by C. J. Anaya
I stared at him open-mouthed. “But these people will die. Please, Katsu, they are my friends.”
“Well, they shouldn’t be,” he fairly yelled. “What were you thinking, traipsing about the woods and village as a medicine woman? Why would you heal peasants and talk with commoners completely unguarded while using your powers in such a reckless manner?” He grabbed both my shoulders, shaking me as if to emphasize the importance of his words. “How could you take no thought for your safety? What if someone had attacked you during your many outings? Your life is not your own, Mikomi. The fate of this world rests in our hands and without you there is no one who can save it.” He breathed deeply and released my shoulders. “The small number of people you help won’t matter in the long run if you are not around to save the whole of mankind. This behavior is selfish, Mikomi. Selfish and immature.”
I raged against his assessment of my future, what he thought I almost failed to accomplish. I could understand his anger, even sympathize on some level, but I didn’t believe I had to shut myself away from the world in order to save it from the evil plans of a demon god. What kind of a savior would I be if I wasn’t here, working alongside the ones I had been born for?
“I apologize for not telling you about the village or the healings I performed for the people there, but you must show mercy on these two kneeling before you. Please, Katsu, let me gather the information my father needs so they may go free.”
“Even if I allowed this, it’s impossible. Your ki is broken, Mikomi. You couldn’t possibly succeed with how damaged you are, and you might hurt yourself even further.”
My father took determined steps toward his prisoners. “You say her ki is too damaged? I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”” He slipped a knife from his belt and thrust it into Daiki’s side.
I heard one, long, terrified scream and realized it originated from my own mouth as I rushed to Daiki before he fell over, catching him and lowering his back to the floor. Katsu shouted something, but I paid him no mind.
“No, no, no.” I grabbed the tavern keeper’s head between my hands, closed my eyes and tried to connect to his ki. I panicked when I felt absolutely nothing. I couldn’t reach out to him. My own ki was unresponsive. I looked at his ashen face as he took in ragged breaths. “I’ll keep trying,” I said in a reassuring voice. “You’ll be fine.”
Hatsumi’s strangled sobs stabbed at my heart. I attempted another connection, but received nothing. I was completely blocked, as helpless as any normal human in a situation such as this. Katsu’s words penetrated my frenzied thoughts as I surveyed the area for some kind of material to bind Daiki’s wound.
“Mikomi, you cannot help this man. I’m sorry, but you’re going to hurt yourself if you try.”
“I don’t understand. This is a fairly easy wound for her to heal. I’ve had her heal worse,” my father said. His tone was conversational, pleasant even, as if he hadn’t just stabbed a man I considered family. Daiki was going to die, and my father behaved as if we were all taking a nice little walk through the gardens, enjoying the scenery and soaking in the warmth of the sun.
“I told you, she damaged herself. She cannot heal due to your selfish abuse of her powers.” Katsu placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come, Mikomi. There is nothing you can do for these people.”
I turned to look at Katsu and wondered at his detachment to the situation. How could he be so heartless?
“I may not be able to heal Daiki, but I know you can. You saved me. I know you can save him.”
Katsu shook his head. “What I did, I did out of necessity. Kami do not use their powers to heal people. It can jeopardize our immortality.”
I moved away from him and placed my hands on Daiki’s head again. Closing my eyes, I tried to sense or feel something, anything, but Katsu grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back. He must have leveled himself to the ground because I found myself with my back pinned against his chest, his arms like a vise holding me still.
“Mikomi, this ends now. I won’t allow you to hurt yourself further.” His tone broached no further argument.
I watched Daiki’s chest rise and fall as he struggled for air, the wound at his side seeping blood all over the floor. I couldn’t hold back the sobs that ripped from my throat as Daiki’s breathing became more labored.
“Please, Katsu, heal him.” I leaned my head back against his chest, not able to struggle against him any longer. “He is my family. Please help him,” I whispered.
Katsu held me still for a few more moments and then gently moved me to the side as he reached forward and placed his hands on Daiki’s head. I held my breath and waited as Katsu focused all of his healing abilities on Daiki’s stab wound. I watched in fascination as the cut in his flesh slowly sealed shut and the bleeding stopped.
I’d never actually witnessed a healing.
Being the watcher instead of the doer was an entirely new experience for me, and at that moment, any doubts I may have had about Katsu and his character were gone. He sacrificed a part of himself to save someone I loved. It was one thing to risk his immortality for my sake, but to save a peasant simply because I asked him to, shed light upon Katsu’s motivations where I was concerned.
Was it possible he truly loved me?
I let out a shuddering sob as Katsu helped Daiki into a sitting position, and then untied the rope binding his hands. He swiftly stood and reached for the knife at Hatsumi’s throat, throwing the guard backward and into the wall. I crawled over to both Daiki and Hatsumi and embraced them, shedding happy tears that my family was safe for now.
I startled at the mocking sound of applause from my father.
“Well, this is entertaining. My daughter is incapable of healing anyone, and her betrothed is incapable of healing his future wife, yet risks his immortality for two insignificant peasants. Interesting turn of events, I must say.”
