Chapter 11
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Unknown Lands
She might have made it, except for the Bonedrinker.
The cut she had received when she fell after slaying it was so minor, it seemed inconsequential. It stung, certainly, but she was more troubled by the torn haori and how she would mend it than the injury itself. She could not see it of course, situated as it was under her shoulder blade. If she stretched, she could reach it, just barely, but she had no sake to pour on it or bandages to wrap herself with even if she could bind it properly. But the warmth of the tropical sky and the jade sun would heal it quickly, Arahime was certain.
It was not to be.
The day after fighting the Bonedrinker went well. She even found a fig tree, heavy in season and filled with tiny monkeys that shrieked and screamed at her as she filled her bags with the ripe, juicy fruit. She smiled at them and, amused and grateful for the bounty, thanked them for allowing her a share of the spoils. It rained in the evening again, and this time she was ready, rinsing the blood and dirt from her skin and catching the sweet waters in the remains of some of the coconut shells she had cut. She drank deeply.
But under the leaves and in the humid air, her clothes would not dry out, and she had to sleep in them damp and cold. In the morning, the wound on her back burned and she felt thirsty and off center. When she touched it, the skin felt hot and puffy. Stay and rest? Go on and hope for shelter? She pushed herself on.
Her fever climbed as she forced herself through another day. The skin of her face and hands felt stretched and swollen. She drank more, but the water tasted bad. She curled up in a wide-leafed bush for a fitful sleep, too exhausted to continue. None pursued her but the terrible dreams that were beginning to creep in.
Another day. The fever did not slack, nor did the pain. She did not make it very far that day before she had to sleep again.
The next day she felt a horrible burning sensation on her back more painful than anything she had ever imagined. She could feel....something rooting around under her haori and jubon, under her skin. Her fingers scrambled, panicked, to reach it, even if she had no idea how to stop this horror, but she could not reach. Even if she could have, it was just as likely to make it worse. The skin was peeled back and seeping now, and when she looked at her fingertips her hand had come away filthy with blood and pus.
The thoughts moved, ephemeral, through the scattered cords of her fevered mind. Can’t stop. I can’t stop here. If I stop....I’ll die. I refuse.
She tried to cut the last of her coconuts, but her strength and focus eluded her and it rolled away from her blow. She tried twice more, and, failing, gave a scream of rage and frustration. With difficulty, she resheathed her sword.
Still she stumbled on.
Images and sounds....fragments of memory....came to her unbidden. Visions of the past surrounded her, crowding close, their significance eluding her.
Her mother weeping into her blankets, shoulders quivering with the power of her tears. Arahime’s little-girl hands tug on her elbow to make her come out.
“Mama! Mama! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Her mother does not answer, but lays very still for a long moment. Then she sits up, face tear-streaked, but composed. She radiates the calm confidence she always seems to have, even undershod with grief. “My....” A pause. Time to start again. “Someone I know did a terrible, evil thing last night. She killed someone I cared for deeply.” Her mother gathers her up into her arms and wraps them tightly around her. “But don’t worry, Arahime-chan. She won’t hurt you. I will protect you.”
Part of her, the young child that wailed franticly in her mind, longed for her mother’s embrace, longed to hear those words again. If I stop…I won’t see them again. I won’t see my parents again.
Arahime stumbled onwards under the trees. Only movement and memory.
”Faster, Papa! Faster!”
Her father laughs as he holds his horse on a loose lead, one hand resting gently on Arahime’s leg to keep her securely in the saddle. From up here, she could reach out and touch the top of his greying, curly hair. She releases one of the reins to do so.
“No…hold on to the reins, Arahime-chan. You will confuse him if you let go until he’s used to you. You must make friends with him first.”
She dutifully takes back the reins. “But he likes me. See! I want to go as fast as Harun!”
Her father glances over to see his cousin’s son already being led by his stablekeeper into a solid trot and sighed. “Maybe I’m not ready for my little Crane wildflower to grow up so quickly, Arahime-chan. I will go a little faster.”
Arahime stumbled. I need to go faster....Father will be at Second City....he’ll lead me there....
The world was a blur of greens and browns, shadowed and distorted around the edges, but offered no guides.
