“I’m sorry, Ietsugu. I don’t mean to be weak. It just hurts so that one of us might be responsible for all our deaths. That one of us cares not for the peace of a higher plane. That one of us would be willing to keep the rest of us from going on.”
He stared in fascination as the samurai reached up and caressed a cheek that wasn’t there. As he did so again, Toshi’s eyes grew in wonder as shimmering light spread from the skeletal hand to her face. Not truly knowing whether what he was seeing was real or not, he watched as the two people before him gained a semi-transparent skin.
Delicate hands reached up to take Asaka’s. The geisha’s face grew defined, with sculpted cheeks in a beautiful oval-shaped face with full lips. Dark, expressive eyes stared at the samurai with affection.
Rather than the demon face he half-expected, he saw that Asaka had once been as human as any of them. His features were handsome, strong and surprisingly young. His eyes stared into hers, returning the geisha’s sentiments softly.
Toshi blinked, a part of him weakly insisting what he was seeing wasn’t real. Still fascinated, but with growing disbelief, he looked closely at the young face belonging to his lord. How could that belong to the cruel, silent man who had forced him to enter into this journey? Yet, Miko’s features were more beautiful than he could have ever hoped.
Though his fogged mind didn’t know why, he felt the sudden need to see her smile. To his delight, a small, delicate smile blossomed on her blushing face. He stared at her so hard the overlay of reality and illusion made his head spin. A small groan inadvertently left his lips as he was forced to shut his eyes to try and stop his growing dizziness. He lay still even as he heard the rustle of silk travel in his direction. He did nothing as he felt his covers pulled away from his face and a warm touch land on his cheek.
“Toshi-san?”
His glazed eyes opened at Miko’s soft-voiced query. He stared at her in growing confusion when he didn’t see the beautiful face he had expected, but rather saw the familiar Noh mask. “Miko-san?”
“Yes, Toshi-kun, it’s me. How do you feel?”
He blinked again, the question not making sense to his mind.
“Do you think you can drink some tea?” she asked.
He blinked again, not knowing how to respond. Asaka walked up behind her and passed her a filled cup.
Seeing that he wasn’t about to reply, Miko placed a hand beneath his head and raised it. He did nothing as she pressed the warm cup against his lips.
“Drink, Toshi-kun.” Her voice held an edge of command.
He parted his lips and let the warm fluid in. He let his eyes fall closed as its heat flowed through him.
“Toshi?”
His eyes flickered open again as the cup was taken away. Keeping them that way was a struggle as both the seeping warmth of the tea and the ship’s cold joined forces to drag him into oblivion.
He felt his grip slipping, but another cup was brought to his lips. As the warmth poured into him again, his mouth held onto the cup more firmly.
“It’s time to wake up,” Miko said. “Our lord has need of you, and you’re already late.”
He looked up at her in incomprehension for a moment, before being distracted away by the spreading warmth of the tea. His mind couldn’t quite make its way out of the cold-induced fog surrounding it.
“Work with him,” Asaka said. “I’ll go dress and then come back for him.”
“Hai.” Miko turned back to Toshi once the samurai had left. “Everything will be all right now, Toshi-kun.
You’ll see. And, really, it is time for you to get up. You have an important job to do.”
His gaze rose to meet hers.
“You’ll be all right,” she insisted. “You have to be.”
He was barely aware of what was happening as Miko sat him up and then held him in her arms. Her softly lit eyes stared into his. He looked at the smiling painted face of the mask and smiled back at it. He sighed as Miko stroked his loosened hair.
Asaka returned not long after, once more dressed in his armored regalia with Mitsuo at his side. “I’ll take him now,” he stated.
The geisha nodded, keeping her face averted. As Asaka knelt to take her burden, Miko made sure his blankets were firmly wrapped around his body. Toshi barely registered the fact he was being picked up.
He lay in Asaka’s arms limply and closed his eyes. His mind still struggled to free itself from the cold’s power, but it didn’t look like it would win.
