Spirit's Princess (4 page)

“Oh.” Masa was crestfallen. “I—I’ll do that later. Now I have to—” He got up and scurried out of the house. Shoichi went through the motions of asking if I wanted anything, but the moment I shook my head just the slightest bit, he was gone too.

Aki clicked his tongue. “They’re such children. I think they’re afraid that if they do anything for you, their friends will make fun of them for being your slaves.”

“Slaves?” I’d never heard that word before, not even sarcastically, the way Aki had just pronounced it.

“When two clans fight, that’s a war, and sometimes the
one that wins takes people who belong to the one that lost. Those people have to spend the rest of their lives working for the clan that captured them, and so do their children, forever.”

“Really?” My eyes grew large as an owl’s. “Can’t they ever go home?”

Aki shook his head. “Not unless their clan grows strong enough to fight again. Then their warriors might attack the clan that took them away. But I’ve never heard of it happening.”

“Why not?”

My brother looked at me with a melancholy smile. “Because when there’s a war between two clans, the one that wins makes sure that all of the enemy warriors are dead.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Wouldn’t their clan spirit save them?”

“Not if the other clan’s guardian is stronger than theirs.”

“That’s silly. Why would a clan choose a weak spirit to guard them?”

Aki shrugged. “I don’t think we
choose
our guardians. We’ve always been the Matsu clan, and we’ve always been protected by the pine tree spirit that gives us our name. No one can remember a time when this wasn’t so.”

His reasoning didn’t satisfy me. In seven years of life, there had already been too many times when the best answer a grown-up could give me was
Because that’s the way it’s always been!
That was
not
a good enough answer for anything, as far as I was concerned.

“But what if our guardian’s weak and we don’t know
it? What will happen when another clan comes to fight us, and to make us be their slaves? What if the pine tree spirit isn’t strong enough to save us?” I saw a future full of ghastly possibilities, and my voice began to rise in panic. “What if we should have had a better guardian and we don’t find out until it’s too late?”

“Little Sister, the pine tree spirit is strong enough to—”

“He wasn’t even strong enough to carry me!”

Aki brushed my hair away from my face. “Don’t worry about such things, Himiko. You didn’t fall out of the pine tree because our clan guardian dropped you. It was an accident, that’s all. But when his branches broke your fall and saved your life—! Well, I’d say that proves the pine tree spirit is strong enough to look after us all.”

I gave Aki a searching stare. What was he trying to make me believe? He made it sound as if the spirits came and went like clouds, following the sun. When something good happened, they were there. When something bad happened, they were far away.

Were they really anywhere at all?

But I heard them speak!
I told myself.
I did! I—Did I?

A whisper of doubt hissed through my mind like a serpent. I remembered what Mama said whenever I woke up crying because our house was full of monsters:
“Hush, Himiko, it wasn’t real. You imagined it all. It was just a dream. There are no monsters here.”

I’d only imagined the monsters. Had I also only imagined the spirits? I didn’t know what to think, and it scared me. Aki saw my troubled look and jumped to the wrong conclusion about what was upsetting me. “Don’t fret, Little
Sister; we’re safe. No one has made war against the Matsu clan for many years, not since long before you were born. The gods are protecting us.” He stood up slowly. “I have work to do, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Yukari and Emi had to go down to the rice fields, but Mother’s just outside on the porch, taking care of the babies. You’re not alone, so don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” I told him.

“Of course not.” He chuckled. “After what you did this morning, you could face down an
oni
. A fine sight you’d be, wearing that mountain ogre’s skin for a cape!”

I wasn’t in the mood for Aki’s teasing. There was something serious on my mind. I stretched out my hand to him. He dropped to one knee and took it. “Aki, did you see me in the pine tree?” I asked in a small, shaky voice. “Did you see how high I climbed?”

He hesitated, then shook his head reluctantly. I think he knew how important his answer was to me, but he wouldn’t lie. “You were already being carried down when I came out of the house. I was there when you touched the ground and—” He made a sympathetic face, remembering my pain. “Why did you do it, Himiko? What possessed you to try such a dangerous thing?”