Her mother comes forward, dressed in her kimonos of white trimmed with blue and Imperial jade. She hands Arahime a daisho that seems ancient. The saya is a beautiful pearl white, and the tsuba of the katana is gold with the image of a crane flying over a river scattered with cherry blossom.
“Your grandmother’s sword,” she says, a soft smile curving her lips.
The image faded away like a ghost, replaced by another image.
Another white-haired girl, no older than ten, with a serious face. Though so young, she already has an earthy beauty that had been compared to that of Doji Mioko. She looks up with resolute gray eyes at an older man with craggy features, graying hair bound in a topknot, sky blue hashimo and hakama stained with blood. He bears the mon of a Kenshinzen.
“Your grandfather’s sword,” the Kenshinzen says, desperately trying to mask his fear from his children though his voice cracks with grief. He hands the young girl the blade. “Keep it safe. Keep your brother and your mother safe. You, and Toshiki, you hold with you the honor of our family. Our clan. Our Empire. Serve them well.”
Another image.
The victorious young Topaz Champion, black hair and gray eyes, unable to hold back the grin as he bows.
”Your grandfather’s sword,” says the aged Sensei, his robes marked with the Kenshinzen mon. He draws the blade and saya from his own obi and hands them over. The corner of his mouth crooks upwards. “I will not be needing it any more, after all.”
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” The stiff-necked general with the Kenshinzen mon passes the blade to a young soldier.
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” An well-dressed courtier....
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” A grieving widow…
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.”
Generations flickered past, warriors and poets, children and ancient, men and women…and Arahime stumbled forward. I need to get the sword home....I promised. I promised I’d keep it safe....
She slept at some point, then woke, and when she did, a piercing pain filled her whole left side. She found herself choking and gasping for air. She coughed, and, looking down, found blood staining the back of her sleeve where she had covered her mouth. A few coherent thoughts caught on the fever-frayed tendrils of her mind.
I have to get to Second City....
it could be just a few miles away....
It could be right there....
Harun will be waiting for me....he promised he’d come....
A last fevered image amidst the green and growing darkness.
He looks so handsome, wearing the armor of the Topaz Champion. Black curly hair, dark skin, brown, serious eyes looking down at her. She laughs at him to see him looking so magnificent. It is better to do that than do what she really wished. It is cheating at the game, after all, for her to tell him that he makes her heart flutter. You aren’t supposed to feel that way for your classmate. You aren’t supposed to feel anything but your passion for duty. Samurai.
But he does not laugh back. “I’m leaving, Arahime-chan. I’ve been given permission to go on musha shuga, to visit with my birth mother’s clan. To see what I could learn of her, and of my father.”
Her laughter ends. “So quickly? I thought it would take at least a month to get your assignment...”
Harun shakes his head. “I want to reach Dragon lands before the armies start marching. But don’t worry. I promise I will be back in time to watch your Gempukku. You are sure to win the Topaz Championship.”
....I Promise....
She laughs again, but it is false. “I’ll hold you to that, Harun-san....and if you don’t I’ll....”
The serious young man grins. “You’ll what, Arahime-san?”
She opens her mouth to say something tender and hurt, then shuts it again, changing her mind. Too sweet. Better to be tart. “I’ll tell you exactly what I think about you and such terrible ill manners! That’s what. And that’s a promise!”
....I Promise....
....I Promise....
Footstep follows footstep. Lips stained with blood. She can feel them in her...can feel the poison in her blood.
...I Promise...
Her fever burns. She can barely see. Too much fire...
...I Promise...
She coughs again…She can’t seem to get enough air to fill her lungs. Too much air...
She falls to her knees, and can’t find the strength to stand again. No strength left, only pain.
I am not going to die here.
My name is Kakita Arahime and I am not going to die here.
I am a daughter of the line of Kashiwa and I am not going to die here
My line is the line of a hundred generations of Kenshinzen. A line of Empresses.
I descend from the blood of Yasurugi and Konoshiko. I descend from the blood of Kakita and the First Men. I descend from the blood of Doji-no-kami, daughter of Heaven.
I am not going to die here.
I will not abandon the daisho of Masarugi here. I will not abandon the blades of Kaori here.
I will not die in some hot, filthy jungle to be eaten alive by insects.
I am not going to let my mother and father mourn me.
I am not going to let Harun, that baka, ditch me without giving him a piece of my mind.
I am not going to die here.
I am not going to die...
I am not...
