Kuroi to Suzume

Today is Tuesday Platform at Real Toads – we can post one poem of our choice. Rommy has told us of how she and her husband met and are celebrating 23 years of marriage! She is asking what interests drew us to our lovers/husbands/spouses/mates? I was 25 when I met my Black Dragon, my Japanese lover. He was 35 and a forensic pathologist and instructor in Kendo and kantana. I am of course interested in all things Japan and have been since I was six. I have visited Japan many times and at several points, followed in Basho’s footsteps. My lover taught me the culture, the history, the language of his country, honoring the changing seasons. We were together 10 years and visited several times his home in the mountains, Hakone, and then he returned to Japan. I did not go with him. I always thought of him as Black Dragon – kuroi ryu and myself as a sparrow beside him – suzume. This haibun is an old one and one I have shortened and reworked for future publication.  I follow the classic form which means it is non-fiction rather than made up. I hope you all enjoy.  The first full moon is of course the first full moon that appears in early spring – mangetsu no haru.

Black dragon and Sparrow
“Come, let me show you” – Indeed the spring moon was full and lit the yard Like a klieg. Although in jeans and tee shirt, he still looked lethal and royal and somehow the katana and wakazashi tucked into the makeshift obi around his waist did not look ridiculous. Hands arm and dry, he took my hand and pulled me outside into his yard – “such tiny hands you have” and he smiled his singularly sweet smile down at me. In the gravel place, between the pond for his nishikigoi and the karesansui, he pulled me. Always when he touched me, heat and electricity flowed from my heels to the top of my head, always drawing me closer to him. The song of steel as he pulled the katana clear – the sound to my ears like the sound the scales of a dragon would make as it moved across the earth.
Standing behind me his arms enclosed me and he placed the sword in my hands – like this and wrapped my hands around the hilt and now, hold it like this as he moved my arms into position and corrected my stance and how I held the sword. Move with me…awkward at first and then like magic it seemed, I was moving with him. Beneath that huge moon the black dragon and the sparrow began their dance. The moon drawing us together, warmed by each other, our breaths frosted in the cold of an early spring night. We could not move from that place. The earth held us captive as the moonlight pinned us in place. Who knew that gravity was heat and electricity? Who knew that gravity was choosing not to move, to stay suspended in one place?

spring night warmed
only by the first full moon –
tides and lovers rise

Minamikaze

Day Six of Nano-nano. or whatever it is. At Real Toads, doing the prompt thing with them.  Today the prompt is “speaking with another’s voice”.

Minamikaze
We became one the first time you held me.
I reflected your face in my surface –
We became one the first time I felt your tears.
We became one the first time I tasted your blood.
I remember that first day you pulled me from my sheath.
You wept at my beauty and then you pulled me
Against your hand and I felt your pain and tasted your blood.
I felt your wonder as you swung me through
The air and your heart beating through my handle.
I felt your love for me as you named me:
Minamikaze – South Wind
I am the gentle wind from the south,
The white dragon – the one who flies above the clouds.
I am yours as you are mine.

Battle

For Bjorn’s prompt on Real Toads – Entropy and Thermodynamics. We’ll see how I did. This is unusually long for me. It is a true story from my past and interest in all things Japanese, including a long gone lover. I’ve included a bit from The Last Samurai with the ho-hum Tom Cruise and the ever dynamic and sexy actor (and martial artist) Hiroyuki Sanada. I will also be posting this on Poets United Poetry Pantry.  Now imagine this battle with swords instead of bokken…yeppers

Battle
“Even after it all, would you dance with me again in the eye of the storm?” Dianna Hardy, Reign Of The Wolf

