He grinned. “I might take you up on that offer, Hanako-hime-sama. Farewell until the wind blows me your way, then.”
And then he was gone, over the edge of the roof, and she was left along on the engawa. All of her sudden, her pagoda seemed a lot lonelier than she had ever believed it possible.
Shichiro slunk away from the tower, using all his skills in stealth to make sure he wasn’t noticed. If what Princess Hanako said was right, he had been lucky that the storm had disguised the noise of his ascent. When he reached the rise that led into the forest, he turned back, admiring the golden, rosy tint of dawn gleaming on the red paint and on the smooth, dew-damp tile.
He had not felt any particular desire to spend more time with anyone (save his brother and sister, of course), for some time… but for some odd reason, he thought that it would be a very fine thing indeed to visit the pagoda again.
Maybe it was because of her smile. Very few people smiled at him like that these days. It was definitely worth seeing again.
He bowed slightly, bidding the pagoda and its mistress farewell, before arranging the uchikatsugi on his head with a grimace. With that, he turned and slipped into the darkness of the forest, heading west. It was about time he visited his little sister again.
CHAPTER THREE -- THE SISTER AND THE BROTHER
Manami scowled at the calendar. The date of her annual visit to the Shogun’s seat was drawing near, and she was not pleased. Especially if it meant missing Big Brother Shichiro’s visit.
His visits were rare indeed because of his nomadic, disorganized lifestyle, but therefore they were all the more precious. Just a month ago she had received a letter from him, saying he would arrive about the start of the rainy season. But if he didn’t hurry up, she would be well on her way to celebrate the Shogun’s birthday by the time he arrived. This was not a prospect she ever looked forward too, and if it came at the expense of a visit with Big Brother… she didn’t know what she’d do, but she wouldn’t be happy. Not that anyone save her two brothers or the monks would particularly care about her feelings in the first place.
She stuck her tongue out at the uncooperative calendar and turned away from it with great dignity, deciding it wasn’t worth her time. Then she decided she wanted to go out into the garden, and she took off, her tabi-clad feet making a padding noise on the floor of the corridors of the monastery she called home. She turned a corner and slammed into a hakama-clad wall. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the floor in a quite unladylike fashion.
“Manami, I’d have thought the monks would teach you to watch where you’re going by now,” the wall said, from his own rather undignified sprawl.
Manami flushed in embarrassment, but then she realized the wall was in fact Shichiro. Dignity was for grown-ups, she decided, and flung herself at him. He caught her just before she could knock him back to the floor, and she threw her arms around his neck.
“I missed you, big brother!” She said. Shichiro grinned back.
“Not as much as I missed you, usa-chan, of that I’m certain.” Manami beamed. Shichiro really was the bestest big brother in the whole wide world. She proceeded to tell him so, and he laughed.
“Really, what about Isao, then? Am I better than him?”
Manami shook her head. “No. Isao’s the bestest of the best, cause he’s your older brother too.”
“Oh, drat,” Shichiro lamented, “And just as I was getting my hopes up, too.”
Manami giggled and scooted off of his lap to kneel before him more properly. It was then she noticed. She blinked twice, then said, “Shichiro, why are you wearing a lady’s hat?”
Shichiro turned scarlet. “I-i-it’s not—I mean, it is, but it isn’t, it’s—it’s—gah!”
Manami tilted her head to one side. “What happened to your normal hat?”
If it was possible, Shichiro may have turned redder. He glanced off to the side and mumbled something that may have been ‘goats’, but Manami wasn’t sure. After all, what did hats and goats have in common? “Where did you get this one, then?”
Shichiro rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… someone felt bad for me and gave it to me as a gift.”
Manami blinked, then smiled. “Well, that was nice of them!”
“Yeah… very nice.” Shichiro said dryly, then felt bad. She had only been trying to help, after all. And she had been so happy when he accepted…
“Who gave it to you? Was it a friend?” Manami asked.
