Chapter 8
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Unknown Lands
Left in darkness, fighting for every breath, Arahime knew she only had limited strength left. Splashing and calling fruitlessly would only expend her strength and attract crocodiles. Panicking would solve nothing. She praised the fortunes for the time her mother had taken to teach her to swim, but the weight of her hakama bore her down now. And she had to save her swords. I may die here, but I will not lose my grandmother’s daisho to the sea. She took a deep breath, and slipped under the waves. With one hand, she pulled her blades around and clutched them tightly to her chest. With her other, she loosened her hakama and pulled them off underwater. Wrestling with the sodden fabric was difficult; she lost both geta in the process, but when her legs were free of the silk, she was able to move more freely. She kicked to force her head above the surface and sucked in another breath of air.
She felt the brush of fabric from the hakama drift by her leg as it was gently pulled downwards. She hooked it with a foot, then gasped another breath of air before she sank once more below the waters. She grabbed at the loose hakama with her free hand, and kicked again to force herself up again. The salt water stung her eyes, but she focused on her task. She slid her daisho into the leg of the hakama, then bound the hakama tightly around her chest so the swords were held tightly by the cloth and had no chance of slipping out. She rested in the waters once her swords were safe. The choppy waves continued to wash over her, but they did not grow worse and she was able to keep her head above the water now her hands and legs were free.
The darkness made direction hard to discern, but the sounds of the waves breaking against the shore seemed to be in the direction that matched what she remembered. A shaft of moonlight from a break in the heavy cloud cover gave her enough of a silhouette to confirm it. Kisada, Fortune of Persistence, help me, she prayed, though she expected little answer. Still, the tide was coming in, and it carried the Crane bushi with it. With slow, decidedly ungraceful strokes, checking often on her weapons, Arahime swam towards shore.
Arahime had reached a place far, far beyond exhaustion as she crawled up the twisted roots of one of the strange mangrove trees. Wild and dangerous animals snuffled and cried out in the darkness. But she was ashore. She would not lose the blades of Masarugi to the waves. She could die this moment, and she would have already succeeded. Clutching her daisho, curled up near the big mangrove’s trunk and cradled in its roots like a child in her mother’s arms, the young woman slept.
Sunlight, almost too bright, filtered through the mangrove leaves, finally awakening the sleeping girl. Arahime’s whole body ached with the exertions of the previous night and the hard, snaky roots of the mangrove, and she was thirsty. She forced her eyes open.
She found herself on a small, muddy patch of shoreline, where the mangrove trees pressed all the way to the water’s edge. It took a moment for her to orient, but she remembered the maps of her passing and the journey west, and was able to form a rough idea of where she was. To the north, the mysterious jungle, a vast unknown she had never thought to enter. To the south, only the gray-green sea. On the shore to the west the mangroves grew even thicker and more dense, going right out into the water. To the east, the mangroves were broken up by more patches of muddy earth, like where she currently stood. The ground looked like it was covered with snakes, and vines and lianas hung from the branches. Somewhere, even further to the east, lay the lighthouse of Suitengu’s Torch, and the edge of the kingdom of Zogeku. But that was at least six days by boat, if she remembered the sailors’ discussions correctly. She had no idea how far it was as a journey overland.
There was no sign of a kobune. If they have harmed Mushari.... She knew the threat was meaningless, but she found some comfort in the idea that the Crane would be sure to unleash the wrath of the Empire if their only ambassador and his yojimbo had come to harm. The water was still choppy with the stiff wind, but the cloud cover had lightened in the night and the sun came through in patches.
Nothing for it, then. She was aware she knew nothing about survival in this terrible and dangerous land save what the heimen divers had told her during the journey on the coast. But she was thirsty and soaked to the bone. Addressing those things would be a start.
Arahime stripped off her clothes: juban and haori and obi, laying them up over the branches of the tree to dry. She undid the bundle of her hakama and spread that out to dry also. While she, and the clothing, dried out a little, she observed her surroundings.
