Seven years later

I leaned on the stone wall that looked out over the sea, watching the fishing boats bob on the water, pulling my shawl tighter around myself. The chill of the remaining winter seeped through my clothes, and frost still crunched under my feet.

I knew Mother would scold me for waking early simply to go wandering the city, but I wanted to watch the morning come in, bright red and pink as the sun's rays pierced the thin air. It was my favorite time of day, and in the winter, I felt that the sunrise and sunset were more majestic and breathtaking than any other time of the year. Along the east coast in the winter, the clouds that brought snow often covered the sun, and I made any attempt I could to watch the sun when the sky was clear.

I could see the sun rising over the sea, the horizon a pale pink as the sun made its slow ascent. The fishing boats were black against the light in the sky, the naked branches of the trees that lined the stone walk stretching up and into my point of view. I felt as if I was staring through cracked glass at the sunrise, but it made it no less beautiful. The sky was turning a brilliant shade of orange, the clouds tainted pink, a thousand fractals of orange light glittering on the frigid surface of the water.

I let out a breath, the cloud rising above my head like the smoke of Father's pipe, and I remembered that I was out without Mother's permission. She treated me like I was still a small child, and that I would have gotten into serious trouble being a young woman wandering about the city while it was still dark. Being the daughter of the wealthiest merchant on the east coast would not keep me from harm, as Mother was always reminding me, but I didn't listen to her.

That was when I was young, and thought I knew better than Mother.

"Out for the sunrise, are you?"

I turned, not surprised at the voice, for I had heard the feet crunching across the frost on the stone walk. I bowed low, recognizing the man who had approached me.

"Good morning, Yori," he said.

I straightened, but kept my eyes lowered, pointed at the man's feet. While I was the daughter of a merchant, and still held some authority over the simple peasants of the city, I, a woman, was below even my father's personal accountant, who now stood before me.

"I wish you a good morning too, Itsua-han," I said.

"From what I recall, you're not supposed to be out of the house."

I bit my lip, raising my eyes a little to the hem of Itsua-han's robe. I watched his feet come towards me, and I quickly lowered my eyes back to the stone.

"What did you do, pay off the servant at the door?"

I said nothing, knowing full well that that was what I did. Itsua-han came closer to me; so close I was tempted to look directly at his face.

I heard him sigh.

"You may look at me. You are to be my wife, after all."

I did look up, to see that Itsua-han was not looking at me, but instead facing the direction of the sun. It was high in the sky now, casting stark shadows over the walk.

"I wanted to see the sunset," I said. "I didn't go far into the city."

"When we arrive at your house, I will tell Tatsuo-han that I wanted to meet you here."

"Yes, Itsua-han," I said.

"And you mustn't leave your house anymore without your parents' permission. It will do no good for a married woman to be sneaking about without her husband knowing." He offered his arm to me, and, reluctantly, I hooked mine in his. I looked up at Itsua-han, inwardly lamenting the thought that he was to be my husband. He was only a few years younger than my father, grey already peppering his hair, though he had yet for the lines of age to appear on his face.

I lowered my head as he led me on the way back to my house. It wasn't my decision for the marriage, anyway. Father and Mother knew that it was a marriage of financial benefit, rather than love. People hardly got married for love anyway. Mother was but a child when she married my father, though over the years she had grown to love him. I just hoped that I would grow to love Itsua-han, if he was to be the father of my children, for I hadn't much affection for him. Even my brother, who was already a captain in the army, had married the daughter of his general, because of the benefit of the position.

Itsua-han had much to offer once I was married to him. While he might not have had the money for a large dowry, he was a brilliant man, and had been the one to make Father wealthy in the first place. And, the more children Itsua-han fathered, the more heirs Father would have to carry on the business and ensure the well-being of his family in years to come.

It didn't mean that I would be happy, or comfortable. Itsua-han had been married before, and his youngest child was older than I was. He was an old man compared to me, and I looked at him in the same way I looked at Father.

Itsua-han led me wordlessly back on the stone path that led to my father's house; the sun was now at a considerable height in the sky, and as we went along the raised walkway, I could hear the cityfolk rising with the sun, shouting as they opened their shops and places of business.

