Warrior Born - Part 4

Part 4
Hikaru awakes the next morning hungover and resentful.
***
I dreaded sunrise.
By the time the dawn washed over my quarters I was exhausted, but the morning held no further rest for me. Sensing my restlessness Konoka stirred beside me. Her skin was bare to her hips, the blankets twisted between her legs. She lay on her side with her back to me and black strands of silky hair cascaded from the nape of her neck over her shoulders, still curled from her coiffure. I drank in her soft, alabaster skin which rippled over gentle, feminine muscles. Her peacefulness fascinated me and drew my fingers to stroke her skin. She stretched her arms over her head like a cat and rolled toward me, still half asleep.
She reached for me. Her fingertips brushed my ribs and the thin film of our mingled sweat. I twisted away. Konoka clutched the blanket to her chest and propped herself on her elbow. Konoka was a kind companion, perhaps well practiced in listening to the tender complaints men would not tell their wives or friends. She watched as I recovered my clothes.
"The wine," I muttered. She looked younger, more fragile in the soft light of dawn. But time engraved her soul with a world weariness that made me uneasy. The previous night we explored a mutual longing in our despair over our fates and gave ourselves a release from our demons, but the new day always came. I shrugged a clean tunic over my shoulders. "I have duties to attend to," I said, though my words felt empty.
I studied the Keibishi armor, little more than a lacquered breastplate that tied under the arm. It was a simple design, an antiquity of the capital's more glorious past. At its centre a flower stylized in the shape of a pentagon was emblazoned in worn gold leaf. I glanced over my shoulder, curious of Konoka’s reaction. She’d fled the teahouse before my fight with Daisuke.
"I heard what happened," she said. I didn't reply. She lazed beneath the blankets without concern for her nakedness, even in the awkwardness of the new morning. If anything my discomfort seemed to amuse her. "I gave myself to him once, you know," she said. I was both embarrassed by her honest admission and surprised by a sharp pang of jealousy.
"He was a murderer. He abandoned his duty and killed the Constable. He was little more than a thug,” I said. Konoka watched me with her aged eyes and I feared she saw straight through me. “I’m not like Daisuke. I’m not perfect, but I’d never abandon my post,” I added, and wondered who I was trying to convince.
Konoka shrugged delicately and I was uncomfortably reminded of her bare shoulders. "What am I, but a prostitute burdened by my husband’s debts?" she asked. For a moment she looked away, unwilling to meet my eyes. “Daisuke abandoned his post for me,” she said softly. The silence stretched between us.
"Did you love him?" I asked. She laughed.
"He was strong and I was scared. One moment I was married to a man from a good family, the next I was plunged into a terrifying world I didn't understand. When Boss Hachimoto took me I thought Daisuke could protect me. He was still of the Keibishi when I met him and he took an interest in me." Her face darkened. "But he was violent and used me as his plaything, draining my life and parading me as a trophy before his friends."
Her confession deepened my shame. "Not Daisuke, I meant your husband," I said.
"My husband?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "I barely know him. I think he saw in me his own shame. What does love matter in marriage? I think it only the subject of courtly romances, written by handmaidens bored of their life in the Court. There may be such a thing in the casual meetings at night, but between man and wife?" She shook her head. "I am the fourth daughter of a poor farmer from a little village near the mountains. My husband was a dry goods merchant. He travelled through the villages selling his wares and saw me washing clothes by the river." She shrugged. "When he approached my father, my parents thought him a good match. That is all. His business was small but stable and it promised a good life, but he gambled it away at the dice table and I was taken to pay for his debts.”
"You could return to your village," I said.
“Even if the Hachimoto didn’t find me, I bring only shame on my family,” she replied and turned away. I had offended her in some way. Not knowing what to say I left Konoka to her silence.