Katsu managed an angry grunt. I looked at him and noted dark circles forming under his eyes. Healing was my gift, not his. The power he used to save Daiki had weakened him. Guilt at the pain and discomfort this may have caused him warred against my own interests and desires. I couldn’t lose my family, and I had shamelessly put Katsu in this position to save them. He deserved someone far better than me.
I directed my attention back to my father and wondered at the calculating expression he wore.
He should have been furious at my inability to gather the information he needed. After years of dealing with his explosive behavior, this new level of calm disturbed me. Something wasn’t right, but I was too emotionally spent to analyze the problem.
“Though this is all very touching—nauseatingly so—I do hope you’ll excuse me while I take care of some important matters elsewhere.” Just before leaving the room, he turned once again and addressed me. “Don’t think for one second I’ve given up on this venture. Once you’ve had time to rest, I want that information from my soldier.”
“I already told you, I won’t allow that, Fukurokuju!”
My father turned to Katsu. “Then I’ll start killing all of the peasants she’s managed to heal over the last five years, starting with that woman she’s embracing. Based on your reaction to her heartfelt pleading on behalf of her peasant family, I’m inclined to think you’ll allow her participation in this so as not to see her hurt with the loss of those she seems to care for.” My father shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Honestly, Katsu, I thought you knew better than to fall in love, and with your future wife no less. Sloppy, old friend. Very sloppy.”
My father sailed out of the room, knowing full well he held all the cards.
I would worry about the emperor later. My concern resided with my friends’ well-being. I reached for Hatsumi’s hand.
“Where is your son? Please tell me he is safe.”
Her hand shook a little in mine. “We hid him with a visiting neighbor when the emperor’s guards approached the back of the tavern. They’ve never before shown up like that in so many numbers, and we se
nsed something was amiss.”
“We must get you back to your son.”
“Not yet,” Katsu said. He stood while the rest of us huddled on the floor. “It isn’t like the emperor to concede defeat. He isn’t one to back down. I’m worried he may attempt to hurt your friends again, Mikomi.” He turned to Daiki and helped him to his feet and then assisted Hatsumi. I stood as well, afraid that my family might still be in danger.
“I don’t wish to know the details of your relationship with the princess, though it would seem you have done much to take care of her, and for that I am grateful. Heaven knows she’s received no such treatment here, but this...relationship cannot continue. It is neither safe for your family or for the princess.”
I ached at this pronouncement, but couldn’t fault its accuracy.
Katsu continued, “I will have guards accompany you back to your place of residence to retrieve your son, and then you must leave this empire immediately.”
“Katsu, they will lose everything,” I said in alarm.
“They will lose their lives if they don’t. Your father will exploit your feelings for them however he sees fit. If this happens again, you will not be given enough time to save them.”
I tried to keep the tears at bay, but I had already been crying and the thought of never seeing Hatsumi and Daiki again was almost unbearable.
“Mikomi, the less power the emperor has over you the better. I’ve known him for hundreds of years, and he always leaves casualties in his wake, whether it is necessary or not. I can fight several men at one time, but I cannot protect your friends against your father’s armies. They must leave the village as soon as possible.”
I turned to Daiki. My heart broke at his pained expression. “I am so sorry, Daiki. You will have to start over because of me.”
His smile held sadness, but not defeat. “This is not your fault, and we will prevail, I promise you.”
“You must focus on what is most important here.” Hatsumi reached forward and brushed the hair off of my brow. “You hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, and these next few weeks will be critical for you. It is a terrible burden to bear, but I know you will manage whether we are here with you or not.”
I felt Katsu rest a hand on my shoulder. “I will make sure they leave the village in safety, without your father’s knowledge, but you must say goodbye to them now, Mikomi.”
I nodded and grabbed Daiki’s and Hatsumi’s hands. “For a very long time now I have loved you both as if you were my own parents. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.”
“It was an honor and a privilege, Princess,” Daiki said.
I embraced them one last time and then watched as Katsu led them out of my father’s quarters. They would be safe and I would try to be brave, but at that moment I couldn’t help sinking to the floor, lowering my head in my hands and weeping more than I had ever allowed myself to openly weep in my entire life.
I’m not certain how long I cried on the floor of my father’s study, but soon my thoughts were interrupted by a strange, slow beating. I lifted my head and focused my puffy eyes in its general direction, but I had a hard time placing it. I finally stood, closed my eyes, and focused more intently on the beating sound that reverberated throughout my body.
My feet were drawn toward my right, and with my eyes closed I allowed them to move of their own volition toward the hollow beating sound. I soon stilled as the beating faded, and then opened my eyes, coming face to face with the door leading into the room where the injured commander lay unconscious. The faint beating of his heart spurred my feet forward.
It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. I experienced this awareness whenever one’s ki stood on the precipice of death, ready to venture forward toward the next phase of its journey.
Within minutes the commander would pass on, and without the information he alone possessed, the rebels’ hopes of cutting off the emperor’s source of funding would come to naught.
I lifted my hand, turning the handle on the door, and entered the room. It held a single table in the middle where the commander lay with a small cushion propped under his head.
