Chapter 2

He flinched; the smile disappeared from his face. He bowed apologetically and scurried off like a punished pup. But remembering how unquestionably he had assisted me earlier, I figured he might be of use to me, so I stopped him.

“Tell me your schedule. Which hours are you posted here?”

“I’ve been assigned the night guard for the prisoner, my lady. The hour of the rat until the hare. My relief comes after breakfast.”

He was boyishly amiable, eager, unlike the other guards who are brutish and say crude things of me when I am not within earshot, and more importantly, he was naively obedient.

“Good. I intend to visit the prisoner while you are on duty. I will fetch her tea for now. When I come back, I would like to see that her bindings are loosened so that she may rest easy, and she is given a tatami to sit on and a fresh winter kimono. If our goal is to extract information of my husband’s enemies from her, then at the very least we must treat her with some dignity.”

Kazuo nodded. “Oh. Yes. Of course, my lady. At once.”

With those orders, I departed to fetch my prisoner tea.

Erimo Castle sat in a valley between two wild, steep mountains beside a river that raged in the summer and covered in ice in the winter. In the autumn, the mountains were as red as the rising sun. They were as red as can be now, which meant that in a month’s time the mountains would be blanketed in a snow becoming untraversable to all except the most foolhardy. I often fantasized about traversing the mountain, if only to see the other side of it, once more. It was a useless fantasy. I had been more or less confined to the castle grounds since I had been brought as a bride for my husband and will be confined here for a time far longer than the kunoichi would ever be. I was a prisoner, my beauty my crime. This wasn’t always the case, of course. When I came to Erimo to take the Daimyo’s hand in marriage, I came with my father, who would become a notable samurai who gained prominence in the castle for winning the Daimyo’s battles shortly becoming his best and most loyal general. He was well respected by all, and because of that, I had a voice in this castle. One that was listened to and obeyed by all. I felt that this was a place I could be happy. It was not until my father perished in battle, that I began to see that his presence was my only currency. With him gone, my voice at once diminished. Then came the death of my son, not a year from the womb, at which point I realized that I was very much alone. I had no allies here. I had since been unable to produce another heir, and so more and more, my husband preferred the company of his concubines, and I was left to become a listless phantom that wandered the castle halls, a hollow echo of bygone happiness.

It was the loneliness, the uselessness, the suffocation and worst of all, the hope of reprieve flickering away like the dying flame of a candle that made me suffer. All the endearing and endless love that I still showed my husband in public, was just that… a show, which made the suffering all the more difficult.

From the castle pantry, I fetched a Gyokuro tea that came from a tea plantation in Uji renown for growing the most invigorating tea. My husband would have been furious to learn that I would serve this tea, his favorite, to the wretched creature.

When I returned, I caught Kazuo standing, once again, slack-jawed beside the cell door, his polearm ready to fall from his precarious grip. I cleared my throat, startling him awake from his hypnosis, to give him a snide, but lighthearted, “Tsk-tsk. Ninjas blowing on flutes could make their way past you without notice.”

“I won’t tell my husband,” I assured him. “Now, please allow me to serve the prisoner some tea.”

Kazuo obliged, unlocking and pushing the heavy door open for me. I was pleased to find the prisoner dressed in a fresh winter kimono, laying atop a clean tatami, as I have asked for. She was in a deep sleep, breathing calmly, silver sunlight from the high window bathing the woman, lending her an otherworldly glow. I watched her for a moment, drawn to her inordinate serenity.

I knelt beside her and proceeded to prepare her tea. I was close enough now that she could easily strike at me upon waking, but I did not fear it.

Beside her was the quilt I had asked for, folded neatly. It was frigid in the cell, so I took the quilt and covered the prisoner’s body with it. She shifted, craned her neck to get a look at me. I put the teacup to her mouth, and she took a long sip, her eyes watching me, then when she finished the sip, she sighed and spoke with a voice that came hoarsely. “You truly are as flawless in your beauty as they say.”

I responded with a curt laugh, then, “Is that what they say?”

“Mm-hm. Well, what they really say is that the Lady Keiko’s beauty is the very embodiment of the grace of a red-crowned crane in flight.”

“Why don’t you fully enjoy your tea before you start with the flattery. It’ll give you the energy to realize that such flattery gets you nowhere.”

“I only speak my mind. You’d like that I speak my mind, do you not?” she said, a sly smile drawn upon her severely chapped lips. I ignored her, instead putting the teacup to her lips again. She took another long sip. When the tea was finished, she sat up, stretched as best she could with the clasps on her wrists and ankles, moving with the grace of a cat all things considering, then after a prodigious yawn, said, “thank you.”

“Tea is a basic courtesy around here.”

“I meant for the blanket. The heavy kimono. And the soft. Kazuo was prompt, polite, and very persistent.”

“You’ve talked to Kazuo?”

“Then how do you know his name?”

“I have ears, Lady Keiko.”

I smirked at the quip. Even in the face of the direst of circumstances, she kept an easy calm, and a placid comportment that Buddhist monks would envy, and of which I felt an envy. How I might react in a similar circumstance, I hope I would never have to know, but I do know that I would not have been so collected as she.

I noticed, observing her more carefully, the way small wrinkles formed at the edge of her eyes as she smiled. She was somewhat older than I had originally thought. Still with the round attractiveness of youth in her eyes, and in her cheeks, she had the etchings of wisdom about her.