I inspected my armour, busying myself for the day to come. Daisuke’s head would be presented to the Constable and ceremony dictated I should wear the guard armour. The prospect embarrassed me. Instead I dragged a heavy chest from its resting place against the wall. As I lifted the lid I was struck by the smelt of oil, the aroma filling stirring nostalgia for my homeland and reminding me of my coming of age. Three years ago my father had presented me the mail. It remained cleaned and neatly oiled, never leaving the box since I'd hauled it over the mountains. A few days prior I had paid a carrier to pack it along with my possessions to Kamibashi, not trusting the safety of my quarters in the capital.
I drew the chord to tighten the hem of my sleeves, fastening it through my fingers before tugging on the sleeve that covered my left arm from wrist to shoulder, sewn with lacquered plates. I then turned my attention to the armour. The dark, lamellar plates were bound by blue braiding, the colour of the Genji. I strapped on my greaves, though the cuirass would have to wait. I wanted to let the oil soften by the fireplace. It would give me the chance for a last pipe before I met Matsuo. I looped my arms through the cuirass as Konoka shifted.
"You are warrior-born,” she said. “I thought you just another guardsman who adopted their ways." She sat up to peer at my armor. "Your crest isn't of the Taira,” she said, leaving the question unasked.
"I’m from the Kuanto."
"You don't have an accent."
"So I'm told. I can speak the dialect well enough, but my speech to the west to the west.”
"Does it trouble you to be so far from your home and family?" she asked. I stopped.
"You are very astute.”
"I hear things," she said blandly. "I’ve danced for the Taira in Rokuhara." She smiled and her eyes glittered. "Lord Kiyomori enjoys the privileges of his position as Prime Minister. I wonder whose attentions he enjoyed last night?" Seeing my surprise, Konoka laughed. He was a patriarch of a warrior clan, like my grandfather. I had always imagined them to be much the same, despite their rivalry. I was curious what Konoka knew of him but was too proud to ask. For a moment I imagined her soft skin pressed against his and their limbs entwined. It filled me with a curiosity both compelling and repulsive, I dislodged the image with a shudder. "He's just a man, driven by the same desires," she said, perhaps reading my thoughts.
"I have to go, I have a duty at the Court.” I felt foolish to moment the words left out my mouth. The heat of embarrassment flushed my cheeks. To my shame Konoka giggled.
"Your devotion to duty is most unorthodox," she said.
"You can stay as long as you please," I said, a little more coldly than intended. She sank beneath the blankets.
I heaved my armor into the next room. I contented myself wiping down the armour and flexing the plaiting to loosen the braiding. It was still stiff from disuse and I wanted to be able to move in it. I would not wear a helm, having deliberately left it in the Kuanto. Instead, I bound my hair back into a leather thong and tied a plated band across my brow. Most warriors preferred to let their hair fall over their shoulders, wearing peaked caps if not the wide-brimmed helms that marked our class. My hair was thick and wavy, so it did not fall straight down my shoulders. I thought it looked strange unbound so I had long ago started tying it back from my face. I perched by the fireplace with a pitcher of water, drenching my face and mouth in the cool liquid and willing the pain in my head to ease. After a long moment I stirred the last of the night’s charcoal, though I found little heat in them. I filled my pipe and sucked on its stem, praying for the small mercy that Matsuo would not return before it was spent. Barely had I drawn more than a few puffs before someone rapped on the door.
"Yes, ready," I called out. I hurriedly knocked the contents out of the pipe. My reply was met by silence before the knocking continued. "Just come in," I called again, but the door didn't move and I was forced to my feet. I hauled it open, entirely unprepared for the sight that met me. The narrow street was filled by a pristine palanquin, lacquered black and detailed in gold leaf with thick lavender braid draped over its roof. It was flanked by carriers, including two attendants and three of the Keibishi from the Imperial Palace. I didn’t recognize them. The appearance of each man was immaculate, though they were still drab compared to the figure that emerged from the palanquin.
