Cherry blossoms fall
When their time comes. But they are
Renewed with each spring
Anzu fussed around me anxiously.
“You must tell Brother Tengen he is working you too hard, Mi-chan. Even when he is not here, you are either practicing your kanji or exercising your leg. You have not played your biwa for a long time. It must be lonely without your touch.”
Her face was so concerned, I hid a smile at the thought that an inanimate object could feel any emotion.
“My biwa will be waiting for me when I am ready to play it. The important thing is that I learn as much as I can from Brother Tengen while he is here.”
Anzu frowned. The expression made her seem older than usual, and I wondered absently how old she actually was. She always seemed the same to me, but if she had nursed my brothers as well as me, she must be older than I thought. As old as Mother? Possibly so.
“Why? Has he said he will stop teaching you? I’m sure that’s not so.” But she didn’t sound certain, and her innocent remark forced me to face the fact that there must come a time when Tengen would no longer be here every other day. That eventually either his kannushi would decide it was time he returned to his pupils or, more likely, Father’s purse closed. And what then? Suddenly, there was a hollow place, very like prolonged and extreme hunger, in my stomach. I spoke decisively, knowing that if I hesitated Anzu would ask question after question. Questions I could not answer.
“No, not at all. Brother Tengen is determined that with his help I will be able to walk again. He will stay for as long as he is needed. But you know the saying, Anzu, that it is the high-flying dragon that repents. For myself, I think Brother Tengen is the dragon who flies too high. It is his pride that deceives him. Pride that makes him think he can help me walk. I know he’s wrong. Look at my leg. Does it seem any different to you now than it was before Brother Tengen imposed his exercises on me?”
“Yes,” she said simply. I glanced at her sharply, sure she was lying to please me. But Anzu’s face was open and honest, as always. “Before Brother Tengen began working with you, that leg was just shapeless. Now you can see that you have muscles there again. It looks stronger, and I’ve noticed you don’t lean so heavily on your crutch when you walk as you did before.”
I stared at my leg dubiously. It looked just the same to me. Unexpectedly, I was ashamed I had snapped at my loyal amah. I smiled at her and Anzu responded with a beaming smile of her own.
I was taken aback to find myself jealous of her simple happiness. Had Anzu been cursed with paralysis of the morning, I had no doubt that rather than be miserable about the legacy of a withered leg, she would rejoice in the fact that she was still alive. I wished that I could share her optimistic outlook, but I could not.
I said, “Well, in that case, I must work it even more. Pass me that old obi, Anzu.”
I took it from her and made a sling of it, which I threw over my left foot. It was made of strong silk and provided excellent support for my leg. I tugged the obi straight and began to pull the leg up and down, up and down, until it ached in protest. When I decided I could take no more, I put the obi to one side and took my foot in my hand, forcing the leg to press against my grip.
So great had been my concentration that I had not noticed that Anzu had gone. I waited, listening to make sure she was not hovering outside in case I needed her. When I was sure she was not, wondered if she was right about my leg. I ran my hands down my withered limb, laying my palm flat on my thigh. Carefully, I flexed the leg and felt it respond. Not a great deal, not what could be called true movement, but it certainly twitched.
Something, then. But nowhere near enough reward for all the effort I had put into getting such a small response. I glanced at the sun shining through the shoji. Tengen would be here soon.
I would not let him find me sitting here, apparently helpless. But first there were a number of obstacles to overcome. Getting to my feet was always the thing I hated most. I had never given it a thought before I had been inflicted with paralysis of the morning. Now, it took both a great deal of planning and even greater care with every move.
I pulled my crutch toward me and held it at an angle. Gingerly, I put one hand on the tatami, counted to three, and then forced myself upward. My upper body strength had certainly increased. I had always been quite slim, but now the muscles in my arms and across my ribs were lean and strong. I teetered for balance, pushing into my crutch, and then forced my left foot to the ground.
