五

The ritual was not horrendously measured like a warrior ceremony, since no shinobi believe in the Awakened One with nearly the same devotion as the folk of the Three Countries, but by no means completely deprived of irrational belief. There were no good-luck chants; nonetheless, a fortune-teller was summoned to see whether the characters of my name were fortunate, and the sword fitting. I do not know of the process, but she denied most of the names, prolonging the lengthy ceremony and often declared the number of strokes and my water nature incompatible.

Unlike noble warriors, who received one special sword and a ritual sword for the course of their lives, shinobi used various weapons�"kaiken, ningato, tekken, tessen, shinobi-zue and countless more, each with plentiful purposes and equally powerful. The men preferred kusarigama, which is a sickle with a chain that has a weight on its end, for it could be used to bind the enemy and strike him with the blade quickly. The other option was shinobi-zue, used when they were disguised as monks�"the staff had many hidden blades inside it, yet looked nothing more than an old pole. However, we kunoichi, the female shinobi, preferred more concealed weapons, such as poison, or short blades like kaiken, which are easily cloaked in folds of kimono. There are also iron tessen and sensu, both fans that could pass as courtesan’s or a lady’s item. There are countless weapons shinobi use, even a bracelet-like tekken, which is then pulled on the knuckles, enabling us to break bones anywhere, with every strike.

We rarely used the same weapon with a warrior’s dedication, but I was given my special ningato, the shorter version of a katana that enabled a shinobi to climb walls with ease. It could also be leaned against the wall as a step, and then pulled up with the cord that was attached to it. Blinding powder was at the end of the scabbard and could be quickly thrown at an enemy while shinobi was just drawing the sword. The scabbard could also be used as a bamboo underwater, letting the user breathe and therefore arrive unnoticed to his destination. Moreover, it could be used as a blowgun for poisoned darts. Having so many functions, it was quite a widely-used weapon of a shinobi.

My sword’s handle was decorated with the emblem of a black tortoise�"the heavenly animal of my element�"and the grey blade was traversed by characters carved with agate, the two colours representatives of water. Once again differing form a warrior sword, it was not given a name.

The words of the ceremony passed like wind, toying with me and leaving promptly, only to come back again. It was almost the way a lover returns to a man at night. Not many people attended and the ones that did seemed almost as bored as I was. One might think that turning-of-age would be something important, but to me, it was just another event taking course in my life.  If I was a river, it would be a small shift in the direction I headed to, although varying my flow entirely in the future. The ceremony was very quick�"shinobi do not have any time to waste�"only done to officially make my rank equal to any other chuunin, the middle-class shinobi. The next level was jonin, the first class spy and assassin, desired by all employers for the unquestionable abundant talents and experience.  Carried by the destiny of the river, I wanted to be fated a jonin level as well. Of course, fate and destiny are very different. Fate is the actions taken and the future is decided by the person, while destiny is haunting across whatever walls one may place between.

The ceremony was over soon after I was given a name, consisting of radicals individual, mouth, shaped crown, sagebrush, hole, and valley; thirteen strokes.

伊賀 �"�

 Iga You

One may think it was simply a beautiful water flower, but it is the very symbol of enlightenment, suffering and cycle of life and death. It can rise from the taint waters, the roots still in the mud, but the result blooming and lovely. Even more so, its beauty is fleeting, just as everyone will wither someday to reach perfection and truth. The flower’s root is covered in holes�" the representatives of emptiness, which is one of the necessary steps to perfection. Rising from the dirty sins and pain to the highest state of mind, is lotus. Someday, I would, too, escape from the pandemonium of evil.

I spent the rest of the month in the Iga main house. As turned out, Shigeo was sent to spy on the Shinzou, my accompanying him a way for me to earn some familiarity while he gathered intelligence. I must say the news were slightly disheartening, for I had taking a liking to the Shinzou clan, although in no way touched by their fate. Iga were a wealthy shinobi clan, prosperous and powerful as well as perfectly covert in the ways of assassins. Of course, being the suppliers of foreign weapons, they were very much sought after by warrior clans who thought us mere merchants and the approaching war was a perfect opportunity for more wealth. None knew the true location while every supreme clan had at least several spies in it, some from Koga and some from Iga.

Shigeo was sent to the Hashiji, legally adopted by the lord. By doing so, the warrior clan had sealed their fate and the fate of their allies, who did know anything of us shinobi, who coveted in shadows. Having an access to politics, acknowledged by Lord Hashiji, Shigeo was possibly the “knight” of the Iga, the powerful figure with the power to jump over obstacles and evade any danger.

Once again, it came to me that he was possibly the most complex character in this game. Unbeknown to me until the second week of my intensified training in the Iga main house, I have grown dangerously attached to Shigeo’s comforting presence at nights. He was a person I could confide in, the one I could tell about my ignorance and curiosity of the world of wars to hear about them as he both mocked and pitied me with his earnest eyes.  Truly, he was a masterpiece of a wonder.

An instructor had told me about his graduation and beginning of the third-ranked shinobi, genin, at the age of nine; genin did not kill, usually sent for gathering information, setting a fight between rival clans, or often scouting a territory. What truly motivated me to work harder was Shigeo’s becoming a jonin at the age of sixteen. I did not want to lose to a man, especially to the one whose name I did not know. Shinobi were called another name during espionage, so it was natural for Shigeo to have the true name hidden.

