FOUR SEASONS  :  SUMMER

              Story By : Kenjii Izuke

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                     PART 1 : A Flower Is Budding

       The heavy droplets of rain lashed viciously and noisily against the brown, tiled outdoor floors and the red brick roofs of the large, old and grand-looking Kodanshi Sakurahana Temple. The wind howled loudly, threatening to blow the roof off the temple. Lightning flashed brightly behind the dark, heavy gray clouds. The young and brittle boughs of the ancient sakura trees around the temple, almost breaking in the wind, struck out repeatedly at the shaky wooden windowpanes, threatening to shatter the glass windows into thousands of pieces.

       Enclosed within the four walls of one of the many rooms in the temple’s wide east wing were three terrified young girls, clumped up together, fear written all over their pale faces. Dressed in plain, cotton servant’s working tunics, they huddled tightly together, their bodies pressed closed together, clutching each other’s sleeves tightly.

       “What shall we do?” one girl cried out fearfully, holding her head tightly in her two hands. “Oh, I’m sure God is punishing me! Oh dear! I should never have stolen those pink buns from the altar yesterday!!” she wailed. She shook her head vigorously, and began slapping herself hard, as though punishing herself for her sinful act of stealing little pink buns made specially to be burned with incense on the altar, for Kami  Kashi (God of Nature).

       “Don’t be silly,” another girl retorted dryly, though she was trembling just as fearfully. “If God would create such a terrible typhoon over such a small thing like stealing the pink buns for Kashi No Kami, why did he not send us a tsunami to punish us for the many sins each of us has done individually, in the past years?” She laughed nervously, and the first girl sniffled. “I’m still scared,” she whispered, clutching the other two tightly.

       Finally, the third girl stood up, and walked calmly across the room, taking long strides. She kneeled down on the rusty-coloured tatami in the corner of the room. “It is only a storm,” she said quietly, almost icily, stretching out and laying her head gently on the embroidered futon. “It will pass, like the rest. Now go to sleep.”

       The other two girls obediently lay on either side of her, on the mat, and pulled a large woolen blanket over the three of them, and went to sleep.

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       “Girls! Wake up!”

       There were sharp raps on the door.

       “Get up and start getting dinner ready!”

       Silence. Just the sound of wooden clogs against the tiles of the floor, dying away in the distance.

       It was completely dark outside. “Come on, let’s go,” one of the girls said, the one who had rebuked the other two’s fear by walking to the mat to sleep during the storm. She got up. Quickly fixing her long, thick hair into a neat Japanese bun, she stepped out of the room, slipped her feet into a pair of brown clogs and disappeared.

       The other two slowly rose, rubbing their eyes sleepily. The storm was over. They, too, got themselves tidied up and left the room in clogs. They caught up with the first girl and the young trio hurried into the kitchen to start helping with the dinner chores. Several elderly women and a few other young servant girls were perspiring as they stood around large pots and pans, cooking over the fires.

       “You there,” one of the women snarled, pointing a bony, gnarly finger at them. “Get to work immediately.” Her voice was harsh and raspy.

       “H-ai,” they chorused obediently, their voices wavering slightly in fear, and rolled up their sleeves to assist with the chores of chopping up huge chunks of spiced meat and large stalks of green vegetables.

       “Oba-san, why are we preparing so much good food?” one girl asked curiously, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Is there a visitor today?”

       An old woman with a kindly, grandmotherly look, sitting in an equally ancient bamboo kitchen chair in the corner of the room while knitting, chuckled softly and shook her head. She smiled in a grandmotherly sort of way. “No, no,” she said. “Today, the junior fighters are graduating.” She nodded once. “Every graduation day is special in this temple. It is my favourite event.” Her wrinkles looked deeper than ever as she took on a wistful look and continued knitting.

       In fifteen minutes, the cooking was just about done, and the food was distributed evenly into large bowls and plates placed on sparkling silver trays. The three girls washed their hands and stood by the table patiently as they waited for all the bowls to be filled.

       “Sayaka, take that tray to the first table,” one of the elderly women ordered, in a loud and commanding voice. From the three girls, the one who had left the room the earliest bowed and took hold of one of the trays. She left the kitchen, her wooden clogs tapping against floor. She heard the distant and faint voice of the woman directing the other girls to other tables.

