Misao gasped, his eyes wide, and Masaomi gazed at him with an intense expression. Then he chuckled.
“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to let go.” Misao’s face flushed at his teasing. It was so cruel.
“Don’t tease me, please.”
“I don’t want to let you go.”
Masaomi spoke seriously, the smile disappearing from his face.
His eyes twinkled with a flicker of happiness.
But Misao was brought quickly back to reality.
When he finally looked back around, Sazu had a desperate look on her face, as if she had to pee.
“Where is Ukigumo?” Misao asked huskily.
“In the hall.”
Sazu stretched her entire arm out to point. She stared at Misao, wide-eyed.
Misao wiggled around, pulling his kimono around him. Apparently Masaomi understood that the struggle was serious because this time he let Misao go.
Misao stood up. His legs still trembled slightly, but his kimono hid the unsteadiness of his lower body in its trailing splendor.
He adjusted the red slip. Sazu picked up the ornamental sash and brought it over to him. It was the trained reflex of a maid.
Dressing quickly, he tied the obi in the front.
Last was the heavy embroidered kimono. Misao turned his head to look for it when the cloth was draped around his shoulders from behind.
He looked over his shoulder and turned around.
When he was face to face with Masaomi, he was hugged tightly to the man’s chest.
“Misao”
Masaomi whispered his regret at parting against Misao’s ear, but Misao shook his head firmly. If he let himself be pulled aside, his heart and actions would become lazy.
He laid his hands on Masaomi’s chest and took a step back.
He’d had no idea.
Remembering the warmth of the man’s body, Misao’s heart, his entire body even, ached.
“I’m going,” he said at last. It was pointless to look up at him.
He turned around, pulling his arms through the sleeves of the kimono that rested on his shoulders.
When he left the tea room, he saw Ukigumo to his left, standing at the end of the railing gazing up at the stars.
“Are you done?”
She turned her head lightly to look at Misao. He felt like her eyes saw straight through him.
Holding his kimono tightly closed, Misao dipped his head and hurried away. Ukigumo called out behind him, her voice ringing, “The old gentleman is here.”
Misao couldn’t make himself stop and face Ukigumo.
Guilt had sprung up too thickly around him.
“Thank you.”
He acknowledged her in words only and walked quickly away down the hall.
He had probably done something wrong. He didn’t need to wonder. He knew he’d made a mistake and that was why he could no longer look anyone in the eye.
Still... He rested against the railing that surrounded the central garden.
When he gazed up at the same sky Ukigumo had seen, he saw a beautiful moon there.
He smelled the fragrance of cherry blossoms on the breeze.
His eyelids trembled as if in a seizure.
Now that he was alone, the feeling of Masaomi against every nook in his body reawakened starkly in his mind.
He had been so happy. He was happy. So he didn’t need to regret what happened.
Suddenly someone tugged on the arm of his kimono.
He looked up at the person in surprise. Kazushi was staring at him, his face tense.
“What?”
Even before he’d seen who it was, Misao had had a bad feeling.
Kazushi explained heavily. “Master Towa has made an offer for Ukigumo’s body.”
Misao blinked slowly, then staggered, as if there had been an earthquake.
He felt all the warmth leave his fingertips, as if all his blood were draining. Kazushi kept his grip firm on Misao’s arm as he sank heavily to the floor.
Misao spun around on the music, a bird spreading his arms wide with every revolution, his legs tucked loosely under his body. His long sleeves swept through the sky like wings.
His mind was a blank as his eyes swept about. For some reason, he wanted to laugh.
A chuckle bubbled out of him.
He fumbled his steps and drew out a staggering circle as he approached the butterfly table. He finished by rolling onto his knees and sitting.
“Ah-ah! You’re drunk, Misao!”
Two apprentices under Ukigumo hurried over to lift Misao on their shoulders. Misao shook himself free of their interference. He seemed to recall shouting something at the same time, but he wasn’t really sure.
“Well, he certainly has drunk enough. Why not give up, Mister Sakai?”
Misao’s eyes popped open at the sound of Ukigumo’s tranquil voice behind him, and he froze. It cleared his mind of the alcohol faster than a bath of ice water.
Sakai looked up at Misao’s back with the indulgent eyes of a festival god.
“But sometimes you need to escape into alcohol.”
“And what do you do then?” Ukigumo countered placidly, sitting down beside Sakai. “That doesn’t change reality.”
She was right.
Masaomi had always belonged to her.
That was reality.
He had ignored that and let himself run loose for long enough. What more could he do?
In the end, he would have to give the man up.
“He’s gotten so quiet.”
The apprentices were mocking him.
“Maybe he ran out of fuel.”
They peered into Misao’s face from either side, giggling, when suddenly their coldness disappeared.
“Oh, here’s the jester.”
Ukigumo waved the man in.
“We have two butterflies here who’ve been resting their wings,” she told him meaningfully, and the two apprentices instantly shrieked and leapt to their feet. The female performer already there began plucking out a faster rhythm on her samisen. Sprinkling the room with vibrant shrieks, the two girls and the drummer began to play hide and seek.
The festivities were like another world.
Misao was taking it all in hazily when his eyes met Sakai’s kind gaze. He tried to smile at him, but he failed. Misao offered to refill his wine in an attempt to cover it up.
Sakai held his cup out and Misao silently tipped the wine bottle over it.
“I see love water in your eyes.”
Sakai smiled, his eyes narrowing to thin lines.
Misao tilted his head slightly in confusion.
“You’re usually tough enough to play your part, but as soon as you fall in love, you’re made of glass. You’re just like your mother.”
“Love water?”
Misao whispered the words.
Sakai raised his eyebrows, impressed. “You’ve never heard of it? In more elegant circles, we call the tears you shed for love, ‘love water.’”
Sakai reached out a withered hand to brush a tear from Misao’s cheek.
“See? You’re full of love water.”
Misao’s wet eyes held back a torrent of tears.