Journey Through Fire (9 page)

I
ran to a corner of the courtyard, where the thick trunk of an oak tree might hide me from observers. I tightened my grip around the hilt and lifted the blade above my head. I sliced across my phantom opponent—my uncle—and let the sword's momentum turn me around. I sliced again, more fiercely this time, but stumbled to the left and the smooth thrust of my sword turned jagged in the air. I would be dead by now in a real fight. But I didn't care. I raised my blade again and again. Sweat prickled my brow and the hilt slipped between my fingers, but I refused to pause in my exertions.
I must have my sword!
I told myself.
Ready to defeat any enemy
. Whenever I thought about abandoning my sword—for a
wig
!—fury rose up in me again and I brought my weapon around in loose blows. I was losing control of my technique, and I knew it. Blood pounded in my ears as I thought about all the fighting that lay before me. I could not abandon my sword; the sword was an extension of myself.

The tip of my sword grazed the ground and I found myself falling onto my knees, my head sinking against my chest. My fingers loosened and the sword fell quietly beside me.

A footfall sounded and I twisted around to see Daisuke emerge from behind the tree trunk. He came to kneel beside me on the gravel and gazed out over the monastery gardens toward the other side of the courtyard where monks were tending herbs.

“It seems you are still struggling with your anger, my friend,” Daisuke said. Frustration boiled over in me again, and I wanted to bolt away. Daisuke reached out and touched my arm, calming me. He sat with me for a moment like that, waiting for me to speak.

“Mother wants Hana and me to sell our swords. To buy me”—I could barely spit out the words—“a wig.”

My friend pointed at one of the monks. “That monk is one of our greatest fighters,” he said. “There is no sword in his sash.”

The man didn't look like a great fighter. His hair was gray and spare and I could see a slight paunch as he leaned over the herb bed, turning the soil.

Daisuke went on, “He is responsible for the security of this monastery. Without him, we would have fled long ago or been conquered.” I frowned, still unable to see beyond the monk's shabby, graceless appearance. “He does not rely only on his sword, as
you can see. He also has the keenest eyes of any of us and the sharpest brain. He fights best up here.” Daisuke tapped a temple. “And here.” He tapped his heart. “You could do the same, Kimi.”

I thought hard about what Daisuke just said. “Are you saying I don't need my sword?” I asked hesitantly.

Daisuke nodded. “Say your good-byes, Kimi. You have a
new
fight ahead of you—one that will call on your sharp mind.”

I scrambled to my feet to stand before Daisuke. I hesitated before saying what I really felt. “But how?” I asked, kicking the gravel. “I know how to use a sword. But how do I fight with my thoughts?” Daisuke climbed to his feet and looked at me, his silhouette blocking out the sun. The shadow of leaves from the tree danced across his face.

“You have to unite the noble families of Kamakura behind your cause. You already have the support of the people in the villages—now you must go to court and persuade the higher families to join forces against your enemy, for he is the enemy of all. For this, the sword is useless. You need strong words.”

I gazed out one last time at the herb garden. The monk without a sword was climbing awkwardly to his feet, holding a hand to the small of his back. He leaned back, stretching stiff limbs, looking like an
old man. But as he stretched, I noticed the way that his eyes scanned the horizon and his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. He turned to a second monk and whispered something to him. I could see that Daisuke was right. A good fighter did not use his sword alone; he also used his mind. Father had once called it the strongest weapon of all.

Daisuke held out my sword.

I shook my head. “You keep it,” I said.

He nodded at me, and I knew he understood that I would rather the sword be kept in the hand of a worthy warrior than be sold so that I could buy a
wig
.

I turned back to the storeroom to greet my mother and sister as they emerged from the low doorway. It was time to get ready. It was time to leave the monastery.

 

The next day dawned with a clear blue sky and crisp air. It was perfect weather for traveling. Mother gently shook me awake and I watched as she padded over to my brother's bed. Servants came into the room carrying a heavy tray with a round pot of green tea and small drinking bowls. As I poured the tea, my mother and sister dressed and Moriyasu scrambled into his clothes. I gazed around the room that had borne witness to our injuries and our healing. Would we ever see it again?

