2 comments/ 11190 views/ 3 favorites The Descendant By: randomshouse The following is a piece of fiction. Though the period and some of the names may be historically accurate, they tale is solely my creation. Comments are welcome and appreciated. 1. The snow fell whisper quiet all about her, the stillness of the night making all the world seem to slumber in winter's embrace. Wei Lin continued on her path, the thick, wooden tooth of her geta crunching along the cobblestones. The air was chill but not overly cold and the snow was soft and beatific, much like how her mother had described the ash falling all about the region when the big mountain had last thought to clear its throat. However, here in the city of Kyoto, there were no mountains to spout their ash upon her and the snow was crisp and clean and while she knew she should be wondering over the beauty of the still night, she found herself, instead, wondering if she would ever feel the warmth of summer again. Where are you? The voice of her sensei, soft with a touch of sadness yet still distinctly masculine, filled her thoughts and touched her with a warmth all its own. I am here, sensei. Wei Lin could not help but smile at the imagined conversation. And where is here, he would question further. Here is now. Her practiced response would bring a soft smile to them both. She could almost smell the green tea as she watched the cup rise to his lips, wisps of steam playfully dancing around the graying mustache and flared nose. With a contented sigh, Wei Lin pulled herself back from the pleasant memory to the here and now of the snow and the crunching of wood on stones and wondered if spring would ever come again, for her or for her beloved Japan. In doing so, she became instantly aware of the other presence on the road. Behind her, some 30 meters distant, staggering in an exaggerated gait that showed his drunkenness, came a man, singing an off-color tune and waving a sloshing bottle of what Wei Lin could only assume to be sake. With her solid footwear and traditional, shuffling step, she knew that he would quickly overtake her. So, with a practiced ease, she moved herself to the side of the street and bowed slightly, her left hand floating behind her and under the extravagant train of her susohiki as her right glided across her lap, smoothly removing the folds of her inner kimono. Allowing herself a quick glance to her fellow traveler before bowing her head politely, Wei Lin could make out the thick wool of his ten layer kimono and the black hakama pants beneath, their pleat-less fabric marking him as less than a noble or samurai. His head was hidden beneath a wide brimmed, bamboo rain hat, which swayed to and fro in rhythm with the terrible song. The man passed by and Wei Lin allowed herself a brief moment's relief until he stopped starkly still. The wide hat swept back and forth, before the shaded face beneath turned fully toward her. "Hey," the man slurred. "Hey there, are you a professional girl, girl?" "I beg your pardon, honorable sir," she answered, not lifting her bowed head to look upon him, "I am no common girl, but a Geiko." Wei Lin was only painfully aware that common prostitutes in the area had taken to calling themselves Geisha and so a more correct term, Geiko, had been introduced to the local dialect to differentiate those streetwalkers from traditional artists such as she. She was aware, but still found her pride stinging whenever anyone attempted to compare the two professions. To Wei Lin, it was just one more sign of the decline of traditional Japanese values in this waning world. Despite her injured pride and societal resentments, she remained ever so still and allowed nothing to show on her outward demeanor. "Oh," he laughed foolishly, nearly toppling over and catching himself a mere meter from where she now stood, "so you're a fancy, professional girl." "Again, my apologies, honored sir," she continued, "but I am currently on my way to an arranged engagement and must continue without delay. Please, have a pleasant evening." With these words, Wei Lin allowed herself to cast a glance through her lashes into the face of the lout. Her eyes flared in her alarm, showing a green flash in her alarm. "Hey, what's the matter, little Geiko? Don't you like me?" The man's demeanor was stilling, becoming more solid from his former, shaky posture. But, what alarmed her all the more was the black scarf that grew from the neck of his charcoal colored, happi coat to cover his lower face and leaving his all too sober, dark eyes to gleam in the dim light. From beneath her Obi, Wei Lin drew forth her tanto dagger. The wind whistled as it passed centimeters from the man's throat. Wei Lin quickly drew it to her core, leaving its point forward, her right hand coming to support her left in case she needed to plunge it into his heart. In an instant, faster than Wei Lin could anticipate, the man stepped forward, allowing the point of her dagger to rest against his sternum at the center of his chest. All pretense of drunkenness had been replaced by grim certainty. "No," he said, "I see that you do not like me much at all." Wei Lin's mind flew back and forth between whether to strike or not to. His simple yet aggressive step up to her weapon had shown a certainty that she was lacking and she could not help but remove the point a couple centimeters back lest she risk cutting him. "That's alright," he continued as if she hadn't moved at all, "I'm sure you will like my associate." Wei Lin moved, the point of her knife cutting behind her toward the new presence she had somehow failed to notice. She cursed her foolishness as a thick arm, clad all in black, encircled her throat, locking itself under her chin and catching her breath in its iron grip. Instantly, stars began to dance before the Geiko's eyes and her lungs began to burn for want of air. Without a second's hesitation, Wei Lin turned the tanto in her grip and sought to slash into the offending arm, severing the tendons beneath the fabric and weakening the arm sufficiently to free her neck. However, her assailant was much faster than she and, in a blur of movement; another hand came down from over her right side, thrusting into the wrist of her left. It connected hard with the tendons there and, as she felt her grip loosen, slapped the knife from her numbing fingers. Wei Lin watched impotently as the blade fell and sank point first into the ground at her feet. Colors began to swirl all about her and she was certain she would soon submit to darkness if she didn't act now. Instantly, she locked her weakening fingers on the thick muscle of the arm constricting her throat. Throwing herself backward, Wei Lin kicked out with her feet, contacting with the other man who had distracted her so sufficiently for his counterpart to sneak up behind her. She ran up the torso of the other man, wasting no time to actually attack him but surprising him all the more. She sought to launch herself over the head of the man at her back, sail over him and break his grip upon her at the same time, giving her a safe position at his back from which to attack from. Unfortunately, he was quicker than her yet again. As if sensing her intention, the large man at her back simply threw himself backward, allowing himself to impact upon the ground behind him. The movement robbed her of her inertia, pulling her feet from the other man. The impact upon the ground knocked the remaining wind from her lungs. Her assailant, prepared, as he was, to strike upon the ground, was not so affected. His arm did not relent. As darkness grew up to