Artistic representation
It was early morning. The bookstore was not yet open, but the lights were on and people were busy inside. A shipment of new books has arrived the night before and had to be neatly arranged on the shelves before the customers arrive. But there was something else inside that building. An invisible, lost spirit was drifting back and forth after a long journey. Then it found something.
I felt a bit dizzy first. What a strange place... Lights were everywhere, and books with markings. I looked around. To my left, there was some strange, dragon-like animal. Dinosaurs, said the marking. I wondered what that would be. To my right, a portrait of a man in battle gear. Memoirs of a quarterback... Hm, possibly a great general, but his armor was not familiar. Then I realized that I had a marking too... Ronins. It was a little insulting. I am not proud of that.
I was a ronin. I remembered charging the enemy lines, hoping to fight brave and erase the shame upon me. Yes, the shame for not committing seppuku when the head of my clan was ordered to... But I did not want my family to die, so I sent them away and became a ronin. At Sekigahara, I had fought like a lion, killed several men... and I didn't remember the rest.
When I recognized that I have a new life, nothing was familiar. Also, I could not move or speak. But I could still see, hear and think. And remember, which was most unusual. I spent a few hours looking around, trying to read the markings and observe the people. Everything was strange but I felt peace. This new life certainly seemed more tranquil than my previous one...
Suddenly I moved. Rather, I was picked up. I could hardly see who it was, except that it was a woman. She held me gently, her hand was warm and her skin was fair. I could catch a glimpse of her summer dress, but I have not seen her face. She must have been beautiful, I thought.
She put me down on some flat surface. "Are you interested in medieval Japan, miss?" asked a polite but indifferent voice.
"A little. But this is going to be a present. Could you please wrap it?" This voice was like that of angels, enchanted and playful.
"Certainly, miss." And I was covered with something and lost all my senses for days. It was similar to being asleep without dreams. When it happened to me for the first time it was frightening, but then I learned to use it for meditation.
When I regained my senses, I saw an old man. He had glasses and a neatly trimmed beard, some wrinkles but not too many. There was wisdom and joy in his eyes. "This is great, thank you!" he said looking at me. Then he added something. "And this time they finally picked the right art for the cover. This warrior looks quite authentic."
I was not sure whether I should take that as an insult or as a compliment. I was authentic.
"So how did you know that I wanted to buy this?"
"Oh, I remembered you mentioning this a few weeks ago. I was just hoping that nobody buys this for you before I do." This was the voice of that woman who captured my heart. But I still could not see her face.
"You know me too well."
"Of course I know you." Her voice was full of love. "Happy birthday, Dad! Come, and let's see if I could find your taste in cake too." And in a minute, they were gone.
Over the next weeks I learned that the old man is a teacher of some sort. There were many books on his shelf, mostly about Japan but some were on Korea, China or military history in general. There were also a few that I could not figure out. The strangest among those was a book with the marking Shogun. I expected to see Tokugawa Ieyasu on the cover, as that would have meant that he won the battle of Sekigahara and became the shogun. But to my great surprise the two figures on the cover were a European man and a Japanese woman. It was impossible for either of them to become the shogun, so that was the most mysterious book I have ever seen.
The days have gone slowly and there was nothing for me to do. I tried to put together pieces of this world to understand where I am, but I only had some fragments of conversations, the occasional glimpse at the outside world when I was placed by the window, and the markings on other books I could see. I realized that this was not Japan, but that was all I could conclude, so mostly I just waited patiently for my time to pass. Sometimes I wondered how my actions in this life would be judged, as I was not able to do anything. I convinced myself that if I am patient then I would eventually reborn as somebody better. I had a lot of time to think, and I only regretted not seeing my family again. I hoped that they could live a long and peaceful life.
One day I heard a longer conversation. I was always fascinated how the old man could speak into a small device and hear somebody through it too. "Yes, I have the tickets... I have been looking forward to this trip for a long time. Just think about it: I have studied this country, but never been there... I think the board was very generous to support this trip... No, my health is fine. Talk to my doctor if you won't believe it... Yes, I know this is a long flight. Don't worry, I will be fine. I'll take a few books to read... Of course I will call you when I arrive... I love you too."
And this was how I made it back to Japan.
To my disappointment, the setting was hardly more familiar. The sky was the same and so was the air and some of the buildings, but everything else had changed. My initial joy turned into sadness. I realized that I truly had no idea what happened over the many years while my spirit drifted in the void. And then came the day which changed everything.
The old man went to visit somebody. As we were on the train, a mother and her daughter sat down right next to him. The daughter was about seven or eight years old and seemed fascinated with everything around her. Soon she and the old man started to chat. A few minutes later she asked something.
"May I see that book, please?"
"Certainly," said the old man and I found myself in the hands of a child.
"Is this man on the cover a ronin?" she asked.
"Yes, although this is just an artistic representation," he responded. I wish I could have frowned.
"Very nice," she declared. "He seems brave. The ronins were brave, right?
I liked this child. And as she lifted me to see the cover better, I could also see her face which seemed strangely familiar. There was something in her eyes I have not seen a long time ago.
"Yes, they were brave," said the old man continuing the conversation. "For many, courage was the last thing they had."
"Have they fought in the battle of Sekigahara?"
The old man was surprised. And I was too.
"I am sorry, sir," said her mother who was silent until now. "I hope she does not bother you."
"No, not at all. I just wonder how she knows about Sekigahara. I assume they learn about it in school."
"Yes, but she knows more than that. We have a family legend about Sekigahara."
"It is told in our family that my great-great-great-great grandfather was in that battle on Tokugawa Ieyasu's side," said the girl proudly. "He fought honorably and died that day. As a reward, the Shogun restored the honor of his family, giving back their samurai rank."
If I could open my eyes wide I would have done that. Was this possible? Or was it just my imagination playing tricks on me? Her eyes were familiar, but many thousands had fought in that battle and hundreds must have been rewarded in some way. Maybe I just wanted to find some relation where there was none. But I felt that there was something in how this child looked at me, as if we had an invisible connection across time. I felt tranquility and happiness.
My sacrifice was not in vain, and I was rewarded.
Suddenly the train stopped. Everybody looked up. A whistle was blown, and a man came running. "Everybody, please leave the train immediately!" he shouted. "There is a fire! Everybody out!"
There was a great confusion, as there was smoke in the car already. Some coughed and others cried as all hurried toward the doors. All except me. I was left there on the seat but I could see the little girl looking back from the door. She extended her hand and pointed at me, but her mother held her firmly and in the next moment they were gone.
The train was empty.
There was smoke and I felt the heat. Then I saw the flames too, crawling closer with each passing second. I had no fear. A life ends, I perish in the flames and will reborn again. It was a good life, and I had no regrets.
Well, maybe one. I really wished to hear again the voice and finally see the face of that woman who was like an angel and first held me in her arms when I woke up to be born in this now passing life.
The flames engulfed the train, slowly swallowing everything inside. But right before they reached the book with the picture of a ronin on the cover, an invisible spirit broke free and started to drift again across time and space.