A trickle of fresh water seemed to be coming from the jungle, weaving its way along the muddy flat and through the mangrove trees. It looked green and brackish, but enough to rinse the salt from her skin. It didn’t take long for her cotton juban to dry. Before dressing, however, she used it to carefully clean and dry the blades of her daisho. Without oil, if she stayed near the ocean, the steel would suffer for it, but for the moment they were well enough. She tied her obi around her waist and slid her daisho into place.
Water. The turgid water running across the ground looked dangerous, but it had rained last night. Many of the trees had broken or fallen, victims, no doubt, of the recent monsoons. She found one with a small hollow space in the stump and found there some fresh water from last night’s rain. She drank deeply, scooping the water with her hands. With the sweet blessings of the water kami, she felt like, perhaps, she might survive.
Not all of the trees were mangroves. One, which looked as though it had fallen only recently, was similar to the palm trees that bore the coconuts she had tasted in Second City. She picked her way across the roots of the mangroves to reach the head. About eight good-sized green fruits were clustered in the palm branches. She would need those for food, at the very least, and her time in second city had taught her of the white liquid that lay in them. She had also eaten a dish one evening, a stir fry of vegetables that included the tender heart of the stem of the coconut palm. That could serve as food also. But how to carry it?
She glanced over at her hakama. They were not likely to do well moving through these trees. They had served as a bag, of sorts, to carry her swords. They could do so again. She drew the kozuka, the small knife that supported the tsuba of her wakizashi. My ancestors would not be ashamed of using these blades in the ways I must in service of bringing my daisho home and defending my charge, she thought, as she carefully cut the hakama legs off just above the knees. The sharp blade sliced easily through the fabric. She trimmed to a minimum the long straps that tied the hakama on, leaving her four lengths of strapping to use.
As she worked, she watched the waters, waiting to see if, possibly, the ship would return. No sail appeared. Arahime used the kozuka to pierce the bottom and top of the two pieces of cloth cut from her hakama, and then used the straps to tie them tightly shut at the bottom, and hold them open with a strap for her shoulder at the top.
She took a moment to admire her work, and then her stomach rumbled, loudly.
The hunger deflated any feeling of victory she had experienced in finishing the bags. I have the coconuts. But I will need to be sparing. Arahime sighed. There were many lean years she had experienced growing up. She rarely had been hungry herself, but there were whole years early on when the adults refused to eat with the children at the academy. At first, she thought it was their aloofness, that they were embarrassed to be seen with the children. It wasn’t until her mother, Kyoumi, finally explained that those years were times the adults were going without to make sure the children remained fed. She knew there was a time once, in the Empire, when food was not rationed, when the guards did not stand guard as fiercely upon the storehouses as on the gates. She imagined those days would come again, but she had never known them. Still, though she had gone to bed hungry before, she feared it now. Too hungry, and I will grow weak. There is not enough food here to stay. Or water. She comforted herself by drinking some of the water remaining in the tree stump, but it was disappearing fast, even on this overcast day.
Using the tip of her katana, she cut free the green coconuts and put them in her bags. Then, determined to eat, but to save the coconuts for their water, she started trimming away the younger fronds and bark to get to the palm cabbage at the heart of the stem. Once she’d cut the trunk down far enough, a slice of her katana removed it from the palm, leaving the white, pithy core. She peeled off some strands of it and chewed. They were tasteless, but they were edible. She put the rest into her bag and, finally at the end of her strength, with no ships on the horizon, she climbed back up into the upper roots of the mangrove to sleep.
It was dark but the moon was up when a low coughing sound awakened her. Arahime could hear the sound of something grunting around on the muddy strip very near her. A lance of fear pierced her, but she fought down the emotion to hold very still until the moonlight revealed what she faced. The moonlit ground below her offer no comfort, for emerging from the waves gently splashing up on the muddy stretch of ground were a pair of large crocodiles. She stayed frozen, praying they were not hunting, that they would have no reason to come after her. I might be able to take one…maybe. But the heimen said they have hides of iron. I don’t think I could take both. Not in the dark, on this terrain. She watched as one of the great creatures looked up at her, then continued on to the muddy base of another mangrove near her. She could hear it begin to dig the muddy leaf litter, building its nest. The second was also moving to lay eggs nearby.
