Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction ❯ To Chase the Playing of Fingers ❯ HITOTSU ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: All rights, copywrite, and ownership belongs to CLAMP. Influences drawn from Samurai Champloo belongs to its creator, Watanabe Shinichiro.

Notes of Relevance: C.P.F. was inspired, largely, after having viewed the first five episodes of Cowboy Bebop creator, Watanabe Shinichiro's latest work, Samurai Champloo. CPF is not, however, going to follow the same plotline. You might more acurately say that CPF found a niche to start from and then chose a different path.

At the end of each chapter is a glossary of sorts explaining certain terms or historical references that will not be explained by the plot. If you're unsure of certain aspects or names scroll to the chapter's end and you may very well find your explanation there.

To Chase the Playing of Fingers

by: s. stewart

a.k.a.

teabiscuit

and beta-ed by:

lezard_valeth_the_mad

HITOTSU

'A world of dew,

and within every dewdrop

a world of struggle.'

-Issa

I

"YOU'RE FROM HONG Kong, aren't you Li?" Musashi Yagami asked from his lookout by the window. He did not turn around to acknowledge the nod that came from the thin young man kneeling near the doorway.

"You've been with my household for nearly two years, and have not, in that time, taken to rising in status or taking a wife from one of my daughters." Musashi's eyes followed the movement of the Ichou tree beyond the thin waxy panes. The nearby monks, long ago immigrated from Li's native land, had cultivated the ancient tree to its current near 25 meters of height. It was one of the Musashi family's prize jewels.

The Shogun had certainly found it so during his last visit.

"You've made me curious, Li. Quite curious. It is most unusual for a young man of your age to not have made some attempt at gaining power. Perhaps it is different in your Hong Kong?"

Musashi turned away from the window and fixed his small black eyes on the still kneeling man. He could make nothing of the boy's gaze as it was hidden by an unruly tangle of brown hair- hair the color of the Ichou's bark, the Han prince mused.

"Stand up, Li. Do not worry- I haven't any plans on questioning your mother's reasons for sending you here. I have a job for you."

Li Syaoran stood, mindful to keep his eyes directed to the floor and not on the province ruler's face. The Japanese had less tolerance than the Chinese for disrespect, and that was saying quite a bit considering his family's legacy. There was more than one swordsman in the Li clan demoted to servant after having lost their primary sword hand.

"Musashi-sama," he replied in his usual quiet tone.

Musashi smiled thinly and stepped to his desk, the western object taking up far too much space in the very eastern room. "As a foreigner, the future of Japan must be far more obvious to you than it is to many of my country's leaders. The age of Han daimyos and a Shogunate are fast coming to an end. The westerners bring more of their ways and changes with each week, and there are those who rather raise their swords to these canons than take what is being given and adapt."

Syaoran hid his interest carefully. To speak of the end of the Shogunate was to call on the wrath of all of Tokugawa's armies. It was very dangerous, and here was Musashi Yagami, prince of the Musashi province- a minor nobility for all of his family's illustrious past- doing just that.

Musashi fingered a missive on the desk's surface, the wax seal recently broken. "I've received word for the past two months of certain prefects taking direct action to join up with the less forward thinkers. One of them was murdered last night." Musashi shrugged his shoulders carelessly and gave a playful wave of his hand. "Normally, Li, I would not worry myself over such a fortunate loss, but trouble is already coming into play. The man who would take his place is being accused of having orchestrated the assassination. The late prefect's wife has gained the loyalty of her husband's samurai and is demanding the replacement's execution."

He picked up the scroll and struck it soundly against the desk's edge. "The woman is not acting foolishly in her haste though. She has kept to all the proper channels, and with the people as dissatisfied as they are already, I cannot simply charge my men in there and remove her. The people would never accept my replacement's rule. So I'm leaving it to you. As you are a foreigner, but still hign enough in the ranks, your say will give confidence and resolution to the matter. I want you to investigate this murder and end the trouble."

Syaoran bowed deeply. "As you require, Musashi-sama."

He straightened and took the scroll. Musashi smiled benignly, the curve of his lips giving nothing in his thoughts away. It was times like these that Syaoran understood what it was his mother wanted him to learn from this man. The short, yet powerfully built prince withdrew a small signet ring from his yukata.

"This is one of my family's crests. There are only five in existence. With this ring, your authority will not be challenged by any within my province."

"My Lord!" Syaoran started but quickly controlled himself.

Musashi's smile dimmed, but he replied mildly enough. "Li, I knew your mother when she and I were still very young. Your word is something that I need never question. Your mother's honor is dependent upon your actions. That alone is enough to guarantee there will be no misuse of my family crest."

"Musashi-sama," Syaoran said again, a bit stricken by such open faith.

"Yes, well then Li, I suggest you leave promptly. The details are in the scroll- and I'm afraid that I must request that you do this alone."

