The Heavenward Path (2 page)

    "Ah." She smiled knowingly. "Is it a wind from the Clouds on the Mountain that makes you tremble? I thought it might be."

    Tadashi was referring, of course, to the Imperial Court, at which my father was Minister of the Right. I was, indeed, afraid to return home, knowing what my father would ask of me. But I did not wish Tadashi to think the wrong thing, so I at last blurted out my true fears. "Oh, Holy One, forgive me. Some unhappy spirit chastises me in the wind and haunts my dreams. I fear, because of past transgressions, I may be bringing bad fortune to the temple and to my family."

    Tadashi sighed. "It never ceases to amaze me how the young think themselves the center of the universe. What bad fortune?"

    "The well," I said. "The fire. The rice merchants."

    "Did you drink all the water in the well?"

    "Um, no, Holy One."

    "And did you steal the rice from the merchants?"

    "Of course not!"

    "And did you set the fire yourself?"

    "No! But my dreams… surely I am possessed by a spirit who could do these things."

    "Oh, I can believe you are possessed. The young are often possessed by forces they cannot control." She sounded secretly amused. "But although your family, the Fujiwara, is a powerful clan, I do not think you can yet dry up wells, or set fires and rob merchants from a distance."

    I wondered if she had been listening. Could she not understand how serious this was? "The other girls think it is my fault."

    "Tch." She waved a hand like a fan before her face. "I have heard their rumors that you have a tengu for a friend. Such vicious gossip girls tell about one another. I think such creatures are merely stories. I have certainly never in my life seen such a thing."

    
You probably have
, I thought.
But tengu are shape changers and love to fool the pious, so you would not have recognized it
. I imagined Goranu in the guise of an old monk-a shape he often took-capering about in front of her and almost smiled. "No, Holy One. I do not think my dreams are caused by tengu."

    "So, then. What are these dreams you keep speaking of?"

    I told her of the wind and the voices whispering my name, hissing about broken promises.

    Again, Tadashi did not speak for many moments but stared out at the little garden beside her room. "It is a curious thing, how events follow one upon another," she said at last. "But I think I know the significance of your dreams." She reached over to the little lacquered chest beside her and pulled open the top drawer. She took from it a folded piece of fine rice paper. "Here is your father's correspondence. I received it just yesterday." She handed the paper to me.

    I recognized the crest on one side of the paper as I unfolded it. Within was a withered wisteria blossom. The note read:

    

    
Will the Light of Heaven

    
shrivel our fairest flower?

    
Send my daughter home.

    

    "He wants me to return to Heian Kyo," I said, looking up at her. "But I must not go, don't you see? I will bring bad fortune to him."

    The nun sighed again. "The only way you will bring him bad fortune, Lady Mitsuko, is by staying here and stubbornly refusing to do your familial duty. You are a Fujiwara. I served at Court myself when I was young, and I know what is required of a noble daughter. You must learn proper deportment and serve the Imperial family. And find a husband."

    I had known for a long time that my father would someday ask this of me. After I had helped him free my mother, brother, and sisters from Lord Tsubushima, he had shown great patience in letting me follow the path of a Buddhist acolyte and pilgrim.

    It seemed, at last, his forbearance was ending. "But my dreams-"

    Tadashi leaned toward me and said sternly, "If any angry spirit haunts your dreams, Lady Mitsuko, it is doubtless that of an ancestor who is prompting you to get on with the important things in life."

    I gazed at the floor, studying the fraying ends of the braided reeds in the mat beneath me. She misunderstood my dreams, but it would have been very rude to say so. "Is that what it might be?"

    "It is the most likely, neh? I may have removed myself from the world, but one still hears things. You are the last daughter of your branch of the Fujiwara. Your clan has not fared well in these troubled times. There is much hope, among your clan, that you will marry well and preserve the status of your family."

    I pulled at one of the reeds in the mat and twisted it around my finger until it hurt. "I had hoped," I said softly, "to preserve the honor of my family by becoming a nun like you, and going on pilgrimages, and saying the sutras so that my relatives might find a better life."