overtake Wei Lin's senses, she looked upward and wondered at the snow now sailing down upon her face. 2. The snow had been falling that day as well. The sky above was blue with a few, small, white clouds fluttering about like so many gulls, but still the snow was falling upon her, chilling her skin even through the many layers of her susohiki. Her legs and knees ached as she walked; a pleasant reminder of her exertions of the night before. Her first review had been a roaring success, her onee-san; her sister in name if not biology, had gleefully told her that her fan dance had been the best she had ever seen. She had, of course, laughingly followed up with a reminder that she had never seen herself dance. And, with that done and behind her, Wei Lin began her training as a maiko. Her onee-san assured her that she should soon expect to hear from wealthy men vying to be her danna; her patron. This very morning, her housemother had come to her and her onee-san with the most beautiful kimono that Wei Lin had ever seen and, while gasping excitedly for air, had informed them that prices had been coming in all night long. Finally, at the small hours of the morning, her patron's price had been set and met. She was to meet with her danna, one Miyamoto Kojiro, a samurai of some note and sensei of his own Kenjutsu ryu. She didn't fully understand everything that had been said about her new danna, but she didn't really need to. He was a man and had already shown an interest in her skills. She would be cordial and perfect and win his heart; at least enough to untie his purse strings wide enough for her house mother to collect her price from him. Once upon a time, when she was but a child and begun her years of training in her house, she had dreamed of meeting a wealthy man, of him falling in love her and taking her away to live in luxury. But in those days, her training had been in servitude, cooking and cleaning after the more experienced geisha; staying awake to the wee hours of the morning until all of the girls had returned to the house, being beaten for stepping out of line or for not being as perfect as her housemother thought she should be. She was no child any longer. The gate to her danna's estate was simple; a plain, bamboo structure overarching a walkway of finely polished stone. His house was extravagant enough, large but simple in its design, but instead of walking directly to the front entrance, Wei Lin followed the instructions she had been given and followed the path as it meandered around the right side of the house, past a single cherry blossom tree with its branches already bared by the cool air, and finally found herself standing before the back entrance. Again, as instructed, she stepped up onto the porch that circumnavigated the house and knocked twice upon the door. Stepping back to the edge of the porch, she knelt low, bowing her head and running her hands in a practiced fashion to remove the wrinkles from her legs and wind up with her hands out of site, at her back and buried beneath her voluminous sleeves. She remained thusly bowed and waited for whoever would come to open the door. Remaining poised and proper, still she waited. Wei Lin waited until the already overworked muscles in her legs burned with the exertion of remaining still and her knees ached to be straightened before the trainee wondered if perhaps anyone inside had even heard her gentle knock. She considered knocking again, but couldn't help but wonder if someone were just inside, waiting to chide her for not following her instructions. It seemed silly, she knew, even ridiculous, but still she couldn't help but wonder. However, wondering alone was not easing the ache in her joints and thighs. Despite her mind's ravings, Wei Lin still did not move. She was certain she would collapse from the strain when the door suddenly opened. Wei Lin glanced up in preparation of introducing herself and, before the words could even pass her lips, was doused with a wave of grimy, soapy water. She gasped and sputtered, coughing out the bit of dirty water that made its way into her open mouth and finally stared into the darkness of the doorway. She could see the young servant with the now-empty bucket dart back beyond the frame, leaving her standing face to face with an older woman, dressed in a fine kimono with her arms crossed across her thick frame and a scowl filled with a mixture of rage and disdain across her face. "You will follow the path back the way you had come," she hissed. "Turn left at the end of the house and follow the path back to his ridiculous excuse for a dojo." The woman Wei Lin was quickly coming to understand was the woman of the house, the samurai's wife, stepped forth until her front half stood bathed in sunlight. It looked completely unnatural on her pale skin and caused her to squint until her eyes were nothing but black slits staring from paint encrusted folds. "You will never step foot in my house." With this, the samurai's wife stepped back to her familiar shadows and slid the door closed with a bang. Wei Lin stood staring at the door with unabashed shame and confusion. Her onee-san had told her often to beware the wrath of a bitter wife, and when Wei Lin glanced down at the grey and brown stains that were quickly running down her new, fancy gown, she wanted to rage and cry. She had done nothing to this woman, had not even met her husband yet, let alone taken any steps to garner the wrath of his hate-filled sow of a wife, yet here she was; soaked and stained and still expected to go and stand before the man who had paid so dear a sum to win her patronage. All at once, Wei Lin wanted to rage, to fly into a furor, toss aside the door like so much rice paper, lock her hands on the hair of the corpse-like wife and pull every hair from her wrinkled, bitter head. All she actually did was to back down the step and follow the path back the way she had come. At the cross path where she was directed to follow to the left, Wei Lin paused again. She looked right back around the house to the road and her return to her house, and then to the left and to the dojo she could not see hidden amongst a copse of thick trees. Back to the road and back down again her eyes darted, her mind arguing both points again and again; to stay and face possible dishonor for her disheveled appearance, or to return home and face the certainty of it. Her housemother would have to make apologies for her not presenting herself to her danna as well as purchase her a new kimono or pay just as much to have this one repaired. Again and again she weighed her options, coming no closer to a suitable conclusion. Shish-shish. The noise came subtly to her ear and Wei Lin turned back to her left. Somewhere, just beyond the beginning of the tree line, she could make out slight movement. The noise, which she was coming to understand had been constant throughout her inner diatribe, was coming from that somewhere just beyond. Her own sense of curiosity, more than anything else, finally made Wei Lin's feet move. She followed the path to the left and was amazed to discover, just beyond the obscuring wall of wood, a splendidly large, Zen rock garden. In the middle of it, his wooden rake completing a circle about the enormous boulder just off center stood a young man, his back still facing Wei Lin. As he turned, the geisha was amazed to see that the trim figure was topped by an equally thin face, the centerpiece of which was a rather long nose and teeth large enough to keep the man's lips parted in a seemingly eternal smile. At first, the features made the man look