Mother held out the luxurious green kimono from yesterday.

“It's time, Kimi,” she said. I took a last sip of the fragrant tea and walked over to have the cool silk draped around my shoulders. Hana already looked glorious in her robes. The silk rippled around her limbs as she lifted a hand to adjust the comb in her hair. She was everything she had been born to be—graceful, beautiful, and noble.

Hana caught my glance. “Look at me!” she said. “Can you believe I ever passed as a
boy
?”

I shook my head sadly. Our struggles together, escaping Uncle, disguised as boys, seemed a lifetime ago. Hana was a different person now. So was I, and I felt awkward and foolish in this costume.

Mother was adjusting the sash around her waist; she looked up and scrutinized each of her children in turn. She wiped the sleep from Moriyasu's eyes and shook her head indulgently.

“You'll do,” she said. Then she glanced over at a box on the floor. A rigid wig of thick, black hair sat inside. A messenger had brought it for me yesterday evening and so far I had done my best to ignore it. Now I could escape it no longer. Mother picked up the wig and walked toward me, raising it into the air above my head. She paused.

“Ready to look beautiful again, Kimi?” she asked.
I nodded and tried to smile. Mother brought the wig down and adjusted it over my ears. I could feel the canvas scratching against my tender scalp and the thick, dark hair poked at my temples. My whole head started to itch, and I had to resist the urge to tear it off. Mother held up a small bronze mirror in front of Hana and me.

I did not recognize the two girls who gazed back at us. One wore a pretty smile while the other looked miserable, like someone wearing another person's clothes. I pulled at the wig to straighten it and tried to paint a smile on my face. Now the unhappy girl's face looked wretched. I saw Hana's smile falter and I turned away.

“The monks must be waiting for us,” I announced as I strode toward the door and slid it open. “Let's say our good-byes.”

Moriyasu ran ahead of us, as we three—a mother and her two daughters—made our way to the outer courtyard.

As we turned out of the doorway, Hana put a hand on my arm. “Are you all right, Kimi?” she asked. I nodded. What else could I do? I knew Hana wouldn't want to hear the truth. The last thing I wanted to do was steal her smile—not when she had been without it for so long. “You look beautiful,” she added.

As we stepped out into the courtyard, a breath
caught in my throat. The monks had formed two rows, leading up to the monastery gates. They had all come out to bid us farewell. But not only the monks. I could see that some of the strongest from the infirmary had come out into the sunshine to say good-bye. The little girl and boy that Moriyasu had befriended raced over to greet us, their legs thin but strong. The little girl flung her arms around my brother, while the boy tugged on the hem of my sleeve.

“Are you off for more fighting, Kimi?” he asked eagerly.

I looked awkwardly at Mother. I glanced back down at the boy—so recently at death's door, now the color flooding his cheeks. I shook my head. “No,” I said. “No more fighting. We go to court now.”

The boy's face clouded. “What's that on your head?” he asked.

For the first time in days, a laugh erupted from me. “A wig!” I told him. “You should try one, it would suit you.”

The boy shook his head vehemently. “No, thanks!” he said, racing back to Master Satoshi.

I smiled to watch him—it was good to see the children looking so healthy again. Moriyasu chased after the boy and tried to shove his small wooden
bokken
into the boy's hands. This
bokken
was my brother's favorite toy, and I had struggled through many
difficult times carrying it with me, vowing to reunite him with it. I was filled with pride at the sight of him, so ready to sacrifice his favorite thing in the world for the happiness of another.

The boy shook his head and solemnly pushed the
bokken
back at Moriyasu. My brother smiled and bowed at the boy; they spoke for a brief moment, both nodding with what looked like determination. Then Moriyasu ran back to our side. “I wanted him to be able to protect his family,” he explained.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“That it was more important for me to protect mine,” my brother replied.

