Journey Through Fire (3 page)

I
let Moriyasu's hand fall and lifted my fingers to my head. The ghost in the water did the same. I reached out to my reflection, drawing closer until my fingers touched the surface, destroying the image. I ran my hands over my head. My hair—gone! Images flooded my mind as I recalled the heat of the fire that chased me. I remembered being dragged out of the hut and how my head had felt ravaged by the molten hatred of the fire. My body did not burn, but my hair did.

My hands fell to my sides. I felt numb—unable to cry. I turned around and looked at Moriyasu. His lip trembled as he met my glance. I turned away sharply.

“Don't look at me,” I said, as I brought my hands over my face. I heard Moriyasu walk toward me, and then he gently drew my hands away until he was looking at me steadily, without judgment or disgust. But I knew I looked hideous.

“I don't know what I'm going to do,” I said, as I turned back to the doorway. “At least when I had long hair I could tie it up and disguise myself as a boy. How do I disguise my bare head? I look like a priest—or a beggar!” I tried to laugh, but it didn't come easily.

Moriyasu took my hand again. “It doesn't matter, Kimi,” he said simply. “You're alive.”

 

The scent of burning incense filled my nostrils as I stood on the threshold of the room where my sister lay. A futon was surrounded by linen drapes that billowed in the breeze from an open window. It was as if the bed were floating.

A drape was pulled aside and someone moved away from the side of the bed. It was a monk. He carried a bowl of water with flower petals floating on the surface. Beyond him I could see Hana's profile. Her lips were parted slightly as her chest rose and fell. Her skin looked as white as a crane's feathers.

“Hana!” I whispered and ran forward. The monk stepped neatly to one side as I pushed past him. I was so worried about my sister that I didn't stop to think about the disrespect I was showing. I kneeled at Hana's bedside, searching her face for signs of pain. But her expression was serene. I looked at the monk, wanting some answers.

Gently he lowered himself until he was kneeling by my side. “My name is Daisuke,” the monk began. I bowed my head in greeting and he did the same, before turning back to my sister. “She is sleeping,” he said. “A very deep sleep.” His gaze remained fixed on my sister's face. He reached out a hand and drew a thumb across her forehead. I didn't know what it meant, but I could feel the sincerity and warmth that came from this young man. He could only be good for Hana.

I leaned back and allowed my head to bow. “What happened to her?” I asked, watching my hands twist and knot in my lap. Daisuke turned to me.

“She has been through a great deal,” he said. “And so have you.”

Then he put a hand under my chin, lifting my head so that I was forced to meet his gaze. I recognized the flashes of green among the brown of his eyes—eyes as deep as the lake I'd rowed across to find my mother. This was the man I'd seen when I'd woken from my own illness.

His gaze rose to my scalp, and when it did, I felt the burning sensation return—as if the ravaged skin knew it was being examined and was protesting. I knew what it looked like. My imagination traced the pattern of burns, the taut skin, and red, angry flesh. I must have looked so ugly to him. He turned my chin
to one side and then the other as he inspected my injuries. I felt my cheeks flush with shame as I tried not to pull away.

“Healing well,” he commented. “As for Hana, your sister has suffered a great trauma,” he continued. “You remember the fire?”

How could I forget? “But I don't understand,” I said. “Hana got out to safety. I was the last one in the burning inn.”

Daisuke's face turned serious. “Your sister returned, Kimi,” he explained. “She reached into the fire to pull you out. Now she must take the time to recover from her bravery. Strong actions ask much of the body and mind. She needs time and medicine to heal herself.”

I looked back at Hana. A flash of memory returned, and I saw the hand reaching through the flames to grab me. My glance fell to the bandages around my sister's arm and understanding dawned. I tried to swallow, but my throat felt dry. While she tried to grip me, reaching in through the burning wooden wall, her arms spent too long in the flames.

“What have I done?” I whispered.

The monk inclined his head. “Her burned skin will heal. You must be grateful to her, Kimi. Do not turn gratitude into guilt. That serves no one. Your sister must love you very much. Cherish that love.”