so ridiculous as to make the apprentice laugh, but Wei Lin's training saved her from such a disgraceful act. Indeed, as she looked on, she noted a sublime air of peace about the man, whom she could now see was only slightly older than she. The man, his thin frame dressed in a fashionably expensive kimono with a stylized wren silhouetted across the breast that marked him as a samurai, extended his natural smile further along the number of his teeth when he finally noted Wei Lin's presence. She folded herself uncomfortably, suddenly reminded of the state of her gown, her make-up and hair, and quickly turned it into a deep bow. The young samurai turned back to his labor, touching his rake again to the soft stone beneath him, just outside of the ring he had just completed. He gestured kindly for Wei Lin to meet at the far side of the garden, indicating the deep brown bench that rested there, and proceeded along his way, dragging the rake behind him with enough skill to obliterate all evidence of his steps having ever been there. When they stood facing each other before the wooden bench, she bowed deeply to him and he joined her in kind before gesturing for her to take her ease before him. "Are you Master Miyamoto?" she could not help but ask. "No," the young man smiled and Wei Lin suddenly found his awkward looks beautiful, "my name is Lee Jin. I am Miyamoto Sensei's kohei. Do you know what that means?" Wei Lin nodded. "You are kohei; the junior man, to your sensei's sempei; the elder man. It denotes a relationship akin to student and mentor." "True," Lee Jin smiled at her, "and well spoken. However, it speaks of something much deeper. Miyamoto Sensei and I have agreed to wander through this life together; learning from one another and from all that the world has to teach us. I look to him for wisdom and clarity and he looks to me for..." here, Lee Jin paused as if hunting for the correct words, "youthful exuberance, I suppose." Wei Lin joined him in a small laugh. "I understand," she admitted finally. "In the world of the geisha, I have been chosen by my onee-san, my honored sister. To her, I am imouto-san; her junior. I will go with her where ever she decides I am to follow and I will learn from her as she will come to learn from training me." Lee Jin nodded sagely despite his young years. "You understand much, geisha, but I suppose that is what my master meant when he asked me to wait here for you." "Oh, I am not geisha yet," she corrected politely, quickly finding herself warming to this young man, "I am still a maiko; a third level trainee. I have much to learn before I can be called an actual geisha. But, what did you mean? What did your master say about me?" "That is for him to decide whether or not he will tell you. However, he did wish me to extend his fullest apologies for the way you were treated at the house." With this, Lee Jin slid from the bench and knelt low upon the ground in a deep, formal bow. Wei Lin found herself blushing at the gesture. "Then, he knew that would happen?" "Sensei suspected that his wife might try to...embarrass you in some way. Again, please accept my master's apology for the dishonor done to you in his family's name." Wei Lin, with all the courtly grace she had been taught, placed a single hand on the junior man's shoulder and bade him to rise. "I accept your master's apology and will hold no dishonor upon his house. I am here as a servant and if that is how his wife chooses to treat me, than so it shall be." "Domo arigato," he thanked her formally. "However, Miyamoto Sensei wishes you to know that no such actions will be taken against you on his property or by any members of his family again. Also, he wishes me to escort you to his dojo where you will find a warm bath and suitable change of clothes waiting for you." Lee Jin stood and gestured for her to follow. Wei Lin stood as well and thanked him for his every kindness. Together, they walked back to a path that would lead deeper into the wood and to a structure she could just begin to make out. However, so overcome was she with this young samurai's demeanor and treatment of her that she only just noticed that she had stepped partially into the confines of the rock garden, causing a small disruption in the peaceful pattern of the stone. She looked up at Lee Jin and bowed deeply, ashamed by her clumsiness and thoughtlessness. Lee Jin, placing a hand on her shoulder and lifting her from her deep bow, merely smiled more widely. "Thank you Wei Lin," he said lightheartedly, "now I have an excuse to come back and tend the garden again." The pair walked on, laughing, and by the time they entered the dojo of the man they would both come to call Master, Wei Lin was certain she felt nothing but love for the man Lee Jin. The Descendant 3. Wei Lin awoke to darkness. All about her was shrouded in a swirl of differentiating tones of grey and black. From somewhere behind her she could feel the heat and hear the pop of a small fire, but she could see no light by it. Then, as she crawled her way back to consciousness, she felt the course cloth over her eyes. Its fabric seemed to match the one that was knotted and rested firmly in her mouth. Beyond the crackling of the fire, she could hear the sound of rain and sleet pattering against a slate roof over her head. Beyond that was a deep and continuous thump-thumping like she was in a massive chest and the giant's heart were beating next to her right ear. However, outside of the room, she could make out the unmistakable sounds of running water made fat and rough by the driving weather and colliding, being gathered into and draining out of the never ending run of a water wheel. She was in a mill; that much was certain, the heartbeat coming from the heavy pace of the wooden hammer against the grinding stone. However, from the smell of mold and dust she knew that this mill had long since seen its useful days. "It's alright," a gruff voice very near her face came alive, the strong smell of sake washing over her; her drunken attacker had finally partaken of his bottle then, "she's awake. She's only faking." With a hard yank, her assailant pulled the cloth from her eyes, then again from her mouth. He was not kind in his actions. Wei Lin found herself yanked to her feet and only then realized her hands had been tied as well, and long ago judging by the numbness in her wrists and fingers. "What do you want," she demanded, as she was pulled closer to the fire. She turned her head to the side to look into her kidnapper's face, but was met only by black cloth covering all but the dark, heavy eyes; the hood of a ninja. A burst of fear shook her resolve. By all appearances, the men who had attacked her on the road were ninja, legendary assassins of yore. If that were the case, then she realized her life was forfeit. If only she could find out what they wanted her for. At some unseen signal, their progress stopped and Wei Lin found herself pulled upright by her bound wrists until she watched the cleverly knotted rope placed over a low hanging hook. At a signal from the large man beside her, the other man, similarly garbed, came around her, approached the far wall and began to pull at the rope hanging there. Within seconds, Wei Lin found herself dangling precariously on her tip toes; her wrists already numbed by loss of blood from the constricting rope, her hands beginning to burn with pain. "What do you want with me?" she demanded. "Why are you doing this?" "Look at her eyes, Toth," the ninja tying up the rope had approached her now and, gripping her chin to lift her face toward the fire light, took