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Morning, and Syaoran and I exchanged a worried look. Lord Kwan didn’t come back for the night. We’d kept a light sleep, waiting to wake at his return. It never happened. I swelled with guilt, despite Syaoran’s assurances.
Halfway dressed, Lord Kwan entered the room. Syaoran greeted him, causing me to panic and hurry up to attend him. His hair unbound and clothes disheveled, he looked tired. I wasn’t so stupid as to not guess. I’d caught men and women sneaking out of rooms that were not their own, and had an extensive talk with Lin to rid myself of some ignorance. In knowing all that, it pained my heart, confirming that his affection would be withheld from me.
Syaoran must’ve suspected my heartache, trying words of comfort to potentially deny the reason Lord Kwan was kept away. I held in my tears. It was a silly thing for me to get upset over. I wasn’t entitled to his affection, and hadn’t the courage to express my own feelings. I shouldn’t be surprised that he would find himself with another woman, a Juneun. I was just his human servant.
Yet, the reminder of it all only cut deeper into my heart.
I took solace on the far side of the smaller pond nearest the castle, hiding myself behind the water lilies and lotus flowers not yet in bloom. It still looked large enough to be called a lake, though the wooden walkways crossing parts of it detracted from the thought.
I’d taken a bowl of rice and a bread bun with me for breakfast, in no mood for company and with little appetite. Between the heartbreak and the feeling of having disappointed the spirits I adored, my stomach soured. Unable to make myself eat, I’d tossed a pinch of rice far into the water, watching the koi discover it and go into a frenzy.
Absent minded, I tossed another pinch slightly closer. And again after they’d finished that, until I could see their many colors swimming as close as they dared. The pond still retained a dropped edge, preventing any of the fish from accidentally beaching themselves. Before half my bowl was emptied, they’d come right against the ledge, keeping me company as I pinched off more of my breakfast for them.
“They only come up to someone who’s gentle,” said Genji.
I’d been so lost in my own fog that I didn’t notice when he approached, and scrambled to get to my feet for good manners. He waved aside the bow, gesturing for me to resume my place, and sat near to me.
“There’s always been a few who come to Tetsuden, and try to lure the koi close. But the ones in this pond have a particular nak for only coming to someone they know is a gentle person.” He kept his shy tone and slow words, bringing a comfort with them.
I watched him, looking as timeless and regal as the giant trees just outside of his castle’s walls. “How can they tell?”
He shrugged. “They can tell.”
“Are they spirits too, my lord?”
He showed a soft smile, shaking his head. “They’ve always been ordinary koi, since I was a child. These aren’t the originals, but they’ve learned how to pick up on someone’s compassion and another’s trickery.”
I stuck the tips of my fingers below the water’s surface, feeling them glide by or against my skin. “I like them.”
For a while, we sat in comfortable quiet. I could breathe in that time, able to better suppress all the events of my first days here. Genji didn’t mention any of it, simply being there as a friend.
“The castle is so big,” I said at last, awkward and feeling I needed to. “I keep worrying that I’ll get lost.”
He took his time to look over at me. “I... tend to forget. Most of my life has been on these grounds.”
“My village could fit in here a hundred times over, or more. It makes me not want to touch anything, afraid it’ll break.”
“Don’t be,” said Genji, carrying a chuckle in his deep voice. “Afraid, that is. Rowdy guests are... Three doors and a window have been replaced this morning alone. You’re not... You’re different. From that. The koi know it.”
It was a silly conversation, but it made me feel better. My stomach still too sour, I finished giving the rest of my breakfast to the carp. “Did Lord Kwan get lost when he lived here?”
“Not often,” said Genji. “Isa did. And demanded a map... if she was going to stay. She still got lost.”
I chuckled. “It must’ve been a different world for her. Did she like living here?”
Genji shied. “Once she... she liked it more when she knew her way. Sometimes, she tried to lose her way on purpose. I would have to find her.”
“And you always did?”
He gave a slight nod, smiling.
Another spell of quiet fell over us. I dipped my fingers back into the water, letting the fish come up to investigate. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble, Lord Genji.”
