Tengu climbed the valley steps to the Temple of Shadows. She beat the great door with her fist, wrapped her cloak tightly against the wind and waited for the gatekeeper to open up. She huddled in the recessed doorway for shelter. She knocked again and a view hatch slid back.
‘I’m here to train,’ she said.
The hatch slammed shut. She waited for bolts to be withdrawn and the door pulled back, but the oak gate remained closed. She waited a while longer then descended the steps and returned to the branch shelter she had built in the woods. She cooked a rabbit over the fire and waited for night to fall.
Tengu had spent a year living as an itinerant swordswoman. She walked the country lanes and performed menial labour in exchange for food and shelter. Sometimes she washed pots in a kitchen and sometimes she planted rice stalks in a paddy. Each time she approached a new hamlet she left the road and buried her sword under rocks. When it was time to move on she retrieved the weapon and headed on her way. She searched out others of her kind and invited them to duel. But now she was ready for a greater challenge, so she had travelled to the mountainous region of Iga known as the Forty-Eight Waterfalls and sought out the school of assassins known as the Temple of Shadows. Each morning she climbed the valley steps to the bleak ramparts, knocked on the door and asked to be admitted as a novice. It was a ritual supplication. Anyone who wanted to join a school of martial skill was expected to beg admittance every day for a full cycle of the moon to demonstrate their determination to learn. But Tengu had knocked on the temple door each morning for more than a lunar month. The moon had waxed, waned, then waxed full again. Some mornings when the view hatch in the door pulled back she drew her sword and launched into an elaborate kata. She sent the blade singing back and forth through the air in the hope of impressing the gatekeeper, but on each occasion the hatch immediately slammed shut as if to signal complete indifference and she had to fight a wave of anger.
Once, as she was walking through the woodland checking snares, she glimpsed a man climbing the steps to the temple. She moved to the edge of the trees to get a better view. The man looked like a seasoned fighter. He strode up the steep steps without flagging for breath. He wore a blue silk robe, evidently plunder from a previous feat of swordplay, and his face was criss-crossed with scars.
Tengu ran to the foot of the steps.
‘Sir,’ she shouted. The man glanced down at her with blank disregard then resumed his climb. Tengu took the steps two at a time and tried to catch up.
‘Sir, wait.’
The man reached the top of the steps and knocked on the gate. The great iron-studded door swung wide and let him inside. Tengu reached the gateway just as it closed. She threw herself against the oak door as heavy bolts sealed it shut.
‘Let me in,’ she shouted, pounding the door with her fist. There was no response. She stood on the edge of the plateau and looked hundreds of feet into the valley below, daring a gust of wind to push her into the abyss.
The door swung open again two weeks later. Labourers carried a litter down the steps. The litter bore a body lashed in sacking. Tengu stalked the men as they walked into the woods, dug a shallow grave and tipped the body into the trench. She saw the hem of the blue silk robe protruding from the sacking shroud. The labourers filled the trench, working with the wordless indifference of men performing a chore they had done countless times before.
Tengu accosted the men as they emerged from the trees and began to climb the valley steps.
‘How do I get inside the temple, brother? I am an onna-bugeisha. I’ve travelled leagues to get here, fought and killed many men. How do I gain admittance?’
The men ignored her.
‘I’m right here,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t treat me as if I’m invisible. I’m here, in front of you.’
The labourers climbed the steps, entered the darkness of the temple doorway and were sealed inside.
She lingered in the valley seven more days. She knocked on the great gate each morning but finally accepted she would never be allowed to join the ranks of the shinobi. She lay prostrate in her branch shelter a full day, robbed of all strength by the knowledge she would be forever excluded from any formal school of swordcraft simply because of her gender, then she marshalled her strength, broke camp and followed the dirt road out of the valley.
Tengu breasted a hill and contemplated a farmhouse in the grassland below. An old woman crouched outside the hut and pared vegetables with a knife. Her husband sat nearby and watched her work. Tengu needed a place to shelter a while and take stock of her rejection by the temple. She had spent the previous year honing her skills in the hope she could persuade the assassin-monks to let her join their order, but now that dream was dust and she had no direction, no purpose. Maybe the elderly farm folk could use a little help for a few days. She could work for her keep.
She wrapped her sword in waxed canvas, hid it in the underbrush, drove a stick into the ground as a marker then made her way down the hill to the farmhouse.
Tengu offered to help with domestic chores. There wasn’t much to be done, but the couple were hospitable and seemed to enjoy having her around. She ate as little as she could, conscious the folk were splitting their food three ways instead of two.