a long look at her. "They're green like jade, but so wide. She must have gaijin blood in her. Is that true, whore? What, was your mother another whore who didn't care who rutted inside of her, or was she a barbarian slut who spread for every yellow man she could see?" Wei Lin could not help the anger that raged within her at the dishonor this fiend brought upon the spirit of her mother. She spit in his face. Before he could react, the geisha had retracted her head back in full preparation of butting him squarely on the nose with her forehead. However, once again, the other man, now similarly clad as his compatriot, was faster. He gripped her head as she reached back, locking full strands of her hair in his grasp. She cried out slightly in pain. The first ninja cleared the spittle from the corner of his eye. "Gag the bitch again, Toth, mouth and eyes. Her foreign gaze offends me." The thick knot of the rag was replaced between her teeth, but before the blindfold could find its way back over her eyes, the first ninja, who Wei Lin was coming to think of Sake after the stink of him, reached out and ripped open the front of her kimono, exposing her breasts and torso to the cold air. She looked at his masked face, her own face full of alarm. "Oh, don't worry whore. We won't abuse you...that much. It's just, my silent friend and I have some important questions to ask and before we can accept your answer, we need to make certain you are in the proper frame of mind." With an evil, deep laugh, Sake pulled the fabric of her kimono downward in a rush, exposing her to the waist. Stepping back, the ninja allowed Wei Lin to clearly see his laughing eyes before the heavy cloth was reset over her own. She hung there in silence for a handful of heartbeats, wondering what they had planned, what they wanted from her. Then the first lash lay into her back setting her skin ablaze with pain. 4. The bath had been sent from her blessed ancestors. Wei Lin found herself floating along its surface far longer than she felt proper, but was completely unable to remove herself from its enticing warmth. Finally, when she did summon the energy to break free of the steaming elixir, she felt completely revitalized. She found the new kimono exactly where Lee Jin had told her it would be and marveled at how splendid but simple it was. There was little decoration on the white silk, save for the same wren insignia across the left breast, set in sky blue against a white background instead of Jin's white against a charcoal sky. Wei Lin took time to fix her hair and set the gown as she had been trained to do. She was disappointed to see no make up here, thereby allowing her to complete the picture she had set before, but she reminded herself that her new danna had obviously known exactly what would happen to her upon her arrival and so he must not wish to see her made up so extravagantly. It certainly fit with the simple tastes of the dojo she had come through and helped to paint a clearer picture of the man himself. Once she was certain everything was in its proper place, Wei Lin exited the bathing room and proceeded to the main hall as Lee Jin had requested she do. There, directly in the center of the tatami floor, steam issuing out in subtle puffs, sat the most extravagant tea setting that the girl had ever seen. Her body's training immediately took over and Wei Lin began preparing for a tea ceremony. After the pot was set to steep with the aromatic, green leaves powdered and nestled within, Wei Lin sat and prepared herself to match the perfect setting she was hoping to bring to life. Sensei Miyamoto Kojiro entered the room with all the effortlessness a man could hold; yet even from her kneeling position, Wei Lin could feel his presence even before the door opened. The sensei kicked his straw zori from his feet and then drifted slowly over to his place on the far side of the serving table, opposite Wei Lin. He answered the bow the geisha had adopted as soon as he entered the door, lowered himself to the floor, and then knelt in a traditional style, his hands resting lightly upon his thighs. Wei Lin slowly unfolded herself from her bow, a flower whose petals were only opening to the radiance of her guest, before beginning the traditional movements of preparing and serving the tea in the Hakobi Temae style. She moved fluidly from one practiced move to the next, neither she nor Miyamoto speaking or moving unless tradition demanded it. Neither spoke until the sensei's tea bowl had been served, its contents tasted and the bowl formally placed on the tatami before him. "Superb," it was the first word he had ever said to her and Wei Lin was certain, without ever really knowing why, that she would never forget it. "I am grateful to you, my lord. I am so glad you enjoy the tea." Miyamoto's posture never wavered, not even a creak when he bent back to the bowl to drink again and Wei Lin was mindful to keep her own as perfect, even refusing to cast her eyes from her own hands in her lap to see the man's face. "Oh, it is magnificent, have no doubt," the sensei flattered. "However, I was referring to your technique. Your every motion is superb." "Arigato, my lord," she thanked the older man, "I have trained hard to become so." "Yes, it shows," he commented, and Wei Lin could feel a smile lighten the words. "Yet, at some point, you have moved beyond the stiffness of continuing recitation of movement and allowed the purpose of the movements to enter you, to allow yourself to become one with the ceremony. This is the mark of a true master." "You flatter me, my lord." Wei Lin could feel the blush deepen the natural color of her cheeks and allowed herself a practiced dip of her head so her right hand could rise and hide the offending blemish. "However, I have been told by my honorable housemother that I still have much to learn." "It is true," he agreed somberly, "we all have much to learn in this life, or else we would no longer need to be here." "Are those the words of the Buddha, my lord?" "You are not familiar with the words of the Buddha?" "Only in general terms, my lord. Housemother teaches us many topics of discussion; politics, weather, religion, but only so we can be better conversationalists for honored guests." "Well, if you would permit me Wei Lin, I would be only too happy to introduce you further to the way of the Buddha." Wei Lin bowed deeply. "I would be only too honored to learn all you would have to teach me, my lord." At this, the maiko could feel a sudden heaviness enter the room as if all of the convivial air had been sucked through the cracks in the tatami beneath them. Terrified she had said something to offend the revered gentleman, but uncertain what that could have been, Wei Lin added; "Does this mean you would still like to become my patron, my lord?" The samurai sat a bit longer, still as the dead. Then, his shoulders lightened and a small laugh escaped him. "Oh yes, little flower," he said playfully, "I believe I would. I believe I would like that very much. For now, let us drink this fine tea, share each other's company, and talk of not so important things." Wei Lin was confused. She could not think of any part of their previous conversation that had seemed so important, but that mattered little. As she continued kneeling, feeling better for the sudden break from the tension, she allowed herself a quick look upward through her eyelashes. Miyamoto Kojiro was a middle-aged man, thick shouldered and muscularly built like many men who practiced every day at the art of war. His face was round, topped with a short crop of