The next couple of weeks were a blur to Isaburou as he trained. Slowly, the nightmare was forgotten, and everything was lost in the attempt to grasp the mountain of knowledge that kept coming at him. Occasionally, other men would come to talk to Maruyama-sensei. Their clothes and their colors easily identified them as men of high position within the court and the government, although Isaburou was not familiar with any of their faces.
Whenever they came over, Maruyama-sensei would leave Isaburou to his practice and see them in the reception room. Occasionally the discussions would rise to a tense pitch that carried through the thin, rice paper walls. Isaburou wondered what could cause such argument among the important people of the capital.
It was shortly after one such discussion that Maruyama-sensei came out to where Isaburou was practicing. In his hands was an old naginata, its wicked edge still sharp and deadly. "Prepare yourself!" he shouted and suddenly attacked.
Isaburou was caught off-guard and went immediately on the defensive, jumping back out of the way of the swinging blade. With all the speed he could muster, Isaburou blocked and parried his master's thrusts, backing carefully away through the dojo. Maruyama-sensei only glared and pressed harder.
"What do you think you are doing?" He shouted, "Fight me!" then he lunged forward. Isaburou countered and thrust forward, but his strike fell glaringly short of its mark. The polearm rose, and the wooden practice sword was dashed from his hands. Suddenly, the naginata's metal blade struck for his throat, and Isaburou threw himself backwards. Toppling, he fell to the ground.
Isaburou could do nothing but stare at the bloodthirsty blade that hung like a hunger viper before him. Tearing his gaze away from the wicked polearm, he glanced up at the eyes of his master. A fire burned there, giving Maruyama-sensei the frightening aura of a demon from the eighth hell.
As Isaburou sat there, uncertain as to what spirit possessed his master, the mood passed. The fire dimmed, and it was replaced with quiet resignment. Life drained from the polearm as it returned to its wielder's side, and color flushed back into Isaburou's face.
"Get up," Maruyama said. As Isaburou struggled to a respectful position, his master's spirit formed itself into a stern resolve. "What happened?" he asked his student.
"I-I wasn't ready." Isaburou stammered, "You came too fast. I didn't expect it."
"Hmmph," Maruyama-sensei shook his head as he spoke, "You must always be ready for an attack. The skills of the true warrior must be ever vigilant, not just on the battlefield. Remember this, and always watch those closest to you.
"The story is told of a general from Okuyama who won every battle he was ever in. In war he was invincible. Once, in the heat of battle, he lopped off the head of a deadly snake that was about to bite him without thought. He eventually conquered the neighboring lords and brought peace.
"The summer after his victory, he was strolling through his personal gardens, where only his trusted aides were allowed. As he strolled past the chrysanthemums, a snake living beneath the flowers bit him and he died.
"They say he was killed by peace."
Maruyama-sensei let Isaburou mull this over before continuing. "You are good with a sword, but a sword is only one tool of many. You must learn how to handle the naginata, the yari, and the bow if you wish to master the path of the warrior. You must learn the strengths and weaknesses of each in order to prevail with and against them."
Isaburou nodded. Then, after a brief pause, he spoke up, "Master, may I ask a question?"
"What is it?" Maruyama asked in reply.
"I know it is inappropriate to ask, but is there something wrong?"
Maruyama-sensei's comforting smile was offset by the sadness in his eyes. "History is a circle of chaos and order." he began, "It is any man's wish that he see it through no more than once in his lifetime." The answer only left Isaburou more confused.
For the next several months, Isaburou's training increased. Although he had received some minimal training in how to handle himself in Kurogi, he was learning a new dimension to fighting, expanding his abilities. Slowly, his senses and muscles were being finely honed to a blade-like quality. Much of his initial awkwardness was gone, and he felt more confident of his own abilities.
He also began paying more attention to the rumors that were flying about the capital. Isaburou wasn't intimately familiar with the individual courtiers, but he could tell that something was happening. The rumors on the street said that the Yamabara family-who acted as the noble regents to the young emperor, Tensai-were stirring up the court against the shogun, Tekage. The noble kuge houses and the warrior buke families were slowly filtering out to one side or the other, and nobody knew when it would blow.
