And so was she, truth to tell. The light green silk gown with the embroidered Chinese jacket suited her slender figure perfectly. Her hair was thick and glossy and tied in back with a white silk bow, a hairstyle that Tamako had also favored as more practical than loose hair. But she was nothing like Tamako in other ways. Yukiko’s movements were quick, and her laughter frequent. She had a disturbing way of casting smiling glances at him from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh,” she said now, blushing rosily. “Forgive me for calling you ‘cousin.’ It was very forward of me. But you see, Father calls you ‘Elder Brother’ and I thought ‘Uncle’ would make you feel like an old man. What may I call you?”

Akitada had been more shocked by her touch than by being called cousin and felt himself redden also. “Not at all. I like being called ‘cousin’ by such a pretty young lady,” he said awkwardly. “You are very kind. The fact is I am an old man, and you made me feel young again.” When he realized that this had sounded not only flirtatious but also encouraged more reassurances that he was not at all old, he flushed again.

She looked at him, wide-eyed. “You old? But that’s silly. You’re my father’s age—I know because I asked. I’ve asked a million questions about you—but you look much younger and you have had such an exciting life that no one could possibly think of you as old.”

“You flatter me, Lady Yukiko. I don’t know what to say, except that your father must have grossly exaggerated.”

“Please call me Yukiko. You seem like a part of my family. If you’re going to be formal, you force me to be formal also. I’ll have to start carrying a fan and hide my face whenever I see you. Do you want that?”

Her eyes twinkled, the soft lips smiled, and, yes, she dimpled when she said this. Feeling foolish, Akitada smiled back, gazed into her pretty face, and said quite honestly, “Heaven forbid!”

She laughed. It was a very pretty laugh, natural and light-hearted, and it fell like music on his ears. There had been too little laughter in his life. Kosehira was a lucky man. He lived surrounded by happy people.

As he thought this, Akitada realized that Kosehira himself was surely the cause of such a joyous home. Kosehira’s wealth and influence had perhaps made it easier for him to be cheerful, but there were more fundamental differences between them than status. He had never been able to laugh spontaneously like that. Even when he had been Yukiko’s age, he had been intense and forever worried about what people thought of him. These days, he was bitter and cynical, having found little in his experiences to lighten his mood and give him hope.

She still studied him. Perhaps he should have made her a compliment, but he shied away from this.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You looked absolutely crushed. What were you thinking about?”

He turned away. “Please show me your beautiful garden. You don’t want to know my thoughts.”

“Forgive me,” she said softly. “I’m always saying the wrong thing. You must still love her very much.”

Akitada sighed. Young women could be very difficult. “I wasn’t thinking of my wife, but yes, I did love her very much. And there is nothing to forgive. I’m a crabby old fellow and you are trying hard to raise my spirits. That is a great kindness.” He added a smile when he saw the uncertainty in her face.

She smiled back. “You’re not crabby, just very reserved and a little shy. Come along, then. It’s a very lovely garden, better than our other ones in the city or the country.”

Kosehira had two primary residences. Akitada was familiar with the mansion in the capital, having attended many parties there and also been Kosehira’s only guest. It was typical of the homes of the ranking noblemen and imperial princes. But he had to admit that this villa was prettier and the garden more interesting. Some of its attractiveness came from the fact that they were in a mountainous area and so the paths dipped and turned and climbed again, often via stone steps. And at every turn, there was some pleasure: a stone lantern among flowering azaleas, a sudden overlook revealing another glimpse of the lake, a rustic stone garden seat, a water basin where they disturbed some birds, and a small rill that flowed into a pond.

They came to a halt beside the pond. “Oh,” he said, delighted, “you have koi. So do I, in a much smaller pond outside my room. They have given me much pleasure.”

“I wish I may see them someday,” Yukiko said and knelt on the mossy stones without regard to her pretty clothes. “Look, there’s Black Dragon, and over there Silver Star. And that spotted one is Glowing Embers, and the solid red one I call Setting Sun.”

“You’ve named them all?”

“Most of them. Sometimes when I get lonely I come and talk to them.”

“How could you get lonely in such a lively family?”

She rose and turned to him, her eyes suddenly sad. “You can be lonely in a large crowd. You see, there really is no one to know but yourself in this world. I think we try to forget that by seeking out others to distract us from ourselves.”

He was struck dumb. It was a profound insight for someone so young. And she was a mere girl. How odd! It made him uneasy, and he told himself that perhaps she had read this someplace. “Do you enjoy books?” he asked impulsively

“Oh, yes. I love them. I have read all of Genji. And also many diaries and some Chinese poetry. But that is just another way of distracting yourself. It passes the day.”

But Akitada was surprised by something else this time. “You read Chinese.”

She blushed. “Don’t tell Father. I’ve been sitting in on my brothers’ classes with their Chinese tutor. It’s not at all suitable for a lady. I know that, but …” She paused, then added in a rush, “You see, I’ve always wanted to know what a man’s life is like. I already know about women and their lives, but I know next to nothing about the lives of men when they are away from home.”

This young girl was full of surprises. Akitada did not know what to say. Was it natural for a girl to want to know how men lived and thought? Surely females had more pleasant occupations among their silks and brocades, their fans and mirrors, their picture books and musical instruments, their charming lives playing games. He did not know what to say and looked down into the pond where Black Dragon emerged from the depth to snatch a gnat and disappear with a flip of his tail that scattered the other fish.

“Will you tell me about your adventures?” she asked. “About Sado Island and Echigo? About the monks in Kazusa and that mad painter in the capital, about the lost boy and how you got buried in an earthquake?”

He looked up, startled. Her eyes were bright with excitement and she glowed with rosy color. He did not think he had ever seen anyone look so beautiful and so alive.

“And how you were fighting the pirates in a burning warehouse … ?” she added but faltered when she saw his face.

Akitada silently cursed Kosehira for filling his children’s heads with such tales. All of the events she had cited had been terrifying and some were tragic. He looked at her without speaking. Her lower lip began to tremble.

“Oh,” she said. “I did it again. I’m sorry.” And the next moment, she had gathered her full trousers and run back up toward the house.

Akitada stood bemused, watching her slender legs in their white silk stockings and her small feet in black slippers skipping away, jumping over rocks and tree roots, until she disappeared from sight.

Extraordinary!

And strangely moving. He was not used to such admiration. Indeed, he hardly thought he deserved it. Whatever happened had not been by his choice. Those dangerous events had been forced upon him, and he still bore the scars and deeper wounds in his soul. He rubbed the leg which a brutal policeman had broken by beating him with a cudgel. It had somehow healed in the weeks he was a prisoner in a gold mine, but he shuddered at the memory. And this child, this girl who was not fully grown yet, wanted him to tell her all about it.