by C. J. Anaya
“Well, maybe there are kami out there more concerned with others than their own immortality.”
“You don’t understand, Mikomi. It isn’t that kami are unfeeling and don’t want to care for the pains and illnesses of others. It isn’t their calling. They only have enough healing power to keep themselves immortal. Healing a life-threatening injury could hold serious consequences for themselves and their real calling in life. They keep the Universe balanced and risk that balance when they risk themselves.”
I hadn’t known much about the cause for a kami’s immortality, but I found it very interesting that Musubi seemed to be an expert on the subject.
“I don’t understand why Akane failed to inform me about these other kami. She never keeps information from me,” he mused.
I tried not to look or feel guilty, knowing full well Akane and I were both keeping secret a very important bit of information concerning myself and my abilities.
Musubi shook his head. “I suppose I will have to consult with her later. In the meantime, there are soldiers in there who are in need of your medicinal services.” He pointed toward the opening of the tent. “I will come and collect you within an hour for another training session.”
He began to walk away, and without thinking I reached out to grasp his arm. He looked at my hand, and I retrieved it immediately. “Forgive me, I simply wanted to ask…why must we remain here when the emperor’s soldiers have already discovered this camp. Isn’t it important that we evacuate to a new location before he attacks again?”
“We wounded many of his soldiers in the surprise attack. I do not think they had any idea how many forces we had at our disposal since this is one of the smaller camps. His intelligence, though accurate in our position, must have been lacking in detail. It may have been an ambush, but we killed almost every soldier he sent. I do not think he will attempt another attack today.”
I felt saddened at the loss of so many men. Most of my father’s soldiers were most likely good men who had no choice but to fight to keep their families fed. It pained me to think so many of them had died for a cause they didn’t believe in. Musubi took his leave, and I felt colder without him. Squaring my shoulders, I entered the tent and breathed a sigh of relief. There were only a handful of men who needed my attention, and their wounds would not require quite as much energy as the last round of men had.
Before I was able to enter any further I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and turned, coming face to face with Musubi. His full lips were so close to mine. It would have taken a single step on either of our parts to join our lips together. The abruptness of our close proximity must have startled him also. Whatever he had been about to say became lost as his eyes studied my face in open wonder. He looked at my lips and then back at my eyes. I swallowed hard and fought to keep my heavy breathing in check. He reached a hand up and grabbed a strand of hair near my face that had come loose during the journey over here.
“Did you…want something?” I managed to stutter.
He blinked twice and pulled his hand away as if a viper were trying to strike him. His face drew down an impenetrable mask of indifference.
“Yes, I forgot to mention there are herbs and other medicinal supplies in the corner of the tent. You are to use them as you see fit.”
“Yes, thank you.”
He nodded, and then his look turned wicked. It was difficult for me to keep up with his different moods and emotions, especially when most of the time I didn’t have access to them.
“I quite like this new dress of yours.” He drew his mouth closer to my ear, and I took in a sharp breath. “But I still think your undergarments suit you even more.”
I placed my hands on my hips and stamped my foot in frustration.
“You have no manners, Musubi. No sense of propriety.”
Musubi gave a hearty laugh as he walked out the tent opening. I couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle after he vanished.
Though my thoughts remained on Musubi’s peculiar behavior and the way he made me feel whenever he was near, I managed to dress several superficial wounds that needed cleaning, and mended broken bones by instructing some of the men’s ki to have them completely healed by the end of the week instead of immediately. With any luck, they would all assume their injuries had not been as severe as they might have thought, either that or they would think I was the most skilled physician they had ever come in contact with, and in a way, I guess that would have been accurate.
I had to be stealthy in the way I connected to them. Cradling their head in my hands and closing my eyes would have given me away immediately. Instead, I simply touched their arm as I dressed a wound and connected to them in that way. It was a little more difficult to perform a different task while instructing their ki to heal several injured areas at the same time, but I managed it and secretly congratulated myself on my own ingenuity.
I relieved some of their pain, but since I had slowed down the healing process for many of their injuries I left some of it there so they wouldn’t make the mistake of overexerting themselves and possibly causing more damage to their bodies.
The men expressed their gratitude for the service I rendered, meeting my eyes with respect. I supposed if you were fighting alongside women in battle you tended to let go of the ridiculous notion that women weren’t worth anything other than birthing babies and looking pretty on your arm. It was refreshing to receive that kind of respect and deference instead of having them pretend I didn’t exist when standing right in front of them.
And I was happy, happier and more satisfied with my life than I had ever been before. I had saved several lives today, eased their pain and discomfort. These were the activities my gifts should be used for, and what I was meant to do with my life. I was Mikomi, not some useless princess, and I was a healer, not The Healer. For me, that distinction meant everything.
