Relonor's Journal

by River Gheuens

  I had been shown a few tomes in Centraleplaats on the condition. Transgender is how it was said in the time before the Eruption. From everything which I have read, it was common place. They would live their life as themselves as they were not being trapped in the wrong body, with the medicines they had. The Old People had better healers as the person could get their body altered to the way they knew themselves to be, on the inside.

  His face went pale as his jaw muscles clenched. “So, you mean to say you look and seem like a woman, but in reality, you have a penis?” Aiden looked upon me for an answer, as his voice had lost all emotion.

  It took a moment for me to get the word out, as my eyes fell to the pot of stew in shame. “Yes.”

  This is why no one would ever asked for my hand. This is why I could never find anyone else attractive. I am a freak of nature. No one could love me for me.

  Aiden slid his chair back with a screeching noise as the chair slid over the wooden floor. He rose slowly from his chair as he rested his hands on his weapons. “How could you bring dishonor to me? I am not gay!” His voice rose on gay, as he shouted the words into my face.

  Fuck. No…no…no. Not honor.

  Aiden brought up the one point which could play out into a duel. He felt I had dishonored him. I could take being called a faggot, or gay, or anything else, and I would not bring up the fact of the dishonor which was shown unto me.

  Honor is very serious for us. Our people use that to make sure everyone is treated the same. A duel for honor challenges the statement or action in a public form where you could accept that your point of view is right and have the duel, or concede that the other person is right in which you surrender to your mistake.

  “I did not bring dishonor to you Aiden. I have not lied about anything I have told you. My words have served the truth,” I replied as I kept my eyes downcast. I prayed reason would calm him so he would call off this path of death. I was not going to back down from his perceived wrong. If he pushed, I would make him take me to a duel.

  “No! You lied by looking like a woman, not like the man you are. How dare you?” His voice filled the room with his anger. The room’s silence went even quieter as not a soul dared to breathe. I swear the fire quit making noise to listen to this heated argument. The talking rock said in my head, Oh oh.

  Mother stood from her chair, while bowing deeply to Aiden. “She means no dishonor by being the woman she is. Please, I beg you, do not go down this road. Get to know her, and you will realize she is an amazing woman. Please, for my sake? I can not loose my daughter.”

  As Aiden spoke, rage filled his voice, “You never had a daughter. You gave birth to a son! If he likes men, he can be gay! There is no shame in that. But this! How could you let your son bring such dishonor unto you!”

  That is it. He will not talk to the one person who understands me. The one person who does not think I am a freak. The one person who has supported me when I could not stand. The one person who loves me for who I am.

  As the anger in my head bloomed, I tucked my feet under the chair as I stood. I shoved the chair back with the back of my knees as the chair tumbled across the room before landing against the chair, which was five paces behind me. I used that explosion of violence to show my intent. I felt my face go rigid as my eyes harden. I gazed into his eyes as I rested my hands on my swords.

  My voice was steady, even though I was shaking inside. Papa slowly rose as he placed his hands on his weapons. I spoke before he could. “You will not dishonor mother! Apologize now, and I will forget this incident…”

  Mother drowned out my words. “Sweets, NO! You will not do this. It is not your place.”

  “Hells bells, mother. It is my place! I will not stand here and listen to this,” I replied instantly, as my voice conveyed my anger. My voice held a coldness which held the promise of death to anyone who said otherwise. My eyes did not leave their place, as they were fully fixed on Aiden.

  “The matter of honor was first brought on by you. Pretending to be something whom you are not. I will not apologize for my words, as they are the truth. Fall on your blade, or I call for a duel!” Aiden gaze was steadily.

  “I will see you at a duel. Does the ground suit you?” I asked, while trying to force the steel of my blades into my voice. I used the archaic words of the formal response to challenge for a duel.

  “No. It does not. Outside in the training yard is where I find the ground suitable,” he replied as he formally stated the ground for the duel.

  He brazenly turned, before walking to the door which led outside. The perfect time to strike would be now. For him to turn his back on me at this time, when hostilities were to be had, I should let his arrogance be his death.

  Mother looked at me as she pleaded, “Sweets, please do not do this. He is too skilled for you. Papa will take your place, as is his right.”

  I shook my head. My voice filled with an icy tone, which embodied the hardness of ice. “No mother. I will face him. I have to do this.” I gazed into her eyes as tears fell from her eyes before giving me a curt nod.

  I strode to the door to follow him to his suited ground. Papa said encouragingly, from right behind me, “Keep your guard up, Sweets. Let him wear himself out. Use his power against him. You can do this.” There was no tremor to his voice. His instruction held more confidence than I have ever heard in any training session with papa. He was talking to me as he would an equal.

  “Richard, it should be you defending her honor! She is your daughter,” mother said to papa with a pleading tone, which penetrated her voice. She was behind me, as I could hear where the voice was coming from. My full attention was on Aiden’s back.

  Hostilities were to be had, and I would not be a fool with being caught unprepared. My vision narrowed to Aiden. Everything else in my vision was not there. I mean like stuff was there, but it was not there.

