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“I really cannot stay, lord Minamoto,” Seimei said when he finished his cup of sweet sake.
“But lord Seimei, it would be no trouble at all,” Hiromasa objected, inching a bit closer. “And the night has gotten so cold, despite the snow. Please, accept the use of my guest wing, it will be made ready for you momentarily.”
“You are too generous, my lord. I cannot take advantage of your sense of obligation as a host,” Seimei said mildly. “This evening has been wonderful, but I’m afraid I should be leaving.”
“It is so rare that you would come to my humble home that I simply cannot permit you to do this!”
“‘Permit’ me?” Seimei’s eyebrow rose, just a fraction.
“Think of my reputation, lord Seimei, people will say that I throw out my guests in the horrible cold, when I know how woefully unequipped their ox-cart is for the long and arduous way back to their own home.”
“I’m sure that my shikigami will be beside themselves with worry if I do not return. I really must decline your very generous offer, my lord.”
“But where is the hurry?” Hiromasa said and gestured to a servant for another jar of sweet sake without so much as moving his eyes from the palest sakura-petal of a blush on Seimei’s cheeks. “I have some excellent jars of plum sake that you haven’t even tried yet. Sample them, and let us see what you think then.”
“Excellent plum sake, you say? Well… perhaps just one more cup, then,” Seimei conceded generously.
“And while you drink, allow me to play for you that melody you liked so much during our last visit to the picturesque countryside. I learned it especially for such an occasion,” Hiromasa said and reached out to his sash, only for Seimei’s hand to stop his with a fleeting touch, sleeve covering his sleeve.
“Oh, lord Minamoto, you know that the... folk song to that melody was positively unworthy of your refined court sensibilities,” Seimei murmured. “What would the neighbors think if they were to hear you play it?”
“Lord Seimei, they would understand, if they could see how your eyes are like the stars during Tanabata,” Hiromasa whispered, leaning in under the pretense of pouring more sake.
“Heavens, whatever must be in this sake, to make you talk like that,” Seimei demurred. “But what would your neighbors think of me if I stayed? If I intruded so horribly upon your generosity?”
“You can always say that an unexpected directional taboo settled in.”
“An unexpected… directional taboo. Goodness.”
“Quite. While I was playing the flute for you, perhaps. They will be very understanding, I’m sure.”
“So am I,” Seimei murmured, and then said louder, “Your welcome has really been exceptionally nice and warm, like your home, and it’s been a pleasure to be here, lord Minamoto. But I should be leaving.”
“No, lord Seimei, it’s me who had the pleasure, and who was so lucky that you decided to come. So let me extend my humble hospitality further - will you just look at what a dreadful cold night it is outside.”
“Then perhaps I will allow you to do that,” Seimei looked at him under long lashes.
“You will?” Hiromasa beamed.
“I will allow you to lend me a few winter robes so I may be warm on my way home in my ox-cart.”
“Oh, lord Seimei, you are cruel, and coming from anyone else, I would think that you are trying to offend my hospitality!”
“Nothing could be further from my wish, my lord Minamoto,” Seimei shook his head. “But you have to understand, Mistumushi will be pacing at the door until I return.”
“Please, avail of my writing desk to send her a letter, then. Shall I show you to it?”
“I fear it will not be sufficient, my lord,” Seimei shook his head woefully. “She has such a vicious mind, I really don’t know where she gets these ideas - perhaps from those courtly romances that have taken to appearing mysteriously in my home.”
“I assure you, I have never shown her anything inappropriate for a young lady!”
“Did I say it was you, my lord Minamoto?”
“You may have implied,” Hiromasa said with a small pout.
“I assure you, I do not know what you mean,” Seimei said smoothly.
“The most I can be blamed of is that I may have been caught looking at the nape of your neck for longer than is appropriate,” Hiromasa murmured, inching even closer.
“Ah, I really must go,” Seimei said and made himself more comfortable exactly where he was.
“Just five minutes more,” Hiromasa purred, and took the sake jar again, leaning in to block the exit that Seimei looked anything but interested in. “Have mercy on my reputation as a host, I beg you, lord Seimei.”
