Prayers at Itsukushima Shrine

After taking the tonsure, Gio and Gijo vanished into the shadows of the dim lamps and ancient Buddha statues, as though they had shed the finery of the mortal world.

Taira no Kiyomori could no longer summon them to sing and dance at his banquets with a single command, as he once had.

Their coarse monastic robes seemed an invisible barrier, separating them from the splendor and humiliation of their past.

Shinrei occasionally passed the temple when she was sent out on an errand.

Once, she caught sight of Gio from afar. The shirabyoshi dancer who had once moved so gracefully was silently carrying a bucket of water, walking steadily up the stone steps.

Sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves of the ancient trees, dappling her gray robes with light and shadow.

In that instant, an indescribable feeling passed through Shinrei's heart.

Was it sorrow? It did not quite seem so.

There was a strange peace about that retreating figure, so different from the dazzling woman who had once forced herself to smile at banquets.

Shinrei could not put it into words. She simply looked away in silence.

For Gio and Gijo, the protection of the Buddhist order might have been the only piece of driftwood they could cling to in those troubled times.

Within the Buddhist order were not only the weak who sought shelter, but also powerful figures to be feared.

Warrior Monks.

At first, when Takuichi heard the term "Warrior Monks," he merely blinked and said unconcernedly, "Monks? Monks can fight in battles too? Aren't they supposed to chant sutras?"

In his simple understanding, there were only two kinds of people who used violence: samurai and ninjas.

Warrior Monks? It sounded like two unrelated roles forced together.

He could hardly imagine a monk wielding a blade.

Then, one day, he went out with Koremori and witnessed a minor confrontation near the residence.

Several monks in coarse robes, but with unusually burly builds, had gotten into an argument with a group of Taira samurai.

The monks spoke heatedly, their hands resting on staffs and monastic blades that, though not drawn, were clearly weapons. They were full of aggression.

The Taira samurai, despite outnumbering them and wearing sturdy armor, seemed hesitant and wary of their opponents.

In the end, a minor samurai commander stepped forward and spoke conciliatory words, keeping the confrontation from escalating.

After returning, Takuichi could not make sense of it. He asked Koremori in private, "What was with those monks? They were so arrogant, and our samurai didn't dare fight them?"

Koremori glanced around and lowered his voice. With his usual gentleness and a trace of helplessness, he explained, "Takuichi, you don't understand. They aren't ordinary monks. They're Mountain Monks, Warrior Monks. They're... very different."

"What's so different about them? Don't they use swords and spears too?"

Koremori shook his head gently. "It's not the same. They have great temples like those on Mount Hiei and Kōfuku-ji behind them, with vast estates and countless followers.

"More importantly, nearly everyone believes in Buddhism. 'The only things that do not go as one wishes are the dice of Sugoroku, the waters of the Kamo River, and the monks on the mountain.' Have you heard that saying?"

Takuichi shook his head blankly.

"It means the hardest things in the world to predict and control are the roll of Sugoroku dice, floods on the Kamo River, and those monks on the mountain."

Koremori's voice grew even quieter, as though he feared disturbing something. "When they make demands, even Father... no, even Grandfather often has to give them careful consideration, and may even have to give way."

"Why?" Takuichi was even more confused. "Are they stronger than samurai? Stronger than ninjas?"

An expression of mingled awe and distress appeared on Koremori's face. "It's not a question of how strong they are. To offend them is to offend the Buddha.

"And nearly everyone in the land is a Buddhist, from the emperor and court nobles down to the common people.

"They can invoke the gods and Buddhas and stir up their vast numbers of followers. The trouble they cause is far more frightening than a clash of arms.

"That isn't something a few hundred samurai can suppress. It could be a crowd of thousands upon thousands, driven by faith.

"So even Father, or Retired Emperor Shirakawa himself, often has no choice but to negotiate and appease the monks when confronted by them. They don't dare oppose them lightly."

Takuichi still did not understand.

But as usual, he chose not to think about it.

He might as well spend that time training.

Time flew.

