It was late afternoon when I arrived at the onsen—a small rocky grotto situated in the rocks lining the lake. Above a narrow gravel-strewn beach towered overhanging cliffs with a vertiginous drop directly into the water. At this point on the shore, the breadth of the lake was great enough that you could not see the far side. Only the tops of the hills lining the eastern shore were visible above the vast expanse of water. Looking north, water stretched into the distance, disappearing over the horizon. The cliffs decreased in height to the north until the ridge merged with the narrow beach running at its base.

The onsen itself was precisely as I remembered it, the water of the bubbling up from the ground in two small pools, almost completely filling the niche in the rock. I imagined I could hear Surei’s high bubbling laugh and see her smiling face as she ran the water through her hands, delighted at the warmth.

It was a good spot to take a rest. No one could approach without me seeing them. Although there was small chance of anyone following me this far, I still felt safer when I was able to see all approaches.

The first time Surei and I saw the lake, we thought it stretched to the end of the world. In truth, my childhood impression of its size hadn’t been far wrong. Though I had traveled through much of the land, this was still the largest body of water I had ever seen, save the great western ocean itself.

Not too far north from the onsen was a tiny islet out a short distance from the shore. A small rise in the narrow beach between the onsen and the island blocked view of the spring. A lone tree grew in the center of the little stretch of sand. I decided to leave my clothes there.

The shock of stepping into the frigid lake water caused vicious cramps in my left foot. It was only early spring, and the lake was chill from the runoff of the snow melting in the mountains. I spent a few moments massaging some feeling back into my foot. Once the tight muscles had loosened to the point I felt I could safely walk, I started out again gingerly hopping from one half-submerged rock to another as I made my way across the lake. I didn’t want to get my feet wet again if I could help it. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally reached the islet.

I stripped down to my fundoshi, a folded loincloth worn under my outer robes. I looked at the pile of filthy, worn clothing with distaste. I hated the idea of wearing them again, but I had no other outfit to change into. Reluctantly I dipped them in the water one by one, washing out the mud as best I could and then wringing the water from the material. My hands were numb when I finished, and it was with a sigh of relief that I draped my clothes over various branches of the tree to dry while I bathed.

My small pile of belongings I placed in my bag, keeping out only an old flute I habitually carried in the chest of my robe. I stuffed my weapon and knapsack out of sight among the roots of the tree. Wearing just my fundoshi and carrying only the flute, I made my way back across the water to the lakeshore and hiked across the gravelled path back to the onsen.

At the hot spring, I took off my fundoshi and rinsed it in the onsen’s clear, steaming water. A handful of sand mixed with water from the lake scrubbed across my skin sufficed to remove most of the caked-on mud. I stepped into the water of the onsen. At first, the heat made me wince, but that soon passed. With a sigh of contentment, I lay back in the water until I was neck-deep in the spring. The water felt marvelous, and I luxuriated in its warmth. Tension and stress ran from me like water from a broached barrel. It was wonderful to simply sit, rest my weary body, and relax. Even the throbbing in my head subsided.

The late afternoon sun cast a red glow on the clouds floating high overhead, setting the entire sky ablaze. With the burning sky perfectly mirrored in the water of the lake, the world around me was fire. It was a glorious spectacle, one of life’s perfect moments.

The Buddhist priests tell us our lives are like sunsets. Some are extraordinary, others are dull, but all are fleeting and end with the coming of night. But there will always be a new day and a new sunset. Their poetic descriptions of the cycle of life and death almost made dying pleasant.

I wonder if they are right, that everything we do is doomed to fade away. Isn’t it all futile? Then why am I striving so hard to accomplish my goals? Why am I fighting so mightily to clear my family name?

The hilltops on the far side of Lake Awaumi faded into darkness as I pondered my many failures. I had been struggling for years to discover who had betrayed my clan to no avail. My last, best hope had been to go to the capital and ask questions as to who might have known about our battle plans, with enough money to spread around that I could be sure I would get some answers. Instead, I had thrown my chance away. I was a complete failure. It would have been better if I had died with the rest of my family rather than demonstrate how weak and ineffectual I was. I would never redeem my family’s honor.

Maybe I should just start swimming towards those hills on the far side of the lake. I would never make it, and eventually, the water would swallow me. It would be fast and painless. The endless struggle of my life would finally come to an end.

