Journey Through Fire (12 page)

T
he next morning was spent quietly in our apartment. In the privacy of our rooms, I could abandon my wig and run my hands over the prickles of my cropped hair.

“We'll always be able to spot you in the courtyard,” my brother joked with me, referring to my white streak.

Moriyasu and I played a game of Go, while Hana and Mother arranged our belongings around the room. Every now and then, I would look up from the polished game board that Daisuke had given me and gaze out of the window at a red maple tree. I thought about my friend often—what was he doing now? My thoughts chased one another back and forth, and it was no surprise to me that Moriyasu won the game.

“Concentrate, Kimi!” my brother chided me. I smiled as we put the pieces back in their bowls, ready for a new game.

There was a call from outside the door of the
apartment and a servant stepped into the room.

“What is it?” Mother asked, walking over from the mat where she had spread out our kimonos for inspection.

“I have a message from Lady Akane, wife of the Administrator,” said the servant. “Please, would you join her in the Administrator's wing for tea and
ikebana
flower arranging? All the women are attending the
ikebana
, but Lady Akane would like to take tea with you first.”

Mother's face flushed with pleasure and I heard Hana gasp in delight. Moriyasu rolled his eyes at me and I tried not to laugh.

“Flower arranging,” he said. “I can hardly contain my excitement.” I leaned across the board and pinched his cheek.

“It's okay for
you
,” I whispered. “You won't be expected to go. Boys get all the luck in this world.”

“That's right,” Moriyasu said, nodding at the Go board. “Because we are the best strategists. You would do well to learn from me, sister.” I lunged forward to pinch his cheek again—more fiercely this time—but Moriyasu was too quick for me and ducked past the servant to race out into the courtyard.

“Don't stray too far,” Mother called after him.

The servant was still waiting for an answer.

“Please tell Lady Akane that we would be honored
to attend,” said Mother. As the servant exited the room, Mother swirled around and clapped her hands together sharply.

“Come, girls.” She held out my wig for me and I reluctantly put it on. Once it was on, Mother seemed satisfied. Hana adjusted her kimono and soon we were ready to depart.

Another servant had come to show us the way to Akane's apartments. We followed him down long walkways, through the main hall, and toward other rooms set apart in the compound. A simple doorway led into a room that was as wide as four tatami mats, gracefully lit by screened windows. We went in one by one and the fragrant scent of the straw mats filled the air. Opposite us was an alcove that contained a beautiful flower arrangement and a scroll that carried a poem about harmony and respect.

Mother herded Hana and me to a low table, where we kneeled to wait for Akane. I tried to convince myself that I didn't mind attending flower arranging.
Perhaps we can appeal to the Administrator's wife for support?
I thought.

A moment later, she came in through the doorway. She wore a simpler kimono today, but it was still beautiful—powder-blue silk with an ivory undergarment. The colors played well against the pale beauty of her skin—Akane clearly knew how
to bring out her own best qualities.

“Do you think we could ever have such presence?” Hana whispered to me.

“With my hair?” I joked. Immediately I regretted it, as I saw Hana's hands move over her scars, even though they were safely covered from view by the folds of her kimono sleeves. Hana's injuries were still too raw for her to joke about.

“Good morning,” Akane said, nodding at each of us in turn. As her gaze came to rest on my face, I bowed my head. But when I looked back up, Akane was still scrutinizing me. After a few heartbeats, she glanced one final time around the room and kneeled at a low table to prepare the tea.

As Akane's hands moved deftly, we all watched. Drinking tea was a moment of high ritual and I was interested to see how the Administrator's bride would perform. She sat with her legs folded under her, thighs parallel. Then she took a lacquered container and spooned green powder into a porcelain bowl, decorated in floral designs. She then ladled hot water into the bowl. Akane picked up a small bamboo whisk and turned over the water and leaves until the fragrant aroma of green tea filled the air. She bent over her work, steam rising up to her face as she poured the first cup of green tea, which she presented to Mother. She took a sip and Akane presented
the next cup of tea to me, and then to Hana.

