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CHAPTER 1
Odawara, Japan — 1520, C.E.
Yoshima Mitsu walked through the muddy streets of the Gettoo, her young charge, Shioko, respectfully lagging several paces behind. Mitsu stared straight ahead, trying not to let the trash, filth and smell of the slum district's open sewers distract her from her purpose. Here, in the poorest section of Odawara, it wasn't unusual to encounter travelers, but a shirabyoshi and her attendant might attract some attention. Even in disguise — dressed in a monpe, a traditional field worker's uniform of sashed, cotton trousers, short jacket and wooden clogs, there was an aura about Mitsu. Despite her unpainted face and tied-back hair, she appeared more than she seemed.
And right now, attention was the last thing Yoshima Mitsu wanted.
But she knew she need not worry. In some ways, the wars among the daimyo were a good thing. Though it was mid-morning, the streets were empty. Doors were locked, windows closed. None of the villagers even dared to peek at the unknown wanderers in their midst. Fear of attack, fear of yet another battle among the local feudal lords kept them indoors, hiding, afraid.
So much the better for Mitsu. She and her young attendant passed through the streets without incident. The only immediate danger Mitsu felt at this point was succumbing to old painful memories. Truth to tell, she had grown up in the Gettoo but when she had left to become shirabyoshi, she had never returned. Until now.
Nothing has changed, she thought sadly. It is still the same. "Come, Shioko, do not dawdle," Mitsu said over her shoulder.
"Please, Mitsu-san," the girl, Shioko, said, puzzlement mirrored in her eyes. "Where are we going?" Mitsu's attendant was dressed shabbily, her baggy pants and jacket tattered, her face and hands dirty, her clogs worn thin at the heels. Mitsu had forbidden Shioko her morning bath and ordered her to dress like a common beggar.
It is for her own good. Mitsu continued staring straight ahead. I must not falter, she thought, recalling vaguely that the house she had grown up in had been located only a street or two away from this neighborhood. I must do this, for Shioko's sake. "Our destination is not much farther. Be patient."
She had seen this 'destination' in her mind's eye, her Dreamspace. Her sleeping visions had told her to bring Shioko here to the place of Mitsu's birthing. Her young attendant was in danger and though Mitsu could be a harsh mistress at times, she would not let any harm come to her little sister, who, against all tradition, Mitsu had learned to love as a daughter.
It had taken her and Shioko four days to reach Odawara. They had traveled what Mitsu's visions revealed would one day be known as the Tokaido Highway from Edo, stopping at the various post-towns along the way. Mitsu had worked her art, dancing and singing for the customers at the inns and tea-houses, accepting much-needed money, transportation and protection on the road as payment. Sometimes, more intimate types of entertainment had been required to allow them to continue their journey. To those who had asked, Mitsu had answered that their ultimate destination was the Ise Jingu, the Shinto Grand Shrine of Ise, to pay their respects to the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu. Yes, even in these times of perpetual war, there were still travelers and pilgrims on the road; she and Shioko appearing, on the surface, to be but two of many.
But at this particular fortress-city, this jokamachi, Mitsu would perform her true duty, the one closest to her heart, the duty of any mother to protect her child.
(To realize the images in her mind; to admit, even to herself, that what she foresaw was real ...)
She had never seen so far ahead in the Dreamspace before. She could glean a little of what was to come — the rise to power of the Edo Shogunate, the building of the Tokaido Highway, the coming of the foreign barbarians and the fall of the samurai warrior class. Frightening yet fascinating events-yet-to-be but those far-seeing visions were as illusions to her, watched as if looking out of the corner of her eye. Fuzzy and indistinct, they appeared to her infrequently and, like most dreams, allowed her no control over them.
But this ... though the images were faded and garbled as usual, she knew the journey she must send Shioko on would be one completely beyond her understanding. She wished she could know for a certainty what her attendant's 'ultimate destination' would be. But too much direct foretelling was forbidden even to her, she who possessed such a powerful though frustratingly inconsistent Gift of the Mind.
A gift? she asked herself for the thousandth time. Or a curse?
Mitsu turned to her right at a small intersection, moving unerringly as if she had trod this street a thousand times before. Indeed, as a child growing up poor and, in her family's eyes, unwanted as only another mouth to feed, she had. And once more, later as an adult, in her visions, her feet had followed this same path, over and over. She knew what she would find here — the narrow way ended in a circle of old shanties, garbage bins, privy sheds and boarded up lean-tos, the dead-end area littered with trash.
In such a place as this would miracles happen? she wondered. Never could I have guessed this. The kami do work in mysterious ways.
"Please, Mitsu-san, what ...?"
Mitsu turned and knelt in front of Shioko, silencing her by lightly pressing a finger to the young girl's lips. Shioko's face shone with a beauty and pureness not found in other children her age. Her straight black hair, doll-like features and flawless complexion were visible even through the temporary cover of grime forced upon her by her elder sister. Such beauty, and the soul that it blanketed, must have the chance to blossom.