A conversation I had with my father came unbidden to my mind. We were on the training field working hard, and he had called a short break to allow us—mostly me—to catch my breath. He was a man unconcerned with little outside of the here and now and was not religious. I had been talking to Surei’s older half-brother, a profoundly religious man, and I was telling Father about the Buddhist view of existence. He leaned on his bokken and shook his head. “Yoshi, the Buddhist view of life has no place in a bushi’s heart. The world may be a dream, but if you believe that, you will fail. That’s why the nobility never accomplishes anything. Would a dream do this—“ he lifted his bokken and cracked it against my knee, “—or this?” He smacked the right side of my head with his open palm, leaving my ears ringing. “Bushi live in the real world, not dreams.”

In the onsen, I involuntarily raised my hand and rubbed my right ear.

If I died, I would have to return to face my ancestors. I didn’t want to think of what my father would say if I presented myself before him and tried to explain how finding the person who betrayed our clan was too difficult, so I just gave up. Suddenly, killing myself wasn’t nearly as appealing.

I thought again of Surei.

Surei wouldn’t be lying here feeling sorry for herself. She would come up with a plan. It might not be a good plan—in fact, it would likely be a crazy scheme that would only complicate the situation even further. But at least she would do something. Why am I unable to act?

I wondered again what had happened to her. Years before, I had sent a message to her aunt inquiring as to Surei’s whereabouts, but the aunt had informed my messenger that Surei was dead. I had never truly believed it. Surei’s aunt had never liked me, and she didn’t approve of Surei either. After Surei’s mother, the aunt’s sister, died, the aunt never stopped criticizing the lax way Surei’s father raised her. When the government arrested Surei’s father for treason, her aunt was quick to disavow any connection between the two families. Her aunt might not even have known what had truly happened with Surei. I suspected that even if she had known, she probably wouldn’t have admitted it to a stranger. At the time, I had been in the far provinces of the country. Merely getting a message to the capital and getting a reply had consumed months. By the time I received my answer, Surei’s aunt has passed on. Without being physically in the capital, I was unable to investigate any further. It had been a long chance at best, but I hadn’t been able to think of any alternatives.

I stared at the flute in my hands.

It had been a gift from Surei. I would sometimes play it for her when we went exploring. I grinned as I remembered all the trouble we had gotten into over the years. Often, Surei’s younger cousin Akiko would sneak out and tag along. Somehow, she never got into trouble even when Surei and I did. Everyone probably assumed that it was our fault that she got involved. I was sure that an aspect of the disapproval of Surei’s aunt was anger at leading her daughter astray.

Akiko…

I sat bolt upright in the onsen.

Akiko!

Surei and Akiko had lived together on the Abé family estate. Akiko was like her little sister. If anyone in Kyoto knew where Surei was, it would be Akiko. A smile spread across my face. Akiko would probably be married by now, but she shouldn’t be hard to find. I knew that she wouldn’t turn me away, no matter what anyone else did.

My heart lifted.

I can find Surei.

I wasn’t sure how finding Surei would help my situation, but somehow I knew it would. For the first time, I had real hope.

I raised the flute to my lips and began playing.

As the sun dropped behind the mountains to the west and the sky faded from red to black, I played the songs remembered from my childhood—music I had played for Surei as she danced under the light of the full summer moon. By the time I paused in my playing, the clouds had cleared away, the stars were bright in the sky, the moon was high overhead, and the air was getting cold.

Time to get moving. I hope my clothes are dry.

I got out of the onsen and hurriedly replaced my fundoshi as I shivered in the cold air. With a renewed sense of energy and purpose, I tramped along the lakeshore back to my clothes. As I walked along, I continued playing softly on the flute.

As I topped the small rise blocking the island from view of the onsen, I saw a young woman sitting on a rock near the shore, her back to me. She wore a light-colored robe. Her long, disheveled hair blew wildly in the night breeze.

Startled by her presence, I ceased playing.

In the sudden silence, I heard her sobbing. I hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Why would a young woman be crying along the lake here?

Although embarrassed by my state of undress, I felt compelled to try and help her.

I approached her slowly. “What’s the matter, imoto-san? Can I help?”

She rose and turned to look at me. As her face came into view, I took an involuntary step back. Deeply shadowed eye sockets shrouded both her irises and pupils. Blood red lips provided a shocking bit of color to her otherwise pallid face. Her white skin was luminescent in the starlight, and her black hair was longer than she was tall. The mass of hair floated free behind her as if she swam in deep water.

