"She prefers to be called Auntie; and yes, she did. You should thank her when we get back."
She was still looking out over the water when I realized when I realized how different she seemed. She had more energy than usual, and when she turned to continue down the beach, she went with more enthusiasm than I was accustomed to seeing. It was as if this was the very place she wanted to be, like a lost bird that had finally found its nest.
At the far end of the beach, nestled amongst the trees, we came upon and old, abandoned temple. It was built against the side of a steep hill, but a few of the stone supports that held it upright had broken in some places, causing it to lean slightly to the side. Thick overgrowth had claimed much of the building. Rough, hard bushes sprouted from cracks in the stone steps leading up to the entrance and vines lay strewn about the wooden balconies and amongst the shattered roof tiles. The red paint that covered its walls had long since lost its glossy sheen and now remained dull and flaked.
"This temple belonged to my mother," Kassashimei said. "My father was in charge of another one far in the north."
She approached a faded stone carving at the base of the steps. It was in the shape of a feral beat that looked like a tiger, partially hidden by long, coiling vines. Her hand shook as she reached up and touched the statue with the tips of her fingers.
"Where are your parents now?" I asked.
She remained silent, as if pretending to be oblivious to my question, then proceeded up to the temple, tapping the branch against the steps as she ascended. I trailed behind her, straining to move my weakened legs up the hill.
"Did you know that I was born sick?"
"No, I didn't"
"Well I was." She stopped for a moment to let me catch up. "I had so many brothers and sisters, but of all of them, I turned out to be both the youngest and the weakest. There were some days when I had to stay in bed. Sometimes I couldn't go outside at all. While my siblings went on to do amazing things with their lives, I had to stay behind with my mother. Even though I couldn't do anything on my own, I didn't want to bare the thought of her taking care of me. I was so angry back then. I yelled at her, insulted her; I even blamed her for giving birth to me. She cried a lot. Probably because she felt sorry for me. But that made me even angrier.
I asked her once if my existence held any meaning at all. She promised me there was. She said the spirits brought me into the world believing that I would be just as important as any of my brothers and sisters."
We finally came to the top of the steps and stopped at the entrance. One of the large double doors was unhinged and lay unceremoniously on the floor while the other remained open, creaking at the push of the slightest breeze.
"I called her a liar," she said, "and threw a bowl at her."
"Is that the way you really felt? I mean, you did get better. You're here right now, with me, and you look healthier than ever."
She struck the branch against the floor, snapping it in two.
"Of all the pain and resentment I felt while I was with my mother, none of it was worse than the regret I suffered afterwards."
We remained at the village for weeks. Kassashimei was in no hurry to leave, and truthfully, neither was I. Auntie was all-too-happy to take care of us. The way she treated us -the way everyone in the village treated us- was like living my old life again. In their eyes, we were not chienkuu ko and we were not servants of the Imperial Family. We were no one special. We were simply just children.
News eventually came, boasting the heroic battle of our forces against the cowardly enemy. We had beaten them back, the radio said, and their so-called super bomb, would never fall on Rui Nan soil. The news, however, never admitted that our own forces had been completely decimated, and that the enemy ships turned back only because of the bad weather.
That truth would be only be revealed to the people of Rui Nan after the war.
However, there was one sad bit of news they were willing share: With enormous reverence, they announced the honorable death of Lord General Fung. With great detail, they spoke of his ship laying to waste over a dozen of the enemy's vessels until finally ramming headlong into their flagship, sacrificing himself for our country and its people. Whether or not he truly did destroy a dozen ships, I could not say, but I knew that he was not the one responsible for attacking the flagship. But every now and then, as I glanced at the golden crane insignia pinned to his cloak at the side of my bed I felt, that for such a man as him, I was willing, -if a bit reluctant- to allow and accept such a grand lie. The capital gave him a state funeral and most of the country regarded his passing with solemn admiration. In Sparrow Village, however, Kassashimei and I lived as best we could with little care as to the events that concerned the world.
Some days we went with the boats to fish, while others, we helped Auntie plant vegetables in her garden. Every afternoon, we went with the children to school and sometimes, afterwards, we played in the ocean. Kassashimei seemed especially happy. She challenged me to foot races up and down the beach, and every now and then she let me win. She even begged the elderly man in the hut across from us to teach her how to play the shamisen. Of course, it was not long before she dragged me along, demanding that I learn to play with her.
She had a particular glow about her that left me in wonder, as she seemed carefree, always smiling. Whether it was climbing trees or dabbling in pottery or even playing pranks on other people, she was always quick to tug me along into whatever whims that interested her. Still, in the back of my mind, I knew that these times were fleeting.
