Disclaimer: The following chapters for the segment titled Birth of a Ronin contains material that could be disturbing to some readers. Your discretion is advised. This segment contains graphic references to war violence, sexual abuse, suicide, mental illness, blood, death, and abortion. Traumatic responses to the mentioned themes were unintentional, and my feelings towards them aren't being reflected here. If any of these themes are too much for you, I would suggest waiting until this segment is over. I will post warnings in the story's summary as well just in case, and that should help you know when the segment is over.
Author's Notes: So, this section of the story covers a very tragic moment in human history and one of the most dehumanizing war crimes in said history: the comfort women system. If you are a descendant of a comfort woman, this part of the story is not meant to insult you or your family members. You have my deepest sympathy and support in your fight for compensation. I'm learning about all of this in detail myself, so writing about it serves as merely an outlet and educational tool for me. This part of the story is not "historically accurate" as this event occurs around World War II and not during the Sengoku era; however, there is documentation that states comfort women (or ianfu [lit. "consoling, comforting woman"]) have existed in earlier years. I just don't know how early and I'm still researching it. What I wanted to do, though, was use the earliest form of ianfu for this story and not the WWII version. I would encourage you all to read about the comfort woman system for yourselves. Books and/or articles found on the matter will be included in the bibliography at the end of this project. My footnotes also provide some details about this occurrence.
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Some years ago...
"Hello!" young Meioshi cheered in greeting.
She was in the middle of eating her lunch after training. It was a nice spring day. The foliage and waters were bursting with life, and the winds were playful. The teen female fighter was sitting on her blanket underneath her trademark parasol and leaning back to enjoy the day. Her small shack and barn were behind her. Her hair was bound by a headband and put in a high bun, but she was nice and sweaty... and probably smelly. She wore a tunic and hakama pants that were tied at her ankles with talisman anklets and tassels. Her hands, arms and feet were bandaged, calloused, and cooling off from an intense session. A young man who was rather tall and muscular was passing by when he spotted her. Out of his own curiosity, he walked up to her to watch her train before she stopped. He didn't say anything for a while. The village women and Meioshi's earliest patients were either gathering water or herbs for her to make medicine later. Lady Kaede, who was teaching the girls archery and medicine-making while Meioshi trained, had stopped for a moment.
Kaede had visited Heiwa often to keep an eye on her pupil. Meioshi was able to perform surgery and shared her records with her mentor to formulate questions of how to make such a painful process a bit more pleasant. Whatever the priestess couldn't answer, she encouraged and followed her student as she was discovering ways to answer the unanswerable. Kaede found she enjoyed being the instructor of someone so advanced and bright. Meioshi was an insatiable student! Always scientific in her approach to things but never forgetting to have fun. Life's not all about work, but work helped you learn about the people you were around and how to best help them. Kirameku Ha was a close friend to Kaede, and the priestess always made sure to speak to him or his sons. She also visited Arimasa and Umehana whenever she could. On this particular day, Kirameku Ha was chaperoning the ladies and redoing Meioshi's landscaping to his standards in between his shift. Meioshi was learning how to counterattack archery fire, so she was properly exhausted by lunchtime.
The young man in question was a handsome one. He had high cheekbones, a strong, square jaw, earthen brown eyes that lightened up in sunlight, and a healthy fairness to his skin color. He wasn't a pale man but a good-looking one. There was a classical Japanese look to him that was enticing to others. He wore his hair down to show casualness and paired that with a solid-colored kimono top and patterned hakama pant. Most working-class individuals only had access to mismatched clothing like that due to affordability issues with certain fabrics, but he wore his clothes intentionally and rather proudly. He carried a katana on his hip and what looked like a smaller dagger. Physically, he looked to be in astounding shape, and he walked like he knew his effect on others. Either men were curious about him because of his calm demeanor or women were interested because of his looks. The man himself took whichever response in stride. His focus was on the little lady sitting barefoot under a big green parasol with a big smile on her face. She didn't seem effected by his appearance.
"Welcome to my picnic, swordsman!" young Meioshi greeted, wiggling her toes playfully. "Were you looking to buy medicine or landscaping services? The ryokans are in the other direction if you need lodging. Unfortunately, my medical services won't have a proper home for another few years. No funds, no funds!"
"... Name," the young man said. He had a voice that belonged to someone in a dream.
It was almost melodious but deep and soothing like the shade of a tree on a summer day silently offering reprieve from the burning sun. Unfortunately, voices like that offer little warning to the snakes that might be lurking in the treetops. You'd never know you were bitten until it was too late... Perhaps that's why Meioshi didn't answer him immediately. She was analyzing.