  “No. I will defend my own honor, thank you very much, mother. If I do not do this, I will have to hide in the shadows for the rest of my life. Everyone will think I can not defend myself. I will let the village down.” I paused to calm my racing heart. Then, I turned my head to look into mother’s face while saying, “I will never be offered the station of Samurai.” And it was true. Any duel set which was backed out of, was seen as cowardice. Any rank or station you held was stripped from you and denied to you from then on.

  The rules of the duel are very complicated. I was nineteen summers old. It was my place to defend myself in the village’s eyes. When you turned sixteen summers, your parents could not defend your honor, unless it came to marriage; however, defending your life partner or spouse was allowed. Secondly, it was the challenger to pick the ground, or the place have you, where the duel would be fought. Hence the saying, ‘Does the ground suit?’ Though Aiden had dishonored mother, that was a secondary dishonor. Papa would make him pay for that dishonor if I failed. He is one of the toughest Sensei of the village.

  I unbuttoned the first two buttons on my sleeves before unbuttoning my doublet, to give myself more room to move. I slid the doublet off before draping it over my shoulder.

  I pulled the leather gloves from my belt. They were not armored, as they were simple leather which held no metal plates, scale mail or chain mail. I preferred to feel my weapons, so I could be as close as I could be to the hilts. Material just got in the way of the feel of the steel. With my saber being my main hand, thus having no basket over my hand, I needed the extra protection to my hand the leather would offer unto me.

  After exiting the door, I saw Aiden had went to the center of the training yard, which was at the heart of the village. People from our building started coming out the exits. They wanted to watch the duel. I walked to the edge of the training yard before I turned to my parents. I watched papa’s eyes for any movement, which would show Aiden would attack. My ears listened for the sign of steel being drawn from Aiden, as my back was to him.

  I handed mother my doublet as I told her, “I love you mother.” I gave
her a tight hug as I embraced her.

  Her reply was filled with tears, “I love you too. Keep your head on straight.”

  I turned to papa, who was he shaking his head at me. “Remember your training, and you will be fine, Sweets. I believe in you.” A tear fell down his cheek.

  I nodded to him. “Yes, Sensei. I still love you, papa.”

  “I know, Sweets, and I love you too. Now, take him to task.” A grin spread on his lips as papa replied to me.

  I turned to the training yard and to Aiden. His left hand rested on his katana’s sheath, as his right hand rested on the hilt. He was in a knife stance, with the katana facing away from me. His front foot pointed towards me, as his back foot was pointed away at an angle. I knew this stance. It was favored to counter the first attack, which would deal a devastating counter blow. It was the best stance to have with a blade like that, which was made to slash with great force.

  I stepped onto the training yard. As I crossed onto the cobbled stones, which laid on the ground, I let my hands cross in front of myself. My right hand went to the saber on my left hip, while my left hand went to my right hip. When I was three paces from him, I planted my left foot facing him before moving my right foot behind, and to the left of my left foot.

  This stance is not ideal. If your opponent pushes the attack, you could get tripped up; however, I favored it. I felt like I was a coiled snake, as I was ready to strike. The key with this was your foot work. I find this is the most important part of fighting, regardless of how your hands moved. If your feet do not know how to move, then it does not matter what your hands do with the weapons. Secondly, it goes against everything the Sensei teach. I wanted Aiden to be overconfident. Hubris is a deadly flaw.

  I spoke loudly, for all to hear. “Call off the duel now, and you can leave here with your life. If you do not, I will take your life,” The gentle breeze carried my voice to all who wanted to hear my words. My words set the duel to a duel to the death, which is the most serious of the duels to choose from.

  In a dry tone, Aiden responded, “I…think…not. You dare to impersonate a woman, while you fooled me into believing you are a woman. You have brought me great dishonor. Fall on your blade or draw your blades,” Aiden replied as loathing filled his voice at the end.

  I drew my blades. My saber came into my right hand, as my arm drew the blade vertically over my head, with the point of the saber pointing to the ground. My rapier jumped into my left hand, as it came out horizontally in front of me in a guard position. I bent my knees more, as I centered my balance, before shifting the weight of my feet to my toes. I felt my muscles coil, as they were ready to spring into life to strike.

  He grinned to me with his hubris. I knew what he thought he saw. My feet were crossed. I would trip over my feet if he were to push an attack. I was too low to the ground to be able to recover from this position, to defend myself. My hands were not in a good position, nor were my swords. I was too open.

  This is what I want you to see, you fool.

  I assumed the people were murmuring in the background because of the stance. It is taught not to do this in combat. They did not know about when I would go into the woods to practice my footwork. I have trained my muscles to respond to my thoughts. I unlearned everything which they have taught me about a fighting stance, to made my own. Mine starts with the feet.

  I could see the snake inside of me coiling, as her head dress faired out from her head to warn the fool of I was a dangerous predator. The music started in my head, as a viola drew out a long tone of want before slowly building in pitch and volume.

  I waited in my stance, as I waited for him to start the dansul morţii. I would make him take the first strike. “You called for honor. I am right here. Come then, coward, if you dare.”