I am...
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Unknown Lands
She might have made it, except for the Bonedrinker.
The cut she had received when she fell after slaying it was so minor, it seemed inconsequential. It stung, certainly, but she was more troubled by the torn haori and how she would mend it than the injury itself. She could not see it of course, situated as it was under her shoulder blade. If she stretched, she could reach it, just barely, but she had no sake to pour on it or bandages to wrap herself with even if she could bind it properly. But the warmth of the tropical sky and the jade sun would heal it quickly, Arahime was certain.
It was not to be.
The day after fighting the Bonedrinker went well. She even found a fig tree, heavy in season and filled with tiny monkeys that shrieked and screamed at her as she filled her bags with the ripe, juicy fruit. She smiled at them and, amused and grateful for the bounty, thanked them for allowing her a share of the spoils. It rained in the evening again, and this time she was ready, rinsing the blood and dirt from her skin and catching the sweet waters in the remains of some of the coconut shells she had cut. She drank deeply.
But under the leaves and in the humid air, her clothes would not dry out, and she had to sleep in them damp and cold. In the morning, the wound on her back burned and she felt thirsty and off center. When she touched it, the skin felt hot and puffy. Stay and rest? Go on and hope for shelter? She pushed herself on.
Her fever climbed as she forced herself through another day. The skin of her face and hands felt stretched and swollen. She drank more, but the water tasted bad. She curled up in a wide-leafed bush for a fitful sleep, too exhausted to continue. None pursued her but the terrible dreams that were beginning to creep in.
Another day. The fever did not slack, nor did the pain. She did not make it very far that day before she had to sleep again.
The next day she felt a horrible burning sensation on her back more painful than anything she had ever imagined. She could feel....something rooting around under her haori and jubon, under her skin. Her fingers scrambled, panicked, to reach it, even if she had no idea how to stop this horror, but she could not reach. Even if she could have, it was just as likely to make it worse. The skin was peeled back and seeping now, and when she looked at her fingertips her hand had come away filthy with blood and pus.
The thoughts moved, ephemeral, through the scattered cords of her fevered mind. Can’t stop. I can’t stop here. If I stop....I’ll die. I refuse.
She tried to cut the last of her coconuts, but her strength and focus eluded her and it rolled away from her blow. She tried twice more, and, failing, gave a scream of rage and frustration. With difficulty, she resheathed her sword.
Still she stumbled on.
Images and sounds....fragments of memory....came to her unbidden. Visions of the past surrounded her, crowding close, their significance eluding her.
Her mother weeping into her blankets, shoulders quivering with the power of her tears. Arahime’s little-girl hands tug on her elbow to make her come out.
“Mama! Mama! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Her mother does not answer, but lays very still for a long moment. Then she sits up, face tear-streaked, but composed. She radiates the calm confidence she always seems to have, even undershod with grief. “My....” A pause. Time to start again. “Someone I know did a terrible, evil thing last night. She killed someone I cared for deeply.” Her mother gathers her up into her arms and wraps them tightly around her. “But don’t worry, Arahime-chan. She won’t hurt you. I will protect you.”
Part of her, the young child that wailed franticly in her mind, longed for her mother’s embrace, longed to hear those words again. If I stop…I won’t see them again. I won’t see my parents again.
Arahime stumbled onwards under the trees. Only movement and memory.
”Faster, Papa! Faster!”
Her father laughs as he holds his horse on a loose lead, one hand resting gently on Arahime’s leg to keep her securely in the saddle. From up here, she could reach out and touch the top of his greying, curly hair. She releases one of the reins to do so.
“No…hold on to the reins, Arahime-chan. You will confuse him if you let go until he’s used to you. You must make friends with him first.”
She dutifully takes back the reins. “But he likes me. See! I want to go as fast as Harun!”
Her father glances over to see his cousin’s son already being led by his stablekeeper into a solid trot and sighed. “Maybe I’m not ready for my little Crane wildflower to grow up so quickly, Arahime-chan. I will go a little faster.”
Arahime stumbled. I need to go faster....Father will be at Second City....he’ll lead me there....
The world was a blur of greens and browns, shadowed and distorted around the edges, but offered no guides.
Her mother comes forward, dressed in her kimonos of white trimmed with blue and Imperial jade. She hands Arahime a daisho that seems ancient. The saya is a beautiful pearl white, and the tsuba of the katana is gold with the image of a crane flying over a river scattered with cherry blossom.
