Sleepwalker, chapter 6--the widening gyre, part 1
NOTE: several instances of Jin x Yuki--yes, that's male x male-- sex in this chapter; be warned.
Usual disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Samurai Champloo, which are owned and (c) 2004-5 and into perpetuity by Manglobe, Simoigusa Champloos and Watanabe-sensei: but gods, I don't know what I'd do without them.
Especial and particular gratitude this time to my sister in crime ArielTheTempest, without whom several important parts of this chapter would not be. Arigato gozaimasu, shimai.
Usual anachronism notes at the end; edited July 2009 to prune the worst of the fangirl Japanese.
(--and roadkill and dakameleon can just kiss my angst-ridden yaoi fangirl ass. )
Ichigatsu to Gogatsu (January to May), 1672.
A long time later, when he could again remember anything that had happened at the Mujuu, Jin knew that 1672 had been the happiest year of his life.
His teaching career could not have gotten off to a better start. The nanadan masters, Sengai and Jisho--the dojo's senior instructors, second in rank only to Mariya Enshirou--had both expressed their warm approval of his new status and promised any support he needed (as well as privately offering grateful thanks for the lessened burden on themselves). Confronting his first class had been slightly awkward, but he had prepared himself carefully: he had spent days meditating not only on the written teachings but on everything Mariya-dono and Niwa-dono had ever told him, and when he stepped out in front of the junior students he felt calm and clear about what they most needed to know.
He had never addressed so many people before, and had to take a very deep breath to ground himself when faced by that rank of attentive eyes, but his voice was even and steady. "Studying the mujuushin-kenjutsu-ryu is actually studying yourself. You will be learning how the blade becomes part of you and expresses your intent in different situations." (So far, so good: they were all listening, and didn't look confused.) "So the first thing I want you to do is stand up and let me observe your balance. Rise, please."
Obediently, they all did. He walked around the group carefully assessing how they stood, some squarely and with chins boldly raised, some humbly with downcast eyes, intent on showing their respect. One had a heel that didn't quite set down flat; a riding accident, he said…
"Jin-san?"
(Raised eyebrow. That was rather rude: he was entitled to "Master" or "Sempai" at the very least. But it wouldn't do to start by disputing such a minor detail.)
He checked his list: that would be Azuma Ichiban. "--Azuma-kun?"
"Master Jisho teaches this class. Is he ill today?"
"No, he's assigned your class to me. I will be your teacher from now on."
"Master Jisho is a nanadan sensei."
Well, that explained the rudeness. And, quite plainly in the polite, cool little voice, you aren't. --The masters had warned him about this: most of the dojo's students were either serious and dedicated kenjutsu purists, who spoke in hushed tones of Masamune and regarded attending the Mujuu as a form of monastic devotions; or sons of wealthy samurai families, who could afford to have their sons learn a refined and esoteric discipline rather than one more practical, and insisted on their getting the best treatment. Here he apparently had one of the second sort…
Refuse to be affected by distractions: see them, note them, let them go. Jin's voice was as calm as the willow pond. "And as such, he knows who is capable of teaching this material. I suggest you respect his judgment." Still examining the stance of the boy with the shortened leg, he saw from the corner of his eye Jisho-dono smiling as he left his observation point by the door. There was a flurry of whispers in the room, and Jin had no further challenges.
What he did have was a rather pleasant surprise: admirers. The young students he'd been placed in charge of (he had two sessions of them, one aged about 9-12 and one 13-15) were newly arrived at the Mujuu, and knew his reputation only at a distance, if at all. Learning first-hand that the gorgon of the dojo legends was rather more civil in person, and in fact more patient with a novice's stumbles than the nanadan, they began to like him--respectfully, of course--and made no secret of it. He had their serious attention from beginning to end of each session (and, he began to suspect, more than one romantic crush as well). Moreover, the older students, hearing the juniors' talk, began to take a second look at him themselves, and suggest to each other that maybe that year of outside training really had made a difference. The general climate around him, as a result, became warmer than he could ever remember, and that was rather pleasant as well.
He couldn't help feeling he deserved it, since it came about as a result of hard and diligent work. Determined to be worthy of the school's faith in him, he'd set out to bridge the distance he still felt between himself and others. He learned all his students' names and made certain to neglect none, schooling himself in patience with the slowest and shyest, reminding himself of the boys he had trained with and how long they had taken to grasp their lessons. It was strange to reflect that he had never been like them: even at their age he had been so far ahead that his own memories gave him no clue to their minds. He still wasn't, could not be, like anyone else--he felt that even more clearly now that he was home--but he could at least behave as if they all stood on common ground, and practice what he'd learned. That too was work, but the best kind.
And the new position wasn't the only bright spot in Jin's life. The confrontation with Saisashi had broken some barrier for both Yukimaru and himself; the sight of him held no more unease for either of them, and sensing his lost power he drifted away from their orbit. They could walk the dojo grounds together from end to end without stepping on his shadow even once, and that was a great relief, because they walked together every day now…
Which of course was the best thing of all.
As he'd expected, Yuki became one of his students, and would be so for the next half-year, until he turned 16. This--they both understood--must make them a bit more discreet in their meetings: courtship between older and younger students was commonplace, but between master and pupil it might appear as favoritism or worse. So, openly, all they ever did together was walk back to Jin's quarters together after class, talking of ordinary things, and politely and pointedly bowing each other farewell at the doorstep. It would only be later that Yuki would vanish from the juniors' rooms (his classmates, no doubt, graciously pretending not to notice) and take the back way to the main building where the masters lived. As it happened, one of the few benefits the Mujuu could offer its instructors was private living quarters, small but comfortable, and Yuki had made the acquaintance of Jin's new space the same night he'd moved into it. It was only a little larger than his old one, but it was his alone, and these cold evenings the best part of his day was lighting the lamp and waiting for Yuki's tap on the screen.
They didn't become lovers at once. There was no reason to hurry, and neither wanted to; it seemed much more important to know each other, share this unspoken feeling that this was no mere season's romance. So they sat and talked together, and combed each other's hair, or lit the oil warmer and rubbed the day's knots out of tired arms and shoulders. But Yuki did teach him to kiss--a rather exotic skill he was impishly proud of; he'd been taught it, he confided, by a roguish and well-traveled cousin--and those hours were so intimate and sweet that his remembered nights with Niwa-dono seemed formal by comparison. Jin would listen to Yuki breathe in his sleep, in the pre-dawn quiet before he must go, and think what a paradox he was: a shameless flirt but an innocent, both longing and shy. It was strange to realize that he, Jin, was now the older partner, an experienced onii-san expected to take the lead, when he had been an untouched innocent himself so little time ago. But he'd been treated with love and dignity as well as desire, opened to this world in a way whose memory still made him shiver with pleasure, and he would not give Yuki anything less. They would be; they promised each other they would be. But in good time.