Shichiro grinned, leaned forward, and held up a hand besides his mouth in order to whisper to her, “Would you believe it was a magic princess who lived at the top of an enchanted pagoda?”
Manami shook her head. “I’m eleven now, Big Brother. I’m not gonna believe silly stuff like that anymore.”
Shichiro narrowed his eyes. “Would you believe the reason I lost the hat in the first place was because it was stolen by a malevolent horde of demon goats?”
Manami giggled, pressing her hands against her mouth, and shook her head wildly.
Shichiro sighed and looked beseechingly up at the heavens. “No one ever believes me.”
His sister smiled and cocked her head to the side. “Maybe you should stop saying such silly things, then?”
Shichiro’s eyes widened in overdone affront. “Silly things? I never say silly things. For shame, gossiping and spreading lies about your elder brother.”
The girl giggled again before getting to her feet and grabbing Shichiro’s arm, straining to pull him forward. “Come on, Big Brother! I have things to show you!”
Shichiro grinned and slowly got to his feet, before letting her lead him where she will, though he was certain he knew where they were headed.
Sure enough, they ended up outside the shoji leading to Manami’s study.
“Ah, is this what you wanted to show me? They’re very nice doors indeed.” Shichiro said.
His sister puffed out her cheeks and gave him a Look. Shichiro grinned sheepishly.
“Ah, not the doors then?”
“Come on!” She repeated impatiently, before sliding open the door and skipping inside.
Shichiro followed her, looked around the room, and raised his eyebrows. He stepped closer to examine Manami’s surprise, and smiled. “You’ve been practicing your painting?”
The girl twitched nervously, rubbing the toe of her tabi along the tatami mats. “Yes. What do you think?”
Shichiro turned to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve come a long way. All your practice has paid off—these are very beautiful.”
Manami beamed brightly. “So you like them?”
Her brother grinned. “Very much so.”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him over to one wall, “Then here! Let me show you the one I made most specially for you. Biggest Brother Isao helped me make it just right!”
She pulled him over to a painting and then stepped away shyly while he looked at it. It was the picture of a noble lady in spring, the blossoming cherry tree depicted on her kimono matching the one she stood next to. She was smiling down at a trio of ducklings trundling along in front of her, and even in the painting her smile seemed to shine with gentle warmth.
Shcihiro’s throat felt as if someone had poured sand into it. It took him nearly a minute to swallow and get the words out.
“Is…”
Apparently, his attempt was less successful than he thought.
Manami fidgeted, before saying quietly. “I wanted to paint Mother Tomoko. I didn’t know what she looks like, so I asked Biggest Brother Isao to help. I made two paintings—Isao has one, and I kept this one for you, if you’d like it.”
Shichiro didn’t say anything, just stared at the painting, so Manami joined him in staring at it. After a few moments she said.
“I like to think I remember her, just a little.” Shichiro’s eyes flicked over to her, but he remained quiet.
“I remember someone singing a lullaby to me, and it was oh-so-pretty. And, and only you or Mo
ther Tomoko would have done that.” She took a deep breath and hurried on: “So I think it must have been Mother Tomoko, at least I think so. It can’t be you ‘cause the voice was high and sweet and your voice is too deep.”
Shichiro stared thoughtfully at the painting, his eyes looking as if they were haunted by an old wound. He cleared his throat and finally managed to string a sentence together. “It could be Isao. He has a higher voice.”
Manami blinked at him. “Really? I thought Biggest Brother was a very bad singer.”
Shichiro turned to her, bemused. “Why would you think that?”
“Cause every time he sang here at the temple the monks got really mad, until they said he wasn’t allowed to sing nearby where I was anymore.”
Shichiro stifled a sudden coughing fit with his worn sleeve.
“Well, yes, it’s true that Isao’s skills in signing are often considered to be rather… unrefined.” Shichiro said diplomatically, once he had calmed down.
Isao had a fondness for sea shanties after spending some time while he was younger sailing. The monks, however, weren’t particularly fond of that branch of their culture.
