Strong
April, 1863
“She was never meant to be married,” my mother starts. I want to lean against her, like I’m a child again, hearing stories, but no, right now I’m masquerading as a young man, and even as a young lady I’m too old for -that.-. But “Hidejiro” has been allowed some time, to be with “his” dying grandmother. And as we sit to keep her company while she dreams… my mother tells me a story. One I’ve known parts of, but never the whole.
“So you and I, the boys… it’s all fate, changing what was set for her. You see… she was born with a weak heart. Her father and mother – your great-grandparents – decided that she was meant to stay at home, live quietly, and be a companion to her mother, and then one day stay on to help her brother, when he took over… but things changed. Her mother died, and her father remarried, and instead of a protected daughter of the house, she was more of an… unpaid servant. For her heart was weak, you know… your grandmother has a strong spirit.”
“Her father was often away, for long periods of time, as most samurai did then – attending to the shogun’s affairs in Edo. So her stepmother ran the house, and your grandmother was unhappy. Even though she was stronger than was expected, and lived… her stepmother made no move to arrange her marriage – she was happy with how things were. I think she was very lonely – that’s probably where she developed her sharp tongue,” my mother smiles a little. “She had to be strong. She didn’t mind working hard – you know that – but there was no kindness.”
“One day she was out on an errand – she had been working too much, too hard, and her heart started to trouble her. She stopped, to rest, by the side of the road… my father would tell it, she was in bad shape. Mother always said she just needed to sit for a minute,” and then she laughs, softly. “But both agreed – that much to her chagrin, my father loaded her up on his back and carried her home. He was a young samurai who was journeying to see her father – they were to travel to Edo together, and her stepmother was trying to arrange a match for a neice of hers.”
I pick up my grandmother’s hand. Trying to imagine her, young, full of fire… well, I can see the fire.
“I’m sorry that you never knew him but he was… a large man. Tall, strong… very good-looking in his youth. Cheerful… a good man, and with a spirit as strong as your grandmother’s.”
I think then to what my grandmother told me earlier. You need a good man. Not just a kind one.
“The whole way to her home she apprantly argued with him. That she didn’t need to be carried, what sort of scene they were making… but my father was unfazed. He gets her home, and in the courtyard, in front of her whole family, he says, “well, Masa-chan, thank you for letting me escort you home. I’d like to marry you.”
I smile. “So that’s why Harada-san made her think of my grandfather.”
My mother nods, a bit impatient that I interrupted her story. “And her stepmother objected, and try to deter him with tales of her kinswoman… but her father finally looked at her, for the first time in years… he saw how shabbily that she was dressed, and remembered how she never sat with the family for meals anymore… and he shook his head. ‘My daughter may marry this man, if she wishes. And Sakurai Mantaro-san is a good man, of a good family and rank, and he will take care of Masa-chan.'”
My mother sighs. “And they were married. A true love match, even though my father showed it, my mother… well, she’s always been a little gruff, but he was the center of her world. She was told, with her heart, that she shouldn’t have babies, but she did it anyway. That she wouldn’t live to be old…” she shakes her head. “but every time, she was stronger than those who said she was weak.”
“Harada-san doesn’t look like Otou-san… but the action, the care…” my mother blinks, and then dabs her eyes. “She told me that my father must be waiting, to have sent Harada-san to look after her in her last days.”
Earlier
“Hide-chan,” my grandmother bids. “Bring me some of that tea, and help me drink it.”
I do as I’m told, a little smile on my lips as I prop her up. “It’s nice to hear my name again, thank you, Obaa-san.”
She sips at the tea, and closes her eyes as I lower her back to rest on the futon. “Your father has kept this going too long. They’re not bad men. Well… some of those with Serizawa-san are good-for-nothings, but… the rest would protect you. Kondou-san and his group.”
I nod.
“Are you still doing that sword training with… what is his name? Okita?”
I smile, a little, softly, and feel a blush creeping across my cheeks. “He’s been so kind to me.” He was -smelling- me… but then when talk turned to Oume-san… well, it’s like I wasn’t even there.