Though I had gotten better, the day finally came when I was reminded of the curse that accompanied my silver eyes. I became sick again. It wasn’t sudden like before. I suppose, in a strange sort of way, it was more merciful this time. There was a dizzying feeling at first that sometimes caused an unexpected fall or a mild headache when I woke up. But as it grew, I felt it slowly chipping away at me. I climbed the trees until I was no longer able to climb. I raced across the beach with Kassashimei until I was too weak to run anymore. I watched, laughing playfully as she strummed clumsily at her shamisen, constantly getting scolded by her teacher, trying to ignore the fact that I no longer had the focus to play along with her. Eventually, even the laughter stopped. Then, in the same manner I had found myself when I first came to the village, I was back in the bed again.
Kassashimei stayed beside me everyday, leaving only to run errands and do chores. Though I had faced this sickness before, I could never overcome the fear that came with it. Death was looming once more, and I wondered if this was truly it, if the moment of my passing was finally near.
One night I was shaking, cold and drenched in sweat. Kassashimei gently rubbed a cloth across my forehead and arms, then tipped a cup of medicinal tea to my lips. I admired her and the smile she gave me. She remained as confident as ever; and even though I knew she was worried, she would never let me see it. Auntie picked up a basket and left to purchase more herbs.
"Do you think it would have been better if I had died on that ship?" I asked.
She shook her head. "You‘re a fool to say things like that. The more nonsense you spout, the more I might consier torturing you with some songs from my shamisen."
"Do that, and I'm sure you'll make me sicker."
We laughed and held each other's hands. For a while, we stared at each other in silence and let the fire from the stove illuminate the longing in our faces. The quiet chatter from the people outside and the gentle buzz from the night beetles lulled me into a sense of calm.
"Kass," I asked quietly, "how did you overcome your sickness?"
She sighed, then pressed her lips against mine. My eyes widened and my breath stopped. We remained together, lingering in that kiss for what seemed like hours.
As she pulled away, brushing the hair from her face she said, "Terr, you can't die just yet. There are things you still need to do."
I lost track of the passing days, but I knew of a particular evening when I was woke
n up by the sounds of fire works and the festive melodies of strings and flutes. Kassashimei came barging into the hut making pleas with Auntie who was boiling more medicinal tea. Whatever she was asking for, Auntie protested, shaking her head incessantly. Shrugging her off, Kassashimei picked me up from the bed and slipped my shoes onto my feet. Against Aunties angry ramblings, she placed my arm around her shoulder and helped me outside.
Confused, but trusting, I continued to limp beside her down the center of the village where brightly colored stalls had been setup, drawing people in with food and games. The sounds of drums pulsed through the air while dancers dressed in elaborate clothing moved in rhythm to the beats.
"It's the summer festival," I said weakly.
"Of course it is," Kassashimei replied. "I told you there would be one when we got back."
She shifted my weight against hers and proceeded to guide me further down the road, taking in all the sights and sounds as we went. I looked up at the sky and watched fire works crackle against the light of the moon. Children laughed, running about with food in their hands and the prizes they’d won from the gaming stalls.
I was determined to not be a burden, so I pulled my arm from her shoulder and proceeded to walk as best as I could on my own. During my first few stumbling steps, she tried to catch me, but I gestured at her reassuringly and quickly regained my balance.
"You see? I knew all that talk about dying was just an exaggeration. You're fine."
Her tease left me grinning.
"Well I can't let you have all the fun by yourself now, can I?"
We spent the evening sampling every fried food and meat-on-a-stick that the stalls provided. Sadly, there was not much due to the war rationing, but it didn’t matter. With or without the war, the summer festival remained just as joyous.
On some occasions I found it hard to keep the food down. Swallowing was as much a chore for me as walking, but Kassashimei made sure not to give me any pity. Sick or not, she was quick to point and laugh whenever I coughed out the food. Still, I was all too happy to laugh with her.
There were stage plays depicting intricate dramas and ceremonies, something I’d never seen before. Kassashimei pointed out the performers and explained the meaning behind their movements. A few times, I questioned the truth of her words, but she was all-too-ready to remind me that she belonged to a family of temple priests and that she knew what she was talking about.
The night carried on and we enjoyed ourselves to the absolute fullest. After the village fireworks had finished, we went out to a small hill to watch the capital in the distance start with their own fireworks display. Even though we knew that every town and city in the country that evening were commemorating the summer with their own festivals, it was strange to witness it being celebrated from two places at once.
I felt my mind constantly drifting away, like a lens from a spyglass unable to keep its focus on any one single thing. Though she remained next to me on that hill, I fought hard against the urge to sleep. I was afraid that if I did, I would never wake and that I would never see her again. Still, despite my every effort, my eyes closed on their own. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I was both relieved and shocked when my eyes opened again.
We were still on the hill, but we were kneeling, facing each other. She was whispering something under her breath, shaking a branch between us. Then she reached into her robe, pulled out a gold ribbon and proceeded to tie both our hands together.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Oh, you're awake. Help me finish this bow. It's too hard for me to do this with one hand."
"Kass, I asked you a question."
She gave an annoyed sigh. "Isn't it obvious? I'm performing marriage rites. At least where I'm from, this is how marriages are done. Except usually the bride doesn't do the duties of the priest."
"You're marrying us?" I exclaimed, pulling at the bow that bound my hand to hers.
