Queen of the Rifles
The Rise of the Lady of Irontown

Disclaimer:Princess Mononoke is not mine to own, but is the product and artwork of Hayao Miyazaki & Studio Ghibli's creativity.

1. Better to Understand

As it did this morning and as it would do many mornings after, the sun rose gloomily through fog, over the array of houses in the towns far below it, spread out on a plain gouged out of the mountains. In this valley laid the sprawl of a thousand souls destined for to live an existence crowded in by the hills of both sides of the plain, like grains in a rice bowl. In the midst of the sprawl, the epicentre of human civilization lay open to the gods of heaven, seeking their blessing, gaining their favour.

The gods watched over the people, and in return the people honoured their presence on lowly earth. The Emperor was the divine regent of heaven; he dwelt in a palace resembling the palace of heaven, and the temples he built – or which were built from times long before – were symbols the gods were with them. The combination of the temples, shrines, palaces and houses all clustered in between the two slits of mountain ranges, was where the only place where man was fit to dwell.

Kyoto, the centre of the known universe, the city of the Emperor, the feet of the throne of the heaven.

"You must hurry, Aiyo!"

The voice like the swipe of a fan came down onto the young girl's conscience and she struggled to put on her wooden clogs. Why were they so stiff and stubborn today, of all days? When she needed to be dressed at her best? The crest of her sleeve fell on her hand just as he tied the strap as tight as she could to her little feet. The moment she had gotten the troublesome robe out from her clogs, she was on her feet almost immediately.

"Hiojo! Juri! Takako! Aiyo! Line up, quick! Before Father returns."

Following the instructions of Mother, she moved into line, beside her older sisters and eldest brother, who was proudly holding a short sword sheathed in his robe. He had begged Father for the honour of having the sword for the ceremony and succeeded. With his air of pride, his robes bearing the family colours, he looked like a mini-Father. Aiyo's thoughts turned aside to Mother; how would she have felt.

Assembled obediently at the sliding door, Aiyo shuffled her feet quietly on the mat, only to be snapped at by Juri, her older sister. Unlike her, Aiyo was the only daughter not in heavy white make-up, saffron dappled lips, thinly mascara-ed eyes and with a chin leant suggestively into a pout – the trademarks of geisha in training. Why Mother had allowed both Juri and Takako to enroll in that school for fine arts was a mystery yet understood by the young Aiyo. Was it on Father's request? Or did his lord instruct him? But it meant she only saw Takako during the when only the students were allowed breaks.

All training, Aiyo learnt at this age, was tough work.

In a flurry of preoccupied worry, Mother almost dashed up right up to her four obedient children waiting at the door, instructing the servants to prepare the dining quarters and make the tea. They were expecting them any moment now, she insisted, the children had better behave themselves or they would be beaten. The order was directed at Aiyo, who had a tendency of looking down at her feet when at attention. Then she too, like her children, took her place beside the door.

Several moment passed; Aiyo shuffled her feet again. Was it worth all this waiting? But her siblings stood stone-faced and still.

Then the herald, very distant but loud enough: "Long live Hirado Asano! Long live the Lord Asano of Kyoto!"

Father and Mother and Hiojo had spoken of this visit long before today. Sufficient as her imagination was, Aiyo did not see the bug fuss which was being made by the visit of the Lord to the house of his subordinate samurai. What was the big deal? Did not Lord Asano livedin that big mansion south of the city near the temple where they burn incense to him every day? But Lord Asano was Lord Asano, and Father would not dare to show any disrespect.

"Long live the Lord of the Rising Sun and Thousand Samurai!"

Aiyo realised the procession was almost at the doorstep; she could already hear the music. The cymbals she could already hear a long time before, but the shrill cry of the ceremonial winds and flutes were only just wafting over. She thought how impressive the sight would be: a Lord on his horseback, being accompanied by his legions of samurai escorts as he rode down the street, half-led by Father in his best robes and attire, the only samurai not in armour, for it was his house the Lord was visiting.

"Long live the Emperor! Long live Lord Asano! Long live the Lord of the Thousand Samurai!"

The climax reached, the music began to float higher, the cymbals banging faster, the flutues heavier – Lord Asano would be dismounting his steed. Once his feet had touched the ground, Father would be required to kowtow to him, or face losing his head for disrespect.

The brief period of silence, as Aiyo gazed through the translucent wooden screen of shapes and figures moving around outside. They were like the samurai legends she saw on the Bunraku puppets Mother sometimes brought her to, moving without effort, pacing the street outside and the imagination without them actually taking place.

When the door slid open quietly, Aiyo tiptoed to get a better glimpse of the events outside. But before she could make out more than a slice of the bright sun-lit street and its massing crowd, Takako whispered a reproach. Her sister's stern face, made more austere by the whiteness, awfully reminded Aiyo of monsters she'd seen in those plays. But there was no more space for daydreaming or imagination. The Lord which Father had always spoken about was crossing the great door of Japan, the line of servant and served.

