Journey Through Fire (11 page)

BOOK: Journey Through Fire
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“This would have terrified us once upon a time,” I whispered to Hana. Wealthy girls were not allowed to roam unaccompanied.

She smiled. “What fools we were back then,” she agreed. It was a relief to know that Hana still remembered what we had been through, despite the finery of the clothes we now wore.

But as we turned a corner, we lost the soldiers. I tried to retrace our steps but the corridor behind us split off at several points and I could not remember
which way we had come. I turned back to my sister, her face puzzled.

“You know what we've done, don't you?” I asked. Hana shook her head uncertainly. “One day of wearing fine kimonos and our minds have turned to mush. Hana—we're lost!”

T
he sound of marching feet rang off the floorboards, and Hana pulled me back against a wall. We hid in the deep shadows of the walkway and waited for two new soldiers to march past, their heads held high and proud. We followed them for a few moments, but then they turned down a busy walkway and we had to pull back. We pinned ourselves against a wall again.

“What now?” Hana asked. As she spoke, we heard male voices ringing out from a building across the small courtyard.

“That could be the soldiers' quarters,” I whispered to Hana. I strode toward the building, determined to find our friend, but Hana pulled me back. “What is it?” I asked. “What's wrong?”

“Look at us.” Hana swept a hand over the rich silk of her kimono. “We are the daughters of a high family. We can't be discovered among soldiers in their own quarters. It would be a scandal.” I had to admit,
Hana had a point. But frustration simmered inside me—
why
couldn't we go where we liked? Being back among polite society had made me half the girl I once was.

Another soldier strode up to the door.

“Are you lost?” he asked, when he saw us. “Should I escort you back to the main hall?” He towered above us, but his eyes shone kindly. I decided to take a chance.

“Please,” I said, “can you help us? We have reason to believe that an old friend of ours is a samurai in your quarters. His name is Tatsuya.” I saw the glimmer of recognition in the soldier's eyes. “Do you think you could persuade him to step outside and exchange a few words with us? It would mean so much.” I waited for the soldier's response, my heart beating strongly in my chest. Either he would help us or he would march us straight back to the main hall.

The man smiled. “Oh, I know Tatsuya. He's fast become the Shogun's favorite—and ours. I'll find him for you and
order
him to come out here to see you!” My shoulders sagged with relief. The soldier turned to the heavy doorway, but I put out a hand. He looked down at me in surprise.

“Please,” I said. “Don't tell anyone we were here.”

The man glanced around him, as though looking for someone. “I don't know what you mean,” he said.
“I haven't seen a soul down here. Certainly there's been no sign of two finely dressed girls.”

I smiled widely and glanced over at Hana, who couldn't mask her own grin.

The door closed behind the soldier and we heard gruff shouts across the room. A moment later, the door heaved open.

There stood Tatsuya. He wore the simple trousers and tunic of a soldier at rest. But his sword remained in its hilt by his side—always on duty. He looked over his shoulder and then stepped out into the walkway, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Tatsuya, what happened to you?” Hana asked. “The last time we saw you, you were being captured! We thought…” She did not dare voice that darkest thought.

Tatsuya's face clouded at the sight of Hana's emotion. “I'm alive—even if we haven't seen each other for an age.” He looked us up and down, taking in our fine kimonos. “And you look much different from when I last saw you. Where are your swords?”

My smile faltered. “We no longer carry swords,” I said quietly. But now was no time for regret. There were too many questions. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “And how did you escape the ninja?”

“Did you know we would be here?” Hana asked excitedly, drawing close to Tatsuya.

At the mention of ninja, Tatsuya looked nervously along the walkway and put a finger to his lips. “Shush,” he said. “This is not a good place to talk. Let's go out to the pond garden, where there is no hiding place for spies.”

“Spies?” I asked.

“You know, eavesdroppers,” he replied. “Samurai soldiers are as bad as old women for sniffing out gossip. Come on.” He turned and led us down a walkway.

