by C. J. Anaya
“Well enough. I’m merely having trouble sleeping lately. New babies have a sleeping schedule all their own.”
I smiled as understanding hit me. “Yes, I can imagine sleep is now considered a fleeting luxury.”
We both chuckled at this and then sat in companionable silence for a few moments.
It didn’t take too long for my thoughts to travel back to the young lady I had just helped.
“I hope she will be able to continue with her pregnancy. The money I gave her should be sufficient for her needs. I wish I could have done more.”
“Hatsumi and I will look out for her. Her husband is with the rebels right now, but I know he checks in on her every now and then.”
I shook my head. “These people cannot continue like this. How many more will starve to death, and how many more soldiers will be slaughtered due to my father’s tyrannical rule?” I rested my head on the table, feeling dejected. “How do we stop this, Daiki? What is healing the veil going to accomplish if people in my kingdom are dying from things as unnecessary and preventable as starvation?”
Daiki placed a hand on my back and gave it a comforting pat. “You are needed here, Mikomi. I’ve told you as much. You could change all of this for these people, and you have access to the information the rebels need to take down your father. I have faith that between you and the rebels, we’ll see an end to this insufferable situation.”
I nodded but kept my head against the cool wood table. I didn’t want to ponder on all the things Akane and Daiki expected me to accomplish. I just wanted to close my eyes and imagine my life as someone else.
“Is there something else troubling you, Mikomi? You seem fatigued, and your ki doesn’t usually allow you to feel that for long.”
My eyebrows narrowed as I thought about Daiki’s observation. “You’re right. I’m more tired than usual, but I can’t account for it. It feels as if my ki is struggling to replace necessary nutrients within my body, but I’m not certain what I could be lacking. I haven’t changed what I consume.”
“But you have been more physically active than you’re used to. Perhaps you need to replenish your body with a heavier meal.”
“That’s true. I’m sure things will improve if I eat a little more with each meal.”
“You must keep up your strength. Who knows when you’ll need it?”
Daiki’s words felt like a warning, a dire prediction even. An awful sense of foreboding hit me. My father was due to return tomorrow, but Katsu would be gone another week at least. I felt safer with him in the palace, as I knew it would be easier for my father to summon me without worrying about Katsu’s interference. I needed to continue gathering information for the rebels, but I dreaded what I had to go through to get it.
It couldn’t be helped. I had to let go of my fear and trepidation where my father was concerned and focus on how advanced his plans for building a kami army were. If at all possible, I needed to heal his men without bonding his blood to them. I had no idea if it was even possible, but trying would be the only way of finding out.
I wanted to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. Little did I know, my father’s summons would come much faster than I expected.
* * *
As I stood within the emperor’s meeting room, I felt a kind of subdued anxiousness begin to build within me. There were three men this time, all of them recognizable from the memories I accessed yesterday. My father hadn’t wasted any time in arranging another meeting. I had no doubts about the source of his men’s injuries. I knew they were purposely inflicted by that man who had brought them my father’s blood. The man’s familiarity nagged at me. I knew it was important to remember, but I simply couldn’t access it due to my unusual feelings of fatigue.
My mental processes had been remarkably slow, though I had changed my diet in the hopes of correcting the problem. Last night, after returning from the village, I ate more than I was used to, and at first it seemed my efforts were working. Then I awakened this morning, feeling slightly off balance again without the energy necessary to correct the problem with my ki.
I tamped down my worry on that subject and turned my attention toward the soldiers and their superficial injuries.
“I need you to heal these men as quick as you can,” my father ordered.
He didn’t bother explaining why such silly injuries needed healing, and I didn’t expect him to. It was understood that any order he gave must be obeyed. I was greatly relieved that Katsu had not yet returned from his travels. Though it sorely tempted me to use him as a shield, I knew the information I gathered for the rebels was monumentally more important than my own fear of my father and his men.
The three soldiers were also commanders of various sections of my father’s militia. All men of higher classes, all from wealthy families. I stepped over to the one nearest me, an older man, perhaps in his late fifties, and reached for his oily head. Connecting with him was unpleasant. His ki was dark and slimy. Mentally, my entire being cringed, but I pushed through my initial reaction and assessed his situation.
Just like before, minor injuries. I also noticed those foreign intelligences within his blood and wondered if I could get around them and still pull off a healing. I tried it with his ribs first, but everywhere my ki focused, the entities would bond to the blood. After healing his rib, his left wrist and a bruise upon his kidney, I had inadvertently managed to bond all of the foreign matter to his blood. It was almost impossible not to.
I felt frustrated but tried not to dwell on my failure, taking the opportunity to scan his memories for something useful. I didn’t find anything within the last several months that might be helpful. I disconnected and approached the next man, just as old and just as oily. His ki wasn’t any better, either.
The same frustrating process ensued with my trying to heal his injuries without bonding his blood to anything foreign and failing miserably. Scanning his memories produced nothing, and I moved on.