Once again Syaoran was reminded of what it took to lead a family. He was expendable as a foreigner and non-clan tie. He understood completely. He bowed again and left the room. He retrieved his swords- the common daito carried by all samurai, and then his chokuto, his clan's prized sword said to be blessed by the ancient gods themselves.

When he had first arrived two years earlier, the other samurai in his class laughed at his straight edged sword and derided it as antiquated and awkward. Their laughter quickly changed to respect after he won the first competition using only his chokuto.

He settled the daito into his obi and secured the chokuto on his back. As he rounded the square and neared the wide trunk of the ancient Ichou tree, he paused and swung his gold flecked eyes sky ward. Nothing greeted him aside from an endless blue, but he felt that surely there were stars hidden behind that benign screen- stars that would warn of something ominous.

Something was waiting him in that village. Who- or what it was remained to be discovered.

II

"SAKURA-CHAN! TABLE six is still waiting!" came the harried call as Kinomoto Sakura rushed through the kitchen, a tray laden with six cups balanced on one hand and the other hand holding a too hot jug of sake.

"Yes, yes, right after table three!" she yelled back. Sakura schooled her shoulders into a straight line as she pushed through the screen hiding the kitchen from the rest of the tea house. It was a busy day for the Mokuren Tea House- although, it was less a tea house today and more a sake house. The recent murder had been bringing all types into Tomoeda since early that morning as word had spread of the once unpopular prefect's grisly death.

It didn't help either that the Mokuren Tea House usually only kept one girl employed to handle the waitressing.

She brought the tray to table three and ignored the four men and two women seated there. One of the men- his sword carelessly left on the table was busy groping one of the women's breasts from beneath her kimono. The woman seemed hardly to care as she nodded at something the other woman said.

Sakura frowned and walked quickly back to the kitchen to pick up another tray, this time piled high with fried gyouza. She deposited that charge and hurried back to the front where a thin man stood, his silhouette traced by the rapidly descending sun. She quickly plastered on a welcoming smile and started the greeting.

"Welcome to Mokuren Tea House! Gyouza is one mon, saki one and a half mon, or you can get our Mokuren special which includes gyouza, sake or tea, and our original house okashi for only three mon."

She paused and let out a small breath, fatigue finally catching up on her.

"I'm looking for someone," came the brusque reply.

Sakura squinted, wishing he would move away from the doorway so the glare wouldn't blind her eyes so. "Endo-san isn't here at the moment, but his wife, Akemi-san is in the back. If you'll follow me?"

The man grunted in assent and finally moved away from the doorway. Sakura's green eyes widened as she took in his fine clothes and the sword slung across his back. But she quickly ducked her gaze and led him to the kitchen, mindful to close any open screen that might contain curious customers.

She entered the kitchen and gestured toward the matron discreetly to not start yelling her usual insults.

With a heavy southern accent, Endo Akemi greeted the well dressed stranger with as much deference as she could. "How can the Mokuren Tea House help you, sir?"

The man's half hidden gaze swung across the small kitchen, his eyes noting the sizzling oil pans and the discarded cutting board littered with leeks and mushrooms.

"I'm looking for someone. I was told she worked here."

Akemi gestured widely with her hands. "There is no one here but Sakura-chan and myself. My husband is chopping wood out back, if you wish to ask him...?"

But the man's attention was already refocused. "Sakura...Kinomoto Sakura? Are you she?"

Sakura wiped her hands nervously on her apron. "Yes, that's my name. Was there something you needed then?"

"Yes. Follow me." The man didn't wait for her acceptance and so Sakura found herself hurrying to catch up with the stranger, a wave of apology sent over the shoulder for her matron. A little peeved by his lack of introduction or even explanation, she was hard pressed to be helpful. And so when the man had passed by the same shop for the third time, she didn't hide her smile. He finally stopped and faced her, an impatient frown drawn tightly over his lips.

"Yes?" she asked sweetly, enjoying his discomfort.

"Where is the prefect's house?" he asked finally, and with his question Sakura dropped all her airs. The prefect? So that's what this was about...well, finally someone was bothering to pay attention.

"Isoda-sama's house is by the eastern gates."

The stranger nodded, his grip tightening slightly on his sheathed daito. Again he took off at brisk pace and Sakura cursed the creator of the kimono for not the first time. Of all the ridiculous clothing...the kimono was not made for long strides. It was supposed to accentuate feminine grace and draw attention to their fragility, but on this occasion it only served to accentuate Sakura's annoyance.

As it was though, Sakura knew what was waiting her at the prefect's mansion. She was one of the two witnesses who passed by the house on the night of the prefect's murder. And she was the only one of the two who had lived to speak up. Naturally, her account of what happened was completely ignored. The villagers were quick to blame Kimura-san- that is Kimura-sama, the man placed to succeed Isoda-sama.

