The Floating World Page 3

  The normally restrained demeanor of the group broke under the amazing revelation. For a moment his nobles forgot themselves, since the prospect of owning the property they tilled brought honor only garnered by the ruler of any kingdom. With Hideyoshi’s declaration, their clamor rose in unison to defend the land against invaders.

  Katsushiro spoke after the noise abated. “I’ve sent spies into Yoshimizu’s territory as well as messengers to neighboring provinces. We are outnumbered on the battlefield and no surrounding Governors wish to involve themselves in sibling rivalry. We’re alone in this, but for those who have seen these confrontations play out, it is not the number of the fighting force but rather the strength of the will that guides them that ultimately determines the outcome of any battle. You thought that you were brought here to be lifted by the motivation of your lord, but he has left that up to you with the promise of your sovereignty.”

  A samurai at the back of the procession saw Shinji from the corner of his eye and drew his sword. “Ninja spy!” he yelled at the shrouded intruder and swung his curved katana. Onozawa ducked and it sank into the wooden beam behind him, then he scratched the noble’s cheek with climbing claws and forced him to back away with lines of blood pouring down his face.

  “Stop!” Hideyoshi told the men who unsheathed their swords, ready to advance. “You’re all aware of my adoption of ninja as bodyguards to stop them from being used as mercenaries against us!”

  The wounded samurai nursed the open gashes on his cheek. “A ninja is good for nothing but his lies.”

  “This is most irregular,” Katsushiro agreed. “A ninja cannot be allowed in a meeting such as this.”

  “I have trusted him with the protection of my most guarded treasures, including my daughters. To assure your victory, he will be riding with you into battle.” The Daimyo continued to speak over the disbelief that swarmed through his protesting vassals, “You have heard that you are outnumbered and will need every man of skill to assist you!”

  Yukio ran through the sliding doorway and into the courtyard, where she grabbed Shinji’s leg and yelled, “No one hurts him!”

  He ran his fingers through her hair. “What are you doing here, Lotus?”

  “I heard them threatening you.” She glared at the noble with the bloody face. Their bravado seemed concrete and the argument was hopeless until her voice drained the fire of its heat. The samurai looked at each other and their tension broke with polite laughter at her innocence. The men put away their swords and turned back to the Daimyo for parting words, suddenly relaxed in the jovial atmosphere.

  “The delicate touch of women,” Hideyoshi mused. “The best reason to unite for war. We will meet our enemy on the grasslands and when this fight is over, we’ll celebrate your homecoming. If not for my persistent injury I would be joining you in battle, but in my absence, Katsushiro will be leading our army.”

  After the Daimyo walked to his premiere Generals, the nobles dispersed from the compound while giving Shinji strange looks, as if the presence of the little girl made him harmless. When they were gone, Yukio took his hand and led him from the courtyard.

  “Come with me,” she said, and as he passed Hideyoshi, they shared a look of relief.

  * * * * *

  Yukio brought him to a room between opulent courtyards and slid open the door. “You have to leave your sword before you come in,” she reminded him. Once they were inside, she walked around the room, lighting candles mindfully as she had seen others perform the ceremony.

  The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting artistic reflections of natural scenes, all painted with great skill by popular visionaries. Lighter colors gave a calm dynamic to flower petals that bloomed in the spring, while others were drawn in shades of black to detail geometric form that described external beauty so well that the need to question disappeared, leaving only stark appreciation.

  On open scrolls, ideograms described minimalist Haiku poetry that simplified the expression of the world from writers who took Taoist principle and related nature to the journey for inner peace. With metaphors drawn between the cycle of death and the wonder of temporary existence, there was a touch of fatalism in every poem, comparing this fleeting life to an eventual end and renewal of all things.

  When Yukio was finished lighting the room, she sat on her knees by the implements of a tea ceremony and asked politely if Shinji would join her. He took a seat across from her on the floor and watched her youth disappear with her intent to follow tradition. While the innocence in her eyes faded as she performed the motions, he couldn’t help but think that the loss wasn’t worth it.

  “I left this water boiling so that it would be ready. I know the purpose of the ceremony isn’t only about drinking tea, but I didn’t want to keep you for long.”

  “From what I’ve seen, you’re doing very well,” he said, though he believed that the focus of meditation was weak when a conversation was far more relevant.

  “I’m not old enough to perform this yet, but my father is too lenient with me. He allows me to walk beyond my boundaries as a woman if it keeps me from having time to brood about my mother.”

  “I don’t think important losses can be ignored.”

  “We have to hide it even from ourselves. If we remember the things that hurt us, we relive them.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “My father. I know that he doesn’t want me to enter a time of mourning because he thinks I’ll never get out. He has more wisdom than I do, but I still feel trapped.”

  “I don’t live by the same code of honor as the samurai. At worst, ninja are a destructive force that leads to anarchy. At best, we exist outside the boundaries of control which are nothing but illusion.”

  Yukio was still performing the ceremony with perfect attention. “I’m ashamed of myself...”

