Prayers to the Horizon

            After the divisions left, Ayaka found that whatever she did, wherever she went, worry followed. Even if the trade had come to a near halt, she occupied herself by going to the Silk House, and helping servants with certain chores at the palace, or the inn. She saw Missa Nightingale for instruction in daiymo etiquette and art, but she no longer sang. At night she went to the tavern with Midori and Akemi to drink tea and sake, listening to the subdued notes from the few musicians who still had the heart to play.

            Since Prince Akihiro had set out as well, Midori found herself in a similar plight. Fortunately for Akemi, her good friend Tazeki remained in Shenobi. Socializing with other daiymo at the tavern, Ayaka noticed too many carried on in forced casual manner. Ayaka could not enact the same farce. The activities she involved herself in, and the company, did little to distract her. She could scarcely smile, for she was not present; her thoughts were far from Shenobi and herself.

            It provided some comfort knowing the wedding was in two weeks. Daisuken would return before then. Preparations were still underway. The number of guests attending would be significantly diminished, but Noribuko sent a last handful of invitations anyways. Raiment and gifts were being selected. Perhaps as an incentive for the guests, Kodai-Otosan declared he would bestow rich presents to those who attended. At the palace, Missa Nightingale, along with Midori and Akemi, helped Ayaka choose a wedding kimono. It was white, trimmed with crimson designs. She stood before the tall mirror. The dress was beautiful, but as she posed and everyone complimented her, she could not smile. She needed Daisuken here with her.

            Although Ayaka helped with preparations, she had to limit herself. Each day, with unshakable apprehension, she sought, and waited for tidings. She braced herself for the bird or rider who would arrive to herald the outcome of the battle. But the next few days marched by and no news came. The third night Ayaka could no longer sleep. She opened the bamboo blinds to gaze at the speckled splay of stars over Shenobi. Kneeling in bed, her nightgown billowing in the midnight breeze, she prayed to the heavens for hours.

             If only the North Kingdom could have helped, she thought the next morning, after a troubled night, tossing and turning. Four days and still no word. With Ryoshu-kita's help, the Shogun wouldn't dare have challenged the South. Yet no one had heard from the North since before the Moon Festival. Daisuken had told her that his father sent more letters to the White Citadel of Kitakaze. By now her uncle, Lord Raiju, surely knew of his assassinated dignitaries, that the Shogun was the primary suspect, and of the impending conflict. Since no response had returned from Kitakaze, nothing was certain though. Perhaps those evil hawks had intercepted the carrier pigeons before they could make the journey north, or come back. Worse, perhaps the North no longer wished to pursue ties with Shenobi. Ayaka preferred to imagine the Northern army was riding out even now, on the path to intervene in a magnificent victory that would initiate the beginning of the new dawn she and Daisuken believed in.

            For now however, Shenobi could not count on Lord Raiju's help. Therefore the least Ayaka could do was try to convince her uncle Tayori to lead Gurinhiruzu's forces east to strengthen the allies. To this end, early that morning, in the secrecy of her room, Ayaka composed a letter. She couldn't wait for Kodai-Otosan to make the decision, nor ask his permission. No one needs to know what the letter says. Once it was finished, she stole up to the aviary panniers in tower.

            "Send this to Gurinhiruzu," she told the aviary master in a way that brokered no argument. The old man asked no questions, but his hesitation was evident, and so she added, "I have not written back in some time. It is only proper I extend greetings to the members of my house and assure them that I am alright."

            The aviary master nodded. First he fed the designated pigeon extra, then deposited the letter in a bronze capsule which he fastened to the bird's leg. He whispered some kind, cooing words to the bird, then released it into the blue.

            As the day progressed there still no tidings. Ayaka gave up on helping with chores, canceled her appointment with Missa Nightingale, and her friends. Instead, wearing her plainest kimono, and done up minimally, she went to the Kin-yoku-inja Temple, for the first time in months.

            Once outside the vermilion torii gates, Ayaka ordered her nine retainers to wait outside. She entered the sanctuary alone, observed the purification rite at the fountain, purchased incense, then placed several gold coins in the offering box. Within the temple she lit the incense in a brazier and set in the holders as an offering to the gods.

            It was dark, and the other people there were focused in meditations and offerings, so no one seemed to notice who she was - and for this she was glad. The core of kin-yoku monks sat in rows facing a beautiful mandala of many colors which represented impermanence and cosmic wisdom. They repeated the mantra of the Stairway to Fortitude and Enlightenment. Kneeling alone, by one of the great stanchions, Ayaka whispered a separate mantra to the First Gods, for  protection and blessings.

            The following day she returned to the temple. She spoke with master Enzen in the zendo gardens.

            "Can you see what the future will bring?" she asked him. "Will the South be victorious?"

            He smiled as he viewed the gardens. Despite the unfolding military situation, the old kin-yoku master had not lost any of his calm or good cheer. "Some have the gift to see through the mists of what tomorrow conceals. I do not," he said. "But you do, Denka Soranoyume"

            Ayaka felt guilty. She must be a disappointment to the master for not having followed through with what she had been so determined to do.

            "After this crisis is over, and Daisuken and the allies restore peace to Isodoro, I swear I'll take up the quest to find the source of the Seishin-yodo."

