The still sea shivers
At the touch of the full moon.
Strong tides will follow
“He drew his sword as he spoke. I thought his voice sounded casual, almost bored, as if he was so sure of himself he had no need to worry. I flamed at his attitude and then forced myself to think coolly. If I attacked in blind fury, Taiho’s confidence would undoubtedly be rewarded. I would lose and follow Cho and Doi into the next incarnation.
“I watched Taiho warily, stepping back to give my sword arm room to swing. We were in a confined space with barely room to circle. But for a big man, he was surprisingly lithe in his movements.
“‘Thinking better of fighting me already?’ Taiho sneered. ‘Probably the sensible thing to do. Why don’t you run back to Edo and play at soldiers, protecting your daimyo?’
“I realized just in time that he was provoking me deliberately, trying to force me into a rash move. I glanced from side to side, as if I was uneasy, and half-lowered my sword.
“Taiho was quick. He darted forward and if I had not been prepared for his attack, I would have been skewered on his sword. But I was no longer there. I had stepped aside and his killing blow whistled harmlessly past me.
“‘My, but you actually know how to fight!’ He sounded amused. ‘But I still think I know one or two tricks you don’t, daimyo’s man.’
“I guessed Taiho was a man who had learned to fight in the gutters of Edo. He would have no finesse, but would rely on speed and brute force. Whereas I had learned to use a sword from a master. Better still, I had fought as a mercenary and knew as many unsavory tricks as Taiho.
“I taunted him, wanting to provoke his temper. An angry man makes mistakes.
“‘If that’s what you think, stop playing and start fighting. Or are you only brave when facing helpless women and babies?’
“Taiho bared his teeth. It was like looking into the mouth of a hungry wolf crouching to spring. He thrust forward so quickly he was nearly a blur. I barely had time to step aside and catch him with a glancing blow before he turned. I heard him gasp and then saw the gash in his robe. It was too dark to tell if he was bleeding. I hoped he was.
“He turned rapidly, facing me silently. We dodged from side to side, and then Taiho stumbled on a bamboo scaffolding pole that he had not seen. He was inviting me to take advantage, so I did not. He recovered his balance so quickly, I knew it had been a feint.
“His eyes were everywhere, assessing his chances and calculating my weaknesses. I stepped back to give myself more room and held my sword in front of me, raised in the classic killing stance. Enough. I would play with Taiho no longer. This was my moment. Kill or be killed. I had no preference for either as long as the thing was ended.
“He laughed, throwing his head back, exposing his throat. I could have taken the chance and severed his head then, but I remembered my promise to Emi and waited until he was looking at me again.
“Taiho took a step toward me, his own sword held low. His eyes were fixed on my face. When he was so close I could almost touch him with the tip of my sword, his deliberate progress turned into a rush.
“He was so big, I felt the air ripple past me as if a sudden wind had sprung up. I lowered my sword abruptly and watched Taiho’s astonished face as his feet tripped on the same bamboo pole he had pretended to trip on earlier. I did not move and he impaled himself on my sword. Still, he did not give up. He wrenched himself away and stood, his sword arm at his side, looking down in disbelief at his belly.
“From somewhere, he found the strength to run at me again. I knew the blow he had taken would be fatal sooner or later. I told myself I was acting out of mercy as I raised my sword high above my head and brought it down cleanly on his neck.
“Taiho’s head rolled on the ground at my feet. It bounced once and then came to rest, his eyes wide open and staring at me.”
Tengen paused and I looked at his face. I expected to see remembered triumph, possibly even pleasure, but there was nothing but terrible regret.
“What else could you have done?” I asked. I was bewildered. How was it possible for him to feel sorrow for this thug? “He murdered your wife and son. You even kept your promise to Emi and faced him in fair fight. You did everything that was right and honorable.”