“You make such a compelling argument, my lord Minamoto,” Seimei said, looking like the proverbial cat who got the cream. “Alright, perhaps just five minutes more.”
“Isn’t it just the most awful cold night outside,” Hiromasa bemoaned.
“Positively a genuine blizzard,” Seimei agreed seriously.
Lord Yasunori, lord Kaneie, their pages and Hiromasa’s servants attending to them crowded on the veranda and watched in dejected impatience the huddling lord Abe-no-Seimei and lord Minamoto-no-Hiromasa, who seemed utterly unable to notice them, despite being about three paces away.
Lord Yasunori was already beginning to tap his foot impatiently, and lord Kaneie stifled a yawn. Behind them, other guests who also wanted to leave early the obligatory New Year’s party cast expectant and hopeful looks at them.
“How much longer are they going to be at it?” lord Kaneie mumbled behind his sleeve. “At this rate, my wife at home will think that I’m the one having the affair.”
“The way I’ve heard it told, it was you, lord Kaneie, who just had to send the young lord Minamoto to lord Seimei’s house,” Yasunori said with an air colder than the snow outside.
“Hng,” lord Kaneie replied intelligently and shuffled a safer distance away from the other. “I-it was an emergency! A demon! How was I to know we’d end up… like this?”
“Oh, an emergency. Perhaps it was a memory-devouring demon, which caused you to forget that I’ve had the unique pleasure of your acquaintance for, what, fifteen years now?” Miraculously, lord Yasunori’s voice managed to get even chillier.
“Well, I notice that I don’t see you stepping up to speak on the matter to your brother-disciple either, my lord Yasunori,” lord Kaneie bristled, now safely behind one of his servants.
Yasunori opened his mouth, presumably to bring arctic winter to that little corner of Heian-kyo, when, out of lord Minamoto’s bosom, Ha Futatsu made an appearance. The entire party groaned loudly, but their host seemed as single-mindedly focused on his obligation of hospitality as before.
“That’s it,” lord Yasunori sighed profoundly. “I’m leaving, manners or no manners.”
“But, but we can’t just leave. Can we?” lord Kaneie whined, throwing hopeful looks at the other.
“I’m sure that if our gracious host lord Minamoto is moved to remark upon our absence, by dint of some great New Year’s miracle for example, he’ll be able to find it in his heart to forgive us if we leave,” Yasunori deadpanned. He really wanted to go home to his wife already, and the evening was cold.
Lord Kaneie jumped at the opportunity, and so did quite a few other guests, and soon everyone was dressed in their winter overcoats and shuffling out the back door of the manor, like so many exquisitely-dressed sneak-thieves.
“But really, how oblivious are they?” lord Kaneie grumbled on the way to their ox-carts, parked next to one another. “Do they think we don’t have eyes, or are they that smitten into utter stupidity?”
“Oblivious? My goodness, lord Kaneie, you don’t know them very well, do you?” lord Yasunori said, already hopping lightly into his carriage.
“Eh?”
“My brother-disciple takes his entertainment wherever he can get it, and I’m afraid some of his sense of humor has rubbed off on the young lord Minamoto as well. Among other things,” Yasunori smiled sweetly. “Perhaps that will teach you why we go to the bureau of divination when we have a gourd growing on a pine tree, my lord, instead of tossing unsuspecting young lords into the lion’s den.”
Lord Kaneie opened and closed his mouth like a not particularly expensive pond carp.
“Happy New Year, lord Kaneie,” Yasunori said, and was gone.
“I think that was the last of them,” Hiromasa murmured in Seimei’s ear at the distant sound of rumbling ox-carts.
“I told you that if you just gave them the opportunity, they’d leave all by themselves,” Seimei’s fox-like smile finally made an appearance, and he stretched happily. “But really, Hiromasa, an unexpected directional taboo while you were playing the flute for me?”
Hiromasa puffed his cheeks and used the self-satisfied stretch to tackle him on his back on the floor, near the merrily burning brazier. Seimei looked entirely too content to be tackled and just looked up with sparkling eyes.
“Happy New Year, Seimei,” Hiromasa said with the biggest grin.
“Happy New Year, Hiromasa,” Seimei said, and pulled him down to himself.