The Ronin and the Demon of Winter

            The Oaken Tavern was one of the last places Ayaka wanted to be.

            After the parade almost everyone left Danketsu Square to attend the wide selection of events and activities the inaugural night offered. Ayaka, Harumi, and Akemi, had followed Midori into an establishment that specialized in grilled fish, rice, and miso, in addition to serving copious amounts of sake and shochu. Inside it was nigh chock-full, mostly with upper class patrons, many of them daiymo from Shenobi and across the Southern Kingdoms. Ayaka wanted to go and see the festival's other entertainments, but unable to leave her friends, she resigned herself to staying at the tavern.

            More sake was ordered, and Midori, at times Akemi, presented the young daiymo they had the acquaintance of. More often the young nobles courteously introduced themselves though. And so the next hour and a bit circulated in mingling and exchanging of cordialities. Upon finding a table, Ayaka snatched the opportunity to sit next to Harumi. Ayaka had intended to take the little nomin girl back to the Bathhouse Inn after the parade, but decided to bring her along since she worked hard earlier and hadn't had anything substantial to eat. A brace of river fish with rice and soup would be Harumi's reward.

            "Good evening fair missueukkus."

            Looking up, Ayaka saw a tall, keen shaped man, standing next to their table. He was swathed in sapphire-blue robes. Attending at this sides were two other men; one in robes of similar hue, the other in emerald-green. The rich garb and the dual katanas they each wore at their belts told they were highborn samurai. In a bit of a daze, Ayaka realized the handsome man in blue was addressing all of them, her included.

            He bowed graciously. " My name is Akihiro Sugawara."

            It took a couple breaths before she placed the name.

            Led by Midori, Ayaka and her friends introduced themselves. The other two daiymo did in kind. The second man in blue was from Ao-kuraoudo also; the one in green hailed from Mitsubayashi. While exchanging cordialities, Ayaka noted that aside from Akihiro, the other two daiymo seemed to only have a vague knowledge of which kingdom her family name originated. They probably weren't even sure where Gurinhiruzu was.

            "It is a privilege," prince Akhiro said.

            The three men had timed their arrival perfectly, just as a gathering of patrons were rising to leave the table. After asking if they could join Ayaka and her friends, Akihiro and his two companions seated themselves at the table. Suddenly Ayaka was self-conscious of her manners, and pretty much everything. Akihiro was the highest ranking noble she'd ever been near, let alone spoken to.

            Additional trays bearing flasks of warmed rice wine, and cups were ordered.

            Once their cups were full - even Harumi's - Akihiro raised his. "To the Saisei Spring Festival. To Daisuken's victory." He gestured to encompass them. "And to the beauty of the young missuekus at this table."

            Ayaka stayed quiet during much of the ensuing conversation. Despite her disregard for social hierarchy, she was thoroughly impressed to be in such company. I would've never met this many high ranking daiymo at one table in Gurinhirizu. She might have been more nervous, but the men's demeanor was friendly, and the warm sake she sipped from her cup relaxed her. From the start, prince Akihiro was drawn to Midori, and Midori to him. How surreal to see her cousin talking to the heir of Ao-kuraoudo - the biggest kingdom west of the Blue Mountains after Fumei-noyorou and Shenobi. Ayaka chewed carefully to make sure she didn't choke on a piece of fish or do something to embarrass herself.

            "Sora-hana!" burst a strangely familiar voice. And there was Tazeki, again, unable to stop beaming as he ogled her.

            "Good evening." Ayaka nodded. She resolved to be as courteous as reasonably possible. She doubted Tazeki would ask for a place at a table where three daiymo samurai were already seated.

            "Ah." Akihiro motioned Tazeki closer. "Here is another of our friends."

            "Could I?" Tazeki asked Ayaka, indicating the spot beside her.

            "Of course Tazeki-san." She smiled and nodded. He scooted in next to her, indecorously close. Too late, trapped.

            With the nobles crowded about, Harumi kept her head low. Because of her age she was largely ignored, but the little girl looked as though she would've liked to disappear. She had small esteem of herself, and in situations such as this, the weight of the class system made it worse. Ayaka put an arm over Harumi's shoulders.

