The speaker carried on, his voice heavy with irony. ‘No need for swords any more – if you like. Then, a couple of years later, they tell us, no swords to be worn by law. And now what do we hear? Trade in your stipends for government bonds if you like. Then – you thought you had a stipend, but you don’t, not any more. Have some government bonds instead, by law. They’re taking everything. By all the gods, what use are government bonds to me? How am I supposed to live without a stipend?’
The chink of sake cups was nearly drowned by the roar of outraged agreement and the thunder of fists on the floor.
Shouts went up. ‘For this we fought? For this our brothers died? For a country where samurai can’t wear swords or dress as samurai and where they cut off our money? We don’t even have jobs, we can’t even be soldiers any more. They’re rounding up peasants to fight now, as if peasants have the faintest idea what to do with a sword. The very thought of it …’
Taka felt a prick and dropped the fabric as a spot of red blossomed on her fingertip. She knew these friends of Eijiro’s. Eijiro had grown up in Kyoto but these were hard-drinking, hard-fighting southern lads, Satsuma to the core. Some had minor jobs in the government, others no jobs at all. They were happy enough to swagger around the Yoshiwara in peacetime, acting the playboy, but it was obvious they were champing at the bit, itching for the chance to pick up their swords again.
‘They want to turn us into weaklings and women,’ shouted the first voice. ‘I didn’t spend my life notching up honours as a swordsman just to end up wielding a writing brush.’
‘You’re lucky to be wielding a brush,’ responded another. ‘Most of us don’t have jobs at all. If we can’t get our stipends, how are we going to live? And our parents, what are they supposed to do?’
Eijiro’s tones soared loud and clear. ‘What do they expect us to do – sell our swords and set up shop? Soil our hands with money, like filthy merchants?’
Fujino slapped down her sewing, her plump brow creased into thick furrows of disdain. ‘What nonsense. He has money enough to redeem his precious Tsukasa, money enough to show off to his cronies night after night. How much does he need?’
Taka stared in surprise. Usually her mother wouldn’t hear a word of criticism of her beloved son.
‘They steal our self-respect, everything that makes a man a man, and leave us with nothing. Nothing!’ boomed Eijiro. ‘The dignity and honour of the samurai class is at stake. We’re frittering away our lives in this filthy city. Let’s get back to our mountains, our volcanoes, our palm trees, our good Kyushu rice wine! Are you with me, lads? Will you come down to Kagoshima and join my father?’
The men drummed their fists and heels on the floor until the house shook. There was a roar. ‘To arms! Kagoshima! Let’s go!’
Fujino’s eyes flashed dangerously. ‘Fool! He’s never even been there! How dare he bring your father into it. It’s all bluster. They’ll do nothing, none of them. Like him.’
Eijiro’s voice rose again. ‘Okatsu, Gonza, Osan. Useless servants, never around when you need them. Mother, where are you? Sake, now! My guests are waiting!’
Fujino rested a hand on the floor and heaved herself to her feet with surprising speed, her face black. ‘They treat this place like a teahouse. What do they take me for? Son or no son, I’m having no more of it. They can take themselves off to the Yoshiwara where these sorts of rowdy gatherings belong.’
She drew herself up, tucked her yukata into place around her large bosom and sailed out.
Sighing, Taka put down her needlework. Even Okatsu had been pressed into serving at the party. Taka pictured her smiling good-naturedly, dodging Eijiro’s friends as they grabbed at her skirts. The youths were belting out a Satsuma drinking song. She could hear them stamping and clapping.
Taka went to the veranda and gazed out into the night. Tall bamboos swayed against the sky. She made out the gnarled shapes of pine trees, stone lanterns looming like ghosts and the dark hollow where the path wriggled off around the lake and into the woods.
She chewed her lip. They’d lived in this beautiful house for so long, she’d almost forgotten Kyoto and the dark days of fighting, yet here was Eijiro stirring up trouble again. As long as she could remember, her brother had always been looking for a fight. There’d been too many years of inaction. All these lads were longing for a cause, something to get fired up about, to fight for, die for if necessary.
