by Carrie Asai
And then I arranged the marriage. I know that Heaven wasn’t fond of Teddy Yukemura. He was a playboy and a street thug. He surrounded himself with flunkies with whom he spent days smoking cigarettes in tea shops and evenings carousing in clubs. But I would have seen to her happiness after the wedding. It was being arranged. Perhaps I should have told her what we planned.
But I was afraid to lose her. And now I have.
Konishi
8
“Wake up.”
I opened my eyes to find Hiro’s face about two inches from mine. His warm breath tickled my skin. I sat up fast, pulling the covers tight around me.
“A week in bed is long enough, especially when it’s my bed and I’m sleeping on the pull-out couch,” he said, still leaning over me. “Your fever has been gone for two days. I pronounce you cured.” He tossed a pile of clothes on my bed. “Get up and put those on.”
He strode out of the bedroom before I had a chance to point out the fact that it was 5 A.M. No human got up at 5 A.M. I had started to flop back down on the bed when I saw exactly what kind of clothes Hiro had left me. Gi. He’d left me practice clothes, like you’d wear in a dojo. That could only mean one thing—he was going to train me!
I dressed faster than I’d ever dressed in my life, then I ran into the living room and hurled myself at Hiro, wrapping my arms around him tight. “You’re going to train me! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t be sorry, I promise.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.” He didn’t sound positive he’d made the right decision.
“No, seriously.” I realized I was still hugging him and pulled away, blushing yet again. This new Heaven—she shouted, she ate tacos, she hugged boys. I was really starting to like her. “It’s all going to work out. I know you’re doing the right thing. I’ll work so hard. I’ll be the best student ever,” I promised. “What should we start with? Karate? Or is there something else samurai should learn first? I’m a quick learner.”
I knew I was babbling, but I felt so giddy, I couldn’t stop. I’d never been drunk, but this was what I thought it would feel like. Finally my life would have a clear purpose. Instead of doing what everybody else wanted me to do, I would be doing what I wanted, pursuing a goal. If I worked hard enough, I would become a samurai, and then nothing could stop me.
“I really believe that you want to do this, Heaven, and that’s part of the reason I’ve agreed to teach you,” Hiro said. “But I have to warn you—it’s not going to be fun.”
“Fun is the last thing on my mind right now, Hiro. Can’t I be excited? I finally get to do something for myself. And for Ohiko. I’ll make you both proud of me. Just wait and see.” I gave a little bounce on my toes. I knew serious samurai girls didn’t bounce, but I had to.
Hiro shook his head, a little smile tugging at his lips. “I know that your heart is in the right place.” His expression turned grim. “But it’s going to be very tough, and you have to understand that this is a matter of life and death. You’ve made a decision that will put you in harm’s way, and I’ve agreed to share that responsibility with you. It’s a very important step.”
“I understand, Hiro. Really, I do.” I didn’t bounce again, but I couldn’t force the smile off my face. A whole new world had just opened up for me.
“The first thing I want you to do is read this.” Hiro handed me a piece of paper covered in Japanese characters.
“Now?” I was in my exercise gear. I thought I’d be learning some kick-butt moves first thing.
“Yes, now,” Hiro answered. “Read it aloud.”
The paper was thick, the kind I used at home to practice my calligraphy. I cleared my throat and read:
I have no parents; I make the heavens and the earth my parents.
I have no home; I make the tan t’ien my home.
Suddenly the inside of my nose started to tingle, and I could feel a sheen of wetness over my eyes. Where had that come from? I forced myself to get a grip. This was no way to show Hiro how strong I could be. My voice came out thick, but I managed keep from blubbering as I continued:
I have no divine power; I make honesty my divine power.
I have no means; I make docility my means.
I have no magic power; I make personality my magic power.
I have neither life nor death; I make a um my life and death.
I kept my eyes on the piece of paper even though I’d finished reading. I was afraid if I looked up at Hiro, I would start sobbing. These felt like the truest words I’d ever said.
