The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror. Fifth Annual Collection

Gyunyuko did not protest further, but she retired to another room. After she left, I said softly, “No lights at all, Shinzaburo-sama? People will wonder. Neighbors will talk.”

He was silent a moment, then said to me, “Do you remember that peony lantern you once made?”

“I remember it well, my lord.”

“Could you make another? Not as elaborate, I cannot afford the silk. But from paper, perhaps?”

I said that I could and was pleased to see my lord smile.

The following day, the first day of O-Bon, I bought the paper and bamboo and spent the entire day making the peony lantern. I carefully fitted the bamboo struts together, pasted the paper peonies to the crown, and tied wide paper streamers to the sides. That evening, I hung the lantern on the gate post to dry. I hoped, also, that the neighbors might see it there and know that our household was not ignoring the proper festivities.

Shinzaburo stayed in that evening, as always. Gyunyuko retired to her room early, still worried, I think, about Shinzaburo. I went out to the veranda which overlooked a busy street and sat to watch the people go by.

Some bustled past carrying baskets of fruit to place on their household shrines. A group of men passed, carrying great taiko drums that boomed like thunder. Ladies of the willow districts strutted by in bright kimonos.

Most of all, I noticed the lanterns. It seemed half the people who passed carried one, gathering them for the last night of O-Bon. I could tell by the size, shape, and type of paper or silk used, which of my competitors had made which lanterns. Some had been made by the monks at local temples. I even recognized a few of my own, made in years past.

In all, I found the parade quite pleasing to watch. After the sun had set, the evening air had become cooler and less oppressive. The sky darkened to a deep purple and a few stars winked overhead. The passers-by in the street became fewer. Some children went laughing past, leaving a profound silence behind them. I began to consider rising and dragging my old bones to bed.

I saw a pink light bobbing in the distance down the road and it held my eye for a moment, then it was hidden behind the neighbor's hedge. A few moments later, I heard women's voices softly exclaiming at our gate. I turned and saw two women staring at my peony lantern. The taller one, who was dressed in kimonos the colors of moonlight, gaped at it in amazement. The smaller one of them was pointing at it, and in her hand she held another peony lantern precisely like it.

I rushed down to the gate and in my surprise blurted rudely, “Where did you get that lantern?”

The two ladies stepped back, startled. The taller one raised her sleeves demurely to cover the lower part of her face. The smaller one said, “Please pardon us, sir. This lantern was a present to my lady from Lord Shinzaburo. He used to live here, I think. We were very surprised to see another lantern like ours.”

And then I realized that the smaller woman was Lady Tsuyu’s serving maid, Yone. And the taller woman must be none other than the Lady Tsuyu herself. I gasped and bowed very low.

“Please pardon me, Lady Tsuyu,” I said. “Had I recognized you, I would not have been so rude.”

She laughed, and said, in a voice very like what I had heard two years ago, but more whispery and faint, “How could you recognize me when we have never seen one another?”

“Yes. And we had heard—oh, my lady, I have wonderful news for you. My lord Shinzaburo lives! He has returned home at last and is within.”

Lady Tsuyu was so surprised, she lowered her sleeves from her face. “Truly?” she whispered.

I politely looked away, but not before noticing that her face was beautiful, but pale, and more delicate than a snowflake.

Shinzaburo must have heard our voices, for he then looked out from behind the blinds. “What is it—Ah!” He caught sight of the lady at once and scrambled onto the veranda. “Tsuyu-chan!” he cried.

The two women were equally astonished to see Shinzaburo. He called for her to join him and she and Yone readily came through the gate, smiling at my paper lantern as they passed it. Lady Tsuyu let Shinzaburo help her onto the veranda.

I decided it would be intruding for me to join the reunited lovers and so I went inside the house and sought out Gyunyuko.

“That cannot be,” she said when I told her the news.

“It is true. Come look for yourself.” I guided her to the blinds and we peeked out around the edge at the lovers and Yone sitting on the veranda. Shinzaburo must have commented on her appearance, for the Lady Tsuyu coughed gently behind her sleeve and said, “Yes, I am sure I must look different. Forgive me. I have been ill.”

Yone bowed low in shame. “It is our great sorrow that we cannot appear in the finery of old times. Our family has become poor since the fall of the Taira, and I fear I am a very poor seamstress.”

Shinzaburo said, “It does not matter. None of it matters. The love in my heart is no poorer and I am happy to share its wealth.”

I let the blind fall silently back into place and Gyunyuko and I stepped down the hallway. “You see?” I said.