My grandmother gives me a sharp look. “Kindness is all well and good, but… what sort of man is he?” She sighs. “A man for you is a -good- man. And Hide-chan, you’re like me. Not like your mother. You’re meant for a love match, and you’re going to have a passionate sort of love, as I did.”
My face is burning red, that she’s speaking of such things. But these are the secrets… so I say nothing, and let her talk. I know from childhood never to interrupt with questions, and to let her say what she means to say…
“Okita-san is a nice boy. Kind, as you say. But he doesn’t even look at you. If he did…” she laughs, “he’d see right though your disguise. I suppose the others don’t need to look, and accept your father’s ruse at face value. But to love someone is to see all of their faces. The bright ones, the dark ones. The secret ones, no matter how hard they try to keep it to themselves.”
“Your grandfather was called ‘merry Mantaro’ as he was always smiling… but he was a canny political player, and at night, in my arms… he told me of his worries, even though our time together was always brief and it was hard to give up our nights to -talking-.” Again, I blush, but I try to imagine my elderly grandmother as a young woman, or the grandfather who is but a legend to me, as a couple in love….
“But we talked… that the West wouldn’t leave us alone forever, that the Shogunate was too weak to handle it, that the world outside had moved far beyond… he spoke Dutch, you know, so he could talk with the trade envoys.” She looks distant. “I hate it… that he was right.”
She closes her eyes, and for a minute, I wonder if she might sleep.
It’s the next night that we loose her. Harada-san was there, and wept over her, like she was his own grandmother. Was it just the other week that she was cheering him on at the sumo match? And she called him by my grandfather’s name… or maybe she saw something beyond him, in those last moments.
And it turns out, she was right. I was meant for a passionate match to a good man. To the man who saw me then, all those years ago.
November 1867
He’s different today.
Since we started seeing each other again, since the defection of so many to Ito-san’s group, his moods have been… variable. At first we barely talked, apart from trivialities about the weather. On our trips to the doctor, he made me wait in another room while he stayed with Asato-san. I wondered if both of us were just trying to satisfy Hijikata-san.
I wish we could talk about things. Like how strange it is without Todo-san, who always had a friendly greeting for me (which I now look back and over-analyze every reaction – did I miss something? Was he truly pining for me the entire time?) And Saitou-san. He’s barely spoken to me in -years-, but his was a prescnese I liked seeing. But the one time I brought them each up, he waved me off.
“Heisuke-kun will be back any day,” Souji-san. “He’ll realize he was wrong, and of course he’ll be welcomed back.” And as for Saitou-san, he just shrugged. “He does what he wants – he always does.”
As we went into the summer of 1867, he finally started talking, but it wasn’t about those we were missing. No, it was about his…. obsessions.
“There’s a man named Sakamoto Ryoma. He’s from Tosa, and he’s in with everyone on Choshuu -and- Satasuma -and- the Westerners,” he tells me as we keep going further and further afield in search of some obscure sweet or another. “-He- negotiated the Satcho Alliance.”
“They’re all coming against us. All of them, and who do we have? Those fools in the Mimawarigumi…?”
“You may have a death wish, but I’m not going to deliver it.” The man with the unkempt hair and heavy footwear shrugs. “And I wouldn’t do it in front of her. What’s wrong with you? Dragging your girl out to your fights? Is that what the Shinsengumi do these days?”
“She’s not my girl,” he says, and I can’t keep from flinching as he dismisses me. “And you and I have business.”
“So you say,” he replies. “Ah, and I’m sorry, miss. He’s terribly rude but I know better. Sakamoto Ryoma, miss. And you must be Yagi Hide?”
He grabs my hand in his and shakes it vigoursly. “Haha, that’s how they do it in the West. Called ‘shaking hands’. A little more personal than bowing, don’t you think?” He releases me, and I pull it back, as if I had touched a fire, my face flaming as he calls the contact ‘personal’.
Souji-san just watches. “So you know her name. Interesting. I guess your friends aren’t above spying after all.”
Sakamoto-san just smiles that lazy smile of his. “Awww… we all do it to each other. Even with that baby face of yours, you can’t be that naive.” He ignores Souji-san’s bristling. “You know, Yagi-san, my wife Oryo saved my life – ran half-naked through an inn to let me know about some assassins out looking for me.” He grins at Souji-san. “There’s -many- ways a good woman can be useful.”
