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Chapter Text

The thunderstorm was raging fiercely through the night and all Kikugawa no Tomoe could do was watch. Vibrant junihitoe and her long expanse of hair poured into a colourful swirl as it fanned out behind her, the wetness from the rain sticking them both to wooden planks below. She had perched herself at the edge of the engawa, looking out onto the southern expanse of the freshly trimmed garden. Heavy wind shook the shrubbery harshly, bringing the smell of vegetation and the stinging cold moisture of the rain in her direction.

Tomoe surveyed as a singular leaf was reaped from its branch and thrown in a swirling descent to the pond. The moonlight rippled in the waves of the water like jewels and Tomoe rushed to pick up the thin sumi brush and scroll tucked beneath her junihitoe. Careful not to drench it with rain, she hurriedly scribbled down a prose that had struck her.

Tomoe spent many of her nights like this; gazing out onto the garden of the Heian Imperial Palace gardens. Ever since she was a young girl, she was thoroughly drilled in the arts deemed suitable for a noble woman to learn: tea ceremony, calligraphy, Chinese literature, the list growing ever expansive. The thing that had always seemed to stick to the young Tomoe was poetry. It came naturally and her talent was promptly noticed and moulded by the best in the field, courtesy of her father.

Shortly after she had been enrolled she had eagerly participated in many private poetry competitions, utaawase, usually coming in third or fourth place. The usual winner of these competitions was one of Tomoe’s friends, Natsuhara no Nobumasa, another poet who delved into the complex emotions of love and longing. Once their mutual interest in poetry had sparked, it was hard to keep the pair separate. Natsuhara no Nobumasa was the godson of Emperor Yoshiro and had been given special permission to live with Kikugawa no Tomoe at the Heian Imperial Palace, away from his mother in Chukyo.

As the moon slid to its peak in the sky, Tomoe deduced it was time for her to retire. Late nights were becoming an irritable habit for her and she was wasting too much valuable makeup dabbing at her under eyes and praying the dark circles would lift in tone to match the rest of her snowy countenance. An early start was expected for tomorrow. The more sleep she got, the better. It wasn’t much the fear that she would wake up too late to attend the utaawase, since she had servants that would see to that, but more so the fear she would slur her speech and fail at the recital. Tomoe was aware of her awe inspiring poetry and the emotions it evoked, but without a good recital her beautiful prose meant nothing. It suddenly struck her that sitting there getting drenched by rain was not the wisest decision to keep her health in tact. She would probably fall very ill. What a stupid decision, she cursed at herself. Clutching her scroll and sumi, she stood up and waded her way back into her room. Her teeth were chattering and she cursed at herself again for overlooking such an obvious thing. Placing the sumi and scroll on her desk at the far side of the spacious room, she pried soaked socks off of her feet and quickly shuffled to the wash rooms.

It took a few minutes to reach the washroom. She slid open the door, as quietly as she could for fear of waking other sleeping residents, and took out a hand towel neatly folded within a wooden closet. The towel was small, rightly named a tenugui, (small hand towel) and was about the same size, though a little bigger, than her hand. Stripping herself of her junihitoe, Tomoe hurriedly dried her body and face. She had carefully laid bare her face earlier in the night, though decided not to switch into night garments. A wise choice.

Once her body was acceptably dry, she carefully bunched her long hair into her hands and wrung it out. All noble ladies were expected to keep their hair long and healthy, many reaching down to their feet and trailing behind them as they walked. Some ladies’ hair were even longer than their junihitoe. Many women wore their hair out proudly, whilst others opted to go with delicate and intricate hairstyles, using a variation of kanzashi: decorate hairpins, tama: bead-like ornaments and hana kanzashi: flower-like decorations. Tomoe preferred to keep her hairstyles simple and either wore it out or in a sagegami, where the hair was loosely tied with a ribbon or a cord at the same height as her shoulder blades.

Hair and body dried and it suddenly struck Tomoe that she had not yet closed the amado: wooden shutters that were used to protect against heavy rain and thunderstorms. Placing the wet towel outside of the cabinet for the servants and grabbing a larger towel to dry her floor with, Tomoe made haste back to her chambers. She took the towel and wrapped it around her head to shield her from the rain and slid the amado shut, breathing a sigh of relief as she laid down the towel on the floor and slid it back and forth with her foot. She would have to tell her maids to properly dry the floor first thing tomorrow morning.

Rain pounding relentlessly on the wooden shutters, the smell of burning charcoal had slid across the room from the sunken hearth and reminded Tomoe of her need to rest. Weariness began to weigh on her eyelids and she unfolded the bedding kept in one of her chests. Laying it out and quickly changing into a night dress, she collapsed onto it and fell asleep instantly.

-

Gentle shaking nurtured Tomoe awake. Sluggishly pulling her eyes open and breathing a sigh from the unwelcome sunlight pooling into her room, she heard one of her maids talking to her.

“My lady…” She whispered urgently.

Tomoe grunted in response and found her voice failing her. It felt like there was gravel in her throat and mucus lodged in her sinuses. Eyes red and swollen and body burning, it dawned on her that she was quite sick.

The maid pressed a cool palm onto Tomoe’s forehead and exhaled a breath in worry. Wringing a hand towel with warm water and gently setting it onto Tomoe’s forehead, she became acutely aware of the soft padding of footsteps around her.

“The poetry competition,” Tomoe groaned as she tried to raise her head and look around. Squinting her swollen eyes, she made out the hazy figures of two maids drying the floor. The sunken hearth in the middle of the room had long since died out and the smell of stale charcoal was fusing with the aftermath of rain and morning dew. Flicking her gaze to the cypress desk, she sighed in relief that it was untouched by rain. The several washi scrolls that she had written her poems on remained in the same position as yesterday.

The maid shook her head sadly and took Tomoe’s hand, pressing two fingers to her wrist to check her pulse.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but Natuhara-dono has given orders for you to remain here. We don’t want to risk worsening your health.” The maid quickly said, worry laced in her tone.

Tomoe frowned at this and gave a long heave to the maid despite her kindness. It was stupid of her to have stayed there, sitting in the midst of a thunderstorm until midnight. She had nobody to blame but herself. Had she taken a little responsibility, she could’ve made it in time for the poetry competition and the weeks she’d spent pondering over verses to write wouldn’t have been in vain. A voice surging from the hall outside her chambers pulled Tomoe out of her self lamenting and she turned, beckoning the person inside.

Sliding the door open and raising his head, a messenger bowed once he saw Tomoe.

“A message for you, Tomoe-hime.”

He had a folded piece of paper held tightly. Offering the message with both of his hands to the maid, she slid it from his grasp and brought it to Tomoe. Thanking the both of them, she pulled off the wax seal, unfolded the paper and read the message within.

“June 13th 843

My dear friend and noble Kikugawa no Tomoe-shii,

Whispers of your ailment have passed my ears.

As my heart beats along yours, it pains me that we will not be reunited today.

I ache to hear your poetry and thus I implore you to allow me a visit to your chambers after the winners are announced.

I will bring manju and the finest herbal remedies in an attempt to balance your Qi and ensure your good health soon.

I eagerly await your reply.

Your dearest friend, Natuhara no Nobumasa.”

Folding the parchment and handing it back to the maid, Tomoe sat up and took the warm towel off from her forehead, placing it gently next to her bedding.

“Prepare me for visitors.” She said toward her maid, before another arrival announced themselves at the door. Tomoe immediately recognized the voice and called upon them.

The woman that slid open the door, perched on her knees, was fair haired and looked at Tomoe with kind, gentle, slightly down turned eyes. The pillar in which all maids of the Heian Imperial Palace relied on, the head attendant Sakurako. She and Tomoe had got on almost instantly from the time they first met and frequently talked to each other in a manner that would cause disgust if any other noble were to overhear. Tomoe almost grimaced at the sight because she knew that Sakurako would not hesitate to voice her concerns, however harsh they may seem.

“Sakurako-sama,” She greeted, lightly lifting the sides of her lips.

“Tomoe-hime.” Sakurako bowed in return. She crossed the threshold, still kneeling, and closed the door before standing up and advancing on the noble.

“I overheard that you’ve allowed Nobumasa-dono to come and meet you. Is it a wise idea?”

Tomoe huffed lightly at her question. “Nobumasa-dono came at his own discretion and it is therefore his own arrangement to present himself to illness. I merely accepted the offer. Would you rather me die from boredom instead?”

Sakurako furrowed her brow and hushed the other maids out of the room. She kneeled beside Tomoe and wrung another warm towel, insisting that Tomoe lay down and placing it on her forehead.

“You can gaze at the moon for hours on end, I’m sure you’re invulnerable to dying from boredom. A poet should never get bored. There are endless things to write verses about. It’s a shame you missed the competition.”

“There are many more I can attend, though it was in my best interest to go. I had heard Emperor Yoshiro and Empress Himemiko were present. I pray that Nobumasa-dono has won and can pass praise on my name.”

“I’m sure that if you ask, he will oblige.”

“Without a doubt.” Tomoe smiled.

“Let us bathe you. I had prepared one shortly before coming here.”

At this, Sakurako steadily held Tomoe’s hand and propped her to her feet. Gently lending an arm, they walked together to the wash rooms. Tomoe’s head felt like it was burning and her step was uneven, causing Sakurako to tighten her grip in worry.

“We can stop if you’d like, my lady.”

“No, no. It’s quite alright.”

Once arriving at the wash rooms, the heat was stifling and steam rose in a wide column from the wooden bath tub. The room smelt like wood and some type of herbal infusion that Sakurako had prepared. Aiding Tomoe to a wooden stall and setting her down, the head maid picked up a wooden ladle. She poured it into a bucket of warm water and, after Tomoe undressed, gently poured it on her. Using a herbal infused soap and a cloth, she cleansed Tomoe’s body and hair and then allowed her to submerge herself in the bathtub.

Tomoe breathed a sigh of relief as her muscles laxed. After bathing and a regular routine of skincare, hair care and breakfast, Sakurako urged Tomoe to go for a walk in the gardens to get some fresh air.

Tomoe obliged and the pair steadily made their way across the winding gravel paths. The remnants of the thunderstorm caused the garden to exude an earthy scent. A thin layer of mist and dew carpeted the shrubbery, giving the garden a mystifying aura, as if they had stepped into some heavenly realm.

Sakurako was dressed in her usual maid attire, a black kosode with small, hanging sleeves. She wore simple tabi socks and straw sandals. Her hair was done up into a busugata: low bun. She had decorated it with a few long red ribbons that complimented her countenance.

Tomoe had her hair in her usual mimigata and stroked it carefully over her shoulder to stop it from raking dirt behind her as she walked. She was donning a simple red hitoe. Sakurako had urged her to wear something more and Tomoe regretted her refusal once a gust of wind penetrated the silk and caused her teeth to chatter.

They stopped at one of the bridges that crossed a wide stream of water. The bridge was intricately crafted and made of a smooth but sturdy wood. Detailing on the railing resembled churning waves, with two or three poles jutting out from each side and topped with an ornament that mimicked the Emperor’s solemn countenance. Tomoe took a large inhale of cold air and exhaled it slowly as she gazed into the gentle current below. She held her hands together in a feeble attempt to combat the cold and she turned to Sakurako, who was standing beside her.

In the silence, Tomoe could make out the sound of chatting coming from just a way over the bridge. A sound of hearty laughter pulled her gaze away from Sakurako and toward the origin of the voices. Sakurako had heard this too and the pair decided to go and see who it was.

Pushing a few stray branches from her face, Tomoe and Sakurako emerged onto a beautiful clearing. Rays of sunlight shot through gaps in the trees and lit up a small seating arrangement that was enclosed by a beautiful small veranda. The exterior of the veranda was carved meticulously and featured an array of different designs. The sloped, green roof provided shelter from the light rain that began trickling down.

Approaching the veranda, Tomoe made out a group of nobles. There were three men and two women. All of them were dressed in elaborate, fine clothing and the two women in the group had their hair in a beautiful, ornate style that glittered with beads and jewels. Upon her arrival the chatter died out and the faces turned toward the pair.

“Tomoe!” A man with a large kanmuri exclaimed with wide, excited eyes. Tomoe recognized the three men present to be on the board of chamberlains for the Emperor. The man who had addressed her was Inada Masataka, the grand chamberlain. He had short, chubby features and thick eye bags with matching slug-like black eyebrows. Many said he resembled a panda. Tapping his fan on the spare seats beside him, he ushered Tomoe and Sakurako to sit.

“Hello, Masataka-dono.” Tomoe and Sakurako greeted and bowed in turn.

Upon sitting at the table, she juggled her gaze between the others.

The two other men were Dainagon (major counsellor) Isayama-dono, and Shonagon (minor counsellor) Reigen-dono, both of whom reported palace affairs to the grand chamberlain.

The Dainagon was a short and stubby man, with a large round nose and equally huge, beaded eyes, similar to that of Master Chamberlain.

The Shonagon was the complete opposite and boasted a tall and thin stature, with long, bony features. He had a calm and elegant countenance whilst the Dainagon remained rash and loud.

A joke that circulated nobles about the two was that Dainagon was Issun-boshi, the protagonist of a folklore tale who was described to be a tiny, one-inch hero. The Shonagon was said to be a Rokurokubi, a type of yokai that appeared as normal humans at day but once the sun set, their necks stretched to extraordinary lengths. Tomoe suppressed a giggle at the sight of both of them and marvelled at how closely they resemble their folklore counterparts.

“Isayama-dono, Reigen-dono.” She bowed in greeting to both of them. They greeted her with a smile and nod of the head.

“What brings you out here?” Masataka-dono questioned, sliding his tired eyes between Sakurako and Tomoe.

A thin, long-nosed woman who Tomoe recognized as a koui (a noble woman who served the empress), Asami-dono, chimed in.

“How rash of you, Masataka-dono! As a man of the court, surely you understand that it’s prying to ask a noble woman such a question?”

Masataka-dono shot the lady an annoyed look, and then made a silent apology to Tomoe.

“You have sly lips that never seem to close, Asami-dono! Let me speak to the woman in peace.”

Tomoe smiled courteously at Masataka-dono.

“It’s quite okay. I got caught in yesterday’s late evening thunderstorm and came down with an illness. Sakurako-sama advised me to go outside and breathe in some fresh air to balance my Qi.”

“Surely it would do you no good in such thin attire, Tomoe-hime? The winds are cold today. We can light the sunken hearth if you are too cold.” Lady Asami suggested.

“No, no. It’s quite alright. Please do not trouble yourself. I thank you for your concern.”

Isayama-dono and Reigen-dono were in the midst of a hushed, quiet conversation whilst the trio engaged in formalities. Isayama-dono frequently raised his voice too loud and upon noticing lowered it back to a whisper.

Tomoe looked down at the low table in front of her. It was strewn with papers, some crumpled, some pristine. All of them were scribbled in calligraphy and Tomoe reached down and brung a crumpled piece for her and Sakurako to read. It suddenly dawned on Tomoe that she was reading her dear friend Nobumasa’s poetry.

She raised an inquisitive gaze to the group that had promptly gone back to chattering and surveying the paper.

Masataka-dono turned to her and gave a lop-sided grin.

“The poetry contest?” Tomoe asked, replacing the paper in her hand with a new one and reading it.

“Certainly, Tomoe-dono. Usually we would not allow someone of your rank to read these, much less sit here with us whilst we discuss the winners but seeing as you yourself are quite an esteemed poet, I think you could be of some aid in the selection process. Perhaps it worked in your favour that you were too sickly to attend.” He spoke in a gruff but eccentric voice.

“I couldn’t possibly, Masataka-dono. This privilege is far too much for me to handle. It’d cause great sorrow if I had somehow swayed the vote or given a wrong suggestion.”

“Nonsense, Tomoe-dono! You have a keen eye for poetry, as we have all learnt. Your vote will be invaluable. Please, help yourself and read through all of them.” He offered her with a wide grin.

Tomoe picked through some more of the papers before placing them back in a neat pile and furrowing her eyebrows. The rain had worsened during the conversation and she was fearful that it would wet the paper and destroy the submissions.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the slapping of wet sandals and the figure of two people rushing toward the veranda.

The figures were hazy through the rain and one was holding their ichimegasa (straw hat) strongly to their head, the other raising their robes above their head like a nun.

Once there, the person took off their ichimegasa and surveyed the group of people.

It dawned on the group that it was the Emperor Yoshiro and his wife, Empress Himemiko. Immediately, as if on cue, everyone in the veranda stood and bowed low toward the two.

“Heika! (Your majesty!)” Mastaka-dono called out.

“Please, please, raise your heads!” The Emperor called out in a gleeful manner. The rain had not seemed to burden him and a large smile raised his thick lips. He took long, proud steps toward the middle of the table just as everyone was raising their heads.

Picking up a piece of paper with his thick fingers, he hummed in delight and recited a few lines of the poetry.

Tomoe watched him as he did this and then remembered the presence of another. She leaned to the side to get a better look at this person and her mouth unconsciously fell slightly agape. The woman was tall and with skin as white as snow, eyes slightly upturned and a gaze so piercing it was as if she were striking an icicle into your heart. Her nose was straight and in proportion with the rest of her face, her lips not overly plump but not overly slim, painted with red pigment. Her hair flowed freely and gracefully down her shoulders like the wings of a crow. She was wearing a stylish junihitoe with many beautiful colours layered underneath. With long, slender fingers, she was lightly dusting off the rain that had fallen on her shoulders. Upon feeling a gaze fixated upon her, she raised her eyes and looked upon Tomoe.

Tomoe had heard rumours about the Empress and her striking beauty but never had the chance to see it for herself. The Empress didn’t like to socialise and found more comfort in her own personal quarters. Tomoe had been busy, too, and had not been attending many of the celebrations held by the court. The rumours were not exaggerated, and it was most likely true that the Empress held poetry in high esteem, seeing as she’d taken the time to attend.

Hurriedly bowing her head, Tomoe turned away. It was considered extremely rude to make prolonged eye contact, or any eye contact at all, with the empress or emperor.

It struck Tomoe like lightning that not only did she make direct eye contact with the Empress, that her dress was informal, she was taking up the last spare seat around the table and the harsh removal of eye contact could be considered rash and unladylike. She cursed at herself and attempted to retain her composure whilst the rest of the group continued to discuss the poetry with the Emperor.

Tomoe stood up gracefully along with Sakurako and both offered their seats to the Empress and Emperor, respectively.
As they both sat down, Tomoe couldn’t help but steal another glance at the Empress. She was graceful and dignified in her movements, picking up the papers with the right amount of pressure so as not to crumple it, silently assessing the writing and politely replacing it at the table. Not a shred of emotion struck her features as she read and Tomoe watched in awe. It was rare to conceal emotion with such ease. That was probably why this woman had become Empress. She must be gifted at a great many deal of things.

Guiding her thoughts back to the judging at hand, Tomoe was at a disadvantage seeing as she hadn’t physically attended the competition and thus missed the recitals. Clearing her throat, she addressed the group,

“Were there any recitals that stood out to you?”

The woman that had not yet introduced herself and whom Tomoe had forgotten about, spoke up. She had a loud voice and spoke proudly from her chest. She had quite a thick countenance with rounded cheeks and eyes and sat pin straight. Her hair was tied into a mimigata and adorned with jewels and a beautiful white headdress with ribbon that flowed like waves around her face.

“Your friend, Nobumasa-dono, had a very impressive recital. He had a confident voice that boasted his confidence in his prose.” She said without looking up. The wrinkles that cupped her cheeks deepened as she picked up another piece of paper and compared the two.

The Emperor spoke up,

“You did not attend, Tomoe-dono?”

“I did not, Heika. I have come down with a rather harsh ailment and it would’ve been in my best interests to remain at the palace and recuperate.”

“A shame. We had some very good submissions. Perhaps we should hold a second poetry contest for the marked start of the monsoon season, yes?” The Emperor looked around and everybody nodded profusely.

“That would be great, Heika! You truly have a wonderful mind!” Reigen-dono exclaimed, clasping his hands together as if in prayer and batting his eyelashes toward the Emperor.

“Perhaps the winner of this competition could be a judge for the next one.” Isayama-dono chimed in gently. His speech was reminiscent of the wind, very light and soothing, as if he were reciting poetry.

“Mm.” The Emperor grumbled in thought and placed his papers back onto the table. He looked out of the veranda and into the pouring rain, and then his gaze shot to Tomoe and noticed her shoulders were wet.

“Come in, come in, I can’t have you standing out in the rain.” He sighed and grabbed Tomoe’s exposed wrist, pulling her back out of the rain. Tomoe thanked him with a kind smile, though her mind shot to how rough and calloused the Emperor’s hand was.

“Have we decided on our winners?” The Empress chimed in as she placed the papers down, the last one to do so. Her tone was calm and steady and she spoke like silk. Her voice was perfectly controlled and her pitch was slightly deeper than the average woman. Most of the court nobles tried to raise their pitch to seem more pure and innocent, however the Empresses influence was greater than anticipated and soon it had become lady-like to speak in your natural tone.

Masataka-dono cleared his throat, preparing a clean scroll and brush to write with.

“First place, I’m sure we all agree, will be Nobumasa?” He questioned, peering through his thick eyebrows to his peers nodding and agreeing.

“Then we shall have Sarada-dono and Aimini-dono as second and third?” A repeat of the same action earlier to the same nods and murmurs of agreement.

“Aimimi-dono’s recital was lacking,” Reigen-dono spoke, gently pressing his fingers against each other. “Her voice was clearly lacking in power and it was hard to hear her.”

“Though of the words she did say, she recited with great emotion, which ranks her higher. A louder voice is something that can be trained much easier than emotion.” The Emperor said and gesturing his hand to the paper, he nodded to Masataka-dono, who promptly wrote Aimimi-dono’s name.

“The prizes?” Asami-dono asked with a purse of her thin lips. She tucked a grey lock of hair behind her pointed ear.

The Emperor sat in thought for a few seconds and then confided with the Empress. She did not speak, only gently nodding her head a few times. The Emperor clapped his hands with a grumble.

“We will give first place a fine new ink brush, as well as a decorated fan, some of the finest silk and gold. Second place will be given an artwork of his choosing and a sum of gold,” He gestured to Masataka-dono, “And third will be given a fine headdress with some of our best jewels. Surely this is enough?”

The group nodded.

“Then,” Empress Himemiko said, swiftly standing from her chair and brushing some of her hair over her shoulder, “Now that we’ve wrapped this up, I shall retire. Thank you for your diligence.” She bowed and the Emperor stood up with her, flashing a smile to the small council. They walked to the door and Tomoe and Sakurako stepped out of their way. Before the Emperor took his leave, he put on his straw hat. He tapped the lady that Tomoe had forgotten the name of and beamed at her.

“I understand you court ladies try not to show emotion- but it’d do you some good to smile once in a while.”

And with that, they were gone.

-

Once back in her chambers, Tomoe had changed into a thicker, more fitting piece of clothing for Nobumasa’s arrival. Sakurako had lit the sunken hearth and bid Tomoe farewell for the afternoon, for she had many other duties to attend to. She had washed her face and hands and meticulously brushed her hair for fear that the rain had tampered with it. Shortly after closing the wooden shutters after another bout of heavy rainfall began, Nobumasa voiced his arrival.

