by I. J. Parker
Miss Plumblossom paid no attention to either of them, but selected two bamboo poles from a rack. The lighter one she tossed to Tora before taking her position across from him. “Your move!” she ordered.
“Madam—”
“Miss! What are you waiting for?” she snapped. “In a real confrontation, you’d be dead already.” Before she had quite finished her words, she let her pole flash out and around while turning on the ball of one foot as the weapon transcribed a hissing circle aimed at Tora’s head.
His eyes incredulously fixed on massive mounds of flesh bobbing and heaving before him, Tora parried belatedly and awkwardly.
“Slow,” she commented, and aimed a stab between his legs.
Tora jumped and this time managed to flip up her pole. He followed through with a lightning-swift attack to her feet, intending to make her lose her stance. To his surprise, she dropped her pole, became airborne, flipping away, heels over head in a smooth backward somersault, and landed with a thud which made the heavy boards under his feet reverberate. Little clouds of dust rose from the cracks.
He still stood, his mouth open in shock, when she swept up her pole, whirled toward him, and, this time, succeeded in tripping him up. He landed painfully on his backside. All around him applause broke out. Genba shouted, “Well done! A beautiful move!” and Miss Plumblossom bowed all around.
Tora was still struggling to his feet when she charged again. Cursing inwardly, he put his mind on business and parried smoothly. What followed was several minutes of challenge because Tora could hardly attack a half-naked woman and had to confine himself to adroit defensive moves and an occasional attempt to disarm her. Finally, she came at him so abruptly and quickly that he was faced with either meeting the charge and allowing her to impale herself on his bamboo pole, or throwing up the contest.
He did the latter.
She stopped neatly in front of him, puffing a little, red face breaking into a wide grin. “Hah! Had enough, I see.”
“Er, yes,” said Tora. “I didn’t expect... that is, that backward somersault was an interesting move, but I’ve never really seen that used before in stick fighting.”
She took the bamboo staff from his hand and replaced it, along with her own, in the rack. “That little jump of mine?” she asked over her shoulder. “Just something from my former career. I used to do a hundred of those all around a temple courtyard, up and down stairs, over all sorts of obstacles people would put in my way. Of course, I was a bit smaller and younger then and used to wear a shirt and pants like a boy.”
“You must’ve been something to see,” said Tora, wondering how this large woman could ever have resembled a boy. “But don’t you think it might be dangerous during a real fight? I mean, you lost your weapon when you did the somersault.”
She was putting on her gown again, tying the sash firmly around her enormous middle. “Seems to me you do whatever works at the moment,” she said practically. “Surprise always does the trick. Half the time you stood there looking like a gasping fish, so I had time to grab the staff and attack. Still, even if you had followed through, I would have rolled myself into a ball and come up at you from underneath to toss you on your face.”
“Without the staff?” Tora widened his eyes. “But that’s not stick fighting. Only wrestlers do that.”
She clapped the wig back on her head and got into her chair. “Didn’t you mention that you’re training to fight criminals? If you need practice for sporting contests, I’m not your woman.”
Tora said quickly, “Oh, you are! You are! I think you’re fantastic.”
She nodded and pointed to the dais next to her. “Come and sit, then. My advice to you is to learn a few unorthodox tricks. Your regular technique is probably better than mine anyway.”
Impressed against his will, Tora went to sit at her feet. He felt out of his depth with this strange female. The small crowd that had gathered to watch the bout dispersed again, laughing and chattering, and returned to various athletic exercises. Only Genba remained. After a moment, he came and took his seat on the other side of Miss Plumblossom.
They sat together companionably, watching the activity in the room. The sword fight had resumed, the dancers moved in carefully measured figures, and the tumbling youngsters began a new routine of jumping and flipping. Tora saw in amazement that the diminutive girls took their turns catching the two men. They looked alike to him. Both were small-waisted, full-breasted, and graceful. He could not make up his mind which would be the more delicious bed partner. It had been a long time since he had had a good bout of lovemaking. A well-rounded man had to stay in practice in more ways than one.
“Those four youngsters tumbling about must be acrobats?” he said to Miss Plumblossom.
She took her eyes from the men with the swords. “Not really. They are all working for Uemon. This is their night to practice.”
Tora’s interest perked up, and an idea began to form in his mind. “I didn’t know they used acrobats in plays.”
“They don’t. These four have worked up an act to make some extra money. The girls are twins. They call themselves Gold and Silver. Gold, the one whose hair is coming loose, has some talent. But the others ...” She waved her hands dismissively. “They should stick to acting. Trouble is, young people have no discipline or patience. They want to be rich now, and with the winter fairs coming up there’s always a demand for acrobats and jugglers to entertain the crowds. The money’s good, so when they’re not onstage, they do their stunts.”
“I suppose they travel about a bit. From temple fair to temple fair?”
