Chapter 54
What It Is To Grieve
After I see Tasuki's back disappear beyond the gates of the palace, I turn and retreat in the direction of the seraglio. I know that it is a horrid breech of etiquette for me to take my leave of the emperor and empress without a farewell word and respectful bow, but I am hardly able to even carry the weight of my body much less force it to bend at the waist in order to be proper. I sense their eyes following me, but I feel only tenderness and sympathy in the warmth of their regal gazes. They understand and are showing me mercy by excusing my behavior, although their advisors don't bother being obvious in glaring disapprovingly at me.
I am relieved beyond belief to pass through the gates of the seraglio. Although I feel completely safe within the walls of the palace itself, I believe that in the single day I have been here I have somehow formed a bond with the harem. The air here is full of serenity and warmth, as if not a single trace of the evil world outside has ever blemished it. And yet I am anything but serene and warm. My heart burns madly inside my chest, trying to keep the flood of emotions from coursing through me. And my skin is raised in goose bumps as if a chill is blowing over me from the north. I stop on the veranda of the building where my chambers are and simply look into the distance, over the far wall of the seraglio and to the horizon where the ocean meets the land.
Dear gods. I am alone again. He has left me again. My eyes stare into the simple beauty of the world beyond the harem wall, and I find myself consumed by what I thought I had truly conquered. I am safe here. And I have Misa, Koi, Okichi, Lady Junko and all the other courtesans, so I am not alone. But I am without him, and my heart understands this far too well for its own good. And it is possible that I could never have him with me again.
Why can I not be an ignorant, innocent girl who believes that all love stories end in happiness and nothing else? Why in hell's name did I learn the ways of the world and the ways of the people within it so damn quickly? There are girls my age who are still unknowing of the brutality and rottenness of society. They are protected carefully by their mothers and fathers, hidden away until marriage, when the world will suddenly begin to either blossom in love or wither away in cruelty. Why did I have to be thrust into the sweaty, stinking arms of the world of whores and pimps? And why must I know that war kills? Why must I know that the love stories can end in tragedy as well as in happiness? Why must I know that it is possible I may never see my husband again?
Having drowned myself in my own doubts and fears, I shuffle as quickly as my small feet can manage to my chambers, where I immediately collapse in my bed. The tears come soon enough, leaking from behind my firmly shut eyelids. Naho's girlish yet undeniably soothing voice echoes inside my skull, bouncing off the images of Tasuki on the battlefield, his golden skin smeared with his blood.
"Lady Tansho," my handmaid whispers. I can sense her presence above me, telling me that she's leaning over my body. "I see that all is not with you, my lady. Would you like me to leave you to yourself for awhile?"
I try my hardest not to sob as I smile faintly at her and nod my head. She says nothing else. But, before she leaves, she goes to my wardrobe, withdraws one of my sleeping gowns, and lays it silently at the foot of my canopied bed. I hear the sound of my door shutting gently behind Naho, and when I am sure she has moved well enough along the veranda to be out of hearing range, I allow the anguish ripping my insides to spill out in one long wail of pure sorrow.
Gods, I think to myself, you sound like a monster. But I cannot stop. I thought I would be fine. I knew the hurt of watching my husband ride away to war would naturally cause me some grief, but I never expected to suddenly be bombarded by it in a single, soul-crushing moment. No matter how hard I try to put my emotions under control, I cannot manage to halt the animalistic sounds coming from my gaping mouth. And my lovely multicolored pillows are darkening by the second with the torrent of my tears.
I go on howling and crying as if my beloved Tasuki were already dead and buried deep in the ground. I fold my hands over my face, hoping to stop the terrible sounds of my grieving voice from coming out, but it does no good. Sobs explode from my heaving chest again and again until I am sure I will pass out upon my bed. But I stay wide awake, my eyes gradually reddening with the harshness of my weeping, and I stare into space as I lie on my lavender coverlet, my soul slowly breaking apart.
