In another corner of the estate, a boy lay on his stomach on the bamboo tatami floor of his room- next to him an inkpot and before him a sheet of paper. In flowing strokes, his brush gently drew out the kanji characters, pausing every so often while he struggled to remember a stroke here, or a dash there in the Chinese way of writing. He was young, not more than eight seasons, but the intense gaze on his face showed a thoughtfulness that many had commented was beyond his years.
So intent was he on his writing, he failed to notice the door slide open and shut, or the soft approaching footsteps, until suddenly the paper upon which he had worked so hard was swiftly snatched out from before him as if by a sharp wind.
“And what is this?” Asked the new arrival- a teenager almost twice the boy’s age.
“Hey! Give it back!” The boy protested, jumping to his feet and grabbing vainly for the paper as the other simply turned and kept it up out of his reach.
“Dear father, I hope you are well. Masahiro and I miss you and mother greatly, and hope that we will be able to see you soon.” Read the teen, then stopped to shake his head and look at his younger brother. “I knew it. You’re writing another letter to father asking him to let us come home.” Then he sighed and added- “Taro, why don’t you just give up?”
Snatching back his letter, Taro gripped it protectively. “I can’t. If father knows how much we want to come back he’ll think of something. You read his letter. He misses us.”
“Yes, misses us so badly he sent us here in the first place.” Masahiro commented. “Taro, we’ve been over this a hundred times- this is our home. The Kurokawa are our people, and you had better start accepting it.”
“D-Don’t you want to go back?” The boy protested, clearly not agreeing.
Masahiro shook his head. “And why would I want to do that? Taro, who do you think would win in a fight between our clan and the Kurokawa?”
“Why, our clan of course, brother!” The child said proudly. “The Inuyama!”
Masahiro sighed again, giving his brother a look of sympathy. “Taro. Taro, you’ve got to forget these dreams of yours. You’ve seen the armies of the Kurokawa- how they fight. Do you really think our clan has any chance against their samurai? The Inuyama have no future, sooner or later the Kurokawa will crush them.”
“No! Don’t say that! Father is strong!”
The teen smiled sardonically. “If father is so strong, why are we here? Why did he put his future in the hands of his enemies? No Taro-chan, we’re on our own. Stop thinking in terms of our blood and start thinking with your head. We’ve got to do what we can to get into the Kurokawa while there’s still time, before our father does something stupid.”
The boy looked at his elder brother for a moment, and then a light seemed to come on in his eyes. “Emiko! You’re talking about Emiko-chan!”
There were times Taro was far too perceptive for his age, and this was one of them. Slightly embarrassed, Masahiro was about to deny it when suddenly he heard a noise outside their room and quickly motioned Taro to be quiet.
Just as he’d done this, a knock came at the door. Masahiro’s heart leapt into his mouth and be began to panic. Had someone heard his brother’s treasonous talk? Would they be punished? What should they do- they couldn’t just pretend there was no-one there.
As Masahiro struggled to think, the low knock came again.
Finally, he made a decision. Masahiro called out “enter”.
The wood-panelled door slid open to reveal…
“A servant,” said Taro, peering past his bother at a man bowing deeply in the open door.
Suddenly slightly embarrassed by his own cowardly thoughts, Masahiro naturally wanted someone to take it out on. “What do you want old man?!” He barked.
The old servant with the tied back silver hair finally raised his head, smiling at the uncertain pair.
“Young masters, your humble servant Jiro brings you greetings from home.”
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