Girl Rides the Wind (3 page)

Calm amid the mayhem, Emily turned to step through the center of the battle, placing heel in front of toe, breathing slowly and feeling the grass crinkle under her feet and between her toes. Casting her eyes to one side or the other, a red mist collecting on her cheeks, she watched men kill, or be killed, and walked on by. Even as the sun warmed her face, she saw dark clouds rolling toward the battlefield, swirling around the combatants. In the center of a whirlwind dark as thunder, with rain pelting in all directions, she spied the little girl gazing down at her from on high, smiling serenely as she held out a hand as mighty as the wind.

With outstretched arm, Emily rose up on her toes to reach for the girl, and just before their fingers touched, a spark leapt across the gap. When she opened her eyes, she felt the warm sun on her face again, and insects with long, broad wings flitted over the grass, and she heard water babbling nearby. The voice of the Queen of Heaven hadn’t come to her in several years, and she didn’t expect to hear it now, but the little princess had haunted her dreams with increasing frequency of late, even though Emily was no longer permitted to visit the Togu Palace.

Before the first rays of the sun could peek under the window shade, she shook the last wisps of the dream out of her brain and rolled off the futon to find a pair of running shoes.

“C’mon, Kiku-san,” Emily whispered into Lt Otani’s ear. “The sun is up. Time to run.”

“Mrrmph,” Kiku groaned, and rolled over to the other side of her pillow.

Emily let the door click shut behind her, and jogged over to the main field, where the “Fast-Rope” chopper exercises were held. As expected, Durant waited for her there, in olive green shorts and a t-shirt.

“
Sensei
,” he grunted.

“No, it’ll cause trouble. Stick to protocol.”

“LT, then?”

“Check, Sarge.”

I
n the hot
and humid season, merely standing in formation while a party of dignitaries made speeches could be torture. Emily managed to peek over at Oleschenko and Durant, both of whom had begun to sweat through their fatigues. A bit further along the line, she caught a glimpse of Ishikawa in similar straits, but Tsukino and Kano managed to put a brave face on the whole situation, even as the beads formed on their faces. She felt one hanging from her own nose.

“Man, this is interminable,” she whispered. “Why can’t a breeze find us on this infernal base? Is that too much to ask?”

Durant couldn’t suppress a snort at her words, and Oleschenko glowered at the two of them. “Shut it, you two,” he hissed.

Eventually, the proceedings on the shaded podium drew to a close, and several well-dressed people made their way across the front of the formation, accompanied by Colonel Kamakura, commander of the first Airborne Brigade, and Admiral Crichton, Commander of Fleet Activities at the naval base in Sasebo, and the officer in charge of the US contingent of the operation. The command to stand “at ease” made its way around and Emily’s platoon assumed a slightly more comfortable posture, feet apart and hands behind their backs.

“The tall one is Mr. Saito,” Oleschenko whispered. “He’s the Deputy Minister of Defense.”

“Who are the other two?” Durant asked.

“I imagine we’ll find out in a moment,” Emily said. She could just make out what they said to Kano’s unit. Praise for their service in the recent evacuations after the typhoon up north, and encouragement for the tournament to be held later that day.

“Thank you, Heiji-san,” Kano said to the smaller of two women flanking Mr. Saito, before making a deep bow.

“Your family must be proud of your achievements, Tsukino-san,” said the other woman, and he bowed deeply in return. “Your predecessors at the
Atsuta-jingu
will be honored to receive you into their order, once your tour in the
Jietai
is complete.”

“You are too generous, Soga-san,” he replied.

“They’re so polite,” Durant whispered, and Oleschenko shushed him.

Mr. Saito said something in a few, clipped Japanese phrases to Capt Oleschenko, and he immediately glanced at Emily, who supplied a translation.

“Thank you, sir,” Oleschenko replied, with a little bow. “We are honored to have the opportunity to serve side by side with the Ground Self Defense Force.”

“We have heard a great deal about you, too, Tenno-san,” one of the women said.

“This is Heiji Gyoshin, my Industry Liaison,” Mr. Saito said. “And allow me to introduce Soga Jin,” he continued, gesturing to the taller woman. “She is the Vice President of the Takenouchi Corporation.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Heiji-san,” Emily said. “And I am honored to meet you as well, Soga-san.”

“Your reputation as a martial artist precedes you,” Soga Jin said. “Will you participate in the tournament?”

“Fighting is a man’s game,” Emily said. “We have several very capable fighters, including Durant-san.” She pointed to Durant with a flourish that left him tongue-tied, and he bowed nervously.

“What was that all about?” he asked, once the dignitaries had retreated to the artificial shade of the stands, and the troops had been dismissed, and various units had begun to disperse across the parade ground.

“You mean the big muckety-mucks coming to our little shindig?” Oleschenko asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Durant said. “But, really, why were they making such a big deal out of Tsukino over there? I thought I heard one of them say something about him serving at a shrine, like he’s some sort of priest?”

