by C. J. Anaya
“My escape plan may have hit a snag or two,” I said evenly.
“Did one of Father’s spies find something incriminating?” Saigo was instantly on his feet.
I put up a placating hand and motioned for him to sit down.
“No, nothing like that. Father had me interrogate one of his generals this morning.” I paused in my narrative when Saigo let out an unhappy grunt. He hated our father’s abuse of my power. He didn’t know the extent of it, though. I never told him what the end result of transferring a person’s memories actually produced. The world was ugly, made uglier by the existence of the emperor, and I would protect my brother from as much of the ugliness as I possibly could. “Apparently, Father believed the man to be aligned with the samurai insurgents and wanted as much intelligence on the matter as he could get.”
“You say one of his generals was called into question?” Kenji asked.
I nodded.
“That’s very strange for a man of such high rank to never be discovered a traitor until now.”
“It would seem he wanted to be discovered in order to get close to me. I think it must have been his plan all along.”
“He tried to assassinate you?” Saigo asked hoarsely.
I placed my hand on his to reassure him. “No, he wanted to pass a message along to me.” I noted the looks of confusion on my companions’ faces and decided to start from the beginning, sharing everything that had transpired, referring to the woman I had healed on the road and then delving into the risky business of defying my father and hopefully saving the soldier’s life. There was heavy silence for several seconds after my narrative. Kenji spoke first.
“I cannot believe you took such a risk with a complete stranger. What happens if he awakens before his body is disposed of?”
“I suppose we must pray the young soldier is a good actor, and it would seem he must be if he was able to work his way up to the position of general in my father’s army, all the while working for his enemies.”
“This is insane. There’s no way I’m going to stand by and allow you to keep your window unfastened so some samurai general can sneak into your quarters.” Saigo shook his head in bewilderment. “And furthermore, who ever heard of a female commander?”
“Saigo, there are female warriors in Father’s armies.”
“Yes, but those women are kami warriors.”
“Who’s to say this commander isn’t?” Kenji asked.
I felt surprised by his suggestion. “Do you really think there are kami out there fighting against my father?”
Kenji gave a furtive look around the room. I thought it was silly that he was looking for spies now, after how candid we’d been, discussing my intentions to allow a traitorous general to enter my bedroom window and my intentions to leave the palace for good.
“If there were spies in my quarters, Kenji, I'm fairly certain they would have raised an alarm and charged us with sedition by now.” Saigo quirked a mocking eyebrow at our cautious tutor.
Kenji shook his head. “You children take too many chances, and we must be vigilant always. Your father’s spies are everywhere. Now, as to the issue of whether or not there are kami willing to fight against him, there’s no question Emperor Fukurokuju is an evil deity. The only reason he’s been able to hold his power and authority over the empire this long is simply because he was the kami chosen by our First Parents to father The Healer.”
I winced.
“I’m sorry, child, I know how tiresome that title is for you. Anyway, now that your birthright is nearing its fulfillment, many people, including kami, are ready for Emperor Fukurokuju and his wife Chinatsu to step down. It’s a kami’s job to keep the world in balance by overseeing one specific task.”
“Yes, I suppose Father has been quite remiss in his duties as the god of health and longevity, what with people starving to death, suffering from incurable disease and being butchered left and right.” Saigo’s disgust mirrored my own.
“You’re quite right, young prince. The emperor has traded his priorities as a kami for greed and power. He was given the opportunity to rule with Chinatsu for The Healer’s sake, but it would seem he has lost sight of what is really at stake here, that being the healing of the veil.”
“If there really is one, and I’m not convinced there is. I honestly believe it’s just one of Father’s tricks, using me as some kind of secret weapon, some bargaining chip with the warrior god Katsu.”
“Be that as it may, I’m not sure how much longer the gods will allow your father to continue. I sometimes wonder if he will eventually share the same fate as the demon god Amatsu-Mikaboshi.”
“One can only hope,” Saigo said. “Such a happy thought, really.”
“Saigo.” I slapped his hand. “After all, he is still your father.”
“Our father,” he amended, “and what a shame it is to call such a man family.”
I agreed with him wholeheartedly of course, but I had very good reason to. My brother, on the other hand, had never received so much as a slap on the wrist from my father and could do no wrong. He was the pride and joy of the Empire, a man, after all—not a woman like me, a helpless female.
I supposed many could have looked upon our different situations and wondered how we could be so close and not resent one another. The idea would never have crossed our thoughts. I could never wish a single beating to fall upon Saigo’s fragile emotions, and I would take punishment after punishment to protect him from a similar fate.
Saigo’s dissatisfaction and hatred with the emperor stemmed from his disgust with the abuse of my power, my father’s indifferent attitude toward me and the suffering Saigo had witnessed when making his rounds in the neighboring villages. He saw the pain of our people and knew something could and should be done to prevent it, but our father remained stubbornly deaf to their cries for help.
“Back to the real issue here, I agree with Saigo. You simply cannot allow the leader of the samurai insurgents to enter your quarters without someone there to protect you in case the scenario should play out badly. What if they are merely wishing to kill you?” Kenji leveled a questioning look at me.
