DISCLAIMER: I don't own those characters, the plot, and the real people who are alive or dead. Those characters are owned by Clamp. The plot is owned by Kathleen Givens.
Prologue
Tomoeda
July 1185
"Sakura! Sakura, wake up!"
At first Lily's whispered words blended into her dream. Sakura turned her head away from the fear in her sister's voice. She'd been dreaming of spring, of cherry blossom falling softly from a bright tree. She and Lily, little girls, had been dancing, laughing as they collected the flowers in their small hands. Then Lily's mouth had opened in a wail and the sky had darkened and the cherry blossom turned wet. Sakura climbed her way back to the world, her mind resisted, for whatever had frightened Lily would frighten her as well.
"Wake up!" Lily shook Sakura's shoulder.
Sakura opened her eyes. It was still dark. Although it was summer, there was a chill in the air. Outside the rain drummed on the roof just above their heads and the shutters clattered as the wind shook them against the wooden frame. She heard it then too-a terrible pounding on the door, male voices raised in anger.
"They're here," Lily whispered.
Sakura sat up, fully awake now. She knew who they were: the emperor's men, here to drive them from their home. Just as Nadeshiko had predicted. Just Nadeshiko had prepared for. Fujitaka, ever overprotective, had argued that their family would remain untouched, no matter what Emperor Minamoto's proclamation had said.
She could hear her father's voice now from her parents' room below. The pounding on the door stopped. The rain was too loud for her to hear their words, but Fujitaka talked for a moment before she heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. The door to their bedroom was flung open and Nadeshiko rushed in.
"Get dressed, girls," she said, still fastening her own clothes as she spoke in a near whisper. "Remember the bundles under your clothes. Say nothing. No matter what happens, do not argue with them. And if…if there is violence…run. Remember the plan."
Lily nodded; already out of bed and pulling her skirts on over the shift in which she'd slept.
"Okaa-san," Sakura said, but her mother shook her head rapidly.
"Get dressed. Say nothing. Do it, Sakura! For once in your life do not argue. Just do what I say." And then she was gone.
It was a blur then, Sakura and Lily dressed and stuffed the bundles they'd prepared under their clothes, attached smaller ones to each knee, where they would be hidden under their skirts. The satchels they carried held only clothes and a few keepsakes that would not alarm anyone: ribbons for their hair, a lucky stone, a lace collar, a cloak pin. Nothing to raise suspicion. They had been tutored well. But Sakura had never believed this would happen. Despite all their preparations, all Mama's instructions, Sakura had not believed they would have to leave their homeland.
Emperor Minamoto had announced his edict on July 16, expelling the sixteen thousands of Christian residents in Japan from his kingdom. Within days, the streets of Tomoeda had been full of those who had already begun their mass departure. Some had simply left everything they could not carry, and walked away from homes and shops and all they'd contained. Others had tried to sell their business and houses, and of those, some had been able to receive fair prices, but most had gotten only a pittance of the value. They'd scattered, neighborhoods and families separated, perhaps forever.
Many of the Christians had said they would not leave, declaring that Emperor Minamoto had been their protector in the past. Just a few years ago had he not brought them within the walls of the Places and kept them safe? He would not abandon them now. The edict they'd said, was to soothe the feelings of those who had raised their voices against them, a political move on Emperor Minamoto's part. Nothing more. But others remembered when Emperor Minamoto had imprisoned the moneylenders in the Places. Hundreds had died.
At first there had been no mass plotting of Christians, no massacre of those who had not leave immediately. But for others, it had been different. Several families had already been roused in the middle of the night, and removed from their homes, escorted to the gate of Tomoeda, and throw out to fend for themselves. There did not seem to be a pattern to it, but it had happened every day for almost a fortnight. And now, on the twenty-ninth of July, it was their turn. Her father had been so sure they would be spared.
This is not real. This is my dream and I will wake up to find myself in a spring storm with Lily. This is not real.
"Hayo shine-ma!" Lily said. "Faster! I can hear them on the stairs."
They were barely dressed when the first emperor's man appeared outside their bed chamber. He was older, his gray, grizzled hair refusing to stay under the helmet of the emperor's guard that he wore. He touched the brim with a sharp gesture. His name is Yue.
"Mistresses. You have been given until daybreak to pack your belongings." He glanced outside at the dark. "Not long now."
"And if we're not ready to leave by then?" Sakura asked.
"Sakura!" Lily shouted.
"My orders are that you are to leave. If you want to live…" Yue shrugged, as though it were of not matter to him.