Startled, he opened his eyes as the night’s warm breeze caressed his face. With slightly clearer eyes but little comprehension, he half-watched as Mitsuo rose to the upper deck with his tool basket in hand. He looked up as the older man disappeared and then returned to peer down at him. He didn’t protest as Asaka held him up higher and he was given into Mitsuo’s care. The latter lifted him and then carefully propped him in a sitting position against the ship’s rail.
Crawling, his mind disengaged from the numbing fog that surrounded it. Something hot touched his lips, and he jerked back in shock. Disoriented and suddenly scared, he found he was staring straight into Mitsuo’s white-lit eyes. The older skeleton held a cup of steaming tea out to him and, when he didn’t respond, took Toshi’s hand and wrapped it around the cup before bidding him to drink. As Toshi brought the cup obediantly to his lips, a gust of wind ruffled through his hair; and with abrupt clarity, he realized he wasn’t where he should be.
A pang of fear ran through him as he became aware the ship had surfaced and he was on deck. Glancing past Mitsuo, he found the samurai sitting at his usual place.
He didn’t remember coming on deck. He didn’t even remember waking, let alone eating, or bathing, or any of the other things in his routine. Had he been bewitched in some way? Fear and confusion mixed freely inside him. As if to answer his question, his mind conjured up the image of a young man. Before he could wonder who it might be, he found his gaze moving of its own volition toward Asaka.
Shaking his head to dispel the mental image, he concentrated on drinking his tea. As its heat rushed through him, he shivered. He closed his eyes, trying to quiet his rising panic.
“More?”
The quiet voice startled him with its gentle request. Opening his eyes, he stared at Mitsuo breathlessly for a moment before returning the cup.
“Yes, please,” he said. “I would like that very much.”
Mitsuo lifted a steaming teapot at his side and refilled the cup. As Toshi gulped it down, trying not to think, Mitsuo reached within his kimono and brought out four wrapped rice cakes. Toshi gratefully accepted them and wolfed them down.
The food and spreading warmth helped him pull out of his panic. Nothing bad had happened. Asaka sat as immobile as always. He slowly relaxed, though he still had no idea how he’d gotten there. If he’d messed up somehow, perhaps he’d been forgiven. Something had happened, though; otherwise why would he have gotten his breakfast on deck?
“Boy,” Asaka said.
He jumped to his feet, his heart racing from the call.
“Yes, lord?” He steeled himself as the samurai’s demon-masked stare turned in his direction.
“Your schedule has been changed. From now on you’ll remain on deck at night, sleeping in between the time of your readings,” the samurai stated. “You’re forbidden from sleep while you’re below. Is this understood?”
A million questions rose in his mind. He dared voice none of them. Something had gone horribly wrong, and he had no idea what it might be. “Yes, Asaka-sama.”
“You will now take a reading.”
“Hai.” Struggling out of his blankets, he glanced around looking for his instruments. Not seeing them, he looked to Mitsuo, hoping the other knew where they were. He followed the old retainer’s pointing hand and spotted his basket sitting beside Asaka’s stool. Swallowing hard, he rushed to retrieve it. He hurried back to the railing once he’d fetched it, his feet complaining about the cold seeping in from the planking through his stockings.
Falling into the rhythm of his work, he took his various readings and computed their present position.
Once he was done, he walked over to show the results to the steersman. The skeleton’s glowing yellow eyes looked more subdued than usual.
Toshi held the map before him, pointed to their calculated position and then made to move away.
“Stop. I’m not finished yet.” The steersman reached a hand out for him.
With an apologetic nod, Toshi placed the map back in view, trying to hide his surprise.
The steersman looked at the map for a long time before telling him he was through. With a fear-mixed thrill, Toshi rolled up the map and hurried back to his blankets. They were out of the territory familiar to the steersman. He was being forced to rely on Toshi’s calculations whether he liked it or not. It was now Toshi’s responsibility, Toshi’s burden.