It was on one of these evenings together that a page came to Jin's door, with the message that he was requested to meet with the Master. It came as a surprise: he had talked to Mariya-dono just that morning and he'd made no mention of anything they needed to discuss. Yuki glanced up, stopping his tortoise-shell biwa pick in mid-stroke. (Modest about his skill on the instrument, he was delighted that Jin genuinely enjoyed hearing him play.)
"Should I go?"
Jin frowned slightly. The only shadow on his mind for weeks now had been the Master's coolness to him since the test; he had examined and re-examined every moment of the test without a clue… "Maybe so. I don't know how long this might take. I'm sorry; I have no idea what it's about."
Yuki felt a twinge of disappointment at losing such a pleasant evening. Jin looked too distracted and concerned to even suggest a kiss goodnight. He brushed the disappointment aside before it could be noticed: of course, Jin's responsibility to the Master came first. "It must be important, or he wouldn't send for you like this." He laid the bachi back in the biwa's case. "I'll see you tomorrow, big brother."
"Good night, little brother." He managed, at least, his usual shade of a smile.
Mariya-dono was sitting at the desk of his study when Jin entered, and gestured him to sit without preamble.
"In looking through papers this evening, I was reminded of a piece of business I've been intending to discuss with you. This seems a good time to do so."
(It does?) Jin inclined his head politely. "Yes, shishou."
He drew a folded document, sealed with red cord and sealing wax, out of the paperwork and set it on the desk before Jin. "This is the deed to your father's property in Kai. It was left to me as your guardian, but it rightfully belongs to you. As you're now of age, you must decide what's to be done with it." He cleared his throat; his voice was oddly controlled, more formal than was usual between them. His reading-glasses caught the lamplight, making his eyes for a moment unseeable.
"Considering its history, no one would wonder if you didn't wish to live there--"
(Live there? Where--he had to hold himself very still to avoid a shudder--where his family had been butchered, and he left a dazed and mute orphan all these years past? Live there? He doubted he could even step through the door.)
"--but it's a valuable piece of land. It would bring a good deal of money, if you chose to sell it." He was not looking at Jin. "Enough for you to live anywhere you please."
Very carefully, trying to read Mariya-dono's tone. "But I live here, Master."
Mariya gestured wearily at his paper-laden desk. "Both you and I, but I wonder how long." Deep sigh. "You're a skilled and talented young man, Jin. Now that you're certified to teach, you'd be welcome at any school you chose. No one would blame you if you sought a position with more advantage, at a dojo, perhaps, more successful than this one…"
The too-controlled voice had an edge of dark bitterness, and Jin knew this was no longer --had it ever been--about his father's property in Kai. The Master was offering him a chance to leave, and that might be generosity or despair, but why would he think Jin wanted to leave, or--surely it wasn't the Master who--
He made up his mind at once. "Then I will sign the property over to you, shishou, to be sold for the good of the dojo."
For the first time, as far as Jin knew, Mariya Enshirou was taken completely by surprise. He stopped in the middle of his next word, staring at Jin, speechless.
"You're quite certain?"
"Absolutely." Jin met his eyes without hesitation. "I have no desire to leave the Mujuu."
"You understand that this is your only inheritance. And your teaching salary would barely support you outside the dojo." He paused, his keen eyes searching Jin's face for any shade of doubt. "If you do this, you give your whole life to Mujuushin kenjutsu."
"If you have a brush, I'll sign it now."
"...so be it." Mariya lowered his eyes; there was a long silence. "Thank you, Jin. I should have expected no less of you."
Inclined his head "--Master." But they hadn't settled the real matter at hand. He took the moment's advantage, there would be no better time to get an answer than now, but…
"Shishou..." he hardly knew how to ask it…"if something is wrong, or I've done anything to displease you…"
Another long silence. "I have known Niwa Juunosuke for twenty years. He is one of my closest colleagues and friends, yet he could not summon the courage to tell me that he'd fallen in love with you. When I saw him taking his leave of you, I could not help but wonder if there was something you, too, hadn't told me..." He shook his head. "Forgive me. I'm ashamed to have suspected such things of you. But a man in difficulties can see betrayal in the smallest shadow."
He was too taken aback to say more than "Of course." It was the only thing he hadn't considered, the only moment of the testing day he hadn't weighed for its possible effect on Mariya-dono, because it was the only thing he would never have imagined the man had seen. He could only guess what the Master had thought…
He suddenly felt something he had never, ever expected to feel for his formidable master: compassion, almost pity. He thought he was losing us both; he feared his adopted son and his old friend had both turned against him, robbing him of something he couldn't replace. Was the dojo in such trouble as that? He felt the strangest urge to reassure him, to set his mind at ease, as if he had become the older and wiser man of the two.
He deepened his breathing: his voice came out even and calm. "I had a good year at Gojuu Hall, yes. And I treasure my friendship with Niwa-dono and his family, who were so kind to me. But Niwa Juunosuke is not my father, and Gojuu Hall is not my home. Those things are here. They always will be."
"He didn't ask you, then…to return with him, or teach there."
"No, shishou. And if he had I would not have accepted. My place is here."
Mariya nodded, eyes closed. Very quietly, "I am most grateful, my son."
"At your service, father."
After a moment, his master indicated the sealed document. "You should read that."
Jin broke the wax seal with his thumbnail and opened the folded sheets. They described, as expected, the house, grounds and outbuildings in detail, together with whatever property no other clan members or aligned families had seen fit to make off with in the time the house had stood unoccupied, with a page of beautifully executed ink drawings for good measure. He skimmed through it, sure that anything he might have wanted had been looted by now, beyond recall or reclamation. It hardly mattered. This branch of House Takeda ended with him; he already doubted he'd ever want to expose a wife and children to the unpredictable hatred of the Shogunate.
--no, wait. "Master? There was one thing at the house--a keepsake of my father's..."
He knew what Jin meant. "I sent someone to look not long after you arrived here. It was already missing even then."
Even that was gone. His instinct was true; the house held no trace of his childhood, nothing of value to him any more. He slid the brush and ink closer to his side of the desk, looked for the line marked for signature.
"Make sure to sign your full name," added Mariya, and he took a second to remember: of course.
