Aka to Shiro: Red and White

[Poganin]

Set in Japan in the Edo period this is a story of a ronin's (Funemori Shigetaki) desire for a high ranking daimyo's (Nijou Takahashi) young wife (Lady Akiko) and of the tragedy that followed.

This thread is closed for Melusine and myself. Read along and I hope you'll enjoy following it as much as we will enjoy creating it. Any feedback is welcome

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Sitting in the shaded corner of the inn I watched the entrance carefully for any sign of Nijou’s samurai who surely were on the lookout by now. Wearing an inconspicuous blue kimono with no mon to recognise me by I was sure to blend in a little bit more… As much as a samurai can blend in among commoners. The flask of sake and a drinking bowl in front of me were there more as an addition to my disguise rather than a means to pass the time. I had to keep my mind clear, even though the saying goes that a samurai never gets drunk. I was boiling with anger and embarrassment on the inside, forced to go into hiding like this, scurrying in side alleys and spending time in cheap inns, unable to close this matter as I should, by slashing my belly open. The internal conflict of two responsibilities was more than any man could handle and remain faithful to his lord. Who was I, an ashigaru, a former ronin, raised to the honour of serving Lord Nijou, and now on the way to become ronin again… If all goes well that is. Had I been born in a wealthier family I probably would have committed seppuku the moment I felt the first stir in my loins. But being the firstborn son among the lowliest of the samurai and then having lost even that status had changed my approach to bushido and even the reinstating into the samurai caste hadn’t been able to reverse that.

I shifted and harrumphed at my table, discontented with the noise around me, and the two men playing go at the table to the right lowered their heads, their laughter and loud conversation cut short. I poured some sake into the cheap bowl and sipped it, wetting my mouth, trying to think clearly. Trying to concentrate on what had to be done now instead of analysing the hows and whys. This is what messing with high ranking samurai gets you! I shouldn’t have saved that fat slob Nijou Takahashi’s ass who’s only pleasure was to waste the ever-growing taxes on presents, favours, festivals and hunts. Just like that one… When he dies may his fat soul burn in the fires of meifumado and never be reborn into this world again! Deems himself samurai and can’t even appreciate the simplest of beauties! Wallowing in expensive silks, growing fatter and fatter, forgoing the swordplay practice to spend time with other as decadent officials exchanging insincere pleasantries and scheming to better their positions even more.

One would think I should be grateful for being given a chance to show the world I was a samurai after all. Well, given the circumstances I would have agreed, knowing the outcome however changed the whole perspective. I didn’t care anymore. If I was to spend the rest of my life as a ronin -- so be it! If I meet my end soon over the deed I had done -- so be it! Karma.

Leaving a few zeni on the table I got up, crossed to the exit and retrieved my daisho. Putting my swords in the obi I left the inn into the early evening street. The merchants were closing their shops for the night and retiring to their lodgings or going for a drink in small groups.

“Funemori-san,” a voice to my right called and turning I noticed three samurai bowing. I bowed back and the one who spoke, continued, “I am Shinatama Rikichi, in service of the Lord Nijou.” The samurai bowed again but this time I didn’t, I noticed the flash of anger in their eyes at this breach. “Nijou-dono wishes you back at his yashiki. Will you please accompany us?”

“I refuse,” was my flat answer. I knew it wasn’t Lord Nijou calling for me but his mother, the Lady Natsuko. He was out with his “friends”. The three before me were honourable samurai, or at least Rikichi was, although their master’s behaviour was reflected in their own. For that I didn’t want to drag their little lie out and embarrass them.

“Cur! How dare you?!” the one on the left cried and reached for his sword, moving the saya forward with his left hand, his thumb ready to push the tsuba.

I regarded him with a level gaze.

“Are you to lead me there or cut me down without reason, samurai-san?” I asked

“Everything will be explained in Lord Nijou’s estate. Please come with us,” Rikichi repeated, this time he didn’t say Lord Nijou would be doing the explaining. He was cautious, hiding their real intentions. They were probably to take me there and do away with me on the way.

“I refuse!”

“Kisama!” cried the one who was going to draw and reached to take my swords away.

“How dare you?!” I shouted, snatched his wrist and with a twist grabbed his face and pushed him to the ground.

To my right I heard the unmistakable sound of a sword drawn, without warning. So be it! Springing from my left leg in a half-crouch I drew my own katana and ducking under the incoming blade I slashed the right samurai’s torso. The one I pushed to the ground got up with a snarl and drew as well. Rikichi did nothing to stop him. This only reassured me in their intentions. The swords arced and the second man fell to the ground, bleeding.

I faced Rikichi with a questioning gaze.

“Will you not draw, Shinatama-san? I just killed two of your samurai.”

“They were no samurai. Hired ronin. Just like yourself. I never trusted you and I see I was right. You saw through the Old Lady’s scheme and I am ashamed to have participated in it. Please understand I cannot leave it like this, I am responsible before the Lady Natsuko. I ask you to fight me in a duel, so that this is settled as between the samurai and not some brigands. Do you accept, Funemori-san?”

“Hai, wakarimasu,” I replied with a nod and sheathed my sword.

We bowed to each other and swords were drawn and blood flew.

All this because of Akiko… and me.

 

[melusine]

Akiko

Two Weeks Earlier: Nijou Takahashi's Mansion in the City of Edo

Behind the rice paper walls of the women's quarter, Akiko dressed as quickly as she could, too impatient to wait for the help of one of her maids. She wanted sunshine and solitude, and to forget the clammy touch of the palace physician's hands. She could never become accustomed to these monthly examinations, or the look of disgust on the face of her mother-in-law, the Lady Natsuko, when the usual report was made: "Lord Nijou's honourable wife has not conceived a child."

Akiko wrapped her waist with the long datejime and tied it securely, pulling the ends tight. She was deft with her hands, skillfully arranging the complicated folds of her kimono so that they lay smoothly over the white silk nagajuban underneath. She was about to slide the shoji door open and slip out into the hall when voices arrested her in her tracks.

It was Lady Natsuko and Dr. Hachisuka. To Akiko's dismay, it appeared that they had lingered together to talk about her. Of course, Akiko thought to herself miserably. The daimyo is absent, out hunting with his favourite retainers deep in the Kanto plain. Although Akiko was not fond of her husband, she had to admit that he at least protected her from palace gossip when he was in residence. A harsh and taciturn man, even his mother did not dare oppose his wishes. Today, however, she could speak her mind, and separated only by the flimsy latticed walls of the Large Interior, Akiko heard every word.

"My son was misled by the scheming kinsmen of this useless baggage," the old woman hissed. "He must have been bewitched! Anyone can see she is completely unsuited to the honour that has been bestowed upon her. So skinny -- like a bag of bones! She will never bear a son!" The old woman paused to catch her breath. Beads of sweat had gathered on her upper lip. The doctor, seeing the daimyo's mother so agitated, helped her to sit down.

"When my son insisted on taking to wife a girl of the minor nobility in the furthest reaches of Kotsuke province, I expected there must be something about her to make such an unworthy alliance attractive. But then I saw Akiko with my own eyes and was amazed. There is nothing remotely beautiful about her; no distinction at all. I find myself doubting, when I look at her, that she is even samurai!"

"Now, now, Lady Natsuko, do not be so hard upon the girl. She is young -- not even a third the age of your illustrious son. She needs, I think, only a little time to learn... a little time to adjust..."

"I will thank you, Dr. Hachisuka, not to try these blandishments upon me. Has the girl bewitched you too?"

Dr. Hachisuka was momentarily at a loss for words. In his mind's eye, he could picture the Lady Akiko quite vividly. It was true that she was more slender than was usual amongst the palace women, but it was not a slenderness that hinted at infirmity. She was supple and finely muscled; he had watched her with pleasure from behind the screens sometimes when she walked in the gardens or ran to catch a butterfly. Every movement of hers was full of a kind of barely restrained energy. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence. Her small face was expressive; each thought she had was visible; there was not an ounce of deception in her. Her beauty, Dr. Hachisuka thought to himself, was the beauty of a sparrow who sings at dawn. So small, so perfect, and yet so unassuming -- he never saw her without wanting to smile.