“You’ve picked up a bit of Japanese,” Emily said. “Impressive, Sarge.”

“Did I get that right, then?”

“The
Atsuta-jingu
is a shrine, outside of Nagoya, and the priests in charge of it come from a few families. That’s the way it tends to be at the major Shinto shrines. I guess he’s a member of one of those families.”

“He doesn’t strike me as the priestly type,” Oleschenko said.

“And did I hear you say you won’t compete today,
Sensei
?” Durant said, before catching himself. “I mean, LT.”

“Of course, she’s not competing,” Oleschenko said. “Why the hell would she?”

“Whatever you say, sir,” Durant said, with a glance at Emily, who said nothing.

“What would be the point anyway?” Oleschenko continued. “It’s not like she can win, and she could get hurt, which wouldn’t be good for unit cohesion. The men trust her to fly the choppers, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Yes, sir,” Tenno said. “Never seek a fight, that’s a lesson I learned the hard way.”

Oleschenko eyed her, no doubt puzzling over what she’d said, which she knew wasn’t exactly consonant with the sentiments he’d just expressed.

“Look, Tenno, I know the sergeant thinks you’re tough, but you don’t belong in this donnybrook.”

“Absolutely, sir. But I hope you realize this won’t be like your usual Marine mud-brawl. That’s not how the
Jietai
thinks about morale. It’s more likely to be some sort of single-elimination, one-on-one tournament.”

“Are you saying you want to fight?”

“No, sir. I prefer watching from the sidelines.”

“All due respect, sir,” Durant began, and then paused to consider his words. “It’s just, Tenno’s no ordinary lady-Marine.” Emily glowered at him and gave a slight shake of the head, but he’d gone too far down this line of thought to stop now. “I mean, if you’d seen her at Quantico…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oleschenko cut him off. “I know all about Quantico, and the way I heard it, she was lucky not to get killed. You had no business competing with the men,” he said directly to Emily. “Other people could have been hurt. Whose brilliant idea was that, anyway?”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ve learned my lesson.”

She glanced at Durant as she said this, hoping he’d let the matter drop, even if it meant swallowing the captain’s preposterous notion that she’d endangered Marines by competing. Someone had been hurt at that tournament all right, namely Jiao Long, the assassin who’d snuck a knife into the ring and tried to stab her through the eye with it. She’d stripped his life away with his own weapon, the whole scene soaked in a spray of blood from a severed artery in his neck, as a hundred stunned Marines watched from the side. She’d learned the hard way not to seek a fight, at least partly because you can’t control how others will interpret the results.

In the event, Emily turned out to be correct about the tournament, much to the consternation of the Marines, who would have preferred to fight
en masse
, rather than be exposed to the hazards and potential embarrassments of single combat. That was how they thought about camaraderie and unit cohesion… not to mention that, given the fact they were generally larger than their Japanese counterparts, they’d probably have fared better in a brawl, if only by dint of sheer mass and muscle. But the isolated and formalized structure of a tournament served Kano’s men better, and though a few of the Americans did well enough, like Lance Corporal Antonio Colón, who won several matches in a row, mostly they lost to smaller and more skillful opponents.

In each case, the winner of a match held the ring, and the next challenger chose the weapons, if any. After LCpl Colón lost to First Private Uchida in a grappling match, finally forced to tap out of a chokehold, Durant got his chance, winning four matches in a row, twice in karate-style fighting, twice with a
bo
staff. When Ishikawa entered the ring, Emily heard the tail-end of Tsukino’s instructions.

“He’ll drop his guard if you make him block after a kick-combination.”

He was right, of course—she’d seen the truth of it before, and even tried to break Durant of the habit—but the fact that Tsukino had seen it, too, impressed her. He had the strong hands of someone with considerable training in martial arts, and he had sharp eyes as well. The intensity with which he observed the matches also struck her, and seemed almost to suggest something intemperate in his character, a bitterness he might not be able fully to control. Or perhaps she had merely let the fact that he so obviously disapproved of her color her perceptions.

In the end, Ishikawa lost—Durant was simply too quick and strong for him, even though he dropped his guard a couple of times—and the two singing partners shook hands in the ring.

In what looked to be the last match, Tsukino challenged Durant and said, “empty hands.” Oleschenko had already lost his match earlier in the tournament, and Emily figured Kano would probably not fight at all, thinking the morale of his men would be no better served by a victory than a defeat. He would prefer to remain above the fray in their eyes.

“I think you’re right,” Lt Otani said, when Emily offered this interpretation. “Besides, Moon is the battalion karate champion.”

Emily nodded her approval, for Kiku’s benefit, when Tsukino took the first two points on speed moves. As much larger and stronger as Durant was, he just couldn’t keep up with the younger man. In one final point, Tsukino blocked a desperate, lunging punch and scored the winning point with a reverse-punch combination to the center of Durant’s chest that left him gasping for breath. Then, as Durant stumbled back, in what all the Marines standing around the ring took to be a gratuitous move, Tsukino pivoted into a spinning reverse-crescent kick that caught him on the nose. With his face bloodied, Durant fell to the ground in a daze, and Oleschenko and Ishikawa rushed in to help him to his feet.

