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“Hello, wife.”
She freezes like a prey caught in a hunter’s trap. Her beautiful, large eyes widen and expectedly veer away, looking at anywhere but my face. She does so often these days. Always hiding, always running, skittering in that exquisitely, adorable way so uniquely hers, it makes me laugh. In that moment I nearly do, but I disguise it behind a cough, sparing her mercy as the telltale sign of her flusteredness manifests itself on the apples of her cheeks.
“L-lord Kazuyuki, good day to you.” The melodic cadence of her voice envelops me and I briefly close my eyes to savor the sound. Beautiful. Just like how everything about her is. She is beautiful. And like the colossal fool that I am, I was too late to perceive it. To perceive her.
My gaze washes over her, from the top of her headful of raven hair down to the hem of her wisteria-patterned kimono, imagining it were my hands examining her instead. I watch her wilt under the intensity of my scrutiny, even as she keeps her head bowed low.
Patience, Kazuyuki. You must not rush.
“Did you need me for something, milord?”
I curled my fist under my kimono sleeve. “Indeed I do. Would you grant me the honor of playing shogi with me?”
“But did we not play just yesterday?”
“Yes and I distinctly recall I was thoroughly defeated so I desire a rematch if milady would be so kind.”
Miho stands abruptly as if struck by lightning. A multitude of expressions wash across her exquisite features: shock, disbelief, wariness… The silence stretches like an ocean between us as my wife seemingly mulls over her words.
“Milord, are you unwell?”
I blink. She steps toward me and places a gentle palm against my forehead, and instantly I fall into the waters of a frigid lake.
“Hmm, you aren’t warm so it’s not a fever.”
“Is it not enough reason that I simply want to play shogi with my wife?”
Rich brown locks into mahogany. A silent battle of wills commences. With bated breath, I wait, mentally urging her to take that one brave leap forward. She takes a dainty, resolute step back into her secluded corner.
An unforeseen inner force shackles me. On instinct, I reach out to hold her wrist and I’m taken aback by how thin it is, as if even the slightest application of force could snap it in half.
This small woman who looks like she could be blown easily by the wind.
This quiet, unforeseen unshakable force who sweeps everything in its path like an unrelenting hurricane.
This noble lady who holds the secrets of the universe in the depths of her gaze.
My wife.
“Wife,” I feel her thundering pulse beneath my fingertips. My heart thuds in response. “Will you not grant me this small request?”
Her lips part in a soft, frustrated sigh. Her gaze turns conflicted, before they take on a determined glint. “Very well milord. I accept. But I have a condition…”
“Go on.”
“If I win,” she worries the delicate flesh between her teeth. “You cease whatever foolish game it is you’re playing once and for all. No more cornering me in the hallways, or seeking me out in the kitchens or lying in ambush when I’m about to take my afternoon walks. You are a busy man. Your time is better spent on more pressing matters than someone like me. It is unbecoming, milord. People will talk.”
“And if I win,” I counter, gently pulling her close until she’s flush against my chest. “You allow me to do all that without complaint.” I lean down until our faces are merely inches apart. “You allow me to woo you.”
Her face comes alive upon my declaration. It’s the most animated I’ve seen it and for the briefest moment, I finally see the woman she keeps locked within, buried beneath exquisite robes and unyielding grace. A woman who is kind and sweet. One who is easily flustered at the simplest of compliments. One who loves silently, steadfastly, even if such love is unreciprocated. A beautiful soul, left still untainted by the horrors of the world.
A fierce wave of protectiveness overwhelms me as I watch her break free from my grasp. Her cheeks are aflame even as she holds my gaze steady with a steely one of her own. “I accept your terms, milord. I won’t lose.”
Her mouth falls open in shock as I place my final piece on the board, effectively securing my fifth victory in a row. Quirking my eyebrow, I lean back and regard her with an impish smile. “I believe that means an undeniable triumph, wouldn’t you say, milady?”
She remains silent, and with growing affection, I note the way her brows furrow in consternation and her lips pucker into a worried pout.
“It is time for your afternoon walk, yes? May I join you?”
Her pout deepens. “If you must.”
My smile grows. “Oh I do. Lead the way.”
The vivid colors of Autumn greets us as soon as we step into the yard. The leaves crunch beneath our feet. I fall into step beside my wife quietly admiring her profile from the side.
“When one goes on walks, one usually pays attention to the surroundings, lest they fall.” Her chastisement is gentle, her ears are red and her gaze is surreptitiously focused on the path before her.
“The surroundings should be ashamed then. They fail to hold my attention in comparison to you.”
