"Magnificent," Viggo breathed, as he lifted the sword from its rack.

"The finest steel in all Japan," Keanu agreed. "Was that not what you wished to see?"

"Aye," Viggo said, still lost in wonder.

Keanu's lips curved slightly as he watched his Western friend admire the katana. The Dane had such obvious reverence for the art of sword smithing that the Keanu had no qualms about showing the man the Cherry Blossom Sword.

The beautiful weapon and its mate, the wakizashi short sword, were the finest existing examples of the sword makers' craft. The pair of blades, known as daisho, belonged to Keanu's daimyo, or patron, and was kept in this shrine-like room with the lord's suit of armor.

Keanu knew that his master did not share his tolerant attitude toward so-called white men, but Keanu could not deny Viggo this request. The Dane had traveled far through many difficulties just to gaze upon a legendary samurai sword. Viggo's awe and delight were all the thanks Keanu required for taking this risk. And perhaps Keanu's mixed blood led him to feel a certain kinship with the Westerner.

Viggo swept the gleaming length of steel through the air. "Absolutely magnificent," he repeated. "I must learn the art."

"I shall see what may be done," Keanu said. "It will not be easy to persuade a master to teach someone… not of Japanese blood."

Viggo nodded his understanding. Since coming to the East, the Dane had learned that most aristocratic Japanese saw him as a lower form of life. He had been fortunate to be in a position to help Keanu out of a difficulty and thus earn the young warrior's gratitude. Otherwise, Viggo would never have had a chance of making his dream come true. Though he was one the most respected smiths in all Europe, his reputation meant nothing here.

"I am sorry to hurry you," Keanu broke in on Viggo's thoughts, "but we must go."

Reluctantly, Viggo replaced the work of art on its rack, bowing slightly as he stepped away. It was hard to tear his eyes from the metal that shone like moonlight on still water and the exquisite details of the hilt and guard. The weapon was easily the most beautiful thing the Dane had ever beheld with his waking eyes.

"Come," Keanu urged. "I will take you where you can feast your eyes on more swords."

Viggo took a last look around at the weapons on the wall and the brightly lacquered suit of armor on its stand. Putting a hand on the hilt of his own blade, the Dane followed the young samurai from the paper-walled room. Servants bowed low as the two men passed them on their way to the front entrance of the daimyo's smaller city palace.

"My master has given permission for you to wear your sword in public," Keanu said, his tone making clear that this was a very great honor.

"Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to thank him," Viggo answered.

Keanu nodded non-committally. He did not think that the shogun would grant the Westerner an audience. His master could barely tolerate Keanu. Were it not for his exemplary skill with bow, spear and blade, half-breed Keanu would be a masterless ronin, little better than a mercenary. Shuddering at the thought, the young warrior stepped into the road.

It was dusk and the low-lying rays of the setting sun illuminated the snowy blossoms of the fruit trees lining the avenue. Keanu paused to appreciate the profligate beauty before his eyes. Viggo waited in respectful silence until his guide moved again.

The Eastern warrior caste, or buke, was a strange blend of violence and artistry that fascinated Viggo. He had a lot of respect for a man who had mastered both the sword and the poem, the powers of creation as well as destruction. Most Western men would no doubt find these flower-arranging fighters feminine, but Viggo was not most Western men.

"Where are we going, Keanu-san?" Viggo asked as other pedestrians stood aside for them.

"I am taking you to a delight for the eyes and the ears," Keanu replied. "Tonight you will see traditional kabuki."

"And the swords?"

"There will be many," Keanu assured his companion. "Kabuki is the chosen entertainment of the samurai. Many warriors will attend and you will be able to observe."

"Are you certain I will be welcome?"

"It is a public performance," Keanu said, "and you are my guest."

"I am grateful," Viggo said.

"Your gratitude is not necessary. If you had not arrived so fortuitously, I might have been forced to return to my daimyo in disgrace. Thanks to your skill with that straight blade, the package I carried for my master was not lost."

"It was my pleasure to teach those ruffians a lesson about attacking a lone man," Viggo said. "Though it seemed that you were holding your own against all five."

"You are generous as well as gracious," Keanu bowed from the waist. "Now let us see what delights the performers have in store for us."

Viggo looked around with great interest as they entered the theater. Keanu and his guest were seated on large cushions and offered tea and rice wine. Keanu gave the attendant some small coins and the man left to tend to other patrons.

Viggo could not help but notice that the majority of the audience was warriors. They were dressed in flowing silk robes with sashes of various colors and patterns belting their wide-legged trousers. Through the sashes were thrust two sheathed swords, one long and one short, each blade a masterpiece of forging. Viggo could not turn his head without being impressed anew.

"You will hurt your neck," Keanu joked gently.

Viggo smiled. "This is what happens when you set a child free in a sweet shop," he said.

Keanu's smooth brow puckered in middle. "What child?" he asked.

"It is just a figure of speech that we have in the West," Viggo said. "It means I am delighted beyond my dreams."

"Ah, that is good," Keanu said. "You have attracted much attention."

"I was trying not to notice," Viggo replied. "I hope my presence will cause no difficulties for you, my friend."

"I am not worried," Keanu said. "Ah, the performance is about to begin."

