The Twelve

by Cindy Lin

  Usagi gave him a skeptical look. “How?”

  He tucked the iron ball in his pocket and called to Nezu, who was wrestling with Inu under the watch of Saru. “Oi! Rat Boy! Come here for a second.”

  Nezu exchanged brief bows with Inu, then ambled over. But he stopped at Tupa’s broad smile and outstretched hand. “Oh no. I know what you want to do.” Shaking his head, he backed away.

  Tupa sprang forward and placed two meaty fingers along the side of Nezu’s neck. Nezu froze in place, eyes bulging, as still as an animal lantern in the Singing Bamboo. “Pressure points!” Tupa announced. As Nezu moaned, the others burst into laughter.

  “You’re hurting him!” Usagi said, alarmed.

  “Fleas and fly rot! This doesn’t hurt,” scoffed the Ram Heir. He removed his fingers and Nezu collapsed in a gasping heap on the floor.

  “Do it on yourself next time!” Nezu sputtered with a baleful glare.

  Tupa snorted. “That would be like trying to tickle myself.” He waved Usagi a little closer. “Here, let’s show you. Don’t be shy—I swear the freeze hold’s not painful.” He positioned her before Nezu. “Go ahead, Brother. Let her see what it feels like.”

  Still grumpy, Nezu placed his fingers lightly on Usagi’s neck. To her astonishment, her entire body locked up as if she’d been turned to stone. She couldn’t move a muscle, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t even move her jaw to talk. The most Usagi could do was grunt, even as the others laughed and told her not to panic. It didn’t hurt, and thankfully she could breathe, but having no control was alarming. When a grinning Nezu finally lifted his hand, Usagi was rather cross herself. “You don’t have to look so cheerful about it,” she snapped.

  “When we first learned this, we’d sneak up and freeze each other in place all the time,” said Nezu, his grin growing wider. “It was especially horrible if it happened while someone was peeing.”

  Tupa’s hearty laugh boomed through the hall. In spite of herself, Usagi smiled. “Let’s promise never to do that to each other.”

  The Ram Heir went over other holds, including one that caused fainting, one that sent limbs flailing, and one that induced vomiting. “Be careful with that one,” he warned. “It’s similar to a death hold.” He showed her the most vulnerable spots on the body: the throat, the stomach, the eyes, the groin. “If you’re attacked, then do whatever you can to hit these. Your hands and feet can be weapons enough.”

  Usagi looked at her hands and flexed them, then studied the wall of fearsome weapons. She’d still rather fight with any of those.

  Saru called for them to finish up. “We should be getting the midday meal ready.”

  They gathered in the kitchen, where Nezu assigned them various tasks. Usagi was sent to collect eggs from the shrine chickens, and wash vegetables. All throughout the meal preparations, she thought about what she’d learned in the Great Hall. Upon eating, Usagi waited patiently until everyone had finished before finally asking the Tigress what had been on her mind for weeks.

  “Now that I can practice with the Heirs, will I be learning to fight with weapons soon?”

  The old warrior grunted. “I think your stick should be enough.”

  “But what about the mission to save the younglings? Won’t it be better if I have a sword at least? We could hide it inside my stick like Nezu’s,” Usagi suggested.

  Horangi pursed her lips. “You should stay at the shrine for your safety. This rescue mission carries far more risk than one of surveillance and Treasure recovery.”

  “No, don’t leave me behind!” cried Usagi, aghast. “I can’t wait around here while my sister’s life is at stake.”

  The Tigress shook her head. “You have barely begun to study. You are nowhere close to going through Warrior Trials. How could I allow you to come?”

  “What trials? Didn’t I already pass them in the Running of the Mount?” Usagi was mystified.

  “That’s to get to the shrine,” Saru said gently. “But after you’ve been taught by a Warrior of the Zodiac for some time, they test you on everything you’ve learned. You won’t get a sword otherwise.”

  “So teach me and let me go through Warrior Trials,” said Usagi, exasperated. All these hurdles. Couldn’t the old warrior say yes for once?

  The Tigress coughed her dry hacking laugh. “You might as well be asking for fruit from the Tree of Elements. Warrior Trials require years of study. Failure means banishment from the shrine.”

  “There must be some way I could help,” Usagi persisted.