    "I know," said Tadashi, her expression softening a little. "You are a pious girl, and the frivolities of Court can be hard to bear. But you are young, Mitsuko. You have many years ahead of you. And after your children are grown and their positions secure, then you may retire and cut your hair and read the sutras all day. Then may you seek the Heavenward Path. You have time."

    
Unless I die before that
, I thought, though I dared not contradict one so eminent.

    "I think," the nun went on, "the promise you have not kept is the promise all children owe to their ancestors. Because of the exalted history of your family, it is most important that you keep yours. You should go back to Heian Kyo, and soon."

    I stared at the fading wisteria flower. I knew it was no disappointed ancestor who troubled my dreams. Whatever god, demon or spirit, whatever kami haunted me was something very old and very dangerous. But I dared not tell Tadashi this. "I understand, Holy One" was all I said.

    Tadashi smiled again. "Ah, good. You are an unusual girl, Lady Mitsuko, but you are wise. I am sure you will do what is right. You may retire early this evening to get your rest. Perhaps your dreams will be more peaceful tonight, neh?"

    "Thank you, Holy One," I said, bowing once more. "I hope so." I left her presence as gracefully as I could. But my feelings of anxiety did not pass, and my dreams that night were no different than before.

    

    

    Three mornings later, I was summoned to go to the Outer Garden of the temple. My heart fell, for I feared it was an emissary from Papa come to ensure that I go home. But as I walked the stone path through the chill early-morning mist, I thought it strange: The Outer Garden pavilion was where visitors who were not Buddhist were received.

    A kicho had been set up for me on the pavilion platform, and I sat on the cushion beside it. Clearly my visitor was a stranger, then. Had it been a relative, a curtain of modesty would not be necessary. Could my father have sent a suitor for me all the way to the temple? How embarrassing that would be! What would I do with him? I looked to make sure the edges of my wide kimono sleeves did not stick out beneath the curtain frame, for I did not wish to seem flirtatious. I was grateful the light was misty, so that my visitor would not see my shadow on the silk curtain. I tried to remember the advice of my eldest sister, Amaiko, on how to genteelly turn away men's attentions, but I had forgotten it.
I have no knowledge of proper things
, I thought, sighing.
And I don't really want to know them. I do not belong at Court
.

    A lone bush warbler sang sadly in a nearby tree. The scents of incense and wood smoke drifted on the air. The mist parted a little, and dim sunlight fell upon the pavilion as if the sun itself were hiding behind a screen of gray silk. It brought out the golden color of the chrysanthemums growing near me. The morning dew sat heavy on their petals, and I murmured:

    

    
Oh, youth-giving dew,

    
help me stay a child always

    
free from worldly cares.

    

    Someone sat on the other side of the kicho. He said:

    

    
Chrysanthemums fade,

    
but their dew-drenched glory stays

    
ever young in memory.

    

    It was the voice of an old man, someone familiar. "Dento!" I said, as I remembered. I almost clapped my hands with joy.

    "I am pleased you remember me, Lady Mitsuko," the old monk said, "though it has been many months since we last spoke."

    "How could I forget one who helped my family when we were so troubled? It is good of you to come visit this insignificant one. But I do not understand why you are here. You could have come into the temple itself. You are of a Buddhist sect, neh?"

    "Not every temple welcomes an ubasoku, even one of the Shingon sect, my Lady. My… appreciation of Shinto faith and provincial mountain rituals are frowned upon by some. And a Certain Personage in the temple might not approve of my speaking to you."

    I assumed he meant Tadashi. Did he know her? I supposed that if one were old enough and wandered enough, one would eventually know everyone important. "Then I will not tell her.

    I am pleased you are here, anyway. What has brought you to this out-of-the-way place?"

    "Strange winds have wafted me down from the mountains," he said.

    My breath seemed to harden within my chest. "Strange winds…" I gasped.