As I finished up with the very last soldier—a young man with a dislocated shoulder and broken wrist—he grabbed my hand with his good one, and held fast to it. I looked him in the eye as an equal, and he gave me a grateful smile.
“Thank you. I’m not sure what you did, but the pain is bearable now.”
“You are welcome. You will be feeling like yourself again in no time, I assure you.”
He smiled and stood, one of the few men capable of getting on his own two feet considering most of the other men had wounds and breaks in their legs. He still held my hand tightly with his own. The small look of gratitude turned to one of interest as he studied me.
“I am surprised that your husband would allow you to travel here, healing soldiers without him present.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to his comment.
“Or perhaps, you haven’t a husband but are in need of a protector?” He gave me a shy smile.
My confusion cleared as I realized the young man was interested in me on a more personal basis, hinting at a possible courtship. I might have told him I was flattered, but before I could utter a single word, I felt strong arms wrap around my waist.
“Our little healer already has a protector at her disposal, soldier,” Musubi said from behind me. He pulled me back against his chest, leaving an unspoken challenge simmering below his words.
The young man looked chagrined. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t aware that this young lady belonged to you.”
“She does.”
I held my breath at how right those words sounded when spoken from Musubi’s lips. He rested his chin upon the top of my head and tightened his arms around me. I couldn’t help but allow myself to sink into his embrace. “And now that you know who her husband is, I would appreciate it if you would let any other interested parties aware of her marital status.”
The young man nodded. “Of course.” He gave me a smile tainted with a hint of regret. “Thank you again for your help. I am glad to have met you.”
“And I, you.”
He then bowed and quickly made his way out of the tent.
Musubi turned
me around to face him the moment the young man had left. His look was stern. “You just had to be beautiful. Heaven forbid Akane find a healer suffering from warts, boils or baldness.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “You think I’m beautiful?”
Musubi looked as if he’d just been caught doing something naughty. He took a step back and surveyed the room, refusing to make eye contact with me. “You are very good at this. Quite the little healer.” Clearly, he was looking to change the subject as fast as he possibly could. “How did a woman so young become such an expert in the art of medicine, especially one as wealthy and pampered as you?”
I placed my hands on my hips, getting ready to defend myself. He leaned against one of the tent poles with his arms folded across his chest, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Tell me, Musubi, are you capable of giving a compliment without making it sound like an insult?” It amazed me how easily he undermined my usually reserved responses.
He lifted a finger and tapped his chin as if seriously pondering my question.
“No, I can’t say that I am.” The taunting grin on his face was difficult to resist.
I tried resisting it anyway. “You are one to talk, you know. I don’t think you are much older than I am. I’m willing to bet you are no older than three and twenty.”
Musubi threw back his head and let out a mirthful laugh.
“You are not much of a fighter, Mikomi, but you are highly entertaining.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye and made a great show of shaking it off his finger.
No matter what, I couldn’t seem to verbally get the best of him, and for some reason I found that delightful.
“Now that you have finished with your patients, it is time for more training. Are you certain you are not too tired from last evening’s exercises?”
I quickly walked to where he leaned against the tent pole, folding my arms across my chest.
“I am perfectly capable of handling another training session with you. You’re really not the taskmaster you seem to think you are. Are you going easy on me because I’m a woman, or are you simply too tired to make any real effort to teach me?”
I knew perfectly well that I was challenging him and would most likely be in over my head because of it, but there was something about his manner and attitude toward me that made me want to prove to him I was much more than what his preconceived notions had painted me to be. I wanted to exceed his expectations. I wanted to impress him, but I also wanted to please him. It was going to get me into trouble, I was sure of it.
Musubi’s smile grew wide and wicked. “If you feel I am going easy on you, I’d be only too happy to make our time together infinitely more intense.”
“Fine,” I said. I was definitely in trouble.
“Then follow me, little healer.”
From the tone of his voice, I knew I would soon be paying for my little outburst.
“This time, you are going to learn the proper way to hold a samurai sword,” he said. He walked over and held out a curved, slender, single edged blade made of wood. I sighed when I noted it was merely a practice sword. If Musubi noticed, he didn’t show any sign of it.
We had traveled several hundred yards from the encampment into a clearing of soft grass surrounded by cherry trees. The cool breeze coupled with the fresh fragrance of cherry blossoms spun a magical atmosphere of hope and possibility. I might have considered the location quite romantic if Musubi’s mask of indifference hadn’t resurfaced once again. He was all business now.
“This sword is called a katana. Notice the nakago, or hilt, is long enough for both of your hands to hold it at the same time. Your right hand will be placed above your left just under the tsuba, the hand-guard.”
He demonstrated the proper way to hold it and then handed it to me. I placed my hands in the same position. It made me feel powerful and protected, but wielding a real blade would leave death and destruction in its wake. It was a heavy responsibility to bear.
