"U nbeknownst to their grandmother, Kenjiro and Sanjiro were creeping closer and closer to the samurai. Like most young boys, they were obsessed with swords and swordsmanship. They were not born into one of the noble houses, so it was unlikely that they would ever be able to carry weapons as impressive as those of the General’s men. But, it couldn’t hurt to get a good look at them, they reasoned, so they were trying their best to get a close as possible, without offending anyone, or getting in trouble with their grandmother. Things were going well. Tsunade was talking and not paying them any attention.

“Sanjiro, look at the hilt of that katana. It has a dragon carved into it,” whispered Kenjiro.

“Really? I can’t see...move over a little --“

As Kenjiro squeezed to the left to let his little brother see, disaster struck in the form of one of the maids. She was dashing past with fresh towels. Her mind was on her work and not on where she was going. She bumped into Sanjiro and sent him flying. He landed in a heap at the feet of the General.

“You insolent whelp! How dare you approach my master!” One of the samurai was quick to anger, at the perceived insult. He snatched his katana back from the startled attendant and the blade scraped menacingly against the scabbard as he started to withdraw it. Those assembled gasped in horror. Samurai had the right to execute any commoner who transgressed against them, but surely this man would not cut down a child!

Tsunade opened her mouth to plead for the life of her grandson; her eyes were fixed on the deadly ribbon of steel. But like a wave upon the shore, the scabbard that was pulled away was pushed back up the blade again and it connected with the hilt with a soft tap. The older woman blinked in surprise. So did General Munenori. For it was not his yojimbo who had sheathed the sword, but a girl in a kimono, who was now kneeling at his feet.

“If you wish to punish someone, my lord, then punish this one, for the child meant no harm.” Utsuri said, still cupping her palm around the tip of the samurai’s scabbard.

Munenori felt a cold hand seize his heart as he looked down upon her. Her head was bowed; her damp hair was pulled back into twin tails, revealing a neck so slender that he could see the vertebrae. I could snap her bones like a bird’s, he thought. But, somehow, she was able to move faster than my eye could follow, to push the scabbard up as Hanzo was withdrawing the blade from it.

“Hold!” Munenori commanded his man, reaching out to grab him by the shoulder. “It is all right,” he continued, raising his voice to reassure the thunderstruck crowd. “Young boys are often more curious about swords than they should be. There is no offense taken and no one will be punished.” For now at least, he added silently, his eyes never leaving the girl. “Hanzo, give your sword back to the attendant. Here we are not warriors, but simple men who want to spend a pleasant day relaxing.”

* * *

The rest of the time that the General spent at the bathhouse was uneventful. When he was clean and refreshed, he took his leave with promises to Tsunade that he would indeed come again. Although, perhaps not for the reasons that you think, he thought. The three men continued down the street until they reached the cart of a man who was selling flowers to passerby. Munenori stopped and whispered into the man’s ear, “There is a blind girl who works at the bathhouse owned by Tsunade. I want you to find out everything you can about her, and then report back to me through the usual channels.”

“Yes, my lord,” the flower seller replied softly. The General maintained a network of spies throughout the city, who were always ready to provide him with information.

The men moved on, and as they walked, Hanzo became curious about his master’s actions. “Why so much fuss over a mere girl? Surely she cannot hurt anyone. She’s blind!”

“Hanzo, are you a trained swordsman?”

“Yes, my lord, I am. I was trained by a master in Ise.”

“Indeed. And you are quite skilled. But tell me, did you sense that girl moving towards you at all?”

Hanzo thought for a moment, and gasped. “No, I did not. I was so preoccupied with that child that I was not paying attention. Please forgive me, my lord, for my lapse in concentration.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Hanzo. I did not sense her presence either, until she was kneeling at my feet.”

“My lord!” Hanzo gasped again. Munenori was generally acknowledged as one of the finest living masters, and he had never been beaten in battle. A swordsman lived and died by how well he controlled the space around him. Between the most skilled fighters, victory came down to how well one kept an opponent out of one’s personal space, while staying within that space. And if his master was unable to sense the girl until she was under his guard, then what hope did a mere soldier like he have?

“Exactly,” the General continued, as if he could read what was passing through Hanzo’s mind. “She was able to break the mai* of two experienced swordsmen, without either one of us being aware of it until she was upon us. Had she been an assassin she would have stood an excellent chance of killing both of us. I think it is in our best interest to find out exactly who this girl is and what she is doing in Kamakura.”

* * * *mai -- a term used in martial arts to define the distance in space between the meeting of two persons. A master swordsman was said to have such control over his mai that it was as if he were standing in still water. Any movement made in his direction would generate a disturbance, like ripples on the surface of the water, instantly alerting him to an attack.