I longed to have a life outside the walls of my father's house. My wish was to be granted to me, though not in the form I desired: I was to be married off to a man nearly thirty years my senior, to be locked away behind the walls of his house, to raise his sons and daughters to marry them off to people they did not love.

Itsua-han was handsome, at least. I was fortunate enough to not be married off to someone ugly. A girl I had known from another wealthy family had been given in marriage to the owner of the rail company, and he was a large, old, ugly man who smoked cigars in excess and always smelled of smoke and oil.

Itsua-han seemed to notice my submersion on thought, as he stopped and released his hold on my arm, touching my face to lift it to his.

"You are not in fair mood," he said.

"No," I answered.

"You are thinking about our marriage."

I nodded. He took his hand from my face and crossed his arms, watching me like I was some sort of bird on a bush about to fly away.

"At least you are honest."

I turned away from him as we resumed our walk.

"A lying wife makes for a bad wife," I said.

"Furiko was a liar," he said.

I shivered at the mention of his deceased wife; she had been caught with another man about ten years ago and poisoned herself out of shame. I remembered Father going to her funeral, and mentioning that Itsua-han would not grieve her death.

"I assure you I will not deceive you," I said to Itsua-han. "Deceit isn't in my family."

"Blood has nothing to do with deception," Itsua-han said.

I had no reply to this, and a deep silence fell between us. The stillness of the morning, with the sounds of the city coming awake fading away, seemed to reflect the emptiness I felt inside when I thought of Itsua-han. My relationship with him was simply one of acquaintance.

The house waited before us, sitting on an island of stone in the midst of its sea of flower gardens, which were brittle and dead from the winter. Mother was stepping out of the door, slipping her feet into her shoes. She looked at Itsua-han and me, and her face was very cross.

"Your father was worried about you," she said, as I paused and bowed my head to her.

"Forgive me, Momoko-no," said Itsua-han, bowing to my mother. She returned the bow with simply a nod of her head. "I requested to walk with Yori and watch the sunrise with her."

"Then you were not alone?"

I went to answer, but Itsua-han did for me.

"She was not."

Mother gave me a disapproving look, but still let a smile come over her face. "No walls can contain Yori," she said. "The walls of my own womb could not contain her for a full nine months. Yori is not one to stay put."

She held out a hand to Itsua-han, motioning to the house. "Will you join us for our breakfast? I am sure that Tatsuo won't mind your company."

"I'll accept the invitation."

Mother turned to me. "Go inside and see Grandmother. She has something waiting for you."

I gave Mother a last bow before heading inside, removing my shoes and sliding the door shut behind me.

It was cold inside the house, and as I hurried across the wood floor, past the large space set aside for the family shrine, I could smell breakfast, and the rich scent of fried fish carrying through the chilly halls.

Grandmother was waiting in the main room, kneeling in front of the low table and reading the morning paper. I bowed to her, being sure she acknowledged my presence before I straightened myself.

"Mother said you had something for me," I said.

Grandmother glanced up; her eyes, as I always noticed, seemed much younger than her years, yet showed more wisdom than the eyes of even the wisest elders at the temple. She motioned for me to kneel; I did, waiting for her to speak.

"I do indeed. You are now eighteen years of age, and to be married at the end of this month—I thought it was time you received what I did when I was married."

"It isn't yet my wedding, Grandmother," I said.

Grandmother let out a laugh. "But you are eighteen, and a woman. I am sure it is an appropriate gift for your birthday."

I nodded. In my country, we did not celebrate birthdays with as much vigor as western countries did; after all, it was simply a date in passing. All one did was live, and my people did not see much of an accomplishment in making it through another year.

There were, of course, small gifts, and I watched with eagerness as Grandmother rang the bell cord on the wall, bringing one of our servants in.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Fetch me the jade box from my room," she said to the girl. "And be quick about it."

The girl bowed and backed out of the room, leaving the two of us alone again. Grandmother picked the paper back up again, but I managed to catch the headline, telling of how Lord Ashiro-han's priest had announced that the lord was seeking a new wife.

A shiver ran through my spine. Grandmother caught my movement, and I was sure that she knew it wasn't from the cold.

