Perspective 

Mr. Koizumi, having been chastened by his wife’s piety, finally settled down. His gaze swept over the brother and sister: Kiyohime, trying to stifle a giggle behind her sleeve, and Haruka, lost in some deep, distant thought. He took it all in.

He quickly looked away, not mentioning the topic of gods and demons again, and the three adults began to chat idly. As people of high status, their conversation, which started with trivial matters of daily life, naturally, inevitably, drifted toward the rise and fall of nations, both ancient and modern.

Kiyohime had found the trivialities interesting, but when the topic turned to political structures, she grew terribly bored. She forced herself to listen for a while, but soon her head was spinning with names and policies. She gave up, taking small, listless sips of her now-cold tea.

Haruka, who loved history but knew nothing of modern politics, could follow the conversation at first. But slowly, it moved into territory he didn’t understand. Still, he pricked up his ears, listening intently, committing everything to memory, thinking that one day, when his knowledge had broadened, he would look back on this conversation and understand its hidden currents.

After discussing various countries, Mr. Koizumi finally brought the topic back to their own island nation, his words full of sharp, insightful complaints.

Lady Murasaki merely hummed in vague agreement, not offering any opinions of her own, a serene and impenetrable wall. This seemed to displease Mr. Koizumi. His eyes shifted and landed on Kiyohime, who was staring down at the dregs in her own teacup. “How old is your daughter Kiyohime this year?” he asked.

“Kiyohime,” Lady Murasaki said, her voice sharp and clear, “your uncle is asking you a question.”

Kiyohime put down her tea and answered politely, “I am thirteen this year.”

“Not so young anymore,” Mr. Koizumi said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “As a young mistress of the Fujiwara family, you should understand these things. Let me test you.”

“Test me on what, Ojisan?” Kiyohime asked, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes.

Mr. Koizumi then began to ask her a series of simple political questions, quickly getting lost in his own lecture.

Kiyohime’s head began to ache. Fortunately, as a Fujiwara, even if she wasn’t particularly knowledgeable, she could give a passable, textbook answer. But from the look on Mr. Koizumi’s face, he was clearly not satisfied.

He asked a final question, his voice taking on a predatory edge: “I often hear people say that ‘children do not lie, their words are sincere’. Miss Kiyohime, do you think the election of the current prime minister was a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A good thing, of course.”

“And in what way was it good?”

Kiyohime’s scalp tingled. How was she supposed to know? She stammered for a long time but couldn’t come up with a single coherent word.

Mr. Koizumi let out a short, sharp laugh. He pointed at Kiyohime, but his eyes were on Lady Murasaki. “In the end, a woman is ill-suited for great causes.”

Lady Murasaki smiled faintly, “I have observed that there are many men in this world who rely on women to achieve great things. Would you not agree, Mr. Koizumi?”

Mr. Koizumi frowned, instinctively glancing at his wife, Nobuna, before laughing it off. “Behind every successful man, there is a woman. My words were too harsh. However, if my father-in-law were to hear that Miss Kiyohime has no opinion of him at all, I wonder how he would feel.”

He then fixed his gaze on Haruka. “And how old are you?”

Haruka had seen Mr. Koizumi’s subtle, vicious attempt to belittle Lady Murasaki and felt a growing dislike for the man. But he showed none of it, answering calmly, “I’m twelve.” 

“Ah, Miss Kiyohime’s younger brother,” Mr. Koizumi nodded. “Why don’t you have a try?”

“I am just a boy from the countryside,” Haruka said, his voice humble. “I have only just returned to the Fujiwara family and know nothing of politics.”

Mr. Koizumi, determined to win a point against Lady Murasaki, smiled. “No matter. Such words are often the most ‘sincere’. I will only ask one or two questions. Just tell me what you think.”

Lady Murasaki’s brow furrowed. Even though she knew Haruka was clever, his upbringing outside the family had undoubtedly left gaps in his knowledge. She worried he would misspeak, offending these two and hindering his future, but she couldn’t think of a way to help him without showing weakness.

Haruka felt a surge of displeasure. He refused to be his mother’s weakness. “Please, ask away,” he said with a calm smile, knowing that with a dirty politician like Mr. Koizumi, it was always best to praise.

Koizumi asked the same question: “The change in prime minister, was it good or bad?”

Haruka was prepared. “Changing the prime minister was, of course, a good thing.”

Mr. Koizumi’s eyes glinted as he pressed his attack. “Oh? And in what way was it good?”

Haruka felt a flash of annoyance at the man’s narrow-minded, bullying tactics. What boy or girl could possibly answer such a question? “I have only a few humble thoughts,” he said, his voice modest. “It is probably best not to share them, lest I be laughed at by my uncle and sister.”

