by Fuyumi Ono
The woman's lips scarcely moved. Forgive me, Youko barely heard her say.
"Please … don't."
The woman aimed the tip of the sword at the spot on the ground where Youko's right hand clawed the earth. As strange as it might seem, it was the woman who looked about ready to keel over, she was so gray.
Observing this, the parrot flew over and perched on Youko's arm. Its thick talons dug into her flesh. For some inexplicable reason, the bird was as heavy as a boulder. Youko wished to fling it off her arm but couldn't budge an inch.
The parrot cawed, "DO IT!"
The woman raised the sword.
"God, no!"
Youko exercised every ounce of strength left in her, but she was too weak, the weight of the parrot riding her arm too heavy, and the woman drove the sword down faster than she could possibly move.
She felt nothing, only the shock of the impact.
Youko was not even sure she was still alive. Before shock could turn into pain, she lost consciousness.
4-9
The awful pain brought her back to life.
As soon as her eyes opened, she checked her arm. There was the sword that had stabbed her. At first she didn't understand what she was looking at. The sword stood erect, hilt pointing towards skyward.
Seconds later the pain brought her back to her senses. The sword pinned her right hand to the earth, the slender blade buried deeply through the palm. Throbbing pain radiated up her arm and into her head. Gently she tried moving her arm. The pain tearing through her hand made her scream.
Swallowing the dizziness and pain, taking care not to make the pain in her hand any worse, she sat herself up. With her trembling left hand she seized the hilt of the sword. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth together, yanked out the sword. Pain convulsed her body.
She cast the sword aside, pressed her wounded hand to her chest, rolled on the ground over to where the beast had fallen. She didn't cry out. The intensity of the pain was enough to make her physically sick.
Writhing in agony, she grouped for the jewel and tore it free of the cord. She gritted her teeth and pressed the jewel hard against her hand. Groaning, her body twisted into a ball.
The magic of the jewel saved her. The pain abated a bit. After a few minutes more, holding her breath, she could bear to sit up again. She applied the jewel to the wound, cautiously tried to move her fingers, but couldn't feel anything below the wrist. She continued to force her right hand around the jewel.
Rocking back and forth, she hugged her hand against her body. She cracked open her eyes and looked up at the sky. The red-stained clouds were still there. She hadn't been unconscious that long.
Who was that woman? Why did she do this to her? So many things were racing through her mind, but she was in no condition to think about anything. After searching around some more, she found the sword. She took hold of the hilt and hugged the sword and her right hand to her chest. For a while she stayed curled up that way.
Not a long time had passed when she heard a voice say, "Oh … . "
She looked in the direction of the voice. A small child was standing there. The girl looked over her shoulder and yelled, "Mom!"
A woman hurried towards them at a small run.
Youko's expression said that the child had not bothered her. Her mother seemed an honest type. Her appearance betrayed her low economic status. She carried a large pack on her back.
Similar looks of concern rose to the faces of mother and child as they ran toward her. They jumped over the bodies of the dead beasts, grimacing with distaste.
Youko couldn't move. She could only watch helplessly from where she lay. They'll help me, she thought, for only a moment, before more anxiety overcame her. This was one time when she really needed help. The worst of the pain had subsided, but had hardly disappeared. All her strength was exhausted. She doubted she could even get up a second time.
So she felt more suspicion than relief. It was all too good to be true.
"What's going on? Are you all right?"
The girl touched Youko's face with her small hand. Her mother put her arms around her and helped her sit up. For some reason, Youko found the body-warm touch of the woman's clothing repulsive.
"What in the world happened to you? You were attacked by these beasts? Are you badly injured?"
As she spoke, the woman's attention was drawn to Youko's right hand. She let out a small cry. "What is this? Hold on."
She searched in the sleeve of her kimono and extracted a strip of cloth the size of a hand towel. She used it to bind Youko's hand. The girl took the small pack off her own back, took out a bamboo container, and held it out to Youko.
"Sir, you want some water?"
Youko hesitated. She couldn't shake her sense of unease. The canteen had been in the girl's pack so it must be for the girl's own use. There shouldn't be any poison in it. And the canteen didn't look like it had been tampered with in the meantime.
Having reassured herself, she nodded. The girl removed the stopper and with her two small hands held the canteen to Youko's lips. The lukewarm water flowed down her throat. In a stroke her breathing eased considerably.
The mother said, "You're probably hungry."
At the moment her stomach did not feel empty, but Youko knew she was starving so she nodded.
"When's the last time you had anything to eat?"
Youko couldn't be bothered to come up with a number so she remained silent.
"Mom, there's some fried bread."
"No, no, that'd be no good. It wouldn't stay down. What about something sweet?"
"Sure."
The child opened the mother's pack. Inside were a variety of jars of different sizes. With a stick she drew out the thick syrup. Youko had seen people carrying these kinds of containers before. They were probably syrup peddlers.
"Here you go."
Youko didn't hesitate this time. She took the stick with her left hand. The syrup melted sweetly in her mouth.