“You have to challenge him LT,” Durant said, once he’d regained his wits.

Emily shook her head… and glanced over to see Tsukino staring at her, as if he were daring her to do anything about it.

“What would it accomplish?” she asked.

“She’s right, Sarge,” Oleschenko said. “There’s no point. Besides, if you couldn’t handle him, what’s she supposed to do?”

“He broke my nose,” Durant roared. “And he did it on purpose.”

“But it’s not gonna do anything for unit cohesion if I go in there,” she said. “You know this.”

By now, the uproar among the Marines had largely subsided, but when Tsukino bowed in their direction it came back to life, though now more as perplexity and embarrassment than as the expression of outrage.

“I don’t know, Tenno,” Oleschenko said. “We may have to do something. Just look at the men. They’re not gonna be able to fight alongside these guys… not with the memory of him taunting us like this.”

“They’ll get over it, sir,” she said. “Just give ’em time. And don’t look at me like that, Sarge. That nose was never your best feature anyway.”

Oleschenko rubbed his chin and cocked his head to one side, looking at his men, then at Durant’s nose, and then at Tsukino still standing in the ring glowering at them. “I almost can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but do you really think you can take him?”

“Do it for the men, LT, if not for my nose,” Durant said, with a bloody towel pressed against his face. Oleschenko nodded his assent, with an expression on his face that she knew was little short of a command.

Lt Otani rushed over as soon as she saw Emily remove her boots and strip off her uniform shirt.

“No, Tenno-san,” she cried out. “You mustn’t. It’s not permitted, and you’ll get hurt.”

“I’m sorry, Kiku-san,” she whispered. “It is what they wish.” She nodded to Durant and Oleschenko as she said this.

“You’ll need these,” Oleschenko said, and held out grappling gloves, a mouth guard and headgear. Emily pulled the gloves on, tossed the rest to the side, and stepped into the ring.

“Look at their champion,” Tsukino crowed. “This shows who they really are.”

Kano yelled at him to stop, and ran over to Oleschenko, but with Emily in the ring, there was no one to translate for him. Sgt Ishikawa offered his services, such as they were, and translated into the English he’d learned from watching a few too many American movies.

“Kano-san wonders if you haven’t lost your mind.”

“Tell him that your man has made it necessary.”

“And if she is hurt?” Ishikawa translated. “Sgt Tsukino is not a kind man.”

“We’ll take that chance,” Durant said.

Kano grumbled and looked across the ring at his own men, whose consternation at the prospect of this match was easy to see.

“This is unwise,” he said.

“Cooperation will be impossible as long as this hangs over my men.”

“Sgt. Tsukino has not acted dishonorably.”

“Maybe not,” Oleschenko said. “But he has acted foolishly.”

“If you can’t control your man, Lt Tenno can do it for you,” Durant said, and Kano scowled at him.

“Don’t worry, Kano-san,” Emily said, in Japanese, from inside the ring. “I won’t hurt him.”

A few more minutes of growling and chin-rubbing brought no better solution to the quandary the commanders found themselves in, and Kano relented and let the match go forward. But first, he stepped into the ring and said, “You have created this situation. Do not make it any worse.”

“Yes, sir,” Tsukino grunted. “Shame her without physical injury.”

Kano shook his head, and said, “Just behave honorably.”

“I cannot be judged by the Americans, since they have no idea what honor is.”

“Focus on what I think honor is.”

Tsukino grunted at these words and bowed his head.

W
ith her eyes closed
, and her hands at her sides, Emily let the air move in and out and through, listening to the sound of her own breathing, and her thoughts slipped into focus. She heard the beating of her heart, at first made rapid by the exhilaration of the scene—in the ring again, surrounded by friends, and maybe a few enemies—then slower, as another side of the reflections in her heart presented itself. It almost felt like she could hear the breathing of all the people around the ring, a cacophony of winds, driven by all sorts of passions: fear, confusion, embarrassment, but also the hope of triumph, of vaunting glory, and anger in expectation of its reward.

Her heart followed her breathing wherever it led, through the crowd standing nearby, and the more distant observers who’d found some better shade on a riser. Tsukino’s heart was there, too, on full display: focused and resolute, and driven by a seething resentment she recognized to be only partly directed at her. Her mind soared past him, and rose up through the heavy haze that pressed so much humid air down onto the crowd, always seeking something even more still, more serene, in the clear blue above the clouds. Finally, her thoughts crested the upper atmosphere, and her heart gazed into the black, where the deepest silence held sway. Silence, she craved it, any sort of respite from the turbulence of so many distracted souls, and she had not found it for some months now. Perhaps she would find it once again in the familiar place, in the ring.