"My son says she is cold towards him," Lady Natsuko went on pettishly. "She does nothing to try to please him when she is summoned to his bed. I wonder that her mother did not even think to instruct her in what it meant to be a wife."

"Her nurse...the Lady Michiko...very sensibly informed me that she herself had instructed the Lady Akiko. She brought with her an excellent collection of shunga drawings that could not fail to --"

Lady Natsuko made a face. "The Lady Michiko indeed! She was nothing but a toothless old peasant-woman herself, got up in a tawdry kimono like some hag from the bunraku. If she had all the training of the girl, no wonder Akiko is so hopeless."

"Was? The Lady Michiko...was?" Dr. Hachisuka's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"I had her sent away yesterday," the daimyo's mother said with a satisfied little rustling of her silks. "I knew she was a bad influence on Akiko! Constantly reminding her of home...never forcing her to adapt herself to her duty."

"I...see," said Dr. Hachisuka, and stroked his chin.

Behind the screened partition, Akiko bowed her head. A wave of blood rushed up into her cheeks as her face, despite her best efforts, crumpled, and two hot tears fell to stain the pale rose rinzu silk of her kimono. Michiko gone! Michiko, her only friend! Shaking her head, Akiko wept bitterly, not even caring anymore if Lady Natsuko heard.

Michiko had been the one to rock Akiko in her arms after the first devastating night with the daimyo, when the poor young wife had felt both shattered and ashamed. It was Michiko who had gently washed the blood from her thighs; Michiko who had sung Akiko an old lullabye, and given her a plate of taiyaki wafers oozing with sweet bean paste. These had been most special of all, because Michiko had gone out on foot to a market stall beyond the walls of the castle, and bought them steaming hot, just as she had done for Akiko when she was a small child.

"That toothless old woman will have it that you never outgrow your trailing sleeves and your dolls," Lady Natsuko had said in disgust when she found her daughter-in-law with traces of bean jam on her fingers. "Just look at these cakes, made by some greasy tradesman with dirt under his fingernails! And you, the wife of the daimyo!"

Now faithful Michiko was gone, packed away home in a palanquin, without even a tender message for Akiko's parents, so secretly had Lady Natsuko carried out her plan.

And Akiko was left alone to face a future that stretched before her like an endless cavern, descending ever lower and lower.

 

[Poganin]

Funemori Shigetaki

All this began about two weeks ago in the Shikigami forest to the west of Edo. The folk that live in that area shun the forest as haunted by evil spirits but this superstition never stopped the samurai from hunting the abundant animals… or wandering ronin like myself from seeking shelter from rain or official go-yo chases. Sometimes the officials would get this idiotic idea into their heads to round up all the ronin and send them to work in the mines. While some give in to such treatment I would never agree to be prodded like cattle or mindless peasants, even if it meant having a roof over my head and a bowl of rice gruel a day – not unlike in prison. I might have been fallen but I still had some pride in the two swords I carry in my obi. Therefore seeking a hiding place for the time of a chase is widely practiced by the ronin and sometimes one could meet several dozen in one forest if he knew where and how to look. It wasn’t raining on that fateful day, neither was it a time of a sudden chase but I happened to be there for no other reason than to watch the stones grow, meditate and generally seek peace of mind after seeing a bloody end to an ikki – a peasant revolt. Such sights should never move a samurai’s heart but nevertheless seeing this massacre of people who are the very foundation of our society had shaken me to the core and I needed to calm myself. That is the reason why I was in the Shikigami forest.

A rapid beat of hooves wedged itself into my consciousness just like blade when thrust pierces flesh, rending it asunder. I slowly opened my eyes trying to contain the anger that sprung up at this intrusion upon my privacy. In my field of view a small animal flitted, probably a fox, and after it a horse appeared ridden by a fat samurai in a rich cerulean kimono of the finest silk, black hakama trousers with phoenixes embroidered with golden thread gliding up towards the samurai’s knees, in his obi sash a set of expensive swords with the sheathes covered in snake skin. Clearly he was chasing the animal, a bow in his hands with the string drawn and an arrow ready to be let out. A glorious sight to behold indeed for even though he was fat, he was a true master in riding his horse, manoeuvring it with his legs only. Also the way he held the bow spoke much about his shooting skills. I wondered then if he was also a master of swordplay but in a moment all those thoughts of awe and appreciation perished as I felt a sudden surge of murderous intent, the sakki, surrounding me, unmistakably directed at the fat samurai.

From under the grass three black-clad figures sprang drawing their straight blades. The samurai’s horse suddenly neighed and stopped, raising its body on its hind legs, trying to fend off the assailants who scared it, throwing the rider off. This was too much, not only was my meditation interrupted by a hunt but now a squad of shinobi was going to stage an execution here. I stood up, drawing my sword not to jump to the samurai’s rescue but rather to have my revenge upon those who trespassed upon my solitude and violated my inner harmony. The samurai had safely landed on his feet and with graceful movements faced the ninja and drew his own sword assuming a stance. It was then that I recognised he was no skilled fighter and he would be cut to ribbons even if he were facing only one opponent.

With lightning fast movements I parried two blows of the assailants that tried to run past me and with a horizontal slash I cut the one on the left across the belly. I heard a screeching sound as steel met steel. The bastards were wearing chainmails! I sneered, no chainmail can stop a dotanuki sword. A grunt assured me that my blade reached his guts almost cutting him in half and I swirled to face the second attacker who paid me no more heed and ran towards the fat samurai. The third ninja was already on him. I ran after the one that eluded me and caught up with him just as he was raising his sword to cut his mark down. I cut him down instead, crushing his spinal cord. Over his falling body I saw the third assailant plunge his blade deep into the samurai’s thigh. As he turned seeing me approach I thrust my sword into his face in a double handed hit that pierced his skull. He died without a sound.

As I was wiping my blade with piece of white silk three samurai ran into the glade. Probably the fatso’s bodyguards, panic was written all over their faces and the way they were running was comical indeed. Seeing me with a bloodied sword and their master on the ground they drew.

“Bastard! What have you done!? Now you die!”

“Bakayaro! He helped me kill those ninja while you duckfuckers were chasing badgers! Useless scum, I would have been dead if not for this… man” the fat samurai sat up despite his wound, scolded his good for nothing men and only now looked at me as if he noticed me for the first time. In his eyes I could see contempt mixed with respect.

“Tono, I ask that Your Lordship mercifully lets us commit seppuku. We have been disgraced and shamed,” one of the samurai asked, kneeling on the ground and touching the grass with his forehead.

“Very well, you may open your bellies. If you cannot live as samurai at least die as ones.”

“Our thanks, Nijou-sama!”

In a moment in was over. Three bodies lying in puddles of their own blood. I must admit that their end was beautiful, they died without making a sound.

“I ask that you come with me to Edo as my witness to this event. Will you do it, go-ronin-san?”

“Hai, Nijou-sama,” I replied bowing deeply.

So much for a calm afternoon. I sighed, trying not to show that I was boiling inside.

 

[melusine]

Akiko

As evening fell, Akiko gratefully retired to her own small chamber, and slid the shoji door closed.

As she undressed, she thought over the events of the evening. Lady Natsuko had been insufferable as they ate, her conversation all on the topic of Akiko's various shortcomings. She had forced Akiko to drink a strange concoction that she said was to promote fertility, and afterwards Akiko had vomited it all up. I wonder if she would really poison me, she had wondered as she rinsed her mouth and crept back along the corridor to her room. Or will she simply recommend that her son take a second wife? Akiko had to admit that she really did not care anymore what path her fate took. She had no control over anything anyway. It would be better not to fight her karma.

