Ryuu could see that Shigeru had noticed him right away. He thought he saw Shigeru’s eyes glance his way for the briefest of moments, but his awareness was formed more by the knowledge that it was impossible to sneak up on Shigeru. He was always aware of everything. Ryuu accepted it. It was just the way of being a nightblade.
Despite his awareness, Shigeru did not halt his morning routine. He completed the movements with a simple, effective sheathing of his blade. One moment the cold steel was flashing in the sunlight, the next it was resting in the warm embrace of its sheath. Ryuu hadn’t even noticed the movement.
Shigeru took a deep breath and Ryuu could sense that he was being examined. Shigeru’s conclusions drawn, he spoke, “You are young, and training to handle a sword is difficult work. Later, we will train every day. But today we rest.”
Ryuu felt relief wash over his tired body. Everything hurt to move, he couldn’t discover a single exception. His feet were sore from running and standing all day. His legs were sore from holding positions. His core and arms and chest and back hurt from handling the sword and the hand-to-hand combat. A day of rest meant the opportunity to go back to bed and sleep the rest of the day away.
But as he turned to go back to bed he heard Shigeru’s voice behind him, a hint of laughter in his words. “Not that way, Ryuu. We’re going for a hike through the woods.”
Ryuu wanted to groan, or scream, or cry, but even at his young age he knew that none of those responses would make any difference to Shigeru. They would go on a hike and it would end when Shigeru said. Ryuu wondered for a moment if it was worth even trying to resist, to put up a token argument. A moment’s reflection confirmed that it wouldn’t and he dutifully followed Shigeru away from the hut with one last, longing glance at the corner where he knew his bed to be, still warm from his deep slumber.
They did not walk very far, only to the stream and small waterfall that Ryuu had discovered on his first adventures around the hut. Once there, Shigeru lay down his swords and began to stretch, bouncing on some occasions and holding still on others. To Ryuu’s young eyes, Shigeru looked silly, and he tried to contain his laughter. With a flick of his head, Shigeru made it clear that Ryuu was to join him in imitating the movements.
Ryuu had no energy left to protest even though a small part of his mind argued that it was silly. He mimicked Shigeru’s moves as well as he could and noticed the effects right away. Every move stretched specific muscle groups. When he bent over to touch his toes he could feel the back of his legs complain and fight back against him. But he persisted, and soon he felt them relax and stretch out.
As he learned the purpose of the movements he became more enthusiastic. They hurt at first, but as his body stretched and relaxed he could feel the pain from the previous day’s training slipping away. It was fascinating that by just moving his body he could find relief.
A memory came unbidden to his mind. His father in the house at night, unable to move from the agony of a day in the fields. He sometimes moved like an older man, but he had only seen twenty-four cycles. He had been discreet, moving little once he sat in the house at night, but Ryuu was observant enough to know he was hurting every time he moved. What if he had known what Shigeru knew? Would he have suffered the pain he did?
The thoughts distracted him from his practice for a moment, but if Shigeru noticed it he did not let on. They continued to move through the exercises for a while before Shigeru stood up straight.
“What still hurts?”
Ryuu thought about it before mentioning a few places on his body. His shoulders, arms, and back were still painful, a throbbing ache that refused to go away. Shigeru nodded. “Lie down.”
Ryuu hesitated. He knew that Shigeru was going to do something to his body, but the thought of another person close to him bothered him. He remembered his mother’s embrace on cold nights and the rough hands of his father. Their warm memories clashed violently with the reality of his present moment and tears came to his eyes.
Shigeru watched every emotion cross the boy’s face. Not for the first time, Ryuu felt like Shigeru knew everything in his mind. He said nothing, allowing Ryuu to process the conflict by himself, offering only quiet support. In a while the feelings passed, and Ryuu nodded his assent. He laid down on the soft grass near the waterfall. The sun was falling on the spot he chose, and sleepiness overwhelmed him.
“This may hurt.”