            Unfortunately, she could not get off the hook as easily as the little nomin girl. Tazeki, and a third noble from Ao-kuraoudo who had arrived after the rest, granted her their attention, telling her from where they hailed, the shoen estates under their name, and attempting to impress her by other means, often reciting verses of famous literature. Tazeki in particular endeavored to win her attention, adulating her beauty, though ever awkward in his courting. She nodded, thanking them for their compliments.

            As the evening at the Oaken Tavern progressed, more than once Midori and Akemi politely nudged Ayaka with a gaze, smiling suggestively, as if to say - What do you think? Is he handsome? Don't you like him? Ayaka did her best to be cordial with Tazeki and Akihiro's companions, but her friends noted the distance she kept, and shot her several incredulous glances.

            The daiymo were attractive, and learned, honorable gentleman - nevertheless, Ayaka found it a chore to engage in their consorting. She wanted to pretend, yet there were times she simply didn't know how. Further, since she did not intend to remain long in Shenobi, she reasoned that showing interest overmuch would be disingenuous to these men. Her thoughts strayed to the dance of dragons, then sped to the open country, beyond the walls of the ancient southern city. She did not know where the search for the Seishin-yodo would take her, but on her way she longed to stand in the open spaces of wilderness, to breathe the sweet-grass and pine-scented air. Perhaps more than just the quest, the magic of the countryside, traveling like a seasonal wind through remote towns, across rivers, and over unknown mountains, was the inexpressible, perhaps unattainable life she dreamed of.

            Later in the evening, with the table cluttered with trays, cups, a few empty sake flasks, and surrounded by the warmed laughter of those gathered, prince Akihiro stood up. “I’m sorry I must take my leave so early, but I must attend to some affairs, menial formalities really, that require my attention.” The prince from Ao-kuraoudo held Midori’s hand as if he wished to kiss it. “However, I extend an invitation to all of you to the Three Arrows Teahouse. There members of my company and many of our friends will host a banquet. It is to begin within the hour. You would do us great honor to grace us with your presences."

            “Thank you kindly, Akihiro-dono,” said Midori, her hand still in his.

            Ayaka knew her friends made up their minds in an instant about whether or not they were going to the teahouse. Several hours had gone since arriving at the Oaken Tavern, making it a choice moment to move on. Still,they lingered after Akihiro and his daiymo retinue - including Tazeki, for which Ayaka was thankful - exited the Oaken Tavern.

            "I hope you can stay in Shenobi!" said Akemi, slinging an arm over Ayaka's shoulder. They were both a little drunk.

            '"I will, ... I mean, I could," said Ayaka.

            "What do you mean?" Midori was concerned. "How long will you stay?"

            "I'm not sure. A few weeks? I have to go back to Gurinhiruzu, at least a while." Ayaka couldn't tell them her real plans. No one would understand; indeed, neither did she fully.

            "Then we have to take advantage of the short time we have together," said Midori.

            Since the Three Arrows Teahouse lay on the other side of Shenobi's centric quarter, on the way Ayaka would leave Harumi at the Bathhouse Inn. The little nomin girl was a bit tired anyways. To save time, Ayaka and her friends skirted the palatial district, traversing a zone of bounteous gardens. The crowds had thinned considerably, and the air was cooler. Wending lanes of indigo shadow were solely illuminated by those who strolled with lanterns. Deeper into the gardens, the well-groomed trees grew tall, and the young women walked beside a burbling stream glimmering of lamplight amid the dark.

            Emanating from the gardens came a song. Passed silhouettes of interlacing boughs they came nigh an open space from whence plentiful light glowed.

            Ayaka felt she had chanced upon a window to another world. She stepped partially through the overhanging willows. Several hundred, perhaps a thousand spectators were seated on wooden benches; the tiers set in orderly rows on a level sward of cropped grass extending from the front of a stage. The song originated from this amphitheatre. At either side, lanterns hidden by the edges of curtains, illumed a stage. The polished maple platform was empty save for three women dressed in a style harkening back to the ancient imperial geishas. While looking skyward, they sang a sad, but beautiful song, akin to a beseeching prayer. From the rafters above the stage, red-gold autumn leaves fell, seesawing. Other spectators, further back from the benches, sat on the grass, and here and there among the stone terraces fading into the nocturnal canopies. A captivated stillness reigned as the audience beheld what unfolded.