Anzu was right, my foot did touch the floor a little better, and my leg was perhaps just a little less bent. But the limb was still withered and twisted, an ugly thing that had no right to be attached to the rest of my whole, healthy body. I was certain that any slight improvement had nothing to do with Tengen and his absurd instructions to watch myself walking in my mind. No, the progress had come about through nothing but my own hard work and perseverance.
I swayed slightly and stretched out my arms to help my balance, wedging my crutch underneath my arm rather than leaning on it. Once I was sure I would not fall, I relaxed and put my crutch in its proper place as I hobbled across to the shoji and pulled it to one side, relishing the cool morning air. My leg was throbbing angrily, as if it was annoyed that I had worked it so hard.
I glared at it in frustration. It seemed to me that the trouble was twofold. Most obvious was the strange angle my leg stubbornly refused to move from despite Tengen’s efforts. I thought it looked exactly like an elbow when it is placed akimbo on the hip. I grunted with sour amusement at the thought. But also due to the angle of the knee and my misshapen foot, my left leg was much shorter than the right. When I walked—if the slow, dragging shuffle that was the best I could manage could be called walking—I lurched like a very fat, drunken man waddling uncertainly from the inn to his home. I made myself face the truth brutally.
Tengen’s massages and the exercises I had worked at so very hard had strengthened the muscles in my leg. But it was still not enough to allow me to walk normally. Even with my crutch to lean on, I was forced to drag the leg along the floor, hobbling like the cripple I was.
The cripple I would always be.
I shook my head angrily, trying to shake the miserable thoughts away. I reminded myself again that Tengen would arrive soon. I would not allow him to find me prey to self-pity. As always when I thought about him now, my mind slid back to the moment his fingers had brushed against my inner thigh.
I shivered. It must, surely, have been the cool breeze against my skin, not the image of Tengen’s face when he had touched me that had come to my mind unbidden and unwanted.
Abruptly, I grabbed for my crutch and jerked myself to my feet. Before I could become prey to self-doubt, I threw the crutch as far as I possibly could away from me. For a moment, I stood with my arms outstretched like a cormorant drying its wings in the sun and then took three uncertain steps at what felt like a run. It was nothing but a mockery of speed, but to me it was a triumph. I had achieved my goal. I was standing, unsupported, in the middle of the room. As there was no one to share my victory with, I glanced at my clutch smugly. Alas, even that small success was denied to me as I realized I could have spared myself much effort by simply using my crutch and then throwing it back into the corner. I hissed with annoyance at my lack of thought and then closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing.
So successful was the calming effect of the deep breaths in and out—“belly breathing,” Tengen called it—I had to grudgingly admit that the technique was helpful in calming my thoughts. It even helped me to sleep on bad nights.
Tengen’s arrival took me by surprise. If I hadn’t heard the slap of his bare feet in the corridor, he would have caught me with my eyes still closed. As it was, I had time to open my eyes and put a cheerful smile on my face as the shoji slid back.
“Mi-san.” Tengen’s tone was no more than courteous, but I thought I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes that I was standing unaided in the middle of the room when he came in. If only he knew how much effort it had cost me! “You are standing without support. You feel no need for your crutch? You walked across the room by yourself?”
“I did.” Well, I had walked three steps at least and was proud of myself. Why not admit it?
“I see.”
Just two commonplace words, but it seemed to me that they carried more meaning than two simple words should. In response, my heart slowed and I could hear its sluggish pulse beating in my ears. I counted each beat, concentrating on the slow rhythm to prevent my mouth from making a fool of me. He was silent for so long, I felt the need to speak.
I said tentatively, “Tengen? Brother Tengen?” My voice was the mewing of a distressed kitten. I cleared my throat, but before I could speak again, Tengen was talking. Quickly. Cheerfully.
“Well, it is good to see that you are so much recovered. You have worked very hard, and it is no less than you deserve.”
I felt like one of his young pupils, thrown a word of encouragement for successfully completing some small task. I shriveled inside.