graying hair. His eyes appeared almost to shift between grey and jade, the color altering seemingly of their own whim. His nose was wide and seemed to settle heavily upon a mustache and pointed beard in which the grey of his head had grown to a nearly snowy white. His mouth was small, barely extending beyond the shadow of his nose, with full lips that smiled evenly. Wrinkles had long settled about his eyes and the corners of his mouth, but where she had usually found older men laughable or, at best, distinguished; this man wore his age like a badge of honor and his features seemed strong and more masculine than any of the men her age. With their tea complete, Miyamoto-san asked Wei Lin to rise and walk with him. He led her through a long hall at the back of the dojo's main training room and out into the veranda. All about her a wonder of ash and bamboo surrounded a marvelous garden path wherein sat a simple, stone bridge spanning the length of a kidney shaped, koi pond. The fish occasionally broke the surface of the still, pad-covered water; a splash of orange and yellow seen all too briefly before descending beneath the surface again, leaving only the too-brief ripples to mark that they had ever existed at all. The cool air brought a chill over Wei Lin and all at once she felt small and insignificant. "Are you well, little flower?" Wei Lin fought to regain her practiced composure. "Excuse me please, my lord. I am simply overcome with the beauty of your home. It appears all at once simple yet elegant." "I am glad you enjoy it. I ask that you stay and be my guest for the evening." Wei Lin felt a touch of concern at this request. Her onee-san had told her that many danna will look upon the artist as their personal servant, or worse concubine. It had long since been accepted behavior that geisha would not sleep with the men they served, but it had been known to happen. Still, even then it was only to be done at the geisha's request. But Wei Lin was not yet a geisha and had not thought she would be faced with the difficult task of setting clear boundaries with men; was not even certain she had it within herself to do so. Her shocked eyes sought out her feet and from there darted back across the landscape before them, anywhere she could look so as not to look into his eyes or upon his face and strong frame. If he wanted her, could she simply say 'no'? Would he allow her to? And if he attempted to force her, would she even be capable of stopping him? In her mind, she called out for her onee-san, demanding she magically appear and answer for her. "Are you well, child? You look..." In her peripheral vision, Wei Lin could see realization dawn upon the face of the samurai. "Oh! No, my dear, please. Accept my apologies. I did not mean to have you think I was going to...that I meant for us to..." Wei Lin looked back to the face of Miyamoto only when he burst out in uproarious laughter. She stared a moment at the way his head tilted back, his mouth gaped as the loudest, most sincere laughter she had ever heard issued forth from his barrel of a chest. Instantly she felt foolish and couldn't stop herself from joining his laughter with his own; soft and airy compared to his bellow. "Oh please, my lord. It is I who should beg forgiveness. I meant no offense..." "Not at all," he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "It is simply that I had thought your housemother would have informed you that I had already made arrangements with her for you to spend the night in one of the guest rooms here." He gestured back into the dojo. "I wanted to speak with you more this evening. I believe we should take time to get to know each other and to discuss what the future holds for you." "Thank you, my lord," she bowed, "I would be honored to spend time with you and to stay in your beautiful estate this evening." "Excellent. Then let us repair inside. I believe this cool air has my old bones begging for more tea. We will sit and drink and speak of that most delightful of subjects; ourselves." Still laughing, the pair moved back into the dojo. 5. Rough, gloved hands pulled and stroked over her breasts and locked painfully into her hair. She thrashed, a fish on a tether, but could not remove the offensive hands. Once or twice a thumb or finger would brush over her nipples, causing the sensitive glands to swell in response. She could hear Sake's jeering laughter as her struggles caused her breasts, much larger than other, full bred, Japanese girls, to flop, jiggle and sway. Again and again he would play with her attentive flesh until, inevitably, he would pinch and twist the hardened buds sending searing pain throughout her body until she cried out, cursed and screamed in impotent fury against the gag in her mouth. With his amusements ended, Sake would step away from her once more, only to have the other, Toth he had called him, flay at her back and shoulders again and again with the length of wet leather. The strap lay into her skin again and again, replaying over the same welted flesh until the raised, red surface would crack and she would feel the warm blood flow. For hours they had played at her this way. For hours she would resist and rail against their tortures. But, finally, her protests turned to sorrowful mewling as the strength left her body and she sagged, held aloft only by the chain at her wrists. Her nostrils flared for want of air and as Wei Lin's mind struggled to find a reason why this was happening, her query came loose of her lips as a pathetic sob. Then, inexplicably, she felt two strong hands undo the knot at the base of her skull and the gag was pulled from her mouth. "Why? Why?" she asked weakly. "Aw, poor fancy whore," Sake taunted, his rancid breath causing her to wretch in the back of her throat. "All trussed up and punished within an inch of her life and to have no idea why. It's a travesty, I tell you. What do you say, Toth, should we let her in on our little secret." Wei Lin could make out no sign of a reply from the enormous presence at her back. "I agree," Sake intoned. Fiercely, his gloved hands gripped her by the throat, up under the bone of her jaw until she could feel the beat of her own blood eager to pass the obstructing digits on its march to and from her brain. "You see, fancy whore, we don't really want to continue punishing you like this, no matter how fun we may find it. No. What we really want is to know the whereabouts of the descendant of Miyamoto Musashi." Wei Lin gasped more in shock than for want of a breath. "Sensei?" she croaked. "Yes. That's right. We're looking for Sensei Kojiro. We know he's your benefactor, we know you and he were...close...now, we want to know where to find him." Wei Lin's mind roared. Her every fear had come true. Something had happened to her sensei and now these horrible men, and worst the men they worked for, were looking for him. He had been forced to leave his dojo, forced to flee and had hidden himself so well these fiends were left with no other option but to seek her out. It had all happened just as he had said it would. 