by C. J. Anaya
Both sets of hands were on me now and heat suffused within my ki, regaling it with a measure of light. However, there was little focus for where that light was meant to be utilized. It wouldn’t be enough, but I didn’t feel saddened at this realization. Instead, a large measure of peace settled over my entire being, and I raised my other hand to touch Katsu.
“I love you both,” I wheezed out. Every breath, every word was a struggle. “I know…not fair…or right how I hid…truth from you. I’m sorry to hurt you.” I looked at Katsu. His face was growing dim and his sobs shook his entire frame. “Not your fault,” I tried to assure him. “Always my friend.” I moved my eyes to Musubi. The strain of those few movements nearly made me let go completely, but I had to say this to him before I was gone. Whether he believed me or not, I had to say the words. “Already…” I sucked in more air, straining against the suffocating sensation of death creeping stealthily over me. “Yours…my heart…already……yours.”
Musubi’s sobs were explosive. He kissed my hand over and over again, muttering apologies and promises if I would continue to fight against the darkness.
But Death is not one to take heed to compassionate pleas or desperate promises. It takes what belongs to it with very little compunction.
I had to let go after that. Fighting against death brought fear and pain, but accepting it released me into a peaceful state of existence. I floated happily upward, resting my eyes upon the people I loved most one last time.
Musubi and Katsu hovered over me on either side. Their desperate fight to keep me there drained them of energy and power. Saigo and Kenji stood behind them, both unable to hold back the aching sobs that wracked their bodies. Yao and Chan were situated a few feet back, on their knees with their swords drawn and embedded in the ground, one fist held to their chests. I looked further behind them and saw the entire rebel army on bended knee, swords stuck in the ground with hands fisted to their chests along with my father’s soldiers. The entire battle at a standstill due to my death. Their touching tribute might have brought fresh tears to my eyes if I had been capable of shedding any.
It wasn’t how I wanted my life to end. I didn’t want my death to cause those I loved so much pain. I moved to comfort them, but my insubstantial form didn’t respond to my commands. I remained suspended in air, several feet above my body while my loved ones mourned me below.
The bald man with the scar was at my head now. He spoke harshly to both Musubi and Katsu, who were shouting at one another. Once they quieted he whispered indecipherable words and motioned for Katsu to take out his sword. Curious, I hovered just low enough to hear his instructions.
“Katsu, we must do this quickly before she passes through the veil.”
“What can be done, Hachiman?” Katsu’s words were choked with tears. “The sword hasn’t the power to bring her back to us.”
“Maybe not as Mikomi, but certainly as someone else. Either way, her spirit has already been formed and she remains The Healer.”
Hachiman reached for the sword and rested it across my body.
“You’re talking about rebirth,” Musubi stated. Hope radiated from his eyes. “The sword is already designed to place her soul in a holding area beyond the veil. What exactly is it that you intend to do?”
“If her spirit is sent to that holding area, we’ll have no way of knowing when or where she will be reborn. Nor will we know her new identity. We must retain her spirit here. The sword must hold her where we can find her once she is reborn,” Hachiman stated.
His words continued, a soft mantra playing over and over again, an ancient dialect of Japanese I failed to grasp or understand.
I felt my spirit jolt upward and then move forward, past my loved ones and further into the grounds of the temple until I hovered in front of the Holy Cherry Tree. I wondered if I was moving on to the next phase of my journey and prepared myself to pass through the veil, but something altogether otherworldly occurred. The tree began to hum and light slowly engulfed it, growing blindingly bright until it reached a level of whiteness so brilliant that I could no longer keep my eyes open. There was a compressed groaning from the earth and then light exploded outward. I shielded my face with my hands and waited as the light from the tree slowly darkened and disappeared, leaving a large stone of massive proportions behind. It stood a few feet from the tree.
I stared at it in wonder, not understanding why I was still here or what this large block of stone was meant for. I was abruptly pulled forward by some unknown force. I didn’t fight it at first, fully believing my spirit was readying itself to pass through the veil, but then I began to enter the stone, moving to the center of it as the cold and dark of its interior became pliable, slowly embracing my spirit. I felt it shifting and moving as it encased my form from the tip of my head, to my fingers and then toes. I turned myself around and faced my loved ones. The movements were strained as I pushed against the hardening material of the stone while it continued to form itself around my body.
Musubi suddenly stood a few feet in front of me, reaching forward and speaking words I failed to hear. I lifted my arms against the binding material, the unforgiving stone, and reached for the man I loved. My fingers barely managed to touch his and then I was frozen, the stone hardening and solidifying before I could embrace him as I had intended. One look at my arms confirmed my fears.
They were completely encased in stone.
Tears continued their slow descent down Musubi’s cheeks, but he was ripped from me by a furious Katsu. Their arguing and bitter fighting continued on as I watched, helpless to stop it. Then more fighting began as my father’s armies attacked. Time behaved differently for me with moments standing still and then moving forward at a rapid rate.