"You are awake," a firm voice called. His dark robes were of a rich embroidered silk. It swam with a subtle pattern revealed as he stepped into the light. He was clean-shaven and did not powder his face or paint the fake eyebrows high on his forehead, as was the practice amongst many of the other members of the Outer Court. His name was Yuto and his was a new generation of councillors ready to displace their seniors. Yuto was my elder cousin, the son to my mother's sister.
Yuto took one glance at me and measured my appearance from head to toe, clearly disapproving. "Barely a few days out at the capital and already you look like a wild mountain man," he said. His face, like his voice, held a sharp wit that excluded even the smallest sliver of self-doubt. I had often marvelled at his self-confidence and wished I possessed but half of it’s measure. It was Yuto that had found me my position in the Keibishi, providing my escape from the clergy.
He glided past me. I nodded my head and mumbled an apology for the modest dwelling. "That's quite alright cousin, this will be convenient for you," he replied. With a small gesture, one of the Keibishi slid the door shut, leaving us in privacy. Yuto looked me in the eyes. He was a skilled orator and hid the subtleties of the courtly language beneath his speech, though he liked to boast of his straightforwardness. He considered it a trait inherited from the Hojo, my mother’s clan.
"You have a big day today, are you ready?" he asked, choosing directness. "You don't appear to be so."
"I'm waiting for Matsuo,” I said. “I'm not wearing the guard armor."
"A good choice,” he said, nodding as he spoke. “You're not a complete loss. See that the Genji crest is well presented." He studied my face, checking if I'd caught the underlying message for not
"I understand. It is an uneasy time. The Genji crest must not be forgotten at the Court,” I replied. Yuto watched me a moment longer. He looked doubtful.
"There is more, much more taking place in the presentation of a criminal’s head. Even one, some argue, responsible for the Emperor’s death.”
“He blamed himself,” I said, surprising myself. “He was despondent after failing his duty.”
“Yes,” Yuto replied, slowly. “Well, perhaps with good reason.”
“You think Kiyomori to blame?”
“Perhaps. Still, the head was delivered last night. They’ll present it to the Outer Court today, it’s a shame you couldn’t present it yourself.”
“I won’t?”
“There are bigger opportunities at hand,” he replied. Seeing my blank expression, he sighed. "The Heir Prince will soon be announced as the new Emperor,” he continued. I awaited further explanation. It was not forthcoming.
“How is that an opportunity?” I asked. Yuto shot me a look of disbelief at my ignorance.
“Are you really my cousin?” he asked, his tone filled with incredulity. I had devoured enough of the histories to know that the decision of succession had not always been an easy one, yet there seemed little doubt over the Outer Court's choice. Yuto groaned. “If you’d frequent the teahouses less you might better follow the intrigues that shape your world. Prince Tohei hasn’t been betrothed,” he said. I found myself nodding as understanding dawned.
“Then a consort will have to be chosen.”
“One that may become empress very soon. Rivalry between the clans is deep and the debate over Prince Tohei’s consort is fierce.“
“How is the consort chosen?”
“Typically by the Court, in which case we have difficulty. Kiyomori watches the throne with a greedy eye, like a merchant counting his wares. Yet, perhaps the Empress may exert influence. She knows the courtesans and the patriarchs will surely seek her favour.” He shook his head. “But then, perhaps it will not be so easy. It has been many years since a candidate stood to become empress and I expect that this time it will be the courtly clans that decide, especially if the Nakatomi have their way.” The Nakatomi were a priestly clan, the most powerful in the Empire.
“Then we need to gain the favour of the Nakatomi?”
“If there is favour there to be gained. The important question is what candidate do we favour? Had your mother carried daughters the choice would be simpler. But then, unlike the courtly clans the warrior-born wish only for boys. Your father has been blessed.” He moved near the hearth where my cuirass sat. "You've maintained your armour well.” I meekly agreed. “You have a chance to redeem yourself. I suggested you act as bodyguard to a maiden of the Sugimoto. The Sugimoto Patriarch suggested you by name only this morning. For some reason he likes you." When I didn’t respond Yuto sighed, the slowness of my uptake wearying him. "Ayumi of the Sugimoto is a consort to the Prince and another candidate. On my suggestion she will attend the Grand Shrine of the Sun Goddess. The Empress is praying there for the Emperor's spirit and if Ayumi can garner her favour she may stand a chance of winning her candidacy.”