"Are you traveling somewhere? What happened to you?"
Youko didn't answer. She didn't want to tell the truth, and it would be too tiring to think up a lie.
"I dare say, you seem well enough for being attacked by youma. Can you stand up? The sun will be setting soon. There's a village not far off, at the foot of the mountain. Can you walk that far?"
Youko shook her head. She meant to say that she didn't wish to go to the village, but the woman took her to mean she could not move. She turned to the child and said, "Gyokuyou, run to the village and have someone come here. There's not much time. As fast as you can."
"Yes, Mom."
Youko sat up. "I'm okay." She said to the mother and child, "I thank you both very much."
She spoke bruskly, by way of turning down the offer. She managed to get to her feet and crossed the road to the steeply rising slope on the other side.
"Just a minute, where are you going?"
Youko didn't know herself. So she didn't answer.
"Wait. The sun is almost down. If you head into the mountains, you'll die for sure."
Youko slowly crossed the road. Her hand hurt with every step.
"Let's go to the village."
The grade here was quite precarious. Climbing the slope with only one hand, would take considerable effort.
"We're traveling merchants. We're going as far as Bakurou. You've nothing to fear from us. Let's go to the village, shall we?"
Youko caught hold of a root growing out of the roadbed.
"Wait, what's the hurry? Why aren't you taking this seriously?"
Youko glanced back over her shoulder. The woman stared at Youko, her eyes wide with bewilderment, like the child immobilized by her consternation.
"Please, let me be. If I do go with you to the village, what will be waiting for me there?"
"What has that to do with anything? The sun is setting! You're injured … . "
"Yes, indeed. You'd better hurry. You have a small child with you."
"Wait … . "
"I'm used to it. Thank you for the sweets."
The woman looked at Youko in confusion. It was possible she was simply acting out of kindness. Or possibly not. Youko couldn't know for sure which.
She started once more to climb the slope. Below her the child called out. She held out both hands towards Youko. In one hand was the bamboo canteen, in the other a teacup filled to the brim with the syrup.
"Take these. It wasn't enough, what we gave you before."
Youko looked to the mother. "But … . "
"It's okay. Well, then, Gyokuyou."
At her mother's urging, the child reached out and placed the cup and canteen at Youko's feet. She jumped down, ran back to where her mother was strapping on her pack.
Youko watched blankly as the child pulled on her own pack. She had no idea of how to respond. The mother and child glanced back at her many times as they descended the hill.
After they had disappeared from view, Youko picked up the canteen and teacup. Her knee gave out and she sat down on the ground.
It's better this way.
She couldn't know for certain that they were acting out of the best of intentions. After arriving at the village, perhaps their attitude would have changed. Even if it didn't, once they found out Youko was a kaikyaku, she'd be hauled off to the county seat. As painful as it might be, she had to take precautions. She couldn't trust anybody, couldn't expect anything. The minute she got careless and naive, she paid for it the hard way.
"They just might have helped you, you know?"
Again, that intolerable voice. Youko answered without turning around. "It may have been a trap."
"Perhaps, but you won't see that kind of help again."
"It may have been no help at all."
"Considering the state of your body and hand, will you make it through the night?"
"One way or another."
"You better chase after them, no?"
"I'm fine here."
"Little girl, you have gone and thrown away the first and last real chance you'll ever get."
"Shut up!"
Youko turned, sweeping wide with the sword. The monkey's head was gone. Only it's bright laughter remained, disappearing up the slope and into the underbrush.
Youko glanced back down the road. Dusk was falling. It began to rain, pebbling the road with small black spots.
4-10
That night was as bad as any night she'd been through. She was dead on her feet. The cold rain stole away her body heat. Naturally, a bad night for humans was a good night for youma.
Her clothing clung to her, restricting her movement. Her numb, lame limbs would not work the way she wanted. Some sensation had returned to her right hand, but barely enough. Holding the sword was extraordinarily difficult. To make things worse, the hilt became slippery in the rain. She had no idea how many foes there were in the surrounding darkness. And though the youma attacking her were on the small side, there were very many of them.
She was knee-deep in mud, covered with the blood of her victims and the blood flowing from her own wounds. As the rain washed away the blood and mud, it also washed away the last of her strength. The sword was heavy, Jouyuu's presence weak. The tip of the sword dipped lower and lower with every encounter.
Over and over she looked up at the sky in supplication, waiting for the dawn. The night had always passed quickly while she was fighting, but on this night in particular, her enemies coming at her in an endless torrent, it went on fearfully long. Over and over she dropped the sword and was covered in wounds before she could retrieve it. About the time when she finally saw the first signs of daybreak, she also saw the silhouette of one of the white trees.
Youko rolled under the branches of the tree. The hard trunk bruised her back. But that sense of being pursued ceased. Beneath the branches, as she collected her breath, she knew they were still out there, waiting. After a while they slipped away into the rain.
