Terada had from time to time invited Shigeru to join them. Shigeru had never taken him up on it, but now a plan began to form in his mind. Terada lived near the port on the slopes of Fire Mountain. In the last year, Shigeru had often walked here, visiting the place where Akane had died, taking pleasure in the exotic gardens the old priest had created. He had made sure the gardens were not neglected after the old man’s death. It had been a way to deal with his grief and anger at Akane, as well, he thought, as preserving a memorial to her beauty and vivacity. Many young men and women came here to pray to Akane’s spirit to help them in all matters of the heart, and Shigeru half-consciously joined his prayers to theirs.
On this day in late spring, when the cherry blossom was at its peak, and the lusher scents of orange blossom also filled the air along with many perfumes of strange flowers that he could not identify, the shrine on Fire Mountain was thronged with people, all no doubt feeling like him the tug of spring in their blood, the longing for love, the desire for the beloved’s body, the craving to lie down together and make new life.
He thought Terada would be home, for he had seen his ship in the port, getting ready to set sail on the next day’s tide. Shigeru knew he had been recognized by many in the crowd: he had been aware of their respect and delight, and someone must have informed Terada, for the man himself came out to his gate and warmly invited him to step inside.
“Lord Shigeru! What an unexpected pleasure, and a great honor, if I may be so indiscreet.” He made no attempt to lower his voice, clearly believing he could do and say as he liked in his own home. No one would dare report any of his words to the Otori lords; their families would have felt Terada’s punishment before such words left the mouth.
Terada issued several barking commands. Maids brought tea, wine, and morsels of raw fish just sliced from the living creature, still quivering, melting in the mouth with the salty essence of the sea itself. They talked about the moon and tides, the weather and the season, and then Shigeru said idly, looking out over the bay toward the other volcano, “I suppose Oshima is very different from Fire Mountain.”
“Has Lord Shigeru never been there?”
Shigeru shook his head. “I have always wanted to.”
“Fire Mountain is said to be more stable. Oshima is very unpredictable. No one would dare build a house like this next to the volcano there-though I have been tempted from time to time, especially when the castle tries to extract more and more money from us.”
Terada filled Shigeru’s bowl again and then drained his own. Shigeru made no reply and did not allow his bland expression to change. They spoke of other matters, but as Shigeru was leaving, Terada said, “There is nothing to prevent us from dropping by Oshima this week. Why don’t you come with us?”
“I would be delighted,” Shigeru said, giving his customary frank smile.
“Meet us at the harbor tomorrow night. We will be away about a week.”
Shigeru went home and made the necessary preparations for the journey, informed his mother and Ichiro, and wrote a brief letter to his uncles, which he instructed Ichiro to deliver after his departure. He said nothing about extending his journey as far as the Maruyama shoreline, but the following evening, as Terada’s ship sped across the waves, helped by the tide and the southeast wind, he asked the older man, “Do you ever put in on the coast of Maruyama?”
“Occasionally we stop at Ohama, when the wind swings to the north and we can’t get back to Hagi. Why? Did you want to go there?”
Shigeru did not reply immediately. Terada gestured to him to come a little closer.
“I have no secrets from any of my men,” he said quietly. “But you may have things you prefer the whole ship does not hear, and I respect that. If you want to go to Maruyama, I’ll make sure you get there, and I’ll ask no questions about your reasons, or allow anyone else to.”
“You say the northerly keeps you from returning to Hagi,” Shigeru said. “If you took me to Katte Jinja, might it keep me there for a few days?”
“It will if I tell it to,” Terada replied, grinning. “It suits us as well. We’ll put into Oshima and fish the sea between the island and the coast. We can come back for you whenever you desire.”
The light was fading and the full moon was rising. Shigeru gazed at the path it made across the waves toward the west and imagined walking its length to where she waited for him.
The fishing boats came to Oshima just before dawn and hove to in the lee of the cliffs, waiting for daybreak. The breeze dropped; the sea was calm, lapping gently against the basalt rocks, so quiet that they could clearly hear the awakening birds on land.
The sun rose, a bright red sphere emerging from the unruffled ocean.
“It will be fair weather for a week,” Terada said, looking up at the cloudless skies, shading his eyes with his arm.
“Good for traveling,” Shigeru agreed, trying to mask his impatience with indifferent calm.
The men put out oars and rowed the boats into the rock-rimmed harbor. From a distance it seemed to be a natural basin, but when they had anchored and leaped ashore, Shigeru realized that nature had been improved by carefully hewn stones placed to form a landing quay. The opposite side had been similarly built up into a protective wall.
Above their heads, the sides of the volcano rose steeply; the black rocks and old lava stood out between the forest that sought to cover them. Smoke and steam rose from the crater and from the numerous hot springs at the volcano’s foot, even from the surface of the sea itself, where boiling water burst through cracks in the ocean floor.
“Come, I’ll show you around,” Terada said, and leaving the men to prepare the nets and baskets, they scrambled over the rocks and followed a rough track up the side of the mountain.
“Does no one live here?” Shigeru asked, looking around, when they paused for breath about halfway up. He raised his eyes and looked toward the coast. Hagi lay to the east, lost in the haze.
“It’s known as the entrance to hell,” Terada replied. “I like to encourage that reputation. The fewer people who come here, the better. Do you want to bathe? Take care, the water is scalding.”
They both stripped off, and Shigeru slid carefully into the pool, his skin turning red instantly. Terada could not help grunting as the water hit his powerful frame.
They sat half submerged for a few moments without speaking; then Terada said, “You weren’t wounded in the battle?”
“Just a cut in the scalp. It’s healed now, my hair covers it.”
“Unh.” Terada grunted again. “Forgive me-and shut me up if I’m speaking out of turn-but you will not always be so retiring and so patient?”
“Indeed I will,” Shigeru replied. “I have withdrawn from power and politics. I am interested only in my house and lands.”
Terada was gazing at him searchingly. “I know this is what people say, but there are still many who hope secretly…”
Shigeru interrupted him. “Their hope is futile, and so is our discussing it.”
“But this journey?” Terada persisted.
“It is of a religious nature,” Shigeru replied, allowing an earnest note to creep into his voice. “I have been told of strange visions and apparitions at this shrine. I will spend a few nights alone there and see if anything is revealed to me. Apart from that, I am interested in your work, your knowledge of the sea and its creatures, as well as the opinions and welfare of your men. And I like traveling.”
“You don’t have to worry about my men,” Terada replied. “They do what I tell them, and I look after them!” He chuckled and gestured to the land around the pool. “This is where I would build my house if I lived on Oshima. You can see all the way to Hagi, and no one would ever draw you out.”