by Gaynor Baker
“Are you all right?”
“I think so.” She smiled.
“How did I do?”
She examined her foot. “Very well, Sensei. You got it all.”
“I had a good teacher.” He said softly. “And I see that I can still make you blush.” He kissed her cheek.
He made a bandage from some toweling and wrapped her ankle with it. “We should get some sleep.” He said after a while. “We have an early start tomorrow.”
The following day Katharine felt a little dizzy. But, thinking it was an effect of the infection in the blister, she said nothing. The following morning she felt fine again sowas glad she hadn"t spoken of it.
The climb got increasingly steep as they made their way deeper into the mountains. Forests of pine gave way to snow on the ledges; rice fields were less frequent as they left the lowlands.
It was becoming colder, too. Katharine found her quilted kimono and coats more necessary. But even so, the terrain was easier; no winds buffeted their way and the sky was clear.
One morning Katharine woke with a slight headache but put it down to the way she had been laying. This was borne out when it lessened as she climbed. But near the end of their day"s walking it returned. Not wanting to burden him, she kept it quiet until they were almost at the place where he intended to stop. She was walking beside him when he saw her wince.
“What is it?” He asked stopping.
“It"s all right. It can wait.” She told him.
Mindful of Hataro"s warning he was understandably concerned. “Don"t play the samurai.” He told her, then more gently, “Katharine, tell me?”
“I"ve got a headache.” She told him, almost reluctantly. “But it really isn"t bad. I can keep going”
“I"m not risking your health for a few more miles.” He declared in the authoritative voice she knew from Kagoshima. He glanced around the area. “We"ll makecamp there.” He pointed to a place that would be sheltered from the wind. When the headache worsened later on, he was glad he had abandoned his first choice of sight.
As the sun went down, he built a fire to warm them and set a kettle to boil. “Here, drink this, it"ll help the pain.” He told her.
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him. She drank most of it then said, “Isamu?” “What is it?”
“I"m scared.”
“I know you are koibito. It was all right when we were closer to civilization, wasn"t it?”
She nodded.
“But I"m really proud of you.” He smiled. “If you want know the truth, not one of the Shogun"s ladies could have come through what you"ve been through. If it were in mypower, I"d make you a samurai. My samurai.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
His smile and the tender look in his eyes was too much for her and she felt tears prick the backs of her lids. One escaped.
“Ohh. I"ve made you cry.” He said gently. He took her into his arms. “So much for the strong samurai.” She said, smiling through her tears. “If I were a samurai you"d have to keep me away from all the men.” She laughed. “All of them but me.” He whispered huskily before his mouth found hers. After breakfast the next morning Fujito consulted his map and decided on the way, they should take. The sky had only a few clouds and the wind was light. “How far is Kamikochi?” Katharine asked.
“Twelve hours total.” He told her. Three hours after we reach the bridge.” “Well, I suppose we should get on our way, then.” Katherine smiled. “That"s my girl.” Fujito smiled.
The morning was pleasant, with little wind and high cloud. But later in the afternoon mist began to roll in and soon turned to a fog
“We have fogs like this in London.” Katharine said as they walked side by side. “They are so thick you can"t see through them.”
Fujito noticed she was having trouble breathing, so as they talked he looked around for a place to set up camp.
“We"ll stop here.” He said suddenly, loosening his pack
“But I thought you wanted to get to Kamikochi?”
“I do.” He turned to smile at her. “But not at the expense of your health.” “What do you mean? I feel fine.”
“Hadn"t you noticed it"s becoming more difficult for you to breathe?” “No.” But now that they"d stopped, she could feel the tightness in her chest. He set up the camp, this time making a tent with sticks and the tarp he"d bought back in Takayama.
“There"s no shelter from the wind here.” He explained.
As she sat under it, he noticed she wasn"t looking well.
“Do you have another headache?” He asked.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Breathing difficulties are a sign that you are having trouble adapting to the altitude. Headaches just go along with the territory.” He smiled. “You have to start lettingme know when you"re not feeling well, koibito. How do you expect me to look afteryou?” He asked gently.
“I"m sorry.” She said accepting the tea he had made. “I suppose the English are stubborn. We don"t like complaining.”
“Hmm. I think your people and mine have a lot in common.” He smiled. “Except, you probably don"t persecute people for their faith.” The anger that he felt for what his country was doing to her could be heard as an undertone to his words. “Oh, but we do; or did.” She took a sip of tea. “Queen Mary brought the Spanish inquisition when she married Philip. Anyone who wouldn"t recant their Protestant faithand return to Catholicism would be burned at the stake.” She took another sip. ”Or worse.” She finished quietly.
“What has hurt you, koibito?” He asked quietly.
“It happened in my family, a relative. Because he was not highborn he was tied to a cart and dragged along the muddy streets to Tyburn where they hung him. But before he was dead they cut him down and disemboweled him.”
“Did you see?”
“No. But others have suffered the same fate for other crimes.” Tears clouded her vision. Fujito took the cup from her hand and held her close. He realized she was as sensitive as he was; it somehow drew her even closer to him.
