Thousand Shrine Warrior

by Jessica Amanda Salmonson

  Tomoe had never seen the likes of such a spirit. It was legless, the joined bodies ending in a single, serpentine swirl. Though there was no wind, the hair of the female part of the ghost blew as in a gale. In its bruised, death-bloated face was a corruption or likeness of Otane. The equally appalling figure joined to her was her peasant lover Shinji, hanging his head in abject misery, eyes shining with yellow malevolence.

  “Otane! Shinji!” cried the bikuni. “What’s become of you?”

  The dual ghost ceased screeching when addressed by its two names. Otane took to weeping piteously; and what could be more piteous than the tears of a monstrosity? She squirmed helplessly, as though trying to rip free of the other half, and she whined a frightening reply.

  “There was no escape. Grandmother was cut down. Iyo had run away, confused by everything, but returned with his garden shears, bellowing unintelligibly as he pinched off the head of one of our attackers. While two others pierced my foolish brother, Shinji and I were able to get this far. But how could we go farther? Could we fly across the gorge? It was hopeless to continue.”

  Shinji spoke with amplified hatred, never having liked samurai, liking them less now that he was dead. “It was this samurai daughter’s idea that we bind ourselves together with her obi and leap into the gorge. How heroic we felt! How tearfully joyous to know that we would at last become bound through eternity! What a wicked jest is love!”

  The love-suicide ghost scratched impotently at the air, in the direction of the bikuni. They spoke with one voice, saying, “Why did you help us? But for you, we might have been separated, and pined a little while, but never suffered such a fate as this!”

  “It isn’t so!” the bikuni shouted, terrified less by the love-suicide ghost than by her part in such an unexpected doom. “How can I be faulted?”

  The monstrous ghost began wailing from both faces, making no sense at all, and yet those loathsome faces told of their animosity. They strove uselessly to snatch the bikuni into the dizzying gulf. She had imagined something noble about the love between the peasant and the samurai daughter; how badly she had misled herself! It was easy to mislead herself, for hadn’t she once loved? Hadn’t it come to nothing, due to duty and honor and pride? She had lived her life with regret after all! Something in her had wished for others to find a less lonesome path; she had exerted effort in their behalf; and she had expected to abandon Kanno province with one fortunate event to consider. Now there was no fortunate memory. The lovers had been saved from crucifixion only to find themselves trapped—to take their own lives in tender double-suicide, then to discover in death that they were less enamored of one another than they had long pretended.

  Dawn reddened the east. The shrieking love-suicide ghost began to sink into the mists of the gorge, its faces turned upward, arms raking at the sky. The bikuni watched the monstrosity sinking, and lamented her role in their horrific end.

  One way or another, Kuro the Darkness refused to allow her the smallest victory. She wanted to turn against him, without regard for her own soul or the anger of her ancestors. But hadn’t the love-suicide ghost been proof enough that she could never fathom the complexity of Kuro’s plot? Anything she attempted was apt to result in the furtherance of his demented vengeance.

  The bikuni felt the despair of helplessness. Though the sun began to rise, it seemed as though nothing could erase the chill that settled across her world.

  PART THREE

  The Flame Within

  Ha-yugao, whose name means sword-edged moonflower; Kosame, whose name means little shark; and Shi-u, whose name has many meanings, came to Kanno province in search of Tomoe Gozen, following a lead they had gotten while traveling through Omi. Ha-yugao and Kosame were too young to have fought at Heian-kyo, but they had esteemed themselves in lesser battles and often defended Lord Wada’s outlying holdings with valor and cunning. They were proud and spirited: Kosame, quick with biting humor; Ha-yugao, always eager for action and sharing much of Kosame’s wryness. They were beautiful by any measure, though sometimes rambunctious and impolite. They rode upon their slender horses conscious of their imposing nature; and they were vain.

  Ha-yugao’s specialties included the use of manriki-gusari or weighted chain, and masakari or broad-axe, besides her small and large swords. Kosame was expert with the nagamaki strapped to her horse, a halberd noted for an exceedingly long blade and relatively short handle. These two tended to ride alongside each other while Shi-u followed, although this did not precisely reflect the hierarchy between them.