  “I liked you better when you acted like a child. You have years before you need to confine yourself within the constraints of adulthood. Only now can you feel free.”

  “I know,” she lamented. “My father will eventually marry me off to someone that I don’t love and I will be forced to become a member of his family. Like a slave.”

  “What do you know about love, Lotus?” he asked, concerned that she had walked beyond herself.

  “I’ve seen the way you and my sister stare at each other. I’m smart enough to know what love looks like, even if I’ve never felt it.”

  “But your sister isn’t trapped by fate.”

  “That’s because she’s disobedient. None of the men want a woman with a will stronger than their own because they feel threatened.”

  Shinji tried to catch her eye and bring out the child that he knew she was. “I have to remind myself that you’re still so young. When you repeat the things you’ve heard from adults, it makes me think that you’ve lost the ability to appreciate bugs.”

  “I’m not strong enough to be disobedient,” she replied.

  “You came to my rescue pretty quickly out there. That was definitely out of place for a beautiful young lady.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” She broke from her trance and connected with herself. There was still a dream buried beneath her quiet repose, and when it was fulfilled, she forgot her mask.

  “I think you have a spirit that can move mountains,” he told her. “If we repress our emotions, they gain power over us through our fear of them. That’s when we become prisoners.”

  Yukio went to the corner of the room and brought over a wooden birdcage that was draped in a blanket. She set it down and pulled back the fabric. “This was a gift from my father. I want to let her go, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

  “Why not?”

  Yukio bowed her head as she spoke. “Because then I will be alone in my cage, that’s why I’m ashamed.”

  Onozawa circled the tea set and the miniature kiln boiling water between them. “There’s no escape from what tormen
ts us, the hardest parts of life to face must be stood up to and conquered. You have the choice to live in a cage and be free from everything important, good and bad, or to shatter the walls and live in a dangerous place and accept it.”

  “But I don’t know who I’m supposed to be,” she said.

  “You only have to know why people care about you. We put up walls around ourselves, Lotus, but here’s the secret. When you want to be free, you’ll find that the walls around your heart are nothing but paper.” He picked up a decorative silver ring that held the cloth napkins in their elaborate fold and tossed it through the rice-paper door.

  Yukio broke into tears and hugged him. “I miss my mommy,” she cried. She was shaking gently as sorrow poured through her. He cradled her sadness, knowing that he could do nothing to assuage her pain.

  * * * * *

  After Yukio tired herself out and fell asleep in his arms, Shinji blew out the candles and carried her from the room. She moaned lightly in her dreams while searching the infinite darkness of her spirit. Once in her living quarters, he pulled back the blanket and set her carefully in bed before walking into the night.

  Images of the upcoming war ran through his mind, but the innocence of every invasion was painted in the eyes of the women and children who faced the terror of a war they could not fight. It was man’s duty to protect them in nature when other animals threatened their lives. For that defenseless purity in civilization, they still picked up their swords and walked into hell.

  Onozawa went to the garden, where the Daimyo spent the last hours of every day conferring with the court’s astrologers about the movement of the stars and any portents of superstition that could be found. Hideyoshi saw him and broke from his constant stare on the sky. “That was a close call earlier tonight.”

  “I’m sorry that I interrupted the harmony of your speech. If I knew that would happen, I could have stayed unseen.”

  “I asked you to be there, I just underestimated their pride. I think of you as being the son I never had, and that makes me blind to your dishonorable vocation. Even rage can be useful if it is contained and brought from the political chaos that anarchy is,” said Hideyoshi. “But I never forged an alliance with the Shinobi Guild for any other reason than because ninja are more dangerous as enemies than friends. I was lucky that those men who were bribed by Yoshimizu only stole the key. I would have no way to counter the betrayal if they harmed my children.”

  “Would your brother do that?”

  “He’s so consumed by greed that he would likely have me killed as long as he didn’t have to do it himself.”

  “Then why hasn’t he tried?” Shinji wondered.

  “Perhaps due to a fleeting respect for our father. If he sends an army to plunder our province with a supposedly honorable battle, I hate to imagine what he will try if he loses the war.”

  “I could end this quietly. No one would ever know.”

  Hideyoshi ran the thought over in his mind and decided that he didn’t want the situation taken care of by the blade of an assassin. “During my father’s reign, my brother and I were Generals in his army. We led the campaign against the western province to unite us. We fought with honor then and we will now.”

  “Even at the risk of endangering your people?”

  “Even at the risk of losing my life...”

  “I don’t think you have the right to put your children in harm’s way for an ideal.”

  The Daimyo laughed and searched the eyes of the scholars taking notes, who stopped watching the constellations and stood in shock at the ninja’s informal statement to the Governor. “That’s why I like you so much, you’re not afraid to speak your mind. Society requires obedience to work efficiently, but more often than not it becomes a numbing bore to be constantly surrounded by sycophants.”

  “Yukio needs you to be more than just a Shogun.”

  Hideyoshi’s stare grew cold. “Now you’ve overstepped your place.”