Not for the first time, Akiko reflected on the irony of what it meant to be samurai. It was a noble thing, but it was also very hard. As a young girl living in her father's house she had felt the discipline of obedience in much the same way that she had felt a commitment to her calligraphy, or to her study of naginatajutsu. She was excited by the constant striving for perfection. It exhilerated her. Of course, in those days, obedience had taken a very congenial form. In place of a daimyo, she had had only her father to serve. What he had wanted for her, had been the very things she wanted for herself.

Now, her own wishes were not the same as those of her husband, and so she found obedience irksome. As a samurai, she knew it was her duty to obey Lord Nijou without question. As a human being, however, she could not help wishing sometimes to follow the inclinations of her own heart.

And so, early every morning, at the Hour of the Hare, before anyone else was awake in the Large Interior, she still practiced with her naginata in the shelter of the blushing maple trees, hidden in the deepest heart of the mansion gardens. If the daimyo knew of this, he never said anything. Of course, Akiko did not believe he cared enough about her to set spies around the go-den. It would never occur to him that she ever did anything of her own volition. He considered her spiritless and without imagination.

He would never understand that as she glided and sliced and stretched and whirled, the long curved blade of the naginata blazing in the pink light of dawn, she was battling the demons of her despair. He would never understand that in her silent dance she was reclaiming the Akiko she had been before she came to Edo. She was reclaiming herself.

A samurai woman, of course, was expected to know how to fight to defend her home and her lord. Akiko had been carefully trained, from childhood on, to wield not only her naginata, but also the katana and kaiken. When she reached the age of thirteen, she had been tested for both skill and courage, as all samurai girls were. Unlike most other girls, however, she had continued to perfect her technique beyond what was strictly necessary. Her father had allowed this, for he was secretly proud of his daughter's accomplishments, and he had no son to lavish expensive teachers on. Her mother and grandmother had strongly disapproved, of course, but whenever they complained too loudly, Akiko's father always reminded them of Tomoe Gozen. Tomoe Gozen was a heroine from the time of the Gempei Wars, venerated for her valour, and Akiko idolized her.

But of course, Tomoe Gozen's martial feats had all been undertaken out of a sense of duty, hadn't they? She served Minamoto Yoshinaka, and was prepared to follow him into death. Had he not summoned her into battle at his side, would she not have stayed at home like any other woman, to blend perfumes and have her hair dressed and bear her husband's children until she was too weak and fat to lift her naginata anymore?

Akiko sighed. She would never know. Unfolding her silken quilt, she lay down, and gazed out the unshuttered window at a full moon pink as cherry blossoms. She remembered an old poem by Fujiwara no Takamitsu:

Everyone knows
How very difficult it is,
Our journey through this world.
We feel a little envy
Seeing that bright cloudless moon.

Only three days more until my husband returns home, Akiko thought to herself sadly. Only three nights more in which to dream.

 

[Poganin]

Funemori Shigetaki

By Lord Nijou’s request I walked by his palanquin in the hundred man procession on its way back to Edo after the fateful hunt in the Shikigami forest. There were three other high-ranking daimyo who had decided to take Nijou Takahashi up on his offer of spending a few weeks leisurely, far from the city of Edo with its hubbub, its schemes and political tug-of-war. I wondered how it had come to this…

I never wanted to have anything to do with the politically oriented samurai, like those who used my father and then made him their scapegoat to take blame for their schemes. In our land a vein of gold had been found and with the abundance of rock and scarcely any place to make rice paddies my father had decided to mine the precious metal in secrecy. The word had got out to our neighbours however and we had been forced to form a truce to keep the knowledge a secret and divide the income evenly between the three families: the Funemori, the Takao and the Nishizaki. We had been a poor family, our han barely making it with the taxes and the discovery of gold could have strengthened us greatly. Our neighbours however had decided that it would be better to divide the gold between two and not three families and denounced us to the daikan. By law all mines belong to the shogun and as such any findings have to be made known to the officials of any given province. By keeping the discovery secret my father had broken the law and the Takao and the Nishizaki hoped to profit from it and better the position of our province. But for that to happen they had to find someone to put the blame on. The rest is easy, my father and mother kill themselves, I am banished from my land even though I wasn’t even present as I had been away in my sword-school.

I vowed revenge. That is the reason I agreed to accompany Lord Nijou to Edo, let him think that I will be testifying… Making contacts in the capital was worth more in my quest than anything else, even any knowledge gained would give profits in the future. Rubbing my chin I smiled triumphantly.

The small door in the side of Takahashi’s palanquin opened and the daimyo peeked outside. His face was pale and covered in sweat and I could tell he had fever -- perhaps the assassins’ blades had been covered with poison. The quick bandaging of his wound did little to help him recuperate but at least it stopped the bleeding. For that the hunt had been called off and the whole entourage was hurrying back to Edo, and I tagged along.

“Shigetaki-san…” Lord Nijou addressed me and I bowed as was customary and waited for him to continue. “What would you say to this…” he asked and recited a poem:

The sun is setting
Losing its light among trees
Tiger on the bank

I thought for a moment on the point of this and replied:

Day’s greyness
Escapes
A black-striped cat

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smile and nod. I didn’t know whether he was impressed or found my response amusing but he visibly relaxed, leaning back on the pillows.

“Your sword, Shigetaki-san, it’s a dotanuki battle sword, ne?” he asked casually but was wary. Samurai never ask a question about weaponry just like that.

“So it is, Your Lordship.”

“You must be a very strong man to used it so skilfully with just one hand.”

I merely bowed at his compliment, mildly flattered by recognition and good eyes of Lord Nijou.

“There aren’t that many schools teaching use of this sword,” he continued.

“That’s true, Nijou-sama. Three to be precise: Itto-ryu, Suio-ryu and Hasegawa-ryu.”

“And which one are you if I may ask?”

“Suio-ryu, Nijou-sama,” I said bowing.

“Excellent, the best of the three!” he exclaimed slapping his knee.

As if you could recognise one from the other, I thought to myself but indeed, the Suio-ryu school was the most successful of the three.

“I would like you to show your swordmanship to me. I would like you to spar with one of my men.”

“With all due respect, Nijou-sama, I refuse,” I answered flatly not even changing my pace but suddenly angered that this fat slob wanted to make me another plaything of his, dancing to the strings he pulled. “A samurai is not a gleeman to amuse anyone with his skills.”

“And if I had one of my men kill you?” he asked and I knew that I would have to draw.

“I would defend myself of course.”

“Very well! You,” Lord Nijou cried to the samurai who walked on the other side of his palanquin. “I want you to kill this ronin right away!”

“Hai, Nijou-sama!” the man responded and I stopped, with the whole procession looking in expectation at the duel about to unfold.

I freed my right arm from the fold of my kimono and drew my sword, assuming the proper stance with my hand extended to the right.

“Funemori Shigetaki, ronin, Suio-ryu,” I introduced myself to my opponent watching his stance and judging his skill.

“Akodo Shinzaburo, Fuketsu-ryu,” was his response.

I didn’t want to kill this samurai for Nijou’s entertainment but there was no other way, I could find no way out of a formal duel with so many witnesses. My opponent rushed on as if recognising my moment of hesitation and I lost my window for counterattack. Besides, the blade of a dotanuki is shorter than any katana’s so my advantage lay elsewhere. I let his blade meet mine and slid it forward until the tip almost touched his eye, then stopped, his own sword in position to cut my head off.

“Why didn’t you strike?” Nijou asked.

“To light a candle is to cast a shadow. He stopped first…”

The Lord Nijou’s face was an unreadable mask now as he watched the two of us a mere hair’s breadth away from death. He gestured for the procession to move forward again and I bowed to Shinzaburo. “An honour,” I said.

 

[melusine]

Akiko

As the moon rose, Akiko knelt behind the half-raised shutters of her room and attempted to compose her thoughts. On a low table at her side, a lamp burned. Her inkstone and brush waited beside a sheet of blank paper, reproachfully. For almost a full hour she had been trying to write the opening line of a poem, but the whispers and laughter from the other side of the shoji had made it impossible to concentrate.