6. Before ever coming to the dojo, Wei Lin had, of course, been made fully aware of the esteemed lineage that Miyamoto Kojiro had hailed from. His direct ancestor, Miyamoto Musashi, was a samurai straight out of legend. Musashi had grown to be one of the greatest swordsmen throughout Japan, having supposedly learned all he needed to know about the art of the sword through countless duels. It was said that, at the age of only 13 years, Musashi had partaken in his first successful duel, defeating a traveling sohei, a master less samurai, who had wandered to the front door of Musashi's father's dojo and posted a written challenge for anyone in the school to face him. Musashi, supposedly half the man's age, accepted. When the combatant discovered the truth behind the young Musashi, he demanded a public apology. Meeting together in the public square in front of his father's dojo, Musashi refused to apologize and, instead, drew his weapon and attacked. The battle was short and, at the end, the legend of Miyamoto Musashi had begun. For years he traveled, training when he could, more often battling duels against other men who thought themselves powerful. Always Musashi won and always he would take something of his winning with him into the next duel. By the time he had reached his twentieth year, the great Musashi had developed a technique all his own, fighting with a weapon of equal size and strength in each hand, and, to further the legend, his chosen weapons were not made of steel but of solid wood; bokken, the simple practice swords children trained with when they wished to grow up to be samurai... It was said that Miyamoto Kojiro was a direct, blood descendant of Musashi and that he knew all of the secrets of his ancestor. However, when Wei Lin asked after the family history of her danna, instead of hearing more of the fantastical tale, she was met with more laughter. "Oh, heavens no," the samurai laughed, "to be precise I'm the direct descendent of Miyamoto Iori, Musashi's second adopted son. They traveled together for some time until Musashi decided to become a hermit and Iori became a vassal under a wealthy samurai. It's his blood that runs in my line, not the actual blood of Musashi. And, furthermore, I never studied the form of his except to read his manuscript; The Book of Five Rings. No, I teach a classic form of kenjutsu and iaido. But that is only the fighting arts I teach. I also teach the teachings of the Buddha and Bushido." The Descendant "Ah," she replied, not truly understanding, but more than capable of sounding interested and intelligent, "so how many students do you have under you just now?" At this, a heavy sadness settled over the samurai's happy eyes. "At present I have no students; only Jin and myself, and he is no longer truly a pupil." Wei Lin cursed herself for a fool. "Please, accept my apologies, my lord. I never meant to..." "No, my dear girl, it is I who should apologize. I am an old man and find myself indulging in fits of maudlin narcissism. And really, what has that ever accomplished, I ask you." She laughed, clear and bright as a crystal bell and the samurai's answering smile was genuine. They sat and talked more, long into the night. Wei Lin was surprised to discover that not only did she enjoy this man's company and his mind, she wanted very much to share her own life stories. She told him much, if not every bit about her mother; of how she had been pulled from village to village by her mother's wanderlust. Of how, at the age of seven years, she was sold to her house in hopes of one day becoming a Geisha, of her housemother and her onee-san and, finally, to coming to her final dance trial where he had first seen her. "And your mother," Miyamoto finally asked, "she was Japanese?" Wei Lin could not help but bow her head in shame. "Yes, my lord, she was. However, to answer your next question, my father was a sailor on a Spanish trade ship. I never met him, never knew his name." They sat in silence for a time as Wei Lin sorted through the emotions that flew up inside of her whenever she spoke of her mother. Finally, she was able to say, "I get my looks from my father, apparently." "Perhaps," Miyamoto answered, "However, I can tell it was your mother's skills and gifts that you display. As for the rest, well, I can only assume that your father was a rather handsome man." Wei Lin glanced rapidly up to Lord Miyamoto's handsome, smiling face and wondered for the first time what it might feel like to kiss those lips. That night, as she was led to her chamber where she would sleep, she settled herself on the floor with her head on the ceremonial block that would be her pillow for the night. As she had practiced before, the trainee closed her eyes and focused on keeping herself perfectly still as she slept so that, when she awoke to her new life, she would look as perfect as she did just now. From the corner of her eye, Wei Lin could see through the rice paper walls the silhouette of Miyamoto Sensei as he knelt upon the floor and prepared for his evening's meditations. With a contented smile, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream. 7. Wei Lin dreamed. She knew this because she had had this dream before. She was young, all too young, and wandering in the dark of night through the small hovel she shared with her mother. Before her was a screen, patched together and used to allow some semblance of privacy. She was reaching out her hand, tentatively, fearfully. It was the noises she was hearing; that is what made her feel this dread tightening in her chest. She looked to her diminutive hand, wondering why it continued to float before her, as if reaching out for all eternity toward the dark screen with the sewn together tapestry, reaching toward the sounds, those sounds that filled her with the greatest fear she would ever know. Wei Lin awoke with a start. She had been attempting to reach her hand out, but could not with the bindings tying her down onto some unknown, hard surface. There was an occasional thudding that reverberated through the surface and her bones and, once she was fully alert, Wei Lin realized that, at some point in the night, she had been moved, taken down from the hook and placed on the stone wheel that was originally used for the grinding of wheat or grain or rice. The pounding came from the hammers that continued to trip down against the stone. Somewhere along the history of this old structure, the stone had been stilled from its continual revolution under the punishing hammers. How long had they tortured her, how long had they beat at her body? Had she finally passed out from the pain and the trauma? Why was she still alive? She had not given them what they wanted, she realized. She had not given them her Sensei. Pride filled her but only for a moment. She would need to take this brief respite to prepare. She would need a plan. No sooner had this thought dawned on her, but she heard the sound of soft footsteps off to her left. "Who is there?" she asked tentatively. She would need to continue to play the frightened doe. If she was to gain an advantage over her attackers, she would need to keep them thinking she was only what she appeared to be, only a lowly geisha; not what her sensei had made her. "Please, who is there? Will you not help me?" Wei Lin shuddered as a cool sensation spread across the burning ruin of her back. She could clearly differentiate each lash, each open wound as the cool tingle of a balm was spread thickly across her. "You are healing me? I don't understand. You did this to me and now you are healing me?" So they could continue to work on her without risk of her dying with their answers still on her lips, she rationalized. "Please, won't you talk to me?" More ointment was lathered on her, but still no sound came. It was then that Wei Lin realized what was missing from the room; Sake. Sake was the one who always spoke, the one who ordered his compatriot to whip her time and again. And the other, what was it Sake called him again? "Toth," she whispered, and the hands on her back stalled in response. "That's what the other one called