Just before he'd gone to Gojuu Hall, Mariya had called him in and told him there was a last thing to do: he was to be given his adult name. He had been only "Jin" to his mother and father from birth, the short, good-luck name of childhood that's replaced in one's teens by the formal name one will carry throughout life. His father should have been the one to name him, and he should in turn have consulted with other clan heads or even the Shogun for the right combination of syllables to mark him as who he was, bring him both fortune and prestige. Now no one could do that but Mariya-san, who had decided to see to it before sending him off, as a gesture of confidence in him. Jin had felt slightly uncomfortable, but one wasn't allowed to dispute the name chosen for one… he picked up the brush: Takeda Izumiyori. Slight smile: izumi-yori, "fountain of requests". Wishing well. It spoke so plainly of the Master's hopes for him…
The Master adjusted his glasses and examined the document carefully. It wasn't until he had co-signed, folded and ensleeved the paperwork that Jin said anything more, feeling both concerned and entitled to know: the Mujuu's fate and his had now, after all, become one and the same. "Is the Mujuu in such difficulty, Master?"
Sigh. "It is. We lose students and don't replace them. All schools are declining, but ours has always appealed to a more select class than most, and more and more they regard learning the sword at all as a luxury. But we still require food, and clothing, and repairs to the roof, as much as we ever have, however we're to pay for it… " Annoyed shake of the head. "The junior students already complain about the laundry and the kitchen work; I can imagine them if we assign them gardening or stable chores. And if enough of their fathers hear about it, we'll lose them as well. Which we can't afford." He rubbed the tight spot between his eyes. "I hope you never regret the thing you've just done, though you have my deepest gratitude for it."
"I'm sure I won't. Ever."
A tired smile lit the swordmaster's stern features; he stood. "I don't mean to burden you with these troubles. Enough talk for one night." He rested his hands on the tall boy's shoulders as he stood. "Good night, dear son. You are the best fortune the Mujushin kenjutsu has ever had."
Jin closed his eyes, absorbed the touch in quiet contentment. "Good night, father."
Mariya picked up another document from the desk as the door slid shut, looked after him thoughtfully. A property deed like the first, sealed with wax, and red silk tassels. Indeed, you've given your life to the Mujuu…the least I can do is give it to you in turn…
"But the interesting thing is that he almost embraced me. He hasn't touched me that way in ten years." He and Yuki were walking back from the next day's classes. "I can't help but wonder if he's trying to understand what Niwa-dono gave me that he didn't…"
Yuki smothered a half-gasp-laugh. "What! Do you think he'll offer to sleep with you?"
"No, I wouldn't think that. But…"--slightly wistful--"it would be nice if we were a little more close. He was very kind to me when I was small." They had reached Yuki's door; Yuki on impulse caught his sleeve.
"You've never met any of my friends. Come in."
Jin hadn't been in the junior students' quarters since he was one himself, and observed with mixed feelings the crowded yet cozy and busy warmth of the place. It had never seemed so friendly when he lived here…
Yuki steered him down the row to his space and glanced around with satisfaction.
"Ah, they're all here. --Hey, everyone."
"Yuki-chan! Have a seat. Tadayo's family sent him--oh!"
They were all staring at Jin, who didn't know what to do. Yuki intervened. "I wanted him to meet you, so don't be rude. Jin-san, this is Tadayo and Hiroshi, and Akinori." Aki was the newest member of the pack, having met Yuki soon after transferring from another dojo, and he was the one giving Jin the most awestruck stare. "Aki'll probably be transferring into your class soon-- Jisho-dono says his last dojo training gave him two left feet." Playful nudge.
"I'm honored to meet you, Takeda-dono," stammered Akinori, bowing, and all followed suit. Jin accepted, bowing back, a little uncomfortable—this seemed a bit too much deference outside of the dojo floor. But Yuki dropped onto his futon and motioned Jin to sit as well.
"Let's not be so formal, all right? What were you starting to tell me?"
Hiroshi was about to repeat what he'd been saying when he noticed Jin's eye had been caught by the ukiyo-e poster that occupied the place of honor above Yuki's futon. He grinned. "Did Yuki not tell you about his other hero, Jin-dono?"
"..Please. Jin-san is fine."
"As you like." (This was the closest Hiroshi had ever been to the legendary Dojo Ghost, and no question, he was an odd one; he was sitting uneasily and contained, all angles, as though he'd never hung around with a pack of kids in his life. Which, come to think, he likely hadn't.) "Anyway—"
"Anyway, that is the legendary Genjo, Yuki's lifelong, desperate crush—"
"Tadayo!" Yuki reddened and looked for something to throw at him
Hiroshi leaned his head closer to Jin's and explained calmly –and the ghost smelled smoky and sweet like a cool night in a pine forest—"that's Genjo; he's a master of the heike-biwa. Major hero of Yuki's. He's seen him perform a dozen times, knows all about him. I think, next to his grandfather's sword, that autograph is his greatest treasure." --Jin took a closer look at the poster, which depicted a handsome young man in elegant court dress, strolling in a garden and playing the biwa. Sure enough, it was signed in a lower corner, in a swoosh of gilt ink: "To Yukimaru, with best wishes, Genjo." (Jin also noted with amusement that the pretty silver-embroidered green pattern of Yuki's biwa shoulder-strap was in fact a copy of the heike master's.)
Yuki, having found no missile, looked up and met Jin's gaze half-defiantly. "All right, now you know. Go ahead and say it's silly."
"I can't see anything wrong in admiring a performer." (He'd barely even heard of such things, truth be told.) "Especially since you play, yourself. I've studied other fighters that I thought especially skilled."
"Don't bet you hung their picture on your wall, though," undertoned Tadayo, grinning, and Yuki was about to resume his search when a voice was raised at the end of the dormitory, firmly and indignantly.
"--because Takeda-dono has been kinder to me than anyone, and never calls me a cripple who's wasting the dojo's time, like some people. I won't have you disrespect him!"
"Probably Terasaki and Azuma," Jin sighed, "he doesn't think I warrant any courtesy."
There was a sudden loud crack of bokken, and the startled group scrambled to its feet at once--the quarrel had become more than a mere argument. As Jin had guessed, it was Terasaki Jiro, the boy with the shortened leg, squared off with Azuma Ichiban. They circled, cracked blades again.
Hiroshi tossed a worried glance at Jin. "Fighting's not allowed in the rooms, is it?--"
But Jin was examining the duel with a calm, keen eye.
"Akinori-kun--" the thoughtful voice carried further than you'd expect--"what would you say is the worst mistake Azuma-kun is making?"
