~~~

The street running alongside the main river in Uehara was bustling with hawkers selling festival-related tat, tourists picking it up and saying ooh, locals throwing pebbles into the water from the bridge, prostitutes stroking the arms of off-shift wood cutters, and intermittent groups of ashigaru with one hand permanently on their katana guards keeping a vigilant eye on the whole tapestry.

Normally, three women in their 20’s walking together would’ve attracted attention, either from sex addicts or ashigaru, but Misora had instructed the two steps behind an oblivious man formation before entering the town and so far it was working.

No one had approached them and, apart from a few close calls with Kanae getting distracted by some of the hawkers’ stalls and losing her designated oblivious man, no ashigaru had picked them out as someone to trail.

Of course, that all went out the window the moment they stopped outside the entrance to River Joy Izakaya and an whining ashigaru came tumbling out.

Ichiko was closest to him and backed off quickly, somehow repressing her natural urge to kick the Suwa Clan wretch in the nuts. This turned out to be a smart move, as the scene quickly filled itself in with curious locals and a team of eight ashigaru, each one of them standing with their blades half out, doing absolutely nothing to help up their colleague.

‘Kuso,’ said the fallen ashigaru about seventeen times, before managing to pull himself up and storm off across the bridge.

The other ashigaru hovered a while longer, staring at the izakaya as if it were a haunted mountain cave, then finally tucked their weapons into their belts and aggressively dispersed the crowd.

‘Inside,’ whispered Misora into Kanae’s ear as she passed, then nodding almost imperceptibly at Ichiko before entering River Joy Izakaya.

The two ninjas counted out a few extra seconds then followed her in.

~~~

Inside it was dark and relatively quiet, with most of the vacant tables situated close to the group of ashigaru cropped together at the counter.

Taking a stool next to the most distant one, Misora took out her bag and emptied out a collection of hand-made rings and necklace talismans. Some were so ridiculously ugly that she struggled to stifle a laugh, but Ichiko and Kanae sitting down next to her soon cured her of that.

‘Too close,’ she said quietly, gesturing for Kanae to find another table.

‘It’s comfy here,’ the novice replied, picking up one of the uglier talismans and trying it out around her neck.

‘Move.’

‘We’re just three local artisans,’ said Ichiko, putting her hand on Kanae’s wrist, pinning her to the table. ‘Here for a drink and a meal.’

Resisting the impulse to shake her head, or mutter some caustic remark, Misora leaned back and feigned interest in the surrounding décor instead.

Nearby, the apparent leader of the ashigaru was speaking loud enough to eavesdrop on, his gloved hand the only one of the six not stroking the guard of his katana.

Even more relaxed was the women behind the counter, one hand eating strips of seaweed and the other sipping from a glass of shōchū.

‘A temporary posture,’ she said, between mouthfuls, ‘but it may be extended if your men don’t find a way to control themselves.’

The ashigaru leader formed a fist with his hand, then, almost as gradual as a blossoming flower surrounded by smoking monks, unclenched.

No feral shout of kuso, thought Misora, watching the move. How unusual…

She shifted focus to the painting of the Kiso Road to the left of the counter, giving her a chance to covertly evaluate him…or the back of his head at least. Taller than Shingen, broader than Shingen, and far too calm to be a foot soldier, or even a low level Kenin. More likely a retainer, or a close general…of the spiritualist school based on the creepy blue eye stitched onto the back of his dōbuku…but if that were the case, if they were that high-ranking, why would they be wasting their time in a place like this?

‘Your shrine…’ said the Suwa General, running a solitary fingertip along the side of his white-flecked beard, ‘is tolerated out of respect for Suwa traditions. As long as it continues to follow those traditions, we can co-exist. Yet this recent behaviour…and the heightened emotions around the festival…seem to have made you forget your duties.’

‘Last time I checked, the duties of the shrine are separate from provincial law. Unless there’s been a change I didn’t hear about?’

