James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

“Yes,” he replied, his voice still heavy with suspicion.

Inspiration sharpened her already excellent memory. “And his real name was Salevaa Atisnoe.”

Hideyoshi gaped again. “That is, I believe, true. But the stories were vague and difficult to believe in. You saw him on a vid! How was he?”

“Magical. He had the grace of an eagle and the speed of a striking cobra and the power of of of something immensely powerful.”

“I so envy you, dear lady.” He forgot himself so much that he actually clasped Mildred by the hands.

Behind them Yashimoto had entered the room with the shogun. As soon as he was aware of their presence, Hideyoshi was overcome with embarrassment and let go of Mildred’s hands as though they’d become red-hot.

“Where is the small one with poor sight and the cripple with hair like snow and eyes like rubies?” the second-in-command of the ville asked, sneering.

“The white-haired cripple could probably beat the best of your sumo wrestlers in a hand-to-hand,” Ryan snapped angrily. “And they’ll both be along soon.”

“That frail child beat Konishiki!” Yashimoto grinned. “Stupe gaijin . The age of miracles is long past. As easy for a mouse to defeat a lion.”

Doc changed the subject. “Why are the ribbons different colors at the corners of the basho ?” he asked. “Do I detect some sort of symbolism?”

“They are the pointed parts of the compass,” Mashashige replied. “And also the seasons of the year. Black is the north and winter. Red is summer and the south. Green is spring and the east, while the west is white and is the fall.”

Krysty had started to walk down toward the basho arena, staring up at the fluttering ribbons. She was about to climb the shallow flight of steps that led onto the actual fighting surface, when Hideyoshi stopped her with a shout.

“No!”

“No, what?”

“No, it is not allowed. The surface of the basho has been purified and sanctified by salt by the visiting priests. If a woman sets foot there, then it is defouled.”

“Defiled,” she corrected. “Though I guess that ‘defouled’ is nearly as good a word. You think I might suddenly have my period all over the religious salt?”

All three of the Japanese men took a step backward in perfect synchronicity. Yashimoto actually started to draw his sword, then thought better of it and resheathed it.

“That is not the way a guest talks,” Mashashige said very quietly.

Krysty nodded. “Guess that’s right. And I apologize for it, Shogun.”

“Apology accepted.”

“And I’ll be very careful not to go and step all over your nice clean basho .”

RYAN AND COMPANY were given seats in the front row, in places of honor, close to the shogun and his aides. It was only when the fighting began that the seats of honor were also the seats of danger.

The sumo wrestlers were all enormously large people, almost like muties. The smallest was about five feet ten inches tall and tipped the scales at just over three hundred pounds. He was known by his fighting nickname, “Little Tiger.”

But some of the bigger men at the basho dwarfed him. The legendary Konishiki was a good six and a half feet tall and weighed four hundred and seventeen pounds.

Each bout followed the same ritual.

The two huge men, swaddled like hogs in diapers, waddled up onto the dais, bowing to the corners and scattering handfuls of salt on the surface of the basho , while a small, wizened priest with a sort of fan carried out a short Shinto service.

Then the wrestlers would squat on their own side of the roped arena, looking, as Ryan remarked, like linemen in football just prior to the snap.

But there were innumerable false starts, where one or the other would stand up and strut around, trying to psych out his opponent. Konishiki was particularly good at this aspect of sumo.

“Wouldn’t fancy meeting him in a dark, narrow alley,” Ryan whispered to Jak.

The teenager was watching the fights with intense professional skill. “Reckon good little one could still beat them,” he said. “Weight against them.”

“You reckon?” Ryan said thoughtfully.