Uba, stay here.’ His eyebrows gathered together in the middle. ‘Remember, Benevolence is part of the Way.’
The Way? What was that? It was not a good time to ask a question.
Akio went to the bushes and brought back a thick branch, nearly the length of my leg. I wanted to run. The branch appeared many times the thickness of Proprietor Chiba’s switch, and his switch hurt enough. None of Tashiko’s ointment would work on my wounds after Akio had hit me with the branch.
I moved a little away from him, a coil tightening inside me. Perhaps he would behave like Proprietor Chiba. He had seemed kind, but so had Proprietor Chiba at first. I might not be able to keep quiet, struck with that.
‘Use this, Kozaishō, for sword work until we can find a properly sized bokken for you. Here!’ Akio tossed the branch to me.
With the weight of the branch and the loosening of my insides, I slipped but, able to breathe again, I promised myself I would not fight Uba or anyone else. The branch Akio had found for me worked better anyway.
‘Stick-girl! Stick-girl!’ Uba shouted, almost every day that first month. He made sure he kept himself out of my reach. I ignored him. My brothers had called me names.
After the fight, Akio supervised us precisely, just as my father had the new green shoots after a long winter.
‘Watch your right leg,’ Akio warned.
‘Straighten your arm.’
‘Bend your leg.’
Over and over.
Uba whined, ‘I am tired. How much more must we do? When can we have a break?’
‘Well, I have the strength to go on. Will anyone challenge me?’ I answered.
I was warmed by Uba’s lack of grit and hid a smile. I enjoyed the samurai drills. I did not tire of them. I loved becoming the Pink Flower samurai.
To leave the practice fields meant working on the dances, dressed like a doll and ready to be beaten.
An older boy, who was tall like my oldest brother and had strung my bow, had heard me. ‘I will. Begin.’
His group and mine made a circle around us.
I took my stick against his bokken .
Two strokes.
In two strokes he had me flat on the ground.
Uba cackled, and the other boys hooted. I promised myself I would work harder.
About a month after I had joined the lessons Akio called us younger ones into a circle. ‘Kozaishō has been with us for a short time,’ he explained, ‘and she has learned well and fast.’
I raised my eyes to his for more praise. He made a familiar movement with one eyebrow, meaning ‘no’.
‘She has much to learn, but she will continue with this.’ His eyebrows soared to his topknot as he displayed a bright blue square cloth, its four corners tied together, a furoshiki . He laid it on the ground on another cloth and untied it. Inside lay a bokken , made of oak like the other boys’, yet thinner and shorter. He presented it to me. It was a perfect fit for my hands. The handle bore a carefully carved tree with full summer leaves.
‘I am deeply honoured, Akio.’ I bowed. The boys bowed with me. The bokken , my bokken , was spectacular.
I prayed to all the Gods, walking to Lesser House, that Tashiko would not be jealous again. I had allowed her to be Eldest Daughter. She had not given me the wrong tasks or dance instructions for a month or more – and I had no one else with whom to share my happiness. I decided to trust her.
I laid the furoshiki on the futon inside Lesser House. I loosened the corner knots, lifted the bokken and presented it on my palms to Tashiko. ‘Akio had it made for me.’
‘A tree in the handle.’ Tashiko did not even turn her head.
‘You knew? How?’
‘Leave it here. I must bathe you.’ Tashiko walked to the bathhouse. Her face was blank, but I noticed her eyes had crinkled at the corners.
When she undressed and scrubbed me, I persisted: ‘How did you know?’
Her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth travelled upwards. ‘Akio asked me what you might like, so I told him trees and rabbits.’ Her voice held the rhythm of
The Way? What was that? It was not a good time to ask a question.
Akio went to the bushes and brought back a thick branch, nearly the length of my leg. I wanted to run. The branch appeared many times the thickness of Proprietor Chiba’s switch, and his switch hurt enough. None of Tashiko’s ointment would work on my wounds after Akio had hit me with the branch.
I moved a little away from him, a coil tightening inside me. Perhaps he would behave like Proprietor Chiba. He had seemed kind, but so had Proprietor Chiba at first. I might not be able to keep quiet, struck with that.
‘Use this, Kozaishō, for sword work until we can find a properly sized bokken for you. Here!’ Akio tossed the branch to me.
With the weight of the branch and the loosening of my insides, I slipped but, able to breathe again, I promised myself I would not fight Uba or anyone else. The branch Akio had found for me worked better anyway.
‘Stick-girl! Stick-girl!’ Uba shouted, almost every day that first month. He made sure he kept himself out of my reach. I ignored him. My brothers had called me names.
After the fight, Akio supervised us precisely, just as my father had the new green shoots after a long winter.
‘Watch your right leg,’ Akio warned.
‘Straighten your arm.’
‘Bend your leg.’
Over and over.
Uba whined, ‘I am tired. How much more must we do? When can we have a break?’
‘Well, I have the strength to go on. Will anyone challenge me?’ I answered.
I was warmed by Uba’s lack of grit and hid a smile. I enjoyed the samurai drills. I did not tire of them. I loved becoming the Pink Flower samurai.
To leave the practice fields meant working on the dances, dressed like a doll and ready to be beaten.
An older boy, who was tall like my oldest brother and had strung my bow, had heard me. ‘I will. Begin.’
His group and mine made a circle around us.
I took my stick against his bokken .
Two strokes.
In two strokes he had me flat on the ground.
Uba cackled, and the other boys hooted. I promised myself I would work harder.
About a month after I had joined the lessons Akio called us younger ones into a circle. ‘Kozaishō has been with us for a short time,’ he explained, ‘and she has learned well and fast.’
I raised my eyes to his for more praise. He made a familiar movement with one eyebrow, meaning ‘no’.
‘She has much to learn, but she will continue with this.’ His eyebrows soared to his topknot as he displayed a bright blue square cloth, its four corners tied together, a furoshiki . He laid it on the ground on another cloth and untied it. Inside lay a bokken , made of oak like the other boys’, yet thinner and shorter. He presented it to me. It was a perfect fit for my hands. The handle bore a carefully carved tree with full summer leaves.
‘I am deeply honoured, Akio.’ I bowed. The boys bowed with me. The bokken , my bokken , was spectacular.
I prayed to all the Gods, walking to Lesser House, that Tashiko would not be jealous again. I had allowed her to be Eldest Daughter. She had not given me the wrong tasks or dance instructions for a month or more – and I had no one else with whom to share my happiness. I decided to trust her.
I laid the furoshiki on the futon inside Lesser House. I loosened the corner knots, lifted the bokken and presented it on my palms to Tashiko. ‘Akio had it made for me.’
‘A tree in the handle.’ Tashiko did not even turn her head.
‘You knew? How?’
‘Leave it here. I must bathe you.’ Tashiko walked to the bathhouse. Her face was blank, but I noticed her eyes had crinkled at the corners.
When she undressed and scrubbed me, I persisted: ‘How did you know?’
Her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth travelled upwards. ‘Akio asked me what you might like, so I told him trees and rabbits.’ Her voice held the rhythm of
Similar Books