“Come in,” Tomoe said as she settled herself by the gentle fire in the middle of the room.

As the door slid open, Tomoe got a good look at Nobumasa’s flushed face. She could tell by the way his cheeks were slightly reddened and the small strands of hair jutting from his kanmuri that he had come here with haste after the announcement of his victory. She smiled at the thought of him running.

“It’s unbelievable!” He exclaimed as he slid the door shut behind him and walked over to the sunken hearth, sitting politely opposite Tomoe. He had fine features. Proportionate face, wide, attentive eyes that gleamed with the reflection of fire and spark of excitement, trimmed eyebrows, straight nose and full lips. Many of the noble women had good things to say about him, especially about the feminine mole beneath his left eye. His white teeth shone in the darkness and his smile grew wide as he placed a few pieces of paper beside Tomoe.

“The poem you wrote?” Tomoe inquired, picking the paper up and unfolding it.

“Yes! The gods have smiled upon me today. You see, after the Tanabata festival a few days ago, it struck me to write something about my feelings. This is what I came up with, after long hours of pondering. What do you think?”

Tomoe read the poem.

‘So impatiently

Has he waited that

Baring his shins in the dawn

On Heaven’s River shore

Might he cross today?’

Tomoe raised her eyebrows and a playful smirk blossomed on the edge of her lips.

“It is good. I can see why you won first place and why you rushed to me in such an excitable manner.” She playfully remarked, folding the paper and placing it back by the hearth.

“Did the recital go well? It’s a pity I wasn’t there to see. I heard the other winners were Sarada-dono and Aimimi-dono. Were they good?” Tomoe asked, watching Nobumasa’s features contort into something like apprehension. Furrowing his eyebrows, then raising one side of his mouth and shaking his head lightly.

“Well, they were okay. I feel like some others were more deserving, but Sarada-dono’s poetry is very deep and he has a good understanding of the world and which words to use. Aimimi-dono’s poetry was also very good, but her recital was lacking. It felt a bit shallow, I suppose. Have you written anything? You were up late last night pondering about what poem to write, yes?”

“Mm, Reigen-dono and the Emperor both agreed that her recital was lacking in volume and she was hard to hear, but those who could hear her said her emotion was strong. It’s hard to capture strong feelings, so I’d say she must deserve the win if even the Emperor spoke of how good it was.” She paused and the rain slamming against the wooden shutters and fire crackling provided a cosy atmosphere for her to think.

“I did write a few beforehand,” She nodded in the direction of her wooden desk that had mountains of paper messily strewn on it.

Nobumasa stood up and walked toward the dresser, letting out a quiet ‘fuu!’ at the sight of all the different poems Tomoe had scribbled down. Some of the ink had spilled on a small group of papers and the writing was obscured. Others just had messy blots and others were just impossible to read thanks to the messy handwriting.

Nobumasa picked through these, careful not to crumple them any further. One poem caught his eye and he picked it up, reading through it carefully. His eyebrows raised in awe. Stealing a look to Tomoe behind him and seeing that her attention was on the flames, he took the piece of paper. Picking another few pieces and bringing them to the hearth, he sat and exclaimed about Tomoe’s talent.

“You’ve always been able to write prose as amazing as this effortlessly. Even when we were kids, you’d awe the instructors with your talent. How do you come up with what to write?”

Tomoe smiled as recollections of their time together as children flooded her mind. “And the time that you wrote a prose so bad the instructor took the piece of paper and ripped it up,” She sighed in mock pity, “but from that you only rose up. I may have been gifted with talent but you worked hard to prove yourself and learn your own way of poetry.” She smiled gently at him as she watched his features soften at the praise.

“I watch my surroundings and speak from my heart, I suppose. It’s feeble advice, I know. As I gaze into the moonlight, my mind suddenly paints pictures and I describe them. Sometimes it’s just words that come up and I link them all together to try and form a picture with the poetry. I’m not sure.” She chuckled sheepishly, taking one of her poems and rereading them. Her eyebrows furrowed and she laughed, throwing it back on the ground.

“God, you picked the most embarrassing one.”

Nobumasa’s eyebrows raised in surprise and his gaze juggled between the paper and Tomoe. “Embarrassing! How is that embarrassing?” He laughed. “It’s beautiful, as are all your works!”

“You are too kind. Would you take responsibility if my ego flew so high that I named myself the new poetry Empress?”

“And all the nobles would fall to their knees.”

“Speaking of Empresses, I saw her today with the Emperor.”

“What, were you going somewhere?” Nobumasa asked as a voice resounded from the hall. It was Sakurako, bringing in a tray of sake and an assortment of sweets that she had finally gotten around to preparing.

After Tomoe beckoned Sakurako in and thanked her for the gesture, she left.

“Sakurako-sama said it would be best if I went out for a stroll to breathe some fresh air. Going out in nature would’ve helped balance my Qi,” She began, taking a sip of sake.

“On the way there we both heard chattering from the veranda and we introduced ourselves. The grand chamberlain, dainagon, shonagon, koui and another woman I didn’t recognize were in discussion over the poetry contestant winners. He said I was to help them make a decision but the Empress and the Emperor came, so I never really got word in.”

“Is she pretty?”

Tomoe recalled the Empress’s ice cold stature and gaze and nodded. “Her first breath was probably from a god’s sigh, with how perfect she is. A pure, level-headed countenance and beauty to match. Though she doesn’t seem to speak much, even when spoken to by the Emperor. She just nodded.”

Nobumasa raised an eyebrow and propped a sweet into his mouth, shifting his posture to something more relaxed. Not responding, Tomoe continued.

“I made quite a fool of myself too. Not only was I only wearing one garment, but I made prolonged eye contact with her and turned away quite harshly. I’m afraid she thinks ill of me.”

“More ill than you were this morning?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well you sound quite fond of her. Isn’t it something of a challenge to try and pry open her cold exterior?” He asked playfully, helping himself to another sweet and sip of sake.

“What?!” Tomoe cried, bewildered at the mere thought. “You couldn’t possibly think of me to be someone like that.”

“Well, it’s a challenge, yes? All you do is wander around like you’re haunting the palace and think of poetry verses. You haven’t even been to many of the evening gatherings. Why not attend one tonight? I heard the Empress will be there.” He propped himself up like he had just remembered something and leant towards Tomoe, lowering his voice.

“There’s been rumour around the palace that she’s terrified of thunderstorms. There will be another big one tonight, which is why she is attending. She can busy herself with celebration rather than sit in her chambers quivering to the sound of thunder. Apparently that’s why she had attended yesterday, too, whilst you were out there imitating monk waterfall meditation. Why not use it to your advantage?”

Tomoe gazed at Nobumasa with an incredulous look. She had never been aware that he was such a plotter and was actually quite impressed. Nobumasa looked handsome and was a good poet, but she never thought he’d have a mind for strategy. Perhaps it was worth a shot- something to liven up her dull life just a little. Not to mention that her little gathering with the high ranking nobles had hopefully given them some favour of her, which she can use to her advantage and try and slither her way toward the Empress.

Usually she would scold herself for even thinking of such a thing, but it seems a seed had already been planted in her head.

Chapter Text

Preparation for the long night ahead started immediately after Nobumasa took his leave. The flame kindling in the sunken hearth had grown and cast long shadows across Tomoe’s room, bathing everything else in a warm persimmon light. Tomoe stood with her arms outstretched as maids painstakingly helped with properly fitting her junihitoe. She had decided to go for a blue and white colour scheme, which was trendy and remarked for being a classy and refined taste.

Pellets of rain smashed threateningly onto the trembling window shutters and she felt pity for Empress Himemiko. Nights like this must be very hard on her and forcing herself to socialise even when she doesn’t want to must take a lot out of her. At that moment, Tomoe smiled sheepishly to herself and thanked god she was not Queen. Loping around was better than forcing yourself to smile and present yourself femininely even if you did not want to.

As the maids fiddled with Tomoe’s sleeves, her gaze had floated to the cypress desk situated on the right corner of her room. After Nobumasa’s departure she had crawled over the desk trying to find a poem that she remembered writing the night before, but it had somehow gotten lost.

She had flipped over every piece of paper and searched every drawer and the slim trenches between tatami mats but it was nowhere to be found. As the sun drifted slowly to the horizon, Tomoe could hear the padding of footsteps that frequently passed by her chambers. Maids were running to and from rooms, preparing for the celebration. Tomoe wasn’t sure exactly what was being held and hoped it was something that she could use to her advantage, such as a poetry reading or literature analysis. A tea ceremony was the last thing she wanted, especially due to the fact she was so ill and shaky, she could barely hold her own writing brush without it dropping to the floor.

Suiting finished and maids ushering Tomoe out into the halls, she made her way slowly toward the celebration room. There were many different halls and rooms suited for each celebration but luckily they were using the one closest to Tomoe’s chambers.

As she approached the door, she heard the faint muttering and hearty chattering of different nobles within. She pressed her face to the door and slid it open just a tad. Much to her dismay, she found many of the nobles that resided in the palace kneeling on tatami mats with a thin tray presented in front of the host who, in this case, happened to be the Emperor. Though there were many guests, Tomoe felt quite out of place at being invited. Many of the men and women sitting in the hall were highly esteemed and famous or worked directly under the Emperor or Grand Chamberlain. She recognized the Dainagon, Shonagon, Koui and the woman that she couldn’t remember the name of from earlier. After taking a deep breath, she slid open the door and greeted the host. Tomoe was one of the last people to arrive and after a few minutes the walls of the room were lined with different people aching to drink some tea from the Emperor.

The floor of the hall was bare beside tatami mats and the walls were furnished with different scrolls, beautiful artworks and expertly crafted shelves and spare tea equipment. Tomoe shuffled nervously on her knees and glanced at the far end of the room, where the Empress and Emperor were seated. In front of them lay the utensils needed for the tea ceremony.

Tomoe pondered about how she could possibly get close enough to talk to the Empress. She was seated at the head of the hall whilst Tomoe was at the very bottom and a tea ceremony was usually carried out with very minimal conversing, seeing as it was considered to be a time of contemplation and meditation. Tomoe looked down at the tatami mat and sighed to herself. She hated tea ceremonies.

It seemed to last forever. The tea was prepared in beautiful elegance by the Empress, a small speech given by the Emperor as it was handed around and then everyone gave their deepest thanks and left. The only acknowledgment between Tomoe and the Empress was a brief flickering of glances as she surveyed those present. Coincidence and nothing more- much to her dismay. She took one last glance at the Empress before leaving.

After her conversation with Nobumasa, Tomoe had gone for a very, very long walk in the gardens. Her mind had been churning relentlessly and she realized that she had never had any type of romantic experience with somebody before. Her interest was piqued by the Empress and how completely closed off she was. Tomoe felt an insatiable urge to melt this icy exterior and pry open this stranger, revealing things she had never told a soul. Perhaps Tomoe just wanted to feel the adrenaline of something so high risk and ludicrous. An obsession. She almost laughed at herself for how childish she felt. Thinking these things of an Empress, no less? She should be scolded and exiled. But something kept tickling at her, digging its nails into her flesh and whispering in her ear.

Back in her room, she had changed into night clothes and sat on the engawa. The thunderstorm had crawled into a light shower and despite sitting on the edge of the engawa, the large sloped roof provided her with adequate shelter. Her mind was still whirring as fast as it could. Not even poetry could thrust her from thoughts about the empress. Tomoe groaned loudly and fell backwards, gazing up at the moon. A few thin clouds hovered by but the moon was bright and plentiful and it sent down rays of light that reflected off droplets of rain, as if silver were falling from the sky. A maid announced themselves from the hall and Tomoe beckoned her inside.

“I’ve brought your evening meal, Tomoe-hime.” She said as Tomoe walked back into the room and settled by the hearth. The maid softly placed her tray beneath her.

As the maid was leaving, Tomoe called out for her and she turned around.

“What is it you like?” Tomoe asked.

The maid ruffled her eyebrows with confusion and then pondered for a few seconds.
“That’s quite a general question, Tomoe-hime, but I suppose I like the embrace of a man.” She laughed with embarrassment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Their musk and smell.”

“What is there to like about men?” Tomoe found herself blurting out. Upon realizing what she had said, her eyes widened and she hurriedly tried to explain herself.
“My apologies, not in a way you must be thinking. I’ve never had any romantic experience and was wondering if it’s something specific… how they treat you, or…”

The maid smiled and chuckled at Tomoe’s rushed speaking. She sat opposite the noble and explained what she liked, their hands, the strength of their chest when being embraced, their chiselled jaws and stubble- strong, muscular arms and legs. Their innate desire to protect and want you for their own. Tomoe thanked her and she was dismissed.

Tomoe heaved another large sigh and a chill wind thrust through her room. She lay there for an hour, simply thinking. She decided it was time for a bath. As she was sliding open her door, a figure was already standing outside and she jumped.

Sakurako looked up at her with a questioning expression and then burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh!” Tomoe exclaimed through an embarrassed chuckle.

“I was just coming to tell you that the water has been heated, so you’ll be able to bathe soon.”

“Thank you, Sakurako-sama. Actually,” Tomoe paused and reconsidered what she was about to say. She decided to continue,
“I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. As friends.”

Sakurako raised an eyebrow but nevertheless accepted and the pair settled themselves down at the quietly burning sunken hearth. Tomoe took some time to appropriately word the question without seeming too prying.

“I’d like to talk about matters of… love. Intimacy. Something of that sort.”

“Is there someone you’ve been thinking of? Nobumasa-dono, perhaps?”

“No! No, not Nobumasa. But he said something earlier today that caught my attention. It seems I’ve never had any real intimacy with somebody before. Do you… have any experience?”

Sakurako hummed in thought.
“There was a man, back when I had first come to the palace. A merchant’s son that regularly delivered resources to us. One day, we began talking. Over the course of a few months it turned into meeting regularly. Before both of us knew it we had fallen in love and could barely go a week without seeing each other. We continued the relationship for a few years, though I had been promoted to the head attendant and was swamped with duties, so our meetings became less frequent. We ended up slowly drifting out of touch. It’s a depressing story but the only real experience I’ve had.” She smiled solemnly and lowered her gaze to the fire. Sadness crept along her features and Tomoe regretted asking. She placed her hand on top of the maids.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

Sakurako smiled and softly shook her head.
“Please, do not apologies. It was many years ago.” A small silence drew between them and Sakurako cleared her throat, retracting her hand and raising her gaze to meet Tomoe’s.
“Actually, Tomoe-hime, I came here to talk about something else. The maid that left your chambers a few hours ago was heard talking to her friend about you…” She paused.

“Having… doubts about men?”

Tomoe frowned. “Have I ever said that?”

“Rumours are like poison I’m afraid, Tomoe-hime. I hate to be the one to say it but, you’re well past the age and if you don’t do something to dispel what’s spreading…”

Tomoe was reminded about just why she liked Sakurako. She never held her tongue and spoke truthfully, with Tomoe’s interests in mind, though it could be hard to hear.

“I should find myself a suitor?” Tomoe finished Sakurako’s sentence and picked at the fish in front of her with her chopsticks.

“It would be best.”

Tomoe heaved a sigh and thanked Sakurako for her truthfulness, then dismissed her.

After bathing and preparing herself for the night, Tomoe decided to confide with Nobumasa about searching for a suitor. Sliding into a modest gown, she made her way across the palace. The sun had completely set at this point and Tomoe felt a strange loneliness as she drank in the sight of the moonlit gardens, chilly gusts of winds blowing steadily through the gown she had changed into. Looking at the swirling pool of hair trailing behind her, she felt the pang of an unknown emotion in her heart. Raising a hand to her chest and exhaling strongly, she cast this emotion away and continued toward Nobumasa’s chambers.

Kneeling at the door, Tomoe called out her arrival to Nobumasa and he sounded quite surprised at her visit as he beckoned her in. As she slid open the door, her shadow elongated behind her as the sunken hearth flamed at full fury. The wave of heat was indescribable and immediately pellets of sweat dripped from her forehead.

Nobumasa smiled incredulously and held a hand out to her; beckoning her to come out onto the engawa where a carpet of chilly air rushed over her and she heaved a sigh, completely dumbfounded as to why his fire was so large.

“Surely you are aware of that huge fire that has engulfed the middle of your room!? Is it wise to have one that large?! You are aware the palace is built of wood, yes, Nobumasa-dono?!” She exclaimed hurriedly as her gaze flicked between the grinning man and the huge fire. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the crackling and thrumming of flames.

Nobumasa laughed and Tomoe couldn’t help but stare- dumbfounded at his reaction. Surely this is a huge cause for panic? The whole palace could light aflame!

Pulling her off from the engawa and onto the soft expanse of grass that stretched till the walls of the palace, he linked their arms together and began walking.

“You see, it’s actually quite a funny story! Earlier this evening I had just started reading a new scroll that I had found whilst poring through the library. To my surprise, it was a piece of literature that told the story of an adventurer,” He said as another chilly gust of wind blew through their hair. Tomoe’s gaze flitted toward the fire and with an exhale of relief; she noted that the flame had dwindled ever so slightly.

“And the adventurer set out to take camp somewhere in the sacred grove of Tadasu. He collected an array of wood and built a fire. When he gazed into the fire he saw the dancing image of his future within the flames. Naturally, since it has been quite a time since the palace has hosted a hunting expedition, I had missed building my own fires. Thus I set out in search of some dry leaves and sticks to place in the sunken hearth to build my own. Perhaps I did it a little too well.” Nobumasa finished with a mischievous yet proud glint in his eye. Tomoe stared at him, wide eyed and disbelieving, her mouth slightly agape.

Nobumasa had never had any hunting or salvaging skill and in most hunts and, as a child, he rarely partook in hunts; instead he sat there and crushed ants with his finger, waiting for a rabbit or a deer to be poached and brought back for him to eat. Tomoe couldn’t believe he could act so childishly. She hit him on his shoulder, groaning loudly at the story and he flinched, exclaiming ‘why did you do that?!’

“And you hadn’t alerted anybody?!” Tomoe shrieked as she snapped her head back to the flames and the reality dawned on her that upon arriving at Nobumasa’s chambers, there had been no maid.

“Of course I did! You think I’m that foolish?! I had alerted the maid a few moments before you arrived. I instructed her to run and find the head attendant.”
It suddenly made sense why there had been no maid. As if on cue, the pair heard the barking of orders echoing from the opened doors of Nobumasa’s chambers. A group of maids were surrounding the fire with a bucket of water and quickly put it out. A thick column of smoke snaked its way from the door and up into the sky; the stinging scent burning Tomoe’s nostrils. She grimaced.

“There was a reason you came here unannounced, yes? Is it important?” Nobumasa questioned Tomoe with an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow as he gently manoeuvred them to the gardens.

Tomoe heaved another sigh- probably her thirtieth in the past few hours; and explained to Nobumasa her need to find a suitor to dispel sour rumours. During the length of their conversation they had descended into the palace gardens and the thick scent of shrubbery and moisture hung heavily in the air. The column of smoke could still be seen peering through the gaps between the leaves if they looked in the right direction.

They padded quietly across the bridge she and Sakurako had crossed yesterday. The moon had slowly risen like a spotlight in the night sky and cast a beautiful glow down on them and the stream that trickled quietly below. It was a beautiful night, but the contents of their conversation left a lot to be desired from Tomoe.

In reality, she had never really thought about marriage before. She understood that as she was born into nobility there was always the chance of a political marriage, but as far as the Heian period had gone so far, there had never been any need- all had been quite peaceful. A marriage for politics and a marriage for her own self image weren’t so different and she felt backed into a corner. This was one of the only sure ways to save her face and reputation. She felt defeated and another sigh escaped her lips, though its sound was concealed by a small gust of wind. She picked at the skin around her nails unconsciously.

“Either way, Tomoe-shii,” Nobumasa cut into her thoughts, “I do know some men from where I grew up in Chukyo. Some of them were sons of family friends and all were nobles. I could send a letter and inquire if they would like to meet you?”

Tomoe nodded and gave Nobumasa a small smile; thanking him. She knew that he could clearly see apprehension laced within her features, but she couldn’t care enough to conceal it. What an awful day. She won’t forget to mind her tongue with the next maid she spoke to.

-

As the last of the huge flames exhausted themselves into small sparks within the hearth, Nobumasa and Tomoe had arrived back at the palace. The infant trickles of rain were threatening to become a second thunderous shower of the day, and they had both hastily speed-walked back to shelter. Nobumasa had told Tomoe that it would be a week before the array of mysterious suitors would be able to reply, courtesy of the distance between Heian and Chukyo, so she must sit tight and wait.

Tomoe had spent the rest of the week pondering and poring over literature to try and dull her incessant worries; but nothing seemed to derail her thoughts. She was scared. Tomoe had never been close to any man except her father, but after he had passed, she had only ever really interacted with women- separate from court meetings and events, of course. She would be regarded as extremely rude if she were never to interact with a man during celebrations and social outings.

This was completely different. To engage with a man not only socially but… romantically? To see his face during every meal, after every meal, before bed, during bed… whatever they might… get up to during their time in bed? She grimaced at the thought and Sakurako had to remind her to unfurrow her eyebrows or she’ll get wrinkles. Her white makeup often smudged off in the creases of her forehead and mouth lines.

It was early morning the next week as the maids dressed Tomoe in her junihitoe that she finally got word back from a suitor. A folded piece of paper was handed to her by Sakurako and her fingertips trembled as she snapped the wax seal, the clan emblem pressed onto it one she did not recognize, and unfolded it.

The letter contained a few lines of poetry and the suitor’s utmost regard for her safety when she was to travel to Chukyo. He had prepared a room and made preparations for her arrival. He allowed her a time frame of three weeks to make the trip to him- but the duration of her stay would be however long she desired.

She would leave at once, Tomoe decided. She folded the parchment and thanked Sakurako. The maids finished adjusting the layers of her junihitoe and Tomoe heaved a thick exhale. The junihitoe was a twelve-layered court robe and Tomoe hated them with a passion. Though they were beautifully made, each garment weighed on her shoulders and she had to physically heave her chest forward to prevent her posture sulking from the weight. Not only this, but they were hard to move in and each robe provided another layer of unwelcome insulation. Tomoe was sweating despite it being the chilly monsoon season. She had always been in awe of how other noble women could wear them with such grace.

Tomoe had donned a sightly brocade of purple and green and picked up the beige-coloured fan she had placed on her desk. There was a depiction of plum trees painted on the fan’s leaf and Tomoe was a big fan of it. She softly fanned her face and willed with all her might to stop sweating. Her makeup needed to be perfect if she were to leave the palace.

The mode of transportation was settled on horseback, courtesy of the intense rain. A palanquin would’ve been harsh and unruly on the servants that had to carry it, and a risk of them falling ill from treading through mud all day would make her journey even longer. There was a small group accompanying Tomoe for the trip- Nobumasa included. He had offered to accompany her after considering it an opportunity to rekindle lost connections from moving to Heian.

Supplies were mounted onto the horses and they set out a few hours after the morning meal. It would take, in the worst conditions, around a week to arrive at Chukyo. After a light shower of the rain the mud had become slippery and the horses were fighting to keep a brisk pace. A unanimous decision was made to set up a camp for a few hours to give the mud time to harden, if the showers were to cease.

