Petals in the Wind

 

  

            One night Ayaka had a beautiful dream.

            She and the prince found each other in a verdant countryside, a place where many flowers had blossomed. Here it always felt like spring. The battles had been won long years before, the Shogun defeated, the Southern Kingdoms restored, and the Age of Warring States had past unto history once and for all.   

            It soon became clear that she and Daisuken had been coming to this place in the countryside for some years now. They had a large shoen estate with a lovely house near a village there. With the warfare over, the prince had finally been able to put his troubles and endless duties aside to spend undisturbed months each year living a simpler, more tranquil life, with her.

            Holding each other's hands, they walked across the green, shimmering fields. They talked, joked, and savored the moments of silence they shared. This is my husband; tall, strong, fearless, gentle. She would be forever grateful that karma had brought them together. Ayaka basked in the sunlight. Near was the home they had always hoped for; and this was the new dawn they had dreamt of.

            She heard laughter, a sweet music. Coming across the fields to greet them were three children - two girls and one boy, all very young, the smallest hardly older than a toddler. They called to Ayaka and Daisuken by name. The youngest tottered ahead of the rest, squealing in delight. Daisuken scooped the little girl in his arms and raised her above him as she giggled. The boy he held by the hand as they continued to traverse the sweep of fields. The other girl Ayaka lead. She loved the feeling of her small hand in hers, the way it trusted in her fully. The girl looked up at her. Ayaka noticed the striking similarity with herself at that age. Of course, she is my daughter. She spoke playfully to the young girl. How I love her. How I love all of them. Her heart overflowed for this family. Together they all went to their shinden-zukuri country house. There Ayaka would prepare everyone dinner, and afterwards tell the children stories of ancient myth and legend. 

            She had never been so happy. How could she be? The gods had at last favored her. After all she had lost, everything she could ask for later in life had been attained. Somewhere she heard a distant song, a poignant memory. On a gust of wind, pink sakura petals swirled. Her daughter tried to catch them, but the grass was tall and slowed her small steps. She picked the little girl up and kissed her cheek. Ayaka smiled into the sunshine and gave thanks over and over to the heavens for this bliss on earth. 

 

            When Ayaka woke up, the origami swan in its glass case was bathed and prismed in the morning light. At last she had slept soundly through an entire night. For awhile she lay in bed, reflecting on what had probably been the most lucid dream she had ever had. The colors of that mysterious, but familiar countryside had been so vibrant, the fragrances real, as the touch of tall grass stalks on her fingers. If she closed her eyes she could still faintly hear the voices of her children. She smiled, her worries evanescing.

            Such dreams were good omens, windows revealing the future, and Ayaka knew that what had been revealed was going to become true. Master Enzen said she had the gift of visions. It made sense. Only yesterday a bird had returned with a missive informing Lord Kodai-Otosan that the Shogun had backed down, and that Daisuken was likely already returning.

            Truly, all her offerings and prayers had worked. Ayaka felt close to the gods, even after all the times she doubted they might exist. She got out of bed, lively and refreshed to face the new day. The wedding was in less than a week. The guests were on their way. There was plenty to be done, and she wanted to lend a hand.

            Ah, first, there was a special perfume she wanted to wear for her wedding, an ambrosial scent she’d noticed Missa Nightingale frequently applied. Ayaka walked through the palace to see the geisha in her chambers.

            “It is the essence of a flower” Missa Nightingale said, after explaining Ayaka that she had run out and that they'd have to make more. “A type of jasmine more aromatic than others. It's called sky-jasmine. Often it grows by the banks of streams. There are a few meadows where it can be found close to the Sukai River. You only need its blossoms to distill the perfume. I’ll send a servant girl to go and collect a basket for you.”

            “Thank you,” said Ayaka, “But today I'm so full of energy, I’d much rather go myself.”