I have no idea that an entire day goes by until I hear the sound of my door opening, and roll over sluggishly in my bed to see Naho standing in the alcove with a tray in her hands. The smells of food tickle my nose, but my stomach is indifferent. I have no appetite, and no desire whatsoever to sit and eat as if nothing in the world is wrong. I turn my back on my handmaid as she walks toward the foot of the bed, where the small table sits. The sound of metal upon wood reaches my ears, but I have no use for the sounds of the world any more.
I am lost in a void of helplessness and sadness, abandoned by my own will to live. It is as if I have no use for anything anymore. I see things - the beauty of the night outside my window and the stars embedded in it. I hear things - the soothing, rhythmic sound of the cicadas and crickets outside my window. I smell the scents of my supper - steamed rice and vegetables, and the thick aroma of roasted pork. I can feel the softness of my lovely bed, and I can taste the salt of my own tears. But I am closed off from this place, lost in the world of mourning, and unable to find my way back on my own.
Naho attempts to persuade me to change into my nightdress, but I keep my eyes on the window of my room, staring out into the black void of the night, ignoring my handmaid. I only want to be left alone to try my best to deal with the torrid emotions that are ravishing me. After a few more minutes, the poor girl finally understands that I am not concerned about wrinkled my yellow and blue outfit if I sleep in it, and she takes her leave silently. I feel a tinge of what might be guilt for being so cold to my handmaid, but suddenly my mind is attacked by a vision of Tasuki, his sword gleaming in the moonlight as he thrusts it into the heart of an enemy. And then I see the same done to him in return, blood pouring from his lips, eyes vacant and staring lifelessly towards me.
A moan escapes my mouth, and I bury my face in my hands yet again as another wave of tears and sobs washes over me, slowly beginning to drown me again. All night I lie and weep, my soft cries interrupted every now and then by a violent gasp of air or cough, my lungs obviously sending a message to me that they cannot withstand this torture much longer. And so, sometime near dawn, I rise silently from my curled position on the bed, change into my nightgown, and return to the place I have lain all night to continue on in my misery. But the tears stop, as do the sobs and gasps, and I only lie in silence, going blind with visions of the memories I have of Tasuki. And when I am not envisioning him as he was so many months ago, I am slowly going mad with the images of him meeting his death upon the battlefield. And yet I do not cry any longer, only grieve in silence and solitude, wondering if I will live through another day knowing that my beloved husband may not.
The morning comes and I am still in my bed, though sometime during the night I managed to crawl beneath the soft linens and lavender coverlet to protect myself from the chill in the air caused by the seasonal transition from summer to autumn. I must have slept at some point because I feel strangely refreshed, and yet I cannot seem to find the strength to so much as sit up in bed. So I wait patiently for whatever may come, and soon Naho enters the alcove of my chambers after knocking timidly and receiving no reply. I sense her approaching my bedside, but my eyes do not budge from the window to greet her.
"Lady Tansho?" she replies quietly as if not wanting to startle me. "I have brought breakfast for you. Would you like to eat now, or perhaps bathe and then dine?"
I have to force myself to suppress a chuckle of disgust. This poor girl-child is as ignorant as I wish I could be - either that or she is simply indifferent to what happens outside these palace walls. My husband is probably fighting for his own life as well as the lives of his countrymen at this very moment, and my maid is wondering whether I would prefer to take a bath or eat first. I jerk myself onto my back and glare at Naho with the eyes of a mad woman. She flinches as if I slapped her in the face.
"I wouldn't care for any breakfast, Naho," I reply coldly, "And if I wish to bathe then I will fetch my own water." I slowly roll back onto my side and re-focus my attention on the view outside my window. "Thank you, Naho," I say, my voice still as chilly as winter air, "That will be all."
For a moment she is silent, no doubt too shocked by my coldness to reply. But after a few uncomfortable moments, she seems to find her voice. "Yes, my lady," she says to me, "If you should require my services, you need only to pull the cord in your bathing room and I will come."
