Dare When the birds come back

[Ginrou Morikami]

The first warm night of spring fell upon Sonshan with little warning. The high mountain city was in a bustle, stirred to life by the sudden turn in weather. The last winter storms clearing out meant trade would return soon, new fashions would come from other provinces, days would grow long and lazy, and the court season would begin in full.

Unmarried men in Sonshan took this time of leisure very seriously. Each past-time they did in public was meant to display a gentlemanly lifestyle - the pure amusements of untroubled youth. Daytime amusements were gentle, refined affairs. Brewing tea, reciting poetry, and planting gardens. When night fell, the rules of engagement changed. Flocks of brightly patterned men spent all night eating, drinking, and listening to music. The game then became to show off one's vitality, how much a boy could eat and how late he could last under the light of the moons without embarrassing himself.

Ginrou Morikami would never admit it, but he enjoyed one particular nighttime pursuit a bit more than the others.

The cloth covers that hung from the entryway of the Pheasant's Rest flapped against the fragrant spring wind. Inside, two long rows of tables lined each wall. Every sitting cushion at the tables was occupied, the dining house packed to brimming. Shroud-runed fire pits were built into the center of the tables, rainbow-heated grills where meats and vegetables steamed. Servers in russet skirts and blue aprons stepped deftly between rowdy patrons, refilling drinks and taking orders.

Empty plates were stacked on either side of Gin. Remnants remained of past meals - thin slices of beef tongue, Kokori radishes pickled in a sweet brine, a medley of black and white mushrooms. There were so many new things to try, and even if he'd had a dish before, each dining house had their own unique preparations. He would not let even one bite go to waste.

Normally, Gin's appetite was unmatched. But tonight, the person who sat across from him at the communal table had just as many plates stacked up, and showed no signs of slowing. His status as the biggest eater was being threatened. He wasn't sure what to do about it, except to raise his hand and order another round of something for the table.

 

[Kuuga]

The scent of grilled mushrooms danced around her. The brine on the radish center stage. She placed yet another plate down in a perfectly fluid motion. All eight of them were unnaturally hungry. She wasn’t sure, but she believed that their very presence made the surroundings hungry too. Potted plants drunk too quickly. People ate faster, their chopsticks scrubbing clean all obstruction from their bowls. She enjoyed the radish the most. She had eaten seven of them. Slower each time. There was no need to rush. Presiding over this act of reverence was an honor.

Each bite a prayer bead between the fingers of the faithful. Each swallow a hymn. She watched the room grow louder and hungrier. She watched people drink and their joy grow. In her heart, she thought of Nashi. He would’ve liked this one. Not for laughter or company, but for the reverent silence before the next dish touched the flame. They didn’t know his name, but tonight they all whispered it with their hungry mouths. He always asked for more. But never for himself.

She watched the boy across from her. His cheeks flush with effort. Was that pride? He was doing well. He had a good rhythm up until recently, even if she could see his hand hesitate before taking from the most recent offerings. Kuuga never meant to challenge him. She simply shared the table.

A server passed, placing the next round between them. She bowed in respect.

“You’re feeding more than yourself you know” she picked up a slice of beef tongue and dipped it into oil. It sizzled and gave up its pink. She chewed slowly before it was gone. Proper consumption was never rushed. “The room is generous tonight. That’s good.” And more softly. “I’m eating for two.” Another piece of beef made it into the oil. She closed her eyes as she fed. And somewhere, deep below the streets of Sonshan, Honzui stirred.

 

[Ginrou Morikami]

The woman across from him -- a traveling priestess, judging by the color of her robes and the weight of her adornments -- bowed to him. Not resignation, but in gratitude. Ginrou wasn't one of the sly young men who could blush and stutter on command. Though they were in fashion, such manners looked odd on him. So he could only return the woman's thanks with a bow of his own.

"Um, congratulations," He said as he raised his head, a falter in his steady expression. Strangers who shared a meal were meant to keep conversation between themselves light. She seemed... overly serious about the act of eating, almost a ritual in the smooth surety of her movements.

