I have never picked up a book in my life until I met Hiroshi Toshikazu. In fact, I was embarrassed to tell him that I could only recognise a few words and that the philosophical thoughts and political writings he had in his small collection were as foreign to me as what was in the daily newspaper.

"I suppose it can't be helped," he had grumbled after listening to me stammer out a passage from a poetry book. I had made most of the sentences up on the spot, desperately trying to fill in the gaps and too proud to admit I could only understand the words sakura flower. My voice grew smaller and smaller, until I could no longer carry on.

I had stared at him, my cheeks red with shame. I was a silly girl of sixteen, and he was very different from my previous master. I was but a dishwasher in that household, a position where very little speaking and no reading was necessary. It was luck that got me this referral from the housekeeper and my beloved sister who gave me some of her savings to buy the train ticket to this small town, to the plain living room where I now kneel on the hard tatami.

"You will have to start small then," Toshikazu-sama rose and walked over to the wooden shelf. He pulled a slim book out and offered it to me.

I finally met his eyes. They were sharp but not judgemental.

Taking the book with both hands, I asked, voice slightly trembling. "Am I to read it?"

"That's what books are for, girl," he replied. "Nakumura-san told me you are still bright enough to learn, which is more than I can say for the young ones in this sorry town."

I glanced at the cover. The words swam before my eyes. Could I really understand them eventually?

"Will you teach me?" I asked boldly after a pause.

"Hmph," Toshikazu-san grunted. "Once every three days, when you have finished your chores, we will finish a chapter in this book."

I wasn't sure if this was a good deal, but I bowed deeply, lowering my head to the floor, "Thank you, Toshikazu-san."

The elderly man gave another grunt. Apparently the housekeeper in my current household had given him the impression that I knew my letters, which could not have been further from the truth. I guess I was hired in spite of this flaw because I was young and could work hard. It wasn't an easy task, caring for a whole house with a servant that was older than the master of the house himself. I wonder why he wanted someone to read to him when he seemed to be capable of doing that on his own.

As I left the house, I passed a woman with white hair.

"Ikeda-san," I greeted the servant with a respectful bow. "It's nice to meet you."

"Hello, Chiyo-chan," she replied. She had a lilting way of speaking. "Welcome to Toshikazu's house."

I tried to read her expression, but it was completely blank to my eyes. "Please take care of me."

"Of course," she said. Her eyes fell to the book held in my hands before returning to my face. "In return, I hope you will take care of this book. It is the property of the master's son."

I looked at the book again. It did seem worn around the edges, though I hadn't checked the inside yet. "I will."

"From when he was only five-years-old," Ikeda-san said. She gave me a harder stare and I shift a little on my feet, feeling self-conscious in my clean but shabby yukata.

Unsure of what to say in reply that would not offend the older woman, I kept my mouth shut until she said grudgingly. "You may bring your belongings along when you start in two days."

"Thank you," I bowed again.

Ikeda-san dismissed me with a nod and retreated into the house.


When I told Satsu that I got the job that would pay me almost triple my current monthly salary, she was hesitant to celebrate.

"Aren't you happy for me? After all, you were the one who bought me my train ticket and asked me to go."

"I'm worried about you," my sister said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer. "I'm worried about you being alone in a house with an old man."

I thought back to how she suffered in Kyoto before we made our great escape. Years later, she was still distrustful of men, even her own husband, who I thought loved her completely. We were sitting in a room decorated with a beautiful silk screen he had gifted her after their day and drinking her favourite tea out of wooden cups he had carved. One of the benefits of marrying a teashop worker.

"I know how to protect myself," I said. "I'm not a child anymore."

"He also gave you this children's book to humiliate you," she continued like I hadn't spoken, waving the fragile book in her hand. "He does not sound like a nice person. You will be working for a bitter man."

"I don't want to wash dishes forever, Satsu," I averted my gaze. "And I do not wish to marry a man I barely know as an alternative."

Satsu huffed at the reminder that I had turned down a marriage offer she had arranged with her husband's family friend. There were few decent men out there and fewer still those who would marry a plain serving girl with no background. I was no great catch. Would you pick a bony minnow over a fat tuna for a meal?

"Then indeed your prospects will be limited, sister," she sighed, moving away from me. "Promise you will visit."

"I will," I said solemnly. "Whenever I can get away."


