by Sarina Dorie
Just as suddenly as the memories had come, the connection was broken.
I blinked my eyes open. I felt lightheaded and dizzy. My stomach hurt and my eyes ached. For a moment, I didn’t know who I was. I would have pitched forward onto Shiromainu if Tomomi hadn’t been there to catch me.
Shiromainu coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. He clamped a bloody hand onto my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for being as weak as he was. “Do you understand the importance of this memory?”
Colors flashed before my eyes and I had to blink them away and focus on his words.
“I—ano—well, yes, I think so.” More so than he understood. Petennouk had somehow guessed or discovered this secret. I opened my mouth to tell him, but stopped myself. I wouldn’t speak of his grandnephew and trouble his mind in his last minutes.
Tomomi kept me sitting upright. My eyes were heavy with sleep, but I willed myself to remain awake. She dabbed at the blood on Shiromainu’s face with the cloth. I wished I’d thought of that. I wasn’t being a very good wife. I had to concentrate.
“This knowledge … it must not fall into the hands of the gaijin.” His voice came out in a raspy wheeze. I leaned closer to hear him. “You know all I know, my little bride. Perhaps you can understand why I feel as I do about the off-worlders and why your father’s drastic request frightened me—but not as much as your mother’s actions. To lose our kasha kamuy is to lose everything. Yet to keep this knowledge endangers us. Do you see why this gaijin woman poses such a threat? Do you see why your brother and his loyalty to an off-worlder puts us all at risk?”
I nodded, my heart sinking. I wanted my brother to be the new leader. I wanted Faith to be safe. She wasn’t a threat to anyone, but I could see how she her presence could bring us danger. Having an off-worlder here might bring other off-worlders. If they discovered our secrets, they would want to know all the knowledge I knew. They might even be able to understand what I could not and use it against us.
“Do you know why your brother is not my first choice as leader? He is a good man. He has a good heart, but—” He coughed, or it sounded like he tried to anyway. He turned his head to the side and a mixture of blood and phlegm drained out of his mouth.
He struggled for each breath, but he was like an unarmed man in a battle with a giant chiramantep. He was losing.
“But?” I prompted. What more could there be to say after what Shiromainu had already said?
He closed his eyes. The rumble in his chest faded. The struggle of each breath ceased. He didn’t take another breath. He didn’t wake.
I felt empty inside. The moment settled dull and foggy around me, less real than the vivid memories I had experienced in memory exchange.
“Bathe him and make him presentable,” Tomomi said. She looked me up and down. “And yourself as well.” She left me.
Blood and memory moss stained my tunic. Green clumps were stuck to my hair. I moved as slowly as a tree snail. I didn’t have the energy, yet I willed myself to pick up a cloth. My body worked without thinking, like the automatons Faith spoke about.
A gong outside sounded, drawing my attention. Out the window I saw a man standing at the ancient piece of metal one passed on the way up the steps to the great hall. It was so old it was crusted with a blue-green patina and didn’t look like it could make such a resonant tone. It was one of the few pieces of metal in the village. I’d never wondered where it had come from, but now I knew. It had come from Sikanna Kamuy. Everything here, from the hot water to the designs of the palace had been her doing.
Shiromainu had shared this knowledge with me. I didn’t deserve the honor.
Warriors came to carry off Shiromainu’s body. Someone poked at me, but my mind was in such a haze I couldn’t see. A grandmother shook my arm, but I couldn’t stop staring at the place Shiromainu had been. It didn’t seem possible he could be there one moment and gone the next.
“Sumiko-sama, you must go to the onsen and change your clothes,” a creaky, old voice said.
I had no memory of walking to the onsen, but I know I did because I found myself in the bathhouse. Idly, I wondered if I gave away the memory of walking there. Of course, I hadn’t. All I knew was one moment I knelt there beside the bed and the next I was surrounded by a cluster of clucking old women. I wished Chinatsu had been there to embrace me with her never-ending supply of hugs. Solemnly the women escorted me to the great hall.