I make no reply to this, only listen as the sound of my door closing reverberates across my walls as if it were scolding me. I return to the world of my mind, and soon forget about my surroundings. As the day passes in a blur of light and images, I am caught up in myself, remembering the few days that Tasuki and I had together before he had to leave the first time on his mission to Hokkan. I see visions of us making love, wildly and amorously just as all new lovers would do. I feel his hands on the place hidden between my legs, and I feel the warmth of his breath as his lips trail gently over the curves of my shoulders. I listen to the conversations we shared about my family and Mount Reikaku, and I hear the sound of his boisterous, uninhibited laugh.
Once again, I do not realize that the day is over until I see the darkness of night beyond my window; and even then, I do not care at all that another day has been devoured by my mourning. And so they pass on, one after the other, like birds flying past my window. And I forget about them. I ignore the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth from lack of water. I ignore the continuous cramps and pangs of my empty stomach. I ignore the crick in my neck and back from spending so many hours on my side, staring out the window. I ignore the pleading in Koi and Okichi's voices, the threats in Misa's, the naïve worry in Naho's, and the anxiety in Lady Junko's. Once, I believe that Lady Hoki comes to my room. I sense the air around me fill with her elegant presence, and yet even then I cannot find the strength to rouse myself from my grief-induced stupor. But one day, when my friends' worry turns into pure desperation, someone comes to my room that I know that I cannot ignore.
I sense her when she enters, just as I sensed the presence of my empress. But hers is a much more humble presence, an earth-based presence that instantly makes me want to force my body into a sitting position just to watch her walk towards me. But I lie still in the position I've been in for gods know how long, and I wait until the bed gives beneath her weight as she sits at my side.
"Tansho."
Asako's voice is that of a goddess, a commanding yet gentle voice that I suspect could even rouse the dead from their graves if she wished to do so. Its softness echoes off the walls like the sound of ocean waves, soothing me. I respond to it, and I am somehow able to turn my face in her direction, gazing upwards for the first time in days.
"Tansho," she repeats, her womanly lips smiling down at me, "You cannot go on like this, little one," she says to me, lifting her hand to trail a finder down the curve of my face. "You must get up and live. You must not leave your husband a widower when he returns from war."
How ironic that she should say such a thing. I want to tell her so, but my tongue is stuck to the interior of my mouth and I can do nothing but move my lips clumsily.
"This is not good for you, little one," she goes on, "You are sad and lonely - I understand this, but your husband is not dead yet. You must not mourn for a loved one not yet gone."
"But...he is...gone," I somehow manage to mutter, my dry tongue lolling around inside my mouth lazily. "He is gone again."
"Oh, my darling girl," she whispers, laying her hands on mine and squeezing them gently. "Yes, he is gone, but..."
I know what she will try to tell me. And I will not stand for it any longer. I have heard it far too many times, and although I want more than anything to believe what she is about to say, I must follow the path of logic - the path of the possible, no matter how cruel it may be. Yes, he is gone, but not yet dead. How in hell does she know this?! She cannot see him on the battlefield! She cannot converse with him to see if he hides a festering wound beneath his tunic, refusing to be treated if it means he must stop fighting! I glare at her, but not hatefully. I could never hate Asako even though I wish I could at this moment.
"Don't say another word!" I command her, my voice suddenly returning to me in its intensity and ferocity. "Don't tell me that he is gone, but not yet dead! He could be dying at this very moment and I would not know until weeks from now!" I feel the tears springing up like fountains behind my eyes, and I blink furiously to try to hold them back. No more weeping! I am through! "Asako," I say calmly, "You do not know what it is to grieve like this. You do not know the sorrow of falling in love and being separated from that love twice - and the even greater sorrow of not knowing whether he still lives or not. I don't know if he is going to return for me this time!" My voice has risen like a storm, its force causing my dear Asako's eyes to gaze at me in a mixture of fear and reverence. "I know that you love me and that you only wish to see me happy. But happiness is something that I will not be able to know again until he returns to me safely. I miss him, Asako. I miss him like I miss the freedom of happiness."
