Mother and Son

Lady Murasaki possessed a beauty that no one could match, a voice that could ensnare the soul, and, most especially, those long, narrow, beautiful almond eyes. A single glance from them could melt the heart of the most hardened man, turning bone to water.

But no man had ever truly enjoyed this beauty. Like the long, flowing kimono she wore, her loose, elegant clothing concealed the graceful lines of her figure. Lady Murasaki always carried with her an aura of winter’s chill, the untouchable bearing of someone who had been in a high position for many years. Those around her were always timid and trembling in her presence, like small animals before a predator.

But now, Lady Murasaki had, for a rare, dangerous moment, sheathed her authority and revealed the raw, potent beauty of a woman. “Let me hear you say ‘Mother’,” she had said to Haruka, her voice a silken thread pulling him closer.

Haruka didn’t dare to look at her. Just hearing her voice sent a numbing, electric sensation through his brain. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to resist, that he would give in, that some part of him would betray the memory of the only mother he had ever known. Even with Yukishiro Tomoe, he had rarely called her “Mama” to her face, let alone another woman. Just the thought of it made his skin break out in fine goosebumps. It was one of the few things that could make him feel truly, helplessly shy.

Haruka stared at the dish in front of him, trying to distract himself by tracing the shapes of the food in his mind. It was a white plate, covered with a layer of finely crushed, glittering ice. In the center were three sweet shrimp, shelled but with their heads intact, their bodies curled in a delicate C. To the left were three overlapping slices of reddish, glistening sashimi.

A sudden, strange thought popped into Haruka’s head: Lady Murasaki is just like this dish—exquisite and beautiful, but cold, and impossible to touch.

He immediately shook his head, trying to banish the thought. What am I thinking? He took a bite of the sashimi she had placed in his bowl. He had never eaten raw fish before and found the sticky, slimy texture in his mouth deeply, profoundly unpleasant.

Lady Murasaki was relentless, a hunter who had cornered her prey, determined to fill his mind with nothing but her. “You are unwilling to call me Mother?”

Haruka didn’t know how to answer. He silently placed the half-bitten piece of sashimi back in his bowl, the act a small, desperate rebellion.

“Not to your liking?”

“I’m not used to eating raw food.”

“Then have something else.” Lady Murasaki picked up a sweet shrimp with her chopsticks, deftly removed its head, dipped it in a little soy sauce, and placed it in Haruka’s bowl, taking the rejected piece of sashimi from him in the same fluid motion.

“Isn’t this shrimp raw, too?” Haruka asked, but he ate it anyway, not wanting to seem ungrateful. It didn’t have the disgusting sliminess he had expected. Instead, it was refreshing, with a faint, delicate sweetness that melted on his tongue. He was surprised to find he liked the taste.

“Sweet shrimp is not raw. It’s cooked and then chilled.” Lady Murasaki dipped the piece of sashimi Haruka had bitten into her own soy sauce. “If you don’t try to eat it, how will you know if it suits your taste or not?”

Haruka stared at her, his eyes wide.

“What is it?” Lady Murasaki supported the piece of fish with one hand and, with her chopsticks in the other, brought the soy-sauce-dipped sashimi to her full, perfect lips.

Haruka was mortified. “But… I already took a bite of that.”

“We mustn’t waste food.”

“I can eat it myself.”

“There’s no need to force yourself if you don’t like it,” Lady Murasaki said, her voice soft, reasonable. “A mother is just helping her son eat what he dislikes.”

Haruka’s scalp tingled. He couldn’t understand her obsession with being his mother. He was truly afraid now, a primal fear he had never felt before. “Can I call you ‘oba-san’?” he pleaded, his voice small.

Lady Murasaki said calmly, “What do you call Izayoi and the others?”

Haruka fell silent.

“I must be a generation above them,” she whispered in his ear, her breath warm.