Ryuu nodded and gritted his teeth. He still wasn’t above trying to get Shigeru to show some sympathy. He felt Shigeru’s hands running over his back, quick and sure. Despite the coolness of the late spring breeze, Shigeru’s hands were warm. They were also as firm as steel. His father’s hands had been rough, weathered with creases and valleys. Shigeru’s were smoother but his hands had more focused callouses. They were as hard and unbending as the sword sitting in the grass next to them.
Without giving a warning, Shigeru pressed his thumb into a spot on Ryuu’s back. All thoughts of bearing the pain left with Ryuu’s voiceless scream. It took a couple of breaths, but he was managed to regain his composure, and when he did he could feel that his back was already feeling better. Despite the pain he was fascinated, his insatiable curiosity overwhelming his natural response.
Shigeru continued, pressing on spot after spot, each one sending new waves of pain through Ryuu’s small body. He couldn’t help but gasp each time, but when it was over Ryuu felt a lightness new to his experience. He felt like he could jump forever.
Ryuu experimented with his brand-new body by running around for a while without purpose. It was enough to enjoy the sensation of moving without pain. But his body knew things it hadn’t before. It was more balanced, more ready to strike. It wasn’t much, but it was noticeable. The elation that Ryuu felt gave him energy he hadn’t known he possessed.
Shigeru waited for Ryuu to run through his burst of excitement and newfound lightness. After Ryuu had run through his initial energy, Shigeru motioned for him to sit.
“How do you feel now?”
“Great!”
“Good.”
“How did you do that? It hurt so much, but now it feels so good. You weren’t even pressing on the spots that hurt. How does that work?”
Shigeru raised his hand to halt the flow of questions. “I will teach you everything I know, and before long you will be able to do this all on your own. Have you heard of the dayblades?”
Ryuu nodded. Everyone knew the legends of the dayblades and the nightblades. They had been two separate halves of the group of people known as the Blades, over a thousand cycles ago. Both groups had been destroyed in the Kingdom. The dayblades were healers, but everyone knew they were just as dangerous as the nightblades. In the stories that Ryuu had grown up with, all the blades had been killed, but Shigeru was still here.
Shigeru continued, “Remember yesterday how I said that it is good when you notice that things
feel
right?”
Ryuu nodded.
“The same energy that you feel when you are in tune with your swordsmanship also applies to your own body and everything in the world. This is the very foundation of what you know as the sense. You can use this knowledge both to heal and to harm a person, but it takes cycles of practice. The dayblades are experts at using their knowledge to heal. The nightblades are experts at using their knowledge to kill.”
Shigeru paused. “The divisions aren’t as clean as the legends would have you believe. The two groups draw upon the same body of knowledge, but physically manifest their skills in different ways. That being said, a dayblade can be an excellent warrior even if they are an even better healer. Likewise a nightblade can heal as you just experienced.”
Ryuu sat and pondered what Shigeru was saying. It was different than the stories he remembered. The nightblades were evil men who had destroyed the Kingdom, and the dayblades had kept them alive. But if Shigeru was a nightblade that meant he was evil, but he had saved Ryuu. His thoughts running in circles, Ryuu’s confusion was evident. Shigeru saw the confusion, but didn’t guess the reasoning behind it.
“I’m not going to try to teach you about it now; you’re not ready to learn yet. But I will tell you that everything you experience, from the woods you walk through, the trees you climb and the people you meet, everything is connected. What is true of the outside world is true inside your body as well.”
As was often the case, Ryuu was lost at Shigeru’s explanation, but he filed it away for further use.
Shigeru let out one of his wide open grins, the one that made Ryuu believe, however momentarily, that this was an open man with no defenses. “Now, I see I’ve confused you again. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to talk to someone who has only seen a handful of cycles. It wasn’t a part of any training I received. However, I do know that this pond is wonderful to swim in, and it will help your body feel even better. Care to join me?”
Without any more warning Shigeru dove into the pond, a small ripple the sole evidence of his dive.