“Did I?” Tengen’s voice was bleak. “I’ve thought about that moment every day since it happened and I still don’t know. He murdered my wife, yes. But she was also his lover, and I think he really did love her. When she laughed at him so cruelly, I believe she destroyed something in him, turned him to madness. And I believed him when he said he had no intention of killing my poor son.” He raised his eyes and stared at me. “Did I really keep my promise to Emi?”
I had no idea why that should matter to him so much, but I answered quickly anyway. “Of course you did. If you hadn’t killed him, then he would have killed you.”
“I don’t believe it. Taiho was a huge, strong man. He knew how to use a sword. I thought at the time—and I still think it now—that he allowed me to kill him. It was his way of committing suicide, and he was considerate enough to allow me to take my revenge on him at the same time. I think he died happy in the knowledge that he had atoned for his evil deeds in life.”
That sounded like nonsense to me, but I did not say so. If it made Tengen happy to think it, who was I to destroy his conscience?
“That is all in the past, Tengen. No amount of wondering can change anything.” I paused, searching for the right words. “But what about the future? What are you going to do now?”
I really meant, What about us? The thought knotted my stomach and I waited painfully for Tengen to speak, wondering all the time if he understood how I felt.
“As I told you, I must seek an audience with my kannushi.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, on the verge of saying no. I was relieved I had not spoken when Tengen went on.
“I will not tell him what happened between us today. That would relieve my conscience, but it could make a lot of trouble for you. I would never want to see you hurt because of me, Mi-chan.”
He smiled at me fondly and I sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens.
“So, what will you tell him?” I asked tightly.
“I shall tell him that I have developed strong feelings for you. And because of that I can no longer go on teaching you. It is no more than the truth. Not the whole truth, but it is what matters.”
I nodded, but inside I was confused. Surely, this was exactly what I had hoped to hear. We could not continue as lovers. Eventually, somebody would notice. Ours was a close household. Father would hear of it, and then what? I shuddered to think of the consequences. Tengen was being sensible, so why did I feel let down by his response?
I asked, “And if he says, as he did with the young monk who committed suicide, that you should simply resist temptation? What then?”
“It doesn’t matter. My mind is made up. My place is no longer in the monastery. I understand now that I was only ever hiding from myself there. I have told no one but you about Cho and Doi and Taiho. Not even my kannushi. When I asked to join his monastery, he must have guessed that I’d had some sort of tragedy in my life, but he never asked me to speak of it. Now that I have finally spoken about what happened, I feel…I feel cleansed. I cannot undo what happened, nor will I ever forget it. But perhaps in time there might be a day when I do not think of it second after second. Wonder how much of it was my fault. If I could have behaved differently.”
Tengen dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders shook. He was crying, and I was shocked. I had never seen a man cry before and had no idea how to deal with it.
I took refuge in pretending I had not seen his tears and asked as calmly as I could manage, “And when you have spoken to your kannushi, what then?”
Tengen took a breath so deep I heard his lungs fill. “I shall leave the monastery at once. I will walk away and start my life again.” He raised his head and looked at me searchingly. “I will miss you so very much, Mi-chan.”
I waited for declarations of love. For him to thank me for freeing him from his past. I almost still expected him to ask me to go with him. Even though I knew I would have refused, I found myself disappointed when he did not. Wryly, I thought of one of Father’s favorite proverbs: The person who chases two hares at the same time will catch neither.
Truly, I was that person. Tengen had nothing but the robes he stood up in. I had to resist the urge to giggle as I wondered if the kannushi would take even those from him, leaving him as naked as the day he was born. Whatever happened, Tengen would be poor in a way I could not begin to comprehend. I could not see myself giving up all I had to follow Tengen in his uncertain new life. But at the same time, I couldn’t help hoping that he needed me so much that he would ask me to go with him.
I hid my confusion and said cautiously, “Thank you.” Tengen clearly expected more, so I added, “I will miss you as well.”
With the tears still shining on his cheeks, he threw back his head and laughed, the sound almost raucous on the still air.
“Dear Mi-chan, of all the many qualities I know you to possess, I think it is your honesty that I treasure above all. Tell me, if I asked you to leave your family and follow me to a bleak future, would you throw all you have away and agree?”