One of the ashigaru behind the Suwa General stepped forward, shirking his katana for a small dagger and pointing it at Reiko. ‘You dare speak in such a tone to-…’

The line was interrupted by a backhand slap from his superior, sending the ashigaru onto the floor and headfirst into Ichiko’s shins.

‘Stay there,’ shouted the Suwa General, glancing briefly at the three oddly-stiff, young women then turning back to the counter.

Then tilting his head, muttering something under his breath and turning round again.

Feeling his eyes on them, Misora picked up one of the talismans and threw it at Kanae, shouting at her that it was the easiest one to sell.

‘What?’ stuttered Kanae.

‘If you can’t manage it, I’ll have to get Ichiko here to take your place. Which means her husband will have to cook his own dinner again. You remember what happened the last time he was forced to do that?’

Belatedly remembering her training, Kanae nodded and eked out a submissive sorry, then took the talisman and pretended to examine its stitching.

‘Artisans, huh?’ said the ashigaru on the floor, putting his hand on Ichiko’s thigh and using it as leverage to pull himself up. ‘I like women who are good with their hands.’

Misora glanced at the counter, letting out the tiniest slither of breath when she saw the Suwa General had lost interest and turned back to his initial conversation partner.

‘Remove your paw, please,’ said Ichiko, practically hissing out the last word.

‘Yes, I used to know a girl in Fujimi, a very skilled craftswoman. She was prettier than you, younger too, but…I’m sure you have other, hidden charms.’

‘Your paw. Move it.’

Nodding politely, the ashigaru took his hand off Ichiko’s thigh…held it in the air as if apologising…then flipped it side-on and made a shark like movement towards her breasts.

If he’d gone faster, he may have made it. But as it was, he was far too slow, and far too confident, giving Ichiko plenty of time to not only snap his wrist and put a needle pin to his throat, but also to make it look like the work of an amateur.

‘Wahhh…what is this?’

‘Penance,’ Ichiko whispered in his ear.

‘Get that fucking thing off me, you ragged witch.’

‘If this were a quieter place…’

The commotion was too much for anyone to ignore – even some curious onlookers from the street peeped their heads in through the window – and the Suwa General quickly moved across the izakaya floor to the table.

‘Unhand him,’ he commanded, all five ashigaru behind his blue-eye dōbuku pulling their katanas three quarters of the way out.

‘Certainly,’ replied Ichiko, withdrawing the needle and putting it back on the table, adding a small yet noticeable tremble at the end.

‘Who are you?’

‘Just a local artisan, meijin.’

‘With combat skills?’

Ichiko flinched, then allowed her forehead to crease in confusion.

‘Do not pretend that we are all blind.’

‘I didn’t-…’

Misora coughed, putting a hand on Ichiko’s wrist and making her flinch again. Then did a slow turn and looked up at the samurai…and flinched herself. She couldn’t help it…the face above, looking down on her…did not seem like a real face. More like a crafted replica, stretched out over something else beneath. It was so eerie it almost made her flinch again, but then her training kicked in, forcing her back on track. ‘Her husband taught her the move. There was an incident, when she was younger…’

‘And you are?’

‘Regular and loyal customers,’ said Reiko, coming round the side and putting three cups plus a bottle of shōchū on the table. ‘Come, Lord Jun’ya, do you really believe women are incapable of basic self-defence?’

‘Basic…a strange word to use.’

‘Your man here clearly has the alertness of a bloated sloth, as well as the manners of a village drunk. Not that I’m in such a lofty position as yourself, but if I were, punishment would certainly be delivered.’

Lord Jun’ya kept his eyes on Ichiko, scrutinising the faint shivering effect that was still affecting her needle hand, then shifted slowly on to Misora and Kanae. It was a long, drawn-out study, so long that the other five ashigaru got tired and put their katanas away, and the sixth one recovered enough to say, ‘yeah, actually, I let her do that. Makes it more exciting.’

Finally, the judgment was completed and Lord Jun’ya turned back to Reiko, who had just finished topping the three cups up with shōchū.