"The Nakatomi agreed?" I asked. It seemed a foolish thing for them to do.
"They were delighted, though they tried not to show it. They're hoping you'll do something foolish and spoil her chances. I promised the Sugimoto it would be in their favor to trust you. As a relative the Empress might see your visit in a good light,” he said. I recalled the distant image of the Empress, my great aunt.
“Were I Ichiro, perhaps. I doubt my attendance would make any greater difference than if a monkey was sent.”
“Ichiro took the time to foster his relationship with your great aunt. It is unfortunate you didn’t show your brother’s initiative.” Yuto leaned back. He cast me a weary glance. "Everything rests on you and your conduct, both the reputations of the Sugimoto and the Genji. Don't make a mess of this. I’m sending Matsuo to serve as your “nursemaid”, whatever trouble you create you share with him. Time is of essence. While Daisuke’s head is presented, you will be meeting the Sugimoto. Today. In the interim make whatever preparations you must.” He then curtly explained the details of our departure.
“The Sugimoto household. It's on the southern end of the Sumida River, nestled in the new merchant district. Its walls are lined with cherry blossoms, you know the one?"
“There many cherry blossoms along the Sumida,” he said.
“These are different. The cherry blossoms at the Sugimoto household are Shidare-zakura, the “falling cherry blossoms” with branches that droop to the ground.”
“I know the place,” I replied. My heart leapt in my chest at the opportunity before me. This would be the chance to finally prove myself. I moistened my mouth. “What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Your duty. You’ll have the opportunity to impress.” That was when the door to the next room clattered. Yuto’s eyes snapped to me and I swallowed the lump in my throat.
The door slid open and Konoka emerged. Her hair was combed back, neatly rearranged into something resembling her coiffure. Her clothes were neatly arrayed but given the lack of make-up she could only wipe her face clean. It was apparent even to a blind masseuse where she had stayed that night. Seeing Yuto, she placed her hands to the floor and pressed her brow against them. Konoka held the bow for several heartbeats, long enough for Yuto to recover from his initial surprise. He nodded to her.
"Lady. Thank-you for allowing my cousin into your house. I entrust him into your care," he said. The implication she was my landlady spared embarrassment.
"It is my pleasure, Master of the Court. I'm sorry I am poorly prepared to receive visitors.” Konoka recognized him for his rank, even if she did not know his name. Yuto nodded.
“It is my fault, I am sorry to intrude. I had thought to visit the riverside, it is a marvellous stroll beneath the dawn, but seeing I was so near I decided to visit Hikaru instead.”
Konoka bowed again. “It is as you say, Master. I think I too would like to see the river, I will check as I see to my chores this morning,” she said, then politely excused herself. Whether she would see the river or not, Konoka’s part in the game led her out the back door, hidden from the eyes of Yuto’s entourage. It was a long silence after she’d gone. I stammered an apology, formally pressing my head to the floor.
“We shall see,” said Yuto. Without a further word he excused himself, citing other business. I was left cursing the misfortune I had brought on myself and wondering how much Konoka had overheard.
***
I sat on the step, watching for Matsuo through the door.
"A little bit of a difficult morning," he told me when he arrived. I grunted. "Where did you disappear to the last night? That was a long call of nature, I looked for you in the latrines,” he said. I chuckled.
"I didn't want to impose. I was already grateful for the dinner, but my stomach was unsettled from the wine.”
"Luckily we encountered Daisuke first," he said. He smiled weakly. "We'd best get going," he said. As I stood he tightened the strapping of my armour and tugged on the cuirass, testing its fit. "That should do it."
"Any tighter and I have nothing to fear from our enemies, my friend will have squeezed the life from me, crushing me in my own armour." I fastened my sash and tucked my sword into it.
