Heart of the Ronin (22 page)

“So you do it for revenge?”

“Perhaps,” Kaa admitted. “Trickery is less dangerous—and less painful—than war, isn’t it?”

“Yes, teacher.”

“You are lucky you caught that fish before you came back, or you would have been in for a beating.”

“Yes, teacher.” He looked at the ground, then said, “Were you watching?”

“My powers extend to more than mere ‘watching.’ You would do well to remember that.”

“Yes, teacher.”

“Very well. Let us eat!”

* * *

After Ken’ishi ended his tale, they walked in silence for a while. They occasionally passed tradesmen or itinerant merchants who prostrated themselves as the procession passed. They could tell from the richness of Kazuko’s clothing that she was a noble lady.

The procession passed a filthy beggar who knelt out of their path, touching his forehead to the ground. Ken’ishi’s nose wrinkled at his horrible stench. The man smelled as if he bathed in a cesspit and rinsed with urine. His cheeks were gaunt, and his ears were too big for his head. Sparse wisps of hair spotted his unwashed pate. His face was pressed against the dirt of the road.

The beggar’s sobs wracked his spindly frame as he spoke. “Oh, noble gentleman and lady, please spare some money for a wretched beggar! My wife is ill unto death and I have no money to buy her medicine. Please, be merciful and kind to a poor creature such as myself.”

Ken’ishi glanced at Kazuko. Her face had gone white, and she leaned unsteadily on her naginata. Her eyes held the look of one about to retch.

Ken’ishi felt the man’s powerlessness at being too poor to help someone he loved. The man’s stench was almost overpowering, however, and Ken’ishi had to clamp his teeth down upon his own revulsion.

The beggar cringed away from the silence hanging pregnant in the air, as if he now regretted opening his mouth at all, as if he feared that the silence was a precursor to being spurned. He tried to withdraw into himself, make himself smaller like a tortoise.

Kazuko had composed herself. She stepped forward, and her voice was shaky but resolved. “I am sorry for your plight. Please accept this. Your wife should have the medicine she needs.”

Hatsumi whispered from the stretcher, “Kazuko! Don’t touch him! You’ll be polluted again! Get away from him!”

Kazuko ignored her. She reached into her money pouch and tossed several copper coins onto the road near the beggar. The beggar began to weep and gathered the money in his hands. His tears dripped into the dust of road. “Thank you very much!” he repeated over and over, sobbing.

“Now,” she said, “go and buy medicine for your wife.”

The beggar scrambled to his feet and ran away up the road.

Kazuko smiled wanly at Ken’ishi. Then she looked at Hatsumi, and her tone grew serious. “The Buddha speaks of compassion for all things, Hatsumi, even filthy creatures like that beggar.”

“Yes, lady,” Hatsumi said. “I am sorry.” Her bruised cheeks reddened. “My concern was only for your welfare.”

Kazuko said, “I know, and thank you. But your concern should be for the beggar.”

Hatsumi lay back on the stretcher, turning her face away.

Ken’ishi thought he heard her mutter something under her breath. He could not make out her words, but her tone set his teeth on edge.

Kazuko appeared not to have heard.

Ken’ishi said to her, “You are very kind.”

“Perhaps I can do more to be kind to those below my station. Perhaps I
should
do more. Until I met you, I never thought of them at all. Thank you for opening my eyes.”

“I did nothing,” he said.

“You have a broad belly, a wide spirit, Ken’ishi. You would make a good retainer for any lord.”

“I’m happy you think so.”

“I will try to arrange a meeting for you with my father,” she said and smiled at him again.

As they walked on, he thought about the beggar for a long time, and the strange mixture of repulsion and pity that had left Kazuko frozen.
 

* * *

As she lay upon her crude palanquin, Hatsumi thought about the beggar as well, but she burned with anger at Kazuko’s rebuke. That filthy beggar had accosted her lady, and even worse, made Kazuko displeased with her. Hatsumi silently chastised herself for forgetting Kazuko’s kind-spiritedness. She should have realized Kazuko would react as she did. How could she convince Kazuko that her feelings for the ronin were wrong, hopeless, useless, if the girl was angry with her? She would have to be more careful from now on.