This next one was young. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, astonishing to have flown up the ranks in my father’s army at such a young age. He looked upon me with some fascination, and I could read his emotions like an open book. He was clearly excited for this process to take place, and I knew why. Becoming a full kami was nothing to sneeze at. A life of immortality was a gift that few men would be willing to turn down given the opportunity. I worried what these men must have bargained in return.
My father wasn’t one to grant favors, and the honor of becoming a full kami, no matter the method, was something no mortal had ever received. I wondered exactly how much blood and how many bondings would need to take place before their bodies were perfected. Once? Twice? I shuddered to think I would be continually called upon to help build an army of formidable immortals for my father. He alone was formidable enough.
I placed my hands on the young man’s temples and closed my eyes. His ki was young and vibrant, but tainted. He had committed many despicable acts while climbing the ranks of my father’s army. It explained much and fueled my desire to stop these bondings as best I could. Immortality in the hands of these monsters would no doubt lead to an eventual hell on earth that no human would ever wish to suffer through.
His shoulder was badly dislocated, which was easily remedied without my powers. I lifted my hands from his temple briefly and wrenched his shoulder back into place, smiling internally when I heard a loud pop and a stifled groan from my patient.
I would no doubt get an earful from the emperor with that stunt, but it prevented me from having to use my ki and inadvertently bonding the entities within his blood stream. I pondered over what to do about the broken ankle and decided to skip it for a minute and briefly skimmed through his memories, most of which were unpleasant. I hoped to never find myself alone with this young man.
As I reached the end of his memories, I picked up some information that so badly startled me that I nearly broke off my connection and went running out of the room, intent on finding Ak
ane. They had discovered the rebels’ main base of operation within an area of the woods that most never ventured into due to how dangerous the deeper parts of the forest were. Perhaps that was why the rebels chose it in the first place.
My father had finally uncovered the camp he’d been looking for.
I was going to have to warn Akane about this impending invasion of their camp as soon as circumstances allowed. First, I would need to fix this awful man’s ankle without bonding my father’s blood to his. I connected to his ki, deciding that the best way to get around the bonding was to simply break my connection with him the moment I gave his ki instructions.
I would have to be quick about it, but it could work. I inhaled deeply, preparing myself for the possibility of failure and then gave his ki the most basic instructions necessary for sealing the crack in his ankle. I mentally pulled back before his ki could communicate with me as to whether it understood or not.
Keeping my hands on his temples so as not to give anything away to my father, I tentatively reconnected, wanting to catch a quick glimpse of what had occurred, as if I were peeking through a small window into a dwelling that wasn’t my own, hoping to avoid detection. The break had healed immediately, and the foreign entities still floated around aimlessly.
They hadn’t bonded to the young man’s blood cells. I ripped my mind away the minute I knew for certain. My hands lowered to my side, and I kept my focus on the matted floor beneath me, avoiding eye contact with the soldier.
“It is finished?” my father asked. His voice rang out hollow and cold after the dead silence that accompanied my healings.
“Yes.” I waited, knowing I wasn’t allowed to rise until given permission.
“Then leave us.”
I rapidly complied, rising from my knees in one smooth motion, backing toward the door in a low bow and then turning and fairly running through it. I scurried toward my rooms with Yao and Chan shadowing closely behind me. I recognized that running through the halls and corridors of the palace with my guards in tow would look odd to any servants in the vicinity, but my worry overruled my reason.
Akane, Musubi, and all of the rebels were in danger. The attack on their main camp was scheduled for tonight.
* * *
I left my guards with strict instructions to guard my door and let no one in or out for the rest of the day. With my father’s meeting concluded and Katsu not due back for a few more days, I felt there was little chance of anyone summoning me or demanding proof that I was indeed within the confines of my own rooms.
It was a necessary risk at this point. If for some reason I was discovered missing, I would take my punishment upon my return. I couldn’t allow Akane and her men left unaware of the emperor’s discovery.
Lives would be lost if I failed.
I slipped out of my window, grateful for the direction it faced and the lack of soldiers within the area. Sneaking out of the window in broad daylight was in no way ideal, but desperate times called for measures unthinkable, and climbing out of my window at this time of day was most definitely that.
Once I alighted on the grassy ground, I waited for any signs or sounds of patrols around the area, but after a few moments of silence I was able to skirt my way around the back toward the gardens. The opening to the forest and then subsequent road ahead resided toward the back of the garden.
The door was never guarded because no one knew about it except me. It was something I had crafted on my own for a truly grave emergency, and today was the first time I felt that such an emergency warranted its use.
Snaking my way along the hedges was easy enough. Hardly anyone ever entered these gardens unless accompanying me. I dodged behind hanging clusters of cherry blossoms and did my best to keep hidden as I finally weaved my way past the large pond, trees, abundant flowers, and statues. Once I reached the area I was looking for, I took a small pin from hair and pricked my finger, producing a few drops of blood.