"Maybe it will squeeze some spirit up here,” he replied, pointing at my temple. “Rather than down there where you do most of your thinking.”
“I have plenty of spirit for both,” I replied. Matsuo tapped his head.
“Then it’s a pity you use this one more,” he said.
As we walked to the Capital we discussed our new assignment.
"If this goes poorly we’ll both be outcasts. That will be hard to explain to your family," I said. Matsuo grunted.
“More weighs on the Sugimoto maiden’s fate than my family.”
The walk to the Sugimoto residence was long, but it was a relaxed and enjoyable pace. It was a part of the capital I had never visited, I relied on Matsuo’s direction. Our passage was marked by the bustle of couriers and servants to the various merchant houses. A few, seeing our armour, bobbed respectfully to us as we passed.
The Sugimoto residence stood amongst the others belonging to the city’s new wealth, families of the merchant class who still risked their ships to bring rare goods from the Mainland and the Peninsula.
“The merchants prosper,” I said, noting the houses. Matsuo was less impressed.
“We fight for the Isles and the priests nourish the throne. Villagers feed us, nurturing crops and hauling fish from the seas. All while greedy merchants grease fat palms and live as lords,” he said.
“You are right to be proud of our people. But Yuto told me of his visits over the sea. The bounty held by the Isles was poor in comparison to that of our neighbours. I know few mines that produce so much gold or silver. Most luxuries arrive in the berths of the few seafaring crafts still sailing. The merchants risk their livelihoods, like warriors risking their lives on the battlefield,” I said. Matsuo was repulsed by the comparison.
“This from Hikaru. Why the sudden change in thinking?”
I thought of the merchant at the teahouse and Konoka’s story. I did not reply.
At the end of the street was a small cluster of buildings enclosed behind a low wall. It was the Sugimoto household. Like the surrounding buildings, the Sugimoto residence looked to be a new construction. Its timbers were still fresh and unstained by the weather and its design simpler than those of the older manors in other parts of the city. The narrow streets, freshly paved with clean, treated stone, were lined with cherry-blossoms, a rare variety that drooped almost to the ground. In the coming days they would carry flowers of a deep pink hue.
The gateway was open and no household guards stood by its entrance. Matsuo peered through, seeing a sweep of open buildings that faced a small but carefully manicured garden. He smiled.
“A simple design.”
“You are too kind.” The Sugimoto Master appeared on the veranda.
He wore simple robes more like an itinerant priest than a courtier, just as he had the previous night. He stepped into a pair of clogs and shuffled across the garden. “Master Hikaru, it is a pleasure. Thank-you for your kindly protection of my daughter,” he said, and embarrassed me by bowing deeply. I hastily returned his bow.
“It is my pleasure,” I muttered. “Master, this is Matsuo,” I said, and the two men exchanged greetings.
Just as before I was immediately compelled to seek his favour. Matsuo was equally awed by the man’s presence.
“Hikaru and Matsuo, thank-you again,” said the Sugimoto Patriarch with another bow. “I would be honored if you allowed me to entertain you for the evening.” I waved the invitation away.
“We could not impose on you.”
“I learnt of you defeating Daisuke. His reputation was well known. That you should agree to deliver Ayumi safely is a great honour. It can but offer my hospitality, however modest.”
“It is a service to both our clans,” I said. However despite our protests we both submitted to his generous offer. “I am immodestly proud of my bathhouse,” explained as we were led through the manor, “please enjoy it before you eat, it is the least I can do to repay your service.” We meekly accepted. An elderly woman appeared, one of the household servants. A courier had arrived for our host. He excused himself and we were left to follow his directions.
We encountered another servant. She looked young, perhaps in her sixteenth summer. The maid wore plain robes and I guessed her a nursemaid as a younger girl in rich clothing clung to her.
At four or five summers the girl was filled with energy and had none of the shyness that sometimes comes with youth. She giggled as she met our faces and reached a hand for my armour. Her eyes glittered as I feigned surprise.