Was I that lovely as a child? Mitsu thought absently. Perhaps. But that was so long ago. "Attend me, Shioko," the shirabyoshi said softly but forcefully. "Listen to what I say."
The girl shook her head, her already large eyes growing wider.
"You know what the sisters of my profession call me, do you not?" Mitsu continued.
"'The One Who Sees', Mitsu-san."
"Yes. And do you know why they call me that?"
Shioko bit her lip. "You ... you can tell which inn or government official will be the most willing to pay for your services. You know which client will be the most lu ... lucrative? Sometimes, you know what others are thinking."
Mitsu smiled, an aching in her heart. "Yes. But it is more than that. I developed this 'talent' late in life, long after I had become shirabyoshi. I keep the true extent of my abilities a secret, even from you. Perhaps I could go further in this world if I used my foreknowledge for more money or power but, chances are, I would be deemed a majo, a witch, or one who is cursed. I would be persecuted, hunted down and killed if I showed the true nature of the power I possess. I have seen it happen before. People fear what they do not understand. And, besides, this gift of mine can only see so much. There is so much more that I cannot discern —"
"Oh, Mitsu-san —"
"Sshhh. Listen, little sister. I have witnessed your future, at least a part of it. And it lies here, in this filthy alley." Mitsu closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. What she was about to do was the hardest thing she had ever done, even more than leaving her family so long ago, sold by her father to the Guild of Courtesans who would raise and educate her as one of their own, the money exchanged to help the family she had left behind. But she had to be as strong now as she had learned to be then — this time for Shioko.
"But, Mitsu-san, how ...?"
"I do not know everything. I only know what I have seen and only a small part of that. You are going on a voyage, Shioko, one you may never return from."
"No!" Shioko covered her mouth with her hands, a combination of shock at Mitsu's words and embarrassment at speaking in such a loud, unseemly tone to her elder sister.
But propriety and one's station in life were the last things on Mitsu's mind. Was she not shirabyoshi? A lowly courtesan in some people's eyes? "Please, little sister," she said softly, running her hand through Shioko's hair. "You must trust me. I see one who will care for you when you have gone and keep you safe from the purges-to-come of Omori Kadonomaro and his warrior monks, the sohei."
"Purges-to-come?"
"It has not happened yet but I see it coming to pass, and soon. The daimyo Omori is a rising feudal lord now but with the sohei as his allies, he may achieve dominance. Like all the other power-hungry warlords that have beset us these last many years, he will wage war and wreak havoc. He is bent on taking back Odawara from the Soun clan who had conquered Omori's own clan years ago. This is what warlords do, yes? Especially in these times of constant battle. Even now his forces lay in wait outside the gates of Odawara."
Mitsu looked away, knowing she must complete this task, no matter how difficult it was. But the fear rose within her. Was this the right thing to do? There was so much she didn't know. And Shioko was so young. What if she was wrong? What if her visions, no matter how reliable in the past, were not what she thought they were?
"But this lord is different," she continued finally. "It is rumored he makes pacts with demons and witches, that he consorts with monsters. In due time, he will search for children like you, the children of your years, to recruit for his brothels and slave dens, if he does not kill them outright. He will try to deter the prophecy — the telling of the One Child who will grow up to usurp him and his evil rule-to-be. Because you live with me, because we travel the open roads so frequently, you will be in danger. Not now, but soon, when his power grows, you will not be safe anywhere."
She stared hard at her little sister, her lips drawn in a thin, tight line. "I will not give you up to him."
"But ... but ..." Tears began to well in Shioko's eyes as the full import of what Mitsu said began to dawn on her.
"I know you don't understand," Mitsu continued. "I don't either, not fully. But you must believe me. I have seen what will happen or, at least, the fringes of it. I cannot protect you here when the purges begin, not for long. No matter where or how you'd hide, Omori or one of his warrior monks would find you out. And, most dangerously, he will unleash his shadow-trackers to scour the villages and the surrounding countryside in his mad bid for power."
"The shadow-trackers?" Shioko's lower lip trembled. "I thought the shadow-trackers were stories. Like the nue and the Ebon Warrior. I thought —"
Mitsu shook her head. "No. The nue are legend — creatures with the neck of a monkey, the body of a fox, the limbs of a tiger and tail of a snake; the Ebon Warrior is a black-clad hero invented to entertain children."
Mitsu closed her eyes. "The shadow-trackers are real. They are homunculi, creatures between, forged into being by Omori's alliance with those of the Left Hand Path. They are real. I have seen them." Mitsu concentrated. Her thoughts coalesced into a single thread of energy, sending a thin tendril of vision into the mind of her young charge.