“Your grandmother’s sword,” she says, a soft smile curving her lips.
The image faded away like a ghost, replaced by another image.
Another white-haired girl, no older than ten, with a serious face. Though so young, she already has an earthy beauty that had been compared to that of Doji Mioko. She looks up with resolute gray eyes at an older man with craggy features, graying hair bound in a topknot, sky blue hashimo and hakama stained with blood. He bears the mon of a Kenshinzen.
“Your grandfather’s sword,” the Kenshinzen says, desperately trying to mask his fear from his children though his voice cracks with grief. He hands the young girl the blade. “Keep it safe. Keep your brother and your mother safe. You, and Toshiki, you hold with you the honor of our family. Our clan. Our Empire. Serve them well.”
Another image.
The victorious young Topaz Champion, black hair and gray eyes, unable to hold back the grin as he bows.
”Your grandfather’s sword,” says the aged Sensei, his robes marked with the Kenshinzen mon. He draws the blade and saya from his own obi and hands them over. The corner of his mouth crooks upwards. “I will not be needing it any more, after all.”
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” The stiff-necked general with the Kenshinzen mon passes the blade to a young soldier.
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” An well-dressed courtier....
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” A grieving widow…
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.”
Generations flickered past, warriors and poets, children and ancient, men and women…and Arahime stumbled forward. I need to get the sword home....I promised. I promised I’d keep it safe....
She slept at some point, then woke, and when she did, a piercing pain filled her whole left side. She found herself choking and gasping for air. She coughed, and, looking down, found blood staining the back of her sleeve where she had covered her mouth. A few coherent thoughts caught on the fever-frayed tendrils of her mind.
I have to get to Second City....
it could be just a few miles away....
It could be right there....
Harun will be waiting for me....he promised he’d come....
A last fevered image amidst the green and growing darkness.
He looks so handsome, wearing the armor of the Topaz Champion. Black curly hair, dark skin, brown, serious eyes looking down at her. She laughs at him to see him looking so magnificent. It is better to do that than do what she really wished. It is cheating at the game, after all, for her to tell him that he makes her heart flutter. You aren’t supposed to feel that way for your classmate. You aren’t supposed to feel anything but your passion for duty. Samurai.
But he does not laugh back. “I’m leaving, Arahime-chan. I’ve been given permission to go on musha shuga, to visit with my birth mother’s clan. To see what I could learn of her, and of my father.”
Her laughter ends. “So quickly? I thought it would take at least a month to get your assignment...”
Harun shakes his head. “I want to reach Dragon lands before the armies start marching. But don’t worry. I promise I will be back in time to watch your Gempukku. You are sure to win the Topaz Championship.”
....I Promise....
She laughs again, but it is false. “I’ll hold you to that, Harun-san....and if you don’t I’ll....”
The serious young man grins. “You’ll what, Arahime-san?”
She opens her mouth to say something tender and hurt, then shuts it again, changing her mind. Too sweet. Better to be tart. “I’ll tell you exactly what I think about you and such terrible ill manners! That’s what. And that’s a promise!”
....I Promise....
....I Promise....
Footstep follows footstep. Lips stained with blood. She can feel them in her...can feel the poison in her blood.
...I Promise...
Her fever burns. She can barely see. Too much fire...
...I Promise...
She coughs again…She can’t seem to get enough air to fill her lungs. Too much air...
She falls to her knees, and can’t find the strength to stand again. No strength left, only pain.
I am not going to die here.
My name is Kakita Arahime and I am not going to die here.
I am a daughter of the line of Kashiwa and I am not going to die here
My line is the line of a hundred generations of Kenshinzen. A line of Empresses.
I descend from the blood of Yasurugi and Konoshiko. I descend from the blood of Kakita and the First Men. I descend from the blood of Doji-no-kami, daughter of Heaven.
I am not going to die here.
I will not abandon the daisho of Masarugi here. I will not abandon the blades of Kaori here.
I will not die in some hot, filthy jungle to be eaten alive by insects.
I am not going to let my mother and father mourn me.
I am not going to let Harun, that baka, ditch me without giving him a piece of my mind.
I am not going to die here.
I am not going to die...
I am not...
I am...