you, correct?" Again, no answer, just the continuing motion of the smoothing hands. "Master Toth, I don't know why you're doing this? I really can't help you. I simply don't know where Miyamoto Kojiro is now. He is still a patron to me, it is true, but I haven't spoken nor have I received any money from him in over a year." The large man's hand was taken from her back and she could barely make out the faint sound of him walking away from her. She couldn't leave things this way, not if she were to find some way to escape. "Please, Master Toth, if there's anything you can tell me about Miyamoto Sensei, I would be eternally grateful. I haven't heard from him in so long and I'm not even certain if he's alive or dead. Please, I just want to know if he's alive, out there somewhere. Please? I beg of you." Wei Lin could not help but jump as the heavy hand returned to her, this time gently placed atop her head. This Toth was powerful, but agile and stealthy as well, and, it seemed, capable of gentility. Toth's hand stroked through her dark hair almost lovingly. "You are a good man, Master Toth, I can tell. You are not like the other one..." As if on cue; the pair froze as they simultaneously heard the light patter of feet outside the door. Before Wei Lin could react, Toth's gentle hand locked tightly on hair, gripping hard enough to instantly bring tears to her eyes. As she opened her mouth to cry out, the cloth knot was once again shoved between her teeth. With her own heart pounding in her ears, she barely made out the steady pace of Sake as he approached them. "Any problems with her?" Again the silent Toth's response was lost to Wei Lin. "Good. Why don't you go take a break and I'll watch her for a while." This time the geico could distinctively make out the heavy footfalls of the larger ninja as he moved himself toward the door and exited the mill, leaving her alone with Sake. She felt him more than heard him walk down the length of the slab she had been laid out on, could practically feel him leering down at her exposed flesh. Wei Lin managed to flinch just as Sake's hand impacted her right buttock with a heavy slap. She turned her head away from him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reaction even through her blindfold and gag. "Oh, don't worry, fancy whore," the ninja scoffed as he rested his hand fully upon her ass and began to squeeze and stroke her there, "I won't do anything to you just now. After all, you need to rest before we begin our questioning again." With another none-too-gentle squeeze, her tormentor left her side, chuckling menacingly as he walked to the far end of the structure. Wei Lin fought to control her breathing and pulse as she settled back into herself. Within moments, she was allowing herself to rest again and hopefully to dream dreams of happier times. 8. The young maiko awoke just after dawn, with the exterior light shining through her chamber's single window. She raised herself up from the tatami floor and began to prepare herself for whatever her life would bring her this day. Just as Wei Lin had finished putting on the kimono she found lying just inside the door and tying her hair up into place, the door slid open to admit Lee Jin. The young samurai looked genuinely pleased to see her and she had to admit that she was gladdened by his presence as well, even if neither of them spoke these feeling's aloud. They shared a light breakfast together wherein Lee Jin informed her that Miyamoto Sensei would not be joining them until well after lunch. However, he continued by telling her that his sempei would like to see her dance again. Jin would get her whatever devices or supplies she would need. She put together a small list of the belongings she required from her house and the young samurai left her. When Miyamoto returned, it was to find Lee Jin playing a samisen in the far corner of the dojo's main chamber. Wei Lin herself, with elaborate makeup and wearing an ornate kimono, was folded almost in half in the middle of the floor. With a snap, her fans flew open as if they were simply extensions of her hands and the dancer unfolded herself and rose. When she moved, it was with beauty, grace and full intention. All other things vanished from her mind until all that was left were the moves and how they made her feel to perform them. Then, somewhere in the midst of her movements, she caught a glance of Miyamoto. She spied something in his face, some intensity she did not truly understand. Her body continued its practiced motions, but she constantly found her gaze returning to find him, to ponder that look. Suddenly, as if outside of her own control, her dance ended and she was left bowing down, her arms gesturing toward Miyamoto, supplicant, offering. She remained in this posture until the samurai stood before her, offering a hand to help her rise. "Thank you," he whispered, his mouth close to her ear, causing her blood to race. Then, just as smoothly, her hand still resting in his, the samurai took one, clean step back. "Lee Jin," he called out to his kohei without taking his eyes off of Wei Lin, "you may leave us. Thank you for your pains." "Hei, Sensei." And, just like that, Lee Jin removed himself from the room. Wei Lin was unable to fathom how she could possibly remain standing with her heart pounding and her breath threatening to leave her with every exhalation. Yet, somehow, when Miyamoto made to lead her out of the dojo onto the splendid veranda, she managed to follow. She could not help but think that the sensei's quiet strength must somehow be feeding into her. If that were true, she reasoned, she truly enjoyed the sensation. It left her feeling warm and comforted, as if she had been traveling all of the years of her life and had, at long last, found her way home. The air was cool, but warming as the winter months promised to give way to spring. Wei Lin felt electricity surge over her skin, causing pleasurable sensations to ripple throughout her being. She breathed deep the night air and, turning to face the elder, wonderful man in her presence, prepared for destiny to show its hand. "That was truly splendid, Wei Lin." The samurai's voice was soft, but full of a depth whose hidden meaning filled the young girl with elation. "You do me great honor standing in your presence and allowing me to observe your skills." Wei Lin, feeling every bit the young, inexperienced girl, felt herself swoon under his praise. "Thank you, my lord, but it is you who do me great honor. My humble skills are always at your service." Wei Lin allowed herself to look up and meet the samurai's eye, hoping that he understood every intention in her words. And, at that moment, alone with only this man and the night, Wei Lin realized just how much of herself she wanted to give to him. "Arigato, little flower," he said finally, resting his hand on her arm and sending a horde of butterflies loose in her belly. "I'm glad you feel that way. There is something I have been meaning to ask of you, something that I should not, I know, but I find that I can no longer stop myself." "What is it, my lord? Oh, sir, believe me, you have only to ask and I will do whatever I can to please you, to return your every kindness." Wei Lin's mind was swimming in a sea of possibility and, she was ecstatic to discover that whatever she imagined in that instant he might ask of her, she would give him. It was then she realized just how much in so short a time, she had come to love the samurai. "You should be careful what you offer before you know all of the facts, Wei Lin." "Oh, my lord, do not think me some foolish