Occasionally, Isaburou would run across Junousuke and spend some time discussing the latest of local politics. The older samurai showed little interest in the rumblings of the court, however. "I am a servant," he once said, "I care little for who the master is. The court is always in upheaval, and one must learn to ride the crest or you will get sucked under."
Isaburou was increasingly busy with training, but he enjoyed his talks with Junousuke, who presented a feeling of mystery and adventure in his life. Although Junousuke seemed like the type of person his parents would have held in contempt, Isaburou found him fascinating. The older samurai seemed to know just about everything and everybody in the city.
Occasionally, Isaburou would perform small favors for his friend. Usually it was just messages or packages delivered to various people or places. In return, the older samurai would act as a true friend for Isaburou. If Isaburou was ever in trouble or in need of something in the city, he knew that Junousuke could find it. He never told his master, however. He knew that his master wouldn't approve, and he didn't want to bring conflict into either relationship.
As the year drew on, fall and the harvest came. The crop yield was especially low, adding more fuel to the rumors of the shogun's incompetence. Some said the country was under an evil spell. Others said that the gods were angry. Whatever the reason, the harvest proved less than expected, despite an otherwise promising growing season.
With the low crop harvest, the local festivals and parades took on a dirge-like quality. The positive energy was sucked from the people as they anticipated a harsh winter with low food stores. Morale was low as the first snow began to fall on the capital.
The white blanket that sprinkled the hills surrounding Heikyo should have been the herald to a time of serenity and contemplation. What should have been a light, if early, coat on the temples and shrines of the city seemed more like an oppressive and suffocating mask. Snow and hopes fell together.
Trudging through the streets, grey clouds overhead reflecting the mood of the day, Isaburou stopped briefly under the eves of a nearby gate. He stood there, attempting to warm his hands and looking out into the small side street that he had been wandering down. From the other direction he heard voices, and he waited silently in the small doorway for them to pass by.
"...where he has gone, but the plan must be carried out soon." One voice said in a hushed whisper. Isaburou couldn't help but listen, wondering if this had anything to do with the politics mulling around the capital.
"It would have been easier in the summer. This snow is regrettable." Another voice answered, the two seemed to stop.
"There is nothing that can be done about it." The first voice dismissed, "Everything is set in motion. The target will be in the palace at Nijo for the next couple of weeks. It is then that we must strike!"
"Of course, the second voice replied in a submissive tone, "I'll go tell the others."
Isaburou sat stock still, trying to avoid even breathing. He was glad for the dark blue hitatare that he wore, and hoped it blended properly with the shadows. Watching the street only out of the corner of his eye, Isaburou waited. Thoughts raced through his mind. 'I should strike!' he thought to himself, 'Stop them here, before they can carry out their deed!'
Yet he made no move. 'Perhaps I simply misunderstood them, or perhaps they could kill me.' His stomach was ice at the latter prospect, 'If I were dead, then I could warn no one of this.' He rationalized.
So as the two men passed by, Isaburou sat ready. One hand had drifted to the hilt of his sword, hidden beneath his robes. Fortunately, the two strangers didn't seem to see him as they pulled their straw hats down over their eyes and headed out to the main street.
Isaburou waited for ages until he was sure the two men were gone. Sighing he looked out into the alleyway to make sure it was clear. As he did so, his hand fell on a small niche in the gateway where he had been standing. Glancing he saw a small shrine to the Goddess of Mercy. Quietly he offered up a quick prayer of thanks for her ever-watchful hand, and then took off into the streets.
Confusion raged through his mind as Isaburou worked his way through the streets. Everywhere he went, he felt as though somebody was watching him. He knew it was unlikely; the two strangers had made no indication that they seen him, and even if they had they surely wouldn't risk a confrontation out in the open. The visible presence of constables on the streets lent some minor consolation to the young bushi.
Who should he tell? Where should he go? Who could he trust? Questions raced through Isaburou's mind. He was in the far quarters, away from the palace and his master's dojo. He knew nothing around here, except...
It took some time asking questions and following unfamiliar streets, but eventually Isaburou found himself outside the Kaiwa-kan Inn. The building was modest and nondescript. With more than a bit of apprehension, Isaburou went inside.
The room was not extremely well lit, but Isaburou could see about him. There were several places here in the main common room where one could sleep, and a counter in the back. An older man stood behind the counter, stylus in hand as he wrote figures up on a wooden writing slate. Cautiously, Isaburou approached the innkeeper.