I was so tired. Even my bones were weary.
The village was gathered when I entered the great hall. Shiromainu’s body was laid out and the tribe knelt in solemn silence. Men and women came up to bow and offered words of honor and respect to his unhearing ears. They then sat down and knelt to make way for others to do the same. Children cried, making unintelligible exclamations about their grandfather. Adults cried as well.
Someone pushed me forward and I realized they expected me to bow to him as well. I executed a long bow, raking my gaze over his still form one last time. I choked on a sob and swallowed it before anyone could see. I was not permitted to be a fifteen-year-old girl any longer.
Though they didn’t realize it yet, I was now Sumiko Nipa.
Tomomi stood beside me. When all were done with their farewells, she raised her hands to draw everyone’s attention. “I was with Nipa during his last moments. It was his dying wish that the elders wait six months from this day before they select a new leader. In the interim, he appointed a new leader to serve until that time.” She lifted the eboshi high for all to see.
Every eye in the room was on her. Surely they thought she meant to name herself. They would be so disappointed when they learned I was to be Shiromainu’s successor, even if only for six months.
A smile curled to Tomomi’s lips. I had the sense she enjoyed drawing out the suspense.
“Shiromainu Nipa wished Sumiko-sama to serve as this nipa. It is her duty to help choose the new leader.” She placed Shiromainu’s tanuki eboshi over my head.
It smelled old and musky, like my temporary husband.
A murmur ran through the crowd. Warriors in the back shook their heads. Some nudged each other with smiles on their faces like this was a jest.
What if everyone thought Shiromainu hadn’t been in his right mind? Me as Nipa? I was fifteen, they’d say. I hadn’t done anything worthy. They’d think all I’d done was share his bed.
Tomomi bowed. “Hail Sumiko Nipa.”
Hekketek, Pananpne, Chinatsu and Opere were the next to bow. Those nearest grudgingly followed suit. Soon everyone bowed low to me, even the elders. I only hoped I would be able to prove myself fit for the duty.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The clever tanuki wins her dinner.
—Tanukijin proverb
Whether it was the warmth of all the bodies crowded into an already warm room, or fatigue from days of “giving it until it hurt,” or sorrow and fear threatening to overwhelm me, I wobbled and my knees collapsed underneath me.
Tomomi was as quick as a chiramantep after scenting blood. She grabbed onto my arm to steady me and caught my eboshi as it tumbled from my head.
“This day has been hard for all of us.” Her deep voice carried across the room. I was thankful for the words as an excuse for my weakness, so I wouldn’t lose face.
I could barely stand upright as she ushered me through the wall of tapestries on the other side of the dais. It was dark with the window noren tied closed and the fire unlit in the hearth. Only when we were out of sight did she lift me into her arms as though I were a child.
“Tomomi Sensei, put me down. I’m not a baby.”
“Hush. You can give me orders after you’ve rested.” She cradled me to her chest.
I struggled to keep my eyes open. For a moment I forgot who I was and how old I was. I thought I was my younger self, carried by my mother. That familiarity gave me comfort and sank me into happy dreams.
It was only when I woke that I remembered life wasn’t so hap
py. Perhaps that’s why I slept so long. Two days, the grandmothers told me.
I soon learned the true meaning of duty. The weight of the leader’s eboshi was much like the weight of office. It was a heavy burden one could only remove when he or she wasn’t able to perform duties like in the onsen, at meal or at play. For me, though, there was no play. My only respite was when I was alone. Only then could I remove my symbol of office and grieve.
I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted Chinatsu to hug me and Opere to make me laugh with her silly bows. I wanted to play music with Pana and Hekketek, and know I had friends. But my station was above theirs now. No one could see weakness in me.
I tucked away my feelings of sorrow for my loss. I hid my unworthiness for my position and told myself I wouldn’t be weak unless I was alone. The tribe had mourned for Shiromainu for two days. I now made arrangements with the elders to send for the Chiramantepjin. I longed to see Faith.