       She reached the dining hall. The temple priests and priestesses, monks and fighters, all young and old alike, were sitting at the numerous tables in the elevated hall. The first table, to which she was directed, had five fairly young fighters sitting around it. She recognized them as the considerably magnificent warriors who had graduated two years ago, whose skills, far beyond what little she knew as a teenage servant girl, she had always admired from a distance. She knew not their names, but for one, possible the best among the five young men.

       His name was Katsuragi Akito, the sixteen-year old warrior with deadly sword fighting skills. He came from a long line of country samurai, which was why he fought well. He inherited his abilities from his forefathers, who all risked their lives in battle to protect the country. Sayaka thought Akito to be a very admirable young man.

       Shaking her thoughts away, Sayaka kicked off her clogs and slowly made her way to the first table, in her stocking-ed feet. This was a usual thing for her – cooking, cleaning and serving. After all, it was her job as a servant girl – to serve. She had been doing it for the past nine years; so long had it been, she never went wrong anywhere anymore.

       A voice broke her thoughts. “Kon ban wa,” one of the five young men said, with a polite nod. His face was blank and expressionless, but Sayaka did not see this. “Kon ban wa,” Sayaka replied with equal politeness, bowing her head, and began setting the dishes on the table neatly. She must not look at any of these men. In the temple, it was a forbidden thing to do for girls below sixteen years of age to look at the face of any man older than her, be the difference in age just one day, or even one second. Because of this, the young girls never knew what the men of the temple looked like, not unless they watched them secretly or from safe distances.

       “Please enjoy your meal,” Sayaka said politely. She reached out to pick up the pot of tea sitting in the middle of the table. “Shall I pour tea for you?” She waited for a reply, but none came. “Sumimasen,” she said, turning red, and set the teapot back on the table. She took the tray up in her arms again, and was about to back out of the hall, when a voice beside her called her back.

       “You are a servant girl that has never faltered in any step. Might we have the honour of knowing your name, so that the master may be informed of you?”

       Sayaka stiffened slightly. It was Katsuragi Akito! She hesitated for a moment, and then mustered up all the courage she had and answered him. “Sir, you are right. I have never faltered in my job here,” Sayaka said bravely, her head still bowed. “Why should I have any reason now to let my tongue falter in saying my name?” She shook her head. “I would rather the Master be informed because I do not falter, rather than have him know who I am because I went against the temple rules.”

       She withdrew from the table. “Excuse me.” And she left the place quietly, as the five men started their meal without a word. Akito stared down at the floor. At his feet was an exquisite, shiny red silk cloth, with fine, intricate designs of flowers embroidered in golden thread. Chewing a piece of meat slowly, he picked it up with utter gentleness and slipped it into his pocket.

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       Sayaka was hurrying back to the kitchen, when another girl, one of her room mates, ran up to her. “Tomomi!” she exclaimed in surprise. She was even more surprised when the girl grabbed her hand suddenly. “Tomoe-san, take this broom and start sweeping now!” she said, sounding quite frantic. “Oba-san found one of master’s expensive dishes that Kaikin broke just before dinner, but Kaikin is blaming it on you! If oba-san finds you sweeping here, she may not punish you.”

       Sayaka, dumbstruck, exchanged the shining tray for an old broom and a dustpan, and walked to the nearest sakura tree. It was ancient, and its trunk was huge and thick. The ground around it was filled with wood shavings from the bark of the old tree. Crumbs and dirt lay among the pretty pink-and-white sakura flowers that lay around on the ground beneath the tree. She sighed and started to sweep.

       Not long after, she heard voices. Loud and angry voices. Loud, angry voices coming towards her. She stopped, halting the broom, and looked up. A small group of girls and women marched up to her, looking flustered. “Oba-san!” a girl with long, curly, black hair wailed. Taiko-san, the elderly and kindly-looking woman, hurried forward, a frown visible on her face. “What is it?” she said, sounding exasperated. “Stop making up stories, Kaikin. Master Tatsuhiko already has a bad record of your misbehaviour.”

       She grunted impatiently, and wave her knitting around in the air. “I will see to your punishment, Kaikin. All of you, go back to your rooms. You may rest for the night.” The crowd slowly left, and Kaikin had a look of utmost fury on her face. It was like staring at a black cloud, even though Kaikin had a snow-white complexion.

