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Rin was silently combing her long hair after a restless night. Closing her eyes, she was trying to escape that strange bitter feeling gnawing deep within. Something lost and long-forgotten longed to get back into her tranquil life to take its own.
Now, in 27, she was married to a dojo master, had a daughter and two sons, who had already started their martial trainings. But being an obedient and diligent housewife she got anxious when her husband and sons left for Edo as it's been that day. In such weeks Rin felt vulnerable and unprotected from the terrors and nightmares.
The silky snakes of her dark hair slithered down her arms interlacing into intricate ornaments, inexplicable writings she couldn't interpret. They would strangle her, poison her, splash poison into her quiet blood, deprive her of sleep and life. Black and white, the primordial and insurmountable confrontation, the leitmotif embroidered in the strange canvas of her fate.
But it had not always been this way.
Rin has grown up. She had outgrown the stage when she needed Manji, the killer of a hundred, who became her devoted friend, brother, father and teacher. Manji, that special balance.
When Rin left the room she met Sachi, the housemaid, who had already cooked breakfast, though the mistress did not want to eat at all. Sakura was about to bloom in the garden, filling the air with its tart sweet scent, usually awakening the frozen soul from an icy cold sleep. But it was difficult for Rin to breathe.
"O-Rin-dono, would you like to have breakfast?" Sachi asked.
"No, thank you, I am not hungry".
"Maybe you're pregnant?" the girl wondered.
Not likely. She had periods not long ago.
Rin averted her gaze. The maid had already realized that her assumption was wrong. The girl did not like it when the usually cheerful mistress turned sad: even though it happened rarely the air got filled with something contagiously disturbing. For this reason, she considered it her duty to distract Rin from her unfathomable thoughts.
"Maybe you would like to take a walk into the town? We can buy anything you want."
"I'm sorry, Sachi-chan, I'm not in the mood for that", Rin turned away as if in an attempt to hide from everything around her.
"Hmm, probably it's better so then. There are such strange rumours—"
"What's the matter?"
"People say, an awful man came here. He looks like the death itself."
Rin got uncomfortable from these words: her husband and her sons were away, what if something bad happened? She would never forget her parent's fate, even though she could protect herself.
"I've seen him myself, he strode here not long before".
"And our warriors are away!" Rin looked at Sachi, her heart full of fear.
"He is tall, in black and white kosode, and the manji on his back looks just like a blasphemic joke!"
Rin couldn't believe her ears.
"Manji on his back?" strange tremor started in her insides and felt like hot wax.
"Yes, all bruised and beaten—"
"When— When did you seen him?"
"About an hour ago".
Rin didn't say a thing in response, running into the street. Was she going to meet him? Manji, her dear friend, who she hadn't seen for ten years.
She ran as fast as she could in those tight sandals and a narrow kimono that constrained her every movement. She was in rush, not knowing the exact direction, not seeing anything before her eyes. It couldn't have been someone else. How is he? What's happened to him? Who was he fighting with? Without her. Although the Kessen-chu had regenerated his body at once, it was unlikely that he could have gone far.
Could he even realize how close he had been to her just an hour ago? Did he remember her at all? It doesn't really matter; she remembers him.
It was difficult for Rin to walk through the crowded morning market as there were more people than usual. And in this motley crowd, she could not see a hint of the black and white clothes with the divine manji symbol.
Will she ever see him again? This thought stabbed like a sharp knife into her seemingly healed wounds, filling her eyes, frantically searching for the silhouette of a dear person, with tears.
And so she cries again, like a little child, so fond of walking with him, arm in arm. So fond of him. It seemed as if her tiny heart was about to break again, and she would fall right on the market square.
Suddenly, her gaze turned to the bridge connecting the city with the nearby villages.
He had not changed at all, looking into the distance and smoking tobacco from his favorite pipe.
"Manji! Manjii!" Rin screamed until her throat hurt. Excited, she thought he would hear her at such a distance despite the compelling hum of the market, "Manji!"
Swallowing tears and almost suffocating she still hoped to reach him. Will he wait for her? Manji, wait! Please, just a little more.
The market was big, with lots of stalls and shops full of customers. It was difficult for Rin to squeeze through such a crowd of people who did not get a thing about her haste that her whole existence seemed to depend on.
She lost the count of time. Rin could only hear the pounding of her own heart, ready to shatter into thousands of sharp little pieces. People reluctantly made way for her, hindering her movements and bringing her closer to the edge.
But Manji was no longer on the bridge — only dozens of strangers, unfamiliar faces who knew absolutely nothing about her staggering sadness. Rin howled with impotence, ignoring the passers-by turning around, and continued running rushing forward.
"Manji! Maanji!" she kept crying breaking down again and again.
There was no answer.