I stared at him in shocked silence. Didn’t he
know
? Had he forgotten what he’d said to me last night? All I’d tried, all I’d risked, all the pain and shame of my failure had been done to convince him that I was just as worthy as Masa and Shoichi. And he didn’t remember anything about it. It had all been for nothing.

I still loved my brother Aki with all my heart, but it
wasn’t the same. He had never truly believed in me, and that changed everything.

“All right,” he said at last. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. The important thing is, you’re alive, and you’re never going to do something as dangerous as that again. Rest now, and try not to move too much; you’ll heal faster. Don’t make me wait
too
long to play games with my favorite little sister again. Get well quickly, and I’ll gather some twigs and make you a toy deer—no, a whole
herd
of them!—and then the two of us can pretend to track them, and—”

I let go of his hand, closed my eyes, and turned my head away. “I don’t want to be a hunter anymore,” I said. “I’m tired.” But the truth was, I wanted Aki to go away.

“I’m not surprised. You must have been up half the night, climbing that tree. Sleep well, little one.” I heard the rustle of his clothing as he stood, then the soft creak of the floorboards under his departing footsteps. When the house was silent, I knew it was safe for me to cry.

I lay on my back, staring into the rafters. My chest felt like an empty eggshell. Tears trickled from the corners of my eyes and ran into my ears; I made no move to wipe them away. I was seven years old, but as far as I was concerned, my life was over; my dreams of becoming a great hunter were dead. In my heart, I knew that even if Aki had seen me riding the topmost branch of the ancient pine, he never would have let me share Masa and Shoichi’s lessons. He loved me as dearly as I loved him and would give me anything in his power.

Anything except what I wanted most. In my lonesome
corner, I sobbed because the closest I would ever come to winning my desires was a little wooden deer.

“What’s wrong, Daughter? Are you in pain?”

I gasped and opened my eyes to see Father’s face looking down at me. He’d moved so quietly that I hadn’t heard him come near. It was too dark to see his expression, but he sounded truly worried. He’d never spoken to me so gently or with so much concern before. In all of my memories, the only time I had any direct attention from him was when I did something wrong.

I sniffled and tried to stop my tears before replying. I was scared that I’d imagined the softness in his voice, and that any moment he’d start yelling at me for disturbing him with my crying. Worse, he’d make all of Mama, Yukari, and Emi’s scoldings seem like nothing once he began berating me for having climbed the pine.

“I—No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m—” I could barely hear my own words, uttered in a mouse’s whisper.

A deep sigh answered me. “Good. That’s good. When I saw you fall, I thought—” Another sigh. “I didn’t know you were so brave, Himiko.” I saw him lean forward, and for the first time, I felt his hand cradle my cheek. “You have a bold heart for such a little girl, but you
are
a girl. There will always be certain things that you can’t do. You’ll understand this when you grow up, but for now, just accept it. The gods have given me many sons, but only one daughter. I need you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Father sounded like a stranger, but a stranger who loved me. I feared that none of this was true. The spirits must be playing an evil joke on me,
as further punishment for my broken promise. My
real
father was nowhere near. He was out in the fields, supervising our clanfolk as they worked at the vital task of tending the rice. What was happening now was only a dream. I took his hand and held it tightly.

He laughed, delighted. “What a mighty grip! Maybe the gods
did
give me nothing but sons. Our people need me to have strong sons, men who’ll be able to lead and protect the Matsu clan, but I—I would be sad if I didn’t have my little daughter.”

“R-really?”

“Yes,
really
.” He bowed over me and kissed my forehead. “Remember that.” Then he was gone.

My recovery took many days. To me, it seemed like a lifetime. I suppose it would have felt like forever if not for all the people around me. Mama, Yukari, and Emi took turns looking after me. Yama came frequently to see how my healing was progressing.

The village girls of my age came by and tried to cheer me. That was an awkward visit: the five of us played together from time to time, but I’d always preferred Aki’s company and so never had become close friends with any of them. I felt they didn’t really want to be there. As if to prove I was right, they didn’t come back. I was surprised at how much that hurt.

