Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.
Katsuko's geta sandals made a hollow clunk as she walked down the pathway. This Zen garden was beautiful and peaceful. The short, perfectly curved bushes in their poufy stacks of disciplined and trimmed grace sat, as regal as intended. The miniature temples sat inside the sand-sea with its delicate patterns raked into waves. She sat down upon one of the stones next to the garden and the koi pond. She gazed into the water as the koi fish seemingly swam to the surface as if to greet her, coming out from under the shade and shelter of the lily pads floating in the green-tinted water. She was careful not to get her wedding kimono wet. It was very special too. Her mother Tsuna had lovingly crafted it for her out of white silk. She had embroidered cranes on it with expertise that would only have been expected from the finest tailors in Japan. Her paper umbrella made a fluttering sound as a gentle breeze played with the idea of becoming just a little more than playful. Her hair was pinned and fashioned up in the finest of styles, better than most geisha. Her makeup made her skin white as alabaster and her lips were stained blood red. Distinct black lines formed over her eyelids accentuating the almond shape of her dark brown eyes.
Suddenly she heard a scream, muffled, but she heard it. It seemed to come from behind her in one of the rice paper screened rooms adjacent to the garden in which Katsuko had just sat peacefully moments before. It really wasn't easy to be discreet in a Japanese house. It wasn't like the heavy stone walls in the castles of England or Ireland, although the expansive hallways and great rooms echoed with their hollowness. A Japanese household member never really would have any actual privacy. It was made to be known that privacy existed, but it was only courtesy to do so. How dishonorable her soon-to-be husband would think her if he saw her here, seemingly eavesdropping.
She rushed to rise from her stone seat as the wind picked up violently, grabbing her umbrella and throwing it into the pond. This time she heard a violent scream, not so muffled. A woman's voice! She wanted to get up and walk away undetected and swiftly. Yet she hesitated. The outline of a woman’s form seemed to dance upon the rice paper walls before her eyes. A man held a Katana blade to the woman’s throat. So much for tact, or any kind of make believe privacy. Even if this was her wedding day, she couldn't let someone die, now could she?
She grabbed the hairpins, silver and shining, from her hair and gripped them tightly, ready weapons, old friends, that her mother had trained her to use for protection as a child. She gingerly placed one in her mouth, and used her free hand to slide the door open as she silently slipped out of her Geta, as undetectable as a soft breeze on the ocean. She took a deep breath as she opened the door, sliding as slowly and quietly as as a snake would through the grass, undetected by its prey. The man's back was now to the door. She could see the woman's kimono tattered and lying on the tatami mat floor and she spots of blood stained the silken wreck of clothing on the floor as well. The man didn't see her because he was too busy being a bastard. He was trying to rape her and neither he, nor his would be victim could see her. She stepped slowly towards the man, hair pin in hand, ready to use it. Slowly… slowly, the man cut deeper with his blade into her throat as the terrified woman screamed again, muffled through the man’s hand. He was telling her to shut up, that women were worthless and only good as whores and servants. The voice rambled on with more obscenities and curses, that familiar voice.Brushing the thought from her head, she had no time for thinking, only acting or the women being held wouldn't be the only one falling prey to this abominable, vile, dishonorable man.
As Katsuko gained position directly behind the man, she brought her arm up silently and forcibly punctured the man's neck, neatly severing the man's spine, thus incapacitating him as he dropped to his knees, exhaling his final breath as the injured woman realized she was free, pulling away from the now dead assailant. She fell to the floor, naked, as her disheveled long black hair tumbled around her shoulders, barely covering her breasts from view. The katana blade held only moments before to her throat so tightly that she bled, now laid beside the man who shamefully had abused such a weapon’s grace violating the innocence of she who was unlucky enough to cross his path . Katsuko, without so much as a glance at the dead man's face, grabbed a nearby blanket and covered her indignity. The woman, shaking and in shock, pulled back from the protection of the blanket in a violent wave of resistance as she was still in disbelief of the rescue at the hands of her heroine, bowing gracefully before her, tears tracing silent paths down her frightened face.
Katsuko, spoke to the woman in hushed, comforting tones. It would be okay, she said. The man is dead, she said. She told the woman that she should fear no more, as Katsuko had no desire to hurt her. She once again, gently and slowly placed the blanket around this girl, assuring her that there was no more danger. The girl stared ahead blindly tears still streaming from her almond eyes.
Then came the realization that Katsuko had just killed someone. Whom did she kill? Turning slowly to glance at this predator’s face, she screamed in horror and shock! The would-be rapist was the honorable and noble Samurai, to whom she was betrothed to marry this very day! The man she had known to be distinguished and honored among not only his peers, but admired by every woman’s dashing glance. The adrenaline left her body as she fell to her knees beside the woman and and embraced her as a mother would a child, sobs of grief and relief racking both of them as realization started to sink in. It could have been her! The image replayed of what might have become of her. Her makeup streaked with tears and the striking black lines of her eyes now smudged, tendrils of unruly hair tumbled out of the once gracefully styled arrangement, she grabbed the katana, with it’s razor sharp edge, sliding the blade into her lap, grasping its hilt tightly and turning the blade as she thought about what to do.
She darted up, ushering the woman to follow her quickly. They had to leave quickly and get as far away as they could or both of them would be executed, sacrificing both of the women’s lives rather than destroy the honor of a well known and revered Samurai. There was no way around it. She loosened her Obi that suddenly seemed to restrain her lungs from expanding, feeling suffocated suddenly, which allowed her to have a wider gait than the traditional and formal kimono otherwise would have allowed, the rescued woman followed her dazed and together they escaped their unfair punishment of certain death, running into the dense forest below the palace. She knew a path that would take them towards her home where they could procure horses and supplies, thus gaining much more ground and distance between them and the lands they once called home. She could properly dress her rescued sister in plainer garb and get clothing for herself, drawing less inquiries and unwanted attention from passer’s by. Goodbye Osaka! So much for honor! The secrets they now shared of the duality of life among the nobles in Japan would someday be told, but for now, off the two women silently trod, the only sound from their flight was the soft trotting of hooves in grass and the heavy breath occasionally exhaled by their excitable but trustworthy steeds.