       Taiko-san turned to Sayaka with a crooked old grandmotherly smile. “Sayaka, dear, don’t work so hard. I’ve told the Master about you. You just wait and see if you don’t get your martial arts lessons!” She chuckled at Sayaka’s saucer-wide eyes. “Now you hand me that broom and that dustpan, and you get some sleep,” she said. Grabbing the two items out of Sayaka’s hands, Taiko-san turned and left hurriedly before the girl could say anything.

       Sayaka stared at the sky with a smile. After all her pleas, God was granting her wish. All she wanted was to be like those young men who learned how to fight. She never had a chance before. No girl was permitted to learn how to use any weapon. Now, it was coming true. She would be able to use a sword. She would be able to protect the temple if it was under assault. She would be able to defend herself.

       Sayaka gazed for another moment at the sky. The infinite darkness was slowly creeping over the velvety stratosphere. Night was falling. If she didn’t sleep soon, she would be late to rise the next morning. “I should clear up the plates first,” she told herself sensibly, journeying to the dining room once more. The diners had left. Usually, the girls cleaned up the plates early next morning, but Sayaka thought it might be wise for her to do a little extra work that night, since she was already near to the dining hall.

       Sayaka cleared the dishes from the first table, and then went out. The other tables were not her business to clean. She ran along the cemented floor, keeping her head bowed all the time, her gaze meeting the stony, blank tiles of the floor. Suddenly, she saw a pair of feet, and before she knew what was happening, she had crashed into someone, almost spilling the tray. But, as said, she had never before made a mistake, and she managed to keep her load from tipping over.

       “Sumimasen,” she said quickly, regaining her composure. She felt a hand clap itself upon her shoulder, and she turned bright red. She was thankful for the dark night that covered her blushing. “Iie,” the person answered. Sayaka almost turned to granite. It was Katsuragi Akito again!

       “Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked kindly, as though he had not noticed the bowls she was carrying. Sayaka stared down at the dirty dishes and bowls in her arms. “I am a servant girl, sir,” she answered courageously. “I have work to do.”

       Her answer seemed to have amused the other party, for he chuckled softly at her reply. “I see.” The laughter stopped. “Why did you not tell me your name?” he asked, and took his hand off her shoulder. Sayaka’s eyes narrowed, and her gaze was as stony as the tiles of the floor. She wished she could stare at Akito with that icy look so he would know what she was thinking, but she could not. She wanted to end the conversation as fast as possible.

       “Sir, I am forbidden to do so, by the temple laws,” she answered, an icy edge coming into her voice. But Akito merely chuckled at Sayaka’s reply again, as though everything she said amused him. “Is that so?” he said. “Well, I don’t believe in rules of any of the old temple customs.” He stopped for a moment, and there was an awkward silence between them. Such an ignorant fellow, Sayaka thought indignantly, to shun the laws set to him by the temple!

       “What is your name?” Akito repeated, his voice firm.

       Sayaka was silent for a moment, all sorts of thoughts whirling around in her mind as she struggled with two options – to say her name, or to be loyal to the temple customs. “Sir, I respect the temple and its laws very much,” she said coldly. “If I say my name, sir, you must promise me that this is not a form of trickery.” Her fingers trembled as she held the silver tray steady.

       The reply came. “I assure you, this is not a trick. I am only interested it knowing your name,” Akito said. He sounded warm, honest and sincere. Sayaka could not find any form of lying behind his voice. She nodded.

       “Tomoe Sayaka,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

       “What?” Akito said, leaning forward.

       “Tomoe Sayaka. My name,” Sayaka said, tightening her grip on the tray. “Sayaka-chan,” Akito repeated. His voice was tender, gentle and filled with care. “I see.”

       Suddenly, there were flashes of light, and voices were heard. Sayaka and Akito both whipped their heads around instantaneously, to see what was happening. There was a small crowd of richly dressed people walking along the roofed corridor that joined the temple foyer with the formality hall. Sayaka caught sight of two exquisitely dressed geisha in the crowd.

       One had on a periwinkle-blue kimono, with delicate patterns of patterns of flowers and fans all over it, while the other wore a stunning blood-red kimono with silver-and-gold embroideries of birds and sakura blossoms. They both looked grand and very beautiful, with their white, painted faces and hair neatly done up, with colourful pins attached to their hair.

