2. Daughters and Daggers
Disclaimer:Princess Mononoke is not mine to own, but is the product and artwork of Hayao Miyazaki & Studio Ghibli's creativity.
There was a time when Father left for somewhere at someplace, and he never really returned to be part of the family. The other members did not seem to notice this, Aiyo thought, because they never spoke anything of Father's absence at the meals, or at the festivals. He did return though, sometimes at night he would knock silently on the door and emerge in full battle order from the cold night.
Aiyo noticed this; she was curious, but more so she was a bit upset, because Father never noticed her at all when he came back for these short visits. He spoke with Mother only; once or twice he shared a word with Hiojo and Juri and Takako, but never with her. Was it because she was the youngest that Father did not bother? Aiyo did not understand, but whether she was too young or not to understand, it was a different matter completely.
During the summer, when Father was not around, Aiyo followed her family on the annual pilgrimage to Nara in the south to visit the temple there. Normally, Father would take charge of the journey, but Hiojo seemed old enough to be in complete control of the transport, lodging and other loose ends. This journey was important to the family, Aiyo noticed; for even her sisters, who were still deep in their training at the fine arts school, were to accompany them. If it was so important, then where was Father?
They traveled by carriage, accompanied by several of their servants, led by Hiojo at the helm. As Aiyo already knew, the journey would take two days, down through the winding but busy roads leading out from the royal city to Nara further south. Mother looked more solemn than usual, while her sisters seemed unwilling to entertain her. Even Takako did not speak much. So instead of spending the trip in a languished silence, Aiyo exited the carriage to be with her brother at the helm.
And they too travelled in a kind of silence. Hiojo had the same short sword during Lord Asano's visit sheathed in his robes, and he was wearing a smaller version of the helmet with antler horns Father wore with his battle armour. All these observations Aiyo made, waiting patiently for the moment her curiosity would erupt for her to ask the inevitable question.
"Where is Father?" Aiyo asked without warning.
Hiojo's grip on the reins tightened, as the horse pulling the carriage yelped. He turned to the innocent face of his youngest sister; too innocent, completely untouched by the unruly, unwholesome events spinning the world out of control. So he saw that face, and resolved from then on, not to put his sister in such ignorant peril.
"He is doing work for our good Lord Asano," Hiojo elaborated in a single breath, leaving much to the imagination.
Aiyo caught the phrase, and pounced on it with a counter in way Hiojo had expected: "What work?"
And even though he expected it, it took Hiojo slightly longer to even get it to the tip of his tongue: "Lord Asano decided to reward Father, for all the years of generous service the family has shown his house. He decided to appoint Father the leader of an army of five hundred samurai, to settle his dispute with the royal family."
Aiyo was confused, she did not understand. Two things did not make sense, although she was very sure Hiojo could explain them. "Is that a reward?" she questioned.
Hiojo did not even blink an eyelid as he continued guiding them down the country road.
"Yes, it is a reward. For a samurai to lead an army, it is great honour, especially when he was chosen by his Lord for it. Remember the stories Father always told you? The samurai of old were honoured to lead and fight, because it brought pride to our family name in victory."
"But what if they lose?"
Hiojo buried that thought deeper inside him. "Then the samurai would be remembered for his leadership."
"Then why is he fighting the emperor?"
"Did you not listen to me?" Hiojo gave his younger sister a stern glare, although he knew he did not have Mother's permission to discipline her. "Father is not fighting the Emperor. It is a sin to disobey the Emperor. He is fighting, for Lord Asano, one of the lords of the provinces, who happens to be part of the royal line. Get what I mean?"
Aiyo was not satisfied. "But why would Lord Asano want to fight the Emperor?"
Hiojo was beginning to get impatient at all of Aiyo's questions. He may have heard about Father's skirmishes from a friend of one of Lord Asano's sons, who heard it from a brother of one of the close aides to the deputy of Father far north in the Yedo province, but he did not question so much.
"Lord Asano is our Lord. He has his own reasons, and if he is willing to honour Father in making those decisions, then they do not bother me," Hiojo stated clearly, almost animatedly. "Besides, do you not wish for our family to finally get the honour it deserves? Father is going to give our family an honourable name by leading Lord Asano to victory."
"Well I don't think honour is that good after all," Aiyo sulked. "Father never comes back…"
"Watch your tongue!" snapped Hiojo. And again with alarm she saw his hand move towards the sheathed sword, causing the horse to panic at the sudden movement.
"Father is defending our family honour you stupid girl!" he barked. "Whether you like it or not, he is defending our family name. And when I begin my service as samurai, I will serve with a good and honourable name too!"
Hiojo's eyes, almost flaming, bore down on Aiyo, now hushed and close to tears at the outburst. Then as if both realised their conversation would rouse Mother and Juri and Takako behind, both eldest brother and youngest sister returned to silence, as if nothing had even been said between them.
But Aiyo's eyes remained on the sword in Hiojo's robe.
At the great temple in Nara, where Aiyo had been told all of her ancestors lay buried within (and where all those who would come after her would be laid in earth beside them), Mother led them through formalities, performing duties which would take the whole summer to accomplish.
For high up in the hills, surrounded by rock and tor, and overrun by scrub and tree, were the graves of the ancestors. Every summer it was the duty of those surviving to tend to those graves, clean them and lay on them fresh offerings for the guardian spirits of the Eboshi family. Though the trek out from the calm human surroundings of the temple and into the wildness of the wilderness tracks was tough, Aiyo had, just like Mother and her sisters, accepted it. It was tradition. It was duty.
The monks at the temple sent them off, and promised them lodging and victuals on their return. Lord Asano's character had bought these monks, Hiojo had told Aiyo once, these were armed and influential men who were to benefit from the same Lord with whom their Father served. But how come, Aiyo thought, how come monks could take sides when they were meant to atone for the dead and look after the living?