The hours had stretched on, but the crocodiles did not leave. Arahime was trembling with weariness, when the sight of motion near her made her flinch. At first she thought it was an enormous spider, crawling from the tree in the evening twilight. It was with only a little relief that she realized that it was no spider. It was instead an enormous crab, larger than one of the coconuts she’d found, venturing down the very tree she had been sheltering. Because of the presence of the reptiles, she could do nothing as it slowly crawled over her leg and settled by her foot.
The girl was exhausted, but she did not dare sleep or move all night. At dawn, the two crocodiles slid into the water to hunt. The instant they were truly gone, Arahime drew her katana and sliced the patient crab in half. She picked up the pieces and dumped each half in her bag. It kept moving slowly. Not a spider. A crab…and maybe food. She wiped her blade on haori sleeve and sheathed it. Food. That’s one good thing, at least.
She would not be able to survive another night here, where the female crocodiles had laid their eggs and would return to protect their nests. She would not survive without sleep. Arahime drank the last of the water trapped in the tree trunk and slung her bags of coconuts, palm cabbage, and crab over her shoulder. She watched the water warily, but her eyes were only for the east, along the coastline that would lead her back to Suitengu’s Torch. Even nearer was the next rise of black cliffs that might keep her out of the wet to where she could make camp and have a safer view. If I could only follow the shoreline… But nearby, all she could see was more mangroves pushing right into the water, and the cuts of channels too wide to cross, at least at their mouths.
Her only hope was to go deeper into the jungle, past the mangroves and crocodiles of the beach, and then try to make her way to that high ground she had seen from afar. I have been lucky so far. I pray my luck holds out. There is nothing else I can do. Arahime tore a tougher strip off the palm heart and chewed it as she made her way eastward and deeper into the jungle.
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Unknown Lands
Left in darkness, fighting for every breath, Arahime knew she only had limited strength left. Splashing and calling fruitlessly would only expend her strength and attract crocodiles. Panicking would solve nothing. She praised the fortunes for the time her mother had taken to teach her to swim, but the weight of her hakama bore her down now. And she had to save her swords. I may die here, but I will not lose my grandmother’s daisho to the sea. She took a deep breath, and slipped under the waves. With one hand, she pulled her blades around and clutched them tightly to her chest. With her other, she loosened her hakama and pulled them off underwater. Wrestling with the sodden fabric was difficult; she lost both geta in the process, but when her legs were free of the silk, she was able to move more freely. She kicked to force her head above the surface and sucked in another breath of air.
She felt the brush of fabric from the hakama drift by her leg as it was gently pulled downwards. She hooked it with a foot, then gasped another breath of air before she sank once more below the waters. She grabbed at the loose hakama with her free hand, and kicked again to force herself up again. The salt water stung her eyes, but she focused on her task. She slid her daisho into the leg of the hakama, then bound the hakama tightly around her chest so the swords were held tightly by the cloth and had no chance of slipping out. She rested in the waters once her swords were safe. The choppy waves continued to wash over her, but they did not grow worse and she was able to keep her head above the water now her hands and legs were free.
The darkness made direction hard to discern, but the sounds of the waves breaking against the shore seemed to be in the direction that matched what she remembered. A shaft of moonlight from a break in the heavy cloud cover gave her enough of a silhouette to confirm it. Kisada, Fortune of Persistence, help me, she prayed, though she expected little answer. Still, the tide was coming in, and it carried the Crane bushi with it. With slow, decidedly ungraceful strokes, checking often on her weapons, Arahime swam towards shore.
Arahime had reached a place far, far beyond exhaustion as she crawled up the twisted roots of one of the strange mangrove trees. Wild and dangerous animals snuffled and cried out in the darkness. But she was ashore. She would not lose the blades of Masarugi to the waves. She could die this moment, and she would have already succeeded. Clutching her daisho, curled up near the big mangrove’s trunk and cradled in its roots like a child in her mother’s arms, the young woman slept.