            “What is this?” asked Ayaka; mesmerized, she gazed at the stage.

            Midori, perhaps the tipsiest of the three, rested a hand on Ayaka's shoulder. "It is the tale of the Ronin and the Demon of Winter."

            Ayaka muttered the title to herself. "I've never heard of this tale."

            "It's a really old one, neh?" said Akemi, looking for Midori to fill in the rest.

            "Yes," Midori explained. "A mugen noh play. That is what they used to call the dream plays, during the Celestial Empire."

            "Who are they?" Ayaka couldn't turn from the scene of the three women. Their accents were of an ancient savor she could not fully comprehend. "What are they singing about?"

            "They're the Daughters of the Seasons, and they sing a lament for the sorrows people must endure. The summer has surrendered to fall too soon, the leaves are falling, the land is suffering, and a cruel winter wind blows before its time."

            They watched a little longer before Midori tugged gently on Ayaka's arm. "Come, cousin. There is a wide selection of plays and musical ensembles here every night. I am willing to bet they will have this one on again towards the end of the week."

            Transfixed, Ayaka had hardly heard the words. The Daughters of the Seasons withdrew, and new characters emerged on stage. Two nomin men and a women talked; much easier to understand in their colloquial speech. Their faces were whitened with rice powder, and they moved very slow, using their arms to lend emphasis to their words, which were more recited than spoken, like a patient song.

            What is this secret magic? The song beckoned to Ayaka, and the longer she watched the mugen noh play, the stronger the sense of rare familiarity grew, an echo of a memory, like she'd been here and beheld this before.

            "But I've never seen such a thing," said Ayaka, more to herself. "I mean, I've been to some plays, years ago, but nothing like this." She looked at the other girls, as though they'd been absent from her side for hours. "What, you don't want to watch?"

            Akemi and Midori exchanged a glance.

            “Well," said Akemi, "normally we would, …but…” 
            “Ahh.” Ayaka smiled. “Don’t worry. Go on ahead. As soon as it’s over I’ll join you.”
            The two girls looked doubtfully at one another, then back at Ayaka.

            "Promise you will?” Midori coaxed.

            “Of course. I know how to get to the teahouse. As soon as the play is over I'll take Harumi back to the inn and head straight there."

            Though reluctant, the girls agreed to the change of plans. Midori said, "The play is more than halfway over. We'll see you soon, neh?" She reminded Ayaka. "Don't be late. Tazeki will be heartbroken if you're not there."

            Akemi tittered. "I saw the way he was looking at you. Like he'd found the Lotus of Enlightenment."
            After her friends had left, Ayaka extended her hand to Harumi. “Come. Let's go closer, neh.”

            The little nomin girl beamed, much more at ease out here than in the tavern.

            "If I buy you a dessert, will you tell me about the play, my dear?”

            Harumi nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Aya-chan.”
            She purchased wagashi mochi from a vendor roaming the periphery of the audience. The pastry was a small bun formed of peach and plum flavored sweet bean paste. Harumi was absolutely delighted to be seeing a play with mochi to along. Ayaka patted the little girl on the head. She realized how much she liked to indulge Harumi, how easy it would be to see her as the younger sister she never had.

            "We can sit up there Aya-chan," said Harumi, with a bite of mochi in her mouth; she pointed to a large, roofed gallery seating area to one side and several echelons above the rest of the audience. "You can, I mean... It's for the daiymos."

            "That's alright. I'd rather sit down here, with everyone else."

            Near the center of the rows, a couple spectators cordially scooted over to make room for them on one of the benches. Ayaka whispered her thanks. With everyone focused at what unfolded on stage, the pervading quiet was such that during the short lulls in singing or dialogue, Ayaka heard the faint murmuring of the stream in the gardens. People of all ages had gathered here; older folk who'd probably seen the same play on numerous occasions, perhaps returning every year, and children for whom it was an entirely novel experience.