Aiyo saw one foot pass the door, and within moments, the entire frame of the great Lord was in the same porch which only earlier she was struggling with her footwear. Lord Asano was a tall man, but Aiyo expected taller; he was dressed in the deepest black ceremonial robes, topped with the helmet of antler horns, which Aiyo realised was the same helmet Father wore, just much larger; but she expected something more. And his face was expressionless, as he dusted the dirt of his shoes and proceeded to the porch to inspect his servant's children and household.

Mother bowed deeply, but she was smiling with the traditional welcome. But Lord Asano seemed unmoved, much like Father's when he did not want to be bothered or when he was in intense thought. Aiyo observed his face did not show any emotion other than it was probably quite warm outside. Then Aiyo realised she should have been looking straight rather than in the direction of the Lord. Curses! Had she committed a great crime? Would she be beaten by Father and Mother now? She thought surely they noticed her inattention.

But as Lord Asano's entourage stepped into the porch, it appeared to overflow with people. Father seemed to jostle his way in. Yet he maintained his dignity; with a few short, soft words, Aiyo listened like a bird in winter as Father introduced the family: the Eboshi family, whose liege and rightful Lord was the great Lord Asano. This was it. On Father's signal, she would have to bow.

Father mentioned one single solitary word. On signal, all the five lesser members of the Eboshi family fell to their knees. Aiyo ignored the long sleeve of her robe getting into her way, and instead hoped she would not lose her balance on her unsteady clogs. Slowly, in pace with the rest, she performed the required kowtow. Then she felt a cramp in her toes returning to her feet.

Father would now usher Lord Asano into the dining quarters for tea and a conversation. At this the Lord's family would adjourn to another room, the entourage dismissed to a waiting area outside, his loyal guards be served and the host's children be excused.

Which meant only Aiyo would have nothing to do. Father would be conversing with Lord Asano, while Mother, Juri and Takako would be rushing to serve the guests. Too young to be part of the conversation, too young to serve, Mother ushered her away into one of the bedrooms. But before that, Aiyo managed to steal a glance at Lord Asano's two sons – what were their names again (or did she even know them?) – as they followed their father into the dining quarters.

Aiyo followed her Mother's orders bluntly, closing the sliding door of the second bedroom. She would have to amuse herself now, with all the adults busy attending to their guests. With the sunlight from outside streaming into her room by the plainness of the window, she moved closer. There was a birch tree outside; maybe there she could find a sparrow to look at –

Slam!

Aiyo jumped. At the sound of pacing footsteps in the room, she turned to the door. Her brother, Hiojo, was storming towards a dark corner of the bedroom, and once there he firmly planted himself down onto the tatami mat, cross-legged, cross-armed, like a bear who had not eaten all through winter. Surely his mood was like one. His robe slightly disheveled, he did not seem to acknowledge Aiyo's presence.

Aiyo knew the wild moods of her brother, which Mother always said were like "winds on the top of a mountain". What was he upset about now? Did the samurai short sword with the family name on it clash badly with his crimson red robes? Were they not the appropriate colour for the first son of the family?

Hiojo cast the sword and his sheath from him, landing to one corner with a vulgar clang of metal. Then he noticed Aiyo. Almost immediately he adjusted his robes, and sat up in the formal fashion.

"What were you looking at?" he demanded.

Aiyo looked up at her elder brother, his face almost obscured in the shadowed corner of the room. She answered: "Why did you come in with a loud noise?"

Her brother did not reply just yet. But instead, he straightened himself up some more. Then as if he suddenly remembered the sword in its sheath, he stumbled forward to take it; Hiojo drew the powerful sword from the sheath, much to Aiyo's alarm, and moved towards her.

"Do you see this sword?" he motioned to the blade now flashing maliciously in his hands. "This sword has served the Asano family for a long time, longer than great-grandfather's time. And now that is it my turn to carry the sword, they will not allow me to even sit at the table to dine with the Lord I was born to serve!"

Aiyo was confused. What did he mean? Did he not carry the sword just now? Why was he so angry when he already carried the sword, even now?

"Because Father is a samurai. Because Father serves the great Lord Asano, So I will be a samurai like him, whether Mother likes it or not," Hiojo seemed to pause as he watched Aiyo's eyes follow his cool, relaxed movements with the sword with a suppressed wonder. He laughed. "Of course you are too young to understand what all this means. But it will be good if you did.

"Too young to understand. But still better to understand. Better to understand samurai than become a dolled-up puppet like your two sisters."

He rambled, without thinking about neither sword or Aiyo watching from behind him.

Aiyo did not understand. But her eyes were still following the gleam of the blade in the little sunlight drawn into the room.

Notes:

So, how? To clarify things, Aiyo is Lady Eboshi, but as a young child. There is a reason I went into so much detail, you will know later.
Anyway, I need someone to comment on the setting, mood, tone and character, anything. I'm not very sure if I have gotten the history and the customs right. (I wouldn't mind a beta reader). But I'm open to any ideas, as long as they can help to improve the story. Thanks.

(22.01.06)