Maybe he was heading for the exit of the city? Though she felt exhausted Rin continued her way. All this time she had heard absolutely nothing about Manji, hadn't received any news, as if he had disappeared not only from her life, but from this world as well. In recent years, she began to forget him, his image got blurred in her fading memory as her thoughts turned to other, more mundane things, and she involuntarily felt deep guilt before the person who she had gone with through the most difficult and dramatic period of her life; before the person who she had really grown up with.
But Manji was nowhere to be seen. The immortal warrior seemed to have vanished into thin air, taking with him her composure, hope and peace. Rin fell to her knees before the gates of the town, unable to find energy to move forward. He's not here, he's not here. She would definitely have met him if he had walked this way. But Manji went in a different direction. Again. And she wept this mute word out of her chest.
Again.
How long had she been sitting there, Rin didn't know. It didn't matter how many tears she'd cried: those tears couldn't bring back what was lost.
"O-Rin-dono!" someone sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders, "What's wrong with you?"
Rin didn't even look up at Sachi, who had been following her ever from the house.
"I was so afraid something terrible could happen!"
Rin's chest shook again from a silent scream. It had already happened. She convinced herself she would find Manji, but she's lost him again though being so close. The story repeated itself.
Rin got to her feet, her head low, disheveled hair covering her face. Her eyes were open, but she couldn't see anything, being blindly led by her maid back home. She no longer thought about looking for Manji in the city, asking passers—by; it seemed to her she must never seek a meeting with him. Who knew what would have come of it then. Chastised by herself, she walked in silence, unaware that someone's sharp eye had instinctively grasped her broken silhouette.
The whole day Rin felt lost in a poisonous haze. She couldn't think straight, continuing to cry and not letting anyone in. Sitting up on the bed, she looked at the Buddha statue by the window. Lighting incense and candles illuminating the room lost in the darkness of the starless night, Rin sat on her knees, folding her hands together on her chest. Pray? For the man who has no place in heaven? For herself, unable to ever get close to him again? It all seemed so doomed and hopeless.
May I be a guard for those who need protection
A guide for those on the path
A boat, a raft, a bridge for those who wish to cross the flood
May I be a lamp in the darkness
A resting place for the weary
A healing medicine for all who are sick
A vase of plenty, a tree of miracles
And for the boundless multitudes of living beings
May I bring sustenance and awakening
Enduring like the earth and sky
Until all beings are freed from sorrow
And all are awakened.
So her lips whispered the words of a familiar mantra, which she interpreted in such an intimate way.
Manji. The sun washed in blood, the deity who avenged her. She couldn't give him anything in return, except her own reverence and blind puppy loyalty. What else could a sixteen year old girl do? He didn't want her body owning all of her heart. He believed she would not be able to live a normal life with him: not for a blooming young woman is the weight of eternal wandering and Death following their footsteps like an old friend.
Rin's room was sunlit and warm, which made her tired, sore eyes open. Rin shivered painfully, trying to keep her body heat under the blanket. There was no one near her, although it seemed that someone had been sleeping there recently.
Looking out of the room, she couldn't see anyone inside the house. Is she home alone? Sakura was blooming in the garden, and the wind carried its bright spring fragrance all over the neighborhood. But there was a man sitting on a bench by the tree, surely enjoying the view.
"Are you awake, sleepyhead?"
That voice.
It was not her husband.
It was a voice from the past, the voice of a forgotten ghost, breaking the canvas of her reality.
Manji.
He turned to her looking at her with his single left eye. That slight grin and joy in his eyes.
Rin couldn't believe her own eyes. He was in her garden. Safe and sound, neatly trimmed, in a clean kosode. No bruises, no cuts.
"Come here," he pointed to the seat next to him.
She obediently walked over and sat down on a bench opposite the sakura tree. He boldly put his arm around her waist. Confusion and shyness arose in Rin's chest painting her pale cheeks with a bright youthful blush.
"You're embarrassed as if you see me for the first time, heh," Manji teased, looking down at her.
"But, Manji, we— what are you doing here?"
"What am I doing in my own house? Hmm, I can't even imagine. Do you want the whole story?" he said ironically.
"Yes," Rin needed to know.
"Oh, woman, you're strange today. But okay, I'm not new to your quirks. What should I start with?"
"Since Anotsu's death."
Manji looked at Rin in surprise, squinting his single eye, as if she was saying something crazy.
"After Anotsu's death you and I continued our journey, got to this island, where the folk begged me to revive their dojo as their master died years ago. We got married, made children and now enjoy our lives," he said, running his hand over her stomach and gliding it down, gently brushing her cheek with his nose, "Girl, you're being so shy, as if it's the first time I'm touching you, though I wouldn't say that I don't like it".
Rin looked at him with wide eyes. Everything seemed so real that she yearned to believe it. Their blooming garden, their nice house and Manji, so happy and relaxed.
"What about Kessen-chu?"
Manji got even more surprised.
"Don't you remember a thing?"
"Nothing".
"Rin, it's been just a week without me, will you forget me as well?"
Terror burst inside Rin: no, no, never!