Several times already I had been sent away for a short mission, usually to spy on an important man. Fortunately, I did not have to use my body as many do. But the time was nearing, and I dreaded it. Unlike other kunoichi, I could not bear the thought of lying with a man and even though I learnt well that attachment to anyone was forbidden, my body felt rigid at the thought. Having had no experience of seduction and passion, the fear intensified in my blood. Often, I found myself asking whether it hurt, and the answer of the kunoichi was it did not. Naturally, we shinobi often experienced pain, so much it was a habit. For me, dislocating shoulder, cutting a limb, or simply killing myself was infinitely easier than having a man touch my body in desire. This fear had to be dealt with.

Several days before Shigeo returned, I was greeted by a jonin in my room. Much to my surprise, it was a kunoichi rather than a male. Of course, the Iga knew about my fear of men, but having to sleep with a woman was distressing. I felt heat rise to my face as I pictured lying together, skin to skin.

“Good evening,” the kunoichi said calmly, a playful smile on her lips. “My name is Asami. Please, sit.”

My efforts to cool the heat of my body were fruitless, the failure disappointing. Even though my fingers were spread and rested calmly on my lap, I wished only to wrap them tightly around myself so that my clothes would stay and warm with its comforting presence. Asami’s face simply expressed genuine understanding. Her hand crept across the distance separating us, and I shut my eyes. Her laugh set my cheeks aflame. A kind, soft touch on my skin slowly travelled to my coiffure, loosening the hair until it fell on my back in silky waves, the tips resting on the mattress. It creaked as the woman glided closer.

“Open your eyes, You.” Her whisper made my fists tighten to suppress the shiver. Asami slipped her hand in the sash of her garment, a pouch appearing in her hand. "You need to drink this."

I was wrong. The Iga would deal with my fear differently, and I was thankful for that.

 

Shigeo was patient. But even his patience was wearing thin, seeing as weeks passed without his partner around. The nights were exasperating, for he could no longer feel the reassurance of You’s presence and lower his guard while she watched over Lady Karin. Moreover, there was someone else to talk to openly, unwatchful of what he said. On the other hand, he was wary of himself as he had conversed with the girl. Despite only being seventeen years of age, Shigeo was unusually insightful, already an adult, and that observance of his warned him of getting fond, too attached, to You.

Her acidly cold retorts, her placid smile and her stony act were becoming too entertaining for him. Shigeo did not wish to be touched by the girl nor feel the affection, for such behaviour was not tolerated in this world, where men were not allowed to fall in love. Love is dangerous and weakening, the intoxication as swift as death.  Not only that, but if he were to fall in love, it would damage the girl as well. Shigeo knew women were one of the virtues of life, giving pleasure that nothing else could give, but desire was not love. It was long since he allowed himself to be a fool, and only imbeciles fell in love. He was dangerously close to the abyss of death that such a feeling brought.

His friend fell in it. More correctly so, a companion. Shigeo was careful to constraint any bond, knowing well about attachment that erodes one’s life, although he admitted he was somnolent while severing this one. Hidesui, being the ambitious idiot he was, wanted to become a “hero”, end the wars and replace them with everlasting peace. The pure ethereal stupidity of it was quickly seen in Shigeo’s cynical expression upon the man’s declaration. What more, Hidesui fell in love with his maid, losing his senses. The lapse of judgement was delivered by the so called love. Little did the enthralled man know, for the maid was a jonin kunoichi of the Iga clan, sent to spy on the Lord Montoku. Being his heir, Hidesui had no right to conceive a child with anyone but his legal wife, but he insisted on making the maid his concubine, and fathered a son that could challenge his legimate son’s rule. This was inanity.

Considering that Iga occasionally aided the Katakeyama, which were blood enemies to Montoku, Hidesui had unknowingly set a trap for his own clan. Idiocy costs a fortune, so Shigeo was wise not to do such a thing.

 

“Kagenaka?”

He glanced at her calmly, Noemi’s demeanour helpless and sorrowful. As if sensing his concern, she tightened her fingers, clasped on the collar of her clothes, to regain some of her composure. Kagenaka was disturbed with the weakness that love brought. Never before did Noemi allow to be seen in such a frail state of mind, the thought both pleasing and worrying. Being the advisor of the head, he could not allow himself to ponder over things, discussing and solving them with the preciseness of a flying arrow, but now, he was not sure whether his decision had been right.

Noemi loosened her grip on his arm and he was thankful for it. “Do you think we were wrong to plan her life so thoroughly?  It will only bring destruction to her.”

“It is all past now,” he replied, his walk steady as always. “Have you, by any chance, grown attached to You?”

She lowered her gaze, eyes shifting from the view of dark sky to the dark earth they were walking on. Earth is the symbol of nurturing, and the thought was excruciating to her. Understanding her agony, Kagenaka did not continue. Her sudden response astounded him, as the man thought she would dwell in her sorrow for slightly longer a time. She became both stronger and weaker, the man mused, as he listened to her suspicions.

“You’s skills are truly an accent to our clan. Their births were planned perfectly. But it does not mean their lives will be�"someday they will have to face one another, and it will be the conclusion of our play.”