‘You cannot replace a child the way you would a dog,’ Seimei said.

That made Akitada angry. ‘Forget it. You don’t understand. How could you?’

Seimei bit his lip. ‘Drink your tea.’

Akitada drank. They looked at each other. Akitada felt demoralized. He groaned. ‘Everything I touch breaks in my hands. My life is cursed. What am I to do, Seimei?’

‘Her Ladyship—’ began Seimei.

Getting up abruptly, Akitada said, ‘Never mind. Thank you for the tea. After a bath, I shall work on the household accounts for the rest of the day.’

Seimei sighed and left.

Tora was too worried to rest long. He decided to forego the evening rice. Since Akitada was bathing, he told Seimei he was going into the city. The old man was arranging the household accounts on Akitada’s desk and seemed preoccupied. He barely looked up.

Tora’s destination was a quarter near the Eastern Temple, a far distance for a tired man, but he walked quickly. This southernmost corner of the capital was almost rural. A few great estates mingled with a large number of very modest homes and small farms. The small houses clustered around and between the large, tree-shaded and walled compounds and belonged mostly to the owners’ retainers and servants. Children played in the street, and laundry dried on bamboo fencing.

The rain had left puddles in the streets, and some ducks scattered as Tora passed. Doves cooed on the wooden eaves, and behind one of the mansion walls someone played a lute. Tora’s spirits lifted and he started to whistle.

Near the southern embankment of the city he turned into the yard of a tiny house and carefully closed the bamboo gate behind him. As always, he stopped to gaze at his home. The new roof was thatched and set the wooden house, little more than a one-room shack, apart from its flat-roofed neighbors. New steps led to a small porch at the front door, and a morning glory vine covered with deep-blue flowers and buzzing bees twined around its railing. Tora thought about adding a beehive next year, and then turned his attention to the little vegetable garden. His cabbages and radishes, planted in neat rows, looked well. The soil was good here, and the recent rain had caused a spurt of growth. He smiled as he walked along the path to the house. On the new step sat a fat white cat cleaning one front paw and barely pausing to purr when Tora bent to scratch its head.

He straightened and called, ‘Hanae? I’m back.’

Immediately, a loud yelping sounded from behind the house. It changed to excited barks, and then a cloud of squawking and fluttering chickens erupted around the corner, followed by a large grey creature making the sharp turn on scrabbling paws. The creature transformed itself into a shaggy dog, who flung himself on Tora in a paroxysm of joy. Tora staggered back and stepped on the cat’s tail. The cat yowled, spat, and jumped on to the railing, where it clung, hissing and twitching its tail.

Tora fended off the flying paws and lapping tongue. ‘Down, Trouble. Down, you big useless monster. Down. You broke your rope again. Where’s your mistress?’

The dog sat, the remnants of a straw rope still attached to his neck, his tail beating a drum roll on the wooden boards. He pricked up pointed ears and looked attentive.

‘Hanae?’ Tora called again.

The dog’s ears twitched, and he looked around expectantly.

‘Stupid dog,’ said Tora. ‘That’s what I bought you for. To watch your mistress. Don’t you remember where she went?’

The tail thumped apologetically.

Next door, a middle-aged woman came out on her porch. ‘That you, Tora? Hanae’s gone to the market. She should be back soon. Is that big brute loose again? I don’t want him after my chickens.’

‘Hello, Mrs Hamada. I’ll tie him up. He doesn’t mean any harm. Just has too much energy.’

She sniffed. ‘That dog’s a fiend. Better get rid of him. You here to stay?’

‘Not yet.’ This was a sore subject, and Tora hoped the nosy biddy would go back into her house.

But she slipped her bare feet into wooden clogs and waddled to the fence between their houses. The dog, recognizing an arch enemy, growled. Mrs Hamada fixed Tora with an accusing look and said, ‘Hanae’s talking about taking a job. In her condition! You know she’s not very strong. How about asking that grand master of yours to take her in? Hanae works hard, and she’s good with children.’

Tora shook his head. ‘Can’t. The master has no children.’

‘No children?’ She gaped at him. ‘In a noble house? How can that be? Your master isn’t … you know?’ She waved a limp hand.

‘No, he isn’t,’ Tora snapped. ‘They had a boy, but he died from the smallpox in the spring.’

‘Oh.’ She relented, as Tora knew she would, having lost her husband and one of her own children in the epidemic. So many had died. It was the reason the small house next to her had become available. She gave him a shrewd look. ‘You aren’t afraid to tell them, are you?’

Tora stuck out his chin. Of course not. We’ll manage. I’ll find a way.’

‘That’s what you men always say. In the end it’s us who have the babies and then have to scrimp and save to put food in their mouths. And nine times out of ten, we end up feeding their father while he squanders his money on wine and loose women.’

Tora was getting angry, all the more so because he could not antagonize Hanae’s neighbor. ‘I’m not like that,’ he growled.

Encouraged by Tora’s tone, the dog burst into furious barking.

Someone called from the street, ‘Tora?’

They turned and saw a young woman with a large market basket over her arm. She was slight and very pretty, with a tiny waist and such fragile wrists that the basket seemed much too large and heavy for her.

Tora gave a whoop of joy and rushed to meet her, the dog at his heels. Taking the basket and putting it on the ground, he swung her up into his arms, while Trouble danced around them, yapping with pleasure.

‘Tora, let me down,’ she protested, laughing. ‘What will the neighbors think? Oh, and Trouble is loose again.’

‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I don’t care what anybody thinks. You’re my wife. Why shouldn’t I do as I want with my own wife?’ He swung her around, and she giggled.

At the fence, Mrs Hamada watched, a sentimental smile softening her face. Young love.

But even young love must come back to earth. Tora put his wife down and picked up the basket instead. Hanae caught up the dog’s broken rope and waved to Mrs Hamada.

They walked together through the gate and retied the dog. Then they went inside the small house, closing the door on neighbor, dog, and cat.

Tora took the basket into the small kitchen. ‘A fish?’

‘Yes. For our supper. With some of your cabbage and a few mushrooms.’

‘It’s still early,’ he said, reaching for Hanae again.

She blushed. ‘Let me at least start the vegetables.’

‘I’ll help you.’ He rummaged in a box and brought out a couple of knives, passing one to her. They worked side by side at the wooden counter, scraping and chopping quickly, and when she had tossed the last handful into the black kettle and hung it from the chain over the fire, Tora stirred the coals and added a little more wood.

‘We’re almost out,’ she said, glancing at the wood pile.

He turned to look at her, aghast. ‘You want me to split wood, too?’

She chuckled. ‘No. Of course not. Later.’

He took her into his arms and carried her into the main room they used for eating and sleeping. There he knelt, laying her gently on the single thick mat in its center. He untied her sash and parted her gown.

Later they lay side by side, smiling. Tora felt almost dizzy with love. He turned on his side and put his hand on her still flat belly. ‘A son or a daughter, do you think?’ he asked, looking down at her with a besotted expression.

‘A son, of course,’ she said. ‘How could it be otherwise with such a strong tiger for a father?’