Heart of the Ronin (11 page)

“He is a powerful lord from the Otomo clan. My father wants him for a friend, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”
 

“I wish I understood it myself.”

“What did you see there? A powerful lord must have a great castle.”

Her face brightened as recollections danced behind her eyes. “We attended a wonderful flower-viewing party.” Her voice grew dreamy and distant.

“A flower-viewing party? I have never heard of such a thing.”

Her surprise was evident on her face. “Truly? Everyone goes to see the cherry blossoms this time of year.”

“Not everyone, it seems. I have seen the cherry blossoms, though. They are beautiful. But having a party to watch them seems a bit . . . useless.”

“Oh, there are many reasons to have a party!” she said. “To be surrounded by nature’s beauty makes life worth living.”

“Perhaps, but sometimes nature is not so beautiful. I grew up in the mountains. Beauty won’t keep you warm in the winter, or fill your belly.”

“You have led a difficult life.”

“Yes, but it made me strong. Many times, I wished for things like a warmer blanket or a bigger meal, but when I look back now, I know the lack of them has strengthened me. Have you ever passed a day without eating? Or seen anything truly horrible, before today?”

“Well, no,” she said. Then she raised her nose and sniffed. “I have been blessed with a fortunate birth, a reward for past lives well spent.”

“That is one way of looking at it.”

“Tell me, then, O Wise One,” she said with a smirk, “what ‘horrors’ have you seen?”

He thought for a moment. “I have seen how grave diggers live. And leatherworkers. I would rather live alone in a cave.” He shuddered at the memory of the relentless stench and how they were reviled by everyone around them. “I have seen innocents slain by callous brutes. I have seen homeless whores, outcast and starving.”

Her playfulness vanished, and she looked down. “You have seen a lot.”

“I have walked a great distance.”

“I have seen practically nothing.” Her plump bottom lip protruded just a bit, and suddenly he wanted to know what it tasted like.

“You were raised in a different world from me. You have seen none of this because your family is powerful and rich. You have no need to see such places.” His voice was not accusatory, but he sensed her stiffen.

Her voice was cautious. “You are right. You have lived your life, and I have lived mine. But that does not mean we should be unkind to one another.”

He nodded and smiled at her. She smiled back.

The sun goddess, Lady Amaterasu, began her descent. As the road wound under Ken’ishi’s feet, he contemplated his emotions. He wanted her to like him. She did not seem at all like Haru. His teacher had taught him to be aware of his own emotions, to control them. Master one’s self, and the mastery of anything else was already nearly complete. But he did not understand how he was feeling. She was the most beautiful and fantastic creature he had ever seen.
 

They came to a small, clear stream gurgling across the road. Ken’ishi set the end of the stretcher down and tried to stretch the fatigue out of his shoulders and back. He was still spattered with dried blood and ichor, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. Moist strands of Kazuko’s hair were plastered to her porcelain-smooth face. He waded into the shin-deep water and began to rub himself clean, watching the trails of rusty brown dispersing into the clear water. He splashed it over him, and the coolness invigorated him. His hunger flared again like a flash fire, but he had no food. So he took out his crude bowl and filled the snarling cave in his belly with cool, clear water. Kazuko dabbed away the crusted blood from Hatsumi’s face, washed the bloody bandage and replaced it.

He offered the bowl to Kazuko. She took the bowl and placed it at Hatsumi’s lips, tipping a trickle of water into her mouth.

Hatsumi coughed once and swallowed. Her eyes moved behind the swollen masses of her eyelids. “Is that you, Kazuko?” Her voice was a hoarse croak.

“Yes, I am here.”

“Are we dead?”

“No, Hatsumi, we are alive.”

“So much pain . . . I thought I must be dead.” Tears seeped from between her purpled eyelids, slid toward her ears.

“Here, drink some more water.” Kazuko lifted Hatsumi’s head and held the bowl to her battered lips. Hatsumi sipped at the water, and Kazuko let her take her time until the bowl was empty.

A mixture of a sigh and moan exhaled from the woman’s mouth as Kazuko let her head back down. “Oh, Kazuko, what happened to that . . . thing? Where is it?”

“It is dead, and so are all the bandits. Our guards fought bravely, but all of them were killed.”

“Then who is with you? I thought . . . I thought I heard you . . . speaking to someone.”

“The brave warrior who helped us. He is escorting us home. His name is Ken’ishi.”

“What clan is he?”

“Don’t worry about that now.”