Her arms wrap around me, pulling me upwards and into her chest, where they cuddle me like the child I was so long ago. "Do what you must, little one," she whispers into my hair, "But you cannot die yet, not when he may still live. You must continue living for his sake, if not your own. I only pray that this damned war is over soon so that your happiness can be returned safely to your arms."
"As do I," I answer quietly, my cheek nestled gently in the hollow of Asako's throat. "As do I."
I am loathe to see Asako leave me, but she is training to become a midwife and I know that it is imperative she return to her mentor as soon as possible. I look forward to the day when her hands will cradle the warm, bruised, wrinkled body of a newborn just delivered from his mother's womb. I imagine what he eyes will look like in that moment - soft and proud. Asako has the hands and eyes of a midwife. They are immortally wise and gentle, and they were meant to belong to a midwife.
When she leaves, I am left alone again. But I do not return to my bed to lie in my misery once again. I get up and explore my chambers. I walk through my bedroom, my alcove, my bathing room, studying and memorizing. I run my hands across the beautiful wood of my new wardrobe, my vanity table, and the smooth interior of my jade-tiled bath. I breathe in the scent of the fresh orchids that Naho placed in a vase in my alcove. I sit down at the little table at the foot of my bed and eat for the first time in nearly a week, ravenously devouring the roasted pork and drinking the sweet, warm tea in gulps. I don't bother with chopsticks. I tear the tender meat from the bone with my teeth and drink the tea straight from the pot instead of using a cup. I don't care that my stomach cramps afterward, surprised with so much food after being denied of it for so long. I sigh deeply when I finish my feast, a feeling of complete contentment settling gently over me.
When night comes, I change into a fresh nightgown to replace the one I have been in for nearly a week and sit down at my vanity table to comb out the tangles on the right side of my head. When my hair is smooth and straight, I return to bed. Although I had drifted in and out of sleep while in my trance-like state, I had not once truly slept deeply enough to dream. But I dream tonight.
I see red skies and red ground. Black shapes perched atop larger black shapes swirl and flow like dark water across the redness. And when I understand what I am seeing, a battlefield in all its horror and magnificence comes into my view. The souls of the dead rise from the red ground into the red sky like smoke from a fire, disappearing into nothing as I watch from a safe place, though I', not exactly sure where that safe place is. There is the sound of metal clashing violently against metal, mixed thickly with the voices of warriors and the voices of the injured and dying. They rise along with the smoky souls of the dead, curling around each other and clinging to each other as they rise together into Heaven. And in the midst of the crimson sky and ground and the smoky spirits and voices, I see him in the distance. His face is radiant, his hair vibrant, his heart beating so powerfully that I can see it glowing through his tunic and armor. His voices rises above the harsh and frightening sounds of battle and whispers in my ear as softly as the ocean waves in which we swam on our wedding night.
"I will not leave you yet, Tansho," he sighs into my ear, his words burning my bones and my blood. "We are bound together and cannot be taken apart. When you dream, I will be here waiting for you. And one day when you wake, I will be there waiting for you as well."
I wake up and stare into beautiful darkness, still seeing the glowing beat of his heart and the glory of his face. He is still here. And one day when I awake from my sleep and my dreams, he will be at my side, waiting for me as I wait for him now.
