A/N. Oyakuen, literally "Honorable Medicine Garden," is located northeast of Tsurugajou Castle in what is today Aizu-Wakamatsu City. (Which is where I'm presuming Megumi is/would be. I figure a prominent family like hers would have been in one of the biggest, oldest towns in the region.) As early as the 14th century, farmers in the area attributed magical healing properties to a spring in that place. The Aizu nobility soon constructed houses and various other buildings on the area. It became "officially" known as Oyakuen when ginseng was successfully cultivated there in the 18th century. It was opened to the public as a lovely garden-park with a pond and teahouse in 1953.
The chakai is a much shorter and less formal version of the traditional Japanese tea ceremony commonly known as chanoyu or chado. The full-scale chanoyu is a demonstration of the highest hospitality accorded to a guest. While the chaji takes up three to four hours and consists of two elaborately scripted parts and a full-course meal, the chakai takes only around twenty minutes and usually only serves sweets known as wagashi, which are often beautifully crafted to look like seasonal flowers. The discriminating chajin, or practitioner of the tea ceremony, can meticulously choose the type of green tea, the wagashi, and the tea things to suit particular occasions such as bidding farewell or celebrating an achievement and to harmonize with the current season, the time of day, and so on.
glossary:
obori soma = a kind of ceramic ware produced traditionally using 300-year-old techniques in the town of Namie in the Soma region in the Hama-dori district, southeast of Aizu-Wakamatsu. Characterized by ao-hibi, or fine dark blue cracks throughout a creamy blue glaze, the result of a particular method of baking.
koi = Japanese carp commonly found in garden ponds; symbolize wealth and long life
chashitsu = the traditionally designed room where a tea ceremony is held
mizuya = the anteroom where the host prepares for the ceremony
hashiri-uma = pictures of running horses that characterize pottery and ceramics from the Aizu region
shakuyaku = a variety of peony brought to Japan from China in ancient times as a medicine; often compared to a beautiful woman
Mune no Monogatari
by Mirune Keishiko
Six: Chado
She wondered if he had left already. She wondered if he hadn't, and therefore where he was. She wondered if the innkeep sent girls up to his room at night, as was the custom. She wondered if he had already used the obori soma she had given him, if he had simply hidden them somewhere and forgotten about them entirely, if he knew why she had thought to give them to him—if he realized she felt that blue was exactly his color, and that the fine webbed cracks only added to the genteel beauty of the traditional craft.
Then Megumi remembered to scold herself sharply for still thinking about him, four days after the last meeting which had ended on such an unpleasant note. Four days in which she had not heard from him or even of him at all.
Yare yare...
She sighed and tossed aside the book she had been trying in vain to read all afternoon. She was clearly in no shape to study cholera research.
"Takani-sensei!" called Ayano, looking up as Megumi strode past her receptionist's desk. When Megumi stopped and looked back, the girl stood up and handed her two letters. "I'm very sorry to interrupt you, but this just arrived for you, and Kiku-san came by a little earlier with this other one."
Megumi grimaced at the name, and at the faint cloying perfume of one of the papers. "Thank you," she muttered, knowing she sounded less than properly gratified as she tucked the letters in her sleeve. "If anyone looks for me, Ayano-chan," she continued, "I'll be at the gardens till sunset."
The Sanada hospital was the most modern in Aizu; the Sanadas did not love tradition so much as to choose it over utility, efficacy and, when fancy struck, cultural novelty. Patients and residents alike often boasted of the four-floored brick-built hospital with full facilities for surgery, confinement, and hygiene; and among other examples of modernization, the bare marble flooring of the entire ground floor was both impressive and practical. Thanks to a rather overzealous English botanist who had endeared himself to Sanada Hiroshi, the gardens around the hospital spilled over joyfully with feathery summer flowers, deviating far from the meticulously controlled exquisiteness of Japanese gardens. Instead of stone lanterns and koi, visitors were startled by oddly shaped wooden statues said to have come from distant islands, and struggled to contain their deep embarrassment when stumbling on the Italian fountain that featured water spurting innocently from a naked cherub.
Megumi also appreciated the occasional Western import; but often something in her longed for tradition amid so much exotic influence. And when she needed to clear her mind, soothe it with familiar colors and textures with which she had grown up, she liked to go down to Oyakuen.
The bright summer afternoon saw many plants in full bloom by the gleaming stone paths. Megumi paused just inside the entrance to draw a deep breath, trying to catch more fully the fresh scent of lilies that blew here and there on the breeze. The sight of the familiar, beautifully kept gardens, punctuated gleefully by bobbing pinks and reds and whites, brought a smile to her face almost despite herself.
