Keiko's Charity

This is intended to be a short historical fiction based in feudal Japan. As a bit of warning, there might be some anachronisms and technical inaccuracies. But hopefully it doesn't detract from the story.

If you enjoyed it, or if you didn't, please rate it and please, please give me feedback! Thanks for reading!

Any resemblance between the characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle.

***

Lady Keiko awoke, startled, to the sound of yelling and muffled thumping of busy footsteps in the hall outside of her chamber. Still groggy, she jumped out of bed to investigate the curious commotion. Sliding her door open a creak, she peeked out with squinting eyes to the orange-lit hallway to find glistening blood streaked across the floor.

"Damn kunoichi!" yelled a guard from a rabble of three or four men that carried a bloodied body through the dim passageway.

"Desperate coward," said another in a strained voice.

"You there. Guard. What's going on?" she croaked half-awake, poking her head out into the hallway. The man in the rear turned to her, dropping the legs of the unconscious body and bowed, responding, "we found an assassin, my lady."

Keiko looked around him to study the lifeless assassin, who was still propped up by her arms by a compatriot of the bowing man. She wore a dark blue blood-soaked kimono. "It's a woman," Keiko pointed out.

"The bitch is a kunoichi assassin. She tried to enter the Daimyo's chamber tonight."

Keiko ought to have gasped in horror at the news that her husband was almost murdered in his sleep, but she yawned and rubbed her eyes instead. She was a bit more curious by the novelty of a kunoichi assassin in the castle, and a little too tired to demonstrate concern for her husband.

"And what happens to her?"

"The Daimyo will have his way with her tomorrow morning. Apologies, my lady, but we are on our way to the dungeon now."

Though her curiosity yet satisfied, Keiko nodded and let the anxious guards go on their way. "Thank you for your vigilance." The guards bowed deeply and turned to take the unconscious woman down the hall. Keiko shut her door and promptly went back to her bed.

The next morning, she woke to the crowing rooster and the pleasant warmth of a pale, smoky beam of early autumn sunlight on her face. The coal brazier that lay in the recess under her tatami mat was still crackling but had lost most of its warmth in the chill of the morning. It was early enough that her servants would not come to dress her for at least another hour, but excited by the events of last night, Keiko's curiosity was still percolating inside her. She wanted to investigate the story of the female ninja more fully. She threw on a kimono and walked down to the prison.

A young and sleepy sentry waited at the entrance at the bottom of the narrow stairs in the bowels of the Daimyo's castle. When he spotted his mistress walking towards him, he stood to crisp attention, straightening his tall naginata polearm, and bowing when she stood in front of him.

"Your grace," he greeted.

Keiko bowed her head. "How is the prisoner?" she asked. The small prison, which constituted just one cell, was hidden behind a heavy oak door. The guard cleared his throat and said, "well, to be honest, your grace, I haven't checked."

"Please let me see her," Keiko said.

The guard looked around cautiously and whispered to her, "are you sure that's a good idea? I- I mean, she is a kunoichi. They said she might even be possessed by an evil spirit demon. She's dangerous too dangerous, your grace!"

The wide-eyed guard trembled at his own description. Keiko rolled her eyes. Superstition had always been pervasive within the heavily guarded walls of Erimo.

"Don't be silly. If that were true, she wouldn't have let herself be caught, would she? Let me in." The guard gulped nervously but obeyed. He opened the heavy prison door. Light spilled into the cave-like dungeon as the door slowly creaked open to reveal a figure, still dressed in the blood-soaked kimono, forced into a kneeling position by her iron bindings. She was tied to a sturdy wooden column in the center of the dirt-floor cell.

"Let me see her face," Keiko said to the guard. He walked over to the prisoner and pulled up on the chin of the slumped over head. She was conscious but unresponsive. Her hair was unkempt and hanging in a glistening wet strands over her face, appearing, as the young guard suggested, possessed by an evil demon spirit. The prisoner's left eye was swollen badly and bruised to a sickly dark maroon color, jaundiced around the edges of the swollen area. Dried blood streaked from a wound she had from the top of her skull, where she had been struck by a blunt object. She was silent and breathing rapidly, like a feral animal too weak to struggle against its captor.

"Why are we so cruel to our prisoners," Keiko said. "Fetch me a bucket of water. And a sponge."