All eyes turned to the stage, which held several flowering trees in pots to represent a grove. A length of billowing blue silk with painted fish stood in for a stream. Music that sounded oddly hollow and attenuated to Viggo's Western ears suggested the sounds of flowing water and birdsong. A collective sigh went up from the audience as a slender figure with floor sweeping blue-black hair appeared.

"We are fortunate," Keanu whispered. "We will see the Dance of the Goddess Okuni performed by the most skilled onnagata in Kyoto. Perhaps in all Japan."

Viggo gave his attention to the willowy performer in loose, layered kimonos whirling and gliding so elegantly across the platform. Floating layers of silk slid sinuously against the trim body moving so gracefully to the chiming music. Upraised arms in gauzy trailing sleeves veiled the onnagata's face from the audience until the very end. As the song ended, the performer knelt in a deep backbend.

The Dane stared, transfixed by the sheer beauty of the face that was fully revealed at last. Though the eyes and eyebrows were strongly delineated in black and the bee-stung lips coated with poppy red against the blank white of rice powder, the dancer's classic features could not be masked.

Viggo knew he was looking on the human equivalent of the Cherry Blossom katana. There could not be a more lovely face in all Creation. The audience seemed to be of the same opinion. Until two stagehands in black hurried forward with a silk screen, the onnagata was gently pelted with petals, blossoms and bouquets of peonies.

From where he sat, Viggo saw the enchanting performer sweep a few flowers up in one arm and then leave the stage behind the screen. The Dane turned to ask Keanu a question, but his companion was focused on something across the room. Feeling Viggo's eyes on him, the warrior made an apology.

"Please forgive me. Do you mind if we go?"

Viggo was a bit disappointed. He was hoping to see the onnagata again, but reasoned that he could always return to the theater tomorrow evening. As they exited the theater, the sound of voices raised in anger drew their attention to the narrow road that bordered the building on east side. Several samurai had gathered at a side door and a man who obviously worked for the theater was insisting that they leave immediately.

"Idiot! I feared this might happen," Keanu muttered and started toward the group.

Viggo followed on the warrior's heels, his hand going automatically to the hilt of his sword. "What passes here?" the Dane asked as they advanced.

"The manager is trying to keep the samurai from coming backstage to compliment the onnagata. He is a fool to think he can dictate to men of the buke caste."

"Why not bring the dancer out and let the samurai pay their respects?" Viggo asked.

"I am afraid they want to give the onnagata more than flowers and good wishes."

Viggo frowned. "You'll have to be plainer than that," he said.

"Onnagata are dancers, singers and actresses," Keanu said, "but they are also courtesans, keisei,the highest sexual prize a samurai may claim. Competition for their favors is fierce."

Viggo recognized the word keisei: castle-toppler, one whose beauty causes great strife. "Ah," Viggo said. "I see."

However, he wished that he didn't. The thought of that lovely, delicate creature extending physical favors to the strongest warrior disturbed the Dane on a level that was almost primal. Sternly, the man reminded himself that this was a different culture and he should not judge before hearing all the facts.

"Nakamura-san," Keanu said as he stopped beside the richly dressed man in the doorway. "Why do you keep these warriors standing in the road?"

Reed-thin Nakamura bowed to Keanu. "You are Lord Watanabe's man, are you not? Would the shogun countenance such brawling behavior? I say let these men become sober before foisting themselves on the artists."

Keanu raised an eyebrow at the other samurai. "I know you," he said. "Shagata, Masato and young Shin. Have you come drunk to pay your respects? Does this not bring shame upon you and your masters?"

The heavily built Shagata and Masato exchanged a bleary glance. The samurai that Keanu had not called by name drifted away toward the teahouse in the next road, but wiry Shin's gaze never left Viggo. The young warrior stared belligerently into the Dane's eyes. Keanu ignored Shin's bad manners and turned again to Nakamura.

"Since there are now only three, will you permit them to enter?" Keanu asked.

The manager of the theater bowed his head. "Of course," he said, standing meekly aside for the samurai.

"I am sorry, Nakamura," Keanu said, "but you cannot keep them out. One day I shall come here and find you a grave man."

Nakamura bowed to the young samurai. "You are a good buke," the manager said. "You are welcome here at any time. Those men do not know what it means to be samurai."

Keanu inclined his head, and looking up, caught Nakamura staring at the Dane. "This is my friend, Viggo Mortensen," Keanu said. "He is a maker of weapons."

Nakamura bowed deeply from the waist in respect. "An honor to have you in my humble establishment," the manager said. "Please visit the House of the Jade Tree again."

"That will be my pleasure," Viggo said, surprising Nakamura with his unaccented Japanese.

"You speak very well, Mortensen-san," Nakamura observed. "That is rare for a gaijin."

"I have long wished to visit your country," Viggo said. "I've had years to prepare."

Nakamura bowed even more deeply and thanked Keanu again. After making them promise to return the next evening, the manager went back inside. Viggo returned with Keanu to the room they were sharing and prepared for bed. Keanu fell quickly asleep, but Viggo lay wakeful, his mind occupied by the play and its aftermath.

When the smith finally drifted off, his dreams were haunted by the onnagata's face, and visions of what was under the mask of paint.

Read Chapter Two of Twelve + Epilogue of Bailey's The Onnagata