“Oh, Kazuko, did . . . did the demon . . . when he was finished with me. . . .”

“No, Hatsumi. That was when Ken’ishi arrived.”

“Oh, praise the Buddha! Lucky, lucky for you. . . .” Hatsumi’s voice held a strange sadness and distress, despite her words, and fresh tears welled.

Kazuko stroked her hair.

“Oh, please do not touch me!” Hatsumi sobbed. “I am unclean.”

“The blood of the oni touched us all. More water,” she said to Ken’ishi, handing him the bowl without glancing at him.

Ken’ishi dipped from the stream and handed it back to her.

“Here, drink,” Kazuko said. “We’re safe now. We’ll be home in a few days. You must rest and regain your strength.”

“It hurts. . . .”

“You’re strong. Soon you’ll be your old self.”

“I’m afraid I . . . will never be . . . the old Hatsumi ever again.”

“Hush, now,” she whispered. “You must sleep.” Then she stood up and turned to Ken’ishi. “Pick her up now. We are moving again.”
 

Seven

“There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to everything.”

—
Hagakure

Ken’ishi and Kazuko walked in silence for hours. To Ken’ishi’s tortured shoulders, it seemed that the stretcher’s weight had increased ten-fold. They met no one on the road, which was not unusual during the spring planting season with all of the peasants working in their fields and gardens. The local lords were at peace, so there were no patrols on the road. Kazuko seemed certain of their route, so Ken’ishi followed her direction through several crossroads. They were heading west, and the mountaintops were not so high in that direction.

Ken’ishi wished more and more that she would speak. He enjoyed her voice. But where was Akao? It was unlike him to be gone so long. Ken’ishi often caught himself looking back over his shoulder, hoping he would see his friend loping toward them, with his red tail high and eyes sparkling with pleasure, perhaps with a rabbit in his mouth.

When she finally spoke, her voice was hesitant. “Do you have anything to eat?”

“I don’t have any food. How far to the next village?”

“I don’t think it is far.”

“Someone there will certainly offer food to the daughter of a lord. And good food, too, not peasants’ millet.”

“Perhaps there is a constable there who can help us.”

Ken’ishi stiffened and glanced to see if she had noticed his reaction, but her gaze remained demurely downcast.

Hearing her voice again seemed to diminish the weight on his shoulders.

She glanced at him, and he sensed that she was mulling some questions. “How do you manage living with nothing?”

“There are many people with less. I have my father’s sword. I have a good bow. I have a bedroll to sleep on. My teacher is a master of the blade. I fear no man in a fight.”

“He must be a famous sword master.”

“He is not famous. He prefers to remain unknown. He does not like people.”

“A man like you must have had many adventures.”

“You might say.”

“How old are you? How long since your rite of manhood?”

“My what?”

“Rite of manhood. Have you never undergone any ceremony to take your adult name? ‘Ken’ishi’ is strange. Did you choose it yourself? Who named you?”

Ken’ishi gave her a puzzled look. “My teacher thought people were full of silly customs. My name is my name. I took this name two years ago. Before that, I had no name at all. And I’m no child. I’m seventeen. How old are you?”

“I am seventeen, too.” She smiled at him.

He liked that.

For a while, the only sounds between them were the dragging of the wooden poles and the soft swish of her clothing as she walked. Then she said, “I am sorry I cannot help you carry poor Hatsumi, Ken’ishi. My woman’s frailty is a burden.”

“You don’t look frail carrying that naginata.”

She looked at him with a faint smile, and he returned it with one of his own.

“I’m sure the cherry blossoms were beautiful,” he said, “but I don’t think they could compare to you.” As soon as the words left his lips, he clamped his mouth shut, surprised that he had said such a thing. How would she react? Would she spurn him? Call him a fool?

A delicate pink spread through her flawless cheeks like the emergence of dawn. “Surely you jest.”

A lump formed in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He shook his head in denial.

Her blush deepened. “That is kind of you, but it’s not true.” Her voice brightened with excitement. “Lord Tsunetomo’s garden was breathtaking! A large family of ducks lives there in the pond. The drake’s feathers were so beautiful. Did you know that mandarin ducks symbolize good marriage?”

His words tumbled out in a rush. “Ducks are wise,” he said. “They know that their waddle on land makes us think they’re stupid, but it’s not so.” He waggled his backside, mimicking a duck’s gait.

She giggled into her hand. “How do you know what ducks think?”

He clamped his lips tight.

“You know about many things, but little about matters of custom and manners.”