Her answering scoff is both a surprise and a delight. “If this is how you court me, you will have to do better than that, milord. Words of flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It is a promise. My heart shall never be won. And even if it shall, it shan’t be won by words alone.” She swivels back and turns to walk in front of me until we are only a breath apart. I lean down to meet her eyes that glint ferociously like sharp swords. “You are a samurai, bound by honor and action. If I am indeed the object of your affections, show me. In the most sincere way you can. If you cannot then allow me to slip back into the shadows, never to be perceived or heard from again. That is all I ask, Lord Kazuyuki.”
With that, she marches forward, silk and the scent of plum blossoms swirling in her wake. I find myself in utter awe of her. This slip of a woman. This courageous warrior with a heart of gold. And with my resolve bolstered, I make a silent vow and trail after the person who has endeared herself to my heart.
My father once told me: Fear not the man who knows 1000 sword maneuvers, fear the man who practices 1 maneuver 1000 times. It was something that has deeply buried itself within my soul, something that I strive to achieve in everything that I do. Courting my wife is no different. If anything, my efforts are doubled, my sincerity overflowing. I seek her out for meals together. I invite her for afternoon tea. I bid her good night before I head to sleep.
Slowly, surely, passionately, like a swordsmith forging a sword, I put my entire being into courting her. And as her wary gazes gradually turn into honey-wide curiosity, I find myself discovering a whole new part of me I had never known before. The affectionate, thoughtful part. That part of myself that had never waited for anyone. The part that beseeched rather than demanded. The part that carved delicate necklaces made from coral rather than bloody wounds on the body of enemies. That part that embraced love like a fisherman answering the call of the sea.
In loving my wife, I began to love me and the changes she brought in me.
If my father could see me now, he’d mock me, drown me in ridicule, call me unfit to lead our clan. He’d label me weak and spineless, easily swayed by the trappings of love. But what was his ridicule in comparison to the sweet sound of her voice? What were his jeers in the face of her beguiling, wide-eyed stare?
Love does not make one weak. It makes one stronger. It gives one the unwavering courage to face anything, even Death itself.
“Milord, are you alright?”
I’m drawn from the maelstrom of my thoughts into her swirls of deep gold. Within their depths I see concern, doubt and something deeper… indescribable… Something my heart answers to as it thunders against my ribs.
Silently I nod, too entranced by the sight before me to speak. The moon is a silvery arc over a dark blanket littered with glittering stars. Light snow begins to fall, bathing my wife’s features in an ethereal glow. Miho looks the most beautiful in snow.
“I love you.”
The wind stills. My world stops. Miho’s hues are wide as saucers.
“I love you so much, it’s hard to breathe. It’s as if every breath carries the weight of my feelings for you. It’s daunting. How could such love be confined within just my heart? But it’s there. And it burns bright like the midday sun.”
I slide close towards her, reaching for her face. My fingers trace the contours of her cheeks, utterly beguiled as it grows a dark rosy color with every word that passes through my lips.
“For the woman that has everything—a heart that is kind, a mind that is sharp, wise beyond her years and a grace befitting her station as the wife that I am proud to call my own. I was a blind fool. How could I not see? It is not a sprawling castle or numerous victories in war that I seek. It is a warm bed to come home to and a well-cooked meal to soothe my hunger. It is not priceless swords I yearn for but the promise of your smile and the feel of your warm embrace. It is not anything else. Only you. You are what I desire. Will you take me, loathsome man as I am?”
It’s not when my voice wavers when it finally registers how all the strength has left my body, or how my eyes are shut tight. Darkness is all I see until slender fingers gently coax my eyelids open. I’m welcomed by the sight of Miho’s face, set alight by her bright smile. Tears fall down her face and I quickly chase them away with shaky fingertips.
“How could I not? I loved you first. I loved you silently, steadily, faithfully even when it felt like a sin. Imperfection could not stain perfection. And I am imperfect. Riddled by so many scars I’ve long since loathed and buried deep within me. I never asked for anything in return. But now,” she chokes up and shakes her head in disbelief. “Now that love is returned. I, this hideously scarred woman, take you, you loathsome man.” Soft giggles spill from her sweet mouth and I swallow them up in a kiss, the taste so tantalizing there’s a buzz in my ears. I come back for more and she returns my enthusiasm with delicate vigor that makes my blood sing.
“A scarred woman for a loathsome man. What a perfect match we are.” I remark with a soft laugh. Her head is pillowed against my chest, her lips swollen red from the kisses we shared. My heart feels full and near to bursting as I run my hands through her hair. “This dance between you and me has finally ended.”
Miho looks up from beneath fanned lashes and smiles mischievously. “Oh no, my dearest lord husband. The dance has only just begun.”