The Dragon's Flower

by Wyn Estelle Owens

  “Thank you, most lovely miss, for blessing this unworthy one in such a gracious manner. If there is any way I could make up for you generous hospitality in any way, name it and I’ll do it!”

  “O-oh.” Hanako stuttered. “W-well, why don’t you come in, first?”

  Shichiro looked up and grinned at the girl, who was nervously rubbing her fingers together. He supposed she probably didn’t have many visitors, living up at the top of a near-doorless pagoda on a Heaven-forsaken mountain of doom as she was.

  “Thank you, miss, but I wouldn’t dare to intrude myself upon your hospitality without first learning your name, miss.”

  “Oh!” The girl said, coloring prettily. She bowed quickly. “I am Princess Hanako of the Dragons, at your service.”

  Shichiro blinked. He looked at the girl, and then glanced down at himself. Let me get this straight… you trespass on private land, climb a tower and frighten a tiny slip of a girl, and intrude upon a Princess, for Heaven’s sake.

  That settles it. Guess I am cursed after all. Why couldn’t all this happen to Hideaki instead of me?

  “Well, a-are you coming?” she asked. Shichiro bowed again quickly.

  “Yes, of course, my lady. I’m right behind you.”

  Princess Hanako led him into the dining chamber, disappeared through the soji into another room, then reappeared with a blanket. “Here, Samurai-san, take this. Otherwise you’ll catch a cold.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Shichiro said, grinning and snagging the blanket. “ And I’m no samurai.”

  Hanako cautiously settled on the far edge of the table from him—she had never met anyone besides Mother and her servants, and she did not know what to think of this very strange man. Distance was advisable and wise, she thought. She fiddled with the edge of one sleeve, hesitant, before saying quietly. “If you are not a samurai, then what are you?”

  The man raised an eyebrow before smiling disarmingly and bowing. “I’m merely a wanderer, a ronin, nothing more or less, my lady.”

  Hanako twisted her lips in displeasure. His smile was still bright, but it seemed a tad thinner than it had before. She was surprised to realize she didn’t like it.

  “Even wanderers have a name, whether they are samurai or not. So, what is yours?”

  He blinked, and then smiled, and this smile was much smaller than his other ones before, but Hanako decided that she liked this one the best. He bowed slightly and said, “I am the Ronin Shichiro, of nothing and nowhere.”

  Hanako tilted her head. “That’s sad, I think. Everyone should have a place to belong.”

  He looked off to the side, eyes tracing the golden forms of the embossed serpentine dragons embracing the pillars. “I appreciate your concern, my lady Hanako, but there are much sadder stories out there than mine. It’s a trifle, really.”

  Hanako did not believe him.

  After a brief moment of silence she stood and gave him a slight bow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go fetch us some tea.” Then she disappeared through the door, leaving Shichiro alone to his thoughts.

  *****

  “I am curious, Ronin-san, as to why you are wandering about in the storm without a hat.”

  Shichiro paused in the midst of drinking his tea, and to Hanako’s eye his posture seemed to be quite strange—rather stiff. After a moment he slowly sipped and set down the cup, his entire body cased in an aura of nonchalance. “Ah, that would be because I don’t have one.”

  Hanako blinked. “Why ever not? It is nearing the start of the rainy season.”

  “Well, you see,” He said, “It was stolen.”

  Hanako blinked again. “Stolen.”

  “Yes.” Shichiro said, and took another sip of his tea.

  Feeling rather confused, Hanako ventured to clarify: “Someone stole your straw hat.”

  “Indeed, my lady.” He replied.

  Hanako sat there, her mouth pursed and her mind racing, before she finally asked, “Why?”

  The ronin shifted uncomfortably and glanced off to the side. “I believe they were of the opinion that it looked tasty.”

  Hanako stared. She stared for a long time before finally asking, “Who exactly stole your hat?”

  “Weeeeelllllllll…” he said, took a sip of his tea, and fixed his gaze on a nearby pillar. “Some goats, to tell the truth.”