Hiro reached out and took my chin between his thumb and first finger. Gently he forced my head up until I was looking at him. “Why does this upset you so much, Heaven?”
I took a deep breath. “It just seems…sad. How true it is. I’m an orphan, Hiro—I really don’t have any parents.” My voice caught in my throat, but looking into Hiro’s eyes encouraged me to keep talking. “For a while I did, when I was Konishi Kogo’s daughter. I had my father, and I had Ohiko, and that was all the family I needed. But now—” I blinked, and a few tears escaped my eyes. “Ohiko is dead, and my father is not who I thought he was. At least, it seems he isn’t. All those years it was just a lie.” I took a deep breath. “What could I have been if my parents hadn’t died in that plane crash? I’ll never know.”
“Do you know what this quotation is from?” Hiro asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s part of the Samurai Creed. Just one small part. But I want you to read it every day from now on. Memorize it. Let it become a part of you. You think you understand its meaning right now, but that will change. I think you’ll find that after a while, it will acquire a new, more important meaning for you.”
I didn’t say anything. For a second I wondered if I’d been born to be a samurai after all. But then my mind returned to Ohiko, my parents—to all that had been lost.
“Feeling sorry for yourself is natural,” Hiro said, as if he could read my mind. “But you have to move beyond it.”
Feeling sorry for myself. That made it sound like I was pouting about a missed treat. I sat down on the couch, the bed already neatly tucked inside it, trying not to let my irritation show. “Okay, so I have a question about what I read,” I told him, determined to devote every molecule of my brain and body to my training. “I should know what the tan t’ien are. It sounds vaguely familiar. But I don’t.”
“I don’t want to get too much into this right now, but let me explain enough to help you with the creed. Basically everyone has three tan t’ien, or fields, within their body. The lower, the middle, and the upper.” Hiro gestured to a place just below his belly button, then his chest, and finally his forehead.
I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help noticing that Hiro had some nice tan t’ien. His T-shirt was stretched tight across the ridged muscles in his belly and his broad chest. Come on, Heaven, I chided myself. Like you’ve never seen a man before. I forced my eyes to Hiro’s face.
“These represent three energies: generative, vital, and spiritual, with the spiritual being centered, of course, in the head,” Hiro went on.
“So how can the tan t’ien be your ‘home’?” I felt proud of myself for managing an intelligent question, what with all the arguing between my head and my hormones.
“That’s a tough one,” Hiro admitted. “In essence the idea is to keep these energies as pure as possible, and in order to do that you have to live with the energies always in mind. The choices you make as you move through life should be based on the goal of spiritual growth, which can only be reached through the continued purification of these energies, which live in the tan t’ien.”
“How do I know if my energies aren’t pure?” Even as I said it, I realized that someone with pure energies probably wouldn’t be thinking about her new samurai trainer’s body at a time like this. Konishi really should have let me get out more.
“Believe me—they aren’t pure,” Hiro answered, joining me on the couch.
Did it show? Was it that obv
ious? Another monster blush started heating up my neck and face and even the tips of my ears.
“It doesn’t mean you’re bad,” Hiro explained. “Just that ‘cleaning’ them is a lifelong process.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him.
“And how do I do that?” I really, really needed to know. Right now.
“In a nutshell? Avoid attachment and craving.”
“I don’t think I get it.” My first lesson didn’t seem to be going well.
“I know. I felt the same way when I started studying with my master. I still feel that way a lot,” Hiro told me. “But that’s what training is really all about—learning to ‘get it.’ ”
“If you say so.” At least Hiro understood. He didn’t make me feel stupid at all.
“Speaking of moderation, you’d better eat something. I’ll go change.” He headed to the bathroom. “Eat fast, okay? I want to get to the park before it starts getting hot.” He disappeared.
I got myself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table. As I ate, I read the creed again. What had I got myself into? After all, I was just a pampered nineteen-year-old who’d never done anything she hadn’t been told to do.
