The General's Daughter

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And you though she was dead...

Chapter 6

Everything went black, then hazy.

A pair of dark brown eyes stared down at me. They were framed by high cheekbones and shoulder length black hair that I didn’t recognize. “Holy—CLERIC!!”

A buzz of activity, then a shout from the hallway: “She’s awake?! I have to see her—let me through!”

“Hei-kun—your injuries—you need to be lying down—hey!” Taki’s voice, then a brief scuffle ensued outside, then I heard the door slide open and someone come in.

My eyes adjusted to the light—it was the afternoon and the sun was shining in through the shoji. “. . .huh?”

The dark brown eyes disappeared, replaced by a male face with medium brown eyes. “’Yuki?! Talk to me!”

“. . .feed me.” Okay, that was one of the worst things to say. But hey, I was hungry. Mitsurugi helped me sit up, despite his injuries and a tray of food was brought in.

Ten minutes later, after four rice bowls, eight sushi rolls and two cups of tea, I looked around, regaining my bearings. “Where am I?”

“Still in Kamioni Castle.” Mitsurugi sipped a cup of green tea.

“It’s rather warm.” I fanned myself with my hand and Mitsurugi gave me another cup of water.

“It’s nearly summer; you’ve been asleep for six weeks.”

I nearly choked on my tea and turned away from him so he wouldn’t see my face turn beet red, then pale considerably. “Six weeks--?!”

“Yes—are you all right? You look a little pale.” Mitsurugi put his hand on my cheek and turned my face towards his own.

He had no idea what he was doing to me at that moment in time. “Uh, yes, I’m fine.”

Mitsurugi raised an eyebrow. I caved in. “Okay, I’m not. I’ve been cut up, damn near died and then there was this weird vision or dream or something—“

His eyes narrowed. “Mind telling me this dream?”

I flinched as I shifted around to sit more comfortably—the wounds may longer be fresh, but they were still painful. “Right after the. . .incident, I was floating above everything. I saw you, Uncle, Taki, Shinjiro. . .” I did not miss his reaction when I said that—his eyes widened in the deer-in-the-arrow-path look for a split second. It cleared when I continued. “I felt like I was being pulled away, then it was stopped. Then I heard ‘It’s not your time’ and then I woke up.”

Note that I left out the “Mitsurugi Miyuki” part. . .

Mitsurugi sat back and reflected a moment. “Hm. . .that means you’ll have to come, then.”

“Eh?” I canted my head.

“While you were sleeping, an evil resurfaced.” Mitsurugi stood slowly, bones creaking. “Ow—anyways, come with me.”

With his and the other woman’s aide, I stood. Being abed for six weeks really killed my mobility and I collapsed. Mitsurugi caught me and helped steady me. Supported by him, we walked, or rather, limped down the hallway to a large room nearly filled with scrolls and books and random scraps of paper. Granted, it was a small room, but still. . .

My atrophied legs still not used to walking, I leaned against a pillar while Mitsurugi cleared some papers away for me to sit on the tatami. I did so, then picked up a piece of paper. “Mind telling me what this is about?”

“About ten years ago, the Westerners began bringing . . .guns?. . .to Japan. I went up against one of them and was humiliated. The Tanegashima spits out this small ball that goes through anything it touches, including armor. I was shot in the right shoulder—“ oh my god, did he just take off his robe?! “—and I’ve been on the search to find a way to defeat the Tanegashima since then.”

“So what does this have to do with me?” I asked while reading the paper in my hand. On it was a picture of a sword. . .

Mitsurugi plucked the paper out of my hand. “There is a legend—“

“Oh goody! Story time!” I leaned forward, eager to hear what he had to say.

“Heh. Anyways, this legend is about a sword—the Ultimate Weapon. It can defeat ANY weapon made.” He showed me the paper: on it was a sketch of a grotesque sword with what appeared to be an eye in the blade.

Then he showed me a sketch of what I guessed to be the Tanegashima: a long stick the length of a man with metal trappings. “This is what it looks like—the round gets loaded here." -he pointed to the small end of the gun. "It's pushed down with a stick, some wadding and black powder. Pull this trigger and the roud comes out." He showed me the trigger, near the larger end of the gun.

“So what’s so bad about it?” I questioned.

“It’s a Western weapon—those morons in Kyoto think that it will be better than the sword. I will prove them wrong.” Mitsurugi stood up suddenly. “Come; we must get ready to leave.”

My eyes widened. “Huh??”

He pulled me to my feet without responding and began carrying me to the room I had woke up in. “We’re going on a trip.”

“Why are you taking me? What do I have to do with this?” Not fighting the assistance, I just wrapped my arms around his neck for better support. Okay, things were getting VERY strange. . .

“I can’t just leave you here. I expect another attack by your father and I don’t want—“

I struggled out of his arms and damn near collapsed onto the tatami mat. “Let me stay, then! I want to go home.”