"The worst mistake? Fighting in anger." The tall boy's slightly wry tone suggested he'd been called on this point himself; Jin noted it with a raised eyebrow.
"Good, but no. Terasaki-kun is making that mistake as well. --Yukimaru-kun?"
"Underestimating his opponent," Yuki replied without hesitation. "Terasaki's defense work is exceptional, his hands are quick, and his reach is longer than Azuma's. That balances out his size and uneven stance. "
"Very good, Yukimaru-kun." By now the fighters were aware they were being made examples of--as was everyone else; the whole dorm was on its feet craning for a better look--and had ceased, stood panting and glaring at each other as Jin strode down the aisle toward them.
"You do underestimate Terasaki-kun. His next strike would have easily passed your defense, and we'd be bandaging your skull tonight. Learn from this. --And you--" he turned to his defender--"know better than to argue with weapons. Give me those and withdraw."
They silently handed him the bokken and turned to go; Jin caught Jiro, added quietly, "Thank you, Terasaki-kun, but I can defend my own honor. You needn't fight for me."
The boy's expression said he would fight for Jin all the way to the gates of hell, but he stepped back with a deep bow. "Yes, Takeda-dono."
The snow had begin to fall before Jin left the junior students' quarters, and was almost ankle-deep by the time Yuki made his way to Jin's room later that night. Jin had lit a new hour-candle and set it as close to the futon as was safe, and the room was cozy and sweet with the honey smell of beeswax. Yuki was curled up on Jin's shoulder, and Jin was agreeing with him.
"It's true, people are much different toward me now. I think it's because…for a long time, really, I hardly spoke to anyone, and they had no idea what I was like. It's only since I've been back from Gojuu Hall and began teaching that I've dealt with people every day. I think they're surprised that I somehow turned into a human while I was gone."
Yuki chuckled. "The first night I talked to you, I heard a stack of ghost stories about you from my roommates, practically a whole book's worth. They even told me your great-great-something-grandmother was a kitsune."
"That one's true."
Yuki sat up and stared at him wide-eyed. "You don't mean it!"
"No, it really is. At least, the family history says it is." Jin reached up and drew him back down. "She was my great-great-grandmother. Suwa Yorishige's daughter, Lady Koi."
"Tell me!" Yuki snuggled back into place quickly, big eyes alight. Jin tilted his head, looked at him with a smile.
"This really has you hooked. You're quite charming this way."
"I love stories. When you learn the biwa you learn so many old tales. I always loved the ghosts of the Heike…" delicious shiver. "Tell it to me."
Jin tucked an arm around him. "Takeda Shingen defeated Suwa-san in battle and drove him to suicide. His daughter was so beautiful that Shingen married her, though she was only 14 and her mother was Shingen's sister. She went to the family shrine, it's said, and begged the White Fox to help her avenge her father, and the spirit heard, and gave her power. Shingen was so fascinated by her that he never refused her anything… the whole household thought she'd bewitched him." Jin traced a finger down Yuki's forehead and nose, slowly across his lips. "That might not be so, but Katsuyori, his son from her, did become his favorite and his heir. He even named him after her rather than after himself-- 'Yori' was an old Suwa family name. And Takeda Katsuyori was my great-grandfather."
"..ooh." Yuki nibbled the finger. "Maybe that's why you like to bite me…"
"At least I try not to mark you. And I don't think that has to do with my fox blood. If I really have any."
"Oh, don't deny it." Yuki folded both arms around him. "I had a cousin who used to enjoy scaring me with ghost stories, and there was a lot about kitsunes and vengeful women, and I loved that tingling feeling up my spine. Just the way I love the Heike Monogatari, and the Taira spirits rising from the sea. And now I find out--" he nosed Jin's neck, kissed the soft spot under his ear--"you're part of that whole crazy, beautiful world. See, I keep telling you you're wonderful."
Jin drew them together, and they kissed gently and seriously. Yuki sighed, eyes closed. "Don't they say.." dreamily, drawing his fingers slowly through Jin's long sleek hair--"that kitsune are dangerous lovers, because once you've been with one, no one else will ever please you?.."
"Perhaps.." the sea-grey eyes were half-closed. "And you still aren't afraid to kiss me?"
"It doesn't matter. I already know I don't want anyone but you."
Jin kissed his forehead, touched his nose in light reproof. "Yuki, you're just 15, and you're beautiful. It's too soon to say I'll be your one and only love."
(Yet even as he said this sensible thing he felt himself bristle just a bit: of course, he was Yuki's true love. He had won him in fair combat with a rival, and by Yuki's own choice. Maybe, sometime years from now, he might love another…but Jin didn't care to think about that…)
And Yuki was looking into his face, his black hair loose, the dark eyes wide and serious. "You don't believe the story?"
He was so completely adorable that all such thoughts vanished. Jin gathered him in close and held him tight. "Yes, I believe it. I promise. Once you and I become lovers we will never want anyone else, ever, till the end of time."
Yuki returned the embrace, drew back far enough to see his face, eyes now sparkling. "Then why should we wait? Surely--" he glanced toward the door, the silent shadows of snowflakes falling--"you aren't sending me out in the snow tonight?"
And something changed quietly in the room between them, in their eyes, and Jin thought, why should we…?
"All right. Let me say this, so you'll know." He raised himself up over Yuki, arms braced on either side of him. "Kitsune are very possessive. They give everything, but they want everything, and they mate for life." He didn't know where this came from as it poured from him; it was as if he'd known it always. "A kitsune who loves you will protect you, and defend you, and give you everything he can find in his heart to give anyone. Because it's only human touch that reminds them they aren't beasts." He leaned close enough to Yuki to feel the boy's warm breath, see the depths of his eyes. "But betray him, lie to him, break faith with him in any way, and he will forget. He'll forget. And terrible things happen then."
"I never will," Yuki whispered, eyes not wavering from his.
"Ten thousand died at Nagashino to give a fox girl her revenge. A beast's revenge. You understand?" He shivered; it was as if a shadow, a wind from the other world passed through the room. The candle flickered. "It was her broken heart that caused it…"
"You scare me. I love you. I always will love you." Yuki reached up, wound his arms around Jin's neck. "My beautiful ghost."
Jin closed his eyes. He'd known he could be trusted. He was strong enough. He released a long breath, sank into the warm, close embrace.
"…my Snowflake."
And this too he would remember: that the first night they had gone beyond a kiss, it was snowing, and the snow seemed to hush all sound. It was their ally, helping to keep their secret, as they stroked and caressed each other and could not, though they tried, remain silent.