I could not lie. “No.”
“Then it is just as well I have no intention of asking you. I believe that you have a very great future ahead of you.” Tengen leaned toward me, suddenly serious. “Whether you decide to take a husband or not is up to you, and that in itself is unheard of for a girl such as you from a good family. If you ever do choose to marry, then your husband will be a fortunate man. Wherever I go after today, I will listen for your name. I will hear it, I’m sure, and I will always be proud that I saw you take your first steps into the future.”
He stood and offered me his hand. I suddenly felt awkward, not because I needed his help to stand, but because I had no idea how to say goodbye to a lover. In the end, I said, “Take care of yourself, Tengen. Don’t let any other woman break your heart.”
“That I will not. Two are surely enough for any one man.” He was smiling, and I couldn’t decide if he was serious.
“Thank you,” I said finally, “for all you have taught me. And for today.”
He let go of my hand and stepped away. The distance between us was suddenly as deep as the sea.
“There is one more thing. I have a very special leaving gift for you.” I gazed around bewildered as Tengen was empty-handed. “I am certain that your leg is far, far stronger than it was. Keep doing the exercises we have done together, every day, and it will get stronger still.”
Was that his idea of a gift? It was certainly not mine. “I will do that, of course. But you spoke of a gift…?”
“A very great gift. No matter how hard you exercise that leg, it will never be as straight as the other. I doubt you will ever get that foot to sit flat on the ground.” I grimaced; why tell me what I already knew? “But there is a way you can walk again. Not as well as you did before you caught paralysis of the morning, but far better than you can now. I could not tell you about it before, as my advice would have been useless until you had sufficient strength in that leg. And I don’t doubt that you would have been determined to try it at once and would have been bitterly disappointed when it did no good.”
I didn’t believe him. I was sure that he was simply trying to distract me from his leaving, and the thought made me angry and sullen at the same time.
“Well? If more exercise will not help me, what will?”
“A new shoe.”
I thought he was making fun of me. A new shoe? That was his precious leaving gift?
“And that will do what anything else cannot?” I said incredulously. “I am to buy not even a pair of shoes, but just one?”
“Yes.” He was smiling, but his expression was tender rather than amused. I put my disbelief aside unwillingly. “Just the one shoe, but not one that you can buy at any merchant. Does your father employ craftsmen for his estate?”
I thought sourly that Father had no need of a shoemaker and said so. “Of course he does, but if we need shoes, we buy them.”
“Of course, and you don’t need a shoemaker for what I have in mind. You need a skilled carpenter, a man you can put your trust in.”
It sounded nonsense to me. Certainly, Father used a carpenter, I had seen him about the estate often, but I had never spoken to the man. I supposed he must have made my original crutch for me, but Anzu had taken care of that. Then I remembered our blacksmith, a man who had always been kind to me. But what good was a blacksmith when it came to making a shoe for me rather than my pony? But I was feeling confused and stubborn at the same time, so I answered Tengen’s question literally.
“There is one craftsman that I would trust, but he is not a carpenter.”
“No matter. It would embarrass you to explain what you want to somebody you don’t know. Talk to this man you trust. Show him your foot and explain to him that you need a very special shoe made. One that fits your sole exactly and is also just high enough to ensure that your left leg is the same length as the right whenever you wear the special shoe. I have no doubt that all your father’s tradesmen know each other very well. Your blacksmith can explain to the carpenter what you need.”
My breath left my body with a gasp. So simple! And, now that Tengen had explained it, so very obvious. Why had I not thought of this myself long ago? Then I thought of Tengen saying it would have done no good until my withered leg had been made strong again and I understood how deep my despair would have been when the shoe was useless to me.
“It will make me able to walk as I used to?” I asked breathlessly.
“It will help,” Tengen corrected. “You must persist with all the exercises I have taught you. If you stop, your muscles will become weak again and your new shoe will be useless. Even wearing the shoe, your leg will drag, but it will make walking far easier for you.”