August…
hot stuffy steamy icky August
I am in the backyard practicing my kata…
and dripping, nay, running rivers of sweat.
“You’ll never finish if you keep stopping
to drink water and to wipe off”
I restrain myself from throwing my katana at him.
A light breeze and the strong whiff of
petrichor –
I smile…storm is coming.
A frisson of cool air brushes my skin.
I sheath my sword and run up the steps
to the back porch.
My lover puts his hand on my chest and stops me.
He was calm, I was building like the storm.
I tell him it is hot as fuckos, I was through practicing
And I.Was.Going.Inside.For.A.Shower.
He blinks slowly.
With the quickness of lightning
he pulls his sword and with a few strokes
drives me out into the now
Monsooning rain.
I pull my sword and begin fighting back,
being pushed back to the fence.
He slips on the slick fieldstones –
I put in a hard slash…And stop…horrified.
He puts his hand up to his ear,
blood running onto his white tee shirt
and dripping through his fingers.
Sonofabitch. You cut off my earlobe.
nervously I begin to laugh.
He frowns and then grabs me, begins kissing me.
There we stand in the rain
swords in our hands,
clothing and hair drenched, clinched.
The bomb has exploded –
now the rain is washing away
the sweat the blood the anger.
We sink down onto the gravel…
we don’t forget to sheath our swords.

Real Toads Bits of Inspiration

This is for Real Toads Bits of Inspiration: Dragonflies. there are all kinds of stories about them, myths. Japan is no different in its stories of dragonflies, especially among the Samurai. The dragonfly helmets are known as the type of armor called kawari kabuto – exotic helmet.

Akitsushima
My lover took the antique helmet out of the case to show me. He explained that it was one of the helmets worn by his Samurai ancestors. I reached out a tentative finger to touch it. A tingle went through me – old times, men long dead, battles fought. It was a dragonfly helmet. I asked why such a fragile thing for a battle helmet design. He laughed.

“Dragonflies are relentless hunters”, he explained. “They can fly forward, they can hover but, they can never move backwards”. I asked again, why such a fragile thing? He laughed at me. “ Have you ever seen a dragonfly hunt? The ancient lords chose such embellishments so they could be easily found on the battlefield. They often chose a motif that they felt described themselves. They are also considered to be far seeing.” I later learned that an ancient deity, while sitting on top of a mountain looked down upon Japan and named it Akitsushima, Island of the Dragonfly -because of the shape of the islands. My lover then took down his katana and said, “Come, it is time to practice.” I did a jaunty step, “Float like a butterfly, hunt like a dragonfly.” He laughed. Years later, I learned that like the dragonfly, I could never go back to that time.

ancient far seer –
the dragonfly hovers –
no going backwards

public image domain

dVerse Poets Pub – OLN #191

Today is Open Link Night (OLN) over at dVerse Poets Pub. Gayle is our host today and sadly, this is her last go as Pubtender. She is an amazing talent and is one of the kindest people around. She will most definitely be missed. I know I will miss her. So come by the dPub and read some excellent poems. Today I am doing a haibun in order to get in on Frank’s prompt last week of writing prose poetry. https://dversepoets.com/2017/03/09/open-link-night-191/

The Samurai and the Sparrow
Hot summer in the South – a feeling of walking around in a bowl of hot oatmeal when one ventures outside. But the air was sweet with magnolia, honeysuckle, night blooming jasmine, roses…my life was obsessed with smells that year. But this Saturday there was to be an exhibition of Kendo; several Hachi-dan Hanshi sparring against each other. I had just started dating a man who was arrogant, thought his long blonde hair made him look like a Nordic badass, and he was also into Kendo, at a higher level than I. He wasn’t great but he was an amusement. One of the men in the exhibition line caught my eye immediately. He was truly one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. The participants all bowed and when he looked up at the sparse audience, I gasped. He looked me right in the eyes. You could have walked on the bolt that shot between us. The man beside me heard me gasp and looked at me with a frown. “What’s so great about him?” he muttered. I turned and looked at him with a sniff. “Other than he is gorgeous and dressed in a black silk hakama? Other than the fact that he is obviously good?” I had to laugh. My date got up and left. Fine with me.

