Journey Through Fire (8 page)

“I'm sorry I got angry. I'll take the letter to the gate,” I said. “The guards will find us a messenger to carry it to the Shogun.”

“Thank you, Kimi,” she said, the tears drying on her cheeks. “We are doing the right thing, you know.” I couldn't know that for sure. But my mother's words had frightened me.
If Uncle Hidehira has become this dangerous
, I thought,
we will need all the help we can get.
The fight would come, but I was going to make sure we had the biggest sword by our side.

The sword of a Shogun.

D
ays later, the ointment for Hana's wounds was ready. That morning, Daisuke brought the bottle to me.

“Thank you,” I said. “This means so much to us. To me.” I waited for a response. Daisuke gave an awkward smile, but when his glance met mine the smile relaxed and his face creased in a grin. I felt relief and hope flood through me. A part of him still wanted to be my friend.

“It's the least I could do,” he said. He handed the bottle to me and our fingers touched as I took the cool ceramic from him. “Take care of it,” Daisuke said, pulling his hand away. “It is precious.”

“I know,” I said. There was a pause and so I said, “Thank you for teaching me about my anger. I have not won the battle inside myself, but I have begun to fight it.”

Daisuke smiled. “No enemy stands a chance against your determination, Kimi. You will defeat it.”

“Daisuke!”

I recognized the sound of that voice by now, calling from outside the infirmary. “Master Satoshi is waiting for you,” I said. Daisuke nodded.

“I must go,” he said. I waited for him to leave. He hesitated but then turned to stride out into the courtyard.

When he had gone, and my heart had slowed, I carried the bottle into my sister's room.

“I have something for you,” I said, light glistening off the narrow neck of the bottle.

“What is it?” Hana asked uncertainly. She stood up from her work mending clothes and came over to take the bottle from me. Her arm was out of its sling now, but her scars were still there beneath the sleeves of her kimonos—angry and red. “It will help your scars heal,” I explained. “We are very lucky; Daisuke has shared one of his rare medicines with us.”

Hana's eyes searched mine hopefully. “The scars could go away?”

When I nodded, she perched on the edge of her bed and held her burned arm out to me.

“Go ahead, Kimi,” she said. “Tend to your patient.”

I sat at her feet and rubbed my palms together, warming them. Then I poured some of the precious ointment into my open palm and rubbed the
oil between my hands. It felt like liquid gold and the scent of sunshine drifted up toward our faces. I grinned at Hana. I knew this was going to work.

As I rubbed the oil into her skin, I told Hana about the day Daisuke and I had stepped into the clearing to find the
himawari
flowers that worshipped the sun. Hana gasped when she heard how tall they were and I carefully described the large, yellow petals that circled each flower.

“Look, Hana,” I said. “See how the skin is glowing now?” As I kneaded and massaged, blood was rushing to the surface of the skin. Hana's lifeblood—to help her heal. I looked up at Hana's face and she smiled.

“It is starting to look better, isn't it?” she said.

“You never stopped being beautiful,” I said. I wiped my hands on the cloth and climbed to my feet. “And now you will be even more beautiful. Just don't let it go to your head.”

As I turned, Hana threw the cloth at me and it landed over my shoulder. The two of us laughed as I pulled the cloth away and bundled it up into a ball, threatening to throw it back at her.

“Excuse me.” A voice sounded from the doorway, and my arm froze in midair. I turned around slowly, and the laughter disappeared from the room when we saw a messenger waiting to speak.

“Mother!” I called. “A messenger is here.” As he stepped into the room, Mother arrived. All three of us waited for the man to say something.

He cleared his throat and handed a rolled-up scroll to my mother. She broke the seal and unfurled it. I could see the hand-painted decoration and vertical writing; this was a formal letter. Mother's eyes scanned the words, her knuckles white as she gripped the paper. She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, as she noticed my glance flick over to the messenger. She gave me a tiny nod.

“You may leave us now,” she said to the messenger, who bowed and backed out of the room. Hana moved after him and shut the screen door.

