Hello, Hiyuki here. I’m now seven months old. Guess what? I finally have teeth, so so I no longer have to breastfeed. But honestly, the porridge here isn’t very tasty. And why do they keep trying to feed me vegetables? I’ve been longing to eat meat—just give me some meat already!
Oh, and I can stand now! Did you know, when everyone found out I could stand last month, they acted like it was a reason to throw a party? (Actually, they tried calling someone from the shrine.)
Chiyo was the first to discover I could stand by myself while holding onto a table. She then ran off to find my mom to show her. Apparently, for a six-month-old like me, this was unusual. Not that I would know—I have zero experience with babies.
As expected, when my mom saw me, she started jumping up and down with joy before lifting me high into the air and spinning me around.
“Stop this already, or I’m afraid the floor will collapse.”
My mom also asked Asae to call a photographer to take my picture as I stood up. When I saw the camera from this era for the first time, it gave me a nostalgic, vintage feeling.
“Why do I need a photo? And why do I have to pose for this?”
So, my photo was taken: me standing while holding onto a table, staring intently at the camera. That photo is now framed and placed on top of a cabinet.
Back to the present. The most significant change is that I can now speak—though only single words. This is thanks to my mom, who started teaching me vocabulary at three months old. She would point at objects and repeatedly say their names until I understood them.
Every morning, I’d practice repeating those words while looking at the corresponding objects to memorize them better. No one else knows I can speak yet because I’ve mostly stayed quiet or just cried as any normal baby would.
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Summer has arrived in Japan, bringing its usual heat that’s felt throughout the islands. In Tokyo, people use umbrellas to shield themselves from the scorching sun. Many prefer to stay indoors where it’s cooler or soak their feet in water. Some even sprinkle water on the streets, hoping to lessen the heat.
In Fumi’s house, they had just cut up a watermelon and were sharing it among everyone present. While enjoying her slice of watermelon, Chiyo kept an eye on Hiyuki, who was standing nearby, feeling around a cabinet and walls.
Chiyo slid open the door separating the room from the garden to let in a breeze. As she savored the refreshing watermelon and the coolness of the garden, she felt lucky. Being the youngest maid in the house, Chiyo was grateful to serve someone as kind as Fumi-sama. She was also able to save money and support her family.
Although she was still a Kokunai (a maid in training), she was tasked with playing with and looking after the only daughter of the Takeuchi household. She enjoyed it, though sometimes she worried about making mistakes. Fortunately, Hiyuki was very easy to care for.
After finishing her watermelon, Chiyo lay back on the tatami mat, daydreaming about what she might buy once she received her wages. Not long after, she saw Hiyuki approaching her. Standing near her head, the little girl spoke in an adorably sweet voice.
“Chiyo. Watermelon. Eat.”
Startled, Chiyo immediately sat up and stared at the seven-month-old baby in front of her. She wondered if she’d misheard.
“Ojou-sama, did you just say something?” Chiyo held Hiyuki’s tiny hands, and Hiyuki tilted her head in confusion.
“Do you know what this is, Ojou-sama?” Chiyo held up the watermelon rind she had finished eating. Hiyuki, in her small, sweet voice, responded.
“Watermelon.”
Hearing this, Chiyo was certain she hadn’t misheard. The baby in front of her had actually spoken. If she had been wrong, she might have considered seeing a doctor, despite the cost.
Chiyo felt a mix of surprise and joy at her young mistress speaking and even calling her name. She had already been astonished when Hiyuki began walking the month before. Asae, the head maid, had even tried calling an Onmyoji or a monk to examine Hiyuki at the time.
“Chiyo.” Hiyuki pointed at Chiyo while saying her name again.
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Hearing this, Chiyo smiled and lifted Hiyuki into the air. Though Chiyo wasn’t very tall, lifting Hiyuki didn’t reach any impressive height.
“Yes, Ojou-sama, I’m Chiyo,” she said, smiling as the baby in her arms spoke her name adorably. Realizing the significance of this moment, Chiyo decided she needed to inform the others immediately.
With that, she carried Hiyuki and hurried—though not running, to avoid reprimands—to the kitchen, where Fuji and Asae were working. She slid open the door and entered.
“Fuji, Asae-dono!” Chiyo exclaimed, carrying Hiyuki in her arms.
The kitchen, filled with several stoves, smelled of cooking spices. Smoke rose and dispersed through the vents.
“Don’t be so loud, Chiyo. This is the kitchen,” Fuji said in a hushed tone.
“Ah, forgive me. But Ojou-sama… she spoke!” Chiyo presented Hiyuki to the two women in front of her.
“What do you mean, Chiyo? It’s normal for babies to start making sounds at this age,” Asae replied, accustomed to dealing with infants.
