They chatted about inconsequentials, and she fed him supper: excellent raw fish, rice balls, bean soup, shredded cabbage, fried shrimp, and, of course, copious sake. She acted very shy whenever he hinted at the amorous consummation for which he had, handsomely, paid, thereby extending and intensifying his desire for that climax. She giggled in a high pitch as she put bits of delicious jellyfish into his mouth and danced away before he got proper hold of her.
At last Fu Antos, acting the tipsy celebrant, though the wine had not touched him at all, brought her to the soft couch. She would not disrobe completely, for a woman naked is a woman stripped of her mystery, but she allowed him to survey in tantalizing installments her most intimate attractions. Her breasts were large and round, unusual in an Oriental girl; that was a point against her. Only barbarian women were huge-uddered cows! But her thighs were sleek and firm.
Like a man performing a jujitsu technique, he wrestled her into a suitable hold, his crotch against her supple buttocks. Neither of them had disrobed; instead, the relevant portions of the attire were opened or pulled aside, so that the vital action was largely concealed. This, again, heightened the effect. Fu Antos did not need to pretend interest; he was well ready for the explosive culmination.
Flesh met flesh, seeking that rapturous lodging, the hard within the soft. As the experienced martial artist conquered by seeming to yield, so the female conquered by accepting the thrust. And his member failed him.
It was as though he had drawn his sword confidently from its scabbard and found it broken. With a skilled samurai awaiting satisfaction. Most embarrassing.
"Ten thousand fools!" he swore. How could this happen to him? Him, of all people! He did not care about the girl; sex was something he could take or leave, and he had been too busy at the Black Castle to indulge in such pastimes often. But when he did, he did, proving himself no less a master of the fleshly sword than of the steel.
The geisha stirred, bemused at his delay. Had she not brought him to the fever pitch, making it physically impossible for him to stave off final expression, even had he wanted to? How had she failed?
Fu Antos touched her neck with the ki, and her mind went blank. She remained frozen in position, aware of nothing but her own respiration and heartbeat.
His mind remained active. He remembered back almost three centuries, to the time before he was married. Then he had been potent, even in wildly adverse circumstances. Actually, it was like his test of this afternoon, though there was a superficial dissimilarity in the episodes. In each case there had been a fundamental challenge not obvious to the outsider; in each case he had vindicated himself and gained tremendously.
Fu Antos closed his eyes, remembering, comparing, savoring, while the girl stayed still, a living statue. But the memories, new and old, would not converge properly, as though the impotence extended from his groin right into his brain.
"Listen, Little Butterfly," he said.
The girl looked around, aware of him again. Now she was frightened; she had felt his strange power, not the kind of penetration she had anticipated. He liked her fear; it recharged him. And so he spoke, not entirely with his voice, but with the hypnotic control of his hands, the kuji-kiri. Hands and fingers moved in exotic rhythms of their own, tracing eldritch patterns, while his eyes fixed hers.
Though the geisha's eyes were locked on his, still she had to be aware of those queerly moving hands, as though they were independent of each other and of the rest of his body. The fingers intertwined like nests of vipers. The combination made her react far more expressively than she could otherwise have managed, for all her training. She not only heard, she saw the image forming behind the facade of his body. Her psyche, like her physical presence, was now captive to his thrust.
—There is one thing, the samurai said.
I glanced at him. —You wish to be certain I'm really a ninja, not an agent provocateur of the government.
Yonezuka nodded agreement —I would not send the Mito clan into such a trap. If you will give substantial evidence of your sincerity, your commitment to the ideals you have expressed...
I put my hand to the hilt of my sword. —Need you other commitment than this?
He shook his head. —I could test you with the blade, it is true. But if you are not whom you imply, you will die; if you are, I will die. In neither case is there anything to be gained.
—I, too, need an affirmation, I said cautiously. Did he think me a fool, to lay myself vulnerable to the commitment of words alone?
—Certainly, he agreed, perhaps too readily.