Lady Natsuko had retired to bed early with a case of indigestion. Her ladies, given an unexpected evening of freedom, had wasted not a moment. Cups of rice wine had been poured out and boxes of sweets had been brought from secret hiding places to share amongst each other. Kimonos had been loosened and combs pulled from flowing hair. Of course Akiko had been invited to join in their revels, but she had politely excused herself on the pretext of having a headache.

"It's only natural, of course, that the Lady Akiko feels unwell," one of the ladies had said with a knowing smile. "Without the daimyo to warm her bed these last nights, she has taken cold!"

Akiko had flushed to deep red, and had hurriedly backed away into the corridor, her ears ringing with the ladies' laughter. Of course they all knew about her aversion to her "wifely duties". Lady Natsuko had never cared who was listening when she scolded her new daughter-in-law.

Akiko also knew, of course, that most of the ladies present had shared the daimyo's bed at one time or another. Some of them were still summoned to pleasure him on a regular basis, whether Akiko had just been with him or not. It was a source of constant humiliation to her. Strangely though, none of them seemed to feel the repugnance for him that she did. Often enough she had heard testaments of their enjoyment floating through the thin rice-paper walls. Could it be only that they liked the gifts the daimyo gave them in return for their favours? Could a jade-headed hairpin or a bolt of silk really make up for the discomfort of being mounted by such a grunting, sweating, flabby weight?

Akiko passed her sleeve across her eyes and tried to block out the memories that pained her, willing her soul to fill only with the serene beauty of the moonlit night. To her relief, the ladies in the other room had finally settled down somewhat. They had been quick to forget about her, thankfully, and were now busily employed in reading from a new sharebon -- a lewd comic story set in one of the teahouses of the Yoshiwara district.

Akiko was just preparing to take up her writing-brush when she heard the soft glide of the shoji door being opened. In surprise, she turned to see who had dared to disturb her solitude. In the doorway knelt a very beautiful lady, some five years Akiko's senior, dressed in a kimono of pale gold silk, with an elabourate obi patterned in scarlet pomegranates. Of course, Akiko knew her instantly. She was Itsuhana, most favoured of her husband's permanent concubines. His name for her was Bijin, "beauty", and even Akiko could not dispute the aptness of the sobriquet.

Itsuhana bowed deeply, as if to show the deepest respect for the daimyo's official wife. "Lady Akiko, I hope you will forgive me my intrusion. Seldom are the opportunities for us to meet alone."

Akiko did not know whether or not Itsuhana were mocking her. Why on earth would she desire such a meeting? Certainly there was no reason to think that the daimyo's chief concubine would bear her anything but ill will.

"It is no intrusion, Itsuhana-san." Akiko also bowed, though not as deeply as her rival had.

The concubine smiled. "I have long wished to present you with a humble wedding gift, Akiko-sama. Will you permit me to give it to you now?"

To Akiko's amazement, Itsuhana withdrew from her hanging sleeve a long, slim box covered in dragon-patterned silk. "Sometimes," the concubine said softly, "...a journey is made more pleasurable when the way is familiar."

"A journey?" Akiko repeated, more and more confused with every passing second.

"Please open the box," Itsuhana murmured, and gently slid it into Akiko's hands. "I think all will be made perfectly clear."

With hesitant fingers, Akiko lifted the lid of the box and stared at the contents. Inside, cradled by a nest of folded silk, was a perfect representation of the male organ of generation, skillfully carved in ivoury. It was lifelike in every detail, down to the veins that swelled urgently from its rigid shaft.

Akiko blinked and then looked up at Itsuhana in wonder. "Is it...a fertility charm?"

Laughter poured from Itsuhana's perfectly painted mouth in little musical waves. Akiko felt the angry blood rise in her cheeks, and slammed the lid of the box closed again.

"Oh, Lady Akiko, please forgive me! I did not mean to laugh. Can it be that you really do not know what a harigata is for?"

Akiko swallowed hard, feeling like a complete fool. In her confusion, she opened the box again and stared at the thing inside. No, it was hopeless. She had no idea what it was for. If anything, it reminded her only too vividly of her husband -- and of the pain and humiliation she always felt in his bed. It frightened her.

"Ahh, Lady Akiko, Lady Akiko...."

Itsuhana sighed. Her face, for all its studied charm, looked suddenly almost tender.

 

[melusine]

Akiko (continued)

Itsuhana leaned close to Akiko. "In an hour, go to the room that is just beside mine, with a view of the karatachi tree. Look through the shoji into my room when you get there. There is something I want you to see."

Akiko started to shake her head, but Itsuhana put a finger to her lips and smiled. "Be sure not to make a sound when you get there. Remember. In one hour's time!"

The hour that followed was a time of horrible uncertainty for Akiko. Should she go? What was Itsuhana planning? The visit from the daimyo's concubine had seriously disturbed Akiko's composure. Her heart would not stop its hammering, and she was not sure why. Her head felt light, as though she were ill with fever. No matter how hard she tried to put the unexpected visit of her husband's concubine out of her mind, her imagination kept filling with images of Itsuhana's face...Itsuhana's splendid kimono...Itsuhana's graceful way of moving through the room. Everywhere she turned, Itsuhana's perfume seemed to linger.

Mixed with all of these impressions was the gift Itsuhana had brought her: the harigata in its sumptuous box. In a few whispers, the concubine had assured Akiko that every well-bred woman used one; that life was unbearable if one did not. Akiko had wanted to ask so many questions! But in the end, her instinctive distrust of her chief rival in the house had won out over her curiosity. She had shoved the harigata under a pile of quilts in the corner, and resolved not to think about it or Itsuhana any more.

If only that were possible!

Long before the hour was up, she knew she would keep the appointment.

When she crept out into the corridor, there was no one in sight. She did not meet anyone as she travelled to the room Itsuhana had specified, and quickly she slid open the shoji and glanced inside. Though the room was empty, someone had laid a silk cushion down on the floor in front of the latticed wall that separated the room from Itsuhana's. Next to the cushion was a tray with some plum wine and a dainty pile of rice cakes under a napkin. There was also a lamp.

Thinking that this adventure was becoming stranger by the minute, Akiko nevertheless advanced to the cushion and knelt, her hands arranging the folds of her kimono around her as carefully as though she were on public display. Only her hair was unbound, falling in undulating waves to below her knees, for she had been in the process of going to bed when Itsuhana had surprised her.

It seemed to her that she could hear the murmur of voices on the other side of the shoji. One of them was certainly Itsuhana's; the other seemed to be that of one of her maids. Akiko relaxed somewhat. There had been a very bad moment when she had suspected Itsuhana of harbouring a man in the Large Interior; something that was strictly forbidden. At night, even cooks and male servants had to retire to the outbuildings. The women's quarters would be off-limits until the cock crowed at daybreak, and that was still many hours away.

But if it was only Itsuhana and a maid, why had Akiko been invited to this extraordinary rendezvous? None of this made any sense!

A little hesitantly, Akiko put out her hand and slid the panel open without a sound.

Itsuhana was seated on the straw matting of her room, her obi discarded and her kimono falling open all the way to her waist. Akiko drew in her breath with a little gasp as she saw for the first time just how beautiful her rival really was. The concubine's white skin emerged from the golden silk of her garment like the white heart of a flower; it was translucent and flawless as jade. She had cast back her head so that her long hair snaked amongst the vermilion cushions heaped about her; the deep arch of her throat pulsed where her blood was visibly racing.
At Itsuhana's breast, her own kimono shrugged halfway down, was the maid Sayori, her mouth closed tightly on Itsuhana's stiffened nipple.

A shock pierced through Akiko. Blood raced to her cheeks, and, what was stranger, blood raced with hot urgency to the cleft between her legs. She could feel herself swelling there...pulsing. It was so overwhelming that it made her squirm on the cushion.

