It was another cold and clear day. Every needle on the evergreen trees was heavy with snowflakes.

With a spring in his step, Mitsuo was almost skipping up the hill, despite the slippery path. He had his best shoes on – a new pair at that – and was making better progress than his two companions.

“Come on, Zenji san, Ishibashi san! We’re making Lady Miyasai wait and that’s not going to be in my favour,” he called out at the two men walking behind him.

Ishibashi was catching up but made it obvious that he was not in a rush.

“Lady Miyasai is not waiting for us, I can assure you, young man,” he said, taking deep breaths, exhausted by the climb. “Royal ladies have their priorities and visitors like us are rarely top of the list.”

“That’s exactly why we need to be punctual,” the bachelour insisted impatiently. “I will not have much time to create a good, long-lasting impression, if we keep cutting the meeting short!”

And he turned round, almost running towards The Red Hose now.

“A good, long-lasting impression does not take long time, my friend,” the Shugo muttered.

He looked back and saw his nephew advancing slowly up the hill. He is not struggling, Ishibashi thought. Zenji looked pensive and perhaps his thoughts were heavy enough to slow him down.

His uncle walked back and met him half way, then they began walking up together.

“Remember what I told you, nephew. Let it guide you and give you hope when the external circumstances look as though not in your favour,” he told the young man.

Zenji did not reply, and Ishibashi wondered if he had heard him at all. Then again, he had never been a very talkative person. But since that night some years ago, he had become more elusive and introverted. He started spending long periods of time by himself and never revealed his worries. But aside from those moments, he was a very friendly person and even full of vigor at times. Ishibashi was stunned when his nephew, who appeared calm and even lethargic for most of the time, won the town’s sports day last year. He had bettered his speed and sharpened his instincts with no apparent training. Ishibashi was impressed with him, but a feeling of concern endured like a spiderweb. Something was different about Zenji, and he was about to change even more…

They arrived at the front gates. Their tops were covered with cold white fluff, meaning no one had come in or out in a while. The impressive building stood tall, mysterious, and lonely. Not unlike its gentle inhabitant…

“It’s really been a while since I was last here,” said Mitsuo, ogling the house. “It was way before she moved in. I wonder how it’s changed inside.”

“It is more alive than it used to be,” Ishibashi said. “And after my nephew paints the walls – who knows, it might even lose its air of sadness!”

Zenji pretended he didn’t hear the Shugo and instead humbly stared at the gates, waiting for them to make a move.

“Ah yes, it is possible with your talent,” Mitsuo said while coming over to him and leaned on his shoulder.

“Zenji san, I’m so happy you’ll be here so often!,” he whispered to him ecstatically. “I’ll have an inside man – you’ll tell me all about the lady and how I could…”

But before Mitsuo could finish – and before Zenji could protest – the gates trembled and slowly opened. The three men stood surprised. Could it be possible that Lady Miyasai had come to open the gates herself?

An elderly man swiftly appeared from behind one of the corners, bowed deeply, and without waiting for the visitors to bow or utter a word, announced in a booming voice:

“Since I’ve been instructed that we’re expecting only three visitors today, I’m taking the liberty to assume that you are Shugo Ishibashi san, the esteemed local teacher Zenji san, and villager Taira Mitsuo san, whose trade I haven’t been made aware of.”

“I’d be happy to let you know that I’m…,” Mitsuo rushed to explain his position but the old man interrupted him.

“I’m not interested in who you are, for me it’s just relevant to know that it’s you that we’re expecting. Now follow me,” and with that, he turned around and sped up across the yard.

The effort to be fast was evident, yet he only achieved the speed of a hedgehog.

For a moment, the three men were stumped.

“What a curt little grandpa!,” Mitsuo exclaimed. “I hope we don’t have to endure his presence while Lady Miyasai receives us!”

“I like him in a way,” Zenji said with a teasing smile. “Sharp and to the point.” And he followed the old man.

“Wait for me, Zenji san!,” Mitsuo ran after the teacher.

Ishibashi lingered in front of the open gates for another moment, looking for something he was not sure about. But it all looked in order. It was just a feeling…

“So, she is not completely left on her own, after all…,” he muttered under his breath.

Then, realising that time was precious now, hurried ahead.

While walking up, he dropped the little pouch that held his gift. A little annoyed, he turned to pick it up. And lifting his head, his eyes suddenly froze. He turned round to the house and then quickly back. How bizarre, he thought.

“I could have sworn it was just us when we walked in…,” he muttered.

He started walking back, his feet sinking in the crisp snow. Gaze was fixed in the distance, he needed confirmation. He stopped suddenly.

“Could it be…”

“Ishibashi san!,” the old servant called out.

The Shugo looked back – his nephew and the young bachelour stood before the engawa.

“Please hurry up!,” the old man cried.

So Ishibashi had to let it go. For now…