Journey Through Fire (10 page)

I
glanced around the room, looking for Hana. She was bowing her head respectfully as an older woman admired her outfit. I pushed through the crowd and grabbed Hana's arm.

“Kimi! You're hurting me!” she gasped, pulling away. I had momentarily forgotten about her burns.

Hana turned away from me, rubbing her arm. “I am sorry,” she said to the woman. “My sister is so excited to be attending the wedding.” I stared at Hana, amazed to hear her apologizing for me. The woman glanced at me.

“No need to apologize,” she said. But she was already backing away from us, looking for someone else to talk to.
Someone with a better sense of etiquette,
I thought bitterly.

I brought my face close to Hana's ear.

“Look over at the Shogun's platform,” I whispered. Hana shrugged.

“The entire room is looking at the Shogun,” she
said. “You pushed through the crowds to tell me that?”

I couldn't help the impatient tut that escaped me. “Look at the soldier guarding him,” I said. I watched Hana's face as she scrutinized the warrior. Slow seconds passed and I saw the blood gradually fade from her flushed cheeks as realization dawned. She swallowed hard.

“Is it…?” she began. Then she tore her glance away from the stage, staring at the floor. “I can hardly believe it is true,” she said. She looked up at me, her eyes searching my face for the answer.

A smile broke out over my face. “It is true,” I said. “It's Tatsuya. Hana—he's alive!”

People were pushing past us for a better position by the raised platform; it was becoming difficult to see our friend through the throng. Hana abandoned any sense of decorum. She grabbed my hand fiercely and pulled me to the edge of the room.

The crowd was thinner here and we followed the wall down toward the platform. Tatsuya was on the stage, above us, gazing out over the crowds, his face serious and his mouth set firm.

I remembered the first time we had met Tatsuya in Master Goku's school—his pleasant face and short black hair. His eyes were the same now as they had been back then—dark and unreadable. But other
things had changed. His body was bigger beneath the panels of his uniform and his stance had turned aggressive. Our friend was a soldier now—how had this happened?

Tatsuya must have sensed our gaze on him. He looked down at us and I could see him frown in confusion and then his eyes widen. The last time Tatsuya had seen us we had worn the topknots and rough garb of peasant boys; now we were adorned in the splendor of noble women. We must have looked very different, but he recognized us.

Beside me, Hana gazed up at Tatsuya, smiling widely. Her chest heaved as she struggled to contain her emotions, and I hoped that Hana would not give herself away. We could not afford for anyone to notice that we knew Tatsuya—how would we explain all of our adventures together, fighting side by side? People clearly knew that we had been ousted by our uncle—the whole province knew that—but what would they think if they knew Hana and I had been forced to disguise ourselves as boys, or that we had felt the blood of battle on our hands?

“Soldier!” the white-haired man called out. “We have need of your sword.” Tatsuya glanced around to see a woman standing beside the platform, her kimono trailing a long silken thread. She giggled behind her fan as she held out the thread. Tatsuya
marched over and unsheathed his sword, holding it up in the light of the lamps. Impressed gasps could be heard among the crowd. Then Tatsuya kneeled awkwardly in his uniform and brought the blade of his sword through the loose thread.

“Thank you,” the lady said, allowing the thread to fall into Tatsuya's open palm. He said nothing as he stood back up and sheathed his sword. A warrior brought to his knees to play dressmaker. It didn't seem right. Not for my friend. But his position would also bring him status, something he did not have before.

“We must speak to him in private,” Hana whispered to me, her breath hot on my cheek. “I can't wait!”

Behind us, the crowd fell silent and Tatsuya looked over our heads at the back of the room. I swiveled around in time to see the bride and her new husband enter the main hall. The bride ducked her head modestly and hid her face behind a large, white fan. Mother-of-pearl picked out details in the fan, shining in the lamplight. The bride's hair was hidden beneath a large headdress, and she wore a brocaded kimono that hung from her shoulders in heavy folds.

“So modest and beautiful,” Hana breathed, as we hurried back to Mother's side.