I looked about. The crowd had dissipated, and we happened to be on a street bereft of people. Yonezuka's request was legitimate, but so was mine: each of us had to be sure of the other before either made any treasonous (by certain definitions) commitment. We required a demonstration that would implicate Yonezuka and the Mito clan as irrevocably as it did me. Of course, I could test him with my ki, but I preferred not to employ that indiscriminately. It is not to a ninja's advantage to reveal his fundamental assets prematurely, if ever.
We happened by a house inside whose lighted interior two aliens sat. Their loud voices attracted my attention, irritating me. Why should they be in the warm shelter, while I roamed the gathering chill of the winter evening?
—Who are these creatures? I inquired, wrinkling my nose. Indeed, their odor offended me, even through the window; it was of leather and tobacco and overindulgence in the flesh of animals.
—They are British, from an isle across the world, Yonezuka replied, his own face mirroring my distaste. —Such things are appearing all over Japan, but especially in Yokohama. Their fat merchants come to practice the extortion they call trade; their villainous soldiers come to protect their merchants from the righteous wrath of those they cheat.
—And this is tolerated? I asked incredulously.
—What can one man do? he asked rhetorically in return, glancing sidelong at me. —The British battleships have truly awful cannon that can shell the city.
I considered. —I think that direct action against the merchants would not be politic on our part, and shelling would not be politic on theirs. It is money they want, not rage. Eliminate the soldiers, who are, after all, paid to fight and die, and the merchants will not long remain.
—Yes, certainly! But who can eliminate a beast who wears a revolver?
—I do not understand your question, I said, giving him a direct stare that showed I understood perfectly.
—I mean that even a redoubtable warrior (not that we know of any in these parts!) might find himself at a disadvantage against even so lowly a pair as these, unless, of course, he attacked by stealth in the night.
I shook my head as if perplexed. —It is, of course, the ninja way to utilize stealth. But in a case such as you mention, that would hardly be necessary. Anyone who could master three stalwart Japanese samurai could certainly deal with a mere barbarian. To imply otherwise is nonsensical.
—Perhaps. But there happen to be two barbarians.
I looked again, feigning surprise. —Why, so there are. To me a pigpen is much the same whether it has one pig or ten. It ought to be cleaned.
—Yes. The stink is oppressive.
—Perhaps a ninja and a samurai would not find it beneath their dignity to dispatch the chore.
—So it would seem, he agreed.
We marched up to the door and hailed the two barbarians.
—What a stench! Yonezuka bawled.
After a moment the door opened and we beheld the aliens at close range. One was a British major, and he was indeed hoglike of jaw and snout and gut, with porcine bristles on his moist fat lip. The other was a lesser swine, a lieutenant.
—Eh? the major grunted.
—We feel constrained to request your departure, I said.
—Beg pardon? the major squealed in bad Japanese, his hairy lip quivering.
—Pardon can be granted only after an act of contrition, I explained.
No
w both barbarians frowned. How ugly their white faces were! —Contrition?
—Depart, Yonezuka put in helpfully, realizing that they were too stupid to comprehend an indirect statement.
The major turned red, in the way that only an obese pale-complexioned foreigner could manage. —Sir, these are our premises! Where would you have us go?
—Back to your barbarian isles, I said.
Both Britishers jerked as if stung. Apparently an insult could after all penetrate their stout hides, if it was delivered with sufficient accuracy and force. —We don't have to listen to this! Get out! And they bulled out the door as if to push us with the might of their flabby bellies.
—Your presence in fair Japan fouls the air, I said, stepping back to give them more room.
The major's right hand descended to his revolver. At last!
I performed the uppercut. My right hand drew the sword from its scabbard at my left hip with eye-blurring speed. The blade emerged, gaining velocity, moving from left to right and upward at a sharp angle. The point touched the beast's right hip and continued the sweep diagonally to his left shoulder. Such was the force of the strike that his spinal cord was severed. He was dead before he toppled, his intestines spilling out in a boiling mass. Then his snout crashed into the ground as I stepped back to avoid contamination from the splash of his alien blood.
