We pass that house, and she is there, standing by the window. She giggles and waves at us before walking away, with a last glance at Okita-san from the corner of her eyes. A glance that shows so much… what an obvious woman! Of course, Okita-san is obvious in choosing to come this way back to Mibu when there were others that would have been faster and more direct.
“Such delicate hands …” Okita-san sighs. He’s told me about her touching all over him several times already, and I just nod and smile, biting back all of the feelings of jealousy that swirl in me. I look down at my own hands – sore, and beginning to get calluses, even after only a few weeks of training. They’re changing… just as I am changing… But I do wish that he wouldn’t speak of that woman so much to me. It’s becoming harder and harder to listen to. He will hardly speak to her but to speak of her…
Okita-san turns to Harada-san as we walk. “Ah… Harada-san, have you ever seen such fair women as the ones they have here in Kyoto?”
Okita-san turns to Harada-san as we walk. “Ah… Harada-san, have you ever seen such fair women as the ones they have here in Kyoto?”
But he doesn’t see me… I keep my face impassive and straight ahead as we walk home from the market.
—
A few weeks before…
They file in past the gates and Tamesaburou and I watch through a crack in the shoji. “That one looks like a girl,” he giggles. “Shhhh….” I remind him. He’s still young enough to be sneaking around but I should be above that… no matter if I am Hide or Hidejiro.
I take a long look at the one my younger brother indicates. “Of course that’s a man,” I tell him – “just because he’s not tall and big doesn’t mean that he’s a woman. Stop looking for cute girls or Hanako-chan will be upset,” I tease, trying to make light in attempt to ease my own discomfort. He really shouldn’t start asking questions about people’s genders, given the situation that we find ourselves.
You are now my son. Hidejiro. My father’s words still echo in my head. I take a deep breath, only to feel the tightness of the bindings on my chest. “Why do we have to do this?” I asked my mother. “Your father wants to take care of you,” she replied, as she helped me get dressed that first morning that I took on this guise.
“I’m not looking for a cute girl!” he insists, making a face. “I just thought he did, that’s all.” Smiling, I ruffle his bangs. “Hide-nee… um… Hidejiro-niisan, maybe you should look for a cute girl!” He grins and runs off before I can get to him… I return to my room, looking at my face in the mirror. I’m still me, right? I ask, looking back at the eyes that look just as they did when I wore my hair up. At least they didn’t make me take on the typical samurai hairstyle, I think with some grim relief.
“Hidejiro! They’re here and we’re to meet them!” My mother’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I stand up. Stand up like a man, I remind myself. What does that mean? How does a man stand up? Ahhh…. I should have spent more time watching them. The swords lean against the wall. Yes… I carry these now. The oldest son of Yagi Gennojou would carry them. Okaasan comes into the room, impatience on her face, “really, now, please hurry -”
I look over at her and that expression fades, replaced by concern. She pats my shoulder, “be a good boy,” she tries to say in a light voice. I can only laugh nervously at that, and shake my head. “It’ll only be for a month or so… we’re all going to have to make adjustments. But this is very important to your father… and as his family we must support him and what he does for our country, right?”
I finally smile at my mother’s words, and nod. She continues, “but…” a big sigh comes from her small frame, “I don’t think your father had any idea how much they will eat. I hope your grandmother is preparing herself, and without you being able to help…” Oh yes, so many of the household duties that I like to see to are not something that an older boy would be helping with.
I follow my mother, sitting beside my father as the ronin file in. I try not to stare at them. They look just like… regular men. Introductions are made, and my grandmother is very curt under her polite greeting. Obaasan is feisty and not so easily cowed.
“I… I…” the voice coming from my through sounds so unnatural, like the voice of a demon coming from a possessed person like in those stories from my childhood. “I am Yagi Hidejiro, the oldest son,” I say in a rush, my voice false and gruff. I remember my manners and bow a little. In a daze I hear my brother introduce himself properly. I try not to show the panic on my face as who will stay in what room is discussed. My eyes glance up and I see the young man who my brother thought was a girl. Oh… I cast my eyes back down, hoping that I’m not blushing, because if this is to ever work… I cannot begin to act like that.
—
A few weeks before…
They file in past the gates and Tamesaburou and I watch through a crack in the shoji. “That one looks like a girl,” he giggles. “Shhhh….” I remind him. He’s still young enough to be sneaking around but I should be above that… no matter if I am Hide or Hidejiro.
I take a long look at the one my younger brother indicates. “Of course that’s a man,” I tell him – “just because he’s not tall and big doesn’t mean that he’s a woman. Stop looking for cute girls or Hanako-chan will be upset,” I tease, trying to make light in attempt to ease my own discomfort. He really shouldn’t start asking questions about people’s genders, given the situation that we find ourselves.
You are now my son. Hidejiro. My father’s words still echo in my head. I take a deep breath, only to feel the tightness of the bindings on my chest. “Why do we have to do this?” I asked my mother. “Your father wants to take care of you,” she replied, as she helped me get dressed that first morning that I took on this guise.
“I’m not looking for a cute girl!” he insists, making a face. “I just thought he did, that’s all.” Smiling, I ruffle his bangs. “Hide-nee… um… Hidejiro-niisan, maybe you should look for a cute girl!” He grins and runs off before I can get to him… I return to my room, looking at my face in the mirror. I’m still me, right? I ask, looking back at the eyes that look just as they did when I wore my hair up. At least they didn’t make me take on the typical samurai hairstyle, I think with some grim relief.
“Hidejiro! They’re here and we’re to meet them!” My mother’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I stand up. Stand up like a man, I remind myself. What does that mean? How does a man stand up? Ahhh…. I should have spent more time watching them. The swords lean against the wall. Yes… I carry these now. The oldest son of Yagi Gennojou would carry them. Okaasan comes into the room, impatience on her face, “really, now, please hurry -”
I look over at her and that expression fades, replaced by concern. She pats my shoulder, “be a good boy,” she tries to say in a light voice. I can only laugh nervously at that, and shake my head. “It’ll only be for a month or so… we’re all going to have to make adjustments. But this is very important to your father… and as his family we must support him and what he does for our country, right?”
I finally smile at my mother’s words, and nod. She continues, “but…” a big sigh comes from her small frame, “I don’t think your father had any idea how much they will eat. I hope your grandmother is preparing herself, and without you being able to help…” Oh yes, so many of the household duties that I like to see to are not something that an older boy would be helping with.
I follow my mother, sitting beside my father as the ronin file in. I try not to stare at them. They look just like… regular men. Introductions are made, and my grandmother is very curt under her polite greeting. Obaasan is feisty and not so easily cowed.
“I… I…” the voice coming from my through sounds so unnatural, like the voice of a demon coming from a possessed person like in those stories from my childhood. “I am Yagi Hidejiro, the oldest son,” I say in a rush, my voice false and gruff. I remember my manners and bow a little. In a daze I hear my brother introduce himself properly. I try not to show the panic on my face as who will stay in what room is discussed. My eyes glance up and I see the young man who my brother thought was a girl. Oh… I cast my eyes back down, hoping that I’m not blushing, because if this is to ever work… I cannot begin to act like that.