“Thank you,” I said it sincerely, but at the same time my mind was working furiously. “I will no longer need my crutch?”
Tengen waggled his hand from side to side. “I think you will always need a walking stick to give you support and help with your balance. But that is surely a great deal better than your crutch. I know how you hate it,” he added kindly.
He thought he was letting me down gently, I could see that. But for me, it was not enough. I could see that the built-up shoe would help me, but what was the point of half-measures? An idea began to unfold in my mind, and I was so deep in my thoughts that I was startled when Tengen got to his feet.
“You are leaving? Now?” I asked.
“I think it would be better if we said our farewells here, where we are alone, rather than back at the house. Of course, if you would prefer that I went back with you…?” His voice trailed off in invitation.
I had no need to consider it. If Tengen went back with me, the memories of our time together in the house would be overwhelming. It would make his final leaving very difficult for both of us.
“No,” I said. “If you must go, then let it be at this moment.”
I held my hand out so he could help me to my feet. I hoped fervently that Tengen would understand how much trust lay in the gesture.
“Goodbye, Mi-chan.” Tengen was so much taller than I was, he had to stoop to kiss me very gently on my lips. It was the briefest of pressures, but only Anzu had ever kissed me before and I found it delightful.
“Goodbye, Tengen-chan.”
Our parting was so awkward, I was relieved when he turned and walked away without another word. I waited until he had turned down a bend in the path before I stooped awkwardly and picked up my crutch. Perhaps it was the certain knowledge that I would not need to rely on it for much longer, but I found I didn’t hate it at all.
I walked carefully. Our house was a long way away, and if I fell, I had nobody to help me. At once, I missed Tengen and the confidence I always felt when he was at my side. I would miss him. And having newly discovered the joys of love, I would regret almost as much his touch, the feel of him against my flesh. Even the recollection of it made my skin prickle and my belly churn.
Enough! Tengen was gone. He would not return to my life. Once shattered, the mirror can no longer reflect. There was no point in wishing and wondering.
Instead, I forced my thoughts toward my wonderful new shoe. The blacksmith would know the carpenter. I imagined they would work together often, perhaps to make a new saddle or a piece of furniture. I would explain to the blacksmith what I needed, and he would instruct the carpenter. Tengen had been quite right, I had no apprehension about discussing my peculiar needs with the blacksmith, a man I had known for many years, but the idea of talking to a stranger about my deformity filled me with horror.
In spite of Tengen’s warning, I could not accept that I would still need a walking stick. It would be far better than the crutch, but it would still be obvious to the world that I was a cripple.
Curiously, the image of a saddle would not leave my mind. I could see it clearly, the glowing leather tacked neatly onto a wooden frame, the straps holding metal stirrups for the rider to insert their feet…there! At last, my troubled thoughts were clear. I did not need a walking stick.
I needed a stirrup. A slender, discreet stirrup made to fit the contours of my new shoe. Attached to it would be strips of fine leather, like reins, that would end in a loop just big enough to fit my small hand. The stirrup would fit beneath my shoe. The reins could be virtually hidden in my skirts. I would conceal the reins’ loop discreetly in my left hand and use it to pull on the reins to make the stirrup force my useless left foot to lift and move. With practice, I was certain I could walk in an almost natural fashion.
It would work. I would make it work.
I remembered Tengen telling me that if I could see something in my mind, then it would happen. That it could not fail to happen.
“Thank you, Tengen,” I said out loud. “Thank you for everything you have given to me.”
The dusty tracks had left clear imprints of Tengen’s feet. I walked alongside them, deliberately comparing his straight footfalls with my crooked gait. Not for long, I told myself. Soon, I would walk so well nobody would notice my deformity.
Tomorrow, I would visit my old acquaintance the blacksmith. Explain my plans to him. Surely it would not take him—and the carpenter—long to make my shoe and stirrup and reins.
It would be my birthday present to myself. For once, the thought of my birthday gave me joy.