A hand… For a millionth night in a row she dreamt of a hand just above the water, raising as if looking for help but not fighting the pull.

She sat extremely still looking at the yard covered in white soft cold blanket. Some bird was singing but not with joy, as it was alone. Soon it stopped. It was quiet, very quiet and very cold. Gentle steam was rising from her teacup. The morning smell was fresh. This is how the colour white would smell, if colours had scents. The cold air was slightly stinging her skin.

Lady Miyasai almost regretted that she had agreed to entertain visitors today. She was paler than usual and her face stood out in sharp contrast with her green kimono. Small dark half moons had risen underneath her eyes. Strange exhaustion had been taking over her but she resisted it. She got up and did everything she had set out to do during the day. Even if it was at a slower pace, she accomplished all her tasks every day. In fairness, the strange palace servant had been of great help. I need to write to mother and enquire about him, she thought. Still could not remember ever seeing him while she lived there… No matter, she thought, I’ll get to that, too.

Right now, she had to pull herself together for Ishibashi san’s visit. She was not really looking forward to meeting Taira san but thought it would do her good in the long run to start meeting the locals. The only guest she could be excited about was Zenji… The quiet, mysterious teacher whose work at The Red House she looked forward to. She wanted to make more enquiries about him so badly, but knew it was not the best approach to be so direct. There was something, he was someone she had to get to know. She reached out to her cup and took a sip of tea. If her intuition was right, as it usually was, he had some connection with…

“My beautiful and honourable Lady!”

Taira san marched into the room, with a great big smile on his face, bowed deeply and positioned himself in front of the astounded young woman. His companions were ushered in by the old servant who looked incredibly annoyed at the way the bachelour had gone ahead of the group, robbing him of the chance to make a proper entering.

“My Lady, I have to apologise that I could not prevent Taira san from presenting himself before it was time,” he said with a deep bow, casting an angered side glance at the man.

“You were all too slow!” Mitsuo protested. “Between waiting for Ishibashi san to finish admiring the yard and Zenji waiting for him and you waiting for both of them, I thought I was going to completely miss the change to meet Lady Miyasai!”

But the old servant did not pay attention – instead, he bowed again.

“My Lady, I would like to announce that your guests are here… not that you are not seeing them with your very eyes as the moment had been ruined by this gentleman here.”

Before Mitsuo could erupt with more excuses, she said:

“It is alright, Tadao, I have been ready. Please bring us some food.”

“Hospitable, as well as beautiful and elegant – you truly are even more remarkable that they had described you!,” Mitsuo’s eyes were shining with admiration while Lady Miyasai remained calm.

“I think you are too easily impressed, Taira san,” she said somewhat coyly. “But I thank you, I know you mean well.” And bowed slightly.

Nephew and uncle joined them as the side of the kotatsu table^[1].

They bowed as well and exchanged pleasantries before sitting down.

“We are honoured to be at your house again, my Lady,” Ishibashi san said.

Zenji was silently looking at her but when their eyes met, he looked down.

She smiled. Mitsuo cast a slightly jealous look at the teacher.

“A honour to have you again, and to welcome you, Taira san. You are the first guests at my home since the beginning of the year, so I suppose it would be… an interesting one,” and her lips touched the cup while her eyes lowered.

“That gives me the opportunity to present you with my gift!,” Mitsuo leapt off his feet and produced a lacquered green box with golden paintings on the lid and on the sides.

“For you, it’ll be merely a simple gift, but to me, it’s the highest form of expression of my dedication to serve you!,” he said passionately.

His head was touching the ground, so could not see the slight quivering of her lips.

She reached out and took the box from his stretched hand. Slowly, she put it down in front of her and admired the craftsmanship.

“Such a pretty thing,” she mused.

“Gold on jade, My Lady,” Mitsuo exclaimed, almost out of breath.

She smiled, her eyes glued on the box. This has happened before and she was almost certain what she would find inside.

The room had fallen completely silent. The three men could hear the snow falling on the yard.

Their gazes were fixed on her, all wondering what was happening. Why has Lady Miyasai suddenly fallen so gloom? Indeed, the smile on her face had faded, she was not even blinking – just sitting there, staring at the box.

Mitsuo felt beads of sweat squeezing out of his pores and falling freely down his back – even worse, he felt his brow moisten as well. He had frozen in a half-bow position with arms still slightly stretched as if his gift was still in them. His mouth was completely dry and yet, he tried to swallow and relieve his throat. What is happening? Despite its quality, the gift seemed to somehow had upset her. A crippling feeling had started shaking him from the inside.

Ishibashi san’s face was not of a concerned man, rather of someone whose mind was racing from one conclusion to another. How different two people can be, yet how similar, he thought. How much does a gift speak of the gifter…

The burden of this strange situation was weighing heaviest on Zenji’s shoulders. He was sitting on Lady Miyasai’s left side and could not see even half of her face as her long dark hair had completely covered it. But the motionless hands, the slumped posture, the head that slightly hung now, even the slightly trembling shoulders – she is in pain, and I can feel it all. Zenji’s body had absorbed Lady Miyasai’s soul. Her emotions gripping him harder, taking over. This is now natural, he thought as his consciousness was gently being suppressed by hers. What is happening? I am not me anymore. I’m choked even though I’m breathing normally. I feel my throat filled with water yet I hadn’t drank a drop. I…

Zenji moved uneasily, hands on his chest, gripping his kimono. Pain from within, pain from without. He propped himself on one side, and unable to utter a word, tried to attract the attention of Ishibashi who sat across him. But his uncle’s eyes were fixed on the Lady. Mitsuo seemed to be in a hell of his own. Four people in a spell, four different spells.

“Something’s taken over me,” Zenji could only whisper what he wanted to shout out.

Lady Miyasai broke her stupor as suddenly as she had fallen into it. She took the box in her lap and started to open it.

Zenji gasped loudly but no one paid attention. He was not in pain any longer. Only the shock had remained from what had happened a few moments ago.

Lady Miyasai lifted the lid. She smiled as soon as she looked inside.

NOTES:

[1] A low, wooden table frame covered by a futon, or heavy blanket, upon which a table top sits.