"Ohhh--oh Jin--" Yuki pressed into him, into the strong fingers that closed around him, moved on him with sure experience. The sensation was exquisite and maddening---he wanted more of it, much more--
"Shhh."
'I can't, I--" It was nothing like touching yourself: he was in Jin's hands, moving, responding, his senses flooded with the warmth of his presence, the smell of honey and his skin and his own desire. He stopped thinking, lost everything but breath and sensation, gasped as Jin drew them closer--
"--I'm allowed to touch you too?" There were, he somehow remembered, rules for this--
Slow deep breath. "-- please."
The last time he had done this he had felt like weeping, because they had been parting, he and Niwa-dono, and he had ached to think of losing him, of leaving his warm house and his voice and this deep, breathtaking pleasure--but this one was his own, his to keep, and he felt nothing but joy. He trembled as the boy's warm fingers slid down his stomach--so different, no less beautiful--
--scent of honey and salt and musk, hot, wet skin--
--and Yuki clutched him close with a high, sharp cry, shuddered, flowed through his fingers, his grip on Jin tightening at just the right instant. He groaned, let himself groan, the deep sound shaking through him, and gave, gave gladly, his whole heart open now. My Yuki. Mine.
And then just their breathing in the quiet of the snow.
("I'd let you inside me...if you want to…" he stroked Jin slowly and tenderly, admiring. Bright-eyed and glowing, he looked not at all finished for the night. "I'm not afraid."
"No--" Jin stretched lazily under the warm caress--"that's too important to do lightly. We should save it until we can take our time." Sigh. "And until the nanadan aren't asleep on both sides of us…"
Yuki had to giggle. "I hope they enjoyed hearing it."
"Yuki.")
Jin's good luck held; a buyer was soon found for the Kai property, and while the price was not extravagant, it was enough to pay the Mujuu's standing debts and see them through the worst of the winter, even to patch the leaking roofs. Jin accompanied Mariya-dono into Edo for the day --Kisarazu, the Mujuu's nearest town, was directly across the bay from the great city, so it was no more than a morning's walk and a ferry ride--to settle the completion of the sale and sign the final papers. And while there, he saw something..
He wouldn't even have noticed it a week ago, but now it caught his eye at once. The kawara-ban board that greeted all arrivals coming by the Tokaido Road, covered with notices, advertisements and the latest news, bore in its center a large poster, decorated --the artwork was quite lovely--with the logo of a biwa in a wreath of plum and cherry blossoms.
GENJO
(the poster read),
SUMMER FESTIVAL TOUR 1672
His only performances this year!
An experience you'll never forget!
Certain to sell out--buy tickets now!
--and beneath it several glowing reviews and a list of venues. Yes--Jin scanned the list--he would be performing here in Edo, two nights, in fact…
...in the same week as Yuki's birthday.
It was clearly fate that he was here to see this now. He looked over the list of ticket prices and winced: they were steep for a junior instructor's salary. Well, Yuki had seen the artist perform before, he might not mind if they hadn't the best seats. Especially since they wouldn't want to travel right back to the Mujuu after the concert--they would be walking all night, and the ferry might not be running so late--and would require overnight lodgings in Edo. Jin sighed at his limited budget. At least they'd only need one room.
….now, that would be cozy, a room all to themselves, with no one to care if they weren't so quiet…the first privacy they'd ever had…
And then he knew what the rest of Yuki's birthday present ought to be.
He glanced at Mariya-dono, who was still negotiating the price of something with a stall owner, and took note of the nearest dealer of tickets, smiling to himself. He was forming a plan.
Winter passed away; the students scattered for the springbreak, and there were fewer of them at the beginning of the spring term. Again Mariya-dono found himself with a sheaf of polite but dismissive letters from families removing their sons from tuition, and his good humor of the winter, lightened by the support of the property sale, began to darken again. Jin, Sengai and Jisho learned to tread very lightly, to offer more than the usual courtesy and deference, and even then to look out for his moods.
It was uncomfortable to realize that his star seemed to be rising as surely as the Master's was faltering. He did not want, had never wanted, to gain anything at his shishou's expense, but there was no denying that he was nearly as popular an instructor as Mariya-dono himself; every week someone requested to be moved from Sengai and Jisho's classes into Jin's, and as the Master grew more short-tempered and difficult, Jin worried that they would leave his classes as well. He wanted no part of injuring Mariya-dono's pride, but he could surely not refuse to accept new students; and he couldn't deny, either, his own pride and satisfaction at his developing skill, the pleasure of watching young swordsmen learn and gain confidence in his care.
There was a dark voice in him that said he had suffered enough, that he should not always have to deprive himself for others, even for his Master. He silenced the voice, telling himself firmly that a samurai is a servant, and that it was disloyal even to think so of Mariya-dono, to whom he owed his whole life; but it remained there, a soft, stubborn growl, an animal's hunger deep in his heart. Is it so wrong, to want what one deserves? Is it wrong to even think of deserving? …
He spent many hours meditating on these thoughts, striving for balance and calm, and made sure never to set out for class before a session of deep breathing, the ajikan rhythm--to see the essence with the heart-- that Niwa-dono had taught him. Grounded and centered, knowing he would not be disturbed whatever occurred, he could work without worry or sense of conflict and concentrate himself in the purity of the Mujuu's discipline. He would walk slowly and thoughtfully to the dojo, observing the weather and the quality of the day, and be ready to face anything by the time he arrived.
Yuki could always tell when the morning's meditation had gone well, because Jin's entry to the dojo brought a tangible breath of calm, a spiritual lightness that relaxed everyone. As he stepped out before the class, Yuki could not help thinking of the haunted, half-healed Jin who had crept so quietly back to the Mujuu last winter. It is remarkable, what a few months of responsibility and simple kindness will do…
(..that, and a good many nights in a warm futon, he grinned wickedly to himself; I dare say I deserve at least a little of the credit for bringing him out of his shell…)
And then was startled alert: Jin was bowing deeply to the door. "Shishou, we're honored."