Mitsurugi just looked at me. “Then why protect Shinjiro from the ninjas?”

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but found I couldn’t speak. Why HAD I saved the kid from the ninja?

“Why push me out of the way and risk your own life?” Mitsurugi conti. H. He looped his thumbs through his obi and just looked at me.

I turned away. Suddenly a thought came to me: “. . .why keep me alive?”

Mitsurugi shook his head. “I give up; there’s no way I can get you to understand. We leave in three days.”

He left me leaning against the wall.

I finally found my way back to the room after about an hour of dragging myself along the wall. Along the way, I noticed the cherry blossoms and smiled.

Instead of going into the room and lying down, I sat out on the porch.

It was a beautiful day, sun shining, light breeze, warm, just the way I like spring. I watched the cherry blossoms, envious of their freedom. I closed my eyes and let the sun shine down on my face and sighed in peaceful bliss. A childhood tune came to my head: “. . .sakura, sakura. . .yayoi no sorawa. . .”

I used to do this every spring. My birthday was the day that they reached their fullest; I would be 25 soon. My first birthday away from the clan. Mother would have already made a grave for me but Father would have fasted, knowing that I was alive.

Yin and yang, Mother and Father were. Complete opposites, but combined to make a whole. They complemented each other in a way I never knew people could. A very loving family, they produced an eldest girl, nine boys and youngest girl before her womb dried up. Mother died when I was fourteen. Papa was depressed and would not eat or drink until I finally forced sake down his throat. I was spanked, but it was worth it. Father finished the bottle and asked for some milk, which I retrieved, hasty even with my sore bottom. He eventually praised me on my ingenuity.

I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them, a single nostalgic tear coming to my eyes, yet I continued humming.

My thoughts darkened and I stopped humming, my throat catching. I buried my face in my arms, knowing my fate upon my return home.

“Please don’t stop; that was beautiful.”

Startled, I turned around. Taki was sitting at the pole ten feet away, head canted imploringly. “Why did you stop?”

“You startled me.” I answered.

“I apologize; the gift of being a ninja. . .” Taki smiled. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” A few moments later: “Everything.”

“Mind telling me about it?” Taki asked. It wasn’t a demand, just a question.

“. . .I miss my home.” I said finally.

“We all do, Matsudaira, but have you ever heard that saying ‘you can’t go home again’?” Taki moved closer to within arms reach.

“Please, just call me Miyuki. No, I haven’t.” I drew my legs closer; it was getting chilly.

“It means just what it says: you can’t go home.” Taki placed a hand in the middle of my back. “My home kicked me out; you don’t know that feeling and I pray you won’t have to.”

“At least your home won’t make you commit seppuku when you return there.”

“. . .that’s Bushido for you.” Taki sighed. Someone who understands, finally. “My home hunts me. They want me alive, taken back to be tortured, raped and eventually killed.”

That caught my ationtion; I turned to her. “Why?”

“Because of this.” Taki motioned to the ninjatou at the small of her back. “This is MekkiMaru. Several years ago, I fought against Soul Edge. It shattered and I attempted to fuse a shard with my ninjatou. Instead of destroying the evil inside the blade, the shard increased it. My. . .former master Toki wants MekkiMaru so he can do as he pleases with it; I won’t let that happen.” She finished softly, dangerously. “Soul Edge is evil, but Hei-kun refuses to believe that.”

“That’s not good. . .I guess my life pales in comparison.” I guess it did.

We sat there in silence for about five minutes. Then Taki said simply: “He likes you.”

My head jerked around so fast, I saw white. “Eh?! Come again?”

“And you like him too. I can sense it.” Without another word, Taki faded into darkness before my eyes, leaving me to just gape.

Wow. Just. . .wow.

After a few moments of stunned silence, I pulled myself to my feet with the aide of a pillar. I stumbled across the porch, bumping into someone—“Ow!”

Rubbing my head ruefully, I looked up to find that I was in the arms of HIM.

Oh cruel fate, why dost thou mock me?

“You feeling better?” Mitsurugi asked after releasing and steadying me.

“. . .a little.” I sighed. “I was just out for a walk to try and get my legs to work better.” To emphasize the point, I began walking away from him, albeit unsteadily.

It occurred to me belatedly that I had not asked about Uncle and the rest of the clan. “Where’s my uncle?"

“Sleeping; he doesn’t know you’re awake yet. The others are sleeping as well.” Mitsurugi folded his hand behind his back and walked with me, much to my mixed emotions. . . “You’re certain, you wish to remain here? They will be here.”

I looked him square in the eye. “Yes. I wish to go home.”

Mitsurugi sighed. “Very well then. Taki and I and another will leave tomorrow. Best of luck to you.” He walked away.

I felt awful then.