Her hair kept falling across her face, which she constantly shook away, so I took a lacquer kanzashi pin from my own head and went to pin her hair back with it, but she flinched and backed away.

“Relax,” I chided. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to fix your hair.”

She eyed me cautiously but subsequently allowed me to touch her hair. So, I put her hair up and took a good look at her face now that I could see it fully. Behind the jaundiced injuries, I could see a dauntless beauty begotten not only by nobility, which I had noticed before, but also by a hard life. She was not a courtly samurai but of true bushidō pedigree.

“What is that laugh for?”

“I’m not your play doll, highness. I’m your prisoner.”

I clucked my teeth. “I’m treating you with dignity. Consider yourself fortunate.”

She nodded, and stayed silent, but retained the smirk.

I straightened myself up, conceding that I was not here for my own pleasure, but to perform a task. “Now that you have your tea, clean clothes, and proper bedding, perhaps you find yourself in a mood to provide for us something in return. I’m here to ask for information regarding the enemies of my husband, who you might know, Lord Tanenaga, the lord of these lands.”

The kunoichi did not respond. She kept her eyes fixed to mine. So, I cleared my throat and added, “the agreement is simple: in exchange for information, you will be fed. If you choose not to cooperate, you will not be fed.”

“And why would I want to be fed?”

“…So that you do not starve.”

“And why would I not want to starve.”

“Well… if you prefer to die…”

“Yes. I much prefer to die.”

“…Well, cooperate and perhaps my husband will give you a death that is swift and honorable.”

“I know your husband well enough to know that is a lie. He is a despicable man that does not honor his allies let alone his enemies.”

“Rather unwise to throw insults at someone who offers you hot tea on a cold morning.”

In response, and in a manner of utmost defiance, she let the teacup drop between her fingers, spilling the Gyokoru onto the tatami mat in front of her.

In accordance with every formal protocol on etiquette, I ought not abide such insult. In fact, I was duty bound to punish her for it. But I refrained. I did not strike her. I did not summon for Kazuo to come tighten her bindings to where breathing was painful for her. I did not give her harsh words or threats. I did not even say the words which came to mind, “You mistake my civility for weakness.” Instead, my breathing quickened, my heart began to race with tremendous excitement at being confronted with such rebelliousness.

She noticed my reaction, and her smirk grew, and so my heart raced harder, and my cheeks blushed hot.

I straightened myself up, held my composure. “What is your name? You can tell me your name, can’t you?”

The prisoner nodded slowly. “Kiyo,” she said, her voice turned to mock sweetness, as if to offer a gift I did not deserve.

“Who sent you to kill me, Kiyo?”

“One who would have you dead.”

“That much is obvious. Give me a name.”

Kiyo smiled. “I’ve just given you a name.”

“Do you consider me naive to believe that you are working alone?”

“I consider you naive to believe that I would sell anyone out.”

“Very well. Then tell me… why was I the target?”

She laughed, then turning her face deadpan to say, “Because you are the wife of Lord Tanenaga.”

“Because I am Tanenaga’s wife? Does that mean I deserve to die?”

“You are married to a murderous and cowardly tyrant who treats his subjects as cruelly as his enemies, who stays warm and safe in his castle while his samurai fight his battles. You are someone he loves. That he cherishes. And that is why you deserve death. You must be as thick as you are beautiful if you cannot see that. I’m not surprised.”

My fists trembled, desiring very much to explode in a cold snap against her cheek. When she noticed my fist, she smiled. It pleased her to see that I was so angered by her unhesitating words, and I could see that it would please her even more if I did slap her, and so I restrained myself.

“Does my answer satisfy the lady?” She asked, returning to the tone of mock playfulness.

I flattened my fists, then combed my palms across my lap in a gesture of calmness. I glared unblinking into her eyes for a moment, as she stared unperturbed into mine.

I filled her teacup with more green tea as a means of reminding her that I still retained power over her. She bowed in thanks and took a sip to show that she did not care, then said, “I merely speak my mind.”

“Who paid you, kunoichi?” I persisted.

“I cannot give you an answer beyond what I have already given you.”

“Then answer this: if you had been successful, what exactly was your hope of escape?”

“I did not intend to escape.”

“I see. After killing me you intended to kill yourself to escape justice.”

“No. After I kill you, I intended to kill your son. Whatever was to happen to me after that is inconsequential.”

A casual look of spite drew across Kiyo’s face as she spoke those words with a cold matter-of-factness. A knifelike cold went down my spine. She managed to elicit true fear from me, but beside that, sadness to be reminded of my son.

I sat tall and said, in coolness to match hers, “Not that it matters, but I have no son for you to murder. In fact, my son…”

I hesitated, realizing I was about to let on something about myself that I shouldn’t but for some reason, I felt compelled to admit what I shouldn’t have. “…He died not too long ago.”

The response I received was a surprise, all things considering. “I see…I did not know. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

The absurdity of the apology caused me to cackle.

“It is a hard thing for a mother to bear the death of her child.”

“And that is why you planned on killing me before my son?” I replied sardonically.

I had rarely talked to anyone about the death of my child, and to those I had, I had not received even a single word of compassion. As absurd as it was coming from her, I felt that it was genuine.

Before I could let my emotions get the better of me, I rose to signal that the interrogation was over for today.