As the tents were erected and furnishings placed down, the men accompanying Tomoe had graciously dug her a small fire pit in the middle of the small tent. Thanks to the rain it took longer than normal to find suitable firewood and she had sat there shivering as the men apologised profusely. Tomoe sat close to the fire and Nobumasa came and sat by her after finalising their travel plans for later with the other men. The horses had graciously been given their own coverings and Tomoe was in awe at how they were able to carry so much supplies in such small bags.

Rain pattered softly against the hide that had been placed atop the tent for increased insulation and Tomoe and Nobumasa talked about the mysterious suitor.

“As far as I know, he’s a good man.” Nobumasa remarked, shuffling closer to the fire and rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Though the last time I saw him was many years ago. He may have changed, but I can only pray for you that his countenance has stayed fair and kind.”

Silence descended upon them and Nobumasa could feel Tomoe’s apprehension coiling around him. He felt pity for her but he knew there was nothing he could do. Finding a kind and gentle suitor was the least he could do- but in reality he had no idea what the noble was like. As young boys, they had shared the same tutor and had quickly become close. Spending hours each day with each other, Nobumasa had always been in awe at how he was always so full of positive energy. He would take Nobumasa by the hand and run around the gardens, reciting names of bugs as they whipped past them, the names of different trees and facts about the Chukyo palace.

Sudden heavy squelches of mud shook the ground. Tomoe and Nobumasa looked up at each other and exchanged confused glances before they went out to see what was happening. The other men that were accompanying Tomoe were also there. A few bushi were mounted on horseback, their leather armour smeared with mud and slick from rain. They seemed to be hurriedly whispering to the men who nodded quickly. One of them walked up to Tomoe and Nobumasa.

“There have been reports that groups of bandits have been pillaging this route. These bushi were dispatched from Chukyo palace a few days ago to come and collect us from the palace. They did not expect us to leave so hurriedly. I’m afraid you won’t be getting too much sleep tonight, Tomoe-dono, Nobumasa-dono. We must be hasty.”

Within the hour they had set off again. The sun had slipped beneath the horizon and carpeted the thick forest in a blanket of plunging darkness. The bushi raised lit torches above their heads, flame swaying back and forth at every step their horses took. Mercifully, the rain had slowed to a slight trickle. The ground was still slick and runny between their feet and the horses were beginning to tire from the hours of travelling in darkness. Tomoe’s hands shook as she clasped onto freezing reigns and every movement in the air caused a shiver to weave through her spine. The night was eerily silent, the clomping and squelching of hooves beneath them giving the group little respite.

Tomoe had shed some layers of the junihitoe after the distressing news that they had to hurry and leave. She felt bad about it because each robe was very intricately designed and extraordinarily expensive, and the rest of the clothing she had left on was caked in mud- but she could not afford to weigh her horse down and slow the journey.

-

The croaking of morning cicadas pulled Tomoe out of her dizzying, sleepless phase. Her head had lolled to the side and she quickly jolted upright, eyes shooting across the group. Their horses had slowed significantly from overwork but they still had quite a ways to go until they arrived at Chukyo palace. She felt a chill run through her veins. Air thick with fog made a feeling of unease hang on Tomoe’s heart.

One of the bushi turned their heads and led them to an abandoned camping area.

“We were here a few nights ago. We must be close. Let us let the horses rest.” He instructed, swinging himself off of his horse and tying it to a tree.

Tomoe dismounted and huffed, patting down her robes and taking a look around the area. The shrubbery was thick and coated with a thin layer of morning dew and fog- shielding them from any who might come looking. Rain had left a generous amount of wet mud but otherwise the terrain was flat and grassy, a good place to take shelter.

Nobumasa stretched his legs and walked up to Tomoe. He had thick eyebags from the sleepless night before and Tomoe couldn’t help but wonder how good he still looked. She was unaware of her own appearance though could take a good guess that her hair was dishevelled and her makeup had completely washed off.

“Want to try hunting?” Nobumasa asked. The bushi had adequately prepared for the trip and had brought two long bows that Nobumasa asked to borrow.

“There’s no harm in it.” Tomoe replied and thanked it as a welcome distraction from the uneasiness tickling her skin. Picking up the longbow, she felt it weigh heavily in her hands and wondered how people could handle them like feathers. Tomoe could tell that it was crafted with high quality wood. It felt perfect in her hand and she felt a thin shock of adrenaline rush through her veins.

They trekked out into the forested area alone. A squirrel flew past them and clawed its way up a tree.

“The first step,” Nobumasa called out and Tomoe watched him, intrigued. “You must align your feet with your shoulders. Face your body in the direction of what you would like to shoot at,”

Nobumasa tilted his body toward the squirrel.

“Hold your bow with your dominant hand. Place your thumb on the exterior of the bow and the rest of your fingers on the inside.”

He pulled out an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back. With a sharp and slow exhale, he placed the arrow into the string and pulled it.

“You must nook your arrow on the opposite side of your dominant hand,” He nodded at the string. Since Nobumasa was right handed, the arrow was nocked on the left side of the bow and pulled diagonally.

“As you pull the arrow, extend the bow with your arm. Rest your hand on the corner of your mouth and-”

Holding his breath and steadying his aim, he loosened his fingers on the arrow and released it. The arrow tore through the air and thrust into the squirrel’s chest. It fell from the tree with a THUMP.

Turning his head, he grinned sheepishly at Tomoe and the edges of her lips blossomed upwards. This was just like his adventure fantasy.

“Well done, Nobumasa-dono.” She mused, impressed by his accuracy. The last time they had been on a hunting expedition as children, he had been utterly useless. It seemed he had been practising.

Tomoe raised the bow and steadied it. Nobumasa corrected her mistakes, all whilst exclaiming that he had no idea she was left handed, and she aimed at the same tree trunk the squirrel had been shot off of. Inhaling just as he did, she released the arrow. It flew right past the tree and the shrubbery whirled from the sudden shot.

Nobumasa couldn’t help but stifle a small chuckle at her failure.
“Don’t worry. Come on, try again. Try shooting at the trunk over there.” He nodded in toward the east and Tomoe took a deep breath.

Steadying her gaze and tilting toward where she wanted to shoot, she nocked the arrow, pulled back the string whilst extending the bow and released the arrow.

A stifled shout shot through the air. Tomoe’s eyebrows furrowed and her mouth fell agape as she exchanged a scared look with Nobumasa.

Leaves rustled crazily as a man clad in black writhed on the ground, an arrow tearing through his throat. His hands tensed and flexed at the arrow lodged through his flesh, a fountain of vermilion blood bubbling and squirting from the wound.

Tomoe’s eyelids fluttered and a thick ball of dread slid up her throat, releasing as vomit beside the man. She fell to the ground as the man continued trying to breathe, to speak, to cry for help. The squirting had stopped and instead a thick gush of blood slid down his throat and his shirt. His arms fell to the ground, blood running cold.

Nobumasa stood there trembling, his hands twitching and breath hitching. He stuttered something incomprehensible and dirt flicked into the air from beneath his straw sandals as he scurried back to the camp.

Tomoe heaved until her throat stung. Strings of saliva dripped from her parted lips and tears pricked at her eyes. Her gaze shot to the dead man next to her. His eyes were wide and bloodshot and a shallow pool of tears shimmered atop them. Thick, pulsating veins thread into his throat and wove like a map across his face. She could hear the crumpling of his shirt as the thick stream of blood weighed it down.

She heaved again.

Chapter Text

Tomoe couldn’t recall how long she’d been unconscious. The last thing she could remember was the nauseating stench of iron, dirt and wood before wet grass came crashing into her face. The pounding of footsteps and wooden geta appeared before her hazy vision- and then she was being hauled upright, head lolling as if she were a doll.

Cold winds shook her awake. The gentle churning of the horse below her and a rope digging onto her back made her groan and raise her head. She was laying down, strapped to her horse. Hearing the chattering of the soldiers beside her, she turned and looked at Nobumasa. His expression was grave and the colour that usually flushed his cheeks had washed away, replaced with a colourless and stern countenance. His hands were dirty and clothes unwashed, hair messy and unbrushed. Her gaze flicked between the other bushi soldiers and they all were the same way. This journey had been long and they had to endure many sleepless nights. Tomoe couldn’t wait until they arrived at Chukyo and there was a nagging tugging on her chest that caused her gaze to lower. It was her fault that they had to leave so hastily. She could feel the horse beneath her huffing at every step. Bile rose in her throat and she vomited again- the hooves of her horse stepping on it and stirring it with mud. Tomoe could feel her bones weighing her down but she resisted, untying herself from the horse and sitting upright. Seeing her wake, Nobumasa swerved his horse and rode alongside her. Tomoe grabbed the reins and shifted to a more comfortable position.

Hues of light blue and yellow gleamed across the sky and Tomoe judged it to be early morning. Taking a look at her friend riding alongside her, she could see that it had been another sleepless night for the group. Huge eyebags puffed beneath Nobumasa’s eyes and his gaze was soft, not focusing nor unfocused. The collar of his robes were scratched and torn- most likely from running into branches. It had previously been a bright blue colour, but now was faded and brownish. His hands were filthy and he exuded a strong odour- as did Tomoe herself.

They had more than enough supplies to bathe themselves but the bushi had decided it was too risky to stop, so they travelled quietly down the mud path for hours on end.

“We’ll be arriving at Chukyo shortly.” One Bushi that was at the front of their envoy called.

Nobumasa looked down at Tomoe.
“It’s alright, we’ll be able to rest soon.”

Tomoe smiled at him weakly and a wave of concern flood over his face. Tomoe could tell that Nobumasa cared for her greatly and she felt awful at having him pity for her whilst she was in such a fragile state.

“Are you okay?” Nobumasa asked. He already knew the answer.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I am fair to assume it was your first time killing somebody?” He asked, voice laced with gentle humour.

“You’ve killed before?” Tomoe said humourlessly. She turned her head toward the thick expanse of forest to her left. She watched a bird swoop down onto something hidden in the leaves.

“I believe the majority of people have. This may be a time of peace but killing is still a very large aspect in every bodies life. Especially men’s. I don’t blame you for not having killed before, Tomoe-shii.”

Tomoe looked at him now. She saw a glassy sheet flicker momentarily in his eyes. Somehow, she didn’t believe him. Looking forward, she noticed gates rising up like shields in the horizon. They were donned with a couple of fierce looking men holding spears and straw hats pulled low on their faces.

“We’ve arrived.” Nobumasa announced with a grateful sigh. It couldn’t have come any sooner.

Another man emerged from the gap in the gate. His robes were long and exquisite, gold silk shimmering in the sunlight. A tall eboshi sat proudly on his head and rose highly in a display of wealth. Tomoe guessed this man was the mysterious suitor.

Upon arriving at the gates, she managed to get a better look at his face. It was long, but not overly so. His eyes were wide yet feminine, with long, curled eyelashes and she could feel his focused gaze bearing into her. Tomoe felt ashamed to present herself to him in such a state, but it could not be helped. She caught the very gentle grimace flicker on his strikingly clear features as he surveyed her dirtied face and hair.

His pink lips rose into a gentle smile.
“I apologize profusely for the fuss you’ve had to endure on your journey. Please, come inside. I will guide you to the palace and show you the rooms I have prepared for each of you.”

As Tomoe dismounted the horse, she looked past the man’s shoulders and into Chukyo. It was built similarly to Heian—kyo roads dug meticulously straight and square, low houses sitting apart in a perfect grid. The huge road led in a direct straight line from the gate into the mouth of the palace’s courtyard.

Making their way down the road, commoners were lined up on either side, anxious to get a glimpse of the mysterious Heian-kyo nobles. Tomoe felt ashamed and lowered her head as the distasteful comments about her unsightly appearance were muttered and whispered like a curse. She swallowed the large lump that had risen in her throat.

Approaching the courtyard, Tomoe was quite stunned at how bare it was. A huge, plain square of cream coloured gravel. It was encased by a plain wooden fence and the only entrance was out onto the main road, where they now stood. Her gaze raised to the palace.

It was huge and ornate. Beams of light shone and reflected off of the green sloped roof. It was supported by painted red wood beams that reflected the ornate design of the palace at Heian-kyo. The palace was huge, the engawa stretching out and wrapping itself around the building.

“I don’t believe I got your name,” The suitor said, cutting into Tomoe’s train of thought.

She forced a polite smile.
“Kikugawa no Tomoe.”

He smiled in return.
“Fujinaka no Tsunekiyo, my lady. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Let us hurry inside, I’m sure you have travelled more than enough for one day. I will show you around the palace when you so wish.” He said, ushering them inside.

Entering the palace, the beams above them were lined with an array of beautifully carved lanterns all sporting intricate and unique designs. Some held depictions of flora like hyacinth, bamboo and plum trees, whilst others depicted palanquins, tea ceremonies and beautiful women with long hair.

The garden was also a close mimicry to the one in Heian-kyo. There was a small, man-made lake carved into the patterned gravel. Three bridges crossed over the lake and lead into a blossoming flower garden.

Tsunekiyo called over a few of the maids and escorted the bushi and maids to their quarters, graciously offering to take Tomoe and Nobumasa to their rooms himself.

Tomoe’s room was spacious and she had barely been able to shed her robe before two maids politely introduced themselves at her door. Tomoe allowed them to help her and she felt her face flush light peach as they ushered her to the bathing rooms. Their faces were stoic and she wasn’t able to discern any disgust on their faces, but she could tell that they were thinking something unseemly about her journey here.

Soap lathered against her back harshly as she sat on a wooden stool kindly provided to her. One of the maids was washing her body and the other helped with her long expanse of mud soaked hair. Despite the fact she got more than enough hours of sleep on the back of the horse, she could feel her eyelids weigh down heavily- but every time she closed her eyes she heard the gargling, bubbling blood throbbing from his throat, his bloodshot eyes piercing daggers into her soul, cursing her, wishing she had died in his place-

“Tomoe-hime.” One of the maids called out to her and Tomoe opened her eyes, forcing a gentle sorry looking smile. The maid took her arm and gently lead her to the bath, where she was finally able to soak her body and properly relax without the company of ants or flies.

Tomoe splashed some of the water on her face. Digging her nails into her forehead and she lowering herself down toward her chest, she played the scene in her mind over again and again. She killed somebody. Murdered him. He will never breathe or rise to the chirping of birds again. Never witness that days sunset, or a sunrise the next. How long will it take for his family to be told of his death? How he was shot by a woman?

She feels herself beginning to retch and the aching in her heart is nauseating, pulling her below the ground. Clenching her jaw and tightening the grip around her head, she began to weep.

After returning to her room and having a little look around, the maids returned to her once again. They told her that Tsunekiyo was hosting a large breakfast for the safe return of her and Nobumasa. She quickly accepted the invitation after a loud interruption from her stomach.

Being led into the dining room was fast, much faster than the palace in Heian-kyo, though she noted it was structured with straining detail in the exact same way. Navigating this new palace would be a breeze, she thought to herself.

The room was again similar to the one back in Heian-kyo, but the pieces of art in the wall were of much less extravagance and presumably cost a lot less. There was a long table that stretched across the long room, with low cushions spotting the sides. Tsunekiyo was already seated at the head of the table and beckoned Tomoe to come in and to sit one spot below him.

Seating herself comfortably (and properly for a lady of her position) and after greeting Tsunekiyo, she stole a glance toward the door for any sign of Nobumasa. He seemed to be taking his time getting ready.

“So, Tomoe-dono,” Tsunekiyo said, pouring her some tea in a small, cylindrical cup. He pushed it toward her and poured one for himself. “How are you enjoying the palace so far?”

Tomoe had to think about her answer for a few seconds. She wrapped her fingers across the circumference of the cup, seeping in it’s warmth.
“I believe it was modelled after the Heian palace?” Tomoe said, taking a sip.

Tsunekiyo raised the corner of his lip and nodded his head to one side in a small display of acceptance.
“You have a keen eye. This palace was built for the Emperor many years ago after he was forced to relocate, thanks to the hound of fire arrows shot at the Heian palace from Kamiya rebels during the Taiyonoyari war. They brought the palace aflame.”

Tomoe listened intently. She had scarcely read about the history of the palace and much less about the war- but she remembered some small sections here and there.

“It took ten years to rebuild the Heian palace?” She asked, unsure of whether she was correct or not.

He smiled, impressed by her knowledge despite being a woman, and took another sip.
“It did. Do you know what they called the fire arrows?”

Tomoe shook her head.

“The attack was at night, whilst all of the Emperors troops were stationed in Shinano. The Kamiya had somehow managed to make allies within Satsuma, who were directly behind where the Emperor’s army was headed. They manage to bound right up to the Heian palace because there were no guards,” Tsunekiyo laughed at this. “And shot all of the arrows they had. The attack took place at night and when the villagers looked up, they marvelled at the sight of a thousand shooting stars. When a few hours had passed and fire rose like a mountain did they really realize what the stars were. By that time the rebels were long gone. After the Emperor found out that they had escaped, he sent thousands upon thousands of men to go searching for them. No trace of them.”

Tomoe was intrigued. She leant forward and pressed Tsunekiyo further.

“Well, why were there no guards? If the Emperor was fighting against the Kamiya, surely he would’ve left someone to guard his most precious estate?”

Tsunekiyo grinned slyly and brought one of his knees up to his chest, to a more a comfortable position. He waved his hand to the teapot, gesturing Tomoe to pour herself a refill if needed.

“This is the funny thing. The Emperor was such a boastful and prideful man, that he wished the crush the Kamiya with his complete strength. He knew they were weakening, thanks to his abundance of supplies and generously paid mercenaries. He thought this would be the prime time- right when the Kamiya were on the verge of defeat. He would be able to crush them in one fell swoop. So, he sent all of his personnel to Shinano. The battle lasted six weeks. And in six weeks the Kamiya were no more. I wouldn’t be surprised if the mountains were able to grow twice their height with all the enrichment from the dead bodies piling around them.”

“His pride was his downfall.” Tomoe nodded.

“Exactly.” He paused to refill his cup and offered some to Tomoe, which she accepted.
“Only in the five weeks it took to decimate the Kamiya army, his most prized estate had burnt into ash. That was his punishment for his sin.”

Just as Tsunekiyo finished his sentence, a late arrival hurriedly introduced himself at the door. Finally, Nobumasa had arrived. He was ushered to sit next to Tomoe and shot her a pitiful smile, apologizing for his tardiness to Tsunekiyo.

“Please, no need to worry, Nobumasa-dono. Tomoe-dono and I were talking about the Taiyonoyari Civil War.”

“Ah, the civil war? I remember learning quite a bit about that whilst being tutored as a child. It’s an interesting topic.”

Tomoe nodded. Perhaps when she returned to the palace she could read some more about it.

“Well!” Tsunekiyo announced. The hushed chatter in the room fell silent and a multitude of heads turned toward his voice.

“Now that we are all present, I would be honoured to thank you all for accompanying me in such a fine morning. The clouds from last nights storm have fled and the sun welcomes us. I hope you all enjoy the meals that have been so gracefully prepared for you.”

Upon finishing his speech a large group of maids shuffled through the door, each holding a beautifully crafted lacquerware tray and placed the trays in front of each of the guests. The various dishes were arranged beautifully and meticulously and a beautiful set of chopsticks were neatly placed next to them. Today’s breakfast was rice, miso soup, pickled vegetables and grilled fish.

The aroma of the freshly prepared food wafted across the room and Tomoe could feel her stomach growl in encouragement. She thanked Tsunekiyo, glanced at Nobumasa and then began eating.

Tomoe knew that food was supposed to be handled graciously and femininely. Small bites only. She found it hard to contain herself but felt the stares of the other women who had seen her in her pitiful state last night and she knew she had to make a real effort to win their favour. Even though they weren’t going to be staying long at the palace, she could at least save some face. Gossip about all types of high class spread like wildfire.

After the meal had ended and everybody was shuffling out of the doors, Tsunekiyo invited Nobumasa and Tomoe along with a few other high ranking court members to stay and chat. Not long after this invitation had been graciously accepted, a maid came shuffling as fast as she could toward Tsunekiyo with a troubled look on her face.
Whispering something into his ear, his complexion turned deathly pale.

Dismissing the other nobles, Tomoe and Nobumasa were hurriedly ushered into another room similar to the one they had just left, but instead the table was strewn with different books, pieces of paper and maps. As they entered, they were greeted with two hugely built men with sharp gazes that were clad in armour from head to toe. There was another man, a bushi, caked in mud and red faced that was panting and shivering, who was surrounded by other men in bushi armour.
There was another person who Tomoe did not recognize but judging by his attire, he was high ranking government official for Chukyo. All of their expressions were equally grave.

“Tomoe-dono, this is Hayashi Bai and Hayashi Lin. They are the dual bushi no kami.” Tsunekiyo introduced the two intimidating looking men. She greeted herself and they nodded stiffly. Tsunekiyo looked at the shivering man. “And he is…?”

Hayashi Bai stepped forward and placed his hand atop his katana handle.
“He was brought inside after the maids heard him shouting for help outside the palace. They were saying he was shouting about rebels and that he needed to speak with you, Tsunekiyo-dono.”

The frail man stepped forward. His gaze was fixated and trembling on the floor below him.
“D-dono.” He whimpered and clasped his hands together.

“What did you see?” Tsunekiyo asked. He quickly instructed one of the lower ranking bushi to fetch a maid to clean him up.

The high ranking official stepped forward. He had a long, thin moustache that pointed stiffly outward from his face.

“He was trailing the path that Tomoe-dono and Nobumasa-dono had took coming here in order to double check they had not left anything behind. He inspected the man that Tomoe-dono had shot. He was no ordinary bandit.”

The official stepped forward to the table and picked up a thin, worn piece of paper and placed it closer to Tsunekiyo. He picked up and scanned the contents. His eyes immediately shot open and his mouth fell agape as he shot his gaze back up to the official. The official looked back at Tomoe and cleared his throat.

“The man you killed was part of a much large rebellion group that dates back to the Taiyonoyari civil war and we believe that he is currently serving the Kamiya clan. We believe they were trying to send a message and were planning to raid and steal supplies from your camp. Since you two are high nobility, it’s very possible that you were their targets. Killing you would send a warning to the Emperor.”

Tomoe felt her stomach lurch. Killed? She could’ve been killed?

Nobumasa chimed in softly. Tomoe could tell he was as uneasy as her.
“I thought the Kamiya rebels died off after they were crushed?”

The official replied gravely. “It seems not. After the rebels from Satsuma burnt down Heian palace, it’s very possible that their escape allowed them to regrow their own army right beneath our noses. I wouldn’t consider it too far fetched to say this is the beginning of their uprising. They’ve had over a hundred years to regain their power. The battle won’t be so easily fought this time.”

For some reason, Tomoe’s mind wandered back home, to the Empress. How would she fare in all of this? Obviously not very well, she scolded herself. The first step was to keep herself alive. And safe, preferably.

“Word has already been sent to Heian-kyo?” Tsunekiyo asked, pacing around the table with unease. He picked at his eyebrows with one hand and rubbed his chin with his other.
After a minute of heavy pacing and a dreadful silence, he turned toward Tomoe and Nobumasa.