A/N: Hey there, all!! ^_^ I thought that since I made you wait so damn long for the last chapter that I'd be quick in editing and uploading this new chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
Also, thanks eternally for the wonderful reviews and for sticking with me and still loving my story so much!! Thanks especially to Kitty Lynne, who has always seemed to challenge me the most in my writing and encourage me at the same time. Luv you all and talk to you again soon! ^_^
What It Is To Grieve
After I see Tasuki's back disappear beyond the gates of the palace, I turn and retreat in the direction of the seraglio. I know that it is a horrid breech of etiquette for me to take my leave of the emperor and empress without a farewell word and respectful bow, but I am hardly able to even carry the weight of my body much less force it to bend at the waist in order to be proper. I sense their eyes following me, but I feel only tenderness and sympathy in the warmth of their regal gazes. They understand and are showing me mercy by excusing my behavior, although their advisors don't bother being obvious in glaring disapprovingly at me.
I am relieved beyond belief to pass through the gates of the seraglio. Although I feel completely safe within the walls of the palace itself, I believe that in the single day I have been here I have somehow formed a bond with the harem. The air here is full of serenity and warmth, as if not a single trace of the evil world outside has ever blemished it. And yet I am anything but serene and warm. My heart burns madly inside my chest, trying to keep the flood of emotions from coursing through me. And my skin is raised in goose bumps as if a chill is blowing over me from the north. I stop on the veranda of the building where my chambers are and simply look into the distance, over the far wall of the seraglio and to the horizon where the ocean meets the land.
Dear gods. I am alone again. He has left me again. My eyes stare into the simple beauty of the world beyond the harem wall, and I find myself consumed by what I thought I had truly conquered. I am safe here. And I have Misa, Koi, Okichi, Lady Junko and all the other courtesans, so I am not alone. But I am without him, and my heart understands this far too well for its own good. And it is possible that I could never have him with me again.
Why can I not be an ignorant, innocent girl who believes that all love stories end in happiness and nothing else? Why in hell's name did I learn the ways of the world and the ways of the people within it so damn quickly? There are girls my age who are still unknowing of the brutality and rottenness of society. They are protected carefully by their mothers and fathers, hidden away until marriage, when the world will suddenly begin to either blossom in love or wither away in cruelty. Why did I have to be thrust into the sweaty, stinking arms of the world of whores and pimps? And why must I know that war kills? Why must I know that the love stories can end in tragedy as well as in happiness? Why must I know that it is possible I may never see my husband again?
Having drowned myself in my own doubts and fears, I shuffle as quickly as my small feet can manage to my chambers, where I immediately collapse in my bed. The tears come soon enough, leaking from behind my firmly shut eyelids. Naho's girlish yet undeniably soothing voice echoes inside my skull, bouncing off the images of Tasuki on the battlefield, his golden skin smeared with his blood.
"Lady Tansho," my handmaid whispers. I can sense her presence above me, telling me that she's leaning over my body. "I see that all is not with you, my lady. Would you like me to leave you to yourself for awhile?"
I try my hardest not to sob as I smile faintly at her and nod my head. She says nothing else. But, before she leaves, she goes to my wardrobe, withdraws one of my sleeping gowns, and lays it silently at the foot of my canopied bed. I hear the sound of my door shutting gently behind Naho, and when I am sure she has moved well enough along the veranda to be out of hearing range, I allow the anguish ripping my insides to spill out in one long wail of pure sorrow.
Gods, I think to myself, you sound like a monster. But I cannot stop. I thought I would be fine. I knew the hurt of watching my husband ride away to war would naturally cause me some grief, but I never expected to suddenly be bombarded by it in a single, soul-crushing moment. No matter how hard I try to put my emotions under control, I cannot manage to halt the animalistic sounds coming from my gaping mouth. And my lovely multicolored pillows are darkening by the second with the torrent of my tears.
I go on howling and crying as if my beloved Tasuki were already dead and buried deep in the ground. I fold my hands over my face, hoping to stop the terrible sounds of my grieving voice from coming out, but it does no good. Sobs explode from my heaving chest again and again until I am sure I will pass out upon my bed. But I stay wide awake, my eyes gradually reddening with the harshness of my weeping, and I stare into space as I lie on my lavender coverlet, my soul slowly breaking apart.
