Madame nodded, already guessing the turn that this conversation was going. “It is as much as any parent would hope to provide.”
“You don’t have any children, do you?”
Madame felt her heart drop, a familiar sensation to this question. How had Nori known? “No. I am not able. But the women here are as my own daughters.”
Nori laughed. “You are a horrible mother to whore out your children.”
Madame shook with rage. It wasn’t much, but it was a better fate than these women would have had elsewhere. But Nori wasn’t done.
“I came today to ask for a consort for him for the spring season when we go to war.”
Madame was taken aback. The question itself was beyond rude, beyond being socially acceptable. The request was impossible. No woman had ever left Madame’s house. They were her daughters of misfortune. The work was what it was, but it was safe. Madame always made it so. Sending a woman off to war was wrong.
“I’m sorry, general, but as you know the women of this house aren’t allowed to leave the premises except under escort, and are never allowed to leave the city.”
The general waved away her excuses as though he were brushing away a fly. “I’m sorry that you feel that way. I have long been a supporter of this little endeavor of yours. It has always been a quality establishment. But I will have a woman for my son.”
Madame felt a flush of anger and struggled to suppress it. She had to remain calm and decide how to deal with this man. If a man, any man, could come in here and leave with one of the girls she would soon be dealing with mutiny. Her mission would be ruined. She couldn’t let it happen but couldn’t think of a way to stop it.
The general continued. “It is my desire that my son have a consort who will instruct him and be available to him without reservation so he may maintain his focus on the campaign. As a young man in a position of privilege, it would not be unheard of for unscrupulous women to approach him and attempt to get him to divulge information. A consort would protect him against such indiscretions. I believe Takako will serve him well.”
Madame felt her stomach drop even further. She had always assumed Takako would become the general’s favorite when she came of age. Already her beauty was well known around the region, and Madame had looked forward to grooming her to be the consort of the most powerful men in the city. Information was power, and Takako would acquire much of it.
Madame’s mind raced as she sipped her tea. She thought about attempting to kill Nori. He had been a well-known swordsman back in his day, but she hadn’t heard anything about his skill since he had taken to commanding the army. Her guards were superb, but she had no way of knowing. She was not a fighter and couldn’t judge. It was too risky and difficult to hide or frame. Nori was one of the most powerful men in the realm and his death was sure to have more consequences than Madame could calculate.
On the other hand she feared for the reputation of her house and the women who worked for her. Working at Madame’s was safe. Their work was dangerous for many women and deaths, beatings, and maiming were common stories on the streets. As long as they lived under Madame’s house, her women were safe and protected. Every day they turned away desperate women. Madame had a reputation around the city for defending her women and no men dared try their luck, no matter their level of intoxication. To risk her reputation risked everything. Madame felt her future unraveling.
Accept or resist, neither option put Madame in a better place. There was a good deal of time left before spring season, and it was worth playing with Nori while she tried to figure out alternatives.
Nori was tired of waiting. “Madame, I know you believe your house is different. That although you live richly, you are somehow the protector of these women. But make no mistake, at the end of the day your girls are whores. They are the best whores in the whole region, and whatever lies you tell yourself to make them so are fine by me. But Takako will come with me in the spring to accompany my son. Prepare her, and your house will stand. Cross me, and your house will burn with you and your girls inside.”
All Madame could do was nod her assent. She would protect her girls, no matter the cost, but she did not know how.
CHAPTER TEN
Despite her desire, Moriko did not try to escape. Her inability to work up the courage to try infuriated her. She wanted to see the outside world more than she desired food. But she believed the monks and she believed her new friends, if they could be called friends. Her courage failed her, vanished like a shadow in the night. Everyone she asked had the same story. The easy escape, the first few days of freedom. The inevitable capture and lashes. Moriko understood. You could escape the monastery but you couldn’t escape the monks.
Life wasn’t all bad though. Tomotsu was a welcome presence in Moriko’s life the first few seasons of her time at Perseverance. He was an optimist and never gave up hope of escape even though his first attempt had been so unsuccessful. Moriko doubted he would ever get around to escaping again. He talked a lot about it, but he never planned anything, never took any concrete actions. Life in the monastery was difficult but food was always provided, the fires always burned at night, and the life of a monk was one of privilege in society. Although the life may be severe at times, it seemed worthwhile to all the monks who trained them. They were believers.
There was always plenty of talk about the outside world. Moriko remembered being treated as an odd child by her family, but other children had stories that made her realize how lucky she had been. Once people found out they possessed the sense they were shunned from society, often beaten or hunted. The monastery could be hard, but it was safe compared to a life outside the walls.
Monastic life was nothing if not routine. Rise with the sun, morning exercise, chores, classes, lunch, combat training, sense training, supper, more classes, bed. At least, Moriko thought, it was not hard to fall asleep at night. The first few nights had been more difficult. Moriko missed the old forest, the sounds and peace and serenity that she experienced while she lived there. She missed her father and their journeys into the old woods. She missed listening to the sound of his voice as he explained the things she didn’t know. But busy days and physical exhaustion kept her from lamenting too much.
As the seasons changed Moriko’s attitude began to change, so subtly she didn’t notice the change at first. When she had first arrived Tomotsu talked daily of escape, but as the seasons passed the talk became less frequent as he became more involved in his training. Moriko would sometimes try to remind him of his former passion, but it was a risky proposition. She worried she was losing her one confidant inside the monastery walls. As Tomotsu grew older and more comfortable in his life his desire for change and freedom diminished. He grew stronger and more powerful, more attached to the life and privilege of a monk. Moriko took small comfort in knowing at least he didn’t report her to the Abbot or to the monks.