We walked toward the open gates of the monastery. Warrior monks stood guard, their swords by their side. As we walked past, each monk bowed his head in farewell. Eventually there was only one monk left—Daisuke. He stepped out and glanced in turn at each of us.

“You have been very special guests,” he said. I felt as though my heart would break. Would Daisuke ever know how special he had become to us…to me? Mother took a step forward.

“We can never thank you for everything you have done for us. Hana's scars are healing. Kimi's hair is growing back. We are all still alive. But now we must go and seek justice,” she said.

Daisuke nodded. “We understand. And Master Satoshi has asked me to tell you that we all wish you well in your cause.” From the folds of his robes he pulled out a small box of polished wood. He came toward me and held it out.

“For you, Kimi,” he said. I looked up, surprised, and took the box from him. I could see that it was hinged and when I opened up the honey-hued wood there was a miniature Go board and pieces inside. “Practice well and often,” Daisuke continued. “And perhaps one day the two of us will play a game together again.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I look forward to hearing about the rest of your long life—about the girl who once followed me through a waterfall,” he said. Before I could reply, Mother was calling out to us.

“Come, girls,” she was saying.

“One last thing,” Daisuke said, his eyes intense. “There is something my heart does not want to let go of.” He directed his glance at the square of silk that I had knotted around my wrist. “Could I?”

My hair was growing strongly, and now that I had a wig to wear I didn't need the scarf. I knew this was Daisuke's way of saying that he really cared. Smiling, I slid the silk off my arm and handed it over to Daisuke.

“Don't let Master Satoshi see,” I teased.

Daisuke slipped the silk into the sleeve of his robe. “Good-bye, Kimi.”

“Come, girls!” Mother called again. “Come, Moriyasu! It's time to go.”

We climbed into our sidesaddles with Moriyasu in a man's saddle, and our horses pranced eagerly out of the courtyard. I glanced behind me one last time to see the heavy wooden gates of the monastery close. We were outsiders once more.

Then we turned to the path that wound down the mountain. Two of the warrior monks were escorting us and would return to the monastery with the horses we were borrowing.

I urged my horse on and began my descent down the mountain. I did not know what lay before me, but I knew that behind me I had left a friend.

I could only hope that we would meet again.

O
ur journey to Kamakura took us through dense, sloping forests. The horses struggled with the steep descent and we had to take regular breaks to rest their legs. The warrior monks scanned the trees, keeping an eye out for attackers.

“Come on!” Moriyasu called excitedly. “We have two days of riding ahead of us.” His voice echoed off the trees of the forest. I turned my horse around. My little brother was right; we had much ground to cover.

As we traveled, we noticed that there
were
people among the trees. But they were not the enemy; they were the starving. Families had retreated to the forests to scavenge and find shelter now that their villages had been robbed and razed to the ground by Uncle. I felt ashamed of the clothes on my back and my horse's polished saddle as we rode past. Wide eyes gazed up at us from families huddled among the roots of the trees.

We came across an orchard run wild where a boy was trying to scale an apricot tree to harvest some of the fruit. Anyone could see that the apricots weren't ripe yet, but the boy was determined. His knees were grazed from unsuccessful efforts to scale the knobbly trunk and it was painful to watch him fall to the ground yet again. He kneeled in the grass, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. When he looked up at us, I heard Hana gasp at the dark circles under his eyes.

My little brother pulled up on his horse and leaped out of his saddle. He went over to the tree, one of the warrior monks following on his horse.

“Moriyasu!” Mother called after him. But it was too late; he had already unsheathed his
bokken
. The boy on the ground cringed away, backing up against the tree trunk and whimpering.

“Don't worry,” Moriyasu said. “I only want to help.” He raised his
bokken
into the air and pulled it back behind his head, before hurling it into the branches of the apricot tree. The wooden sword circled through the air, neatly knocking an apricot, which fell to the ground at the boy's feet. He pounced on the fruit and lifted the apricot to his mouth, biting fiercely into the hard flesh. He smiled as he chewed.

“Thank you,” he said, gulping down a piece of apricot. “Who are you?”

