Sorrow

“Sigh… The truth is, I had a fight with Lady Murasaki yesterday. I was so angry I couldn’t sleep all night,” Izayoi sighed, the sound a soft, ticklish caress that seemed to travel directly from his shoulder to the base of his spine.

Haruka couldn’t stop himself from turning his head, but Izayoi’s nimble fingers caught his other earlobe, gently pinching and pulling, a playful anchor bringing his soul back to her. “Young Master Haruka, you mustn’t look back,” she whispered, her voice a melody in the mist.

Haruka didn’t feel any pain, just a tingling numbness that spread from his earlobe through his entire body. He forced himself to remain calm and smiled. “It seems you’re determined to tease me thoroughly today, Izayoi-neechan.”

“I’m not teasing you, Young Master. I’m teasing Lady Murasaki.”

“I don’t understand. How does teasing me become teasing my mother?”

“Your mother gave me quite a scolding yesterday,” Izayoi said, her voice laced with a theatrical pout. “She said I was wanton and undisciplined.”

Haruka’s neck and earlobes were flushed from the warmth of her breath. My mother wasn’t exactly wrong, he thought, a flicker of amusement warring with his discomfort. “That doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Does it not? Do I mean nothing to you, Young Master Haruka?” Izayoi’s voice was suddenly that of a woman spurned by a heartless lover, and she began to sob softly, a series of delicate, heartbreaking hitches of breath.

Haruka knew she was faking, that this was just another performance, but he couldn’t see her face, and her mournful, melodious tone conjured a vivid image of a tragic beauty, her face streaked with perfect, crystalline tears. His scalp tingled, and he had to fight the urge to turn around, to offer comfort.

Her crying grew louder, more desperate, then suddenly transformed into a musical, tinkling giggle. “You’re so cruel, Young Master Haruka. Don’t you dare to turn and look at my face?”

Provoked, Haruka laughed. “Why wouldn’t I dare?”

He turned his head. There was no one there.

Startled, he spun his entire body around. The space behind him was empty, filled with nothing but the thick, swirling white mist.

Before he could speak, two smooth, cool arms suddenly wrapped around his shoulders from behind. “Ha!” a voice cried out, followed by a soft, triumphant laugh. “Did I scare you, Young Master? Tell me, don’t I seem just like a fairy from the fog?”

Haruka smiled. “I’m afraid no fairy is as beautiful as you, Izayoi-neechan.” He felt a soft, pleasant weight on his shoulder, rising and falling with her laughter, and could imagine her whole body shaking with mirth.

“Lady Murasaki is very concerned about you, you know,” Izayoi said suddenly, her tone shifting.

“It’s only natural for a mother to be concerned about her son,” Haruka replied.

“Young Master,” Izayoi’s voice was full of a strange surprise. “Do you know that your tone of voice right now is exactly like Lady Murasaki’s?”

“Is it?” Haruka was surprised.

“Yes. As if you were truly mother and son, cut from the same cloth. No wonder she’s so concerned about you.”

Haruka felt a gentle tug on his earlobe. Izayoi’s voice became a little hoarse, losing its playful edge. “But the more concerned she is about you, the more I want to steal you away, to stain you with my colors.”

“You’re taking the joke too far, Izayoi-neechan.”

“I’m not joking. When you’re a few years older, I’ll be your lover.”

An involuntary shiver ran down Haruka’s spine. “Please stop teasing me, Izayoi-neechan. My mother is waiting for me. I can’t be too long.”

“Hmph. Let her wait. The thought of her waiting anxiously while you and I are out here flirting… it excites me to no end. It was worth waiting for you on this path.”

Haruka thought for a moment. “I don’t think you waited for me just to joke around, Izayoi-neechan.”

“Can’t I just want to chat with you, Young Master?” Izayoi blinked her innocent, almond-shaped eyes. Seeing him remain silent, she lightly scratched his neck with her fingernail, a touch that sent a shiver through him. “Alright, the truth is, I’m bored. I want to play a game with you.”