            She had seen the first buds of the flowers before. Now they would be in full bloom. It was a sunny day; not too hot, tempered by drifts of cloud and breezes. Perfect for a stroll. With her nine retainers in tow, Ayaka went outside the city. Once they reached the first groves by the river, she ordered them to wait for her there. She wanted to go alone.

            Carrying her reed-woven basket, she walked near the river to search for the sky-jasmine. It felt wonderful to be by herself, the surrounding greenery undulating in the current, the leaves rustling. Half a ri or so later she found the secretive flowers growing in randomly scattered patches alongside a tumbling stream that bifurcated from the river. They were small, snowy, smooth petals. They grew in greatest abundance in a meadow she recalled she had Daisuken had strolled through on more than one occasion, and where she'd once dozed off by herself after working at the Silk House. Ayaka inhaled the wild jasmine's perfume, and imagined how pleased Daisuken would be to breathe its scent on her skin.

            The blooms were so pretty she felt bad about plucking them. So the flower would not wither, she culled only a petal or two from each, and not from all; there were too many for that in any case. Across the meadows of sky-jasmine, sunshine and shade shifted as clouds sailed swiftly, and the angelic flowers bobbed sleepily in a cool wind. While filling the basket, Ayaka hummed the melody of a song Missa Nightingale had been trying to teach her, and imagined what the wedding was going to be like, and the future she and the prince would share. 

            With the basket well-nigh brimming, she followed the stream back to the Sukai River. The breeze swished through the reed-grass as she let her fingers sift through the stalks. Several other scattered patches of jasmine blossoms shone in the sunlight along the banks. She went to gather a few more petals.

            In between carefully plucking one petal and another, Ayaka descried three riders crest a hill. There they remained, perhaps surveying the land. She squinted. Are they Hiryu? It was too far to tell for certain. One of them descended and rode towards her. It was a samurai. Daisuken. Ayaka's heart jumped and she almost dropped the basket of jasmine. Beaming in delight, her emotions rising, she managed to stand where she was and wait for him to approach. The clouds fluctuated hurriedly and the breeze blew her silken hair along the contours of her face. As the rider neared she saw he was indeed Hiryu, all in red armor - but it was not Daisuken. It was general Masuro.

            The army had finally returned. She cried her welcome to the general.

            Maybe the wind had carried her voice away and he hadn’t heard? She called out again. Masuro, his demeanor expressionless as he approached, did not meet her gaze. He brought his horse to a halt a few paces before her. There he remained, still mounted, saying nothing. He was acting strange. Why doesn't he at least say hello? Ayaka waited as a large herd of clouds hastened over the river, ushered by a cold gust.  

            “I am sorry, Denka Soranoyume,” Masuro said. 

            Ayaka hadn’t the faintest idea what he meant, but felt an inkling of something huge stirring just beneath the surface of her thoughts. “Sorry? What do you mean, Masuro-san?”

            The general was having difficulty responding, as if the words were too heavy to lift from some deep place they had fallen. 

            “Prince Daisuken, ... is dead.”

            The wind sighed though the river vale. Confused, Ayaka looked at Masuro.

            “What are you talking about?”

            The general choked up, his voice feeble, “He fell in battle, three days ago, by the banks of the Silver River.”

            Ayaka squinted at Masuro as if he had spoken in a language foreign to her, one she wished not to understand.

            “A new truce had been signed. The Shogun turned his forces back toward Fumei-noyorou. I and the prince were leading the divisions back southwards. But they ambushed Jiroda. They ambushed all of us."

            She wanted to tell Masuro to stop, but her voice had become trapped inside.

            Masuro's voice was strained, but he pushed through, "We fought valiantly, no one more than Daisuken, but the enemy came against us in greater numbers and we could not repel them. Thousands of our men perished.” 

            Ayaka shook her head and stepped away from Masuro. None of it made sense. “No. I don’t believe it,” she said defiantly, and held the basket of sky-jasmine close as if someone might try to steal it.