As Sayori sucked Itsuhana's breast, the pleasure on the concubine's face was unmistakeable. She had reached out and moved Sayori's hand to her other nipple, encouraging her to caress with both fingers and mouth at once. Akiko felt her own mouth falling open. The bliss on Itsuhana's face was making her reach half-unconsciously for the closure of her own kimono. As Itsuhana lay back, Sayori on top of her, Akiko felt a surge of wet heat between her own legs.

The scene before her eyes unfolded slowly. Neither woman seemed in the least hurry. They rolled over and over, scarlet nipples erect on heaving, rounded breasts. Itsuhana's white thighs emerged from a tangle of embroidered silk to straddle Sayori's body. For what seemed like an eternity they stayed that way, both of them undulating in something between pain and pleasure, their breaths sighing like the breaking of waves on a shore.

Akiko pressed her thighs tightly together, trying to still the turmoil that she felt in her own body as she watched. It was as if every caress, every glide of heated skin against skin, was something she could feel through the wall. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so that she could hardly breathe. One hand had slipped inside her kimono and was frantically rubbing her own nipple...twisting it between her fingers...rolling it...until she felt so full of -- something -- that she could hardly stand it.

In Itsuhana's room, the women had momentarily separated. They were both breathing hard, their faces glowing pink. Itsuhana's kimono was now completely open; Akiko could see her from her delicate shoulders all the way down to her elegant feet. The concubine had spread her legs audaciously, and was fingering the hugely engorged folds of her sex with an expression of such fierce concentration that Akiko thought her own heart would stop.

Kneeling behind her mistress, Sayori was kneading both perfect breasts; her fingers encircling both rouged nipples. Akiko watched in something approaching agony as a large wet stain began to spread on the scarlet cushions between Itsuhana's thighs. The concubine was groaning loudly, her body writhing as her fingers worked faster and faster. Akiko could feel her own moisture creeping down the insides of her legs. The tight little sheath that usually cramped so rigidly under the daimyo's assault was now contracting hungrily, needing something that Akiko could not supply.

Half crazy with heat, Akiko reached between her legs and did what she could to try to ease herself. She rubbed the hard little spot where her torment was worst, and felt her whole body running with sweat beneath the silk of her kimono. The rubbing only seemed to make things worse. She felt like she would scream if she could not find a way to end the raging fire that was making her twist and pant as uncontrollably as Itsuhana. Horrified that she would indeed make a sound and be discovered, she searchd desperately for a way to silence herself, and finally clenched her teeth down on a wadded napkin snatched from the tray of wine and cakes.

When she raised her eyes again, it was to see Itsuhana reaching blindly for something that was half-hidden under a cushion at her side. With a jolt of recognition, Akiko saw that it was a harigata like her own, though much larger and thicker. As the girl watched, dumbfounded, Itsuhana worked it into her streaming sex and began to push herself against it obscenely, her head thrown back against Sayori for support. Sayori, as madly aroused as Akiko herself was, sobbed and squirmed as she watched her mistress. Every time the harigata emerged from between her swollen labia, a gush of foamy liquid came with it, and Itsuhana plunged the thick harigata almost savagely back into herself.

Akiko felt as though blood would shoot out from beneath her fingernails. She was so full...so hot...so much in need of...something.... In desperation, she worked herself faster and faster with finger and thumb, her head sagging backwards, her nipples hard as jade.

Itsuhana was moaning so loudly now that she drowned out even the sound of Akiko's ragged breaths. The world was going in and out of focus. Akiko was slipping from the silk cushion beneath her, a river of viscous pearl in her wake. Hardly knowing what she was doing anymore, she thrust two fingers deep inside of herself and hammered her thumb against the swollen nub that was sending shrills of starfire through her veins.

The earth split in two.

 

[Poganin]

Funemori Shigetaki

When the initial hubbub connected with Lord Takahashi’s return to his yashiki ceased I was given a while of peace to look around the courtyard where only a few guards were pacing around, hugging their yari spears and barely staying awake. They all wore dark green kimonos and even darker trousers but the luxury of the whole place wasn’t reflected in their attire or demeanour. To the contrary, they seemed undisciplined as they openly yawned, stretched their arms, let their boredom and displeasure with night duty show on their faces and in their poses. I even noticed two dozing away: one under a plum tree and the other in the corner of the wall. If I wanted I could have silently killed at least four of them and no one would notice. I shook my head and sneered, turning my attention to the veranda I was sitting on and the house in general. It was richly decorated and I was getting the uncomfortable impression that I was sitting on gold. The boards of the veranda were polished and shiny and I could easily recognise the reflections of walls, doors and light sources in it. It’s a pity that women’s kimonos are either so tight or so long, no way to peek underneath. I laughed out loud at my crazy idea and with my saya wrote a poem in the sand:

Her Celestial Gate
Reflected so clearly
Woman scrubbing floor

Just then a shoji door opened and a young, short and slim girl stepped outside carrying a tray. She wore a lemon-yellow kimono, of much better quality than the garments of the guards, the belt was purple and in the dim light of the moon and what light came through the rice-paper walls she looked thin and fragile. Without moving a muscle I watched her approach with small, careful steps, her feet small in the flashing white tabi socks. She knelt gracefully a little to my left and I noticed her hesitate, she wasn’t sure whether to simply bow or kowtow and decided for the latter just in case. I smiled a little when I knew she wouldn’t be able to see me and glanced at the tray: a bowl of the whitest rice, some pickled vegetables, a fish and a small jug of sake. Well, someone thought it would be nice to feed me, how touching.

“Go-ronin-sama, my Lord wishes you to accept this meal. Also if you need something I am to attend you in any way you might wish,” she said, whispered would be more like it as I barely heard her. She was quaking! It wasn’t cold outside so could it be she was afraid of me?!

“Raise your head, girl,” I said and picked the drinking bowl up making her pour me some sake. It was first class, expensive and strong, just the right temperature. “You’re the house’s O-Sue, The Last, aren’t you?” I hazarded a guess and the way she pressed her fingers to her small mouth and dropped her gaze even lower were all the answers I needed. I smiled and laughed out loud again, slapping my knee and spilling sake around, what a joke. Lord Nijou had a good sense of humour, sending the lowest of the low servants to the lowest of the low samurai. What a pair we were making!

O-Sue didn’t relax, is anything she became even more tense when I laughed and inside some excited voices spoke quickly something I didn’t quite catch. I looked at the girl, yes, she was scared and on the verge of running away but the sense of duty prevailed, or it was the fear of being scolded or even beaten if she failed her duties. In a way the O-Sue were treated worse than the peasant families they were usually recruited from. I raised the drinking bowl again and with trembling hands she poured me again without shedding a drop or spilling. I drank in silence, listening to the sounds of the interior and had her pour me again.

“Don’t be afraid, girl. Whatever those kitchen harpies told you about the likes of me is a lie. I won’t eat you or hurt you and I most certainly don’t eat babies for breakfast.” She relaxed a notch and I turned my attention to the food and started eating not really caring for being neat or orderly, wolfing down everything that was brought to me.

I heard her gasp and giggle and saw her look at the crudely scribbled haiku on the ground. She was pressing her hand to her breast and her lips were half opened and she even looked pretty at that moment for all the skinny, peasant girl that she was. Interesting that she could read. She either wasn’t a peasant then or someone here taught her to read and write. For all I know she could be a daughter of a samurai who was indebted to Lord Nijou.

My ponderings were interrupted by an older woman stepping silently on to the veranda and looking angrily at the girl.

“You worthless piece of trash! Don’t you see that our Most Honourable Lord’s guest has nothing to eat?! Hurry up to the kitchen and bring some more, you useless wench! Please accept my humblest apologies, go-ronin-sama, I will teach the girl to serve you better. You’re still here, O-Sue? Move it! So sorry!” the woman uttered a torrent of screeching words that sounded like stones rubbing stones and bowed deeply but her eyes burned with hatred directed at the girl.