He always taught my brother and me to consider every possible path no matter the subject we were studying. The several different paths that could result with any reckless behavior on my part needed to be considered also.
“I’m The Healer.” I nearly choked on the title. “If they kill me, they kill their savior.”
“Maybe they think the prophecy is simply a tool being used to subject them to poverty and enslavement much like you do. It might make them feel more inclined to kill you. With The Healer out of the way, is there really any reason for Emperor Fukurokuju to be in power?”
I felt my jaw drop at this rather frank, yet accurate, assessment. If even The Healer herself didn’t believe in the prophecy, it stood to reason that others had come to the same conclusion, especially if those others had a desperate enough reason to want the emperor thrown out of power. I was no longer certain that I had made the right decision in letting that soldier go free.
“It might be worth the risk,” I argued. I was loath to give up my opportunity, slight as it might seem, to receive help from my father’s enemies. “If they don’t wish to assassinate me, then maybe they can use me to help save this empire. I may not believe in healing the veil, but I do believe in saving our people.”
Saigo nodded at me and gave me an approving smile. “I will help you then. Tonight when you leave your window unfastened, I will stay hidden within the room and protect you, just in case their intentions are not as honorable as they have stated.”
“Of course, I’ll be there too,” Kenji added. “Life has been a bit dull lately. This old mule could use a little excitement.”
I grinned at both of them and took one of their hands in each of my own. “You two mean the world to me, so no risk taking.”
“Nonsense, sister. If someone wounds me, I’ll simply beg you to heal me on the spot. I w
ould prefer that you allow any and all scars to show through, though. I have it on good authority that some ladies find the wounds of battle rather attractive on a young man.”
“You’re only sixteen, Saigo. I better not hear of any females looking at your scars,” I warned.
“You need not fear on that count, Princess.” Kenji smiled. “For I have it on good authority that a female is more attracted to a man capable of growing a full beard.”
Saigo raised a free hand to his smooth face and sighed in defeat.
My tutor and I let out happy chuckles. I supposed if I was going to face a possible assassination attempt, it was wise to do it with two of the most important people in my life.
* * *
After visiting my brother and Kenji, I returned to my rooms only to find Aiko impatiently waiting for me. Apparently, she had heard of the last minute engagement ceremony and felt it necessary to prepare me for the event a good seven hours early. In her defense, the process of dressing and styling my hair took up an insufferably long period of time, but I had hoped to cut the time short by donning one of my specially designed wigs for the occasion.
Unfortunately, Aiko was itching to get her hands on my long, black tresses. My hair fell below my waist, a status symbol of beauty and nobility for any imperial princess. I found the length terribly annoying and would have cut several inches off if my maid and my mother had allowed it.
She sat me down on a brown lacquered chair next to my bed and hauled over a large bowl filled with wax. I sighed. There would be no avoiding this unfortunate situation.
“Aiko, I would rather not wash and rewash my hair in order to free it from this terrible wax you’re planning on using.”
She stopped the hand reaching for the waxing brush, a thin wooden comb she would use to evenly pull the wax through my hair.
“This is your engagement ceremony, Princess. Your wigs will never do for such a special occasion as this.”
I stuck my tongue out at her in a very unladylike manner. “You simply wish to show off your impressive hairdressing skills.”
She gave me a wicked wink, reached for the wooden comb, dipped it in the wax and proceeded with her cruel torture.
The wax helped the hair hold its elaborate form, a necessary evil in Aiko’s eyes, but I would have rather spent my last hours of freedom jumping into the eel infested moat surrounding the palace or enduring a twelve hour lecture on the development of rice farms in the neighboring villages—anything but this nonsensical preparation for an engagement with which I never intended to follow through.
She started with the lower parts of my hair above my neck and ran wax through them, all the while humming to herself. I sighed heavily, resigned to my fate at this point. Once she sectioned and tied different parts of my hair in the design and shape she wanted, she moved on to the top part of my head around my crown and hairline.
Despite my impatience, the process was quite soothing, and I soon found my mind reviewing the last twenty-four hours. A memory of startling blue eyes, light hair, and fair skin made my own face flush as my heart rate picked up.
By the gods, it wasn’t as if he was actually present, but just the mere thought of Musubi brought heat to my cheeks. I found myself wanting to know more about the enigmatic stranger and to understand the affect he had on me. But when would I ever see him again? The thought saddened me more than I cared to admit.
My attention was brought back to the present as Aiko unintentionally jerked my hair while running more wax through a section of hair toward my crown. She then threaded my hair through a large, gold lacquered kushi, laying it to rest along the crown of my head.
The comb had been a gift from my mother on my fifteenth birthday, and it might have meant something to me if gifting it to her only daughter had actually meant something to her. It was half-moon shaped, and the handle was flat, bearing intricate mother-of-pearl detailing, inlaid in a floral pattern.
Two other smaller combs with the same detailed designs were placed along the sides of my head. Aiko took the lower layers, twisting the tied hair into an elaborate chignon and holding everything in place with gold lacquered kojai, inlaid with the same mother-of-pearl design as the combs.
