Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(27)
Once we had eaten, it was time to clean. Then, once the kitchen was back to normal, which didn’t take anywhere nearly as long as it had after the feast the night before, we went to our first lesson in becoming a miko.
Music, Fuyudori had said; I assumed it would be learning to beat the drums and the bells that they always play at the forest shrine at home, or perhaps a flute. That didn’t sound terribly difficult—or terribly interesting.
Toumi, Emi and I wandered meekly down toward the Tea House. Fuyudori, Mai and Shino were already there, sitting demurely behind a set of stringed instruments—two big kotos and a hand-held samisen.
Sachi smiled at us as we entered, cleaning out a long shakuhachi flute with a rag on a stick. “Men like watching me do this, for some reason.”
We sat nervously in a corner, close neither to the other three girls nor to our teacher. For once, even Toumi seemed more nervous than angry.
Then Sachi raised the flute to her lips and played.
My mother played the flute—Otō-san had loved to hear her play it—and she had tried to teach me to play. However, I had never been able to get the shape of the lips right, so I had never managed to produce much more than scratchy wind sounds. The shakuhachi is a simple instrument—a hollow length of bamboo with five holes for your fingers—but the sound that Sachi produced was anything but simple. It was loss and longing, and it was beautiful.
She finished playing, and yet the music filled the silence. Lowering the flute from her lips, Sachi smirked. “Not bad.”
All of us—novices and initiates alike—laughed.
She turned to me, Emi, and Toumi and held up her instrument. “Any of you play?”
All of us looked down. After what I had just heard, I could barely say that my mother played. I certainly wasn’t going to claim my own feeble attempts for music.
“Hmm. Well, what’s your name—Emi? You’ve got the lips for it.”
Next to me, Emi cringed.
“Sorry,” Sachi said, “I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m always doing that.” She snorted, and took a breath. “I’m supposed to welcome our newcomers. My... teacher welcomed some of us our first day here.” With her flute she gestured at the three initiates. “I heard her give these girls here the same talk when they arrived. So I’ll try to do it justice.”
Taking a deep, slow breath, Sachi raised a hand to her chest, the open palm facing out. “Welcome, ladies, to the beginning of your formal training here at the Full Moon. Lady Chiyome began this school in order to ensure that our nation’s old ways were never forgotten, but also to put to use the talents of young women such as yourselves, whose abilities might otherwise be wasted in the sheer struggle to survive the troubled times in which we live.”
Fuyudori, whose face seemed almost always to be set in a polite smile, scowled.
“Everything that you do here at the Full Moon is intended to prepare you for your new life. In particular, the lessons you learn with me and with the other kunoichi will offer you an opportunity to learn skills that you will need in the years to come.” Sachi paused, and I shivered. She seemed to be calling up the spirit of Kuniko, who I realized must have been the teacher that Sachi had mentioned. She looked at us one at a time. It may have been her intention to see whether we had any questions, but it felt as it were Kuniko looking through Sachi’s eyes, testing us. I don’t know what the others were thinking, but I was absolutely certain that I was failing.
“A shrine maiden has many duties,” Sachi continued in the same low, expressionless voice. “You will learn to dance, to lead some of the important rituals, to prepare shrines for festivals. And you must also learn to sing in praise of the gods.”
She held up the shakuhachi, and suddenly Sachi grinned and her true spirit broke through again. “You’ll also learn to play instruments. Making music during the rites will be one of your most important duties as a miko. And, like I said, men love a woman with good fingering. Now,” she said, “any questions?”
Sachi was, as I have said, a much better musician than my mother. I must admit, too, that she was a much better teacher. By the end of the first lesson, Emi had produced a few warbling notes from the flute, and I had managed to get something resembling a musical tone from the samisen, much to the annoyance of Mai, who was working with me. Sachi managed to bring music out of each of us as Okā-san, wonderful as she was, could never do.
However, I am quite sure my mother never told anywhere nearly as many dirty jokes.
—
By the time Sachi waved us farewell, the sun was high and the gravel in the courtyard was so bright that it hurt our eyes.
Masugu-san was standing next to Lady Chiyome and several of the older miko. The nine lancers who had ridden our party to the Full Moon were lined up before their commander and our mistress.
The horsemen all had stoic expressions on their faces, but they didn’t appear to regret leaving at all. They seemed almost glad to be departing this community of women for their army camp. Masugu himself looked less than happy that he was staying with us, though I found that I was very happy that he would. He was one of the only adults there who I felt treated me just as who I was.
“Give my greetings to Captain Yamagata at the Highfield garrison,” he said. I noticed for the first time how different the lieutenant’s voice was when he spoke to the men as their commander. This voice was hard and sharp-edged, not at all like the warm voice he used when he was talking to them at dinner—or when he was talking with me. Masugu-san gave a crisp salute, barked out an order, and the horses wheeled to their right and broke into an immediate gallop out of the gate. The Little Brothers closed the gate as the last charger passed through.