by Maya Snow
Safely inside the town, Tatsuya quickly caught up to Hana and me. Together we pushed our way through the crowd, heading along the main street in the direction of the temple.
I caught a whiff of something delicious—a hot savory smell that reminded me we hadn’t eaten since the previous night.
Beside me, Hana’s mouth was open and I knew she was feeling the hunger. Tatsuya saw, too, and put a gentle hand under her elbow. “Food,” he said in a firm voice. “We must stop for a moment and get something to eat.”
A nearby stall was selling pieces of sizzling chicken stuck onto bamboo skewers. “Yakitori chicken!” bawled the stallholder, his cheerful face red from bending over a blazing charcoal brazier.
I remembered that I had the innkeeper’s money bag tucked into my sash and pulled it out. But what should I do? I’d never bought anything before. The servants had always done it for me….
Tatsuya saw my hesitation. “I can help, Kimi.”
While Tatsuya negotiated with the yakitori seller, I looked at the stalls on either side of his. Both were piled high with dishes of food—sticky rice balls, sour plums, strips of smoked fish.
I was surprised to see so many provisions because the towns and villages around the dojo had been bled dry. Food was scarce and many people were starving. I guessed that it was just a matter of time before Uncle Hidehira’s draining grip reached this far from his seat of power.
Coins clinked into the yakitori seller’s chubby fist, and Tatsuya handed Hana and me portions of yakitori chicken. The three of us ate them immediately, tearing the meat from the skewers with our teeth as we walked. Hot grease dripped down my fingers and stained my cuffs, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered now—we were almost at the end of our journey, so close to seeing Mother again.
I wiped my hands on the hem of my jacket and glanced ahead. Farther along the street I could see the temple tower clearly, silhouetted against the setting sun. We were so nearly there. We were so near Mother and Moriyasu.
“We must hurry,” I whispered. “There’s not much time.”
Moving quickly, we weaved through the crowd. Ahead of us a thick knot of people jostled and bunched up, then broke apart as someone rapped out a sharp order. A spear danced above the heads of the townspeople, sparkling as it caught the sunlight. A samurai appeared, followed by another and another. They shouldered their way through the throng, sharp eyes scanning left and right.
My heart stopped beating for a moment as I caught sight of a red silk mon badge fluttering in the breeze. Uncle’s men!
Hana clutched my wrist and I knew she had spotted them, too. We glanced at each other in horror. The crowd seemed to close in on either side of us. The sun was sinking fast, a shimmering ball of red fire. As it dipped behind the gray tile rooftops, the shadows around us deepened.
A moment ago the busy street had seemed a place of safety and hope. Now it felt dangerous.
Tatsuya was frowning and his hand rested lightly on the scabbard of his sword. “Don’t make any sudden moves,” he murmured. “We mustn’t do anything to draw attention to ourselves.”
Hana nodded. “We’re just country boys visiting the town,” she said softly, as the samurai pushed their way along the street, coming closer with every step. “Just taking in the sights and buying a few bits and pieces before closing time. There are dozens of others just like us. The samurai won’t be able to tell us apart from the real farmworkers.”
The soldiers were so close now that I could hear the thumping of their leather boots. Quickly I turned aside and began to inspect the eels and herring laid out on a fishseller’s table. Tatsuya and Hana drifted casually to the next stall and pretended to be interested in a pile of wide straw hats. As the soldiers passed, Hana lifted down one of the hats and held it up to hide her face, turning it in her hands like an enormous golden wheel.
One of the soldiers passed so close to me that I could smell the lacquer he’d used to harden his leather armor. Blood pounded in my ears as I waited for a shout of recognition. But he didn’t even slacken his step. He marched on with the others and the crowd closed behind them.
I felt weak with relief.
But almost immediately I spotted another samurai farther on, and then another. It looked as if there were one stationed on every street corner! Red silk mon badges seemed to line the street all the way to the wooden temple gate at the far end.
