Ima's Dream

A girl looked down at the blood encrusted on her hands and under her fingernails. The image had been seared into her mind.  She was on her knees clutching the stiff, pale, and lifeless woman close to her bosom while tiny rocks from the dry dirt dug into her now raw and stinging knees. The tears stopped coming because she could no longer produce them. The lingering odor of burnt flesh and pine crept into the girl's nose. "Just keep the flies away, just keep the flies away." she chanted as she waved her hands to scare the buzzing scourge that pestered the peace of the woman's rest. They greedily swarmed and landed to feast only to be swatted away by the girl again and again. The unforgiving sun beat down on the girl's neck while the back of her throat felt like burlap. "So thirsty". The girl peered toward center of the village and stared longingly at the well. She couldn't leave this woman who was somehow important to her. <i>Just keep the flies away.</i>

<i>Why is she important?</i> She wondered as she looked down at the woman's face. She was beautiful. Tiny wisps of her jet black hair escaped their confinement in the bun they were tied in  and swayed in the breeze. The woman's eyes were closed and a peaceful expression was always on her colorless face. Looking at  the woman made her feel comfortable and safe. Seeing the flies made her stomach wretch. They were tiny reminders of the sick reality that this woman was gone now. Just keep the flies away.

A faint clanking and rumbling sound became barely audible against the backdrop of the buzzing cicadas. The girl jarred her eyes from the woman and squinted past the piles of ash and cinder that were once buildings. In the distance she found a growing cloud of dust being kicked up on the road winding down the hill toward the village. The rumbling grew into a pounding. The clanking grew into a crashing.

On the crest of the hill a line of a dozen heavily armored men on horseback materialized through of the waves of heat rising from the dirt as  their horses stomped past the eerily vacant rice paddies  The men each bore two swords and a rectangular flag was posted on dowels and fastened to their back. All of them wore black helmets and the man in the front of the formation had a taller helmet and  from the front jutted a dragon.

Anger began to stoke a flame deep inside her only to be extinguished by the cold wind of terror that crept up her back and seized her heart.  The tears that had grown dormant began to well up once more and roll down her dirty cheeks. These were the men that did this to her home. The girl remained still. If she left the flies would come. <i>Just keep the flies away.</i>

She recalled the screaming from the night before. The massacre. She looked down at the woman onto which she clutched ever so tightly. The large darkened spot on the woman's brown kimono reminded her once again; This woman is gone. The terror wrapped itself around her chest and squeezed tightly shortening the girl's breath. <i>Just keep the flies away.</i>

The other men broke from their formation and scattered around the village as the Dragon-Helmet man slowed his pace from a gallop to a trot. He slowly circled the girl peering over the monstrous fangs that made up his mouthpiece. The rest of the armored men trickled in from the nooks and crannies of the village. "They're not here, sir," they told the Dragon-Helmet man. He dismounted and adjusted his gloves as he began to walk toward the girl with his armor clanking with every step. The tears continued  to pour down the girl's face and collect on her chin as the terror  froze her every limb and violently shook her hands. He grabbed the girl by her arms and threw her to the ground. The girl's vision began to blur as the man slid his sword from it's scabbard and raised it above his head. She felt sick. Color escaped her peripheral vision. Everything turned black.

***

The girl let out a whimper and a deep gasp as she opened her eyes to find a night sky full of stars. A cool breeze drifted over her body cooling her sweat-soaked forehead. The crickets and cicadas made their beautiful music and a fire crackled in the background. The ground was soft. She moved her fingers to find not barren rocky dirt, but cloth. She was in a bed.  A light burning sensation prickled the girl's arm and shoulder and a dull heat and flickering light danced just out of her view. She looked over to find a shirtless man sitting with his legs crossed  facing a campfire. He wore brown pants fastened by a rope and had a muscular build. His torso was wrapped in bandages half covering several long scars along his back.

"Another nightmare?" He asked. The man slowly turned to face her. His gaze was focused and calm.

"I think so." She couldn't remember anything at all. "Where am I?"

"You are safe here." The man assured as he uncrossed his legs to stand. His hair was wild and uneven. It was long in the front and short in the back. He rose and faced the fire once again. "My name is Isi." He said as he rose to his feet, arms akimbo.

The girl felt uneasy about this man she didn't recognize. <i>But then, I don't recognize any of this. Why can't I remember anything?</i> 

"My name is..." The image of the woman she was clutching in her dream flashed into her mind. She was alive and vibrant. She was smiling and her eyes were welcoming. Her kimono was blue with a white flower pattern. The woman opened her mouth. 'Matsuki Otome' She said as the image of the woman dissolved from her mind.