"Oh! Just call me doctor. I am working on my legal certification as we speak," Meioshi answered truthfully. "I'll be a fully realized practitioner for the people! Just you wait, swordsman!"
The man lowered his eyelids but raised a brow out of interest. He then asked, "A beauty like you will have a hard time getting honest patients. Why are you training in combat for a role that is not violent in nature?"
"Well, a soldier might be used to it, but cutting people open is no fun. To the person being cut open, it hurts like hell. Many folks react violently to that. Scares 'em, don't you know. Even my medicine might cause burning or rashes. It's all in how others react. Not everyone is kind to me. So, I train to be able to hold patients down or stop them from resisting so much. It helps quite a lot!" Meioshi answered cheerfully.
The man said nothing again for a while, but eventually he sat down in front of the young doctor and locked eyes with her for a moment. It seemed they were equal in their suspicions of the other. The young man was too calm, and the young lady was too cheerful. Underneath the suspicion, neither could deny the attractiveness of the other. Up close, the young swordsman was far more handsome than Meioshi thought. He exuded the look and feel of a samurai. The way his sword was sheathed away from the world and in a constant state of status and rest, the man's spirit was likewise. His self-confidence was in a constant state of status and rest. He knew he was a soldier but didn't boast about it. He let his stance and his broad, pulled back shoulders do the talking. Even the way he sat was upright and done with a perfected breathing technique. He was not to be underestimated or undermined. Meioshi didn't change her seating position. She remained leaning back and smiling. She just stopped wiggling her toes and instead clacked her big toes together in a childish motion to show indifference. In truth, she wasn't judging the man. She was just making sure his intentions were not of malice to the ladies she was protecting. You couldn't be too sure anymore. She supposed he sensed that.
He smirked and said, "You are an interesting person, doctor."
"Because of my feet?" Meioshi asked, lifting them up.
Taking the sudden opportunity, the young swordsman took one of Meioshi's feet into his hand gently and quickly without having to move fully forward, if at all, and pressed his lips against the band of pant leg. He kept his eyes locked on her and said softly, "Because I can see the real you."
With that, he released her and returned to his seated position as though he never moved at all. Meioshi said nothing to him for a while before she asked, "I doubt you came all this way to kiss my feet. What do you need, swordsman? This part of the village is considered the outskirts of the kingdom grounds."
"I travelled here from Mizuonimura. I'm just passing through, honestly," the man said, turning to look at a flower in the grass. "I normally walk through new areas to find peaceful places to rest. I cannot be around people for too long. It causes severe headaches. I saw you training earlier, but this part of the village... isn't painful to look at."
"You have a social illness?" Meioshi asked, lowering her feet and sitting up to diagnose what might be a form of anxiety or panic attack. The man's visit seemed to be a medical one.
"It is more advanced than that, I'm afraid. It's incurable. Don't bother yourself," the man said, holding up a hand to avoid more unnecessary tests with fruitless results.
"... The particular illness you have is incurable right now. You are correct. It does have a name, however," Meioshi said professionally. Her smile had erased in favor of seriousness. This sparked the man's attention. "Can you describe these headaches you experience? Do you have some form of light sensitivity or perhaps color sensitivity?"
The man turned to her with genuine surprise and replied, "Yes. I am sensitive to both. I... can't actually... see people. I see their colors or lights. My ears start ringing after a while and a harsh pressure soon follows. If I don't get away, I'll hear voices, and my ears and jaws start popping."
"These voices belong to the people you're seeing or to another?" Meioshi asked, narrowing her options down tremendously.
"It's... their voices but... deeper down. Like an inner voice," the man said, looking down again. "Their real voices..."
"The colors that you see. Are they synonymous with emotions perhaps?" Meioshi asked carefully, earning the man's attention again.
"Yes," he replied, not understanding how she knew so quickly.
"Your condition is very advanced. You are an empath, swordsman," Meioshi said, smirking at her diagnosis. "Soldiers like yourself, especially those of Shinto faith, revolve their entire livelihood around spirits and how you react and interact with them. You have exceeded this expectation. The colors, lights, and voices you interact with are a person's true self - their true spirit. If someone is angry, you might see a strong red color and bright light, but you might also hear them shouting. If someone is nervous, you might see a strong orange or yellow color and medium light, but you might also hear them asking a thousand questions and criticizing themselves all at one time. When you take those different entities and mix them with the plethora of other people, you get overwhelmed, and your brain can't filter it all out. The pressure that's applied to you forces you to run or leave. That's the brain telling you, 'Get the hell outta there, man!' The only way you can truly cure your condition is finding a haven to separate yourself from others, which is what you've been doing, or advancing your meditative training. Learn to be a counselor of sorts to help others regain that normalcy or learn how to properly filter out other spirits. You are much too attuned with others."