She showed me the paper, and I took it to read the full story. It detailed what was written in the headline, simply that Lord Ashiro-han had thought that it was time for him to take another wife, as he was yet childless and possibly growing quite old. I wondered if there would be a woman willing enough to bear the child of such an old man, especially after his six wives had all died.

The author of the article did not seem to favor Lord Ashiro-han well, as it posed the question of what had happened to each wife. They had all died within a year of their marriage to the lord, over a span of ten years. Now, it had been seven years without him being married, making his people wonder if he had backed down from his pursuit of a woman to mother his heir.

"Lord Ashiro-han is not wise to be looking for a wife again," Grandmother said as I set the paper down. "And a woman willing to be his wife is a fool. She will not stay alive."

"Do you think that he is killing his wives?"

Grandmother gave me a look that made me wish I hadn't opened my mouth.

"Of all the seven regions of our land," she said, "our lord seems to be the fairest of all of them. He taxes the least, for a start. I doubt he would be killing his wives."

"But six dead in a matter of ten years—it seems out of the ordinary."

Grandmother seemed to have no answer to this. She looked up as the maid returned and took the box. Once the maid was gone, Grandmother handed me the box. I leaned forward and took it, my heart fluttering in my chest as I sat back and opened it.

Inside was an ivory comb. I felt a blush forming in my cheeks as I lifted it out and saw the red gems set in it.

"Grandmother," I said.

Grandmother began to laugh. I touched my warm face in my embarrassment; an ivory comb with red jewels was worn once a married woman had lain with her husband, as it showed her as a mature woman. Once the woman had lost her fertility, it was removed, showing that she had reached the peak of maturity, like a finely aged wine at the peak of its flavor.

"You are already making assumptions," I said.

"You are expected to wear that, naturally," Grandmother said. "It was mine, and now it is yours."

I quickly set the comb back into the box and shut it as Mother, Father, and Itsua-han came in. Father seated Mother against the wall, providing her the cushions she needed. Her belly was swollen with pregnancy; the midwife predicted she had about another month or so before the baby was born.

I found myself staring at my mother's comb in her hair, now more aware of it once I thought about wearing the comb myself. I saw Grandmother whisper something to Mother, who raised an eyebrow at me.

I wondered if Mother had learned of my gift.

I tried to focus on the tea that was set on the table in front of us. I rose to my feet as the maid backed away; maids did not serve tea to families, as it was the duty of the youngest member of the household, unless I was under seven.

I poured Itsua-han's cup first, as he was the guest, and handed it to him, my head bowed. He took the cup, and as he did so, I felt his fingers touch mine. It made me start and pull my hand away. I expected the cup to spill, but he got a hold on it. Mother and Father did not notice, but I caught Grandmother give me a warning look.

I served her next, as she was the oldest, then Father and Mother, before serving myself and sitting down. Father served Mother honey in her tea as the maids set the food about. My stomach growled when my plate of fish, rice, and flatbread was set before me. There was not much fruit and vegetable eating during the winter, unless Father paid extra to have the produce he wanted shipped from the warmer western regions.

Flatbread was not as common in our land until recent years, being introduced by southern traders, and it was a smart thing to eat during winter months when there was so little produce to eat. I found use in it, putting my fish inside it to eat it that way.

"Ice-breaking Day is the sealing ceremony, isn't it?" Grandmother asked Itsua-han. She knew the answer to the question, but I was certain she was simply trying to start a conversation. The mention of the sealing ceremony made a chill go through me, as it was the step before marriage, which made it more difficult for one to break out of the engagement.

"It is," replied Itsua-han, lifting one of the rice balls to his mouth. I handed him a napkin for him to wipe the sticky residue from his fingers.

"Yori is not as happy as one might expect," Itsua-han continued, throwing me a glance as he sipped his tea.

"She is young," Father said, not looking at me. "Give her time, and she will grow to acknowledge this as a wise decision."

"She's had nine years to accept this," Mother said.

"She's stubborn, like you." Father gave Mother a smile.

"That baby bump doesn't look much like stubbornness," Grandmother said.

She, Itsua-han, and my parents erupted into laughter. I ate my breakfast in silence, washing down each bite with a sip of tea. It felt so odd to not be included in a conversation that was about me, but as I was still the youngest at the table, and no-one had spoken to me, I was expected to not raise my voice to join in the conversation.

