(Rather a long and light hearted one.)
It was a bright, beautiful autumn day, clear and crisp. The hillsides were gold and copper, with touches of red. The thick grass that the girls sat or sprawled on was cool and springy to the touch, carpeted with stray leaves that had escaped the sister’s raking.
There was a lot of wild cheering going on closer to the field, but Gilly and Aiko, not being avid hockey fans, had staked out a more pleasant position under two large oak trees at the top of a gentle rise. From there, they could overlook the gala and passion of the game from a safe distance.
“But it’s so romantic, Gilly,” breathed waif-like Miko, a slight girl who bested everyone at math and was the daughter of a samurai who owned a large estate somewhere south of Nishiyama. Her blouse collar always seemed a little too large for her neck, but her wrists were the last word in elegance.
“It is,” agreed Saya in her pleasingly low, husky voice. “You can’t deny it. The Daitoku saves you from certain death- with his own blood, by the way- then takes you on an epic journey through the Kagamihara- a place none of the rest of us will ever lay eyes on- and then is sealed to you by heaven itself at the legendary Sacred Gate. You can’t say that it’s not romantic.”
Gilly opened her mouth to protest, but Aiko cut her off.
“Never mind her,” drawled Aiko, who was sprawled out on the grass, one arm under her head, her dark hair loose. “She doesn’t think romance is quite proper.”
“Oh, shove off,” said Gilly, immediately. “Just because you held hands with oh captain my captain Suzuki...”
Aiko shook with laughter. “Tsk, tsk,” she said, when she could speak. “Do I sense jealousy? I’m certain that your wise, and…” here she broke off into giggles, “…quite frankly ponderous, Daitoku would inform you, very calmly, that jealousy is an unbecoming and unfit emotion for young ladies. And then he would tell you…” The giggles took over again for a moment. “He would tell you… to do… your homework,” Aiko ended on a shriek of laughter.
Gilly folded her arms and gave her best friend her most level and withering look. It took a great deal of self-discipline; Gilly had nearly burst out laughing at Aiko’s statement about homework, knowing it to be so very true.
“Jealous,” she sniffed. “As if. Do you know what you are?”
“Splendid?” gasped Aiko, still in the grip of laughter.
“A little hoyden, that’s what.”
“Stop it!” hissed Miko, excitedly. “The sisters are looking this way!”
“Look,” snapped Gilly, exasperated. “This is how it goes. I see him and smile and he smiles in return. And then he says, “How are you, Gilly?” And I say, “Fine, thank you; how are you, Master Tenshio?” And he says, “I am well, thank you for asking.” And then we go for a walk. At no point does he hold my hand, kiss me or quite frankly do anything that I wouldn’t expect from an older brother.”
“Goodness,” said Miko faintly. “I see.”
“I do feel obligated to point out that your situation does remain romantic in principle,” Saya said, “if not in practice.”
The girls let out a collective groan.
“I know who you’d be perfect for,” Gilly said suddenly.
“Who?” asked Saya, suspiciously.
“Master Osamu.” Gilly grinned at Aiko, who burst out laughing again.
“What? The O-toshokan’in? Why?” Saya asked incredulously.
“Is the Daitoku back yet?” Miko asked Gilly.
“No,” Gilly said quietly. “Not yet.”
“He always comes to see you whenever he gets back,” Saya insisted. “That’s romantic.”
“That’s polite,” Gilly said, rolling her eyes. Then she grinned. “Give it up, Saya. The O-nishikaze Daitoku does not have a romantic nature. I suspect Master Osamu to be secretly sentimental, that’s why I think the two of you would be an excellent match.”
Later that evening, the same four girls were in the village, having had a sudden craving for the little pieces of barbecued chicken that were roasted over coals on long, wooden toothpicks.
The late afternoon air was full of the delicious smell of sweet barbecue sauce. The sun fell onto the curved roofs of the village houses and shops, with their curtained doorways and barred windows. The wide, tree lined street was still busy, as people walked home for dinner after working in the fields or shops.
The girls were standing by the Yakitori stall, collaborating over which selections they should choose, when Miko jabbed Gilly in the ribs.
“It’s him,” she said in a high pitched whisper.
Gilly jumped, feeling a sudden start of terror for one, brief moment. Then she saw Tenshio standing at the gate of the Magistrate’s house, deep in conversation with him. Sheer joy expanded all through her. She put a hand over her heart, and then came to herself.
“Calm down, for goodness sake,” Gilly replied, her heart beat returning to normal.
Tenshio bowed to the Magistrate. He turned and saw Gilly at the corner and his face lit up. As he approached, all the girls bowed respectfully.
“Good evening,” he said pleasantly.
“Good evening, Daitoku,” the girls murmured.
“How pleasant to see you here, Gilly,” said Tenshio. “I was just going to the school. Are you well?”
“I am, thank you,” Gilly replied, without thinking. “How are you, Master Tenshio?”
Beside her, Aiko shook slightly, and then Gilly remembered. But it was too late.
“I am well, thank you for asking,” Tenshio replied.
A wondering look crossed his face as first Aiko and then the rest of the girls starting shaking, their hands over their mouths. He blinked rapidly and gave Gilly a puzzled glance.
“Would you like to walk with me to my parent’s house?” he asked her. “I was going to visit them.”
It was the last straw; the girls’ giggles escaped. They leaned against each other like rickety shacks, incapacitated by mirth.
“Yes,” gasped Gilly.
In an unusual and forward act of desperation, she grabbed Tenshio’s arm and propelled him quickly away from the group, turning once to give them a dirty look.
“Bye bye-ee!” chirped Aiko, irrepressible.
“What on earth?” asked Tenshio, bewildered.
“Never mind those girls,” Gilly said fiercely. “They’re just like a silly pack of geese.”
“Are they?” asked Tenshio, beginning to smile.
“I’m very glad you’re back, Master Tenshio,” Gilly assured him.
When they reached the farm house, Tenshio slid the door open and stepped in.
“We’re home,” he called out, slipping out of his sandals.
There was a squeal of joy from the kitchen and in a moment Miyoko was shuffling across the front room, her arms outstretched.
“Oh, Tenshio!” she cried. “You came back so soon! And you brought Gilly! What a marvelous surprise for the middle of the week. And we don’t have any meat… If only I’d known you were coming…”
Swiftly, she kissed Tenshio and then Gilly, squeezing the girl close.
“After what I have been eating, vegetables and rice sound delicious,” said Tenshio sincerely.
“Oh, you missed the most marvelous birthday party, Tenshio,” said his mother, hurrying back to the kitchen. “Gilly, did you tell him all about it? There were so many girls here! One of them brought these little iced cakes, so delicious.”
“Perhaps it is best that I missed that event,” Tenshio remarked, his eyes dancing. “I already had a close call with a group of girls in the village. It appears there is no place left to escape them.”
He settled himself in the west room, with his back to the open window. Grinning, Gilly slipped down the stairs and into her kitchen sandals.
“Oh, you don’t mean that,” Miyoko scolded, busy turning sliced root vegetables over the fire. “If only he’d had a sister, things would be different!”
“I was sorry to miss your birthday, of course, Gilly,” he said.
“I know,” she said, looking up with surprise. She smiled. “You could have kept poor Mr. Hironori company.”
“Who could have kept me company?” asked Hironori in his slow, pleasant voice. He stepped into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the unexpected visitors. “Well, how nice! The children are home.” He drew himself up and clasped his hands behind his back. “Is it Friday already? Perhaps I should go into the village for a nice piece of fish…”
“No, no, dear, it’s too late,” said Miyoko, affectionately. “Never mind that. Go sit down. I’ll warm up the sake.”