Surprise halted him only for a moment. Ryuu jumped in, lacking the grace that Shigeru brought to his dive. The water was cold, but it felt wonderful to swim around. Shigeru splashed him, and Ryuu tried to pick him up underwater.
The two of them continued to swim for most of the afternoon, returning to the hut just in time to cook a meal before the sun came down. It was the best day Ryuu could remember having.
CHAPTER FIVE
Takako had been to New Haven several times. At the age of ten she was old enough to have accompanied her parents on more than one trip. New Haven was the biggest city in the Southern Kingdom, but it was five days of travel from their home village. A trip to New Haven was for the most serious business or the greatest celebrations. This was Takako’s fifth trip into the city of unfamiliar lights and sounds.
Takako was ten, but even the most observant bystanders would have guessed her closer to fourteen or fifteen. Her breasts were too small to be average for the age, but all other standards she met or exceeded. She was exceptionally tall for her age, towering over even her older male friends. Her father was a struggling merchant working to make ends meet in a village that didn’t have many needs. There were many mouths to feed in their house and the business, while consistent, was not enough to put more than the minimum of food into the family’s stomachs every evening when they gathered around the table.
It was not hunger that bothered Takako. She had grown up eating little and knew little else. What she hated not having a teacher. She was the oldest of four, but the only girl. Her father felt that there was no need to provide her more than the basics, but even his judgmental mind acknowledged she was excellent at everything she put her mind to. She was gifted with both numbers and letters, but despite her recognized aptitude her father paid her no mind, focusing instead on educating his three sons. They were the children that would take over the business.
Which made this trip all the more unusual. Takako didn’t know why they had come, but her father’s demeanor made it clear to her young mind that this was a business trip. If it was a celebration he would have brought the whole family, or at least been in a good mood. But if it had been a business trip he would have brought the boys despite their lesser age and gifts. It didn’t fit Takako’s paradigms for pleasure or business, but her father had been serious the entire trip, so it had to be business. Takako was beside herself with curiosity although the thrill of being in New Haven overwhelmed her desire to barrage her father with questions.
New Haven suited Takako well. She had been born with a positive attitude, and her mother told Takako that she had come out of the womb with a smile on her face. Takako thought the story seemed a bit of an exaggeration, but she liked it anyway. She did not like the manner in which her father treated her and her mother, but there was nothing she could do about it. So she did what was required of her and looked forward to the future. When she was in New Haven she felt like the future was right in front of her, beckoning her into a warm embrace. The city was big, with room for a woman to grow. She had seen women who ran businesses and tried to picture herself as one of them. She knew she was capable, she just didn’t know why nobody else would acknowledge it.
One of Takako’s most pressing questions in life was how her mother put up with being treated like less than Takako’s father. Takako knew that her mother and father had been married for over twelve cycles. Her mother was a quiet woman who possessed an inner steel that displayed itself in very rare circumstances. But to hear the neighbors talk her mother had not always been quiet. She used to be the life of the village, beautiful and full of energy. One of their neighbors once told Takako that her mother had been quick to tell her mind, even to the elders of the village, who allowed her to get away with it on account of her beauty and charm.
She was still beautiful, but cycles of marriage to Takako’s father had smothered her fire. She loved him and worked hard to keep him happy. In the beginning it was said that their marriage had been picture perfect and the two of them were ranked among the most respected people in the community. But then the children came. Takako was first, followed by twin brothers and then one more. The business did not grow in proportion to the size of their family. What had been a comfortable existence slid into one of daily struggle. Takako’s father once had dreams, but the never-ending monotony of trying to produce enough to survive wore him down to a shadow of the man he had been.
Even Takako’s mother could not keep his spirits up. There were still days where everything seemed to be as it should. They would both smile and laugh and the children were all too willing to follow suit. But it could not last and it never did. The periods of happiness would dissipate like the morning fog leaving nothing but the cold reality of day to day survival.