Chapter 330: 137. Kawashima Miki came over from Tokyo.
At dusk, the sound of the bell tolling from the ancient temple reached us, carried by the wind.
The two ladies walked ahead, leading the three youngsters up the steps toward the mountain gate. As the summer festival resumed, all the nearby villagers rushed over. Along the way, there were many children with their noses painted white, taking turns beating the taiko drums.
Fujiwara Reya found himself in the middle, listening to the ladies in front bickering over trivial matters all the way.
The relationship between the two ladies was as good as real sisters, enthusiastically discussing whatever came to mind. Yet once their opinions differed, they would start to argue. It’s hard to believe this youthful energy belongs to a conversation between a thirty-eight-year-old and a forty-year-old woman.
"Himeko, your butt is so perky."
"Jealous?"
"Not at all, looks indecent!"
"You really are stubborn. Clearly envious of my figure, but won’t admit it. No wonder Rinko is so tsundere; it’s all genetics inherited from her mother."
"Ah, that’s not tsundere at all. Even Mr. Fujiwara said I have great poise!"
"That little rascal is full of lies, don’t believe him. Is it your first day knowing him, my foolish lady?"
"I am a lady, and so are you, Himeko, but you lack restraint!"
"That’s right. Even though I’m also a lady, not everyone is like me. Most ladies in society are like the director’s wife or the fish shop owner’s wife. Compared to them, I’m the most accomplished lady. As a woman, being able to still make one’s son-in-law drool at my age, is there any greater achievement?"
"Being a plain housewife is better."
"Well, true, plain is remarkable. The pinnacle of human life and art is plainness! Those who despise plainness are defiant; those who fear it are still immature. After all, haiku, Noh, and waka are all filled with plain aesthetics."
"Speaking of haiku, the ones you used to write were really pretentious!"
"... As if you weren’t pretentious yourself."
This kind of conversation, as if floating four or five inches above the ground, highlighted the incongruity between Tokyo’s highbrow intellectuals and a rural festival’s atmosphere. The villagers instinctively kept their distance from these noble women, fearing to provoke them.
Some people are just born different; this is understood by people anywhere in the world.
Fujiwara Reya watched the graceful backs of the two ladies, feeling quite content.
After spending enough time with them, he figured out their way of interacting. They were rivals who had known each other since childhood but also allies with aligned interests. In their interactions, the slightly older Mrs. Kasahara usually took the lead, while Mrs. Hoshimi also had her own thoughts. Whenever a disagreement arose, Mrs. Kasahara would nitpick and pressure Mrs. Hoshimi into submission, while Mrs. Hoshimi would appear submissive in a pitiable yet endearing manner. Sometimes, Fujiwara would side with Mrs. Hoshimi to resist the oppression from Kasahara Demon King. But the result often was both he and Mrs. Hoshimi ended up being oppressed, becoming perfect amusement for the Kasahara Demon King.
Hmm...
This isn’t good!
Somehow, he needed to conquer this noblewoman and make her a gentle and loving mother-in-law to her son-in-law.
Climbing to the mountain gate, the two ladies turned around and looked down the steps.
Along the stone steps to the mountain, tea trees were planted on both sides, and the setting sun cast its last rays on the tips of the tea leaves on the fence. Clusters of small white flowers seemed to dot numerous little shadows of the same shape. The flowers, basking in the sunlight, appeared even more elegant.
Fujiwara Reya whistled as he climbed the steps from below. Wearing a black haori and hakama, his handsome and extraordinary appearance had drawn everyone’s attention since he began the climb.
In terms of looks, he appeared like a refined young gentleman from the era of the Six Immortal Poets. Yet, his steps, though leisurely, were determined and exuded an innate affability.
"Brother is so handsome!" Mrs. Kasahara said happily. Mrs. Hoshimi echoed, "In over thirty years, I’ve never seen a young man as charming as him."
So naturally, the topic of their discussion shifted to Fujiwara Reya.
"Hey, Himeko, I have a question. Don’t you think this kid can be overly optimistic at times?"
"Not at all, I think it’s just right." Mrs. Kasahara held a small cloth bag in her hands eagerly looking down the steps, like a young bride awaiting her husband’s return.
"Even if he farts, it’s fragrant," Mrs. Hoshimi teased.
"Yako, have you smelled it?"
"Ugh, annoying, I meant fragrant for you."
"Hmph, you’re just jealous of how good he is to me." Mrs. Kasahara raised an eyebrow proudly, her radiant face as mesmerizing as leaves glistening in sunlight.
Mrs. Hoshimi rested her head in her hand, let out a tired sigh: "You and him really are birds of a feather when it comes to narcissism."
"What narcissism? That’s awful; it’s called pride, okay." Mrs. Kasahara’s eyes sparkled like emotions were welling up, "In my view, pride has to be something light, bright, visibly apparent, and brilliant. For instance, Fujiwara’s smile is exactly the kind of pride that I admire and am captivated by."
"The two sisters have been waiting long." Fujiwara Reya emerged from the trellis of tea trees, greeted with a smile. Because of the heat, he left his shirt open at the front, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of collarbone.