            The curtains closed. During the interval the audience conversed in hushed tones. When the curtains slid open anew, the silence resumed. The stage's background had transformed. The plays Ayaka had seen consisted merely of a stage - this, however, was far more elaborate. Painted cutouts depicted a wintry scene of white hills, forests, and a flock of red-crowned cranes gliding over the distant mountains. Flakes of white paper littered the maple floor, while more trickled down from the concealed rafters. The rice wine Ayaka had drunk imbued the ensuing scene with a dreamy quality.

            One of the actors, portraying a nomin, held out his hands. "Our kingdom, once glorious, and full of joy, has fallen into ruin! The Fuyu-no Akuma has stolen the Daughter of Spring, and winter robs us of everything!"

            “I know, I know,” moaned another nomin, on his knees. When he spoke - as when everyone else spoke - the words were drawn out like verses of a chant. "We won't survive if this cold continues much longer. There are no crops and no buds on the trees." His brow and shoulders stooped in defeat. "Maybe there is no hope..."

            Next to them, the nomin woman said, "We can't give up. Let us pray for a miracle."

            “Pray? To whom?" The man on his knees shook his head. "I fear the gods want nothing to do with us."

            "Why is winter so long?" Ayaka whispered to Harumi. "Who stole the spring?"

            "The demon," Harumi answered in a timid voice Ayaka could scarcely catch. "That's why winter can't go away anymore."

            Two new nomin gathered on stage. Stricken by grief, they wept.

            "They Fuyu-no Akuma took my children!" cried one of the characters.

            "My entire family is gone because of that evil kami," mourned another.

            "And it continues to terrorize the countryside and prey upon the innocent. We have no choice. We must destroy the akuma!" The man raised a fist. "As long as it's around, winter will never leave!”
            One of the peasants despaired, throwing his hands up. “But that demon cannot be defeated. It's invincible!”
            A long silence followed, touched only by the susurrating of the stream, and the occasional, solitary notes from a koto softly plucked and strummed somewhere behind the stage props.
            “Let's join together," the woman suggested, "and pray for the gods to give us another chance.”

            Their expressions, their deliberate movements, and the measured notes in their words, had begun to induce Ayaka into a trancelike state. She whispered to Harumi, "How did this happen? Where did the Akuma come from?"

            In her delicate voice, the little servant girl explained, “Bad things were happening, and, there was one, um warrior, that he wanted to be stronger, so he could help the people. He tried to climb the top of the mountain named Eternal Wisdom because, um, he wanted to learn some secret things the gods hide there. But no one's supposed to go there, and so then the gods punished him and turned him into a monster."

            Even after praying, the nomin folk continued arguing about what could be done to save themselves and their country.

            "The gods do not answer. We have to act, or we shall perish."

            "Many have tried to slay the Fuyu-no Akuma, great hunters and swordsmen from near and far. But the demon killed and devoured them all."

            A voice, louder and deeper than the rest, called out, “Ho! Hello there!"

            And a new character emerged. He was a tall man, wearing a blue bandana, a dark grey kimono, and with a long katana at his waist. "Is this theland of Wasure-rareta?" he asked.

            "It is," answered one of the nomin.

            "Good," said the swordsman. "I have traveled far to find this country."

            "You must be confused," offered another nomin. "No one wants to come to this accursed land anymore."

            "That must be why it is so hard to find. No one about to point out the way." The swordsman laughed heartily.

            Incredulous, one of the nomin asked, "Who are you?"

            "A wandering ronin," the man replied, confident as could be. "I have come to slay the demon and lift the curse of ice."

            The peasant folk did not believe him. This ronin must be stupid, or mad, they mumbled to each other. Yet the man's confidence never wavered. "I may not be as renowned a swordsman as those that came before me, but I assure you, out of all who can offer help, it is I who stand the best chance against the Akuma."

            "And how's that?" asked one of the nomin.

            "Because I know its secret. And in this knowledge lies its one weakness. No, I can't tell you. You wouldn't believe me, not yet at least."

            Despite his peculiar comportment, by and by the villagers came to hope in the wandering ronin. While he promised to rid the land of the beast, the folk of Wasure-rareta crowded around him, clapping and cheering. Here was a soul undaunted by what they feared most.