Aiyo learnt not to open her mouth when fulfilling duty. Past the gate which led out from the temple to the highway of steps ascending into the hills were fresh graves, dug to accommodate more men passing on into the spirit realm by way of the latest conflicts north in Yedo. Hiojo had told her that as she asked about the newly-churned earth. She asked another question: why were the gravediggers unearthing the old tombstones to replace them with new ones?
"Keep quiet and don't ask," he replied. His face was overcast like the sky above.
A light drizzle helped them on their way, but the hillsides were deserted. Fringing the hill dotted with crumbling stones, the wilderness blocked the view to the north. Mother scolded her whenever she paused to observe the forest. Unholy things, wild spirits lived in there, she would tell her. Things which had been alive since the start of the world but she was sure were hostile. And no, she should not ask, and she should just keep walking.
The Eboshi grave was nothing much to behold: just a curved mound of stone surrounding a patch of grass still withered from the burnings of last year's offerings. The characters "Eboshi" were carved into the stone; beyond that, it looked like any stone mould.
Like before, Aiyo knew the way things were done. Mother burned the incense on joss sticks and placed food offerings for the spirits, while the rest waited in silence, praying and reflecting. Would a few words to a dead grandfather she never knew make the spirit happy? The family name, written on incense paper in red ink, was pasted on the stone, and as the drizzle spat water in their faces, the wind blew the pungent incense far down the hillsides, where Aiyo thought the spirits in the forest must be dwelling and watching them. She did not believe in their power, but she did believe in them anyway. Aiyo knew from experience all spirits were harmless, simply appeased with prayer were they not? As what their family had done for centuries.
Then once the offerings were laid, the family cleaned the tomb. The dead grass was a problem, but Aiyo was sure the spirits would not mind, because there was so much greenery in the nearby forest. Nonetheless, Takako had found flowers to place on the stone, and Hiojo laid on the patch a several pieces of cloth and a white stash.
When Aiyo asked later, Hiojo told her they belonged to Father, but as he was absent and fighting for the family's honour, the guardian spirit needed to be alerted to his call for duty.
And from her last question to Mother till they completed their visit and paid their respects, Aiyo did as she was told, not speaking, even as she followed the path back down through the slopes of stones and green flowers, and back to the temple whose monks always treated a samurai family with respect, and back to the ways which were always going to confuse her.
There was a time when Father did return, and did come to see Aiyo. This was on their second week in at the temple at Nara. On one of the warm humid evenings, Aiyo was surprised to see Father speaking to both Mother and Hiojo; he looked paler than usual, and this time his right arm was bandaged in an ugly looking white rag. But more to Aiyo's surprise, he went over to her.
"My dear cherry blossom, have you forgotten me?" he asked.
"Father," Aiyo bowed in respect, "where have you been? And why have you not come to see me?"
He showed no uneasiness at being asked this question straight in the face. But found a reply immediately: "I am doing something very important for our Lord Asano, and have not much time to explain it to someone as small as you. Maybe one day your elder brother will tell you about and how heroic I was…"
Aiyo's eyes brightened. "Would you tell me a story then about your battles, Father?"
His eyes gave a hint of disapproval. "There're better things than to just listen to stories, sweet. I have to go soon , so I must be quick in telling you what I want you to do."
"But…"
He cut her off and gently raised her to her feet. "Do not say anything or else I will get angry," he said softly, leading her into one of the inner chambers of their rooms. Once he understood they were alone, he stooped down to her, so that their faces were level, and began to speak.
"Remember, my child, that you are a daughter of a samurai. And what do the daughters of samurai do?"
Aiyo knew he was testing, so she repeated the words which both Father, Mother and sometimes, Hiojo, with the help of Juri and Takako, had drilled into her the moment she had mastered speaking.
"To defend the family honour and to serve our Lord Asano."
"Perfect. And how would you defend the family honour?"
This must be a trick question, because Aiyo knew nobody taught her this one. After all, she was only five and she could not be expected even now to defend the family honour, would she?
Father removed something from the folds of his armour, and presented it to Aiyo: a small wooden sheath, barely the size of his palm. It looked exactly like a miniature version of the sword her brother had been wielding around.
"Keep this with you wherever you are. It is this that makes out a samurai's daughter from any other girl," he flashed the sheath, and the dagger inside, to her. The dagger, as thin as a needle, fought for her attention with Father's voice. "And as all daughters of samurai, you must not fall to the enemy. When all is lost, remember this action."
Father drew the tiny dagger, and then in a quick, mock demonstration stabbed it into his armour where the abdomen was, drawing it up and turning it, before releasing his hold and letting the dagger drop onto the ground.
Aiyo watched, her face without expression, lacking clarity but filled with a new kind of understanding, a fresh understanding, as if from this moment on the idea had just dawned on her.
"This I leave to you now, sweet," Father said, returning the dagger in its sheath and placing in the pocket of her robes. "Remember: you are the daughter of a samurai, you know what should be done when all is hopeless.
"I will be gone again, do you understand? Gone for a long time now. So this is my gift to you, that you may know what you should do. Remember: you are the daughter of a samurai. Do not let the Eboshi name fall into dishonour."
Before Aiyo could even speak, Father was out of the room, closing the screen behind him. He paced through the living quarters to Mother, then to Hiojo.
When Aiyo caught up with him, he had mounted his horse, and his face only half-turned to see her as he disappeared from her conscience once again.
Notes:
Thank you soapfiction. The main point wasn't really surviving in a male-dominated society, but you've given me extra to think and write about.
It's Jan 30th here and the end of the second day of the lunar new year. To all those who celebrate with me, happy lunar new year to you all as well. May the year of the dog bring prosperity & good health.
(30.01.06)