  Shi-u had been named by her mother for the weather outside the birth-hut on the day Shi-u was born. The name meant “misty rain.” Taken another way, the same beginning syllable coincidentally meant “warrior,” and written differently, it meant “death.” So her name was commonly said to mean “a rain of death.” She had esteemed herself mightily in the wars of Heian-kyo and in earlier wars. She was Lord Wada’s first wife, and without her he might never have risen so far, although it was rarely admitted.

  She was a lean woman with dark skin and she sat high upon the thin black horse of a breed possessed only in the Wada clan. Like her younger “sisters,” her hair was long and bound at the nape; but unlike theirs, hers was shot with streaks of white. Her face was ageless, more handsome than pretty, and she might pass as a tough youth and not a woman in her thirty-seventh year.

  She bore no special weapon. Her swords were all that mattered to her, although it was widely rumored that she alone was match for Kosame if it came to nagamaki; and she alone was the match of Ha-yugao if it came to axe or chain. Where the younger women were lions, Shi-u was a tiger. Where they were falcons, she was an eagle.

  At first they thought they had been misled as to the whereabouts of Tomoe Gozen. When they learned about the recent slaughter of local vassals, they knew of only one possessed of such strength and also a nun’s vestment. At a teahouse, they overheard the story, Ha-yugao and Kosame exchanging knowing glances. An ear leaned this way or that way helped to inform them about affairs at Sato Castle. Apparently Lord Sato was a madman under the sway of a self-serving priest who the commoners considered a devil, literally or figuratively, depending on who spoke. A chamberlain was regent, but allowed the priest to decide much policy. The chamberlain feared that the nun would escape Kanno with information about Lord Sato’s condition. This explained why the roads were blocked and the woods set with patrols, a situation that had held the three women warriors at a Kanno border-check an entire day.

  It didn’t concern the three that Lord Sato’s secret was commonly whispered in the village or that the chamberlain’s effort to suppress such information was hopeless. Such a carnage as the nun had wrought so few nights before was exactly the sort of incident to circulate from one corner of Naipon to the other, by one means or another. A deserter among Sato’s vassals might carry out the news. A peasant illegally changing home provinces might do so. A pilgrim or traveling relative might let a few words slip. A spy, whether of the Imperial class or for the Shogun, might already have the story. As regarded the inevitable fall of the Sato clan, Ha-yugao and Kosame were mildly amused, while Shi-u was indifferent. If the situation could be twisted in some manner to aid their own mission, this alone mattered. The important consideration was that Tomoe Gozen was already boxed within Kanno province and would have a hard time evading the wives of Yoshimora Wada.

  Had it been known that these three were connected with a shogunate general, they would become objects of the provincial government’s wise fear and impotent hostility. But, as they had no outward concerns about local affairs and were rather too obvious a threesome to be apt spies, they were not often bothered by vassals.

  When approached by any of Sato’s men, the women freely introduced themselves as ex-shirobyoshi dancers who had decided to become mercenaries and bounty-hunters. As the male-impersonating shirobyoshi were occasionally infamous, the story was believable. Thus, though outsiders, they were allowed the mobility they required to surreptitious
ly investigate the lay of the countryside.

  Their adversary might hide in the forests for weeks without detection. There were an unusual number of abandoned temples; it was conceivable that she could move from one to the next, comfortably though furtively camped. But it would be unlike their prey to lurk about in such an unworthy manner.

  It was even less likely that she was somewhere in the village, which was often searched by Sato’s men. The villagers were unlikely candidates as confederates.

  As for the samurai homesteads, the bikuni would be unable to find help there, unless Lord Sato had traitors among his vassals. For the time being the three women considered this a slight prospect. Or, if Sato’s vassals were faithless, nothing in their manner or character suggested that their treason was due to a higher principle. They would betray Tomoe Gozen, too.

