Ai of the Mountain (A Fairy Retelling #2) (2 page)

“Excuse me, my lord,” Kurasawa-san says, “I do not mean to intrude. This is the daughter of Tanaka-san,” he says, sweeping his arm towards me. “Showing the dutiful obedience of a loving daughter, Tanaka Ai-san has fearlessly climbed the mountain on her own. She has done this simply to bring her father joy in providing him a boxed lunch made graciously by her own hands.”

I stand for a moment in awkward silence, not believing the words I hear Kurasawa-san speak on my behalf. I felt like a poor, stupid peasant girl when we walked into the room, but his overly-kind remarks fill me with pride and a great amount of gratitude. I silently fall to my knees and prostrate myself on the floor before the daimyo. “Your grace,” I say, and stay on the floor, waiting for him to speak.

He takes his time. My imagination begins to run wild. Is he looking at my father? Is my father’s face full of disappointment? Will I be thrown out of the castle in spite of Kurasawa-san’s kind words? Finally, the daimyo acknowledges me. “Please stand, my dear. I long to look on the face of a young woman so dedicated to her father that she would climb a mountain just to bring him a meal.”

I obey, and stand but keep my gaze steadily on the floor, hoping that this will all be over soon and that I can be on my way. I am angry at myself for my carelessness in coming here. I love my father deeply, but I will never again subject myself or my father’s reputation to such scrutiny. I vow that this will be my last trip to the daimyo’s castle.

“Look at me,” the daimyo says, taking a step closer. It takes everything within me to accept his intrusion into my space and not step back in natural reflex, while he stands just inches away from me. I lift my gaze to his. Lord Nakaguchi’s eyes are hungry and possessive as they move up and down my body. I wish I could slip farther into my kimono, and hide away from his penetrating gaze. A voice in my head tells me to stay strong, and meet this man head on. I have the distinct impression that this man feeds on fear. I have no wish to oblige him, even though I truly am full of trepidation for what this man is capable of with his vast expanse of power and influence.

“Master carpenter, Tanaka-san, your daughter is very striking. I do not believe I have ever seen her equal in beauty before. Her eyes in particular are very singular and striking. Have they always been different colors?”

I sometimes forget that my eyes are two colors. One is golden brown, like the tawny fur of a fox, and the other is deep blue, the color of the river that flows down the mountain, next to my family’s home. The only time I see myself is when I am looking down into the reflective surface of the lazy river, but even then, I cannot really see the difference in my eyes’ irises. I usually forget that they are different colors, until a time such as this, when I first meet someone and they are taken aback, sometimes even gawking at me. The daimyo isn’t quite gawking, though his gaze is very intense, and makes me feel very uncomfortable.

His lips turn up from a studying scowl, to a smirking smile. I do not know why his scrutiny grates on me so deeply, but I feel his eyes travel my body like unwanted caresses. “Allow me,” he says. The daimyo holds out his hand to me, and I have little choice but to place my hand in his. His hold is firm as he leads me to the table where my father is standing as a silent witness to the daimyo’s overly-eager greeting.

“You have a very dedicated daughter, Tanaka-san,” Lord Nakaguchi says, looking to me with his possessive eyes once more.

“Indeed,” my father says, “I do. I am very grateful for her generous spirit. There is no daughter like her in all of Japan.”

“Yes,” Lord Nakaguchi agrees, “I believe you are right.”

I know my hand is trembling in his, and I will it to stop. My body is not so obedient. This man is one of the most powerful rulers in all of Japan, subject only to the emperor, who lives far across the country in Edo, the capital city. There is almost nothing he cannot do to me, my father, or the people of our region. I knew my father would meet this man as his head carpenter, but I had assumed that the daimyo would be far too busy with other business to be preoccupied with the architectural plans for building his castle. Truth be told, I am very surprised he is here at all, living in an unfinished castle at the top of our mountain. I try to calm myself, telling my brain that he is just an ordinary man. My brain knows I am lying, and my hand continues to shake. There is nothing ordinary about the daimyo.