It should have only taken a day to retrieve my tribe, but the trip would be difficult for Grandmother Ami, and Faith who would have Michi. It took two days for the whole of the party to return. I greeted my brother and the remaining Chiramantepjin on the banks of the river.
I wanted to run to Faith and hug her, but I held my chin high and pretended my family were strangers to me. I greeted them with formality and without emotion. Faith ran forward, her arms outstretched, but Taishi grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back.
He tried to keep his voice low, but I still heard, as did everyone else. “Don’t embarrass her. She is nipa.”
I was relieved he’d stopped her. And honored that she loved me so much she would run to me without shame and risked embarrassing herself with her sentimentality.
The Tanukijin who had assembled on the banks stared at Faith’s unusual appearance. I introduced my brother to the elders. I was thankful for Tomomi, always at my side, whispering the next step of the formalities expected of me.
“I invite you to live in my tribe as Tanukijin for six months,” I said to Taishi. “In that time, my people will come to know your character. The elders will consider whether you are worthy to serve as future nipa, or they may select another for the position.”
I didn’t add what would happen if he didn’t become nipa. I glanced at Faith. She smiled. Tears swelled in her eyes. She wore her pride for me on her face. Her exuberance made up for my brother’s formality and lack of expression.
My brother stepped closer and bowed low. “You honor me.”
I held onto Shiromainu’s eboshi as I bowed, trying to keep it on my head. I thought Taishi would laugh, but his face remained serious. Instead, he removed his blue eboshi and bowed. I was bursting to ask after Faith and Michi, but he spoke first.
“My new nipa, I am pleased to serve you.” He said it loudly for all of the elders to hear.
This was my older brother, not a subordinate. I expected him to tease me or make a face like he would have when we’d been young, but he didn’t.
He leaned in closer, his words only meant for me. “You have done well for yourself, little sister.” No one heard the informality of the endearment. He smiled, and for once I thought I had pleased him.
He joined me with the elders in the council chamber afterward. The grandmothers offered him tea and wheedled information out of him about his role as leader of the Chiramantepjin. He knelt and calmly accepted the questioning along with the tea. His entire demeanor spoke of dependability and authority, even when he disagreed with his elders, whereas I trembled inside to have to speak up and contradict grandmothers and grandfathers. Taishi always knew just what to say and how to say it.
He teased one of the grandmothers about her good looks and made the elders chuckle. He was very good at doing that. I laughed too and had to adjust my eboshi to keep it from falling off. I felt more comfortable with my brother near.
“Might I bring up the matter of Nipa’s eboshi?” he asked
. It took me a moment before I understood he meant me. I still couldn’t think of myself as a nipa yet.
“Is there a woman in the Tanukijin tribe worthy enough for the honor of sewing a better fitting eboshi for the new nipa? One that is more appropriate in size and weight?”
“Didn’t I say she needed a new one? I should be the one to sew it,” Grandmother Annosuke said.
“You’re as blind as a tree snail. I will do it,” Grandmother Monashir said.
“You both insisted she could make do with the one she had,” said another old woman. “Neither of you is worthy to do this task.”
The grandmothers argued amongst themselves over who would have the honor to make this new eboshi. Taishi smiled and winked at me. How was it he had been born with so much charisma and cunning and there had been none left over for me?
Within another day I had a new eboshi. My brother grinned when I tried it on and he nodded with approval. The burden of office didn’t feel as oppressive with a lighter hat, but it was still there, a constant reminder to do my best. Nothing felt quite as bad with my family nearby.
Taishi shared a room with Faith and Michi, even though he had never slept near them in the cave or any of the camps we had made. I would have slept in the same chamber with them, but I knew I couldn’t. Not while I was nipa. It would be seen as a weakness to need my brother’s family and their company in the way a child would. I had to be strong.