“Hold!” I said harshly to the woman and the girl trembled. “The girl made no mistakes and her service was perfect. But you have just interrupted a quiet moment of peaceful contemplation with your vile words,” I said flatly and in no way menacingly but the older servant paled and froze in her place, her mouth gaping open. In a flash she was on her knees, her forehead pressed to the shining planks.

“I’m terribly sorry, go-ronin-sama! Please accept my apologies for disturbing your harmony. I beg for your forgiveness.”

“You may go,” I said looking at the plum tree. “And I want O-Sue to serve me tomorrow as well. And if I see that she was beaten or notice as much as a wince from her I will speak to Lord Nijou’s wife that you have dared to raise hand at a samurai’s daughter. Now go!”

The woman got up and departed bowing. I glanced at the girl who was sitting now, baffled by the situation and my defending her. She looked confused but finally relaxed. She kowtowed again and I bowed at her too. So I wasn’t wrong, she was samurai too.

“Tell me, am I to sleep here or in the guards’ quarters?” I asked pouring myself some sake.

“Oh, no, go-ronin-sama. A room has been prepared for you. If you wish to retire now I will show you the way.”

“My thanks,” I replied and followed O-Sue inside. Perhaps Lord Nijou’s sense of humour had some deeper meanings?

 

[melusine]

Akiko

Akiko was startled to hear a sudden commotion in the corridor. Horrified, she hurriedly straightened her kimono, and tried to compose herself. She knew she was still flushed and sweating, but nothing could be done about that. In the next room, Sayori and Itsuhana had already vanished behind a screen, from which their frantic chatter could now be heard. Sighing, Akiko slid the shoji shut, and made a grimace of distaste at the stained pillow that was the only witness to her moment of solitary bliss. Carefully, she turned it over with her foot.

A moment later, Lady Natsuko rushed into the room.

"There you are! Whatever can you be doing, you worthless girl? Have you not heard me calling you? My son has had an accident while hunting. He was ambushed -- almost killed! His bodyguards were taken completely unawares. Had it not been for a wandering ronin, you would be a widow right now!"

Akiko's face turned deadly pale. "W...what?" she managed to stammer out.

"Why are you still wasting time? You must make yourself presentable, and go to your husband immediately. Hurry! I have your maid laying out a fresh kimono for you in your room right now."

Her heart beating so that she feared it would leap from the cage of her ribs, Akiko allowed Lady Natsuko to drag her back down the corridor to her own chamber, where Hitomi stood ready to assist her. Lady Natsuko seized a brush from the dressing-table and covered Akiko in clouds of rice powder. Every stroke stung, and Akiko had a hard time staying still. The kimono that had been chosen for her was of a pale violet colour, worked with vine threads and wisteria blossoms. Underneath she wore a lighter kimono of black and white, dyed with a repeating pattern of the Kyo character. Lastly, and closest to her skin, she wore a nagajuban of palest sea green. The effect of this was to take away the last trace of glowing pinkness in her complexion, and Akiko had to admit that Lady Natsuko unwittingly had chosen just the right thing.

Two more maids scampered through the doorway, both in their nightgowns and both looking half asleep still. Under Lady Natsuko's direction, they rushed to dress Akiko's long river of hair, choosing ribbons, jade combs and carved hairpins from a tray. Lastly Akiko herself painted her mouth, and then stood motionless as Hitomi tied her obi in back.

"Not a moment too soon," hissed Lady Natsuko. "Let's go. My son is waiting."

It was not easy to walk quickly in the narrow kimono. With Lady Natsuko's fingers digging painfully into her upper arm, Akiko had to struggle to blink back tears. There were bodyguards stationed at either side of the door to Lord Nijou's bedchamber. For the first time, Akiko began to feel the closeness of death.

"My loving wife finally takes the time to see her husband," Lord Nijou said with an ironic smile, glancing towards the door as Akiko entered and sank gracefully to her knees. "Look at her. It is clear that she thought nothing of me, but only of her own vanity. She looks as though she were about to be presented to the Shogun!"

Although he was lying in bed, with doctors at his elbows and a wide bandage around his middle, the daimyo looked remarkably well. His face was gleaming with what could have been a mild fever, but in all other respects he seemed much as normal. His face was ruddy and free from any sign of pain. At his side was...Itsuhana.

Akiko's heart juddered and a red mist suddenly flashed before her eyes as she took in the concubine's appearance. Itsuhana looked disheveled, much as she had looked a half hour earlier, sprawled across silk cushions with the harigata splitting her wide. Her kimono was loose around her, gaping open at every breath to show the beginnings of her breasts. Tendrils of her hair had escaped the combs at her temples, as though she were one of those wanton ladies in a shunga print. For all the blatant eroticism of her dress, she succeeded in giving the impression that she had rushed without a second thought straight to the sick-chamber of her lord, caring nothing for her appearance, only for the danger he was in.

Akiko glanced at Lady Natsuko, who had what could only be called a triumphant smile on her face.

"Your presence is oppressive to me," Lord Nijou said, waving his hand in Akiko's direction. "That perfume you wear makes my head ache. Since you have gotten yourself up with such care, why don't you make yourself useful and see to the comfort of our guest? Funemori Shigetaki is his name. He deserves your thanks above everyone else's, after all. He did save your husband's life."

Akiko bowed her head deeply, glad for the chance to hide the hot tears that had started to prick her eyes.

"I sent a servant girl to see to his refreshment. Perhaps you had better be sure you are not disturbing them before you enter the room. Now go. I have all the attendance I require at the moment. I am sure you find that a relief, honoured wife."

With a barely audible murmur in which she expressed the hope that her husband would soon recover sufficiently to receive her again, Akiko rose to her feet and crept to the shoji.

Thank him? Thank this ronin who saved your life? I would rather sever his head from his body with my naginata. Had he not been at your side, I would be free now! I would be free!

 

[Poganin]

Funemori Shigetaki

The room I was led into by the O-Sue was spacious and brightly-lit and as I knelt in the corner and placed my swords on the wooden rack the girl slid open a door and proceeded to lay out my futon. I watched as she moved, graceful as a heron wading, proceeding skilfully with her duty, no unnecessary movements in what she was doing. A barely audible knock of wood against wood as she closed the wardrobe shook me out of my reverie and I saw her bow, apologising for having disturbed me. I nodded to her and motioned for her to open the other door, the paper covering it adorned with sakura blossoms on thin twigs climbing up on the background of Fuji-sama. With a bow the O-Sue crossed the room with small steps and knelt sliding the both halves of shoji door apart, revealing a garden shimmering with the moonlight reflected from a stream curving under a bridge, filtered by leaves of trees swaying gently in the night breeze and whispering in the grass to the music of chirping crickets. The sight was breath-taking, unearthly and ethereal as if taken from a fairytale. I was so engrossed in beholding this miracle I didn’t even notice that the O-Sue dimmed the lights in my room and patiently waited for my other instructions. This was what Urashima Taro must have felt like when he was in the water palace, watching all those unfamiliar shapes and creatures. This garden was just as alien and beautiful a landscape.

“Would you bring me more o-sake, O-Sue?” I asked in a whisper getting up and crossing to porch that ran around the garden. She answered as hushed a “Hai” and went out of the room.

I sat, legs crossed, back straight, drinking in the sight like the most precious water, fearing to breathe lest I scare the crickets that played their moonlight serenade. Back at home we also had a garden, not as impressive as Lord Nijou’s but one that made you feel at peace and tune into the house’s harmony. Strange that this one should invoke such memories. This violent and loud night remained somewhere outside, here was only the gentle murmur of the stream and grains of sand rippling like waves around stones that violated the otherwise calm surface. The theatre of shades dancing in the moonlight was entrancing and in one place where the light filtered through the leaves to fall on the water of a pond it looked like moon mosaic, twice shuffled. A fish jumped, a silvery blade cutting the water noiselessly in an arc that would put to shame many sword masters, leaving behind a trail of minute moons raining down back into the water, and then plopped back under, splashing the moonlight all around for the grass to drink some as well. The sudden sound echoed in the garden and all the crickets stopped playing. The silence that followed made me so tense I forgot to breathe expecting something incredible to happen. And happen it did, as if awakened by the sound the fish had made a swarm of fireflies pulled free from the embrace of tree branches and swirled around them like scintillating cherries.