            The master smiled again, though a shade fainter than before.

                On the sixth day a rider returned to Shenobi. Through Shinji-san, Ayaka learned that Daisuken's forced had retaken Hittadori Bridge, and driven the enemy back, all while sustaining minimal losses. She hugged the palace servant and could have kissed him. Her elation was short-lived however. This was merely the first phase of an uncertain venture. If they hadn't already, Daisuken and the allies would reach Shinrin, where they would stand beside Lord Ryudono' army. They would be extremely close to challenging the Shogun's host.

            Midori was at the palace to hear the news as well. As they walked down a corridor she reassured Ayaka, "Do not worry, cousin. Akihiro will be joining with the rest in a few days."

            Ayaka nodded. She returned to the temple that day, to give thanks, and more offerings for this first victory, in the hopes the gods would continue hearing her petitions as the Southern allies rode towards the eye of the storm.

            This time her spiritual practices failed to quell her worry - if anything, it was growing worse. Later that day she directed herself to a secluded spot in the palace gardens by a large wisteria tree. All its purple flowers were gone, replaced by green, overhanging foliage. She ordered one of her retainers to bring two bokken. When he returned, she took one of the wooden swords, and chose the best samurai guard and gave him the other. She asked the rest to step back. For hours Ayaka practiced balance, posture, and fencing, but the art slowly deteriorated as she shouted, swinging the wooden sword harder and harder as if to smash the retainer's. She imagined she was cutting the Shogun and his cursed hosts down. By the time sun was declining into the west, she was sweating profusely.

            "Allow me to use that one," Ayaka said. She had given the kendo back, and now pointed to the katana at the samurai's belt.

            He looked uncertain, even concerned, but she did not budge. Held horizontally over both hands, he presented the sword in its scabbard to her, bowing. Ayaka received it, and bid all the retainers to wait by the gardens' entrance. She secured the weapon in her sash. For a long while she stood, her hand on the hilt, as she gazed through the wisteria boughs, swishing with a breeze that cooled her brow.

            A vivid memory returned, from years ago, back home, when she had been a girl. She was standing by a sunlit stream, the soft wind sighing through the grass. Hours of training had left her tired and frustrated. Not faraway, uncle Tayori watched sternly, not allowing her to give up. With a harsh command he ordered her to take up the stance again.

            Remembering her uncle's swordsmanship lessons as she stood in the palace gardens, Ayaka slowly unsheathed the katana. It shone like a long, slender mirror in the late noon light. It felt good to hold such a blade in her hands again, empowering, and yet humbling. Patiently she assumed a series of postures her uncle had versed her in. She shifted, trying to recall the nuances of technique. Looking across the gardens she held the katana in a straight double-handed posture, and maintained the stance, opening her senses, hearing the faint echoes of his words.

            Be pliant, like the willow, uncle Tayori would say, whose branches do not fight the shifting winds, and endures the storm. But be still like the willow, and find your center which does not move.

            Ayaka entered a trance which merged with the surroundings. Somewhere nearby a bird chirped; the breeze tousled her hair. She breathed until nothing existed but the present moment.           

            Of asudden she opened her eyes, rushing forth with a strident cry. She brought the katana down in flash, cleanly severing the intended wisteria branch, which gently fell to the ground.

            The next day Ayaka practiced with the sword again. She knew it was probably futile in the grand scheme of things, but that did not matter; it was something, and it could prove vital at some point. Whatever she could do to increase the chances of protecting those she loved, was worthy. However, no tidings had returned, and after the practice she felt restless.

            "We are going outside the city," she told her retainers.

            Of late they seemed to have been regarding her with a new respect, but at her request they looked uncertainly among each other.

            "But Denka Soranoyume," one spoke up. "we are ordered to protect you. Would it not be better to remain - "

            "You choose not to obey me?"

            "Of course not. I only wish to - "

            "Good," said Ayaka, "because I will go with or without you." She couldn't bear it in the city any longer, worrying all the time, with the walls she felt even more cutoff from Daisuken.

            Reluctantly, the company of retainers accompanied Ayaka into the surrounding countryside. It late noon, with just a few clouds, and a restless current from across the fields. They advanced alongside the river until coming to the base of some hills. She told them she would go up alone, and ordered them to wait.

            "Denka, we are outside the city, would that be wise," one samurai protested.

            Ayaka wanted to laugh. "My betrothed has ridden over a hundred ri away to battle, and you think I will cower while within sight of Shenobi's defenses?"

            The retainers stayed at the bottom as she ascended. The sun was merely a few hands above the western meridian. From the hill's grassy crest, Ayaka could see far over the river, the fields, the forests, and further, the mountains. Daisuken is somewhere beyond the horizon that way.

            While the breeze caressed her, blowing her hair about, Ayaka closed her eyes and repeated every mantra she had said at the temple. She repeated them again, then gave up.

            "Forgive me," she whispered to the ancient spirit of her dreams. Though she had forsaken her quest, a part of her still believed in the vision. Now she hoped that this mysterious spirit could hear her prayers. Without words, she invoked the spirit, which she somehow knew was from the source of the Seishin-yodo. She waited for a sign, some impression, but none came. Still she went on beseeching, that the South be victorious, and so she sent her prayers to the horizon.