‘It must be hard for a girl, walking the roads on your own,’ said the old woman.
‘I can look after myself.’
‘Don’t you have a mother? A father? A home of your own?’
‘My father died last year. I’m on my own now.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Perhaps you should stay with us a while. We have use for a maid.’
‘Thank you for your kind offer. Forgive my impertinence, but you have no children of your own?’
‘We had a son. He died in the wars. We have decided to join him when the snows come. It is our time.’
Tengu nodded. Plenty of villages followed the tradition of exposure. Old folk would choose their moment, climb to a high hilltop and wait for the cold to take them.
‘This hut will be empty when we are gone. The wind and rain will slowly take it apart, unless someone else makes it their home.’
‘I wish I could settle for a simple life,’ said Tengu, suppressing a shudder at the thought of lifelong domesticity, ‘but I’m too restless.’
The farmer entered the hut, knelt beside the fire pit and took a bowl of rice. The women grew quiet in deference to his presence.
‘I’ll walk to town tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll take a couple of the chickens. Should be able to make a good trade.’
‘With your permission, I would like to travel with you,’ said Tengu.
‘No need,’ said the farmer. ‘I can manage. Managed well enough for years.’ He mashed rice with his fingers and ate.
‘There are bandits roaming the countryside. The roads aren’t safe.’
‘And what is a little girl going to do about that?’
Tengu realized she had become more strident than her role as a servant should allow. She bowed her head in submission.
‘Nevertheless, I would like to keep you company, if you will permit.’
The farmer shrugged, finished his meal and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
‘Do as you please. We leave at first light.’
Three bandit-women hid in a ditch until the farmer drew level, then drew their knives, stood and charged. The farmer offered no resistance. He knelt as the women tore the basket from his back and dug in it for food.
The women had been hostesses at the hot springs near Toyama. A regiment camped nearby so their master erected a tent and collected coins while troops queued to visit the girls. Ane, Iwa and Suzu grew tired of being treated as chattels so they made a pact to live free even if it meant a short life and a hard death. One night they stole knives from the camp cook, set light to nearby tents and fled during the chaos, determined to live by their wits for as long as they could.
They had watched the farmer and the girl walk to town earlier that day with a couple of chickens in his wicker pack. Iwa and Suzu wanted to strike then and there, but Ane held them back.
‘Let them go to town and sell their chickens. They might bring back some fish, vegetables, maybe even some saké. We could have ourselves a full meal.’
‘What if he trades those chickens for tools?’ said Iwa. ‘Do we eat nails for dinner?’
‘They’ll barter those chickens for more varied food. That’s what these peasants do. They meet once a month in the village square and trade their harvest. Once they have what they need, once they’ve gossiped with their neighbours over tea, they’ll head back down this road. All we have to do is cultivate a little patience.’
The three women sat behind some bushes and watched the road while the sun slowly crawled across the sky and morning slowly turned to afternoon. They each chewed a stalk of grass to quiet their hunger pangs. Iwa and Suzu fell asleep but Ane remained awake and watchful. She sat with her back to a tree and surveyed the dirt track until her eyes grew tired and her neck grew stiff. She began to doze by mid-afternoon but shook herself alert after a few minutes of sleep. She kicked her companions awake and pointed down the road.
‘Look,’ she said. There was a small dust cloud in the distance. ‘Someone’s coming.’
They hid behind a fallen tree and watched the farmer approach. He and Tengu carried wicker panniers roped to their backs. The bandits waited until the travellers drew level, then burst from the undergrowth, screaming and waving their knives.
‘On your knees,’ commanded Ane. The women were unkempt. They had tangled their hair to seem crazed. The terrified farmer dropped to his knees.
Tengu remained standing. She regarded the bandits with amused curiosity. Ane stretched out her arm and pointed the knife at her face, blade tip focused between her eyes.
‘What are you smiling about?’ hissed Ane. ‘Get on your knees.’
Tengu thought it over. She could easily snatch Ane’s sword from her grasp and decapitate the women with a couple of swift strikes, but they were obviously starving and desperate so she took pity and knelt in the road instead.
The bandits emptied the panniers. The farmer had traded the chickens for rice and fish.
‘Looks like we’ll be filling our bellies, ladies.’
Ane stood over the girl. Tengu wore the simple black robes of a domestic servant.
‘A pretty daughter.’
‘I’m not his daughter,’ said Tengu.
‘What are you, then?’
‘A traveller, earning my keep.’
