Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(22)

That word again. “What’s a kunoichi?” I asked.

She turned and smiled sweetly at me. “You are the one Lady Chiyome called Risuko, yes?” I nodded. “You should treat your elders with respect. Ask permission before asking a question, Risuko-chan.” Squirrel-child.

Next to me, Toumi gave a smirk—whether it was aimed at me or the older girl, I wasn’t sure.

“I beg your pardon, Fuyudori-senpai,” I said, “I’m sorry. Would Fuyudori-senpai do me the honor to answer my unworthy question?”

“Of course, Risuko-chan,” she said.

“May I ask, what is a kunoichi?”

The white-haired girl smiled again, but this time the smile was more mischievous than sweet. “Yes, Risuko-chan, you may ask. However, I’m afraid that I’m not going to tell you.” She turned and walked away.

Feeling tricked, I skittered after her.

“Nor will any of Lady Chiyome’s other servants. If you are so interested, you’ll just have to find out on your own. And before you ask, my hair is white because when I was a young girl, an attack on my village killed my family and all of the other inhabitants but me. I was rescued, and sent here, to learn everything that I could from Lady Chiyome and her servants about becoming a shrine maiden and, of course, training in the talents that make one a kunoichi. Keep up with me, please.”

We trailed Fuyudori as she gave us a quick tour of the compound. She showed us the bathhouse—and told us that we were expected to bathe every evening. “The lady expects you to stay clean and healthy. Of course, as novices, you are expected to clean the baths out each night and to prepare them each morning for all of the inhabitants of the Full Moon,” she said. Next to that was the older women’s dormitory, which Fuyudori called the Nunnery. In the corner, between the gate and the women’s dormitory was a small guesthouse. We saw Lieutenant Masugu moving his gear into it.

I was mostly noticing, honestly, that unlike our dormitory, the buildings at the front of the compound had decorative timbers that would make them easy to climb. Would they let me climb?

Past the gate were two low buildings: the stable and a teahouse where Fuyudori told us we would receive much of our instruction until we became initiates. Behind that was the men’s dormitory, which was smaller than the women’s, and which was called, we were told, the Bull Pen. We all started to giggle, until Fuyudori looked back at us very seriously and said, “As novices you are not to speak to any of the men—or boys—except at meals.”

Emi’s face twisted into an even deeper frown than usual, and she caught my eye. Were we both thinking of Aimaru? I gave the smallest shrug I could manage, and she nodded.

Fuyudori primly pointed out the main storehouse, and began to lead us back toward the big building where we had dismounted. “What’s that place?” Toumi called out.

Fuyudori turned around with a mixed look of annoyance and amusement.

Toumi gave a stiff bow. “Pardon me, Fuyudori-senpai.”

“Yes—?”

“What’s that building over there?” Toumi jerked a finger up toward a small building hidden behind a tall hemlock, up past the storehouse.

Fuyudori held her hand up in front of her face, but then regained her composure, though her ears were still pink. “I beg your pardon, Toumi-chan. I forgot about that one. That’s called the Retreat. We go there during our moon time.”

We all giggled nervously again, even Toumi.

Fuyudori looked us over. “You probably won’t need to use it yet.” With the smooth bearing she seemed to have studied from Mieko, Fuyudori walked toward the central building, and we all trailed behind her.

“This is the great hall,” Fuyudori went on, smoothly. “Meals are served here in the morning, at midday and in the evening. Don’t be late—Kee Sun doesn’t wait. I will take you there now, to make sure you are on time.”

Emi frowned and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Fuyudori... Fuyudori-san. But what’s a kee sun?”

The older girl let out a laugh like morning birdsong, and said, “Oh! Emi-chan, you are going to be such fun to have here. It’s not a what, it’s a who! Kee Sun is the cook. Mochizuki-sama, Lady Chiyome’s late husband, brought him back from Korea; he said Japanese food was too boring for him, he’d never eat it again.” Then she smiled and said brightly, “He’ll be serving the pickled cabbage tonight—try it, it’s delicious.”

Next to me, Emi was looking at her sandals. I pulled at her sleeve, but she wouldn’t look at me. “She wasn’t laughing at you, Emi,” I whispered.

She shrugged.

“Well, she was. But she was laughing at all of us. Come on,” I said.

Still a little frightened of this new home, we scampered into the great hall behind Fuyudori and Toumi.

—

The interior of the large building was open and undecorated, except for a group of small statues in a shrine against the back wall. Three long, low tables were laid out in the shape of a horseshoe. The center table, which was toward the right-hand side of the hall, was on a slightly raised platform.

Toumi shuffled across the polished bamboo floor, muttering.

Fuyudori led us through a wide doorway opposite the tables into what was clearly a kitchen. Where the kitchen at the Mount Fuji Inn had been small and cluttered, however, this room was bright, spacious and as clean as a Buddhist temple. Indeed, a shrine to the Healing Buddha stood beneath a beam from which hung bunches of drying herbs.