“If you keep on with the exercises I have shown you, I have no doubt that your leg will get even stronger, and when that happens, your balance will improve still further.”
He paused and I almost mouthed the words I was expecting to hear him say with him. He was going to say that he could do no more for me, and that it was clear that I no longer had any need of his help.
I was, truly, a fool. I had been wrong all along. I had seen what I wanted to see. Tengen’s touch of my thigh had been no more than an accident, deeply embarrassing for any man, even more so for a monk. To make matters worse, I had behaved like a love-sick girl, running after a man who thought of me as no more than the children he taught at the monastery.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Tengen put his hands together in the prayer position. I thought the gesture was unconscious, one he often made when he was thinking deeply. I understood that he was trying to find words to gently tell me that he had done all he could for me. That today would be the last time he set foot in Father’s house. The knowledge that the blame for it was mine and mine alone was no comfort at all.
When he spoke, I was so startled by his words that my head swiveled toward his face so quickly I heard my neck creak.
“You have elder brothers, so I assume you have a dojo?”
My lips moved, but no words came from my dry throat. What did either my brothers or our dojo have to do with this? Tengen was waiting patiently, so I answered him uncertainly.
“We do. It is at the end of the garden. But what do you want a dojo for?”
“I do not want it—you do. Come, Mi-san, we will walk there. Slowly, so you do not exhaust yourself.”
I did not want to go to the dojo. For me, it was a long journey. Much further than I had attempted to walk since my illness had crippled me. I stared at him, expecting some sort of explanation. I got none. He simply stood back courteously and held his hand out in a gesture of invitation.
“You say the dojo is at the end of the garden?”
I nodded silently. Already, my withered leg was beginning to throb with pain. I concentrated on that pain, trying to use it to take my mind from my humiliation.
“Quite a long distance, then, and we have work to do when we get there. Perhaps, if you do not mind me suggesting it, it would be better for you to use your crutch to walk there? I do not want to overexert your leg.”
I hesitated, which was a mistake. Abruptly, I was weary. I had no energy to argue and accepted his offer with a shrug.
“If you think it would be best, then I will use it.”
Tengen scooped up my crutch and handed it to me courteously. Even with the aid of the heavy crutch, walking was far from easy for me. The garden was large and traversed with carefully swept gravel paths. For the able-bodied, an easy walk. For me, it took all my concentration not to slide and turn my ankle on the loose surface. I kept my head down and counted each step we took outside the house, glancing up at each tenth step. I was relieved I could concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as Tengen talked most of the way, mainly about the book of haiku we had read together.
“Your dojo is well-kept,” he said approvingly when we finally reached our goal. Tengen was assessing the circle of beaten earth as if he knew what he was talking about, and I stared at him, wondering what a monk would know about a dojo. Especially a monk who spent his time doing nothing but teaching small boys how to read and write.
He traced a pattern in the compacted sand of the dojo with his toe and spoke dreamily, without glancing at me.
“I came to the priesthood late in life.” His expression was unreadable. “When I was a young man, I took great interest in the pleasures the dojo has to offer.”
Pleasures? This was where I had dislocated my shoulder, so I associated the dojo with nothing but pain. Just as I was going to be hurt anew now. Suddenly, I was very impatient. We were here. Whatever Tengen wanted with this place, let him get on with it.
“My brothers used to use it a lot, but less so now that they are interested in the pleasures Edo has to offer. Why are we here, Brother Tengen?”
Tengen blinked. It seemed to me as if his mind was returning from a long journey. He smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes.
“Then it is a shame that your dojo should be kept in good repair for nothing. Today, and for many days to come, we will remedy that. Will you stand in front of me, Mi-san?”
“Why?” I held his gaze, wondering at the expression in his eyes.
“You told me some while ago that you never intended to marry. Do you still feel that way?”
I watched him intently, sure there was some deeper meaning behind his words.
“Yes. I also told you I did not want to marry any man prepared to take a cripple for a wife.” I spoke brutally and felt a perverse pleasure when Tengen winced. He recovered quickly.