       “Ne, isn’t that the geisha Mametsuki?” Akito said, squinting at the geisha in the blue kimono. “Yes, sir,” Sayak answered respectfully. “She’s here with the apprentice, the maiko Mameyo. It must be a popularizing visit. She must be trying to make Mameyo-san more popular among the people.”

       There was another awkward silence following this very brief exchange of sentences. Sayaka regarded the two visitors with a wistful look. “I wish I could be like them...” The words escaped her lips without warning or thought. A loud laugh escaped Akito’s throat, and Sayaka found herself turning red with fury. What was the wrong in desiring the sparkling glamour of a geisha? She bit her lip.

       “A geisha?” Akito laughed, and he clapped a hand on Sayaka’s shoulder again. Sayaka dearly wanted to run away from this moment, but she was only a servant girl, and she didn’t rank anywhere in the temple. She knew it would be a very rude thing to do.

“You listen to me now, Sayaka,” Akito said firmly. “You are a girl working in this temple, a holy shrine, a place for God. Don’t ever think about becoming one of those okiya women who get paid much money... just to please the desires of men. You are not a little girl, Sayaka. Don’t be foolish. If I were you, I would prefer to sweep courtyards in the temple of God all day rather than let myself be touched just for money. After all, here, you are working for God, and God will reward you when the time comes.”

       He sounded distant but firm when he said that. Sayaka’s eyes widened. She was shocked at what Akito had said. She couldn’t believe he could speak like that. Why, he was like a great philosopher! She decided to push herself a little further. “Sir,” she said, her voice shaking. “Forgive me for asking of you this, sir, but... sir, will I be able to start learning martial arts soon?” She trembled.

       The place was pitch black; it was barely illuminated by several orange coloured lamps sitting around on the floor. It created a silent, ominous yet awkward sort of atmosphere.

       “Look at me, Sayaka-chan.”

       They were just five simple words. But they were five words that struck Sayaka hard, like a wet whip coming down on to her body. She stiffened, and her face was drained of colour. “I beg your pardon, sir?” she said, not daring to move. Her neck was aching painfully from having had to arch her head downwards to look at the ground and avoid the gazes of men.

       “Look at me,” Akito repeated firmly.

       Sayaka shuddered. “Sir, you asked me to tell you my name,” she said, her voice shaking terribly. “Must I then break another law that has been set to me by the temple of God, to lift my head now Sure, sir, I will not do such a ghastly thing.” She kept silent, and Akito spoke.

       “I see that you are a girl of good will and fine demeanour, and you wish to abide by the rules of this temple,” Akito said, his voice loud and clear. He was clearly unshaken by Sayaka’s defying answer. “Yet, you are a servant. Now turn your face to me.”

       There was another moment’s silence. Shaking with immense fear, Sayaka forced herself to turn her face upwards. A silent, sparkling tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the ground, and a muffled sob escaped her lips. For the first time, she saw Akito’s youthful and handsome face, smiling at her. Gently, he wiped the tear away with his dry thumb.

       “Tomoe Sayaka, I assure you, with God’s grace, and with the word of the master, you will start training very soon,” he said, his tender smile still and unmoving. Too shocked for words, Sayaka just continued sobbed and felt Akito’s strong arms embrace her.

       “Arigato... arigato,” Sayaka managed to choke out, clinging onto his robes tightly, her tears wetting his coat. The tray fell to ground with a crash, and the dishes broke, but her ears were deaf to the sound as she buried her face in Akito’s robes. “Arigato.” She pulled away, and wiped her tear-stained face with the back of her sleeve. “Ah... the dishes,” she murmured, bending down to pick up the broken shards.

       “Go to your room now. You need to get some sleep,” Akito said. “I will clean this up. Don’t worry about.” He stooped down to help Sayaka. Sayaka nodded silently, and still sobbing, she fled to the east wing, to her room.

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How was it? I’m not really familiar with ancient Japan, but I’m writing this how I think it would be like if I watched one of those Japanese or Chinese movies set back about a century ago... you know, think... Qin Dynasty? Han? Only this one is based in Japan, not China.

Please review!!

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