Ane gestured to the captives.
‘Better tie them up. Lash the clod-fucker to a tree.’
‘Don’t fight,’ Tengu advised the farmer. ‘Let them take the food. Think of it as an act of charity.’
Iwa cut rope from the panniers. The farmer sat shivering with fear, transfixed by the banshee women and their knives. His whimpers slowly grew to a scream. He struggled to his feet and got ready to flee.
‘Don’t,’ warned Tengu. ‘They just want the rice. Don’t run.’
‘Stay where you are, old man,’ said Ane. She blocked his path and held her knife above her head ready to stab him. The farmer stumbled to a halt.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Do as you are told and you will leave here unharmed.’
The farmer gripped his chest and wheezed in pain. His eyes grew wide, his lips turned blue, then he toppled backwards and sprawled in the dirt. The women watched in shock as the farmer convulsed and died.
Ane looked up and down the road then grabbed the dead man’s ankles.
‘Come on. Help me.’
Iwa helped drag the dead man into the brush. They concealed the body with branches and leaves.
Suzu marched Tengu into the woods.
‘You’ve made a grave error,’ said Tengu. ‘The farmer was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die in that manner.’
‘Be quiet.’
Suzu sat her down in front of a tree and lashed her arms behind the trunk.
‘We shouldn’t leave her alive,’ said Iwa.
Ane crouched and looked Tengu in the eye.
‘Tell the people back in that village it was an accident, understand? We didn’t mean any harm. The old man panicked. He’d be alive right now if he had stayed calm and done as he was told.’
‘She’s seen our faces,’ said Iwa.
‘It doesn’t matter. It’ll be a day or two before anyone finds the girl. We’ll be far from here.’
They turned to leave.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ said Tengu, matter of fact. ‘I could kill you right now, but you need to suffer first. I’ll chase you wherever you go, and when you are exhausted and terrified and can’t run any further I will finish you all.’
‘See?’ said Ane to her companions when they reached the road. ‘The child is mad. Nobody will believe a thing she says.’
Tengu sat tied to the tree. She tried to unpick the rope that bound her wrists but couldn’t loosen the knot. The farmer’s body lay nearby. She snagged his leg with her foot and drew it close. The farmer usually kept a little paring knife tucked in the rags that swaddled his feet. She shuffled round the trunk so her hands could reach his leg, found the little iron knife and cut herself free. She knelt by the farmer, checked his pulse then closed his sightless eyes.
‘I’m sorry I failed to protect you, old man,’ she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘Please forgive me.’
She hung the farmer’s cloak from a tree in the hope someone would see it from the road and investigate. They would find the farmer and ensure he got a burial.
She climbed the hill and stood looking down on the farmhouse. The old woman would be preparing food, sweeping the floor, while she waited for her husband to return from town. Tengu could walk down the hill and tell the woman her husband was dead but maybe it would be better for the farmer’s wife to enjoy a few more carefree hours before she was plunged into grief that would last her remaining days.
Tengu searched the underbrush until she found the marker staked in the ground. She pulled her sword from beneath the bush and unwrapped the oiled canvas. She reckoned the women would head south-west and attempt to make it out of the province as soon as they could, but they wouldn’t expect to be pursued so soon. They would assume the farmer’s body wouldn’t be discovered for hours, maybe days. It felt good to have a purpose once more. She tucked the sword into her waist sash, shielded her eyes and surveyed the hills. If she kept to high ground and moved fast she might be able to head them off.
The bandits walked a couple of ri north then left the road and hurried deep into the forest. The woodland was bare. It had been a hard winter. The women were faint with hunger so they snapped twigs from the trees and chewed as they ran. When they judged they had travelled far enough to be beyond the reach of any pursuers they made camp and cooked the fish. They ate every scrap of flesh then licked their figures clean.
‘How about the rice?’ said Suzu.
‘Maybe we should save it,’ said Ane.
‘I’m still hungry. I say we cook it now. What do you think, Iwa?’
‘I say we cook.’
‘Two against one.’
‘All right,’ said Iwa. ‘I don’t suppose it will do any harm.’
Suzu took the cooking pot from her pack and headed down to the stream. Ane stared into the flames and turned pensive.
‘We shouldn’t have killed the farmer.’
‘We didn’t kill him. It was his time.’
‘No. He died because we robbed him. It was an ordinary day until we came along. We murdered him.’
‘There’s nothing we can do about it. Guilt won’t bring him back.’