I whirled immediately on the lieutenant. But Yonezuka had already taken care of the matter. His cut had not been as deep or clean, so that he had to remedy the matter with a second slash at the barbarian's neck, but the job was done.
—Jo-i, Yonezuka muttered with satisfaction. —The barbarian-expelling spirit.
—Let us not remain longer in the smell of this offal, I suggested. —Unless you wish to register the matter with the magistrate? He laughed. We both knew that there would be serious repercussions for this double execution if we were caught. The last thing we wanted to do was tell the magistrate.
But the gesture had been made: the ninja and the samurai had established their credits as serious opponents of the current policy of Japan's unworthy government. Now we could trust each other. No agent provocateur, no spy of the capital city Edo, would have gone so far as to challenge and kill ranking foreigners.
"And so I came to you," Fu Antos said to the terrified geisha. "A man is entitled to a bit of entertainment after a good day's work. Yonezuka is out rousing the Mito clan, moving them into Edo, twenty miles to the north. I am obviously a tourist with nothing on my mind but my genitals."
"But this is Edo!" the girl said. "You speak as if you are still in Yokohama."
"I am," Fu Antos said. "At least, the ronin is, officially."
"It is impossible for a man to be in Yokohama in the afternoon and in Edo at dusk," she said. "Unless worn out from riding."
"I have no horse. Where I go, I go on foot."
"Then—"
"Correct. So I am there, not here. The perfect alibi."
"Let me go!" the girl pleaded, wanting no part of this. She had encountered many men and experienced many things, but nothing like this.
"What, before our business is finished?" he inquired mockingly.
"Then finish it! I shall not tell."
"Indeed you shall not." His eye moved to his long sword, so recently bloodied, and she gave a little cry of horror.
"Did you not leave your weapons at the entrance?" she demanded, cringing.
"I did. It is required."
"Then how can your sword be here? I am sure you did not carry it in."
"My blade is never far from my hand, though I can kill as quickly with another weapon, or with none." He savored her fear. "Intriguing that my weapon, like myself, is where it can not be! Is it ninja sleight-of-hand, or is it magic?"
But she was deaf to the intellectual humor of the situation. "Magic..." she whispered, believing.
"The code of the bushido, the way of the fighting knights, includes benevolence," he said. "I shall deprive you of the memory of this night, so that you will not suffer unduly. Later that memory will return, but by that time it will not be so frightening, and my business will be long finished."
She stared at him, her apprehension unabated.
"But first I must complete my narrative," he said. "Surely you find it fascinating?"
"Yes, yes!" she agreed with pathetic eagerness.
"You are too much like my wife. How readily she agreed with me, yet she betrayed me." He scowled, the memory bitter even after three centuries. He had had too much sake; his tongue was loose. He could control it with the ki, but did not, at this moment, choose to. "Listen."
Wide-eyed, hardly breathing, she listened.
The year was 1576. I was then a youth of sixteen, as yet unburdened by the demise of my honorable grandfather and father.
I was on a training mission. My assignment: to obtain a lock of the hair of the enemy lord and to steal his list of secret spies and informers. I had already passed the simpler tests of ninja proficiency, such as hanging silently from the branch of a tall tree for six hours, then dropping safely to stun an unsuspecting watchman. This current mission, I was certain, would be more challenging.
Suddenly I came upon a glade below the castle, a clearing through which a stream passed. A girl was there, washing herself. I came near, silently. I had intended to swim up this stream to where it entered the castle, thus gaining secret entry; this girl's presence complicated that. But perhaps she would soon depart, and in any event I would not make the attempt until nightfall. The cover of darkness has ever been the ninja's best friend.
Meanwhile, I was curious; she was facing away from me, her glossy black hair tumbling across her shoulders attractively. She was naked, humming tunelessly as her hands dipped in and out of the water.