He held still a long time, uncomfortable, and I regretted saying every word. “Love... makes us act rashly.”
I shook my head, withdrawing my hand. “Syaoran isn’t in love with me. And I’m not in love with him.”
Genji replied with a sheepish look. “I didn’t say anything about Syaoran.”
I blinked at him. “Lord Juro?”
He shifted.
I sighed, unable to comprehend the cue. “Lord Genji, I think of you as a kindred soul.”
He tucked in his head slightly, smile strengthening. “I’m glad.”
“If,” I hesitated. “If I were in love, with a Juneun, and he didn’t feel the same way, what do you think I should do?”
Studying me, he pondered the question a moment. “I think you’re sensible enough to know.”
“You said yourself, my lord, that love makes people act rashly.”
He shied, putting his gaze back on the water. “So I did.” Another bout of silence as he mulled it over. “I knew my heart without knowing Isa’s. With love comes the risk of heartbreak. But, there is also the greatest reward from it. If... If both are willing to work on it.”
“It seems love is a complicated thing,” I said, putting on a smile for him. “And I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.”
“Why?”
It took a few seconds, mustering up the courage to say it to someone outside of myself. “I know that I’m not very pretty, and that I’m not good at a lot of things. I’m trying to get better, but... I don’t think I’ll be good enough at any particular skill that someone would fall in love with me. Genuinely fall in love. Not the jealous or possessive sort, but a sincere and kindly love.”
His expression filled with reminiscence again. “Isa was the most beautiful creature in the world to me. All any of the Juneun... all they could say was... how she was a beauty for a human. I liked her cooking. It... wasn’t to a banquet standard. But, I liked it. People will look for any reason to separate themselves, ego, mostly... from someone they envy.”
I listened, wrapping my arms around my legs, and resting my head on my knees.
“Don’t think so little of yourself. Isa... Isa was beautiful. But, if I were blind and didn’t know it... that she was beautiful... I would have loved her all the same. There are things more precious that others can’t see. They don’t take the time to look closely. Patience, determination, compassion... The most beautiful traits come from within.”
I smiled. “You are a romantic, my lord. I can see how you won the love of the woman you wanted.”
He blinked, giving me a puzzled look. “I... wouldn’t say I won her heart. Love is not a prize. It’s... It takes conviction.” He returned his watch to the pond, the sun rising enough to wake the flowers. “I think every good heart is worthy of love. To people who value forgiveness over resentment.”
“It would be hard to love a resentful person,” I agreed. “Or for them to love. I wonder if they’d change, knowing that.” I sighed, looking back to the pond and feeling pity at the thought.
If a person isolated themselves, obsessed with a vengeance that turned them cold, would they even recognize love? Would they change, and let go, in the pursuit of it?
From the corner of my eye, I saw someone approach. Lord Kwan, stoic faced but somehow softer than he’d looked these past few days.
“Am I interrupting?” asked Lord Kwan.
I stood, nearly forgetting my manners, and greeted him with a polite bow.
“You interrupt nothing,” said Genji. “Will you join us for the view?”
Lord Kwan gave a single shake of his head, a slow and smooth gesture. “If you’ll permit me to take my attendant, I’ll be on my way.”
Genji nodded, cuing Kwan to take his leave and for me to follow. In doing so, I kept glancing over my shoulder to Genji, looking for any clue on what to expect. I found none, becoming sheepish myself. Lord Kwan seemed more distant and cold only this morning, leading me to believe he’d decided to terminate our friendship and would perhaps now reprimand me the way other lords did with their servants.
We walked through a side entrance of the castle, down several halls to the other end. I bunched my brow, realizing that we’d come through the only way to get to this part of the grounds. A canal had been cut, dividing the walk way and allowing for a gentle flow of water to hum peacefully. The branches of magnolias umbrellaed over us from either side, their blossoms in full bloom for the occasion.
Lord Kwan continued a few strides more, the wooden walk way silent under every step. “It’s the private garden. Guests typically won’t come here unless given permission by the master of Tetsuden.”
I stiffened at the knowledge. “Then... are we...?”