“I would strongly advise you from returning back home. We don’t know how dangerous the roads are unless we send some men to check on them, which can take more than a few weeks. Rebel groups don’t tend to camp in the middle of the path, so we’ll need some very strong surveillance.” He paused. “However, if you really intend to return home, then I will not stop you. It is your choice to make.”

Tomoe turned to Nobumasa. His eyebrows were furrowed and the bags beneath his eyes seemed to swell, the lines around his nose deepening. He met her gaze and smiled pitifully. “Then I’m afraid we have no choice. We are very sorry to intrude and prolong our stay like this, Tsunekiyo-dono.”

Tomoe bowed with Nobumasa and thanked Tsunekiyo for his hospitality.

On their way back to their rooms, a huge group of armed bushi was being led by Tsunekiyo. She assumed they would be doing something important, or they had captured one of the rebels somehow. Upon seeing her expression, Nobumasa interrupted her thoughts.

“They’re most likely going to barricade the city and put more patrols on the roads leading in. Tsunekiyo-dono will have to be extremely careful with whoever enters and leaves.”

Tomoe hummed in reply and watched the horde as they disappeared around a red pillar and off the premises.

Cold wind blew onto Tomoe’s neck and she shivered. Nobumasa was walking in silence and she felt at ease in the presence of someone she knew, so she decided to let it linger a little longer. She only broke the silence once they were close to their rooms.

“Do you think I should send Sakurako-shii a letter?”

“I suppose you could. Though,” Nobumasa looked at the garden grounds as they passed it. “I wouldn’t write too many details on it. Something short and simple would be best. It’s very probably the rebels are camping out on the roads and they would be able to intercept anything that goes through.”

“Would the letter of warning be safe, then? Especially after their failed attempt at our lives, wouldn’t they be desperate to try and destroy any word going to the capital?”

Nobumasa looked down at Tomoe and arched his eyebrows. Perhaps she had a flare for strategy. Or perhaps it was something that they had just overlooked in panic.

“I’ll let Tsunekiyo-dono know.”

They continued in silence for another few steps. The air was particularly heavy after everything that had happened and Tomoe could tell it was weighing on Nobumasa. She always thought he could laugh everything off thanks to his naturally upbeat complexion, and it was unusual to see him taking it so heavily. This is what the threat of death brings, Tomoe thought. She felt her stomach churn as her mind flew back to her first kill.

The last of the sunlight was overshadowed by a huge gray cloud and everything around them to desaturate. She heard the caw of a crow and the taste of salt fling through the air.

“Perhaps you would like to come to my chambers, Tomoe-shii? I can tell something is weighing on you.”

Tomoe looked up at the pitying face of Nobumasa and felt a chill run through her neck. “Yes. It’s beginning to get colder, too. Something is weighing on you too, Nobumasa-dono.”

Light pellets of rain had begun to fall over the Chukyo gardens. Nobumasa had left the sliding door open to allow some fresh air to circulate the room, but kindled a fire to keep them warm enough. Tomoe had watched him carefully as he had done this, making sure it didn’t explode into a bonfire like back at Heian.

A maid had graciously brought them some tea at Nobumasa’s command. They took long sips and sat in silence for what felt like ages. The steady choir of rain that drenched the grass and wooden pillars felt melancholic to them both.

“The way things turned out for us was very lucky.” Nobumasa said, his deep voice piercing through the cold air and crackling of fire.

“Though very lucky at the same time,” Tomoe responded with a slight trace of humour. “This whole uprising has stolen a suitor from me.”

Nobumasa looked at her with a small smile and he nodded his head to one side, peering back at the rain.
“Nobody will remember your rumour with the second coming of one of the biggest rebel groups we’ve ever fought against.”

“I suppose that’s true.”
Tomoe took a sip and gulped down a large chunk of air.

“Tomoe-shii. Are you okay? You haven’t been yourself.”

“I am okay. I’m likely not accustomed to the changes here. A few more days and I’ll be fine.”

Nobumasa laughed. “I’m not sure there are any changes. The palace is just a smaller replica from the one at home.”

Tomoe raised her lips. She could appreciate his humour in times like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She watched her reflection swirl through the tea.

“Tomoe-shii. Talk to me.” Nobumasa persisted. He spoke in a low, pleading and caring voice. She let out a long, silent exhale from her nose and pursed her lips in thought.

“The- I… I just can’t stop thinking about the man that I killed. The blood. The gurgling, trying to talk- trying to curse at me, probably. His bloodshot eyes. Pupils that were darting from one place to the next, yet looking at nothing. How my face was the last thing he saw. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came to haunt me as a curse. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. The last twitching of his fingers. The spark draining from his eyes.”

There was a heavy silence. She couldn’t bring herself to look over at the pitying expression of her friend. Tomoe was suddenly aware that her hands were shaking. Water swelled in her eyes and fell onto her lap. “I’m sor-” She croaked.

She was suddenly enveloped in warmth and her throat hitched. Nobumasa had leant over and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t say anything and Tomoe finally, just for a second, felt some peace. And she knew that Nobumasa did not do this in a way to manipulate her, to coerce her into something- but as a friend. A friend that cared.
She wept.

After her tears had dried, Tomoe pulled away from the embrace and looked at Nobumasa. There were slight red streaks around his eyes and she could tell that, however sneakily, he had shed a tear or two of his own. He had empathy for her. Tomoe found herself thanking the gods that she had found someone so dear to her. Nobumasa was a gift from god.

“Thank you.” She sighed, wiping her eyes. She felt her white makeup smudge, but she was too worn out to reapply it. She’d get a maid to do it later.

Crows continued to caw outside and the bitter cold finally eased as the colour of the world sprung back up. The clouds had finally passed and a brilliant blue sky shone down on them. The room smelt damp and woody and Tomoe felt her muscles relax and the energy in her body slowly begin to refill.

“It’s a shame we won’t be able to explore the city as carefree as we would of done.” Tomoe said with a dry chuckle.

“We will most definitely be guarded by some bushi. If you’d like, perhaps we can take a trip around? There’s a port nearby. We can watch the water.”

“Are you sure? Isn’t it too soon?”

“No rebel would be stupid enough to try and kill us in broad daylight.”

“I assume you’re talking from experience.” She chuckled, slapping his arm lightly.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The fire dwindled into a small flame and Tomoe decided it was best if she were to return to her own chambers. She had a lot to think about, and had suddenly had an idea for a poem she could write. Upon leaving, she had to make sure not to try and slip from the slippery wooden floor. It was hard to walk and she had to shuffle carefully. A bath would definitely be needed tonight, she deduced, after watching her long expanse of hair trail through the watery floor behind her.

Chapter Text

Settling back into her room, Tomoe had prepared her poetry station and reapplied white powder to her face. Baby flames leapt quietly into the air as she slid open the large door onto the engawa. She had shed some robe layers and sat behind the small desk. Brush in hand, she stopped for a second and recited what she wanted to write. First saying it out loud, and then slowly dragging the bristles across the paper into beautiful characters. She had to redo it a few times and eventually gave up, heaving a large sigh and placing the brush down.

Mildew and the heavy scent of rain still lingered in the air, but it was slowly beginning to ease and Tomoe noted the slow moving of the sun in the sky. July was slowly creeping it’s way toward Nippon, and the weather was slightly hotter than it were earlier in the week. Though the humid weather of July wasn’t Tomoe’s favourite, she could appreciate it as an alternative from the bitter, horrible cold. She was glad that she wasn’t expected to wear the junihitoe in such humid and hot weather, instead opting for something more lightweight and breathable, like a kosode. She also greatly enjoyed deciding what type of fan she wanted to wear, or what pattern she’d like to wear on the hitoe.

Tomoe was pulled out of her thoughts by an unfamiliar voice announcing themselves at the door. She turned and beckoned them inside.

She was a maid, dressed in junihitoe with long and slightly dishevelled hair. It was tied into a sagegami with some loose strands that stuck out. She looked very young and Tomoe guessed somewhere about fifteen and she was surprised that someone so young was working as a maid.

The maid bowed respectfully, ensuring Tomoe’s approval before raising her head to look at her. She spoke softly and barely audibly, stuttering every now and then.
“Ah! Tomoe-hime. My name is Itagaki Hangaku. I-It’s very nice to make your acquaintance! I apologize for my rashness and for not notifying you earlier that I will be coming.”

Tomoe couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly. There was an innocence about her that she found adorable and she felt the need to make the maid as comfortable as possible. It could possibly lead to some new connections, or friends, at the Chukyo palace.
“It’s okay,” Tomoe giggled softly, patting the ground beside her. “Come in. Were you sent here for anything specific?”

Itagaki shook her head softly. She crossed the threshold of the room, knelt, slid the door shut, and then neatly sat beside Tomoe. Wide eyes peered over at the desk and Tomoe could see a flush of red on her cheeks.
The maid cleared her throat. “Actually um, Tomoe-hime, I came here of my own volition. There was- I had heard that you and Nobumasa-dono had arrived at the palace. I’ve been reading your poetry for a bit now, even though you haven’t published many. But there are records of past poetry competitions and I was enthralled with the way you write.”

Tomoe felt her features lighten at the praise and she couldn’t help but try and suppress a smile, though it were a feeble attempt. Itagaki caught her gaze and gave a fat cheeked smile in return.
“Thank you. I suppose you came at a good time,” Tomoe said, wheeling her head back to the piece of paper on the desk. Ink had spilt over the white sheet and the brush which had rolled atop it concealed the words written underneath.
“Do you have any ideas on a theme for my next piece of poetry?” She continued, picking up the brush. She could feel Itagaki lean closer to read what had been written.

“There is, um, there is one thing that I’d like to see written. Well, I don’t see it written a lot, and I don’t think there’s been a poem about it before. But, as a child, I’ve always wanted to be an onna-musha. They are strong willed and I wish they were more popular as the focus in writing.”

Raising her eyes in surprise, Tomoe recalled some pieces of text she had read about the onna-musha. Strong, female warriors who had charged a hundred times fiercer than their male counterparts. Skilled in the art of war, archery, horse-back riding, using all types of weapons, especially the naginata and katana. It could be a good concept to write about, but the males of the court would definitely not see it that way.
Most likely, they would assume that Tomoe was writing to give more power to women. To show how much better they are than men and glorifying them. No man would like to read about the accomplishments of women, or how much fiercer they are.

She frowned. Tomoe felt compassion for this young maid, but she could also loose a large amount of reputation if this were ever read by a man. She lowered her gaze to Itagaki.
“Okay. But you mustn’t show anyone. It would bring me great shame if a man were ever to read it. You have to promise that you won’t show a soul.”

Itagaki nodded furiously. “I promise, Tomoe-hime.”

Tomoe placed the ink-stained paper beside the desk and brought out a fresh one. She recited a few poems in her head and after deciding on one, cleared her throat and picked up the brush. Reciting the characters in her head, she slid the tip of the brush onto the paper in beautiful strokes. Within a few seconds the poetry was done.

“May I read it?”

“Yes. Be careful not to raise it too high, or the ink may drip.”

Itagaki leant over and carefully pulled the piece of paper toward her.

The tsuba blossoms
Its heart pierced through by the blade
Flower and stamen

Tomoe watched as her features rose, her mouth falling agape before she quickly shut it into a gummy smile. The red on the maids cheeks darkened into vermilion.
“It’s beautiful, Tomoe-hime!” She exclaimed, pupils darting from Tomoe’s face to the poem. Tomoe sighed in relief, grateful that she liked her writing.

“Thank you, Itagaki.” She sighed with a small giggle. Paper fluttered within Itagaki’s careful grip and she hurriedly returned it to the table, blushing with embarrassment.

Clearing her throat, Itagaki shuffled on her knees and looked down at her hands, which she was nervously rubbing against each other.
“Actually, Tomoe-hime, there was something else that I wanted to inquire about.”

Tomoe turned toward Itagaki and smiled calmly. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

“Well, as you are very aware, lowly ranking maids like myself aren’t allowed to go into the study quarters. Some of the information and scrolls there are very classified and only available to the upper echelons of society,” She then paused, flicking her nervous gaze from her hands to Tomoe.
“But I believe there is a scroll that details a lot about onna-musha,” She paused again, clearing her throat. “and I would be forever grateful if you were able to perhaps allow me to read some of them. If you are able and are okay with this request, of course, Tomoe-hime.”

Tomoe had to ponder this request for a few moments. What Itagaki said was true, the study quarters were extremely limited; mostly to men and other aristocrats, though thanks her noble lineage, she would possibly be allowed access to the scrolls held within. It wouldn’t be hard to get there, either, thanks to the near identical layout of her home.

The only repercussions she could think of was if any higher ranking man found out about Itagaki’s curiosity, thus punishing her. Men often found pleasure in handing out unnecessarily harsh punishments to women of a lower rank than them and Tomoe often found that it was thanks to their own insecurity and obsessiveness with rank. Whatever could give them a feeling of power. Punishment would be tripled if they realized she specifically went to Tomoe in order to persuade her, especially without any other work to complete.

Yet she felt such pity for the girl. Working so hard at such a young age and surrounded by power-hungry, insecure men. This was the least somebody could do. Tomoe might be the only person that would grant her such a large deed, and she didn’t know how long she’d be staying at the palace.
Maybe she’d whisk Itagaki away, back to Heian-kyo as her personal maid. She wondered how Sakurako would react.

“Okay.” Tomoe said with a low yet gentle voice and a slight huff in defeat. “Come and find me during the torinuke, before the evening meal.”

Itagaki lit up and her cautious, embarrassed front eased slightly. She placed a soft, warm hand atop Tomoe’s. “Thank you, Tomoe-hime!” She grinned. Quickly standing up and patting down her kosode, she thanked Tomoe once more and made her departure.

Tomoe let out a relieved sigh and she fancied herself quite smart for winning over the girls favour.

The rest of the day passed fairly quickly and Tomoe did nothing notable except sigh over her poetry desk and mull over the recent events. Sometimes her mind flit to the empress and a small longing to see her face or hear her voice, but she dismissed those thoughts as soon as they arrived. More important things needed her attention.

Swivelling the brush between her fingers, (something she was so gracefully taught by Nobumasa) Tomoe squinted her eyes and huffed in defeat. No poetry was coming to her head, despite her greatest efforts at diverting her attention to prose. It was hard coming to terms with the fact that she was the object of somebodies affection thanks to her poetry. She had always been inclined to write and it came (mostly) as easily as breathing, and she never thought it would capture someone’s heart as tightly as it did Itagaki’s.

Chirping of crows and the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze shook her attention and she made an effort to lighten her features. Wrinkles would be the death of her.

“Tomoe-hime.” A voice called. She granted them access to open the door and they announced that dinner preparations would be beginning soon. This was code name for the torinuke to commence.

In all honesty, Tomoe had never been enthusiastic to participate in such an event and thus never did. From what she vaguely remembered, the torinuke was a time where the high ranking nobles within the palace would walk around and socialize before heading to the evening meal. For aristocrats and other prestigious members of the court, it was a golden opportunity to stretch their reach and form new powerful connections. For the noble ladies, it was a time to chatter, gossip and recite poetry to one another. Perhaps some people liked to scout out new suitors, talk to aristocrats and see who they could marry to elevate their rank. And, of course, Tomoe couldn’t of forgotten; it was time for noble men to constantly scrutinize and devalue every movement of the opposite sex. She’s too unrefined, they would mumble beneath their breath, her poetry skills are awful, or perhaps her hair is too messy- it was obvious she had forgotten to slick it back.

Tomoe groaned at the thought, but after all, it was a new palace and it would be best if she made herself the nicest reputation as possible. And save some face, of course. But most importantly, she had a goal to accomplish.

Tomoe thanked the messenger and sent them off. She stood up, dusting off her robes and placing the poetry desk back in it’s designated place, she began to get ready. Well, her maids began getting her ready, but it was all the same.
Stepping out from her quarters, she could already hear the muffled sound of tabi as they slid across wooden floors and the low buzzing of chatter. Groups of nobles, mostly separated by sex- though some might intermingle, were slowly making their rounds across the palace.

A group of ladies passed in front of her and Tomoe couldn’t help but stare at them. Beautifully white, snow-like skin, hair that was so flat, long and perfect that she couldn’t help but think it may of been silk. Robes that dragged elegantly behind them, all adorned with different beautiful patterns and colours. They were talking at a slow, elegant, measured pace. Tomoe wished she had been able to conjure such a friend group at Heian-kyo, but it had never been in her favour. She felt a stab of loneliness and unconsciously looked around for Nobumasa, though she knew that he had never been eager to attend the torinuke either.

Tomoe began her slow shuffle around the palace. She felt out of place, like a woodpecker surrounded by sheep, but remained to have some confidence that Itagaki will find her some way or another.

She had made it half way before hearing a throat being cleared next to her. Tomoe turned and saw Itagaki’s plump face, which momentarily rose into a cheeky grin. Tomoe had to be very cautious at this point, as she had been followed by a group of men for the past few minutes. Any lingering with the maid would cause suspicion. Itagaki knew this too, and rose her pace ever so lightly, leading Tomoe into a secluded area.

“It was like a game trying to find you,” Itagaki grinned sheepishly, her reds flushing red. She had obviously been quite self-conscious. “All of the woman look the same from behind. It was quite nerve-wracking and embarrassing turning around whilst in front of them to have a look at their faces.” She laughed.

Tomoe chuckled with her and the conversation quickly took a turn toward their plan. Itagaki was restless and kept turning her head around the corner to see if anyone was coming, though nobody was. She was stuttering over her words but in the end, they settled on something manageable for Tomoe. Simply go in, get the scrolls and get out. Itagaki would come by Tomoe’s room to pick it up some time after.

She had also promised Tomoe that she knew a safe place to keep the scrolls. The blame would completely fall on Tomoe if found out, (something like ‘being coerced by a measly maid’), and so Itagaki knew it was important to keep it out of sight and not tell a soul.

Thus, the plan was set into motion.

-

Tomoe had trouble sleeping. She was neither too warm nor too cold, but her mind was constantly churning and she felt something swivel in her gut. She had never rebelled so deliberately before and the nerves were beginning to bare their fangs on her resolve.
Either way, whether Tomoe liked it or not, the blanket of morning was tossed over Chukyo.

Dressed in a lovely red and white kosode, Tomoe set out in search for the library. She had mimicked her route toward the library in Heian-kyo, but it seemed that this was the sole thing out of place. How curious. She hummed in thought and decided it would be easier to just ask somebody.

Upon calling out to a maid that was shuffling hurriedly next to her, the maid looked flustered and distressed, but nevertheless directed Tomoe toward the room. Sliding the bamboo frame open, she was struck by the messiness of the room. Paper and ink was strewn about carelessly and two figures sat hunched in the middle, seemingly in deep conversation. She quickly clocked these two figures to be Nobumasa and Tsunekiyo.

The conversation abruptly stopped as their heads turned to face Tomoe. Grave expressions softly lifted into small smiles.
“Tomoe-dono!” Tsunekiyo called out and extending his arms into a welcome gesture, beckoned her into the room. He apologized for the mess and quickly wheeled the circumference of the study, picking up the loose sheets and placing them in a neat pile next to him.

“Tsunekiyo-dono.” Tomoe greeted. Nobumasa nodded softly at her and she was relieved to see some more colour on his face.

“My apologies for interrupting. After our conversation about the Taiyonoyari war, I’m afraid my curiosity got the better of me. This is the study, correct?” She said, measuredly stepping into the room. Ah. Perhaps she was being too formal. Her nerves were beginning to shake her slightly, but if Tsunekiyo had noticed, he was doing well not to show this.

“It is indeed the right room, Tomoe-dono. We have a collection in here,” He said. Stepping back, he slid open a large partition that cut across the middle of the now much larger room. Beyond the bamboo partition, the room was less empty than the one she was stood in. There were multiple scroll racks and shelves that orderly jutted out from the walls, all which housed a large amount of paper and bound books or scrolls. Cabinets lined the bottom of the room that were all, she assumed, also filled to the brim.

Other than that, however, the room was completely empty and meticulously dusted and cleaned. There were a few tasteful artworks that were hung, but otherwise it was bare. Tomoe slowly shuffled toward the room and turned back toward the men who had continued their conversation in a hushed manner.
“I would hate to eavesdrop on what seems like an important conversation, so I will close the partition, Tsunekiyo-dono.”

Tsunekiyo allowed her to close the partition and she heaved a small sigh upon it’s thudding shut. Taking one last look around the room and pondering whereabouts the onna-musha texts would be, she decided to dive in and begin searching. She got on her knees at the far end of the room, where it led onto an engawa, and slid open the cabinet. Taking out a handful of scrolls, she unravelled them slowly and read the contents.
None of these were right.

It took a bit of searching but she finally stumbled upon the texts she needed. On her journey toward the onna-musha scrolls, she had remembered her conversation with Tsunekiyo and hurriedly went to pick up text detailing the civil war that she could use as cover if interrupted.

She had set out the civil war scroll on a small desk that jutted out of the wall. There were cabinets beneath the desk, too, and when she slid them over she could place the onna-musha scrolls inside and read them inconspicuously. Just at that moment, she heard the scraping of wood and turned around to see Nobumasa watching her.

“Nobumasa-dono.” Tomoe greeted with a charming smile.

“I never knew you were one to study up on history.” Nobumasa mused as he strut behind her and slid his gaze over the writing.

Tomoe chuckled. “I couldn’t help but be interested after what Tsunekiyo-dono told me at the evening meal. There’s no harm in researching our history, after all.”

She could feel Nobumasa’s interest raise, along with his eyebrows.
“I take it you have taken a liking to him, then?”

Tomoe’s eyebrows furrowed and she felt something catch in her throat. No, she didn’t like him. That much was frank. Nobumasa couldn’t help but laugh at her instantly perplexed expression.
“Okay, sorry, the answer is obvious now.” He laughed.

She chuckled and lightly shook her head.
“Ah, but before I forget,” Tomoe said, turning back to Nobumasa. “You said we should head out into the city, yes? Would you like to do that tomorrow? I have been mulling over poetry all of today and I’ll feel restless if I wasn’t able to churn something out by tonight.”

Nobumasa nodded and walked back to the door. “Of course. I’ll find you tomorrow, Tomoe-shii.”

She smiled him and bid him farewell. Craning her neck out of the partition and double checking that both him and Tsunekiyo had left, she quickly slid the onna-musha scrolls into her kosode. Breathing a long sigh of relief, she stepped out back into the main room and slid the partition shut.

Swivelling back to check that she left the room in it’s standard clean state, she turned back around to make her way to the door. Creasing of clothing to her left. Tomoe jumped and instantly wheeled in the direction of the noise, clamping her hand over the front of her kosode.

The familiar figure of Tsunekiyo, with a cheeky smile plumping his cheeks, laughed. “Did I scare you?”

Tomoe felt vermilion flood her cheeks. “Why! You! No! No, of course not! You just caught me off-guard, Tsunekiyo-dono!” She exclaimed, clearing her voice and embarrassingly flattening her hair. Her heart was pounding against her skin.