  There was a little silence as Hanako slowly processed that. “Some goats?” She asked, and her lips did a funny thing. Shichiro did not like the funny thing her lips were doing, so he set forth to defend his honor.

  “Well, I am sure it was more than just ‘some’ goats. It was a herd of them, at the least, if not two. And they were unusually strong and vicious ones. In fact, I am of the opinion that they were most likely demon goats—”

  Hanako knew it was bad manners, but she couldn’t resist interrupting. “Demon goats?” She said, slowly and carefully, her voice oddly taut.

  “Of course!” Shichiro responded. “Their teeth gleamed fiercely and their eyes glowed with an unholy fire. I assure you, they were—”

  He was unable to go any further, however, for the mysterious and proper young lady sitting across from him burst into laughter.

  “What?” He asked peevishly.

  She covered her mouth with both her hands in an attempt to stifle the unladylike noise. It worked mostly, but every so often a giggle slipped out. After a minute she finally got herself under control, and by then her cheeks were pink with embarrassment and shame. She put her hands on the floor and bowed deeply before her guest.

  “I am deeply sorry for my outburst, kind sir, and I hope you would find it in yourself to forgive this unworthy one for her unforgivable action.”

  Shichiro blinked and half rose, waving his hands frantically, “No, no, it’s fine, my lady! At least someone found something good out of the whole situation. It’s not—I’m not—you did nothing wrong, princess.”

  She peeked up from her bow and blinked at him in confusion. Then she smiled faintly and sat up, but she kept her eyes down. “Still, that was uncalled for. However, I thank you for dismissing it, you are truly kind.” She said, and bowed in thanks.

  Shichiro stared at her. What does it take to get this girl to stop bowing to me? Deciding that it was a lost cause, he sighed and bowed back. “Think nothing of it, my lady. And you’re the kind one for offering me shelter. I’m very grateful, my lady.”

  The princess arranged her hands in her lap. “It was nothing. The Emperor of Heaven instructs us to offer kindness and charity to those less fortunate. Was I supposed to toss you out in the rain?”

  “You would not be the first.” Shichiro said with a shrug. Hanako’s mouth twisted unhappily. Mother had said that there were many cruel and sad things in the world, but she had not imagined it could be like this.

  She smoothly rose to her feet and bowed, “I imagine you are tired after your ordeal. Go to the top room—you will be left alone there. I’ll bring you dinner later.”

  With that, she smiled and left the room, leaving Shichiro sitting on the floor, bemused and bewildered.

  This entire place is strange, and the strangest part is her.

  When her supper arrived, Hanako gave most of it to the ronin. He looked like he barely got to eat once in three weeks, if he was lucky, and Hanako was always given plenty. She even gave him all her rice, for that was the most nourishing part of the meal. He looked at the spread of food before him, and his eyes widened, filled with hunger and longing. Hanako’s heart bled for him, and she wondered if this was the best food he had eaten all his life.

  He sat down quickly, removing his katana and wakizashi from his belt and laying them besides him. Hanako’s eye was caught by the movement, and she realized she hadn’t noticed he was wearing swords before. She was rather surprised by this, for she always noticed the swords her guards carried. Perhaps… perhaps the difference lay in the manner of carrying. Her guards brandished their swords like a badge of glory, but this man carried his swords as if they w
ere a part of his body, as noticeable and unassuming as his hand or his foot. Now that the sword had caught her attention, she examined it curiously, and after a moment blinked in surprise. She nearly spilled the tea that she was very carefully pouring into Shichiro’s cup. She carefully steadied her hand and continued pouring before sitting back. The ronin lifted up his cup and took a careful sip, indicating his approval with a refined nod of his head. Hanako blinked again. He had very nice manners for a penniless, starving wandering. Very interesting.

  She watched as he set his cup down with almost absent-minded careful precision, and wondered.

  “That is a very fine sword,” Hanako said quietly into the comfortable silence. “How did you get it?”

  The Ronin froze, and turned his head away to look at one of the ink paintings on the wall. “I stole it,” He said, his voice slightly strained with the effort to sound light-hearted.

  Hanako stared at him. One moment, two—then, “I do not believe that.”

