I closed the house and worked by lantern light, wondering constantly when or even if I would ever see Ansei again. He might wander away from the mill freely like so many already had.

On the tenth night, a single door slid narrowly open with the barest scrape against its tracks, but I heard it, and started as though it had shaken the house. Ansei entered, carrying a small homemade lantern. In the dim light, he watched me embroider an obi sash, which gradually revealed the forms of two hummingbirds sipping the nectar of a wild blossom.

“They’re lovers.” Ansei finally said. “What’s on your mind as you stitch them?”

I stifled a sigh.

“I suppose I am jealous of their happiness.”

“Don’t be. Their nectar is over-sweet and thin. We couldn’t survive on it.”

At this, I stiffened, hurt by the indifference his comment seemed to imply. But as I turned away to hide my face, Ansei caught me by the shoulders.

“I cannot free you from Madame Ozawa,” he whispered.

I pulled out of his hold.

“I am not your obligation. I know.”

“Furi, I can’t free you, but you can free yourself. You can do that and more.”

Stolen novel; please report.

I stared up at him sharply.

“What do you mean? I have no name—no rank. Madame can—”

“Madame can do nothing to you! She has no power over you!”

His hands returned to my shoulders, trembling. His eyes dilated. The vibration of his gentle whisper trilled in my ears.

“No one can keep you. Nature is as accommodating as it is confining. It will bring us together in good time. Patience, but don’t be afraid of your strength.”

* * *

While I rested sleeplessly atop my bed, the sound of Ansei’s whisper lingered in my ears. He had spoken of union; I assumed this meant love. I was eager to believe it. Self-flattery is the simplest form of self-deception, and I yielded to it without resistance.

Deceiving myself about Ansei’s love hadn’t changed my low estimation of myself, unfortunately. I had learned to quantify myself by the initial asking price named by the woman to whom my mother had abandoned me, and self-flattery was not the same as self-respect. It was only a cheap polish easily applied to any surface.

I didn’t deceive myself on every point, however. One sense, I perceived with acute certainty and could not deny it, however strange it seemed to me. As clearly as I knew my own force to create, I also realized: I terrified Ansei.

He had alluded to a personal strength I knew nothing about. And he had charged me to use it. This when it seemed only to make him afraid. Use it to what end? I wondered.

Evidence of his fear was subtle, but in his nearness, I could see it: the quickening of his pulse; the dilation of his eyes; the guarded way he touched my skin; his sometimes urgent need to leave my presence. A lover’s nearness would not do that. A predator’s would. And no matter how I tried, I couldn’t understand why he would suppress real terror to come so near me.

Somehow, I still clung to the idea of his love, however unlikely. Under that blissful illusion, I wanted to share Ansei’s unshakeable certainty of what would be, but self-flattery wouldn’t help me there. Brilliantly intuitive though he was, he seemed so out of step with the powers that dictated our lives.