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.