“Mikomi, if that hilt were someone’s throat, you would have strangled them to death by now. You cannot hold your sword as if you are afraid of it.”
“Sorry.” I loosened my grip and tried relaxing my stiff fingers.
“Better. Now, we must put this around your waist.” He reached into a bag on the ground and produced a belt-like sash. After considering me for a few seconds, he walked over and began undoing my kimono again. I dropped my sword and immediately stepped back, holding out a defensive hand.
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
“I cannot for the life of me understand why you don’t come to practice wearing something you can actually move in. The fabric of your sleeves is never ending, and you continually trip all over the folds of your kimono.”
“Akane didn’t give me much notice, and I was not in a position to change into different clothing when I left my place of residence.”
Musubi shook his head. “We will have to rectify that issue for you, but until then,” he closed the distance between us, “you will have to make do without it.” He pulled me to him and quickly removed my clothing, faster than my spluttering protests could form upon my lips.
Once again, my cotton body suit was exposed for all the world to see. He whipped out the sash and brought it behind me, leaning forward and slightly brushing his cheek against mine. I wasn’t sure if he had meant the light contact or not, but my face burned as he abruptly pulled back. He fastened it securely as I struggled to control my body’s response to his close proximity.
“I could have removed the clothing myself, you know.” I felt like I had to say something to fill the awkward silence.
He rested his hands at my waist, giving me another wicked grin.
“But it’s so much more fun when I do it.” He backed away and picked up the sword I had dropped. He was lucky to have moved so fast. I had come very close to giving his face a much deserved smack.
“Now, you store your katana in your obi, with the sharpened face turned up. This will facilitate a quick removal and striking motion simultaneously. It’s a useful tactic when defending yourself.”
The sword hung through the sash on my right side.
“Grasp—do not choke—the hilt with your left hand, then pull it up against your left side and straight out so the end of the sword will hit an opponent in the stomach if they were standing in front of you.”
I followed his instructions, and when he was satisfied with my positioning, he continued.
“Step back on your left as you swing your sword in an arc forward to pull it fully out of its saya, its sheath, until the pointed end comes to rest against my chest. I will stand in front of you so you can practice that motion a few times. Please, try not to kill me.”
“If only,” I muttered.
“What was that?”
I sighed heavily and practiced the movements, pulling the hilt to the left, straight out, sweeping it into a forward arc out of its saya and pointing it at Musubi’s chest. The first time I performed this task, I almost stabbed him in the stomach, to which he chuckled and muttered something about the battlefield being more hazardous to his health with my added presence. I continued to perform the motions until he felt I knew how to hold and unsheathe my katana properly.
“There are several different positions you must learn. You are going to step with your right foot forward and lift your sword backward so that the pointed end is at a forty-five degree angle. This is right foot forward, upper position.”
I lifted the pointed end of my sword straight up into the air.
“No, straight up is ninety degrees, back a little further and you will have it right.”
I adjusted and waited.
“Swing the sword down in front of you at a forty-five degree angle, and you will have right foot lower position. Then step forward with your left in the lead without moving your sword. This is left foot upper.”
Once I got the hang of it—it really wasn’t that hard—he continued speaking.
/> “Move the sword out to the side of your head, pointed about fifteen degrees off of the ninety, but not too close to your head because eventually you’ll be wearing a helmet of some kind…maybe…although, if I do my job right there will never be a need for you to defend yourself. This is called left foot lead, middle. Then move the handle of the sword to your center, square your shoulders and keep your feet in place. This is left foot forward, lower.”
“Do I really need to know the names of all these positions? If I think about the terminology, I’ll get so confused, I won’t be able to move to them.”
“Giving up already, are we?”
I threw him a frustrated glare which only amused him further.
“It’s not that difficult to remember once you get used to it, and eventually the names won’t matter as the swordplay becomes second nature to you. These different positions are like springboards for your movements. If they are precise, your movements will be also.”
I decided I’d better quit whining. I was the one who wanted to learn this, and I had challenged him not thirty minutes earlier to make the process more difficult.
“Now, start from the beginning and move through the sequence of positions slowly and fluidly. This is not a race, and I am not concerned so much with quantity as I am with quality.”
I nodded and started from the beginning, allowing my movements to flow smoothly as I hit each position and advanced to the next. Once again, I marveled at how the process soothed me. I was aware of every aspect of my body, the weight of my sword, the small breeze playing through the loosened strands of my hair and the way the wooden blade became an extension of myself. I wasn’t sure how long I continued through the positions before my movements became instinctive.
“You seem to have a good handle on this exercise, so let’s try something different. I will call out the positions, and you will move to them. I want swiftness and precision. Left foot forward, lower.”