Moriyasu looked back questioningly at the rest of us. Mother shook her head at him. “Just a boy,” said Moriyasu, as he walked back to his horse. The warrior monks shared a glance.

As I guided my horse, I knew that Moriyasu wasn't just a boy. He was born to be a
Jito
, and I swore that one day he would be able to extend his generosity of spirit far over the land.

I'll make it happen,
I told myself.
I have to
.

 

After a day and a half of traveling, we arrived at the gates of the Shogun's compound. It was time for the warrior monks to leave us. They helped us bring down our trunks and then bowed.

“Stay safe,” said one of them.

Mother bowed her head in response. Moriyasu stood up in his stirrups and waved a fist in the air. “I'll take care of my family!” he cried.

I dipped my head to hide my smile but the monks' expressions remained serious. “We know you will,” said one of them as the other gathered up our horses' reins. “Farewell.”

The wooden gates of the compound reared up before us. Across the front walls of the compound ran a moat—I kneeled down to run my fingers through the cool water. As I brought handfuls of water up to my face, I caught my reflection in the moat. My wig
had slipped and I could see the streak of white in my hair. I tugged the wig back into place.

As I got back to my feet, Hana called over to me and I turned around to see two guards watching us. Fear prickled my skin as I noticed the vicious glitter of their swords. My hand went to my side, but too late I remembered that my sword was back at the monastery. Mother walked over the wooden bridge, approaching one of the guards. She held out the scroll of paper that invited us to the Administrator's wedding.

The guard glanced at the scroll and then banged a fist against the gates. With a heavy grind, they began to part—dragged open by servants on the other side of the compound's walls.

“Are you frightened, Kimi?” Hana asked me, as our footsteps crunched in the gravel. I knew those giveaway sounds were there to alert the inhabitants of the compound to any unwelcome visitors.

My heart beat loudly in my chest, though I knew that we had every right to be here.

“Only a little,” I told Hana. I had no idea what was waiting for us. But from the heavy scent of incense on the air, I knew it would be formal and impressive.
You're the daughter of a Jito,
I reminded myself. I knew how to behave. But as I glanced down at the rough calluses that covered my hands, I wondered if the
court was ready for
me
. I pulled my hands behind my back and waited alongside my family for the doors to the inner compound to be heaved open by another set of servants.

The doors opened, and we stepped into the courtyard as a group of ladies walked past, huddled together and whispering behind their fans. In one corner of the courtyard was a pond garden, with low benches. Councillors and their wives strolled through the garden, beneath the nut trees.

Some servants carried flower arrangements toward the main compound, while others brushed leaves out of the courtyard.

“Those tables are used at wedding feasts,” Mother whispered to us. “Preparations for the wedding must be in hand.”

A tall man with gray hair approached us and gave a short bow.

“We welcome the Yamamoto family,” he said. “The Administrator is expecting you. Please—follow me. I will show you to your apartments. The wedding reception will take place shortly, and you may want to change.” His glance traveled over my wig and I felt my cheeks blush hot.

Mother led the way behind the man, and Hana and I followed. Moriyasu brought up the rear with none of his usual exuberance. We walked across
the courtyard, and people turned to watch us pass. A young woman lifted an ornate fan to her face so that all I could see of her was her wide eyes following me. Then she leaned over to whisper to her companion, who laughed quietly. I could see that groups of people were whispering and muttering to each other again. I was no fool; I recognized the sound of scandal. Our story had already reached these privileged ears. They were gossiping about a family without a father, turned out by their uncle. I continued walking, desperate to escape this inspection. I folded my hands in front of me and prayed that no one would notice how rough the skin was. But Hana's head was held high.

I should be strong, too,
I thought. Whatever these people had to say, I could not allow their malice to divert me from my purpose: to meet the Shogun and persuade him to fight on our side.

As we turned into a cool walkway, my shoulders sagged.

“What a torture!” I whispered to Hana, but she did not reply. She was stepping into our apartment with shining eyes. She swirled around, taking in the luxurious surroundings.

