六

She detested the pleasure house she was sold to, the visitors and the inhabitants of it. Despising the other artists in the flares of constant competition, which was as fierce as any war, Rai became such a skilful young woman, she was desired everywhere. Her music and dance talents were the most prominent in the house, announcing her name to the important people of the Three Countries. Such popularity was the subject of envy. Rai had no friends, but many enemies who sought after her fame, and often played awful tricks on her, frequently driving the girl to the limit. Tears she could never shed were of both hatred and sorrow. Her name meant trust, yet it was such a travesty of truth.

But what she loathed the most, were the visitors of the pleasure house. Her defloration should have been at the age of sixteen or seventeen, several years away, for Rai was merely fourteen. Being a favourite of many men, she could collect an adequate amount to purchase her freedom, yet it was not to be. As she rocked back and forth on the floor, her garments discarded across the room, the door slid open. The curtain that shielded her from the outside world for the time she was supposed to entertain her customers now became an entrance to Hell. Rai was one of the hidden Kirishitan, the covert supporters of the religion, who were killed for their beliefs if found out. Her job was a sin, and even though she was not supposed to commit it until years later, she was already a woman.

Mother, the vendor of pleasure, rushed through the entrance as several blurry people dragged drunken men out of the room. Hoping for support and kindness, Rai raised her face only to receive a painful slap which left the skin burning under the following punishment.

“Stupid girl,” the woman hissed, “do you even know what you have done? So much money, such an opportunity for the house, and you wasted it all!”

Rai whimpered, covering her body with the shredded clothes�"she could not speak. Her visitors were merchants, not exceptionally rich, but who paid the amount of money required. Although other courtesans sought after every client, such parties were always avoided by Rai due to the bad manners and lecherous nature of the men. It was not her fault that they took what had not been bought. The pain of her body, flaring in her heart barely registered in her mind as the stiff horror of committing a crime against her god was more excruciating than anything else. I did not wish for it, she thought, it was not my fault.

She was afraid of having a child, but killing it with the herbs would be a debauchery. At nights Rai did not doze, praying to the god for help and even after she finished, she could not fall asleep as the thoughts tormented her. In rare slumbers she dreamt of the same men torturing her, waking up with a scream that caused other artists to slap her. By the end of the month, Rai knew the result. She had conceived.

When Rai’s monthly bleeding did not come she was conversant, but denied it until the next week in hopes of her period being late once more. Mother was informed, and although she was enraged for losing the deflowerment money, the woman decided to keep the child if it was a girl. If a boy was born, he would await no other fate than being given away or killed. Rai spent the months in distress, praying for the child to be a girl, grieving for the baby’s future, which was the intricate world of courtesans. All too soon, her stomach became excessively outsized for her to serve customers. After having pleaded so much, Rai was sure her child would be a girl, nonetheless her belly was not round but oval instead�"if one were to see her from behind, he would not discern her pregnancy. It was quite obvious it would be born a boy.

                                 

I awoke to the same room, my memories slightly disarrayed as I attempted to regain them. With closed eyes to sharpen her hearing, Asami sat patiently on the straw mats near my mattress. Smiling, she asked gently how I felt.

“I feel very fine, thank you. Did it work?”

Asami nodded. “It seems you will not be afraid of men any longer.”

As soon as I took several steps, a soporific headache forced my knees to bend. My hands instinctively made the seal which was a call for my body to ignore the pain. Shinobi often used the signs made by their hands for controlling the mind better, such that one gesture could anger and increase one’s power, while another calm in order for the shinobi to think strategically. Having spent most of life as a servant with hidden emotions, it was natural I controlled myself far better than most of the chunin. My body straightened, but the soreness continued. It was startling the throbbing was not suppressed, for my discipline has always been faultless; Asami stopped me before I could enforce the seal again.

She frowned. “I must have broken someone else’s hypnotism. Did Noemi tranquil you in some way?”

My vision erupted with the scene of our escape from the castle, where so many souls had escaped their bodies, driven out by my own hands. Sorrow, regret and anger flooded my senses for a moment, and a tear slid down my cheek as the agony slowed into remission. Conscious of the surroundings, I stopped crying before any more were shed, yet the dark pain remained in the heart, unseen by Asami. A bitter smile appeared, for it seemed Noemi deceived me once more, this time even more unanticipated than the other. Although I was aware I had taken life, it was unwillingly, unknowingly of the emotions inside, for they were blocked by her.

Asami left in the night, probably another missions compelling a jonin to come. Several minutes later, I was summoned as well.