  Shichiro’s head snapped forward to stare at her, his eyes wide. She calmly poured him a cup of tea.

  “If you were given to stealing things, you would have stolen a hat by now.” She picked up her cup and took a sip. “Though if that is an indication as to whether you are against stealing or merely unable to pull off the theft of a simple hat, I am unsure.”

  Shichiro scowled slightly, unsure whether to be pleased or mortified. After a few moments of grappling with his pride and the urge to declare he was perfectly able to steal a sword, much less a hat, and that he just didn’t want to, he settled for draining his tea and sulking. Hanako smiled at the pout on his face and refilled his cup.

  “Besides,” she said softly, “You do not seem like a thief to me.”

  He paused in mid-bite, blinking at her. He chewed and swallowed slowly, and tilted his head to one side. “Then you’d be the first, my lady.”

  “Well, good sir?” She asked, daintily picking at her food. “Am I correct?”

  He grinned at her and shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

  She smiled back at him and drank her tea calmly. “So we will.”

  Shichiro blinked awake and stared at the ceiling high above him, and wondered what was making him feel so odd. It was a few seconds before it was the ceiling he was even now staring at. It had been long since he had last slept underneath a proper roof.

  He stood up from the blanket he had been given as a pallet and stretched, safely stowing his sword into the belt of his hakama. It was time he moved on.

  He crept quietly downstairs, intent on sneaking past his hostess and leaving unannounced, but when he slid open the shoji, he stumbled back and crashed into the wall behind him.

  Kneeling in the center of the room was the Princess, fully awake and with breakfast spread out before her.

  Shichiro stared in complete and utter confusion. The noblewomen of his youth had never risen with the sun—the concept was unheard-of and simply ludicrous.

  The Princess smiled at him. “Ah, I was wondering when you would come, Ronin-san. Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast?”

  Who is this girl, anyway? Shichiro thought. And how come she keeps getting weirder? I don’t think anything could surpass this!

  He sat down carefully, eyeing her. She smiled back at him.

  Weird, He thought.

  She carefully served him breakfast, prim and proper, and he ate silently. When the breakfast was done, he began to stand up, saying, “Thank you for all your generosity, my lady, but I’m afraid that I have intruded upon your generous hospitality for too—”

  Hanako made a gentle motion with her hand. “Do not be too hasty to leave, good ronin! I have something I wish to give you before I go. If you would be so kind as to only wait a moment, I will go and fetch it for you.”

  Shichiro found himself sitting down without a complaint as she rose, bowed, and made her way out of the room.

  She… wished to give him something?

  The only thing anyone had wished to give him for ages was a punch in the jaw, or perhaps rotten fruit (by way of hurling, accompanied by colorful curses), or poison. He could not imagine the Princess administering any one of those, so he was rather at a loss.

  It was a few minutes before she appeared again, carrying two things—a small bundle, and a hat.

  Shichiro stared at the latter, his emotions swaying between extreme gratitude and equally extreme horror.

  Oh, Celestial Guardian, please let that not be what I think it is…

  She set it down before him with a bow, and Shichiro felt his spirits sinking. An uchikatsugi. Why.

  An uchikatsugi was a straw hat, very similar to the one that he had… lost. Yes. Lost. An excellent word. However, ‘very similar’ and ‘identical’ are not the same. An uchikatsugi rose up into a distinct cylinder at the top, which made it very recognizable. It would be rare for even a village idiot to mistake an uchikatsugi for a normal straw hat. Especially because a uchikatsugi also had veils hanging from it and was only worn by noblewomen.

  Something that Shichiro was most definitely not.

  “I thought the veils would probably hinder you in your journeys, so I cut them off last night. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Shichiro’s throat was dry, so he cleared it a couple times before managing, “N-no, it’s fine. I don’t mind. At all. Thank you, in fact.”

  She beamed at him, brightly happy. Shichiro blinked. “Will you take it then? It was all I have—it needs to be mended slightly on one side, but if I gave you the newer one my maids would eventually miss it and I do not know how I would explain its loss. Still, I could not bear the thought of you wandering out in the rain without shelter.”

