6.
Before fully registering the sound of an oddly muffled thump, Hira had sat up. Groggily, she reached over for her grey hantan, pulling it over her under robes and had it cinched around her waist by the time she reached the shoji.
Sliding it back, she automatically looked to the right, letting her sight adjust to the warm, red glow of the irori fire. On its opposite side, Kotaro slept, oblivious to the world, buried under the kakebuton with Tobimaru. He had left a small pile of paper cranes on the low table.
She looked towards Nanashi.
On his back, he had one knee partially lifted up. His foot hitting the floor had awakened her. She could see him drag his left hand along the zabuton on his chest. He twitched, his head jerking away from the fire. His leg relaxed, angled somewhat awkwardly to the right. At some point he had shoved his own kakebuton down to his waist.
In seconds she knelt at his side. He was not awake. She could barely see his eyes shifting under the closed lids as he rolled his head back, a soft gasp escaping from his lips. His chest heaved as he sucked back in a breath of air. In the glint of the firelight she saw the sweat beading on his forehead. She reached over, grasped the nearby cloth and soaked it, before she clenched it tight to squeeze the excess water out. Gently she started to dab at his face, expecting the normal sigh of relief and relaxation, hoping he wouldn't even wake up.
What she got was wholly unexpected.
The second the cool damp cloth touched his face, Nanashi literally sat bolt upright. A half strangled outburst of horror escaped from him, followed closing by a loud groan of pain. His hair fell over his face in utter disarray. Breathing in hard fast gasps, he dragged his legs up, while his right hand slapped onto the floor, trying to support him. His other hand...
His other hand had clamped around Hira's forearm, his fingers wrapped in a painfully tight vice grip as his thumb dug hard into the flesh. He never heard her sharp intake of pain as she pulled back to stare back at him in astonishment.
"Nanashi!" she barely gasped, freezing in place. Her back arced from the pain as her heart raced, almost as fast as his. She stared at his face. White as a sheet, he was staring past her, his eyes beginning to flutter shut in pained agony and she could see he wasn't even awake. She didn't dare try and rouse him, there simply being no way to tell how he'd react.
"Nanashi?" She hissed softly.
"Nnng..." he moaned, his head dropping, almost coming to rest on her shoulder. A frown appeared on his face, as he tried to shift forward, attempting to sit up better. He reached up with his free hand, touched his cheek lightly, and his eyes blinked back open.
"Nanashi?" Hira whispered, through gritted teeth, trying to remain motionless.
His breathing began to even out, and he jerked his head up, irritated with the hair falling into his eyes. He started to pull her arm towards him, his thumb still biting hard into the flesh.
An intake of sharp breath not his own finally caused him to frown. His eyes fluttered open. Realization slowly began to dawn on his face as he focused, and glanced at his hand. He felt Hira trembling. His gaze lifted to her face, his fingers still locked in their grip.
"Are you awake?" she whispered softly, her eyes studying his.
"Hira..? I..? What..?" he began to stammer.
"Relax your fingers..." she whispered, pleadingly.
He stared at her arm. His grip was so tight, he could see the deep imprints of his fingers even from the soft glow of the irori. There was a slow rolling, trickle of blood running down her bare arm where his thumbnail had embedded itself into the flesh. He began to shake. "I.. I?" he stammered again. "My katana?"
Hira could see the war going on behind his confused, perplexed gaze. The vestiges of a nightmare still gripped him as did the realization of what he had done. He became more aware of his surrounding.
She lifted her own shaking fingers up to his face. Setting her hand on his cheek she turned him to focus on her. "You were dreaming, Nanashi. You thought my arm was your katana. Relax your grip..."
He stared at her, comprehension finally winning through. "Hira? I...? I'm sorry," he whispered in horror. "I'm so sorry!" He pulled his hand away abruptly, staring as a thin trail of blood rolled down her arm.
She sagged in relief, her shoulders dropping. She set her other hand on his shoulder.
"Hush, Nanashi, hush..." she murmured, studying his eyes, a worried frown on her face. "It was my fault. I didn't realize you were having a nightmare."
He dropped his head, reaching up to pull her hand away from his cheek. "I..." he started to say then shook his head, sighing in deep weariness. "They just happen..." he said helplessly, squeezing her fingers, "I never know when... I'm sorry, Hira, I didn't meant to hurt you!" He looked at his hand, loathing in his eyes.
Very quietly she replied, "Your fever is up and your resistance is down. That is probably why you're dreaming. Lay back down. You're shaking so hard you're going to collapse." On impulse she reached up, brushing the hair off his face, before she settled both hands on his shoulders. "Come on," she coaxed. "Lay back down."
He didn't argue, he just laid back, with a groan of pain and a heavy sigh. He already felt wretched enough, now he just felt worse. He looked away from her. "How can you even look at me?" He asked.
She smiled gently. "I have dealt with patient's who have done far worse than this. You have nothing to be ashamed of." She reached for the cloth, dabbing again at his face and neck.