The hidden village is an architectural miracle. Although the layout of the buildings is deviously simple, it is in fact a covert battlefield. In the distance, on a hill, there is a watchtower with the observant guards. The genin quarters are located among the rice fields, where the invasion was unlikely due to the visibility of it. Jonin were located in the heart of the village, and the house acted as a moat during the times of floods of the rice fields. Natural defuses like bamboo fences and earthen banks provide more security as well. In the narrow spaces between the rice fields, many valuables and often weapons are concealed, providing an unqualified fortification.

In every house, there are guards and shinobi weapons in every room, masked as traditional features of a house. Under the whole village there is a secret clandestine passage, passing by every family to provide the fast opportunity of escape. Of course, there are various traps, which only a shinobi can bypass. The upper floor can be reached by a “rotating” staircase, revolved into snapping shut when required. Children often beg their parents to be allowed to play with it, but our disciplines are strict, and the young often do not have time for anything other than training. Close to the ceilings, there is a hollow space; in the wall itself gunports are pierced, wide for any firearm. There are other setups, such as a trapdoor, which drops poisoned spikes.

I studied the arts of shinobi, but did not know much of the life of one. Shigeo often told me of his missions, and I could tell several of them were tragic; much of his friends killed themselves when captured by the warriors to keep our secrets. The captured women were taken advantage of, giving birth to future warriors, which is, in my opinion, worse than death. Although we do not obey the warrior principles, working surreptitiously and assassinating in any way possible, it does not mean we are completely honourless. During the months spent in the shinobi village, I did not only learn of them, but became one myself, the fate calling through the blood and bones.

My mission was to assassinate the young lord, Montoku Hidesui, for his death was planned for years by the Katakeyama. The circumstances had been unfavourable. Currently the Montoku were driven away to the temple, where the Utsunomiya heir trained his spiritual energy. It was a good time. Unfortunately, Asami broke Noemi's hypnosis, which used to renounce me completely of emotions. Killing was frightening, but I had to break myself in order to continue being a shinobi�" this ambition was all my own.

The mission was a jonin level, but I was simply an assistant for Asami. As kunoichi, we possessed the skills required for the assassination�"speed, charm and the frail spirits of women. Lord Hidesui, although young and inexperienced in actual wars, was beloved by his people for kindness and strength. An excellent warrior, proficient in everything and interested in harvesting of goods, he would be a great leader of a splendid clan. Utsonomiya could not allow such a thing to happen, for the other possible heirs were influenced by them and ready to obey, while Hidesui was the only one not to cower from war. The man was a needle in their eye.

 

In the night, Saika was crying again. Her husband bid her farewell after the meeting with the leaders of the clan; they were all concerned about the coming war, and the slaying of the Utsunomiya heir was necessary for their plans to be executed. She was his wife, and she was pregnant with his son, but all Hidesui ever needed and desired stole him away from Saika. Being only two years younger than him, she was frightened in their first night; she believed it was the reason he was cold to her thereafter.

And his concubine, the beautiful maid, despite being older was still lovelier than her. It was as though Tsukoyomi’s beauty was congenital. All the presents from the heart avoided Saika like a rabbit runs from a fox, instead coming into the white tender hands of Tsukoyomi. Everyone desired her for the wit, the exquisiteness and her humour, but did not dare lay a hand on the woman Hidesui was so infatuated with. Saika was jealous. Ever since their meeting of betrothal to each other ten years ago, she loved him. The fire of his heart was tantalizing, but as distant as the sun. Almost mocking her, Tsukoyomi held what she desired above all else, the light and love of Hidesui. It was unfair.

After finally conceiving, Saika hoped she would be prised, for the child was a boy and Hidesui often expressed his delight over having a son. But he distanced himself away, fearing to touch his wife and kill their child. While grieving for her fate, Saika often thought of the way he lovingly gazed at Tsukoyomi’s stomach after discovering of her pregnancy.  She wished he would do it too. Soon he envy gave away to hatred then to regret�"what Hidesui irrefutably cherished, Saika had to treasure too. It upset to do so.

She was attractive herself, although it was debilitated by loneliness. Her small lips were often compared to the fresh flower of a pink cherry blossom, her lean body to a young tree and her long black hair to the mesmerising night itself; amongst the dark, her white face was like a moon, the shimmer of which captivated every being no the sixteenth night of a month. It was a pleasing comparison. Yet she was a flower in bloom, not a moon.

Tsukoyomi’s name meant moonlit night. Thinking of what her husband and Tsukoyomi did during those evenings was too hurting to comprehend, especially after Saika conceived seven months ago. No longer did Hidesui lie with her. What would a man do without his wife for more than half a year? Of course, go to another woman. Although jaunty, Saika was never a fool, and she knew her only chance of gaining the husband’s love would be their child. It seemed even this was of no help anymore. Tsukoyomi was the vivid curse of her life. The vibrant yet evil emotions did not edify; she wondered if she could enchant her as well.