin. Lord Shin, I mean. He said you did not wish to die, and now I have seen it for myself. For if you had, you would have found some way to accomplish it by now.”

  “I am imprisoned. I have no weapon,” Ruri protested.

  “As I just pointed out, th
at is no great impediment.” Kasami’s gaze bored into the ronin. “You ought to have waited for the magistrate to pass sentence. But you did not. Why?”

  Ruri turned away. “Aimi… my mistress forbade me.”

  Something in the way she said her mistress’ name caught Kasami’s ear. Her eyes narrowed. She made to speak but paused. She was not Shin, to fill the air to no purpose. So, instead, she bowed her head. “Then you should content yourself with the fact that you have done all you could.”

  Ruri did not look at her. “Why did you come in here? Curiosity?”

  “Lord Shin asked me how I knew you wished to die. I said any samurai would – unless there was a good reason not to. He told me to ask you. And so I came.”

  Ruri’s hands curled into fists. “Give me a blade and I will show you what I wish.” But she spoke without hope.

  Kasami turned and walked away. “If I believed that, I just might.”

  Shin was waiting for her outside, hands clasped behind his back. Kasami stopped, startled by his presence, though she was careful not to let it show on her face. “Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”

  “You are right,” she said. “She does not wish to die.”

  Shin scratched his chin and grinned. “Yes, that was my conclusion as well.” He looked at her. “If I forbade you from killing yourself, would you?”

  She hesitated. “No,” she said, finally. “Not if I thought it the only way.” A curious expression crossed his face, there and gone before it fully registered. “That she did not means she is either a coward, or…”

  “Or she has something – or someone – to live for.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Twice now it has been intimated that Lady Aimi had a lover, and that knowledge of this is what drove Gen to confront her. Umeko, the matchmaker, voiced a suspicion as to the identity of that lover.” He glanced meaningfully at the outbuilding.

  “Ruri?” Kasami asked, quietly. “But she is a ronin – unworthy of such a match.”

  “Love knows no decorum.” Shin rubbed the bridge of his nose with a forefinger. “If it is true, it explains the rashness of Gen’s actions.”

  “If you are right, she has double the reason for not speaking up – she is not just defending her mistress’ life, but her reputation as well.” Kasami shook her head. “It is not that she wishes to die – but she has no choice. If the truth is revealed…” She trailed off as she considered the repercussions.