Miss Plumblossom nodded. “Uemon’s come back from putting on some religious show outside the capital.”
Tora shook his head, looking at the girls’ nearly naked bodies. “How come Uemon allows them to cavort about like that? I mean, they’re women.”
She snapped, “And what’s wrong with women performing in public if they’re talented? You’re just like the rest of the men! Uemon included. Him! Never mind what he thinks about women. The hoity-toity old stick says acrobatics aren’t respectable, but for all that he’s put some funny scenes into his plays so the youngsters can do a bit of their stuff. The crowds love it.” She sniffed. “Pah! Not respectable! I say lethim give command performances before imperial princes!”
“And all the others here also work for Uemon?”
Miss Plumblossom nodded. “The women mostly sing and dance. But the handsome fellow with the sword is Danjuro. He’s Uemon’s top man.”
Happy that he had come to the right place, Tora looked at the two sword fighters. No wonder they did all that stupid jumping and shouting while laying about them with their wooden swords. It was all make-believe. Clearly Danjuro was meant to be the hero, while his opponent, a broad-faced, bearded fellow, was cast as the villain. It was well done, really, especially the moment where the villain used a dirty trick to disarm the handsome youth and then leapt at Danjuro with his naked sword raised high. Danjuro sidestepped at the last moment, caught the villain in midair, and tossed him aside like a bag of rice. Then, wrestling the villain’s sword from his hand, he plunged it into the man’s belly.
Tora half rose in shock, but both actors laughed, picked up their swords, and strolled off.
“That was good,” Tora said admiringly. “That Danjuro doesn’t look big, but he must be very strong to catch and throw a man his size.”
Miss Plumblossom pursed her lips. “He is. And he’s a good actor. Uemon’s people get asked to private houses to perform.”
It was said grudgingly, and Tora asked, “Something wrong with him?”
She sniffed. “Too good-looking for his own good! Women throw themselves at him, stupid creatures.”
Tora eyed the actor again. So he had a reputation of breaking hearts. Perhaps Miss Plumblossom’s with the rest. As a ladies’ man Danjuro did not impress him. The fellow was slender and well muscled, and he seemed agile enough, but that smooth face with the round eyes was positively
girlish, and as for his handling of the sword...! “He may be a good actor, but he couldn’t fight a bout with a real swordsman!” Tora said disdainfully.
Miss Plumblossom chuckled. “That’s the way they do it onstage. Anyway, sword fighting’s not the sort of exercise a girl’s looking for, eh?” She leaned forward to poke Tora’s shoulder. “Bet you’re quite the gallant yourself in the clinch. Got a wife or girlfriend?”
Tora’s eyes went across to Genba, who had paled at the exchange. “Can’t afford either,” he said lightly, trying to think of a way to detach himself from Miss Plumblossom. He felt the strongest aversion to this female, who seemed to have designs on him. Besides, he was eager to talk to some of the actors. Or actresses, as the case might be.
Miss Plumblossom chortled and gave him another poke. “Nobody’s getting any younger. Best get on with it.”
“This Danjuro? I suppose he carries on with the women in the troupe, too?” Tora cast an expert eye over the female members of Uemon’s Players. There was a very good-looking girl among the dancers, the tall one who was whispering with Miss Plumblossom’s maid. The maid still averted her face, but she was every bit as shapely as the dancer. And the twin acrobats were charming. The twin whose hair was coming loose in wisps caught his admiring glance and gave him a wide smile. He smiled back and remembered that her name was Gold.
Miss Plumblossom said, “Not anymore. Old Uemon put a stop to it. Told him to settle down or get out. So he got married and hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since.”
Tora exchanged another warm glance with the little acrobat and rose. “I think I’ll introduce myself to the others,” he told Miss Plumblossom. “If I’m going to be back for lessons, I might as well get to know them.”
The acrobats had started another routine, so Tora strolled to the end of the hall to get a closer look at the dancer and the maid. The maid scurried away, but the dancer was a real beauty. He bowed to her, but her glance flicked disdainfully away. Piqued, he next tried some suggestive compliments about her figure. Suddenly there was a painful grip on his shoulder and he was jerked around.
“Make yourself scarce!” the actor Danjuro snarled.
Tora shook off the hand and glared. “What business is it of yours?”
Danjuro was almost as tall as he and possibly stronger. On close inspection Tora did not like him any better. His posture was a strange mix of male arrogance and feminine pettishness. The eyes were hostile but a bit too soft, the lips too full and red, and the skin too white and smooth for a man.
“You are annoying the lady.”
And he talked like some schoolteacher. For an actor, Danjuro was certainly giving himself airs. Dancers and actors belonged to the lowest class and often had bad reputations. Tora sneered. “What lady? I was complimenting one of the dancers. As a rule they enjoy a bit of action on the side.”
