by C. J. Anaya
“She will be fine,” I said quickly. “Her bleeding was not as severe as I had thought it to be. Within an hour you should take your son in to nurse. She should be up to the task by then.” I didn’t think it wise to advise him of how close he came to losing Hatsumi and his son tonight with the young soldier sitting at a table to our right.
Daiki seemed to understand the need to lighten the mood in front of Musubi, though why he had let him stay during his son’s chaotic birth was a mystery to me.
“Come. Sit at table with Musubi and myself.”
I barely suppressed a raised eyebrow at this. I had sat at table with Hatsumi and Daiki many times throughout the course of our friendship, but being invited to sit at table with a stranger here was unprecedented and quite dangerous. I couldn’t afford to have anyone recognize me for fear of my parents discovering my late night excursions to homes in need of healings.
Technically, my powers for healing were meant for something completely different. As the daughter of Emperor Fukurokuju and Empress Chinatsu there was much expected of me, but my destiny was much more complex and demanding than any other imperial princesses might be.
According to a prophecy written thousands of years ago, a princess would be born to a god and a mortal, possessing healing capabilities that would be used to help the guardian of the Grass Cutter Sword heal and strengthen the veil between our world and the world of the dead. I had been raised to believe that this princess of prophecy, this healer, was me.
Suffice it to say, healing peasants and wives of innkeepers were not the kinds of activities the imperial family would have supported, and that was putting it mildly. My father would have beaten me until I was black and blue, and my mother would have made her normal indifferent treatment of me even icier than usual.
My role was simple and clear—marry the warrior god, Masaru Katsu, and spend the rest of eternity helping him heal the veil.
The end.
I held some deep reservations where my duty and destiny were concerned.
“Please, sit with us,” he said as he drew me to the table and offered me a bench. He placed me across from Musubi and then sat down next to me.
I was able to study the soldier’s features more thoroughly thanks to the lamplight in the tavern. I admit, I thought him much more handsome than I had before. Of course, I was no longer distracted with the possibility of losing the most important woman in my life.
I realized I was staring, and he had caught me doing so. His lips turned up in amusement. I hurriedly lowered my eyes to the table, feeling myself grow warm at the same time.
I marveled at the small smile he shared with me. It was strange to see any expression other than anger on his features considering the bitter feelings I felt rolling off of his ki for reasons known only to himself.
“My dear friend, Musubi was curious as to the pain you felt earlier. I explained to him you are an empath, but he worried you might actually be suffering from some illness.”
I noted Daiki failed to address me by my given name. I was grateful for that.
“It is obvious she is just fine now,” Musubi said, directing his comment to Daiki. “I’ve never heard of a midwife also being an empath. It seems like an undesirable trait to possess considering her line of work.”
“Oh, no. It is just the opposite,” I blurted out. “The pain allows me to sense when and where I’m needed.” I bit down on my tongue and lowered my eyes to the table again. It wasn’t common knowledge that the famed healer of prophecy was also an empath, and it certainly wasn’t mentioned in the prophecy, but letting anyone know I could do things most people couldn’t wasn’t the smartest of ideas either. The less I talked, the better my chances were of maintaining my secrets.
As it stood, only Daiki and his wife, my brother Saigo, my maid Aiko, and our tutor Kenji had any idea that I ventured out of the palace walls in the middle of the night, disguised as a woman of medicine to heal the sick and suffering in the empire.
Another strike against me was my gender. A woman speaking out of turn in my society was an uncommon occurrence, and although Musubi was talking about me, his comments had not been directed toward me. I’d had no right to voice my thoughts. Then again, I’d had no right to hit him in the face. My behavior around this man was unorthodox at best.
I felt his steady gaze bearing down upon the top of my head and wished Daiki had not invited me to sit with him and his friend. I needed to get back to the palace before dawn, and the rising sun was due merely two hours from now.
“You mean to tell me you could feel Hatsumi’s labor pains from your own personal dwelling, and that’s how you knew to come?” Musubi asked.
“Yes,” I replied reluctantly, keeping my eyes glued to the table.
“Daiki didn’t send for you?”
I shook my head in response. I was nervous being asked all of these questions. Daiki must have sensed my anxiety because he placed a calming hand upon my shoulder.
“He means you no harm. I promise you can trust young Musubi. He’s been fighting with the samurai insurgents for a few months now and is very much a man of honor and integrity.”
An aura of chagrin surged from Musubi’s person. I couldn’t tell if the praise embarrassed him or if he simply didn’t agree with Daiki’s assessment of his character. I was happy to hear of his involvement with the rebels, however. Anyone fighting against my father was someone I considered a friend.
“I wonder…are there limits to your empathic abilities?” Musubi asked.
I pondered this for a moment and dared a look in his direction. “To the best of my knowledge, as long as I have had the opportunity to meet the person in question, I can generally feel when they are distressed, in pain or in need of any medicinal administrations no matter the distance between us, but I have only ever been acquainted with the people of this village.”