"Please think nothing of it." Keeping his smile light, Gin fell back on niceties. "A meal as good as this one should not be shared alone. I only hope I am not burdening you with my company."

"What have I been doing all night then, save keeping you company?" The man sitting to the left of Ginrou scoffed at him over a cup of warm rice wine, a puff of steam spraying out. He had short cropped hair and freckles spattered across his nose.

"Give it up, Li'en," said another man sitting to Ginrou's right. His brown hair was plaited into a long braid behind him, and his heavy lids were brushed with a fine blue shimmer. He, too, had given up on eating and was nursing half a cup of something strong. He looked at the little woman with a big appetite, and smiled conspiratorially at her. "You're not a mysterious young woman, so you'll never catch his attention."

Ginrou knew both of them, and had in fact gone out that night with the two boy in tow. The freckled one on the left was Li'en, and the watercolor-washed on the right was named Lihn. Poised youths, of refined nature and good standing. Li'en's favorite face to put on was that of the irreverent youth, while Lihn was a natural darling, with his deep voice and preened features.

 

[Kuuga]

She allowed the teasing to wash over her. It was but part of the meal, much like incense had its place in the shrines. It was meant for the visitors, but the faithful within would enjoy it too. She would incline her head at his bow. All ceremonies had proper form.

“It is no burden.” Her voice kind. “Companionship seasons a meal.” One of the boys eyed her strangely. She couldn’t yet tell if it was hunger or a jest she had yet to catch up on. “Mystery fades quickly when you’re watched too closely” And she did watch him very closely as she spoke. “Best to leave a little room for wondering.” Her gaze would fall to the one she knew by name now. “And you’ve been wonderful company Li’en. I just eat quietly.”

She looked at them curious, trying to capture all three in a single gaze. Another plate set between them. No one reached for it at first. “You’re finished?” Surprised. “So soon?” She softened as she added “Was it enough? Truly? It’s still early.”

She plucked from the latest offering. Pork belly drizzled in a scent she wouldn’t immediately recognize. Rested it at the very edge of flame and watched it intently as it chose to brown.

“No judgement.” And she looked to the one that had been a tad too bold.

 

[Ginrou Morikami]

No, it was not enough.

Though a thin sheen of sweat pricked on the back of his neck, and the ends of his hair were starting to frizz against the cooking steam, Ginrou was not done yet. It was not the drip of pork fat on the griddle, nor the banter of his companions that compelled him to keep going.

He had another dread, that those other boys beside him, unbetrothed, did not understand yet.

With a tilt of his head, Gin put the mild smile back on his face. "Ah, but I haven't tasted this one, yet."

He picked up his own offering to the fire. The pork dripped with something glossy, and was stained redder than nature. "It's lingonberry that gives the dish such fragrance. The head cook here has a trade agreement with Lapvona, where the fruit grows. Only in Sonshan can you taste such flavors of spring."

As the pork cooked, the tart and floral fragrance it had before began to mature, turning sweet and complex.

"And, it may be my last spring in Sonshan. This time next year, I will be wed," he confessed to the stranger. "And will move to Red Mountain country, to be with my wife's family."

The Red Mountain was a harsh landscape, known for its bad weather and rocky soil. Trade was sparse to that part of the island, and few artisans had reason to make the place their home.

"Not only that," Lihn added in a helpful tone, though he was not being helpful at all. "I've heard that the Lady Intendant of the house thinks eating an ugly affair." To illustrate his point, he pulled a fan from his belt and twisted its brightly painted leaves half-open, covering just his mouth with the paper. "Even the highborn men take their meals with the servants, so that she doesn't see them."

 

[Kuuga]

Kuuga did not laugh. It wasn’t a laughing matter. People often shrouded need in shame because of their own weakness. Didn’t make it right. There was nothing wrong with pursuing desire. Each soul was a bowl, cracked at the bottom, life pulling through until something significant enough wedged in and allowed you to be full.
Sometimes she felt like her own bowl had no bottom.