My first month at Toshikazu's house was uneventful.

I missed my sister but was soon too busy with work to linger on those feelings. Every morning I rose at dawn to prepare breakfast for my master and Ikeda-san. My days were filled with scrupulous cleaning and organising. I had no idea how many books Toshikazu had until I was summoned to his library every three days for my reading lesson. He was grouchy when he realised that in order to teach me to read, he would have to teach me to write the alphabet as well.

"Hold the brush like so," he demonstrated in my first lesson.

To our mutual surprise, I mimicked his position perfectly on my first try. He hardly had to correct me.

It was the writing I had trouble with. Put too much pressure and the ink bled. Put too little pressure and the words were barely legible.

He dismissed me after my tenth attempt at copying a sentence, mumbling something about changing his plans.

"Was he a scholar when he was younger?" I asked Ikeda-san in the middle of cooking dinner that night.

Instead of giving me a straight answer, she snorted and told me to focus on chopping the onions.

I didn't really understand why Toshikazu was going through all the trouble of trying to teach me anything when I was his servant. I must have gone through two months of my salary in ink and paper at the rate I was learning to write. I knew better than to ask him though. He did not tolerate many questions that weren't directly related to the work he gave me.

I began to look forward to the lessons. They were a break from the otherwise boring routine I had fallen into. The length of time I was spending with Toshikazu grew longer as I rushed to finish my chores so I could spend the rest of the day in the library. The longer the lessons were, the more content he was able to fit into them. Despite his gruffness, my master never raised his voice in my presence, even when I struggled to tell the difference between some of the characters he taught me.

"They're like drawings with meaning when they're together," I said to Ikeda-san dreamily after I memorised the hiragana alphabet.

"That sentimental fool," she scowled. I wouldn't associate that word with Toshikazu at all and was shocked that Ikeda-san would refer to her master so harshly. "The ideas he has sometimes. Teaching a girl like a boy. Treating a servant like a student. You poor thing."

I didn't take her comment to heart, partly because I knew she read the newspapers Toshikazu discarded every morning. When I stared at the dark ceiling that night, my fingers traced the characters over the thin quilt.

"Acceptable," Toshikazu said near the end of my first month, evaluating my handwriting. I had written my name as neatly as I was able to.

It was as close to praise as he had ever given me. I smiled at him. "Thank you, Toshikazu-san."

He grunted and gestured to his son's chapter book. I picked it up and just like that, slowly read the first chapter out loud. Without looking at the pages, Toshikazu filled in the kanji I did not know or corrected the katakana I mixed up. It was a whimsical story about a boy asked to fetch water from a well in the forest but getting lost on the way.

I was about to move onto the next chapter when Toshikazu stopped me with a raised hand and asked me to read it a second time, without my 'peasant' accent. And I did with some difficulty, this time without his help.

I was so relieved when I finished the last sentence that I smiled at him.

"Acceptable," he said again. It felt like a hard-won compliment so I bowed even more deeply than usual when I left the room.

Some nights I dreamed that I was helping the child find the well in the forest, defending him against the evil spirits.

When I flipped to the first page of the book after reaching the end, I could read the name of Toshikazu's son, written in childish script in ink that had faded with age. Toshikazu Nobu, the child had wrote. Did he know that his book was being used by a lowly serving girl? Would it bother him? Would he laugh at me because I memorised the whole story?


"Why does Toshikazu-san never speak of his son?"

"You are a very curious young woman," Ikeda-san said, stirring the pot of stew. "And he is a very private man."

"What is he like? You must have watched him grow up, Ikeda-san."

She squinted at me. Perhaps I was acting too familiar with her. The elderly woman was not prone to gossip and kept a tight lip about Toshikazu's affairs.

"He works in the big city," Ikeda-san said finally. "And rarely comes back to visit his family."

"What about Toshikazu-san's wife?"

"She passed away after Nobu-san graduated from university."

Maybe that was the reason Toshikazu's son didn't return home very often.

"Oh," I said. "Then Toshikazu-san must be lonely."

"It is not for servants to care so deeply about their master."

"But is it not human for us to emphasise with another's grief?"

Ikeda-san sighed loudly with a furrowed brow. "You are very young and impertinent."

I didn't agree with her on the latter but left that topic alone for a future date.