I fought to keep my focus on the battle at hand, wishing to give my support and love if nothing else, but my heart cried out in anguish as the rebels were cut down left and right. I frantically searched for my loved ones only to watch in horror as Saigo stood fighting a kami twice his size. The kami feinted to the left and knocked his weapon free, his sword sailing from his hand. The kami wasted no time and stabbed him in the chest. I screamed for someone to help him, but my words were swallowed up within the hardened stone.
Then Musubi was at his side, while Yao moved in front of Saigo and took a blow to his shoulder. Chan and Kenji threw themselves in front of him just as another blow rained down from their assailant. Kenji was struck dead before my eyes. I saw a flash of green from Katsu’s sword and then time sped forward and suddenly Katsu and Musubi were both dragging Saigo and Kenji backward while Chan and Yao brought up the rear. Musubi paused as Saigo said something to him and then his head dropped forward, death descending upon his pale features. Katsu’s sword glowed green the moment he departed.
My agonized screams gurgled forth, but didn’t reach beyond the walls of my prison. It was an absolute bloodbath, and I was helpless to defend or heal them. Yao fell next, an arrow breaking through Chan’s defenses, piercing him in the neck. Another flash of green from Katsu’s sword.
After this I shut down completely, my vision blurring in and out. Something within me broke after watching the death of so many people I loved, and I couldn’t bear to witness one more. I shut my senses off and drifted out of consciousness.
I’m uncertain as to how long I remained in that state, but every so often I heard my name being whispered from a great distance. In those moments I knew to open my eyes and allow myself to become more aware of my thoughts, feelings, and surroundings. Musubi always stood before me, speaking my name and talking to me as if I was capable of giving an audible response. For the longest time he spoke of love and a promise to wait for me no matter the length of time. Eventually his words spoke not only of love, but of regret and a desperate plea for forgiveness. After each of these visits I allowed myself to drift back into that hazy state of nothing. I had no desire to mark the passage of time.
Eventually, I began to ignore the visits I received from Musubi, acknowledging
to myself that it was simply too painful to have him within arms’ reach, yet never touching, never holding and never truly speaking to him. I turned myself off forever, convinced I would never be allowed to hold him in my arms or feel the soft brush of his lips against mine. I accepted the numbing monotonous darkness for what it was. An eternal punishment with no end in sight. A fitting sentence for someone as flawed and damaged as me.
And then one day something changed.
Musubi stood before me, hands clasped behind his back. His hair was much shorter than I was used to seeing and his clothing appeared so foreign. Strange blue leggings fit snug against him and a flimsy shirt bore writing in a language I couldn’t understand. No matter the foreign cut of his clothing he still looked just as wonderful to me as he ever had. The longing that gripped me at the sight of him sent waves of pain coursing through my soul.
I wished to delve into the darkness surrounding me, but Musubi reached forward and grasped my outstretched hand, something he had done thousands of times over the course of my miserable incarceration, but never before had I been able to feel his touch until now. Nothing definitive in texture or substance, but a familiar warmth that engulfed the stone surrounding my fingers, bleeding into their tips and infusing me with life.
“It’s nearly time, Mikomi. The moment of your rebirth is near, and with it a promise I’ve made to you over the years that I intend to keep.”
Promise? What promise? How much time had passed?
“Chinatsu, Katsu, and Hachiman wish for you to remain here to be trained up as The Healer.” He paused, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in measured puffs. “But I intend to give you what you deserve. Something you never had the first time you lived upon this Earth. You deserve love, Mikomi. Love from parents who won’t beat you, belittle you or take your opportunities and choices away from you.”
He swallowed hard and lifted a hand to my face. Sweet warmth enveloped my senses, and I basked in it, delighting in the brightness of it like flowers delight in the warmth of the sun’s rays.
His eyes glistened with love and tears and he cleared his throat. “You deserve a normal life with friends and family who support you. You’ll have eternity to be The Healer, but only a few years to simply be Mikomi. These people on their way are good and kind. They will love and take care of you, and I will make certain you have as much time as you need to lead a normal life. And when I do return to fetch you, Mikomi, though you won’t remember who I am, and Katsu will be the one meant to hold your heart, I’ll love you from a distance, always. I will help you become exactly what you were meant to become.”
I opened my mouth to speak, to explain the flaws in the prophecy and convince him of the rightness of us, but my words echoed back to me and were mercilessly swallowed up within the walls of my stone prison.
Musubi leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead, sending little shock waves throughout my spirit.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Time has never changed that, and you belonging to Katsu will never alter the past or erase what we shared. Even if it was but a few moments, those moments were ours.”
With one last kiss upon my forehead, he melted away into the forest, deaf to my desperate pleas that he remain here with me.
Before I had a chance to slink back into my darkened walls of despair and self-pity, I heard more voices in the distance, and then two figures approached.
I felt certain that these two beings would play an important role in my life, a life waiting and ready to start anew.
James Fairmont, Rebirth
Julia Fairmont possessed an endearing obsession for cherry trees. By the time James had met and fallen in love with her she had attended every festival and event within the United States.
