“COME, COME!” YUKIO COMMANDED. “INSIDE, GIRL—HE’S VERY SICK!”
“I’m coming mother,” Sakura said as she was ushered into the house by her brother and parents without so much as a greeting. They marched her straight into the guest room where a man was laying on the western-style bed, his body obscured by thick coverings. She immediately recognized the signs of fever from the sweat and pallid complexion. This man was very ill as her mother had said.
Next to the bed a boy was sitting, keeping vigil. His father? she wondered, unable to ward off a pang of emotion stabbing at her. The poor boy.
Just then, he leapt from the stool he was planted on and asked, “Can you heal him?”
She looked him in the eyes. His hair was disheveled, still halfway in a knot on the back of his head. He looked as though he hadn’t slept properly in days. Or bathed for that matter.
Never mind that, she told herself, her eyes coming to rest on the sick man in the bed. She didn’t want to give an answer right away and accidentally give false hope. There was a lot her magic could heal, but it couldn’t heal all ills. Fever should be just fine, though.
“Let me see,” she said, moving past the boy toward the edge of the bed. She pulled the covers away from the man’s neck, then put a hand on his forehead.
She began to sense his hurts. His ills had spread throughout his body. She could see them in his mind, tendrils of blackness. Infection. Not the kind of sickness brought on by uncleanliness. No, those had a different feel, they were green—not red. And though he was suffering from evident infection, it wasn’t the same color. So a wound, then. Yes.
She nodded, the room silent as everyone waited for her to give her answer. “I believe I can save him.”
The boy’s demeanor changed visibly. He stood taller and his eyes brightened. Sakura raised a sharp finger, a habit she learned from her mother—I need to stop doing this—and said, “There is still a chance he could die.”
“What do you mean?” Tomii asked from behind her.
“To heal him,” she said, “I will have to purge the taint. He’s very sick. If I don’t, it’s likely he will die anyway.” She turned to the boy and gave him a look of genuine sympathy. “I have to purge it from his body by infusing him with a lot of magical energy, you see.”
Clearly steeling himself, the boy nodded. “Please heal him.”
“What is your name?”
He fidgeted a bit. “Ishi. My name is Ishi.”
Sakura nodded. “Please give me space, Ishi. I will do everything I can to save your friend.”
He bowed and stepped aside to let her do her work. This would impact her performance later. What an awful person I am, she thought, worrying about that, though the rest of her troupe wouldn’t think so, and would probably be quite angry with her.
We dance and perform for the Emperor, she could hear Umo say, his voice emphatic and sharp. We are not some roadside show who entertains just anyone!
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
She waved the thought away. It didn’t matter. Not in light of this man’s life. She began to draw on her healing energies. This would take a lot out of her. As she said before, she had to purge the taint, and then she had to heal him. She would be exhausted when she was done.
The man would likely thrash if he had the strength to survive this. “Brother, father.”
They came up beside her, ready to give assistance. Her mother as well. She had brought in a basin of fresh water and rags.
“What can we do?” her father asked. Hitomo had a gruff voice and a weather-beaten face.
“You must hold him,” she said, emphasizing the need for force in the look she gave them. “He will writhe if he has the strength to carry on by the time I’m done.”
They nodded, moved to both sides of the bed and held his arms down. It was ungainly, but Sakura has no room to approach the dying man, so she climbed on the bed and straddled him.
“Sakura!” her mother exclaimed. “Decency?”
“Hush,” Hitomo said.
Sakura added, “He’s nearly dead, mother.”
She still gave the dancer a disapproving glance, but then went to her business of soaking the rags as Sakura leaned over the man’s sweaty chest. She noted his muscles—not huge, but well defined.
I see your point, mother.
She kept herself from smiling with wry amusement, as this was a very serious situation. “Keep quiet,” she ordered.
She closed her eyes as she faced the gods, palms outstretched. She didn’t need to supplicate the kami. There were plenty of heathens that used powers, but it was proper to be grateful for their gifts, and so she was. She drew in as much energy she could hold.
When she was ready, she bent forward and placed both her hands on the man’s chest. His skin was hot to the touch, and slick with sweat. She sensed again, seeking the taint that was now intermingling with the man’s life force, which appeared as a tendril of red, but alongside that was a white shadow, though there was some dark shadow there too. Everyone had the darkness, some more than others.
Did this reflect a man’s deeds? She didn’t know, but she always wondered. Focus!
She obeyed her unconscious voice and began to infuse her healing energies into his body. Her gift went to work immediately, attacking the taint within him and she could feel him begin to stir. More. He was beginning to thrash.
“Hold him,” Yukio commanded.
“We know,” Tomii said.
Heat blossomed against her thigh. It was hot. It was very hot.
That’s too hot!
“What is that burning me?!”
“Oh!” her father exclaimed.
“What is it?”
“Quick! Put water on it!”
She lost track of who was talking, who was screeching, and who was commanding before a bucket of water sloshed against her back and over her thigh. Sakura did her best to ignore the distraction as she finished the purge, her healing energies now seeking their way into the man, unhindered by the taint of infection.
“Is he awake?”
Sakura opened her eyes as Ishi rushed forward to the foot of the bed. She turned to look at him. He was smiling. She felt so very tired, but she couldn’t help but smile back at him.
When she turned her head back, her eyes met the stark green gaze of the man she was straddling. He glanced down his chest, her hands still atop him, her skin on his.
Oh gods!
She hopped off him, nearly falling off the bed, but Tomiichi caught her. She looked so stupid, but at least she hadn’t fallen.
“Well, looks like he’s going to be all right,” her father said, glancing at Yukio. Her mother nodded curtly, evidentially unhappy at what she just saw. It wasn’t been that bad. Sakura was a grown woman after all. She even traveled with her troupe outside of the city and to other countries on occasion.
Now composed, Sakura stepped back from the bed. “He’ll be fine. But he needs rest. And mother… He needs food.”
The boy and the man didn’t speak, they just clasped hands. The man actually seemed discomposed by the gesture. “I’ll get you food,” the boy finally said, and ran off to chase Sakura’s mother into the kitchen.
“I’m wet,” Sakura said absently to her brother, but when she raised her eyes, they connected with the stranger’s again. He stared at her, and she didn’t look away. She didn’t know why, but she blushed furiously just then, her thigh smarting like she’d just gotten a fiery thrashing!