“Manami!” the maid scolded and snatched the girl’s fingers away. “I’m sorry,” the maid apologized, “she still has to learn manners.”
I laughed. “Like a little monkey,” I teased, and was rewarded by another giggle.
The bathhouse was an impressive building joined to the main building by a long timber walkway. Lit by lanterns, the flooring was so polished it shone like the smooth surface of a lake and drummed beneath our feet. It led us to the outer door of the bathhouse.
“It is impressive,” I said with genuine awe. The building was enormous.
“I will tell my father, he will be most pleased,” said the girl I had mistaken for a maid.
My mind had formed an the image of the maiden who would be empress. I expected something like the ancient courtesans that graced the screens at the palace. The maiden before me was beautiful, was not the most beautiful of the women in the Court. Ayumi had not spent a lifetime in the Inner Court. Her features had not smoothed to the perfection enjoyed by the courtesans. The line of her jaw and cheeks were angular and her eyes long and sharp. Now her identity was revealed, I thought it written plainly on her face. She had the same cleverness in her features I had seen in her father. She possessed the same stature that drew the world to her. I saw cleverness tempered by a firm but easy confidence. Ayumi, I would learn, moved through the world like a ship ploughs the waves. She was a stark contrast to the curling tongues of the capital where everything said conveyed layers of secret meaning, each buried deeper than the last.
“Please forgive my rudeness, are Ayumi?”
“No, please forgive me, it was rude not to introduce myself. Yes, I am Ayumi of the Sugimoto.” She bowed politely. Her sister watched with a devilish smirk until Ayumi forced her to copy.
Ayumi motioned us to the door. “We only have Chiyo. Her eyes are not so good and she scrubs hard, but I will call her if you wish.”
“That sounds like a dangerous combination,” I said without thinking. She suppressed a smile.
Matsuo ignored me. “You keep only one servant?” he asked, surprised.
“As few as possible. It is as my father prefers.”
“You will have many more servants if you are chosen consort, Lady Ayumi.” Her expression drained.
“Do not worry, Lady. I believe the Genji can sway the Empress in your favour,” said Matsuo. Ayumi did not reply immediately.
“Did you want me to call Chiyo?” she asked.
“Thank-you, lady, but I’m sure we will manage ourselves. I too prefer to keep it simple, as is our custom in the Kuanto. Perhaps Hikaru is more accustomed to the extravagancies of the capital,” said Matsuo. The image Ayumi assisting my bath leapt unbidden into my mind.
“I will be fine, but thank-you Ayumi,” I quickly muttered.
Ayumi nodded politely and then excused herself, dragging her sister behind her. When I turned I caught Matsuo’s expression and wished I hadn’t.
“You blush like a lady waiting under the cherry blossoms,” he said.
“Puppets show more emotion than you. However did you woo Hinata?”
The bath was a natural hot spring that flowed into a stone pool big enough for four people. We stripped of our clothes and lifted a thick wooden trapdoor that covered the bath. Steam billowed from the water. He sucked the air through his teeth.
“The Sugimoto Patriarch was right to be proud of his bath, I have never seen anything like it this far from the mountains,” said Matsuo. We scooped the water into pales, scrubbing the grime from our skin before sinking into the hot water.
“What if Yuto needs us?” he eventually asked.
“He knows where we are, but he will be busy enough without us getting in his way,” I replied. We bathed in thoughtful silence. By the time Matsuo next spoke we were stepping from the water.
“Yuto told me you had a visitor last night,” he said.
I stopped and sank back into the water. “How much did he tell you?” I asked.
“He said it was a pity you didn’t settle down.” I snorted with derision.
“That from someone who revels in unmarried life,” I said.
“ A wife might bring stability to your life.”
“Like yours?” I laughed and Matsuo’s face coloured.
“Things are complicated with the Taira, you know you can’t keep causing such trouble,” he said.
