1.3

  The next thing Asako was aware of was somebody nudging her awake.

  “Asako, it’s morning. Let’s get going,” Tanaka instructed. She got up and followed him to the dining area, rubbing her eyes. She picked her way through her breakfast under lamplight. She ate as much as she could, accepting the new flavours, and then they departed.

  “We’ve a long way to go, so we’re making an early start,” Tanaka said, as they stepped out onto the road. They left the post-town, making their way past a softly burning stone lantern and into a wood, where the tops of the surrounding trees disappeared into the darkness above them. By the time the sun had risen, Asako was already lagging well behind Tanaka, with her legs aching. Tanaka, aware of her condition, eventually halted their progress. He found a mound of sponge-like grass close to the road and directed her to it.

  “Where does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Everywhere,” she replied.

  He glanced down at her geta sandals.

  “These helped you where you used to live. Am I right?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Was the ground around you always wet?”

  She nodded again.

  “Were you in the meat workers’ village?” He continued, and she continued to nod.

  “I figured that, but your mother told me something different. Anyhow, I don’t care about that. Listen, these geta of yours are well suited to sodden areas, as they keep your feet raised, but they are of less use on this hard ground unless you’re good at wearing them, which you’re not. I think you’d be best to go barefoot. Can you do that?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to rub your legs. This might hurt, but believe me, it will be for the better,” he said, reaching forward. She flinched at the thought of him touching her but was unable to resist. He commenced rubbing his tough hands on the sides of her knees, one leg at a time. His hands were immensely strong, just like her papa’s, sending powerful sensations around her knee joints. He then moved down her calves and into her ankles.

  “You’ve probably never had anyone touch your legs,” he said as he worked, “but believe me, one way or another, I’ve got to get you to where we are going and in one piece.”

  Eventually he sat back. “Listen. The road ahead won’t be easy. At this pace, it might take us four days. That means we will run low on provisions and money for accommodation, but I need to get you to where we are going, and I need you to help me. I dread to think what would become of you if I abandoned you out here. Whatever the toughest thing is that you’ve done with your young life, you now have to top it. Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked, momentarily locking eyes with her before dropping his gaze.

  Asako nodded.

  “Your mother assured me you are strong, and I chose to believe her. Now is your chance to show me that her words were true,” he stated, standing and lowering his hands to her. She lifted herself with his help and set out, this time walking ahead of him.

  Going barefoot was an improvement. For the most part, the road was well-flattened earth, which was easy on her feet. They made gradual progress as the terrain rose and fell until her weariness became too great to ignore. They entered a dense wood, in which the air was thick and the ground temperature on her bare feet cool enough to make her shudder, tensing her calves.

  “We’ll get clear of these trees and find somewhere to rest,” Tanaka stated.

  She eventually hobbled out of the wood alongside Tanaka, passing into a vast clearing of terraced fields. She stood still, staring across the serene scene, the sky a clear blue above her, with the sun directly overhead.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “The hour of the horse,” he said, looking skyward. He looked down at her and smiled as she glanced about. “Rice fields,” he added, gesturing at the object of her curiosity.

  Asako nodded. She seldom ate rice, having been raised on a grain-based soup mixture, which had varied little from day to day. “There is more rice now than when I was a boy. You’ll get to eat your share. Now, wait here for a bit. I’m going to fill my flask.”

  She sat in a clearing set back from the road while he returned to the woods. The road had been busy in bursts, but it was presently clear of any travellers. For the first time in her life, she felt utterly alone, which immediately returned her thoughts to her family, wondering if they’d ever witnessed such a sight. However, pondering her family caused a lump to thicken in the rear of her throat. She was on the verge of tears when a dragonfly, an insect she’d never before seen, landed on her knee. Shocked, she jolted and watched it dart away. With her sorrowful train of thought broken, she turned her attention to her surroundings and the further she looked the more she discovered. Insects were in abundance. The bees and butterflies she’d seen before, but nothing like the impressive dragonflies that could hover over grainy stalks and then whisk themselves to new stems in the blink of an eye. Tanaka returned, knelt beside her and offered her a drink, then rummaged in his bag for the previous day’s rice ball leftovers. As she ate, he massaged her calves.