The guard bowed and walked hurriedly out of the prisoner cell, appearing again with the requested items. Keiko kneeled down next to the prisoner and soaked the sponge with the fresh water from the bucket and caringly wiped the blood from her face. Beneath the veil of dried blood, her face appeared beautiful, even with the swollen eye. Young and smooth. Pale, porcelain skin indicating that she was from a high class, not of peasantry.

Keiko proceeded to unwrap her ragged kimono, hushing the guard as he protested. There were cuts across the top of her chest and her arms, but the bleeding had stopped. The woman was clammy to the touch and her heartbeat weak. Her muscles were, much to Keiko's surprise, tautened in fibers as hard as the steel of a katana blade - unlike any woman she had ever touched. Even her small breasts felt like hard knots on a maple tree. Scars of various shapes from various weapons covered her body. A veteran warrior.

The guard watched with his mouth opened in awe over Keiko's shoulder when a deep, booming voice interrupted.

"Are we having fun in here?"

Both Keiko and the young guard jumped and spun around to find the Daimyo silhouetted in the prison cell doorway, with a crowd of his retinue standing behind him.

"So, this is the Kunoichi bitch that tried to kill me last night?" he asked flatly. Keiko bowed deeply.

"Good morning, my love," she said and moved aside.

One of his men grunted, "that's her."

The Daimyo kneeled down in front of the prisoner to get a good look at his would-be assassin. The prisoner furled her brows with fury in her eyes. He grimaced in disgust at the sight, offended that this girl was what his enemy had sent.

"Pathetic," he said.

With all the energy she had in her body, the prisoner spat at him. Keiko gasped. Unperturbed, the Daimyo wiped the spit from his face. "This... ninja doesn't deserve an honorable death," he said disdainfully. Rising to his feet, he continued, "she stays here. We keep her as a prisoner. At the very least, with time and pain, she may confer information about my enemy."

A member of his retinue protested, "Tanenaga-dono, we should just get rid of her. We don't have the men to guard any prisoners. And our food stock is at its limit. With another mouth to feed, it is too much... Perhaps the bladesmith has a new katana that he needs to test?"

The Daimyo brushed the man's protest off.

"No," he growled. "I will not dignify her with a swift execution."

Spotting Keiko standing quietly in the shadows of the dimly lit room, he said,

"My beloved Keiko. Why are you here in the presence of such a cowardly criminal?"

Keiko smiled coyly as she bowed. "I wanted to look into the eyes of such a coward that dares to try to murder my husband in his sleep. To understand her malice against the one I love."

She lied. Not an ounce of fear for her dear husband's life had ever entered her body. She was simply curious to see what a kunoichi would look like, and wanted, even, to talk to one. But the Daimyo seemed pleased with the answer.

"I would not waste my time, my love. The kunoichi do not do it for malice. They do not do it for sense of loyalty or honor. Only for a price. They're petty and disgraceful."

Keiko glanced down at the sedate woman. Somehow, she did not believe this to be the case.

"Since I have no men to spare, Keiko, I shall put the prisoner under your care. Tea and water only. Food comes as a reward for truthful confessions," the Daimyo instructed. "Relay her confessions directly to me."

He caressed Keiko's face with his rough hand, then left the prison cell along with his retinue.

Keiko started to complain but bit her tongue. She bowed her head in acknowledgement of her duties. She knew that Tanenaga would allow the prisoner to starve to death, even if she did provide confessions. As unsavory as punishments go, it was his way. Too bad the prisoner wasn't, in fact, just an evil spirit.

She reached into her kimono and felt the sheath of her kaiken - the small, steel dagger she always carried. With one gentle push of the blade into the back of the prisoner's neck, the unfortunate girl would quickly die. It was the humane thing to do. But doing so would be disobedient to her husband. And as she was already not exactly in his good favor, a misstep could lead to an unfortunate result for her.

"Looks like it's just you and I," Keiko muttered to the prisoner, looking down at the ragged, bloody heap with sadness.

She jumped when she heard from behind her: "I'm still here!"

It was the young guard standing behind Keiko, a large grin on his cheery face.

"Why don't you go back to your station!" Keiko yelled. He flinched, then bowed profusely and scurried off. She called to him, "wait. Guard. What's your name?"

"I'm Kazuo," he said, his head peeking into the dungeon.

"And will you be here every morning, Kazuo?"

"My duty is to guard the dungeon from midnight until mid-morning. As long as the prisoner is... well, as long as we have a prisoner to guard."