Tatsuya made a face. “We’re going to have to be clever if we don’t want to be seen.”
“We could go down one of these side alleys,” Hana suggested. “Perhaps take another route to the temple?”
I glanced down the nearest alley. The walls seemed to close in, making the narrow space seem dark and dangerous. I shook my head. “Too easy to get trapped.”
Hana took a deep breath. “Then we should be on our guard.”
We kept walking and I tried to look casual, but inside my stomach was a tight knot of fire. I forced myself not to look at the samurai as we passed them, but instead to be interested in the market stalls. What fascinating lanterns! What intricate painted scrolls!
Gradually we neared the end of the main street. I could see the temple entrance not far away. Two enormous carved nio guardian statues stood on either side, the wood painted blue, green, and gold. We were nearly there….
I became aware of a pair of eyes boring into me and glanced up to meet the gaze of a fierce-looking samurai. Did he recognize me? I couldn’t tell. His helmet was pulled down low so that his face was almost entirely in shade, but his eyes gleamed like chips of black flint. He frowned and took a step toward me, and then another.
“I think I’ve been spotted,” I whispered desperately to Tatsuya and Hana.
“Keep walking,” Tatsuya said firmly.
“But—”
“Just keep walking. I’ll deal with this.” Tatsuya dropped back and suddenly melted into the crowd.
The samurai took another step toward me and shouted, “You! Come here.”
My heart began to hammer against my ribs. I glanced hurriedly around, looking for a place to hide. There was only a stall selling beautiful silk sashes in rainbow colors. Perhaps I could duck behind the table, and…
Suddenly a shout tore the air, and I recognized Tatsuya’s voice raised in alarm. “Thief!” he bellowed. “That samurai is a thief!”
People turned to look. I caught a glimpse of Tatsuya. He made a frantic gesture to me that seemed to say, Disappear now! and then bellowed again, “The samurai is a thief!”
“What are you talking about?” The samurai turned and glared at Tatsuya. “I’m no thief.”
“If you’re no thief,” an old woman said loudly, “then what’s that sticking out of your armor?”
The samurai whipped around, patting himself down. All at once his hand brushed against a bright green strip of silk that had been tucked between two plates of armor.
“That’s one of my sashes!” cried the stallholder.
The crowd pushed forward and surrounded the samurai.
“What a disgrace,” muttered a woman in a rich silk kimono, fluttering her fan in front of her face.
“He brings dishonor to the name of samurai,” sneered a burly, black-haired man with two swords at his waist. He caught hold of the soldier’s arm. “I think you’d better give that back…,” he began menacingly.
I didn’t hear the rest. Hana caught my hand and together we fled up the street.
CHAPTER TEN
Behind us, pandemonium broke out. I could hear the samurai protesting his innocence, and the stallholder crying, “I want him arrested.”
At last the sounds faded, just as Tatsuya caught up with us.
“That was so clever,” I said.
Hana gave Tatsuya a hug. I noticed a blush creep up Tatsuya’s cheeks as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Come on,” I said. “We’re nearly at the temple. I doubt the monks will allow soldiers to patrol on sacred ground, so we should be safe in there.”
&nb
sp; Two towering nio statues guarded the way, their fearsome warrior faces glowering down as we passed beneath. Inside the temple grounds, a stone path led up a gentle slope lined with cedar trees. As we walked, a feeling of peace and calm settled on me. The pathway was smooth beneath my feet, and I could hear the distant music of trickling water. I thought how perfect this place would be as a final resting place for Master Goku.
We passed a few people walking in the opposite direction, leaving the temple. Then at the end of the path we came to a courtyard edged with green ferns. In the center, a small waterfall tumbled over a small stream. A pilgrim in yellow robes and a peasant woman were both scooping water from the waterfall into bowls to wash their hands and purify themselves before they approached the main temple buildings.
