If you could learn to
Fly with the starlings, would you
Leave me far behind?
I had no doubt that Tengen’s intentions were good, but I could not help find the idea laughable that I would be able to defend myself against a fully grown man. I did not voice my doubts. It was a delight to be outside the house and doing something—the more so as I found the exercises challenging—and I enjoyed the clean, fresh air of the garden.
Apart from that, I felt that being outdoors was somehow less intimate than being alone in the house with Tengen close by. He was invariably polite, even kind in his own way, but distant. Savagely, I wondered why I had expected anything more. He was my teacher. Anything else had been nothing but my own imagination.
In any event, I was sure the time I spent outdoors had brightened my complexion. I simply felt better, more confident, and—yes—happier. Neither my father nor my brothers appeared to notice the difference, and as Mother never saw me, neither did she, but the ever-vigilant Anzu did. Nor was she slow to comment.
“Brother Tengen is good for you, to be sure. Your skin is glowing, and your hair shining like the sun.” She sighed theatrically. “Such a pity that a fine young man like him should be a monk. Do you think he had some tragedy in his life that drove him to take up life in a monastery? If you can call it a life,” she added darkly.
I sat silently as Anzu combed out my hair, enjoying the rhythm of each stroke. Absently, my thoughts wandered to Tengen. Just like Anzu, I had no idea how he came to be a monk. Was he happy in his calling? Did he ever long for his past life to be restored to him? I recalled his comment about enjoying the pleasures of the dojo and wondered how much he missed the physical challenges of his other life. From there, it was a very short journey to speculating if there might be other physical things that Tengen missed. Once the thought came to me, I could not shake it off.
My knowledge of what actually took place between men and women was limited to the odd comments I had heard my brothers exchange when they thought I was not listening, and of course my glimpse of my brother’s pillow book. Even then, I did not believe their boasts about their successes with high-class oiran.
I found I was blushing and deliberately pushed the memory aside. It was all nonsense. Tengen was a monk. He was surely above any physical urges.
Satisfied with her attentions, Anzu put the comb down and began to massage my scalp with her fingertips. The sensation was soothing and I fell into almost a dreamlike state, not unlike the extremely relaxed and pleasant state of mind I had begun to experience when I exercised in the dojo. I had started to look forward to that. Or at least I did, until the day Tengen attacked me.
We had finished the first round of exercises. I was standing quite comfortably, my thoughts far away and my eyes closed, as I waited for him to resume the slow actions of the activity he told me was called “qigong.”
“It originated in China many thousands of years ago,” he explained seriously. “It is not just a system of exercise, although that is important. But it clears the mind and allows the practitioner to balance himself both mentally and physically.”
Usually, Tengen was generous with his time and waited for me to signal I was ready to continue. But on that day, he did not even wait for me to open my eyes. I sensed him moving, but before I was aware of his closeness, his hands fell on my shoulders—quite lightly—and his foot hooked behind my right knee far less lightly. Less than a heartbeat later, I was lying on the floor of the dojo with the breath knocked out of me.
“What? Why did you do that?” I gasped. I was shocked and bewildered. Had it been anybody but Tengen who had laid his hands on me, I would have been terrified. As it was, I immediately assumed I had been particularly inattentive and that his patience had finally snapped. I wondered if this was the way he punished his pupils in the monastery. The thought recalled me to my surroundings. Father was paying him for my tuition. I was not one of his little orphan boys, and he had no right to treat me as if I were. I waited for him to apologize profusely for losing his temper with me.
He did not. He stepped away from me and bowed politely, his palms together in front of his chest.
“I have not hurt you, Mi-san. Your dignity may be dented a little, but I have caused you no pain. It is time you moved on, and that was your first lesson. Qigong has improved your balance and your breathing greatly, but it has also done far more than that. It has helped to heal your mental well-being. Tell me, if you had seen me moving toward you, apparently with ill-intent, how would you have responded?”
“I would have hit you with my crutch.” I was as bewildered by the question as I was by his actions, but I replied promptly. At the same time, I wondered if perhaps Tengen had gone mad. I could think of nothing else that would explain his attack on me.
“And if you did not have your crutch at your side? What then?”
I stared at Tengen in sullen anger. He knew I always had my crutch with me. Even when I was exercising, I kept it tucked beneath my arm. I was no longer as dependent on it as I had once been, but the idea of walking without it was unthinkable.
He knew that as well as I did. Was he mocking me with his question? And why, in the names of all the gods, was I still lying helpless at his feet? He had gone mad. That had to be the answer. And it was a well-known fact that madmen were stronger than their sane counterparts, and Tengen was very strong anyway.
I had to humor him; I did not want to think what he might do if I didn’t.
“If I am standing, I need my crutch,” I pointed out. “So, I will never be without it.”
“And if you cannot be without it, how would you have been able to hit me with it?” Mad or not, Tengen was sly.
“I would have found a way,” I said.
“You no longer need to depend on that crutch.” Tengen spoke so calmly it took me a moment to realize what he had said. “I know you do not believe me, but it is so. Tell me, are you still certain you will never marry?”