  Shichiro stared at her face. Her smile was bright and her eyes were wide and hopeful and concerned. How could he say no?

  Besides, he really did need a hat…. he just wished it wasn’t this hat.

  He reached out and took it, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Princess Hanako-sama. I am very grateful for this gift to me—it is far more than this unworthy one deserves.”

  She bowed back, her smile smoothed of all signs of uncertainty. “Nonsense, good sir, it is my gift that is quite unworthy of you. But I hope my other offerings will add onto its worth?...”

  Shichiro felt as if he was adrift on a wild river, whirled about like a cork. What exactly was going on? More gifts?

  Before he could say anything, she handed him the other bundle, and he was forced to put the… hat… aside. He poked at it—it seemed to be wrapped in a scrap of silken cloth. He shot a glance at Hanako, whose eyes sparkled in excitement. She made a quick ‘go on’ motion with one of her hands, and he carefully unwrapped the bundle.

  It was… silk. Bundles of fine silk thread, dyed in soft colors, lovely woven silken hair ribbons, and what must be at least a bolt of some of the finest silk cloth he had ever seen. He stared. His head jerked up, and he stammered, “W-what is—”

  Princess Hanako smiled and ducked her head. “I have much time on my hands, and I spend most of it spinning and weaving and sewing. I have a great surplus of finished projects, and I am certain they would make a tidy profit if sold. My honored mother ensured I had the very best tutors as a girl.”

  It had been a long time since Shichiro had seen silk of this quality. “I am sure it would sell very well indeed, my lady. I haven’t seen silk this fine since… well, a long time, anyway. But why would you give it to me?”

  She blushed. Her cheeks slowly colored with a rosy tint, like pink cherry blossom petals being painted on pale china. Wait, what? Why did I just think that? I’m not a poet!

  Shichiro decided that maybe he had been isolated for a bit too long, and the sudden shock of pleasant company must have broken his brain. That was the only explanation.

  “Well, it seemed to me as if you hadn’t been eating well in some time, and your clothes are rather worn, and you did not even have enough money to replace your straw hat. I thought that if I gave
you some of my work and you sold it, you would get enough to tide you over for some time.”

  Shichiro blinked, startled, and looked down at the silk cloth spilling into his lap. He stroked it slightly, enjoying its smooth coolness on his rough fingers. If he could sell this, he would indeed have plenty of money, enough for a year of travel, or perhaps more. Maybe even some new sandals, or some more cloth to patch his hakama or gi.

  “This—this is most generous. This unworthy one is uncertain why such a gracious princess as yourself has deigned to bless me with such a gift, but I receive it most gladly.”

  She blinked in surprise, and tugged at the sleeve of her kimono. “Well, because the Heavenly Emperor commands us to be generous and to aid those in need…” Her voice trailed off as she ducked her head even lower, “And, because, I had hoped we were friends…”

  She felt the silence in the room thicken, like the air when a storm comes, and she stared down at the ground, focusing on the tatami mat at her feet.

  Then suddenly she felt the tension soften and melt away, and her head jerked up to see Shichiro smiling at her, and for some reason, her heart skipped a beat.

  He bowed his head and said, “This unworthy one would be most honored to consider himself your friend, my lady.”

  And that moment, as the first fingers of dawn stained the paper shoji with gold and the birds began to sing, Hanako felt as if every single thing was right in the world. And when she smiled back at him, Shichiro was inclined to think the same.

  She said goodbye, handing him a small bundle of food that she had saved from breakfast. He had taken it, thanked her with a bow and a roguish grin, and vaulted over the railing and onto the smooth tiles of the roof. As he turned to go, she suddenly stepped forward and called out, “Wait!” her hands coming up to grasp the collar of her kimono nervously.

  The ronin paused, glancing back at her with raised eyebrows. “I—” She stammered, before pausing, taking a deep breath, and continuing calmly, “Do be careful when you climb down—my guards live in the lower levels, and they might hear you if you make too much noise. And… and if you are ever near this mountain again and in need of funds or shelter, don’t hesitate to come here. As long as there is no company camped outside, you are most welcome.”