Politics in Tomoeda, of late, swirled in dangerous and volatile waters. The tensions of the capital echoed to the lowest rungs, and even in this small prefecture, sides were being drawn. Isoda-sama was against the white invader and cursed them as barbarians bent on plundering Japan of all its riches. The other side, Kimura-sama's faction, saw the western presence as a necessary evil. The West was advanced and offerred its technology freely for Japan's learning and usage.

The time for Japan's ousting of the 'barbarians' could wait until the West had been drained of all its uses.

"Kinomoto-san, wait here."

Sakura was drawn from her thoughts by the man's command and found herself at the foot of the prefecture's grandest of houses. Tomoeda was a rich district. None of the pangs of famine that rounded much of the Musashi Han had affected the village. The rainfall was plush, the agriculture thriving, and merchants arrived and left daily, goods and mon traded in abundance.

The only danger left in Tomoeda came from the people, and as she stood in the dimming daylight, the press of such tensions seemed to creep in with nightfall.

"Kinomoto-san?"

She glanced up, thankful for the interruption. A timid girl stood at the gate's entrance, her pointed face pale in the growing darkness.

"Yes, that's me."

"Please follow me. Li-sama's asked that you come," the girl said, a slight tremor to her voice.

Sakura nodded and followed, her mind registering that the stranger's name was Li and her eyes taking in the artistically created garden. A crafted stream ran through the yard, lush lines of hachiku bamboo growing along its banks. Nezumisashi had been cultivated to corner the yard, their short yet broad leaves creating the semblance of costumed mai dancers. It was such a peaceful scene that she half wondered if Isoda-sama hadn't simply left its creation to his wife. Surely only a woman could have thought up something so beautiful.

"Kinomoto-san? Please, this way," the girl gestured toward an open screen, and Sakura walked through.

Not a light was lit. As her eyes adjusted, Sakura made out the standing figures of three others and another draped across a pile of cushions nearer to the back of the paneled room. She immediately bowed once she recognized the laying figure.

"Isoda-dono, I am very sorry for Isoda-sama's death," she said, her hesitation skewing her normally fluid tones into a halting stutter.

"Kinomoto-san, you are here because Musashi-sama has sent us an official to find the culprit of our Lord's murder." Isoda Kadiri intoned as she shifted lazily, her posture nothing what one might expect of a grieving widow. "Li Syaoran-san has some questions for you."

"You may stand, Kinomoto-san," the man she now knew to be Li Syaoran said curtly. She obliged slowly. "Where were you two nights ago, just after twilight?"

"I was returning from Shimada Grocer."

"What route did you take to return to the Mokuren Tea House?"

"The usual one- I crossed by through the square and went toward the east gate. It's safer," she was quick to add with a glance toward the shadow inlaid Isoda Kadiri. "Isoda-sama's house always has plenty of lights lit and the path is kept bright."

Li seemed to ignore her addition. "Did you see anything as you passed by Isoda-san's house?"

Sakura's eyes widened at Li's audacity. To call a prefect so informally! Isoda-dono's reaction was nothing less than hers. The once seemingly idle woman was now seated erect, her arms folded defensively and her shaded eyes glinting dangerously.

"Yes, I did." She shifted her gaze from the late prefect's wife to the foreign samurai. She was surprised by the intensity of his eyes as she met them. "The house's gates were wide open, and from the street I could see a circle of five men in black, obviously ninjutsu. In the center of them was another man, I recognized him as one of Isoda-sama's footmen, Hitoshi-sensei."

"Hitoshi-sensei?" Li interrupted.

"Yes, he ate lunch every day at the Mokuren and taught lessons for children in the village," she explained and continued. "One of the ninjutsu withdrew an ofuda and held it to Hitoshi-sensei's forehead." Her voice softened as she remembered the kind man's screams. "Sensei screamed and then finally fell still."

"An ofuda? How did you know?" Isoda finally stood, her tones shrill as she interrupted. "How can you be sure?"

"Sensei showed me one, once," Sakura answered quickly. "The ofuda the ninjutsu held was a rectangular sheet with small emblem on it and a character written beneath the emblem."

"What did you see next?" Li took back control of the interrogation.

"One of the other ninjutsu picked up Hitoshi-sensei and took something out from his hakama. The ninjutsu with the ofuda said something, the others laughed, and the ninjutsu holding sensei called out loudly: 'Oh yes, the Tsubaki will appreciate this gift!'"

This seemed to stir the stoic Li. "'Tsubaki'? Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. That's what I heard exactly."

"You heard a great deal. Are you so very brave that it did not occur to you to flee?" Isoda interrupted again, this time her suspicion fixed on Sakura.

"Oh no, Isoda-dono, it was not that I was brave. It was that I was too afraid to move."

"Did any of the ninja say anything else?" Li pressed, his hand clutched near the handle of his daito.

"No...although, when one spoke next I thought-" she broke off and shook her head. "But it's not possible. Such things are only stories now."

"Kinomoto-san, tell me."

