by C. J. Anaya
“Hold perfectly still as I communicate with your spirit. May you have luck follow you, soldier.”
I felt his gratitude as I began to instruct his spirit to slow his breathing and heartbeats for one hour. I sincerely hoped it would be enough time for him to reach the grave site and then escape. My hands shook as I tried to keep my anxiety under control. I’d never before defied my father right under his nose like this. If we were caught…well, I couldn’t die, but death was preferable to the punishments I was sure my father would sentence me to.
Once I finished, I pulled my hands away from the young man’s head and opened my eyes. His body lay perfectly still. I marveled at how believable his fake death appeared. His skin had taken on a cool waxy appearance, and there was no discerning any kind of rise or fall from his chest. Anyone looking at him never would have imagined he still lived.
“Daughter,” my father yelled.
I nearly jumped at his jarring tone. I backed away from the solider with eyes to the floor and head bowed. I was so tired of behaving in such a subservient manner. For once, I wanted to look a man in the eye and not feel as if I was doing something wrong.
“It is done, then?”
I nodded my head.
“Very good. Come. I will allow you a few minutes to regain your strength, and then you must report to me everything you managed to glean from this traitorous snake.” He turned swiftly and left the room. I was once again expected to follow, and follow I did. Just like an obedient daughter would.
I didn’t have far to walk, nor did I have much time with which to recuperate, but I wasn’t as tired as I normally would have been. I was quite giddy, actually. Hopefully I had just managed to save someone’s life; a welcome change to what my gift was usually used for.
I followed my father into a dark room adjacent to the one we’d come from. It was just as lifeless and hollow as the rest of the place. In the middle was another wooden table with two rickety chairs. I perched myself precariously on one side with my father on the other. My back was stiff, my spine straight and, as always, my head and eyes were lowered.
There were several pieces of parchment paper with a writing quill sitting in the center of the table. My father could have had a number of servants scribe word for word what I dictated, but he preferred to do it himself with only the two of us in the room. It was the only occasion I was ever alone for more than a few moments with my father, and it was never pleasant.
Sometimes I would imagine our conversations differently, with him asking what my thoughts and feelings were on deep matters such as life, having a family or conversations where we talked of nothing that really mattered, but enjoyed one another’s company either way. Sometimes I wished he would ask me how I felt about his ridiculous prophecy or the idea that I was betrothed to a deity I had never before met.
It was a silly wish, I guess. Fathers didn’t do that with their daughters, even if their daughter was considered royalty and The Healer, no less. I was a commodity; a pawn just like any other female in our society. It was a nauseating realization to come to, but it hit me square in the face day after day. If I had an opportunity to change all that, at least for myself, then it was time to be brave and try. So there I sat, preparing to lie to my father, a deity, for the first time in my entire life. It was so frightening, it was almost exhilarating.
“Report,” he commanded.
“No family,” I responded swiftly. I was sure the young man did have family, but I didn’t have that information, and my father had a nasty habit of slaughtering relatives of anyone he deemed untrustworthy. “His parents died during an epidemic when he was two, and he was raised and trained in a small monastery several miles from here.”
My father scribbled away as I continued to let lie after lie roll off my tongue. At first my voice was shaky, but it grew stronger the longer I wove the young man’s false history. Strange how a small act of defiance could leave me feeling so empowered.
“Any information on their main base of operation?”
For years my father had forced me to search the minds of his victims, looking for any shred of information that might reveal the location of the rebels’ main camp. Unfortunately, most members of the rebels were led there blindfolded and departed the same way. I could never get a read on the direction they had taken.
“No. He was blindfolded,” I lied.
I hadn’t actually searched his memories, but he probably did have some knowledge considering his ranking within the rebel army. I was happy I hadn’t actually absorbed any memories. The location of the rebel base was not information I wished to have, and I certainly never wanted my father to have it.
“Anything else?”
“The samurai rebels are planning an attack against your armies in the North. The ones you recently deployed.”
“How many men?”
“I’m not sure, Father. I saw a whirlwind of faces, but no distinct thought that revealed numbers or the amount of supplies available to them.”
My father’s scribbling stopped. I stilled, wishing I had simply lied and made some kind of number up. His hand shot out much faster than I was prepared for, knocking me from my chair and leveling me to the floor. I shook my head and raised my fingers to my mouth. It had filled with a salty, coppery liquid.
He had split my lip again.
As a daughter of an immortal being I had been blessed with the ability to heal myself. My body corrected any injury almost immediately following its occurrence; a trait my father exploited. He could beat me as much as he wanted and no one would ever know because there was never any physical proof. The damage healed within minutes.
I had, of course, attempted to find support and solace in the arms of my mother. She told me it was my fault. An honorable daughter never behaved in a way that would demand physical punishment unless she had no honor at all. I found it wholly ironic that my father could beat me to the point of death with no one to answer to, but if anyone else accidentally touched me, besides my maid, they would lose their life.
My father waited for me to pull myself together and reposition myself on the chair. I’d learned long ago never to cry. It merely made the beatings worse.