Silence befell them and Tomoe felt as if she was going to combust. She could tell that Tsunekiyo thought something was up, whether it be that she was too formal or just not used to the palace yet. She knew that his silence was an opportunity to fess up.

“Actually,” Tomoe began, her voice cracking slightly.
“I know what you’ve been doing.” Tsunekiyo interrupted. He used his hand to smooth out the creases on his collar. “I can promise you that you will not get in trouble for taking scrolls out of the study. Come, walk with me.”

Tomoe felt obligated to follow after his kindness and they slowly walked together.
“So, what was the motivation behind it, Tomoe?”

She explained the situation and Tsunekiyo hummed. He turned his head and gazed at the clouds drifting solemnly through the sky. Unexpectedly, he started to laugh. Tomoe turned to him in surprise.

They locked gazes and Tomoe spotted sparks of fondness and amusement.
“It impresses me that you’d go to such lengths to stop a maid from getting in trouble. It’s chivalrous and takes courage. Well done, Tomoe. You have nothing to be afraid of. If you are a friend of Nobumasa-dono, you are a friend of mine. Please relax during your stay here. No tiptoeing around is needed.”

Tomoe was touched by his gentleness. Words did not come to mind for an equally heartfelt response so she gave him a gentle “Thank you.” instead.

“I do understand your position as a woman in a world so dominated and controlled by men.” Tsunekiyo continued. “There must of been a lot of this back at Heian-kyo. Women are supposed to be graceful and the societal pressures placed on their shoulders are more than the average person can bear. I cannot imagine how much strength is needed just to get through a single day.”

Tomoe felt her gaze lower to the floor and she let the words resonate with her for a few seconds.
“If you will excuse my rudeness Tsunekiyo-dono. I believe just watching us is not an accurate way of feeling our burden. There are a thousand more miniscule things that we are expected to do that are never seen by anyone. This is how deep we are supposed to train ourselves, our bodies and our minds. Train things that nobody sees to keep our reputation and our face. It is not something you can sympathize with just by watching. You must live for years in our shoes to truly understand.”
She dared not look up at Tsunekiyo-dono. Her rudeness was unimaginable. She had begun blurting it out without properly thinking of a measured response, and had been unable to close her mouth. Secretly, she was thankful she could finally spout words she had thought for years.

After a minute of silence, she finally locked their gazes. To her surprise, the spark of fondness, amusement and now a third- admiration, had burnt brighter within his pupils. She blinked as the corners of his lips rose.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been spoken to in such a manner.” He laughed heartily, gleaming his white teeth.

“I’m very sorry.” Tomoe said. Slowly, she lowered herself to the floor and bowed beneath him.

“Please, please, Tomoe-dono! Raise your head! This is amazing!” He lowered down, sliding his hand beneath hers and pulling her up to her feet.
“You are amazing Tomoe-dono! Quickly, you must report to the evening meal. You still have time.” Tsunekiyo ushered her now, placing a hand on her back and softly pushing her forward.

Without a second look back, Tomoe excused herself and hurried away.

Chapter Text

Preparations for the dinner that Tsunekiyo had so kindly planned were charging full speed ahead. A rainbow-coloured haze weaved through the palace as aristocrats wearing brightly coloured kariginu bustled about excitedly. Tomoe got the feeling that this meal was at a much grander scale than any of the previous held at Chukyo and a low hum of voices strumming throughout the hallways seemed to agree with her. Maids were also dashing to and fro holding an assortment of trays, cutlery, seating pillows or anything else that they deemed necessary.

Ushering herself toward her room to safely put away the scrolls she had taken earlier, Tomoe found her heart beating uncommonly fast in her chest and for the first time in quite a while, she felt high in spirits, as if some ghost had eased away the burdens placed on her shoulders. The red pillars that spanned the expanse of the hallways seemed a little brighter, the flames within decorated lanterns dancing a little more excitedly, the glinting of white teeth as the aristocrats laughed with each other, or the sense of community that had suddenly amplified. Tomoe suppressed a smile, but felt one tingling at the edge of her lips.

Perhaps it was something to do with the kindness Tsunekiyo had shown her earlier, or the fact that she could feel like something large and exciting beckoning her on the horizon. Whatever it was, she couldn’t wait to find out what exactly it was.

Tucking away the scrolls in a large wooden chest at the far end of her room, Tomoe made her way to the designated meal room. She had seen the room countless times, but for some reason the art hung on the walls seemed to beam extra proudly and it’s grandeur had multiplied tenfold.

Despite the buzzing excitement surrounding her, Tomoe could hear slight utterances from more grave members of the aristocracy about how ‘insignificant such a grand evening meal is compared to the rebel uprising’, or the ‘carefree attitude of Tsunekiyo-dono’.
Their attitude was laughable, as all members of court knew that behind closed doors, these aristocrats cared more about what type of pillow they would be sitting on than an uprising. Those same aristocrats would return to their palaces and complain that their vegetables were not diced small enough, a certain lady was talking too loud, or the unkempt hair of a maid. Nevertheless, Tomoe did not let their ignorance drive her spirits down and she felt a familiar tingling of excitement tickle her chest.

At last, each of the members of court neatly filed themselves into the grandeur dining room. Though at first it seemed as relatively empty and minimalistic, as was the usual custom, a keen eye would notice the beauty of the new paintings that had been hung, or the particularly expensive pattern neatly painted onto the lacquered cutlery.
It proceeded as any normal celebratory meal would, though Tomoe was a little concerned for the empty seat beside her and wondered if whoever it was reserved for would get a scolding later. The food was the same, except this time a few extra side dishes were introduced to their palates, to much happiness of the attending.

With the meal sliding slowly to a close, there was an exciting buzz that hummed across the room. All eyes in the room turned towards the doors that were tentatively, almost teasingly, slowly, slowly, slowly sliding open. Beyond the door was a gorgeous woman, clad in traditional male wear- a tall tate-eboshi, red hakama worn beneath white and red suikan, tachi secured on her waist, long fingers clasping a men’s fan but with a face that beamed radiant beauty and silky, black hair that seductively slid off her shoulders like a waterfall and tied with a red ribbon into a loose ponytail. Her face was painted white, which provided ample affirmation that the woman standing before them was a shirabyoshi.

Before she had even entered the room Tomoe was aware that the performance had already begun. Small and fluid tentative steps through the door frame. Those fingers that raised the fan toward her chest, her arm pin straight as she took sweeping yet elegant steps around the long table. The attendees couldn’t take their eyes off of her even if they wanted to. Her presence encapsulated the entire room, as if she were it’s creator, her spirit and beauty completely unreachable yet in arms reach. Tomoe could barely think, her eyes wide and tentative, eyes drilling into the woman every moment, like an ant watching a bird take flight. She spun as she walked, carefully and slowly, clothing softly swaying behind her.

Raising her fan to the sky, she reached the end of the table where Tsunekiyo was seated, head in palm, watching her. As the fan was raised she spun, slowly, pulling it out of it’s case, pupils drifting with her movements in perfect sync. She was careful not to make eye contact, as her pupils were also a vital part in her performance.

Wafting her arm to the side and then flipping the fan to show the table it’s beautiful decoration, she brought it in front of her face and carefully crouched, covering her beauty. Tomoe had likened it to when clouds shadow the sun.

She raised her head and she opened her eyes as they were once again revealed. A crucial part of the performance- where the first eye contact was held. Tomoe realised with a painful thump of her heart that such a serene yet piercing gaze was transfixed on her. Just as quickly as it had happened, the dancer continued her performance. Raising and standing upright, she whirled the fan with her as she spun. To the dread of her onlookers, her performance came to an end.

The room was frozen for a moment- like the moment snow begins to fall and all seems to freeze. Another moment and the atmosphere began to warm as small chatter sprung up across the table and sake was brought in as an after-snack.

The shirabyoshi sat beside Tomoe and the answer of the empty cushion beside her was solved. The soft scent of plum flower incense breezed beside her and she suddenly recalled the gardens she would frequently stroll back in the Heian palace. Tomoe was reluctant to meet their eyes but she could feel the shirabyoshi’s piercing gaze prying into the side of her skull. Finally returning the woman’s gaze, Tomoe was greeted with a swirling myriad of blue, green and brown within her hazel eyes.

Tomoe’s heart lunged into her throat and she couldn’t muster the will to utter a greeting. The shirabyoshi was gorgeous. Even though she was dressed in men’s attire, it somehow elevated Tomoe’s interest in her further.

Despite their brief and tense contact, the dinner continued with no more surprises apart from a few fluttering glances. As the aristocrats began to file orderly out of the room, Tomoe felt skin as soft as silk glide across her hand and, caught by surprise, she jumped- only to see the teasing smirk of the shirabyoshi as she fled.

Another, rougher hand, grasped Tomoe gently by the shoulder. Immediately, she recognized this hand as Tsunekiyo. She could practically hear his sheepish smirk and the knowing glint teasing her. No matter how small or insignificant something may seem to others, nothing got past him, to a point where it was actually quite impressive how perceptive he was.

“I take it you enjoyed the show, Tomoe?” He cooed, an indiscernible hint of knowing and teasing laced into his tone.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone look so in awe at a simple shirabyoshi performance before.”

Tomoe felt heat rising to her face. “Was the emotion that noticeable? I apologize.”

Removing his hand from her shoulder, he placed it on her back and slowly guided her into a slow aimless walk. “Please, there is no need to apologize for such things. I could tell that many of the aristocrats enjoyed the performance, but it brought me immense joy knowing that she had such an effect. Such was my plan- in fact, I wish everybody reacted just as you did.”

“Did they not?” Tomoe recalled the stunned, intense silence as the shirabyoshi began to dance, like the walls itself had also began to hold its breath.

“Well, perhaps they did, but you were practically dripping with satisfaction.”

Tomoe raised her eyebrows at the odd choice of words, but quickly resigned back to a poker face. They continued to walk in silence for a few seconds as she pondered what to respond with.

Tsunekiyo interrupted her thought. “Actually, would you like to have a private performance tonight. My own courtesy and at no extra charge. The shirabyoshi seemed to take a liking to you too. It’d be a shame if you were unable to experience a private show whilst staying here.”

Tomoe looked up at him in surprise and ponders for a second before eagerly accepting the offer.

“Then look forward to tonight.” He cooed, walking away.

-

As promised, when night fell, Tomoe heard a voice announcing themselves at her door. Sliding it open, she was greeted with the sight of familiar hazel eyes and two extra pairs of swirling dark pupils that belonged to the maids accompanying the shirabyoshi.

Upon meeting each others gaze, Tomoe felt desire churn in her stomach and she felt a singular bead of sweat trickle down her forehead. The lit sunken hearth was blanketing a soft orange glow around the room, coating the wooden furniture in an unexplainable softness, and the lightly padded footsteps of the shirabyoshi as she entered the room was the only thing louder than the soft crackling of the flames.

Garments wafted like smoke after the shirabyoshi as her arms glided from one space to the next. Her attire seemed snug on her body, each crease and wrinkle as she moved choreographed to perfection. The dance continued. This time a katana was used, as was tradition, rather than a fan. Despite being a revered performer, no sane aristocrat would allow a sharp blade be swung in their face by a woman- much less during meal time.

The muted lighting of the room allowed the glinting reflection of the katana’s blade to twinkle even brighter. The light acted as if it too were a dance and Tomoe was entranced as the orange glow of the fire trembled like waves across it’s polished edge, melting and contorting into a multitude of bewitching shapes; a perfect, opposing pair to the shirabyoshi’s refined, deliberate movements.

They had both immediately begun to feel the magnetism after setting eyes upon each other. It was clear to both of them that there was attraction- romantic or not. The glinting in their eyes mirrored both of their thoughts and soon the shirabyoshi had set down the katana, ending the dance in a duet of their intertwined bodies.

Heated lips pressed against one another, strands of hair tucked behind reddened ears and fingertips tracing each valley and curve of their bodies. Yet as Tomoe closed her eyes, she heard the voice of the Empress at each gasp and moan, imagined her lips as she spoke and the fluttering of her eyelashes as they locked gazes. In her head, it was not the shirabyoshi in the room with Tomoe that night, but instead the Empress.

As the night deepened, after hours of being entangled with each other and the mood had gotten significantly more comfortable, the two of them sat in the veranda, watching the stars.

“Do you enjoy our performances?” The shirabyoshi cut into the silence with a direct question, which took Tomoe aback slightly.
She pondered the thought for a second before replying.

“I do. I have only seen a shirabyoshi performance once before. I was sneaking around the palace and happened to get a glimpse of a performance for the Emperor in the garden.”

“Are you one of those people that become enamoured with something after seeing it once?”

Tomoe hummed. “Not particularly. I had forgotten about the dances until today and it seemed that all of the withheld memory and emotion from that first dance ruptured in my chest.”

“Mm.” The Shirabyoshi hummed, her fingers stroking across a against of midnight black of the waxed floor. “Ink. You paint calligraphy?”

“No. I am a poet.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, until the shirabyoshi posed another question for Tomoe.

“Would you like to accompany me tomorrow across the Yodo river? There are many asobi colonies there. You may be able to see some performances as they sail across the river.”

Tomoe flashed a small smile at the performer. “I’d enjoy that.”

Tomoe didn’t notice the shade of velvet warming the shirabyoshi’s cheeks beneath the soft moonlight.

-

Morning rose quickly and as Tomoe opened her eyes and regained her senses, she felt the ground sag with the weight of only one body. The shirabyoshi had already risen and left, yet dawn had only just began to hum it’s presence and the peonies were still heavy with morning dew.

Disgruntled as the maids might find it, Tomoe had already begun to dress herself after an hours worth of failed attempts to drift back to sleep.

Hooves pounded the softened mud outside and as Tomoe emerged at a snails pace, weighted by her 31 layered junihitoe. She caught glimpse of the ox-carts being readied for their pilgrimage.

For many nobles, it was beyond fairytale to travel outside of their palaces or shinden-zukuri. Not only were they deterred by the painfully slow, awful and uncomfortable ways of travelling, but many saw the communities outside their own as barbaric or uncouth- lacking in elegance compared to their high ways of living.

“Bending over in rice fields? How putrid.” They would snarl with moistened lips, patting their incensed silk sleeves out of the way from their sake cups.

Tomoe had been lucky to travel by horse for her journey from Heian to Chukyo but now she had to succumb to the pain and misery of the ox-drawn cart.

The Shirabyoshi greeted Tomoe with a deep bow and a smile, taking a step away from the ox-cart. Extending her hand and taking Tomoe’s, she helped her up into the cart and they set off toward Yodo River.

Chapter Text

Tomoe woke at dawn as the wooden wheels of the ox-cart jerked against the uneven roads. Sunlight pooled into the carriage. Gazing outside she recalled the tiny colonies they had taken stops at before- crooked, inn-like buildings on the side of a road that housed only a couple of workers and travelling merchants. As she looked around, however, it was as if they had wandered into a revitalized city. Though nothing comparable to the capital, she was in awe at the bustling streets and lively atmosphere that surrounded her.

Drawing steadily down the worn path, the steady beating of drums rose and she turned toward the shirabyoshi, who was already smiling gently at her.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The lively atmosphere.” She hummed, taking a look out of her window.

“It is. Is there a performance going on?” Tomoe wondered. With every beat of the ox’s hooves the drums got louder and she began to hear a collection of voices.

“Just wait and see.”

The cart began to slow as they arrived at the destination and Tomoe felt a salty breeze stroke the curves of her face. Shielding herself from the sunlight with a long sleeve, she emerged from the cart and raised her head. She was struck by the sight she saw.

A wide, winding river snaked around the heart of the town with crowds of cheery people standing by it’s banks, talking and selling wares. A rainbow of colours blurred Tomoe’s vision as a crowd of people wearing brightly coloured kimonos passed by. They were laughing, some transporting straw boxes full of freshly-picked food, whilst some leant on the buildings, covered by shade.

Behind the passing crowd, Tomoe witnessed an interaction between a scarcely dressed woman and a man. The man took her hand and, as if there was some immediate understanding, they both walked into the building together. Tomoe looked at the shirabyoshi, who shrugged in response.

“Along with practising singing and performance, some of us also go into prostitution. There are some who don’t earn a liveable wage. It’s their last resort. We are a happy community here but, as with all places, there are things under the surface that are unpleasant. Either way, come with me, I have something to show you.”

Tomoe trailed behind the shirabyoshi, a few noticeable glances coming her way thanks to her junihitoe. Slowing as they emerged from the street to the riverbank, Tomoe was finally able to get a good look at the source of the beating drums. A multitude of wooden row-boats trickled slowly down the current of the river, each of them housing three members. The first, and the centre of attraction, was the main asobi (performer) who was the source of the beating drums and vocals. The other was a younger-looking asobi who was dutifully holding a large parasol over the singer's head. In charge of rowing the boat was an elderly asobi, seemingly retired. Tomoe was surprised that such elderly women still had the strength to row.

“It’s beautiful.” Tomoe murmured. Jewel-like reflections from the riverbed cast a surreal illusion on the witnesses, as if it were snowing beneath the water. Whilst Tomoe was accustomed to beauty within Heian she was sure she couldn’t find the beauty she was gazing on elsewhere. Before she could finish taking in the scene, however, she felt a tug on her sleeve.

The shirabyoshi pulled her along the bustling market, where Tomoe was being shouted at to buy some fresh apples; or oranges, rice, cloth- there was too much for her to count.

“Choja-dono!”

Her thoughts were interrupted as they approached a grand tea-house. The woman whom the Shirabyoshi had called out to was an elderly woman. She loomed over both Tomoe and the Shirabyoshi and seemed to have a permanent inquisitive eyebrow-raise plastered on her wrinkled face. Like any other dignified woman, her face was powdered extremely white with contrasting blobs of blush. Her teeth were blackened- as were the areas beside her eyes.

“Shimizu Gogaku.” The Choja murmured after a brutally long silence.
“I send you to Chukyo palace after your insistent begging and what do you bring me?” Sending a spiteful glare in Tomoe’s direction, to whom felt like crawling into her own skin.

“She is a friend,” Gogaku pleaded, placing a warm hand on the outermost of Tomoe’s garment. She felt the firm grip on her shoulder and immediately felt a small surge of confidence.

“A friend that better donate heftily to our hard workers, don’t you agree?”

“I’m sure she will- if she enjoys the service. After all, lacking workers get paid lacking wage, isn’t that right- Choja-dono?”

The Choja’s raised eyebrow lifted higher, yet she slowly stepped aside and opened the sliding door for the two. Tomoe peeked inside. Despite a number of windows coating the outermost of the building, the inside was incredibly dim and something like a fog hung heavily in the air. A second later and the strong smell of incense wafted from the opened doors, to which Tomoe recoiled ever so slightly. The smell didn’t seem to bother Gogaku nor the Choja.

Covering her nose with her sleeve, Tomoe followed Gogaku’s lead as she entered the building- doors sliding shut behind them.

The smell of incense only seemed to deepen as the two entered. A plethora of folding screens fortified most of the building, creating a deep sense of security to the silhouettes of giggling women she heard entertaining behind the screens. Kimonos were flung over the tops of the screens, some falling off and hindering the passage of the corridor, but Gogaku did not seem to care and simply stepped over them. Candles provided very little light as they traversed through the long corridors and Tomoe couldn’t help but try and take a peek through some of the folded screens- only to be met with a soft slap on the wrist from Gogaku, whom smiled cheekily.

Nearing the end of the gloomy corridor, Gogaku took a sharp left and slithered between two folding screens. There was a winding, wooden staircase that the pair took. With each step the incense began to take on a deeper, grander smell- like that of something only an aristocrat could afford. The hindering smell of the cheap incest downstairs began to diminish and Tomoe finally found the willpower to loosen the sleeve clasped over her nostrils.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Gogaku softly took Tomoe’s hand. There were no candles up here and Gogaku was increasingly careful of where she began to step. Tomoe watched her diligently, copying her path, until they stopped at a sliding door. A warm orange glow painted the paper of the doors. Once again, the slight giggles of women could be heard from inside.

Gogaku slid open the door and a familiar icy cold glare froze Tomoe’s veins over. However, as her eyes fixated on the figure she had realised the ice daggers in her pupils had melted away, twinkles of orange starlight from the surrounding candles pooling softness into her features. Red lips parted, showing a set of blackened teeth. Similar upturned eyes, hair that fell like feathers above perfectly rounded shoulders. A group of women covered this woman, some with their hands caressing her neck, others stroking the skin of her chest beneath her loosened kimono, kissing the mole between her collarbones. Words choked in Tomoe’s throat.

The Empress.

-

Tentatively taking a few steps in the room, Tomoe felt as if she was a mouse cornered by cats. Was this some sort of joke? This couldn’t be the Empress, right?

Tomoe gazed upon that pale face. The same pale face that she had imagined kissing the circumference of her neck, the same fingers she had imagined caressing the skin beneath her kimono. The long, slender, straight nose and upturned eyes that had done a double take at the sight of Tomoe.

Tension rose in her heart. She felt as if she were going to burst. Her eyes slid toward the caressing hands of the women beside the Empress and felt another emotion swirl up inside of her. Jealousy?

Gogaku had already taken a seat at the far edge of the room. From what she could tell, seating arrangements were thrown out of the window here. It was surprisingly casual, but Tomoe couldn’t find it in her heart to loosen her formality. She was in the Empresses domain now- confirmed by her glinting eyes that watched her every move. Tomoe decided to take a seat beside Gogaku, the safest option.

The Empress narrowed her eyes.
“Gogaku, it’s rare for you to bring an outside here. I was unaware you had acquaintances inside the court.” She hummed curiously, fingertips tracing one of the women’s exposed thighs, unwavering pupils locked onto Tomoe. There was a tense silence that was shortly followed by another remark.

“You have one good reason to stop me from kicking you out of this establishment and exiling you to the furthest reaches of Japan. Not even three generations of ox will live long enough to transport you where you’ll be sent.”

Beads of sweat dripped down both Gogaku’s and Tomoe’s collar. At this point, even a split second exchange of eye contact could seal their fates. Tomoe swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat.

“I-I’ll do anything you ask of me.” Tomoe pleaded, flattening her hands on the ground beneath her and bowing her head as far as it would go. A bead of sweat slipped from her forehead and sunk into the grooves of the mat.

“I’ve heard of a certain man being slaughtered on the route to Chukyo.” She hummed. A sly, snake-like tone slithering beneath each of her carefully chosen words, as if the tip of a knife was being softly traced against Tomoe’s neck. One wrong word and she would surely be choking on her own blood.

She froze and her fingers trembled in both anticipation and gut-churning anxiety. How should she respond? What words should she choose? Despite being a poet, an occupation that requires the knowledge of immensely varied vocabulary, her mind was frozen like the lakes of Hokkaido in winter.

Tomoe raised her head after hearing a rustle of clothes from the Empress's direction. She had leant back and reached for something hidden behind a room divider. A small, black box- lacquered in intricate silver carvings. She unclipped it with unsettling precision and set the box in front of Tomoe.

Gazing into the box, Tomoe’s blood ran cold.