"It's just..." she shrugged and gestured helplessly. "It sounded like a female."

"Nonsense!" Isoda cried immediately. "There are no female ninja left in these parts."

"Nevertheless, Isoda-san, she heard a female voice." Li's response shut the irate woman up soundly.

"The last ninja family in these parts died nearly fifty years ago, Li-sama," Sakura couldn't help but say. "There are none of the Ohira clan left."

"Perhaps, but that does not exclude another clan from having committed the murder," Li said. "You may return to the Mokuren. Do not leave Tomoeda until this is resolved. I may have more questions for you later."

Sakura bowed and made to leave, but Isoda called out to her.

"Kinomoto-san, that is... Sakura-chan," the woman began slyly, "You have lived here for eight years now, haven't you?"

"Yes, Isoda-dono." Sakura was surprised. She hadn't thought that the prefect's wife would know about her.

"Your parents, they died under suspicious circumstances, didn't they?"

Sakura paled considerably but nodded all the same. "Yes, Isoda-dono, they were murdered."

"It was all very peculiar, Syaoran-san." Isoda directed her speech toward the Musashi clan samurai. "Newly arrived, both of the Kinomoto were found slaughtered the morning after, their hands and feet missing and their chests cut open. Very peculiar, wouldn't you agree?"

Li grunted in reply.

Isoda stood up fully now and paced leisurely across to a covered window. "So very peculiar, Syaoran-san. Perhaps the most peculiar of it all being that their nine year old daughter was found asleep between them, covered in blood, but without a scratch on her."

Isoda did not turn around as a broken gasp echoed into the silence. She fixed her eyes to an unseen point in her gardens and shrugged carelessly. "My husband wrote it off as thieves- you must be familiar with the type, Syaoran-san. They peddle magic remedies that they make from human flesh. I wouldn't be surprised if you've bought one of their goods before. I know I have." She laughed briefly and finally turned. "We all do foolish things in our youth. Be careful, Sakura-chan, that you don't do the same."

Sakura managed another nod and bowed, wanting desperately only to run away from the woman's presence. Of all the hateful things to insinuate...that she was somehow responsible for her parents' murder! It sent her blood boiling and her skin tingling.

The same servant girl who brought her to the house escorted her back to the gate. Sakura hurried quickly away from the shadow filled place. The garden no longer felt picturesque, but horrific. The dancing nezumisashi were more like crouching monsters, hiding in the dark.

She shuddered once her feet were planted firmly on Tomoeda's main road. Hopefully, this would be the last time Li would need her for questioning. She did not want to ever have to go into that place again.

III

THE SUN WAS too bright overhead. His vision was poor enough without having to deal with the heavy glare of sunlight. He searched the rows of shops to his left and finally decided upon one that would serve to kill at least a few hours. Maybe, if he was lucky, they took lodgers as well.

He pulled aside the screen used to block out flies and stepped into the entrance. Brightly painted scrolls lined the walls, each intoning a careful moral or maxim. One held a familiar haiku: 'My dear old village,/ every memory of home/ pierces like a thorn.'

"Issa..." he mused aloud.

"Oh yes, Issa-san is my favorite. Akemi-san was kind enough to let me put that one up."

He glanced up and was greeted by the bright smile of a girl with curiously colored eyes- a deep green, the color of summer grass or evening jade. Either description made the eyes an anomaly- but an interesting one nevertheless.

"He was a great poet indeed, although too tragic at times," he agreed.

She beamed all the brighter. "Issa-san might be sad, but he reminds me that there is much to celebrate in that sadness, and so, it should not be forgotten."

He stared at her, puzzled. She quickly flushed and hurriedly bowed.

"Forgive me!" She straightened and gestured toward one of the vacant booths. "You have your choice of seating. Welcome to the Mokuren Tea House! Our Mokuren special is only three mon: gyouza, your choice of sake or tea, and our specialty okashi."

"I'll have your special...er, Miss?"

"Kinomoto Sakura! Thank you for coming!" The energetic girl guided him to his booth and pulled back the curtain to give him privacy. She peaked back through the blue striped cloth. "Which would you prefer, tea or sake?"

"Both if you would, Sakura-san. If I may call you that?" he asked.

She blushed again, but nodded. "And you are?"

He rose and bowed himself. "Hiiragizawa Eriol. Pleased to meet you, Sakura-san."

Her flush increased and she quickly hurried off. Eriol reseated himself, pleased immensely. There was nothing quite so satisfying as making a pretty girl blush. Not to mention that he had never yet failed to charm said pretty girls with his usual ease.

His smile faded minutely though. Kinomoto...there was something vaguely familiar about that name, something that screamed to be noticed. Kinomoto, Kinomoto...now where had he heard that name before?

He heard Sakura's voice from beyond the curtain and made to pull it back. His eyes immediately fell level with the familiar daito carried by all samurai. Within seconds, his hand was at his own sword of preference, the shorter wakizashi. He dropped the curtain back in place and remained poised to interrupt at any moment.