Six years had quietly passed since they began serving the Taira.

Time on stage was cleverly compressed. Some actors were replaced, while others used the Transformation Technique to take on an older appearance.

Shintarō's presence grew even fainter. He was good-looking, but for some reason he looked even more like a green-haired turtle.

Takuichi shot up in height. Some of the wildness had been worn from his features, leaving them sharper. He was so handsome that the noble ladies could not help whispering among themselves.

Shinrei's change was perhaps the most striking. She had shed the last roundness of childhood and grown taller, her figure showing both a woman's softness and a ninja's sharpness.

They were now aboard the Taira's vast fleet, bound for Itsukushima, the island that symbolized the clan's power and faith.

The sea breeze carried a salty dampness, stirring the nobles' splendid robes and the hems of the ninjas' simple black clothes.

As the ships sailed on, the outline of the distant island gradually came into focus.

When the enormous vermilion torii standing amid the blue waves came into view, even the habitually boisterous Takuichi was struck speechless.

His eyes went round and his mouth fell slightly open, utterly awestruck by the man-made wonder beyond anything he had imagined. "My heavens..."

He murmured, his voice lost in the sea breeze and the restrained exclamations of the nobles around him.

The torii seemed not to belong to the mortal world, but to be a gateway erected by the gods themselves, leading to another world.

Upon setting foot on Itsukushima, they found the air filled with the solemn atmosphere of worship, mingled with the briny scent of the tide and the fragrance of burning incense.

The newly built shrine buildings stretched along the coastline, exquisitely wrought and perfectly integrated with the natural scenery, yet everywhere displaying the ultimate beauty created by human labor and wealth.

They had come to make offerings.

The ritual dance, the central part of the ceremony, took place on the covered bridge over the water in front of the main hall.

The musicians, dressed in black, sat solemnly in the pavilion behind the stage.

Taira no Kiyotsune, the little boy who had once tugged at Shinrei's sleeve for sweets, was now a delicate and refined youth.

Holding a bamboo flute, he sat among the musicians with a focused expression, his fingertips resting on the holes as he prepared to play the prelude to the dance.

The stage, meanwhile, belonged to Taira no Koremori.

He had grown into a graceful young nobleman, inheriting his father Shigemori's gentleness and elegance, and was handsome in appearance.

He wore a formal, magnificent dance costume and a tall eboshi, and carried a cypress fan.

When the music rose unhurriedly and the clear notes of the flute pierced the sea breeze, Koremori began to move.

His dancing was slow and graceful. Every turn and every sweep of his sleeves carried a completely natural sense of rhythm.

As his cypress fan opened and closed, it seemed to draw the tide up and down. His sleeves fluttered gently, dignified and beautiful.

Sunlight fell upon him, covering him in a hazy halo.

On the viewing platform sat senior retainers and members of the Taira clan.

One of them, Taira no Tokitada, the nephew of Taira no Kiyomori's principal wife, watched Koremori dance with admiration in his eyes.

He could not help turning slightly to whisper to Shigemori beside him, his appreciation undisguised. "Lord Koremori's dancing is truly exquisite. Speaking of which, the Seigaiha Dance he presented at Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa's celebratory banquet last year was just as well received. People praise his performance to this day."

Shigemori's expression was complicated. There was pride in his son, but also what seemed to be a deeper unease. He nodded slightly and said modestly, "You flatter him. It is no more than a trifling skill for pleasing his lord."

But another voice cut in. It was Shigemori's younger brother, Taira no Munemori, who was growing ever more influential.

"Still..." He paused, his gaze sweeping over his gracefully dancing nephew before he glanced at his elder brother. "For the son of the pillar of a warrior house to be praised for his beautiful dancing instead of diligently practicing archery, horsemanship, and martial skills... I'm afraid that isn't quite appropriate."

The words were like a fine needle, pricking a hidden worry in Shigemori's heart.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and his lips moved, but for a moment he could find no suitable words to rebut him.

"Tokitada! Munemori! Shigemori!"