Manami nodded, pleased that her guess had been correct (in a manner of speaking), and said, “Well? Did I do a good job? Isao said I did but I wanna make sure you agree.”
The ronin stared at the painting for a few more seconds, before finally nodding. “It… it looks just like her. You did an excellent job.” He turned to his sister and ruffled her hair. She smacked vainly at his hands, but in the end gave up and pretend to sulk while he continued, unabashed. “Would you mind very much if I ask you to keep it? I don’t exactly have a place to stow something so beautiful and precious.”
She pouted. “That’s your own choice, you know.”
Shichiro grinned lightly and shrugged, ignoring her. “Besides, you deserve to have a memory of her even more than me. Keep it safe for me, little sister. Please?”
The girl pouted at his dodging, but nodded. “Of course. I do my very best.”
Shichiro smiled and patted her head one last time. “Good girl. Thank you very much.”
She smiled happily, before her eyes widened and both hands flew to her mouth. “OH! I forgot!”
Her brother blinked at her in confusion. “Forgot what?”
She shook her head, said, “Stay here, I’ll be back!” and tore out of the room, leaving her brother behind in his bafflement. It was a few minutes later when she returned, bearing with her a letter. She pressed it into his hands and said, “Biggest Brother Isao left this for you when he visited last. He said it’s Very Important.”
Shichiro snorted. “Isao thinks lunch is Very Important. That doesn’t mean anything.” Still, he quickly opened it and scanned it, smiling at Isao’s familiar bold strokes.
Little Brother,
Interesting things are happening, and I find that I could use your help. Since you’re such a good little brother, I know you’ll jump to assist me. Have Manami send me a letter when you leave the monastery and I’ll go to meet you at our usual place
--your amazing big brother
Shichiro smirked, rolled his eyes, and tucked the letter into his sleeve. Manami tugged on his other sleeve. “Was it good or bad news?” She asked.
Her brother shrugged. “Neither, I think. Isao’s just finding that he’s useless without my assistance. I need you to send him a message saying I’m leaving for the usual spot.”
Manami nodded, before flinging her arms around his waist. “Stay safe, please?”
The ronin smiled, patting her head. “Don’t worry, usa-chan. I can take care of myself. I’ve lasted this long, after all.”
Her smile brightened, and she nodded, but it was a few moments before she released him and stepped back. “Well, before you go, would you like something to eat?”
Shichiro grinned. “My dear little sister, I thought you’d never ask.”
*****
Princess Nishimura Naomi, First Wife of Shogun Tsuneo, didn’t even look at the baby. When she heard the child was a girl, she turned her head away on the pillow and didn’t speak at all. When the handmaidens asked if she wished to see the baby, Naomi closed her eyes.
The baby girl cried, and Naomi didn’t even twitch.
The handmaidens tried and tried to get the baby to calm down, but nothing worked.
Outside, the only ones waiting were Princess Tomoko and her children. Almost all the other sons were considered far too old to be near this part of the woman’s quarters, and Princess Yasu’s daughters were too young to be awake this late.
Tomoko listened as the baby cried, and cried, and cried. Shichiro grasped the edge of her kimono and tugged gently. “Mother—mother, why is the baby crying? Isn’t she happy?”
“I don’t know…” Tomoko murmured, and she and Isao exchanged a glance. He was old enough to guess why the baby cried so much. “But I won’t let her keep crying so. Isao, please look after Shichiro for me.” And with that, she deftly unhooked Shichiro’s nervous grasp and pressed his fingers into Isao’s grip, ignoring his protests at having to be ‘looked after’ with a gentle smile. And then with the softness of a summer breeze, she slipped into the birthing room and zeroed in on the tiny child.
She was a tiny, pink thing, with tufts of newly-washed black hair sticking up defiantly against the will of gravity. Her little fists waved angrily in the air as her face screwed up and tiny tears ran down her cheeks.