“I had a dream… I’ve -had- dreams. Many of them. That man will kill Kondou-san.” Souji-san’s eyes are wide, and a bit wild, and I step back. “And then he’ll make Japan burn! But Toshi won’t let it – -I- won’t let it happen!
I can smell the smoke before I see him, or hear him speak. “Why do I always seem to come up on the most -interesting- conversations between you and Hide-chan?”
“Fine! Then I won’t go to treatments, either!” Souji-san’s hand is suddenly on the hilt of his blade, his knuckles white, he’s gripping it so tightly.
Hijikata-san gives him a -look-. “You’re acting like a child. And I know you won’t draw on me – then I’ll see how bad off you actually are.” He looks away.
“I’m sorry, Hide-chan. I don’t have the men to spare to babysit you while you babysit Souji.” He sighs. “So if this is what he’s involving you in
“This isn’t what I intended. I’m sorry, Hide-chan. And… it’s only going to get worse.”
“Souji… you’re staying in tonight – we’ll handle escort.”
“What? No!?”
“That’s exactly -why-, Souji.” Hijikata-san sighs, “besides, is keen to give Miura-san a shot, given his family name.”
“It’s the love of a woman that always brings the man back!”
My father wants me to marry him.
I feel so awkward with Okita
I adore him as my friend. As lovers… we’re fumbling. I wonder sometimes if it’s meant to be, but if I don’t save him, who will? Since the night he told me that he feels that it’s his destiny to die, and
Sometimes, when we’re with his squad, he pays me such careful attention that if I didn’t see the look of disenchantment in his eyes – why must he do this?
Part X – That One Night
“Are you sure, Yagi-san?”
It was brief.
It was uncomfortable.
I was no longer a virgin but I had yet to be kissed.
And afterwords, he still called me Yagi-san.
And in the end, he still died.
No… that’s not all of the truth. It’s the version I want to remember. It’s
I hold onto him. I’m holding him to keep him -here-, in this moment, in this place. To give the warmth I have.
YOU ARE TAKING LIFE FROM ME! He suddenly leaps to stand, pulling his yukata tight around him. I sit up and scoot back, wincing at the soreness I still felt.
WHO SENT YOU? He scrambles over to the side of the room, where he left his possessions, and fumbles for his sword. ARE YOU A SPY?
“No, no,” I insist, clutching my
“You’re taking my strength…” and then he starts coughing, and coughing – it’s a terrible sound and he can’t catch his breath. I get up and go closer, carefully. He still has his sword. “Souji – Souji – it’s fine.
Asato-san watches up jealously as I follow him inside.
He coughs, and them grimaces as he swallows. “You gave me something important, Yagi-san. And I thank you.” He smiles grimly, “and one day, when you marry, apologize to your husband for me.” He’s quiet and looks away for a long minute before turning back to me. “But you can assure him, I was a legend.” There’s a bit of his old teasing smile in there.
Hide-san,
See, I finally did it. Called you by name.
I wish I could have been more for you. I know what you were trying to do. Thank you. It’s nice to know that someone -did- care for me. Don’t think it was wasted.
When this is all over, make sure you visit my grave sometime. And try to find Saitou-san. If anyone lives through this, it will be him. And he cares for you. He watches you, did you know that?
And I was a rotten friend to him. I knew it, all this time.
Sisters Shadows
Introduction
I am Yagi Hide. I was born on June 30th, 1846 in Mibu, Kyoto, Japan. I am the daughter of Yagi Gennojo and Yagi Masa, and the sister of Tamesaboro and Yuunosuke.
In 1853 the Black Ships arrived and the world changed.
In 1863 the Shinsengumi came to board at my father’s house and my life changed.
I’ve loved two men. One I had to say goodbye to. The other changed what I thought love could be.
Those are facts in my life, although I’ve been told that I’m merely the creation of a writer and came about in 2004.
And … I have a sister of sorts.
I know my life. But I don’t know when I became aware of this worlds outside. Of the writer, who was pulled into something she didn’t understand, at the wishes of others who wanted a “game” to go their way.
