Disclaimer: Any perceived allusions to real shunga pieces are entirely intentional. :3
.
.
.
Art of Spring
He had promised to show her something good. She had nearly forgotten, it seemed so long ago; but before the Sorarisu-maru reached Edo, finally, he did.
"Is that an octopus?!" Kayo shrieked with glee. "Who would do that with an octopus?!"
"I'm sure it appeals to certain more... exotic interests," said the Medicine Seller. They sat shoulder to shoulder, hunched over the stacks of colorful books, their heads inclined toward one another's almost conspiratorially. Kayo flipped through the books one by one, and almost every page elicited a new delighted squeal.
"Wah, look, they're both girls! And what's that - that thing she's holding - is that a sea cucumber?!"
"I believe so," said the Medicine Seller, unperturbed.
When she came to a book full of kagema she wailed in despair. "They're all prettier than I am!"
"Surely not, Kayo-san."
"Oh, stop it," she said. "Don't pretend you understand. Men don't even have to be pretty, and then you have the nerve to go and be pretty anyway. You already know you're prettier than everybody else."
"Even so," he insisted.
She glared at him sidelong. "You're supposed to disagree, you know."
"Ah," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "My apologies."
Though she heaved an exasperated sigh, her mouth twitched and she couldn't suppress a giggle. At random, she picked up another book. "Ahh!" she exclaimed almost as soon as she opened it. "But that - how is this even possible?!"
The Medicine Seller leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. His sleeve drifted across her arm. "I could show you..." he murmured softly, "if you wish."
Kayo blinked, the shape of the words slowly clarifying. She stiffened, her eyes going wide. "Wh-wha-what-"
The Medicine Seller stood and bowed low. "Forgive me, but I am tired," he said, his voice just loud enough to carry. "I think I must retire for the evening. Good night, Kayo-san." Then he bowed again and turned and walked away, leaving her just sitting there in the middle of that pile of books. She gaped after him slack-jawed, and the eye on the back of his kimono stared back at her until he disappeared.
How - how absurd! Her heart was pounding in her chest, and the inside of her ears felt strangely compressed. How absurd to even suggest it!
...But no one would know.
The minstrel and the ship's proprietor had both drank themselves silly and fallen asleep more than an hour ago; the samurai seemed incapable of doing anything but rocking back and forth on his little corner of the deck, giggling madly from time to time and muttering to himself; the monks were shut away in their quarters and whatever they were up to was their business, and she preferred not to think too deeply on that anyway. No one would know, and even if they did, it was unlikely that they would remember or care.
Kayo swallowed.
But it was too ridiculous to contemplate. She was going to be a bride! Brides were certainly not the kind of women who followed strange men to their quarters on ships in the middle of the sea.
Kayo swallowed again.
She put the down the book that had still been hanging limply from her hands. Slowly, feeling like her body belonged to someone else, she stood up, and followed after that brightly painted grin.
--
In this, she found, he was just as hypnotic, as graceful, and as absolutely terrifying as he was in everything else.
--
"Should you really leave your medicine box out on the deck with all those books scattered around?" she asked later, as she combed his hair. (It turned out to be quite long and infuriatingly silky. She found herself wanting to pin it up and decorate it like a woman's.) "They might get rained on."
"What do you mean?" he said. "All of my belongings are..." He gestured at the far end of the futon, where his medicine box undeniably sat. "...right here."
"Ahh!" Unable to restrain herself, she leaned over and opened one of the drawers; all the books were packed away neatly inside. Righting herself, she reached out and gave his hair a good yank. He winced. "Stop being creepy," she admonished. "It's not going to impress girls."
His lips curled subtly. "No, I suppose not," he conceded, and pulled her mouth down to his.
--
It wasn't until several days after they had docked in Edo that Kayo realized: somehow, inexplicably, even after all that, she had still forgotten to ask his name.
"I said to stop being creepy!" she blurted, and when the whole of the street turned to stare at her she slinked on her way, embarrassed.