Journey Through Fire Read Online Free Page B

well,” he commented. “As for Hana, your sister has suffered a great trauma,” he continued. “You remember the fire?”
    How could I forget? “But I don’t understand,” I said. “Hana got out to safety. I was the last one in the burning inn.”
    Daisuke’s face turned serious. “Your sister returned, Kimi,” he explained. “She reached into the fire to pull you out. Now she must take the time to recover from her bravery. Strong actions ask much of the body and mind. She needs time and medicine to heal herself.”
    I looked back at Hana. A flash of memory returned, and I saw the hand reaching through the flames to grab me. My glance fell to the bandages around my sister’s arm and understanding dawned. I tried to swallow, but my throat felt dry. While she tried to grip me, reaching in through the burning wooden wall, her arms spent too long in the flames.
    â€œWhat have I done?” I whispered.
    The monk inclined his head. “Her burned skin will heal. You must be grateful to her, Kimi. Do not turn gratitude into guilt. That serves no one. Your sister must love you very much. Cherish that love.”
    I got to my feet and sat on the side of the bed. I pulled one of Hana’s hands into my lap and turned it over to trace the pattern of lines on her palm, unscathed by the fire. My vision blurred as I thought about the fire. I saw again the samurai captain’s face twisting in a sneer. I recalled the sight of the rising flames…remembered thinking that I was not going to escape the inn alive. My fingers tightened around my sister’s hand.
    â€œForgive me,” I said. I could see Hana’s eyes move beneath her eyelids and her hand twitched in mine. “Did she hear me?” I asked, turning around to search the monk’s face.
    He shook his head, regretfully. “She’s dreaming,” he explained. “For now, your sister is far away from you.”
    I got to my feet and went to gaze out of the window at the bright red leaves of a maple tree. My sister had never been away from me before. The thought of it made my heart sing with despair.
    I wiped the tears that streaked my cheeks and told myself that I had to stay strong—for Hana.
    I turned back to the room. Daisuke was holding a long-handled pan over the red coals of a fire that burned in a corner. In the pan I could see a scattering of long, green biwa leaves. Curiosity drew me to the monk’s side.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I asked.
    â€œI practice kanpo —herbal medicine,” Daisuke explained. “I help heal visitors to the monastery under the tutelage of the kanpo master.”
    The scent of the roasting biwa leaves filled the room as he carefully tipped them into a mortar and added a few drops of oil. He threw in a handful of nazuna white flower heads. Even I recognized this plant—it grew all over the countryside.
    â€œI know those plants!” I said. “They help with healing, don’t they?” Daisuke nodded. “When we were children, my sister and I would use them to heal pretend wounds when we were out playing in the woods.”
    â€œI’m impressed,” he said. “I’ve traveled to many places and studied with many teachers to learn my craft, but you’ve been taught the same lessons at home.” For the first time, I wondered if this monk knew who I was—who my family were. Did these men know that they were giving shelter to a set of people my uncle—the Jito —would do anything to have slaughtered? Did these monks understand the risk they were taking?
    â€œDo not worry,” Daisuke said as he offered me the pestle. Was he talking about Hana or could he tell what I was thinking? But something in his voice convinced me that I should listen.
    I sat on the mat to begin pounding. It felt good to grind the leaves into a paste—to help my sister. When Daisuke indicated that it was