She exchanged greetings with Nomura-jiisan, the old groundskeeper who accorded her the same respect he had her father years ago, and thus allowed her to enter as he allowed few others. A solitary man who preferred plants to people, he had come to understand over the years that Megumi came to the garden specifically for peace and quiet, sometimes—though not always—to browse among the hundreds of medicinal plants. And so neither of them lingered over the pleasantries that did not lose warmth to brevity; and Megumi made her way to the teahouse, stepping slowly on the wet stones, delighting in the hush of the gardens that was stirred only by birdsong and the unhurried breeze.
She could not restrain a deep, glad sigh as she rounded the bend and came within sight of the old teahouse. Here, at last, she could be by herself, sort out her thoughts before they rendered the day utterly unproductive...
She frowned, then, when she saw the lone figure seated on the engawa, facing away from the path toward the early-blooming irises on the other side of the house.
So someone had discovered her haven, too. Well, if the Nomuras held this man in high enough regard to admit him into the garden, she could hardly force him off the premises, could she?
But then, as she drew nearer to the house, gaze lingering with some resentment on the intruder, her irritation soon turned to consternation. She blinked and stared hard at this man with his back to her, partially obscured through the half-open shoji. Halting by the entrance to the teahouse, she looked hard again, cursing the sudden, breathless fluttering of her heart.
No doubt about it; Shinomori Aoshi was here.
She hesitated again—for a wild moment she considered fleeing, simply turning and going back the way she had come, much treasured peace and quiet of her accustomed haven be damned. Then she glanced again at him, a mixture of defiance and uneasiness; she would certainly not run before him when she was the constant visitor and he was the guest! She turned to take the other side of the engawa—she would simply ignore him, that was all; she would leave him be, as that deeply antisocial man undoubtedly wished, and she would have her quiet afternoon amid the lilies. It was what she had come here for, after all.
Ignore, then, the quiet voice from the back of her mind that teased her for having had him constantly in her thoughts in the past four days, teased her for so ironically now being granted the wish she had not allowed herself to make—to see him again, at least just once more, before he left for good...
But he turned then, as if he had sensed her presence behind him, she who was turning to go but lingering for inexplicable moments, drinking in the sight of him despite herself. As ice blue eyes fell on her, there was no escape.
"Takani-san."
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Aoshi-san. I didn't mean to intrude—"
"You intrude on nothing." He had stood up to exchange courteous bows with her. "However, I also do not wish to disturb you. I am sure you came here to be alone."
Megumi smiled. "I had presumed that the same went for you."
He shrugged, turning away slightly. "Not all company wearies me."
She stopped at that, frowning a little. Was that supposed to be a compliment?
"I came by to pay my respects to the Nomuras. I leave tomorrow."
It struck her as odd that Aoshi, a man whose life had so continually depended on discretion, should voluntarily reveal such strictly unnecessary information.
Then again, thought Megumi, willing away the sudden, cold weight in her chest, he's only making conversation. He really was going to leave without telling me...
"Are you returning to Kyoto?" She spoke slowly, striving to contain the disappointment in her tones, even though it was unlikely to have escaped him.
"No. I have business yet in Sendai before I can begin the journey home. And then—" He paused. From within the teahouse, light footsteps padded across tatami. "I might stop again in Aizu on the way back. There are still some matters to finish."
Megumi nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak. The shoji to an inner room slid open some distance away and out stepped a short, elaborately dressed old woman.
"Shinomori-sama, please be so kind as to enter now." The woman, straightening from a deep bow, caught herself and blinked smiling at Megumi. "Ah, Megumi-san, it is always a pleasure to find you here. Do you know Shinomori-sama?"
Shinomori-sama? "We met in Tokyo two years ago, Nomura-baasan." Megumi bowed in return. She yearned to find out exactly how these two people, of all others, were connected, but knew it was none of her business. "I shall leave you both to your private affairs, then, and wish you a very pleasant afternoon."
She was already moving to leave when his response halted her steps.
"Perhaps you might like to join us, Takani-san. Miki-san has generously prepared a chakai, and I am sure you can offer her better entertainment than I alone."
She glanced at him in surprise before she remembered prudence enough to lower her gaze humbly. "I should not wish to intrude on such old friends," she murmured.