Eijiro had mentioned their father. It was years since their beloved father had been in Tokyo, yet everyone still spoke his name in tones of awe. The longer he was away, the more he seemed some god-like being, as if he’d become more than human. He’d come to stand for something greater than himself. Whenever Eijiro or anyone else wanted to criticize the new regime with all the changes it was bringing about, they invoked his name.
Taka had tried asking Eijiro what was going on, but he just said, ‘Stick to your sewing, little girl. Don’t poke your nose into men’s affairs.’
‘Your job is to prepare for your wedding and learn how to keep house,’ Fujino told her. ‘And then to have babies. Leave politics to the menfolk. Remember: a clever woman never lets a man know how clever she is. Never forget that.’ And no matter how much Taka had pressed her she wouldn’t say more.
Suddenly there was a sound somewhere in the grounds – the rustle of bushes, the pad of running feet. Taka started, her heart pounding, and listened intently, hoping she’d imagined it, praying she’d been mistaken. There was another sound, quite distinct – a twig cracking, as if there was a fox or a badger out there, or an intruder.
It was all too likely in these dangerous times that an assassin would creep in, stealthy as a ninja. There had been rebellions down south; even she knew that. Uncle Shimpei – her father’s old colleague Eto Shimpei, who’d been minister of justice when her father was in charge of the government – had been at the head of one a couple of years ago. She’d overheard her mother talking about it with Aunt Kiharu in hushed tones. Apparently it had been put down and he’d been executed. Only the other day a member of the government had been murdered, and Taka knew her father had many enemies who might target his family too. There were guards at the gates, even more at night, and the walls were very high, but someone really determined could still scramble over.
Branches creaked in the darkness and gravel crunched underfoot. Whoever it was, he was very near the house. For a moment there was silence. Not even a mosquito buzzed. Taka held her breath and clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms. Then she glimpsed a shadowy figure, darting between the trees.
Trembling, she felt for the dagger in her sash and clutched it feverishly. Peering into the blackness she made out a tall lanky body, then a head and a pair of blazing eyes. She let out a gasp as she recognized the intruder: Nobu. He scowled and put a finger to his lips.
Behind her the drinking song echoed through the stillness. The voices fell silent and Taka heard her mother’s clipped, angry tones.
Nobu stepped up to the veranda, his features etched in the lamplight. He was panting. There were leaves and bits of twig in his hair and his cheeks were streaked with dirt, but it was the expression on his face that frightened her. He looked hunted, almost crazed. He glanced around, wild-eyed, and Taka realized with a shock of horror that if her brother found him there, he’d cut him down for sure.
She stared at him, aghast.
Five days had passed since they had walked in the grounds of Sengaku Temple. She had counted the hours and days, repeating his words. ‘I’ll find a way to see you again,’ he’d said. ‘I promise.’ Okatsu had warned her sternly that it would be impossible for him to get a note to her but she’d refused to listen. ‘He promised,’ she’d said again and again.
But when the silence continued she had finally despaired and told herself that she never wanted to hear from him again. She scolded herself. She’d been too forward. How could she have taken his hand and talked to him about whatever was in her mind? She’d been carried
away, but now she’d come to her senses. He was a servant, she the daughter of a famous and important man.
And, though he kept quiet about it, she knew perfectly well he was an Aizu, an enemy. Eijiro always said northerners were traitors, degenerates, poor, backward, uneducated, who lived in hovels and hardly even knew how to use chopsticks. They were barely human, born to be servants, unfit for anything else. Maybe she’d been wrong to be taken in by him. Much though it went against the grain even to think such a thing, maybe Eijiro had been right. After all, her father had fought them in battle and her mother had had to beat them off when they hammered at her door in Kyoto. Surely Taka would be betraying her whole family if she even spoke to such vermin.