Like breeze the O-Sue returned and knelt behind me and to the right and without saying a word handed me a bowl filled with sake. She too was taken by the sight that presented itself before us as I heard her gasp and in my mind I could picture her pressing her hands to her chest, lips parted and eyes wide open in astonishment.

I don’t know for long we were sitting there like that, admiring the theatre of nature that had been unfolding its play for all who were eager to see but as abruptly as the curtain had been raised for me now it was lowered as the O-Sue shifted beside me and kowtowed in the direction of the room interior. I know that I registered the sound of someone entering the room and sliding the shoji but it was so distant and unimportant that I preferred to remain in the land of the kami.

“Okugata-sama...” the O-Sue muttered as I began turning.

Okugata-sama? The lady of the house? This must mean she was Nijou Takahasji’s wife! Without even looking at whoever entered the room I had been given I knelt and mirrored the O-Sue’s bow, feeling suddenly awkward in my cheap kimono. The silence was overwhelming, the tension eased by the appearance of the fireflies suddenly returning.

 

[melusine]

Akiko

The last few minutes had been horrible for Akiko. Making her way as quickly as she could down the long corridor from her husband's private chamber, she had only one thought: to hide herself away like a wounded animal.

Although Akiko had always known that Lord Nijou did not love her, she had never until this moment realized that he felt only contempt for her. As she staggered through the darkness, the blood pounding in her ears, it seemed to her that she would never be able to hold up her head in this household again.

As long as she lived, she would never forget the look of triumph on Itsuhana's face....

Now, horror of horrors, she could hear footsteps behind her. Footsteps and the tapping of a certain very ornate jade-headed cane, the sound of which she knew only too well. It was Lady Natsuko, coming after her.

If it had been Itsuhana, Akiko feared that she might have taken one of the long pins from her hair and stabbed the daimyo's concubine through the heart. But Lady Natsuko was like a kind of Shikome -- a female devil -- and Akiko quavered in fear at the thought of meeting her now.

Most of the rooms on this side of Lord Nijou's mansion were empty. There was not a single light burning all the length of the corridor. Akiko raced to the nearest room and slid the shoji open without even bothering to kneel.

What she saw before her was so strange that she wondered if she had stepped into another world.

The room was dark, but in the garden beyond, lights were flashing. Tiny, gentle lights that gathered together into a cloud of miniature stars, and then unravelled like a ribbon of jewels, constantly changing shape, constantly reforming. Akiko thought she must be seeing a ghost or a fairy -- perhaps a tree-fairy like Aoyagi in the old story that her nurse had told her when she was a child.

For a moment she simply stared, stunned, but then she heard again the tapping of Lady Natsuko's cane, and her senses came back to her in a rush. With shaking fingers, she slid the shoji closed, and moved away from it, fearing that her shadow would be cast upon the thin rice-paper for the old lady to see.

“Okugata-sama...”

The word startled Akiko, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a maidservant kneeling before her, head bowed down to the tatami in a posture of reverence.

At once Akiko became conscious of the terrible sight she herself must present, her combs sliding from her hair, the powder on her cheeks streaked with tears.

Her hand went to her kimono, which had started to slide from her shoulders during her wild flight from the daimyo's bedchamber.

And then she saw, to her utter dismay, that the maidservant was not the only person in the room.

Beyond the kneeling maid, she saw a man. A stranger. And all around him, dancing, the mysterious lights from the garden. Was this him? The ronin who had saved her husband's life? And instead of showing him the dignity that her position in this house demanded, she had burst into the room crying like a beaten child?

After everything else that had just happened to her, this last shame was too much for her to bear. Akiko's eyes rolled back in her head, and she dropped like a stone into the waters of oblivion.

 

[Poganin]

Funemori Shigetaki

The tense silence and suspense of the unexpected visit was tense and overwhelming, to the point where I began drawing a kind of pleasure from the stalling. To my left the O-Sue knelt, barely daring to breathe, startled by the sudden and unannounced intrusion into room bordering on the magical garden that the firefly kami decided to visit tonight. Whoever Lord Nijou’s wife was and whatever the reason for her visit was, she was clearly waiting for something before she would speak. The serving girl was probably too petrified with fear she had misbehaved once again and would receive scolding in order to think for herself and I realised that the room was completely dark. This was no way to greet the Lady of the House and as I raised my head a fraction to instruct the girl, Lord Nijou’s wife moved, the expensive silks of her kimonos rustling in the dark, making sounds very much like those of the crickets. I decided I have been kneeling longer than was customary and sat back on my heels only to see that the Lady had fallen to the floor, her kimonos spread around her like a towering wave and she very much like a spirit rising from the water.

In the blink of an eye I was gripping the sheath of my sword, ready for the coming attack but there was silence in the house, no sounds of swords clashing and no shouts. And yet the Okugata-sama was lying there as if dead. I motioned for the girl to come over and see to the Lady while I guarded the entrance; I thought I could hear a faint tapping of wood on wood in the corridor. What could that sound have been? I wondered.

“Hinkaku-sama, the Lady is unconscious,” the girl whispered, eyeing me with a mixture of fear and awe. “I will go fetch her physician immediately.” She bowed a little and moved towards the door.

“Baka!” I hissed at her and she was momentarily on her knees again, confused. “Think of your Lady’s kao first and the rumours that will start once this gets out. Watch the door!” I ordered her and knelt over the unconscious woman.

I put my sword back on the rack and lifted the Lady up in my arms, much to the shock of the O-Sue who gasped at the obvious infringement of customs, and carried her to the veranda, stopping short before leaving the room.

“Kuso,” I muttered under my breath. “See if there’s anyone watching the garden now or if there are any lights.”

The serving girl crossed the room and peeked cautiously out, looking left and right, trying to pierce the shadows with her eyes. In the meantime I marvelled how light the Lady was, the many layers of her expensive silk kimonos artificially increasing her size. I felt it a travesty for such a delicate flower to be handled by such a coarse individual as myself. She was almost as small as a young, teenage girl, barely beginning to blossom, just like the first, early sakura flowers.

“I think it’s safe, go-ronin-sama,” O-Sue whispered and obediently watched as I stepped out of the room and onto the veranda and carried the woman a little to the left so that anyone who might accidentally enter the room wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Now bring a futon and a headrest and spread it here… and slide the door to the garden close,” I instructed her and shifted my arms a bit to make the hold more comfortable.

I waited for her to fulfil my instructions and glanced at the unconscious woman in my arms, so small, fragile and delicate. And yet her hair was in disarray and under her eyes there were long smudges in her makeup, giving her the look of a kabuki actor in full costume. If she came back to her senses now I would probably be killed on the spot.

It was strange for Lord Nijou to have such a young wife, I thought as I watched O-Sue lay the futon out. I somehow thought that an old, scheming hag would have been more suitable for him to take care of his household and finances. There was a sharp contrast between the hedonistic and sloppy Lord Nijou and this delicate girl who could be his daughter. I put the woman down comfortably and without thinking I slipped my fingers into the cleft between her many kimonos and loosened them up, which of course forced a gasp out of the serving girl.

“Now go and bring some more sake and a bowl of clean water. And a box of powder. You will have to correct the makeup on your Lady. And not a word to anyone.”

She bowed to me and hurried away, wisely going through another room and not the one that had been given to me for lodging. I bowed to the unconscious woman and sat on the veranda a little way down form her. The fireflies disappeared, scared away by the commotion in that other world and I felt a little guilty for destroying the charm and harmony of this place. What a dire situation, I thought. I could be put to death easily now if a word gets out of what had passed in here. Oh well, karma.