He remembered how appalled Julia had been when she invited him to the National Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington D.C., and the only response he could muster was, “What’s a cherry blossom?” James soon discovered that loving Julia meant loving cherry trees as well.
For their third anniversary, he surprised her by taking her to the Nago Cherry Blossom Festival in Okinawa, Japan. Not a terribly grueling journey for a pregnant woman, considering James’ medical internship already had them living in Okinawa. Nago Okinawa was said to host the earliest cherry blossom viewing in Japan, and it was, happily, the next cherry blossom event on Julia’s list.
He watched his wife consult her pamphlet, admiring her feminine profile as wisps of glossy hair kissed her cheekbones. Her delight in this simple event made him feel as accomplished as if he’d somehow managed to move the Earth and lasso the moon.
They calmly meandered around the Nago Chuo Park, which held beautiful Taiwan cherry trees and their dark, rose colored blossoms. At the end of the park the crowd began to disperse a bit, and James decided to steer his wife toward the less crowded areas. Neither of them noticed that the crowds had disappeared completely until they wandered into an area that held not only the most magnificent cherry tree they had seen thus far, but what appeared to be an enormous Shinto temple rising upward in the background.
Julia made some appreciative squeals and James chuckled at her unbridled delight. Even he was astounded by the beauty surrounding them, as if the area itself was its own national monument. Julia made her way to the beautiful cherry tree in order to take some pictures and paused before a statue of a striking Asian woman. She faced the tree with her arms outstretched, wearing traditional Japanese attire.
James felt somewhat drawn to the statue, although he couldn’t comprehend the reason for it. He studied the statue’s features and was surprised by the intense longing visible in the woman’s expression. Her look of longing was so well defined it made James’ heart cringe in sympathy.
“What a beautiful statue,” Julia said. “Why do you suppose it is here facing the tree like this?”
He was about to respond when he heard a faint noise from behind.
“She’s been here for centuries, paying homage to The Holy Cherry Tree you see before you,” said a small Asian man who approached them with a friendly smile.
James studied his appearance. His clothing suggested he was affiliated with the majestic temple behind them, and he seemed old, ancient even, but his features looked timeless. It was a strange and contradictory conclusion to come to, but that was exactly how he appeared to James. The scar hovering just above the man’s eye hinted at a serious injury. His smile was welcoming, however, and James received the distinct impression that he had been expecting them.
“I am called Hachiman,” the monk said, offering a hand to James and then Julia. “I tend to this shrine and the gardens surrounding it.”
“Pleasure. I’m James and this is my wife, Julia.”
“I am very surprised to meet you. We don’t get many visitors around here.”
“Really?” James asked. “That seems a little strange considering the festival is only a few hundred yards behind us.”
Hachiman peered at him in confusion.
“The festival? I am not sure what you are referring to,” he said with a strange look passing over his face.
“You know, the festival. The cherry blossom festival? They have it every year. We were just walking through the park, but we thought we would get out of the crowds for a little while, so we wandered over here.” As James continued talking, he began to feel a little disconcerted at the confusion evident upon Hachiman’s face.
“There are no cherry blossom festivals in this province. There never have been. We do, however, pay great homage to the Holy Cherry tree behind you.”
James turned his head toward the cherry tree, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. How could this man not know about the cherry blossom festival when he was living next door to it? James noticed his wife studying the face of the statue.
“It is an amazing landmark, older than the statue that faces it,” Hachiman continued. He studied James’ apparel for a moment. “I must ask you. How did you arrive here in Kagami? Not many people k
now how to enter into this realm.”
“Wait. Where did you say we are?” James interrupted.
“Kagami,” Hachiman answered proudly, “in the province of Mimasaka.”
James shook his head rather forcefully.
“We are in Nago Okinawa at the Nago Cherry Blossom Festival.” James’ insides were beginning to churn. It was odd to come across this area in the middle of a festival and have no one around enjoying the sights like he and Julia were.
Something wasn’t right. There was a hush in the air, as if a large audience were on the edge of their seats watching, waiting for some epic moment.
“Tell me again where you think you are.” There was repressed excitement in the monk’s eyes. It was obvious he knew something James didn’t.
“We’re in Okinawa, Japan,” James said, slow and deliberate. “And I don’t think it. I know it. Julia, please tell this nice man where we are. I think he’s a bit confused.”
James turned toward his wife in time to hear her cry out in pain. She crumpled into a heap on the soft green grass a few feet from the statue.
“Julia?” James shouted. He thought he heard the old monk muttering behind him, but he was already leaning over the small, hunched form of his wife.
Then her water broke.
It was too early. Thirty-six weeks! His thoughts swam as he began to assess what exactly he could do for her and the baby without his medical equipment.
Suddenly, Hachiman was by their side.
“Julia,” he said serenely. “You must not panic. You must take deep breaths and concentrate on delivering your baby. Can you do that?” he asked quietly.
She locked her wide eyes onto the holy man and nodded. Even James felt slightly less panicked as the old monk lifted Julia’s head onto his lap and began talking to her in soft, comforting tones.
James checked his wife’s cervix and was shocked to discover she was already dilated to a ten.