An arrow. The tip was blunt enough that remnants of rotting flesh still hung from its pointed tip, coagulated blood drowning its front and hardening down its body. Tomoe could immediately tell that being struck by such a blunt arrow would be excruciating- let alone pulling it out, each crevice of the rusted tip raking against internal flesh. The wood that was once vibrant was now rotting and splintered, blood etched into its cracks.
Next to it was a crumpled piece of paper. Familiar handwriting glared at her. Tomoe’s writing. Tomoe’s poem. Next to the arrow responsible for piercing a man’s flesh and slaughtering him. The arrow that Tomoe had used to unwillingly end this man’s life. Her poem.

Despite the warmth of the room and her padded kimono embracing her flesh, she felt the disgusting brush of ice-cold nausea seizing her body. As if it were etching into her being, raising goosebumps wherever it scraped- lodging itself into Tomoe’s throat and eyes. The lump grew larger and she couldn’t breathe- guilt climbing her back and wrapping it’s rotting hands around her throat.

Trembling pupils raised to the Empress in front of her. A malevolent force erupted as Tomoe locked on to her ice-cold pupils- the force baring its fangs over Tomoe’s shoulders, digging it’s claws into her. A tiny hare trembling in the presence of a vicious wolf. Tomoe’s heartbeat thundered into her ears.

“I had known as much.” The Empress purred as she snapped the lid of the box back into place, removing it from Tomoe’s line of sight just as abruptly as it had been brought out.

Tomoe felt as if she had been strangled until an inch of her life. She had no idea how to react or what the Empress had hoped by backing her into such an enclosed corner. How should she react? What could she possibly want?
It was answered for her.

Despite her facial muscles shifting to distort her face into something resembling a smile, there was a glint in her void-like eyes that pierced through the facade, sending shivers through Tomoe’s spine.

“In any case, we have to be grateful for this accident. The coded message was directed to a group of spies that have made residence in Heian palace.”

“As in…?” Tomoe whispered.

“Yes. We have traitors in our midst. Which is why, Tomoe,” The Empress said, placing her palms on the tatami mat and slithering closer to Tomoe, stroking an ice-cold finger beneath her chin and raising her head to lock their gazes together.

“You will be my eyes and ears- my personal spy. Use your poetic words to find the traitor among us- stir their hearts and persuade their cause, make them think you are one of them. Do you understand, little dove?”

A thick air of responsibility crammed itself down Tomoe’s throat, swelling the lump already lodged there. A spy? For the Empress? This is a dream, right? Granted, she did want to be closer to the Empress in general, but this was a scenario beyond anything she had ever imagined. Lodging herself right in the middle of a civil war. How in the world will she get out of this alive?

Tomoe lowered her head in deep thought. A million thoughts that weaved through her brain, exposed through her trembling lips and fingertips. She knew there was no refusing this.

This could be a chance to get closer to the Empress, though, right? Is such a transaction worth it? She places a pawn of herself right next to the queen- but surrounding her are four rooks. Her tongue traced her reddened lips and with a sense of intense courage, her blazing eyes locked with the Empress's cold voids.
She recited a poem.

“Those who hide away,
Spies slipping into the dark,
We shall seize them now,
Their shadows fade like mist veils,
Yet our keen eyes see it all.”

The Empress’s pupils flickered and Tomoe’s soul burned with courage.

Chapter Text

After fiercely accepting the Empress's proposal to become her spy, she had introduced the rest of the women whom Tomoe had thought were prostitutes. Gogaku, much to Tomoe’s surprise, was one of the Empress’s closest attendants. Enough to be deemed her “right hand”.

Their names had not been disclosed yet and the Empress still had some tasks for Tomoe to complete before she revealed more information about her informants and their jobs. The only thing that she knew for certain was that her poetry was planted. It was possible one of the attendants with her at the time was a spy working for the rebels. The job was an extremely simple one- deliver a letter. The recipient was someone at Chukyo palace, where Tomoe was scheduled to arrive back tomorrow. She had no idea who the noble, or perhaps attendant, was.

The Empress had given Tomoe the chance to remain in the attic for the remainder of the day but, fearful that the weight of the situation would crush her, she had politely declined. Slipping out of the teahouse and into the cool embrace of the humid air, Tomoe breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tomoe spent the rest of the day drinking in the beautiful town and wandering the streets that she had previously blazed by. The anxiety of the task ahead gnawed at her but she cast it aside, determined to enjoy some rare time alone.

On one hand her breast was burning with courage and excitement, ecstatic to have some uncertainty and adventure in her life. No more was her life of sitting on tatami mats and hearing fleeting, hushed gossip. The other hand, however, was prickling her skin with unease. Goosebumps rose through her arms and her neck despite the more-than humid conditions. 

 Soon she would be thrust into the deceitful jaws of the court, into where she couldn’t believe a word from anyone. Even those closest to her.

We have traitors in our midst.

It could be anyone.

For now, she decided to indulge herself.. Tomoe eyed a particularly beautiful piece of vermillion silk being displayed in the front of a wooden stool. She thought it would go well with her hair. Until Gogaku emerged from whatever matters she had with the Empress, Tomoe wandered to the bank of the river. The sun beat down on them in waves despite the day still being young. 

Fleeting glances from villagers did not go unnoticed and she wished she could shed the 20KG of weight from her body. Moving was incredibly slugging even without the heat and it was unbearable. Just for today- she thought, damn to hell if anyone recognized her from court. Traversing back the way she came, she found the court’s ox-cart still waiting for them to embark on the journey back. The drivers were nowhere to be seen, but no villagers dared to touch something of that importance.

Hauling herself up into the shielded cart and sliding the door shut behind her, Tomoe de-gowned herself down to a singular thin robe of astonishing white. She still had the dignity to preserve the kosode- another kimono of much thinner degree that served to protect her skin. Or, more crudely known as, undergarments.

Immediately after slipping into almost-nudity, she heaved a thick sigh. Heaving her shoulders to and fro and rolling the tightness out of her neck, she disembarked the ox-cart and made her way to the riverbank yet again.

Some more stools had emerged furthest from the waterline and the crowd began to trickle in. Tomoe took a seat a little bit away from the crowd, gazing at the common folk. Mothers with children in each hand, fathers carrying straw buckets to who knows where. Some people waded through the river with crude spikes carved into the tip, trying to catch fish.

It was peaceful. Of course, Tomoe had no idea how hard each and every one of these people worked as she lounged in her heated room in court. She felt a twinge of sadness tug at her chest. The weight of her privilege began to weigh just as much as the junihitoe she had taken off. It was hard to fathom and she cast her gaze to the strands of grass beneath her.

Tomoe jumped as a hand patted her shoulder, but untensed as a familiar voice rang out her name. Gogaku.

“You haven’t even started your work yet and you’re already this tense?” She smiled, taking a seat next to her.

“It’s hard to distract myself when such a daunting task is looming over me.” Tomoe said in reply, picking grass. Her gaze lifted again, to the jewelled stars of the river.

“Let’s hope nobody here knows you by name.” Gogaku murmured whilst motioning towards Tomoe’s distinct lack of layers. To which she smiled in response.

A shrill scream shot out from the crowd by the stalls. A commotion was rising and a few screams echoed in its wake. As if on reflex, Tomoe and Gogaku launched up from their positions and toward the crowd. Elbowing their way through, they beheld a number of people, bandits, clad in black. The origin of the scream was from a commoner woman whose hair had been yanked by a bandit, the sleek blade of a katana pressed against her throat. Bubbles of vermillion dribbled their way past her collarbones and tears streaked her cheeks. 

People began fleeing in all directions. Tomoe was pushed into Gogaku, who tripped on someone's heels as they fled from the bandits. Others were frozen in panic as their legs gave out beneath them. Everybody knew what bandits meant. The village was going to be destroyed. If not destroyed, stripped of anything with worth. Women taken, men slaughtered. 

Tomoe had not been expecting the rebellion to have travelled this far already. How long until they seized the capital?

Her mind was a haze. Gogaku, taking the initiative, grabbed Tomoe’s hand and dragged her through the commotion toward the abandoned ox-cart. If the riders had been back they had most definitely fled at sight of bandits- and they would be stuck. They panted. Tomoe couldn’t recall the last time she ran properly.

“We need to do something.” Gogaku panted, peeking over a grazing ox who seemed completely unperturbed by the commotion. Whilst the group at the center of the stools had dispersed, a large amount was still there, too terrified to move. The bandits were screaming something indecipherable from their distance underneath their masks. Making threats with the woman as their leverage. Merchants and stool owners frantically threw belongings at the bandits who were beginning to march along the contents of the riverbed, pointing their weapons at the goods they wished to take. Many of them crouched underneath their stools in fear, to which the bandit kicked one of the stools in retaliation. The fragile wood splintered and rained over the cowering woman who, they could both tell, was pleading for her life, hands clasped in prayer in front of her breast.

“The Empress.” Gogaku whispered, barely audible over the screaming. Her features were contorted with worry. “Are they here because of her?”

“From the looks of it,” Tomoe swallowed, wetting her lips. “They have only come here to instill fear. If they knew the Empress was here, they wouldn’t have made a commotion and allowed her time to escape. Unless they were already there.” Her jaw tensed and they shared a fleeting look of horror before taking off to the teahouse. They glided through the shadows of alleyways, making a straight B line to the Empress. Gogaku knew the way well and soon enough, after a quick scan of the perimeter for any masked figures, entered the building.

It was eerily quiet. Both held their breaths unconsciously as they tiptoed from room to room. Incense still hung in the air and both of them could tell that most of the people fled after hearing screaming- whether to see what was happening or just out of reflex. Broken sticks of incense, shards from teapots, and other unidentifiable objects littered the floor and they made sure to watch where they were stepping.

Creaking from upstairs. They made their way up and slowly waded their way toward where the Empress was staying.

Nothing.

The attic was as barren as the rest of the building. They both let out a low breath. Candles that had once adorned the room were slowly flickering out of life. But if the Empress was not here… then where?

Gogaku swallowed a lump in her throat and made a slow pace around the room, trying to look for any clues. There was none. Like the rest of the teahouse the attic was in complete disarray- and it made sense. The Empress would be the first one to be escorted hastily to safety.

Tomoe dared not think about the consequences if the Empress had been taken. There were no windows in the attic, nowhere where they could have the height advantage to see where the Empress had gone. 

It was interesting, the way both of their first thoughts had been of the Empress. Both knew that it wasn’t for personal gain, but rather the power that she subconsciously instilled into her subjects. Tomoe wondered if that was the mark of the ruler. Despite her inordinate amount of beauty, there was something else that caused all the people around her to come to care for her. Not just her wellbeing, but the causes that she stood for too. Tomoe had been reluctant to become a spy but, after a short conversation with the Empress, her mind had been swayed as easily as a feather in the wind. 

Tomoe felt a ghost of a smile pull her lips. What a great ruler they had indeed.

Making their way back down to the first level of the teahouse, Tomoe took the lead and slid their way toward a back door. She had noticed it on the way in and thought it was better than running back out into the packed street.

Passing the threshold of the door, Tomoe felt a pair of cold fingers wrap around her throat and lips. She screamed, but the heavy pressure of the hand against her face didn’t permit the sound to resonate. She struggled, elbowing the perpetrator in the rib as she was yanked against a wall. Years of lounging around in court had done nothing for her muscle and every struggle proved useless.

She felt ragged breathing against her back and twisted in the grasp, airways beginning to shrink with the cold vice of fingers against her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Eyes darted around the room, back to the threshold, but Gogaku was nowhere to be found. Had she run?

“We send our regards.” A whisper of a voice blew against her ear. The voice of a woman. Another desperate blow to the gut proved useless, as if she were hitting against an iron wall.

A squelch of flesh and the grip on Tomoe loosened. Tomoe fell to her knees with a loud thud, clasping at her throat and gulping down the air she had been denied. Her head flicked upwards, towards Gogaku, who was holding a bloodied teapot shard, half buried in the woman’s neck- who Tomoe now realized was one of the women attached to the Empress's side. 

Disgusting gurgling seeped from the woman's sliced jugular- as if on cue, a jet of blood erupted from the wound, coating Gogaku and anything near her in a thick, oozing, warm blanket of blood. Gogaku’s eyes were frozen in shock, wide, unblinking. Arms fell limp to her side as the woman crumpled to the floor, claw marks etched into her already wounded neck; a pathetic display of trying to contain the life force spurting out of her.

The tea shard slipped out of Gogaku’s grasp as she, too, crumpled to the ground, blood already seeping into the gowns of her robe. Tomoe had killed. Now Gogaku had too. Tomoe watched as the lifeless eyes of the woman stared, unblinking, up at her. Even though their gazes had met, her eyes were bearing through Tomoe’s skull. Beyond her. Beyond the fabric of reality. With death.

She felt a strange rush of calm surround her. Gogaku was now sobbing into her blood-soaked hands. She shook, as if enclosed in ice, shoulders shuddering with every weep. Tomoe got up off the ground, careful not to slip, and took Tomoe by her hand. She didn’t know if it was her instincts kicking in. To dismiss the dead body as if it weren’t even there. 

“We must go.” She whispered into Gogaku’s ear. Gogaku nodded slightly and allowed her to be hoisted up. Tomoe wrapped her arm around her neck, Gogaku leaning on her, and made their way past the door, into the beating heat of the sun. She dared not look behind her. 

Tomoe realized it now. The group of bandits at the riverbed had been a diversion, to cause commotion and allow a second group of bandits to somehow infiltrate the colony and find the Empress. The woman had been a spy. A two timer. Tomoe was almost in awe with her bravery. 

She heaved as they made their way into a heavily wooded area that surrounded the colony. Shrubbery grew past their knees as they waded through. Usually, the smell of bark and soil would have tingled their noses- but all the thick scent of iron clogged their senses.

“She worked for them.” Gogaku choked out, between panting breaths and light sobs.

Tomoe looked down at her.

“I had known her since birth. She was a year younger. I nursed her… I had…” Her voice broke off in a string of sobs. “I trusted her. She was one of them. This whole time.”

Tomoe’s face hardened and she clenched her jaw. She wondered just what the woman had been given to betray the people of her home. 

Wealth? 

Power? 

Something even larger?

A waft of incense blew through the trees and Tomoe froze. She knew this incense. It was the one in the attic. She whipped her head in the direction and decided to follow the scent. Had the other concubines been spies, too? Had they all betrayed the Empress? What if this was a trap?

Her mind whirled, but her feet kept moving- maybe even against her will. She had the sudden urge to run, to flee to Heian, to be back in the clutches of comfort and familiarity. But not now. She couldn’t go home. Not yet.

They stumbled into a clearing where the trees bowed into an oval of flowers, producing a dome-like effect. 

It looked like something drawn onto a scroll. The Empress sat on her knees in the middle of the small orchard, eyes closed in serene calmness. The concubines from the attic stood around her in a circle, protecting her from the onslaught of bandits that were attacking with all of their might.

Each of the women wielded a katana that wrung through their fingertips in a dance, slicing bridges of blood into the air as yet another bandit fell. When one woman failed to cover her top, another woman covered her bottom. Both Tomoe and Gogaku were entranced.

It seemed meticulous, the way the blades shone through the air with needle-like precision, slicing through the flesh and bone as if it were air. They were almost too fast for her to keep up, footwork so precise that Tomoe felt that they were barely touching the ground beneath them.

Just a day prior Tomoe was sure that such an orchard, with flowers of all gradients in ripe bloom, would’ve been beautiful- a sight to behold. Paper stained blood scarlet, each of the women a writer- each stroke of their weapons causing another bandit to fall like characters on a page.. At last, the fighting dwindled. The last man had fallen, streaking the last bit of naked flower with his blood. The Empress rose, a figurehead of calm. Tomoe’s heart burned in her chest.

The ladies surrounding her sheathed their katanas into their belts, one they had not worn previously. Their faces freckled with splinters of blood, yet just like the Empress, not a single wrinkle of exertion creased their features. They had barely even sweat.

Gogaku and Tomoe’s breath both caught in their throat as the Empress finally fluttered her eyelids open, revealing her obsidian eyes, bespeckled by a strange flicker that Tomoe couldn’t place a finger on.

She beckoned them closer.

“You have blood on your hands.” The Empress said, her tone cool as ice, slicing through the air powerfully. It seemed as if nature's noises folded in on themselves to grant her voice passage. Neither the Empress nor the women batted an eyelid at the deceased surrounding them, as if they were little more than worms. Maybe in their eyes they were. Tomoe couldn’t shake the feeling that they were human- they had the semblance of lives, though incomparable to the life she knew. 

The Empress glided toward Gogaku and studied her hand.
“You were not cut. The blood is not  your own?” She questioned.

The smell of incense grew the closer she came. Gogaku straightened herself up and Tomoe released her arm from around her neck. She bowed her head deeply. She paused to find her words, with the first few syllables nothing but a mixture of choking and murmuring. Her throat gradually began to ease.

“One of your ladies, Empress.” She choked.

“She had taken Tomoe by the throat and was choking her. I acted on reflex.” Gogaku bowed her head even further.

Her head lifted, cool countenance unflinching,

“She was a traitor. You did the right thing.” Releasing Gogaku’s hand and stepping back into the clearing, she beckoned them to follow.

Following the Empress to a deeper part of the woods, followed only by one of her concubines, Tomoe glanced back to find the others looting the corpses. 

They trailed the Empress into the woods, closely guarded by one of her concubines. The rest hung back to loot the corpses.

A pond lay before them. Its rugged edges had been worn with time, a colourful array of fish darting to and fro within its murky depths. The Empress crouched, uncaring of dirtying her robe. 

“I was taken here as a child.” She began. “We are rarely allowed to leave the palace, as you know, Tomoe. My mother would sneak us out and we’d sit here all day, snacking on pickled lotus.” A faint smile appeared as she recalled those fond memories.

The Empresses' features slackened and it suddenly dawned on Tomoe that she had never seen her so… fragile. So vulnerable. She wondered how many people she had shared her past with, if any at all. With mists of nostalgia shrouding her gaze, she continued. They both listened in silence, not even daring to interrupt her.

“Compared to being surrounded by the luxuries of the Palace, it felt so thrilling. I felt alive. The ants scurried onto my robes, the fish nibbled at my fingertips. I swatted flies and laughed when I dropped a root into the soil.” She paused and a shadow darkened her.

“It was destroyed in an instant. A courtier saw us. He knew we were not allowed to leave the palace and ratted us out. My mother was the Emperor’s concubine. She was executed immediately because she was not of royal blood. I was spared because I was.” 

Shadows of grief crossed her face, eyebrows furrowing so slightly that Tomoe mistook it for an illusion. Gogaku was a statue beside her.

The Empress turned towards Gogaku. Her expression did not betray her but Tomoe could see the flicker of flames in her dark pupils.

Words cut through the silence like a knife.

“ Always be aware. Always be alert. Know everything. Let nothing slip by. My mother made such a mistake and paid with it for her life. I had known for a while that she was a spy. I won’t soil my lips by uttering her name. You did a great deed.” 

The Empress moved toward Gogaku and placed a hand on her cheek. Sitting beside her, she placed a hand on her shoulder and embraced her softly.

“You did well. Thank you, Gogaku.”

Chapter Text

The riders of Tomoe’s abandoned ox-cart earlier had been notified by the Empress that she was expecting an attack. Sneaking off beforehand, they had stolen an unremarkable horse carriage and were waiting at a pick-up point.

Tomoe hadn’t gone back for her robes and deeply regretted it as soon as the four of them were being hauled off. To where, she had no clue. After their display of immeasurable might, she decided to stop calling the women surrounding the Empress as ‘concubines’. Instead: her warriors. Clearly they were.

One thing in her mind didn’t seem to add up and the more she pondered about it, the more confused she came.

Gogaku had been called the Empresses ‘right hand woman’ and, Tomoe assumed, was familiar with her warriors. Why then had she reacted so harshly to killing? Surely if the others were so hardened in combat, she would be too? Was she on a different side- logistics, perhaps? Strategy? Her thoughts rattled like the cart wheels beneath her and she exhaled them away, gazing out at the scenery.

Tomoe had the sudden urge to begin writing a diary. Poems were of course her forte, but as her life suddenly became rife with treachery and lies, she thought it might help her organize the chaos in her brain. In fear of her diary being found, she opted to write in what she knew best: prose.

Due to their caution, instead of a lush, extravagant ox-cart befitting someone like the Empress, they travelled in something old and wooden. It was much smaller than the carts they were used to and forced one of them to sit on the floor- Tomoe gladly taking this spot. She had leant on the side so as not to fall out of the front, covered only by a set of worn curtains. After all, they both outranked her quite marginally. It suddenly dawned on her that Tomoe had slept with the Empresses’ closest advisors. She felt sick. Not out of disgust for Gogaku herself, but because of her treachery. Would she keep it a secret? How would she bring it up? Tomoe prayed that Gogaku wouldn’t tell the Empress. How would she ever be able to explain, to both of them, that she hadn’t slept with her out of love but out of desperation? Desperation to touch the Empress’s skin, to feel her soft lips against her own. Keeping her own yearning bottled up began to rake her skin and rationality. It was the only thing she could do.
Tomoe’s eyes slowly rose to meet the Empress's face, illuminated by the fiery glow of the sinking sun. She looked beautiful. Now that Tomoe knows that the Empress had a preference for women, would it still be too far fetched to hope?

She cast her gaze away and cursed at herself. Getting hung up on these matters when her country is five steps away from a civil war is absurd. She softly bit her lip.

“You will be my newest lady in waiting.” A cool voice pierced the silence. Tomoe’s gaze rose. The Empress was looking behind Tomoe and out of the parted curtains of the carriage.
“Your room will be moved into the center of the palace.”

Though she had used the word ‘room’ the ladies-in-waiting quarters were more of a couple of small sections divided with shutters within the palace’s central, largest room. The Empress herself resided in the middle of the room and her ladies surrounded her. Privacy in these was non-existent, and the thin shutters made sure that your neighbouring ladies could hear every whisper.

Tomoe didn’t dread it as much as she thought she would.

Sure, the lack of privacy with Nobumasa could be a little dizzying, but they had nothing to hide, unless it was gossip. Every single drop of gossip that circulated through the palace was first conjured and then spread like disease in that central room. Ladies couldn’t help gossiping about things they had overheard the night before. They had nothing better to do.

Tomoe’s limiting interactions with the Empress would come to an end. No more fleeting moments of eye contact at noble dinners. They would spend most of their time together now, whether it be talking with the other ladies in waiting, writing poetry or attending any formal events together. Of course, Tomoe would not (or very rarely) be alone with the Empress unless called on specifically. This was the only downside. Where one lady-in-waiting was, the others were bound to be close by.
“Are we going to that place?” Gogaku inquired after a short silence.
The Empress nodded.
Gogaku flashed an apologetic smile toward Tomoe.
“It may be in your best interest to get comfy. This journey will take a while. We can swap every few hours so you don’t go numb from sitting on the floor.”
Tomoe shook her head. “You are too kind. Please, allow me to sit here. I am of a lesser rank than you, after all.”

-

After what seemed like an eternity, their carriage slowed to a crawl. Tomoe’s eyes cracked open, heavy and sore, every bone screaming in misery from the ceaseless turbulence.

Shrouded in darkness, both Gogaku and the Empress had nodded off, moonlight pouring onto their flawless faces. Heavy soles hit the gravel and crunched toward them, a small, skinny man pulling the curtains aside and clearing his throat to wake them.