"But surely this coincidence is not without its own meaning." For a moment, there was a glint in his eyes as they measured her in their gaze—amusement? admiration? "Two old friends of mine"—he seemed to take particular pleasure in drawing out the words; Megumi stiffened in annoyance and embarrassment, that he had so easily picked up on her covert attempt to glean more information—"friends in their own right—I should like to learn how this has come to be."
Trapped, Megumi glanced over at the old lady, hoping to find some escape there—but Nomura-baasan was nothing but smiles as she elaborated hospitably on the invitation.
Soon Megumi was seated with Aoshi in the chashitsu, and Nomura Miki vanished silently into the mizuya to make her preparations. Resigning herself to an afternoon quite different from that which she had planned, Megumi sat back and admired the flawless ikebana adorning a corner of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aoshi sitting with his head slightly bowed, his bangs shadowing his face; she wondered if it were only her imagination that he was looking at her.
"She was Oniwabanshuu."
Megumi stared down at her lap. Somehow, after all this time, despite everything she knew to be changing, the sound of that name still chilled her. "I guessed as much."
"She and her husband served us in this region for many years. When we disbanded soon after the Bakumatsu, they opted to retire to this quiet life. We have severed all official ties, but to them, when we meet, I am still Okashira."
Megumi watched him as he spoke, but his voice and his face were utterly composed and emotionless. She shook her head slowly, trying to compose her thoughts for a response—but she relied heavily on reading and playing off her companions' emotions in ordinary talk, and Aoshi simply gave no indication of how he felt about his words. Pride? Shame? Regret? Or even indifference?
She paused, wondering how to frame her question. "She does not know of... Takeda?"
Aoshi glanced at her, then away. Still his face was impassive. "There is no reason to believe so."
Nomura-baasan came in then with a tray of wagashi, and Megumi decided against further conversation. The dainty sweets were brightly colored and shaped to resemble the flowers of summer: golden-hearted irises, water-speckled lotuses, elegant wisteria. Megumi could hardly contain her wonder as she gazed at the carefully made sweetmeats—though she had participated in one or two other tea ceremonies in her life as her father's daughter, she had never before seen or eaten any wagashi so beautiful.
Aoshi had taken the seat farther from the old lady, and so Megumi prepared to take the tray first; but she was startled by Nomura-baasan going past her across the small room, straight to Aoshi, offering the tray with the deepest, most respectful of bows. Aoshi, for his part, returned a similarly courteous bow as he accepted the sweets. Megumi, watching intently, thought she saw at last a flicker of feeling in Aoshi's dark eyes.
She raised a hand unconsciously to her fast beating heart.
Aoshi chose a deep purple iris and made to pass the tray to Megumi, but Nomura-baasan smiled and nodded almost imperceptibly; he hesitated, then finally picked up a pink lotus as well. His selection seemed to please the old woman, who then smiled almost apologetically at Megumi, whose turn it was to choose a piece.
Megumi gave the old woman a small, silent smile in return. After all, he had been her Okashira...
As the wagashi melted delightfully in their mouths, Nomura-baasan set out the utensils she would need for the simple, informal ceremony. Mutely Megumi marveled at the finely detailed wood inlay in the natsume: mighty horses, wild yet majestic as they tossed their heads in midgallop; the spirited hashiri-uma so characteristic of Aizu design. The polished black pot was breathing clouds of white steam by the time the old woman laid out the cups that would be used for the ceremony.
Megumi started, then caught herself just before a word escaped her lips to break the hush. She wondered how Aoshi had persuaded the old woman to use the obori soma that had been her gift. She wondered if it meant anything in particular. Glancing surreptitiously at Aoshi, she found him sitting straight, eyes peacefully shut, looking completely at ease amid the solemnity and old-fashioned grace of it all.
Not too long ago—the Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu that had guarded Edo Castle from the shadows, generation upon generation.
She turned slightly away so that, should he suddenly open his eyes, he would not see her flushed face.
She watched, enthralled, as Nomura-baasan set about the preliminaries of the ceremony—laying out the cups and various other items in their proper places, drawing the hot water from the quietly bubbling pot, wiping the first cup with a linen cloth as pure blue as a cloudless midsummer sky—all in a smoothly unfolding story of graceful arms and precise hands that told her the old woman was an expert chajin.
"Please." The old woman favored them with another deep bow. "Partake of the wagashi as you wish."