Thick tatami mats covered the floor, and the windows of the apartment were opaque—no one could see in or out. A bronze vase sat on a low blackwood
table, holding a single orchid, and in one corner of the large room stood a folding screen, on which painted cranes took flight across its surface. Even our rooms at home had not been this opulent.

Soon Hana was lifting a fresh kimono out of our luggage, brought through by servants. She held the outfit up before her, a silk of chrysanthemum colors. She climbed into the undergarment of deep red and Mother held out an obi sash embroidered with silver thread in a pattern of butterflies and birds. She pushed a comb into her thick hair and glanced up at me. Her cheeks flushed red with excitement.

“A wedding, Kimi!” she said. “How long since we attended one of those?” I could see how happy she was to be here, but couldn't bring myself to feel the same.

Moriyasu stood by the door, his hand resting on the handle of his
bokken
. He was keeping guard. All of a sudden, my little brother seemed to be growing up.

“Come on, Kimi,” Mother chided. “Everything we do here will be under scrutiny. We must impress if we are to win over the Shogun. We mustn't keep the Administrator waiting.”

I hurried to the luggage and pulled out a tangerine kimono with a pale green undergarment. Mother tweaked and smoothed as I dressed myself in the
glossy silk. I adjusted the wig on my head and turned to my family.

“Will I do?” I asked.

Tears lit up Mother's eyes. She nodded once, deeply. “I am so proud of you all.”

“Let's go!” Hana said. My throat tightened as I watched my excited sister sweep past me. She hurried out of the door and onto the walkway, not looking back.

Mother rested a hand on my shoulder. “Ready?” she asked gently.

I nodded stiffly. Then I followed my family out.

As we walked into the main hall, crowds of people had already gathered. Folding screens broke the room up, allowing people to gather in smaller groups. Around the room, screens had been pulled back to allow a view of the garden outside.

The air was heavy with scent from the perfumed robes. Painted silks, mother-of-pearl fans, and men with ornate swords surrounded us. Hana's eyes scanned the room eagerly, taking in all the sights. I could only look at the raised platform at the front of the room where a man kneeled, poised and strong. Behind him were screens that I knew would be hiding guards. This was the Shogun—the man I had heard so much about. He wore a beard and mustache, and had wide cheekbones and a full mouth that turned
down slightly at the corners. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. The Shogun's black robes glistened like ebony in the light from the lamps and I could see the ornate, curved sword that rested by his side. His well-oiled hair was piled high on his head and in one hand he held a fan.

Behind him sat an older woman who shared the same wide cheekbones. His mother, I guessed. She sat with her back held rigidly straight, despite her years, and looked out with piercing eyes. She had broad shoulders, and age had given her a vivid, white streak through her hair, just like mine.

I walked through the crowd, being careful not to step on anyone's hem. As I approached, I could see the Shogun gazing around the room, taking everything in. The servant who had welcomed us to the compound whispered something into the Shogun's ear before indicating with a nod of his head toward the crowd. Some message about guests? It was too much to hope that he was telling the Shogun of our arrival; I knew we were not significant.

Through the crowd, my eyes met the Shogun's. His gaze was steady and I steeled myself to hold it. The sounds of the hall fell away and suddenly I felt as though the two of us were the only people in the room. As I gazed at the Shogun, I could see that he was everything I strived to be—calm, composed,
certain. For the first time, I allowed myself to truly believe that Mother could be right. Perhaps this man
could
help us.

I took another step forward—did I dare approach the Shogun now? But a uniformed guard stepped up onto the platform. He wore the embroidered uniform of a samurai at a formal ceremony and walked with the light step of a young, strong man. As he kneeled down to speak quietly to the Shogun, I thought I saw something familiar in his stance. The guard turned to scrutinize the crowds. As his gaze ranged across the gathered faces, I felt the hair on the nape of my neck stiffen. This was a face I had never expected to see here, in the Shogun's compound. This young man was dressed in the most prestigious uniform of a Shogun samurai. He was also our friend.

It was Tatsuya.