"How does that explain you, doctor?" the swordsman finally asked in a softer voice. He almost sounded like a child in that moment. Meioshi wondered if relief gave others youthfulness again. It wasn't farfetched.
"Me?" she asked in response, smiling gently and leaning forward to put her arm over her bent knee. She looked like a regular person then.
"I can't see your color or light. I can't even hear your inner voice. I can... only see you," the man admitted.
"I suppose that is because I do not have those things. My voice to you is my real voice," Meioshi replied, placing her free hand on her chest to show emphasis. "Whatever you see is me."
"So, doctor is your real name then? Your inner voice would have told me the truth by now," the swordsman said, lowering his chin and turning slightly to give a suspicious look.
"A doctor is what I am. I don't need an extra voice to say anything different," Meioshi said confidently. "I believe Meioshi is the perfect name for me."
"Meioshi..." the man said softly, finally leaning forward to touch the doctor.
It was subtle and slow, but it was the gentlest thing the man had ever done and Meioshi had ever felt someone do. She blushed brightly in that moment and let the man caress her jaw with his hand. When they locked eyes again, they saw each other in that moment. A man and a woman recognizing their similarities and differences as equals, not knowing that they would meet again...
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"Aaahhh!"
No matter how many simulations she had to go through, the tearing and burning from being pried open would never subside. One of the men was thrusting the waxed device inside of her much harder and faster than before. She could feel blood trickling down her thigh. She tried to hide her screams and moans through grunting or gritted teeth instead, but she had to remember that the point of this was to learn how to be silent and show no fear or emotion. You had to be as still as a doll while remaining as calm as a soldier. The battlefield was the ultimate hunt for glory among men. Women were procured goods and services. She hated that women before her were subjected to this. She hated that there were women out there being forced to do this. She hated that the women she protected in her barn went through this. That diagnosing a woman with childbirth or regular menstruation issues had to be so uncomfortable for her. That men believed this act was painless. That her enemies were so cold, and the men she would be fighting alongside had to be colder just to help her get through this. She would never dare to cry for herself. She clutched at the designated hand bars like her life depended on it, but clenching just made things infinitely worse. Some simulations didn't offer a bar to grasp. You were at the mercy of the simulation officer.
The first time was arguably the worst of all. Meioshi had never been penetrated before, not even for masturbation, but that wasn't something she thought of doing to herself. As a holy warrior or descendant of, she remained pure for her spouse. Chose to do it. Hell travelers couldn't see their own reflections, so they didn't boast about their looks or use them as an advantage against others. All they had was their personalities and their discipline. They couldn't know of their future partners. What other people said of them was all they had to go by. If they were beautiful or handsome, they took others' words for it. Only when their spouse was revealed through the previous one's vision could they see themselves. By then, hell travelers were humble enough and in love enough to have no need in sharing their bodies with others. All sexual experiences went to the designated other. In some cases, like her grandfather's, soldiers just obeyed traditions. The hell travelers weren't prohibited strictly from sexual acts. It was just unlikely that they would engage in such repeatedly. Arimasa had only ever slept with one other woman besides Umehana. Kokina Hoshi, same thing.
"What's the matter, hāfu? You don't like being a woman?" a soldier purred, shoving Meioshi's head into the table. The pressure from that was bad enough but served as a good enough distraction to regain her silence and her breath.
She wanted to be a doctor so badly. She wanted to rescue the little girls and women rumored to be on a labor camp doing this. She felt her body being forcibly pushed forward and pulled back. Her hair was being yanked back harshly. She only let out a grunt before the silence was finally triggered. She didn't mutter another sound despite the intense pain and whipping from a hard bat and lash.
"You have a perfect ass," the soldier purred again, creeping over the side of her neck. "Perfect skin. Pity you're a Burakumin. I'll have to throw you to the low ranks. What use is a priestess to me when your gods couldn't even protect you?"