She didn’t stand on the beach—she floated above it. Her pure white burial robes faded into nothingness before they reached the ground. Two phantom lights, one greenish-yellow, the other a pale blue, appeared floating next to her head. She reached out for me in seeming supplication, but her hands hung loosely at the ends of her wrists.

Shimatta! It’s an onryou!

An onryou, a female ghost seeking vengeance on an unfaithful lover. It was my typical good fortune to mistake an onryou for a young woman in distress. My problem was that onryou were notoriously indiscriminate in their attitudes towards men. They regarded all males as equally blameworthy for their sad condition. An onryou didn’t limit her vengeance to her unfaithful lover but punished all men alike.

Her voice full of longing, she asked, “Am I not beautiful?”

Her finger brushed my bare shoulder. The chill of her touch left the arm paralyzed with a deep, throbbing ache all the way to the bone.

Careful not to look her straight in the face, I watched her out of the corner of my eye. According to the stories, if I gazed fully at her, I would fall under her spell. She would gather me into her arms and carry me to a watery grave at the bottom of the lake.

As I slowly backed away, she wailed, “Come back to me, my love!”

As if her cry were a signal, a dozen more onryou rose from the water of the lake. They glided across the surface, making directly for me.

What am I going to do? Well, she didn’t react to me until I stopped playing the flute.

I brought the flute to my lips and blew. The ghosts halted, spellbound by the music. Heart pounding and lips numb in the cold, I continued playing as I picked my way along the shore to my clothes.

I barely noticed the icy water as I made my way across the rocks to the small island with the tree. Without warning, my foot slid out from under me as I stepped on a particularly slick moss-covered rock. Flailing my arms madly to maintain my balance, the flute flew from my hand and disappeared into the night. I heard it clatter against the rocks on the shore behind me. The ghosts, freed from the glamour of the music, turned again to face me.

Can’t let them catch me!

Abandoning all thought of my clothes, I splashed back to the lakeshore and ran for the hills.

The spirits wailed in despair then started in pursuit.

I careened through the trees as I ran uphill in a panic. Tree branches whipped my skin as I stumbled over exposed roots while racing through the dark forest. Every so often, I would catch my foot on a rock and tumble full length onto the forest floor, then frantically scramble back to my feet and continue running. I dared not stop.

Behind me, I heard exclamations of “Am I not beautiful?” and “Come to me, my love!” Gradually, the sounds of their voices faded behind me. Gasping with fatigue, I risked a look behind me. The spirits were milling about at the base of a slight slope. Although they appeared agitated, they proceeded no farther.

Perhaps they can only travel a certain distance from the lake.

I squatted down on my haunches for a moment, shaking with cold and fright. Small gashes covered my face, chest, and arms. Pine sap and needles coated my shoulder and back. My feet bled from myriad cuts from the rocky ground. It was a wonder that I hadn’t seriously injured myself in one of my many falls.

I had thought things were bad. Before, I had merely been broke and hungry. Now I was without clothing or belongings. To make matters worse, the night was getting colder, and the rising wind cut through me like a tachi.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I couldn’t head back to Kyoto in this state, but I couldn’t retrieve my belongings while the ghosts were about. I hoped daylight would send them back to depths of the lake. I would wait until morning. I found a small copse of trees surrounding a relatively level spot of ground. I hoped the trees would help keep me warm, but they provided scant protection from the wind. Still, it was a relief to lie down. I buried myself in dirt and leaves in a futile attempt to stay warm.

Although they were out of sight, I could still hear the disappointed wailing of the frustrated ghosts. The sound was unnerving, but I managed to snatch a few bits of fitful sleep as I shivered in my makeshift bed. Nightmares filled my slumbers. It seemed to me a mujina, a shape-shifting badger spirit, passed by. He looked down on me, his eyes filled with mocking laughter at my predicament.

*****

I was climbing a steep cliff, a heated battle raging below me. I looked down to see my father cut down by a mob of foes. I heard a soft “Yoshi” above me. When I looked up, Surei stood at the top of the cliff. She beckoned me and knelt to assist me in the last part of the climb.