I have no idea that an entire day goes by until I hear the sound of my door opening, and roll over sluggishly in my bed to see Naho standing in the alcove with a tray in her hands. The smells of food tickle my nose, but my stomach is indifferent. I have no appetite, and no desire whatsoever to sit and eat as if nothing in the world is wrong. I turn my back on my handmaid as she walks toward the foot of the bed, where the small table sits. The sound of metal upon wood reaches my ears, but I have no use for the sounds of the world any more.
I am lost in a void of helplessness and sadness, abandoned by my own will to live. It is as if I have no use for anything anymore. I see things - the beauty of the night outside my window and the stars embedded in it. I hear things - the soothing, rhythmic sound of the cicadas and crickets outside my window. I smell the scents of my supper - steamed rice and vegetables, and the thick aroma of roasted pork. I can feel the softness of my lovely bed, and I can taste the salt of my own tears. But I am closed off from this place, lost in the world of mourning, and unable to find my way back on my own.
Naho attempts to persuade me to change into my nightdress, but I keep my eyes on the window of my room, staring out into the black void of the night, ignoring my handmaid. I only want to be left alone to try my best to deal with the torrid emotions that are ravishing me. After a few more minutes, the poor girl finally understands that I am not concerned about wrinkled my yellow and blue outfit if I sleep in it, and she takes her leave silently. I feel a tinge of what might be guilt for being so cold to my handmaid, but suddenly my mind is attacked by a vision of Tasuki, his sword gleaming in the moonlight as he thrusts it into the heart of an enemy. And then I see the same done to him in return, blood pouring from his lips, eyes vacant and staring lifelessly towards me.
A moan escapes my mouth, and I bury my face in my hands yet again as another wave of tears and sobs washes over me, slowly beginning to drown me again. All night I lie and weep, my soft cries interrupted every now and then by a violent gasp of air or cough, my lungs obviously sending a message to me that they cannot withstand this torture much longer. And so, sometime near dawn, I rise silently from my curled position on the bed, change into my nightgown, and return to the place I have lain all night to continue on in my misery. But the tears stop, as do the sobs and gasps, and I only lie in silence, going blind with visions of the memories I have of Tasuki. And when I am not envisioning him as he was so many months ago, I am slowly going mad with the images of him meeting his death upon the battlefield. And yet I do not cry any longer, only grieve in silence and solitude, wondering if I will live through another day knowing that my beloved husband may not.
The morning comes and I am still in my bed, though sometime during the night I managed to crawl beneath the soft linens and lavender coverlet to protect myself from the chill in the air caused by the seasonal transition from summer to autumn. I must have slept at some point because I feel strangely refreshed, and yet I cannot seem to find the strength to so much as sit up in bed. So I wait patiently for whatever may come, and soon Naho enters the alcove of my chambers after knocking timidly and receiving no reply. I sense her approaching my bedside, but my eyes do not budge from the window to greet her.
"Lady Tansho?" she replies quietly as if not wanting to startle me. "I have brought breakfast for you. Would you like to eat now, or perhaps bathe and then dine?"
I have to force myself to suppress a chuckle of disgust. This poor girl-child is as ignorant as I wish I could be - either that or she is simply indifferent to what happens outside these palace walls. My husband is probably fighting for his own life as well as the lives of his countrymen at this very moment, and my maid is wondering whether I would prefer to take a bath or eat first. I jerk myself onto my back and glare at Naho with the eyes of a mad woman. She flinches as if I slapped her in the face.
"I wouldn't care for any breakfast, Naho," I reply coldly, "And if I wish to bathe then I will fetch my own water." I slowly roll back onto my side and re-focus my attention on the view outside my window. "Thank you, Naho," I say, my voice still as chilly as winter air, "That will be all."
For a moment she is silent, no doubt too shocked by my coldness to reply. But after a few uncomfortable moments, she seems to find her voice. "Yes, my lady," she says to me, "If you should require my services, you need only to pull the cord in your bathing room and I will come."