  After Nezu and Inu chorused their agreement, the Tigress held up a gnarled hand. “Perhaps you might serve as a scout with your rabbit hearing. But you are not far enough along in your lessons for anything else.”

  The fragile thread tethering Usagi’s patience snapped. “How can I when you’re not teaching me anything useful?” she retorted. There was a silence, the Heirs blinking in shock. The lines in the old warrior’s face deepened.

  Feeling her cheeks grow hot, Usagi fled. She ran through the compound until she found herself in the Singing Bamboo. In the midst of the guardian statues, she stopped. With their eyes and open mouths aglow from the flames flickering in their bellies, they seemed to be laughing at her. Picking up a few pebbles from the path, she threw one at the tiger lantern as hard as she could. It bounced off the tiger’s stone snout and skittered into the swaying bamboo. Usagi threw one at the snarling rabbit, and then another. Its fierceness mocked her.

  Her ears pricked at the approach of footsteps. She turned to see Tupa, his golden-brown eyes full of sympathy.

  “I may only be an Heir, but I could teach you a thing or two,” he told her. “I’ll help you, Rabbit Girl.”

  Chapter 16

  Stealth Training

  “THE SCORPION’S TAIL!” CRIED SARU, holding aloft a broad curved blade. In the morning light streaming through the Great Hall, it glinted like a sharp fang. “Inu, remember this one?”

  “How could I forget? None of the Warriors would let me touch it.” Inu pulled a double-bladed sword from its sheath. “Or this one, either!”

  Tupa laughed. “The Twin-Tailed Snake? I doubt you should touch it now.”

  Usagi eyed the assortment of swords on the wall. Would she ever get to carry one of those magnificent blades? After she’d lost patience and insulted the Tigress in front of everyone, Usagi feared she would be sent away. She avoided the old warrior whenever possible and stopped going to mind-the-mind sessions. But to her relief and shame, the Tigress seemed to have forgotten about her, keeping away in her quarters or at the prayer pavilion, working on the Jewels of Land and Sea.

  Fortunately Tupa was teaching her all he could. “We’ll make it our secret,” he told her. “When the moment is right, you’ll show Horangi what you can do. She’ll be so surprised, she won’t be able to say no. We’ll get you on this mission yet.” They’d started practicing on her stickfighting techniques late at night after everyone had gone to bed, and had just begun working with wooden practice swords. Usagi couldn’t wait to try a real blade.

  “Galloping gods, is this the Tiger’s Claw?” Tupa hefted a scabbard lacquered with prowling tigers. The thin curved blade hissed as he pulled it out. “The Tigress used to carry this.”

  Usagi leaned in for a better look. Interwoven strips of black and gold leather covered the hilt, and the steel blade had a wavy striped pattern all along its cutting edge. Tupa offered it to her with a broad smile. “Want to hold it?”

  Gingerly taking the handle, Usagi was surprised. “It’s so light.” She heard the shuffling steps of the Tigress and hurriedly handed the sword back. “Horangi’s coming.”

  As Tupa hung the Tiger’s Claw back in its place, the old warrior entered the Great Hall, her cloud leopard padding at her heels. Usagi scurried out, not daring to meet Horangi’s eyes.

  But the sharp shriek of an angry bird stopped her. She turned back and crept to the open door.

  The Tigress stood before the Heirs, a fox sparrow p
erched on her hand. The tiny brown bird beat its wings on Horangi’s gnarled finger, trying desperately to get away. It let out a shrill series of frustrated calls that echoed to the rafters. Tschup! Tschup! Seeeeeek! Usagi winced.

  “To fly off, this bird needs resistance. See what happens when there is none.” Almost imperceptibly, Horangi’s arm moved in tune with the fox sparrow’s movements. The bird bobbed and flapped to no avail. Tschup! Tschup! Seeeeeek!

  Beneath the old warrior’s outstretched arm, Kumo watched the frantic sparrow with interest.

  “Keep your movements soft and fluid,” said the Tigress. “Watch for the flow of energy and follow it. Instead of pushing back against it, you move with it—reducing your opponent’s power.”