As I grasped her proffered hand, she transformed into an onryou. Panicked, I tried to pull free, but her grip was too powerful. I couldn’t escape. She dragged me beneath the surface of Lake Aumi, and all the light disappeared as we headed into the depths.

I awoke, gasping for breath.

Behind me, I heard crunching of the undergrowth. Heart still racing from the shock of the nightmare, I jumped to my feet and reached desperately for my naginata. It wasn’t there, but I scattered leaves and mud everywhere as I whirled around, searching for it.

Right, I left it back at the island.

Realizing that I must look an idiot flailing around, I stopped my frantic exertions. Suddenly the agony in my legs from the previous day’s activities made themselves felt. I nearly collapsed. I stood there, legs trembling.

A short, compact man walked up. He bowed deeply. “Your Reverence.”

“Hunh?”

“Pardon me, your Reverence. It is just that I was surprised to see you here in the capital hills. Most of you prefer to stay up on Mt. Hiei.”

It tried to puzzle out the meaning of his words. Mt. Hiei? Then I realized what he was saying. “You think I’m some kind of holy ascetic hermit?”

He bowed again.

The Buddhist ascetics lived lives of simplicity and privation, staying out in the wilderness without the benefit of tailored clothing or prepared food. They believed their suffering would lead them to enlightenment, permitting them to escape the endless cycle of death and reincarnation. They tended to live high in the mountains, usually near a Buddhist monastery.

While I was covered in scratches and dirt and wearing only a fundoshi, I didn’t have the half-starved look that typified every ascetic I had ever met.

I told him, “No! I don’t normally run around like this. It was just—I lost my clothes last night…”

He gazed at me, head cocked to one side, eyebrows raised.

I tried again. “Look, I’m not a hermit, I’m a bushi.”

He laughed. “You don’t look like no bushi I ever seen. They usually have weapons and clothes. What kind of bushi don’t carry a weapon?”

I looked at him for a moment, trying to think of a response, but I couldn’t come up with one. He was right—what was the point of a bushi without his weapon?

Since I couldn’t answer him, I started down the hill. Rocks in the soil jabbed my already cut and bruised feet. My abused muscles protested every step.

“Wait!” At his cry, I turned around.

He ran up beside me and pointed to the tall heights overlooking the onsen. “You have to be careful, there’s ghosts down there. Noblewomen who’ve been rejected by their lovers sometimes throw themselves into the lake from that cliff. I don’t know why they don’t just jump off the bridge near the city and save themselves the walk, but who can tell what the nobility thinks?”

His words recalled the stories to mind. That was the strange thing about the onsen that had been bothering me. It was also the reason Surei wanted to visit here when we were children—she wanted to see the onryou. When I found out, I wanted nothing to do with it and had to physically drag her away before dark to get her to leave.

I stared at him for a long moment. Finally, through gritted teeth, I said, “Thank you for your warning. I didn’t know.”

I continued my cautious progress down the hill, watching for onryou. He followed along.

The ghosts were unable to manifest in daylight, and all we saw on our trek were animals and birds. When we got to the onsen, I stripped out of my fundoshi and jumped in the water to clean up again. It felt so good I decided to soak a little. The hot water slowly chased away the chill and soothed my aching legs. My companion took off his sandals and dipped his feet in the water.

He gave a long sigh. “Feels good. It’s a long walk from Kyoto.” I waited for him to elaborate on his comment, but he was content simply to sit and watch the sky.

After I emerged from the hot spring, I felt a lot better. Time to see about reclaiming my belongings. My taciturn associate followed along. He stood on the shore and watched as I crossed over to the islet. I made one more careful check of the area to ensure it was spirit free. I dragged the naginata from its hiding place and waved it to him. “See, a weapon!”

I grabbed my robes off the tree and presented them for his inspection. “See, clothes!”

He laughed at me.

I tied everything up in a bundle and then hopped across the rocks back to the shore. Once safely away from the water, I started getting dressed.

My shadow stopped laughing and gave me a calculating look. “Are you the bushi called Yoshi, of the Minamoto family?”

I froze in the middle of putting on my hakama. After a moment, I slowly resumed pulling the wide pants up over my legs, tucked in my under-robe, and tied them up. My thoughts were in turmoil.

Could Stone have sent him? No, not possible, how could he know where I was? How could anyone know where I was?

For the first time, I studied the man carefully.