“I . . . never learned about those things. I learned how to survive and how to fight. After my teacher sent me away, the couple who took care of me tried to teach me things, but I was not a very good student. They knew little of proper etiquette.”

“Well, that explains many things. I suppose you cannot be blamed for your upbringing. You must have done something bad in a previous life to warrant such an unfortunate birth.”

He stiffened. “Why do you say that? How can a man be punished for something he hasn’t done?”

“That is the law of karma,” she said. “If you live your life badly, you are reincarnated as a lower person, doomed to suffer, perhaps even to be born as an animal. Everyone knows that.” Then she blushed. “Oh! I’m sorry. You haven’t been taught the ways of the gods and Buddhas.”

“My teacher taught me about the old gods, the spirits of the water and the earth. They were the gods of his people.”

“Perhaps I could teach you! I have been tutored in many things!”

He spoke slowly. “Perhaps.”

She sighed. “But I know little about the world outside my father’s house and the gossip of the court.” Then her voice brightened. “That is why traveling to Lord Tsunetomo’s estate was so wonderful! I have never seen the countryside like this before. I have never traveled so far from home. My father’s estate is beautiful, but being cooped up there for my whole life is so dreary sometimes! Sometimes I just want to fly like a bird and see the world from above!”

“My teacher once told me that seeing the world from high above is a wonderful thing, but it can also be a curse. When you are high, you can see far and wide. The higher you are, the further you can see. Once you get high enough, you cannot see the evils happening on the ground far below. It’s a way of staying far above the suffering and plight of the poor, a way of remaining happily ignorant while believing that you can see everything. To see the truths of the world, he said, you should also look through the eyes of a tortoise.”

Her voice sounded as if she were trying to decide whether to be offended. “I don’t understand.”

Ken’ishi smiled with relief. “I don’t understand it either. He was a strange bird. He said a lot of things I didn’t understand.”

She smiled in return. “How did he know what it was like to look at the earth from high above? Could he fly?”

He shrugged. “He said that he could. But I never saw him do it.”

Her eyes widened. “Was he a sorcerer? Or a monk? I have heard stories that some monks can make things fly through the power of their faith.”

“He was neither of those things.”

“How strange. . . .”

Ken’ishi listened to her voice for any hint of disbelief, but there was none. “He was strange, that’s for certain.”
 

* * *

Sometimes the coarse cloth chafed her and the crooked poles of the stretcher poked her ribs, moving with a jerky, rhythmic motion, the hot sun on her face, her cracked, dry lips, then all other sensations were drowned in a maelstrom of agony swirling around her groin. Fear and pain made her limbs into dead, useless sticks. Terrible images of blood and flesh and terror flashed and tore through her mind. Some of them were dreams; others, she was not sure. The pain throbbed and pulsed like a second heart, subsided to a black, tearing ache, then resurged. Strangely, the pain did not feel like a part of her, separate somehow, something that moved and acted on its own. Like a child in the womb? Her dreams flowed in and out of the real world. Little, clawed demons skittering into her and tearing out her womb piece by piece. Giving birth to a full-grown red-skinned demon that fell upon her like a beast, devouring her instead of suckling her. Drowning in a lake of blood, seeing Kazuko on the shore waving to her, with the ronin standing beside her, horns just visible growing on his forehead. Surrounded by dozens of snarling, laughing bandits, thrusting their spears into her body, their spears turning to flesh as they withdrew, smeared with her blood, calling out to Kazuko for help, but Kazuko changing into a fox and running away. Seeing the oni coming for her, reaching with its huge claws, then being unable to see because her eyes would not work, would not stay open, even though she tried to hold her eyelids open with her fingers. They felt pasted shut. She could not see. She could not run away because her legs would not work. She could not remember her name. She wondered if she had died and she was in one of the many hells now. The oni ravaged her, crushed her down, and she screamed in agony and terror, and she saw Kazuko sitting on the grass talking to a brilliantly plumaged mandarin drake, oblivious to her screams. The stretcher’s movement jostled her, and she heard a moan of pain. What was her name? Something was pumping through her body, pulsing, like blood. Sometimes in the dead of the night, she could hear her own heartbeat, and the sensation she felt now compared to that one, but something was different. She could smell her own blood, and it smelled like hot copper. The black pain in her groin was dissipating, pulsing away with each spurt of her thundering heart, but it was still in her body, dispersing, not dissipating, like rats in a darkened room scurrying for hiding places when the door is opened.