‘As a child I used to be scared of daemons,’ said Ane. ‘But the village priest told me evil isn’t a phantom with wild eyes and burning hair. It’s stupidity, lust and greed. It’s us. We are the evil stalking the earth. Us and all the destitute ronin prowling the countryside, snatching food from the mouths of hard-working farm folk.’
‘So you don’t want any of this rice?’ said Iwa.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘I’m happy to eat your share.’
‘Not if you want to see the dawn.’
Iwa looked around.
‘Where’s Suzu? She’s been gone a while.’
Tengu crouched among the undergrowth and watched the bandits talk amongst themselves. She tore bracken from nearby underbrush, wadded a leaf and stuffed it in her mouth.
She studied their faces. Once-beautiful women disgusted to find themselves reduced to vagabonds. She felt her heart softening, and couldn’t help but feel pity for these peasant women fallen on hard times. But she reminded herself she was a swordswoman, a creature of unshakeable will and, having passed judgement on these bandits, she was honour-bound to execute them.
She watched the women pass around a wooden comb and untangle their hair. One of the women stood up and walked through the trees down towards the river. Tengu crept in pursuit. The woman reached the riverbank, crouched to pass water then stretched. She stood with her hands on her hips and watched the slow-flowing river.
Tengu pulled a short length of knotted rope from her sash, the rope the bandits had used to lash her wrists. She wrapped the ends round her hands to create a makeshift garrotte. She breathed deep, forced herself to become stillness and shadow then, step by silent step, crept closer to the woman as she stood enjoying the play of sunlight on the water.
Ane walked down to the riverbank.
‘Suzu?’ she called. She stood at the water’s edge. The pot lay among the leaves. ‘Hey, Suzu.’ She looked up and down the river but there was no sign of her companion. She was joined by Iwa.
‘Where did she go?’ asked Iwa. She looked around, cupped her hands and shouted. ‘Suzu?’
‘Look,’ said Ane, pointing upriver. A distant figure stood in the shadows beneath a tree on the far bank. The figure was dressed in black.
‘It’s her. It’s the girl.’
Ane looked up and down the river in search of a crossing, a row of stones that might help her reach the other shore. She became aware of a steady spattering sound behind them. She turned around and saw blood dripping onto a bed of leaves. Suzu hung dead from a branch above their heads. There was a garrotte dug in her neck and she had been stabbed in the right eye with a stick. The socket wept blood.
‘By the gods,’ murmured Iwa. They looked back towards the girl but she was gone.
Ane drew her knife.
‘Come and get us,’ she shouted. ‘What are you waiting for? Here we are.’ The forest swallowed her voice and made it sound weak and small.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Iwa, spooked by the silence of the woodland and the steady blood drip.
Ane looked like she wanted to argue, that she wanted to draw out the girl and provoke some kind of showdown. She gripped her knife white-knuckle and stared into the surrounding trees. Her anger ebbed and was replaced by deep unease. They were exposed, caught in the open, and night was about to fall. They had better find some kind of defendable camp before darkness came.
The women ran through the forest ducking branches and jumping deadfall. Ane dived to the ground as she saw a flicker of movement up ahead. Iwa followed her lead and hid in the undergrowth until log cutters passed close by, hauling a trunk.
‘Maybe they could help us,’ said Iwa. ‘Maybe they can offer us refuge.’
‘After all we’ve suffered, you still look to men for help? All we have are each other.’
When the men were out of sight they got to their feet and ran.
The stone shack stood at the centre of a clearing. Ane pulled open the door and ran inside. She held the door and urged Iwa to run faster as she sprinted across the clearing. Iwa dived inside and Ane slammed the door.
Ane took a flint from her bag, scratched a flame and lit a candle from her pack. She inspected the rotting furniture and bare floor.
‘What is this place?’ asked Iwa.
‘I imagine it belongs to a herdsman. A place to store feed. A place he can winter with his animals when the snows come.’
Iwa tipped a table and pushed it to block the doorway. She checked the window shutters were wedged tight by drop bars. She snapped a rotted axe shaft over her knee and piled the fragments in the central fire pit.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t light a fire,’ said Ane. ‘The smell of smoke might draw the girl to us.’
‘We need light and we need heat. Besides, we can’t let ourselves be overcome by fear.’
‘She killed Suzu easily enough, didn’t give her time to draw a knife.’
‘She must have jumped her unawares.’
‘Suzu was cunning and watchful, and the girl killed her outright. She didn’t even have time to scream.’
‘Let’s not let fear get the better of us.’
‘We can’t leave her hanging from a branch. We should dig a grave, put her soul to rest.’