The Administrator led his new wife around the
room, greeting guests. He stood tall and I noticed the way he smiled at each person in turn, finding a few polite words for everyone. When an elderly woman was too frail to stand up from her seat, he was happy to squat and share a few moments with her.
A kind man, then,
I thought. I hoped this boded well for our cause.

“He's so handsome!” a young woman gushed from behind her fan. I bit my lip to stop the laugh that threatened to erupt. The silliness! Was this what the Shogun's court was about?

Hana nudged me, and I saw that the bride and groom were approaching us. The bride smiled at Mother and for the first time I noticed that behind the meekness, there was a light playing in this woman's eyes. She lowered her fan so that her voice could be heard by everyone.

“I have heard much of your plight,” she said. People gasped—this was the first time anyone had acknowledged out loud what had happened to my family. “And you have my every sympathy,” the bride continued. “I am glad to see you here today and I hope that some of our small happiness will lighten your own heart. You have suffered much and deserve the gods to smile on you again.” Then she bowed to Mother and to little Moriyasu.

Now it was my turn to gasp. I knew what an honor
this was—for the wife of the Administrator to bow to another woman at her own wedding reception. As the bride straightened up, I could see her watching Mother's face keenly. Mother dipped her head in acknowledgment. I could sense everyone waiting to hear what she'd say.

“The gods have already smiled on us by bringing us here to your wedding.” This was the perfect thing to say. Mother had acknowledged our heartache, without dwelling on it—and she had managed to turn the conversation into a compliment to the married couple.

Beside me, Hana smiled. “We must be certain of success now,” she whispered.

People were turning to look at us with a new light in their eyes—interest and curiosity. Before, people had whispered behind their fans; now I sensed the crowd drawing closer around us. Thanks to the Administrator's wife, we were no longer a scandal. From his place on the stage, the Shogun watched. His expression had not changed.

The Administrator helped his bride step up onto the raised platform and they kneeled down beside the Shogun. Tatsuya was still on the edge of the stage, keeping guard. Mother led us to a low table and we joined the rest of the diners as the celebratory meal began. Moriyasu's stomach grumbled
loudly and he smiled broadly.

“My belly has not discovered its manners yet,” he apologized to the other diners. People laughed indulgently and Hana and I shared a secret, delighted glance. Our brother was already charming the powerful families of Kamakura.

We settled down to the meal. Dish after dish was brought out—sliced raw tuna on a bed of seaweed, clear soup in lacquered bowls, pickled ginger, roasted gingko nuts. Pale green tea was poured into our porcelain cups and pounded rice cakes sat, waiting to be eaten. As I reached out for a bowl of steamed rice, I thought about our time hiding in the innkeeper's hut and our modest daily meals of miso soup and scraps of food. I thought about the people I had met in Daisuke's infirmary—the sick and starving. My stomach turned over and my appetite disappeared. I pushed my food away, but Mother looked up sharply and I realized that politeness obliged me to eat. I picked up my chopsticks and lifted a shred of dried cucumber to my lips, forcing myself to chew and swallow. All around me, faces shone greasily as men and women devoured the delicacies placed before them. This wedding feast was an insult to starving people all over the estates.

As the meal drew to a close, a message was sent from the bride, asking Hana to recite a poem.
Another honor! But the two of us had spent so many days away from any type of noble life—would she be able to remember the poems we had recited as children?

Hana cleared her throat and she began. A hush fell over the room as her delicate voice rang off the walls and filled the air. The poem she recited was one I knew well. It was written in our grandmother's diary, and Hana and I had learned it by heart long ago. It was a poem about two lovers, the man promising he would return as the plum tree blossomed:

       
Wait on, never forsake your hope,

       
For when the azalea is in flower

       
Even the unpromised, the unexpected, will come to you.

As the poem came to an end, Hana gazed across the room toward the raised platform. The crowds must have thought Hana was looking over at the Administrator and his bride. I knew better; her glance was for Tatsuya.