Tatsuya, Hana, and I stopped at the fountain. We let the clear, cool water play over our fingers for a moment. I looked around alertly, centering myself in my surroundings. Was Mother here? Would she see us and come hurrying over, or would we need to seek her out? I glanced at each of the temple buildings in turn, wondering where we should start our search.
The hall, or honden, the study hall, and the two-story main gate building were clustered in a horseshoe shape around the edges of the courtyard, their intricately carved rooftops streaked orange by the last of the late-afternoon sunlight. A few people were just leaving the honden hall. A chubby priest in sandals and long crimson robes bowed to them as they walked beneath a string of bright blue and yellow prayer flags. He had a broad, cheerful face.
I turned to Hana. “We should speak to him about Master Goku,” I said in a low voice. Quickly I pulled the pouch from my sash and, with Hana and Tatsuya beside me, I crossed the courtyard toward him.
The priest turned to watch us approach. Then, as his good-natured gaze took in Hana’s boyish clothes but delicate features, a wary expression passed over his face. He glanced at me, and then at the pouch in my hand—and turned as pale as ash.
He came hurrying toward us and took my arm, steering me gently in the direction of a small building just visible behind the honden hall. My breath caught in my throat. Did the priest know us? Was he loyal to Uncle Hidehira? I gripped the pouch in one hand and began to reach down for my sword with the other….
But the priest’s next words reassured me. “You run a great risk in coming here,” he whispered, checking over his shoulder to see that no one had followed us.
“Do you know who we are?” Hana asked in astonishment.
The round-faced priest ushered us quickly inside the small building. Shadows fell around us. The air was scented with jasmine.
“I should think every man, woman, and child between here and the northern provinces knows who you are,” he said. “The town has been swarming with samurai since dawn. We’ve had horsemen at the gates demanding to be let in. Of course we turned them away. This is a sacred place, a holy place. We do not allow soldiers here.” He turned to me. “They are looking for fugitives who they say are thieves. Two girls. A woman. A young boy. They are to be captured and taken to the Jito, where justice will be dispensed.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I know the Jito, and I know there will be no justice.”
“You know Hidehira?” I asked.
The priest gave a quick nod. “I knew him and his brother well,” he said. “A long time ago…another life…”
I gazed at him, scarcely able to take in what he said. This priest had known my father?
He looked at me for a moment and then at Hana. “I knew them both well enough to know that you are Yoshijiro’s daughters,” he said at last.
For a moment I could barely breathe. The walls of the tiny building seemed to close in on me. Hana and I had held our secret close for so long that it seemed incredible that someone could simply look at us and know who we were.
The priest put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You are safe here,” he said quietly. “All three of you. I can only guess what you have been through these past moons—but I know enough about Master Goku’s death and the desecration of his funeral to know that your spirit has suffered a torment.”
“You’ve heard about the funeral?” I asked. “News travels quickly.”
The priest nodded. “News always travels quickly,” he said. “But it carries even faster when you have a network of rebels strung out across the countryside, like beads.”
“A rebel network,” Hana said, sounding breathless. “Then you will know even better than we do what is happening at the dojo.”
“Indeed,” the priest said. “In the absence of any other master, your uncle has put one of his generals in charge of the school. Many students have left in disgust. Most of them have returned to their families, but a few have joined with a local rebel group.”
I exchanged a quick glance with Hana and Tatsuya and knew that they were wondering, as I was, whether Ko and Sato were among them.
“And now you have come here seeking sanctuary,” the priest continued. “I cannot let you stay here—it would be too dangerous for you. There are only a dozen of us here, monks and priests. We are trained as warriors, yes. But we could not protect you if Hidehira’s troops decided to storm the temple.”
“We don’t expect you to protect us,” I said quickly. “We aren’t looking for shelter. We are to meet someone here at sundown and then move on.”
The priest looked again at the pouch in my hand. “And this?” he asked with a curious expression on his face.
I bit my lip. “This pouch contains the mortal remains of Master Goku.”