"Reading and writing?" Satsu said incredulously when I told her during my first visit to her house since starting my new job. "Whatever for?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "But I like learning."

In my previous household, all I did was wash the dishes. At my second job at the inn, I mopped the floors and cleaned rooms. Since we left Kyoto, I was used to working in menial jobs. Though I did the same for Toshikazu, what I gained was different. It was really really good fortune that I was in this position.

"Learning? The only learning you should be doing is how to manage a household. You shouldn't be enjoying it."

"The lessons are more fun than that."

"That's mighty generous of him," my sister said. She didn't sound jealous, just skeptical. "How does he expect you to thank him?"

"I don't think he expects anything in return," I said, sure of it.

"Men always want something in return," Satsu said with narrowed eyes.

"He hasn't touched me in any way," I replied. "He is cranky like old men are but never impolite or crass."

"Don't let him take advantage of you in any way," my sister said. "He might abuse your trust."

Privately I thought Toshikazu was of the age where men's appetites were no longer urgent and greedy, but Satsu knew more about that than I. I had never been the focus of any boy's affections in my life, probably because of how much water I had. I was a rushing river where no man could get a footing.

With borrowed ink and paper, I wrote Satsu's full name for her and drew a little bird. She praised my calligraphy, though I could see the parts where I made a stroke too long or too short.

"You may need to learn another name soon," she said shyly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Satsu smiled, her pretty face lighting up. Finally, I understood her meaning and squealed like a child.

I threw my arms around her, squeezing tightly. Then, I loosened my grip. "Did I hurt the baby? I should be more gentle."

"We're both tougher than that," she laughed and held me closer. "I'm so happy."


I blurted out the news of my sister's pregnancy to Ikeda-san as soon as I got back to the house. I had run straight from the train station and my cheeks were pink with exertion.

It was the first time I saw the ghost of a smile on her lips as she congratulated me.

"I want to tell Toshikazu-san as well," I said, still grinning.

At once, her wrinkled face turned stern. "You should wait, Chiyo-chan, he's busy right now with-"

"It's alright!" I shouted breezily over my shoulder as I raced to the library where my master spent most of his waking hours.

"Toshikazu-san!" I slid the door to the side with a bang and entered without asking for permission. "I have some news of my sister."

I froze when I saw two elderly men sitting at the table where I had my lessons. One was Toshikazu and the other was a stranger with spectacles and a fan held in his skinny hand.

"Is this the girl?" The thin man asked, looking me up and down.

I lowered my gaze.

"Come closer," the unfamiliar voice said again. I gingerly walked over to the table and lowered myself to the floor. I bowed, first to the stranger and then to Toshikazu. From a brief glimpse of his face, I could tell that he was displeased with something.

"Chiyo, this is Taneka-san," Toshikazu introduced. "My friend from university. He studies literacy among the Japanese population."

So he was a scholar!

"I'm honoured to meet you," I said formally.

"You have been learning letters from Hiroshi-san for nearly two months?"

"Yes, sir," I said softly. "He gives lessons twice a week."

"You did not know how to read and write before that?"

"I could recognise a few words, Taneka-sama."

"Indeed," he said, sounding strangely pleased.

"Would you agree to a small test, Chiyo-chan?"

I raised my head to look at Toshikazu. He gave me a subtle nod in return.

"Yes, I won't mind."

"Fetch some ink and paper."

I retrieved the items, all the while wondering why was this man so focused on me. Did Toshikazu ask him to check my progress?

"Please write the following sentence," he said as I settled down at the table.

He read from a book with a red cover. "There is a blue kite stuck in the tree."

I started to write, my grip felt clumsier than it normally was. I stopped to wrack my brain for the characters that stood for kite. I blushed when I realised I did not know but finished the sentence using hiragana and katakana as a substitute.

He carried on reading a whole paragraph. At the end, I looked down at the sheet of paper. Comparing it to the book, I had accurately written barely more than half of what he had said. And even worse, my handwriting was terrible.

"Perhaps it was a bit difficult for you," Taneka said mildly. I felt nauseous, like I was about to lose my lunch.

I dared to look at Toshikazu, but he only returned my worried stare with a blank expression. I would not get the reassurance I was looking for from him.

"You may read till the end of the page," Taneka said, sliding the book over to me and pointing at the page.