She found that despite his cooling passions, she still adored him. It was unrequited, and a part of her understood and was fine with it. He was nice to her and he made her laugh, and in a place where her surroundings never changed it was a priceless gift. He was the older brother she had always wanted, one who cared and listened and tried to help.
The part of the day Moriko enjoyed most was combat training. On her first day she discovered she had a natural aptitude for it. Perseverance had its own combat training system that was a derivative of a style designed for monasteries throughout the Three Kingdoms. The style emphasized circular movements in both attack and defense and Moriko found the movements very natural.
It wasn’t long before Moriko was top of the class in combat training even though she was the youngest and the newest initiate. The pleasure she derived from throwing the larger boys around the practice yard was intense and often made up for the monotony of the rest of the day.
Chores were dirty, repetitive and soul-crushing, and training in the sense meant time in meditation which Moriko struggled with. She loved to be active and to move. The prolonged sitting was torturous and she could only sometimes create the results the monks were expecting of her. Ironically, she thought, the sense did not make any sense to her. Sometimes she believed she could feel others around her, and she could always tell when the Abbot was around, but the monks told her stories of abilities that made her doubt her own experiences. There was always a glimmer of hope in her heart. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to be a monk after all.
The worst part of her life was Goro, the monk who had taken her from her family. She didn’t have any strong feelings about any of the other monks. They were all nice enough when she behaved and stern enough when she didn’t. But ever since she had come to the monastery Goro had taken a unique interest in her. He was the only monk who didn’t teach. All the classes were taught in rotation by the monks depending on who was available and who was most competent in the area being taught. But despite Goro not being a teacher, he always seemed to be in Moriko’s space, looking over her shoulder.
During chores he would stand behind her, ordering her to repeat whatever task she had just completed. During combat training he would often sneak up behind her and use a pole to knock her off-balance just in time for her to be unable to deflect an incoming strike or throw. Even during sense training he would walk by with his switch and strike her, telling her to focus, regardless of her state of concentration.
She asked Tomotsu about it one time and he told her she was imagining him as an enemy because Goro was the one who brought her in. Life in the monastery was tough for everyone, and he implied she shouldn’t be complaining when all the other students were undergoing similar punishments. Moriko tried to convince him this was unique, more focused than anything the other students were experiencing, but Tomotsu didn’t believe her and told her she’d have to be stronger.
Through everything, Moriko managed to control herself and not act out. She tolerated his pokes and jabs until one afternoon of combat training when Goro poked her with his staff just in time for her to take a fist to the face from one of the oldest and strongest boys. She wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the look of satisfaction on the older boy’s face, but Moriko was furious and swore she would never let Goro sneak up on her again.
Their training continued and Moriko tried to split her attention between Goro, who circled the perimeter of the practice area, and pay attention to her opponent. She realized in short order she wouldn’t be able to keep track of both, and with the more immediate threat being an older boy trying to redeem his pride from an earlier defeat, she was forced to pay more attention to the attacker right in front of her.
When it happened it came without warning or conscious effort. Moriko felt the end of Goro’s staff coming towards her lower back. The world seemed to slow down and everything became clear to her. Without looking she knew where the staff was and where it was going to be. She took in the whole situation in less than the space of a breath. The pole was behind her, creeping with frustrating accuracy towards the base of her spine. In front of her the older boy had seen an opportunity and was lunging forward, off balance with the whole weight of his body behind his right fist. He had seen the opening and was committing everything to redeeming himself by crushing this small girl.
Her response felt natural, the extension of all her training in combat. She pivoted, using her left hand to guide the pole and direct it down and to the side. At the same time she caught her partner’s wrist in her right hand and brought her center of gravity down, throwing him as though she was tossing a sack of vegetables onto the ground. As soon as she let him fly, she reversed her pivot, gripped the pole with both hands and shoved it back towards Goro, who was also off-balance and unprepared for a counterattack. With a little twist, Moriko was able to direct the other end of the pole straight into Goro’s throat.
The strike hadn’t been too strong, but the surprise and the strike were enough to drop Goro to the ground, clutching his throat and struggling for air. The effect wouldn’t have been greater if Lord Akira himself had materialized in the center of the practice ground, everyone stopping their sparring to stare open-mouthed at the sight before them. Monks demonstrated techniques and supervised sparring. None of the initiates had seen the monks fight in real combat, but they were very good, and they trained by themselves, sometimes allowing the initiates to watch in amazement. None of the initiates would have guessed that any one of them could take out a full-fledged monk. But the evidence was right in front of them.
Moriko was flooded by a quick succession of conflicting thoughts. Her first reaction was to smile, which made her realize this was probably the first time she had smiled since arriving at the monastery. Whatever the reason, it felt wonderful to have taken Goro down. She wondered about herself. Being happy to have committed violence against another. She used to feel so bad anytime she had hurt anyone.
Goro was standing up, catching his breath in fits and starts. Anger swirled around him like a dust storm, but Moriko did not see him. She saw nothing in her excitement. She felt as if she were born to fight. It fulfilled her. The power inside of her was fantastic.
Moriko didn’t notice when Goro motioned to two other monks who moved to Moriko’s side and grabbed her arms. She followed them, unresisting, as her mind struggled to deal with the implications of her thoughts. If she beat Goro with so little problem perhaps she could leave the Monastery. Perhaps no one could stop her, no one could hold her back. Her soul burned like wildfire through dry prairie, consuming all logic.