Akane's actions were economical and precise; no energy was wasted on exaggerated display or showy movements. I realized that behind the meekness of her bridal performance yesterday was a woman who was undoubtedly sure of herself. With the eyes of my family on her, she never once faltered.

“I know much of your husband's good work,” Akane said to Mother. “And I was grieved by his death. When I heard of your letter, I was determined that you should all attend my wedding ceremony. I don't care what rumors some of the councillors' wives may spread. To my mind, you are a deserving family.” I knew she must be referring to the rumor we had heard yesterday—that our father had launched an attack on Uncle and that he had died without honor.

Mother gently placed her cup of tea back down on the table. “We are forever in your debt,” she said. “The kindness you have shown does much to heal the wounds left by my husband's death.”

My impatience bubbled under the surface. All this talk of healing wounds and kindness was all very good, but Uncle was still out there rampaging across the territories. We needed strong words to save lives.

“Can you get us an audience with the Shogun?” I blurted out, putting my cup down with a clunk, disturbing the peaceful atmosphere.

“Kimi,” Mother chided. She turned immediately to Akane. “I apologize. I hope no harm is done because of my daughter's clumsiness—or her boldness.”

Akane's eyes were crinkled with amusement. Beyond her, the servant waited for orders and I could see his mouth twitch.

I'm a joke to these people,
I realized, with a stab of shame.

Akane must have seen the expression on my face, and her eyes turned serious. “In my new position, I have some influence. I'll do everything I can to get you an audience.” I looked at Akane and her gaze did not falter. The laughter had gone from her eyes and she seemed sincere in what she said.

“Thank you so much,” I said, bowing enthusiastically. Finally there was a glimmer of action.

“Save your thanks for now,” Akane said. “The Shogun is very busy and there are many people in line before you, awaiting an audience. I cannot guarantee when you will see him. But you
will
see him. You have my word.”

I turned around to Mother and Hana. Their faces were shining with happiness.
Does Mother feel the need to apologize for me
now? I wondered. I waited for her thanks, but she lifted her cup and took another sip of tea.

Akane drank her tea and then placed her cup
down with finality. Our private audience with her had come to an end. Akane left through her door and the three of us went back out the door we came in, following a servant to a nearby hall where other women were filing in. Servants carried in the equipment and fresh flowers for
ikebana
.

“Aren't you glad I said something?” I whispered.

Mother inclined her head. “The outcome is good,” she murmured. “Though I do wish the subject had been raised more…calmly.” Before I could reply, she strode ahead into the room.

The Shogun's mother was waiting for us, seated on a raised platform. It was clear she wasn't here to arrange flowers, but to watch over the women and see how Akane performed in her new role.

We gathered quietly around the long tables that waited for us. I was startled by what I saw. Rows of twigs, flowers, blossoms, pots, and bamboo baskets. There were small cutting implements and bowls of moss. So much was needed for arranging flowers! With so many colors, shapes, and scents offered before me, I had no idea where to start. For a moment, I regretted that I had not paid more attention when Mother had supervised the flower arranging at home.

“I don't know what to do,” I whispered to Hana as we kneeled beside a table. Hana reached over and picked out a long iris stem, topped by a violet-blue
flower with a vivid yellow streak in its heart. She held it up to the light and turned it, scrutinizing the flower for imperfections. She seemed perfectly at ease and a gentle smile lit up her face.

“Just copy what I do,” she whispered.

I stared at the flowers, feeling out of my depth. Akane came to kneel beside me, and panicking, I reached for a single lily. But its petals were brown at the tips and I could see that the stem had been crushed. I put it back down on the table.

Akane pulled a low container toward her and began to hold twigs and flowers above it, one by one, choosing an arrangement. As she worked, she quietly addressed me. “
Ikebana
traces the three points of life: heaven, earth, and man. If your arrangement can mimic this triangle, you have much to be proud of.”