I got to my feet and sat on the side of the bed. I pulled one of Hana's hands into my lap and turned it over to trace the pattern of lines on her palm, unscathed by the fire. My vision blurred as I thought about the fire. I saw again the samurai captain's face twisting in a sneer. I recalled the sight of the rising flames…remembered thinking that I was not going to escape the inn alive. My fingers tightened around my sister's hand.

“Forgive me,” I said. I could see Hana's eyes move beneath her eyelids and her hand twitched in mine. “Did she hear me?” I asked, turning around to search the monk's face.

He shook his head, regretfully. “She's dreaming,” he explained. “For now, your sister is far away from you.”

I got to my feet and went to gaze out of the window at the bright red leaves of a maple tree. My sister had never been away from me before. The thought of it made my heart sing with despair.

I wiped the tears that streaked my cheeks and told myself that I had to stay strong—for Hana.

I turned back to the room. Daisuke was holding a long-handled pan over the red coals of a fire that burned in a corner. In the pan I could see a scattering of long, green
biwa
leaves. Curiosity drew me to the monk's side.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I practice
kanpo
—herbal medicine,” Daisuke explained. “I help heal visitors to the monastery under the tutelage of the
kanpo
master.”

The scent of the roasting
biwa
leaves filled the room as he carefully tipped them into a mortar and added a few drops of oil. He threw in a handful of
nazuna
white flower heads. Even I recognized this plant—it grew all over the countryside.

“I know those plants!” I said. “They help with healing, don't they?” Daisuke nodded. “When we were children, my sister and I would use them to heal pretend wounds when we were out playing in the woods.”

“I'm impressed,” he said. “I've traveled to many places and studied with many teachers to learn my craft, but you've been taught the same lessons at home.” For the first time, I wondered if this monk knew who I was—who my family were. Did these men know that they were giving shelter to a set of people my uncle—the
Jito
—would do anything to have slaughtered? Did these monks understand the risk they were taking?

“Do not worry,” Daisuke said as he offered me the pestle. Was he talking about Hana or could he tell what I was thinking? But something in his voice convinced me that I should listen.

I sat on the mat to begin pounding. It felt good to grind the leaves into a paste—to help my sister. When Daisuke indicated that it was ready, I took the pestle and mortar over to Hana's bedside. Daisuke stood beside me and massaged the ends of my sister's fingers. I watched as he narrowed his eyes, concentrating hard.

“Her heart is growing stronger,” he said. “She's ready.” He paused and looked at me carefully. “Are you?” I nodded, even though I barely understood what Daisuke was asking me.

He pulled back my sister's sheets and slowly, carefully removed the bandage to reveal her arm.

“No!” I gasped, stumbling backward. My sister's skin glistened with yellow pus. Shreds of dead skin had torn away, where they'd dried and stuck to the sheets. Angry blisters were scattered across her right arm and her beautiful ivory skin had been burned to a dull red, puckering at the edges of the wounds. The room started to swirl and Daisuke waved a hand before my face, encouraging me to close my eyes. I closed them tight and let the darkness take over. At Daisuke's command, I breathed in and out once, twice, trying to clear my mind. When I opened my eyes again, the room stayed still.
Be strong,
I reminded myself.
Tears can come later. I have to help.

I kneeled at Hana's bedside again, grateful that it
was just this one arm that was burned, and scooped a handful of the green poultice out of the mortar. Daisuke showed me how to apply it to my sister's skin. Whispering a prayer, I pressed the pungent green leaves against my sister's arm. I looked anxiously at her face, but I didn't seem to be causing her any pain. Daisuke passed me a roll of linen strips.

“Bind the poultice to her skin,” he said. “She will heal more quickly.”

Reverentially I bandaged my sister. Her arm felt as light as air as I lifted it off the bed to wind the bandages. I placed her hand back on the mattress by her side.

My task was done. I pulled my hands together in front of me and allowed my head to sink onto my chest. The sound of sobbing filled the room. With a moment's shock, I realized it was my own cries that rang in my ears.

Suddenly Daisuke was by my side.

“She's alive, Kimi,” he said. “For that, count your blessings.”

My blessings…As I gazed back at my sister, memories flooded my mind. I remembered the way Hana and I had chased each other through fields as children, her quiet support when we were disguised as boys—even her fierce fight by my side in the bloody battle against our uncle's soldiers. My blessings were
many, and they were all entwined around the figure of my sister. And now Hana lay, peaceful—how could I deny her this chance to rest, after all that had happened to us? Motes of dust danced in the air above her and the drapes around her bed shifted easily in the breeze. She was safe; that's all I needed to know. For now, there was nothing more I could do.