Aki brought me the toy deer he’d promised, and even Shoichi and Masa came bearing little things to amuse me—a bunch of wildflowers, a bird’s colorful feather, a handful of shining stones and a game we could play with them. Best of all, Father always found time to kneel beside my bedroll and
to let me know in a dozen different ways that I was special to him.

How happy I was! Aki might never teach me to be a hunter, but now I didn’t need that in order to earn Father’s smiles. I treasured every one, never forgetting how rare they’d once been.

There were times during my healing that Father didn’t smile. I was always afraid it was on account of something I’d done or failed to do. My anxiety must have shown on my face, because Father always noticed. “Don’t look so worried, Himiko. There are some problems in the village that need my attention, but that’s nothing to bother you, little butterfly.”

“But I want to help you, Father,” I said. “Isn’t there something I can do?”

“Ah, now
this
is why I want a daughter! Yes, my dear, there is something you can do. You sing so prettily, you never fail to take my mind off my troubles.”

I sang for him—just a silly song Emi taught me about a turtle who tried to eat the moon—and his smile returned. That made me happy, yet I wished he’d told me what his problems were. Maybe I could have helped him see them in a new way and fix them! I wanted to
help
, not merely divert him, but I had to be content with doing only what he asked. He loved his good little girl.

Mama noticed the change in Father and recognized that I was responsible for it. She took every chance she got to let me know how pleased with me she was. Once, while combing out my hair, she said, “When did you become a shaman, my dearest? You’ve worked magic on your father. I
don’t know how you do it, but may the gods bless you for lightening his heart.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I replied. I wanted to sound modest—Father often remarked that a woman who held her nose too high soon got it covered with mud—but secretly I basked in Mama’s praise.

“Tsk. You did, and I’m glad of it. He’s a good man, with many burdens. That’s what makes him harsh and snappish sometimes. When he was a boy, in the days when Lady Tsuki ruled our clan, he didn’t have an easy life, like you do. We’ve been friends since he and I were infants, so I know just how hard it is for him to be happy.”

“He’s happy when I sing for him,” I volunteered.

“I know that too; I have eyes and ears, don’t I?” She gave me a fond look.

“Isn’t there anything else I can do, Mama?”

She used the comb deftly, to secure my hair into a series of loops, like hers. “You’re a smart girl, Himiko—when you’re not climbing trees like a lizard that’s lost its mind. Use
your
eyes and ears. They’ll give you your answer.”

I heeded Mama’s advice and began to watch Father very closely. I paid attention to the things that cheered him most. My songs, Aki’s success in the hunt, Masa and Shoichi’s slow progress in learning how to use weapons—all these had the power to smooth the hard lines from his face; but the thing that seemed to bring him the greatest joy was when Mama, Yukari, and Emi would dance.

They didn’t do it often—there was usually too much work to be done in the house and in the fields—but when they did, it was wonderful. There were times, like after the
harvest season, when everyone in the village danced to celebrate having plenty to eat for the winter ahead. Men would play flutes and drums, and Yama, Father, and the rest of the noble families would bring out the hill-shaped sacred bronze bells and strike them with artfully carved sticks or bones, an offering of music to thank the gods. None of this was half as special as when Father’s three wives danced for us alone.

We never knew when they might decide to do it. It usually happened after the day’s work was done. One of them would begin to hum a tune, and the others would join in, swaying in time to the melody. Then they’d begin to clap in time. As soon as the rest of us heard that, we joined in. We knew what would follow! Emi was always the first to stop humming and start singing as she began the steps of the dance. Mama and Yukari wouldn’t wait long after that. Soon the three of them were moving in a circle, their feet tracing a simple pattern that went forward and back, forward and back, like a honeybee sipping from a flower, hovering away, and returning to sip again. Sometimes they didn’t step daintily, but stamped the ground, or the floorboards of our house, or the high platform outside our door. Their arms moved side to side with the languid grace of willow branches, and no matter how long they chose to dance, it was never long enough for us. When they were done, Father always wore his warmest smile.