by C. J. Anaya
All three. It was the only logical conclusion to come to. As if logic and love could ever find a place to harmoniously join together. My focus jumped to Musubi as he began our next session as if nothing of importance had been discussed between us. I truly hated that he was capable of such emotional compartmentalization.
As I followed him to a clear patch of forest where we might train without hindrance, I couldn’t help but take in the fine contours of his face softly illuminated by the moonlight. There was tension in his jaw, a sign of his residual frustration with my behavior, no doubt. He brought us to the middle of the area and turned his body to face me, in full teacher mode now.
“Now, an important aspect of self-defense is controlling your opponent’s attack by leading it.”
I puzzled this out for a moment. “Leading it? As if you were the one orchestrating the movements of the attack?”
Musubi nodded. “When I grabbed you from behind, your initial reaction was to meet my force with force of your own, not to mention the fact that you failed to sense the attack coming in the first place. Something that wouldn’t have happened if you had been centered.”
I rolled my eyes like a petulant child, though I knew he was correct. He had stressed the importance of a constant state of centralization, practicing this technique until it no longer became a conscious decision.
“If I were to push you, your instincts would demand retaliation with an equal if not higher degree of force. The instinctive tendency to act or react to an outside threat is an obstacle of the mind and consequently the body.”
“Then I am not meant to react or defend myself?”
“Not with your own force, no. You must learn to spin if you are pushed and enter if you are pulled. This type of defense is non-resistant and infinitely more controlled.” He positioned himself about a foot away, facing me. “Now, I want you to punch me in the stomach.”
“What?”
“I’m merely trying to demonstrate the principle, Mikomi. I promise, no matter how hard you try, you will be unable to make contact with my rather spectacularly muscled abdomen.”
Arrogant man!
My reluctance at the thought of hurting Musubi turned to that of indignation, and I rapidly shot my right fist out, hoping to get in one, good, solid jab just to prove him wrong.
Musubi stepped toward me at an angle with his right foot, spinning his body in a clockwise motion while using his right hand to lead my arm around, guiding me away from him.
It took me a few seconds to get my bearings and understand how I had missed hitting his abdomen when he had actually moved closer to me instead of further away.
The knowing smile on his face was enough to make me want to learn this principle of defense as fast as humanly—or rather inhumanly—possible.
“Did you make note of how I stepped into you at an angle and then used the force of your momentum to lead you in a circle without any pulling or dragging?”
“Yes.”
“Leading control,” he stated. “Now it is your turn. Imagine that I am one of the emperor’s guards, intent on capturing you. I will grab your right wrist with my right hand.”
He did so, and I concentrated on ignoring the prickles of heat from the direct contact. In a more frightening situation, I felt certain I would not be tempted to kiss my assailant.
“What is your first instinct when someone grips you like this?” he asked.
“Pull away, obviously.”
“And what did I say you must do if you are pulled?”
I thought about his previous instructions.
“Enter.”
“Correct. You will not pull away from me, but remain within my grasp while you move your body to my side and slightly ahead of me in a spinning motion. You will also extend the arm that I have grasped and use your pointed finger to draw a circular pattern in which my momentum will naturally follow according to your guidance. This will lead to imbalance in my own position, causing me to fall.”
We practiced the movements slowly at first so that I could get the footwork and motion down. He stepped back for a beat and nodded his approval. Before I could revel in his non-verbal praise, his hand shot forward, grabbing my wrist. The practiced movements kicked in and I spun, leading his force until the momentum guided him around my person and down to the floor.
It happened in a matter of seconds, but Musubi was on his feet quicker than a lightning strike, throwing a jab at my abdomen. I continued to use the same principles of leading control as he launched one attack after another until we were both breathing heavily and my own weakened ki failed to quicken my reflexes. I mistakenly stepped to the front instead of angularly as he jabbed at my stomach, making contact with a nauseating thud.
The air escaped my lungs, and I fell to the floor, struggling for what seemed like hours to take in the cold night air.
Musubi knelt before me, grabbing either side of my face. He drew a finger from my clavicle, up the front of my neck to my chin, and then drew two lines on either side of my nose. I felt the breath seep into my lungs again.
He pulled me into his arms and held me as I regained control of my breathing.
“What happened? Why couldn’t I breathe?”
“You were doing so well, I failed to moderate the force of my blow to your abdomen. When you didn’t deflect, it made direct contact with your stomach and redistributed your ki, paralyzing your lungs. I merely redistributed your ki so you could breathe again.”
Redistributed my ki? How did he possess the knowledge to accomplish something like that? Most humans were incapable of sensing their own ki let alone another’s.
“Well, that was exciting.” My voice shook as I let out a tired laugh.
Musubi’s hold tightened around me. “I am sorry I hurt you. You learn these techniques so quickly, I sometimes forget that you’re only human, and a woman at that.” He barked out a laugh.