But seeing him standing before her, his skinny calves bare, his jacket torn and dirty, her anger entirely drained away. He caught his breath and his face cleared. She no longer noticed his dusty hair and stained clothes, all she was aware of were his full lips and proud nose and the hollows in his cheeks. She hadn’t realized how handsome he’d become. It made her feel quite shy.
‘You came!’ she whispered, glancing over her shoulder, afraid she might see Fujino’s huge shadow approaching. But there was no one. ‘How did you get in?’
He grinned. His face changed and for a moment he was the urchin she remembered.
‘I climbed in. I know these gardens. It was a bit dark. I tripped over a few times.’ He hesitated and glanced around. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he added sharply. ‘Are you alone?’ The look in his eyes made her uneasy.
Taka nodded. She picked up her skirts and, with a thrill of excitement at doing something so forbidden, jumped down on to the gravel and slid her feet through the thongs of a pair of geta clogs. She waited for her eyes to get used to the dark then hurried away from the house as quietly as she could. She heard Nobu padding behind her as the blackness swallowed them up.
Sticking to the paths, watching out for stones and snakes and sharp-edged leaves, they skirted the bamboo grove, breathing the rich scents of warm soil and growing plants. It was a beautiful night. Stalks creaked and swayed above them. They cut through the landscaped gardens and around the artificial hill, then crossed a half-moon bridge, leaning over to gaze at the carp that darted below them, silvery backs glinting in the starlight. The sounds of the party faded into the distance as they picked their way through the heavy darkness behind the lake. Bats flittered and swooped and Taka jumped as an owl shrieked.
Deep in the woods, they reached a tiny grove, with branches arching overhead and a fallen tree to sit on. Lights twinkled from the great house below them.
‘Our secret place,’ Nobu said softly.
They threw themselves down on the dry leaves, catching their breath, leaning their backs against the crumbling tree trunk. Taka smiled as she rested her shoulder against his. They had often sat like that when they were children. He drew a little away from her and took a breath.
‘I didn’t mean to bother you,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I should have kept away, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was passing your house and saw the rickshaws at the gate and could tell there was a party going on. I guessed everyone would be busy so I climbed in. I thought I might catch a glimpse of you in the room where we used to sit. And there you were, on the veranda.’ There was a rustle as he stirred a pile of leaves with his foot. ‘I wanted to warn you. There may be trouble.’
Taka felt a jolt of fear.
‘Eijiro,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘He and those friends of his. The war was supposed to be over, but they can’t stop fighting, even though it was us that won …’
Her voice tailed off and she stopped in mid-sentence, realizing what she’d said. Nobu pulled back as if she’d slapped him. There was a long silence.
‘N’da. You got it.’ His voice was raw. His Edo accent had fallen away and she heard the fierce northern vowels loud and clear, as if he’d cast off his skin like a snake and revealed something different and chilling underneath. ‘You won. My people lost.’ She sat hardly daring to breathe. Around them branches rustled and somewhere not far away an animal, a monkey, perhaps, screamed. He gave a long sigh.
‘We’re not ones for fighting,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ve got no heart for fighting any more. We expect nothing, we’re grateful for whatever comes our way. But your people – your brother, his friends – they think they deserve the world. They won and now they want their dues.’
His breathing was ragged. She felt for his hand, expecting him to snatch it away. It lay unmoving under hers.
‘Not you,’ he said softly. ‘You’re young, you’re different.’ Insects murmured. The woods were alive around them.
‘I don’t understand what’s happening either,’ he went on. ‘But I’ll try and explain as much as I know. From what I hear, this great government of ours, these fine statesmen who lord it over us, they want to make us all the same – no more samurai or artisans or farmers or merchants, not even outcastes. They want to do away with the caste system, they say. But that means the highest caste has to lose its privileges – and that’s the samurai. It makes no difference to us. We northern samurai have nothing to lose, we’ve lost everything already. No, the winning side, the Tosa clan, the Hizen people, the Choshu men and your lot, the Satsuma, the very same clans who are running the country. That’s the strange thing about it. They won, for sure, but now the government wants to take away the spoils of victory, so they feel cheated. That’s why they’re angry, your brother and his friends.’
