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Bright lights danced at every gate of the tenements of the archers' neighborhood that evening, and all the gates were open. Bonfires burned here and there, and there were people carrying paper lanterns, waiting with the bride's household for the arrival of the groom. Holding their children, mothers waved, and good cheer shone on their faces, brightened by the lights and fires.

Just then, some children came running from the crossroads across the way.

"He's coming! He's coming!"

"The bridegroom is coming!"

The mother of the children called them over, gently reproaching them and calling them to her side. The moon bathed the road in a pale light. The children's announcement had acted as a herald, and from that point no one crossed the hushed street.

Two torchbearers turned the corner. Behind them walked the bridegroom. Bells had been attached to the trimmings on the horse, and as they swayed back and forth, the bellsmade little sounds like the chirping of crickets. The chest of armor and the two spears were borne by five attendants. It was not such a bad show for the neighborhood.

The bridegroom, Tokichiro, looked particularly admirable. He was a man of small stature, but his appearance would have been appropriate even without fine clothes. He wasn't so ugly as to cause gossip, nor did he appear to be a man whose intelligence had gone to his head. If one had asked the people who stood by their fences and gates what kind of man he was, they would all probably have said that he was an ordinary fellow, and a fitting husband for Nene.

"Welcome, welcome."

"Let the bridegroom in!"

"Congratulations!"

The relatives and family waiting near the gate of Mataemon's house greeted Tokichiro, their features momentarily brightening in the flickering light.

"Please come in." The bridegroom was led by himself to a separate room. Tokichiro sat down alone. It was a small house, with no more than six or seven rooms. The helpers were just on the other side of the sliding door. The kitchen was just across the narrow garden, and he could hear the sounds of dishes being washed, and the smell of cooking wafted toward him.

Tokichiro hadn't noticed it so much as he was walking through the streets, but now that he was sitting down, he could hear the beating of his own heart, and his mouth felt dry. He sat alone in the room, almost as though he had been forgotten. Still, it would not be proper for him to breach decorum, so he resolved to sit there in a dignified manner whether anyone saw him or not.

Happily, Tokichiro was rarely bored. Certainly, as a bridegroom who was soon to meet his bride, there was no reason to be bored at all. But even so, at some point he forgot all about the wedding and diverted himself with an unrelated reverie for the while.  His mind flew off to an absurd direction for the present: Okazaki Castle. What developments were going on there? Recently this had occupied his thoughts more than anything else. Rather than wondering about how his new bride would speak to him on the following morning and how she would appear when she greeted him, his mind was caught up by these things.

Would Okazaki Castle side with the Imagawa? Would it ally itself with the Oda clan? Once again, the forked road of fate. Last year, following the Imagawa clan's terrible defeat at Okehazama, the Tokugawa clan looked at three different possibilities. Should they continue to support the Imagawa? Should they remain unaligned with both the Imagawa and the Oda, and boldly affirm their independence at this time? Or should they take the path of alliance with the Oda? They would have to choose one of these three alternatives sooner or later. For many years the Tokugawa clan had been a sort of parasitic plant whose existence depended on the great tree of the Imagawa.

The very root and trunk of that relationship, however, had fallen at Okehazama. Their own strength was still insufficient, but after the death of Imagawa Yoshimoto, the Tokugawa could hardly rely on Yoshimoto's heir, Ujizane. This was all information that came either from rumors or from distantly overheard discussions among the senior retainers, but Tokichiro was very interested and concerned.

Now we're going to see what Tokugawa Ieyasu is made of, he thought. He was more interested than others in this lord of Okazaki Castle. Tokichiro considered that even though Ieyasu had been born the lord of a castle and a province, here was a man who had suffered even more misfortune in the world than himself. The more he heard about Ieyasu's life, the more his heart went out to him. Nevertheless, Ieyasu was still just a young man, nineteen years old this year. At the time of the battle of Okehazama, he had com­manded Yoshimoto's vanguard, and his performance in the capture of Washizu and Marune had been admirable. His decision to retreat to Mikawa when he heard that Yoshimoto had been killed was also admirable. Ieyasu's reputation was good, both within the Oda camp and, later, at Kiyosu. Thus, he had become the subject of much talk. Tokichiro, too, was now absorbed in his own thoughts as to what position Ieyasu and Okazaki Cas­tle would finally take.

"Master Bridegroom. Are you in here?"

The sliding door opened. Tokichiro returned to himself. Or rather, he returned to himself as a bridegroom.

Niwa Hyozo, a retainer to Lord Nagoya, entered with his wife. They would be the go-betweens. "We're going to perform the tokoroarawashi ceremony," Hyozo said, "so please wait here just a little while longer."

Tokichiro was confused. " Tokoroara —what?"

"It's an ancient ceremony in which the bride's mother and father and their relatives come to see the bridegroom for the first time."

At which point Niwa's wife told Tokichiro, "Please sit down," and, opening the sliding door, beckoned the people who had been waiting in the next room. The very first to come in and extend their greetings were the parents-in-law, Asano Mataemon and his wife. Even though they all knew each other well, they followed the form of ceremony. Upon seeing these two well-known faces, Tokichiro felt much more relaxed, and his hand fumbled as though he wanted to scratch his head.

Following Nene's parents was a lovely girl of fifteen or sixteen, who bowed and said bashfully, "I'm Nene's sister. My name is Oyaya."

Tokichiro was puzzled. This young girl was even more beautiful than Nene. More than that, until now he hadn't even known that Nene had a younger sister. In what deep part of a warrior's narrow house could this lovely flower have been kept?

"Well, ah, thank you. I am Kinoshita Tokichiro, come here by fate. I'm pleased to meet you." Wondering if this was the bridegroom that she would be calling "elder brother," Oyaya peeked back at him as a young girl might, but another relative quickly came up from behind. One by one they came in and spoke with him. Meeting them all at once, Tokichiro could hardly remember who was whose paternal uncle or niece or first cousin, and wondered how many relatives Nene had.

He thought that this might be annoying later on, but the sudden appearance of a cute sister-in-law and kindly relatives improved his mood. He had few relatives of his own, but he loved large crowds, and a boisterous, lively, laughing family was ideal.

“Master Bridegroom, please take your seat." The go-betweens invited him to a small room hardly big enough to contain them all, and, ushered to the seat provided him, the bridegroom sat down in their midst.

It was an autumn evening, but indoors it was still hot and sultry. The rattan blinds hung from the eaves as they had throughout the summer, and through them filtered the chirping of insects and the autumn breeze that fluttered the wicks of the oil lamps. The spotlessly clean room was dark and less than luxurious.

The room set aside for the ceremony itself was small, and there was a strangely refreshing quality about the complete absence of decoration. Slatted reed mats had been spread over the floor. An altar to the gods of creation, Izanagi and Izanami, had been erected at the back of the room, in front of which had been placed offerings of rice cakes and sake, a single candle, and a branch of a sacred tree.