What if I failed?
I’m going back to Japan. Even Konishi agreed that I could be of no use here. My brother, Masato, has agreed to accompany me on the trip home.
I’ve always found JAL’s first class to be superb. No one bothers me. All I need is an eye mask and a few martinis and the trip passes in a comfortable fog. If only thoughts of Heaven didn’t haunt me. Even when she is gone, she is here.
For nineteen years my marriage has been usurped by the arrival of that baby. She came into the household and everyone loved her, oh, yes, doted on her. She was so beautiful, even aristocratic looking. I wondered, as she grew into womanhood, what would become of her. I doubted that Konishi would ever let her go, would be able to decide on a suitable life for her. I almost lost hope.
Then the marriage was announced.
It was as if a great weight was lifted from my chest. She would leave our house, and the sight of her would no longer be something I had to bear day in, day out.
But everything went wrong. Ohiko, my dear, foolish son, interfered. And now he lies cold under the ground and she is still out there somewhere, living. And even though she is gone, Konishi’s heart is still with her, his energies devoted to finding her. For years I struggled and prayed that Ohiko would occupy his rightful place in his father’s heart. But after she came, Ohiko was always second in his affections. It went against nature. And my son, as silly as he was, never cared. He loved the girl who had stolen his birthright. He was too softhearted, too weak to fight for what fate intended for him, to claim his destiny.
Why was she sent to torment me?
There are some things that I know, some things that I see.
But not enough. The hum of the engines lulls me to sleep, and I welcome the darkness.
Mieko
9
“We will begin every day with aikido.”
I nodded stupidly and rubbed sleep from my eyes. I was hugely psyched about my first training session. But I’m just not a morning person. Hiro and I were standing on a grassy lawn in the park near his house. The sun was just coming up, and there was a slight chill in the air. A few joggers and dog walkers made their way down the paved path without giving us so much as a second look. I wondered if they were used to seeing Hiro here at this time of day.
“Certain forms of aikido are deadly. But the kind I do, the kind we’ll be doing, is noncombative. I like to start with this each day for several reasons.”
“Which are?” I heard a sarcastic note creep into my voice, but Hiro didn’t seem to notice. I reminded myself that being here was my choice and vowed to work on becoming one of those cheerful morning people—a challenge for someone who’d basically been keeping her own sleep schedule since the age of fourteen.
“This kind of martial art helps to adjust your ‘ki,’ or vital energy. That’s why it’s called ‘ki aikido.’ By channeling the appropriate energies, you can prepare yourself mentally for our more intense workouts later on.” Hiro was in full-on teacher mode. I could be anybody. He was too into his own lecture to notice. “It’s also a good physical warm-up. Combat training is stressful in a lot of different ways.”
“So where do we start?” The sooner we got our ki in place, I figured, the sooner we could go home.
“Just follow me,” Hiro instructed. “Wait.” He stepped toward me.
“What?”
“Your obi’s undone—here.” Hiro grabbed my cloth belt, which was hanging loosely around my waist, and retied it with expert movements. He was so close, I could smell the toothpaste on his breath as he explained the knot he was making. Thank goodness I’d put on one of his undershirts under the cotton gi jacket, I thought.
“Today I just want you to follow me as closely as you can. Don’t worry if you can’t get each move right.” Hiro began to move slowly—big, graceful movements that reminded me a little of ballet. “I’m going to go slow, and we’re just going to slide from one position to the next. Try to clear your mind and concentrate on what your body is doing.”
I worked on following Hiro’s movements exactly, but it felt kind of silly, like pretending to swim in slow motion. As we continued to work, my self-consciousness fell away. Moving in perfect unison with Hiro made me feel sort of like we were one person. All the pain of the last week or so faded to a dull buzz in the back of my mind. I was all body, all sensation. My muscles—some of them muscles I hadn’t even known existed—grew warm and soft as I continued to move with him.
