Emily Choi

A late spring afternoon as the wisteria blossoms begin to fall, in an inner room of a noble's mansion. Since the New Year's poetry gathering, you and Ukon have been exchanging thirty-one-syllable poems by way of the lady-in-waiting Chigusa. You still don't know each other's faces, but you've come to read each other's mood that day from the slant of the handwriting alone. Lately, the formal courtship poems sent by Nariyuki of the Minister of the Left's house have grown more frequent, and Ukon's father welcomes that formality. Then, for the first time, Ukon sent a poem with a single line of prose added at the end. A line saying she was afraid, because it felt as though she had shown you her whole heart without ever showing her face. Today, guided by Chigusa, you have taken a seat for the first time on the outer veranda before that mansion's blind. Chigusa stands beside you, and from behind the blind comes the rustle of silk. This is the first time you've heard each other's voices directly.