“It's good news!” Mother said as we crowded around her. Her hands were trembling now. “It's the Shogun's Administrator. He's getting married and wants us to attend. This is it! Our opportunity to seek an audience.” Mother walked between us. She sank to her knees and brought her hands up to her chest in a prayer. “I have been so worried,” she said. “I didn't know if my letter had found its way to the Shogun—there are so many of Uncle's men out there.” She turned back to us. “We must go! Tomorrow, if we are to make it in time for the wedding.”

Hana and I watched as Mother moved around the room, sweeping up discarded clothes. I walked
over to her and gently took the ivory comb that she was struggling to add to the pile of objects she was already carrying.

Hana joined in with her excitement. My sister ran to the door of the room and flung it open. “Come, Kimi. We have packing to do.”

As she strode out into the walkway, she knocked against a person walking past. He was tall and his prayer beads swung against his chest. It was Daisuke.

“I apologize,” Hana said, color flooding her cheeks.

Daisuke smiled and turned to look into the room. As I gazed at him, it suddenly struck me that our days together in the monastery were coming to an end. I might not ever see him again.

“I saw the messenger,” he said. “Good tidings?” His glance flickered over toward me.

“Oh yes,” gushed Hana. “We have been called to the wedding of the Shogun's Administrator. We will be among people of influence. We will be able to—”

“Hana!” Mother interrupted, stepping between my sister and the monk. “You do not need to bore Daisuke with your chatter.” Mother bowed to him. “We must go at the break of the day tomorrow. You have been so kind, but now…Now we must continue with our journey. Hana is fully healed and Kimi is restless.”

Daisuke looked over at me, his eyebrows arched in surprise. I couldn't believe Mother was using me to cover her evasiveness! And why didn't she trust Daisuke with the truth? He had done so much for us; surely he deserved to know we intended to appeal to the Shogun for help in deposing Uncle.

I took a step forward to protest, but as I did so Daisuke brought out a slim key from the folds of his robes. He held it in the air, before passing it to Mother.

“You have been honored guests and have done much to help in the infirmary.” He inclined his head toward Hana in particular acknowledgment of her daily visits. “In return, let us do one last thing for you. We have storerooms full of donated kimonos—waiting to be sold in more prosperous times. You will need to present yourselves well in front of the Administrator.”

Mother's fingers tightened around the key as she gazed up at Daisuke. “Thank you,” she said. “We will, of course, repay you when we can.” Then she turned to Hana. “Coming?” she asked. Hana's face lit up and she followed my mother out of the room. Mother turned to me.

“Kimi?” she asked.

“In a moment,” I said.

Mother and Hana strode down the walkway,
leaving Daisuke and me alone together. The silence pulsed between us and I wondered who would be first to speak.

“That afternoon after we'd gathered the sunflower seeds,” Daisuke began, “when we were in the medicine room with Master Satoshi…”

“Yes?” I said. I sensed that my friend was about to come back to me.

“He didn't approve that I'd…that I'd become so close to you,” Daisuke said. He glanced over my shoulder, out of the window. Clearly he was struggling to find the right words. “He thought I was becoming too attached and that my search for clarity would be disrupted. I am to be the next head monk of this monastery one day.”

“Is that why you wouldn't speak to me?” I asked.

Daisuke nodded. “I'm sorry. I've been struggling to do the right thing. A monk's life can be hard, Kimi.”

“I understand,” I said, wanting to relieve him of the agonized expression on his face. I couldn't help but think, though, that at a few words, Daisuke was happy to give up our friendship.

“Do you?” he asked hopefully, looking back at me.

“We will say our farewells tomorrow,” I said, ignoring the question and struggling to keep my voice
light. “Let's say them with smiles.”

“Yes. Much lies before you,” Daisuke replied. “Don't resist your mother. She is working hard to save her family.” He threw out a hand, indicating the open doorway. “They are picking out clothes already. Don't you want to choose an outfit?”

It was the last thing I wanted to do. Was Daisuke trying to make up for discarding me by offering pretty dresses? Perhaps he did not know me after all.

 

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to follow Mother and Hana. It was one thing to go to the Shogun and ask for his help, but why did we need new clothes?