The sky brightened. Her enemies vanished. She began to make out the outlines of a surrounding grove of trees.
"I made it."
She took a deep breath. Raindrops fell into her mouth.
"I actually made it."
She paid no mind to her throbbing, mud-grouted wounds. She lay down, caught her breath, looked up at the sky through the white branches of the tree and waited for the gray day to come. As her breathing steadied she became quite cold. The branches did not stop the rain. She needed to slip away from here and find shelter from the rain, but she didn't move.
She desperately clutched the jewel as if to store up more of the strange energy that warmed her fingertips. Exerting great effort, she rolled over and crawled out from under the tree and dragged her body towards the lower part of the slope. Crawling over the wet grass and ground was not difficult.
She had tried her best to stay to the road, but in the middle of the night, driven on by her foes, she couldn't begin to imagine how deeply into the mountains she had wandered.
Clinging to the jewel and to the sword, she stood up.
She was well aware of her injuries. She understood the nature of the severe pain she was feeling. Still, she could not say exactly where she hurt. With each step she braced herself to keep her knee from buckling.
Half-crawling, she descended the slope and came upon a narrow trail. It didn't look like the main road. She saw no ruts or wheel marks. It was hardly wide enough for a horse cart to pass. This was the end of the line. Sinking to her knees, she dug her fingers into the bark of a tree to support herself but her hands were of little use to her.
She had been headed towards the wrong road all along. And now she couldn't move another inch.
She held the jewel tightly in her hands. It brought forth no warmth or comfort. Whatever energy they could supply her with, more was washed away by the rain. The jewel had reached the limits of its miraculous powers.
So this is where I die, she thought, and laughed.
Among all her classmates, Youko alone would die the beggar's death. They belonged to a different world. They would always have homes to return to, families who would protect them, futures sure to be free of want or hunger.
She had done the best she could. This was it. She didn't want to give up, but no matter how she tried she couldn't raise a finger. She had endured to the end, and if an easy death were her reward, she supposed she could find some value in the struggle.
Mingled in with the sound of the rain there sounded a clear, high tone. She raised her eyes. The faint light was shining out of the sword lying next to her cheek. From where her head was resting on the ground, she couldn't see the sword itself, but she could see the faint images rising up in the mist from the pounding rain.
And Youko Nakajima? a man's voice asked.
The vice-principal was sitting there. She couldn't make out where he was.
"Youko was a kind and diligent student. At least as far as her teachers are concerned, she was the most agreeable of all our students."
The vice-principal was speaking to somebody. She could hear the interlocutor's voice. It sounded like the voice of a big man.
"You ever hear anything about her getting messed up with the wrong crowd?"
"I wouldn't know."
"You wouldn't know?"
The vice-principal shrugged. "Youko was the model of a perfect student. There was never any reason to question what kind of life she was living or whether she ever strayed from the straight and narrow."
"A strange boy showed up at your school, isn't that right?"
"Yes, but my impression was that he wasn't an acquaintance of hers. But the truth of the matter is, I just don't know. It always seemed like there were aspects of her character that were a closed book to the rest of us."
"A closed book?"
The vice-principal's answer was accompanied by a sullen expression. "That's not quite what I meant. Let me put it another way. Youko was an honor student. She was on good terms with her classmates as well as w
ith her parents, or so I've heard. But that's simply not possible."
"Not possible?"
"I may be out of line saying this, but teachers will see things in whatever light favors themselves. Friends do the same. Parents tell you only what's convenient for them to tell you. They all fashion their own image of the student and try to impose it on everybody else. Now, the opinions of these three parties are never going to agree. A student trying to meet all the expectations of his teachers and parents would find it intolerable. A good kid to you or me won't be to somebody else. What it comes down to is, in being all things to all people, Youko never got close to anybody, either. It might have been a convenient way to play things, but I suspect it never amounted to much more than a convenience."
"And how about yourself?"
The vice-principal frowned. "I'm talking about your gut type of reaction, okay? But for most teachers, the few hard-to-handle students--the ones you keep your eye on--they're the ones you find endearing, memorable. I always thought Youko was a good student, but I'd probably forget all about her the day after graduation. And at a ten-year reunion, I wouldn't have the slightest idea who she was."
"Of course."
"Whether Youko acted this way on purpose, or whether it was the result of her simply trying to do the right thing, I don't know. If it was done with deliberation, I can't imagine what she was trying to hide. And if not, once she realized what she was doing, at some point it must have struck her as an awfully empty way to live. Wondering what she was doing with her life, seeing it all as meaningless, I don't think that would have been unusual at all for her to just want to disappear."
Youko stared with amazement at the vice-principal. The image faded. In his place a girl appeared, a student, one of Youko's closer friends.
"I've heard you were one of Ms. Nakajima's best friends."
The girl flashed him a severe look. "Not really. We were never really that close."
"No?"
"Yeah. Sure, we talked now and then at school, but we never got together outside of school, never talked on the phone. That was true for most of us. That was about as much as we ever got to know about girls like her."