I had not lacked for women. But my interests had been primarily with my martial art. The girls my grandfather sent to me were like unarmed peasants before the katana: so little challenge as to be meaningless. But this stranger intrigued me: she was an enemy maiden, no pawn of my family. No peasant, by the look of her; surely the young wife of a noble, unaccustomed to the drudgery of the peasant class. Why not take a really significant trophy home: the conquest of such a female?
No, I had better stick to my original mission. It was my impetuous gonad urging me to divert my energy, not my brain. Discipline was crucial to a ninja, and this was really part of my test. Still, I could at least examine the front of her before I moved on upstream to survey the castle itself.
—Ho, stranger! a man's voice called.
I froze. Had I been discovered?
Rising from the brush on either side of me were armed men, a party of warriors in the habiliments of the rival clan. There were some thirty of them. They had anticipated my coming and laid a trap for me, with the girl as bait. I, like an inexperienced, overconfident fool, had fallen into it. Where was my ninja cunning and caution now? I should never have allowed myself to become so distracted by one thing that I neglected to observe my surroundings. Who had betrayed me? Suddenly I realized the full nature of this test: my grandfather had done it. For an ordinary man this mission would have been impossible. For a ninja it would have been a challenge. But for the scion of Fu Antos, it would have been elementary, unless the degree of difficulty were artificially elevated. So the cunning old man had sent word ahead.
It was not that he hated me. I knew that he had a deep if hidden affection for me, and pride in my development. It was that he simply could not tolerate a weakling as eventual heir to the Black Castle. The ninja master had to be able to prevail in any situation, however difficult, and to be alert for anything, even betrayal from those closest to him. If I survived this mission, I would have proved myself a fit master.
If I survived.
Immediately I sought to withdraw, wriggling through the undergrowth like a snake, taking advantage of natural cover. But others rose ahead of me and behind me, cutting off my retreat. The trap had sprung; I was captive.
Or so they th
ought. I drew my sword as the ring of fighting men closed in. I did not wait for their attack. My blade flashed in a terrible uppercut, disemboweling the nearest attacker and slicing across the midsections of two more on the return swing. Then I lunged ahead, spearing a fourth; and back, catching a fifth.
—Hold! the enemy leader cried. —This is a bold one!
The warriors drew back, leaving their five dead in a half-circle about me. Actually, my swordsmanship had not been remarkable; we were trained to be aware of the entire picture and to rapidly reverse direction of attack. They had been crowding in so close that they could not maneuver, and had been setups for a standard combination. Had I essayed that trick against a similar number of samurai, only one would have died: me. But of course I had taken that into account.
Their blades were ready, and reinforcements had swelled their numbers, and a number of these were samurai. They seemed undaunted by my prowess; I would not catch many more so easily.
There was no apparent way to come out of this alive.
I burned inside to think of the embarrassment I had caused my grandfather. He had naturally expected me to anticipate this action and avoid capture. But I had been heedless, and now might never get beyond that stage. The question was, should I commence seppuku, the ritual self-disembowelment, now, or dispatch myself by less formal means? The longer I waited, the less likely I was to be able to redeem myself even to that extent, for they would surely seek to prevent it.
—You must be the cub of the Black Castle, the leader said. I recognized him; I had studied artist's pictures. It was his lock I was supposed to have shorn.
—Yes, I replied. There is no point in lying when the truth is known.
—It is not meet that you should die a dog's death. We shall put you to a fitting test for your life.
My tongue paused on the poison pellet hidden in my mouth. So long as I did not bite down hard, cracking open the shell, I would live. I returned it to my cheek. —My sword is ready, I said.
—Indeed it is. But we shall make you this bargain: perform one task, and we shall set you free without animus. Fail, and you must join our clan, replacing our losses with your service. I surveyed the ready weapons. My ninja training had taught me to prevail by any means at hand; the prime ethic was survival. They could not trust my word given in this circumstance, and they knew it; they would kill me regardless, and I would try to escape regardless. So we were merely entertaining each other with dialogue, seeking verbal as well as physical ascendancy. —What is your task?