“I don’t believe you,” she said, kneeling again to look at the fish. “My brothers and sisters strike me as pretty wild. My whole family is rather odd, you see. I have wondered why this should be. The best explanation I can come up with is that our parents are happy because my father is happy. We laugh a lot. I’m old enough to have learned that this is a very rare and perhaps improper thing in families.”

Here it was again, this wonderful capacity to see past the obvious to gain a deeper understanding. He said, “It is a rare and wonderful thing and one that I envy. But how can someone as young as you know such things?”

She looked up at him. “Do you think me a child? Or is it that I am a woman and therefore should not have much understanding?”

Taken aback, he said, “No, of course not.”

She got to her feet to study his face. “I wish …” she said in a rush. “I wish you would trust me. I wish you would feel that you could talk to me without thinking me too young or too much a woman.”

This made him smile. “My dear Yukiko,” he said, “You do have a mirror, don’t you? It is impossible to look at you without thinking those things.”

She blushed again, and he enjoyed the play of rosy color on that smooth skin. “I do trust you,” he said, becoming serious. “Or at least, it’s not a matter of trust. You should not worry your pretty head about tales of past adventures by someone my age. And in any case, it wasn’t a matter of courage or heroism, as you and perhaps your father think. I had no choice. I was horribly afraid. And if I escaped in the end, it was by luck rather than ingenuity.”

She cocked her head. “You might leave it to me to decide.”

He gave a snort. “My dear young lady, the truth is these tales would shock and upset you. They are full of blood and death and suffering, so let it be.”

“Now you’re angry again. I should be angry that you have such a low opinion of me, but I shall wait. Some day you’ll tell me your past. I have great patience. Perhaps you’ll make me wait until I’m old, so old that you no longer think of me as a woman.”

He knew that would never happen. For a moment longer he let himself look at her for the sheer joy of it. Then he said, “I must speak to your father.”

She gasped.

“Tora reported an incident at the harbor. It troubles me and I’d like to get your father’s view of it.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “He’s in his room, I think. Will you come back tomorrow?”

“You mean here?” She nodded. He said rather stiffly, “I don’t know. We are getting rather busy. But I thank you for a charming conversation.”

∞

It was almost as bad as their last parting. He saw the hurt in her eyes and wanted to tell her how very much he had enjoyed her company. But he bit his lip, and she inclined her head and walked away. At least she did not run like before.

Akitada was cast into confusion. What was the matter with him? Was he so starved for female companionship that he was attracted to a mere child? A part of him corrected the “child” immediately. Yukiko had a woman’s body under the layers of pretty silks she wore. He had watched her movements, seen the swell of her breasts, the soft curve from hip to slender waist, the slim, tapering thighs and had felt uncomfortably hot under the collar. Even now …

He turned abruptly and headed back to his room. A pity Tora was not here. A spirited bout of swords or bo would get rid of the irrational and shameful desires he felt for his best friend’s daughter. Meanwhile, he had best avoid being alone with her.

This plan did not work out too well after all. Akitada accompanied Kosehira to Otsu headquarters as usual. And as usual, he spent the morning hours working on temple documents. The problem was that Kosehira begged him to accompany his children to a small shrine fair in the city during the afternoon.

The outing had been discussed for a few days and Kosehira himself had planned to look after his brood, but more pressing business had cropped up. The children would arrive by carriage, accompanied by a maid. Both of his older sons had gone off hunting, and so Yukiko was in charge, but Kosehira approached Akitada, saying he would feel better if a man was with the group. All sorts of riffraff frequented fairs.

Of course Akitada agreed. It was little enough, and he enjoyed a fair. Memories intruded again: The O-bon festival and the lost child who could not speak. That year he had lost his own son to smallpox and had been filled with a deep longing for another child. How very long ago it seemed!

He convinced himself that Yukiko would have her hands full restraining the younger children, and they would have no time for private conversation. In truth, he rather looked forward to seeing the children’s faces and watching their delight at the antics of the acrobats.

The carriage arrived just before the noon rice. When Akitada met it, Yukiko had already herded her charges out. They were waiting on the veranda of the headquarters building, eager to set out for the fair.

They walked the short distance, the boys close to Akitada, while Yukiko followed with the girls. They resembled other groups, small families of father, mother and children, on their way to an afternoon’s entertainment. Akitada had provided himself with several strings of coppers. He intended to enjoy himself and treat the children.

The shrine beckoned with brilliant red torii, entrance arches that marked the threshold between the human world and the realm of the god or gods residing there. Akitada was not familiar with this particular divinity but suggested that they pay their respects before plunging into the festivities. And so they filed in under the torii, paused to rinse their mouths at a water basin, and then approached the sanctuary, decorated with the customary ropes of rice straw and chains of folded paper. Akitada bowed and clapped his hands to greet the god, and beside him, the boys did the same. A short prayer later, they made room for the girls.

Akitada watched Yukiko’s graceful figure. She wore a pale rose-colored gown with an embroidered Chinese jacket over it because the days were still cool. The smaller girls were also in white, rose, and pale green spring colors. They reminded him of the cherry blossoms that were just coming into bloom—perhaps the reason for the traditional colors of spring clothing.

Akitada caught a glimpse of happiness. It was spring again, and beauty and joy were still in his world and in his heart.

The children were not interested in immaterial things. Their joys were firmly vested in food and entertainment. They wished to sample as many treats sold by food vendors as possible. As they joined the crowds passing among the gaily decorated stalls, Akitada began dispensing his coppers. They had not eaten since their morning gruel and fell upon rice buns, grilled fish on wooden sticks, pancakes with octopus centers, fried noodles, roasted chestnuts, and sweet bean pastries with an appetite that was amazing. Akitada laughed, paid, sipped some very good noodle soup himself, then tasted a bite of sticky honey cake offered him by Arimitsu, and peeled some chestnuts for one of the little girls.

In between there were the sights and games. Colorful paper lanterns swayed from the corners of stands, vendors sold kites decorated with fierce dragons and tigers (here Akitada indulged both of Kosehira’s sons), amulets, bead necklaces (the little girls took great delight in selecting theirs), carved bears and birds and (interestingly) a large number of Jizo carvings just like the one he had found on Judge Nakano’s desk.

All of the youngsters competed in a game that required them to catch small koi in a large wooden tub by using a scoop made from paper. The trick was to be quick because the spoon soon became sodden and drooped. Arimitsu proved to be the only one who succeeded. Generously, he returned the little fish he won to the water.