The storeroom was a squat building behind the infirmary, with a single large doorway. I walked inside and waited for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. A lamp swung from the ceiling and gradually I could make out a few boxes piled on rough wooden shelves. Hana was kneeling on the ground, an open crate before her. She pulled out a heavy swath of red silk and held it up against her pale neck. “Look, Kimi!” she said, beaming. “Can you imagine wearing this?”

I couldn't. I had spent too many days and nights in the clothes of boys and paupers. My sister plunged her hands into the box and brought out another kimono. I took a hesitant step forward and felt the embroidered silk. It was icy cold against my touch
and I shuddered, pulling my hand away.

“What's wrong?” Hana asked.

I shook my head, not wanting to spoil their happiness. Hana wanted me to try a gold
saishi
head ornament but I stepped back. I could never wear such a thing—not now. Hana put the ornament back in the box, but then Mother stepped out from behind one of the shelves and held out a long, emerald outer-garment toward me.

“Please, Kimi,” she said. “Please try.” Reluctantly I took the dress from her. Hana cried out in delight as she came across a heavy sky-blue kimono. She pulled it on over her undergarment. Mother came behind her to make sure that the back seam was centered. Then I watched as Hana wrapped first the right side over her body and overlapped it with the left side. Mother brought the sash around her waist to take up any excess of material so that the kimono hung at the right length at Hana's ankles. My sister watched, delighted. It was good to see her so full of life, but something in my heart shriveled at the sight of so much pleasure taken in bolts of silk.
Is this what we've been fighting for?
I thought.
So that Hana could play dress-up? Has she forgotten everything?

Hana turned to look at me, her face glowing. “You now,” she said. Mechanically I brought the kimono around my shoulders. The silk hung in
heavy folds, dragging me down.

“Come, come, Kimi,” Mother remonstrated. “We have much to do.” I brought the sides of the kimono around my body—first the right, then the left—standing as still as a statue while Mother adjusted the belt. “Beautiful,” she murmured, almost to herself.

I turned to the open door of the storeroom. Beyond it was the infirmary and I watched as Akira and his wife walked slowly out. They leaned heavily on each other as they took a short walk in the courtyard, trying to build their strength and breathe in the fresh mountain air. As they turned toward the storeroom, I stepped back, out of the light. I did not want them to see me. Everything about this felt wrong.

Can this be right?
I thought.
Should I wear the clothes of the privileged while others starve?
I turned into the room and snatched a bolt of silk out of my sister's hands, throwing it back into the crate.

“While we play at dressing up, people are dying!” I said, no longer willing to keep my emotions bottled inside. “We should be out there—fighting Uncle!” Mother's lips set in a thin line, scoring her face. She came toward me and rescued the silk that I had thrown away. She held it up in front of me.

“We are not playing,” she said, her voice cold. “But the time for swords and bloodshed is behind us.” She smoothed down the hem of my kimono. “These are
the threads you were born to wear, Kimi. You are the daughter of a
Jito
—and should behave accordingly.”

I could say nothing more. I knew it would be too much for me to continue fighting my mother with words. My fingers twisted in the heavy silk of my obi sash. I stared hard at the ground and waited for my breathing to calm down. When I finally looked up, Mother was back at Hana's side, talking quietly to her. Then she turned to me.

“I have decided,” she said. “Hana and you are to sell your swords. It will help to pay for a wig that you can wear at the wedding. The ladies of the court won't be used to the sight of such injuries on noble girls; the shock could be unpleasant for them. Hana can cover her arms, but it will be more difficult for you, Kimi.” Behind her, Hana nodded in agreement.

I couldn't believe it. How did they think I could live without my sword? How did they think
they
could live without my sword? We may as well bare our necks to Uncle Hidehira and ask him to slash our throats—it was suicide.

“No,” I whispered. My anger boiled up inside me and filled my voice with thunder. “No!” I said again. This time my shout echoed off the walls. This was too far. I could no longer bear the dark, musty oppression of the storeroom. I ran to the door. “I won't let you!” Then I plunged out into the light. My sword
lay, glistening, on a low bench where I had left it that morning. I snatched it up and ran far from the storeroom. Then I slashed the blade through the air. I would not be parted from my sword.

Not while Uncle was still alive.