A deep, stern rebuke interrupted the conversation, beneath which an undercurrent was stirring.

At some point, Taira no Kiyomori had turned his gaze from his grandson's dance to them.

He was advanced in years, his hair and beard entirely white, but his eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's, and now they showed unmistakable displeasure.

"If you have time to gossip, you would do better to pray devoutly to the gods! We must see to it that Tokuko conceives an imperial child, no matter what! That is the foremost purpose of today's ceremony!"

His gaze swept toward Tokuko, who sat not far away, surrounded by court ladies, silent and respectful. It lingered on her for a moment, full of undisguised expectation.

Six years earlier, shortly after Gio's family took the tonsure, Tokuko had married Narihito.

As the young masters' Guardian Ninja, Shinrei could not follow Tokuko, and they had hardly seen each other over the years.

Today was their first meeting since then.

Six years had passed, and Tokuko still had not conceived. That was why the Taira had come to worship at Itsukushima Shrine.

Tokuko sat upright at the very front of the women, dressed in layer upon layer of a twelve-layered robe.

The sea breeze stirred her wide sleeves and long, smooth hair. Her face looked somewhat pale beneath its heavy makeup, and her back was ramrod straight, like a delicate, fragile offering.

Shinrei looked toward Tokuko. Kiyomori's words had not been quiet, so Tokuko had probably heard them.

But her eyelashes merely trembled slightly. Without showing any sign of being shaken, she continued watching her nephew dance.

"Yes!" Shigemori, Munemori, and Tokitada bowed in acknowledgment, not daring to say more.

The solemnity and bustle of the ceremony finally faded, and the sea breeze thinned the scent of incense lingering in the air.

The adults each had their own concerns and duties, while the younger generation, who had yet to shoulder heavy burdens, managed to steal a rare moment of leisure.

At Kiyotsune's suggestion, several young men ran playfully toward the great vermilion torii standing in the sea.

The tide had just gone out, exposing damp sand and shallow pools beneath the torii's enormous bases.

They took off their shoes and socks, rolled up their trouser legs, and stepped barefoot into the cool seawater. Feeling the tickle of fine sand flowing between their toes, they splashed water at one another.

Sukemori seemed especially excited, deliberately sending sprays of water high into the air, drawing protests from Kiyotsune and a helpless laugh from Koremori.

Shintarō's presence was as faint as ever, yet he always managed to deftly dodge every splash. Leaning against a pillar of the torii, he gazed at the distant line where sea met sky, his thoughts unknown.

Takuichi was caught up in the rare chance to relax and temporarily forgot the constraints of being a ninja. He and Sukemori played the hardest, their laughter carrying far on the sea breeze.

Shinrei did not join them.

Her gaze searched the crowd and finally settled on Tokuko, who, accompanied by several court ladies, was walking slowly toward a gallery on one side of the shrine where honored guests could rest.

After hesitating for a moment, she followed and stopped in an inconspicuous spot outside the gallery where she could see inside, waiting quietly.

Tokuko seemed a little tired and sent the court ladies to wait farther away.

Seeing that the moment was right, Shinrei stepped out of the shadows and approached the gallery. She bowed respectfully to Tokuko. "Lady Tokuko."

Tokuko turned and, seeing her, showed a trace of a genuine smile on her pale face. "Shinrei. It's been a long time." Her voice was as gentle as ever, but carried a trace of lingering weariness.

"Yes." Shinrei raised her head and looked at the old acquaintance she had not seen in years.

Tokuko was thinner than Shinrei remembered, and her heavy twelve-layered robe seemed almost enough to crush her. Only her eyes remained gentle, though something deeper had settled within them.

"Earlier... during the ceremony, I heard everything." Shinrei weighed her words, keeping her voice very low. "I hope... your wish comes true soon, and you conceive an imperial heir."

It was the best comfort she could think of.

Tokuko looked at her quietly for a while, then shook her head gently, the faintest curve appearing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you for your good wishes, Shinrei."