He carried no visible weapons. His head was too big for his body, with a large bald spot showing through his graying hair. The skin on his face and arms had the rough and weathered look of a person who spent time out in the elements. His clothing consisted of a stained shirt, torn knee-length pants, and mud-covered wraps on his lower legs. He wore simple straw sandals. He looked like an average peasant or laborer, but he didn’t act like one. His demeanor was altogether too bold for an ordinary peasant or craftsman confronted with an armed bushi. Plus, he knew my name. He smiled slightly as I looked him over, not the least bit bothered by my close study of him.

I slid on my outer robe. “Why are you looking for this Yoshi person? And who are you?”

He gave me a wide, gap-toothed grin.”They call me Mouse, and I got a letter for him.” With a knowing wink, he continued, “From a lady.”

There was definitely something odd about this “Mouse” character. A thought occurred to me, and I took a sharply indrawn breath of surprise.

I’ll wager he isn’t a laborer at all! He’s probably a shape-changing fox spirit masquerading as a laborer! Or a demon casting the illusion of an ignorant peasant! The onryou may have tricked me last night, but I won’t be fooled again.

I kept my naginata close at hand, although I was unsure how much help it would be against a demon.

As I finished donning my clothing and cinched my belt, I watched him out of the corner of my eye, looking for a hint of a fox-tail. Sometimes kitsuné, the tricky fox spirits, gave themselves away by their tails. However, he showed no sign of any such appendage.

I scrutinized his clothes carefully. Illusionists sometimes neglected small details of their castings, but his feet were wet from the onsen, and he had the right kind of mud and dirt on his clothes. Maybe he was just a laborer. I relaxed a little.

Fully dressed now, I hunted around the rocks on the shore.

I paused at another thought.

He might not be a sorcerer, but a sorcerer might have sent him.

I tensed up again. Alert for any sign of trickery or deceit, I asked, “Who is this mysterious person who sent the letter?”

“The Dancer of the Scarlet Hyacinth,” he said.

Mouse looked at me expectantly, as if I should recognize the name.

It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

Well, “Scarlet Hyacinth” doesn’t sound like the name of a sorcerer.

“Ah, yes, the Dancer of the Scarlet Hyacinth…”

He gave an amused grin. “Don’t make it to the capital much, huh?”

Now a yokel is treating me like a backwoods bushi.

I discovered my flute wedged between two stones up the beach. I picked it up and put it back in my robe.

He explained, “The Dancer of the Scarlet Hyacinth owns the Spring Palace, one of the most popular saké houses in the city. She is a shirabyoushi. She got rich dancin’ for the nobles.”

That is where I’ve heard the name.

The shirabyoushi were women who wore male court costumes—including tachi—and presented traditional court and religious dances before appreciative audiences. Their grace and talent transformed these pedestrian dances into performance art. The Dancer of the Scarlet Hyacinth was the most famous of them all. People claimed her handling of the tachi was so skillful she could wield the weapon in battle.

I doubted it. Performing slow, measured gestures of a dance with a tachi did not qualify one to fight with it.

Mouse mused to himself, “Never saw the point of having women dress up as men and dance. Foolishness. If you want to see a man dancing, have a man dance for you.”

Mouse suddenly remembered his purpose and became very businesslike. “So, you’re the Yoshi this is addressed to, yes? She told me you would be here, and I don’t see no one else around.”

He brought out the message and, with an awkward aping of a more practiced messenger’s polished grace, made a ridiculously extravagant bow. Holding the missive out in both hands, he offered it to me.

I was still suspicious.

What would a shirabyoushi want with me? And how could she have possibly known where to find me?

I studied the letter, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The note had been written on sky-blue paper and then folded lengthwise into a long, thin rectangle. Then, as was the custom with personal correspondence among the nobility, it had been attached to a plant. In this case, it was knotted around a willow twig of delicate coloring possessing a pleasingly asymmetric shape. Someone had jotted the Chinese character for “hyacinth” across the knot’s folds in an elegant and refined hand. This Scarlet Hyacinth was a woman of superb taste.

Mouse was not the best messenger. While the note had been exquisite in its preparation, there was a footprint directly on the delicately written salutation. Someone had stepped on it at some point in its journey.

The letter looked harmless, and I’d never heard of anyone being cursed through a message. I told Mouse, “Yes, this is addressed to me.”

I accepted the willow branch from Mouse and removed the attached note. Opening the letter, I read

The sea has been crossed,

A thousand years have passed.