K
imi!”

I swiveled around. Mother stood in the doorway and I ran to her. The wide sleeves of her robe swung around my shoulders as she drew me to her in a rare embrace. I could smell a hint of plum in her hair. Eventually she drew back.

I watched my mother's gaze falter as her eyes were drawn toward my naked head with its burns and scars.

“Oh, Kimi,” she said, sadness flooding her eyes.

“It's nothing,” I said, wanting her to stop staring. “Skin heals and hair grows back.” I hoped I sounded braver than I felt.

“And in the meantime…” Mother pulled a sheath of silk from her sash. It was midnight blue, with dots of pure white running through it, like stars in the sky. Mother took the silk and turned me around.

“Silk is cool against the skin,” she explained, as
she wrapped the square around my head. “If you tuck this corner in here, twist the other corner, and tie it here—”

When she'd finished, she placed her hands on my shoulders. “No one would ever know,” she said.

I felt a pang of anguish at the hopeful determination in her voice.
Is Mother ashamed of me?
I wondered. But I shook myself. She loved me; she was upset.

“You were very brave in the fire,” Mother said, as Moriyasu sat on the edge of Hana's mattress. He took Hana's hand and kneaded the palm, encouraging the circulation as Daisuke had done.

Mother's voice drew my gaze back to her. “But you played a dangerous game.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, unable to stop my eyes drifting to the floor. Of course, I could guess what she meant. She put a hand beneath my chin and lifted my head until I was forced to look her in the eye.

“I have lost a husband and two sons,” she said quietly. “I do not wish to lose my daughters, too.”

“I'm sorry,” I said uselessly. I wanted to save Sakura, but I never meant any harm to befall my beloved sister.

Suddenly the clouds of incense in the room became overpowering. I had to get out of here—had to find fresh air. I looked around the room. “I
need to…” Before I could finish speaking, Daisuke arrived at my side.

“Shall I show you around the monastery?” he asked calmly. Relief replaced the panic in me. He looked at Mother and Moriyasu. “Please. Come with us. Hana must rest.”

With a farewell glance in Hana's direction, I stepped out of the room, my mother and brother following. One side of the walkway opened up onto a serene rock garden. The buildings were arranged around the garden in a U-shape, and through the opening I could see outside to the main gate of the monastery.

“This building is where the monks live,” Daisuke said. “The temple and formal gardens are farther back in the compound.”

Monks moved quietly along the corridors, carrying piles of linen towels. Each monk had his head closely shaved to show his commitment to the holy life.

“Is it hard work?” I asked Daisuke as Mother hurried forward to catch up to Moriyasu, who was pretending to sword fight up ahead. “To live a holy life?” I had never had the chance to ask this of anyone before and I hoped that the monk would not be insulted by my questions. But he was only a few years older than I—his skin was still fresh and unlined—and perhaps
he would not mind talking to me.

“It is hard work to attain a state of peace in one's mind, to let go of selfish needs. I learned not to get attached to things in this world a long time ago,” he began. Then he hesitated and smiled. “That's not quite right,” he admitted. “I'm still learning not to be prideful, to let go. It is a daily duel within myself, but I believe that many inspiring things can happen if one can attain the right perspective on life. If one can learn to accept that there is much more than just what we can see and hear…what we can touch.”

I gazed back down at the monks moving around us. These were men who had chosen to turn their backs on a life of personal vanity; surely with my burns I could do the same. Then Daisuke surprised me. “These are warrior monks, Kimi,” he continued. “They would risk anything in the fight for their beliefs.” I looked again and noticed the heavy sashes that the men wore, perfect for carrying swords. Some even carried bamboo and rattan bows.

“What are you saying?” I asked. Daisuke stretched out an arm and indicated toward the green mountains that reared up beyond the monastery.

“Word of your struggle has traveled the countryside,” he said in a low voice. I looked up, startled. These monks knew all about Hana and me. They knew we had been fighting Uncle and that we were a
danger to their monastery—why were they being so good to us?