I smiled at the irony of the situation and burrowed my face into his shoulder, reveling in the close contact for however long he would allow it.
“You lost focus on that last one. What happened?”
I hesitated to open up to him and discuss my own personal problems. There was simply no way to burden him with my struggles without simultaneously burdening him with the truth. I decided to settle for a half truth.
“I discovered that a person very dear to me is a spy for the emperor. She…she will no longer be allowed in my household, and I cannot help but wonder if everything she ever said or did held any sincerity. Did she truly love me and wish to take care of me or were her choices calculated to benefit her position as a spy for the emperor?”
He pulled back in alarm. “She didn’t reveal your alliance with the rebels to the emperor, did she?”
“No, I assure you she was discovered in time. Calm yourself, Musubi. I am in no danger of being discovered as a rebel sympathizer.”
His body visibly relaxed, but he remained seated on the stone floor with his arms cradling me.
“A close confidant such as this friend could have easily revealed your secrets to the emperor. I don’t believe I can handle the worry I feel for you on a daily basis. If you refuse to leave Kagami, then I must insist that you leave your home and permanently join us.”
I wholeheartedly agreed, but my unresolved issues with Katsu, the possibility of gleaning further knowledge from the emperor, and my lack of preparation gave me pause.
“The timing is not right, though I understand your worry. There is still the matter of the landing spot for that shipment of gold.”
A low growl worked its way from the back of Musubi’s throat.
“Hang the gold. It isn’t worth your life. Nothing is.” He rested his lips on my forehead and placed a gentle kiss there.
It wasn’t the earth-shattering kiss I’d dreamed of for weeks now, but it was more contact than I had previously been given, and it lent light to the fire of hope that burned brightly within me. Hope that Musubi would cease punishing himself for wha
tever demons lingered in his past. Hope that he might allow himself to love someone again.
Someone like me.
When he moved back, I felt a sharp wave of concern course through his system. He placed his hands on my shoulders, narrowing his eyebrows, which created worry lines on his forehead.
“Musubi, what is it?”
“It’s your essence. These past few months, you’ve seemed a little off, but now that I am touching you I am beginning to notice a great disturbance within your own ki.” That he was capable of noticing it at all shocked me. Most humans were never quite so aware, but then he’d had years to master the art of centralization.
He placed his left hand at my center and then the other on my upper back after which he took in several deep breaths and closed his eyes.
“I want you to take three deep breaths as I have instructed you to do before.”
I did as he asked, sensing the warmth of his hands seeping through my clothing to the sensitive skin underneath.
He pulled back as if the experience pained him and sucked in a sharp breath.
I turned to him. “What? What happened?”
“Your ki is…off, blocked in some way. Your energy is not being evenly distributed through your body, and it is beginning to cause you some severe internal problems, not to mention affecting your mental clarity.”
“I suppose that makes sense. I haven’t felt like myself as of late.” In truth I was amazed at his insight into the subject, especially for someone trained to maim and kill.
“I shouldn’t wonder. The stress of this situation is more than any young girl should shoulder. We will need to fix this imbalance or you will continue to struggle with the rest of your training.”
He approached me again and resumed his previous position with one hand on my center and the other on my upper back. He remained there with his hands like that for several minutes as we matched our breathing with one another. He then changed positions and faced me, placing his thumb and forefinger at opposite sides a few inches below my clavicle. With his other hand he ran two fingers from the tip of my spinal column to the base of my neck and held his fingers there for a few moments.
The tension easing from my body made me feel as if I’d been a tightly wound reed given permission to relax. A testament to how the events of the last few months had been eating at me. I focused on his touch and enjoyed the close contact for as long as possible. I made eye contact with those frosty circles of blue, trapped in that intense, probing gaze of his. I hadn’t realized how much his indifference and the distance he’d created between us had weighed on me. With his comforting touch and undivided attention, I felt nearly one hundred percent better.
I knew, however, that nothing short of a miracle could fix what was broken within me, but his presence was enough for now.
He moved his hands again and gently drew his index fingers behind my ears, down along the side of my neck and then outward toward my shoulders, resting them there and closing his eyes as we breathed together for a few more minutes. When he opened his eyes to look at me, I saw confusion and sensed severe distress. He swallowed hard and then tightened his hold upon me.
“There is something wrong,” he stated. “I sense that some of the blockage has been removed, but it’s almost as if your ki isn’t blocked…it’s…damaged. I don’t understand how that is even possible, but it must be fixed, Mikomi. Tell me again about the injury that caused the redness of your eyes.”
“How is it that you know so much about the way one’s ki operates? Your knowledge is quite extensive.”
“Mikomi, in order to master the way of the samurai, you must be in tune with every particle of your being whether physical or spiritual. We are not simply learning to fight, though that is part of it, we are learning how to diffuse a situation before it reaches that level of combat that leads to death. In a war like this, I’m afraid death is inevitable, but you must be whole in mind, body, and spirit before you can shield yourself against the most rudimentary of attacks.” He studied my eyes and a muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “Now, tell me the truth. How were you injured?”