I watched the Japanese man avidly. He was a bit taller than most Japanese me and he had his hair pulled up into a warriors knot (not those silly “man” buns of today) and in his belt were tucked the two swords – katana and wakizashi. He was carrying daisho – literally “big little” referring to the two swords. Every once in awhile, he would slightly break his concentration and find me in the audience. I shivered. I clearly had an admirer. Why I do not know. I was plain. My long dark hair was worn in a braid down my back, I was wearing glasses. I was under five feet tall – four feet 10 inches. He was gorgeous and moved like a tiger on ball bearings. Swift, graceful, lethal, powerful, passionate. But something in me spoke to him as something in me answered. Do you believe in love at first sight? Never ever put it down. Something started that day that after 35 years still resounds. It is hidden now but it is still there. I heard when he returned to Japan, he never married.

magnolias scent the
summer air – moths come to the
flame – wings become singed

old snapshot taken in Duke U Medical Library

Haibun: Summers Pass

For Poetic Bloomings – we write about lessons learned during a summer.

Summers Pass

We were tied together by summers. We met at a kendo and weapons demonstration. You in your black silk hakama – black on black dragons and your hair in a warrior’s knot and tucked into your obi, I saw you were carrying daisho – big/little – the katana and the wakizashi. My breath stopped in my chest. I was carrying in a duffle, the weapons of the man I was dating – well, third date at this time and to be honest, I had determined this would be the last date. Arrogant and loving to be cruel he wore his long blonde hair in a braid thinking somehow, it made him look like a Nordic badass. You gave a demonstration of the two swords and then began to spar with various partners. But at the end of the day, he rescued me from the badass and won the arms competition. We walked out together and the fairy tale began. Long hot summers together – a garden in the backyard of gravel, boulder, and koi pond and my half filled with veggies and old fashioned flowers. Summers of trips to Japan and sometimes in Europe. Long hot nights of love and hot days of your work in forensics and me licensing engineers. I don’t remember Christmases or Easters or Thanksgiving. I know we had them but it is only the summers I remember.

You taught me the use of the katana and your language. I taught you to fry chicken and make biscuits. East met South. But then you began to feel the call of your home. We talked and argued and argued and talked and the reality was – you had face to lose if you went home. I was not a trophy. I was short and wore glasses and my hair was long, black, and wavy. I was not tall and blonde. We knew you would be reduced to working in small 24 hour clinics. I was a liability. I loved you and I let you go. After you left, I only remember hot summers of being alone – practicing with my sword and meditating. And somehow, slowly healing. And one hot summer, I met a sweet blue eyed Southern man with kind hands and heart. He taught me again to open my heart and love. I still loved you and always will, but I learned to stand on my own again and to believe in myself. And the most important lesson of all, I learned that summer to love again, to open my heart and trust. I do not know the lessons you learned. But I know you never married. I know you dedicate your life to identifying the sad victims of the “Suicide Forest” and that in the Tsunami, you identified victims and returned them home.

summers pass In blurs –
love leaves but love returns and
hearts heal at long last

d’Verse Poetics – Gender Bender Poetry

Kelly is our guest pubtender today. She wants us to do a poem that is a gender bender – for the women to write from the male perspective and the men to write from the female. A couple of years ago, I created a fictional character, a Samurai – Mashashi Kenata. This is a poem about the first anniversary of his marriage to Hoshiko (child of the star). Please come and join us for this very interesting and intriguing prompt.

Onnabugeisha – free wiki image

One Sharp Sword
One year.
The first year.
Masashi had not wanted to marry but he had to.
It was arranged.
The youngest daughter of four,
her father the shogun of the prefecture.
His father had made an excellent bargain for his second son.
Masashi was the second son of the shogun’s number one Samurai –
a perfect merging of class and bloodline.
He remembered the first time he saw her on their wedding day
and how relieved he was at her loveliness.
Her gentle demeanor disguised her true self.
Her quick intelligence – sometimes bawdy humor and
her education, actually better than his.
In their marriage bed she was aggressive and left him
shaken to his core.
He was not surprised when she told him she was carrying
their first child.
He was frightened at first and then proud.
Her loveliness on their wedding day was nothing
to her loveliness now.
She was as glowing and beautiful as the reflection of the moon
on dark still water.
But he was never as surprised when, large with the baby inside her
she told him he would never equal his father in prowess with a sword,
that he was clumsy and flat footed and swung his sword
as if he was swinging a scythe and harvesting rice.
But then, she takes the katana from him
and begins to go through the fighting forms –
light on her feet, strong in her swing,
and quick despite her heaviness.
But when she swung his katana at him and he felt his
kimono belt drift to the floor,
he was most surprised.
She laughed and resheathed the katana in his shi.
Close your mouth husband or you will swallow a fly.