She looked away, toward the shimmering sea beyond the gallery, her voice as soft as a sigh. "But... perhaps it would be better if I had no children."

Shinrei was taken aback.

Tokuko went on murmuring, as though speaking to herself. "If I really did have a child... surely the child would be adorable. But born into circumstances like these, perhaps... that child would suffer a great deal instead."

Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the intricate embroidery on her sleeve, and her tone was filled with immeasurable sorrow and uncertainty.

Shinrei wanted to comfort her, but did not know what to say.

Just then, a set of slightly hurried footsteps broke the delicate silence between them.

Sukemori came running over, out of breath. The sea breeze had tousled his bangs, and his cheeks were still flushed from playing.

When he saw Shinrei with Tokuko, he faltered for a moment, his eyes shifting.

"A-Aunt!" He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried to compose himself as he bowed to Tokuko. Then he nodded to Shinrei. "You're here too, Shinrei."

"Sukemori? Didn't you go play in the water with the others?" Tokuko put away the feelings she had just revealed and returned to her usual gentle expression.

"Ah, yes, we played for a while." Sukemori's eyes wandered, and he seemed distracted. "I thought you might need someone to keep you company and talk with, Aunt... so I came over."

His words sounded proper enough, but his eyes were darting around so much that he was not convincing at all.

Shinrei exchanged a glance with Takuichi, who had just come over after hearing them. Each saw puzzlement in the other's eyes.

Since when had Sukemori become so considerate of his elders? He had even come all the way back especially for her?

Stranger still, Sukemori seemed not to know what to say. He stood there rubbing his hands, occasionally glancing toward the group of court ladies a short distance behind Tokuko, then quickly looking away.

After struggling for a while, he suddenly blurted out, "Um... the sea breeze is rather strong, and you're dressed so lightly, Aunt. Would you like to go inside and rest? I'll see if there's any hot tea..."

Without waiting for Tokuko to reply, he actually turned and walked back, muttering as he went, "Oh, right, I got these clothes wet while playing. I'll go change and come back..."

Watching Sukemori leave, Takuichi could finally contain himself no longer. He leaned close to Shinrei and whispered, his face full of disbelief, "What's gotten into him? He came over, said a few pointless things, and then went back to change? What's he doing?"

Shinrei shook her head too, equally puzzled.

But Tokuko suddenly laughed softly.

She motioned for Shinrei and Takuichi to come closer, half covering her lips with her fan. Her voice grew a little lighter. "Didn't you notice? I'm afraid Sukemori has fallen for one of my personal attendants. Just now, his eyes were practically glued to her, and he didn't even realize it himself."

"Huh?!" Takuichi's eyes widened as he blurted it out. Realizing he had lost his composure, he quickly covered his mouth.

Shinrei was also stunned. Then she remembered how restless Sukemori had been, the way his eyes had wandered, and his nonsensical words and excuses... She too could not help covering her mouth and laughing.

So that's what it was. He's in love.

But the attendant did not seem to have feelings for Sukemori.

During their days at Itsukushima Shrine, one of Takuichi's great amusements was watching Sukemori chase after the attendant every day like a lovesick puppy.

Every time, he laughed with particular abandon.

Sukemori wanted to beat him up every time, but could not defeat him, so he asked Shintarō to step in.

How could Takuichi submit?

And so Shinrei became the one who had to stop the two of them from coming to blows.

Takuichi had long since stopped accepting Shintarō's authority. When they were children, Shintarō could still use his age to keep Takuichi in line, but now they were evenly matched and fought almost every day.

What was more, Takuichi was the one chasing Shintarō down to fight. Shintarō would look at him with dead-fish eyes and an expression that said it was too much trouble, but his attacks were devious.

"Thousand Years of Death!"

"Ow!!!"

Takuichi clutched his backside and protested, "That move is too devious!!!"

Shintarō laughed cheerfully. "We're ninjas in the first place. What's a ninja doing talking about whether something's devious or not?"

"You bastard!!"

"Sigh..." Shinrei covered her face and sighed. "Honestly..."