~~~
“Kokoro-sama.” I had stepped toward my lord. He stood in front of a bookshelf, scanning the spines. He had worn a blue silk kimono that complemented his masculine figure and pale complexion. In contrast, I wore a pink furisode with long, hanging sleeves to match my feminine mood that morning.
He pulled a book from the shelf and leafed through the pages. A deep frown marred his handsome face. I wondered what he was looking for. Wisdom, perhaps. But no amount of knowledge would open a heart.
Kokoro, don’t be a bookworm! I wanted to tease him like I had when we were kids. Back then, I went by Ako, the milk name I discarded when I came of age and shaved my pate. Once as close as brothers, we had grown apart as we grew older. We’re lord and servant, I reminded myself. I held my breath, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.
“My ninja recently observed a peculiar movement in Chifumi’s estate,” I said, lowering my voice. “She appears to be gathering bushi.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the page. I fought the urge to yank the book away.
“But my lord,” I said. “She has repeatedly turned down your marriage proposals. We have a good reason to distrust her.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to marry her,” he said, looking up for the first time.
I remained silent. There was no incentive for Chifumi to marry Kokoro. If she married him, she’d lose her independence and properties.
“We have gone over this many times before,” he said. “Marriage is merely a means to form a military alliance. You have no reason to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I said. “What are you reading anyway?”
I stepped closer and saw a woodcut image of naked torsos. It was an illustrated erotic tale featuring two men, but I glimpsed one of them sneaking a kiss from a woman.
“It’s none of your business,” Kokoro said, turning his body to block my view.
I had stormed out of the library. When I returned to my room, I changed into a green man’s kimono, poured myself a large cup of sake, and berated myself for being a lovesick fool.
~~~
The past slowly loosened its grip on me, and as my old memories and keen frustrations faded like stale smoke, I felt the hunger pains growing. I placed a hand on my stomach as it groaned.
I looked outside again. Skeletal remains of koi lay scattered in the moat that had been filled with water only a few weeks ago.
Smoke rose in the distance, indicating mealtime. That was how Chifumi tormented us while we starved. Hundreds of bushi surrounded the castle, cutting off all of our supply lines. We were worse off than cornered rats.
I stepped into the kitchen and found Kiyomi, the cook who had been with us since the previous lord’s time.
“Any rats?” I asked. She shook her head.
I walked around and checked the traps. They were all empty.
Three weeks had passed since Chifumi’s siege began. After running out of food, we resorted to catching rats and roasting them. Now, the rats had run out, as well.
I left the kitchen and found Kokoro in the zashiki where tea was served. Unfortunately, we’d also run out of tea.
“Kokoro-sama,” I said.
I fell to my knees and kowtowed, my forehead almost touching the floor. The baked-grass scent of the tatami tickled my nose.
When I was young, Kokoro was the sun to me, too bright for direct contemplation.
“It’s only a matter of time before we run out of water.”
“What do you suggest?” Kokoro asked, sitting behind the low wooden table.
I glided over to Kokoro, leaning into him. I was close enough to kiss him, but I fought the urge.
“Eat me,” I whispered in his ear. “Eat me, and you’ll live. You’ll figure out a way to survive this.”
“Are you serious?” Kokoro asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s the only way,” I said, emboldened. I had nothing to lose. I didn’t even need sake to loosen my tongue.
Kokoro kept quiet.
“Trust me,” I said. “It will work.”
“If you say so,” Kokoro said. I tried to hide my trembling lips, devastated by the absence of gratitude in his tone.
“Thank you, Kokoro-sama.” I bowed before retiring to my room.
I pulled my wakizashi from my waist and sawed off my right hand. It fell to the floor with a thud. I didn’t feel pain or bleed. Perhaps my blood had run dry like the moat below the lattice window.
I picked up my hand, went down to the kitchen, and sought Kiyomi once more.
“Help me roast this,” I said.
“It’s your hand!” Kiyomi cried, startled. “I cooked a monkey hand years ago to treat Kokoro’s father’s illness, but never a human hand.”
“I’m feeding Kokoro-sama,” I said. “I love him.”
“I knew that,” she said. “But he’ll never love you back.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I was born to serve my lord like my father before me.” Unlike me, my father wasn’t in love with his lord. However, he committed seppuku on the day of his lord’s funeral.
Kokoro and I grew up together. When we were thirteen, I ate a girl who said she was in love with him. She tasted like undercooked chicken. Her sour smell lingered in me for months. After a while, my body rounded with feminine curves.
I watched Kiyomi roast my hand on the kamado. The smell of burned flesh caught in my throat, and I coughed.
I entered Kokoro’s room, balancing a wooden ozen on my hip. He sat on the tatami, reading another book.
When I set the ozen in front of Kokoro, he looked up. He became fixed on the plate.
“You’ve lost yourself in a book again,” I said. “I am not jealous of Chifumi, but I’m jealous of the words.” He flinched at the mention of our enemy, and it gave me some small satisfaction.
“Don’t you need your hand?” he asked, ignoring what I’d said. “You could have chosen some other part.” He fidgeted uncomfortably as if a worm was crawling out of his skin.
“But you don’t let me touch you anymore,” I blurted, surprising myself. I swallowed my tears, knowing my feelings would never be fully reciprocated. “Despite your name, you have no heart.”
“Come now, Ako,” he said. “Don’t be so harsh.” Maybe it was my imagination, but his voice trembled. Maybe he was ready to open up again. Hope fluttered in my stomach.
“You’ve just called me Ako again.” Old memories careened back: Kokoro and I had waded through a mountain creek—water caressed our thighs, our fingers brushed, our touches lingered, our tangled bodies rolled down the grassy bank, our lips locked for the first time. When I told him we were bound the same way heaven and earth were bound, he had nodded with a smile.
“Forgive me,” Kokoro said, averting his eyes. “I shouldn’t have. I know we aren’t kids anymore.”
You’re a servant, my father would have said. Don’t forget your lot in life. My mind knew he was right, but my heart told me to disobey.
Kokoro’s stomach groaned, and he stirred, shifting his weight. I slid behind him, rubbed his tense shoulders, ran my fingers through his hair. I knew he couldn’t resist any longer.
“Let me watch you eat,” I whispered, nibbling his earlobe. He pulled away, but I pursued him until he surrendered. As he took a bite of my offering, I shivered, and I couldn’t stop.