  “Tell me,” he said, glancing intermittently at her face. “The woman who brought you to me yesterday, was she really your mother?”

  It took a moment to nod in the affirmative as she tried to decipher the meaning of such a question.

  “It’s just that you don’t look like her. I know that she’s worked hard all her life. That story is written all over her body, but her skin is so dark, while yours is so fair. It made me wonder if she was an auntie, perhaps. And your eyes are pale. Paler than anyone I’ve ever seen, and your mother’s were dark.”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d listened to such an appraisal, although ordinarily, it was only in overheard snatches of gossip. To Tanaka’s forthright spiel, she could attest to the only truth she knew, that her mother was just that.

  “Listen, this morning you said you were from the meat workers’ village. Like I said, I don’t care about that. That’s your past, and the past is where you need to leave it. Forget your old family, forget your village. I don’t care about your origin, but others will. If people discover where you’ve come from, they’ll treat you poorly. Do you understand? So, you have a chance for a new beginning,” he said, finally leaving her legs, and unwrapping a rice ball. “If anyone, including my wife, asks about your family, you must say they are farmers. Do you understand?” Asako nodded. She had a fairly good idea of what he was referring to, having long understood that her community was cut off and persecuted by the wider town dwellers.

  They pushed on, seeing foot traffic heading in both directions. Asako was overawed by the pace at which others could walk, some carrying loads well in excess of what Tanaka was hauling. Most would cast questioning glances at Asako, with her bare feet and laboured pace, before sharing a comment with Tanaka, but try as she might, she could never catch what was said. They walked through post-towns, each time Asako yearning for some respite from the journey, but Tanaka was unrelenting. Between the post-towns the road was surrounded by unbridled nature, giant cedars that grew with scant regard for gravity, smaller bushes that eked out their existence in the taller trees’ shadows, and thick bamboo groves. Despite Asako’s weakness in both body and spirit, she was sufficiently clear-headed to feel awed by it. The animal inhabitants were another eye-opener. Rabbits scurried into the undergrowth at their approach, squirrels clawed along the branches, and a varied array of birds, each with its own unique voice. She’d never seen any of them before, but from the descriptions she’d heard in songs and stories, she believed she could categorise at least a few. Eventually, as the sun sank lower, Tanaka led her off the road, and together they sat.

  “Not much further now, and we’ll stop for the night. You know, you’re not doing badly, though I know you’re suffering. So, are you wondering where we’re headed?”

  She nodded.

  “Have you heard of Kyoto?”

  “No.”

  “It’s where the emperor lives. The biggest town, or at least it used to be. Edo is fast catching up.”

  “So, Kyoto?”

  “No—heavens no. No chance. At this pace, it would take forty days to get there, but that’s where this road leads. The Nakasendo Road. From Edo to Kyoto through the mountains.”

  “Mountains?” she repeated. On clear winter days, she’d occasionally seen Mt Fuji with relative clarity, far off and hauntingly beautiful. This being her only reference for mountains, she struggled to imagine what could exist in such an environment.

  “No, not really. The road passes between mountains, but we’ll leave the route before we get too far along. I’m taking you to your new home; a village called Koyama.”

  “What’s there?”

  “There? Well, same as most places. People. You’ll live with my wife and me in our house, and work with her. Do chores. If you don’t know how to do that you will soon learn. We all need to work. But, you’ll be fed twice a day, you’ll have somewhere to sleep, and, if you should happen to prove your worth, maybe one day you’ll also marry. My wife is a good worker, but she can be tough. She won’t be easy on you, but from what I can judge, enduring trials is not something you’re unaccustomed to.”

  Asako couldn’t reply. She was trying to envisage the rest of her life. She knew people’s lives moved onwards, much like the road they were following, but for her, life had always been going over the same ground day after day. An individualised route progressing out before her was something she could no more picture than she could imagine floating seaward on a billowing cloud.