Sandōkai

IV. A Soul-Streamer's Beginning

"Youth offers the promise of happiness, but life offers the realities of grief."

― Nicholas Sparks

There was a thrush cawing from the looming maple tree over the wall. It flapped, disgruntled, before taking off into the snow-white sky. My eyes followed it, watching as it slowly disappeared over the horizon.

"Furiko? Furiko?" Steady hands settled onto my shoulders, shaking me from my reverie and drawing my eyes to the tanned skin marked by pockmarks and small scars that came from attaching fish-hooks and unlucky netting. I stare, almost unbelieving at the crescent scar on the inside of a wrist, one that I had traced in affection, years and years and years ago.

I blinked as a face swam in view, dark brown eyes meeting my own in concern.

"Hayashi...?"

Hayashi—Hayashi, my husband—gave me an odd look, brows furrowing as he pursed his lips in concern. The hands on my shoulders steadied me, grounding me from the swirl of thoughts that were not yet here in the present. "Furiko? Are you okay? Is it the babe?"

I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing a number of times that I was sure that I looked like some fish out of water. A cautious hand settled over my stomach, the off-weight of a pregnancy suddenly kicking into my senses.

Over Hayashi's shoulder is a stone-lion dog, the statue snarling at negative spirits and demons alike to ward them off of the sandō. My eyes trail upwards from the statue, the second torī gate standing as bold as it always did. I was at the mountain shrine. When had I traveled to the mountain shrine?

"I—No. I don't think so." I settle on, the words sounding foreign to my ears. The tone was wrong, but that wasn't right, was it? I always had a more husky tone of voice than most women, so why was my brain telling me that it should be octaves higher?

Hayashi's concerned look turns into mild alarm, his own hand coming to rest over mine on my swollen stomach in a show of support and to perhaps ground himself in his own self-assurances.

"Do you need to rest? Obā-san told me to bring some water for the walk up here just in case, do you need some?" His hands leave my person to fumble with the water-skin attached to his obi. It's a sweet gesture.

"It's okay. I just...I just thought I saw something." My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, why was that? The world felt strange and unfamiliar, and I the unfortunate eye of the storm.

And like that, Hayashi's entire countenance relaxes. "Was it a bird? You always get distracted by those cormorants Take-jiji let's loose, maybe one flew a bit too far."

My hand slips easily into Hayashi's own, his palms rough against my skin as he pulls me closer to wrap a steady arm around my shoulders. It's a sweet action that has my heart aching as my head tilts up to his own, a smile easily thrown my way from him.

He's as I remember from when we were young. A little rough-hewed and tanned with skin than speaks of a common life, but he is handsome to me, nevertheless. Our match was a lucky one, love growing in place of a childhood friendship.

Pebbles crunch underfoot, slowly giving way to gravel that then gives way to a dirt road that speaks of years and years of use. The shrine had been here since before my home village, the people settling to stay close to it, to stay closer to the Gods' divine protections and favors.

Our footsteps are careful, Hayashi's hand a warm weight as he tugs me a bit closer when the winter wind blows. Another couple pass by us, their faces unrecognizable to me, but my husband gives them a wave all the same. He always was too friendly for his own good.

"It's going to snow." I state, looking up at the clouds above. Hadn't I been here before? Not at this place, but in this time?

Hayashi tilts his head up with mine, a smile on his face. His teeth glint, peeking out from behind thin lips as his snaggle-tooth catches. "Looks like it will. C'mon, we should head home before it gets too cold, it won't be good for you or the babe."

Our walk is silent, stone lanterns dotting along the path for pilgrims as my knees begin to ache with the added weight of a pregnancy pulling me down even more than the decline of the mountain. The zori on my feet are a burden yet a blessing, every rock and lump were felt through the soles but still more comfortable than my geta sandals.

I would have to weave more sandals, come midwinter. It would be a good thing to get rid of the extra hemp before it became too brittle to weave. I settle a free hand on my stomach. I was obviously due soon, from the way it felt like I was to burst.

I breathed in, savoring the crisp air. There was the scent of dried fish carried in the air, probably Take-jiji's catch since he was the main fisherman in the village. His children hadn't wanted to carry on his legacy and so they went to the city to look for better apprenticeships while he taught the little ones in the village in hopes that one of them would catch on. Fushimi's boy would; he was a clever one, but preferred the quiet life out in the country. That was alright by me, too much ambition would be punished by the gods.

"Thinking?"