“Not just babbling. Ojou-sama actually spoke,” Chiyo said, lifting Hiyuki slightly. Then, as if to demonstrate, Hiyuki pointed at Asae and Fuji before saying their names.
“Asae. Fuji. Food.”
Hearing this, both Fuji and Asae widened their eyes in shock. Other maids in the kitchen also turned to see the seven-month-old baby speaking clearly.
Asae began muttering prayers while Fuji stood frozen in disbelief. Typically, a baby this young wouldn’t be able to articulate words, let alone understand their meanings.
“D-Did Hiyuki-sama just say my name?” Fuji stammered, still shaken by the moment.
“See? I wasn’t lying. Ojou-sama can talk!” Chiyo said, holding Hiyuki. Hiyuki, meanwhile, looked around the smoky kitchen.
“So this is their kitchen. It’s filled with smoke, and there are so many spices. Is this safe for a baby like me here?” Hiyuki thought, her modern instincts questioning the environment.
“I knew she could talk, but not at this level,” Asae finally said, still processing what had happened.
The other maids whispered among themselves, their thoughts aligning: something about this baby wasn’t normal.
“We must report this to Fumi-sama, quickly,” Asae decided, leading the group to Fumi’s study.
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As the daughter of commoners, Fumi diligently studied to avoid being ridiculed by nobles. Today, she was practicing calligraphy when she heard a commotion outside and saw the door slide open.
“Fumi-sama, I have important news,” Chiyo announced, carrying Hiyuki, who looked up at her mother with an adorable expression.
“?” Fumi tilted her head in confusion at the fuss.
“Ojou-sama can speak,” Chiyo said, placing Hiyuki near Fumi. Fumi picked up her daughter and held her in her lap.
“Oh? Really? Has Hiyuki started talking? Fufufu,” Fumi chuckled, thinking the maids were overreacting over Hiyuki babbling. She stroked Hiyuki’s head.
“Okaa,” Hiyuki said in her tiny voice, pointing at Fumi.
“Eh?! Ehhh!” Fumi gasped, staring at Hiyuki as she spoke. Dumbfounded, she looked at her three maids.
“Don’t babies usually start talking after a year?” Fumi exclaimed, holding Hiyuki up so their eyes met. She thought Hiyuki’s development was far too advanced compared to other babies, even Tsumugi’s son, Sukemoto, who at 1.5 years old could only speak a few coherent words.
“That’s why I was so surprised when Ojou-sama called my name and said ‘watermelon,’” Chiyo, the first to witness it, explained. The four adults in the room understood that babies usually needed to be much older before they could talk. It was even more astounding since Hiyuki had only recently started standing on her own.
“It seems your intuition was right, Fumi-sama, about Hiyuki Ojou-sama being different from other children,” said Asae, who was perhaps the most skeptical of the situation but still clutching her omamori.
“Is that so?” Fumi responded, watching as Hiyuki began pointing at objects in the room one by one and naming them. Although there were a few items she couldn’t identify, Hiyuki managed to create a stir in the Takeuchi household by demonstrating her ability to speak at only seven months old.
Fumi considered calling a photographer to capture the moment, but Asae reminded her that photographs couldn’t record sound like the moving pictures in theaters. Soon, news of the baby at the Takeuchi residence speaking at seven months old spread among the imperial staff and other nobles, including Tsumugi, Yamamoto’s first wife, and Higenobu himself.
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“What?! She can already talk?” At the main house, Tsumugi was shocked to hear the news and sought confirmation of its truth.
“To what extent can she talk?” Tsumugi asked the maid standing before her. She considered it normal for a baby Hiyuki’s age to utter some sounds, but she couldn’t fathom how the doll-like white-haired baby could do more.
“She can say words and understand their meanings, Tsumugi-sama. She can also point at objects and name them,” the maid replied with a bow.
“Hah?! That’s impossible, isn’t it? Are you sure this is true?” Tsumugi’s irritation grew at the idea that Fumi’s daughter could achieve something before her own child.
When she heard that Hiyuki had started standing early, Tsumugi wasn’t bothered since all babies eventually reached that milestone. But the idea of a lowborn woman’s child speaking earlier than her son Sukemoto implied that Hiyuki might be smarter. That thought was unbearable.
“This news is true, Tsumugi-sama,” the maid confirmed.
“Hahhh. Call 'my doctor' immediately,” Tsumugi ordered. The maid quickly left the room to carry out her request.
The doctor Tsumugi summoned was a man who frequently prepared medicines for her—from fertility treatments to various other concoctions. He also ran a sideline business.
“I can’t believe I’m forced to dirty my hands over something as trivial as this—a seven-month-old baby,” Tsumugi muttered, feeling frustrated but convinced she had no other choice.
What followed would be a race between Tsumugi’s poison and whoever might be meet Hiyuki in the future.