Akane bent down and dipped her hand into the pool, its water chilly and invigorating.
The Otowa waterfall of Kiyomizu Temple was known throughout Japan. It was said that the spring water here had reiki or healing energy and was excellent for boiling tea. There was a tea house not far from here owned by a kind and pleasant elderly woman.
“Are you hungry? We’ve been walking for a long time. Let’s get something to eat,” Akane said, keeping as straight of a face as she could. “Good idea.”
Zhang Heng was baffled. What had he done wrong? Why was she so distant towards him throughout the walk up here? He mulled over it for a bit, then said, “Since you’re treating me to sushi, let me treat you to some tea.”
Akane gave no reply as the pair made their way to the tea house with blue noren curtains*.
A waiter came to greet them.
“What do you feel like having today?”
Zhang Heng was searching for a seat when Akane suddenly gasped. “What are you doing here?!” she could be heard asking.
Zhang Heng turned to look and saw that Akane was speaking to a young man.
Zhang Heng recognized him immediately. He was precisely as Akane had described him to be
– he really did have a unique brightness and naivety about him. Considering his age and the blood on his hands, these qualities were even more precious, ones that were beyond logic and reason.
However, under Akane’s gaze, the young man looked flustered and embarrassed; his eyes begged her not to probe him any further.
Akane raised an eyebrow, oblivious to his plea. “Why is the Shinsengumi here? This is hallowed ground. You better not cause any trouble here.”
“No, no, no. You’re mistaken,” the young man waved his hand in denial, darting nervous glances at the entrance of the tea house. “This has nothing to do with the Shinsengumi. I came here on my own.”
“Huh?”
His reply only added to Akane’s suspicion. The way he acted told her that he was planning to ambush someone. Could the Shinsengumi have found out that some important Tobaku leader was visiting this place?
“Argh, it’s really not what you think it is,” the young man contested. Then the next minute, as if he had seen something outside the tea house, his cheeks flushed red, and he quickly averted his gaze. Akane wanted to question him further. She could not care less about the bad blood between the Shinsengumi and the anti-shogunate, but if they were going to clash swords, they better not do it here at the temple, or the ancient shrine would be caught in the crossfire.
But before she could throw any more questions at the poor lad, someone grabbed her by the arm.
“Let’s find a place to sit first. I don’t know what kind of tea we should have,” Zhang Heng interjected.
“Oh!” Akane nearly jumped out of her skin; her mind suddenly went blank, and the warmth in her palm caused all the confusing emotions she had tried so hard suppress to gush back in. her head felt as if it was about to explode.
Dazed, she followed Zhang Heng to an unoccupied table. Just then, a young lady and an elderly woman walked in. If Akane’s resolution was like a sword that had been forged over centuries, then this young woman’s geniality was the sunshine of March. When she walked into the little tea house, the whole place lit up.
The Shinsengumi young man lowered his face, looking sozzled even though the tea house did not serve alcohol.
The young woman did not look around the establishment but ordered a rice cake, to-go, from the waiter. After that, she thanked him in a soft, gentle voice and left.
It wasn’t until her figure disappeared outside the door that the young man sat upright again, staring blankly at the teacup before him, his expression despondent.
Akane was amused. “Who is she?”
“Ah?” The young man shook his head, looking embarrassed. “Er, er… I never asked. I saw her at Dr. Tezuka’s.”
In between, he covered his mouth and coughed. The redness on his face only deepened. He had heard that the girl was coming to the Otawa waterfall, so he snuck up here and waited.
To his surprise, Akane did not criticize his actions.
After a minute, the young man asked her, “Is he your man?”
It was Akane’s turn to be flustered.
“What nonsense are you talking about?!” she growled menacingly.
The young man was taken aback since Akane seemed as if she would tear him into pieces. He couldn’t help comparing her to Ms. Saya, who was much gentler and sweeter.
“Okita Soki?” Someone suddenly called his name.
“Mm?” he answered instinctively. When he saw the man who came with Akane calling him, he asked, “How do you know my name?”
“The Shinsengumi’s best swordsman. There’s a lot of talk about you going around in Kyoto,” Zhang Heng answered. Inwardly, he was sighing in relief.
OkitaSoki was probably the only reasonable person in the entire Shinsengumi. It wasn’t to say that he killed fewer people, but in fact, those who died by his sword were no lesser than his comrades. Nonetheless, he was favored by commander Kondo Isami, willing to do anything his leader made him do with zero questions, and as a result, he was able to remain unaffected.
He was Kondo Isami’s sharpest sword, and swords made no distinction between good and evil. And to quote Hijikata Toshizo, it saves one the trouble of agonizing over trivial matters.
Alas, this number one swordsman of the Shinsengumi dubbed ‘Bakumatsu’s divine sword’ did not have many days left to live. There was no cure for his chronic cough (tuberculosis) during this era. If Zhang Heng remembered correctly, next year, on the 30th day of the fifth month, the lunar calendar, was the day of his passing.
But right now, he was just like every other young man, having secret crushes on girls and coming all the way to Kiyomizu temple just to sneak a look at her.
“I’m nowhere near the best swordsman… you’re too kind. Kendo-sensei, Hijikata, and Oishi Kuwajiro—they are all better than I am,” Okita said humbly.
“When are you free? Drop by the dojo, and we’ll have a duel,” said Zhang Heng.
Later generations painted Okita Soji as a gifted genius who died young. Although he was only in his early twenties, many believed that he was Shinsengumi’s best swordsman and in the entire Kyoto. How could Zhang Heng forgo a chance to have a duel with a person such as Okita? On top of that, he was also interested in finding out what it meant to be the best swordsman during this era.
“Sure,” Okita readily agreed. “But I’m afraid it won’t be soon. I have some important matters to attend to. But once it is taken care of, I will come to see you at the dojo.”
“Does it have anything to do with that woman just now?” Akane asked. “Ah, no, no. It was all business.” Okita blushed.
Translator’s notes:
Noren curtains: traditional Japanese fabric dividers hung between rooms, on walls, in doorways, or in windows.
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