I make no reply to this, only listen as the sound of my door closing reverberates across my walls as if it were scolding me. I return to the world of my mind, and soon forget about my surroundings. As the day passes in a blur of light and images, I am caught up in myself, remembering the few days that Tasuki and I had together before he had to leave the first time on his mission to Hokkan. I see visions of us making love, wildly and amorously just as all new lovers would do. I feel his hands on the place hidden between my legs, and I feel the warmth of his breath as his lips trail gently over the curves of my shoulders. I listen to the conversations we shared about my family and Mount Reikaku, and I hear the sound of his boisterous, uninhibited laugh.
Once again, I do not realize that the day is over until I see the darkness of night beyond my window; and even then, I do not care at all that another day has been devoured by my mourning. And so they pass on, one after the other, like birds flying past my window. And I forget about them. I ignore the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth from lack of water. I ignore the continuous cramps and pangs of my empty stomach. I ignore the crick in my neck and back from spending so many hours on my side, staring out the window. I ignore the pleading in Koi and Okichi's voices, the threats in Misa's, the naïve worry in Naho's, and the anxiety in Lady Junko's. Once, I believe that Lady Hoki comes to my room. I sense the air around me fill with her elegant presence, and yet even then I cannot find the strength to rouse myself from my grief-induced stupor. But one day, when my friends' worry turns into pure desperation, someone comes to my room that I know that I cannot ignore.
I sense her when she enters, just as I sensed the presence of my empress. But hers is a much more humble presence, an earth-based presence that instantly makes me want to force my body into a sitting position just to watch her walk towards me. But I lie still in the position I've been in for gods know how long, and I wait until the bed gives beneath her weight as she sits at my side.
"Tansho."
Asako's voice is that of a goddess, a commanding yet gentle voice that I suspect could even rouse the dead from their graves if she wished to do so. Its softness echoes off the walls like the sound of ocean waves, soothing me. I respond to it, and I am somehow able to turn my face in her direction, gazing upwards for the first time in days.
"Tansho," she repeats, her womanly lips smiling down at me, "You cannot go on like this, little one," she says to me, lifting her hand to trail a finder down the curve of my face. "You must get up and live. You must not leave your husband a widower when he returns from war."
How ironic that she should say such a thing. I want to tell her so, but my tongue is stuck to the interior of my mouth and I can do nothing but move my lips clumsily.
"This is not good for you, little one," she goes on, "You are sad and lonely - I understand this, but your husband is not dead yet. You must not mourn for a loved one not yet gone."
"But...he is...gone," I somehow manage to mutter, my dry tongue lolling around inside my mouth lazily. "He is gone again."
"Oh, my darling girl," she whispers, laying her hands on mine and squeezing them gently. "Yes, he is gone, but..."
I know what she will try to tell me. And I will not stand for it any longer. I have heard it far too many times, and although I want more than anything to believe what she is about to say, I must follow the path of logic - the path of the possible, no matter how cruel it may be. Yes, he is gone, but not yet dead. How in hell does she know this?! She cannot see him on the battlefield! She cannot converse with him to see if he hides a festering wound beneath his tunic, refusing to be treated if it means he must stop fighting! I glare at her, but not hatefully. I could never hate Asako even though I wish I could at this moment.
"Don't say another word!" I command her, my voice suddenly returning to me in its intensity and ferocity. "Don't tell me that he is gone, but not yet dead! He could be dying at this very moment and I would not know until weeks from now!" I feel the tears springing up like fountains behind my eyes, and I blink furiously to try to hold them back. No more weeping! I am through! "Asako," I say calmly, "You do not know what it is to grieve like this. You do not know the sorrow of falling in love and being separated from that love twice - and the even greater sorrow of not knowing whether he still lives or not. I don't know if he is going to return for me this time!" My voice has risen like a storm, its force causing my dear Asako's eyes to gaze at me in a mixture of fear and reverence. "I know that you love me and that you only wish to see me happy. But happiness is something that I will not be able to know again until he returns to me safely. I miss him, Asako. I miss him like I miss the freedom of happiness."