"Yori."

I looked up to see Grandmother looking at me.

"Show your parents—and our honored guest—your gift."

I was reluctant to do so, but I had to honor Grandmother's request, so I lifted the jade box to the table and opened, turning it so all could see.

"Ah, the comb Father gave you," said my father. He pulled it out to hand it to Mother. She pulled out her own comb to compare the two.

"Grandmother's came from the hand of an artist, before mass production," Mother said, returning her comb to her hair. She gave mine back, and I returned it to the box. Itsua-han took the comb from the box and held it up next to my face.

"Even this palest ivory does not compare to Yori's face," he said.

"Some women would die for skin as white as Yori's," Mother said.

"It is as white as death," Itsua-han said. He put the comb back in the box. "Almost to the point where she looks ill."

"She is healthy enough," Mother said.

Itsua-han turned to study me, his chin in his hand. "At least she is not too thin," he said. "Many times thinness goes hand-in-hand with infertility."

The back of my neck burned as they spoke of the shape of my body and my fertility. It was common for parents to discuss it with the husband-to-be, but it made me feel...naked.

"We are making Yori uncomfortable," Grandmother said. "Are you feeling alright, Yori?"

I nodded, though my hunger had vanished.

Father clapped his hands for the servants to clear away the meal. "It is time for us to go to the temple anyway," he said. "Perhaps we might get a blessing for Yori and Itsua."

----------------------------------------

I closed my eyes and breathed in the thick smell of incense as the priest chanted out the mantra of meditation.

Many hearts, one world

Many gifts, one creator

All is ours, and we are yours

I tried to concentrate on the mantra, but my mind wandered to my marriage to Itsua-han. The Ice-breaking Day was less than a week away, and from there, the wedding. Grandmother and Mother had already commissioned my white and blue robes I was to wear for the event.

I inwardly lamented that I was to wear such lovely robes for an unhappy event.

I breathed the incense in again, trying to clear my head of the dark thoughts. Until the end of the month, I was to be free. I would enjoy it while it lasted, at least.

The priest chanted the mantra the last time, before all those kneeling opened their eyes and rose. Mother could not kneel for over a minute, so she had stayed home, but I was flanked on either side by Father and Grandmother. The priest raised his hands over us for the final blessing, and petitioned those gathered together to offer the Creator their requests. As was tradition, one of the servers came down from the altar with little pieces of paper and an ink brush for us to write our requests.

I stared at the blank piece of paper as Grandmother wrote down her request and dropped it in the server boy's basket. Grandmother handed the brush to me, and I pondered what I wanted granted to me.

I took a deep breath, looking about at the tapestries on the walls, before writing down my request.

I wish not to marry Orya Itsua-han

I rolled it up and dropped it in the basket, handing the brush to Father.

As the crowd finished their requests, and the papers were thrown in the fire pit in the center of the altar, I watched the ashes rise to the ceiling of the temple, hoping that my request would find its way to the Creator.

As petty as it was, it granted me some sort of comfort knowing that I had taken a small action on my part.

----------------------------------------

Grandmother walked me back home, as Father and Itsua-han departed for the headquarters of Father's business from the temple. As we hurried up the streets, our breath coming in vapor clouds from our noses, a long line of women and older girls passed us, walking with heavy steps and hanging heads, a tall and bird-like woman behind them. The women were in yellow, which was unusual for winter, with wide white belts that folded up many times on their backs to form a shape like a drum.

"Nageeya from the nearby academy," Grandmother pointed out. I turned to look over my shoulder at them, my mouth nearly hanging open.

I had never seen a Nageeya in person, especially on the city streets. Highly educated women, Nageeya were like a cloud floating between sky and ground, the ground being upper class like Father, and the sky being nobility like Lord Ashiro-han. Many of them were married off to lords and the lords' sons, and some of them even found their way to the court of the emperor. Lord Ashiro-han's first and fourth wives had been Nageeya.

"They are probably being taken to the lord's house to be tested," Grandmother observed. "They must want to fail very badly."

"Why should they want that?"