"Excuse me," he said, trying to get the Innkeeper's attention, "I am looking for-" Isaburou paused as he realized he only knew his friend's yobina-his common name, "-a man called Junousuke. He said you would know him." Isaburou hoped he had not come to the wrong place.
The innkeeper didn't say a word. He simply put down the stylus and board and led Isaburou to a back room. Here, he motioned for Isaburou to wait and went inside. After a brief and mumbled conversation inside, he returned and motioned for Isaburou to enter.
"Kid, what brings you here?" Junousuke's voice floated out of the dark room. As Isaburou's eyes adjusted to the dark light he could see the other samurai sitting at a table, a bowl of miso soup and a bowl of rice sitting on the table before him.
"I need your advice, I don't know what to do." With that, Isaburou launched into his tale. When he had finished, Junousuke's look was one of concentrated concern.
"You were right to come here." He said finally, "Did you see who it was?"
Isaburou shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I didn't."
"Hmmm," Junousuke considered for a minute. Then, "I'll take this to the office of the Sadaijin, who is in charge of the garrison at Nijo. As for you, I doubt they know who you are. Tell no one what you saw. If this is truly what I think it is, there is nobody in this town you can trust."
Junousuke's words only served to heighten Isaburou's sense of paranoia. With furtive glances continuously cast over his shoulder, Isaburou worked his way back to the dojo. Sticking to the main streets meant another fifteen to twenty minutes of walking, but it kept his options open.
Eventually he made it back to the dojo, and even inside the front gate he didn't feel safe. As he walked towards his room, a screen opened on his right. Immediately his hand went to the hilt of his sword, but he quickly saw that it was just Maruyamas-sensei's wife. Silently chiding himself he apologized and headed for his room.
In his own chambers, meager though they were, Isaburou felt some measure of safety. He spent several minutes of meditative silence before a small shrine to the God of War, calming himself and focusing his thoughts. Then he prepared himself and went to the dojo. He hoped that a good workout would help to clear his mind. It did, and for a time he was able to forget about the incident in the alleyway.
Maruyama-sensei didn't make it home for dinner. His wife said that something important had come up. Isaburou finished his chores and went straight to bed. His sleep, however, was troubled by dreams of ninjas, assassins dressed in black, hunting him down and chasing him through the capital city. Everywhere he turned another one was ready. They chased him through his dreams until he woke to the early sounds of morning.
Isaburou was an hour into his morning drill when Maruyama-sensei came out to watch. He stood off to the side for another fifteen minutes before he called Isaburou to stop. Isaburou did as he was told and sat down, awaiting instruction. Instead, however, Maruyama-sensei posed a question to his student.
"My wife tells me you came home jumpy last night." He said calmly, "Was there something you wanted to tell me."
"It's nothing." Isaburou replied.
Maruyama-sensei gave a disbelieving look to young Katou, "'Nothing' you say? Was it 'nothing' that nearly made you draw a sword in my house, against my wife no less?" There was a hint of anger in his voice, although he remained calm.
Isaburou was not sure how to respond. "Forgive me," he began, "I wasn't thinking." Then, he made a decision, despite Junousuke's warning. Surely he could trust Master Maruyama. "Actually, there was something..."
Maruyama-sensei remained calm, but it was evident to Isaburou that what he had to say disturbed the old man. He posed more questions to Isaburou than Junousuke had, and in more detail. Isaburou left off the part about Junousuke, unsure how his teacher would react to that. When they were finished, Maruyama-sensei seemed unconcerned with his pupil, his mind elsewhere.
"I must go." He said, "I will go to the office of the Sadaijin, they must know about this. Continue your practice, and I'll tell my wife not to admit anyone until I return. I don't want either of you leaving the house unless there is a fire, either."
Isaburou just nodded. The information had already been reported, so he wasn't worried about that, but his master didn't know that. After his teacher left, Isaburou went back to his practice, trying not to think about the politics and machinations of the capital around him. 'It is being taken care of as it should be', he told himself. 'There is nothing more I can do.'
He practiced until his muscles burned. Nobody showed up to the house, and Maruyama-sensei eventually returned without incident. "Apparently, someone else had already reported it." He said, "The two are in custody already. However, next time do not wait on something like this. Let me know as soon as you can. Understand."