To Keiko, Kazuo seemed kind and innocent. He was boyishly amiable, unlike the other brutish castle guards that Keiko had grown accustomed to. And more importantly, he treated Keiko with obedient respect.

"I will visit her when you are on duty," Keiko said. "Fetch her water to drink at once. And when I come back tomorrow, I would like to see that the prisoner's bindings are loosened, and that she is given a tatami to sit on. And fresh clothes. And a blanket. We can at least treat her like a human being."

Kazuo bowed. "Yes, my lady."

Keiko resided in the castle of a small town called Erimo. It sat in a valley between wild, forested mountains, a two days ride on an urgent horse from Kyoto. Keiko was born and raised there and had never left. She was not from a powerful or rich family, but at an early age, it was assumed she would marry into a high position in the town. She had unparalleled beauty. Her naturally fair skin contrasted sharply to the rather rough and sun-stretched faces of the other girls her age in the village, and her elegant and lush hair shimmered silver in the moonlight as if blessed by the night spirits. Whenever Keiko strolled through the streets of Erimo, she strolled gracefully - the shop-owners, peasants, and samurai alike would halt their business to admire her beauty. Her father and her brother being loyal samurai in the service of Daimyo Mashita Tanenaga, it seemed only the natural way of things that, not long after her transition into womanhood, the Daimyo would seek her hand in marriage.

Though Keiko was destined for high status, she was not destined for happiness. It was not long after marriage before she was pregnant with her first child. The child died before he was born. Not long afterwards, she would find out that both her father and brother died in battle. She heard rumors that the cavalry charge ordered by the Daimyo on the battlefield was needless and reckless. The battlefield commander insisted that they died courageously, as samurai, but that did not stop her from a bout of painful heartbreak and a listlessness that Tanenaga began to resent her for. He started to prefer the beds and company of other women. Keiko was not displeased at this behavior. She could hardly look him in the eyes without wrath filling her heart. Her acts of love had become only a façade. She realized that Tanenaga was a cruel, cold man.

Keiko woke early again the next day. This time before the roosters crowed. She dressed quickly and went to visit the prison cell. Her goal that morning was to have her first conversations with the kunoichi.

Keiko found Kazuo sitting at the prison door, naginata in hand, drooping into a slack-jawed, droning mindlessness.

"Good morning, Kazuo," Keiko sang. He woke, startled, from his trance and jumped to attention, his eyes confused as to where to focus.

Keiko shook her head in incredulity. "Ninjas blowing on flutes and whistles could make their way past you without notice," she said. Kazuo's face reddened.

"Let me see her."

He obliged, swinging the heavy prison door open. Keiko walked into the lonely, cell. Only a single stream of pale light made its way in through a tiny square window located high on the wall. The prisoner laid in the fetal position on top of the tatami, covered in a thick blanket.

"I did as you asked, my lady. Tatami mat, fresh kimono and water. I loosened her binding, so she should be more comfortable."

Keiko nodded and smiled at him approvingly. He was not like the other castle brutes.

"Thank you, Kazuo. Your obedience is well-noted. Now please leave me with the prisoner."

Kazuo bowed and closed the prison door lightly. The pale sunlight from the lone window fell onto the prisoner, causing the prisoner's body to shine like crystal against the dark shadows of the prison cell. Keiko spent a moment to observe the prisoner. She was deep asleep, breathing calmly. She did not know yet that food would only come with confessions. Keiko wondered how quickly and easily the kunoichi would partake. Was she loyal to her master?

Truth be told, Keiko did not believe that the kunoichi would get food as reward for her confession. At best Tanenaga could be convinced to give her a quick death if she were cooperative. Likely, she would be forgotten in the bowels of the castle. Keiko grasped the sheath of the small kaiken dagger hidden beneath her kimono. The wives of every samurai were expected to carry a kaiken as a means to defend themselves and as a convenient means of suicide should dishonor or despair unexpectedly come their way. But it won't serve Keiko as a means to save the kunoichi (and herself) the anguish of this immurement.

Keiko knelt down quietly besides the kunoichi. She considered that, upon waking, the sleeping assassin would strike at her, but the prisoner slept peacefully with a serene look on her face. She felt safe.

She put her hand out to touch the blanket covering the prisoner's body. The prisoner shifted. Keiko was startled to hear a hoarse voice coming from beneath the mess of hair. "Thank you," the prisoner said.