“Are you sure of the information now?” I felt his glare bleeding into the top of my bowed head.
I wasn’t sure what possessed me to answer him the way I did. Maybe it was the idea that someone had just deceived him without him being the wiser or the idea that others out there were capable of defying my father to the point that it might actually be a worry or a threat to him. Maybe it was the young soldier’s courage or the confidence he and his commander had in me without having ever taken a true measure of my character or my heart. Or maybe, just maybe I had finally decided that being beaten to death was preferable to another moment spent living under the same palace roof as Emperor Fukurokuju.
I lifted my head and met his eyes for the first time without being given permission. “I cannot give you information that does not exist within the soldier’s memories, and beating me as if you were a spoiled child throwing a tantrum will do nothing to change that fact.”
His brief look of astonishment was a look I knew I would treasure for the rest of my life—however short that may be. I waited, resigned to my fate and the brutal beating that was sure to follow my outburst, but it never came. Instead, my father eyed me thoughtfully and then let out a slow, deliberate chuckle.
“All this time, I wondered if my daughter, The Healer, had any kind of backbone.” His eyes narrowed, and he considered me for a few more hair-raising seconds. “It would seem you might be worthy of your destiny after all.” He stood up quickly, and I hurried to follow, feeling a bit unsteady at his uncharacteristic reaction to my uncharacteristic outburst. “You may go, daughter. I will see you tonight at table. I expect you to do all you can to make a good impression on your betrothed. I fear Katsu is not happy to be strapped to a woman for the rest of his life, but you just might be worth all of this.”
My father�
�s praise was more nerve-wracking than his beatings. I wasn’t used to his approving gaze or the idea that I had somehow pleased him. I was angry that his praise made me want to please him more—win him over and prove to him I was a daughter worth loving. He was a monster, yet I continued to crave his love.
The idea that Katsu might hate this arrangement as much as I did was news to me. He hadn’t given me that impression in the forest. Was it possible I wasn’t the only one frustrated with the inability to choose my own fate? Was it possible I could convince him to dissolve the betrothal and give me some semblance of a normal life without repercussions from my parents?
It was too much to contemplate at the moment. I nodded to my father, bowed from the waist and backed out of the room, never turning my back on him until I was out of his presence and hurrying down the dark, cavernous hall.
There was much to accomplish before nightfall came, but first there was someone I needed to visit, an individual in my life who loved and accepted me for who I was, and not who I was destined to become.
My younger brother, Prince Saigo.
Chapter Four
My brother’s rooms were situated in the northern wing of the palace, but I knew he was most likely with his tutor this early in the morning. Prince Saigo was considered the heir to all of the wealth my father possessed and received the best education and samurai training money could buy. He would soon reach his sixteenth year, and I could not help but be proud of the strong, capable young man he had become.
Reaching his door I tapped twice. I heard him bark, “Enter,” in his best, most authoritative man-voice. I withheld an amused smile as I opened the door and entered his study room.
“Princess, to what do we owe the honor?” Kenji said, my brother’s wizened old history tutor. He had stood up and bowed respectfully.
“Please, Kenji, you know how that silly behavior irks me.”
I looked over at my brother and gave him a wink. He smiled at me and then stood and bowed from his waist as well. His clothing was less formal, with a simple brown kimono wrapping around his muscular frame. The sleeves were short and narrow, unlike the longer more cumbersome sleeves sewn on women’s robes.
“Nonsense, sister,” he joined in, “we must insist on treating you like the noble, genteel princess you are.”
I waved my hand at him dismissively, closed the door behind me and sat down at their table. “You two are impossible.”
They began to chuckle as they returned to their seats. I felt as if I could always relax when my brother and Kenji were with me, providing no one else was present. In closed quarters like these we were able to push the ridiculous rules of etiquette and formality aside while enjoying one another’s company. Titles, royalty, positions of authority…these were of little consequence when it was just the three of us.
I was feeling better already.
“I’m glad you’ve come to rescue me, dear sister. Kenji’s recitation of the history of our First Parents has been particularly torturous this morning, especially considering how nice a day it is.”
“You’re the worst pupil I’ve ever been unlucky enough to be strapped with. Your inability to focus has far surpassed that of your sister’s. It’s a wonder you two have learned anything at all.” Kenji shook his gnarled fist at Saigo.
My brother and I both laughed at his pitiful attempts to be stern or cross with us. We knew he cared for both of us very much. This playful banter was exactly the thing I’d been desperate for.
Kenji gave a tired sigh and straightened out his frail limbs beneath the table. He winced in pain, and I carefully studied him.
“You’re having joint pain again, Kenji. Why didn’t you summon me?”
He raised a pacifying hand and grunted as I stood up and crossed behind him.
“One does not simply summon The Healer to their quarters to relieve joint pain. One does not summon The Healer for anything unless they want your father to chop their head off.”