Sunlight, almost too bright, filtered through the mangrove leaves, finally awakening the sleeping girl. Arahime’s whole body ached with the exertions of the previous night and the hard, snaky roots of the mangrove, and she was thirsty. She forced her eyes open.
She found herself on a small, muddy patch of shoreline, where the mangrove trees pressed all the way to the water’s edge. It took a moment for her to orient, but she remembered the maps of her passing and the journey west, and was able to form a rough idea of where she was. To the north, the mysterious jungle, a vast unknown she had never thought to enter. To the south, only the gray-green sea. On the shore to the west the mangroves grew even thicker and more dense, going right out into the water. To the east, the mangroves were broken up by more patches of muddy earth, like where she currently stood. The ground looked like it was covered with snakes, and vines and lianas hung from the branches. Somewhere, even further to the east, lay the lighthouse of Suitengu’s Torch, and the edge of the kingdom of Zogeku. But that was at least six days by boat, if she remembered the sailors’ discussions correctly. She had no idea how far it was as a journey overland.
There was no sign of a kobune. If they have harmed Mushari.... She knew the threat was meaningless, but she found some comfort in the idea that the Crane would be sure to unleash the wrath of the Empire if their only ambassador and his yojimbo had come to harm. The water was still choppy with the stiff wind, but the cloud cover had lightened in the night and the sun came through in patches.
Nothing for it, then. She was aware she knew nothing about survival in this terrible and dangerous land save what the heimen divers had told her during the journey on the coast. But she was thirsty and soaked to the bone. Addressing those things would be a start.
Arahime stripped off her clothes: juban and haori and obi, laying them up over the branches of the tree to dry. She undid the bundle of her hakama and spread that out to dry also. While she, and the clothing, dried out a little, she observed her surroundings.
A trickle of fresh water seemed to be coming from the jungle, weaving its way along the muddy flat and through the mangrove trees. It looked green and brackish, but enough to rinse the salt from her skin. It didn’t take long for her cotton juban to dry. Before dressing, however, she used it to carefully clean and dry the blades of her daisho. Without oil, if she stayed near the ocean, the steel would suffer for it, but for the moment they were well enough. She tied her obi around her waist and slid her daisho into place.
Water. The turgid water running across the ground looked dangerous, but it had rained last night. Many of the trees had broken or fallen, victims, no doubt, of the recent monsoons. She found one with a small hollow space in the stump and found there some fresh water from last night’s rain. She drank deeply, scooping the water with her hands. With the sweet blessings of the water kami, she felt like, perhaps, she might survive.
Not all of the trees were mangroves. One, which looked as though it had fallen only recently, was similar to the palm trees that bore the coconuts she had tasted in Second City. She picked her way across the roots of the mangroves to reach the head. About eight good-sized green fruits were clustered in the palm branches. She would need those for food, at the very least, and her time in second city had taught her of the white liquid that lay in them. She had also eaten a dish one evening, a stir fry of vegetables that included the tender heart of the stem of the coconut palm. That could serve as food also. But how to carry it?
She glanced over at her hakama. They were not likely to do well moving through these trees. They had served as a bag, of sorts, to carry her swords. They could do so again. She drew the kozuka, the small knife that supported the tsuba of her wakizashi. My ancestors would not be ashamed of using these blades in the ways I must in service of bringing my daisho home and defending my charge, she thought, as she carefully cut the hakama legs off just above the knees. The sharp blade sliced easily through the fabric. She trimmed to a minimum the long straps that tied the hakama on, leaving her four lengths of strapping to use.
As she worked, she watched the waters, waiting to see if, possibly, the ship would return. No sail appeared. Arahime used the kozuka to pierce the bottom and top of the two pieces of cloth cut from her hakama, and then used the straps to tie them tightly shut at the bottom, and hold them open with a strap for her shoulder at the top.