I inhaled deeply, scanning it first. The words were smaller than the book owned by Toshikazu's son and the sentences were structured in a more complicated way. At least I could guess that it was still about the kite.

I read the paragraph to the best of my ability, skipping over the few words I didn't know.

"You must teach her more kanji, Hiroshi-san," Taneka said after I finished. "Even if she is a slow learner."

I bristled at the criticism. Was my sister correct? Was Toshikazu was only teaching me to show his friends how inferior I was and humiliate a young girl for his own amusement?

"Chiyo-chan is learning at a pace suitable for a girl of her age and background," Toshikazu retorted. "She is improving."

"Well, if a peasant could do it at her age, then it is possible to teach the illiterate masses. Though it is unfortunate that girls do not have the same learning capacity as boys."

"They should still be taught the basic literacy," Toshikazu said. "Knowledge is an invaluable tool in a modern world."

"A modern world where even a lowly street-cleaner can recite Confucian principles? I doubt that is necessary. You must tell me your methods you used with this girl later," Taneka said and turned his head to look at me. "And what do you think of all your lessons, Chiyo-chan?"

I did not believe what he said was true- that girls were less capable at reading and writing than boys. Surely there was no proof of this. I already disliked the thin man immensely.

"I enjoy them," I replied curtly.

"Your eyes," Taneka remarked after a while. "Such unusual colouring. A shame about your background. I'm sure whatever farmer or fisherman you marry will not appreciate their beauty as well as an educated man."

"You are very blunt today, Taneka-san," Toshikazu said sharply. For my part, I dared to glare at him. Just who did he think he was?

"You say that every time we meet, Hiroshi-san," Taneka chuckled. "And there is no need to be so polite to children. It's one of the limited advantages of aging."

"Excuse me," I rose to my feet, taking it as a cue to leave.

"Do take the rubbish with you," Taneka said, pointing his chin at the sheet of paper I used to write the passage. He didn't even meet my eyes.

"Thank you, Chiyo-chan," Toshikazu said when I picked up the sheet of paper with burning cheeks.

I left the room meekly and burned the sheet of paper in the kitchen.

Ikeda-san watched me silently with something like pity in her eyes.


"Please give me more lessons," I begged Toshikazu at the start of the first lesson after my disastrous meeting with Taneka. It was brave of me to suggest it but it felt like the right time.

"I heard from Ikeda-san that you revise every night and in my opinion you are making good progress. I will not increase the frequency of lessons. It will get in the way of your housework."

My eyes started to burn. I hadn't expected Toshikazu to turn me down, especially since our lessons were already twice as long as they were previously and Taneka had implied that I was a poor student, which reflected poorly on him as well.

"I apologise for bringing it up," I said, trying to calm myself.

"Chiyo-chan," he said softly. "Do you know how long the Kyoto imperial palace has stood for?"

I shook my head, lashes heavy with unshed tears.

"Nearly seventy years," Toshikazu said. "It is made of sturdy wood and solid stone. Construction took almost a decade. It will continue to stand long after you and I are gone. What would happen if it was built of rotten materials in a few months? They would have to rebuild it every time it collapsed. If you don't have a strong foundation, nothing you learn will stay in your mind. It will all be gone by the next day."

Chastened, I lowered my gaze.

Toshikazu sipped his tea and exhaled deeply before speaking again. "Young people are always in a hurry. They would rather finish in a day what takes a week to do properly. I admire your eagerness. You will be allowed in the library after dinner to practice your calligraphy."

I looked up, a smile blooming on my face. Perhaps I could also read some other books that weren't meant for children.

"Thank you, Toshikazu-san," I said gratefully, blinking the tears out of my eyes.

Later I asked Ikeda-san if she had ever visited the Imperial Palace. I hadn't had the chance since I was stuck running errands for an okiya in my youth and I never wanted to return to that city.

She let out a mirthless laugh. "For you, it's a palace. His father used a cup. Do you know how long the potter take to make this cup? Hours. And how long do you think the training took for him to be able to make a perfect cup in hours? Years."

I wasn't sure how she connected my question about the Palace to the metaphor the master of the house had used it for unless she was eavesdropping on our conversation. Ikeda-san must be very old to have met Toshikazu's father and I didn't dare ask her age.

"Wash the dishes, girl," she said, looking away. "I can tell when you're dreaming."