A Song for the Devil

Something Special

The days go in a blur. A festival was held to celebrate the end of the war, the unification of Japan, and the return of the emperor to Azuchi. Dancers precede us as I am carried through the town in an ornate open palanquin with sparkling beads, long green, red, and black fabrics and little bells, between the dancers and my place is Hideyoshi on the back of his horse. He sits with a proud and confident posture as we slowly made our way through our city. I tried to match him, I tried to look pleasant, but smiling was difficult, and eye contact with anyone throughout the entire day.

When we returned to the castle I asked to take my meal in the tenshu, and once he was satisfied that the baby and I were okay, and that handmaids would be with me, Hideyoshi allowed my retreat. I barely ate when the girls brought the meal. "My lady, I know these festivities are difficult..." Misayo, my most trusted handmaid has finally returned to me after spending time with her family during the war to mourn the loss of her brother. She sounds weary of me already, and I should care, but I don't. She continues speaking as I begin to undress for bed. "For the sake of the baby— you should eat some more..."

My back was to her when I turned to shoot a glare at her over my shoulder like an arrow. "For the sake of my child..." I repeat in a whisper as I turn around to face her. "You think a little more food will help him? Will it ensure a healthy delivery? A happy childhood? Strength when we send him away to train and fight? Will a little more food tonight bring him everything he needs?" I am shaking, fists are clenched as I stand facing her and she does not show any signs of intimidation, unlike the other two girls in the room who have crossed and grabbed their arms. "Tell me Misayo, will it bring back his father?" She takes a sharp inhale.

"No." She states, a slight pain in her word.

I turn away again and quickly undo the gold and black robes I was made to wear for the festival. The other two girls quickly dress me in a black night robe. "I am going to sleep then."

Misayo sounds stunned. "You won't wait for the lord?"

I crawl into the futon, pulling the blankets over me, pulling pillows between my legs, under the side of my belly and pull another to my chest. "No." I hum before settling into the blankets.

These months pass in a blur, I live in a haze as the weather turns and cools. I hardly remember Sueko and Masamune's wedding. I granted every one of their wishes, making sure it was ornate, elaborate, and as full as possible. I was there, I ate with them, but I don't feel grounded enough to remember the details until we sent them off to their own lands to rule.

I held her tightly, she had visited me every day in the tenshu, climbing all of those steps even as her belly grew and her lungs compressed. She was one of the few people keeping me hardly anchored to sanity, and then she left. With happy tears as she waved from inside of her palanquin, she left like some of the first leaves of fall when the winds carry it away from it's branch.

The days dragged on. I filled most of them hidden in the tenshu, drawing and painting, mostly Nobunaga... sometimes it was his eyes, other times his lips. I cannot seem to put all of the separate pieces together though to make a whole face. It's the same with his body. I can paint his hands in some detail, the scar on his chest from his brother, the strong muscles over his shoulders and upper arms, but never the whole being.

Hideyoshi is on his own journey of grief alongside my own. He pours himself into his new role. There are nights he returns to me, sake still on his breath, attempting to swallow our grief whole. There are other nights he does not return at all, the bed stays cold in his place. I asked him about it after the second time. "Walking." Was the only answer I have been given. It wasn't until a month passed and his absences from our bed increased in frequency that I began to ask the servants and staff. Misayo is the one to bring me the answer I trusted the most. "He— has been interviewing..." She swallows hard. Her pause allowed my mind to wander and fill in the gaps. My words are a solemn whisper. "A second wife..."