The Samurai and the Wren Part IV: The Art of War

Note:  There are five parts to the Samurai and the Wren.  This is chapter four of that story.

Many years ago, a wizard from another universe was teaching me in the art of war. He wrapped my hands around the hilt of his katana and said to me, “Before you start, remember: Accept your death in battle as a given. You will be freed from fear. You will be able to focus more clearly and correctly. Empty yourself. You will be free. You will be more alive than you have ever dreamed”. Then he smiled and in my ear whispered some lines from one of his favorite songs, “Seasons don’t fear the reaper. Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain. We can be like they are. Come on baby… don’t fear the reaper.” (BOC Don’t Fear the Reaper)  And with his arms around me and I, moving with him, learned my first fighting form.

The wizard of course, was Ken. He was looking at me and frowning. He had wrapped his obi around my waist and tucked in his katana. I was standing correctly. I was pulling the sword correctly. “Do it again”. I pulled. “Again”. I pulled. Huge frown and then, a huge smile.
“Short. You’re too short for the blade.” He strode over, pulled out the hilted sword from the belt and replaced it with his wakizashi. “Now, try this. Pull.” Considering look “Again”….”Again”…”Again”…”Perfect!”

He lifted me up and spun me around. “Misosazai, you are too short for the katana. By the time you almost have it drawn, your opponent will have beheaded you. But with this short sword, you will be formidable”. Now I was frowning. At 4’10” and 95 pounds, I was as formidable as a bunny rabbit. But if my lover said so, then it must be so. I trusted him and he was rarely wrong.

It was hot and I was sweaty and irritable. He decided it was best we go sit in the shade by the koi pond and cool off. His hair was pulled up from his neck in a high tail. He stretched out on the grass with his hands behind his head. I sat and leaned against the ancient oak, with the obi and swords pulled from around me. Sun and I do not get along well. I closed my eyes feeling sunburn creep across my face and down my arms. I didn’t want to learn this. I didn’t want a crash course in the levels of Japanese sword technique and history. I wanted a soak in a tepid bath scented with lavender and a tall glass of lemonade while I soaked. He shifted. I groaned. I could tell from his body language, it was lecture time.

“It’s like life. We all die. Accept it. Once you accept it, you can begin to live. Empty yourself of those fears about death.” Ken rolled over and looked at me. “Come here dear heart, lie down beside me”.

Petulantly I muttered, “Grass makes me itch”. He snorted. “Everything makes you itch. Come lie down with me and let’s watch the clouds travel across the sky”.

We had been living together for only a few months. We quickly learned the other needed times of silence and solitude, to back off when told to, that we enjoyed cooking together as much as we enjoyed making love together, both of us had an eclectic taste in music, a sometimes twisted sense of humor, that slapstick humor made us guffaw with glee, both of us an odd and changing mixture of pragmatic, mystical, and spiritual, we always had something to talk about and never tired of talking to the other, and that amazingly, we were born the same day and same year within five minutes of each other at opposite ends of the earth.

I crawled over and lay down beside him. Impishly he grinned. “Now, as you say, isn’t this comfy-cozy-friendly?” And it was. My small form beside his tall form, on our backs, hands under our heads, ankles crossed, my black hair braided and pulled up over my chest. We both sighed and watched the clouds. Peaceful sounds – the koi occasionally breaking the surface, a dog barking in the distance, a cardinal sounding his territory, a lawnmower droning across the way, an occasional car going past, a few yards down, children laughing as they played. We sighed again.