            Ayaka’s eyes glazed over the audience. Countenances had brightened with expectancy at the turn of events. Her vision drifted to the tiered daiymo seating area, near the middle of the most opulently arrayed nobles, to one of the men seated there. She only saw his shoulders and profile. Something about him though, the strength in his bearing, she deemed, made him stand out from everyone else, from everyone she had seen that night, and perhaps ever. This man was not like other daiymo. He was roughened by the elements, skin bronzen, his features sculpted. The moustache he kept was trim, and his long raven-dark hair fell over the plated shoulders of his red lacquered armor like a sleek mane. Was he one of the returning samurai? He must be a true admirer of the mugen noh play if he had not changed so he could come and see it first. And he was handsome, albeit of a nature to which Ayaka was unaccustomed, reminding her of the tall warrior statues that guarded temple entrances and palatial halls. She gazed at the man awhile longer, lost. Who was he? A great warrior, a general perhaps?

            The prince...

            Her vision lingered a moment more. Just as she shifted to turn her attention back to the stage, the man looked in her direction. Their eyes met for a second, or longer, before she pulled her gaze away. She'd stared too long. Of all the people here, how had he known? He had sensed it. Ayaka took a deep breath, donning an impassive demeanor. The fleeting moment their gazes brushed together, like an unintended caress, was enough for him to know. Enough too, for her to be allured and intimidated, as one who looks into the eyes of a resting tiger.

            Thereafter, perhaps in the same way he had first sensed her, Ayaka felt the man's gaze upon her. She couldn't confirm this however, for she dared not turn back again. In someway, she felt too small to do so.

            Harumi was oblivious to any of this. Sitting next to the little nomin girl, after awhile Ayaka managed to immerse herself in the play again. The villagers were wishing the ronin good luck and offering prayers before he set out to face the Fuyu-no akuma.

            "I am not eager to go to this meeting,” said the man. “There is no pleasure or pride in it. But go to it I must, with heart and will set, as one who attends a funeral.”
            The other characters left the stage, and a voice Ayaka recognized as belonging to one of the singers from earlier, narrated events while the lone ronin walked. The manner he strode gave the impression he was crossing great distances. The strings of the hidden koto started tentatively, accompanied by a softly drummed taiko.

            “The ronin walked for miles and miles, days and nights,” intoned the narrator. “He entered into the snowy mountains of Wasure rareta, where the demon dwelled. On his way he passed the slain bodies of those who had tried to face the Fuyu-no akuma.”
            Another swordsman staggered on stage, gripping his torso. “Turn back, don’t waste your life!" he cried. "That monster cannot be defeated.” The man fell, crawling to one side of the stage before lying dead.
            The ronin strode onward, and the koto and taiko drum played ominously.

            A frightening roar broke the silence. The ronin gripped the katana's hilt. From behind one of the props for a tree and white hillock, a hulking, pale furred beast emerged. In its powerful arms, the Fuyu-no akuma carried the limp body of a beautiful woman dressed in robes the hues of pale flowers. He set the body down and hunkered over it. The demon wore a wolfish-human mask, painted red and gray, and contorted in the delirious insanity of an emotion woefully grieved yet at the same time diabolically fierce.

            It sniffed, stood up, and wheeled to face the man on the other side of the stage. Its voice was rough as grinding rocks, “Who are you? How dare you come here!”
            The ronin stood his ground, and spoke with empathy, “Do you not remember me? Do you not remember who you are?”
            “Get away from here! I don’t know you!” the demon bellowed. “I am servant of death and Jigoku. If you don’t leave this place, I will eat your heart and mind!”
            “You must try to remember,” the ronin pleaded. His voice was sorrowful, “For if you cannot, … then I shall have to destroy you.”
            “You are brave, stranger." The Fuyu-no akuma's laughter was a deranged cacophony. "But the flesh of the valiant is all the tastier to feast upon!”

            As the demon moved against him, the ronin drew his katana. Drums pounded and the koto shouted stridently while the two figures circled each other in a perilous dance. They fought, the Fuyu-no akuma snarling and swinging its clawed hands. The ronin carefully gauged the distance before seizing a chance and driving the katana through the akuma’s torso to its hilt.
            Gripping the wound with both hands, the monster lurched a few steps. “How is this possible? You wounded me!" It faltered and sank to its knees. "Am I dying?"