Not sure if he was pleased by this or not, he enfolded himself in his blankets. He checked the instruments and then set them aside before studying the map to become more familiar with the waters ahead. Quietly, Mitsuo sidled up beside him and put the instruments and other tools back in the basket.
Without saying anything, he held out his hand, asking for the map.
Not daring to question Mitsuo’s actions in front of Asaka, he rolled up the map and gave it to him.
Mitsuo bowed slightly before rising to his feet. He walked toward the seated samurai and left the basket next to their lord’s stool.
Toshi was slightly surprised as the bent skeleton then returned once more to his side.
“Time to sleep,” Mitsuo said.
He didn’t need sleep. He’d slept all day and had only been up for a short while. He knew his new orders demanded he sleep while on deck, but somehow he hadn’t expected to begin so early. He lay down, not able, despite his confusion, to raise the courage to argue; not when Asaka would be able to hear.
As soon as Mitsuo saw him comply, the old retainer shifted to a position just behind his head.
Wondering why he was the object of such scrutiny, he turned on his right side and tried to go to sleep.
It eluded him. His mind wandered, his thoughts lacking cohesion; but still he couldn’t make himself fall asleep. Bored after a time, he listened to the sound of the waves slapping against the sides of the ship. In an odd way, they were becoming a reassuringly familiar sound. He wondered what the gaijin captain would make of that.
His eyes had finally started feeling heavy when Mitsuo touched him on the shoulder. Sitting up, wondering what was wrong, he found that Mitsuo had retrieved his tools.
“It is time.” The old samurai stared at him.
He nodded and then got up to take his readings. After he’d finished, Mitsuo once more took the basket and the instruments from him and bid him go to sleep. Sighing, he did as he’d been bid, expecting more of the boredom he’d suffered from before. He never noticed when sleep overtook him.
During the night, he was awakened three more times to take readings. After the last of these, he was sure sleep wouldn’t come again. He couldn’t help but wonder how much longer it would be until the sun would rise.
“Boy.” He stiffened at the low voice, not having heard from Asaka since early that evening. “Go below.”
Bowing gratefully, he stood up and began folding his blankets. Mitsuo took charge of his basket and, after bowing deeply to Asaka, headed for the ladder. Toshi rushed to follow, the cold coming from the deck into his feet prodding him on. Mitsuo silently waited for him by the door on the deck below and had him go through first. He gave him the basket to take in with him as he opened the door into his room.
Hurrying inside, he placed his basket in one corner and then ran to his futon. He unfolded his blankets and added them to those already there. He snuggled under them as fast as he could.
While wiggling inside his blankets to warm up faster, he noticed he was alone in the room and that his table was empty. He tried to hold back his disappointment, instead concentrating on hunting in his blankets for his leather strip so he could retie his hair into its usual ponytail. He’d just finished tying it on when the door to his room opened. He smiled as he watched Miko come in carrying two buckets of steaming water.
“Good morning, Toshi-kun,” she said.
“Good morning, Miko-san.”
The geisha carefully set the buckets against the wall and then closed the door. “How are you feeling?”
she asked.
He found that to be an odd question. “I’m feeling fine.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Blue light flared from her mask’s eye slits. “Come and bathe while I go get your supper. You won’t want the water to get cold.”
“Whatever you say.” Gleefully watching the water steam from the buckets against the wall, he stripped.
Though bathing was normally done in the evening to take away the cares of the day, his body was too cold to care. In a rush, he dashed across the room and bathed. He was still at it when Miko reentered the room.
Rinsing off the rest of the soap, he made a dash for his covers. He shivered as he tried to wrap the blankets back around him. As he settled in, Miko poured him some tea. “How did it go last night?” she asked lightly.
He reached for the filled cup, his teeth threatening to start chattering. “It went fine, no trouble.
Asaka-sama has changed my schedule, though.”
“I see.”