  Usagi craned her neck around the doorjamb, wishing she could be closer. The bird stopped beating its wings, exhausted. Tschup! Tschup! Horangi smiled and grew still. The bird cocked its head, then launched off her hand, speeding out the doorway over Usagi’s head in a flurry of feathers. Seeeeeek! With a disappointed huff, Kumo slumped on his paws.

  “As soon as I no longer moved with the bird, I gave it enough resistance to push off and fly,” Horangi explained. “Much like a kite cannot rise unless it has an opposing wind to lift it.” She shuffled to the mats and pointed to a spot in front of her. “Tupa, stand here.” The Ram Heir obeyed. Horangi peered up at him. “Push me over.”

  “You sure, Teacher?” Dwarfing the old warrior, Tupa shifted uneasily.

  “Yes, knock me down. Use your hands, feet—anything.”

  Looking doubtful, Tupa brought his hands up and got into a fighting stance. He pushed at Horangi’s shoulder. Ever so slightly, she tilted her small frame back, and Tupa stumbled, almost falling into her. “Try again,” she told him. “Faster this time.”

  Frowning in concentration, Tupa snapped out a kick. But before he struck the Tigress’s stooped form, she glided out of the way. Tupa flailed as he missed.

  “Counterattack,” Horangi announced, striking him from behind. Tupa fell facedown with a thump. A small smile pulled at the old warrior’s lips. “When two great forces oppose each other, the victory goes to the one who knows how to yield.”

  Tupa rolled over with a groan, then sat up, rubbing his shaved head. He caught Usagi wide-eyed in the doorway and gave a good-natured shrug.

  Later at their midnight practice session by the lakeside prayer pavilion, Usagi asked him if he was really having trouble against the Tigress. “You’re at least twice her size.”

  He chuckled. “Did you not hear what she was saying? I wish I could say I was pretending, but I wasn’t. Pure force is great—but technique helps too. Now let’s work on yours.”

  Tupa handed Usagi a practice sword made of strips of bamboo and wood bound with leather, and had her begin drills. The night air was lit by several hovering fireballs from his firehorn, but they did little to warm the frigid air. Usagi’s hands felt like frozen claws around her sword handle.

  After attacking a straw bale with repeated hits, Usagi stopped shivering. Left cut, right cut. Her breath came out in puffs of steam. Head strike. Torso strike. Tupa stopped her.

  “Where’s your voice?” he asked. “Don’t forget to use spirit-breath like the Tigress said. Let it come from the depths of your belly. Ki-yah!”

  Usagi struck the bale. “Ki-yah!” she tried.

  “Louder! Find your voice!”

  “Ki-yah!” she shrieked, hitting with all her might.

  “Hounds and horses, there you go!” said Tupa. He picked up a practice sword and faced her. “All right, Rabbit Girl. Come at me. Head strike.”

  Usagi raised her sword and moved toward Tupa. She swung at his head. Thwack! The wood and bamboo blade glanced off Tupa’s skull with a loud crack. “Spirits!” she cried, horrified. “I’m so sorry!”

  “I’m fine!” His booming laugh echoed through the frigid air. “You’ve never seen one of my animal talents, have you?” Tupa took the straw bale and set it by the edge of the frozen lake. He took a few steps back, then lowered his head and butted it with a thump. The heavy bale flew into the air and landed a good twenty paces away, skidding across the hard icy surface. Usagi’s mouth fell open. Tupa turned and knocked his forehead with a broad smile. “Now you know why I’m Ram Heir!”

  After sparring for a while longer, Usagi helped retrieve the straw bale and stash it in the trees. They walked back to the shrine, Tupa shouldering their practice swords.

  “You have talent, Rabbit Girl. Maybe the Tigress doesn’t see it right now, but I’m sure she’ll come around.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t,” said Usagi, glad for the Ram Heir’s confidence. She told him that she was still sleeping poorly. In frequent nightmares, Uma’s face loomed before her, asking what would happen if the Blue Dragon’s men came for her. I would never leave you, Usagi would say, right before the dreaded clacking of Dragonstriker armor drowned out Uma’s reply. All too often, Usagi would wake up in a cold sweat, half out of breath from chasing her tied-up sister in a speeding cart. “It’s the last thing I said to my sister, and then I went and abandoned her.”

  “We’ll make this right,” Tupa told her. “You’ll be on the mission, with a weapon like the rest of us. If you’re not—well, may the Tree of Elements fall on me.”