Eriol listened carefully. The samurai's voice was curt and accented, albeit slightly. Sakura's own voice sounded strained, merely an echo of its lightness only moments ago.

"But I already told you everything I saw."

"There are a few things I need to ask you still."

"Can it wait until this evening? The afternoon rush will start soon, so..."

"Now. It won't take long. We can sit in here."

Eriol heard the rustle of fabric and suddenly the curtain was pulled back. He jumped to his feet, wakizashi drawn and at ready within a second. His stance was mirrored in the stranger before him, although one hand was being used to push a struggling Sakura to the side.

Without taking his eyes from the drawn sword before him, Eriol asked, "Sakura-san, are you alright?"

"Yes...yes, Eriol-san. But-"

The stranger interrupted her. "Eriol-san? Do you know this man, Kinomoto-san?"

Sakura finally pushed away his arm and stood, straightening her kimono. "Yes. There's no danger here. Eriol-san, this is Li Syaoran-sama, an official sent to investigate Isoda-sama's murder."

With her pronouncement, Eriol sheathed his sword in one smooth movement and reseated himself. "Well then, Sakura-san, would you ask your friend to find a new booth as this one is already occupied?"

"Er," Sakura began, already made nervous by the tension rolling off in waves from the man next to her.

"You may remove yourself-" Li began, but Eriol cut in.

"Hiiragizawa, Li. Hiiragizawa Eriol. And I do believe you're forgetting the first rules of etiquette: respect to your elders."

Li bristled. "Listen Hiiragizawa-" But he broke off, his features ripe with sudden awareness. "Hiiragizawa...not the Hiiragizawa?"

Eriol nodded, pleased with his name's recognition. "Yes, the Hiiragizawa. You'll be hard pressed to find another with my name," he added sardonically.

Eriol was surprised though by Li's reaction. Rather than mumbling an apology and backing away, a crooked smile flitted over the man's lips. "I've heard of you. You supposedly took out an entire squad of Musashi-sama's men near Hokuda."

"Nothing supposed about it, my boy. There was a squad of men breathing when I arrived, and then there was a squad of men dead when I left."

Li stiffened. Jerkily he bowed toward Sakura. "Forgive my intrusion, Kinomoto-san, but I must ask that you leave now. There is a debt that needs to be paid."

The girl paled, glanced once at Eriol who sat complacently and once at Li who gripped his chokuto as if it was life itself, and threw up her hands between the two. "No! Absolutely not! You two will not fight in Akemi-san's tea house! If you really must kill each other, take it outside."

She glared at one and then at the other, daring either to disagree. Eriol was the first to lift his hands in mock surrender. "Sakura-san, I would never dream of sullying your work place with blood belonging to one as pathetic as Li here. Rest assured that I'll wait to kill him until after I've eaten."

She lowered her arms and eyed him suspiciously. Turning back to Li, she said, "Li-sama, please follow me to the kitchen. I can answer your questions there. Then afterward, once Eriol-san has left, you may feel free to fight with him."

Li scowled openly but followed the girl nevertheless. Eriol grinned once the curtain was dropped. So, finally, there was another who looked worthy to fight. It was getting hard these days to find a swordsman up to the challenge...

In the kitchen, Sakura faced the scowling samurai, half hoping to mollify him with some choice shrimp gyouza and heated sake and half wanting to scold him for being so reckless with his address. Hiiragizawa Eriol was obviously no upstart. She guided him to a cushion in the corner and propped up a tray before him. She bowed, as tradition called it, before seating herself across from him.

She prodded him gently. "You had some more questions for me, Li-sama?"

"You only have one lord, and I'm not he," he said roughly.

"Li-san," she amended, "I'll answer them if I can."

He scowled as he picked up a stick laden with dumplings and bit snappishly into the fried meat. After swallowing, he took to the sake. It was only after he finished his third revolution of scowl, meat, and sake that he finally lifted his eyes to Sakura's still complacent features.

"Tell me about the Ohira clan," he ordered.

Her eyes widened and absently, she lifted her hand to the hair ornament that was tucked through her light brown hair. "It's said that years ago, years and years ago, the Ohira clan was as famous as the Shogun himself. They fought with Tokugawa in Sekigahara, and for years after were sought after as assassins for all the noble families. They traveled from city to city, from Han to Han, until nearly a hundred years ago, their leader Ohira Takeo decided to settle down in Tomoeda. He forbade the use of his clan's skills for anything other than protection, and for fifty years, there were no problems."

She broke off, her thoughts traveling back to when she was first told this story, in the back of a wagon with the clatter of horses' feet as music. "A man appeared one morning and posted a notice in the center of Tomoeda challenging Ohira Toshido, the grandson of Ohira Takeo and then leader of the clan, to a public brawl. The notice was ignored, and the next morning, Toshido-san's youngest daughter was found beheaded next to a new notice. This one promised to continue killing a young girl from each family in Tomoeda until Toshido-san fought him."