Through the window behind Hana, I could see an azalea in the courtyard dip and bow in the cool breeze, its petals falling gently to the ground. As Hana took her seat, my eyes brimmed with tears. I gazed over at our friend on the other side of the
room. The unexpected had indeed arrived. Tatsuya was still alive and he was here—in this very room.

I turned to see Moriyasu laughing and joking as he taught another boy the rules of Go. Mother conversed quietly with a woman sitting next to her, while Hana happily recited more poems for the people sitting around her. My family was in their element, charming our new acquaintances.

Beneath the table, my fingers twisted in my lap.
I can't do this,
I thought. I did not possess the easy charm of my sister and brother, nor the expert confidence of my mother. I had spent too many days living in woods and being hunted. How could I pretend to be carefree now? And at the back of my mind was always the one thought—
Uncle
. What was he doing now? As we sat here, how many were suffering on his orders?

A woman came to sit beside me. Her back was bowed and her face was pinched, as though she had spent a lifetime grimacing at unpleasant thoughts. She leaned across the table toward my mother and interrupted her conversation.

“By whose invitation are you here?” she asked sharply. Mother glanced up, shocked. Then she managed to compose herself and allowed her expression to soften.

“By invitation from the Administrator,” she said. “Yourself?”

The woman cleared her throat. “The same,” she said, looking away. Then she darted a second accusatory glance at Mother. “And your rooms—are they sufficient for a short stay? Have they given you bedrolls?” Mother's face creased in a frown, and I could tell she wondered the same thing I did: Why was this woman throwing such direct questions at her?

“Our beds are most adequate,” Mother said, “and we have an open invitation to stay. Our rooms are beautiful and we are extremely honored.” The woman folded her arms beneath her bust and shrugged.

“Your husband died attacking his brother, did he not? Should a widow be out traveling alone to get here? Perhaps it would have been better for you to miss the wedding reception.”

My mother's face flushed red and I found myself turning to the woman. Hana shot me a warning glance but it was too late. I would not allow my mother to be insulted like this. It was time to use strong words.

“It is in our father's memory that we are here,” I said, trying to control the tremble in my voice. “He was an honorable man who attacked no one, much less his own brother. Shame on you for spreading lies.”

The woman struggled to her feet and I held out no hand to help her. “I can't help what people say,” she mumbled. Then she walked toward the doors of the
hall, leaving the party. She had shamed herself and she knew it.

I watched her leave through narrowed eyes, and then turned back to Mother. “So much for the politeness of privilege,” I said. I stood up from the tatami mat. The Shogun had already left the room and it was in order for others to retire now if they chose to. I was breaking no rules of conduct.

“Where are you going, Kimi?” Mother asked. Her voice was strained and I could see that the efforts of the afternoon had taken their toll on her. But I had to get out—I had to get away from here.

“I need some fresh air,” I said. “I feel faint.”

The woman sitting beside Mother turned at these words. “A stroll outside will make you feel better,” she said.

I thanked her and turned toward the doors of the hall.

“Wait, Kimi. I'll come with you and make sure you're all right,” Hana said, scrambling to her feet.

“Such a kind girl. And so beautiful,” I heard the woman murmur to our mother.

Hana and I walked out of the hall and once we were on the walkway, Hana whispered, “We can go in search of Tatsuya now.” Our friend had left with the Shogun and could be anywhere in the compound.

Two guards marched past us and Hana and I exchanged a glance.

“They could lead us to the soldiers' quarters,” I said. “Tatsuya might be there.”

Hana squeezed my arm. “Then, let's follow!”

Now that I was out of the main hall, I could feel my spirits returning. We turned and followed the guards, padding softly.

The two men marched down the walkway and turned sharply at the corner. We waited for a moment and then chased after them. Walkways led off the galleried rooms and we found ourselves being led farther and farther away from the main hall and into the darker rooms occupied by servants and soldiers. We were far away from our quarters, but our time at Master Goku's had made us familiar with kitchens and servants' rooms.