Taka was listening hard, trying to make sense of what he was saying. There was something so honest and straightforward about him, she instinctively believed and trusted him.
‘You know what we call you Satsuma?’ She waited, hardly daring to imagine. ‘Potato samurai.’ The words made her laugh aloud and she was relieved to hear him chuckle. ‘You know what we say about them? Rough tempers and rude tongues.’
‘Is that what you think of me?’ Taka said uncertainly, stung by the rebuff.
‘You’re only half Satsuma. The other half is pure Kyoto, like your mother.’ There was a long silence. When Nobu spoke again, he sounded hesitant. ‘You know your father may be involved?’
Taka frowned. She’d suspected this was coming. ‘My father was in the government,’ she said, doing her best to keep her voice level and calm.
‘He was chief counsellor and commander-in-chief of the army and commander of the Imperial Guard.’
‘But he left and we hardly ever hear from him any more. I thought it was because he’s with his wife and real family and doesn’t think about us.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away.
A bullfrog honked in the lake below them. Others joined in in a great chorus until it sounded as if all the bells in the city’s temples were pealing.
‘He’ll be back one day,’ he said softly. ‘You’ll marry and have a good life and this talk of trouble will be forgotten. It was selfish and wrong of me to come. Your mother knows what’s best for you. You shouldn’t waste your time with me.’
He pulled his hand away from hers. Trembling, she grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t go,’ she said, forcing back tears. She tried to steady her voice but her words tailed off into a sob.
Reaching up in the darkness, she found his cheek. She touched her fingers to the hint of bristle on his jaw, then ran them slowly, lightly, over his face, searching out the bump of his nose, the hollows of his eyes, his damp brow, his ears, his Adam’s apple and the funny mole on his neck. She felt like a blind person trying to memorize every contour, to fix them in her mind for ever. Her fingers roamed across his mouth, feeling the warmth of his breath and the soft moisture of his lips. She put her arms around him and leaned her head on his shoulder.
She sat for a while, conscious that she was doing something forbidden. But all she could think of was his closeness, his warmth next to hers. Their bodies nested together perfectly, as if they were made for each other. Then she felt his touch, soft and hesitant and shy. He brushed the top of her
head, then fumbled with her hair until he managed to loosen it. It swung around her face and spilt in a heavy coil on to her lap. He took up handfuls and ran his fingers through it, slowly and wonderingly.
‘Like silk,’ he said. ‘I always wanted to touch it but I never dared.’
He took a breath and then very tentatively, as if he expected her to tell him to stop, he touched the back of her neck. A shiver ran through her, as if something inside her that she didn’t know existed was coming alive.
‘You’re so beautiful, so perfect,’ he said. ‘I know it’s wrong, but this is my only chance. There’ll never be another.’
She sat up sharply. ‘Why not? Why not?’
‘You’re young still, you don’t understand. I have to go back to the Military Academy, you have to get married, our families are enemies.’
‘We’ll run away like the lovers in kabuki plays. We’ll commit love suicide.’
‘Those are stories, this is real life.’
He lifted her chin as if he was trying to see her face in the darkness and she felt his mouth finding her nose and cheek. Then his lips met hers. She shut her eyes and abandoned herself to the moist darkness, letting her body dissolve into his until they were so closely entwined it felt as if nothing could ever come between them.
They heard the creak of rickshaw wheels in the distance and the yells of the runners and realized the party was over. Fujino was shouting, ‘Taka, Taka! Where are you?’
Nobu drew back but Taka pressed closer. ‘Let her worry,’ she said, nuzzling her face into his shoulder. ‘She’ll think I’ve gone off somewhere. I often do. The grounds are so huge I could be anywhere.’
He sighed. ‘I know what I am and where I belong and who my people are. We have so little left, it binds us together. Yet I can’t think of you and your family as the enemy. My brothers would call me a traitor if they heard me say that. But it’s true. To me you’re more important than anything.’
She knelt on the dry leaves, feeling the stony ground press into her shins, and took his hands.