"If they pass the tests, they will be married to Lord Ashiro-han."

Pity formed deep within me as I watched the yellow-clad women and girls round the curve of a street and vanish from sight. They were most likely going to the docks; Lord Ashiro-han's house was accessible only by boat, as it sprawled on an island anchored in the bay.

He hadn't shown his face since his wife's funeral seven years ago (though he hadn't really shown his face), and many of us wondered perhaps if he had withered away from grief.

Grandmother and I returned to the house, where we found Mother in the sewing room surrounded by large swaths of fabric and three seamstresses. Mother, visibly frustrated, ordered me away, so I returned to my room, left on my own to do what I pleased.

I could see the lord's island from my room; I slid open my door and stepped into the balcony, squinting against the sun as I tried to spot the distant black dot. Somewhere, within the walls of that large, grand house, Lord Ashiro-han stirred from his seven-year slumber from the pursuit of a wife, and was now seeking a woman foolish enough to join with him.

As I leaned on the railing, I remembered that time at the sixth wife's funeral when I had dropped the lilies and he had looked up at me. Nothing could define that overwhelming sense of sadness that had gripped me, and I was sure that it had come from the lord himself.

Did he remember that? My best guess was that he did not; I was wearing a mask, and should I ever see him again somehow, there was no way he would have recognized me.

I studied the roofline of Lord Ashiro-han's house, which looked very small from where I stood on the balcony.

I heard Mother calling me, and I stepped back into my room, sliding the door to my balcony shut behind me. I hurried back downstairs to the sewing room where Mother was adding the last stitch on the white silk under-robe that was to go underneath my wedding robe.

Mother shut the door of the sewing room and beckoned the young maid forward. "The under-robe is finished," she said. "Take off your robes, and we'll try this on."

I untied my wide belt and pulled off the brown robe, handing it to the maid. I removed my under-robe, shivering as the cold air came in contact with my bare skin. Mother helped me into the robe, wrapping it around me, and I shivered again as the silk, which was equally as cold, enveloped me.

Mother took the blue cord and tied it around my waist, securing the robe. The robe was long, trailing on the floor, tiny blue flowers painted along the neck seam of it. Mother stepped back to look at me, her eyes going up and down, as I stood there shivering in the thin robe.

"I can see right through it. Good."

It was a good thing that Mother saw right through it, because if she could, it meant that my husband would as well once the larger robe was taken off in the privacy of our home.

I swallowed the lump in my throat when I imagined Itsua-han standing where Mother did, his eyes going up and down as he tried to see through the thin fabric to everything that hid underneath. I did not know if he took a physical interest in me, as he had never expressed any sort of desire for me aside from his interest in sealing our two families together.

Mother went around to the back, tugging the back of the robe down so that it showed my whole neck and the space between my shoulder blades. It was there that I would receive the tattoo of Itsua-han's house, making it known to the world that I was his property. Once I had retired the wedding robe, only the top of the tattoo would be visible, and as a married woman, I would have to keep my hair off my neck so all could see who I belonged to.

It also guaranteed that I could not fool a man into thinking I wasn't married.

The groom received a tattoo as well; for a man, it was on his forearms, bearing the house symbol of the father of his bride, as possession was passed from father to groom.

I remembered one time when Yoshi and I had gone down to the docks to watch the men unload the ship that Father had come home on, and seeing one of the dock workers with arms rippling with muscle, his forearms covered in tattoos, and gawking because I could never have imagined a man with so many wives.

I wondered what Lord Ashiro-han's arms looked like with the marks of six different houses.

Mother untied the cord and pulled the robe off me, letting me get dressed back into my warm clothes. She set the silk robe aside on a bench, and I could see the tip of the diving dolphin's tail above the hem of her robe. The dolphin symbolized the good fortune a merchant needed for his business, and as Father's family was tied to the sea, it made much sense for his house symbol to be so.

I thought of the tattoo I was to receive—the red fox, symbol of a clever man, an improviser, and one who handled money, was to mark the back of my neck down between my shoulder blades. I never liked foxes, as they were thieves and deceivers, but they were smart animals.

Mother dismissed me, and I went to Grandmother's room to practice my singing for the bride's solo on the day of my wedding.