Immediately the beauty whirled on him and spat in his face. “Dog!” she hissed. “How dare you insult me?”
Danjuro said sharply, “Don’t bother with him. He’s just some ignorant idler.”
She turned on Danjuro. “And what are you, to let this lout get away with insulting me?”
What a snooty bitch this one was! Tora’s interest changed to virulent dislike, and he hoped that Danjuro would put the woman over his knee later. He wiped his face on his sleeve and cast a baleful eye on the actor. “I guess,” he drawled, “he thinks he’s the grand chancellor himself and you the Kamo Virgin!”
The other man eyed him haughtily. “I am Danjuro,” he said, as if that explained everything, “and you have insulted my wife. Your ignorance about the status of actors excuses your behavior somewhat, but I suggest that you stop interfering where you don’t belong. Buy a ticket to the show if you can afford it.” He turned his back on Tora and started to lead his wife away.
Stung to the quick, Tora cried after him, “I’ll have you know that in my profession I deal with all sorts of people. When you’re working with the criminal element, you learn to spot a sham.”
They both turned to stare at him. Then the actor snapped, “Well, whatever you do, leave us alone!”
Satisfied that he had scored the final hit, Tora made his way across the room to the acrobats. They were taking a break. Hoping for a better reception, he approached the young woman who had smiled at him.
“Is it permitted to speak to you, little sister?” he asked cautiously.
She was sitting down cross-legged and had her arms raised to rearrange her hair. Tora admired a pair of taut breasts with an appreciative smile. Unabashed, she grinned up at him and said, “Sure, handsome. I saw your bout with Miss Plumblossom. You’re good.”
Tora sat down next to her. “So are you. I’ve been watching you, too. Could hardly keep my eyes off you, in fact. I’m Tora.”
She made a growling noise in the back of her throat. “A tiger, eh? I like it. They call me Gold.”
“It suits you. You are rare and precious, truly a fortune any man might desire.” He moved a little closer.
She had, no doubt, heard it before, but she giggled and batted her lashes at him. “What brings you here, Tiger?”
“Oh, I was looking for a place to practice.”
“What sort of work do you do?”
“I hire myself out to rich cowards. For protection.”
Her eyes widened. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
He laughed. “Not if you know what you’re doing. The stuff you do looks more dangerous to me.”
“Only if you make a mistake, or your partner does, and then you break a bone. It hurts for a while and you can’t work, but that’s all. The money’s good as long as you’re working.”
“But you’re really an actress, right?”
She nodded unenthusiastically. “I used to like acting, but things have changed. Master Uemon was all right, but he’s getting old and now he’s turned over the running of the shows to that bastard Danjuro.” She glared across the room and Tora followed her eyes. The actor stood talking to his wife and looking at them. “He thinks he’s the gods’ gift to acting,” Gold said bitterly. “And his wife’s a bitch. I saw her spit at you. What’d you say to her?”
Tora considered his answer carefully. “I asked her how long she’d been dancing, because she seemed sort of clumsy.”
Gold burst into a trill of laughter, but immediately stifled it, hiding her grin behind her hand. Danjuro and his beautiful wife were still watching them with scowls on their faces.
“You got that right,” said Gold. “She’s new and still learning, but she thinks she can order us around because she’s beautiful and Danjuro’s wife. It’s been worse since she got her inheritance. Now she’s ordering Danjuro around and talking about buying out Uemon. Can’t imagine why Danjuro picked that one when he could’ve had a sweet, pretty girl who would’ve waited on him hand and foot.”
Tora frowned. “You?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” she snapped. Then her eyes widened. “Wow! Here he comes, looking like the thunder god himself. I bet she sicced him on you. You’d better go. I can’t afford another black mark.”
Danjuro was indeed heading their way with a purposeful stride. Tora rose immediately. “I’ve got to see you again,” he begged urgently.
She looked panicky. “In the back alley. As soon as I can slip away,” she whispered.
Tora made her a bow, saying in a loud voice, “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Gold. I look forward to seeing your performance,” and strolled away.
Behind his back, he heard Danjuro asking angrily, “What did he want?” Gold’s reply was inaudible, but Danjuro came back with, “Keep your mouth shut about our business or I’ll see to it that you never work again.”
Tora wandered around thinking about the incident. He tried to approach some of the other members of Uemon’s troupe, but Danjuro’s warning to Gold had been overheard. They turned their backs on him or left with a brief apology. Something was not quite right with these people. He finally made his way back
to Genba and Miss Plumblossom.
“It’s getting late, and I’ve got to get back,” he told the lady. “Thank you for the bout and for letting me look around.”
She winked. “Come back soon, my handsome fellow!”
Tora shuddered inwardly, but managed to agree enthusiastically before turning to Genba. “Ready to go?”
Genba scowled. “No.”
Tora nodded. Genba was acting like an idiot, but that was his affair, and Tora still had some business of his own.