            Although Masuro had tried to fight it back, a sheen now welled in his eyes. Seeing this terrified Ayaka more than any words he could have spoken. She wanted to scream at him, to slap him, to tell him that it was enough, and to demand that he change what he was telling her.

            Her voice trembled, strangled, “But, ... he rode out not long ago. He told me, he promised he would come back by the day after tomorrow.”

            Masuro regained a measure of his composure. Standing upright in his saddle, and with practiced authority in his voice, tears nevertheless flooded over the fortified semblance. “I am truly sorry, Denka Soranoyume, ... for you, for Shenobi, ... and all of the South.”

            Ayaka looked blankly at her surroundings. The general stayed before her for some time, trying to provide comfort by his mere presence. Anguish knotted in Ayaka’s stomach and her throat, her entire body, and deeper. She whimpered and struggled to stand. No. She had to flee, or disappear, run until she returned back in time, but she didn’t know where to go or what to do, and so she just remained, fixed in place amid the swaying meadows.

            "The Hiryu and the Kasainotora family are always here for you," Masuro said. "Whatever you need, in anyway we can help."

            Ayaka did not rightly hear what he said anymore. After a breadth of silence, Masuro took his leave and turned to rejoin the two samurai on the distant hill. As Ayaka watched the riders recede, she breathed deeply. Alone by the river she stared past the trees, the hills, the horizon, focusing on nothing. Her mouth was slightly open in mid gasp, but unable to make a sound. She expected another answer, another reality to present itself to her. All was so serene, yet wherever she turned her gaze or steered her thoughts, she felt the weight of it starting to crush her, in the way a delicate rose is trodden into the earth by the steel-shod hooves of charging horses.

            The sky was overcast with rainless grey clouds. A cold wind whipped her hair and kimono robes. Mother, father, brother, sister,...where are you? Why? No. Please. Not again...I can't ...

            She didn't realize when she dropped the basket of sky-jasmine flowers. Her hands gripped the draping sleeves of her kimono. She wanted to tear the fine material apart, but she couldn't, ... it had been a gift. Instead she tightened her hands into fists, digging into her palms with her nails.

            The gale that swept up the river scattered and carried the fallen white blooms through the tall grass, blowing some petals far away, never to be gathered again.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[C. Rose]

Lies.

Also, loved the building tension of the weather.
This chapter was quite short.
Parts of the dream felt telling. I recommend extending the dream and cutting out the told detail or turning told details into dreamed dialogue.

Well. The plot has certainly changed.
No idea where it is going from here.

LIES LIES LIES
I wonder if Daisuken is "dead" dead or "missing to return later" dead.

[Kuandio]

Hi there! Ok, I wondered if the dream might be giving away too much. But really, I was guessing most readers were going to be able to guess what was going to happen to Daisuken, just the way they said goodbye to each other the last time, no? Are you telling me that you really didn't see it coming (excluding the dream)? If it took you by surprise that is awesome news

Why do you say lies so many times? You're not sure I can kill off a main character? In the next chapter you'll find out for sure

Thank you for reading

[C. Rose]

I say lies because you made me sad. I snuck a look ahead and it looks like he is dead.
This is the third or fourth time, it feels like, that Ayaka and Daisuken had said goodbye. I didn't think he'd die - at least not right away. I thought perhaps he'd be kept away for a long period and need rescuing by Kenjin.
Even the dream didn't give it away. It is natural that she longs for peace and happiness. She's thought about the loss of her family in comparison to the present before and that did not result in the death of a main character in other chapters.

The "lies lies lies" isn't constructive criticism. It is from the reader perspective of WHY DID YOU KILL HIM I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE HIM AS MUCH AS KENJIN

Which is good because that means you are getting under the readers skin.

[Kuandio]

Thank you. This is great news you didn't quite expect this to happen. And it is even more encouraging to know that you have some emotional investment in what is going on. Believe me, I felt pretty sad myself while writing some of these chapters