Still I wait, forlorn,

For the arrival of him

On whom my hopes are centered.

See me as soon as you can.

—S.

“Surei!” I said, in shock. I remembered our final parting, more than a decade before…

*****

The sky was turning grey with the first hints of dawn. I fumbled with hands made clumsy by nerves as I tied my belt around my hakama.

Finally, after training every day since I was old enough to hold a weapon, I would finally be tested in battle. While only against pirate scum, it was by the direct command of the emperor, so it was honorable combat. Dreams of glory in war and nightmares of failure in battle had haunted my sleep.

I tugged at my robes in irritation. The battle would not be for many days. We had to travel to Kyushu before meeting the enemy. We hadn’t even started, and I was having trouble fastening my robes.

Surei gently removed my hands and deftly knotted the belt herself. I gazed at her longingly. Her floor-length hair in its loose ponytail was still mussed from the previous night’s passionate goodbyes. She wore nothing but a loosely belted sleeping robe. I saw tears glistening in her eyes.

“Surei!” I reached for her, torn between my desire to stay and my duty to go.

She stepped back and knelt next to a portable desk furnished with a brush and inkstone. Looking away from me, she rested her hand on a piece of light blue paper. “You must go, Yoshi. Yes, it’s hard to be separated. My current misfortune makes it doubly difficult. However, it’s to no one’s advantage to have both of us disgraced and ruined. Go, perform your duty, and know I will be waiting for you.”

She covered her agitation by taking a brush and writing out a quick poem onto the paper in front of her.

Though a sea of stars

I must travel and many

Thousand years should pass,

Still will I be faithful to

My one and only true love.

As I read her words, I was brought close to tears by the depth of my emotions and the elegance of her poem. I replied, “Surei, you know how I feel. I promise you, I will return when this campaign is over.”

Taking the brush from her hand, I added a thought of my own beneath hers.

As the mountain pines

In the forests are steadfast,

No other woman

Will I love before we two

Hear the cuckoo together.

Calming myself with difficulty, I continued, “My father has arranged for you to stay here until the end of the fourth month. We should be back well before then.”

Looking down at her hands, Surei said in a soft voice, “The ruin of my father has been almost beyond endurance. At least, my reduced station has allowed us to be together. That would have been difficult if he had lived. Our time together has comforted me beyond measure…”

Her voice trailed off as she struggled to control her feelings. Finally, uncertainty overcame her and she began crying. Sobbing, she again took up the brush and wrote one last poem.

Impermanent world

Of shadows and fragile things,

How is it then that

I cannot let go of my

Fond recollections of love.

She turned away from me. “Come back to me as soon as you can,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.

Reluctantly, I stood to go. I grabbed my ebony handled naginata standing in the corner and began walking. Just before I reached the door, I stopped. Returning to the desk, I picked up the paper containing our poems, folded it carefully, and slid it into the chest of my robe, next to my heart.

“I’ll keep this with me to always remind me of you,” I promised Surei.

*****

I stared at the message sightlessly. I could barely credit it. Surei was the Dancer of the Scarlet Hyacinth? And she contacts me right after I had resolved to seek her out?

I found myself grinning like an idiot.

She’s alive, and she wants to see me!

It had to be karma. I had always felt a deep connection to Surei. How else to explain her finding me at this point in time?

I thought about the wax wrapped paper that, at the very moment, still rested in my robe, directly over my heart. It was the very page I had taken from the inn where we had made our goodbyes.

Long years of wandering had left me with virtually nothing from my former life. The only things I still carried from that time were my ancestor’s naginata, the stone Buddha my father had gifted me before our last battle, and the flute Surei had given me when we were children. And I carried the paper that contained our exchange of poems.

I regarded Surei’s message. No wonder Mouse had been able to find me. Surei would sometimes receive dreams or visions. They always turned out to be correct, but were usually so obscure as to be useless. She must have seen me at the onsen, and then told Mouse where to find me.

Mouse coughed slightly. I looked up, my reverie broken. I had completely forgotten he was there. I told him, “Tell your mistress I’ll be in the capital no later than tonight. Where can I find her?”

“She will be at the Spring Palace, her saké house in the capital. You can find it just north of the Right Marketplace. I’ll tell her you’re on your way.”

Mouse began walking back to Kyoto.