“Now dear heart, what think you of the clouds?” He knew I would answer when ready. We both continued to watch the clouds, be peaceful, and let thoughts drift inside our heads.

I said, “Kobito, clouds don’t live long. They travel across the sky in their allotted time and then when it is time, they end. Yet, they come and go and drift. No cloud stays at cloud-home – it sets out and completes its journey regardless. No stopping until the end. And then they fade and become part of the universe, forever.”

He turned to face me. “And that is the point Misosazai. I would have expected no less of an answer from you. After all, you sat and watched snow fall at Ryoan-ji. You rode a horse into the desert to watch meteor showers. You stood at the edge of the waves at Atlantic Beach and threw your arms out wide and laughed into the wind. You rescued this worthless man and captured his heart, mind, and soul. So I tell you this: In battle, just as in life, accept your death as a given. Empty yourself of the death and fill yourself with life. You have begun that journey. Now continue and never stop. Pursue life relentlessly.” He sat up, “Now go get the obi and my sword and let’s start again.” He stood up and held out his hand. “And afterwards, I will prepare you an amazing bath and rub your little red face with aloe gel.”

I took his hand and stood. A couple of weeks later, he came down the back steps of our home. He was competing that night and was dressed in the beautiful black hakama he was wearing when we first met. He was carrying a long narrow wooden case. “Come here honey chile”, he drawled, imitating me. He called me away from raking the kare-sansui. He sat carefully on the steps and placed the box on the floor between us, motioning for me to sit.

I sat across from him, as I had that first night. He smiled, brackets around his full lips. In his soft husky voice he said, “Dear heart, this is for you. Her name is 南風 Minamikaze – south wind.  He opened the box and I gasped. Nestled in black velvet, was a new wakizashi. He looked at me solemnly. “I will teach you to use her, care for her, respect her, love her. I pledge this sword to you and I pledge my heart to you.” He placed the sword in my hands.

I sat there, tears dripping on its surface. It reflected light and colors from our surroundings. He stood and walked down the steps and I followed. He placed my hands on the hilt and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “When you draw this more than six inches, it must taste blood.” I knew the skin between his thumb and forefinger had many tiny scars and some new cuts.

Carefully, I held the sword and then quickly, drew across that bit of skin on my own hand. Criminy! That hurt. A bit of blood welled up. He took my hand in his and placed his lips on the cut.  “They say the sword reflects the soul of its wielder. May this sword only reflect light and never any darkness”. I slowly moved the sword. It glinted in the sun. I held it up and saw blurred reflections of the stones behind me in the garden, the green from trees – my life reflected on its narrow edge.  At that moment, I have never loved more or felt more alive.

And thus, the Samurai and the Wren (Misosazai) began the great journey of their life together.

In teaching me the art of war and death, he was teaching me the art of life and love. Now years later, it still holds true. Empty yourself of death and never stop filling yourself with life, love, and light.

完璧 – Explanation for David

 

perfection is seen reflected
in the blade of my sword

greens and golds
melt on the blade
with a thin edge of blue

snow swirling,
resting, melting,
white glimmers,
now red as it reflects
early blooms of quince

blood rust, sun gold
seasons change
shades of grey

glints of starlight and full moon
in the blackness after midnight

an ever changing picture
less than two inches wide

Ch-ch-ch-Changes

Thanks to inspiration from June Buggie on Rumpy Dog, I took the great leap and made a change to my site appearance.  I’m not happy with the header but am still working that out.

I am not changing my gravatar.  I’ve noticed lately, a lot of folks changing appearance and their gravatars.  Making this appearance change has caused me to reflect on the changes in my blog from my initial idea of “what” it was to be, to what it is now.

I think of blogs I have followed, unfollowed, commented on….changes I’ve seen in those I’ve been following as long as I have been blogging.