The pond garden was empty—most guests would be sleeping off the lavish feast by now. Five ponds were fed by a stream that flowed from one to the other. A weeping willow tree trailed its leaves in the largest of the ponds and we ducked between the long, flowing branches to sit hidden from the rest of the compound. The ground was mossy and Hana and I sat on either side of Tatsuya on a low bench.

“Tell us your story. From the very beginning,” said Hana.

Tatsuya took a deep breath. “When the ninja dragged me out of the river, I thought I was going to die.”

I remembered the ninja attack on the monastery and how Daisuke and I had battled those silent assassins and their ruthless determination. I could imagine the fear that must have been pounding
through Tatsuya's heart.

“Why didn't they kill you?” Hana asked.

“I don't know,” he said. “They knocked me out and put me in a cell. I managed to escape—”

“How?” I interrupted. I could not understand how these trained men had allowed our friend to slip from their grasp.
Tatsuya must be more of a warrior than I realized,
I thought. But he waved a dismissive hand through the air.

“I escaped when they brought me some food,” he said. “Two ninja gave chase and I really thought I would meet my death.” I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Tatsuya pushed on, determined that no one would interrupt him this time. “Ninja are effective because they rely on the element of surprise in their attack. But I
knew
they were chasing me, so I was prepared. I still had my bow and arrow, so I scrambled up a tree and…” He mimed the action of pulling the bow taut and releasing an arrow. “One! Two! One in the heart, the other straight through his eyeball and into his head. I didn't try to retrieve
that
arrow!” Tatsuya leaned back and folded his arms, proud of his story.

But Hana's face had turned ghostly white. “To die like that,” she said quietly. She shuddered and Tatsuya's arms fell to his side.

“A villager gave me food,” he continued, changing
the subject, “and a bed. He told me that the Shogun was looking for new recruits. So I came here and won a place.”

“But the Shogun chooses his men from the best dojo in the land. How did you get an audience with him?” I was amazed that it could be so easy.

Tatsuya's face hardened. “I used my fighting skills to impress one of the samurai captains and then won my place. You do remember Master Goku's training—don't you?” Sarcasm flooded his voice and I could see that our friend was annoyed by all my questions. It seemed his new status as a Shogun's samurai had gone to his head. I had seen Tatsuya's anger before when I had teased him about imaginary ninja, but I had never heard his voice take on such a hostile tone.

“Of course I remember,” I said quietly. “And you were so kind to us then, too.” I hoped my words would remind Tatsuya of our first meeting and our secret training sessions in his room. Of how much we had done together.

Tatsuya's hands had bunched into fists, but he relaxed them at the memory. “And you? What of you two?” he asked.

Hana and I glanced at each other. “We went on to fight Uncle Hidehira in the battle for the estate in Sagami,” I explained. “We met a battalion of students who were willing to fight alongside us. We rescued
Mother and Moriyasu and escaped the fighting. Then, after weeks of hiding in villages, samurai soldiers arrived on Uncle's orders and—”

“We ended up hiding in a monastery,” Hana interrupted.

I glanced over at her and she discreetly shook her head in my direction. I understood. Hana did not want Tatsuya to know about the fire—about her scars. Not yet, anyway. My scalp itched beneath my wig and I wondered if Tatsuya thought my headgear strange. I sympathized with Hana wanting to hide her scars.

I didn't have a chance to say anything else. The leaves of the willow tree were roughly pushed aside and three samurai soldiers stepped into the clearing beside the pond. Their armor glistened in the last rays of the setting sun.

“Hah!” one of them laughed. “Talking with girls. Well, well. Looks like Tatsuya isn't quite the soldier our Shogun thinks he is. Careful, Tatsuya. Your muscles will turn flabby if you sit here too long.”

Tatsuya jerked up to his feet and brought his shoulders back rigidly. Looking straight ahead, he explained himself: “These are old friends from school. I would be rude to spurn their eagerness for news.” I could see how hurt Hana was by Tatsuya's formal words and I suddenly hated the men for
interrupting us. I scrambled to my feet, too.

