I feel strongly that it is my duty and my calling . . . destiny if you will . . . to stand between my clan and the Empire as Ide stood between Shinjo's followers and the gaijin. To this end, I have become something of both worlds that truly belongs to neither.
All too often, those of the Empire see only a pretty barbarian, and my own clan see only a woman whose loyalty to her clan is questionable. To them, I am less a Unicorn for following the dictates of my soul which will not be denied.
And now, it has come time for the question of marriage to be settled. I have the option to declare that I will forever remain chaste in the service of my clan. But, I fear I am too much a coward. I have been so alone since my father died. I have allowed myself to dream too much about a family and children . . . those I could share my life with and finally, create a place where I might belong.
All winter I have been courted. All winter I have sought to find a suitor who will understand me as I am. While there are three who are suitable and not unattractive choices, I fear that I may be compromised in spirit if not in body. None of them are the man I want . . ."
Ketsuko sighed as she recalled again the words she had written in
her journal the previous evening. Spring was already in the air even if
the thaw had not yet begun, and the time before her great-uncle would
decide which of her suitors would become her betrothed grew shorter. Even
though he had assured her over and over that the actual marriage need not
be celebrated hastily, she knew that betrothal would very probably signal
the end to her freedom . . . depending on the choice.
As she sat in contemplation, a single drop of water welled silently up to trickle along the length of an icicle above her head. After traveling the length, it spilled off the tip to fall, landing like a tear on her cheek. It was time . . .
Another letter had been included with the first. This was from Daiyu, her great-uncle. In it, he had informed her her that he intended to see her betrothed by the spring thaw.
Ketsuko had viewed that letter with mixed emotions. Daiyu had long ago claimed the right to arrange her marriage before the entire family even though she was technically bound to serve her uncle. Of course, Ketsuko had never known the family to deny him anything. They would have named him daimyo except he himself had refused the honor.
The negotiations with the Lion had been tedious. They seldom accepted the peaceful solution, and it was notoriously difficult to get them to accept any sort of compromise even when their demands were so outrageous. All too often, a Lion negotiator would scoff at anything less than they had asked for and call it insult to the honor of their clan.
Then, there had been the suitors. Granted, Daiyu had not brought in a bigger bunch than the one that had chased Yoroshiku at Gisu Castle, but she thought that hers were perhaps more devoted in their attentions. But to make matters worse, he was also present.
When Ketsuko first met him, they had both slipped inadvertantly into a true conversation that was beyond the verbal fencing of the court. She remembered how perversely grateful she had been to find another who was as much an outcast to his own clan as she was to hers. Both stood between, belonging to neither world, and when he had initiated a correspondence and continued to seek her out when she visited Otosan Uchi on business, she had discovered the sort of comfort that shared loneliness could be, and most importantly, she could tell that he felt the same.
But, he had not been asked to court her, or at least, he had made no attempt to do so. Once or twice, when she was at the end of her patience with everything, he had sought her company for a quiet conversation. While she had appreciated his friendship and apparent empathy, it had almost been more than she could bear because she knew that he wanted her too . . . her training gave her that much.
And so it came to this, Daiyu would select one of her suitors, and she would be promised to another man. Always before, she had accepted her duty without question. Even in the face of the doubts of her clansmen, she stood firm, serving loyally. But in the face of this, she knew rebellion for the first time, and it was not a comfortable emotion . . .
She faced Daiyu over a pot of steaming tea. The delicate blackware cup was very nearly egg-shell thin, and the warmth of the tea within was welcome to fingers still carrying the lingering chill of the gardens. For a time, both sat in silence savoring the tea.
"The thaw has come?" he asked finally.
To her trained ear, it was more a statement than a question. For an instant, she considered making no reply. It would be a petty show of rebellion, but after nearly three months, rebelliousness was the only thing she felt. So she compromised with herself and gave a reluctant nod.
"I sense, however, that with the time to settle your future upon us, you are somewhat reluctant."
He used a gentle, coaxing tone that pried at her searching for the truth. She knew that tone well, but this time she steadied her resolve. In this, what she wanted hardly mattered. In this, it was her duty toaccept.
"Child, have none of your suitors pleased you? If marriage is not for you, I will not force you to it."
"That's no choice at all!" She snapped realizing only after saying it how bitter she sounded, but spending her life alone as she was now was not an option. Daiyu was always seeking the truth from her. Well, she would let him have it, or as much of it as she could divulge.
"You know me better than that, great-uncle-sama," she continued trying to keep the emotion out of her voice, trying to school her expression to one of serenity. "Marriage is the only choice for me. You know that. I don't want to face the rest of my life alone."
"What of clan and family? You are hardly alone so long as they exist," he pointed out dryly.
"My clan and family," she murmured, "they don't understand me. Even you don't understand me sometimes. Only my father ever accepted me as I was."
"Ketsuko-san," he said gently, "your father died when you were six. If he were alive today, do you think that he would still understand?"
"Yes." She answered simply because she had to believe it. When her differences hurt the worst, she had always used her memories of her father to assuage the pain. Her father had loved her, and to consider that he might have drawn away as others had because of what she was would destroy her resolve to continue on in the direction she had chosen.
Again, silence reigned in the room. The only sound that intruded was the music of dripping water. One drop had become many in the face of the afternoon's warmth.
"So, we still must make a choice," Daiyu said finally setting his cup aside. "Will you tell me of your suitors? I want to consider your wishes as much as I can."
"Surely you have already chosen," she replied. "Would my feelings on the matter truly make much difference?"
Daiyu pinned her where she sat with an iron gaze. She knew she had finally gone too far with him, but she could not really care. If he wanted the truth, he should get it, and the truth was not likely one he wanted to hear, but she could not quite bring herself to speak when he was so obviously angry.
"Can it be that you cannot trust me to choose wisely?" He asked in a deceptively quiet tone. When no answer was forthcoming, he asked another, "Are you so selfish that you would have the choice to yourself?"
Despite his anger, Ketsuko felt a small surge of hope. If the choice was hers, who would stop her from naming whomever she chose? It was a wild hope, a vain hope, that died in the space of a single heartbeat. It would never be as easy as a simple declaration of what she wanted. The politics of the situation would see to that.
Finally, Daiyu's expression smoothed. He sighed and studied her for a long time before suddenly nodding as though he had unravelled a mystery.
"Child, I find that I have never been able to deny you anything. If it means so much to you, I will allow you the choice. Come to me at this time tomorrow, and tell me which of your suitors I should choose . ..."