"Thank you for?"

"The blanket and the clothes. And for the water. Kazuo had been bringing water for me all night. He insisted that I drink."

"So, you've been talking with Kazuo?" Keiko asked.

"No. We didn't talk."

"Then how do you know his name?"

The prisoner sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning, and stretching as best she could with the jingling iron clasps on her wrists and ankles. She moved with the confidence of a cat uninterested in her current predicament. "I'm not deaf," she responded simply, a slight grin etched on the side of her mouth.

Keiko smiled at the quip and watched her in silent fascination. Upon closer inspection, the woman appeared much older than Keiko, perhaps thirty or older. Though her face gaunt, it was smooth and attractive. She had high cheekbones, and her eyes were like sharp almonds, unthinking, yet observant. Her hair kept falling across her face, which she constantly shook away.

"Here," Keiko said. "Let me fix your hair."

The prisoner eyed Keiko curiously and cautiously as Keiko took a lacquered pin from her own hair and proceeded to tie the prisoner's loose hair up in a bun as her mother once taught her. When she was finished, she was taken aback by the prisoner's new look. Though dressed only in a simple kimono, without makeup, and in chains, even with her injuries she appeared as graceful as a royal princess.

Seeing Keiko's amused face, the prisoner said, "do I satisfy my lady?"

The smile vanished.

"I'm not your play doll. I'm your prisoner."

Keiko frowned and clucked. "I'm treating you with dignity because I know my husband won't. If you prefer, I could leave you here to wither away. It would be easy for me to do."

The prisoner nodded and stayed silent.

Keiko straightened up and continued, "now, I'm here to ask you for some information on behalf of my husband, whom you may know as Mashita Tanenaga."

She cleared her throat. The kunoichi listened intently.

"The agreement is simple: in exchange for information, you will be fed. If you choose not to cooperate, you will not be fed."

"I understand," the prisoner responded.

"First question: what is your name?"

"Kiyo."

"Kiyo...?"

"Just Kiyo."

"Next: who do you work for?"

"Your husband's enemy."

Keiko pursed her lips. "That much is obvious. Who?"

Kiyo smiled. Keiko waited a moment for a response, but none was given.

"Ok... next question: why were you hired to kill my husband?"

Kiyo raised her eyebrow.

"Because he deserves to die."

"What would have happened next?"

"I kill you and your son."

A casual look of spite drew across Kiyo's face, sending shivers down Keiko's spine, reminding Keiko that she was dealing with a deadly assassin. She backed away slightly but maintained her composure. Though she was nervous she was, at the same time, thrilled by the novelty of the danger.

"Not that it matters, but there is no son for you to murder."

"Oh?"

"Whatever you heard about Tanenaga's heir is wrong. He died in childbirth."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that."

Keiko let out a cackling laugh at the absurdity of the apology. She laughed because the kunoichi seemed sincere.

"Don't be sorry, kunoichi," she said.

Kiyo gave a weak smile.

Aware that the questioning would lead to nowhere as it were, Keiko shifted her line of questioning.

"Where are you from, Kiyo?"

"Goguryeo."

"Goguryeo?" She sat up, perked with interest. She never met a person from the land across the sea.

"I came when I was young. I remember nothing of Goguryeo. I spent my childhood in Kyoto."

Keiko's face twisted into awe. She often dreamt of seeing the many elegant mansions and palaces of Kyoto with their gardens and cherry orchards, and the Buddhist and Shinto temples blushing with refinement, and the grand busy avenues that were so wide that a stout warrior could not throw a stone across them.

"I've always wanted to travel to Kyoto," Keiko said.

"You're not missing much," Kiyo shrugged. "The city was ruined by those that call themselves samurai. They follow no code. They are thugs. I left years ago when the city became too dangerous for my kind."

Kiyo coughed a dry raspy cough. Bloody spit ran from her lip. Keiko wiped the blood from her face with a motherly promptness. She called to Kazuo for more drinking water. When the water arrived, Keiko lifted the wooden ladle to Kiyo's lips.

"Drink."

Kiyo drank.

"And how did you become a kunoichi?"

"I never said I was kunoichi."

"You were caught in my husband's chamber with a katana."

Kiyo sighed and said nothing.

Keiko was thirsty to hear more. "So, please explain."

"Kunoichi are trained to spy and assassinate. I received training in neither. If I did, I probably wouldn't have gotten caught," Kiyo remarked.