“On the contrary, I am most interested in hearing the ‘humble thoughts’ of a child,” Mr. Koizumi said, tapping the table lightly, a gesture of impatient authority.

Beside him, Nobuna tugged on his sleeve. “Dear, why are you being so serious with a child?”

“What do you mean, serious?” Mr. Koizumi laughed. “I truly want to hear what the boy thinks.”

Kiyohime was also getting annoyed. Who could possibly answer that? He’s just trying to make things difficult. She was about to speak up for Haruka, but Lady Murasaki stopped her with a firm hand on her arm. Kiyohime was about to ask why, but she saw her mother shake her head slightly, a calm, confident look on her face, as if she knew Haruka already had a plan.

“Then I will speak,” Haruka said. With a hint of praise that was actually a sharp, insightful critique, he said, his voice full of a subtle irony, “In my humble opinion, changing the prime minister is beneficial to both the country and its people. It prevents a one-man rule, which is good for renewing our island nation and witnessing the vibrant, emerging spirit of the populace. Is this humble opinion to your satisfaction, Ojisan?”

In plain terms, it was good because it showed the people it was not a dictatorship, and a change in leadership could bring new policies that benefited their lives.

The moment he finished speaking, the woman named Nobuna was stunned, her beautiful eyes fixed on him. Kiyohime blinked, only vaguely understanding the depth of his words. And in the center, Lady Murasaki completely relaxed, a genuine, radiant smile spreading across her face. She glanced at Haruka, and even she, a woman who rarely showed her emotions, could not hide her profound satisfaction. It was clear his answer had been perfect.

Mr. Koizumi let out two hollow, empty laughs. He thought Haruka’s answer was too simplistic, the foolish, textbook opinion of a child. He was about to stand up and offer his own, more nuanced viewpoint, but he had barely bent his knee when the words caught in his throat. He sat back down. After thinking for a long, silent time, he said, “Your words are quite interesting.”

He had wanted to offer his own opinion, but he realized it would just be a tedious, self-important elaboration of what Haruka had already encapsulated in his perfect, all-encompassing “boilerplate” answer. He didn’t know that Haruka had simply adapted a phrase from a history book he had once read. The ancient Chinese historians were all masters of this art, their words concise, seemingly saying nothing, yet containing multitudes upon closer inspection. It was an ancient art that had never changed, and one that a mere politician from an island nation could not hope to improve upon.

Mr. Koizumi thought and thought, and finally had to admit defeat. “Madam, your ‘illegitimate son’ is exceptionally clever.”

“Of course,” Lady Murasaki said, her voice filled with a fierce, maternal pride. “He is my son.” This time, her smile was not false. It was a genuine, heartfelt smile of pure joy, and everyone who saw it was stunned into a breathless silence.

Haruka felt a warmth on his head as Lady Murasaki reached out and ruffled his hair, a gesture of spontaneous affection. The last of his own displeasure melted away, replaced by a slight, pleasant shyness.

“Come to Mama.”

Lady Murasaki beckoned, and Haruka instinctively moved into her embrace.

She held him, a profound sense of possessiveness filling her. She smiled and whispered in his ear, “You did very well. I will give you a reward. Whatever you want, Mama will grant it.”

Haruka looked at her enchanting smile, and a flicker of a new, strange jealousy stirred within him. “Mama,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “this smile of yours… from now on, can you only smile like this for me?”

Lady Murasaki was surprised, then, just for him, she smiled again, a secret promise. “I can.”

Nobuna, watching the intimate scene between mother and son, was overcome with her own maternal feelings. She slapped her husband on the thigh. “It’s all your fault for angering the gods. That’s why we still don’t have any children.”

Mr. Koizumi’s head was aching. A sudden, brilliant idea came to him. He slapped the table, startling Lady Murasaki and Haruka.

He pointed a finger at his wife’s nose. “Woman, you’re so concerned with the adults, why didn’t you bring a gift for the child?”

Nobuna, quick on the uptake, immediately reacted. She took off the yellow pear wood bracelet from her wrist and, looking at Haruka, said, “I came in such a hurry so I didn’t bring anything with me, only this bracelet. Though it is not very valuable, it was a gift from my father, and it has been blessed by the head priestess of the Ise Grand Shrine. It is only fitting that I now give it to you.”

Haruka didn’t understand what was happening and was about to refuse, but Nobuna said, “What is there to refuse? The Old Mistress is my godmother, Lady Murasaki is my sister. We are all family. If you do not dislike it, you may call me ‘godmother’ too, and take this bracelet as a gift.”