She took a moment to admire her work, and then her stomach rumbled, loudly.
The hunger deflated any feeling of victory she had experienced in finishing the bags. I have the coconuts. But I will need to be sparing. Arahime sighed. There were many lean years she had experienced growing up. She rarely had been hungry herself, but there were whole years early on when the adults refused to eat with the children at the academy. At first, she thought it was their aloofness, that they were embarrassed to be seen with the children. It wasn’t until her mother, Kyoumi, finally explained that those years were times the adults were going without to make sure the children remained fed. She knew there was a time once, in the Empire, when food was not rationed, when the guards did not stand guard as fiercely upon the storehouses as on the gates. She imagined those days would come again, but she had never known them. Still, though she had gone to bed hungry before, she feared it now. Too hungry, and I will grow weak. There is not enough food here to stay. Or water. She comforted herself by drinking some of the water remaining in the tree stump, but it was disappearing fast, even on this overcast day.
Using the tip of her katana, she cut free the green coconuts and put them in her bags. Then, determined to eat, but to save the coconuts for their water, she started trimming away the younger fronds and bark to get to the palm cabbage at the heart of the stem. Once she’d cut the trunk down far enough, a slice of her katana removed it from the palm, leaving the white, pithy core. She peeled off some strands of it and chewed. They were tasteless, but they were edible. She put the rest into her bag and, finally at the end of her strength, with no ships on the horizon, she climbed back up into the upper roots of the mangrove to sleep.
It was dark but the moon was up when a low coughing sound awakened her. Arahime could hear the sound of something grunting around on the muddy strip very near her. A lance of fear pierced her, but she fought down the emotion to hold very still until the moonlight revealed what she faced. The moonlit ground below her offer no comfort, for emerging from the waves gently splashing up on the muddy stretch of ground were a pair of large crocodiles. She stayed frozen, praying they were not hunting, that they would have no reason to come after her. I might be able to take one…maybe. But the heimen said they have hides of iron. I don’t think I could take both. Not in the dark, on this terrain. She watched as one of the great creatures looked up at her, then continued on to the muddy base of another mangrove near her. She could hear it begin to dig the muddy leaf litter, building its nest. The second was also moving to lay eggs nearby.
The hours had stretched on, but the crocodiles did not leave. Arahime was trembling with weariness, when the sight of motion near her made her flinch. At first she thought it was an enormous spider, crawling from the tree in the evening twilight. It was with only a little relief that she realized that it was no spider. It was instead an enormous crab, larger than one of the coconuts she’d found, venturing down the very tree she had been sheltering. Because of the presence of the reptiles, she could do nothing as it slowly crawled over her leg and settled by her foot.
The girl was exhausted, but she did not dare sleep or move all night. At dawn, the two crocodiles slid into the water to hunt. The instant they were truly gone, Arahime drew her katana and sliced the patient crab in half. She picked up the pieces and dumped each half in her bag. It kept moving slowly. Not a spider. A crab…and maybe food. She wiped her blade on haori sleeve and sheathed it. Food. That’s one good thing, at least.
She would not be able to survive another night here, where the female crocodiles had laid their eggs and would return to protect their nests. She would not survive without sleep. Arahime drank the last of the water trapped in the tree trunk and slung her bags of coconuts, palm cabbage, and crab over her shoulder. She watched the water warily, but her eyes were only for the east, along the coastline that would lead her back to Suitengu’s Torch. Even nearer was the next rise of black cliffs that might keep her out of the wet to where she could make camp and have a safer view. If I could only follow the shoreline… But nearby, all she could see was more mangroves pushing right into the water, and the cuts of channels too wide to cross, at least at their mouths.
Her only hope was to go deeper into the jungle, past the mangroves and crocodiles of the beach, and then try to make her way to that high ground she had seen from afar. I have been lucky so far. I pray my luck holds out. There is nothing else I can do. Arahime tore a tougher strip off the palm heart and chewed it as she made her way eastward and deeper into the jungle.