Her hands returned to her lap as she turned to face her fixed listener. "It was very sad. Toshido-san was very proud and allowed fifteen more girls to be killed before he finally came to the square and announced that he would fight the man. The man came that night, and without ever lifting a sword, he killed Toshido-san. It's said that a great gust of wind and fire enveloped Toshido-san and when it left, there was only ash and Toshido-san's famed red ninja tou."

Sakura sighed and pointed out the window to the where the eastern edge of the village's square could be seen. "The pole used to stand there, Akemi-san told me. It was cut down when everything was finished."

"So the Ohira didn't bother to avenge their leader," Li concluded aloud, his voice marked with derision.

Sakura frowned. "No, Li-san, that's just it. Although, it would have been far better for them if they had simply left it at that. Rather, Toshido-san's sister, Takiko-san left a challenge of her own on the pole for the mysterious man. Takiko-san was famous for her skill with the tessen. It was said that she had even beaten her father when only a child. As it was, come the next sunset, once again there was only left Takiko-san's ashes and her tessen."

"This continued for nearly two months, with each member of the Ohira clan challenging the man and being discovered at the fight's end as nothing more than ash and their weapon of choice."

Li lifted his saki in silent salute to the ninjutsu clan, his family's rich history being of such that he could appreciate such compulsions as the Ohira clan's suicidal endeavors. He finished the cup and replaced it noiselessly. "And this man, did he simply disappear?"

Sakura shook her head, once again her hand lifting to her hair ornament. "At the end of the second month, the last member of the clan, eight year old Ohira Sosuke, the nephew of Toshido-san and son of Takiko-san, came armed to the square with only his uncle's ninja tou. The same followed as had the previous sixty days. The man appeared, his sword untouched at his side and a great storm of wind and fire swept down to kill Sosuke-san. One thing was different this time, though. This time, Sosuke-san did not wait for the wind to catch him. Instead, Sosuke-san ran toward the man, his uncle's ninja tou discarded on the ground and the saya swung overhead."

Li's strangely flecked eyes widened in understanding. "The metsubushi..."

"Yes. Sosuke-san had filled the saya with nearly fifty packets of metsubushi. The fire landed on him, but he was near enough the man for the explosion to kill him too. This time, when the wind vanished, there were two piles of ash and two weapons left: a bladeless daito and Toshido-san's saya."

She bent and retrieved the emptied tray. "So you see, Li-san, there have been no female ninjutsu in these parts for over fifty years."

"You know a lot of Tomoeda's history for having only lived here eight years," Li commented lightly, but with his eyes carefully gauging the girl's response.

He was granted a shrug of her shoulders as she rinsed out the jug with water. "My mother grew up here. She liked to tell stories."

"Your parents' killer- was he ever found?" he asked and this time the reaction was more violent. There was a crash as the jug landed on the floor, a long crack now etched along its side.

She kneeled to pick it up and her hair fell to cover her face. "No. He was never found."

"Do you remember anything?" he pressed.

"I'm sorry, Li-san, but I don't see what that has to do with Isoda-sama's murder. My parents were killed eight years ago by a lone killer. Isoda-sama was obvious executed by a group of ninjutsu who used magic. There's no connection."

"I disagree, Kinomoto-san. There most definitely is a connection. One very blatant connection." Li stood and brushed a few crumbs from his hakama. "That being you, of course."

Sakura was visibly surprised. "Li-san! You can't really think I had anything to do with Isoda-sama's murder, can you?"

He glared at her coldly. "You speak very knowledgably about weapons and their uses for a waitress in a tea house. Your 'Hitoshi-sensei' could not have taught you so much. You even refer to the ninja by their proper name: ninjutsu. I will find out the truth, Kinomoto Sakura. Be on your guard."

Sakura could only stare as he left the kitchen, the screen left waving in his wake. With a small sigh, she took down another jug from a shelf and filled it with warm sake. Regardless of the threat this foreign official carried toward her, there were still customers waiting to be served and food to be cooked. The Mokuren Tea House could not earn its wages all on its lonesome.

IV

THE MAN WORE a kabuki mask, one depicting a female noble's tearful face. The mock tears annoyed Syaoran with such an instantaneous intensity that he was at first tempted to tear off the offensive thing and throw to the wind whatever information the man purported to having. As it was, self discipline and sense won out, and Syaoran ground his teeth as he listened to the man speak in an obnoxious stage whisper.

"Kimura-sama is innocent! He had nothing to do with that thug, Isoda's death. Kimura-sama has an alibi."

"Who?" Syaoran demanded, not bothering to lower his voice. The man shook and looked over his shoulder fearfully.

"Lower your voice please, Li-san. If I'm caught-"

Syaoran cut him off brusquely. "Fine, fine. Go on. Who is this alibi?"