He went to go open his mouth to argue, reaching up to pull her hand away but she just looked sharply at him.
"Don't..." she said firmly. "This is my job. Part of healing is to provide comfort..." She continued cooling his forehead and temples.
Twisting slightly she pulled the kakebuton back up to his neck, "So is listening. Do you wish to talk about it?" She tentatively asked.
The look he gave her was answer enough. Forbidding her to ask him again but utterly unable to hide the pain the nightmare had dredged up. She just lifted her chin in understanding
Wetting the cloth again, she squeezed the water out. The trickling sounding loud in the room. She cast a glance at where Kotaro slept. He was oblivious. Continuing to bathe the sweat off Nanashi's face she said. "If you ever decide to discuss it, I'm a very good listener."
"Is that part of your job too?" he muttered.
"Of course. But the decision is purely up to you. When a patient is in distress, I heal, I comfort, I listen."
He looked at her, as she shifted the cloth to dab at his neck. "Answer me a question?" he asked.
She looked at him frankly, then nodded.
"He was a shogun wasn't he..? Your husband." Nanashi asked.
Hira froze. Only the sound of the fire could be heard in the washitsu for a very long pause as Hira's hand stopped in its ministration. They stared at each other, then Hira drew in a breath, pulling her hand away.
"And that boy thinks you're illiterate..." she said softly, ruefully, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. "You are far, far smarter than you appear."
"You're a widow, aren't you?" Nanashi asked.
Hira slowly lifted her chin, sitting back on her haunches. She finally broke their gaze, glancing down at her arm. Using the cloth she wiped the blood off. She inspected the bruising. She said nothing.
"You don't just live out here to be away from the villagers. They've banished you, haven't they?" He asked.
After a pause Hira drew in a deep breath. "More fools they," she whispered, clutching the cloth in her hand. "This is my home though. I prefer to live here rather than deal with their..." She hesitated, carefully selecting her words. "Nonsense."
To her surprise, a look of understanding flickered in his eyes as she looked back at him.
"I know how it is with women of rank. You weren't given a choice were you?" he asked.
"I made me a choice..." She corrected, a hint of fierceness in her words. "What choice is there between seppuku or becoming the concubine of your husband's, unbalanced, shogun brother? Why destroy years worth of training over a point that is as ridiculous as it is insane? Just because someone dies? Is it really honourable to blindly follow someone in pointless death? My husband understood that... We even discussed it before he died. He made me vow I would not waste my skills. He wanted me to live. I chose to honour his last wishes."
For just a split second, Nanashi saw the grief; deep, intense, and unmistakable, that lurked behind her dark eyes. It vanished behind a steely resolve. "Even if I have to honour those last wishes alone."
To Hira's surprise, he huffed softly in amusement, a slight smile appearing on his lips. "I have learned -in my own way- that there is absolutely no honour in blind loyalty. It often ends up in creating much more dishonour than anything else."
For a moment nothing could be heard in the room but the low crackling of the fire. Hira lowered her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I knew you weren't a typical ronin."
"And you are not a typical healer," he replied.
Hira drew in a breath, relaxing her shoulders. "No, I suppose I am not." She set the cloth aside, folding her hands on her lap and looked at Nanashi. "I was trained by my grandfather. He was a samurai and a healer. I was... five?" She looked down at her hands a moment, then glanced back up. "Our family was very influential. My father and uncles were all healers or metalsmiths. All of them samurai."
"My father was a retainer to the daimyo of the Achikita realm and an arranged marriage was made between my family and the daimyo's for his younger son. An unusual situation as we bypassed the elder one. Both his sons were shoguns for separate districts under the daimyo's fiefdom. A stipulation of the betrothal was the request for me to remain in the younger shogun's district."
"I take it the daimyo's older son, his heir, wasn't happy with the arrangements?" Nanashi asked.
Hira nodded. "He was not. But he was over-ruled. I was married at thirteen and had to learn the management of the household very quickly. I still tutored under my grandfather and the daimyo's healer to further my education. Surprisingly, despite my age and, how shall I say it? Inexperience?My husband loved me. He was patient, and kind. He showed me how important it was to treat people, regardless of class, with respect."
"A wise man..." Nanashi murmured.
Hira nodded. "The wisest..." She said, her eyes reflecting grief. "Our district's people loved him. The daimyo's healer and myself did everything we could to save his life. In the end, infection -an abscess in his abdomen from a sword wound- took him." Hira heaved a soft sigh, glancing away from Nanashi's gaze. "I suddenly found myself a widow in my husband's family home. It was implied I either follow my husband or submit to his brother, under the pretext of raising up a child in his name. I chose something else."
"There were no children?"
"Not for lack of trying," Hira said, a slight smile on her lips. "One of us was infertile. We never did find out which one."
"So you returned to what was rightfully yours and accepted disgrace and banishment."
