Chapter 15: The Jade Dilemma
Hearing the mention of the jade, Riko quickly retrieved the jade fish from the low cabinet.
“Here, take it back.”
Genji Hatsu didn’t take it, only sizing her up. “You look perfectly fine.”
“It wasn’t like that then,” Hatsuki interjected. “So scary—covered in blood. We thought Riko was dead. And Matsushima—when they carried her out, she was covered with a cloth, but the road was bumpy, and her head rolled off.” She patted her chest. “I’ll never look at her the same way.”
Riko stifled a laugh.
“Anyway, seeing you okay puts me at ease,” Hatsuki said, smiling. She placed a basket on the veranda. “Somi, for your recovery. It’s delicious.”
“I’m fine, no need for recovery food.” I’m not a new mother, Riko thought, her face full of refusal.
“No, no, please take it,” Hatsuki insisted, glancing at Genji Hatsu, who gave her a cold look. She corrected herself, “It’s… my own gesture.”
Somi, a rare treat in the Heian era, required vast amounts of precious cow’s milk. Even the emperor only gifted it with chestnuts to reward vassals.
“Besides,” Hatsuki continued, “taking back a gift would be so embarrassing.”
Seimei, arms crossed and leaning against the veranda, spoke lightly. “Just accept it.”
With Seimei’s approval, Riko thanked her simply.
“I find it odd,” Genji Hatsu said to Seimei. “Why are you always deciding for her?”
“I find it odd too,” Seimei replied, lips curving. “Why won’t you take back the jade?”
“Why would I? I’m quite satisfied with my fiancée.”
“Is it because General Raiko’s away in Harima?”
“It’s not his marriage.”
Seeing him mention “wife” repeatedly, Seimei’s smile faded, as if recalling something. “I see, I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“General Raiko’s vying for rank with other lords. He can’t afford bad rumors, so you won’t end the engagement.”
“That’s not it,” Genji Hatsu said coldly. “It’s none of your business.” He turned to Riko. “When my father returns, I’ll have him fetch you.”
Riko, shocked, shook her head. “I’m not going to your house.”
“Why not?”
“The engagement must end. It was Granny’s last wish and my own.”
“Your own?” Genji Hatsu frowned lightly. “No one’s ever rejected me. Don’t even think about it.”
“You can reject me,” Riko said quickly. “I don’t mind.”
“I don’t want to,” Genji Hatsu said. “I’m satisfied. That’s that.” Cutting her off, he added, “When my father’s back, we’ll discuss fetching you.”
He glanced at Seimei. “Until then, some people should watch their words. No more misleading talk.”
“You know better than I,” Seimei said calmly, unruffled. “Even if you don’t end it now, it’ll happen eventually.”
“That’s not your concern,” Genji Hatsu said impatiently. “I won’t end it, and I have my reasons. None you need to know. That’s all.”
He shot Hatsuki a look. “No more exaggerations. Let’s go. I have better things to do.” He turned and left.
“I didn’t exaggerate,” Hatsuki muttered, aggrieved, trailing him. “It was scary. And you’re the one who insisted on coming, bringing your favorite somi.”
After they left, Seimei was quiet, then asked, “Have you met him before?”
Riko shook her head, confused. She was five when she transmigrated. What could’ve happened?
“That’s strange then.” Seimei frowned, pondering missed details.
“Regardless, I must end the engagement. It’s what Granny wanted.”
“Don’t worry,” Seimei said, his gaze softening as he ruffled her hair. “General Raiko won’t approve either, but he might delay ending it until his position’s secure. For now, act like it doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, one more thing. I was about to tell you when you woke, but our uninvited guests interrupted.”
“What?”
“Lady Saio reviewed the illusion’s playback and asked what absorbed Red Leaf.”
Riko tensed, fearing her bell would be confiscated. She’d made progress and wanted to see what happened when the tag filled.
“No worries,” Seimei smiled. “I said it’s a family heirloom. She didn’t press further.”
Riko beamed. “As expected of Lord Seimei—flawless answer.”