  “It wasn’t meant as disrespect, she just needs to connect with you over the loss of your wife.”

  The Shogun turned to his astrologers and said, “That’ll be all for tonight,” and they gathered their writing tools and left. “What has my daughter told you that she couldn’t tell me herself?”

  “Only that she cannot grow from that loss until she learns how to mourn. The only way she can do that is by sharing the sadness with you.”

  “It is not our way to feel openly. Personal emotion must be ignored for unity. Even in poetry, our individuality is objectified to match the grace of nature.”

  “But the only path that humans learn to define is when the unsubstantial finds a way to solidify itself.”

  “You’re speaking about pain,” said the Daimyo.

  “Yes.”

  “It is against our code for samurai to live as personalized creatures. We serve a purpose and that’s all,” said Hideyoshi. “And born from Confucian ethics in China, my rule as a leader is beholden to my people as well. The nobles protect me and I rule the people, and everyone’s survival is guaranteed despite the chaos.”

  “But living in pain isn’t worth it when survival is unbearable...”

  “Yet there is no other way. I don’t know how to comprehend the loss of my wife and the mother of my children. How can I connect with Yukio in that sorrow?”

  “You should allow her to be a child,” Shinji replied. “And catch her when she feels alone.”

  “I didn’t know that she suffered so much. I wanted to believe that she was too young to feel the loss. I never found a way to explain why her mother got sick or why I failed to save her.”

  “You are raising her to be a good wife, to serve a man someday and raise a family of her own.”

  “Of course, I want her to have a place that shields her from the storms,” said the Shogun.

  “But that isn’t possible. Teach her to serve and understand herself, then she will be free from the storms that rage inside.”

  “And what of my older daughter, am I failing her as well?”

  “Rumiko was old enough to place the loss of her mother into context and she is strong enough to find peace in meditation like the focus of any samurai.”

  Hideyoshi bowed to the ninja. “Thank you, Shinji. I would rather you speak out of place than leave me in the dark about my daughters.”

  “The wisdom you showed by offering the landlords ownership of the tracts they protect was the perfect method to motivate them to support this needless war.”

  “Don’t praise me just yet,” said the Daimyo. “That was to get them to fight. We will see how they react when the welfare of our province relies on the taxes I must take from them.”

  * * * * *

  Onozawa’s light-soled shoes made little sound between sections of the Governor’s compound, but telegraphing his movement made him feel out of place. Walking freely in the open was not something he could get used to after years spent traveling in shadows. Once outside Princess Rumiko’s domicile, his steps fell silent on the wooden floorboards.

  A strong wind blew through the forest and reminded him of the monsoon season.

  When his thoughts drifted to memories of his youth, the heat of a furnace burned his skin and he heard the echo of metalworkers molding the elements. His father guided the effort of pounding iron and folded a blade with ultimate precision. He ordered his apprentice to continue with the hammer until the reverberating clang of metal was as constant as a heartbeat.

  Each hit got louder until a woman’s scream pierced Shinji’s thoughts. He was torn from the distraction and breathed in shock, having lost himself momentarily in the past. While standing outside Rumiko’s living quarters, he heard scuffling against the soft matting inside and a strained moan. He threw open the sliding door.

  In a fighter’s stance with a short sword in her grip, Rumiko was breathing heavily with a light sheen of sweat glowing on her forehead. “Weren’t you taught to re
spect a woman’s privacy?” she said, jerking her weapon briskly into its sheath.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were in trouble,” he said with his eyes on the floor.

  She dried her face on a piece of linen while walking slowly towards him. “I’ve never seen you this humble before.”

  “And I’ve never seen you this forthright. Are you training for something specific?”

  “To protect myself, if I need to. We can’t always depend on samurai, can we?”

  He kept his eyes down. “Does your father know that you train?”

  “He knows that I read his books, but no, you’re the only one who is aware of this. Can you keep my secret?” she asked, playfully tapping the handle of her blade in a mock threat. He inhaled her natural perfume and the scent polarized something within him. It drew his eyes higher with a desire to grab her and taste the rest. “Women are invisible,” she said. “There’s no place for training in the ways of the warrior, neither is a man’s lust an acceptable outlet for our desire.” She put her soft cheek against him and purred for his touch.

  “It wasn’t my intent,” he said, gnashing his teeth to retain her honor.

  “This is the first time you’ve ever been to my room and coincidentally it’s at night.” She tugged on the opening of his shirt. “Just what was your intent?”

  “To speak to you before I go to war. Did I come at a bad time?”

  “You have perfect timing.” She moaned a little and pressed up against him, then she threw her head back and tossed her thick black hair over her shoulder. When she noticed that his eyes were completely glossed over, she looked down between them in surprise. “That’s some amazing concentration you have.”

  “Right now, I’m at the bottom of the ocean,” he said. She backed away laughing and covering her mouth. “Where did all of that come from?” he asked, breathing for the first time since he entered the room.

  “I told you, I read the books in my father’s library.”

  “What kind of books are you reading?”