Sakura nodded tightly. There was would be no mercy, no small kindnesses from this man. Yue watched with a stony expression as they stripped the bed and tied the linens together. Lily, her head bent over the bundle of linens, picked up her satchel. Keeping her eyes lowered, she squeezed past the man and made her way down the stairs.
Sakura took one last look at the room she'd slept in her whole life, at the empty bedframe, the mattress sagging against the ropes, the empty hooks on the wooden wall that had held their clothes. At the iron candlestick on the small table in the corner, which held the one precious candle they'd been allowed on winter nights. She reached for the candlestick and heard Yue clear his throat. She glanced over her shoulder. He met her gaze and shook his head; she pulled her hand away as through the candle would burn her, feeling her face flush. For one mad moment she wanted to shout at him that the candlestick was a paltry thing for him to take from her when he was already taking her home and her past, but instead she kept silent and following her sister.
Downstairs her father was packing his books in an oiled cloth bag with his siddur, the prayer book, and the bible, given to him by his grandfather. The menorah and the tallit lay in a small chest at his feet. Outside she heard the rattle of the cart her mother had reserved, just in case. She could see the tears in her father's eye as he worked, but he won't look at her. Neither would the two younger guards, both just few years older than she and Lily. One gestured for her to go into the back room. Sakura stood frozen, staring at him. He wants her to go into the empty dark room. With him. Alone. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to look into Okaa-san's eyes, seeing banking anger there.
"The cart is here," Okaa-san said softly, in different tone that Sakura had never heard her use. "May we load it, please, sir?"
The guard must have nodded, for Okaa-san picked up a box and carried it out the front door. Sakura did the same, glad to be out of doors, where the rain had decline to a drizzle. The carter stopped them with an upraised hand.
"Payment first," he growled.
"We will pay you when we're out of the city," Okaa-san said.
"That's what we agreed."
The carter laughed low in his throat. "Then carry your own goods, madam. You have until daybreak."
Okaa-san stiffened, but relented with a nod and handed the man the coins from the pocket at waist. He shook his head and named a very expensive price.
"That's not what we agree!" Okaa-san said; an edge of fear in her voice now.
"Daybreak," the carter said. "Decide."
"We'll take it." Otou-san said and reached past Okaa-san to hand the man the rest of the money. The carter bit each coin in turn, and then grunted.
"Load it yourself. Only two ride. The others walk."
It took less than an hour to load everything. Okaa-san and Lily rode on the back of the cart as they made their way through the chilly streets. When the sky brightened Sakura could see the fear in her parents' eyes. Daybreak was almost here and they still had much of the city to cross.
She hadn't looked back at their house, refused to think, even to herself, that she would never be back. She had not acknowledged the few faces at the windows above the street as they'd left. She'd known those people since she was a child, but not one of them had lent them assistance, not one had raised a cry of dismay. Not one had said a word, not even farewell. It was as though she and her family had never known these people.
Her family had left much behind-their furniture, except for a few stools-but they'd taken her father's books, her mother's precious plate, her sister's dowry box, and three chests holding their possessions. Her mother had sighed as she'd looked around her kitchen, running her hand one last time over the wooden table she'd used daily. Sakura had turned away from the sight, her anger threatening to erupt. What had she and her family done to deserve this? They'd been good citizens of Tomoeda, good subjects of the Emperor. Their customs and beliefs might be different from those of the Jews, but they prayed to the same Father God, obeyed the same rules. What sins against society has made them outcasts now?
And what of the Christians who stayed despite all the warnings, those who watched them now-would they pay dearly for their decision? Would soldiers truly kill all those who remained? She would not think of it, would not remember their names. She would not think of the boy who had promised to court her when they were older, who had watched silently as she and her family left. Would not think of Tomoyo, her dearest friend, who would never know what had happened to her only that Sakura had left with no farewell.
The light was brighter now and the rain had stopped. But still they were in Tomoeda. There were other Christian families departing too, people carrying bundles and babies, hurrying toward the city walls. Carts like theirs fought for places in line to pass through the gate, and their carter swore and whipped his horse to push forward. Sakura, like her Otou-san, kept one hand on the cart, unsettled now by those around them and the fear that suddenly filled the air.
Boys assault them with rotten fruit from overhead, but no one complained. Everyone was concentrating on the looming sunrise and the slow-moving line passing through the gate. And then her Okaa-san was hit with refuse, the dark stain spreading on the shoulder of her gown. Her Otou-san whirled, his face a mask of rage.