“Of course.” Seimei accepted the praise shamelessly. “That’s the difference between having jade and not.”
Wait, isn’t the saying about brains, not jade?
“Back then, my head went pop—twisted off, rolling on the ground. I saw Rikako, totally stunned. Then the youkai lunged at her.”
“Ah! Then what?”
“She pulled a huge sword from the air and started slashing the youkai.”
“Wow, really?”
“Enough, Matsushima,” Riko said, turning with a smile. Surrounded by girls, Matsushima was basking in attention. “Yesterday, you said I was whipping the youkai with a lash.”
“Oh, was it? Sorry, told it so much I forgot.” Matsushima hopped off the desk, addressing the eager girls. “That’s it for today.”
Hatsuki chimed in. “Seeing things after your head’s off? You’re such a storyteller.”
“You’ve never lost your head. How would you know?” Matsushima shot back.
Killed by Red Leaf in the illusion, Matsushima was revived by Lady Saio’s divine plea. Young and resilient, she recovered quickly.
Back among the apprentices, her head-losing tale made her a star. Riko, who slew the youkai, had only Hatsuki as a friend. Her strength earned awe, not closeness.
“That’s all for today’s chanting practice,” the shrine maiden instructor said cheerfully. “Keep practicing at home. Next, we’ll try hearing divine voices.”
“One more thing: after Lady Saio’s consideration, Shimizu Rikako, though she didn’t exit the illusion, defeated a real youkai, so she passes exceptionally. Matsushima Ayahime must retake the exam.”
“No problem!” Matsushima said loudly.
“That’s all. Dismissed,” the instructor said.
The hall erupted in chatter as girls packed up.
“Impressive,” Nanako said, passing Riko. Riko looked up, seeing only her back.
“Ignore her,” Hatsuki said, grabbing her bag. “Oh, my brother says don’t ride Seimei’s carriage after the big one. Take ours home. Never mind, I see the jade,” she added, backtracking.
With Red Leaf gone, the danger vanished. Riko parted with Hatsuki at Rashomon Gate, taking a carriage home.
After dinner, she sat on the veranda. Mid-March, cherry buds dotted the courtyard trees. Thinking of cherry blossom viewing, she practiced chanting.
Chanting was a ritual to connect with gods before receiving oracles. Success might yield divine voices, but evil spirits’ whispers could pollute the weak-willed.
The instructor said not to worry—formal shrine maidens rarely heard anything. Only Lady Saio consistently did.
As Riko finished the chant, clapping three times and closing her eyes, Suzaku, sweeping nearby, stopped and tiptoed away to avoid disturbing her.
Riko didn’t open her eyes, hearing Suzaku’s steps fade.
She waited. The courtyard was quiet, save for occasional bird or insect sounds, no different from usual.
As expected, her level was too low to hear anything.
Sighing, she prepared to open her eyes and end the ritual. Then, a conversation rang out.
“Let Heian-kyo’s cherries bloom early this year.”
“Why, Spring God? It’s only March.”
“I want cherry mochi, only available during blossom season. Don’t you, Lord Tsukuyomi? You bought loads last year.”
“Fair enough. Let’s make them bloom tomorrow.”
Riko’s heart surged. No way. The Spring God and Tsukuyomi? Why can I hear them?
Distracted, the voices stopped. Then, an old man’s voice spoke. “Yes, do it! Ha, I’m amazing. Nothing Ebisu can’t do.”
The Land God, boasting?
Riko’s lips curved. So this was the gods’ private side.
She focused again, but no more voices came.
Enough for today, she thought, feeling tired from hearing two dialogues. As she prepared to clap and end, a woman’s chaotic whispers emerged, repeating, “Can you hear me? Can you hear me?”
Riko felt dizzy, blurting, “What?”
The voice stopped.
“Little Riko, wake up.”
Her body was gently tapped. She opened her eyes, dazed, meeting Seimei’s stern face and Suzaku’s worried one, broom in hand.
“Pure oracle listening doesn’t cause fainting. What did you hear?”