Tomoko looked at the wailing baby, and then at the silent, stubborn form of the mother on the futon, and her heart broke twice over. Then she turned to the flustered handmaiden and said gently, “Give me the child, Moe.”
Poor Moe was only too eager, and handed the screaming bundle over with perhaps more haste than care. Tomoko calmly gathered the child to her breast and smiled faintly at the feeling of rightness. She turned to the futon and looked down on it, pity in her soft, dark eyes. “What do you want to name the child, Honored First Wife?”
Princess Naomi did not speak.
Tomoko sighed softly, and then smiled down at the crying little girl in her arms. “Well, I have always wanted a daughter.” She said gently. “I am very glad to have you, little one.”
At the sound of her voice, the crying dwindled off, and finally the baby blinked and opened her eyes. The two of them stared at each other, and suddenly the baby’s face broke into the earliest fledgling of a brilliant smile, and Tomoko smiled back. “You need a name,” She told her, “A name that reflects how much I love you.”
She rocked the baby back and forth for a few moments, before she smiled again and nodded to herself. Then she turned to Moe and smiled. “Thank you for your invaluable assistance, Moe, but my handmaidens and I shall take care of the little princess from here on out. You are free to attend solely to your mistress.”
“O-of course, Princess Tomoko,” Moe stammered out, and Tomoko nodded before slipping out of the room again.
Isao and Shichiro popped up from their sleepy, slouched positions, staring curiously at the bundle in their mother’s arms. “Is that the new sister, Mother?” Isao asked, his sharp eyes glinting with excitement.
“Mother, mother, can I see? Can I touch her? What’s her name?” Shichiro asked, hopping slightly to get a better look.
Tomoko gracefully settled herself down on a cushion, and her sons crowded around, peering at the bundle.
“She’s pink.” Isao said.
Tomoko raised an eyebrow. “When you were born, you were bright red. I don’t think you are in any position to judge.”
Her firstborn blushed and rubbed his nose at that, and Shichiro leaned even closer to get a better look.
Tomoko leaned forward, smiling gently. “You may stroke her head if you want, but be gentle. She is very little, after all.”
Shichiro immediately did so, grinning at the feel of the soft, feathery hairs on her head. Isao, though he stayed silent and manly about it, edged closer and ran a finger down the baby’s cheek, failing to hide
his grin.
“What’s her name, mother?” Shichiro asked again.
Tomoko smiled down at the baby, who burbled happily back. “Manami. I’ve named her Manami. Princess Nishimura Manami.”
Isao blinked at her. “You named her, Mother?”
Tomoko nodded, not looking away from the baby’s face, which was beginning to fade off into sleep. “Yes. She’s ours now, and I expect you two to look after your baby sister. Do you promise me?”
“Yes, mother!” They immediately chorused. “We promise.”
And Tomoko knew they would, and smiled happily. Her heart was still hurting, but maybe, maybe, it would turn out for the best after all.
“Good,” said Tomoko, and kissed Manami’s head. “Go to sleep, my daughter. You’ve had a very exciting day, my little Manami, and you have so much more to see.”
*****
The mist was rising from the sea, filling the night with a thick, filmy blankness. The only relief came from the occasional lantern that flung a halo of light into the fog. The ronin avoided these spots of faded brightness, slipping through the shadows silently as an owl on the wing. His hand rested on the scabbard of his katana with apparent ease, but his thumb was poised to flick his sword free.
Up ahead was his destination, a seedy inn perched near to the waterfront. The city he was in was quite prosperous, as were almost all of the cities in the region of Nagisa, but docks drew the less desirable folk like ducks to water. Therefore, it was the perfect place for clandestine meetings between two people with something to hide.
Just as he turned a corner, he heard a faint scrape of a sandal against the wooden tile of a roof. The ronin’s eyes narrowed, but he kept walking.
A moment later, a dark shape leapt down onto the street behind him, drawing a sword as he rushed towards the ronin’s unprotected back.
In one movement, the ronin drew his katana and swung around, blocking the blade coming at him with a ringing clash.
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