Both stirring at the same time, Gogaku was the first to stand. Hauling herself off the carriage, she extended a hand to both The Empress and Tomoe. Bitter wind nipped at Tomoe’s skin, protected only by a thin undergarment.

Emerging from the cart, Tomoe’s breath caught in her throat. It was a site sung in countless poems. Apart from the one time she had come on a pilgrimage to the renowned temple Enryaku-ji, she had never been to Lake Biwa. More so at night, when the air was heavy with humid mist and sang with crickets.

They had stopped just off of the shore, on a hardened dirt path that led up to something shrouded by mist and blanketed with thick forestry. The women gazed at the fireflies sprinkling the midnight shore. Waves lulled to and fro, small wooden boats rolling in rhythm with the water. Tomoe ached for her writing tools. Yearning to etch this memory into permanence. The moonlight shimmering on the lake’s surface like ink, a silent look of wonder from the faces of the women beside her, lit silver by its glow.

Loose dirt crunched as the Empress turned away and slowly walked away from the winding path, hands hidden in her sleeves. Entranced by the lake’s unearthly beauty, casting their gaze away felt like punishment.

Their ox-cart driver hurriedly pulled his loose trousers up to his ankles, wading into the waves and untied the rope tethering the boat to shore. The Empress and Gogaku nodded for Tomoe to follow. The man stood steady, gripping the oar, waiting to embark. Three straw mats anticipated their arrival, slightly damp from the lake’s spray. Heaving the oar, the boat sighed through the swaying waves toward an island swallowed in mist that Tomoe had to squint to see it. Goosebumps raised on her skin and she shuddered as the bitter lake wind howled beside her.

Like parting curtains, the fog rolled around the circumference of the island as they neared the shore, all three of the women’s shoulders dripping with mist. Gogaku patted the dampness off of her as they disembarked. Without waiting, the Empress hurriedly made her way up the steep, forage-littered hill. The path was narrow, slicing cleanly through the dense woods. As small as the island was, the forest clung thickly to every inch of it. Maybe even more so than the mainland. Their boatsman had already begun to row away.

Tomoe almost laughed at how perfectly inaccessible this island was.
Persevering through the unbearably annoying climb, Tomoe’s brow was slick with a thin sheen of sweat, her long hair fanned against her face. Rain had slowly begun to fall and the ground was beginning to become slippery. Gogaku assured Tomoe it wouldn’t be much further.

A shrine rose into view. It was unremarkable, with the same red-painted lattices and spiked roof edges. A short set of stairs led them up to the gaping entrance, two tall wooden doors opened, as though expecting their arrival. Lanterns dotted the wooden beams, wobbling at the mercy of the heavy wind and rain.

They stepped through, moss and incense wafting through the air. The scent of old cedar and wet earth clung to their robes and hair. Firelight danced, reflected on the damp, polished floor. A monk emerged, his red robes contrasting the dark oak interior. He bowed low and silently led them deeper into the temple.
Considering the size of the island, Tomoe hadn’t expected it to be quite so big. The monk pushed open a false wall and led them into what Tomoe assumed was a strategy room. Parts of it were similar to the room in Chukyo- a large, long table that ran from one wall to the other. Strewn about on the table in large heaps were scrolls, maps, ink pots. Tomoe was surprised it hadn’t been cleaned already- until a voice announced its presence behind them.
“I apologize for the mess.” The voice held an air of authority, one that demanded respect. It shot through and echoed through the room with surprising volume, catching Tomoe off guard. A shadow of a smile appeared both on Gogaku and the Empress's face.

Tomoe turned, voice still resonating through the room, and met the woman’s gaze. An uncommonly tall woman, with long features and stern eyes that held a mourning too deep, as if her soul itself had shrunk behind a darkened veil. Her eyebrows weren’t shaved, resting above her eyes in a constant furrowed state. Her hair cut short and neat around her scar-ridden collarbones. Deep wrinkles in her face that Tomoe almost mistook for scars weren’t the result of age. Youthful- but hardened. An unmistakable air of quiet authority and solemn strength. Tomoe unconsciously tensed beneath the crushing weight of her presence.

“Mayoi Naramoto.” The Empress introduced, flashing her gaze between Tomoe and Mayoi.
Mayoi bowed towards them. “The mess helps me think. Please pay it no mind. What brings you here?” She asked, tone switching to something more casual as she strode past them to organize her mess.

“I have acquired a new spy.” The Empress said, looking at Tomoe. Mayoi’s gaze followed and looked her up and down. She felt small and exposed under her gaze, like a trembling cat at the mercy of a lion.
“Your name?” Mayoi called out.
“Kikugawa no Tomoe, Mayoi-dono.”
Mayoi let out a hearty laugh. “Leave the formalities back at court. We’re preparing for war here… more so trying to stop it.” Her eye contact was strong, never wavering, never flinching. She stared at you like she could give chase at any second. Tomoe swallowed.
“Do you have any formal training?”
“In the arts, yes.”
Another hearty laugh. “Good. We’ll need some calligraphers to blind the enemy with ink.”
Mayoi shook her head and continued. “In martial arts, specifically. Have you ever wielded a yari? It’s the most common weapon in the field.”
She strode to the left and slid open a shutter. The weather had become a little clearer, the thundering rain turning into a light shower. Mayoi stuck her hand out and nodded, turning toward Tomoe.
“First, let’s get you changed.”
“We’re starting now?” Tomoe suddenly blurted. She didn’t expect it to be so soon.
“Not now, but tomorrow morning. The earlier the better. You’ll be living here from now on too, until you’re fit to return to Heian.” Seeing the disturbance and confusion on Tomoe’s face, she reassured her. “Don’t worry. None of us bite. We already have a room ready for you. You will get as many meals as you wish per day and access to a warm bath whenever it suits you.”

It didn’t sound too bad. Tomoe was more concerned about the exercise she’d have to force herself to complete every day. In order to wield a yari, you had to be fit. Especially to fight at an adequate level…
She sighed, already dreading the ache tomorrow would bring.

“We will be staying with you during this time. I have already sent a messenger to the palace informing the Emperor of your new rank. The excuse for our seclusion here is a religious pilgrimage to celebrate your new rank. Everything has been sorted.” The Empress helpfully chimed in.

There was no escaping. Tomoe resigned herself to her fate.
Guided through another number of lantern-lit hallways, Tomoe was introduced to her room. It was small and subtle, but cosy. A small brazier in the middle and an engawa. A prepared set of writing tools already sat at a desk, seemingly brand new. How welcoming.
Tomoe fell into a restless sleep and soon morning reared its head.

After a change into some new clothes, Tomoe wandered outside. At first, she was stunned that she had been ordered to change into a set of mens hunting clothes. They still had to request a set of proper clothes for her, as they were all ordered depending on the woman's measurements.

It was comfortable and easy to move around in. Tomoe had practiced a few jumps and twirls in her room and a light sheen of sweat already hung on her brow. The rain had softened the earth and droplets clung to the grass like silk pearls.
Most of the shutters were open, cascading the room in a light blue, the floors damp from where the rain had been flowing in. It seemed as if someone was already awake, though it was barely after dawn.

Tomoe peeked outside. Mayoi swung a yari. Her actions looked mesmerizing, each step and twist of her body mounted into her brain like a reflex. Orange sun caught in the steel of her blade as it whirled through the air in crescent arcs. Tomoe couldn’t keep up- it was a blur of wood and steel. She couldn’t help her mouth from falling slightly agape. Where Tomoe had her ink and her prose, Mayoi had her steel and her grit. A lifetime of hard work couldn’t raise Tomoe to her level. A naturally gifted warrior.

A pinnacle of onna-musha. She now fully understood why Mayoi was their leader.

Mayoi stopped with a heavenly twirl, the blade howling through the air and coming to an abrupt stop. The muscles in her forearms bulged, slick with sweat. She looked down, a bead of sweat slipping off of her brow. Tomoe thought she looked strikingly beautiful.

“It’s hard not to admire her.”
Tomoe was startled and turned around to meet the voice.
The Empress, eyes slightly puffy. It was clear she had just woken up. Her gaze was fixed on Tomoe’s.

Tomoe tore her gaze away, back to Mayoi. She nodded.
“Her movements are enchanting.”

“Her family is a lineage of warriors. Dating back to when we first made tools to fight. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was freshly out of her mother and able to hold a spear.”
They both laughed at this. The Empress glowed as she smiled and Tomoe felt the slightest vermillion lick at her cheeks.

At the sound of laughter, Mayoi turned and wished them good morning. She beckoned Tomoe closer, thrusting the yari into her hands. At first, Tomoe struggled with finding the right position to hold it. Either it was too heavy at the back, or at the front. Mayoi instructed her: place one hand at the hilt of the spear and another before the blade. Tomoe found it much easier to wield.

Next, they practiced some basic swinging formations. Mayoi instructed her rigorously, correcting her with a small slap. Her expression was furrowed, deep in thought. This was her ‘tutoring’ mode, Tomoe thought. It had barely been a few minutes and Tomoe was already panting, a dull aching in her rib. She paused to catch her breath and Mayoi hummed, gazing at her slumped figure.

“We will give you a proper exercise routine. Get you fit enough to wield this properly.” Mayoi said, twirling the yari with divine precision. Tomoe huffed and brung her sleeve up to wipe her sweat.
“Let’s give this another go.”

The next few days passed like clockwork. At dawn, Tomoe awoke, had a small breakfast to strengthen herself, and then exercised. Her exercise consisted of running around the island with Mayoi, dodging the stones and foliage littered on the ground. Push-ups, sit-ups. The hills were steep and her calves ached, her breathing uneven and her stomach in knots at the end of each session. Eventually, she was allowed to practice with sacks of rice, acting as weights. After the exercise, she went to practice her weaponry.

Tomoe found this easier to grasp and she hated the feeling of forcing her body past its limit. Everything hurt, all of the time. She wanted a break. Longed to be back in the Heian palace, gazing at the moon, feeling the soft tip of her inkbrush slither across her paper.

Yet… somehow, she came to like it. She felt her body getting stronger, an excess of energy flowing through her taut muscles. Where her ribs had slightly protruded out from her torso, now there were the light outlines of brawn.

Tomoe forgot about keeping a diary. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow most nights. From the second her eyes opened to the second they closed, she was busy. When not training, she was tasked to help with cooking their food. Cooking, studying tactics, the upkeep of tools and clothes. Anything to help her get by when she was on her own.

She still hasn't got completely used to dressing herself. Noting that her flexibility isn’t what it used to be was a surprise, and she struggled to wrap her belt tightly against her waist.

One morning, as she was desperately trying to stretch the stubborn fabric, it tore. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she waded her way from her room to the storeroom. A murmur of voices caught her attention and she slowed. Dawn was still rising- it was rare for anyone but her and Mayoi to be awake.

Tomoe held her breath and flattened herself against a wall.
“...soon.”
A voice softly protested.
“Isn’t it too soon?”
“Experience is the most important thing in this field of work. You know that, Himemiko.”

A jolt surged through Tomoe. Iwa No Himemiko. The Empress. She couldn’t place the other voice.
“It’s been a month. We didn’t dare to put you on the field until three months in, and even then, we were hesitant.” Her tone was laced with worry, her whispered words strained. She continued. “It’s a full out assault. It’s not training, nor is it a small task. She’d be out there. In war. A month is too soon. I won’t allow it.”

A tense silence followed. Tomoe could hear the blood thrumming in her ears. They were talking about her. Surely. War? Her mind repeated the words like a curse. She was going to war?

Tomoe heard a sigh that sliced through her train of thought.
“Okay. I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s too soon.”
“Thank you, Mayoi.” The Empress's voice had softened and she heard the rustling of fabric. She assumed they were leaving.

The weight of the air suddenly crushed Tomoe. Her heart beat furiously against her ribs and for a second she feared they would splinter. Her breathing shallow and uneven, she made her way to find a spare obi. Fastening it around her waist, her hands shook, and she dropped it multiple times. She couldn’t stop the beating of her heart, the drumming of her bloodstream in her ears. She felt waves of heat coursing through her body and her knees gave out on her. They smashed into the wooden boards behind her, an ache exploding from the contact.

What was this? She had never felt this before. This crushing intensity- it felt like every fibre of her being was screaming in panic, begging her to breathe. But she couldn’t. Her stomach contracted and she slammed her eyes shut. A ball of sickness bobbed through her stomach into her throat. Scenes of war played out in her mind. Though she had only read it through prose, she knew the horrors. The pupils of the war generals in the Heian palace, endless voids, the glimmer long gone. She thought back to Mayoi, the scars on her shoulders and neck, the deep etches in her face. She thought of herself being stabbed- over and over, the cool steel of the blade slicing through her flesh. Her clothes coated in her thick, warm blood, pooling down onto the ground beneath her. She clawed at the wound, willing it to close, trying to forcibly shut it, pulling the skin shut. The red of her muscles digging beneath her fingernails, staining them red.

The last thing she felt was the hard wooden floor slam into her head. Everything went blank.

-

When she awoke, Tomoe felt a sharp pain crush through her skull. Wincing, she placed her hand onto it, only to feel the soft fabric of a bandage. A voice called out next to her, soft and levelled.

Gogaku sat beside her with her features contorted into worry, but a smile sunken onto her lips. One that was forced, Tomoe could tell, with the intention to make her feel at ease.

“You lost consciousness. The Empress and Mayoi heard a loud thud and found you laying still in the storage room. We assumed your body was exhausted from all the exercise. You’ll be on break for a few days.” She explained softly, tugging Tomoe’s collar away from her neck and placing two soft fingers on her skin to feel her temperature. Tomoe shivered at the sudden coldness.

“I’m sorry.” Tomoe muttered, lowering her gaze to her hands. She was clad in a basic white kosode, her hair softly tied into a small bun, supported by a silver pin. She found Gogaku’s gaze on the nape of her neck. It was quickly averted.

“There is no need to apologize, Tomoe.” Gogaku placed her hand on Tomoe’s, looking intently into her eyes. “We all want you to get well. Please rest. We’ve brought you your writing tools.”

At that, Tomoe realized she had been relocated. To a bigger, more spacious room. The light filtered in softly through the open shutters, dust particles floating as miniature specks through the rays of sun. The airflow in this room was better and she took a long drag of air. She removed her hand from Gogaku’s, picking up a brush and some paper.

“I will leave you to it.” Gogaku announced, quietly departing.

Tomoe couldn’t seem to rip her gaze from the ink set in front of her. Words didn’t come.
Words couldn’t come. Tomoe felt a churning in her gut.
This was the first time that she didn’t have even the faintest clue of what to write. Her hand shook as she ground the ink stick into its plate. Dipping the brush into the ink, she placed the tip on the paper.
Please.
Please.

The shaking didn’t stop. Why? Why couldn’t she write? Her mind was hazy, an amalgamation of colours that swarmed her like flies. Head dipping, she clasped fistfuls of her hair, shutting her eyes. Willing something to come. Something. Anything.

Emptiness. The shaking refused to stop. She suddenly felt a swell of energy flame through her being and she gripped the brush, mustering all her strength and lobbing it at the wall in a scream of fury. Throat bobbing, thick tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lip quivered.

She felt like a shell. Flesh clinging desperately to bones and muscle. As fast as the anger came, it dissipated, leaving her empty. She felt her form crumple, the ink and paper clattering to the floor. Ink spilled like blood, seeping into the slits between the floorboards.

Why?

Why can’t she write?

Chapter Text

As much as Tomoe hated the feeling of her burning, aching muscles, she found an emptiness that only her training could fill. She found it hard to walk, her knees betraying her, rendering her a wobbling mess if she had the courage to stand. Her days were spent mulling over her weakened muscles and waning poetic inclination.

Suddenly, the days she had spent in her rooms at the Heian palace felt an eternity away, as if something from a dream. No matter how much she longed out to grasp it, those days were beyond her reach. The days began to blur together, but her recovery was smoother than expected. The first few days had been a struggle, the oversleeping making her groggy and feverish. Eventually, with the assistance of Gogaku, she began to walk around again. The mist in her mind began to clear. Easing her way back into training was a frightful task and she feared to collapse again, to feel the sickening twisting of her stomach and the nausea flooding her mind. Yet it didn’t come- and for that she was thankful.

Neither Mayoi nor the Empress had changed in their demeanor, despite their hushed conversation. They acted completely normal, addressing Tomoe, asking how she had been feeling or if she wanted something to drink. But as their conversations dwindled, Tomoe felt her mouth grow dry and her mind begin to whirl. It was hard to concentrate. She knew, deep down, that there was no other reason for her to train so hard if not to go to war. But she didn’t think it would be so soon. Mere months. It clawed at the back of her mind constantly.

A voice snatched Tomoe from her thoughts.

“Tomoe. Mayoi is calling you.” Gogaku softly called, sliding the door open. “Are you okay to get up on your own?”

“I think so.”

Tomoe attempted to stand, dizzy at first. She steadied herself on the wall. Her hair had become increasingly disheveled and the bags under her eyes had swollen and darkened, despite the copious amounts of sleep. Gogaku led her to the strategy room. Mayoi and The Empress were already waiting, eyeing some documents. Placing them down, they gave Tomoe and Gogaku their undivided attention. The air made Tomoe feel uneasy and she shifted nervously.

“Tomoe, you and Gogaku will both be going to the closest village in order to buy some supplies for the temple. Only one each will be fine, as we don’t want you to overwork yourself so soon after getting back on your feet.” Mayoi began. “It’ll be easy and take no more than a couple of hours. But, as a woman who has so rarely been outside of court and talked to the common people of the land, we think it would give you some good insight. See how minds other than yours work- especially those of an entirely separate class. Commoners, artisans, merchants. You’ll be analyzing them as you complete your job. Of course, we don’t want you to stand out, so you will be going dressed as a commoner. We have a set of robes ready for both of you already. You’ll be leaving as soon as you’re dressed and we’ve given you your supplies.”

Tomoe nodded. Although she thought she probably should’ve been feeling nervous, or scared, she felt courage welling up in her breast. This wasn’t nearly as bad as going to war and so, if anything, she actually enjoyed the thought of going outside and seeing how the world worked outside of the palace. Watching lives she had never lived, seeing how they differed from her. Gogaku would be beside her, in case anything went wrong. It helped ease her nervousness.

Before you could recite the nenbutsu, they were already off. A small pouch had been given to both of them that held enough coins to buy a sack of rice each, a ladle for a well if they were to get thirsty and a small pouch of pickled radish for a snack. The waters on Lake Biwa were calm, softly lapping at the side of their boat.

Tomoe could hear the echoes of merchants before she could see them. Voices screamed over each other in constant battle. A part of Tomoe found it uncouth, even disgusting . Where is their shame?

Mayoi’s voice cut through her thoughts. “See how minds other than yours work.”

How are they to make a living if nobody buys from them?

With their boat docked, all that was left was to walk the muddied path toward the decrepit town. Rocks and loose dirt crunched beneath their sandals, thread-bare sandals and other unwanted items strung loosely into their path. The smell of fish and spices grew the more they walked, playful screaming of children inviting them toward the village.

“I’ve been here once before. I’m sure it seems so foreign to you.” Gogaku chimed in with a sheepish smile, cautiously stepping over a loose rock.

“I have to admit that I never left the palace until recently.” Tomoe replied, slightly embarrassed. As they neared the main road, Tomoe realized that this village was much bigger than she had anticipated. Market stalls stretched on for as far as the eye could see, in any colour imaginable. Getting anywhere seemed to be a nightmare with how many people were out and about. Kids running to and fro whilst men hounded in packs like dogs and women surveyed the stalls.

At times like this, sparks of poetry would flash through Tomoe’s mind and she would hurriedly jot them down. Not only were there no words coming to her, but she also had none of her brushes or paper on hand, which made her feel surprisingly naked. Just the pouch at her side. She tapped it lightly with her palm, coins clinking in assurance.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Tomoe could sense unease brewing underneath the surface. Bony wrists jutted out from ragged yukata, collarbones so sharp it could cut. Tomoe could see the muscles moving beneath the commoners faces as they spoke, cheeks concave and eye sockets bulging. Flies swarmed the landscape, landing on people so frail they looked like corpses. Tomoe wasn’t sure if they were sleeping or dead. Tomoe could see more bone than skin on these villagers. Bile rose up her throat. How could this be? Was there a famine?

The stench hit her second. Rotting food, fish deboned and left up to dry, scarce pieces of meat skinned and bled and hung up by their feet. Puddles of blood snaked from those racks and into the street. Tomoe wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. As they traversed further into the bustling market, she realized that most of these merchants weren’t shouting to people to buy these wares, but arguing with buyers over raising their prices.

Sneaking a glance at the price, Tomoe gasped. A single sack of rice cost over two sheets of fine silk, or over 30 coins. No normal villager would be able to afford it. Not even Tomoe or Gogaku could afford it if they put their money together. The man arguing with the merchant barely had enough cloth to cover himself, let alone two sheets of silk to spare.

A harsh shove threw Tomoe into the dirt. A loose rock dug into the curve of her palm and she yelped, vermillion pooling down her wrist and staining the cuff of her sleeve. The shadow of the perpetrator glared down at her- a short but uncommonly muscular man, taut muscles pulling against dark, roughly tanned skin. Patches of hair coated his chest and arms. He opened his mouth, spewing words in a dialect Tomoe couldn’t hope to understand, and she swore she saw a fly shoot out through his crooked teeth. His heel bore into her more and she winced. Pushing his heel off of her, she hauled herself up, raising her fists in front of her.

Buddha protect me.

Tomoe noticed she was shaking. The man continued shouting at her, voice increasing in intensity. She realized she was shaking. She was barely able to make out the words, “Fucking pale skinned noble.”

Another harsh shove on her shoulder.

“What do you want?” She tried to reason above his shouting, which seemed to invigorate him even further. A thick hand tried to swipe at her waist and Tomoe stepped back.

“Your fuckin’ pouch.” The man’s speech lessened into a dull murmur, the sides of his lips broadening into what was meant to be a sickening smile. His accent wasn’t completely gone, but Tomoe could somewhat make out the words now that he wasn’t screaming.

Tomoe’s thigh burned. She staggered but regained her balance just in time to dodge another hurried swipe of his hand.

“It’s my allowance, I’m a scribe-”

He gained on her, fist balled.

“For the lord of the village. I write letters for him, please-”

It was if time had stopped- the deafening drone of the market curtailing into absolute silence. Eyes bore into Tomoe from every angle. She felt the bravely welling in her veins evaporate into thin air. She felt like a fish out of water.

She fucked up. The lie had left her lips before she had time to process it in her head, and she thought her words were somewhat believable. She realized now that they hadn’t noticed the lie- their anger was directed within it. The lord? Were the villagers not content with-

Tomoe’s brain connected the dots. The source of the famine was their lord. Of course- no ruler with any sense of sane judgement would leave his villagers to starve in the street. He must be neglecting them in some way.

Pain stung Tomoe’s cheek. Her world reeled, view flipping on its head. The force of the slap sent dirt grating against her face as her head smashed into the rough ground. For a moment she was temporarily blinded, body racing to catch up. Another crush in her ribs as a foot collided into her. She could hear Gogaku’s voice hoarsely shouting her name as a second punch pummeled her arm. The villagers ripped the pouch of money from her side.