Lord Kwan turned to look at me, a start of a smile on his face. “I have full range of any part of the grounds. And so do you.” He reached his hand out.
Desperate to reclaim how we’d been before, I accepted. Afraid that there was change to it, I did so slowly.
“You didn’t put on your cosmetics today,” said Lord Kwan.
I blinked, having forgotten. “I didn’t want to be around others today. I know it’s rude, but I didn’t want to bring any more trouble to you.”
He breathed out a quick sigh. “Hisa, trouble will happen whether or not you’re within a mile of it.”
It gave me a small comfort, knowing he wasn’t so upset with me, and we walked on hand-in-hand. The cool touch of his strong fingers, wrapped around my callused ones, put me at ease.
“I want to show you something special,” said Lord Kwan.
I felt my cheeks pink, thankful he looked at the path ahead, and made a quiet agreement.
“Each generation of the Elk Clan has added to the garden. The canal was made by Genji’s grandparents. And the magnolias were planted by his great grandparents.”
I awed a little more at the beautiful path. The color above and the patterns of shadows below, and the scent of it all pleasantly hanging in between. “What did Lord Genji add?” I asked, absently.
“It’s what I want to show you.”
I smiled, needing to contain new excitement.
Several paths branched from our main route, with curiosity causing me to squint as we walked by to see what enchanting secret they led to.
Sunlight poured down on the other side of the magnolias. The canal tapering into a pond, we crossed the closely lain stepping stones. The trees on the opposite side leaned over, shading the second half of the pond. While it looked again like a forest, I admired how the light trickled through the leaves, creating a pallet of green over us, and painted the ground in soft shadows.
The path had become stone here, leading to creeping wisteria. Another pond, and a bridge made from the woven, living vines waited for us.
“This part used to be cleared and ordinary,” said Lord Kwan. “Genji planted a single wisteria tree as a boy, and over time it grew enough to spread out and make this.”
“With magic?”
“A little. There was a bridge before, and the wisteria wrapped around it. So much was eventually consumed, he removed it entirely and let this take its place.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said, awing.
Lord Kwan stopped, looking at me with a gentler expression. “It is.”
I tucked in my head, keeping my sheepish smile. He led on, and I let my expression grow. The flowers were waking from their winter slumber. Half were still new buds, the others in various stages of bloom, and all of it wonderful as they hung above. Without thinking, my free hand reached up, grazing the lowest hanging bunches of flowers, soft and tickling against my skin.
Sunlight flashed through pinpoint breaks in the wisteria. A glitter of light as I walked.
On the other side, the ancient tree stood with its great canopy. The stout, gnarled trunk and thick branches held up a ceiling of flowers and leaves; beautiful shades of purple, speckled by pale green. Its dark wood cemented itself into the ground where bulbous roots peered out near its base. Some of the roots reached out, claiming the wide, earthen mound surrounded by water. A stele stood sentry in front of the tree, standing tall and proud in defiance of any weathering. Some of the roots there vined up to hold It in place.
It was a sight unlike anything I could ever imagine, and I pinched at myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream. “This is all one tree?”
Lord Kwan nodded. “Do you like it?”
“I do.”
He watched me a moment as I wandered, facing as high as my head would go and on my toes. “Lord Genji proposed to his late wife here. And held their wedding the following year.”
“It must’ve been ideal. I don’t think anyone could refuse a proposal under this tree.”
“No?” said Lord Kwan. In that instant, I knew he was about to tease me, and braced myself. “Shall I fetch Syaoran?”
“Lord Kwan!” I scolded. He kept his expression with a soft smile, and I huffed out a sigh. “Syaoran and I... We’re not—”
“I know,” said Lord Kwan, placing a twig of wisteria in my hair. The flowers hung elegantly from what I could tell; it wasn’t a clumsy attempt. “He sought me out this morning, determined to explain the details of it.”
“He did?” I asked in alarm, backing away. “W-what did he tell you?”
Lord Kwan quirked a brow. “That the scene Juro happened on was a rouse. And that there’s no intimate attachment between the two of you.”