Mariya-dono was observing today's class? Yuki knew he hadn't told Jin--but then, the surprise was probably the point--he straightened up, prayed everyone would look alert and behave as they began. They adored Jin (well, all except Azuma-kun, and he was much outnumbered these days); surely they'd look out for him, even if the Master's gimlet stare made them all nervous as cats---
Jin was pacing the row of students, observing. "Slow down, Akinori-kun, you're losing the whole second half of the movement. You too, Tadayo-kun, yes, that's better. --Pay attention, Yukimaru-kun. (--with a lightning-quick glance to him that added ah, gods, keep us out of trouble here.)---Terasaki-kun, let me watch you a moment--"
Oh, Merciful One. Suddenly Yuki's whole spine went cold. Terasaki. He always took the longest, and Jin never stinted on time with him; the Master had never seen him work before--
He bit his lip. He'd talked to Jiro, and knew he'd been coldly dismissed by a dozen other teachers: told that he would never be a swordsman, despite his passionate dedication to kenjutsu, because of his injured leg. Jin was the first one to not only undertake his training but encourage and praise his efforts, and as a result his devotion to Jin knew no bounds. He'd cut his own throat if he caused Jin any trouble with the Master--
And he'd already drawn a sharp stare.
"I'm sorry, Takeda-dono--"
"It's all right." Jin's voice was calm, reassuring. "Try coming off the other foot. Shift your weight, there, then push off-- that was better. Try it again."
Yuki concentrated on the movement and tried to clear his mind of everything else--raise, quick step ahead, step back, lower, raise--but he couldn't keep the corner of an eye off Terasaki as the Master walked down the row.
"That was fine. Once more--"
"Who are you?" thundered Mariya-dono, stepping between Jin and Terasaki to glare directly at the boy.
"T-Terasaki Jiro, Master--"
"Terasaki Jiro, you've been a student here for two terms now, and that's all the progress you've made?"
Poor Jiro was speechless. The class continued drilling the move, but Yuki knew every one had an eye and an ear on the end of the row.
"No, don't bother to make an excuse--I read your father's letter." He walked around Jiro as if coldly assessing a lame horse offered for sale. "Look what we're forced to settle for. The Mujuushin Kenjutsu-ryu---our fine and subtle discipline---being taught to such crippled children as this." Jiro flinched as if physically struck. "Our Master, O-sensei Sekiun, offered it to his best students--men trained in the shinkage-ryu--and barely a handful of those truly understood it. We should have gifted students in this dojo, boys already too skilled for a lesser school. Instead---" he rounded on Jiro as if to spit at him, pulled the bokken out of his hand, threw it to the floor. "--we take whatever we can get and are grateful for it. We sell our art for nothing. To you."
He took a sudden step forward: Jiro cowered back, lost his balance, fell in a huddle to the floor. Mariya stood over him glowering terribly--
"Shishou."
Jin's voice was not raised, but it carried such force that every student stopped moving. There was total silence, broken only by the terrified whimpering of Terasaki Jiro.
Mariya stared at Jin, who bowed so deeply his hair nearly brushed the polished floor.
"Terasaki-kun is my student; the fault is therefore mine as well. I will endeavor to improve my instruction."
The words were courteous and the tone exactly level, but there was something in it that made everyone in the room catch his breath.
The Master stepped back, looked down at Terasaki, then at Jin, as if only now aware of their presence.
With obvious effort, he collected himself. "See that you do so." And strode for the door without glancing back.
There was a moment of stunned silence before anyone moved, and then it was Jin helping Jiro off the floor. "Terasaki-kun," very quietly, "you're excused. First and third breathing meditations--and wash your face. Come back after dinner and I'll work on that with you."
Terasaki looked as if he wanted to throw himself into Jin's arms and sob, but he drew himself up with heroic self-control, drew a long, shaky breath, and bowed. "Yes, master. I--thank you." He managed not to break into a run until the door closed behind him; they heard the fast scuff of his sandals as he fled the premises.
Jin straightened and looked around the room. Deep breath. "All right. Second kata, please. That will do for today."
The story streaked around the dojo, and by the evening meal it was the general consensus that Jin was a hero on par with Yoshitsune. Less generally admitted, though whispered by more than a few, was the sense of something uneasily wrong with Mariya Enshirou. Demanding, a perfectionist, he'd always been that way, but this…
Jin did not want to think about it. The Master had bullied a student--all but attacked him--and Jin had been forced to call him on it in front of everyone; he could hardly imagine an outcome further from what he'd wanted. He carried out Terasaki's remedial session as promised, accepted the boy's nearly tearful thanks once again, and holed up in his quarters with Yuki.
"Amitabha, this is bad…"
"You had to do that. If it makes the Master doubt your loyalty, he'd do better to think about what kind of impression he makes himself." Yuki was rubbing his back with warm oil, kimono and juban gathered down to his waist and his long crow-black hair trussed up with sticks trimmed in crystal and white coral beads--borrowed from Yuki, since Jin of course owned nothing of the sort. He looked so ethereally beautiful that Yuki had to remind himself this was a serious massage at least every five minutes.
Hojo Yukimaru, put a leash on it for once, he scolded himself. Remember what this is about. The Master in such a rage, and poor Jiro on the floor crying…I've never heard of such a scene in a high-class dojo…
Jin's head was lowered, his breathing heavy and troubled. "I don't want us to be rivals, but I see no way out of it. Niwa-dono told me that it was admirable to serve but not to serve blindly.. I would do anything for the Mujuu, but I can't ignore this. I can't."
"Of course you can't… What about the nanadan? Have you talked to them?"
"Not yet..."
Yuki gently kissed the back of his neck, pitying him: his distress was so deep and painful. He must hate to be in conflict with Mariya-dono, even think of fighting him: as badly as he's behaving he's still all the family Jin has…"Nii-san, masters and disciples often come to swordspoint. So do fathers and sons. There may not be another way."
He pressed his thumbs into the tight cords of the long graceful neck, rubbed steadily down to the knot between his shoulderblades, began to work in slow steady circles. Jin sighed gratefully.
"…This would be much harder if I were alone…"
Yuki was touched. "I'm glad I can help." Continued in silence for awhile, breathing the warm, soothing smell of the oil and the red sandalwood candles. By slow degrees Jin's back began to relax.
"Have you ever quarreled with your father?"
Yuki snorted. "My father? Ha. He doesn't take me seriously enough for that. If he argued with anyone it would be big brother Daigoro, and Dai would never contradict Father. No--" more oil--"I'm just the lastborn, Mama-san's baby. The Mujuu is the first place I've ever had any dignity at all."
"Even if your friends call you 'Yuki-chan' ?"
Smile. "Even with that, they'll still spar with me, and they don't ask what I'm doing here. They give me that much credit at least, that I can fight." Thought again of poor Jiro, of the way the Master had scorned him…how must that feel…
"Do you know anything about what's worrying the Master so much? --I mean, anything you can tell me?" he amended hastily; of course, some of their talks must be private.