“Hunger is never ugly.” She offered quietly. “The hungry can be.”
She glanced at Lihn and then chose to see him for what he was. Spoiled fruit. Pretty on the outside, but already soft and off where it mattered.

Her gaze went back to the man in the middle. And she nodded because she now understood his dread. They wanted to chain him in propriety. She would shiver at the thought if weakness could ever be acceptable.
“Seen people eat with wood and silver, defeat in their eyes.” She smiled looking at the chopsticks in her own hand. “And beggars scrape the slop of the ground like it was a gift from the First Hunger itself.”

“Eat well. Before the mountain tries to teach you shame.”

She allowed her presence to grow stronger. Because need was not a thing of shame. And its pursuit was the proper way of life. Air grew hungrier, and people ate faster, drinks flowed like the silent creek she still remembered.

But none for Lihn, his frivolous nature didn’t appreciate fruit, only bruise it.

 

[Ginrou Morikami]

Cold and calm, the woman sitting across the table seemed separate from the rest of the diners. The rising steam from the grills did not bead upon her brow. Her voice was not slurred from wine. Her gaze was sharp and seeking, insatiable.

“Eat well. Before the mountain tries to teach you shame.”

There was a wisdom in her words. Ginrou recognized the cantor of poetry, better contemplated underneath the sunny swaying boughs of trees, than here in a commoner's dining hall. And his upbringing had him respond in kind, before the meaning of such an incantation could sink fully in.

"Whether a meal is served in the palace, or in the streets with beggers." He bowed his head in deference, making an altar of the grill between them. "I'll never be ashamed to accept what is given."

Beside him, Lihn's complexion was turning sour. One could see it on the skin of his throat and under his eyes, where the powder did not reach. He lurched forward, grip tight on the table.

"I can't take this anymore," Lihn gasped out. A shallow breath in, and he regained some of his composure. "Excuse me, I think I've had too much to drink," he said louder to the table, getting up to leave without a bow. "I'm stepping out for some air."

The boy to Gin's left, Li'en, seemed not to notice his companion's departure. He'd picked up a pair of chopsticks, sat smiling in a daze as he reached for a browned slice of pork. Gin nudged him with an elbow.

"What?" Li'en asked in whiny tone. He hunched his shoulders up defensively. "All that talk of linnyberries, or whatever, got me hungry again."

"Nevermind that," Gin scolded. He'd put a hand on Li'en's shoulder, and leaned in to speak softly. "Don't let Lihn wander off alone. Go make sure he's alright."

Li'en grunted, but complied. Leaving Ginrou alone himself.

A second wind was coming over Ginrou. Flame-touched and fragrant, the thin cuts of meat called to him. He popped one in his mouth without thinking much of it. Chewed tender lines of fat apart, and swallowed.

"Would you tell me your name?" He asked the strange woman between bites. "So that I may know who to credit for such wisdom, as you have given me tonight."

 

[Kuuga]

Kuuga didn’t answer right away. Because the table felt different now. She didn’t mind the change. But she did wonder if she had a hand in the powdered man’s sudden departure. The boy kept eating and she found joy in that. Moments of plenty always ached as a reminder of when such things had been out of reach. But it was a good ache. Because the future, even if never satisfied, had more to offer.

“You can call me Kuuga.” She wasn’t long at her posting, but she’d already learned to leave out all unnecessary garb when speaking to the uninitiated.

She looked at him with a measure of memory. There was a similar boy, back when they were kids. One that rationed joy like it might run out. Always gave others the best piece. His own bites always too small. And then he became Nashi. And his nature forever conflicted his duty.

“You remind me of someone.” She lacked the nerve, not the words, to describe the image. A small smile, because he ate like he knew what it meant to go without – even if the cut of his robes suggested otherwise.

With both of his attendants gone, and her own quiet nature, she weighed the silence. Perhaps that was the need here.

“I won’t stay if you want quiet.” Her voice went lower as her hands framed the plate, picked clean once again.
“But I’d stay if you asked.”