My husband and I went through a rough patch recently because I was making changes in me – actually, reverting to what I enjoyed before I met him.  So I guess, not really changes but recycling.  I’ve found a new depth in that reversion.  It frightened him because I was “not the woman he married”.  We’ve weathered through that and he realizes, that in 13 years, he is not the man I married.  We celebrate our 13 years of marriage today and based upon a long conversation last night, we are comfortable now with our changes.  I finally pulled out my wazikashi a month ago and showed him.  I literally had to pick him up off the floor and when I showed him that I actually knew how to use it, he was astounded.  But as he said, it finally solved the mystery of why I was so good with the totally rocking Luke Skywalker lightsaber he gave me for Christmas.

He did ask why the wazakashi rather than the katana. I just gave him “the look”. Hello, I’m 4’10” tall. He went, oh yeah, you’re a little short for that long blade. Or as my samurai more elogquently put it, “Misosazai, by the time you draw the katana, your head will be on the ground at your feet. this sword is more in keeping with your height. It is unworthy of your valor, but, we must be realistic.” and so saying, he put Minamikaze (South Wind) for the first time, in my hands.

My husband isn’t as afraid Minamikaze anymore or me or changes – as as afraid.  He’s 10 years younger than I so it is harder for him to adjust – ironic, yes?

I imagine there will be changes of all kinds.  If you ain’t changing, you aren’t growing and if you ain’t growing, you’re dead.

Here’s to life, growth, future blogging, and 13 lucky more years with my husband.  Y’all live long and prosper and the Force with be you.

 

And finally, the beginning of The Story of the Samurai and the Wren

     I have to say, the first time I saw him, I gasped.  I told my friend Jackie, “That is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”  She looked over my shoulder at Daniel and said, “Yes he is one gorgeous piece of humaness….wish he’d dump you for me.”  I looked up at her in confusion and realized, we were not looking at the same man.  I turned.  “Oh. Him. this is our second date and I can say, it will be the last.  Total….and I meanTotal Jerk. In fact, this date is ending now.  One and a half dates – he’s history.”

Jackie laughed and said, “I love you!  Does Daniel know he has been dumped and are you going to point him in my direction to be comforted?”

“No, but when you see him act like the jerk he is, you will know he knows.  Get ready to be picked up.”

Daniel was beyond excellent with saber.  Seriously into epee’, saber, kendo….if it had any type sword, he was into it.  He was average height but blade thin and whip quick with wheat blonde hair he affectedly wore in a braid  – the kind that was anchored on top of his head and brushed above his shoulder blades.  He hoped it made him look like a Viking badass.

The man with whom I had become transfixed looked like he had stepped out of a time machine:  Tall for a Japanese, black hair pulled into a warrior’s knot, katana and wakizashi in his obi,  and dressed in a black silk umanori hakama. Later, when I was closer, I saw black on black embroidery of cherry blossoms.  I just sighed and shook my head.

I had been on one date with Daniel and when he asked me to accompany him to this competition, I was happy to say yes.  I had always been interested in such arts and was looking forward to watching the several hours this would take out of my day.  Daniel was the center of an adoring group – those impressed with his prowess, his good looks, – his whole being.  To this day I could never figure out why he had asked such a plain, short female to go out with him but in truth, I think it was because I made him look so danged good.  He was a Major Planet and I was but a satellite.  He gave a disdainful glance to the man sitting beside him in combatants row – he had never seen the Japanese man before and took him for a minor combatant  – one to be crushed and tossed aside while his friends and followers cheered.  Looking at the man, I had my doubts this would happen.  Daniel felt me looking and turned and snapped his fingers.  I pointed to myself, “Me?”  He motioned me over.  I stood there frowning….I’m not a dog. I’m not his lackey…..He snapped again and anticipating ugly, I decided to go.  To put an end to the ugly.

“Got to my car and get my bag. I forgot to bring it in.”

“You have 10 minutes, get it yourself. I want to get seated.”