  This left the farmlands beyond the gorge as the most reasonable place to seek refuge and to plan a route through difficult passes and around the patrolling vassals. There were no major bridges across the gorge, only a rope bridge, which took a lot of traffic but was only mildly guarded, as it was situated in the middle of the province rather than on some border. The upland ford was inaccessible during the mountain’s indistinguishable autumn and winter, so the rope bridge was the bikuni’s only route to the farmlands. It would be easy to bribe or cajole the minimal guard at that inconsequent post.

  Having made these deductions, the three women set out afoot to snoop around the farmlands. They created something of a stir among the farmers, by their manner and mere presence. The beauty and rough bearing of Ha-yugao and Kosame provoked curiosity. Shi-u, though beautiful in her inimical fashion, provoked trepidation.

  Only once did a vassal become suspicious, discovering that the women had been asking after the same esoteric nun that the vassals were ordered to kill on sight. But Ha-yugao and Kosame were convincing in their wit and bravado, insisting when they found the bikuni, they would tie her up and deliver her to Sato Castle for a fat reward. This cooled suspicions and sparked amusement. The vassal said derisively, “What dozens of men could not achieve, you three will do alone?”

  “No question,” said Kosame, her eyes flashing. Ha-yugao fingered her broad-axe meaningfully. The vassal laughed hard and went along his way, leaving them to what he thought their folly.

  They knew Tomoe Gozen would prefer not to slay her way across the border. No one could raid a border checkpoint and expect to pass unharassed among other provinces. It was a key issue with Kamakura that provincial lords show no weakness at their borders, or the larger government would send forces to step in. This being so, yet another limitation was placed on Tomoe Gozen. As they saw her options narrow, the three warriors knew the box was shrinking around their quarry.

  Some clues were picked up here and there among the farmers, most of whom were reticent, but a few were eager to tell tales, especially to Kosame, who could put on a show of vulgarism that won over ill-bred commoners.

  When at length the women returned to the village, where their horses had been stabled, they took a single room at an inn. Their lantern burned late into the night. Their voices spoke softly.

  “She’s forever clever about such things,” said Ha-yugao, oiling the metal of her battle-axe and pursing her lips. “If she decided to leave undetected, she may already have done so.”

  Kosame, sitting cross-legged by a pot of coals, shook her head. She said, “Some gossiping farmers claimed to have seen her at the rope bridge this morning. The guard there wouldn’t speak openly, but he obviously hid something. Doubtless she spoke to him gently and he thought it best to let her pass unmolested, for otherwise he would die. That means she’s somewhere around here after all, perhaps in the village. Hard to say what she was doing among the farmlands these past days, or where she stayed. Probably an injury had her lying low. Now, she’ll move quickly.”

  “That instrument-mender said she was a friend of a Shinto priest. So that albino at the Shinto shrine lied,” said Ha-yugao. “When we went back there this afternoon, the place was boarded up and empty. That’s strange, but a lot of holy places have been abandoned. I don’t think it’s connected with our business.”

  Shi-u sat near the lantern. She spread a map of Kanno upon the floor. Although she did not speak, she pointed at a route through Kanno that looked as though it would be dangerous in good weather or bad.

  “The gorge?” said Ha-yugao, leaning her broad-axe against a closet door and scooting near to Shi-u and the map. “Look at this, Kosame! If there’s some path down into that, it would be possible to walk right out of the mountains without being seen! The locals fear the place, and there has never been a good bridge across it. For some reason it is shunned, so it would serve Tomoe Gozen’s purpose of escape!”

  Kosame didn’t bother to go look at the map. She picked at the coals with a pair of iron tongs and said, “Stupid if Lord Sato’s priest or regent fails to think of it, too.”

  Shi-u spoke at last. Her voice was a boyish monotone. Her expression never altered. “Not stupid,” she said, “if it is shunned for good reason. It’s not on people’s tongues today, but who knows if the gorge is wisely left to itself.”

  Kosame and Ha-yugao became still, thinking over Shi-u’s stark innuendo.