I hum, squeezing Hayashi's hand as the mountain-path veers sharply. Trees duck down, their branches eager to catch pilgrims and travelers with their wooden hands. "Yes."

Hayashi squeezes my hand back, another pushing the branches out of the way as he leads carefully. There was a common occurrence of at least one person slipping down the mountain path to the shrine. My husband was not one of many words, picked for me simply because we were childhood friends who found more solace in watching the others play while we sat in the shade and giggled over cicada shells.

"Mm. Obā-san promised soup for tonight." Hayashi comments, his voice warm as we stop over the curve of the mountain-path. Below I can see the dotting of the village, thatched roofs the majority with the few dark tiled houses making up the sweep of the valley.

I sigh, pulling my daughter away from the hearth as she looks up at me with big, betrayed eyes. Her tan face crinkles, color flushing into her skin as her mouth opens to start crying.

"Hoso," I pull her into my arms, chubby baby fat soft under my palms as she begins her cry. "Enough of that, you're being a bad girl."

She continues and I give another sigh, moving her off my lap so she can roll around while I finish the sleeves of the furisode. The village had been growing lately, more and more pilgrims choosing to stay and make a home here, prompting more business from my family. Grandmother had all-but given up on weaving hemp and began to work with me in designing kimono and yukata.

"Where's Minoru?" Obā-san asks, her form hunched over the gnarled branch Hayashi had carved into a cane for her. She was still of the opinion that I should've married Genko's boy, and not even the birth of Hoso would de-frost her from her dislike of my husband. She had accepted the cane only because the rest of the family had wheedled her into accepting it, if only out of a hope that she would soften to the newly added family member. She didn't. I still caught her eyeing it distrustfully at times.

"Out in the fields. He's playing with his friends." I reply, biting the thread off and tying off the knot. I would have to ask Yuri-san if she had any more wool so I could spin more thread to begin the embroidery on the hem.

Grandmother huffs, shuffling over to seat herself by the hearth. The fire was out, but the coals were still red and warm, a comforting heat if anything. "What's she crying for?"

"She wanted to grab the coals." I reply easily, folding the sleeve so they would not wrinkle. A lord and lady had recently been given the lands around our growing village, requesting the best local tailors or seamstress to attend to her wardrobe. The only other competitor I had was Bin, but her stitches were sloppy after a while and she tended to put off work to spin thread than actually make anything.

Having a lord and lady as our patrons would greatly help the increasing number of mouths to feed in the family, not to mention give Hayashi a reason to go to the city and buy me some fancier silks.

"I would've spanked her." Grandmother harrumphs, turning sharp eyes to the suddenly-quiet Hoso. She was just reaching her second year, another sibling already on the way if my hunch about my nausea was right.

"Please do not spank my child, obā-chan."

Grandmother says nothing to that, eyeing my daughter with dark eyes before her features soften, picking up her great-granddaughter in delight. Despite her crabby nature, everyone knew in the family that grandmother had long out-grown her temper, the tiredness of age mellowing her out from the spry old woman in our youth who would whack us over the head at the smallest acts of insubordination.

Hoso would be her seventh grandchild, an auspicious number, and I could already tell that as my daughter grew into herself more, she became grandmother's favorite. Of course, grandmother wouldn't admit she had favorites, rallying her breath to rant and rave over how Hoso was born as a lucky number.

"She's an ugly girl."

I sigh. "She's still growing, obā-chan."

"She's dark. Much too like that father of her's." Her knobby finger traces the bridge of Hoso's nose, the gesture startling gentle compared to her words. I grit my teeth, biting my tongue so as to not snap at my elder disrespectfully.

"Hayashi is a kind husband." I all-but deflect. It was better to act demure and ignore any negative comments from her, else I would be in hot water from the rest of the family. Respecting your elders was a cornerstone in society, those who were anything but respectful were easily shunned and gossiped about.

I liked it, taking care of those who took care of you was a novel idea, but it was times like this that I remembered how callous the older generations were.

She snorts, wrinkled lips smacking together as she geared herself up to complain about my husband. "I don't understand what your parents were thinking, matching you up with that boy…"

"Thank you." I smiled, cheeks practically hurting from how wide it was, but I didn't care. Coins clinked in the coin purse, the metal clicks practically music to my ears as Tsumahime-sama withdraws her small hand, a genial smile on her painted face. After getting over the shock of having the lady of the land on my humble doorstep, it was almost a dream in the way she personally handed over my payment.