girl. I have learned much in my teachings and..." The samurai silenced her with a soft hand to her left cheek. Wei Lin found herself nearly cooing at the gesture. "I would never think you anything other than what you are, child. I only mean that you should carefully consider what I offer you for there are great dangers in it." Dangers? All noise in the girl's mind silenced at the word. The samurai answered the question in her eyes. "Yes, Wei Lin. What I offer you is the chance to learn. I wish to teach you the way of Kenjutsu; the way of the sword. If you would learn what I have to teach, there is a great possibility of danger in it for you. No woman has ever been taught Kenjutsu; it is against tradition and the law for me to teach it to you. But I have seen your skill and I believe you have it within you to become the greatest student that I have ever had; greater even than Lee Jin or myself." "Oh, I see." Wei Lin allowed herself to step back and turn away from Miyamoto to stare out into the forest and night. Within her, she could feel the fantasy she had so recently began to build falter and collapse all about her. She fought hard to keep the tears that threatened to run from doing so. "I do not understand, my lord. If teaching a woman to fight is outlawed, why would you even take the risk?" "Because, as I have said, Wei Lin, you have a gift that I believe I may temper further with this new art form. I have other reasons, but they shall remain mine for now. You need to be aware that it is not only you who face the risk here. If it were discovered what we undertake here, I would be forced to kill myself for such an affront to our society. That is, if the Emperor is feeling kind and my family name still had any value." Wei Lin spun back to the samurai, shock standing out in her bright eyes. "You would risk not only your life, but your reputation for this? I do not know that I can allow you to risk that, just for the sake of teaching me to use a sword." The samurai stepped to her and placed his hands tightly on both of the girl's shoulders, staring so deeply into her eyes so that she could not look away. "Wei Lin, as I have said, there are many reasons why I choose to do this, and I may tell you of them in the course of our time together. However, suffice it to say that, right now, there is nothing more in this world that I can ask of you; nothing more I could ever want for myself than to undertake this journey with you. Of course, you must understand that we can tell no one else about this. Lee Jin will be made aware as he will assist me in your training, but no one else can know. I will not only be asking you to risk your life, but to do everything in your power to hide our reasons for coming together." Miyamoto released Wei Lin's shoulders, but the maiko could still feel the heat of his touch upon her, even through her kimono. "Now that you know the full extent of what you will have to sacrifice," he added, "I will completely understand if you refuse to undertake this. Also, of course, I will still remain as you danna. I would be honored to do so." Wei Lin pondered his request, turning back away from him. The truth she faced was that she could not truly think of anything other than his eyes and the need she saw standing out in them. Even removed from her line of sight, she still felt their heat and unconsciously allowed her hands to run up the outside of her arms to feel where his hands had so recently touched. "Very well, Sensei. How will we begin?" Miyamoto ordered his house servants to bring a fine dinner to the dojo for them both and, over their steaming bowls, they made their plans. Wei Lin would have to spend a minimum of 3 days a week at the dojo. They had agreed that early morning hours would be best so as to not keep her from her other house duties. Wei Lin made certain to inform her sensei that having her spending so much time with him in the secluded dojo would cause enough of a scandal as everyone who knew would assume they had become lovers. The samurai laughed at the assignation and assured Wei Lin that there was no one in his life who would care. When he asked after her own reputation, the maiko gave her own assurances that being considered the concubine of a powerful samurai could only assist her status. She was grateful for the heavy makeup that she still wore for it hid her blushing cheeks. They talked for hours, making schedules and, finally, small talk until Miyamoto gave Wei Lin the option of remaining again as his guest for the night. Upon seeing her hesitation, he amended to arrange for her to be escorted back to her house should she choose to go. Wei Lin giggled rather girlishly, cursing herself in her mind for feeling so young and foolish around the sensei, then explained that she would need to return eventually, if only for a proper bath. Miyamoto reminded her that he had a fully functioning bathing facility here at the dojo and, feeling her heart begin to race again, Wei Lin acquiesced to stay; if only for another night. The maiko bathed away all traces of makeup and pretense, wrapped herself in the simple kimono, taking time to lovingly examine the wren symbol of the school she had joined, and prepared herself for bed. This time, as she settled to sleep, she turned to view the returned silhouette of Miyamoto in meditation. He sat in profile and she could make out the heavy brow, the slight upward turn of his nose, the flow of his mustache and the slight pout of his mouth. His body was so straight, his posture as perfect as if he were a statue and she fantasized on the muscles that would make up such a perfect, still form. As she continued watching for even the slightest bit of movement, Wei Lin's mind brought her images of Miyamoto rising, crossing out of the room, and appearing at her doorway, wordlessly joining her on the floor. Their kisses would be passionate as each fed from the other's mutual need. Still his shadow remained constant, yet her nipples began to grow hard as his phantom lips encircled them; his tongue flickering playfully causing them to tingle blissfully. Without removing her eyes from his form, Wei Lin reached beneath the folds of her dressing gown and caressed her breasts. They were large, much larger than any other Japanese girl she had ever seen. When she was young, her mother forced her to strap them too tightly to her torso to try to be more like everyone else. It wasn't until her training under her onee-san that anyone had ever expressed appreciation for her breasts. She couldn't help but wonder if the larger size and the nearly excruciatingly sensitive nipples were a rarity. If so, she truly felt sorry for all other women. Her hands continued to stroke and tweak at one nipple then the other. She finally looked away when the pleasure awakened the fire between her legs. She gasped as quietly as she could and allowed her right hand to trail down her abdomen, parting her nightclothes as it passed. Tentatively, as if she had never touched herself before, her fingers flickered over her engorged clit, sending a flow of liquid past her parted lips as ripples of sweet pleasure coursed through her. She focused on her clit, on her pleasure, and as her passion soared higher and higher her eyes sought out his shadow again. Tears in her eyes met the reflected candlelight and caused his form to ripple subtly, but more than enough for her mind to paint a picture of his rhythmic thrusting into her. With that dear image locked in her mind and his cool shadow settling over her heart, Wei Lin released, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out.