  “Stupid to follow her, then,” said Kosame, breaking the silence.

  Ha-yugao laughed ironically. “Since when have we been smart?”

  Kosame, relenting, joined the others around the map. She squinted at it, making a sour face, then said, “Well, if she wanted to avoid the vassals, she’d probably find some way down into the gorge about here.” She pointed near the waterfall. “But we can go where we want.” She slid her finger along the gorge’s ridge and stopped at a particular place, saying, “We’ll climb down here and cut her off.”

  “If there’s a way down,” said Ha-yugao.

  “We’ll take ropes,” said Kosame. “One way down—or another.”

  “Is it a good plan, Shi-u?” asked Ha-yugao; for, little as she showed it, Shi-u mastered them. To the present query, she did not answer, but leaned back on the floor with her hands behind her head, staring at shadows on the ceiling.

  A lone vassal was stationed in the tiny guardhouse near the rope bridge, seated on a stool, his spear against a shoulder, his feet tapping a nervous rhythm. An iron tripod and basket stood outside the guardhouse, full of burning, aromatic wood, flames murmuring and casting unpleasant shadows. Light began to streak the distant heavens; it was not yet enough to aid vision.

  Many of Lord Sato’s men had died recently. The guard felt as though some war were being waged against the Sato clan by a foe able to appear and disappear at random and in numerous disguises. At this very post, a guard had recently vanished. At first it was supposed that he deserted, and who could blame him if he had; but a peasant reportedly witnessed the missing guard’s fate: a family of red-eyed demons, alabaster white, noble of countenance, set upon the guard, the strongest lifting him bodily and tossing him into the crashing rapids far below!

  Dawn broke and the guard’s mood was relieved somewhat. He went out to stand in the warmth of the flaming tripod, striking a pose intended to be monstrous and severe, though it fell short. He stood watching hoarfrost crystals, sticking out like millions of needles or minute swords from the heavy ropes of the bridge, grow before his eyes.

  He tensed at an unexpected sound: a soft wail in the distance. He listened with a sense of uneasiness, and the sound became more distinct. He started across the rope bridge, thinking the sound came from the further side.

  Ghosts weren’t ordinarily creatures of the dawn, but the guard’s tremulousness was not markedly relieved. There were all manner of monsters who were fearless by day. The guard thrown into the gorge had apparently been attacked by daylight fiends.

  Each step was made tentatively. The guard’s nape was drenched in sweat as he walked along the swinging bridge.

  The sonorous wail was loudest at the center of the bridge. The guard looked dow
nward into darkness. For a long while he stood transfixed, his face tilted, his expression worried and stiff. By the dim light of the morning sun, he could see a dense fog below, stirring restlessly, lapping like a tide. He heard the roar of rapids and the boom of wave against boulder.

  He heard the ghostly sound of someone playing a flute.

  While pondering the unlikelihood of music from the gorge, a gorge noted for hostile spirits, the rope bridge lurched, and the guard squeaked with fright. From sheer clumsiness, his foot went through woven ropes and he nearly lost his spear. Regaining balance and a small measure of composure, he raised his spear and pointed it in the direction of three presences in the long shadows of morning.

  “Hold there! Off the bridge! Who seeks to cross?”

  He hurried toward them. They were the three women who the vassals were buzzing about. The lone guard found them as startling as they had been described. One stood with a short-poled halberd and a disdainful, bored look. The one beside her carried an oversized axe. The third had placed herself in a shadow; he couldn’t judge her demeanor or countenance. All three bore long and short swords.

  There had been no order to interfere with these women, who were rather too colorful and overbearing to be suspected as spies. But the vassal felt the perfect fool for having been frightened by their sudden appearance, and needed to save face by demanding some sort of identification and statement of business. He postured with self-importance, covertly admiring the beauty of the two women who listened to his pointless objurgations, exchanging bemused glances between themselves.

  While he was carrying on and making pompous commands, the third woman, who had been standing apart, stepped to the fore and said,

  “Samurai, tell us: How can we get into the gorge?”