  My leg muscles started to burn with them being under the tension, like they were like a coiled snake ready to strike. I let some of the tension start to rock my legs back and forth. Feeling more and more like a snake, I waited for my prey. A violin joined the viola in the song, as it brought the tension to the music forming in my head.

  He exploded into movement as he drew his katana, before stepping into the strike distance, while cutting sideways with his katana. The cut started before he drew his katana. He turned his feet into the attack, then his hips, before turning his body. His shoulders followed the attack, before drawing the blade to strike. The physics contained in the strike were perfect in their execution, which was to provide the most strength to the attack as could be had out of it. It was perfection for the blade he held in his hands. The violin and viola increased in pitch, as the moment for the dansul morţii to come into being was here.

  I believe time slowed down for me because of the adrenaline, which was dumped into my body. My left foot stepped back a pace with the sway away from the incoming blow, which would leave me but a hair’s breath out of his reach. My left hand brought the rapier in to apparently block, though I did not intend on blocking. I was going to let the strike slide by my face. The blade of my rapier, which was my decoying movement, touched my right cheek, as I brought it in close to my face in the decoying movement. The metal was cold on my skin.

  My saber went to work. I pulled the blade over my head to start the counter strike to finish this. I kept the circle of my hand moving over my head tight. When the blade reached my shoulder, as the katana raced towards my face, which was going to miss me by hair’s width, I put my power into my strike, as I lifted my foot from the ground to release the energy, which I had coiled in my body. My saber moved forward towards his neck as my body rotated. It was like a snake leaning back in to strike, when the time is right.

  I swear I could see him understand what I was doing, as he slowed his strike, before releasing his grip a little on his katana’s hilt. His right hand slid down a hand’s width on the hilt, as I turned my face away from the strike while pulling my head back. The forward motion of my strike made it impossible to miss his strike. Physics will not be ignored.

  Pain erupted on my the left side of my face, as I brought my right foot in front of me, as my hips following my step. My shoulders followed my hips, before my arm followed my shoulders.

  I could not see out of my left eye, but I let the pain fade from my mind. I had to land this strike, or I was dead. Pain is life, as life is pain. I know life, just as I know pain.

  It was not until I spoke with Vadoma, about my thoughts, when she shared I am not the only person to feel this way. She introduced me to several people, one of which was Morgan, who did not conform to the binary restrictions of male or female. But, that is for later in my tale. She was also the one to explain why time seemed to slow for me. She is pretty smart.

  Insert

  14 Years Before

  Centraleplaats

  The hawk perched on a branch of a tree, which overlooked Centraleplaats. He was a dark brown hawk, with a red tail and black eyes. He was already a juvenile hawk, as he had spend two winters in this world.

  He was looking for food; however, he found this gathering of people curious, especially the boy which was in the group. He was not food to the hawk, neither was the boy a predator. He was just interesting.

  The boy walked up to a line of older men with two people following behind him. The boy kept looking over his shoulder at the woman who followed behind him.

  The man, who was following behind the boy, leaned into the woman before folding his arms around her, “I have to go get ready.” He knelt to the little boy, then folded his arms around him before putting his mouth to the boy’s forehead, “And I will see you at the Moeraplaats site. You have fun, Sweets, and know that you can choose any of the Choices, and we would be equally proud of you. The Choice is yours.”

  “Richard, he knows that. Would you just let him be, and let his Choice be his,” the lady told the man who stood back up from talking with the boy.

  “Yes, dear,” was all the man said as he walked into the settlement of humans.

  An older man from
the line stepped up to the little boy and woman. “Greetings little one. Is this the year of your Choice?”

  “Y..y..yes,” the boy stuttered out, as he looked down at his feet.

  “And, you are shy,” the older man said. “There is no need to be shy! I am Grand Master William. Can I be your friend?”

  The boy looked up into the man’s face. “Well, if you want to be my friend, then you can be my friend. I do not have many friends. I am kind of different than most of the kids.”

  “Being different means that you are unique. Did you know that?”

  The boy looked up at the man for a moment. “Really?”

  “Why yes! Everyone is different. I do not just mean the people. The villages are different on what they teach and do, trees are different with having branches in varying places, and there are different species of trees. Does that make them any less important?”

  The boy paused a few moments before responding. “Well, some trees are better for building with than others….”

  “And some trees are better to carve. Some trees make better bows, while other trees make better bowls. Just because things are different, it does not make them any less, or more, important than another thing,” the old man interrupted.

  “Is that why you are old?” The boy asked him.

  “Ronald, you will apologize this instant.” The woman slapped the back of the boys head.

  The older man barked out a laugh. “You are a very perceptive boy. Yes, it makes me different. It means that I have lived on this land longer than you have, and I know more things than you do.”

  “What kind of things do you know?”

  “Well, I know of things which happened before you were born. I know how to read and do mathematics. I also know,” he leaned down to the boy, “The best cooking is when your mother makes it.”

  The boy twisted his lips up. “Yes, she does! How did you know?”

  “Every mother cooks better than anyone else. I do miss my mother’s cooking, from time to time. So, as you see, being different is a good thing,” the elder man responded.