Jin took a long time to reply, his voice slow and exhausted. "We've lost so many students...you heard him say that; the school needs money so badly that we have to accept whoever asks. Terasaki's first application was rejected, but Mariya-dono has been going through the old letters, inviting boys we refused before, and I know that hurts his pride. All of this hurts his pride: the dojo is his whole life." (Yuki did not need to know about the strange threat Gojuu Hall had received, and he knew enough about the Master's almost-jealousy of Niwa-dono…)
"Of course I don't question Mariya-dono, but...that doesn't seem like enough reason…"
"Please, let's not talk about it anymore." Jin buried his face in his hands.
Yuki decided to forget the leash.
"Maybe you'd let me distract you, then?.."
He'd never been in such control of anyone: Jin was too drained to insist on rules of status, and Yuki found his passive stillness intensely exciting. Actually dared to stretch out on him, kissing his way down from the sharp collarbones, slowly coaxing him back to the surface while he worked on the knots of Jin's fundoshi with one hand. Couldn't help pressing into him a little: oh, he felt good. And he knew it was working when Jin helped with the knots.
Yuki summoned up all he'd heard from his adventurous cousins (who had scandalized the family in the best brothels of Edo, and Mama-san had no idea he knew it), went on kissing as far down as he could slide, delighted with Jin's gasp and shudder. Kissed him very thoughtfully in a few places that were unthinkably daring, added a slow lick, and reached for the bowl of warm massage oil. For someone so quiet and contained he was wonderfully easy to arouse. The candle burned low, leaving them almost all in shadow, warm fragrant darkness, light catching and gleaming on oil and wet skin. Yuki was almost purring as he stretched out beside him, thrilled with his own daring, unable to stop thinking about that salty, smoky taste-
--was still thinking as he ran his oiled fingers up the hard, elegant curve, folded and slid, thinking of the other things his cousins had told him the brothel girls did, was it possible Jin would let him--Jin would--
Jin was gasping for breath, head and shoulders pressed back hard into the futon, pushing his hips into Yuki's grip, a wild spark in the no-longer-still dark eyes--
And someone pounded on the doorframe.
"If you leave now," Yuki grated, working, "I'll never speak to you again, ever."
And there was nothing passive in Jin's snap at the door. "Wait."
No, Jin thought--this was his--messenger, Master, Shogun himself, could not take it from him--
As fire surged up his spine something opened in him, a fierce, primal anger--deep in his heart he wanted to fight the man, welcomed the challenge, knew that he, Jin, would prove stronger. He had stared Mariya down, dared him to torment the boy any longer, and had won, and had liked it. His loyalty and love were strong, but so was this--this sure knowledge that the coming day was his, that the old warrior, changing, failing, no longer deserved the Mujuu--
Yuki leaned into him hard, panting, wanting him, and it took no more to release him. Mine, mine---He snarled deep in his throat, pulled them together, nails, teeth dug into Yuki's shoulders, clung to him while they both shuddered and stilled.
The pounding had continued, and Jin finally disentangled from Yuki, pulled a hand through his hair and found his juban. He found his voice. "I hope that doesn't hurt, Snowflake."
"Just a little. --Crazy fox." He touched the bite, his tone almost admiring.
At the door were the nanadan masters, Sengai and Jisho, who looked more than a little abashed; doubtless the sounds from inside had told them what they were interrupting. Jin could not help noticing that they looked very much as rumpled as he did--both of them--and in fact even smelled rather the same. He'd never wondered before, but now it crossed his mind that they might be spending a lot more nights in just one room than in two…
"Very sorry, Jin-san, but the Master has summoned us all urgently."
Jin braced himself. "Is it about our ..dispute this afternoon?"
"What? Oh, no." Sengai straightened his hastily knotted obi. "No, it's serious. There's been a theft."
As they walked along the stone path the nanadan filled him in. The dojo's most prized possession was a scroll of Master Sekiun's teachings on kenjutsu, written in the Mujuu founder and First Master's own hand, and passed down to Mariya-dono from his own master, Ichiun Odagiri, Sekiun's heir. Too valuable to keep on display, it had been stored in a locked chest in the library; students were allowed to study it, but only with the Master's express permission, and only he had a key to the chest. The key was still in Mariya's possession, but someone, during the night, had broken the lock and made off with the scroll. "--And it had to be someone from the dojo, or someone helped from inside. No one else knew we had the scroll here, or where it was."
--Sengai glanced over at Jin. "You're not quite listening."
"I don't mean to seem preoccupied--"
He knew he must seem absent: he was still struggling to collect himself, shocked at his own depth of anger, of having even in a moment of such intensity thought that way about the Master. How could he? Why had he? Was that old, bloody darkness still buried in his heart, trying to find another way to the surface?...
"You've got good reason." Jisho walked closer to his side. "I'm glad we have a chance to talk to you. Jin-san--" deep exhale--"we've been with the Master a long time, but we've discussed this thoroughly, and you were right. He should not have behaved so. If he should ask us, we'll say we support your actions."
Surprised and grateful, he looked at them both. "I'm most grateful, masters."
"You are most welcome." Another sigh. "We may all have to counsel together many more times before this is settled. Strange things are happening, strange rumors…you brought one back with you, and we've heard it from elsewhere as well. --But we'll talk of this another time."
They'd reached the Master's quarters, and all paused to straighten themselves. Jin hadn't been able to find his hair ribbon, and self-consciously pushed his hair back from his face. Sengai chuckled dryly. "Forget it, we all show we were doing something other than sleeping. He may as well know as not."
"Do him good to do that himself once in a while," grumbled Jisho, and Sengai shot him a look. They slid the door.
Besides Mariya-dono's furious scowl at their lateness (and the way his expression changed as he gradually realized why they were all so late, which Sengai privately thought had been priceless), there had been no surprise in the meeting. Mariya had tasked the nanadan to each choose two of their best students and have them in the entry hall ready to go within the hour: the search party must be prepared to travel day and night until the thief was found. Pointedly, he'd added that the party would report to Jin, who would lead them and be responsible for the results. That there was an exact reason for this, not one doubted, but there was no questioning it, by Jin least of all. He'd asked to speak to Jin privately before they left, as well…
Jisho and Sengai watched from the doorway as the party trotted off across the school grounds.
"If he keeps testing Takeda-san, they'll come to a breaking point. The boy's proven himself beyond question, he's been the Master's right hand since he was six. The value of that Kai property--"
"The Master is going to test all of us, little brother. The dojo is all he has, and he can't demand loyalty of its buildings or its history, only of its people. He's worried about what we'll have to face."