"Iie!" Okaa-san cried. "Fujitaka, no! Ignore it."
Otou-san was hit next, and his face went red. "Is it not enough that we are forced from our homes? Is it not enough that we are running like cattle? Must we endure this humiliation as well? It is beyond bearing?"
Okaa-san grabbed his arm. "Fujitaka, think! They are nothing, those boys throwing this at us. They want you to get angry. They want you to go after them! And then what? We will still be here at dawn. And what will happen to you, to us? Ignore it. They are nothing. This is nothing. We will survive this."
They stared into each other's eyes. And then Otou-san nodded.
There was a sudden turmoil behind them, a troop of the emperor's cavalry burst through the throng, coming forward with great show of weapons and armor, and lining the path to the gate, the horses' breath looking like smoke from a foul fire in the unseasonably cool morning air. Sakura looked at the faces of the emperor's men; at the glances they gave each other and the sky. Would the soldiers be given order to fall upon those who were still in Tomoeda at daybreak? She began to pray, for her family, for those behind them. Ten people ahead of them, then six.
And then she heard Tomoyo's voice.
"Sakura! Sakura!"
Only Tomoyo Daidouji would have braved this madness, Sakura thought, her heart lifting. One person in all of Tomoeda still cared whether she lived or died. "Tomoyo!" she cried, standing on her toes, trying to find her friend, "Tomoyo!"
The line moved forward and Otou-san grabbed her arm. "Do not stop, Sakura!"
"But, Otou-san, it's Tomoyo! How did she know?"
"She lives at court," he said. "They all know."
"Sakura!" Tomoyo's voice was louder now.
A slim hand with long fingers waved madly above the fray, and Sakura finally saw her. Tomoyo's dark black hair was in tangle, tumbling around her shoulders as though she'd risen hastily from her bed. She was dressed as a servant, her clothing regular and plain, but not convincing. Servant girls did not have Tomoyo's fine bone structure or her rare beauty. Sakura's eyes glowing with tears of gratitude that her friend had found her.
"Here! Tomoyo, here!"
"We have no time for this, Sakura!" Otou-san said.
Sakura stayed where she was, waving her arm high. The group in front of her family was arguing with the guards at the gate, and it became clearly why the wait was so long. They would have to pay to leave! The word spread to those behind them, and she could smell their fear and anger. The emperor's men let their horses paw at the ground, as eager to start their tasks.
"I thought I would not find you!" Tomoyo scurry through the crowd and hug Sakura.
"I could not send word to you! Forces came-"
"I heard what was happening and ran to your house," Tomoyo gasped, "but you were not there. Oh Sakura! Where will you go? Sir, where will you go?"
Otou-san's expression has softened. "I don't know, Tomoyo. I don't know."
"I did not believe the emperor would enforce his declaration!" Tomoyo's eyes were wide with worry. "You'll have no safety passageway. You'll have no security! It will be dangerous. You know how dangerous the roads are!"
"We have no choice," Otou-san said.
"I wish I had money or the authority to send men with you! Be cautious, be so cautious!" Tomoyo cried and hugged Sakura tighter. "I cannot tolerate it! It will be so long until we see each other again!"
"Tomoyo, we will never see each other again"
"No, no, do not even say that!" Tomoyo said. "We will meet again. You must believe it! We must both believe it! We will always be friends. Nothing, not even this, will change that!"
"Sakura, come!" Otou-san said as their turn came to pass through the gate. He handed the gatekeeper coins and turned to Sakura.
"Farewell, Tomoyo. Thank you for being a friend to my daughter. Come."
Sakura tore herself out of Tomoyo's arm, both girls weeping.
"Stay safe, dear friend," Tomoyo said. "Sakura, oh dear God, take care! I will pray for you every day! I will pray for you all!"
"And I you, Tomoyo! I will think of you in your new life at court!"
"Sakura, come!"
Sakura passed with her family through the gate. She turned to look for Tomoyo but could not see past the turbulent crowd pushing through behind them. The sun's rays touched the tops of Tomoeda's buildings, and her Otou-san turned her away from the sight, hurrying her along the road behind the cart. Her tears, let loose by Tomoyo's appearance, continued to flow.
"Sakura," Otou-san said, his voice comforting. "We are out of Tomoeda, and we have much ahead of us. Dry your eyes. We'll face the future together."
Sakura snuffled. Now they faced the dangers of the road. She hugged her arms and look at the stain on her Okaa-san's shoulder. Part of her would never feel safe again.
