It was another cold and clear day. Every needle on the evergreen trees was heavy with snowflakes.

With a spring in his step, Mitsuo was almost skipping up the hill, even though the path was slippery. But he had his best shoes on – a new pair at that – and was making better progress than his two companions.

“Come on, Zenji-kun, Ishibashi san! We’re making MIyasai wait and that’s not going to be in my favour,” he said, calling out at the two men walking behind him.

Ishibashi caught up with him but made it obvious that he was not in a rush.

“Lady Miyasai is not waiting for us, I can assure you, young man,” he said as he was taking deep breaths, exhausted by climb. “Royal ladies have their priorities and visitors like us are rarely top of the list.”

“That’s exactly why we need to be punctual,” the bachelour insisted, impatiently. “I will not have much time to create a good, long-lasting impression, if we keep cutting the meeting short!”

And he turned round, almost running towards The Red Hose now, so he could not hear the quiet remark that Ishibashi made.

“A good, long-lasting impression does not need long time, my friend,” the jizamurai muttered.

He looked back and saw his nephew, advancing slowly up the hill. That was not because of fatigue, Ishibashi thought. Zenji looked pensive and his slow stride was a manifestation on what weighed heavy on his mind.

Ishibashi walked back and met him half way, then they began walking up together.

“Remember what I told you, nephew. Let it guide you and give you hope when the external circumstances look as though not in your favour,” he told the young man.

Zenji did not reply, and Ishibashi san wondered if he had heard him at all. Then again, he had never been a very talkative person. But since that night some years ago, he had become more elusive and introverted. He took long periods of time to be by himself and never shared too much what he was thinking. But aside from those moments, he was a very friendly person and even full of vigor at times. Ishibashi was stunned when his nephew, who appeared calm and even lethargic for most of the time, won the town’s sports day last year. He had bettered his speed and sharpened his instincts with no apparent training. Ishibashi was impressed with him, but also a little concerned. Something was different about Zenji, and he was about to change even more…

They arrived at the big red front gates. Their tops were covered with cold white fluff, meaning no one had come in or out in a while. The impressive building stood tall, mysterious, and lonely. Not unlike its gentle inhabitant…

“It’s really been a while since I was last here,” said Mitsuo, ogling the house.

“It was way before she moved in. I wonder how it’s changed inside.”

“It is more alive than it used to be,” Ishibashi said. “And after my nephew paints the walls – who knows, it might even lose its air of sadness!”

Zenji pretended he didn’t hear the jizamurai and instead humbly stared at the gates, waiting for them to make a move.

“Ah yes, it is possible with your talent,” Mitsuo said while coming over to him and leaned on his shoulder.

“Zenji san, I’m so happy you’ll be here so often!,” he whispered to him ecstatically.

“I’ll have an inside man – you’ll tell me all about the lady and how I could…”

But before Mitsuo could finish his thought – and before Zenji could protest – the gates trembled and slowly opened. The three men stood surprised, not knowing what to think. Could it be possible that Lady Miyasai opened the gates herself?

Then an elderly man swiftly appeared from behind one of the corners, bowed deeply, and without waiting for the visitors to finish their bows or utter a word, announced with a booming voice:

“Since I’ve been instructed that we’re expecting only three visitors today, I’m taking the liberty to assume that you are jizamurai Ishibashi san, the esteemed local teacher Zenji san, and villager Taira Mitsuo san, whose trade I haven’t been made aware of.”

“I’d be happy to let you know that I’m…,” Mitsuo fervently rushed to explain his position but the old man interrupted him.

“I’m not interested in who you are, for me is just relevant to know that it is you that we’re expecting. Now follow me,” and with that, he turned around and sped up across the yard.

For a moment, the three men were stumped.

“What a curt little grandpa!,” Mitsuo exclaimed. “I hope we don’t have to endure his presence while Lady Miyasai receives us!”

“I like him in a way,” Zenji said with a provocative smile. “Sharp and to the point.”

And he followed the old man.

“Wait for me, Zenji san!,” Mitsuo ran after the teacher.

Ishibashi lingered in front of the open gates for another moment.

“So, she is not completely left on her own, after all…,” he muttered under his breath.

Then, realising that time was precious now, hurried ahead.

While walking up, he dropped the bundle that held his gift. A little annoyed, he turned round to pick it up.Upon lifting his head, his eyes suddenly froze. He turned round to the house and then quickly turned back. How bizarre, he thought.

“I could have sworn it was just us when we walked in…,” he muttered.

He turned round and started walking back. His feet sinking in the crisp snow. His gaze was fixed i the disance, he needed confirmation.

Then he suddenly stopped.

“Could it be…”

“Ishibashi san!,” the old servant called out.

The jizamurai looked back – his nephew and the young bachelour stood before the engawa.

“Please hurry up!,” the old man cried.

So Ishibashi had to let it go. For now…