"..what will we have to face?…"
"Only the Merciful One knows that. Come on. We can wait inside as well as here."
It only took a few hours. Apparently not expecting to be trailed, the thief had gone a few miles and then hidden himself in a thicket near the road to sleep, close enough to hear his expected accomplice arrive. They had taken him completely by surprise, red-handed, the scroll unharmed in a bag on his back.
He wasn't a student of the Mujuu, but with Jin's blade under his chin he quickly divulged the name of the one who had told him where to find the scroll and left the kitchen door unlocked for his entry. Akagawa Shoko, another of the second-invitation students.
"Was he supposed to meet you here?"
"No, no, that man's a dealer in manuscripts, a fence. He was going to take me to Edo tonight. Shoko-kun, he never meant to leave the dojo at all." The terrified man was babbling, staring at the gleaming point so near his throat. "I was supposed to mail him his share of the profits from the scroll, it was all arranged--"
"That's all we need from this rat." Masato, shaggy-haired and serious, Jisho's best student, slit the cord holding the bag on his shoulder and relieved him of the scroll. "Jin-sempai, let's deliver him to the local police and get home. The Master will want that Shoko kid caught and soon."
Jin, never releasing the thief's eyes, slowly sheathed his sword. "Don't come near Mujuushin dojo again. Ever."
"No, young master, not for anything, ever." He shook from head to foot.
Jin straightened and turned away. "Fine. The law can have him."
Early morning, a bright May day at the Mujuushin. The entire class is assembled, seniors right, juniors left, in the entrance hall. On one side the front door, on the other the dojo's kamiza shrine: the ceremonial daisho, the blue banner with the Mujuu's simple device. Mu: innocence, uncorrupt purity, clear-as-light emptiness; the virtue of does-not-have. On the space under the shrine sits Mariya Enshirou, dressed formally in his clan montsuki, motionless.
Through the front door walks the search party, pushing before them Akagawa Shoko. Behind them, Jin, carefully and formally bearing the scroll. Masato and Kondo stop with their captive: Jin walks forward, bows, presents the scroll to the Master, who receives it and sets it before the shrine. Jin returns to his place behind the culprit, alert despite his sleepless night. He quietly steps out of his sandals, stands there in his white tabi, carefully watching Mariya-dono.
Yuki is as close to the front as he can get, trying to read Jin's expression, shocked and fascinated like all the rest: no one has heard anything about the theft but the scraps of story that have circulated since Mariya-dono called this general assembly. Why did Shoko do it? Was he paid by a rival dojo? Did the thief threaten him or his family? Does he have some sort of grudge?…
Mariya raises his hand and the whispers cease. Masato and Kondo stride forward and throw Shoko to his knees before the Master.
"Explain yourself, Akagawa Shoko."
"My family is in difficulties." The boy--about 16--faces the Master bravely enough, but barely. "I heard it said that someone would pay very well for original documents of Mujuushin kenjutsu."
"There must be ways to support your family besides betraying the sacred trust of your dojo. Especially when this dojo gave you a second chance, a second consideration of your request. I see that was a grave error. "
The boy's bravado fails under Mariya-dono's hard stare. "Master--"
"And you weren't even decent enough to flee, but planned to live on as one of us in all innocence. And perhaps steal from us again if another manuscript came to light."
"But the scroll is safe, Master--"
"Thanks to your fellow students, not to you." An awful understanding begins to dawn in the boy's face.
"Do not think you'll be released with a punishment. Your crime is unforgivable."
"Master--"desperate now--"punish me as you will, but my father--"
Mariya-dono snorts in disgust. "And you planned to lie to them about the money as well. You shame your upbringing and your clan as well as your dojo. Your father is samurai: I know he will accept any sentence I pronounce on you as right and just." He closes his eyes as if contemplating; the boy's eyes are fixed on his face, searching for any sign of his decision; imperceptibly Mariya crooks a finger at his side.
Jin sees the signal and steps silently forward. The white socks make no sound on the mat as he comes up behind Shoko; the school holds its breath. Shoko, his whole being focused on Mariya-dono and his next word, hears nothing.
The Master opens his right hand, and in one swift motion, Jin draws and drives his sword straight through Akagawa Shoko's spine. The boy falls forward without a sound, stone dead. There is one drip of blood onto the mat before Jin sets and withdraws his blade, sheathes it, lowers his head. Stands there.
The Master rises and looks over the room. "Our treasure is safely returned. Everyone may rest assured that the honor of the Mujuushin is well defended. This incident is closed." He walks to Jin, briefly embraces him, says something no one else hears, and leaves the hall. The nanadan walk in, dismiss Masato and Kondo, and prepare to remove the late Shoko.
It takes Yukimaru a moment to resume breathing, but when he does, he races after Jin.
The Master watches him go.
He finds Jin sitting before his shrine in meditation, grounded, still. Yuki quietly joins him.
A long while in the warm, bright space before anyone speaks. Jin, calm and distant, in light trance.
"We all know that we'll kill one day. When we hold a sword, we know. I give thanks that this day brought me an honorable cause, a swift death. I give thanks that my sword has served well."
(His heart is at peace, its dark and light in balance. His first life taken, first kill, at the Master's command and to avenge the Mujuu. It is the first time the smell of shed blood has not raised that old, deep terror. He gratefully accepts the will to serve, the self-control it gives him. All is well.)
But--the Master used you as an example, like a fierce dog chained at the gate. Like an assassin…
He reads the deep, tranquil breathing, the serene face, and says nothing at all.
Anachronisms and other notes:
Primary anachronism in this (and next) chapter: celebration of ordinary-folks birthdays. Not done in Japan until the Meiji Era (1800s); only bigwigs like the emperor had their b'days commemorated.
Secondary anachronism: use of beeswax candles. Though Edo Period Japan did use candles, they lacked the materials that made candles so cheap and commonplace in the rest of the world: as a non-red-meat-eating culture they didn't have fat and tallow, and though they'd been raising bees for their honey for 1000+ years, for some reason Asian bees produce little and low-quality wax. So what candles they had were made with great effort from vegetable waxes (like bayberry), and the primary source of lighting was oil lamps using usually vegetable, rarely whale, oil. But I love beeswax, and it's Champloo, so...)
Biwa, Japanese lute; heike-biwa, type of lute designed to play the great historical epic "Heike Monogatari".
(And yes, they had spring break in schools back then. Typically, the whole month of March.)
In part 2 of "the widening gyre": finally Yuki's 16th birthday bash; the return of Master Torii; Jin gets an unexpected gift; and darkness gathers in. Better hold on tight.