With that, he twisted her ankle to make Meioshi scream and thrusted the device in her. She didn't make another sound, but she was gritting her teeth badly. It felt like one would crack or her jaw would burst from the pressure. She had to remain silent. She couldn't give them the pleasure of hearing her scream. She had to endure. She had to be a porcelain doll - an unbreakable porcelain doll. When the session was over, the commanding officer stopped and turned to wait for Meioshi to collect herself. His hand was shaking. It was the one holding the waxed device. He hated doing this, but the women had to learn. When Meioshi was able to stand, she hobbled over to the commanding officer and embraced him as gratitude for having to bear with this training. He had a wife and daughter himself. What happens to them if he dies, or their side loses this battle? When the commanding officer turned, he nodded at Meioshi with approval and slammed his hands on her smaller shoulders. She held back her tears and left the simulation barracks.
The bath house was where she was able to cry, so she did. Sitting in the water would hurt if she went in immediately, and the simulation wasn't over even once the bathhouse was entered. The more sound you made during training, the longer you had to wait to bathe. Depending on how much noise you made from initial penetration, soap and oils were taken from you. All you had was water. Even then, you were forced to wait. That's what labor camp girls had to do. You felt what they felt and did what they did. You had to be prepared for anything. You were a woman, a prize, a toilet. Men dumped onto you, used you, and let you rot away. If Meioshi wanted to be a doctor on the battlefield, she had to be both a soldier and an ianfu, the comfort woman. The term was literal at the barracks. She had to learn how to counsel the abused, help them hold on until they could escape, treat and care for any victims, and hold the men in her arms as they were either treated for wounds or approaching death. Should anything happen to where she is captured, she had to be ready to resist, escape, or endure the torture that the laborers endured. She could easily be made a slave... or an example.
"Half the hour, doctor. You have improved," the commanding officer said from the doorway.
Meioshi nodded in response and patiently waited. A half hour wait wasn't bad at all. She could bathe with soothing soap and oil to get the wax and blood out. Treating the tearing might not be too difficult this time. She very rarely rode her horse home after training. Traveling to Mizuonimura wasn't long with it being the sister city to Heiwa, but she had to travel to Kaede's village sometimes for school. Those trips were much longer on foot. Every now and then, she'd travel by her boat. She loved it! She was excited when her grandfathers, Arimasa and Viswamitra, helped her build it. Her grandmothers helped personalize it, and her parents taught her how to control her mianyi to where the boat could ride the winds like it would on waves.
When she finished bathing, Meioshi wondered if she should search for the swordsman that came to her about his condition. He might like the boat ride. She could see why he needed to find some semblance of peace from the world. War changed people. Training alone had definitely changed her. When she left the bathing house, she bowed with respect to the training grounds... but didn't go home or to Kaede's village. She went on a pilgrimage instead. She had no clear direction of where to go. She just went wherever the day decided to take her. Eventually, she made it to an open field of grass and wildflowers. She placed her belongings down, let the winds dance across her body, and started to meditate.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and performed slow motions to rebalance her energies. This form of meditation stemmed from tai chi and Zen gardening, but Shishou taught Meioshi how to combine the two into what he calls her Chóngxīn pínghéng shūfǎ, or the low-impact martial arts style of rebalancing one's energies through calligraphy. Shishou played a crucial role in teaching Meioshi about balance and always maintaining it. This pilgrimage tested her limits as did the rape simulation training. Having no rake or tool to etch into the ground or grass, Meioshi instead felt for what was present with her feet and used whatever was there to help her write.
"Is that how you are able to stay so calm?" a familiar voice asked.
"Huh?" Meioshi replied, being taken out of her training. It was General Izuhara. Meioshi stopped to smile at him and replied, "Good morning, taisho! How'd you find me way out here?"
"The men said they saw you walking in an odd direction. I came to investigate," the general answered, remaining seated to pin his hair up. He was another handsome man. It was odd for someone of his stature not to be married or with child, but the man was rumored to have said he hadn't really been interested in anyone. "You came all this way to do more training?"
"Actually, I'm on a pilgrimage. This is how my family reminds themselves that the world is worth protecting. I go on these pilgrimages to remind myself that my fights are not in vain. The system might not work in my favor in this life, but I'll always find to way to do right by others. I wasn't born into such a delicate family or a mysterious gender for nothing. Let the world make up excuses to understand things. My job is to maintain the balance," Meioshi replied, looking up into the sky.
"As a doctor should," the general said with admiration. "Well, young lady, you don't have much further to go. In another two weeks, we're headed to the battlefield to seize the trafficking island. One of our scouts found siege towers being built. They're constructing what looks like twenty of them at once. Movements have been spotted of resources being shipped to different parts of the island for hiding. You will all be briefed within a few days. Rest easy, doctor..."