She took his hands in hers, looked at him with eyes full of guilt, as if begging for forgiveness. She got stunned by terror:
"Manji, I can never forget you!"
He was still looking at her searchingly, trying to figure out what was wrong with his wife.
"Kessen-chu left my body when my first students started their own journeys about two years ago. Yaobikuni told me to leave the sword years ago, and a thousand villains will be killed for me by my followers.
Rin studied his face. The truth was so simple, yet still amazing. Indeed, this Manji was so different from what she remembered him to be. Fresh, full of life and open to her. Here it is, the wheel of sansara. A student and a teacher, a father and a son, a leader and a follower.
"Kiss me, Rin," he said softly though imperiously, running his wet tongue over his dry lips.
And Rin couldn't disobey him. He was here, right beside her. She could feel his warmth against her skin, his heart beating in unison with hers.
Carefully, as if for the first time in her life, she touched him with slightly open lips. He willingly responded deepening the kiss and pulling her body closer and closer. Everything inside Rin was filled with blissful warmth, concentrating in her core. His lips on hers felt so familiar, natural and real. It seemed that she had never known another man, having been faithful only to Manji all her life. She knew his kisses, she knew his taste, bittersweet and smoky. The whole life with him she had never lived, but dreamt of so much about in her youth flashed in bright images before her eyes. Their adventures, their love, their children, friends visiting their big house on a distant island. Manji's right hand slid down her back, pausing at her hips, possessively stroking and greedily squeezing her flesh.
It never felt more right. She, Manji taking over her, her complete submission to his passion awakening an incinerating desire in her.
Manji kissed her jawline, caressing her sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue, enjoying her peculiar tartness. Rin couldn't suppress her sighs, revealing her overwhelming arousal.
"You wanna do it in the morning?" he smirked in her ear.
"Yes," she answered breathlessly, burying her fingers in his hair.
He grabbed her tightly under her back and knees, carrying her to the bedroom just like a helpless little child. Rin couldn't not stop the kisses keeping him in her embrace. Never before had she felt happier than here, with Manji, who accepted his feelings for her, when she was not ashamed of her own self giving in to the insatiable flames she'd never dared to let free and trying to keep him longer inside her womb to absorb every memory of it.
Rin was no longer the little girl who needed Manji for revenge, she grew up, avenged her family and finally got what she deserved. They knew each other far too well to part or remain just friends. Perhaps no one has ever loved another person as much as she did at that moment. There was no other life for Rin anymore, only one dear word caressed her lips.
Manji.
She got answers to all her questions without saying them out loud. Their body language revealed the truth and said even more than she wanted to know.
In this reality, she was happier than ever before. She was in the right place with the right man who showed her feelings that had never seemed possible before. Rin was ready to share his passion till the end, giving, receiving, filling and reviving.
But she belonged to a completely different reality. There was no Manji who had atoned for his murders and received forgiveness. There was not such a thing as" them", so happy together and ready to live this life. And from these sobering thoughts, binding her throat with a tight noose, she screamed in the darkness, not feeling the warmth of Manji next to her. Manji who shedded blood so many times for her. Because of her. She was crying, embracing herself with weak cold hands that couldn't reach the desired goal. How did it happen that her husband could not evoke in her such strong and deep feelings during those seven years of marriage as her bodyguard, who never touched her, during the year of their dangerous adventure?
"The women of our village carve a pattern on it and give it to the man they love," Rin suddenly recalled Doa's words. She immediately got out of bed, taking with her one of the burning candles near the Buddha image. Rummaging through her belongings, she found the same small dagger in a wooden sheath. Her weak hands barely obeyed her. The left palm gripped the scabbard tightly, pressing it against her stomach for balance. Cutting out the straight vertical line of the sacred manji symbol, she felt that she was putting every bit of her self into this action.
Drawing a horizontal line, she almost jumped off the knife on her hands, on her wrists, still burning with the scars of her sacrifice for the sake of her bodyguard. But it was the short notches on the edges of the sacred symbol that hurt her. The devil is in the details. She was not sorry: the scarlet drops of her blood would never have made for all the blood he shed for her to protect her. The excited flutter in her stomach created the feeling that Rin was carving this simple pattern on the dagger for the groom, who she would know soon. There was something sacred about in this act, even solemn. That was him, her divine guardian.
Completely giving in to the process, she cut out the flames around the manji: after all, she actually was like fire but just couldn't warm herself. Was that how he remembered her? Helpless and longing for him. Her bitter tears consecrated the scabbard and the ritual blade that created the carvings. At least on these wooden scabbards they will always be together, inseparably, complementing each other.
It was so weird. Rin lived without him all this time, had completely changed, created a family and returned to the caste she always belonged to, saving the honor of her ancestors. And now she was ready to leave it all, just to see him one more time.
However, this was unlikely to ever happen. Not in this life, and hardly in the next.
But she will continue to love him with all her heart in each of her reincarnations, so that he is never alone.
We part to meet again.