"Your name is Ima." Isi stayed focused on the fire.

"Who is Matsuki Otome?" Ima inquired as she sat up and inspected her hands. Her hands and fingernails were clean and the blood was gone.

"Matsuki Otome is dead. Your name is Ima." Isi repeated. He ruffled his hair and looked back at Ima. She was still a young girl who hasn't seen more than ten winters. Her usually long straight black hair was a disheveled mess. Her features were soft and round and her eyes were still innocent. Isi picked up a spear and slung a bow and quiver over his back. He walked away from the fire and his foot nudged something soft. He bent down to pick up a large lock of black hair and let out an amused grunt before tossing it into the fire.

"Why did you cut your hair?"  Ima asked with a disconnected voice

Isi paused as he stared deeply into the fire. "Because I have taken a new path in life."

Ima looked back down at her hands.  Her past felt barely out of her reach taunting her with it's secrets. Her uneasiness and disorientation began to grow into frustration and despair as tears began to well up in the girl's eyes. The breeze carried the revolting smell of Isi's burning hair over to Ima.

"I'm going to be sick." Ima jumped from her bed and ran tripping over a bundle of cloth and caught herself on a nearby tree. As she leaned on the coarse bark, the girl felt weak and her breathing quickened. Cold water splashed over Ima's back causing her to spin around violently. Isi stood leaning on his spear with his other arm extended holding an empty bowl.

"Control yourself" He said calmly

<i>Who is</i> he <i>to tell me to control myself!?</i> The thought furiously raced through her mind as the reality of the situation sunk in. He was a big man with a big spear; precisely the type of person to tell her to control herself.

She leaned back on the tree and let her tears fall to the ground. The uneven bark from the tree caused the dull burning sensation on her shoulder to sting. Ima looked up at Isi. "Please turn around." She requested. Isi nodded his head in compliance as he turned around to set the bowl down by the campfire. Ima was wearing a brown kimono, a robe that extended down to her ankles and was secured by a sash tied at waist level.  She lowered the left side of her kimono to inspect her back and found the tattoo of a dragon snaking up her arm to devour a red sun rising on her shoulder. Her skin under the tattoo was raw and swollen.

"Don't touch it." Isi warned as he wrapped his ankles with a white cloth. "Wash up, the sun will be rising soon. We have to leave."

"Where are we going?"

"We are wanderers, that is what we do. We go. Now isn't the time for questions."

***

Birds began to chirp as the sky transitioned from black to a deep blue. Ima stood immersed to her neck in the pond, if not for the water she would be bare. The cool water soothed the raw and burning tattoo that she couldn't explain. She couldn't explain any of this, it all still felt like a dream.

Isi sat with his legs crossed on the shore. He had a red mat laid out in front of him and was ritualistically sharpening his wakizashi, a short sword about twenty inches from the hilt to the tip. It remained the same width up until the last three inches where it formed a pointed end. It had a slight curvature and only one sharp side. It was not a blade meant for hacking but for precise cuts from a highly trained wielder.

"I'm finished!" Ima proclaimed

Isi sheathed the sword and rolled up the mat containing all of his sharpening paraphernalia. He walked back toward the camp trying his best to remain vigilant. His healthy paranoia kept him up all night never more than an arms length from his spear. The campfire was now a smoldering black heap. Isi made sure to put it out before daybreak. If they had pursued him this far, which was a very real possibility, he didn't want to give them any reasons to find him and the girl. Isi bundled up the remaining food, eating implements, and bedding, and fastened it all with a rope forming a nice heavy backpack. He could afford to split the contents of the pack, he could even carry the pack himself with no real extra burden, but this girl was weak. She was going to be the unwitting and undeserving recipient of a soldier's training.


"I'm ready" Ima said, tying the sash around her kimono.

"Good. Leave your shoes, I'll need your feet to be strong." Isi slung the bow and quiver over his shoulder and pointed at the pack. "You'll be carrying that until I say otherwise."

Ima looked over at the pack. <i>It's bigger than I am!</i>. She looked back up at Isi who was already on his way. She walked over to the pack and tried to pick it up but it was too heavy for her to lift. She set the pack upright and squatted in front of it putting her arms through the ropes. She slowly stood up trying not to fall down as the rope dug into the tops of her shoulders. Once she was confident enough that she wasn't going to fall, she began to walk.

Isi waited for her to catch up. "Ima your shoes."

Ima looked down at her straw sandals and back up at Isi with a pained expression on her face.

"And take this" He handed his wakazashi to Ima.

"What's this for?" Ima began to worry.

Isi chuckled and looked up at Ima with a warm smile. "Good measure".