During the night, the fog rolled in, but as the sun came up appeared to thin a bit. Fujito told her they would carry on.
As they went, snow started to fall. Lightly at first, but getting thicker and thicker as the flakes were whipped up by a strong wind
The fog was so thick they could hardly see. In fact, they did not even realize they had reached the Asuza River.
The water had already frozen over in places; this combined with the swirling snow and fog gave the impression that the whole way ahead was solid snow. They were almost at the halfway point of the river. Fujito"s dark kimono was getting increasingly difficult to see as Katharine followed in his steps. Suddenly she felt the snow give way underneath her feet and she was plunged into the frigid water.
Hearing her screams Fujito looked back but could see nothing in the blinding snow.
“Katsuko!” He called as he made his way carefully back to the bank they had just left. The wind stopped for a moment allowing him to hear her cries as she was swept away by the current.
“Katsuko!” He called again as he hurried down he bank to try and pull her out of the river. His heart beat rapidly against his chest, more in fear for her than the exertion of running. Where was she? Had she been dragged under? He prayed to God that he would find her alive.
Then he saw her. She was wedged between a log and a rock a few feet upstream; he surmised that she had grabbed the log to keep from going under. He called her name again but there was no response. Her body remained still.
When he reached her, he found the log bobbing next to her. He removed his pack and jacket and then pushed the log out of the way with his foot. Holding onto the rock, he stepped into the river.
He could never have said afterward exactly how he had pulled her from the water, all he knew was she was safely on the bank.
He felt for a pulse; found it, just barely. Her breathing was almost undetectable. She needed warmth. He
pulled off her wet clothing and covered her with one of her quilted kimono and then his jacket.
He had to leave her to set up camp, but stayed within sight so that he could keep an eye on her. He worked as quickly as he could and when she was stable moved her tothe futon he"d laid out. He built a fire and sat to watch her. While he watched he took a box from his pack and pulled out two scrolls: the Gospels and Psalms. He read the passages of the healing ministry of Jesus, then quoted, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”
His voice came from far away, barely penetrating the fog that held her prisoner. But she recognized he familiar words.
It was getting dark; he lit the oil lamp and placed it near her head so he could see her face. He retrieved the rocks he"d heated in the fire and placed them in the thinnest kimono. Then he set them against the pulse points: her neck, her heart, under her arms and near the groin. Then he covered her with a futon and sat down to wait, and pray.
“Dear Katsuko.” He whispered, his voice almost breaking with the weight of emotion. “Don"t leave me. Not before I"ve had a chance to say I love you.” Bowing his head, he prayed. “Dear Lord God, thank you for giving me Katsuko, Katharine, if only for this short time. She has gladdened my heart and lightened my steps.
I cannot promise you anything that will cause you to work in my favor and restore her to me. But if it is your will, please bring her back to me so that I may tell her I love her. For it is only by Your grace that, I can petition you this way, through Your dear Son, in whose name I bring my prayer to You. Amen.”
What? Had she heard right? He loved her? Was he praying, to the God of the Universe? Was he Christian, then? Her colddulled brain wouldn"t focus; it couldn"t reach through the dense fog that seemed to hold her captive. Yet, there seemed to be warmth, too, far away but coming closer. Then she slept. Through the mist, she heard him praying again. Then he spoke to her. “Don"t leave me, Katharine. I love you. Please, koibito, come back to me. I want to tell you how much I love you.” She could hear the tears in his voice. Suddenly she wanted to come back. She had to tell him not to love her; she would not be in Japan much longer and she couldn"t let him waste his life on her. Did she lovehim? She wouldn"t even consider the possibility; it would confuse everything. Then why did his mere approach send her senses reeling?
She pushed the voice aside with great effort and willed herself to consciousness. Fujito felt her pulse again. He was relieved to find it stronger. Her breathing was stronger too. He could see her chest rising and falling in consistent, even rhythm. Sighing with relief he went to fetch more stones that had been heating in the fire. He replaced the ones that had cooled and lit another lamp. In the dim light, he wrote a poem.
“Omi no mi yunani…
He slept, but not deeply. Thoughts of the past, brought back by the poem he"d written intruded into the blackness.
The day they"d skipped stones on the lake; the time she"d amazed him by curing Michiko; and Hataro. The day they delivered Sumiko"s baby, the times she"d cried on hisshoulder. The way she"d clung to him, the night on the bay when he had kissed her.
He woke with a start, some unknown imagining pulling him from sleep. Looking toward the place where she lay he satisfied himself that she was still alive. He went over to her and felt for warmth; he sighed. She was out of danger; now she just needed to rest naturally.
He prepared some soup; she would need something later. After eating a small portion himself, he went outside. The sun was just peeking over the horizon. It was almost noon when he heard her stir. Leaving his brush and paper, he went to kneel beside her futon.
“Hello.” He smiled.
“Konnichi wa.” She mumbled.
“Let me get you a drink.” He stood to his feet and went to the canteen he"d filed that morning from the river. The chill had been taken off and it was now drinkable. He supported her neck with one arm and held the glass to her lips with the other. “Slowly, koibito, slowly.” He smiled.