I approached him and assessed his injury with a quick glance. Bright red blood painted a gruesome picture as most of it was dried and cracked cross his chest. His labored, gurgling breaths suggested damaged lungs and severe internal bleeding. Long ago I had hardened myself to the horrendous realities of war, but this man’s situation sent waves of nausea curdling within my stomach. A parade of never-ending violence was finally taking its toll. Pushing these depressing thoughts to the foreground, I placed my hands on either side of his head, closed my eyes, and took in several calming breaths to focus my senses and quiet my frayed and damaged emotions.
I ignored the impulse to connect with him and focused more on myself, reaching for a state of centralization as Musubi had tirelessly instructed me to. My ki struggled against its limitations as if it ran in circles in an attempt to repair its own injuries. Failing to achieve the results it desired, it tried again and again in an exhausting, repetitive cycle. If I subdued my own ki and instructed it to stop repairing what was impossible to repair, the amount of energy wasted would be minimal and might be used as a short burst of power to connect with the commander and gain what I desired.
I communicated with my own ki, giving it permission to quit its natural propensity for self-healing. My spirit became quiet, more restful, my ki recognizing the futility of its situation, and eventually accepting its own failings and weaknesses, a difficult thing for a nearly immortal entity to do. I don’t ever remember a time when my ki had willingly accepted spiritual or physical damage.
Once my energy stilled, I waited. For what, I wasn’t certain, but a small measure of my capacity, no matter how brief, had to return or I would fail. I waited for several minutes before a tiny white light blossomed within my mind’s eye. I mentally reached forward and grasped it, connecting with the commander’s ki, and nearly ripping myself away at the awful pain that swept through my body, not just from his own injuries but from mine as well. My breaths came in short, staccato-like gasps. I leaned against the table for support as I began transferring the man’s memories to my own.
Images of family, simple living, and eventually disturbing scenes of battle whirred within my mind at dizzying speeds, but his recent memories were the most important. Soon I possessed the information I sought and terminated the transfer immediately thereafter. That natural desire to help and heal momentarily overwhelmed me, but with the little strength and power available to me, accomplishing such a feat remained impossible. The veil hovered just beyond my reach, watching and waiting to claim his spirit once it left his mortal frame.
He was marked for death, and the most merciful course of action available meant letting him go. With the last bit of energy my ki possessed, I thrust his life force toward the veil and watched, mesmerized, as the veil’s impenetrable wall opened up and beckoned him forward as if reaching out to gently embrace a beloved friend, a soul ready for the next phase of its journey.
My usual feelings of loathing for this impenetrable barrier and its many successes where I had failed gave way to a bright sensation of love and welcoming from what lay beyond its walls. I couldn’t imagine permanently denying anyone the opportunity to take that next step forward toward a new place where loved ones lost to us most certainly waited to welcome us home.
The moment the veil enveloped his spirit, the connection vanished, and I stood blinking my tired red eyes over the corpse of my father’s first in command. He had been a good man and kind at heart, forced to fight a battle he hadn’t supported, losing his life in the process. It sickened me to think that my own father was responsible for so much death.
What a monumental waste.
“Mikomi, what are you doing?”
I spun around, but had to lean my back against the table as the room spun with me. Katsu rushed over to steady me.
“I needed to get that information for my fa
ther, Katsu. He never makes idle threats, and I won’t have the slaughter of an entire village weighing upon my conscience.”
“Mikomi, I know you want to save your friends, but I forbid you to attempt such a dangerous action. If you even try to connect with this man you might lose your abilities completely.”
“But I did connect with him. I have the location of the gold shipment. Everything will be fine now.” I gave Katsu a weak smile, but it melted off my face at his horrified expression. His fear and anxiety on my behalf led me to consider the possible repercussions of my actions.
“What did you do to your ki in order to find the energy necessary to accomplish this?”
I didn’t like the way he looked at me, as if I was dying and might never recover.
“I subdued my ki and prevented it from continually attempting to heal what it couldn’t. It was a waste of energy, energy I was able to divert into retrieving what I needed.”
Katsu’s coloring visibly paled.
“I’m fine.” I placed my hand on his cheek to reassure him.
“Mikomi, close your eyes and reach for your ki.”
My eyes widened in surprise, but I did as I was told. I took deep breaths and waited for my mind to sense my life force and inner energy, but I communicated with nothing but a black void. Clearing my mind, I went through the same process again and received nothing. When I opened my eyes I covered my concern with a brittle smile, but he wasn’t buying it. Katsu’’s face registered panic and despair.
“I can’t feel anything accept a hollow numbness. What has happened?” I asked.
“No, this can’t be happening. I can’t let this happen.”
He raked fingers through his hair, controlling the panic threatening to overtake him and then accepting the situation for what it was. I admired his ability to temper his emotions when most humans allowed theirs to overcome their logic and reason. He wasn’t one to dwell on a problem longer than necessary. His personality dictated a solution to every obstacle he encountered. It made him persistent and tenacious in getting what he wanted. It also made him a formidable opponent. Something I would do well to remember, and yet another reason for disclosing my secrets.