“From school?” asked a second samurai. “You trained with girls?” All three of the men roared with vicious laughter. As one of them leaned back, throwing his face to the sky, I leaped behind him and unsheathed his long
daito
sword. It was heavier than any sword I had ever practiced with, but its layers of cold steel glistened in the sunlight. I heard Hana gasp in shock and Tatsuya call out to me to stop. But the hilt of the sword felt good in my hand and I already knew I was ready to fight.

I circled the man, enjoying his shocked expression.

“How dare you,” he hissed. “No one robs a samurai of his sword.”

“No samurai allows his sword to be taken,” I said. “No
good
samurai, at least. You want to see how girls train with swords? I could beat you all!”

One of the soldiers took out a small
shoto
sword and threw it to the unarmed samurai. As the other two unsheathed their swords, I sprang forward and brought the flat of my blade down heavily on the first man's wrist. He cried out in pain and allowed the
shoto
sword to fall to the ground, where it speared the moss. I kicked the little sword aside and it plunged into the pond, disappearing beneath the rippling water. The second samurai brought his sword around above his
head in a two-handed grip and drew the blade down through the air. I jumped to the side, bringing up my own sword to deflect the blow. As I sliced up through the air, the third samurai attacked, lunging forward to bring his sword around in a strong, smooth strike toward my left side—my exposed heart. I swirled around and kept my arms straight in front of me. The tip of my sword grazed the man's chest and he jerked back, allowing his sword arm to fall. He stumbled over a tree root and fell to the ground.

I turned, ready for the next attack, my sword held out before me. My chest was heaving as I panted for air. One man was on his knees by the pond, trying to retrieve his sword. The other was watching me keenly, his own sword held out in front of him.

“You have spirit,” he commented.

“Don't you want to fight on?” I asked.

He shook his head. “You are good. I apologize. But the best sword is the sheathed sword.” He took a step backward and put his sword back in its sheath. “I'll see no blood spilled today.”

I hesitated, then handed my sword back to its owner, hilt first. I had proved myself to these men and they would not make the mistake of laughing at me again. I turned around to Tatsuya, expecting to see how I had impressed him. After all, I had done a lot of fighting since we had last seen each other. I
was sure my technique must have improved. But his mouth turned down at the corners and I could see that his hands had bunched into fists again. Behind him, Hana watched—her face pale and anxious.

“Get out of my way!” Tatsuya pushed past me, following the other soldiers back to their quarters.

“Tatsuya?” I called out uncertainly.

He swiveled around and marched back, bringing his face close to mine. “Don't you ever humiliate me like that again,” he said. He was so close that I could see the spittle gathering in the corners of his mouth.

“But I was defending your honor,” I said. “There's no shame in training with girls.”

“When I want my honor saved, I'll save it myself. In the meantime, try not to show me up in front of the other soldiers. Keep your sword fighting for entertaining children at fancy parties.”

One of the soldiers turned around from the other side of the courtyard. “That's some friend you have!” he called back jokingly to Tatsuya.

Tatsuya's eyes narrowed. “Some friend, indeed,” he whispered menacingly. Then he turned on his heel and ran away across the gravel.

Hana came to stand beside me. “What have you done, Kimi?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don't know,” I said.

“Well,
I
know,” said Hana. “All you ever want to do is fight. Why couldn't you have left Tatsuya to be teased by his friends? They meant no harm.”

As I heard the door slam behind Tatsuya, I wondered what had happened to our friend during his imprisonment. What had made his gentle face contort in anger? Hana was wrong; it couldn't just be me. Something else had happened to Tatsuya—something bad.

 

I couldn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned under my heavy covers. I got up from my bed and dragged a cover after me to lie on the cool floor. For so long, I had slept on floorboards and now I could not sleep away from them. The scent of pine filled my nostrils and I lay on my back, gazing up toward the eaves of the room. My last waking thought was for Tatsuya.
May he sleep well,
I asked the gods.
And someday find the brightness he once had
. Whatever had happened to unsettle his soul, I hoped it would not keep him from his dreams.

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