I shook my head and looked at the ground. Lying to him was easier if I didn’t have to look at him. “I already told you I wasn’t injured. I was ill and the force of—”
He reached his hand up and lightly took my chin, directing my eyes to his. “Don’t lie, little healer. Not to me. Never to me. After everything we’ve been through, do you not possess an ounce of trust for me?”
My eyes watered at this stark reminder of all the secrets I kept from him despite the love and trust I held for him. “I would tell you if I could, but I don’t feel I can talk about it at the moment.”
A low, almost feral growl sounded from the back of his throat. He enfolded me in his arms and held me close to him. “I am meant to protect you from any and all threats to your person, Mikomi. How can I do this if you won’t share with me what monsters threaten you?””
“I think there are simply some monsters in this life that I am meant to fight alone.”
“Ah, therein lies the problem, little healer. You seem to think I’ll actually sit back and let you try. Nothing could be further from the truth.” He pulled back slightly and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “This marriage may be a farce, but my concern for you is real. I’ll behave with you as I would if we were legally married in every way possible, and as your husband I am meant to carry those burdens. I am meant to protect you from anyone or anything that might jeopardize your safety.”
The possibility that he would even want to consider caring for me as a true husband might, spurred me forward, and I brazenly asked, “Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
He startled a little at that, unnerved by my question.
“You do intend to play the part as thoroughly as you possibly can, am I correct?”
“Kissing you has nothing to do—”
“Nothing to do with playing the part of a devoted and protective husband? If I do end up in your camp someday, how on earth will we ever convince anyone that we have developed more than a student/teacher relationship if we can’t at least pretend to feel it? All anyone will sense from us is an easy platonic friendship.” My lips curled up at the edges, and Musubi finally smiled.
“You’re teasing me. Poking fun at my desire to play husband to you.”
“You’re the one making claims of husbandly rights. If you want to claim me then you are going to have to do so emotionally or no one is going to believe you.”
“Emotionally,” he grunted. “You do realize that the likelihood of any of our soldiers paying attention to the dynamics of our relationship is slim to none. It isn’t as if anyone will be expecting us to publicly show affection.”
I was aware that public displays of affection between men and women were rare, and most marriages were formed out of a need for survival or political convenience. No one understood this concept better than I did. There was no reason to assume that Musubi’s claim as my husband would be challenged in any way, whether the men believed it or not, but my reasons had nothing to do with convincing the rebels of our love for one another, but of convincing Musubi. If I pushed him to do more than verbally claim me, perhaps behaving as if he had feelings for me would work to heal that which was broken within him.
He had spent a long time shielding his heart and his emotions, holding back his capacity for love due to the death of someone he once cared for. Though he was determined to leave his heart cold and empty, I hoped pushing him toward a demonstration of affection might help him release the anger and darkness he held. He simply needed to exercise that complicated muscle resting dormant in his chest. The heart, if never exercised, would eventually feel absolutely nothing. I couldn’t bear the thought of Musubi failing to feel anything for me simply because he refused to try.
“You can posture and puff out your chest as much as you want if another man attempts an overture, but no one will believe we care for one another on tha
t level if we haven’t formed some sort of connection.”
He considered my words for a moment and then pulled me closer to him and secured my head just under his chin. I relaxed into his embrace, reveling in the moment, fearing that it might slip from me before I had a chance to engrave it upon my memory and burn it within my soul. I reached out my senses and felt wisps of contentment and joy filtering through his nearly impenetrable exterior. The thought that I was the cause of his happiness gave me the courage to tilt my chin up and slowly place a soft kiss upon the corner of his jaw.
I heard his quick intake of breath and felt the flexing of his muscles as his arms crushed me more tightly to his chest. His lips grazed the tip of my ear and then softly landed at my temple where he administered the most tender of kisses before moving to my eyelids and grazing his lips along each one. He continued on to my lips and hovered there for a few moments.
I barely dared breathe for fear I might startle him awake from this hypnotic spell. His top lip found the corner of mine. He didn’t kiss me as I longed for him to. Instead, he used his lips to trace the outline of first my top lip and then the bottom, pausing in the center as my lips parted.
“Mikomi,” he rasped, “I don’t think we should—”
I pressed my lips to his, unwilling to give him a chance to finish that sentence. I’d never managed to get through to him like this before, not when his guard was down and his emotions raw and vulnerable.
His response was immediate, and the happiness radiating from within him wrapped securely around my heart as he deftly took over, offering achingly soft, sweet kisses that left me weak and breathless. He pulled away to look at me, and the hope I saw in his gaze and the absence of anger within his heart gave me reason to think I had made steps toward easing the pain of his past.