I failed to mention those who lived in the palace. I also failed to mention that my empathic abilities only worked with people I had already connected to as far as sensing pain went, and once their problem was resolved I didn’t feel the connection any longer. Unfortunately, I tended to absorb others’ emotions regardless of whether I had connected to their ki or not.
Musubi’s anger, for example, was fairly distracting me with its intensity. I wondered if all soldiers survived war by carrying around a healthy dose of suppressed rage. Perhaps it fueled their ability to fight.
“Intriguing,” was all he said. He sat back in his seat, but continued to study me directly.
“You seem to have an idea brewing, Musubi,” Daiki said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’m crazy, and that a war zone is no place for a female such as this small, defenseless little girl.”
I felt myself prickle at his comment. “You feel I am unequal to the task of administering to the sick and injured due to my size? I can assure you, a war zone would cause little trouble for me.”
I bit down on my tongue again as Musubi’s frosty eyes flashed to mine. Where had my caution flown to? I needed to stop drawing his attention to my person. I could have sworn I sensed a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. Amusement lightly skipped its way through him before the anger, his constant companion it would seem, managed to smother it.
“I think you are undeniably equal to the task…of healing, that is. However, you are untrained to defend yourself should the occasion arise, and I’m almost certain it would. There are other things to consider as well.”
“You want her to live with the samurai insurgents and heal your wounded men?” Daiki let out an incredulous laugh. “It is unthinkable. She does have family, you know, and she is not yet eighteen. She would have to be married to a soldier or her reputation would be lost altogether.”
I nearly laughed at Daiki’s protests. He and I both knew my reputation mattered very little considering the matter of my betrothal to the warrior god Katsu. Nothing I did, no matter how inappropriate, would ever prevent that impending union fr
om happening.
If I were to be honest with myself, I would have reveled in the chance to spend time healing soldiers or even fighting alongside them. I would have given up my position in the palace and my destiny at that very moment if it hadn’t been for two things.
One, my father would search relentlessly for me the minute he discovered my absence, and two, I could never leave the palace for good without my maid, my brother, and our tutor, Kenji. They were some of the few people in this world who knew me and loved me for me and not my title or the birthright that came with it.
“I agree, it was a silly notion,” Musubi said, stroking the fine, firm planes of his smooth jaw. “She will most certainly be missed by her family considering her station.”
I looked at him in surprise. He quirked an eyebrow at me and his lips formed a half smile.
“Your kimono, child. Your state of dress clearly comes from the more affluent classes in this empire. I’m only surprised you were allowed to travel so late at night unaccompanied considering your age and station.”
I squirmed under his shrewd glance. He was far more perceptive than I had given him credit for. I had forgotten my blood soaked cloak in the other room. It would do me very little good to pretend I wasn’t a woman of some consequence now that he could see the fine silk of my kimono. There simply hadn’t been enough time to change into the clothing I usually wore when coming to the village to heal people.
“I admit, my family is unaware of my abilities as a midwife,” I managed stiffly.
He let out a soft chuckle and grabbed my chin in his hand. I gasped at the light contact. Very few men had ever taken such a liberty. My eyes met his, and he considered me thoughtfully.
“Adventurous, isn’t she, Daiki? You wouldn’t think it to look at her.”
I dared an angry glare at him before pulling my chin from his grasp and leveling my eyes to the table.
“Stop it, Musubi. You’ll scare the child, and after I just told her she has nothing to fear.”
Musubi laughed out loud this time. “I get the feeling nothing scares this one.” He sighed regretfully. “It’s a shame she would be missed by her family. I’m sure I could find some soldier willing to marry her for the sake of our armies’ well-being.”
I said nothing, but was fairly certain that my anger at the moment could have rivaled his. It certainly burned just as brightly. Did everyone assume I couldn’t choose a husband for myself? Did everyone assume I was only worth marrying so long as I was capable of healing?
Musubi chuckled again and placed a finger under my chin, gently raising it until our eyes met.
“I am only teasing you, little healer. I enjoy watching you fight to hold your temper in check.”
I couldn’t help but give him a reluctant smile in answer. It was hard to ignore his abrasive charm and joking manner.
“It was nice to have met you, young lady,” he continued. “I hope our paths cross again someday.”
Though his eyes remained a cold, frothy blue, the warmth I felt from his touch traveled slow and steady through the whole of me. He stood up and bowed to both Daiki and myself. I barely managed a short nod of my head, so resistant to the idea that I might miss even a moment of looking at him before he stepped out of the inn and out of my life forever.
Just as he reached the door, he turned around and took me in one more time. He looked a bit confused, and I could sense he felt it as well, almost as if he was unsure as to why he hadn’t left yet.
“I never did learn your name, child,” he finally managed.
“It is probably best that you never do,” Daiki said.
Musubi looked at the innkeeper and nodded, then rested his eyes on me one last time before he opened the door and stepped through it.
Chapter Two
“You had no trouble getting away tonight?” Daiki asked.
His question pulled me from my fixation on the door through which Musubi had recently exited. I felt drawn toward that door and the idea of stepping through it to catch up to the young soldier and…and what? Discuss the frigid night air or make polite conversation about the impending fall of the empire? I nearly laughed outright at the absurdity of it all.