I retreated into myself somewhat. I was glad that Lord Kwan understood the particulars, and that Syaoran left out the confession of my feelings. But a lingering guilt wouldn’t leave. “Are you angry, my lord? That we allowed a lie?”
He turned his attention upward, to the fanfare of violet. “No. I would’ve liked to know the rouse beforehand so that I could better defend you both, rather than be caught unaware. But there wasn’t the time to understand it.” His gaze returned to me. “If I led you to think you displeased me, I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “I’m just glad it’s sorted out now.”
He mulled the words over, walking to me. “What do you think about a wedding in this spot?”
I twisted my face, letting it slack when I remembered how he came back to our shared room this morning. “It’d make for a beautiful place,” I said, trying to keep out as much sadness as possible.
“Hmm,” said Lord Kwan, taking in breath and studying the area. “What side would you hold it?”
I gave a sorry look. “I think that’s something better discussed with the bride-to-be, my lord.”
He looked at me with a raised brow. For a long while, he stayed like that, and I avoided meeting his eye. Again, he offered his hand to me. “Do you want to see why they built the castle here?”
Curious, but also wanting to move away from the previous topic, I accepted. On the other side of the wisteria island, more stepping stones lead away. I remembered, as we rounded the tree, to close my eyes and count. The stones led into a cave. Water trickled in small streams from the cliff-face, curtaining the entrance. I raised my arm in what I knew was a miserable attempt to keep dry. Lord Kwan held his sleeve over me, shielding me more effectively.
A brook slithered through the cave, its voice echoing in the dark space. The sound of distant drips, of a waterfall, joined its chorus.
Worried I might slip, my steps became shorter and slower. Lord Kwan held me against him, his arm hugging my waist as he whispered that he wouldn’t let me fall. Words that reminded me of every time I ventured into something new, and he kept close.
Light illuminated the area a short distance in. A narrow waterfall, no taller than Lord Kwan’s house, threw mist into the brilliant touch of sun while the rest crashed on the rock tiers leading down.
He led me around it, showing that a fire flickered behind the fall, nestled in its own alcove. In spite of dampness, it danced without care.
“It’s called the Qilin Plume,” said Lord Kwan.
“A qilin?” I echoed. I’d seen a few depictions from merchants, and in parts of the castle, with none of them looking very much alike, though I didn’t know much about the creature except that they were gentle despite their fierce appearance.
“Genji’s family are the descendants of the qilin,” said Lord Kwan. “The flame was named for that reason.”
“The water doesn’t put it out?”
“It hasn’t since it’s discovery.”
“Is it magic?”
He shrugged. “It might be. No one outside the family has ever touched it.”
Hearing that, I closed my eyes again to count, making every effort to keep Urekkato from looking. “Is there a flame like this in your ancestral home?” I asked, eager. Looking at him, and seeing that slight discomforted, I regretted my words.
“No,” said Lord Kwan. In seeing me shrink away, he went on. “But there is a sacred place there. Called the Well of Oaths. The cave it sits in stays in eternal spring, even in the deepest winter.”
I smiled again. “It sounds like a romantic place.”
He gave a humored scoff. “I thought so too.” Catching himself, his face gave a half-second of shock, as though revealing something personal, and looked away.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Bent brow, he met my eye. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’ve been unfairly cold.”
I echoed his last words, contemplating. “Is that why you brought me to see this place?”
“It’s one reason,” said Lord Kwan. “You can come back any time you like when you’re here.”
I nodded, taking his hand. But in our first steps, a spell of melancholy consumed me. For whatever reason, I had the distinct feel things were going to change.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lord Kwan, concern marring his usual stony expression.
“I...” I didn’t know how to explain it. And maybe it was laughable for me to brood. “Kiss me?”
He blinked, perplexed at the odd timing. His hint of a smile returned, and he retook my hands. I took in a small, sharp breath. Then he raised up my hands in his, laying his lips on my knuckles. It was my turn to flash confusion. In seeing my expression, his smile grew slightly, and he took a step closer. He leaned in and I closed my eyes. His lips didn’t land on mine, however. Instead, he planted the kiss at my hairline.