Isaburou nodded a feeling of shame rushing to his cheeks. He was foolish to be so paranoid that he didn't tell even his own master. He should have come here before even thinking of talking to Junousuke. Of course, if he hadn't gone to talk to Junousuke, then perhaps the two would still be on the streets. Nonetheless, Isaburou had no worries as he slept that night.
Maruyama Jirou's mind mulled over the events of the last 24 hours. It wasn't like young Katou to be so secretive; there was more happening there then he knew about and he would have to confront his student tomorrow. Also, there was something about the arrest that was still too convenient. Years of evading the politics of the capital had trained Jirou to trust his intuition on such matters, but he couldn't figure out what was going on.
It wouldn't be the Sadaijin, Watanabe Toranokami Ittou; he was the second in command and intensely loyal to the Shogun. It could be a move by the Yamabara family or one of their allies, but would they be this desperate? There was no doubt in Jirou's mind that this was an attempt on the shogun. No other person had garnered as much bad feeling as he had, recently, and any other personage close to him would only stir up support. The only one who would gain would be the shogun, and he wouldn't need to use anyone outside the palace, if that were the case.
After an hour and a half of turning the issue over, Jirou finally fell asleep, unable to come to a resolution. His sleep was oddly clear of dreams, and when he awoke from oblivion it seemed to him as though no time had past at all.
Outside, it was still dark. The sun had yet to breach the horizon. Jirou turned and was about to lay his head down to return to sleep when he caught a flash of movement. He froze, watching for more.
It was only his wife, however. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light that shown through from the stars and moon outside he could make out the silhouette of her silk robes. He sighed and was about to return to sleep when his eyes caught sight of a gleam coming from the knife in his wife's hands. As his wife plunged towards him, knife in hand, he rolled out of the way.
His wife twisted unnaturally as she rose to strike again. Jirou couldn't understand what was going on, and as she came on again he caught her wrist with his hand, keeping the in firm control.
Shirobara's wrist was warm, but limp. There was little resistance as he tried to twist her to the ground, and a sickening crack told him that her wrist had broken. As her body wrenched around, Jirou felt something dig into his arm, like a strong, thin cord.
He could see nothing, but his arm was wrenched back as Shirobara stood up once more. Her wrist was bent at an odd angle, but her limp body still struggled. Jirou could keep her from cutting him, but the invisible wire that held his arm interfered with his movement.
In a flash of insight he turned Shirobara around, her arm wrapping itself around the rest of her body, confining her. As he did so, he felt more of the tiny wires. One hand now free, he reached down for his sword, which he kept under the mattress of his bedding. As he yanked it from its scabbard he whipped it over the head of his wife. There was only the slightest pressure as the blade cut easily through the dozens of strands that ran to his wife.
As the strings broke, Shirobara collapsed. In the dim light, Jirou could now see the shuriken sticking straight out of her neck. She had been dead this whole time, controlled by some mysterious puppeteer. Jirou felt the grief in his heart, but repressed it. Grief now would only get in the way of what he had to do, and it wouldn't help bring his wife back.
Sword ready, Jirou headed towards the dojo.
Isaburou awoke to the sound of a struggle. Immediately he rolled off of his bed, grabbing the sword from beneath the mattress. As he did so, he heard a 'thunk'. A three-pointed shakken, or throwing star, still quivered in his wooden pillow. Isaburou looked in the direction of the throw just as a black-clothed figure burst through the paper doors. Two sickles sliced the air before him.
Immediately, Isaburou was on the defense. In the seconds he had to react, he had no time to think. His muscles seemed to move of their own accord, however. The months of training at Maruyama-sensei's hands came back with unconscious swiftness. His sword fended off each attack that came towards him.
However, he was being forced back with every swing, and he knew that he would soon run out of room. Taking a chance he lunged forward, catching his assailant on the arm and slicing a deep gash. The injured attacker leapt out of the way, allowing Isaburou a path beyond. Quickly he rushed into the hallway.
There, another of the shinobi was waiting, two short, straight swords in his hands. He attacked and Isaburou threw up a quick defense. The man's eyes suddenly went wide, and his weapons slid to the side. As the ninja crumbled to the floor, Isaburou saw Maruyama-sensei standing there in the hallway, blood dripping from his sword.