Her arms wrap around me, pulling me upwards and into her chest, where they cuddle me like the child I was so long ago. "Do what you must, little one," she whispers into my hair, "But you cannot die yet, not when he may still live. You must continue living for his sake, if not your own. I only pray that this damned war is over soon so that your happiness can be returned safely to your arms."
"As do I," I answer quietly, my cheek nestled gently in the hollow of Asako's throat. "As do I."
I am loathe to see Asako leave me, but she is training to become a midwife and I know that it is imperative she return to her mentor as soon as possible. I look forward to the day when her hands will cradle the warm, bruised, wrinkled body of a newborn just delivered from his mother's womb. I imagine what he eyes will look like in that moment - soft and proud. Asako has the hands and eyes of a midwife. They are immortally wise and gentle, and they were meant to belong to a midwife.
When she leaves, I am left alone again. But I do not return to my bed to lie in my misery once again. I get up and explore my chambers. I walk through my bedroom, my alcove, my bathing room, studying and memorizing. I run my hands across the beautiful wood of my new wardrobe, my vanity table, and the smooth interior of my jade-tiled bath. I breathe in the scent of the fresh orchids that Naho placed in a vase in my alcove. I sit down at the little table at the foot of my bed and eat for the first time in nearly a week, ravenously devouring the roasted pork and drinking the sweet, warm tea in gulps. I don't bother with chopsticks. I tear the tender meat from the bone with my teeth and drink the tea straight from the pot instead of using a cup. I don't care that my stomach cramps afterward, surprised with so much food after being denied of it for so long. I sigh deeply when I finish my feast, a feeling of complete contentment settling gently over me.
When night comes, I change into a fresh nightgown to replace the one I have been in for nearly a week and sit down at my vanity table to comb out the tangles on the right side of my head. When my hair is smooth and straight, I return to bed. Although I had drifted in and out of sleep while in my trance-like state, I had not once truly slept deeply enough to dream. But I dream tonight.
I see red skies and red ground. Black shapes perched atop larger black shapes swirl and flow like dark water across the redness. And when I understand what I am seeing, a battlefield in all its horror and magnificence comes into my view. The souls of the dead rise from the red ground into the red sky like smoke from a fire, disappearing into nothing as I watch from a safe place, though I', not exactly sure where that safe place is. There is the sound of metal clashing violently against metal, mixed thickly with the voices of warriors and the voices of the injured and dying. They rise along with the smoky souls of the dead, curling around each other and clinging to each other as they rise together into Heaven. And in the midst of the crimson sky and ground and the smoky spirits and voices, I see him in the distance. His face is radiant, his hair vibrant, his heart beating so powerfully that I can see it glowing through his tunic and armor. His voices rises above the harsh and frightening sounds of battle and whispers in my ear as softly as the ocean waves in which we swam on our wedding night.
"I will not leave you yet, Tansho," he sighs into my ear, his words burning my bones and my blood. "We are bound together and cannot be taken apart. When you dream, I will be here waiting for you. And one day when you wake, I will be there waiting for you as well."
I wake up and stare into beautiful darkness, still seeing the glowing beat of his heart and the glory of his face. He is still here. And one day when I awake from my sleep and my dreams, he will be at my side, waiting for me as I wait for him now.
A/N: Hey there, all!! ^_^ I thought that since I made you wait so damn long for the last chapter that I'd be quick in editing and uploading this new chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
Also, thanks eternally for the wonderful reviews and for sticking with me and still loving my story so much!! Thanks especially to Kitty Lynne, who has always seemed to challenge me the most in my writing and encourage me at the same time. Luv you all and talk to you again soon! ^_^