  “Is that a real tree?” Usagi teased.

  Tupa stopped in his tracks. “You don’t know? It’s not far from here.”

  “I thought it was just an expression when the Tigress mentioned it,” said Usagi. “What is it?”

  “It’s a sacred cypress at a spring of burning water. Ironstone fragments grow out of its trunk, forming the Circle of the Twelve. It’s got all five of the elements, see? Some say the mountain goddess planted it there, but more likely one of the first Warriors put chunks of ironstone in the trunk—they’re these beautiful pieces of tiger iron . . .” He cocked his head as Usagi stifled a yawn. “I’d take you to see it, but I think you’d better get to bed.”

  Winter storms buffeted the top of Mount Jade and blanketed the shrine in snow. Usagi had to don a shabby coat of bear fur whenever she stepped outside, pulling the hood up against the biting cold. Saru found her sturdy sheepskin boots to replace her rope slippers.

  Tupa filled small metal boxes with burning coals, wrapping the boxes in felted wool to carry in a pocket or pouch. Whenever Usagi’s fingers grew too stiff from the chill during their late-night practices, she would wrap her hands around the pocket warmers to thaw.

  He insisted that she continue to practice mind-the-mind and calligraphy. “A proper Warrior knows both. The Tigress was right to teach you those things.” So Usagi would sit in the warmth of the library with her jade slate, working on her strokes with a brush and water. The Heirs welcomed Usagi into their practice sessions, and both Nezu and Inu commented on how much she seemed to be improving. Usagi had to hide her smile when Tupa winked at her behind their backs.

  But her fears for her sister were never far away. For the first time, Uma’s birthday had come and gone without Usagi there to find her a special treat, like a piece of honeycomb. Now that Uma was nine, might the Blue Dragon spare her? Usagi checked the Mirror of Elsewhere as often as she dared, waiting till the Great Hall was empty. She’d sneak a peek and catch her sister and Tora in uniform, marching, running, or doing exercises. Sometimes they carried wooden swords, stabbing the air in unison with others. Usagi had never seen Uma so grim-faced. What was happening to her?

  On the last day of the year, Usagi was at the chest of Treasures, about to take out the mirror when she heard Nezu coming. She stepped back and pretended to be stretching when he entered. Greeting her with a flashing grin, he went to the chest and removed the Bowl of Plenty.

  “My master carried this,” he told her. “Want to see what it does? I’ve got to make more rice for our New Year’s feast.” He took a pinch of rice and dropped it into the metal bowl. Cradling the bowl in both hands, he swirled its contents around three times, then placed i
t carefully on the ground. The bowl vibrated, the grains tinkling against the hammered brass, and the amount of rice in the bowl began to rise until it was full to the brim. “See? As long as this bowl’s around, we’ll never go hungry.”

  “Sweet spirits, that’s useful,” Usagi marveled. If only she’d had that back in Goldentusk. They’d never have had to eat bugs.

  That night, Nezu outdid himself preparing the feast to mark the turning of the year. In addition to mounds of hot fluffy rice, there was roasted fish, meaty grilled mushrooms, glazed squash, winter greens braised with herbs and onions, spicy pickled cabbage and turnips, bubbling bean curd stew with egg and smoked wild boar, and a savory clear broth full of chewy rice cakes and tender green spruce tips. There was even dessert—slices of poached pear and persimmon floating in honey syrup.

  It was the most food Usagi had seen since before the war, and it put everyone in good spirits. When she accidentally made eye contact with the Tigress, the old warrior’s green gaze was good-humored—she didn’t seem angry with Usagi at all. The meal felt like a reprieve from the training and mission planning that had consumed them since Tupa’s arrival from the capital. Despite the cold outside, the chatter and laughter around the table warmed everyone from head to toe.

  “Here’s a riddle,” Nezu shouted. “‘When set loose, I fly away, never so cursed as when I go astray. What am I?’”

  “Easy,” Inu scoffed. “An arrow.”

  “No, guess again!” Nezu looked at each of them, grinning, until he could hold it in no longer and chortled, “A fart!”

  “That you are,” Inu told him, and guffaws rang out. Even Horangi laughed, coughing her odd, hacking chuckle while her cloud leopard purred in the corner.