"This way!" Maruyama-sensei said, rushing past his student to the dojo. His sword swung out and around, sinking into the flesh of the sickle-wielding warrior emerging from Isaburou's room.
Quickly the two made it to the dojo. Maruyama went to the weapons rack, pulling off two of the naginata. Isaburou sheathed his sword and caught the polearm as it was thrown to him.
Soon, two more ninja entered the room. One had a chain weapon with a sickle blade on the head. The other carried sharp metal stars like the one that had embedded itself into Isaburou's pillows. As Maruyama and Isaburou tried to gain the offensive, Isaburou noticed that the stars could be used as hand to hand weapons as well. The ninja caught his polearm with one of the star's notches and then tried to slide up the shaft. Isaburou flipped the pole arm around and stabbed with the butt of his weapon, catching his attacker in the face, but taking a slice on the arm for his troubles.
Bringing the polearm around again, he caught the ninja off guard and in the shoulder, slicing through bone. The attacker then slumped forward, bleeding profusely. In no time at all, his eyes glazed over, dead.
Maruyama-sensei had already dispatched his own and was ready for another attack but he yelled to Isaburou: "Get back to your family. The capital is going to be in upheaval, we can't stop it now. Tell them to get ready. You are released from my service."
"But master--!"
"Go! There are more powerful forces than you can deal with at work here, and you cannot trust anyone in this city. I will stay here and hold them off, you must return home."
"Master, I should stay. You have a better chance to make it than I."
"I must stay here with my White Rose." Maruyama-sensei said, "Now go!" As he said the last, more warriors burst into the room, and Maruyama advanced, fending three of them off with his polearm. Isaburou paused only a moment as honor and duty conflicted, but then he took off out the back of the dojo.
Getting to the front door, he threw it open and charged outside, only to run into a figure standing in the street. He struggled against the arms that held him.
"Whoa! Whoa there, kid!" A familiar voice said.
Isaburou calmed down as he recognized the voice, and he squinted into the darkness. "Junousuke...?"
"Who else? Why the rush?" He asked. As he talked, he was wrapping up some sort of string in his hand.
"You have to help us. They came in the night. Maruyama-sensei's still in there. And his wife. You have to-"
"Ju!" Isaburou was interrupted by a gruff voice behind him. He turned to see a familiar, gnarled face staring at him. Memories superimposed over one another: in his dreams, at the brewery, and even on his first day here. Now, however, the man was wearing a dark uniform and maille instead of the peasant garb Isaburou saw at their first meeting.
"Where's the swordsman?" Junousuke asked, his voice hard.
"Dead." The gnome-like man chuckled, "It was a special potion, courtesy of our mutual friend." He held up a bag between his fingers.
"But-" Isaburou stammered, refusing to believe the evidence of his own eyes and ears.
"Sorry, kid. I liked you, I really did." Junousuke apologized, shaking his head, "But you really shouldn't have told anyone. Now I've got to make sure you don't get involved any further. You just should have listened to me." He shook his head, a cold line of a smile on his lips. He acted as though they were just chatting about some inconsequential thing again, as they had done so many times before.
Realization of the betrayal sent Isaburou into shock. The blood drained from his face, leaving him feeling empty. Once he was empty, however, and had no more emotion, that was when he found a strength he didn't realize he had. A strength that Maruyama-sensei had been secretly cultivating in his student through months of training.
Quickly he brought the butt of the naginata down on Junousuke's instep, causing the rogue to let go briefly, yelping in pain. A cracking sound indicated the breaking of bones in the foot. Dropping the polearm he swept around in an oft-practiced move with the sword that caught everyone by surprise. His sword cut smoothly through the bag the grinning, broken faced ninja held. Green powder flew out in a cloud towards its owner, whose face took on a look of terror.
Isaburou bolted as the man flailed about, trying to get away from the green cloud in front of his face. He jumped over the fallen form of Junousuke, who was attempting to pull himself back up. Isaburou felt something soft hit him in the back of the neck, but he continued running.
Junousuke gritted his teeth in pain as the young samurai bolted. He tried to grab for his sword, but the twist put pressure on his foot, causing pain to shoot through his body. He opened his eyes to see Isaburou running, and then noticed a brown pouch hit the boy in the back. Glancing at his choking friend he saw that it had been one of Henshi's powders, flung out from sleeves that had been slashed open. Another had landed near Junousuke, but it remained closed.