I bit my lip in anger at my father’s ridiculous edict. I wasn’t allowed to use my healing powers to help anyone truly in need. He had this silly notion that healing others’ aches and pains would lessen my ability to ascend to full immortality and become a kami when the time came. It was pure nonsense and yet another way he was able to control every aspect of my life. The hypocrite held no qualms about using my powers when it came to healing his commanders or torturing his enemies.
I placed my hands on either side of Kenji’s head and connected with his ki immediately. It was easy to do so. Kenji knew he could trust me. I felt a sharp jarring pain wash over me and pinpointed the source of it on his left side close to his hip. It appeared that he had a small crack in the hip bone close to the joint. It was small, but a crack was a crack, and it was causing him an enormous amount of pain, throwing off the balance of energy within his body, leading to an eventual infection and fever. I instructed his ki to heal the crack and correct the balance of energy flowing through his body. Once I was certain the healing would take effect, I released his head and stepped back.
“Kenji, how in the world did you manage to injure your hip like that? Did you fall down again?” I could feel frustration creep into my voice as I thought about his stubborn refusal to enlist a manservant to assist in dressing him. My father would have given him anything he asked for, considering his status as the royal historian, but Kenji was prideful and refused the help he so desperately needed.
“Of course not. I’m quite offended at your lowered opinion of my level of grace and coordination.”
Saigo snorted in a most unprincely manner. “Grace and coordination? Kenji, you’re an excellent tutor, but the gods help us all if ever you manage to get a sword in those wrinkled old hands of yours.”
“Saigo!” I said, shocked at his forthright manner.
Kenji threw his head back and laughed heartily. “You children are good for me. Never a dull moment, I must say.” He turned and took my hand in his, planting a grateful kiss on the top. “Thank you, my dear. I didn’t realize how badly I hurt until the hurt was made better. You take too many risks for an old nobody like me.”
I squeezed his hand and sat back down. “I wouldn’t have to if you would employ a little help when it comes to dressing yourself.” We both let out a dissatisfied grunt.
“Can you imagine a man at my age having someone dress me?”
“Mortifying thought.” Saigo laughed.
I threw a piece of parchment paper at my brother and leaned back in my chair.
He smiled and then studied me thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind, big sister? I’m sure your visit holds purpose.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Father has just informed me that I will be having a large dinner with Katsu tonight.”
Saigo leaned forward, alarm transforming his boyish features. “So soon? I had thought you wouldn’t be made to meet him until your eighteenth birthday.”
“Apparently, the engagement ceremony will take place tonight. Father has arranged it sooner rather than later so I might make a favorable impression upon the warrior god.”
Saigo looked puzzled. “How uncharacteristically generous of him.”
“He is hoping it will cement the warrior god’s commitment to the match. Father hinted that Katsu wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of being forced to marry.”
“He’s not happy about being forced to marry you or just being married in general?” Kenji asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Does it matter? Either way, Father seems to think he isn’t sold on this betrothal. He wishes for me to spend time with him and convince him otherwise, and to start my training as soon as possible.”
“Well, that would make more sense. Father always has his own agenda when it comes to managing yours.” Saigo gave me a sympathetic smile. “I don’t like this. I thought we would have more time to plan your escape from this hellish situation.”
I nodded. I too had hoped I would have more time to escape this prison I’d lived in for so many years. T
here was much Saigo knew about my current predicament, including my father’s abuse of my powers. He didn’t know about the abuse to my own person. I couldn’t let him know about that when there was nothing he could do to protect me from it.
“What father doesn’t realize is that I’ve already made a favorable impression on Katsu quite by accident.”
“How so?”
I then related the events of the night and early morning, starting with Hatsumi’s predicament, the woman I had healed and finishing up with Katsu’s efforts in saving me from a nekomata.
“I could tell you were in pain at table last night,” Saigo said. “I had no idea it would be Hatsumi’s time. The baby’s coming was too early.”
“True, but she carried her son longer than any others she’d conceived. We were fortunate to get this far.”
Kenji patted me on the back. “I’m proud of you, child. It’s a wonderful thing you’ve done for that family. I know how much it has meant for all of you.”
I smiled, rubbing my tired eyes. “Yes, she and her son will do well.”
“Now we have Katsu to deal with,” Saigo said, looking unhappy. “Why is Father under the impression that Katsu doesn’t want to marry you when the warrior god himself made reference to your betrothal?”
“The more alarming question to ask would center around the assassination attempt. Did you just happen to run into the nekomata on his way to the palace to kill you or had he been there already and gone searching for you once he realized you weren’t there?” Kenji asked.
“How would he have known to look for me in the forest?” I wondered.
“Nekomata have a strong sense of smell. They are perfect assassins in every sense of the word. You were fortunate to have Katsu arrive when he did. I wish you would consider taking someone like Saigo or myself when Daiki summons you to the village.”
“You know why that is impossible. You two are highly recognizable, and the fewer people who know about my late night excursions the less likely my father is to find out about them. Plus, I hardly had time last night to organize an escort. Hatsumi’s pain was too intense.”