“Thing have always been complicated with the Taira.”
“Not always. The Sugimoto Patriarch is a pleasing fellow, isn’t he? Much like his daughter, I think.”
I grunted. “Let’s hope she makes a good empress, beneficial for both us and the Sugimoto.” Bitterness hid on the edge of my voice. To my relief Matsuo said nothing more on the subject.
As we left the heat of the bathhouse we found our clothes replaced by fresh robes, provided by our host. The Sugimoto Patriarch’s generosity apparently spared no expense. They were warrior’s robes and they fit us well. The touch of the fabric was soft against my skin.
“Such finery is better suited to the Taira,” said Matsuo.
We were fetched by an older woman whom I guessed to be the servant, Chiyo, and summoned to dinner. It was a warm night and we ate in a little garden pavilion, surrounded by an ancient plum blossom that still carried the last of its fragrance.
“I am glad you had the opportunity to meet Ayumi. You will have to excuse her absence. She rarely sees her sisters now and spends time with them whenever she can.”
“No sons in your household, Master Sugimoto? The opposite of my family,” I said.
“Is it not the way of things? The warrior-born should have strong sons while the courtly clans have daughters.”
“We will do all we can to see Lady Ayumi is announced as the next empress,” said Matsuo. The Sugimoto Patriarch smiled.
“What can I do, but submit to the nature of things?”
“So the Enlightened One teaches,” I said.
“What are your thoughts, Master Hikaru?” asked our host. I hesitated. I knew the teaching he had quoted, I had heard it before and while I liked his philosophy it was too distant from my experience. There was no space in the warrior’s soul to wait passively for fate’s hand.
“I think our ways are different. Some are gifted with skill or position, surely the consequence of good karma. We owe a duty to use our potential to its utmost, and so we grow and gain further karma.” I spoke boldly, leaving no question in my words. Perhaps it was my weariness, but my mind seemed unable to think in the curls favoured by the courtly. Matsuo listened warily. He said nothing, but the Sugimoto Patriarch nodded.
“Karma,” he said, “the Enlightened One’s measure of our actions. I think I understand,” he told us both, adopting my direct speech. “Learning and skill must translate into action, lest it have no worth to the warrior.” Both Matsuo and I nodded. “I once thought the same. I thought if I could perfect the world, then we would all be beyond suffering, that if my intention was pure then the gods would see me through adversity. That is why I travelled to the Mainland.”
“That is why the Outer Court chose you to go,” I said, thinking I understood.
“That is why I petitioned the Outer Court, they were not so forthcoming at first,” he corrected.
“But your action brought change to the Isles.”
“Perhaps, but I learnt much on my pilgrimage and even more in the time since. It was acceptance of fate that allowed me to discover the Way of the Enlightened One, not my pursuit of my desires. I learnt to trust destiny, despite the persecution it has brought my clan in the Outer Court.” His reply mystified me.
After dinner I chanced to see Ayumi while Matsuo and the Sugimoto Patriarch arranged the coming travel. I dawdled through the Sugimoto estate until I heard her and her little sisters. The middle sister, Manami, had discovered a butterfly and chased her younger sister with it until she cried. The youngest was Sayuri and unlike her sisters she had small face shaped like a peach. I called her Momohime, the Peach Princess, and she clutched at Ayumi, too shy to show her smile. Ayumi laughed.
“Very cute,” she said.
"It is sometimes difficult to be the smallest in the household."
Our conversation was cut short by Matsuo’s return. It was time to depart. We offered our polite excuses and returned to Kamibashi.
That night I stayed up as late as I could. I was exhausted, but I couldn't face sleep. I sat alone in my doorway, listening to the merriment of drunks in the street outside. I guiltily allowed myself one last pipe. I told myself it would be the last. It ended all too soon and once finished there was nothing left to do but retire to my bed. The room still lingered with Konoka’s scent and I pined for company. For an hour I listened to the painful silence until, finally, my exhaustion took me and sleep came.
***