She drank all she wanted then leaned back again.
“Isamu?”
“Yes?”
“Where did you lean that Psalm?”
He knew the one she meant. “One of the men in Hirado taught it to me.” He kissed her temple and thanked God he"d given him the chance to do it again and for the warmth, he felt there. He looked into her eyes and saw the unasked question. “Yes, I am a Christian.” He confirmed. He got up, walked to his pack, and pulled out the scroll. As he unrolled it, she could see it contained neat lines of Japanese script.
“If I didn"t know you I would say that was a recipe for miso.”
Isamu laughed as he thought he never would again. “Oh, my koibito.” I love you.” He whispered against her cheek.
The Samurai"s Lady
Chapter Eight
“Isamu, I—
He touched her lips with his index finger. “Shh. You don"t have to say anything now.” He whispered. “I won"t take advantage of your weakened condition.” He smiled.
For the next few days, Fujito insisted that Katharine recuperate from her near drowning. Five days after the accident, he decided they must move on. She helped him pack up and clear the area of their presence, although he would not let her do anything heavy. Mindful of the way she might be feeling he told her they would not cross the river where he had originally planned. He had selected a point further
along.
“All right.” He told her. “When we step into the water take both my hands and turn so that your side is facing the river. Then I"ll take a step and you follow me.” She nodded assent
When they reached the area, she was glad to find the river narrower and less rapid. Suddenly she froze. “Isamu, I can"t.”
“Yes you can. I"m right here.” He stepped into the water. “See, it"s not too deep, and slower than it was a few days ago. I promise I won"t let you go, koibito.” She trusted the softness in his eyes. Gingerly she allowed him to help her into the river. She gasped as memories of the previous try flooded her brain. “It"s all right.” He whispered taking her other hand. “See, you can even see the bottom.” Looking down she saw he was right.
They turned sideways and Fujito took the first step toward the opposite bank. She hesitated. “Come on, koibito.” He whispered into the windless calm. “You can do it. Forme, all right?” He smiled.
Looking into his eyes and grasping his hands tight, she made the step. “Good girl.” He smiled.
With the favorable conditions, it took only a short time to reach the far bank. When they stepped onto dry land, he held her tight in his arms.
“You did it, Katsuko Chan.” He whispered near her temple. “I"m so proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
It was not far from there to the bridge further upstream and from there the final three hours to Kamikochi.
The place was actually a small collection of farmhouses and an inn, which was technically another farmer"s residence; but he allowed people to stay there on the way to where they were going.
Before actually entering he village Fujito put on his samurai jacket. “It will give me more authority here.” He smiled tying his swords around his waist.If they think I"m just a sensei I will not earn their loyalty as strongly as a samurai.”
He kissed her cheek. “But I"m still Isamu to you.” He smiled again. His samurai status did indeed make access to the village easier. But they each had the feeling the farmer and his young wife thought him a ronin.
“Too bad you"re not a farmer, Samurai. I could use your help.” He said amiably. The man smiled a toothy grin. “I"ve been in pain with my shoulder these last few months,
and the roof needs rethatching.”
“I"m not above hard work.” Fujito smiled. “Perhaps you could show me? And I can give something for your shoulder. How did you hurt it?”
“Heckling.” He told him.
Fujito knew how hard the work could be. Rice needed to be pulled between wooden sticks attached to a block to separate it.
The far
mer showed them to their rooms and then Fujito examined the man"s shoulder. When he returned to the rooms, he unpacked the ingredients for pills to ease the
pain and for a soothing salve.
When he returned once more, he noticed Katharine studying him.
“What?” He asked.
“Oh nothing.” She smiled. “I just wondered what you"d look like up on the roof.” She couldn"t hold back a giggle.
“Oh what a lady I have.” He joined in the joke, smiling. “She doesn"t trust my cooking; she doesn"t trust me to fix a roof.”
“But I trust you in the important things.” She said softly.
He knew what she meant, and it warmed his heart.
“Come on, we"ll go for a walk.” He lifted her to her feet. She almost lost her balance. “I see you haven"t quite mastered that.” He smiled.
“The rest of my appearance might look Japanese, Fujito-Sama. But my knees are still British.”
He laughed. Sliding the door open, he let her go ahead of him.
The farm huts were huddled against the mountains whose lower slopes were covered with snow sprinkled pine trees.
Katharine cast her eyes upward and stared at the craggy peaks of the nearest mountains. She shivered.
“Are you cold?” Fujito asked, concerned.
“No.” She smiled up at him. “I just realized how close I came to dying up there. If it hadn"t been for you—”
“Shhh, don"t think about it.” He did not want to think of how close he came to losing her. “Just think about how you"re here with me.” He held his cheek to hers, his warm breath sending her senses reeling.
She turned her face toward him and his mouth found hers. His lips, warm and moist slid over hers as his hand on her back pressed her closer. She relaxed in his arms and slid one arm around his neck.
He released her slowly, reluctantly. “Aishiteru. I love you.” He whispered against her temple.
The next morning the farmer took him up on the roof to examine the thatch. They would be gone all morning.