I was lying on the beaten earth of the dojo where he had thrown me, having a polite conversation with a monk who had suddenly taken leave of his senses. Without warning, I was taken with an urge to giggle at the absurdity of it all.
“I am literally at your feet, Brother Tengen,” I said cheerfully. “But I promise you, I will never be at any other man’s feet. I have said that I am certain I will never marry. I have not changed my mind, nor will I. Why do you ask?”
He held his hand out silently and pulled me to my feet. This time, I did not resist. My crutch lay some distance away, where it had fallen. I could not reach it, and I was not going to ask Tengen to retrieve it for me. I balanced awkwardly, my clawed foot just touching the ground, and stared at him, tense as I waited for his next manifestation of madness.
He spoke bluntly. “Your parents are no longer young. They cannot live forever.” He had said this before. It had hurt then, and it hurt now. “When that time comes, you will need to rely on your brothers, and I fear that they will not care for you as well as one might hope.”
His words hurt, but they were nothing I had not thought of myself many times. I supposed when my parents left this world, I would be allowed to live with one or the other of my brothers, and if I did not cause a fuss and was not expensive, then they would tolerate my presence. My brothers might be lazy, but they were fond of money. If my plans to become a valued member of Father’s staff came to fruition, surely they would accept me, if only as an unpaid clerk. And if I was wrong, and life as a dependent became intolerable for me, I would enter a monastery.
That thought did make me shudder. Confined within a community of women, many of whom would have entered the monastery not for religious reasons but because, like me, they had no other option. Condemned to listen to their endless trivial gossip all day, every day. Trying and failing to join one of their cliques. That would be a living death for me.
This vision of my future was so bleak I spoke harshly. “If I have no other alternative, then I will join a monastery. You did it. So can I.”
Anger blazed in Tengen’s face for a heartbeat. It was gone so quickly that I was not sure if I had imagined it or not. Still, my pulse throbbed a little quicker in my ears. I had to be careful. If he had truly run mad, even if I screamed, I would not be heard from the house, and I had seen no gardeners at work nearby.
“You are wrong,” he said sharply. “Until death claims us, there is always an alternative if one chooses to look for it. You can read and write, Mi-san. You told me yourself that you are skilled with the abacus. You spent time in your father’s place of business. You must have gained much knowledge about how such a business works. And still you believe your only future is as a dependent, despised by your brothers and bullied by their wives? Would life as a nun really suit you better?”
I wondered if he had read my mind, but I dismissed the idea as soon as it came to me. There was no need for clairvoyance. What other options were there for a woman alone? Especially for a woman who was deformed as I was.
He was staring at me intently, waiting for a reply. Since he had picked me up, he had stood a polite distance from me. I could see nothing unusual in the way he held his body, nor was there any fire of madness in his eyes. I was tired of both trying to placate him and talking of my future. I spoke angrily.
“Why did you throw me to the ground? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“I told you. The time has come for you to move on in our lessons. You have become complacent, Mi-san. That will not do. Unless you wish to have your future dictated to you, you must be prepared to think and act for yourself. You may remember that some years ago, my temple was badly damaged by a very violent typhoon. A number of monks died in the devastation, and many more were injured.”
I grunted impatiently. What had this abrupt change of subject to do with me? Tengen ignored me and carried on.
“The kannushi is a wise man. He noted the area of the temple that was least damaged and gave orders that when the temple was rebuilt, that part should contain a large room with walls and a roof of sturdy planks. In effect, a room within a room. It is the temple’s storm room, where we all can go if the elements threaten danger.
“Do you understand why I am telling you this? At the moment, you are sitting firmly in your own storm room. You feel safe. Because of that, you are becoming lazy.”
I gasped indignantly. There were many occasions when my leg did not want to exercise, yet I followed Tengen’s instructions carefully. And now he was accusing me of being lazy?
“I needed to shake you out of your complacency. Speaking to you would have done no good. I had to shock you. Listen to me, Mi-san.” His voice was suddenly urgent. “Whatever the future holds for you, it will be better for you if you can defend yourself. Even if you never need to do it, it is good that you know you can look after yourself if it becomes necessary. I intend to show you how to best any man who troubles you so that truly you need never be at a man’s feet again.”
I liked the sound of that greatly. Both my brothers still saw me as a vulnerable child. Occasionally, it amused them to snatch my crutch from me, refusing to return it until I forgot my dignity and begged them to give it back.
If they were reprimanded more severely than usual by Father, then they would invariably take their anger out on me. After a few too many cups of sake, verbal cruelty often degenerated into games of “pinch the little sister” or “tug at her hair until she has to beg to be left alone.” I could almost see the amazed disbelief in their eyes if I could give them a taste of their own medicine. Was it really possible I could throw big, well-fed men such as my brothers to the floor as easily as Tengen had thrown me? I was delighted by the idea.
“Teach me,” I said impulsively. I raised my head and met Tengen’s eyes. I expected him to be smiling at my response, but oddly, his expression seemed to hint at hidden pain.