But I didn't have a chance to ask; Daisuke's eyes hardened as his voice turned serious. “Are you willing to reach for the highest height? To win the battle within yourself and let go of the emotions that will destroy you from the inside?”

I didn't know what he meant. I was willing to fight any battle—but one against myself? “I don't know,” I admitted.

“Then you need to decide,” Daisuke said to me. “You have encountered much and are about to face even more. What will carry you through is the flame in your heart. If it burns for vengeance, you will consume yourself in the fire. But if it is the cherished flame of love, then it will light your way. Only you can choose which flame.”

I was stunned. He barely knew me, and yet he knew how brightly my passion for revenge burned. But why should I struggle against it? “But without vengeance, how can—”

Just then, Moriyasu ran back to us and tugged on the hem of Daisuke's sleeve. “Daisuke! Let's play tag!” he pleaded, his face shining with joy. Then he raced away down the walkway toward the gardens, his voice echoing off the smooth wooden floors as he called out excitedly.

Daisuke gave me a small bow, a smile playing on his lips. “Excuse me,” he said—then he broke into a run, chasing my little brother into the garden.

I thought about what he'd said. I did have love in my heart, but I had hatred and anger for my uncle, too. Surely both things would help me in my mission to bring down my enemy.

Mother fell into step beside me and smiled, watching the monk and our brother play. The long folds of her robe swept the floor as she took delicate steps. She remained silent, occasionally bowing her head to acknowledge passing servants.

“The innkeeper rescued us,” she said eventually. She peered into my face to see if I was ready. I nodded in acknowledgment. I needed to hear what had happened after I'd been rescued from the fire.

“Yoshiki,” I murmured. “But the village was crawling with Uncle's samurai. How did he get us out?”

“He was quick,” Mother said. She slashed a hand through the air. “While the soldiers were still turning huts inside out, he loaded us all onto his packhorses. Thankfully you had passed out and could no longer feel any pain. The journey was not an easy one.” Mother stopped talking, and I could see that she was struggling to contain her emotions. I waited a moment before asking the next question.

“And what of Yoshiki and the villagers?” A new,
dreadful thought struck me. “What of Sakura?” I demanded, my mouth suddenly dry. The last I saw of the innkeeper's daughter, she was running toward the exit. I prayed to the gods that she was still alive. I could not bear it if a child had died because of me.

“Fear not,” Mother told me. “The villagers escaped to neighboring villages. Despite your uncle's best efforts, the people of this land still flourish. And a certain little girl is still playing happily in the fields.” A sob caught in my throat. Up ahead, my little brother cried out in delight as Daisuke swept him up off the gravel and balanced him on his shoulders.

“And are
we
safe?” I asked, watching my brother and thinking of my sister, lying in her bed. Uncle had been attacking villages so aggressively over the past few weeks. I wasn't sure that anywhere could be safe.

“For now,” Mother reassured me. “Even your uncle would not dare attack warrior monks. We are lucky. Your father visited this monastery several times and the monks here are sympathetic to Moriyasu's claim. But they will not enter violent conflict unless circumstances are extreme. They aim only to keep us safe from harm.”

“Come,” Daisuke said, lowering Moriyasu from his shoulders as he returned to us. “It is time to eat.” The mere mention of food made my head spin.

We walked into an open room with sliding panels and a low wooden table. In one corner was a
tokonoma
, an alcove with a hanging scroll. In the alcove was a golden board made of Kaya wood, on which a black grid was painted. Smooth black and white pebbles sat in bowls beside the board.

“What's that?” I asked, as my little brother took my hand and led me toward the dining table.

Moriyasu laughed. “You'll find out,” he said mysteriously, “when I beat you! It's a game called Go that comes from China. Daisuke taught me how to play it. He can teach you, if you like. But you have to be very
clever
to play it. I'm not sure…” He shook his head gravely, as if uncertain of my abilities, but he could not contain his giggles.

“Hmm, it seems both of us need to be taught a lesson,” I said, squeezing his hand and smiling. It was good to see my brother laughing and teasing. I allowed myself to hope that the horrors of the past moons had not left a permanent scar on his heart.

