Risuko by David Kudler Page B

had spent days riding in front of this stranger, this Takeda warrior, unable to see any part of him but his gauntleted hands, neither one of us speaking. And yet I found that I hoped for the first time that I would ride with him again the next day.
    â€”
    That night, we ate sitting around a campfire, watching the sparks float up to join the stars. The meal was mostly rice and pickled radish, but in that moment it tasted as good as any food I had ever had.
    Masugu spent a long time speaking to Lady Chiyome, both of them very serious. Mieko seemed to be listening intently to them, but when Masugu glanced up at her, she looked away.
    â€œMieko -san ?” I asked when a soldier who was carrying wood to the fire crossed to the other side of the circle before putting his logs down.
    â€œHmm?” She stared up into the night sky.
    â€œMieko -san , why don’t the soldiers talk to you?” Then I considered. “Is it because of Kun—?”
    Her finger sealed my lips gently but without compromise. “Do not use her name.”
    â€œOh. Of course not.” Mother had taught us that one should not use the name of the dead for forty-nine days after their departure, so that you don’t call their spirit back from the journey to the next life. “I am sorry, Mieko -san .”
    Mieko gave me a sad smile. “No apology is needed, Risuko.” She stroked my cheek gently, which made me feel the night’s cold for some reason. “And Lieutenant Masugu’s soldiers have been avoiding speaking to me since long before this ride.” Saying no more, she rose and walked to Lady Chiyome’s tent.
    As she disappeared into the shadows, Emi took her place. “I can’t decide if she is really nice, or kind of scary.”
    â€œBoth,” I sighed, and Emi nodded. We both turned away from the dark and warmed ourselves in the fire’s light.
    As the night closed in around us, we huddled closer together.
    â€”
    It rained as we climbed out of Worth Province, and I spent the next days with a rough blanket wrapped over my head to keep dry. At inns and villages, the people treated our party with great respect. I thought back to the way that the people in our village used to tease Lord Imagawa’s soldiers. Clearly, in Lord Takeda’s domain, his servants were treated with more deference—and fear.
    As the days passed, my own awe began to lessen, and I began to talk with Lieutenant Masugu as we rode. We discussed the countryside, we discussed some of the books and poems Otō- san had made me try to read. I sang some of my mother’s favorite songs. He told me stories about his cousins, and sailing boats, and chasing his father’s horse when he was a boy. Often we would simply ride in a damp, thoughtful silence.
    One misty morning after we had just begun riding, as we were still on the outskirts of the village we had stayed in, and the weather had trapped the smell of wet smoke close to the ground, curiosity overcame my awe. “Masugu -san ?”
    He grunted in response.
    â€œWhat is this... Full Moon?” I felt sure that we could not actually be traveling to the moon—though it felt as if we had been climbing enough mountains to lead us to the heavens. “The school?”
    â€œYou don’t know?”
    â€œNo.” I was sorry now to have said anything.
    â€œOh” He was silent for a bit. I could hear him scratch his chin. “Yes. Chiyome -sama ’s school for miko . That’s where you’re going.” He cleared his throat. “I am so sorry. I assumed you knew.”
    I shook my head.
    â€œAh!” Masugu said, and cleared his throat again. “Yes. We are taking you to the school at the Full Moon. It is the great mission of Lady Chiyome’s life since her husband died. There you will be trained to be a shrine attendant...and you will learn a few other skills, as well.”
    I absorbed this. “But why did she have