Clumsily, she tried to understand. How to create, like a child playing with clay, or scribbling on a paper. She’d made “characters” before, but they were one-dimensional. Girls with swords, girls with bows, girls who did a function but had nothing inside, a list of numbers with no life.
She make me. She made another, trying to get it “right”, being told by the other writers how I was to be.
“Okita Souji is still alive. It will be your role to come to Tokyo, and turn him from the darkness that’s consuming him.”
I’m confused. Souji is dead. The voice continues “His darkness is making him a killer, who no longer slays for justice but for his own twisted reason. It will take many to call him back.”
“I tried in my own time,” I tell the voice. “I tried to give him a reason to live, to avoid the fate he had decided for himself.” In the end he did die, but not as he had wished.
Then, a quiet voice comes behind me. Her. “I would like to try.” Her smile is gentle, loving, tremulous. “The Souji I knew never said goodbye. Never sent a single letter, only disappeared in the wind. Maybe this time I can help him.”
And… I’ve been replaced. A story about moving on, letting go, setting out, became a story of a woman who, even in middle age, was a bit lost.
I could see how people could confuse us. We’re both short, and neither of us are beautiful. I can see that perhaps she had an easier time binding to be Hidejiro
“Aren’t you having fun out there?”
“I can’t find him. And nobody will help me. I guess…” she smiled, and shrugs, “I’m not interesting. That place is full of -remarkable- women. Fighters of all types – ninjas, or one who runs a dojo! Or elegant and beautiful women from Aizu – one is even a doctor. ” She speaks wistfully. “Did you know that a ninja girl is here, with the writer? But she’s very busy too. People want her around. I’m just… nobody.”
His eyes haunt me.
They’re golden, as I remember.
I want to touch that face. I want to see a smile. Not a smirk. Oh, I want to see a smirk too. But there’s something in those eyes that seems sad.
I feel ashamed, like a voyer, always peeking in on that world.
“Fine. You can go tonight.” She turns around. “I don’t like those games – that’s all they are, games, and engaging will probably get the writer chewed out. And I think he’s looking for the girl.”
I stand up.
I go.
And he’s there, and a world forms around us. A sofa, a light, a table.
The writers are chatting. I don’t know if he sees me. And my writer will not.stop.talking. There’s a tanto in my obi, and I do what I need to.
The talk is strange. I don’t feel as if I’m talking in my voice. We both cheerfully lament our relationships with others. It takes a while, for -my- voice to stand out.
I lament a Souji who pays me no attention. Well, it’s her Soiji, paying her no attention. I have plenty to lament about the Souji I knew, but… I follow along.
Part X –
“I want to go back tonight.”
She shakes her head. “You had your fun. This is my life.” Then she notices the box.
“You’re cooking for him?” Then she looks at me. “You can cook?”
I incline my head. “We’re different. I think… you had more servants? But… didn’t you bring food out to the Shinsengumi?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no… well, sometimes I helped, but… I didn’t do all of the work. The hard work.”
The writers chime in, pleased at our games.
Part X – The Sound of Bells
I hear it – the sound of bells.
“Do you have to be so fickle? What of Okita-san?”
I look at her. “He’s dead. The one I knew. He’s dead.”
“But even so, you owe him your loyalty!”
I pace, “I can’t live like that. To be forever bound by some concept of fidelity? It sounds beautiful, romantic. But it’s not a way to -live-, sister.” I don’t understand how he loved me, if he loved me. But he wouldn’t want me unhappy. That much I know.
“I’m not taking anything from you,” I plead. “I can have -this-, you can have what you’re carving out there. Continue what you want to do – save Souji from his darkness.”
“You don’t understand; Saitou-san is a relentless man. And they – the other writers – tell our writer that he’s just -playing-.” She frowns. “And what if Okita-san finds out and thinks it’s me? Or the other people? I will not be a fickle woman.”
“That’s him,” she says. She’s quiet.
“I need to go.” I tell her.
She remains silent. “You can have that place. But be careful. He’s going to want you -there- –
I hear his voice across time and space and something within me changes. I run to the void, to the sound of the bells, chiming, calling me. To him. To wherever this may lead.