(An image of a man-beast, lean and powerful, running upright, eyes glowing yellow, fangs bared.)
"Oh! Mitsu-san, please! Stop! It's a monster! A monster!" Shioko fell into Mitsu's arms, sobbing and trembling.
"I am sorry, little sister," Mitsu whispered, holding onto Shioko tightly. "Forgive me but you had to see what awaits you if you stay. But in this other place that you will travel to, you will be safe, even from such as them."
Mitsu paused at the first tremor — a slight shivering of the space around hers and Shioko's bodies. She glanced to each side of her as if she could see where the sensation was coming from, as if it was an actual physical thing, able to be measured and observed. She was sure Shioko hadn't sensed it; only because of Mitsu's sensitivity to such spectral matters would she even suspect anything untoward had happened at all. But it was there — a disturbance in the hollow of invisible thought she referred to as the Dreamspace.
And so, it was time. The Spirit Winds approached.
She grasped Shioko by the girl's thin shoulders, trying to still the hammering of her heart. She suddenly felt light-headed, short of breath. "I ... I give you no weapon to take with you. Such a thing would only attract danger and self-inflicted harm. You must appear to be helpless.
"You are garbed as a pauper. Such an appearance will help you wherever you are going. It will appeal to the one who finds you, will garner sympathy and kindness."
Shioko frowned, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Who ... who is it that will find me, then? Do they know I will be coming?"
"I cannot see that," Mitsu answered truthfully, the pain of it like a blade in her gut. "There are some things that remain hidden from me. All I know is that you will be found ... and loved."
Shioko stared at her mistress, her eyes misting over again. "Mitsu-San, I don't want to leave you. I really don't understand."
"You will, in time, my child." Perhaps we both will. "Yes, I know that isn't much consolation now but, in the meantime, remember what I have taught you of the teachings of the philosopher Yira, he who was neither Shinto nor Buddhist but one outside of both. Now you must take Yira's wisdom into your own heart. Do you remember his primary credos?"
"The ... the Five Precepts to Enlightenment?"
Mitsu nodded. "Yes. Recite them for me. Yes, yes, now."
Shioko nodded, took a deep breath and began speaking, "Do not be afraid to open one door; be wary of the many. Embrace the darkness; our birthing springs from the abyss. There are no differences; only perceptions. The inner self holds the true power; the outer exists only as a vessel. The end is the beginning; the beginning has no end."
"Very good. Remember Yira's good words. Whenever you are troubled or in danger, their meaning, no matter how hard to grasp, will guide you. Hold them close to your heart as I have, adhere to them and you will be safe." Another tremor, this time stronger. "You will stay here, in this spot, do you hear?" Mitsu's mouth, despite its determined set, began to quiver. "You will not move from it no matter what!"
Fear now. "Yes ... yes. But why? Please don't go, Mitsu-san!"
"Obey me! Believe me, Shioko, this is for your own good!" Mitsu stood up and walked back the way she had come. She stopped at the sound of Shioko's choking sobs. Her carefully built emotional walls crumbling, she turned, ran back and embraced the child.
"Please, Mitsu-San, please ..." The girl clung to Mitsu, crying now, her tears flowing like water from a broken dam. "Why can't you come with me then? You will be in danger too if you stay! And why, if you know what will happen, why can't you stop it? Why?"
"I cannot come with you," Mitsu said, her voice breaking. "It is not the will of the kami. My visions saw only you and only fleetingly at best. And I cannot stop it; it is what must be, no matter what. I can only help in this small way as whatever happens is already written." Her own heart breaking, Mitsu released Shioko and backed up. "Goodbye, Shioko-chan," she whispered. "I love you."
"Mitsu-san!" At the sound of Shioko's last, wrenching cry, the ground spun out from under Mitsu. She fell against the privy shed to her left as a whirling dizziness struck. A roaring sounded in her ears, a shrieking from out of the grave. Light flashed behind her closed eyelids. Mitsu sank to her knees, covering her ears. She felt the breath sucked out of her, her body buffeted by pounding waves of force. She tried to scream, to call out for help ...
And then it was over. She fell forward, stopping herself from falling flat on her face as she knelt on knees and hands in the stinking mud like a dog. Her breath came in ragged gasps, spots dancing before her eyes.
"Shioko!" She looked up to where Shioko had been standing; Shioko, her attendant, her little sister. As her visions had told her would happen, the young girl was gone, taken by the Spirit Winds to a far and distant place.
You will never get her now, Omori, the shirabyoshi thought, her own tears starting to fall. She is gone from your cruel clutches. I only pray I have done the right thing.
Yoshima Mitsu stood up, trembling, wiped her muddy hands on her trousers, turned and walked out of the alley and the Gettoo one last time, forever.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Sixth Precept"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Larry Ivkovich.
Excerpted by permission of IFWG Publishing International.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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