Still, weak thoughts invaded my head. I imagined Faith and Taishi sharing the same bed and it brought jealousy to my heart. Such fantasies were unfounded, as Faith would never have shared the bed of her sister’s husband. I didn’t know why my mind imagined it since neither desired one another. Perhaps it was because I was excluded from sleeping there because of my newfound rank. I would gladly have given up my duty in exchange for the comfort of Faith’s embrace.
I made brief visits to Faith and Michi when my time permitted, and they came to me in my chamber, but Faith didn’t venture out if she could help it. She took meals alone and bathed in the evening after dark. She was a recluse. She separated herself from others and lived up to being an outsider.
My brother was too busy with duties of his own to see to Faith. He went out with the warriors and hunted or did guard duty, assisted Tomomi Sensei with teaching defense, and helped grandmothers prepare meals. When someone was sick, he took that person’s chores. He volunteered for the most disgusting jobs, like latrine cleaning and scrubbing the laundry room basins. He gave himself triple duties. It reminded of the time I had been punished for shirking my duties and he’d given me extra work. Only, Taishi wasn’t being punished—unless one considered being Chiramantepjin a punishment. He volunteered to do these chores willingly, and as he did so, he spoke to the people he shared duties with, and they got to know him.
Taishi had no time for a geari wife. He had no time to make sure people got to know Faith when he was too busy getting to know everyone.
One sunny afternoon during one of Taishi’s brief respites from duties, he bade me walk with him along the riverbank. Our feet crunched through crusts of ice and into slushy snow. Children practiced stick fighting in the distance.
He said, “If you wish people not to see Faith-chan as a threat, you must entice her out of the room, ne?”
He was right. This really was the only way, if people were to see her as a friend rather than as a foe. But that was his job. He should have been doing that instead of staying up late telling stories with men. The clatter of stick fighting echoed in the air. It was loud enough and all were far enough away I didn’t have to disguise the familial insolence in my tone.
“Why must I do this? You are her husband. I order you to make her leave her room and act as a Tanukijin.”
He grimaced. “You order me? As my nipa?”
I lifted my chin, feeling quite pleased with myself. “Yes. I order you. She is your geari wife. It is your duty to help her become accepted into your new tribe.”
“Faith-chan has always been inclined to listen
to you more than me because she is closer to you.” He shrugged. “I suppose if I am to convince her, I will have to grow close to her. Perhaps if I become her new best friend, she will listen to me as she does to you. I have an idea… .” Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “I will tell her I have waited long enough for her to acclimate to being a geari wife, and it is time for her to perform wifely duties and become my real wife. I will capture her heart, as well as her body, and she will be more likely to do my bidding. What do you think of this?”
My spine went rigid. It felt as though barbed leaves tore at my insides. He wouldn’t dare do such a thing!
I recollected all the times he said he still loved Felicity and wouldn’t ever marry again. He had talked about the day she would return and they would be reunited, blah, blah and more blah. I hadn’t lived with Taishi these last seven years not to see through his ploys. He was bluffing.
Even so, the idea of him wanting Faith and stealing her away from me sent a spike of jealousy through me. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. In the last seven years he had come to know my weaknesses as well.
I did my best to keep my tone neutral. “Never mind. It was a silly idea to ask you to convince her. She would only grow cross with you if you tried such a thing. You know how she is about her gaijin sensibilities and how silly she can be about matters under the covers.” I kicked at a pebble along the mud of the bank. It didn’t roll far.
He stroked his chin. “Felicity-san wasn’t like that. I think I could seduce Faith-chan into giving up some of these ideals. Her main argument is that she isn’t married, and she won’t have a man until she is. I will simply make our union official for her. No?”
A flush of anger crept up my neck. He was goading me. I wouldn’t let him see how he got to me.
I bowed. “Sumimasen. So sorry, brother, it’s bad enough you have a gaijin for a geari wife, but imagine what people will say if she becomes your formal wife. If you are to become the new leader in six months, it would be better to establish your rank first before taking Faith-chan as a wife, ne? Such a rash decision may jeopardize your chance at leadership.”