“What have you brought for your father’s lunch?” Lord Nakaguchi asks, still holding my hand in his. He has placed his left hand on top, and strokes my trembling fingers like a pet. I hold up the obento, neatly folded and tied in a furoshiki cloth, a sheet tied around the lunch box to keep it closed and warm, and easily transportable.

“It is a simple lunch, my lord,” I answer, wincing at the quiver in my voice. I want to seem strong, even though at the moment, I am not.

“May I see?” he asks. I am startled by his strange request. I only want to leave as quickly as possible, and it seems like he is trying to keep me here, purposely.

“Of course, my lord,” I answer, and slip my hand out from between his. He motions to the table, and I sit seiza style, on my knees in front of the table. The men surrounding the table rush to pull away the important plans and documents that litter the surface, making space for me to unwrap the obento from the furoshiki. I struggle with the top knot for a moment before the ends finally pull free, and the cloth falls to the table, revealing the square, black lacquer box that has been my father’s lunch box for decades.

I pull off the lid of the obento. “This looks delectable, Tanaka Ai-san,” Lord Nakaguchi says as he sits down on his knees next to me. “Do you mind if I try some?”

My eyebrows raise in surprise. I don’t understand why the daimyo would make such an unexpected request. I look to my father for guidance. He nods once, and I return my gaze to Lord Nakaguchi. He continues to wear a smirk on his face. He’s taking a great deal of pleasure in this game of his.

“Of course, my lord,” I answer. “Please help yourself.”

The daimyo looks down at the box of food, seems to consider something, and then looks back at me. “I’d prefer it if you helped me, actually.” He pulls the obento off the table and holds it in his hands, as if he’s offering it to me, and sits, waiting. I’m not sure what he is expecting me to do. The men standing around the table shift uncomfortably. I look up to see the samurai, Kurasawa-san, frowning at his master. His gaze moves to me, and I note the anger in his eyes. I look back to the daimyo. He is waiting patiently for me to feed him.

I pull out a pair of chopsticks from a wooden case, and use them to break apart a chunk of the sweet bean cake. I lift the piece of cake to the daimyo’s lips. He slowly opens his mouth, taking his time in pulling it off the chopsticks. His tongue licks up a stay crumb stuck on the side of his mouth, and I hope that now that I have fed him that he will allow me to leave.

I have no such luck.

“Your turn,” he says. “Allow me.” He takes the box from my hand. He does not ask to use the chopsticks, but instead, pulls a morsel of sweet bean cake out of my father’s obento with his fingers and holds it out for me to bite. I look at him for a moment, incredulous at his informality and lack of proprietary. I’ve never had a man treat me this way before. It’s unheard of for a man of the daimyo’s position to be so forward with a girl, at least in front of her father.

Lord Nakaguchi holds the cake up to my lips, and I have no choice but to bite. His fingers graze my lips, slowly trailing past my tongue and teeth as he pulls his fingers back from my mouth and up to his own. He licks a stray crumb from his thumb, his eyes boring into mine the entire time. The quiet in the room is deafening. I know I am not the only one shocked at Lord Nakaguchi’s incredibly intimate behavior.

“Mmm, this is delicious, Ai-chan,” he says. I’m almost as shocked by the informal nickname he calls me as I am by his actions from the past few minutes. It’s extremely rude for him to use such an intimate term without first having some sort of understanding, or at the very least, a deep friendship. This man is a stranger to me, but he treats me as if we are extremely close. Lovers.

“Thank you, my lord,” I answer, not sure what else I should say. All I want to do is run away from this man, but his actions are making it impossible to leave.

“I have a request of you, Ai-chan,” he says. I sit, waiting. I will be happy to do whatever this man might ask of me, as long as it allows me to leave immediately.

“I am happy to do your bidding, Lord Nakaguchi,” I answer.

“I would like for you to continue to bring a lunch every day for your father,” the daimyo says. My heart sinks for a moment, but I am careful to not show my feelings on my face. I am about to speak and say that will not be a problem, but he is not finished with his request.