‘You want to go out there? Be my guest.’
Iwa scooped dried leaves from the floor and piled them up for kindling. A touch from the candle flame set the rotted wood alight.
They sat beside the fire and warmed their hands. They faced the doorway and kept their knives in easy reach.
‘I wish we had more food,’ said Iwa.
‘The girl will be hungry too. That’s some consolation.’
‘How far do you think she’ll follow us? I thought she would have given up by now, but she’s like a dog tracking a scent.’
‘We’ll cross the border into Yamato tomorrow. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours to follow the course of the river and round the lake. I doubt she’d track us into a new province. Too many soldiers asking too many questions. We should wait until first light then move fast as we can.’
Tengu stood among the trees. The moon was high overhead. It would be difficult to cross the clearing and reach the cottage without being seen. She studied the building. The women had shuttered the windows and no doubt barricaded the door. She watched smoke curling from a flue-hole in the cypress bark roof, a possible point of entry.
She circled the cottage until she found a blind spot, a point where she could approach the corner of the cottage unobserved.
She ran soundlessly across the clearing to the hut and stood with her back to the rough stone. She leaned close to one of the window shutters and heard the crack and spit of burning wood and the murmur of voices.
She unwrapped her feet, ran her hands over the stones, gripped the brickwork and pulled herself upward. She climbed higher, fingers and feet probing for purchase, moving like liquid shadow. She insinuated her way across the bark roof towards the flue, lay flat and spread her weight as best she could.
Iwa offered to take first watch so Ane wrapped herself in a cloak and slept by the fire. She woke in the early hours of the morning immediately aware a preternatural stillness had settled on the interior of the hut. The fire had burned low and Iwa lay dead on the other side of the flames. She had a knife in her heart and look of surprise on her face. Ane slowly lifted her head and peered into the shadows. The girl was sitting against the back wall, legs crossed, sword across her lap. Firelight danced in her eyes.
Ane slowly sat up. Her knife was inches from her hand but she instinctively knew it would be fatal to reach for it. Yesterday she would have laughed to think a girl could induce heart-pounding fear, have her trembling with mortal terror as if she were sharing a room with a tiger. But today she knew better. She was faced with something elemental.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘People sometimes call me Tengu.’
‘Tengu. The bird daemon.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you have a real name?’
‘None that I care to recall.’
‘So what are you?’
‘A travelling swordsman.’
‘You’re just a girl.’
Tengu gestured to the dead woman lying by the fire.
‘I’m more than a girl. Ask your friend.’
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Justice,’ said Tengu.
‘Whose justice? You want to be a man, is that it? Exercise the same freedoms they enjoy? You’re a woman. They will never let you control your own fate. Their laws are not written with you in mind. They won’t even let you own property.’
‘You killed a man. There’s a price to be paid.’
‘One day you’ll understand. When every face is turned against you, when you are powerless and alone in a hostile world, you will realize their justice isn’t your justice. You’re not a person. You’re property to be bought and sold. Are you going to kill me?’
‘That farmer led a blameless life, far as I could tell, but you held a knife to his throat and fear stopped his heart. If you were a magistrate, what sentence would you pass? Would you be lenient?’
Ane looked into the fire a while.
‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’
‘On the other hand, you spared my life,’ said the girl. ‘Your friends would have killed me, given the chance, but you stopped them. Perhaps I should show you the same mercy.’
‘You want me to beg?’
‘I want to offer you a choice.’
‘What kind of choice?’
‘Dawn is breaking. Would you like to leave this place right now? Be on your way? You can leave any time you wish, but there’s a condition.’
‘Name it.’
‘You must leave a finger behind.’
‘A finger.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You’re a cruel child. I bet your village was glad to see the back of you.’
‘I appreciate you didn’t mean to kill the farmer. But he’s dead, nevertheless.’
‘He was old,’ said Ane. ‘We didn’t rob him of many days.’
‘Yes, he didn’t have much life left in him, but that was between him and the gods until you and your confederates came along. You don’t deserve execution, but you deserve punishment, a memento to carry with you the rest of your life.’
‘What about my companions? If I am not deserving of death, then neither were they.’
‘Those women were degenerates, throat-slitting bandits. I brought their lives to an end before anyone else could fall victim to their depravity.’
‘They were my friends. We were indentured to a whorehouse together. Life was not kind to them. They deserved better.’ Ane picked up her knife. ‘So who are you exactly?’ she asked, pulling up her left sleeve. ‘A minute from now I’ll be in so much pain I’ll barely remember my own name. So please, satisfy my curiosity while I still have my wits. What is your name?’
