Lingering 

Seeing Haruka’s quiet, wounded obedience, a flicker of doting, possessive affection crossed Lady Murasaki’s eyes. She stroked his head one last time and led him out of the tea room.

Although she wanted to spend more time with him, to continue her “lessons,” she had too many things to attend to, including discussing the Old Mistress’s “exorcism” with the others. She had no choice but to summon Murakami Suzune, who had finished her other tasks, and have her accompany Haruka. In a way, the gift of a “maid” was also a way for Lady Murasaki to have a proxy, someone to take care of her son when she was unavailable.

Haruka watched as Lady Murasaki and Momozawa Ai slowly walked away, their dark kimonos blending into the shadows of the corridor. The memory of her striking his hand, the sharp pain followed by her strange, gentle care, made the desire to uncover the truth burn even hotter within him.

“Young Master,” Suzune’s soft voice called to him, pulling him back to the present.

Haruka nodded. “What did you find out?”

Earlier, in the courtyard, Haruka had instructed Suzune to use any free time she had to listen to the servants’ gossip, hoping to glean some insight from the undercurrents of the house. He was not a person who liked to wait for things to happen to him; he had to seize the initiative.

“The previous rumor is still spreading,” Suzune said in a low voice, her eyes darting around to ensure no one was listening, “but some of the content has changed.”

“Changed how?”

“Now they are saying that the Young Master is actually Lady Murasaki’s illegitimate son. No one is talking about the Second Young Mistress anymore.”

“It seems Kiyohime’s actions were quite effective on those servants,” Haruka said, a humorless smile touching his lips.

“After all, no one wants their teeth pulled out,” Suzune said, then hesitated. “But everyone knows that you, Young Master, would not actually pull out their teeth. I’m afraid that in the future, there will be even more rumors about you.”

“That could be a good thing.”

Suzune spoke frankly, her words born of a genuine, almost sisterly concern for him. “Young Master, it is not a good thing for the servants to dare to discuss you so openly. They might think you are weak.”

Haruka was noncommittal. “What do you think their impression of me is?”

Suzune thought for a moment. “They feel that you are a very kind person. They even feel that your becoming the young master is what everyone hoped for, that you are far more amiable than the First or Second Young Mistress.” As she spoke, she seemed to realize something. “Do you think… they are actually supporting you?”

Haruka looked at her. She hesitated, then offered a more pessimistic, and likely more accurate, view. “Young Master, it is only because you have risen from a humble background. They are just projecting their own fantasies of ‘rising to the heavens’ onto you. It may not be a genuine sense of recognition.”

“What do they talk about the most when they discuss me?” Haruka asked, his voice quiet.

“Your status as an illegitimate son, of course,” Suzune replied, her own voice softening in sympathy.

A complex, unreadable expression crossed Haruka’s face. “I need this status. Once this identity is solidified, they will no longer talk about other, more dangerous rumors concerning me.”

Suzune saw the gentle, friendly smile on his face. The Young Master’s smile is as beautiful as ever, she thought. But when she met his eyes, a strange sense of unease crept into her heart. His black-and-white eyes were as clean and clear as always, but for a moment, she saw a flicker of something cold, something hard, in their depths. She couldn’t help but wonder, Is the Young Master also going to start ‘pulling teeth’?

She didn’t know that Haruka hated people who gossip behind others’ backs more than anything. He had lived his entire life in a sea of vicious, suffocating rumors. He was smiling on the outside, but his heart was growing darker, colder. Hearing Suzune’s report, his desire to uncover the truth about his “birth mother” grew even stronger, now a raging, silent fire within him.

Haruka steadied his emotions. “Suzune, walk with me for a while.”

“Yes, Young Master,” she said. The master and servant walked, one in front of the other, Haruka’s shadow now taller than hers under the high sun.

Along the way, every maid and servant they encountered bowed respectfully, their heads low. “Good day, Young Master.” They were like a wave, the greeting rippling from one end of the corridor to the other.

Haruka, ever observant, saw the mixture of admiration, pity, and intense curiosity in their eyes, which only deepened his displeasure. Heh. The illegitimate son. The urgency to know the truth burned even hotter.

“Are they all wearing black because of the Old Mistress’s ‘exorcism’ tonight?” Haruka asked, his voice cutting through the quiet reverence.

“Yes,” Suzune said. “Miko-sama has instructed everyone to wear black, so that the evil spirits cannot attach themselves to anyone else.”

Haruka nodded. So that’s why even Lady Murasaki was wearing black. The lower-ranking servants wore simple, uniform black clothes; the maids, being of higher status, wore black maid uniforms; the guests, of the highest status, wore what appeared to be simple but were, in fact, incredibly expensive black kimonos.

Haruka looked down from the covered veranda and saw two or three servants scattering coarse salt on the ground below. They would pinch the salt between their fingers and toss it high into the air, letting it drift down like a fine, white snow, muttering, “‘May the good advance and the wicked retreat’.”

Suzune, her geta clicking softly on the polished wooden planks, couldn’t help but clasp her hands together and whisper the prayer herself. Her expression was gentle; she was praying for Haruka.

Haruka didn’t believe in gods or ghosts, but he looked at the silently praying Suzune and knew that this gentle, kind woman was surely praying for others. He paused. If there really are gods, he thought, I don’t need your protection. I only ask that you protect the people around me.

He believed that man could conquer fate, but still, for the sake of his friends and family, he found himself repeating the phrase in his mind, “‘May the good advance and the wicked retreat’.”

His emotions swelling, his desire for the truth grew even more intense, a physical ache in his chest.

As they descended from the veranda, they ran into the group of beautiful guests, who had already seen the Old Mistress and were on their way back to their rooms for a meal. They all greeted him, one saying “Good day, Young Master,” another asking, “Have you eaten?”

The guests who had sided with Lady Murasaki were especially friendly, expressing their closeness with a natural, practiced ease. A few of the guests with less status were so fawning that the word “obsequious” seemed to be written on their faces. Haruka had no doubt that if he were to make an outrageous request, these women would, like Fujiwara Hitomi, get down on all fours and bark and wag their tails for him without a moment’s hesitation.

Even though these women were not old, and were all well-maintained, exquisite beauties, looking at their beautiful, smiling masks, Haruka only felt a growing sense of profound disgust.

But he had to maintain his composure, exchanging a few polite, meaningless words. For some reason, this seemed to amuse them.

“The Young Master is such a smooth talker,” they said, their collective laughter like a cascade of blooming, poisonous flowers. If his status hadn’t already been confirmed, making it improper for them to be too forward, they probably would have started touching and teasing him more boldly. They seemed very pleased with him and even asked if he wanted to join them for lunch.

Haruka found it all deeply ironic. He made an excuse to refuse and, after saying goodbye to each of them, they finally, reluctantly, departed, their laughter and perfume lingering in the air like a bad dream.