The boy was not so lucky; one of the powders coated his back in some alchemical mixture. Junousuke smiled inwardly. With luck, it would finish the job. Frowning, the dog of Chiba turned back to his cohort. The poison had turned quickly on its master, and as promised, its work was swift. There was nothing more Junousuke could do.
Staring at the rigid form of his companion Junousuke cursed. He preferred small operations, but there were times when the chance of failure had to be outweighed by numbers. Still, the loss to the clan was higher than expected, and the boy had escaped. They would probably find his body later, Junousuke had little doubt. For now, the dog would need to retreat and lick his wounds.
Isaburou did not look back as he ran through the streets. Something burned along the back of his neck and shoulders, but still he ran. He ran along the bank of the river, which quietly flowed beneath him. Isaburou couldn't enjoy the view, however, as the terror continued to well up in him.
Suddenly, his muscles went slack and he fell to the ground. Pulling himself up, he had to drag himself along the wall. He knew he couldn't go much farther. Seeing a gate, he ducked inside. Crawling through the snow, in the dark, he shivered in the cold. His mind was just about ready to collapse.
Then his hand felt dry ground. Glancing up, he could barely make out the outlines of a building, raised up from the ground below. Underneath he knew that he would at least have some protection. With luck, he might even last until morning.
Huddled beneath the building, Isaburou sent up the last of his energy in a prayer. 'Goddess of Mercy, you hid me once. Please hide me again from my enemies...' And then he fell into dreamless sleep.
Junousuke limped about his room, frustrated at his clan's failure to find one boy. His foot was broken, and as such he was confined to his room, orchestrating the search for young Katou instead of actually being out in the street. At least he hadn't gone to any officials-that would have been complicated. As it was, there were men covering the possible offices that the naive little country hick might try for.
More likely, he was hiding somewhere, if not dead. They would have to conduct a search of the rivers, Junousuke realized. He hadn't been sure just what Henshi's pouch had contained, but it hadn't been fast enough he knew. Damn that odd little man for his refusal to label anything. Junousuke would kill him if he weren't already dead. Who knew what magical concoctions that eccentric assassin had obtained from their employer.
If only he had robbed him and left him, then none of this would have come to a head. He had taken a liking to the kid, though, and had even found it rather pleasing to be a mentor of sorts. Regardless, the dictates of the clan came first and foremost, even if it meant the death of a friend--even if it meant the death of a loved one.
Junousuke forced himself to sit still. The clan couldn't let this slow down their plans. It was ambitious to say the least, but he was confident in his clan's ability. If not, such was the way of the world. Despite his outward signs of detachment from all ties, he was in fact extremely devoted to the one thing that gave his life any meaning whatsoever. Even unto death, if such was necessary.
Looking back towards the map on the table, Junousuke wondered once more where young Katou could be hiding.
The darkness slowly solidified and dispersed from Isaburou's weary eyes. He felt as though he had been running all night, and he was covered in sweat as though he had broken a fever. Although the world was coming into focus, it still seemed odd. Isaburou couldn't describe it, but the colors around him just felt different somehow. In fact, his entire body felt odd, as though he were wearing a second skin. A phantom touch tingled across his skin.
"Ahh, I see you are finally awake." An elderly voice said. Isaburou turned his head to look at the source of the salutation.
Across the worn mats a bald-headed man sat behind an incense burner. The gray, scented smoke obscured the old man some as it wafted up into the rafters. The elderly gentleman had a yellowed but kindly smile, and his eyes carried the peace of someone who has seen much of the world and no longer carries any assumptions or anxieties.
As he rose and came over, Isaburou saw he wore the white robes of a priest. He must have passed out near a shrine or something. His head still felt heavy from whatever was in the ninja's poison. Slowly, he tried to sit up, and put a head to his temple as the room swam.
"Careful, dear." The priest warned, coming over to the futon where Isaburou lay, "I'd guess you've had a rough night."
"Dear..?" Isaburou asked, confused, "What--what are you talking about?"
"Oh, forgive me. I didn't realize... but of course, that explains it." the priest said, mainly to himself.
"Explains what?" said a confused Katou. He tried to turn and look at the priest, but the movement only caused more swaying. A pulsing throb had also begun, and it only subsided when Isaburou lay his head back down.