The priest gasped and for a moment I thought he would fall to his knees. He reached out a trembling hand and lightly touched the top of the bundle. “The great Master Goku,” he whispered. “He was my teacher once. And you have brought him here to Mount Fuji, where he was born?”
I nodded, and quickly explained how once Uncle Hidehira had declared he would scatter Goku’s bones beneath the hooves of his conquering army, I couldn’t leave him there.
“Will you keep his ashes here?” Hana asked, as I fell silent.
“Of course I will,” the priest said, bowing deeply. “I will oversee the ritual myself.”
I held out the pouch. The priest took it reverently and placed it beside a small altar nearby, where a ribbon of incense drifted up into the still air. “Master Goku’s spirit will rest easily now that he has come home,” he said quietly, taking a pinch of incense and holding first to his chest, then to his forehead before he dropped it into the burner. He began to chant, his words soothing and harmonious.
I stood for a moment, mesmerized, my mind awash with memories of Master Goku.
Hana touched my arm. “It is time to go to the honden,” she whispered.
The priest stopped chanting and turned to bow. “The Buddha will go with you,” he said, blessing us.
I felt a weight lifted from me; we had delivered Goku to his final sanctuary and now we could complete our own journey.
We hurried out of the small building and made our way quickly across the courtyard to the honden. The last rays of the dying sun filtered through the cedar trees as we entered the great hall.
There were several worshippers in the dimly lit interior. Some were kneeling to pray, the air around them wreathed with blue ribbons of incense. Others were putting up ema, the little wooden plates on which they had written their hopes and dreams.
I looked at each and every face inside the honden. There were several women dressed in dark kimonos, faces pale and serene. But none of them was my mother.
“We’ll wait for her,” Hana said.
“It will look suspicious if we just stand here,” Tatsuya said cautiously, glancing around. “Let’s go light some incense.”
He moved slowly away from us and went to kneel by the nearest altar. Beside me, Hana folded her hands and gazed around at the ornate statues and carvings of the Buddha. She seemed lost in thought. Her face had taken on a look of dreamy contemplation, a kind of serenity that I had not seen since before the death of Master G
oku.
“Mother has been here,” she said at last, her voice soft. “I can feel her presence.”
A tingle went up my spine. I gazed around, trying to visualize Mother’s graceful form moving among the monks in their robes, the worshippers, the statues. Was she still here? Had she perhaps moved into a different, smaller hall of the honden to offer up a prayer for Father and my brothers?
I glanced back at the entrance and saw that the sun had slipped low in the sky. Long shadows lay across the clearing outside. It was almost closing time, and already a few of the monks were gently ushering worshippers toward the door.
Hana and I approached the altar where Tatsuya was kneeling on a small flat cushion. We settled down with him to wait for Mother to come. I wished suddenly that I had been able to read her last letter for myself. Perhaps there had been other instructions? I didn’t know how long we should wait. Or even whether Mother would approach us, or if she wanted us to go to her.
Frowning thoughtfully, I took a pinch of incense and added it to the burner. A spiral of fragrant smoke twisted up into the air. Behind us, bare feet whispered on the polished wooden floor as the temple slowly emptied.
We waited. And we waited. But still Mother did not come.
“Perhaps we should we go to look for her?” I whispered to Hana.
But my sister shook her head. “Mother will find us when the time comes,” she whispered back.
A monk approached us. The hem of his saffron-yellow robe rippled around his ankles as he bowed politely. “My apologies,” he whispered. “I do not wish to disturb your prayers, but the temple is now closing.”
“Thank you,” Tatsuya said, bowing his head respectfully in return. “Would it be possible for us to have a little more time? We are waiting for someone. We have arranged to meet them here in the honden at sundown, you see.”
The monk smiled kindly. “A few more moments then,” he said, and moved away.
Silence settled around the three of us again. The temple was so quiet it was almost eerie. Somewhere a deep gong rang out, just once, and echoed through the building. There was a loneliness to the sound that made me feel cold inside.