            The demon of winter collapsed over the snow petals. Both koto and drums had faded to silence. The ronin knelt beside the monster. With his hand supporting the back of its head, he raised it halfway up.      

            "I had no choice," said the ronin. "I am sorry, ... my brother."

            Carefully, the ronin removed the Fuyu-no akuma's mask, revealing the face of a scared young man. This man spoke with profound astonishment, reaching a hand before him, straining to see through a darkness, to a distant light.

            "Brother?" uttered the young man. "... yes, I remember, ... " He clutched at the front of the ronin's kimono with one hand. "I was gone so long in my quest for a power, a power that did not exist, not as I imagined it, ... and, ... I became lost, in an amnesia, a dark dream in which I wandered like a sleepwalker. No fate could be worse!" The young man wept. When the lament subsided, he said, "Thank you brother, for freeing me from the shadow that blinded me."

            The young man who had suffered, imprisoned as a thoughtless, tormented akuma, breathed his final breaths at ease, looking skyward, beholding a wondrous vision for the first time, and thus died in peace.

            While a flute played a sad, windy melody, the ronin stood solemnly beside the body of his fallen brethren,

            After the music ended, the woman lying on the snow wakened. The ronin helped her up.
            “I thought you were dead,” he said.
            “I cannot die.” She looked into the ronin's eyes, holding his hands. “I am the Daughter of Spring. The demon's power kept the land and her people captive, but could never destroy the truth, only delay its remembrance."

            The curtains closed for a brief interlude. While waiting, Ayaka could not stop thinking about the play. When the curtains were drawn back anew, the background depicting snowed lands had been replaced with their green counterparts, including assortments of flowers. The surviving nomin characters were reunited and hailed the return of the Daughter of the Spring and the ronin.

            The three female singers came back on stage and embraced the Daughter of Spring.

            One of them addressed the ronin, “We thank you for bringing back our lost sister." Then she spoke to all the nomin on stage, "There is a divine balance in the world that you must always seek. Often in mortality it is overlooked, but the deep mystery is all around us. Sometimes you can glimpse this Yugen in the spirit of the clouds, in the reflection of water, the voice of the wind, or the single petal of a flower."

            “And remember that every season of sorrow is a passing thing," the goddess of spring told. "No matter how cold, how frozen the world becomes, endure the tempests, for it is a circle, and spring will return. There shall be a day your spirit will be free to grow and live abundantly, and you will be at one with the Seishin-yodo.”
            “Look!” One of the nomin pointed afar. “The sakura blooms!”

            The characters celebrated, patting each other on the back, wiping away tears, a couple of them dancing. The Daughters of the Seasons sang in unison, and from the rafters, pink-white petals fluttered over the stage. This time the song was not of grief, but a new beauty found after passing through suffering. There was a bliss in this poetry that made Ayaka's heart stir. They sang for a long while, even as the characters bowed and the audience clapped. The song permeated Ayaka, calling something in her to rise. What had come over her? She had to make an effort to maintain her composure. But by the way Harumi looked empathetically at her, the little girl must have noticed the lamplight reflecting in the sheen filling Ayaka's eyes. Still, she did not shed the tears. They did not belong just to her, but to everyone, and she had a sense they would return, as rain in another season.

            The spectators had begun filing from the aisled benches, to go home, or to other late night revelries, yet the Daughters of the Seasons sang on. Ayaka and Harumi walked amidst the gardens. The song's melodic wisps faded into the cool evening air. Harumi was so happy she half-skipped along the stone path. Ayaka however, felt a sadness, coupled with a longing, for what though, she could not say. Intuition told her there was so much more beneath the rippling surface of this world.

            They strolled beside the gurgling stream that journeyed amid the garden's purple and blue-green shadows. In her mind's eye Ayaka still saw the sakura petals falling, and remembered a tale that her father had told her as a child.

            "Have you ever heard the legend of the Shiroi-tenshi Sakura?" she asked Harumi.

            "I don't think so." The little girl was holding Ayaka's hand and looking up at her. "What's it about?"

            "The Shiroi-tenshi is a very ancient cherry tree. It's said the tree only awakens from its deep sleep in the middle of the coldest winters. But, if you were ever to find one of its sacred groves, the white blooms have the power to heal and grant miracles."