    "Know you something of strange winds, my Lady?"

    Ubasoku are said to have wizardly powers-perhaps he somehow knew my plight. Or perhaps the same kami haunted him. I had to confide in him. "Oh, Dento, I need your help again! I have been troubled for many nights by dreams filled with wind. It whispers and moans, and calls my name, and tells me of a promise I have not kept."

    "Indeed?" said Dento. "I was referring to an ancient poem, but now I see there was purpose to my mutterings. So, what sort of spirit is this, and what promise have you not kept?"

    I put my hands to my head as if to hold in my fears. "I do not know! In my dreams, I see pine trees waving against a dark night sky, but that is all."

    "Hmm," he said. And "Hmmm" again. "How interesting."

    "I am sure this spirit is angry with me and is bringing bad luck to Sukaku Temple."

    "I assume this is not a prank of your tengu friend?"

    I was surprised a moment, then remembered that Dento had met Goranu during our troubles in the past. "No, it is not Goranu. I am certain of that."

    "Ah. Well. It is a powerful kami who can trouble you within holy temple grounds, let alone bring bad luck there."

    I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling very cold inside. Was he confirming my worst fears? "But a kami god or spirit lives in one place, neh? If I have offended one, it could not disturb me unless I am where it lives."

    "Kami can travel, Mitsuko. Particularly this month, when it is said they go to Izumo to gather together and discuss the world."

    "So one of them has decided to miss the gathering and haunt me instead?" It was difficult to keep my voice steady.

    "Wait, Mitsuko. Do not let your thoughts jump around like startled rabbits. Let us look closely at your dreams. You say that you see pine trees? You know, in my recent wanderings in the western mountains, I came upon some hunters who were distressed. It seems that they can no longer enter their favorite hunting grounds because of some disturbed spirit that now lurks there. They also mentioned pine trees… whose boughs danced when there was no wind. But that was in Tamba Province, which is far from here."

    I sat up straight. "Tamba Province? But I have been there, Dento."

    "Have you? Ah, yes, that was where I first met your family. And tried to help your poor sister. Then you and she ran away."

    "Just so. When Lord Tsubushima came for us and tried to make my family move to his castle, we fled into the mountain forest. And there we hid for the night in a…" I felt suddenly as though the Buddha Himself had struck me, and I nearly fell over. The kicho screen wobbled as I leaned against it.

    "Lady Mitsuko? What is the matter?"

    "A kami shrine!" I gasped, and almost laughed with relief. "We hid in a kami shrine! It was just a little one, and in terrible condition, and I thought it was abandoned." Memories of that night came back to me. How my sister and I found the shrine, which looked like a little house, just when we could run no farther, and we took shelter in it. Dento had given me sakaki leaves and rice paper on which prayers had been written, for protection. "I took your prayers and stuck them into the roof beams, and I promised… Oh, Blessed Amida!"

    "Please, Mitsuko, go on."

    "I promised the kami of the shrine that if it helped my sister and me, I would see that the shrine was repaired and that the kami would not be forgotten. Then Goranu and the other tengu showed up and befriended us and took us to their village."

    "Ah. Which is what led to your family being reunited."

    "Yes, and my sister healed. Oh, Dento, the kami did help, and I have never kept my part of the promise. No wonder it is angry!" I buried my face in my wide kimono sleeves, not knowing if I should laugh or cry.
If it is not Lord Emma-O, then perhaps I and my family are still safe
.

    "But you have your answer now," said Dento. "The proper thing to do seems clear enough. You must keep your promise and repair the shrine."

    I paused and stared at his shadow on the kicho curtain. "But-I cannot travel all the way to Tamba Province by myself and rebuild a shrine with my own hands. I was so much younger when I made that promise. Just a child, really. I didn't know what I was saying. You cannot be serious, Dento."

    "Serious? It is serious to the kami who speaks in your dreams, neh? Serious enough for it to dare the holy walls of Sukaku Temple."