He stopped in the midst of gulping down his tea as he came to realize from her tone that the geisha already knew this. He stared at her, wondering if perhaps she’d had anything to do with it. “Miko-san, do you know why it was changed?”
“Surely, you don’t believe that Lord Asaka confides all of his secrets to me, do you?” Miko’s head tilted slightly to one side as she spoke, a teasing tone lacing her words.
“This is important to me.” He ended up regretting his hasty words as he saw her amusement turn suddenly serious.
“I asked him to do it, Toshi-san. I was concerned about you.”
“I don’t understand,” he said. “I’m fine, aren’t I?” He felt a different kind of cold flow through him.
“Yes, Toshi-kun, you’re fine. Now.”
A shiver coursed down his spine as he realized what she’d just implied. He recalled how he’d found himself on deck rather than in his room.
“You really should eat,” she suggested. “Especially after all the trouble I’ve gone through—”
He could hear Miko’s mood growing lighter. Grateful for it, he reached for the food before him.
While he ate, Miko excused herself and left with the two used buckets of water. She returned within a few minutes carrying her koto. She sat down with it in a corner of the room and began to play a soothing melody.
He slowed his eating and watched the geisha play. As he did so, an image overrode his sight of her—it was one of a real woman, not the false one he could see on the Noh mask. Though it frightened him that he was doing this, since he knew not where the image had come from, he was loath to dismiss it. In a way, it pleased him greatly to believe the beautiful face was really hers.
“Is something wrong?” Miko asked. The image dissipated.
He felt a frown smooth out as she stopped playing. He wasn’t sure how to answer her question, especially as she continued studying him with her intense blue stare.
“I was just thinking about how—how beautiful you must have been before—” He stared at the floor, embarrassed by his admission.
“I thought you said you were only fifteen?”
He looked up at her question, not completely understanding it until he realized what kind of thoughts she had assumed had been his. Guiltily, though he’d done no such thing, he looked away, his cheeks growing hot.
Miko’s laughter filled the room, the sound of cascading silver bells adding to her ringing merriment. “You have thought of those types of things before, haven’t you, Toshi-kun?”
He stared at her, shocked she was askin
g him this. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth to reply and found it had turned unusually dry. “I—”
Miko’s laughter filled the room again. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s only natural for strong, growing boys to have such thoughts. I’m sure you’ve even been the subject of such thoughts for many developing girls.”
“Miko-san!” The geisha’s mood had definitely improved from the day before, but he wasn’t sure he would survive it. With growing panic, he decided to change the subject. He brought up the first thing that popped into his mind. “Could I see you without the mask, Miko-san?”
Miko’s laughter dissipated. She stared at him with subdued amusement. “I would prefer not to do that, if you don’t mind,” she answered. “Are you finished with your meal?”
“But why not?” he pressed. “I’m used to you now. I know what to expect.”
She said nothing for a few moments. She rose from the floor and gathered his dishes. “I’ll be honest with you. While it’s true at first I wore this mask to ease your fears, I no longer wish to do without it. I realize it’s pure vanity, but I just can’t bring myself to destroy the illusion I’ve created for you. You aren’t like the rest of us here. You’re different. Unless you insist, I’d prefer for things to remain as they have been.”
He sighed, disgusted with himself. He would have done better if he’d been born without a tongue.
“I’m sorry, Miko-san. I didn’t mean—I just seem to do it all the time.” He looked away. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said brightly. “I don’t want you to change. It brings me great pleasure to know you feel comfortable enough with me to say or ask whatever is on your mind.”
“I—”
Miko reached over and placed two of her fingers across his lips.
“It’s all right!” She stared into his brown eyes until he nodded. “Why don’t you get dressed while I get rid of these dishes? You wouldn’t want to tempt a woman for too long with all that manly flesh.”
Against his will, he felt himself blushing. He knew she couldn’t see any part of him through the pile of blankets except for his hands and face. As soon as she left, though, he rushed to get dressed.
Gloria Oliver Page 8