            "It's true?" Harumi asked.

            Although Ayaka had never heard of anyone finding the Shiroi-tenshi, more than ever she wanted to believe, and wanted the little girl to believe as well, so she nodded. "Yes."

            Harumi smiled, surely imagining the tree, and what gifts it could give. If the mythical Shiroi-tenshi truly did exist, Ayaka hoped to one day find it, and in so doing, find a cure for the darkness that afflicted this world, and had taken so much from her.

            The rivulet led beyond the groves and back into the city, where it joined the Sukai River. It was past time to take Harumi back to the Bathhouse Inn so Ayaka could meet up with Midori and Akemi at the teahouse, yet Ayaka went unhurried. A pensive mood had taken her. She pondered the play, and wondered if the man she'd seen might really be prince Daisuken. Instead of taking a direct route to the inn, she led Harumi on an improvised detour, promenading leisurely by the river. The song of the Daughters of the Seasons continued to teach out to her, caressing everything she contemplated with its brush. Ayaka and Harumi stopped at the meridian of an arched bridge, and gazed over the Sukai River's cold waters, the gold-fire reflection of toro lanterns flowing. Somewhere in the distance, firecrackers resounded.

            "Well, I guess we should get going, Haru-chan."

            They turned to cross the bridge when a voice called out from behind, “Wait! Wait!”

            From the direction they had come, a man ran toward the bridge. By the make of the loose, colorful silken garb he wore, and his small black hat, the man was a high-ranking palace servant. Seeing they waited, he slowed, but was nevertheless quite out of breath when he caught up. He rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath before gathering himself and standing straight.

            "Are you Denka Soranoyume?" he asked.

            "Yes." Ayaka gave a courteous nod, though it puzzled her that he knew her name. She wondered what this was all about.

            "It is an honor." The palace servant bowed steeply. "I am Shinji, at your service." Regaining his wind, he spoke more fluidly, "Of course, I should have know it was you. I was instructed to find the beautiful young woman wearing the swan-white kimono. And, it is said the princess from Gurinhirizu resembles a daughter of the Sky-goddess. That is how we knew who you were. But let me tell you Denka Soranoyume, you are hard to track down."

            "I didn't know anyone was looking for me."

            "Yes, so sorry. I see how this could be confusing." The palace servant laughed. "Well, I'll cut straight to it. I was sent to find you so I might deliver this." He reached inside a fold of his silk robes and produced a small, kozogami paper envelope.          

            Ayaka received the envelope, and regarded it, baffled.

            "A formal invitation to the annual Saisei Spring palatial banquet. It will be held the day after tomorrow, and commences promptly after sundown. You, Denka Soranoyume, are to be among the guests of honor."

            “I don’t understand," said Ayaka. "Who sent this?”
            Shinji smiled, a glimmer in his eye. "My master, of course."

            "There must be a misunderstanding." She shook her head, prepared to return the envelope.

            "No. He was quite clear. He said to me - ” the palace servant imitated a deeper, more serious voice, “Shinji, find the woman from Gurinhiruzu, the one wearing the swan-white kimono with ume petals, and give her this, even if you have to search all of Shenobi.”
            “Who is your master?” Ayaka asked. Could it be? No. What were the chances of seeing two princes in one night? Dumbfounded, her gaze fell to the waters.

            "I wish I could tell you, but for now he wishes to remain anonymous. I hope you will be able to attend, then you can meet him in person.” Shinji's grin gave Ayaka the impression he understood her surprised state too easily. "Missa Nightingale will be in attendance as well."

            Missa Nightingale? Ayaka had heard there was no other geisha in Isodoro with her talents, none who could perform the snow dance and sing the airs of the Celestial Empire with a truer voice.

            "Now, if you will forgive me, I must take my leave," said Shinji. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Denka Soranoyume. Seeing you with my own eyes, I fully understand my master's wish to meet you." And with that the palace servant bowed and departed whence he had come.