The practice session stretched on and on, and my muscles started to burn and ache. My brain woke up and started complaining. It’s time to stop. This hurts. Why aren’t we stopping already? What’s Hiro’s problem? My movements got slightly out of sync with Hiro’s. I felt uncoordinated suddenly, back in my own body, not part of Heaven-Hiro anymore.
Finally Hiro brought his hands together so that he looked like he was praying. He turned around to face me.
He said, “That’s it for now. How do you feel?”
“Great!” I lied. Although I wasn’t as sleepy as I had been when we started. Maybe my ki was getting adjusted after all.
Hiro grinned. “Glad to hear it. Now it’s dojo time.”
He had to be kidding. Either that or he was insane. We’d just finished our workout. We should be going home to hot showers and maybe some time in front of the tube.
But half an hour later we stood in a small practice room lined with mirrors on one side. It reminded me of the studio where I used to take ballet class when I was little. My father had made me stop when I was thirteen because he thought it was a waste of time for someone who wasn’t going to be a professional dancer. I didn’t mind too much—by then I was interested in other things and preferred dancing to the music of the newest boy band explosion. Embarrassing, I know.
“Okay. We’re going to be tackling a lot of different fighting styles,” Hiro announced. “Today we’ll start with basic beginner’s karate moves. Eventually, though, we’re going to move on to aikijujutsu and kenjutsu. Do you know about those?”
“Ohiko always talked about them,” I said quietly, “but I didn’t really pay much attention.”
“They’re both samurai fighting styles. Aikijujutsu is unarmed, and kenjutsu uses the katana. We’ll get to the sword fighting later, when you’re ready. You’ll use the Whisper of Death, of course, but it’s a big, heavy sword, as you know, so you’ll have to work up to it.” Hiro placed his feet apart in a sort of ready position like you use in tennis. At home we had two perfectly groomed clay courts to use whenever we wanted. For a while I’d thought I would be the next Anna Kournikova, but then I got bored with it. My father wouldn’t let me play in tournaments, so there really wasn’t any point. And truth be told, my serve left a lot to be desired.
Come to think of it, I’d never stuck with anything for that lo
ng. Did that mean I couldn’t? With a shock I realized how my father had dictated all my activities and how, when he thought that one had become too time-consuming, he abruptly suggested that I move on to other things, rededicate myself to a new language or focus on an area in which my performance was shakier, like chemistry. It hadn’t just been dance and tennis, either. I’d played piano, too, until Konishi felt it was taking too much time away from my studies. “You’ve learned all you can,” he’d said. “Your playing is serviceable. It’s time to put it aside.”
How could I not have seen it before? I’d thoroughly convinced myself that I was the one who had been bored. I’d never seen the ways I might have created a life for myself through those pursuits, because Konishi’s daughter wasn’t meant to have a life of her own. My only dream had been to go to college, and beyond that, whatever my life could be had seemed a blank to me.
“Heaven? Where are you?” Hiro asked.
“Sorry. Just…thinking about something.” I shook my head as if to free my mind from my recent revelation. “I’m here.”
Hiro nodded. “Okay. Put your arms out like this, lunge, then step back in place. Your movements should be sharp and quick.”
Hiro worked through the series quickly, and I couldn’t help but laugh. His face was so serious!
“What’s so funny?” Hiro used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
“It’s just…you are so totally Bruce Lee at this moment.”
Hiro cocked his eyebrow. It was too cute when he did that. Even though I knew right now it meant he was annoyed. “Now you try it.”
By eight-thirty I was sweating like a horse. Hiro had worked me through three different sets of “attacks,” and I had to repeat them over and over. He barked out the names of the stances and I just obeyed as quickly as I could. No matter what adjustments I made, he never seemed to be satisfied.
“Okay. I’ve got to go to work,” he finally said. “I have a short shift, so I’ll be back at one. We can grab some lunch and then head to the gym for weight training.” Hiro wiped his face with a towel and glanced at me. “You’ll need to find a job, too, at some point.”
