Seizing the Moment

The servant froze, the heavy sake pot hovering in her hand, not daring to pour for Haruka. Her eyes darted toward Lady Murasaki, seeking direction, a silent plea for guidance.

Lady Murasaki simply smiled, a serene, unreadable expression, and said nothing. It was the drunken women who spoke up, their voices laced with a teasing, maternal condescension. “Young Master, you still have a few years before you can taste the pleasures of sake.”

“But what if I want to taste them now?”

The women burst into a chorus of laughter, their flushed cheeks making them all the more beautiful, like overripe, intoxicating fruit.

“The Young Master says he wants to drink!”

“No, no, he’s still too young.”

“When the Young Master becomes a man, then he can drink as much as he likes.”

The women were drunk now, their words and actions growing bolder, the blush spreading from their cheeks down their snow-white necks like a stain.

Fujiwara Hitomi smiled, her eyes crinkling. “Young Master, sake is not a good thing.”

“If it’s not a good thing, then why is everyone drinking it so happily?”

“Well…” Hitomi suppressed a laugh, her shoulders shaking. “Sake is not a good thing, but it can also be a very, very good thing.”

Hearing Hitomi’s coy explanation, the beautiful women around the table smiled with a knowing, flirtatious look. If this weren’t a Fujiwara banquet, and if Haruka weren’t a young master of the house, they would have already sidled up to him, their voices dropping to a whisper, to teach him exactly what was good and what was bad.

“So whether it is good or bad depends on the person?”

“That’s just how it is with sake.” As Hitomi spoke, she looked up and met his eyes, and was surprised to see a fleeting flicker of Lady Murasaki’s imperious bearing in his young expression. If she didn’t know his origins, she might have truly believed he was Lady Murasaki’s biological son.

The others only saw Haruka’s innocent charm, his youthful beauty a delicious, piquant side dish to their sake, and they took another small, appreciative sip.

“Hitomi-neechan,” Haruka said, his voice clear and steady, “you just toasted my mother. Tell me, was that sake a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Well…” Hitomi kept glancing nervously toward Lady Murasaki, her smile faltering.

Haruka shifted his body slightly, a small, deliberate movement, just enough to block her line of sight to the head of the table.

Hitomi, not daring to misspeak, trapped by his simple logic, could only say, “Of course… it was a good thing.”

Haruka smiled and moved back, revealing Lady Murasaki once more. “Since it is a good thing, why won’t you let me drink it, Hitomi-neechan?”

A smile touched Lady Murasaki’s lips. “Hitomi,” she said, her voice deceptively gentle, “I’m afraid you’ll have to drink three cups as punishment.”

Hitomi looked at Lady Murasaki, then at Haruka, and let out a wry, resigned laugh. She poured herself three full cups of sake and drank them down, one after the other, murmuring, “Thank you, my Lady,” her voice slightly strained.

The smile on Lady Murasaki’s face deepened. Haruka finally relaxed. If she had shown even a hint of displeasure, he would have immediately apologized, claiming his head was fuzzy from the heat and he was talking nonsense, and never mentioned the sake again.

The guests, their eyes hazy with drink, didn’t understand the secret, layered exchange. They just jeered, “Fujiwara Hitomi, why are you drinking by yourself? Aren’t you going to pour a cup for the Young Master?”

Haruka looked at Lady Murasaki. She wiped his brow with a look of fond exasperation, a perfect pantomime of a doting mother. “Not again after this,” she said.

“I understand,” Haruka said, lowering his head like a child who had done something wrong, playing his part in her game. Lady Murasaki was even more pleased.

A servant was about to step forward to pour the sake, but Hitomi beat her to it, quickly filling Haruka’s cup herself, her movements a little unsteady.

“Thank you, Hitomi-neechan.”

“Young Master, please don’t call me ‘neechan’, it’s too much for me. Just ‘Hitomi’ is fine.” Hitomi kept glancing at Lady Murasaki’s face, her smile tight.

Haruka nodded. He saw that most of the guests were looking at him with warm, flirtatious smiles, their eyes glittering, though a small group was still pestering the flushed Izayoi to drink.

He raised his cup. “Everyone, please pause for a moment. I would like to toast all of my sisters.”

The guests were all captivated by him, finding him endlessly amusing. They teased him in return, one winking at him, another deliberately raising her cup high to show off her slender, white arm, another giggling at him from behind her hand.

From across the room, Izayoi saw it all clearly. She saw Haruka’s eyes lock onto hers, a silent, specific invitation, and her heart suddenly beat faster, a frantic, unexpected rhythm. Her flirtatious demeanor vanished. She just looked away, her head feeling dizzier than if she had drunk a gallon of wine.

Haruka finally turned his cup toward Lady Murasaki. “And a toast to my mother as well.” He had found a compromise, calling her “mother” but not the more intimate “Mama,” a gesture of respect that was also a subtle act of defiance.

Lady Murasaki nodded and, raising her cup, took a small, elegant sip.

Haruka drank his down in one gulp. It was the first time in his life he had drunk alcohol. It felt like swallowing four or five shards of sharp glass. A burning sensation spread from his throat down to his stomach, which churned a few times, making his head spin. He put down the cup. The taste wasn’t very good. He couldn’t understand what everyone liked about it.

The guests all cheered. Izayoi, afraid he was just trying to be brave, said, her voice carrying across the room, “One cup is enough.”

The guests, though drunk, still had some sense left and didn’t try to make him drink more, but their words, loosened by the alcohol, took on a different, more suggestive flavor.

“One cup is enough, one cup is more than enough. Another sip and our Young Master will be drunk.”

“Let us sisters do the drinking, Young master~.”

“In a few more years, when our Young Master becomes a man, then he can drink as much as he likes.”

Haruka found their words displeasing, but he was not a blindly arrogant person. He waited a moment, and feeling no ill effects beyond the initial shock, he picked up his empty cup. “Pour me another.”

“But…” Hitomi hesitated, looking to Lady Murasaki for guidance.

Lady Murasaki smiled. “Pour it for him. Pour as many as he wants.”

Hitomi understood that Lady Murasaki wanted to see the boy’s capacity, to test his limits. She picked up the sake pot and filled his cup.

Haruka turned to Izayoi. “Thank you for the fan, onee-chan.”

The surrounding guests looked at her with teasing smiles, their eyes glinting.

Izayoi lowered her head, her hair falling to hide her face. “There is no need to thank me. You have already thanked me once, Young Master, by helping me up. We are even. Besides, your mother gave me a fan in return, so it is I who should be toasting you.”

“Let us toast each other, then.”

For some reason, Izayoi couldn’t bring herself to look at Haruka. She just touched her lips to her glass and took a small, token sip.

Haruka drank his down in one gulp again. It felt like swallowing a handful of hot sand this time, better than the first. He was slowly getting used to the taste, to the burn. After a moment, he handed his empty cup to Hitomi. “Pour me another.”

“Another one?” Hitomi asked, surprised by his fortitude.

Haruka smiled. “Pour it. This one is for you.”

Hitomi was at a loss. “For… for me?”

Someone laughed. “Hitomi, the Young Master is toasting you. Do you dare not to drink?”

Hitomi had no choice but to pour another cup for Haruka, her hand trembling slightly. “Then… thank you, Young Master.”