Hatsumi wondered why she felt so ill tempered, almost as if it were in spite of herself. Her groin still throbbed and ached, but it was no longer a searing agony. She covered her eyes to protect them from the beating sun. The uncertain step of the peasants bearing her stretcher made her queasy, and her head hurt. She almost believed she would feel better now if she walked herself. She craned her neck to look at Kazuko and saw her walking closely beside the ronin. Too closely. Her fists clenched.

“Kazuko!” she called, keeping her voice carefully beseeching.
 

The girl turned and looked at her with that beautiful smile, as if nothing had happened. Could she have forgotten so soon? “Yes? What is it?”

“May we stop and rest for a bit?”

“Certainly, Hatsumi,” Kazuko said.

Hatsumi noted the scowl of impatience on the ronin’s face and quietly enjoyed it.

The bearers lowered Hatsumi’s conveyance so that she could step off, and she sighed with relief. “My dear, could you help me?” She held out her hand to Kazuko, who moved to help her off the stretcher.

Hatsumi glanced at the bushes, and Kazuko nodded in understanding. Hatsumi no longer needed the help, but she was grateful for Kazuko’s touch. When they were out of sight of the rest of the party, Hatsumi turned to her.

“Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have been so rude to that beggar. You were right.”

“There is no need for forgiveness. You were looking out for my welfare.”

“As I always do. I am forever your humble servant.”

Kazuko smiled. “You are more like my sister than a servant!”

Hatsumi smiled back, and for the first time in too long, she felt real warmth and love. The bitter darkness receded. She almost felt like she could chat with Kazuko just as she always had, but there was still something between them.

“Kazuko,” Hatsumi began, then paused.

“What is it?”

“It is difficult to speak of such things.”

“What is it? We can talk about anything, can’t we?”

Hatsumi kept her voice carefully neutral, perhaps matronly. “I know you have feelings for him, Kazuko, and if it embarrasses you to talk about it, I’m sorry.” Kazuko blushed deeply, just as Hatsumi expected. “But you must listen to me. You mustn’t fall prey to those feelings. You must put them aside.”

Kazuko looked away, her eyes glassy with tears.

“You are meant for a better man than him,” Hatsumi said. “You must guard against those feelings, cast them out. I know it is painful. I only wish to spare you more pain. You and this man cannot be together.”

Hatsumi paused, waiting for Kazuko to respond, but the girl lowered her gaze to a spot at her feet, unmoving.

“Your father would not approve.”

Kazuko stiffened, but still said nothing.

“You must listen to me. You are too free with your love, my dear. It has already caused you trouble.”

Kazuko’s gaze snapped up to stare at her. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.” Hatsumi kept her voice kind, but firm.

Kazuko sniffed and looked away. “I know no such thing!”

“I’m sure you remember Yuta, who was so in love with you.”

Kazuko’s mouth fell open.

Hatsumi smiled and patted her cheek. “Yes, I knew about him. And I know you had feelings for him, too. You must guard the chambers of your heart and your body, my dear, because they do not belong to you. They belong to your family, to your father. Your feelings have consequences for those you favor with them. If your father had found out about Yuta, the boy’s life might have been forfeit, and you would have been disgraced.”

Kazuko’s expression changed from surprise to shock and dismay. Tears burst into her glistening eyes, and Hatsumi felt a pang of remorse. “I am sorry, Kazuko, for opening up old wounds. I know you pined for him for a while. But rest assured that it was for the best.”

“How could you!” Kazuko gasped. “How could you do that to me? For so long I wondered what happened to him, and no one would tell me! And that was your doing?”

“I’m sorry, my dear. It was for the best. He is alive and well, but far away. And you will never see him again.” Hatsumi looked into her, and saw a storm of emotions, hurt, sadness, and more than a hint of anger. It would take some time for Kazuko to get over this, Hatsumi knew, but she would. She was a resilient girl. “Do not hate me.”

Kazuko looked for a moment as if she would collapse.

“Please believe me when I say that it was for the best. It could only have ended badly for everyone. Do you believe me?”

The girl looked toward the ground, her mouth agape, seeing nothing, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Please tell me you will think about what I have said.”

Kazuko wiped at the tears in her eyes, then she turned away.