"Forgive me. Your clothes were ruined, and I didn't even think about it. And one of the priestesses robes were handy and seemed your size so..."
Understanding dawned on Isaburou who found a brief chuckle. "So dressed in the clothes, made you think-"
The priest smiled, "That, and of course I had to dress you--forgive me for being forward, but I've seen plenty in my time--so I caught a glimpse of your 'secret'. Really dear, not that it's any of my business but--"
"Secret?" Isaburou asked, confused. The fog was slowly clearing, but he wasn't sure his hearing was working.
"Why yes, the... ummm..." the priest glanced down at his chest, knowingly.
Uncertain as to what the gesture meant, Isaburou glanced down at his own chest. All he caught at first was a pile of white fabric. With one hand he carefully reached up and pulled open the silk garment.
Isaburou's eyes widened as he saw what he had only been feeling up to this point. Two round mounds of flesh stood out from his chest where before it had been flat. Unbelieving, he poked at one with his hand, as if to make sure what he was seeing was real.
"Is something wrong?" The priest asked, "I didn't think you were too badly hurt last night--although those clothes of yours were, well, not exactly--"
"Yes something's wrong!" Isaburou interrupted, his eyes riveted to what he saw before him--or... His hand grasped between his legs. It confirmed a horrible suspicion.
The priest was obviously frazzled. "What is it? Are you hurt? Let me see."
"Get away from me!" Isaburou screamed, waving off the probing hands and pulling himself out of the bed and into a corner. His mind reeled with the reality of his situation.
The priest did some reeling of his own at the violent outburst. Carefully, he tried to calm himself down and began to talk in what he hoped was a soothing voice to the frightened young woman before him. "Please, calm yourself. I'm sorry if I offended you. Take deep breaths--that's right."
His hand went up and down to help her time her breaths. The woman slowly came down out of her hysterics.
"Now--slowly--what happened to you? What is wrong?" he asked.
Isaburou collected himself and began, "My name is Katou Isaburou Takanobu, of Kurogi..."
By the time he had finished with his explanation, the priest was just sitting there, one hand stroking his chin in thought. "Well miss... I mean sir..." he corrected, "Magic of this nature is outside of my ken, but the gods may have an answer. If you would wait here."
The priest left and while he was gone, Isaburou stood up. It felt awkward, as though he was off-balance. It wasn't difficult, only disorienting, as though he was continually leaning to keep straight. Carefully, he walked over to a mirror that was off to one side of the room.
It was small--only about 40 centimeters in diameter--with streaks along the edges and set tilted on the ground. Picking it up, Isaburou looked at this new body.
The face that stared out from the mirror shocked Isaburou in that he recognized it. Not as his own, but as his older sister, when she had been his age. Actually, there were a few differences, but they were slight; in all, Isaburou figured he could probably pass as his sister to all but her most intimate friends and relatives.
Isaburou was still gazing into the mirror, coming to grips with his new body when the priest returned. He had a wooden box in his hands, which he set in the middle of the floor. Gingerly he opened it up and took out a leather skin of some sort. Unrolling it, Isaburou could see markings drawn on it like some sort of diagram. Putting the mirror down, Isaburou came over and knelt down by the priest.
"Here," the priest said, "Hold this." He added, handing Isaburou a piece of quartz. The priest then proceeded to take out several more stones and six pieces of paper. Mumbling prayers he wrote something on each of the strips of paper, setting four of them on the corners of the hide, where they seemed to stick. The fifth he placed on a piece of rose quartz, and the sixth he wrapped around the stone he had given to Isaburou. Taking all of the stones in his hands, the priest continued to call on the gods for their aid as he cast them out upon the diagram.
To Isaburou, the entire scry seemed little more than a random scattering of rocks, but the priest seemed to be studying it intently. After five minutes of silence, the priest finally spoke up.
"This is magic, but its origin and cure is unknown to me." The priest began, "But you are in danger, here. You must leave, to the north. To your origin--but you will not make it all the way. Follow the wolf to the mountain of birds. That is your destiny."
"Will I find a cure?" Isaburou asked, his own hopes for a miracle dashed, "Will this return to me my manhood?"