I rubbed the blood along the large green leaves that covered the entire back wall. The leaves immediately responded to the energy within my blood by pulling in on themselves and separating from the rest of the wall, creating a small opening that I could squeeze through.
Kami blood was a powerful tool I used in communicating with all forms of intelligent life, including all plant life, and even though I was only half kami, my particular blood was recognized by the vegetation within this garden.
Once I passed through, I waited for the hedges and leaves to knit back together before turning my back on the palace and continuing on down the path toward the ruins. My first hope was that someone, either Akane, Musubi or possibly a member of the rebels, was stationed there—someone I might warn immediately.
It took me fifteen minutes on foot to reach the ruins, though I ran as fast as my legs would permit. Doubled over, I fought to catch my breath, all the while listening for any sound of approach from Akane or Musubi.
I breathed in deeply and searched the area, but knew it was useless. My lessons with Musubi weren’t scheduled for another two hours, and there was no reason to suspect Akane would be here this time. She didn’t always meet me before my lessons.
I stared past the ruins toward the shrine honoring the god of love and marriage, the Shinto temple rising up behind it and the forest eagerly waiting to swallow me within its depths.
There was nothing else to be done. I couldn’t wait for Musubi to join me at the ruins. I was going to have to access those memories I’d stolen and navigate my way through the forest toward the insurgents’ main base of operations.
And I was going to have to do it by myself.
The forest of Yanbaru had never before bothered me, but this particular forest was different. The forest of Mimasaka was vast in depth and width, by far the largest part of the kingdom of Kagami, and host to several woodland animals both large and small.
There had also been rumors that unnatural, magical creatures existed within these woods, creatures that didn’t take kindly to outside interference or unwanted trespassers.
The rebels had chosen wisely in their desire to remain hidden and undiscovered. Even seasoned soldiers balked at the idea of delving too far past the outer boundaries of the forest.
I didn’t fear the legends and stories, but I did fear the large animals that I knew existed within these woods. It wouldn’t do to be mistaken for unsuspecting prey. That would cut my noble escapade short. Another problem I faced had to do with the distance I needed to travel. There was simply no way of knowing if I would be able to navigate the forest with time to spare. If I had found a way to steal an imperial horse, this would have made my situation much easier, but I was going to have to travel through the forest on foot with no guarantee that the pathway before me would be clear. There was no guarantee I’d even find a path.
Squaring my shoulders, I headed toward the shrine. A flash of memory hit me, and I thought of the white cherry blossom Musubi had given me the first time I came here. Though I had avoided the area most of my life, my first memories of the shrine were some I would always treasure. I quickly made my way past the Holy Cherry Tree, and sprinted toward the temple, drawing my kimono up around my knees to avoid tripping over the hemline. I rounded the front and headed to the right, rushing into the forest before I had a chance to change my mind. The canopy of trees was like a thick blanket covering the sky, shutting out most of the light, and leaving the leafy forest bed shaded and chilled.
I kept running, determined to move as fast as possible, hoping to rely on my body’s ability to heal itself in order to replenish and rejuvenate my cramping muscles as my journey progressed. I continued to use the memories I’d obtained like an internal beacon. Whenever my direction went off the correct path, my mind would send new images to guide me back to where I needed to be.
The terrain was rocky at best and nigh impossible to cover when tree roots and foliage became the only thing covering the forest floor. It was necessary for me to slow my pace and watch my footing to avoid tripp
ing and spraining an ankle. It would have healed to be sure, but every second would make a difference between arriving at the camp in time or arriving amidst a bloody battle.
After tripping over my own clothing for the millionth time, I finally decided I’d had enough and stopped long enough to struggle out of it, throwing it to the forest floor and hurrying forward, clad in nothing but my black, form-fitting undergarments.
It was amazing the difference that made.
Within an hour of traversing the forest with only the young soldier’s memories for guidance I came upon a wide, thunderous river. I stopped short as I reached the ledge of the embankment and looked down upon the thrashing rapids twenty feet below.
I felt overwhelmed by this new development. I hadn’t realized I would be expected to cross a body of water, but the directions gave every indication that I needed to continue forward rather than skirting around to try and find a narrower place to cross.
I decided to go down river for a few yards first. I had no way of knowing if the waters would grow calmer, but I was hopeful that might be the case. Swimming across the frothy, turbulent current would have been foolish and suicidal, and I had no way of climbing down the embankment unless it eventually leveled out downstream. As I continued along the bank, I spotted what looked to be a rope bridge attached to the round base of a tree on my side of the river, which then crossed over, connecting to another tree on the other side.
Upon closer inspection, I noted the rope itself looked fairly reliable, but the wooden planks weaved into the flooring of the bridge were warped and cracked. If this was a bridge used for traveling, it had certainly seen better days. I hesitated for a moment, fearing the consequences if the wood proved to be as unreliable as it looked, but in the end I knew I had to cross. Lives depended upon my arrival, and I couldn’t remain on this side of the river, trapped by fear and uncertainty.