"I took my husbands words to heart," Hira said. "And I was not going to submit to that sadistic brother. His wife and concubines can't seem to produce a boy. Even if I was not infertile, I certainly wasn't going to become another broodmare in his stall." Her voice subtly dripped with sarcasm.
The acrimony in her brought a slight smirk to Nanashi's lips. "What choice is there between ritual suicide or conjugal servitude?" he murmured.
Hira inclined her head, sighing softly. "Most of the villagers side with the old daimyo and, by loyalty, the remaining brother. Whether they like him or not. The ones who do not, are the ones who refer people to me. They trade and barter with me as well. It's been a few years now. I get by. I've come to accept my solitude."
"What about the rest of your family?" he asked.
"I explained that to Kotaro. Did you see those burned out ruins on the ride up here?"
"I wasn't in much of a state to notice." Nanashi said ruefully.
"They were my family's ancestral homes. They were wiped out in the last civil war in this region. I was with my husband by then and was not here to see their demise." She let out a sigh. "The cemetery is their final home, it's been ours for generations."
Nanashi gazed at her for several minutes. "I'm truly sorry, Hira," he said. "It seems our world has gone mad. All three of us have such burdens to bear."
"Yes," she replied. "We carry on, however." She glanced around the room. "I'm comfortable here. I took to household management like I did to healing. I don't think I've done too bad." She looked back at him. "And once certain villagers realized what kind of healer was in their midst, they found ways to bend the social rules to our mutual benefit."
"Isn't there some sort of pressure from the daimyo's elder son?" Nanashi automatically asked.
"Oh some," she replied offhandedly. "He tries throwing his weight around. The peasant folk who want me around know a thing or two about working around rules and etiquette to get what they want though. Even at the expense of one's superior in class."
"But as a shogan's widow..." he started to say, but Hira suddenly laid the fingertips of one hand impulsively on his lips, stopping him. She abruptly snatched ed her hand away.
"That is the burden I had to accept." She whispered fiercely. "My fate was sealed when I was wed to a shogun. What difference does it make now in my disgrace? I refused seppuku and rejected my daimyo's orders to become the plaything of his remaining son. After that, who would even want such a woman?"
He knew the traditions and laws. Should the wives of shogan's, or those higher up, refuse the orders of the daimyo's they served, they were condemned to never remarry.
Nanashi studied her calm, almost indifferent composure. Increasingly, over the last few decades, as district fought against district, the movements and activities of educated, middle to upper class, woman became more and more restricted. He swallowed, glancing away, tasting bile in his throat. Samurai were held to very strict codes of honour, but women? Their standards was raised to near unbearable levels.
Nanashi sighed. "Many would say the same about a samurai who rejects his daimyo's wishes." He murmured, turning his head to look back her. "What some consider to be a great and noble honour is nothing more than senseless destruction. Acts that are unconscionable and appalling and should be rejected out of decency's sake. A samurai faced with that and turning away, laying aside his oaths of loyalty and choosing to walk away from the so called honour and prestige, is considered nothing more that a dog."
For a moment neither spoke, but then Hira sighed, smiling softly. "It's easier isn't it? Not having to deal with the pressure?"
Wearily, Nanashi closed his eyes, nodding his head in agreement. "I've always been restless, I find I don't mind travelling. I'm free, more or less, to go where I want. Make my own decisions."
"Yes, there is a peace in that too, isn't there?" she asked wistfully. She drew in a breath of air and exhaled slowly, setting her hands on her thighs.
"There is, so long as I'm left to mind my own business. That one..." he nodded at Kotaro. "Hasn't learned that yet. He will eventually."
Hira looked over at the mound of comforter. "He's just a boy..." she said softly.
"Full of piss and vinegar and a lot of ego to boot," Nanashi murmured, closing his eyes wearily. "Thinks he knows everything too!"
"Don't tell me you weren't like that at his age," Hira smiled wryly. "He's got much to be afraid of. It all comes out as bluster and bad manners."
"You're letting him off easy," Nanashi replied, a slight smirk ghosting his lips.
"Why rob him of his innocence? He has to grow up much too fast. He should be allowed to be a child for what time he can be one."
Nanashi opened his eyes and studied her in the firelight. "True..." he said quietly.
Hira sighed and turned her focus back on him. "Do you need anything to help you go back to sleep?" She asked.
He shook his head, reaching for the zabuton to hold against his chest. He glanced at her.
"Are you feeling any pain, anywhere other than the wound sites?" She laid her hand on her abdomen. "Especially here, or in your chest?" She reached over to the water pot, filling the cup and setting it nearby for him to reach.
"Just the pressure, and the ribs." He murmured, letting his eyes close. "And feeling like a wrung out rag."
"You really need some proper sleep," She said, as she slowly got to her feet. "And so do I. Still, don't hesitate to call for me if you need anything."
"Just..." He murmured, glancing at her bruised arm. "Just accept my apologies, Hira."
"You've nothing to apologize for," she said gently and went back to her room.
Neither one of them dropped off to sleep until far, far later into the night.