“And that is why we are here. You are not only a woman, but a crippled woman. And by your own choice, you will have no man to take care of you.”
I kept my face stone as the hurtful words tried to batter me into tears.
“There are those who will see you as an easy target. It is my duty to ensure that they are wrong. You must be strong. Strong enough to be capable of defending yourself, Mi-san, against whatever may come to you.”
He was staring at me, holding my gaze. I kept my head high and tried to ensure that my expression was calm as I considered his words. They were so very different from anything we had spoken of before that I could not quite take in what he meant.
“And how am I supposed to achieve that?” I asked finally. “Even if I wasn’t crippled, I am small and slim. I could never be a match for a man.”
In answer, Tengen took a deliberate step away from me, and began to stretch, moving fluidly from side to side as his fingertips brushed his ankles. He said nothing but raised his eyebrows in invitation and I supposed I was to follow his actions. I held my hands out, palms up, in bewilderment. What nonsense was this?
“What are you doing? I don’t understand,” I said.
“Show me your hands, please.”
I held out my hands reluctantly, and Tengen turned them so my palms faced upward. I wanted to snatch them away from him, but he held them firmly.
“They are very small,” I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
“Indeed, they are. Small and well kept. But they are also hands that have never had any need to work, and because of that they lack strength. As do you.”
“What of it? I cannot change either the fact that I am a small woman or that I am a cripple. Why have you made me walk all this way if all you want is to tell me how useless I am?” I spoke bitterly, my anger overflowing.
“I am going to teach you how to defend yourself.”
I laughed incredulously. Tengen waited until I was silent before he went on and then spoke as if I had not interrupted him.
“I have taught you to read and write. I have taught you to make the best use of your withered leg. Now, I will teach you how to defend yourself. You are a stubborn woman, Mi. You do not like to fail. You will not fail at this final task.”
I stared at Tengen doubtfully. He seemed to assume I needed no further explanation. His complacency annoyed me until I realized he was right about one thing—I hated failure.
Already Tengen had resumed his exercises and was moving with fluid grace. I jammed my crutch beneath my arm and tried to copy his actions. I was chagrined to find that movements he made look easy were difficult for me. No matter how hard I tried, I could not reach down to my ankles with my fingers, nor could I twist as far as he did.
After a while, my withered leg began to throb with pain. I refused to give in and continued to imitate Tengen as well as I could. The morning sun was beginning to rise high when he finally paused.
“Put down your crutch.” It was less a request than an order, and immediately I became defensive.
“I need it,” I insisted. “All this twisting and stretching has tired me. If I put it down, I will not be able to move at all.”
Tengen held out his hand. After a moment, I understood he expected me to hand him my crutch. I clutched it closer to me and gasped indignantly when he stretched forward and plucked it away from me as if it was no more than a twig. He threw it over the boundary of the dojo and I missed its support at once.
I threw my arms out for balance. Too late I saw my fingers were hooked into claws, as though I was grasping at the air.
“Do not worry. You will not fall. I will not let you fall.”
He had said that to me before, and I had believed him. Now, I was less sure.
“What now?” I wavered slightly as I spoke, but finally found a careful balance.
“Watch me. Copy what I do.”
What did he think I had been trying to do all morning? I bit back the sarcastic comment and waited stoically for his instructions.
“Use your right leg to anchor yourself. Leave your left leg at whatever angle is comfortable for you.”
He began again, his movements so slow, so easy, I thought that I should be able to follow him effortlessly.
I was wrong.
Each stretch, each change of direction, led him effortlessly into the next. For me, it was almost impossible.
I was so afraid of losing my balance that I soon fell out of his rhythm. I thought that Tengen had not noticed, that he was simply carrying on, but eventually I realized that he was repeating each movement several times. After many repetitions, I fell into an almost dream-like state. My attempts fell far short of his stylized grace, but at least I was making progress and I no longer had any fear of falling. At least while Tengen was beside me.