Like a sidewinder, his hand shot out and grabbed the long braid of my hair and pulled me down close.  “get my bag.”  Another wrap around his fist and a stronger, more painful jerk.  “I need it.”  Well, what an empasse.  He’d continue to pull and if I wanted to continue experiencing pain, I’d try to pull away.   I didn’t want to make a scene.  I just wanted to be away.  I had already decided the date was over before this based on our first date but now, I was determined it be over.  Low voiced I said, “please let me go.  I’ll get your bag and bring it. Then I am getting a ride with Jackie or James and I am leaving.”  Another wind and jerk of my braid.  “You don’t end this, I do.”  I was finding the ugly side and rumor of Daniel to be uglier than I knew.

The man to his left turned and began to gently unwind my braid.  “No, I think I will be ending this.”  Soft voice, sure hands, calm demeanor.  I looked into his eyes – gentle as his voice but steady and kind – and steely.  He smiled slightly.  “Fly away tori hanashidesu (little bird).”  I stood and I could tell Daniel was enraged although he dared not speak.  I bobbed my head at the man in thanks and went back to the bleacher seating.  I told Jackie what had happened.  She rolled her eyes and said, “You realize of course, this means war?”  I sat with my arms folded on my knees.  “I hope the Samurai beats the crap out of the Viking.”  She shook her head.  “For such a little person, you make Big Trouble.”  I just shrugged.  Being two inches shy of five feet nothing, what could I say?  That I lived for trouble?  That I enjoyed antagonizing dangerous men?  To be honest, I tried to capitalize on being short by trying to have my shields up and to be invisible.  Oops.  Missed on that one this time.

We watched as men were paired off and the losers went to one bench and the winners to another.  It was of course, inevitable that the Viking and the Samurai ended up being last ones standing to spar.  A break and then the last match.  I stayed put.  I had caused enough trouble.  I was invisible.  I was tori hana-something or other.  I had flown – right.  In my dreams. Now I had become a target.  I told myself how stupid I was to put myself into such a situation.  I told myself that the gorgeous man had a gorgeous girlfriend/wife and was simply a rarity – a true gentleman and he didn’t like seeing women treated badly.  I kept looking at him and told myself…….in your dreams honey, in your dreams.  I was not living in one of those 1930’s romance movies, I was living in the big bad 80’s and fairy tales were no more.  At least I could look at him until I left the place….I didn’t hear anything Jackie was saying to me.  She nattered and I dreamed and looked.

The two men faced each other.  The crowd began that susurration that means:  Something Is About To Happen.  It appeared they had decided to use live blades, first blood wins.  Oh my.  Jackie looked at me – “Dumbass, dumb dumb dumbass,” she hissed.  Oh my my.  I wished myself away in another universe, hopefully being brain sucked by Darth Vader or something.

It was quick.  One would have almost missed it had not the crowd seen Daniel’s braid drop to the floor.  One pass of the katana, before Daniel barely had a chance to complete his blow.  it was over.  They stepped away from each other.  The Samurai hilted his sword with a soft snik and bowed slightly.  The Viking turned and stomped away.  I looked at Jackie, “If you want him, you’d better move.  The girls are gonna be on him now like white on rice to give him comfort.”  She took off running.  I was out of a ride but I didn’t care.  I’d call my roommate.  She had broken up with her girlfriend last week and was at home licking her wounds.  I was standing in line for the phone.  The gentle voice, “do you need a ride?  I seem to have……changed plans for you.”

I turned and looked up.  He was a lot taller than I.  I smiled.  “No, I changed that plan myself.  I can call my roommate.”  I saw then the black embroidery on black silk. That was when I sighed.  “Thanks anyway.”  I continued looking up at him.  “Oh and by the way, gorgeous hakama”  He blinked.  I hastened to explain.  “that’s all I know, trust me. And, what is….tori hana…..?”  “Little bird.  You look like a little wren, misosazai.”  he cocked his head.  “Misosazai, would you like to come and join me for tea and conversation?”

Okay, I knew variants of that line and it showed.  “On my honor, tea and talk.  After all, I saved your braid.” and then, “Mitsouko.”  I blinked.  He grinned.  “Your perfume, Mitsouko.”  “Yes, it is.”  and thus began The Story.  The story of the Samurai and the plain brown little wren.