‘Surely you recognize me,’ said Tengu. ‘I’m Death, I’ll spare your life today. But if we meet again, I may be less forgiving.’
‘You may be skilled with a sword, but you are a foolish little girl at heart. I suspect a hard lesson will be waiting for you somewhere down the road.’
Ane staggered from the cottage when the deed was done. She cradled her maimed hand and began to shoulder her way through the undergrowth. She was white with blood loss and clung to consciousness in the hope she could reach help before shock and trauma immobilized her limbs. Part of her wanted to sit against a tree, close her eyes and quit this brutal world, but the animal drive to live overrode her despair so she struggled onwards through the trees.
Tengu remained in the cottage a while. She contemplated the severed digit which lay on the blood-darkened earth, white as porcelain. Her belly was cramped by pangs of hunger and, for a brief of moment, she wondered if she should roast the finger over the fire then pick it clean of flesh with her teeth. She smiled at the absurdity of the idea. She had heard stories of cannibalism, of snow-bound villages eating their elder folk to stave off starvation, but she would rather die than embrace such horror and degradation. She rolled Iwa’s body, retrieved the dead woman’s shoulder bag and shook the contents onto the floor. She hadn’t carried many possessions. A bundle of rags she might have used to mitten her hands when the weather turned cold. A flint. A flask. Tengu found a small sheath knife among the rags along with a whetstone. She tested the knife against a rag. It was exquisitely sharp.
She left the hut, walked down to the river and knelt by the water’s edge. She wet her hair and carefully shaved her scalp. She scoured the sides and top of her head smooth then tied her remaining ponytail into a high knot. She leaned over the water and studied her reflection. She bushed her eyebrows and furrowed her brow in a masculine scowl. She might be able to pass as a boy if she walked tall, pitched her voice deep, kept her head up and looked folk in the eye.
She paced with a confident swagger.
‘Hello,’ she said, deepening her voice. ‘I want wine.’ She thrust out her chest and planted her feet apart. She cleared her throat and tried to sound gruff and commanding. ‘Bring me wine. I want wine and a woman. Bring them now.’ She practised a belly laugh, threw her head back and attempted a manly guffaw.
She walked through the woods until she reached the road. She sat on the grass verge, chewed a leaf and tried to work out where to go. She had spent the winter tending cattle, sheltering from the lethal cold each night by sleeping in a barn, all the while dreaming of spring and the chance to join the ranks of the shinobi at the Temple of Shadows. But that dream had melted like the snow, and now barren, purposeless years stretched ahead. Maybe she should travel to Kyoto and explore the great city. She was sure to find a patron in the penumbral regions of the town, the slums and back alleys, someone who would appreciate the value of a killer who could pass through the streets unnoticed. She could walk the teeming streets, visit temples and gambling dens, observe noblemen and beggars, and see if she could discern the guiding hand of the gods among the affairs of men. Or maybe she should head west instead and explore the remote islands of Honshu. Run as far from humanity as she could and live as a beach hermit. Spend each day perched on a rock with a fishing pole in her hand.
She picked a blade of grass and threw it in the air. She would let it decide her destination. She watched the grass flutter above her head then a gust of wind blew it north and it came to rest in the dirt. It seemed the gods were inviting her to return to the province of Etchū. Maybe she had unfinished business, something to be resolved, something to be faced before she could move on.
She recalled a lesson her father had taught her years ago. They had stood in a forest clearing, bamboo staffs in their hands, and fought for long hours until she fell, exhausted. She threw down her pole and leaned against a tree to catch her breath.
‘Well fought,’ said her father.
‘Thank you,’ she said. Then, without warning, he beat her with his staff until she snatched up her discarded pole and defended herself.
‘Listen to me,’ he said, when she was bruised, cut and lying on the grass sobbing with exhaustion. ‘When you think the fight is over, that’s when the real fight begins. It’s true in battle and it’s true in life.’
Tengu adjusted her sword, hitched her shoulder bag and set off. Her hopes of training at the Temple of Shadows were at an end but she knew some new test lay in wait.
She had heard of a waterfall shrine deep in the forest, a secluded clearing haunted by woodland kami who would answer any question put to them by. They didn’t answer in a voice, and they didn’t answer straight away, but in the days following a visit to their woodland home all dilemmas were resolved for good or ill. She decided to visit the kami and ask them to reveal the path her life should take. She left the road and forged a path through the trees.