"Kimura-sama cannot tell you. I can only say that it was a woman- a woman of high standing and if her husband should find out..."

"So if not your 'Kimura-sama' then who?"

The man glanced again over his shoulder as if hundreds of would be assassins laid in wait for him to utter his vital information. Again he began in his melodramatic stage whisper.

"They were ninja hired by that bastard's bitch wife- Isoda Kadiri! Hitoshi Yosoe found out about the plot and was on his way to warn Isoda but must have arrived too late and was killed himself."

"How do you know Isoda Kadiri had anything to do with this?" Syaoran asked suspiciously. This was precisely the kind of scenario a worried successor might dream up to clear his name. It was a case of 'he said, she said.'

"Have you ever heard of the 'Tsubaki?'"

Before the words had barely left the man's lips, Syaoran had him pinned against the side of the alley, his hidden tanto's blade pressed to the man's throat. "What do you know about the Tsubaki?"

"No-nothing! I don't know anything- only that they were the ones hired by the Isoda bitch to kill her husband! I ha-have proof- I have proof!" The man was shaking beneath Syaoran's hold and abruptly he withdrew his arms and repocketed his tanto.

"Get rid of that ridiculous mask. Your theatrics are best saved for the stage."

The man, still trembling, took off his mask to reveal a tightly wrinkled visage and a lipless protruding mouth with yellowed teeth. Syaoran recognized him immediately: Fukoshin Fumaru, a servant in the Isoda house and Isoda Kadiri's apparent choice for all of her dog duties.

"Li-sama, please do not be angry with me. If Isoda-dono learned that I was telling you this, she would have me killed!" Fukoshin begged.

"Show me your proof."

"Thank you, thank you, Li-sama! You are most merciful!" The man reached jerkily within his yukata while Syaoran scowled his disgust. He finally withdrew his hand, a piece of parchment firmly in his grip.

Syaoran seized it and studied it intently. His eyes widened impercievably in recognition. An ink drawn camellia was sketched in the rectangle's center, colored in with an ash hued red pigment that he knew intuitively to be blood. Beneath the camellia were three words: the contract's victim, the contract's taker, and the contract's originator.

Isoda Sumaro

Tsubaki

Isoda Kadiri

He searched for the infamous Tsubaki signature and found it hidden in between a petal and leaf of the drawn camellia. This was no forgery. Isoda Sumaro, late prefect of the village of Tomoeda, was murdered by the assassin Tsubaki group hired by Isoda Kadiri. He pocketed the parchment and eyed the still cowering Fukoshin with distaste.

"You may tell your 'master' that I will take in account this information. He needn't worry over his female liason's discretion. It won't be necessary for my investigation." With this obvious dismissal, Fukoshin bowed deeply after muttering a few more words of gratitude and ran out of the alley, his mask forgotten on the ground.

In the now empty alley, surrounded by the stagnant gutters that lined the town houses, Syaoran let out a weary sigh. Littered piles of refuse gathered at the gutter's edge waiting the eventual cleaning by village workers. The stench did little to relieve the humidity of the air, and with such an atmosphere, Syaoran's thoughts bordered on suffocating.

The Tsubaki; this certainly was an unwanted twist. He wondered if Musashi-sama had known of the possibility of the Tsubaki's hand in Isoda's murder. If so, it explained much of why he was sent to Tomoeda.

How to deal with Isoda Kadiri, though. She had much of her husband's former samurai sworn to her with fealty pacts. It took a great treachery for a samurai to forgo an agreement made under the auspices of their loyalty. And from what Fukoshin had said, there had been little love for Isoda Sumaro. He would have to consider his next steps very carefully.

There were also a few outside complications, like that of this mysterious Kinomoto girl. She spoke far too knowledgably about certain matters to be merely an overly educated waitress. There was also something in the way she carried herself, a careful weighing of each step that bespoke of having handled a sword before- or perhaps something of a lighter weight.

She did know quite a bit about the ninjutsu. It would be a clever move indeed to have presented herself as a witness to Isoda's murder- it takes all suspicion away from herself, for surely no criminal would want attention drawn to him. Even more clever would be to have mentioned the possibility of a female ninjutsu among the assasins.

There was no better disguise than to be in plain view.

And then there was Hiiragizawa Eriol, the samurai infamous for having murdered his master and taken to continuing that bloodshed with the deaths of other minor nobles throughout the six Han that bordered Edo bay. Hiiragizawa's history was unknown, but his reputation caused the creation of many a rumour that described him as avenging the death of a lover or the destruction of a village.

Regardless of Hiiragizawa's motivations, Syaoran knew without a doubt that he did not like the man. Hiiragizawa had killed more than thirty of his comrades, samurai he had trained with these past two years. Their deaths had to be avenged, honor demanded it. Once he was finished dealing with the Isoda murder, he'd turn his full attention to the spectacled swordsman.