My family and I took our places at the table while Daisuke excused himself. He soon returned with a tray of food, and my mouth watered at the sight. Mother watched me from across the table as Daisuke placed the small dishes of food before us.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“I've never felt hunger like it,” I admitted.

Mother laughed. “I'm glad to see your health has returned. Now, eat.”

The meal looked like a feast. One dish carried
Mochi
rice cakes. Other dishes bore spinach, pickled ginger, and
nori
seaweed. I looked up at Daisuke in surprise and he bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“Our warrior monks are excellent cooks,” he explained. I picked up my chopsticks. “It's all for you, Kimi,” said Daisuke, as he poured me a cup of green tea.

I was surprised. I did not want to appear rude, but how would I eat all of that food on my own? “I'm not sure I can eat all of…” A smile appeared on Daisuke's face, and I felt myself smiling back.

“Are you teasing me?” I asked, as Moriyasu giggled.

Daisuke shrugged his shoulders. “Monks don't tease,” he said.

“Really?” I asked, but I didn't believe him. “Then, I will just have to eat it all—under your orders.” I reached out with my chopsticks for the largest rice cake and popped it into my mouth, chewing hard. I nodded my head at the food. “We'll have to get more,” I said, “because this won't be enough for me.” We all laughed, including Mother.

Then everyone rushed in with chopsticks, and I
pretended to try and fend off each of them.

“Aren't you eating?” I asked Daisuke, once the laughter had subsided.

He shook his head. “I ate earlier. And besides, my job here is to guide you back to good health.” He pushed a dish of deep purple
nori
toward me. I took a mouthful and relished the salty taste of the soya dressing as it hit my tongue.

As I ate my first real meal in days, Moriyasu explained the rules of Go to me.

“It's really simple,” he said between mouthfuls. “Black pebbles against white pebbles. I need to conquer you, or you surround me. What could be easier?” He tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

“What is it? Why are you smiling like that?” I asked.

“Perhaps it's not quite as easy as your brother suggests,” Daisuke said. “There are two aims in the game. To conquer territory and to avoid capture. Spread your stones and you gain territory on the board. Keep your stones close together and you avoid capture. But the dual aims of safety and ambition can be…challenging.” He looked up at me. “Only the best strategist can win, Kimi. And it takes time and patience to conquer your foe. Samurai use this game to improve their strategic planning as soldiers.”

“Interesting,” I said, my glance darting toward the
smooth wooden board. It sounded like just the kind of game I would want to win at.

“Food first,” Mother said gently.

Silence fell around the table as we all carried on eating. I lifted my chopsticks again and again until my belly became tight as a drum. I put my chopsticks down.

“Now may we play?” I asked, and Mother smiled and nodded.

Mother and Moriyasu followed as Daisuke and I went to kneel beside the board. Daisuke gave me a bowl of white pebbles; he took the glossy black ones.

“Take a pebble between your index and middle finger and place it on the board,” he said. “Put it on an intersection between squares.” I gazed at the empty board. It gave me no clues as to what I should do. I looked up at Daisuke.

“Where?” I asked. “There are so many squares.”

“That's the whole point!” Moriyasu burst out excitedly. He gripped my shoulder as he peered at the board. “Your choices decide the game.”

I stared at the board. The corners called out to me. They looked safe and protected. I picked up a white pebble as Daisuke had told me to and went to place it on an intersection close to the right-hand corner. I brought it down on the board with a
click
. I looked up at the monk uncertainly. He nodded once.

“A safe choice,” he said. Doubt immediately plunged through me.

“Is safe good?” I asked.

“Safe is…safe,” Daisuke said. I sank back on my heels. I'd had enough of being safe, hiding and waiting in that village hut.

The two of us continued to play, taking turns bringing our pebbles down on the board. I decided to play more bravely, beginning to establish a second territory of white pebbles farther into the board's center. Daisuke naturally took the opportunity to surround me and clustered his black pebbles close to mine. At one point, one of my white pebbles was looking vulnerable; if Daisuke brought one more black pebble to surround my pebble, it would be captured. He brought another black pebble down on the board with a sharp click. My breathing turned shallow as I saw what Daisuke had failed to notice; a small cluster of my white pebbles edged his latest black pebble. When he captured my white pebble, I would be free to capture his black stone. I was making a sacrifice in order to further my game.