Megumi hesitated. She was no longer certain if she even existed in this still, silent room—in the deep, rich world of a history and a shared tradition known only dimly to her—that the old woman and her Okashira had seemed to conjure between themselves, in these long minutes of nothing but thought and emotion, conveyed with silent, unmistakable power in the lines of every perfect movement.
Beside her, Aoshi nodded calmly and reached for another piece, this time a white bellflower.
At Nomura-baasan's benevolent smile, Megumi reluctantly chose a lily. She was almost sorry to dispose of the pale pearl-like glaze that glowed in the afternoon sunlight.
Again, it was Aoshi who was served first, the old woman bowing deferentially as she set before him the blue half-glazed cup. Then it was Megumi's turn, and she ran the hot, pure liquid over her tongue slowly, luxuriating in the delicate, fleeting flavor of shakuyaku overlying the bitter notes of the tea.
"You are certainly very talented, Obaasan," murmured Megumi gratefully, as the old woman put away the last of the utensils. "I thank you for including me in this service."
Nomura-baasan beamed at her. "For such honored guests, I am ashamed to offer only a humble chakai."
She spoke to Megumi, but the brown eyes still bright in her old age strayed unerringly to Aoshi, who had remained staring wordlessly at the floor upon the conclusion of the ceremony. As though sensing her gaze on him, Aoshi spoke.
"Your undiminished skill raises even this simple activity to its true form as art, Miki-san. I see no need for more formalities between us." As the old lady eyed him sharply, he gave Megumi the briefest of glances. "Takani-san is well aware of our past existence."
Megumi felt the blush creeping into her cheeks again as the old woman turned to give her an altogether different smile—the likes of which she had never given Megumi before, one that curved more slowly, more thoughtfully. "I see. You met in Tokyo, did you not? Two years ago?"
"Aa."
The old woman gave Megumi a slight bow. "I see," she said again.
Aoshi rose slowly to his feet. "I should like to discuss some matters now with Omatsu-san."
"Certainly. At this time of the afternoon he should be—" But Nomori-baasan cut herself off; with a half smile, she lowered her gaze before Aoshi. "But of course you would know where he would be at this time, Shinomori-sama. Nothing has changed."
Aoshi bowed wordlessly to both of them before turning and proceeding to the grounds; to Megumi he did appear to know exactly where he was going, as he set off without hesitation on one of the stone trails that wound around the pond.
She turned her head automatically as the old woman's voice broke the pause. "I must ask you to return these to him, Megumi-san." Nomura-baasan held out the small, solid wooden box in which the obori soma had been neatly replaced. Her sharp eyes searched Megumi's as the younger woman accepted the box without a word. "You do appear to be friends."
Megumi smiled. "Do we, Obaasan? I thank you." She glanced out again, where the tall, black-suited figure towered over the graceful reeds by the spring. "But I must confess, in honesty, that although I have known him for more than two years, I have yet to understand how it is to be truly a friend of his."
The old woman chuckled and patted Megumi's hand—a thoroughly unexpected gesture of affection that brought the doctor up short. "That is no fault of yours. I have known him for over twelve years myself, and still he does not inform me if his business brings him to this town; still it is the most I can do to stop him in the street and offer him a simple tea ceremony. But he trusts you"—she chuckled again as Megumi turned to stare at her in disbelief—"yes, he trusts you and regards you as he does few others. That is why I would like to make of you a request, Megumi-san, and I can only hope that our friendship will be enough to bring you to fulfill it."
"What is it, Obaasan?" asked Megumi patiently. Indeed, the old woman had been a friend to her since she had first moved back to Aizu two years ago, supplying her with plants and roots from Oyakuen as she needed, teaching her herb lore she could find in no books from the West, understanding with an amazing ease when to talk to her and when to leave her to herself.
It was Nomura-baasan who had explained to her one day, as she idled by the flowerbeds, the old meanings of various flowers. Wisteria was a traditional symbol of summer and stood for poetry and youth. Lotuses, blooming in midsummer, spoke of the past, the present, and the future all coming together. The iris was the emblem of the warrior. The lily evoked feminine purity, the white bellflower gratitude. And the shakuyaku celebrated female beauty, longevity, and...
...and fecundity and marital happiness. Megumi frowned.
She had quite forgotten; she had only listened politely to what she later dismissed as folk wisdom no longer to be taken seriously. But then, Aoshi no doubt shared in the arcane, traditional knowledge Nomura Miki possessed. Megumi made a mental note to ask him about it later.