She lifted her hand, a brightly-patterned sleeve I had worked on months ago painting a beautiful contrast to her face. "Good servitude must be paid back in full; unrewarded good work is simply unvirtuous."

I nod, tucking the coin purse into my obi as her attendants swarm to lead her into her litter. It wasn't a small thing, having the lady of the land visit in person. I watch as the pins in her hair sparkle and bob, some part of me wishing that one day I would be able to have such finery. It wasn't far-fetched, given the patronage from the lord and lady, but there were simply too many in my household to provide for, not to mention the renovations that had been done to my family home.

"Mom?" Hoso's face peeked out from around the corner, dark eyes curious as I shut the door. The village had expanded into a proper town, money brought in by the nobles doing wonders to the infrastructure as more and more houses added tiles onto their roof. Streets were actually paved with stone as well!

I turn to my eldest with a great smile, rushing forward to sweep her in my arms despite the ache in my back. Winters were getting harder on my aging bones, but also the sting of multiple pregnancies were starting to bite, another one already on the way. Hopefully my last.

"We will be having beef tonight!" I cry, her own laugh mixing into my own as I spin us across the room. I pull away, her eyes twinkling as she fights to hide the smile on her own.

She had grown up wonderfully, a real beauty despite the light tan to her skin that clung on despite the amount of time she spent indoors. Hayashi and I had been making some noise over some of the marriage proposals our neighbors had offered for their sons. Her dowry would be no small thing considering our patron's generosity, as well as being the oldest daughter.

"Did Tsumahime-sama pay well?" Hoso asks, her hands already grabbing the coin purse before I can reply. Her dark hair bows over her face as she looks at the coins in the bag.

"This one feels heavy," She comments, counting under her breath as she fingers through the purse. The clinks of the coins are soothing to my ears, a small price of luxury tonight would do wonders for everyone.

"Make sure to send your brother down to Wataru-san," I instruct, taking the coin purse from her hands and digging out a decent amount. "Ask for three slabs."

She accepts the coins, face scrunching as she hands back the gold ones and leaves the copper and silver ones. No one liked dealing with the butchers more than they needed, but they would be having meat tonight and not even my children's protests would deter my decision.

"Which brother?"

I lean over to press a kiss on her cheek, ruffling her dark hair in amusement before turning away. The hemp mats crunch under my feet., a comforting sound that does much to remind me of my humble origins. How far our family has grown...I wonder how proud grandmother would be if she still lived.

"Considering that Etsuta-chan is still a babe…"

I blink, brows creasing as I stare up at the ceiling above. There's a weight next to me, pressing into me rather than on me, and insufferably hot despite the way the air seems to freeze on my face.

It's morning, the crisp scent of early dew registering as I try and muster the energy to properly think, my head jumbled as I press a clammy hand against my thigh as if to remind myself that I am physical.

Next to me, the weight shifts, a huff of breath drawing my attention to the shock of silver hair on my side. I stare, eyes burning as I go too long without blinking despite the frantic rush of my mind as it tries to settle in the semblance of peace I once had it organized into. It's eery, to feel so detached yet so connected to your own feelings.

Two drowning things can't save each other. All they can do is drag each other down.

A choked sound worked it's way from my throat, hands desperately fumbling under the weight of the futon to break free and clasp over my mouth as if it would hold back my own emotions.

"Heiya?" One dark eye peers at me in the early light, curiosity shifting to concern as Kakashi pushes himself up into a half-sitting position, propped up on his elbow. "Did anything happen?"

I shake my head, eyes squeezing shut as bile begins to build in the back of my throat. How do you even begin to explain? How do you explain that you woke up in an unfamiliar body and tried your best to continue and adapt because death was expected and it was better to accept the Gods' gift when given better fortune?

How do you explain the keen loss of a child despite being a child?

It's almost comical in the way hysteria begins to build. An ugly feeling, one that would be immediately banished if it wasn't for the way Kakashi's hands smooth over my futon-covered selt to pull me close despite the awkwardness of the blanket separating us. He doesn't ask, wordlessly shifting his hands so his fingers can comb through my hair.

I had lost my life. I had lost Furiko.

These past few weeks had been me not quite yet understanding; accepting my death was easy because I was old. I had watched my grandchildren grow and one of my own children pass before me, death was no stranger in the way I had welcomed acceptance into my mind.