He sighed again into the tepid air. If the gods were feeling benign, then perhaps, by this time the next day he'd have his worries resolved and the freedom to withdraw his sword for what promised to be a challenging fight.

HITOTSU

'A world of dew,

and within every dewdrop

a world of struggle.'

-Issa

To Chase the Playing of Fingers

hitotsufin

17oct04

0436

Historical odds and ends that you might just want to know:

1. Ichou, or Ginkgo tree: native to Japan, this tree is singular not only for having the most unique reproduction system in plant life, but also for being one of the oldest living entities in existence. 250 million years old, in fact. It can grow to over 30 meters in height, and is extinct from the wild. It exists only due to the cultivation of monasteries, and more recently, bio-engineering firms. You might know of it informally through ginkgo biloba- a memory enhancer.

2. Musashi: Musashi is indeed a province, or Han, that existed during the Shogunate days from pre-medieval periods all the way through to the Meiji restoration and abolishment of the Han system. While my Musashi Yagami is entirely fictional, the historical situations represented are being so stated in best re-enactment as possibly by my knowledge.

3.Daito and Chokuto: both are sword types carried by samurai during the Tokugawa era. The daito is generically used to identify the sword's length of more than two shaku, one shaku equaling nearly one foot. The katana that we are all so familiar with is the most common of the daito swords and was worn through the obi with the edge face up. The chokuto refers to the oldest of swords used by samurai and almost abandoned by the time of the Meiji Restoration. The chokuto was straight edged and very similar to Syaoran's sword, thus my pandering of the term.

4. Mokuren: also known as the magnolia, mokuren in Japan are a celebrated flower and tree. While most in the world are familiar with the flower as being white in entirety, many of the mokuren trees in Japan sport purple blossoms- with the usual type of myths to follow such coloring.

5. Tea Houses: during the golden era of the Tokugawa Shogunate's self imposed isolation, the tradition of the tea drinking ceremony gained almost elevated status. Borrowed heavily from Chinese influences, the tea drinking ceremony was all the rage in Japanese nobility. Not to be outdone by their superiors, the Japanese middle class and even peasantry gained entrance to such traditions through the creation of the tea house. The tea house became a place for public gathering and socializing that all could attend.

6. Gyouza: japanese dumplings! They come stuffed in any variety of meats and vegetables. If you watch a great deal of anime, you'll often see them being bought from street vendors in square boxes and eaten with a toothpick.

7. Okashi: Japanese desserts don't really exist parse. They're pretty much a western adoption. However, what the Japanese did have were okashi, soy bean jam filled cakes served during tea times or at parties.

8. Mon: mon was the monetary system employed during the Tokugawa Shogunate. While the mon went through various changes as different metals were used for currency, the term itself remained despite the changing values.

9. Wakizashi: another type of sword typically used by samurai during the Tokugawa era, the wakizashi was far shorter than the daito (katana). It was under two shaku in length and emphasized speed rather than the power a longer sword might need.

10. Ninja tou: this sword was small in size, very similar to a tanto which was in turn a shorter wakizashi. It was useful not only its versatility but in that its saya, or scabbard, was kept at a regular daito length, that is two feet. The saya could be used as an additional weapon or as a hiding place for blinding powder. Very commonly, ninja clans would craft their ninja tou's to carry certain emblematic differences so that their clan would be known on sight.

11. Tessen: some may be quite familiar with this weapon, having used it on many occasion when a classroom proved too hot or a bus ride too stifling. The tessen, or fan, was often made from iron ribs and wrapped in silk. It was used not only as a trapping device against swords, but in turn could act as weapon and shield. Given the properly talented hands, a tessen could prove to be deadly.

12. Metsubushi: was a packet of special powder always carried by ninjutsu. Actually, they usually made to carry at least nine at a time. The powder was either used to blind an attacker or it might contain a slow burning explosive. Either way, it gave an overwhelmed ninja the time to escape or lay that fatal blow.

13. Kabuki: was a form of drama created by a spinoff Noh dance troop during the early 1600's. Purposely overly dramatic, the plays often catered to masks as most troops consisted entirely of the same sex. Kabuki has a very rich history, one in which I could continue to laud, but let's leave it at this. If you wish to learn more, try a library.

14. Honorifics: sama, san, chan, sensei, and dono: the nuances of japanese honorifcs are not only multi-layered but multifacted. Both the suffixes of sama and dono imply someone of high status and are only used when terms of great respect are necessary. Sensei is used toward a mentor or someone of intellectual standing like a professor or doctor. The more common honorifics of san and chan are as follows: san can be used for either sex and based upon its coupling with the first or last name denotes degree of relationship; chan is only ever used for girls, except for very the odd occasion when used toward a young boy. This is usually done so by a girl of the same age or slightly older. Chan can also be used by an older person toward a girl as a sign of affection, often coupled with an abbreviation of the girl's name and effectively creating a nickname.