            For a spell Ayaka stood on the bridge, unsure what to do, Harumi waiting silently at her side. As the potential of what this might signify dawned on Ayaka, the shochu and sake she'd drunk earlier failed to ward off the shock. She nearly dropped the envelope. Was it him? Looking for her? Why? Impossible. She considered trying to forget about it entirely, pretend it never happened, perhaps cast the invitation into the river. Harumi wouldn’t say anything if she told her not to, and with Midori and Akemi she could pretend, though, that might not be so easy with Noribuko. Her aunt had an uncanny sense for when she kept a secret. Then again, if this invitation came from one of the high ranking daiymo, maybe she didn't really have a choice about whether or not to attend, lest she compromise her standing in important daiymo circles. And there was Shinji to consider. His master might not take kindly to him if he failed to persuade her to attend.

            Ayaka did not know what to do, except that for now she would tell no one. She tucked the envelope in one of her kimono’s inner pockets, took a deep breath, and walked over the bridge with Harumi.

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[Nusquam Esse]

My previous advice still stands, although it is clear that you are gradually improving as you progress through this story. The play scene was a tasteful way to demonstrate what I presume is a plot-device without giving heavy amounts of exposition... or rather, it is exposition, and a substantial amount too.. but it is delivered tactfully through a play rather than by heavy narration. I must admit that I am curious about how all the characters will play into this one.

[Kuandio]

Nusquam is back! I thought you were gonna leave the site for longer. Anyways, thanks for reading this. I'm glad you feel that I'm gradually improving. Right now, just over halfway though the second Act, the writing is really starting to flow for me. Do something for long enough I guess your bound to improve. I have to read up on exposition and narration again. Thank you for the advice on semi-colons earlier. At first I kind of rejected it, then started to use maybe too many, and now feeling more comfortable of when and where to use them to enhance the flow

[Nusquam Esse]

Yeah, I have had people tell me that you need to write several hundred pages of 'crap' before the good stuff starts to come out. It was that way for me anyway... like, it wasn't necessarily garbage, but compared to what I can do now, it was very mediocre. And yeah, semi-colons take some time to understand. Learning how to use them tactfully to bind similar ideas can really help sentences flow! I try and limit their usage to once a sentence, using hyphens to connect incomplete clauses where semi-colons are not proper. I hardly have it all figured out, but I find considering punctuation does help develop a good flow.

[Nusquam Esse]

And yeah... I was recently promoted into management at my work, right at the busiest time of the year... Was working like 15 hour days there for a bit; so I closed my account for a bit. It has finally let up, and I can get crackin on some writin...

[Kuandio]

well, with me, it's been more like several thousand pages of crap, or tens of thousands. But a lot of that was outlining, writing ideas, notes, etc and creating a bunch of incredibly loose drafts over and over that were restructuring of previous outlines

[Nusquam Esse]

Hah! at least you had the foresight to do something like that. I got like 400 pages into my first novel before I decided that the whole story was lacking consistency and X'd that sucker out! Who knows, I may some day return to it... but the more the write, the more I realize that I can write better... not just technically, but better ideas as well.

[Kuandio]

LOL,, yeah, that's one of the reasons I outline (aside from enjoying it). I can't imagine the amount of people that have, and currently are wading into a deeper and deeper swamp of a story just to eventually realize how difficult it will be to ever remedy. It can be a tragedy years in the making. At this point I'm excellent at outlining and structuring a story, but my writing itself has lagged behind

[Nusquam Esse]

I admittedly don't do outlines; I play structure by ear... but if I was to seriously pursue a novel again, I would probably implement it.

[C. Rose]

https://diigo.com/020qix
I love stories within stories. That was a good method for giving the audience another taste of action when the plot isn't ready for more action yet.
Funny, I imagined Kenjin and Ayaka bonding, but he hasn't gotten to Shenobi yet. Layers! :D

[Kuandio]

Thank u for the review! I feel like telling u about Kenjin's role in the story, but that would really ruin it for later

[C. Rose]

SPOILERS! :D

[Cody Williams]

I like your style. It's somewhat of a gothic piece. Thanks for sharing it. I'll be waiting for the next chapter.

-CW

[Kuandio]

Thanks. If you look under the title of the book this chapter belongs to, you will see that this is the fifth of seventeen chapters that have already been written and posted. Also the fifth of those I've readrequested you