"I wish I could tell you, but I don't see it in your future." The priest said, regretfully, "It is strange, but I think even the gods are uncertain as to the future. There is nothing but to follow your path."
"What about Junousuke? I must avenge my master." Isaburou growled.
"How?" retorted the old man, "By getting yourself killed? You told me that it was not him alone that attacked your master. No doubt they are looking for you, and he will not be alone. Men of the shadows such as he are not so careless in their own safety. Do you think you are truly the equal yet of two of their trained warriors? Maruyama-sensei may have taught you well, but six months is only a step along the path. You still lack experience."
The priest's words were hard to take, but Isaburou remained quiet. In his heart, he knew he was right.
"I suggest you begin on your journey as soon as possible. I doubt they are looking for a young woman, so you should have little problem getting out of the city. Please, keep the clothes. They will help throw off any pursuit. Besides, your other set may look--odd--in your current incarnation. I think that you should wait until you are away from the city, at least, before donning them.
"Which brings up your name. It is obviously a man's name, and it will give you problems if you have to deal with other people. I suggest you take this turn on yourself and think of yourself as the woman that you appear to be. Otherwise you might cause undue disruption to the path you walk.
"You should also have a name. One that is easy to remember, and will not cause you trouble. Hmmmm." the priest thought for a minute, "How about Isao? That is close to your real name, and fits a woman like yourself."
Isaburou rolled it around in his head, but something wasn't right. It just didn't seem to fit--not that he wanted to get too comfortable with it, he reminded himself. "What about Isamu?" he suggested, "Isao is good, but..."
"It is a good choice, Katou Isamu." the priest confirmed, "Now there are only a few more things to do before you leave."
"What about the shogun?" Isaburou--now Isamu--asked, "He should be warned..."
"I thought your master had done that?" the priest said.
"He had, but what about this new element?" Isamu continued.
The priest just shook his head. "There is nothing you can do about it. The shogun can look after himself, and he will surely have someone investigating the death of such a prominent swordsman. You need not let the weight of the world rest on your shoulders. That is not where the gods have pointed your destiny."
Isamu nodded. In a way, it was comforting to give over the responsibility to those in power--let them worry about it. Still, something bothered her. A nagging in the back of her head that wouldn't let her go.
Isamu pushed it from her mind and picked up the mirror. Gazing into its depths she examined herself once more. Isamu stared back from beneath dark bangs, but she knew that Isaburou was still there. He would find a way to reverse this spell and find vengeance.
Isamu left the shrine with her clothes, sword, and more wrapped in a bundle that fit comfortably on her shoulders. She also wore a mino--a straw traveling coat--as well as a straw traveling hat that kept her face mostly covered. Her feet were well wrapped in straw and silk and elevated, wooden geta kept her above the cold of the snow.
The priest--Isamu realized now that she never did get his name--had given her some charms to keep her safe. One was a wooden arrow, which she kept close to her heart on a string about her neck. He also gave her some paper charms and wards that she could use to keep spirits at bay. Isamu took them, not truly believing that they would help her against the cold of winter. She had to be crazy, she told herself, to trust in the old man's predictions at a time like this.
Still, she did feel it was the best thing for her. Perhaps the gods did have a cure for her. If not, she should at least try to contact her family. They might be able to help; however, the thought of revealing what had happened was something she dreaded.
As Isamu headed for the north gate, forcing herself to keep her head down as the priest had told her. She held a sprig of cedar between her hands and concentrated only on the road ahead. If any asked, she was supposed to be on a pilgrimage. She also tried to remember to speak more like a woman than a man. She went over the proper feminine words as she walked, mumbling them under her breath.
She passed through the gates seemingly unnoticed but for the wooden stares of the gate guards--both human and statue alike. The crowds were non-existent, which was a sharp contrast to the first time she had passed this way. She waited until she was only a little way out of the city before she paused and looked back.
The tall gates rose, imposing as ever in the cold weather. As she looked on she wondered about their use. When Isaburou had first come to the capital, he had wondered what threat those huge gates were meant to keep out. Now, as Isamu left, she wondered if maybe they weren't meant to keep something in.
The chill that trembled through her spine was not spurred by the cold, but by something else. Slowly she turned her back to the city of splendor and started heading away. Trudging off into the snows, she began along a new path and wondered where it would take her in this new, upside down world she had been thrown into.