But I was different now. I was Hatake Heiya, a lonely little girl who had her garden for enjoyment and her brother as her only friend. And wasn't that scary? Looking into the mirror and seeing yourself despite some part of your mind feeling indescribably uncomfortable―

"Was it a bad dream?" Kakashi's voice is quiet, lips lingering by my ear as I press my face into the crook of his shoulder. This is my brother, my only brother who tried so hard to do his best when it came to me. The mantra plays in my head until I'm dizzy, his question becoming fuzzy to the point that I wonder if it was even asked in the first place.

The blanket is soft against my skin as I unclasp my hands from my mouth, pulling up the cloth to cover the both of our heads, warmth immediately cocooning us. "I felt funny again."

He hums, tense fingers pausing their smooth caress through my hair for a moment to betray his concern before they continue their path. It's a calming motion, one he had done many times before on me when memories were harder to grasp onto in this life.

"Did you dream of being funny?" He asks, the murmur of his voice cool despite the uncomfortable heat that began to grow in the space between us under the blanket.

I shift my head back, pulling away from the embrace to pop my head out of the heat, the coolness of the room refreshing. Shouji leading out to the garden on the opposite side of the room had made the early rays of the sun into a pale pink that settled across the room like a comforting haze. My fingers twitched, knowing that if it were in a life before I would be up before dawn had even crested the horizon, already stitching away at the seams of kimonos.

Could there be pride in grief? Could I be proud that I was the best at my trade and know that if I was to take it up again I would swiftly climb higher than no other? Would it be fair to the girls who dreamed like I did once, only to push them aside with generations of knowledge tucked away in muscle memory I was sure would kick in once I settled?

So I settle with simple words, not quite trusting myself despite the way my body stills and calms. "Yeah. I dreamt of being funny."

Silvery hair tickles my cheek and I'm not sure whether it is mine or his, eyes falling closed at the feeling as Kakashi noses his face into the crook of my neck and inhales deeply. "Like with Yamanaka Ren?"

"I think." And that's the truth of it, memories, dreams; whatever it was fading away from my mind and leaving only the tattered remains of knowing something different and being left with the emotions to deal with it.

"Dad left this morning," My brother says, his voice tickling my skin. "His team got called out early."

It was almost a relief in the childish, more Heiya-centered feeling of disappointment that settled itself in my chest. Dad was always gone, despite what he said about the days of vacation he was given.

"Do you have to go soon?"

"No. Sensei gave us a few days off for training."

It falls silent between us then, our breaths matching each other as we pull each other back closer together, something settling in my mind at the blatant display of skinship.

I would grieve. I would continue to grieve because it was shocking to suddenly understand what you lost after thinking that everything was fine. But that was okay, because I would grow and I would learn to love this life even more than I did now and the people in it because I was no longer Furiko, the kimono seamstress who worked until her hands shook and she slowly blinded. No, I was Hatake Heiya with a lineage that went back to accomplished men and women alongside an older brother who genuinely cared and a father who believed love was all he needed to raise us right.

Perhaps the Gods had given me my memory back for the simple reason that I would have to care for these two. Dad was terribly awkward around his own children and I didn't miss the way Kakashi's face would fall blank as if to grow into a man before his voice had lowered.

"Nī-san?"

"Hm?" His legs curl up, resting under my knees.

"Can we have Asahara-san's for dinner?" The thought of cooking now is a tiring one, despite the squash Dad had helped harvest yesterday before he left. He had only stayed three days before being called out again.

Kakashi grumbles, knowing that he would have to be the one to pick up food but nods anyway. "Fine."

Vocabulary

Hayashi (速) Fast

Hoso (ほそ) Little, dainty

Minoru (実) To bear fruit

Etsuta (悦汰) Delight/joy/pleasure, too many

Take (岳) mountain

Genko (厳子) strict/stern child

Wataru (亙) cross over

Tsumahime (妻) literally meaning: wife-princess

Asahara (朝原) morning field

Sandō (参道) Is the road approaching either a Shinto Shrine or Buddhist Temple

Torī(鳥居 or とりい) is the traditional Japanese gate most commonly found at the entrance of or within a Shinto Shrine, where it symbolically marks the transition from the mundane to the sacred

I'm so sorry on how long this update took. I literally promised (or alluded to) more happening this chapter in the last, but I simply couldn't write. I struggled a lot with this chapter and it shows in the length, but! A glimpse into Heiya's past life! I promise next chapter will have more to say and that this one is more of a filler than anything. Inspiration for me has been bouncing around and college has been a mess for me both getting my classes and doing them. There might be a lull in updates coming up in December because holiday season! Thank you all for your kind reviews and favorites/follows, I love and appreciate every single one of them!

To the next,

M.B. Westover