The process took an agonizing four hours to perform, and by the end of it my legs and hands itched to be doing something other than wasting so much time with something as silly as my own hair.
When Aiko had finished, she handed me a hand mirror made from jade and allowed me a peek. I may have felt ridiculous, but I knew I didn’t look ridiculous. Beautiful gold ribbons, layered with mother-of-pearl designs complemented the combs and hairsticks. It was truly magnificent…and magnificently heavy.
I was then prodded, poked, and squeezed into the most stunning silk furisode. The base cover was a silky, dark blue with a white flowing pattern that adorned the long flowing sleeves, hem, and neckline. In short, I appeared to be the epitome of what every Japanese princess should look like.
Aiko continued fussing with my hair and clothing long after she had finished. “Are you not excited to dine with your betrothed, Princess?”
We hadn’t spoken much during our preparations, so I was surprised by her question.
“Of course I am, Aiko. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You simply do not behave like a young girl waiting to meet the man she will soon marry. You aren’t frightened, are you?”
I mentally berated myself for letting my calm façade slip.
“I’m not frightened in the least. What an absurd notion. I’m sure Katsu is a very fair and honorable man.”
“Yes, he will be a kind master, I am certain.” Aiko hesitated for a second and then spoke again. “However, if for some reason he is not, I hope you would come to me when your nightmares start again.” She rested her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently.
It was the kind of gentle, comforting contact I craved. I had to swallow hard several times before the lump in my throat disappeared and I was able to speak again.
“Thank you, Aiko. I’m sure it will all work out just fine.”
My maid nodded and continued the last finishing touches on my hair. Aiko did her best to take on my personal demons as if they were her own. She had no power to shield me from my parents, and it hadn’t taken long before the nightmares set in. I always had terrible dreams after any punishments I received at the hand of my father. Aiko would rock me to sleep whenever they came. In the beginning I would scream so loudly she was afraid someone might hear and my punishments would become much worse. She gave me herbs to ease the dreams and calm my nerves.
I hadn’t had a single nightmare for many months now and hoped they were gone for good.
“All right, mistress. You are ready for this evening’s feast. I will ask the gods to pour upon you many blessings this night, for your future and also for your happiness.”
“And what if my future lies somewhere else, Aiko?” I hadn’t meant to ask her that, but my mouth had been faster than my forethought as of late.
Aiko gave me a very serious look before answering. “Then I shall do everything in my power to put you on the path toward the future that is right for you.”
A small look of understanding passed between us, and I knew I could count on her for what the next few months might require.
I turned my back to the mirror and allowed Aiko to lead me out of my rooms and through the many hallways and courtyards the palace boasted. We neared the great hall where my father usually held any large gatherings. Visiting kami from my father’s militia would be present tonight to witness this most anticipated event.
I felt a very pressing need to vomit what little I held in my stomach, though that would most likely prove impossible given my attire. Kimonos, silk or otherwise, were not very forgiving when it came to freedom of movement.
We arrived at the double doors. I could hear the loud murmurings of the large group visiting amongst themselves, no doubt waiting for my grand entrance. I hoped I could pull a regal and
graceful gait off in my flimsy geta platform sandals and folds of silk.
“Ready?”
I nodded to my maid, and she motioned the guards on either side to open the giant, carved doors.
As they opened and the guard on my left announced my arrival, I heard the muffled sounds of conversation die down. Soon all became silent.
“Her Imperial Highness, Princess Mikomi, the Savior of our people, The Healer.”
I placed my hands within the opposite sleeves of my kimono, and drew them in front of me. With my head bent slightly forward and my eyes lowered, I traversed the long path to the other side of the room where my father stood.
Once I finally arrived at my destination, I bent low to the waist out of deference to the emperor and waited for his permission to rise. Instead of hearing the rough, barking command I was accustomed to, I felt a strong hand gently grasp my chin and lift me. I was soon standing in an upright position, staring into quizzical brown eyes.
I felt my breath hitch at this unexpected departure from tradition. My father was the one who gave me permission to rise, and no one was allowed to touch me. I might have sent my father a questioning glance, but the look of wonder those beautiful eyes were giving me had completely arrested my attention. Katsu drank me in just as he had this morning. I felt lightheaded at the thought that anything about me might be pleasing to him.
“Katsu, I am honored to present to you my daughter and your betrothed, The Healer, Princess Mikomi.” The room roared with a thunderous applause, but I barely noticed. I stepped back, and the hand Katsu had held under my chin dropped to his side. He looked at me with curious interest, and I realized I must have appeared to him like a scared little child. It was not behavior fitting an imperial princess. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin, meeting him eye for eye, giving him a calm, almost challenging look.
He hadn’t given me permission to do so, and at first I wondered if he would be angered by my obvious defiance and lack of respect, but he seemed to be delighted by it. He smiled approvingly and nodded at me as if I’d just pleasantly surprised him. He lifted his hand to me, beckoning me to take hold of it. I was still having a hard time coming to terms with this public, physical contact that was generally forbidden by my father, but I accepted the hand he offered and allowed him to draw me to him.