‘Remember my words. Don’t overplay your role. Lord Suwa will only stretch the line so far…’

‘I believe the shrine will have similar advice.’

Lord Jun’ya ran another fingernail down the length of his beard, looking down at the assortment of cheap-looking rings and talismans on the table, then gave a signal to two of the ashigaru and left.

‘I’m gonna give you such a good, hard-…’ the injured ashigaru started to say to Ichiko, but was cut off by three of his colleagues grabbing him by the arms and legs and dragging him out through the entrance. Apparently, they’d forgotten about his broken wrist as the screams were feral, and carried on for at least twenty seconds before finally being overwhelmed by the outside shouts of the hawkers.

‘Seems like an opportunity has arisen,’ said Ichiko, taking the needle pin and sliding it back into the sleeve of her yukata. ‘And with such a memorable face too.’

‘Wah, you noticed that too?’ Kanae checked back on the door panel for stragglers, then moved in closer to Ichiko. ‘It’s like he had someone else’s skin on…so creepy.’

‘It would, of course, be discretionary, and a challenge, but…judging by the standard of his personal retinue…’

‘You idiot,’ answered Misora, picking up the cup of shōchū and downing it in one go.

‘Me?’ stammered Kanae, quickly breathing out in relief when she saw Misora’s eyes were aimed elsewhere. And then sucking breath in again when she realised the izakaya lady was walking over.

‘If you’re referring to the ashigaru pervert, my actions were completely disguised.’

‘As a fucking afterthought. Gods, you could’ve ruined us before we’d even laid down our bags.’

‘Exaggeration, as usual.’

‘That was a Suwa General…right in front of us…and I’m not even totally sure he bought our story.’

‘Of course, he did. That’s why he left.’

‘Err…about these talismans, meijin,’ said Kanae, trying to gesture with enlarged eyes at Reiko, who was pulling a chair over from the other table.

‘Nah, he was definitely suspicious,’ started the izakaya boss, planting down a freshly opened shochu bottle. ‘But as long as you’ve got the shrine’s seal of approval…which I just cloaked you with, free of charge…’

Kanae held up a talisman, getting out the first few words of her sales pitch before Misora reached over and guided her hand back down. ‘It’s fine, she’s a friend.’

‘She is?’

‘A good and reliable one.’ Reiko smiled, patting Misora on the thigh and pouring out another cup of shōchū. ‘On the rare occasions that you bother to stop by.’

‘We go where we are sent,’ answered Ichiko, sipping from her cup.

‘Still all business I see, Ichiko.’

‘She’s happy to see you underneath,’ said Misora, taking the new shōchū offering and downing that one too.

‘Yeah, I can tell. All of you look so happy. Gods on a riverboat, it’s been centuries, Miso. Where in the seven realms have you been?’

‘Centuries? You make me sound like a tree.’

‘Ha. I wish you were. Then I’d at least know where to find you.’

Misora laughed, pouring herself another shōchū and adding a bit to all the other cups too, even Ichiko’s.

‘Well, I suppose you’re here now…needle pins at the ready.’

Ichiko muttered something too low to catch, her left hand rubbing the sleeve of her yukata.

‘The only question is…for what purpose?’

Misora nursed her cup of shōchū this time, swirling it in tiny little whirlpools before drinking in two rapid bursts and putting it back down on the table.

‘Nothing back-breaking,’ she said, one eye on Ichiko’s sleeve, the other on Reiko’s hand still camped on her thigh.

‘Details?’

‘Later. More drink first. Celebrate our arrival properly.’

‘It’s barely afternoon,’ said Ichiko, glancing over at another table with an elderly man slumped face first on the table.

‘But no longer morning,’ said Misora, picking up the bottle.

Reiko grinned, holding out her cup. ‘Works for me.’

‘Me too,’ added Kanae, shifting her seat closer to the shōchū pourer.

The three women raised their cups and clinked them together, while Ichiko remained rigid in her seat, staring at the surface layer of shōchū in her own glass, mentally tutting.

And deeper down, in the Id maelstrom…probably a lot worse.