A woman approaching a soldier in the middle of the night and initiating a conversation—just as ludicrous to impart to him that the thought of never seeing him again disturbed me more than the idea of never breathing again.
“In truth, I was having a…meeting with my father when Hatsumi’s pains came on.” I kept my eyes on the table and took a sip of my tea.
“A meeting with your father?” Daiki placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “How bad was it this time?”
“Bad.” I grimaced into my cup. Daiki knew the phrase “meeting with my father” was just another way of saying my father, Emperor Fukurokuju, had once again used my healing powers for personal gain. It wasn’t something I wanted to discuss further, but I knew Daiki would have questions. He always did.
I had met Daiki and his wife when I was twelve, after sneaking out of the palace in an attempt to run away from a life I felt I could no longer bear. As a child, my one thought was to escape my own personal prison as quickly as was humanly possible. It had been impulsive and ill thought out. By the time I had reached the village, I realized I had no food, water nor shelter and no money to my name. I was an imperial princess but owned nothing save it were the clothes on my back.
I had continued walking down the narrow stretch of road, wondering what my next course of action would be when I heard a scream from within the tavern to my left. Without thinking, I had run into the tavern, weaved my way silently around the many patrons, and headed to the very back where Daiki and Hatsumi’s living quarters were. I could sense Hatsumi’s distress and felt so pressured by it that I walked into their living quarters without asking.
Upon entering I had found Daiki doubled over on the floor with blood dripping from a wound in his thigh. I had immediately walked over, placed my hands on either side of his head and closed my eyes, connecting with his ki. I healed the wound instantly and then released him while stepping back.
I hadn’t dared say anything, especially after realizing what I had done. No one outside the palace knew what the imperial princess, The Healer, looked like. I was never allowed out without a veil covering my face or several guards shadowing my every move. No one even knew my real name.
Daiki had examined his leg for several seconds before saying anything. Not even Hatsumi had been able to manage a word, and she was, as I would soon come to find out, a very vocal individual considering she was a woman.
“How is this possible, child? How…unless you are The Healer. Princess?”
I had merely nodded and kept my eyes to the floor. I knew my plans for escape had been ruined after revealing myself.
Hatsumi had rested her hand softly on my shoulder and then squeezed it gently. My own mother had never been the kind to offer much affection. As a twelve-year-old girl, on the precipice of understanding the finality of my future, I felt cold, alone, and directionless. The small gesture Hatsumi gave me was enough to open a flood of tears I must have kept stored deep within my soul for most of my life.
I fell apart in front of a couple who knew nothing about me except that I was the daughter of an emperor whom everyone detested, and that I was the famed girl of prophecy, The Healer. Hatsumi had snuggled me close in her arms and the conversation that followed was one I would never forget. I had poured my whole heart to them and divulged my plan to run away forever.
Fortunately, Daiki had a better plan. He knew of my desire to heal people and wondered if I might consider being the village healer in disguise. Whenever someone needed my help he would find a way to get a message to me at the palace. This usually involved writing a small note and concealing it under a specific rock in the open gardens at the rear of the huge edifice. It was one of the few places I was able to visit frequently outside the palace gates without an army of guards shadowing me.
I checke
d for messages on the first day of every week, and whenever I found one waiting for me, I felt as if my life held meaning…a real reason for living. I suspected that was exactly what Daiki had been trying to provide.
Daiki’s thoughts must have been reviewing the same memories. “I sometimes wonder if I should have helped you escape five years ago. Your life would have been better, less fraught with pain and suffering.”
I set my tea down and met his remorseful gaze.
“You know as well as I do that I wouldn’t have been successful in my attempt at escape. My father would have found me eventually. You saved me in more ways than you or I will ever know, I’m sure.”
He gave me a tight smile, but his eyes held a hint of regret.
“Who was it this time?” he asked.
I didn’t want to discuss it. I didn’t want to consider what I had been forced to do tonight just to gather information for my father.
“Let’s not dwell on a subject so undeserving of our attention when we should be celebrating the birth of your son, Daiki. After all this time, you finally have a son.”
He smiled down at the small babe nestled snug in his arms. He and Hatsumi had tried for several years to have a child, but she always miscarried before I was able to arrive and offer help. There was never enough time to fix whatever was happening within her body nor with the baby in her womb.
It was a mystery to all of us. There was nothing within her that should have prevented her from carrying a child to term, but it continued to happen with each new pregnancy. I had become more determined than ever to help her deliver a baby to term, and this time we had been successful.
“You didn’t tell me the truth, did you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“She lost almost all of her blood. I’ve fought enough in battle to know when someone is bleeding out and close to death.” He lifted a shaky hand to his face and wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “You saved her tonight.”
I felt guilt chafing away at my joy. “Yes, that is true. The baby’s home had torn from her womb. She only had a few seconds by the time I joined with her. I should have noticed the bleeding sooner, Daiki. I am sorry.”
