Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(15)

The old couple muttered their thanks and promises, and touched their grey heads to the dirt.

Then Lady Chiyome turned and slid into her waiting palanquin. Next to me, Lieutenant Masugu extended his hand toward Mieko, offering to let her ride with him. But she stepped by without acknowledging his gesture. After the briefest expression of shock flickered across his face, Masugu turned and extended his hand toward me.





8—The Mountain


For three days, we rode quickly, without speaking until the mirror of the sun passed behind the mountains. On the first two days, we passed large groups of soldiers bearing the Takeda four-diamond banner marching toward the battles we had just left behind. By the third day, we might as well have been the only people in all of Worth Province —in all of Japan. We passed no one. Even the villages seemed empty.

Every night, the soldiers would make camp—in dry rice paddies or on the edges of fields. They would start preparing a simple meal, which Emi, Toumi, Aimaru and I would help clean up. The men would start talking to each other, and to the Little Brothers, occasionally. They would speak respectfully to Lady Chiyome occasionally, and even tease Aimaru and us three girls a bit.

None of them ever spoke to Mieko-san, though the lieutenant seemed always to know where she was.

Riding a horse turned out to be much more exhausting work than I would have expected, even if one was, as I was, merely a passenger.

I found to my surprise and dismay that I, who could climb the tallest tree or building without fear, felt profoundly unsteady on horseback. Every day, Masugu-san would very gently help me up onto his stallion, and each morning I had to work not to tear the poor creature’s mane out in my terror. It felt to me as if I were sitting on the back of nothing less than an earthquake at rest.

The only consolation that I had was that Toumi seemed to hate it even more than I did.

At the end of the third long day, Masugu helped me down off of his horse, and I thanked him, embarrassed not to be able to manage it on my own. He smiled at me and shrugged.

Lady Chiyome was climbing out of her palanquin, muttering and grumbling as she always did. Steam rose from the Little Brothers, who didn’t grumble at all.

The soldiers set up camp in the long-drained rice fields beside a lazy river.

As I had every evening, I looked south, seeing nothing homeward but mist.

For the first time, I turned to the north. The distant sight of a high peak struck me—a perfect, snow-capped cone, like the sand mountains that Usako and I had made when our mother brought us to the beach. Like the endless sketches our father had drawn on scraps of used paper or in the dust.

Mount Fuji.

“The Mountain,” I whispered in awe.

“Yes,” said Masugu from behind me. It was the first time he had spoken to me about something other than to tell me how to sit steady or when to get down since that horrible morning. We stood for a time, watching the sunlight disappear from the peak. “Do you know what our battle flag means—the four diamonds of Takeda?” Masugu asked.

I shook my head, still staring at the mountain, its white peak turning pink.

“It’s the clan motto: Be swift as the wind, silent as the forest, fierce as fire, steady as a mountain. My lancers and the other companies like us are the wind, sweeping all enemies ahead of us. The infantry are the forest, impenetrable and overwhelming. And the heavy cavalry are the fire, consuming any obstacles an enemy might try to put in our way.” He told it as if it were a bedtime story.

“And the mountain?” I asked.

“The mountain is Takeda Shingen himself. Like Fuji-san—” Masugu pointed at the peak. “—he is unmovable, untoppable. He has nerves stronger than any sword, and a mind as sharp. He can out-think any general.” His voice was surprisingly soft, gentle.

As we watched the light fade from the distant mountaintop, I found myself thinking how strange it was that I had spent days riding in front of this stranger, this Takeda warrior, unable to see any part of him but his gauntleted hands, neither one of us speaking. And yet I found that I hoped for the first time that I would ride with him again the next day.

—

That night, we ate sitting around a campfire, watching the sparks float up to join the stars. The meal was mostly rice and pickled radish, but in that moment it tasted as good as any food I had ever had.

Masugu spent a long time speaking to Lady Chiyome, both of them very serious. Mieko seemed to be listening intently to them, but when Masugu glanced up at her, she looked away.

“Mieko-san?” I asked when a soldier who was carrying wood to the fire crossed to the other side of the circle before putting his logs down.

“Hmm?” She stared up into the night sky.

“Mieko-san, why don’t the soldiers talk to you?” Then I considered. “Is it because of Kun—?”

Her finger sealed my lips gently but without compromise. “Do not use her name.”

“Oh. Of course not.” Mother had taught us that one should not use the name of the dead for forty-nine days after their departure, so that you don’t call their spirit back from the journey to the next life. “I am sorry, Mieko-san.”

Mieko gave me a sad smile. “No apology is needed, Risuko.” She stroked my cheek gently, which made me feel the night’s cold for some reason. “And Lieutenant Masugu’s soldiers have been avoiding speaking to me since long before this ride.” Saying no more, she rose and walked to Lady Chiyome’s tent.