When they returned to the rest of the party, Hatsumi tried to discern the girl’s thoughts. She seemed solemn now, taciturn, with a faint wrinkle visible between her brows. Hatsumi sighed and resumed her place on the stretcher. That expression usually meant that the girl had resolved herself to disobey. Kazuko had a reasonable nature, but she also had a strong will that had never before had cause to be broken. The bitter darkness crept back into Hatsumi’s mood as she contemplated what to do next.
 

* * *

Ken’ishi waited for them on the path, wondering why the kami were whispering to him so incessantly. He looked at Akao to see if the dog was feeling it as well, but he looked calm. Akao stayed close to Ken’ishi. The villagers carrying Hatsumi’s litter made the dog nervous. Ken’ishi’s uneasiness started this morning soon after they departed the last village.

The dog sensed Ken’ishi’s uneasiness and looked up at him quizzically.

Ken’ishi said, “The kami are whispering to me. Something is wrong.” For the hundredth time today, his eyes scanned the road, the forest, with the strange sensation of being hemmed in by the closeness of the trees. He sensed danger coming, but could not see from where. When it came, there would be no warning.

Akao said, “Foolish man. Nothing on the wind. Only
her.
”

“Kazuko?”

“No. Not right. Not good, that other one. Beware.”

Perhaps that was why the kami were whispering to him so incessantly. Something was wrong with Hatsumi? After that look in her eyes, he could believe that she wished him ill, but what harm could a poor wounded woman do to him?

When Kazuko and Hatsumi returned to the road, Kazuko was upset. She would not look at him, or at Hatsumi, and her eyes were red as if from weeping. He could only wonder what transpired between them while they were out of sight.

When Hatsumi was situated on her stretcher once again, Kazuko was terse. “Let us go.”

They walked for a while in silence again, until he could bear it no longer. “How far?”

She thought for a moment, and the chilliness of her demeanor seemed to thaw slightly. “Perhaps by this evening.”

“Are you weary?”

She nodded.

“I could carry you.”

The last of her sadness melted away into a giggle. “Now
that
would be absurd! You? Carry me?”

He smiled back. “That is what I wanted.”

Her smile became a blush, and she bit her lip.

“A smile,” he said. “All I wanted was a smile.”

She smiled again, and the conflict and tension he sensed in her was gone.

“Would you like me to tell you more about my master?”

She nodded. “Yes, please!”

“Very well.”

Seventeen

Dewdrop, let me cleanse
 

In your brief sweet waters . . .

These dark hands of life

—
Basho

The eight-year-old boy trudged up the steep mountain path with his bucketful of river water. He had nearly reached the cave, wending his way through the early morning shadows of the towering pine trees. The air was cool and still. The sun had only just appeared, and a still, ghostly mist clung to the ground. He was hungry. He had not eaten yet today. This water would be used to make the rice for his breakfast.

The blow came out of nowhere as something small and hard ricocheted off the crown of his head. The pain exploded like a burst of hot ashes, and the tears erupted from his eyes. The bucket of water tumbled out of his hand, dumping its contents and bobbling back down the narrow rocky path. He was powerless to stop it, almost paralyzed with pain, curled into a ball on the ground, clutching his pate with both hands. He could hear the bucket bouncing down the mountain. Through the haze of tears, he saw his teacher standing above him, with one gray-feathered hand holding a fresh, green bamboo tube as long as his arm.

“I’m sorry I dropped the water!” the boy said.

“Bah! Who cares about the water, monkey-boy! It only turns to piss!”

The boy stared up at the bird man, trying in vain to read his round, black eyes. The tengu did not move and just stared down at the boy as if expecting something.

The boy picked himself up and turned to go after the bucket. He heard a deep breath and a puff of air, and another searing pain on his left buttock tore a howl out of him. A smooth round stone the size of his palm landed a couple of paces away. He threw himself down the mountain path, glancing over his shoulder to see Kaa lowering the tube from his mouth. A few step later, he looked again. The path was deserted. The tengu and his tube were gone.

He stopped and listened. Was his master trying to sneak up on him? He backed down the path, his senses tuned. His pate and his buttock burned with pain, and he rubbed each with one hand.