“I also would like for you to make a obento lunch for me, as well, Ai-chan. Bring one that is large enough for us to share, and tomorrow we’ll dine together.”

I cannot believe the daimyo’s words. He wants to see me again tomorrow? Why one earth does he want to do that? I am about to ask why when the daimyo stands, reaches out for my hands, and pulls me to my feet as well.

“I will be eager to see you again tomorrow,” the daimyo says and then bows to me. I return the gesture, careful to dip down even lower as a sign of respect. The daimyo takes one of my hands in his again, bends down to press his lips against it, and kisses it before he leaves. He then beckons his advisors to attend him, and the men follow behind. My father glances at me momentarily before leaving me and Kurasawa-san alone in the daimyo’s private chambers.

I am beyond furious. But I force the flames of anger down. Social rules make it impossible for me to show my honne, my true feelings. They must be kept quiet, dampened, until I’m in a setting where I can express them – when I’m alone. I cannot even share my discomfort with my mother and father. It would only cause them to worry. I will plaster a smile on my face and murmur that it is no trouble to attend to the daimyo. Be the dutiful daughter. I can do that. I will do that.

I understand the daimyo now. He feeds on power. He wants me to be afraid. And I am afraid, but I will never let him know it, not if I can help it. I will not give him that power over me.

I bend down to wrap my father’s obento in the furoshiki, and cringe at its tainted state. I know he is worried about the daimyo’s sudden interest in me, and seeing his lunch in its corrupted state will only serve to remind him. I must do what I can to reassure him. I fix the lunch as best I can, moving food around to disguise the molestation it went through at the hands of the daimyo. Of course, my father will know that I did this, but I hope it will serve as a sign that I’m not afraid. I’m willing to do what needs to be done to keep my family safe.

I stand, and face the samurai guard still waiting for me. He hasn’t said a word since we arrived, but his eyes still show his anger. I look away, and wait for him to lead the way. He says nothing, but turns and exits the room.

I follow him down the same labyrinthine maze of halls back to the ground floor and exit the castle. I am relieved to see neither the daimyo, nor my father on the way out, though I’m not sure what to do with my father’s lunch. Should I have left it back in the daimyo’s chambers? That does not seem right. Should I take it home? The one thing I will not do is continue to search for my father. I do not want to have a second chance encounter with Lord Nakaguchi.

“I can take that for you and deliver it to your father,” Kurasawa-san says. I look at him and wonder why he is not as careful with his emotions as I am trying to be. His face shows too much, gives away too much of his true feelings, his honne.  Why should he even care in the first place? I hand him my father’s obento.

“Thank you,” I say, and begin walking down the mountain path to where the river cuts through the Kawatana valley. That is where my home is, and where I can finally express all the fear and frustration that want to bubble up and out of me. I enter my family’s home, careful not to disturb Mother, and quickly make two more onigiri rice balls from the left over rice.

I carry the onigiri with me to the slow-moving river that lazily wanders through the valley next to our home, and sit on the bank of the river under the shade of a giant maple tree. I break one of the onigiri into pieces and call out to the river, “Grandfather Koi, are you there?”

A flash of orange-red shimmers just under the water, and a fin peeks through the surface. I throw the pieces into the water and watch as the golden koi feeds on the treat, and then pokes his head out, looking at me, waiting for me to deliver another morsel.

This is no ordinary goldfish. He is older than I am. Older than my father, even. He has always been here, as far as we know. He is not only the oldest koi I have ever seen, but also the largest, as long and broad as any man. I throw the remaining onigiri to him and he catches it in his mouth, swallowing it whole.

“Konnichiwa, Grandfather Koi,” I say, greeting the fish as I have done every day of my life.

“Hello, Ai-chan,” the koi says back to me, just as he has done every day of my life.

Chapter 2

Grandfather Koi has spoken to me for as long as I can remember. It does not seem strange to me, because I have never known any differently. He does not speak to Mother or Father. Only to me. It is our secret. One that I cherish.