Haruka didn’t want to argue about it anymore. He hesitated for a long, agonizing time before finally forcing out the word: “Mom.” The sound was tiny, almost inaudible, a ghost of a syllable, but Lady Murasaki heard it clearly and couldn’t help but smile, a slow, triumphant curve of her lips.

This made Haruka even more embarrassed. No matter how much hardship or difficulty he faced, he would never frown. But when it came to family affection, he was a blank slate. Just uttering that single word had drained all his strength. It felt as if a feather were tickling his heart, an unreachable itch, a strange and indescribable feeling that was both pleasant and deeply unsettling.

The guests heard her laugh, a soft, genuine sound, and all looked over, just in time to catch the full, devastating charm of her smile. They were all stunned.

Fujiwara Hitomi was the quickest to react, her sycophant’s instincts finely honed. “Oh, my Lady is laughing so happily. Something wonderful must have happened right?”

“Yes,” Lady Murasaki smiled, her eyes still on Haruka.

“Then I will toast my Lady,” Hitomi said, cleverly not asking for the reason, and raised her glass.

Lady Murasaki’s mood became even more cheerful. “It is I who should be toasting all of you.”

A servant immediately came forward and filled her cup with sake. Lady Murasaki stood up, holding her glass.

Hitomi immediately rushed over from her seat, her back bent in a deep, obsequious bow, not daring to raise her own glass to touch Lady Murasaki’s, instead making a gesture of worship toward the base of her cup. “I wish you a lifetime of laughter and happiness, that all your wishes come true, and that every day brings you joy.”

“Oh Hitomi, you have such a sweet mouth.”

“I speak only from the heart.”

Lady Murasaki smiled. “If only you could spare a little of that heart for others, it would be even better.”

“Ah?” No matter how clever she were, Hitomi let out a small cry, completely baffled by Lady Murasaki’s sudden, cryptic remark.

Haruka knew Lady Murasaki was referring to him. He said, “I wish I were half as sweet-tongued as you, Hitomi-neechan.”

Hitomi looked at Lady Murasaki, then at Haruka, her mind racing to connect the dots. “Young Master, you mustn’t learn from me,” she said quickly, her voice earnest. “You are a young master of the Fujiwara family. You have no need to flatter anyone.” She saw Lady Murasaki looking at her coldy, and a cold sweat broke out on her back, but she continued with a brilliant, desperate smile, “Besides the Lady, you need not care about anyone else. But the Lady is your mother, and a mother cares most about her own child. Even if you say or do something wrong, she will forgive you.”

Lady Murasaki’s gaze softened. “Hitomi, you truly know how to speak.”

Hitomi smiled, letting out a silent sigh of relief. She didn’t dare to say any more “words from the heart,” lest she really have her “heart” dug out.

“You wished me a lifetime of laughter and happiness,” Lady Murasaki said. “I only hope the first half of that comes true; that would be more than enough.” She lightly touched the sake to her lips. “In return, I wish you success in your endeavors, and may you rise ever higher.”

Hitomi was overjoyed, her face glowing. She quickly took the sake pot from the table, filled her glass to the brim, and drank it down in one gulp. “Thank you for your auspicious words, my Lady.”

The other women looked at her with undisguised envy. They knew this “auspicious word” was about to become a “prophecy.” One by one, they quickly rose to offer their own toasts, one wishing Lady Murasaki “great fortune in all her ventures,” another wishing her “all her heart’s desires.”

Lady Murasaki only touched her lips to her glass for each of them and offered no more blessings in return, leaving them feeling both regretful and jealous that they had been a step behind the sycophant Hitomi once again.

After going around the table, it was Izayoi’s turn to offer a toast.

She raised her glass and sighed dramatically. “Oh my, they’ve said all the good things. What is left for me to say?”

“Ah, I have it,” Izayoi said, covering her mouth with her hand to hide a mischievous smile. “Then I wish for my Lady to soon give birth to a noble son.”