"Stop it. Don't do that." She slapped the back of my hand. "We're not officially getting married. I just. . . I want to. . ."
"You want to what?"
"I want to see what it's like."
"You want to see what its like to be married?"
She gave a shallow nod. Her eyes, usually unafraid to look at me directly, had shied away. The lights from the village betrayed the blush in her cheeks. She then turned a stern, forceful gaze in my direction.
"Let me do this," she demanded.
For a brief moment, I’d become the shy one. I felt the sweat beading on my forehead and trickling down the side of my face. There was a fire growing in my chest, but instead of feeling its warmth, I found myself shivering. I couldn’t tell whether it was because of her or my illness. It was probably both.
"Well?" She prodded.
I found it difficult to sit straight. My dizziness grew and her face blurred in and out, as if she’d been veiled in clear water and then suddenly hidden by the ripples. Though I struggled, my concentration waned as my efforts to keep my composure slowly drifted away.
"You're the strangest person I've ever met."
"That's not an answer."
I couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how serious she seemed, as I was so amused, I lost a bit of my balance. Her hand pressed up against my chest and propped my body back in place.
"Don't laugh at me," she said with a pout on her face that left me still left me amused. "This is important."
I stopped and tried to be as resolute as I could. "Okay. No more laughing." I think I must have been smirking, because she was still pouting. "So do you really think the sun and the moon can share the same sky?"
She steadied my hand against hers and retied the bow that bound them together. "Of course they can."
My other hand reached out and helped her with the knot. "I never said yes you know."
"Yes you did. You just didn't use words."
I sighed.
After we tied the bow, she rasped the branch between us a few more times. The ceremonial chants she uttered seemed to draw on and on. The words melded together until it almost felt like she was singing. It was when she became silent came that I truly began to feel her sincerity.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes. "Do what I'm doing."
I did as she commanded and obediently closed my eyes as well.
"Now, according to my mother," she continued. "All we do, is lift our heads, and when we open our eyes, we will look at each other for the first time as husband and wife."
"Kass."
"Don't say anything. Not until the ceremony is finished."
"But before I do anything, I have a question."
"What is it?" she said wistfully.
"What if I want this to be real?"
For a while, the only thing I heard were the sounds of the ocean and the soft rustle of the trees. My anticipation grew. I felt the warmth of her hand against mine, heard the hesitation in her breath. After some time had passed, I wondered if she would ever say anything. And then, breaking the stillness, her reply finally came.
"Then all you have to do, is open your eyes and look at me."
They never opened. The weakness in my body had finally taken away my consciousness. I fell in a slump against her warmth as I felt my hand slip from the ribbon that kept me bound to her.
Chapter 32
During certain moments, when I think of my children and grandchildren, I often find myself reminded of that night; and then I wonder: could Kassashimei and I ever have nurtured a family together? What kind of life would we have had if she had remained with me? But then, knowing who she was, I knew that it was impossible. Even so, after all these years, my feelings for her never faded.
Hanging in the open window of my study are a set of chimes, and tied to them is a length of gold ribbon. It was my way of making sure that whenever there was a breeze, whenever I heard them ring, my endearing thoughts of her would continue to endure.
The next morning, I found myself lying on the ground stil
l outside the village. My head was propped against her lap and she was looking down at me with her hands gently cupping my cheeks. I felt content somehow and she seemed to share my feelings as we gazed into each into other without speaking.
Then, as the blurriness in my mind faded, a strange, distant rumbling tugged away my attention. I turned my head to see where it was coming from, but she kept her hands firmly on my cheeks, making sure that my eyes remained on her.
"Kass, what's that sound?" I asked.
"Terr, you need to know something," she said earnestly. "I'm not your shyo mah."
"What?"
"I'm not."
"Of course you are. You've always been my shyo mah. All the times we were together on those ships, we-"
"Terr, it's always been you. Just you. You never needed a shyo mah. When you flew those ships, when you made things move through the air, none of it was me. You did it all yourself. Those silver eyes of yours, they're a symbol of your gift."
I searched for a reason to call her a liar, but the heartfelt look she gave me pleaded with me to accept what I had suspected all along. All the times I had spent in the ritual room, turning and moving the ether, it happened so effortlessly, so naturally, and yet, with so much power. The way the currents flowed at my slightest will, it could never have been the act of two people. Such a thing could only have been achieved by a single mind pressed with a single purpose.
It was me.
It was always me.
"If this is true, then how did you know?"
"Because Terr, I'm in your thoughts. I'm in your dreams."
I wondered if I was still asleep. When I reached up to touch her, she took my hand and pressed her lips against it.
"Are you the dragon?"
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she placed my hand on my chest and lowered her lips next to my ear and whispered, "I'll be at the top of the hill behind the temple."
My eyes snapped open. Again, I was awake, lying on the ground in a cold sweat just outside the village. But this time I was alone. The golden ribbon was still tied to my hand. I sat up and looked around for any sign of her, only to realize that the rumbling I heard earlier was still there.
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