I noticed the way she arranged her flowers, and between their petals and the base of the container, I could see a triangle shape. It was so simple, and yet so clever.

The other women chatted as they worked on their simple arrangements. No flower was out of place, no blossom was allowed to overpower the whole arrangement. These privileged women were the heads of powerful clans, and flower arranging was almost as competitive as sword fighting. In bowls filled with moss, the women arranged their flowers in a graceful
style that allowed each bloom to shine.

I backed away from the table, feeling frustrated. How was it that I could wield a sword with such confidence, yet I could not choose a single flower?

No one noticed as I extracted myself and kneeled near a wall, pressing my palms against its cool surface. No one, except the Shogun's mother, whose gaze flitted over me for just a moment—enough for me to know that she had seen me. Thankfully she didn't seem annoyed or shocked. But she saw everything, and in this way, she reminded me of Master Goku.

The room was filled with low murmurs as the women worked. Akane was busy admiring Hana's beautiful arrangement. My mother's head bowed over her work. Everyone was at peace—everyone except me. But at least now I had the chance to watch.

This must be what ninja feel like,
I realized. Silent, unnoticed, watching. A couple of the women were casting glances in Mother's direction and smirking. One of them was the older woman who had been so rude yesterday. She cast a final, collusive glance at her friend and approached Mother.

She cleared her throat to draw Mother's attention. Mother glanced up from her arrangement and, for a moment, looked startled to see this woman again. But she quickly rearranged her features into a smile of polite welcome.

“I wondered,” said the woman, speaking loudly so that everyone could hear. “Do you really think it's appropriate that a widow enjoys the privilege of the Administrator's hospitality? Surely, a woman without a husband has very little rank. What would you say?” The woman was clearly trying to challenge our family. Mother's smile never faltered and I had to admire her composure.

“Hospitality is open to all, I would have thought,” Mother said quietly. “At least, the type of hospitality that is offered by a good and open heart.” Mother waited for her words to find their aim. Anyone could see that, right now, this woman's heart was neither good nor open. The woman blushed and tried to straighten her crooked back. She picked up a stem of buds and went back to her arrangement. I looked at the Shogun's mother but found it impossible to read her face. She remained silent and allowed the women's conversation to continue.

A younger woman came to kneel beside Mother.

“I like your composition,” she said, holding out a hand to brush the bamboo grass Mother had chosen. “It's very elegant.” Mother smiled in acknowledgment and nodded at the younger woman's own arrangement.

“Camelias are so pretty at this time of year,” she said, returning the kind words. A second woman
came alongside, to inspect the arrangements. She looked at Mother's bamboo grass and sniffed.

“That doesn't last well at all,” she said. “The tips will turn brown and faded in a day.”

Mother cocked her head on one side, as if considering what the woman had said. “You may be right,” she said diplomatically. “I must choose better next time.”

The woman looked taken aback to see her criticism so well fielded. She looked around her, as if trying to find another target. At that moment, Hana reached out for a stem of sticky buds and the sleeve of her kimono caught on a twig. The red, angry scars from her burns were revealed for all to see, and the younger woman let out a gasp of sympathy.

“You poor thing!” she cried, reaching out to place a sympathetic hand on Hana's arm. Hana snatched her arm away and quickly rearranged the kimono, her face scarlet.

“It's nothing,” she murmured.

“Such a shame,” the second woman said. “It will be difficult to find a husband with those…imperfections.”

Hana looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. She stood up from the table, abandoning her arrangement. I looked over at Akane, willing her to say something, but she was carrying her own
ikebana
over
toward an alcove. Beyond her, the Shogun's mother nodded to a servant who helped her get to her feet. Then she walked out of the room. As she passed the woman who had last been talking, her lips narrowed. The woman had turned back to her flower arranging and did not notice. But I did.