Haruka shivered unnaturally. “What kind of game?”

“It’s very simple,” Izayoi breathed, her breath like orchids and sake. “You just have to stand still and not turn around to look at me. If you can do that until the end, you win. If you look, I win.”

Haruka was not in the mood for her games. “I think I’ll pass.”

“If you win,” Izayoi said, her voice a tempting, silken whisper, “I will tell you a secret. A secret that will determine whether or not you can secure your footing in the Fujiwara family.”

Hearing this, his interest was piqued. But then he thought again. Izayoi surely had her own motives. If he learned her secret, he would undoubtedly be used by her, forced to take part in the bitter, endless struggle between the two women. Haruka had felt a certain fondness for Izayoi, a strange connection, but her actions now left him deeply disappointed. He shrugged her hands from his shoulders and, without turning his head, said, “Go and find someone else to play with. I don’t care about your secrets.”

He was about to call for Suzune to leave, but he heard Izayoi’s trembling voice from behind him, small and broken. “So… you see me that way, too…”

“See you in what way?” Haruka asked, confused, but he didn’t stop walking. He had already gone several meters when he heard the faint, unmistakable sound of sobbing behind him.

This again, he thought, a wave of irritation washing over him. But he found he couldn’t take another step. He sighed, a heavy, resigned sound, about to turn around, but Izayoi’s choked voice stopped him. “Don’t look at me…”

Haruka could only turn back, his body facing away from her. “Alright,” he sighed. “I won’t look.”

“Just go,” her voice was hoarse with unshed tears.

“Are… are you really crying?”

“Hehe. I’m laughing at you. You fell for it again.” Her laugh was a brittle, unconvincing thing.

“Okay, if it’s a trick, then it’s a trick,” Haruka sighed deeply. “As long as you’re not crying, it’s fine.”

After a long moment, he heard nothing but the drip of water from the trees. He instinctively wanted to turn his head, but he remembered her wish and, instead, began to walk backward toward her. The ground was still wet from the rain, and he couldn’t see behind him. He slipped on a loose, mossy stone and, though he didn’t fall, he stumbled, and two hands immediately shot out to steady him.

“I didn’t fall,” he said, instinctively turning his head. He saw Izayoi’s face, streaked with real, silent tears.

For a moment, they were both frozen, the world shrinking to the space between them.

Haruka seemed to be staring at her shy, tear-stained expression, and they both immediately looked away, a flush of heat rising in their cheeks.

“Young Mast… you… you saw…”

“I… I didn’t see anything…”

“…Oh.”

A brief, painfully awkward silence fell between them. For some reason, even though Izayoi was no longer teasing him, Haruka’s heart began to beat faster, a wild, frantic rhythm.

“Izayoi-neechan, if you’re really that bored, I’ll play with you for a little while…”

“You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor…” Izayoi’s voice was small, muffled. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her voice no longer deliberately seductive, just soft and sad. “Young Master Haruka, let’s play a different game. Why don’t you try to guess what I look like right now?”

“H-how do I guess…?” Haruka’s breathing suddenly became a little ragged.

“One thing at a time… But first, have your maid turn around, so she can’t give you any hints.”

Haruka glanced over his shoulder and saw Suzune watching them with a strange, unreadable expression.

“Turn around,” Izayoi said to Suzune, her voice, for the first time, devoid of its usual playful tone, now even colder and sharper than Lady Murasaki’s.

Suzune pressed her lips together and looked at Haruka, as if seeking his permission.

“Turn around,” Haruka said, his own voice quiet.

Suzune had wanted to warn him that Izayoi was probably just using him. After all, the rumors said she was a wanton, wicked woman. How could she possibly be crying? The Young Master must have been fooled. But she had no choice but to obey his command. She turned her back to them and stared into the white, empty mist, hearing Izayoi’s teasing, triumphant voice behind her, feeling a strange, tight knot in her chest.