The servant girl was back quickly, nimbly balancing all that she was carrying. I took the water from her and wet a piece of white silk that was customarily used for wiping blood from swords and soaked it in water, then placed it to the back of the Lady’s neck.

“Go to it, girl. The Lady might wake up any moment now!” I commanded her and with a bow she began covering the two lines on Lord Nijou’s wife’s face.

 

[melusine]

Akiko

Akiko's eyes fluttered open and reflexively she pushed away the hand of the maid from her face. There was little light, and the damp coolness of the evening air made her shiver, and to her surprise she felt bare skin where her eri should have been. Hastily, she pulled the layers of silk together, and looked around her in alarm.

She was lying on a futon on the veranda, with her long hair slipping from its perfumed combs to coil in long black streamers across the tatami. At her elbow sat a servant girl, shuddering with repressed sobs. And on her other side, she saw with consternation the sunburned, unshaven, and frightening-looking face of a strange man. The direst of thoughts entered Akiko's mind. Surely this man, this ronin, had committed some offense against her person while she lay unconscious. Had her tomesode not been disarranged? Had she not been somehow transported from the doorway to this dark garden, his filthy hands in contact with her body?

Her eyes flashed with anger and she shrugged off the imploring hands of the maid to sit bolt upright on the futon. Like all samurai women, she was not completely unarmed, even within the confines of her home. In her sash, her kaiken -- short dagger -- was concealed. Failing that, the long, jade-headed kansashi that decorated her coiffure were also designed to be used as piercing weapons in an emergency. Of course, Akiko knew she had no chance to overpower an unscrupulous and determined ronin with such paltry weapons, but even if he killed her, it was necessary to do all she could to protect the honour of her husband by refusing to yield without a fight.

A woman older and more experienced than Akiko was might have made a graceful exit without destroying the harmony of the evening by showing her suspicions outright. In her heart however, Akiko was proud -- also highly-strung and far too likely to be ruled by her emotions. She felt herself sullied and shamed by what had come to pass in this room, just as she had felt sullied and shamed earlier in the bedchamber of Lord Nijou, with Itsuhana there to witness her powerlessness. The combination was dangerous, and made her act now without the delicacy that should have been instinctive in a daimyo's wife.

"I was told," she said coldly, "that you were to be thanked for saving the life of my husband. For that, indeed I do thank you."

She shook her head slightly, to shrug away a long tendril of hair that had fallen across her cheek. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her kaiken as she rose from the futon and then bowed in one fluid motion. The ronin rose too, and bowed more deeply than she had done.

When she raised her head again, her cheeks were pale with anger. "Now I have thanked you. I do not know what has come to pass here, but I leave you now in perfect confidence that you will never dare to lay a finger upon me again."

The blood was singing through her veins as she held herself stiffly erect. Standing, the top of her head did not quite reach the hollow of the ronin's throat.

Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. If she did not leave now, she would disgrace herself further by breaking down completely.

It did not help that she was sure she saw the quirking of an amused smile tugging at the ronin's rigid lips.

 

[Poganin]

Funemori Shigetaki

I couldn’t help it, never in my life had I seen as amusing a sight as this, and so I felt a smirk crawling up on my lips. This girl was scolding me! She looked like she could barely stand straight in the many layers of her kimonos, her voice almost falling into that high pitch common for young girls; I almost expected her to start referring to herself in third person any moment, it would have suited her. But there was a sparkle of genuine anger in her eyes and her body language spoke of it as well. In order not to stoke that fire I bowed deeply again, partially to cover my smile and partially to kindle those flames. The offence committed wasn’t intended and there was an apology due.

“I thank Your Ladyship for the honour bestowed upon me. I am unworthy,” I said sincerely. “Also I wish to apologise and assure Your Honoured Ladyship that nothing untoward progressed while you have been unconscious.”

There had been an awkward silence for a few heartbeats, the crickets ceased their concert, no fish dared interrupt the tense moment. The night became chillier. I was painfully aware of the Lady’s gaze boring into my bowing head, my own eyes resting on the arranged flow of silks around her slim frame. Even angry she radiated splendour. Commendable.

And then the serving girl spoke:

“Okugata-sama, please excuse my speaking so freely but what the ronin-san says is true. Honto deshita. I heard your mother-in-law, the Lady Natsuko, approaching in the corridor and having Your Ladyship’s honour on my mind I dared suggest to remove the potential danger of a dire misunderstanding. I am so sorry, I have trespassed. I am ready to be punished.”

I raised my head. O-Sue was kneeling on the floor, crying probably and the Lady of the House was staring somewhere to the side, paying no attention to the words of the maid who was in for some severe beating. She must have done something terrible in her past life to suffer such cruel karma now. I understood that she lied in order to spare the Lady the shame of realisation of what might have actually happened and remove the suspicion from me. As no harm was inflicted, nothing out of the ordinary had happened and there were no proofs to the contrary there was no need for any further ado. Had it been up to me I would have let it slide but it wasn’t. And so I had to see what the Lady of the House would say.

 

[melusine]

Akiko

Akiko's spirits were lifted by the obvious deference shown to her by the ronin. For perhaps the first time in this hostile house, she began to feel that at least someone felt honest respect for her. True, he was hardly the most promising specimen of manhood she had ever seen. The daimyo's guardsmen wore finer kimonos than he did. His cotton trousers, the sort that common peasants wore, were travel-stained and almost worn out. Whatever adventures had brought him to Edo, they had not been profitable ones.

Still, she noted as she studied him from beneath downcast eyes, whatever he lacked in fine clothing, he more than made up for in the exquisite strength of his body and the keen intelligence she saw blazing in his eyes. It was not hard to see why Lord Nijou had thought him a worthy acquisition for his corps of samurai. But would the ronin accept the offer to stay here when it was made?

Akiko blushed at the feelings that welled up inside of her when she allowed herself to contemplate the ronin too closely. Was it only because of her earlier experiences behind the shoji door, watching Itsuhana and her maid? Was that why suddenly the ronin bowing before her became so desirable an addition to her husband's household? Even bowing so deeply in token of his inferiour rank, he was like a coiled serpent, all flexible muscle and arrogant grace. The desire that rose up in her was instantaneous and unstoppable. She felt as though she were caught up in a net of blazing filaments, all dragging her towards the man who knelt at her feet.

Akiko swallowed, and willed herself not to follow the road her thoughts were leading her along any further. In this Floating World, her destiny was in the hands of others. So it had always been and so it would always be. To think otherwise would be foolhardy.

"I apologize for my hasty conclusion," she said softly, and bowed her own head. "Again I am indebted to you, this time on my own account. " She paused, remembering that her husband had told her the ronin's name. "My thanks for your effort to spare me dishonour, Shigetaki-san."

As she said his name, the colour in her cheeks deepened. She was grateful for the darkness, and hoped the full moon had not betrayed her secret.

"There will be no punishment, Noriko," she murmured. "Please attend to the comfort of our honoured guest as long as your services are required." And again, as once more she allowed her eyes to rest upon the handsome face before her, "I apologize for shattering the serenity of this night. Please enjoy what is left of it without further interruption."

Akiko bowed; not as deeply as the ronin had, but perhaps a little more deeply than what protocol strictly required. When she lifted her head again, her eyes met those of the ronin, and she was sure he could hear the beating of her heart. Ahh, to change places with the lowliest of her maids! If only such were possible! What might not happen this night, beneath the all-seeing moon? In a hidden garden, in the dark hours when all the world is asleep....

No. Never. Though I am woman, I am samurai. Not for mere lust would I betray my lord, loathe him though I do. To do so would be death, but worse than that, dishonour. I must accept my karma, which is to taste no love in this world.

Akiko's silks rustled, whispering around her as she left the two together, the ronin and the maid, to enjoy what she could not.

The pungent sweetness of ylang-ylang from her kimonos mingled with the heady scent of the night-blooming garden, long after she was gone.