Fuck. She needed to get up. People swarmed her on all sides, restraining her wrists and pulling her open, punching her chest and grabbing fistfuls of her hair. Tomoe pulled against their grip and struck her foot as hard as she could into their shins, eliciting a shout of pain. Get up. Gritting her teeth, Tomoe reeled onto her side, pulling her arm around her and out of the grip of one of the villagers. Lungs seizing for air, she could barely breathe. Get up. She could feel the stinging from where someone's fingers thwarted her blood flow, but sent another blow flying into the balls of a man. He stumbled backwards with a scream, knocking the people beside him and giving Tomoe the chance to right herself. Pulling herself upward, sending an elbow toward the woman with a fistful of Tomoe’s hair, she sent a knee crushing into the people in her way.

She lunged towards the struggling Gogaku, pulling her wrist, the burn flaring from the bruising in her ribs and back. Fuck the money. They fled. None of the villagers followed beside a few kids that were caught up in the commotion, laughing heartily in their tracks. The smell of iron flooded Tomoe’s senses and she realized the cut on her wrist had widened. She could feel the wound on her ribs sting through every seething breath.

“Tomoe-” Gogaku’s voice cracked as they reeled into an alleyway. Tomoe’s grip loosened and her thigh gave out. She landed sharply on her knees, pebbles digging into her skin. Heaving with each press, Tomoe pressed her hands onto her ribs, gritting her teeth and clamping her eyes shut.

Gogaku kneeled beside her, ripping off a strip of fabric from her yukata, knotting it tightly around Tomoe’s waist.

“This lord,” Tomoe stuttered through ragged breaths. “We must go see their lord. The anger is justified-” A pause as another sharp ache exploded into her chest. “They are being starved, these poor people. I spoke without thinking. It is I who should take the blame, not these people.” Tomoe wet her sleeves with tears. “How pitiful.”

Gogaku pulled a sweat-stained strand of hair from Tomoe’s face, heart pounding. “I shall find you a healer.” She whispered, resting fingers on Tomoe’s head. “You are burning up.” Gogaku soothed Tomoe as she choked sobs into her sleeves, rubbing her hand on the smooth of Tomoe’s back.

They heard the crunching of gravel ahead of them. An elderly woman. Her spine curved alarmingly forward, shoulders drawn so deeply into herself that she looked as if she were perpetually bowing to the earth. Her thin hair was a ghostly white, the likes of which Tomoe had never seen before. One of her eyes was shut, as if she were asleep, whilst the other was wide, alert, and an alarmingly clear shade of white that glinted with curiosity.

“My dear,” she called carefully, walking timidly toward them. “What on earth has happened?”

She shuffled closer to Tomoe, stopping just short of where she knelt, leaning closer. Her frail hand stretched outward, skin sunken deeply into the curve of her bones, dark sun-damaged spots scattered like stars. It softly traced the curvature of Tomoe’s cheek and nose. The woman’s pupil was shaking rapidly, as if trembling. Though she might be gazing in Tomoe’s direction, she distinctly felt that she was not looking at her. Rather- through her. At her very soul. Tomoe’s throat tightened.

“Your breath is ragged, dear-”

“She’s hurt.” Gogaku croaked from beside her. The elderly lady withdrew her hand with mindful slowness. “Please, we need a healer. The villagers-”

“No matter. Follow me.”

Tomoe was slightly taken aback. The tone of the woman’s voice showed no hint of surprise- had this happened before? Did she know of the villagers’ ruthlessness to those associated with the lord? Was she not a villager herself? Help was help, she finalized.

Gogaku ushered Tomoe upward, stabilizing her by her waist as they followed the old lady. She moved at a slow wobble to accommodate Tomoe’s injury- not looking back even once. She led them through the decrepit alleyways in the quieter parts of the village, then up a forest path towards a distressed looking hut, hounded by weeds on all sides. There was no paved path toward the entrance, nor articulate arrangement of boulders on gravel. Only a single, barely noticeable mud streak, paved by years of use. No door, either, just a singular ragged curtain. Instead of the lacquered wooden floors that she was so used to, the hut had been built directly above natural ground. The only sanctuary between her and the earth was a set of thread-bare straw mats. Tomoe dreaded imagining how the woman survived winter- not to mention at such a fragile age.

Thick clusters of various herbs hung from the ceiling, and Tomoe’s nostrils stung from the overpowering scent. A thin blanket had been strewn next to the sunken hearth and a second one lay neatly folded in the corner. Two people live here. A set of cooking utensils laid in hearth, covered in specks of charcoal. Patches of dried mud had been plastered across cracks in the walls and ceiling. A spider hung silently in the corner, flies entangled in its web.

The elder woman went directly to the left corner of the hut and fingered the lid of a rotting wooden box. She pulled out a mala bead necklace, the wood dented and deformed from where she had thumbed through it in countless decades of prayer.

“Set her down,” She instructed Gogaku, waving a thin hand toward the blanket beside the hearth. “And I shall pray for her recovery.”

“I shall too, then.” Gogaku announced as she gently eased Tomoe down.

“I do not have spare beads.”

“It is okay. As long as I can clasp my hands in prayer, I’m sure buddha will hear me.”

“Very well then.”

The old lady pulled the beads over her head and allowed it to rest on her head as she stepped back outside. Gogaku took a position beside Tomoe, kneeling and pressing her hands together in prayer. Tomoe could see Gogaku’s lips moving, silently reciting words to the medicine buddha. She felt warmth creep up her chest and silently thanked Gogaku for staying beside her.

The old lady stepped back inside after a few minutes with a small bucket of water and dried grass. She piled the dried grass on the hearth, collecting a rusted pot along with a mortar and pestle and lit it with the jagged remains of some flint and steel. The embers sparked to life and she placed the pot on top, pouring some water into it. Collecting one bundle of herbs from the ceiling, she untied the rope tethering them together and began to crush a few strands in the mortar and pestle.
The water began to hiss and bubble as it came to a boil, winding biles of hot steam moistening the ceiling above. She spooned a little into her bowl and crushed it further until it became a lumpy paste. Pulling Tomoe’s blood-stained sleeve up her shoulder, she spread the paste against her cut- to which Tomoe hissed through her teeth at the unwelcome sting. Without a word, the old lady rolled Tomoe onto her side, loosening the collar of her robes, careful not to irritate her rib wound, and spread the paste on the bruise forming on her back and her chest, then finally on her rib. She hummed disapprovingly as her fingers worked on Tomoe’s skin.

The bruise was red and inflamed. Tomoe could be suffering from a fractured, or even broken rib. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated what to do. Perhaps she’d give it a day and monitor if the swelling eased. Though…

Her fingers traced Tomoe’s face again. Against the dip of her eyelid, to the bone of her nose and down to the shallow of her cheek and point of her chin. Not a blemish in sight.

“A woman of the capital, it seems.”

Tomoe let out an exasperated breath of air. “You see through your fingers?”

“I feel through my fingers, dear. Not one raised scar, nor spot, nor any irregularity at all on that face of yours,” her trembling eyes slipped toward Tomoe, “there is no meaning to your life. Without sadness, what meaning does joy have? To understand the meaning of happiness is to stand in the wake of sadness. One cannot exist without the other. Your appreciation for a sunny day would mean naught without first experiencing a rainy one. A sheltered girl like you, beaten and bruised by those whom you unconsciously harm,” a skeletal finger pressed against Tomoe’s bruise and she winced, jolting up in pain, only to have the woman press her down onto the flat of her back. “have finally understood the meaning of life. To appreciate having your pain eased, you must first know what it feels like to endure it.”

She leaned closer, breath brushing against Tomoe’s ear.

“To acknowledge the weight of words, one must first bear the burden of silence.”

Tomoe’s mind lurched. All went dark.
-
She knew it was a dream, yet the throbbing in her bloodied hand felt so very real. Tomoe gripped the wooden planks in front of her, knuckles turning white, each intake of air feeling like a knife had been thrust through her gut. Her vision was hazy, blurred, almost incomprehensible. Slits of light cut through the small gaps in between the planks and Tomoe suddenly realized she was in a cell. Blood drenched her clothes and matted her hair. A voice- calling from inside of the cell. No… it was her own. Her own voice, pleading, desperate. A shadow passed in front of her, obscuring the only access she had to light. Layered robes flowed like water off his broad shoulders.

Tomoe woke with a jolt, sitting upright so fast that it caused the old woman to yelp in surprise. A stinging ache thundered across her body, and she realised she had been dressed in bandages as she slept. Her stomach groaned. Tomoe couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Looking next to her, she eyed the old lady as she masterfully diced carrots and tossed them into a pot of boiling broth.

“It’s not your fancy court meals,” She began, barely even glancing in Tomoe’s direction. “but you will eat it.” Refusing was out of the question unless she wanted to starve. Another growl from her stomach begged her not to refuse.

Tomoe’s bandages tightly grazed against her skin as she tried to rotate her torso side to side. The swelling on her ribs had improved, but the friction of hemp against the sensitive wound made her reluctant to move. She realized Gogaku was nowhere to be seen.

“Your friend left to report her boss. Didn’t tell me the details. Said you’d understand.”
Tomoe hummed. For a few minutes, they revelled in the silence broken only by the bubbling of boiling broth.

“I don’t believe I ever got your name.”

“Senzaemon.”

“That’s a man's name. My name is Tomoe”

“I didn’t have the courtesy of choosing it myself.”

“The character for ‘sen’ also means hermit. I suppose whoever named you chose well.”

“Do you wish to starve to death?”

Another bout of silence, followed by crunching of leaves outside. Gogaku must have returned, Tomoe thought, until a tiny figure peeked into the hut. Her expression was distant- eyes black, devoid of any light. A thick, jagged scar snaked diagonally across her tanned face, from the tip of her left ear down to the curve of her jaw, just barely missing her eye. Thick bangs curtained the entirety of her forehead, the rest of her hair clipped precisely at her jaw. Despite her obvious frailty, her black hair was voluminous and glossy. Tomoe could name a few ladies at court that would be frothing at the mouth with jealousy.

Senzaemon didn’t look up as she outstretched her hand. The small girl was clutching the collar of her tattered yukata shut. It must have been at least five sizes too big for her. She opened it and reached inside, pulling out a full bag of rice. They shared no greeting, not even a glance in each other's direction. No smile, nor welcome home. As quickly as the girl appeared, she left.

Without missing a beat, Senzaemon pulled a dagger from the sleeve of her yukata and sliced the bag open, spilling the rice into the cooking pot. Tomoe was slightly taken aback by the presence of a knife that she had been wholeheartedly unaware of- but those thoughts were quickly pushed aside by questions. Was the girl Senzaemon’s child? Granddaughter? If so, where was the mother? Perhaps they both had no family and paired together to survive. Both the product of an unnaturally cruel world.

“Ko.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Her name. It’s Ko.”

“You named her… ‘child’?”

“It is the first and only word she has spoken to me, so I simply assumed that was what she wished to be called.”

“Are you family?”

“No more questions.”

More dense silence- this time broken by the clinking of a rusted metal ladle against the pot as Senzaemon stirred. Tomoe shivered. By the looks of it, she had slept well past dawn. The sun was high in the sky; not yet afternoon, but it was fast approaching.

“What does Ko do all day? How did she get that bag of rice?”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

“What harm is there in answering my questions?”

The woman had thus far been quick witted with her responses, but this time she took a moment to answer.

“Out of the sincerity and generosity of my own heart, I will answer your questions. Just because there is currently nothing else to do except stir this soup. Soon you will be so busy that you will have no time to even open your mouth.”

Tomoe paused. “I’m staying here? Gogaku went back to report to her boss. Surely they will come and get me.”

“Hmm, Gogaku was her name.” Senzaemon hummed, absentmindedly drumming the ladle against the hearth. “I sent her off with a letter. You will stay for a few days.”

“You did not ask for my permission. I don’t agree-”

“It has been decided. If you would rather tread down the forest path back to the village, where you will undoubtedly beat half to death a second time, please, be my guest. Pray to Buddha for his protection.”

“You sound skeptical of Buddha.” Tomoe shot back, the tone in Senzaemon’s voice was unmistakable- irony.

“Believing that Buddha will actually come to your aid is something reserved for nobles who live their lives sheltered from what this world has to offer. You employ the best healers and the best doctors educated in Chinese medicine and then thank Buddha for his miraculous powers- thanking the monks who dedicated days to praying for your well being instead of the farmers and herbalists who gather your medicine. People like us- common folk. Villagers, hermits, people with no money. We don’t pray to Buddha because we know he will not help. We have long given up our faith in praying for a miracle. The miracles come from those who are bent over from dawn till dusk foraging herbs that will save your life, and doctors who pore over books until their eyes melt to write recipes to cure illness. Those who test those recipes, at the risk of their own life, to help others. These people earn no thanks, nor livable wage, because you nobles believe that you are chosen by the divines to rule over us. I do not agree with that way of thinking. Your lives are held up by those who slave away for pennies and receive no thanks.”

Tomoe’s gaze lowered in shame. Unconsciously, she had already known. She knew that without commoners, their livelihood would mean nothing. That jewels and silk wouldn’t exist without those who harvest it. Tomoe suddenly felt very small, as if she were shrinking under the unyielding presence of Senzaemon.

“You will know what it means to live like them soon enough.”

“Okay. I’ll stay here not for a couple of days, but for a week. Teach me the ways of your people, Senzaemon.”

Tomoe felt Senzaemon falter. She didn’t think she would have expected compliance so quickly, especially from a woman who could barely tell a pickaxe from a hoe- from a woman that had, before today, never slept on the bare ground. The shadow of a smile flashed on the old woman's face.

“But you had a beaded necklace?” Tomoe inquired, eyeing the string of beads tied around Senzaemon’s neck.

“Faith is for hope and reason, not miracles. If we were faced with the knowledge that our work, our lives, mean nothing, what drives us to go on? At least, by practicing our faith, we will escape the cycle of suffering. After our death, we will go on to a world free of these earthly desires and hardship- there lies meaning. I do not renounce the teachings of Buddhism, I renounce the fools who believe it cures all.”

Tomoe pressed her fingers against the hemp tied over the cut on her wrist.

“I had never thought of it like that.”

“Because you have not yet lived, Tomoe. I will teach you how to live. But for now- breakfast. It’s hot.”

A steaming bowl and wooden spoon was handed towards Tomoe and she took it, resting it between her legs. The meal was basic- rice, diced carrots and potato with shredded fish, swimming in a herb-infused broth. After thanking Senzaemon and hastily blowing on it, she spooned it into her mouth. The flavour was bland and uninteresting, but the warmth pooled into her stomach and relaxed her muscles- a comforting respite.

Finishing their food, Senzaemon whittled the fire down to a few embers and placed their bowls down. Groaning, she slowly pushed herself upright and shuffled to the door, ushering Tomoe to follow her with a nod of her head. Tomoe, with great pain and difficulty, managed to right herself and followed her.

She was led through a dense path that winded beside the house and deep into the forest. Senzaemon warned Tomoe to keep her eye on the ground for loose rocks. ‘Those injuries you will have to patch yourself.’ She had commented. A few minutes later, the trees curved into an opening and they found themselves at a riverbed. The cool air was dense with salt and Tomoe saw Ko, doubled over, spear raised and ready, stalking the fish that darted beneath the water's surface.

North of the river, the land rolled downward in steep, grassy slopes, unravelling a giant expanse of rice paddies. Tomoe’s heart staggered in her chest.

“Why,” She croaked, “Why are the villagers starving if you have such a huge rice field?”

The air hung heavily at her question. Senzaemon’s features sunk into an expression of solemnity and she walked toward the river, gazing into it. It felt as if even the fish had frozen.

“Our lord is an evil spirit.” Senzaemon started, her tone stiff with resentment. “We were a prosperous rice village up until three years ago, when he was appointed here by the government. Apparently he had done some good feats for the court, and was given this village as a reward. Of course- being the greedy, perfumed noble that he was, he thought only how to expand his own fortune. Noticing that the other villagers had been stuck in a drought, thus yielding no crops for their villagers, he decided to take a portion of our produce and sell it to them. At first, the prices were somewhat reasonable, but as their crops still refused to yield, he began to charge exorbitant prices. The village had no choice but to accept, else they would starve. Eventually, the prices increased and the portions decreased. He continued to take more rice for himself, leaving more villagers starving, and eventually it escalated to this.” She gestured a hand toward the paddies. “All of them owned, controlled and sold by him. Not even one grain goes to his own people. We’re starving. None of the lords from neighbouring villagers would dare to help, or speak out against our lord. His fortune has amassed greatly. Nobody wants to make an enemy of a man with money to spend.

And so, we starve. We will continue to starve and drop like flies until he finally realizes that there are no villagers nor farmers left to help him. Why don’t they leave, you ask? The simple answer is that they can’t. This is where they were born, all they have ever known. They don’t have the money to buy a house and start anew elsewhere- so they’re forced to keep working. Revolts are useless. We’ll be cut down and replaced as if we never existed. We are utterly powerless.” Senzaemon laughed bitterly. “The era of peace, is it?” She spat. Her hands were clenched so tightly together that they shook. Ko continued jutting the spear into the water.

“How hideous.” Tomoe heaved. “How hideous. I will do something about him. We will do something about him.” She stepped closer to Senzaemon, fists clenched into balls.

Senzaemon laughed, but it was bitter. “You think you can do something? You think you have the power to change our village?” She shook her head, “You have lived a lifestyle whereby everything has been handed to you on a silver platter. No. No, you cannot. The sooner you accept that fact, the better.”

Tomoe knew that she didn’t mean any direct malice in her words- what Senzaemon said, she wholeheartedly believed. It wasn’t coming from a place of distrust or resentment, it came from a place of reality. She knew, better than anyone, that a struggle does not always bear fruit. Sometimes it bears graves.

“I will try.” Tomoe spoke loudly, clearly, her words echoing through the clearing. “I have friends that are powerful. More powerful than you can imagine- and I’m not talking about stuck up courtiers. I’m talking about warriors. People that can make a difference. We are making a difference.”

Senzaemon looked in her direction. “Then show me. Prove you can change us, Tomoe.” She paused. “However- for now, you shall fish.” Tossing Tomoe a yari that had been left by the riverbed, she sat next to Ko.

“Ko will teach you.”

Gripping the handle, Tomoe felt a strange sense of comfort. She whirled it, accustomed to the height and its center of gravity. Plunging it into the water, she noticed Ko’s gaze on her. Her expression was unreadable- completely and utterly neutral. Ko pointed at her legs and Tomoe realized that she had rolled the ends of her yukata up and waded into the water. She copied her, shivering at the sudden surge of cold water that hit her legs.

Ko demonstrated the correct stance to Tomoe- legs shoulder width apart, knees bent, elbow ready to send the yari down at any time. From then on, it was a test of patience. It took multiple tries for Tomoe to finally pierce a fish and when she finally managed, it was tossed into a straw bucket that Ko had brought with her.

It was much harder than Tomoe thought it would be. Her muscles screamed in pain. Dragging herself out of the river and collapsing with a huff, she averted her gaze from the empty gaze of Ko.

“How long have you been living with Senzaemon, Ko?”

No answer- not even a glance in her direction. She continued jabbing her spear into the water.

Tomoe shuffled herself closer to the girl. “Do you enjoy hunting?”

No answer.

“Do you love Senzaemon?”

A slight hitch in her movements and then a swift stab into the water. She tossed another writhing fish into the bag. Not a single thought spared to Tomoe's words. Tomoe rested the weight of her head on her palm, intently staring at Ko. There was no wasted energy in her movements, no hesitation or delay. Tomoe thought that her eyes were unnaturally dark- her pupils completely shrouded over, as if it were some hollowed out void. There was no flicker of emotion or sentience. How could such a small girl be rendered like such? What has she gone through?

A voice erupted from the forest and Tomoe recoiled, snapping her head toward the shrubbery just as a small boy erupted from it.

“SENMON!” He screamed, voice already hoarse and cracking, leaves stuck to his matted hair. His face was dirtied, blood streaking his tanned cheeks, eyes red and swollen.

Senzaemon frantically hurried toward him, hands cradling his cheeks and turning his head side to side as she assessed his wounds. She touched her thumb softly against his eye and he flinched away, tears welling in his eyes.

“What happened? Tell me.” She assured him, steadying him by his shoulders.

“The lord, my mother-” He choked on his words, coughing, but Senzaemon was already marching into the forest. Tomoe scrambled up, quickly catching up to her. The boy tagged along, sobbing heavily. Ko stayed put, sparing them only one glance.

Impatiently swatting away the branches in her way, Senzaemon briefly explained through hurried breaths, pace accelerated into a fast jog.

“One of the reasons we can't revolt is because the lord has his own employ of guards that he pays personally- if there’s any dent in his system, any outliers, any person that gets in his way, his guards are sent to deal with it. You’ll see what I mean when we get to Takumi's House.”

Tomoe sent a glance to the small boy, rubbing his sore eyes. Poor Takumi. She hoped his mother was okay. They sprinted out past Senzaemon and Ko’s hut and into the village. Winding through alleyways and down into the center of the village, Tomoe noticed the buildings becoming much more derelict. She had thought the entrance was already bad enough, but this was another level. Sickness clung to the air, corpses littered the dirty street, muffled coughing from every hut. It was generous to consider them huts- most of them had collapsed, ceilings concaving, doors shredded, walls moulding. Soulless eyes followed them.

Twisting around a corner, they advanced onto a small shrine. Tomoe leapt the stairs two at a time, bounding up to the entrance. Iron. The thick, suffocating smell of iron. Pressing her nostrils shut, she carefully stepped into the shrine.

Tap. Tap.

Water was dripping onto the ceiling. Tomoe raised her head, looking at the source. Her eyes grew wide. A thick string of blood sagged from a crack in the ceiling.

“Upstairs.” Tomoe croaked.

Senzaemon was already two steps ahead. A stifled cry from Takumi as he reached the top of the stairs, Tomoe warily following. She felt a gag pull at the back of her throat at the sight- a woman, probably in her mid fourties. She was slumped against the wall, eyes wide and unblinking, head leaning so far back that she could see the muscles in her neck. Loose hair stuck to her damp forehead, cracked lips curling inward to show rotten teeth. A wide gash tore open her stomach, a trail of wet organs flooding out onto the floor in a bloody heap. The faded yukata she wore had been ravaged to bits, pieces of cloth scattered about the room. Tomoe’s gaze lowered. She felt her stomach flip.

Her skeletal legs twisted sickeningly, snapped morbidly in multiple places. The organ between her legs was unrecognizable- a mass of flesh, blood and muscle.
Takumi collapsed. Senzaemon’s face was obscured from Tomoe’s view, but she could sense the hesitation in her movements. Tomoe prayed that the woman had died quicky, before the excrutiating pain, but she knew that the attackers were not so merciful.

Senzaemon slowly walked toward the woman and pulled her legs shut. She closed the woman’s eyelids and pulled her head forward so that her chin lolled above her chest.

The old lady’s words were solemn.

“Do you still believe you have the power to defeat this evil?”