Smiling, Nomura-baasan turned to gaze out at the garden. Across the glassy pond, two figures conversed in the shade of a paulownia tree—one tall and proudly straight, the other smaller and somewhat stooped with age, but with his head inclined respectfully to his companion.
"As Okashira, he made the decision to lose the Oniwabanshuu to the shadows of history. We left his charge a long time ago to lift the burden of our lives from his shoulders. To him, we are but remnants of a mottled past that must now fade before the changes of the present. And we are too old and too distant, our children too ignorant and made to stay ignorant, of all that made even the thought of them possible."
She sighed, closing her eyes. Concerned, Megumi laid a hand on her shoulder, but her eyes flew open immediately and she patted Megumi's hand again, smiling.
"He is no longer Okashira, except to us who like to cling to our memories. But he still tends to think like an Okashira—still imagines hundreds of fates hinging upon his own. After all, one so well and fully taught will not easily forget his lessons."
"Nomura-baasan," faltered Megumi, unsure where she was going.
"So I would like to ask you this." The old woman's smile was still kind, but her gaze was clear and keen as it fixed on Megumi. "I would ask this of no lesser woman. Take care of the Okashira."
Megumi's eyes narrowed.
"Obaasan, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you have been mistaken—"
The old woman laughed—no, cackled, and Megumi trailed off uncertainly.
"Megumi-san, I am not mistaken." Nomura-baasan's tone brooked no argument as she folded both Megumi's hands in her own. "But don't worry," she added quickly, seeing Megumi glance away. "As I said, I would ask this of no lesser woman. A lesser woman would misunderstand that there are many ways to care for another." As Megumi stared back at her, she chuckled again, eyes crinkling amid the myriad other wrinkles in her face. "There, you see? You do not misunderstand."
"Takani-san. When would it be best to stop by your house for the feverfew cuttings I asked of you?"
Megumi tore her gaze away from the serenely smiling old woman beside her to look up into Aoshi's dark eyes. "I, uh... see no trouble in going immediately, Aoshi-san."
"Very well." He bowed to the old lady as Megumi hurriedly stood up and put on her geta. "My gratitude to you stems from the heart, Miki-san. I am sorry to have imposed on you today."
"As I said earlier, Shinomori-sama, the slightest service I can do for you gives me the greatest honor." The old woman bowed in return. "I wish you well on your journeys, and hope they bring you here once again."
"I apologize on her behalf," muttered Aoshi as he and Megumi strode away from the teahouse. "I had forgotten how she and Okina sometimes seem cut from the same cloth." He sounded faintly embarrassed. "She told me nothing about serving shakuyaku in the tea."
Megumi hid it in her hair, but she had no doubt Aoshi could still sense her slight, amused smile.
~ tsuzuku ~
A/N. Egregious erratum. I'm just thankful no one noticed, heh-heh, but in the first chapter (not the prologue) I gave two different names for our annoying ol' Lady Matchmaker: first Oshihara, then Orihara. I remember I decided the latter rolled more easily off the tongue... but then I forgot to replace its earlier instance. So. ^.^; Will save replacing that chapter for a more energized time (read: lazy-ass bum ^.^). But for now, she stands firmly named: Orihara. Sorry for the inconsistency and the forgetfulness.
Regarding the "gleaming stone paths": Traditionally, the big blobs of stone that mark garden paths are wet regularly with water to make them stand out from the quiet matte tones around them.
Offhand, it was a bit rude of Aoshi to have invited Megumi to the ceremony when it was Nomura and not him who was the host; but as Aoshi is still Okashira to the old lady, I'd suppose he can pull rank in this case, and anyway the proverbial Nice Wise Old Lady character wouldn't dream of making Megumi go away, ne?
Huge bouquets of white bellflowers to my kind reviewers... Tasya: Yup, this does seem to be THE MFEO couple of RK, ne? All it takes is a little work to bring it out. ^.^ cheryl: Thanks for the support! ChiisaiLammy, mij: Manalive… you do not know how long I lasted on your supernice praise. ^.^; Buckets of gratitude for your appreciation. On the flipside, though… now I'm so going to be paranoid about the rest of the story not meeting your high standards. @.@ hehe will try hard as ever to meet them, of course. I write to please. ^.^ Cherie Dee, eriesalia: Hmm, great minds think alike? ^.^ Yes, Megumi does seem to have a lot on her plate… poor fox… I really am too hard on her. Soon, soon, the angst-fest should be pouncing on Aoshi this time. Things ought to be equal. And "subtly sexy," eriesalia-sama? Hee hee! I sure hope so! ^.^