Adversity in Bloom

Akari woke to the smell of ginger and the sight of Chiyoko’s large, dark eyes. She felt the ache lingering in her neck and shoulder where the bokutō had crashed down through her defenses. Akari’s eyes burned and a lump swelled in her throat. She moved to cover her face, embarrassed.
“It wasn’t just some horrid dream.”
“No,” Chiyoko said. So cruel in her unflinching honesty.
“Did…” Akari swallowed. “Did everyone see?”
The miko was quiet a moment. Instead of answering the question, she said, “Everyone is terribly worried for you.”
“Everyone?” Akari asked in a small voice.
“Of course! You crumpled like a paper lantern. Poor Toshikasu Erizawa is beside himself with guilt.”
Akari’s mood drew darker at the mention of the handsome samurai from Karatsu. Insufferable young man…
“I would not let him do such a thing,” Erizawa had promised, so pompous and arrogant and clearly a fan of the new, oppressive teachings pouring out of the monks’ mouths. As if she had not just beaten the sake merchant on fair terms.
“Can I still fight?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“Your pride was the only casualty.”
Akari sniffed at that. Her pride, indeed. And all her hopes of ever being taken seriously.
“You must be more careful, Lady Sakimori,” Chiyoko continued. “These young samurai… they have been training their entire lives in the Way of the Sword. They are as tempered as good steel.”
“I’ve trained!”
Chiyoko looked at her squarely. “Indeed, you have. Since you were sixteen. Lord Sakai started when he was three. My brothers? When they were three. I doubt Erizawa is any different.”
When Lord Sakai had stepped forward and challenged Harunori as jito, Akari had bitten her tongue until it bled. That Toso and Erizawa fell all over themselves to take his place did not make her feel any better. Then she saw Mongolian treachery and wondered, perhaps, if Jin had sensed something she could not, and her pride was soothed. In all else he, at least, stepped back and allowed her the freedom to try.
“Easy for you to say,” Akari decided, bitterly. She looked at sun slanting into the room through the window and thought, perhaps she had not been out as long as she feared. “Your place with him is assured. You need not prove yourself.”
Chiyoko looked down at her hands, folded so neatly in her lap. “I assure you; my lord would have preferred I stayed safe under the watchful eyes of my mother. But my family was betrayed, Lady Sakimori. None are left alive.”
“I… I’m sorry Chiyoko.”
Lady Adachi shook her head. “My story is no different than your own. My losses no greater and no less than so many others on our island. Our only place is at his side, fighting for our home. He understands this now.”
“I want to help!” Akari paused a moment, biting her lip. More softly, she said, “Please, Lady Adachi… Please tell Lord Sakai I still wish to go.”
Chiyoko smiled softly. She bowed her head a little and Akari hoped it was in acquiescence.
“Rest now,” the miko said. She rose from her knees and moved to leave, pausing by the door. Then Akari saw him kneeling at the door. The smug young samurai who had put her here. Akari took some small pleasure in his distressed expression. Chiyoko paused there and touched Toshikasu’s shoulder.
“Do not upset her any further, Erizawa-san,” she said with a touch of laughter in her high, breathy voice.
“No, I… of course not Lady Adachi,” he said, bowing to her. “Thank you!”
The miko bowed with a little smile and was gone. Erizawa came closer to her prostrate form before throwing himself down to the mats in a nervous and sincere show of contrition. He bowed so low his head touched the tatami mats and he did not rise. She saw the single spider lily in his hand. “I apologize,” he began. “A thousand times would not be enough.”
“I’ll live,” she said. “I am more worried that Lord Sakai will never let me join him now.”
The young samurai straightened up from his bow then. “He will,” Erizawa promised fervently. “I will plead your case if I must. You forget I fought next to you all through that battle for Azamo Bay. I know you’re capable.”
“But I can’t defend myself against a sake merchant?”
Toshikasu looked down and his skin grew warm with shame.
“No… I know you can. I… I just wanted to impress you.”
Akari smirked. “By beating me senseless in front of my lord?”
The young samurai blushed again. “Yes, um…no that was… If I recall correctly, you challenged me.”
“You called my ability into question in front of Lord Sakai!”
“Yes… well… as I said. I wanted to impress you.”
Akari sniffed. “You impressed me when you came up with that little song about Empress Jingu. That was impressive.”
Erizawa looked her in the eyes with something akin to hope. “You liked that?”
“Trying to relegate me to the image of a demure and docile little flower, however…”
His face fell. “I am very, very sorry.”
Damn Chiyoko. Akari could not fault this handsome fool. Not entirely. Akari found a smile. “Yes,” she said, choosing mercy. “I appreciate cleverness and creativity in all things. Perhaps that is why I love the Way of the Sword. No master fights the same. Each as varied and unique as cherry blossoms.”
And sometimes as brief, she thought, and she brushed away memories of Daisuke before they could overwhelm her.
“I meant it,” Erizawa insisted. “You fight well. And your voice…”
“Yes?”
“You sing beautifully,” he said on a sigh. “As fine as the nightingales of Karatsu. You are as inspiring as you are deadly.”
“But you defeated me so soundly,” she said sadly. “Why would Lord Sakai still want me in his service?”
Erizawa went quiet a moment, considering her words. He said, earnestly, “I believe, from all I have seen, that Lord Sakai takes no one for granted. If you wish to help, he will accept it, gladly.”
Akari raised a brow. The promise more soothing than she dared to admit. She looked at him squarely and swallowed her pride. “Even foolish, prideful young women?”
“Even uncouth samurai or fat sake merchants,” Erizawa said, cracking a bit of a smile. “And even if Jin… uh, Lord Sakai, hesitates, I will tell him of your bravery and skill in the battle. It is the least I can do.” He handed her the red spider lily. “Really… I am so, so sorry, Lady Sakimori. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Akari twirled the delicate red flower in her fingers. “You’d be sorrier if I had struck first,” she decided, feeling a little more playful.
Toshikasu’s smile warmed. “I wish you had,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “My Uncle Shozo said guilt was the heaviest of burdens. I’ve decided I do not like this sort of heavy lifting.”