The Potter's Notebook by Frank Giovinazzi, a historical novel set in 17th century Japan, is available on the Amazon Kindle platform and in paperback.
Thirty-Nine Shuji had been watching the presentation from his mat where he was enjoying a light meal and was shocked to see his brother standing before the Daimyo, with the collection of girls and their birdcages. Was he in trouble? What had he done to be hauled in front of the Daimyo? He had to find out what was going on. He was reluctant to break from his newfound discipline, but felt this was a legitimate exception. Grabbing a small refuse basket, he ventured into the Garden to see what the girls were doing. He was relieved to see brother move off to the outside of the Garden, so nothing was wrong with him, but questions would have to wait for later. The laughter of the girls carried over the bushes and constructs of the Garden like the gurgling stream and singing birds – all promise and beauty made more scintillating by the absence of sight. Shuji rushed past his own sculptures without the slightest glance. As he moved toward the sounds of the girls moving along the paths of the Garden, it sounded like the group was splitting in two, with several girls coming toward him, and several other moving toward the opposite end of the Garden. What should he do? No matter what he had to keep moving. To get caught spying or lurking in wait for attendants of the court would land him deep inside the kind of trouble he was committed to staying out of. So he kept moving, trying to act as if he was there to clean up the already spotless grounds. Moving past his sculptures for the second time today, he was still proud of them, but now he could see places where he could improve on them. Would that never end, or was he doomed to making things that could always be improved on? Did that mean he wasn't any good, or that he had an interminable way to go? He couldn't allow himself to worry about such things right now, thoughts like that would only bog him down, and he was getting too used to progress to opt for that. The closer group of girls were around two or three curves. He could hear them saying the kinds of things people had been saying all day about his sculptures. "So lifelike," "So unusual," "So natural," and so on. He moved to the outside of the path to avoid running into them when they came around the corner. Shuji always felt awkward in social situations. He was an orphan who had never been instructed in the way of social graces, except the hard way, after he had made some sort of error. Around people his own age he was especially clumsy because most of his interactions had taken place around grown-ups. His belly tightened and his face and chest flushed merely from the prospect of coming into close contact with girls, so he clung to the narrowest bit of the Path he could inhabit and still be on it at the same time. The voices got louder, Shuji's apprehension soared. When the girls saw him, instead of rushing past, they stopped and started talking to him. He cringed, thinking he had already committed some blunder and they were about to chastise him for it. They were more than talking. They were yelling, shrieking, giggling and laughing. Shuji felt as if he was getting attacked by a flock of birds, each one striking him in a different way: Cackling, "Oh, we had the best time, can you believe the Lord is making us release these fine specimens?" Pecking, "Are you going to help us catch butterflies again soon?" Flapping, "What do you think? What do you think?" Cooing, "We had sooo much fun today!" They were coming at him so fast with these and other squawkings they notice he wasn't responding. He loosened from his extreme defensive posture to open his arms and eyes wider. Who do they think I . . . oh, that's right, they think I'm Hideaki, that's why they're talking to me. He loosened up a little more. They continued, but their momentum carried them past him, and he heard apologies of, "The Princess will expect us to be ready when she calls out, we'll talk to you later. Bye!" The last round of farewells came out in a chorus of sweet lovely voices Shuji was just getting used to as they had to go. He must ask Hideaki how to talk to girls, how to get them to like him as they so obviously liked his brother. He moved on to see what the other group of girls were doing, to see who the Princess was. In his excitement Shuji forgot the Daimyo and his wife could see him making his way to their daughter from their vantage point on the dais. The Daimyo was indeed watching him from the disguise of an indirect glance. The voices of the first group of girls was fading as those of the next came louder. Shuji hurried, not wanting to miss what was going to happen. The voices grew subdued as he was nearing the last corner, not unhappy, but shocked. He didn't want to burst on the scene and startle them so he slowed to a stroll, focusing on the conversation before he made the final turn. "Can you believe this was made without your knowledge?" "It is a most beautiful likeness." "Have your parents seen this?" The questions were pointed in the direction of someone who wasn't answering. Shuji was getting part of puzzle but couldn't fit the last piece so he turned the final curve quietly. The second group of girls were a much different flavor than the first. They were eerily quiet and perplexed. When he appeared, their mouths grew tighter, not out of anger – but confusion? Their eyes recognized him but they had nothing to say. The girls were clustered around a sculpture and then Shuji saw the Princess and didn't have to look at the figure they were blocking. When he saw her, his knees buckled, and the food he had just eaten rumbled in his stomach as if it wanted a less disquieting place to reside. Shuji was disoriented first by the Princess' beauty, then by the fact he had sculpted a perfect likeness of her. And he had never seen her before. He didn't know what to do, if anything, so he merely bowed. The other girls were stupefied as was the Princess, but she was the Daimyo's daughter, so she recovered. "Your brother says you made these – remarkable – sculptures?" "Yes, my Lady," still inclined in a position of deference. She held the silence in the same way her Father was wont to, not because she was as skillful as he, but because she was at a loss for what to say. She held her finger up, to end his bow and to be remain silent for a moment, which would have taken more effort to prevent than it did to enforce. Shuji was dumbfounded by the presence of this beautiful girl he thought was only a sculpture that emerged from his imagination. She turned to her friends. "Butterfly Samurai, we collected these beautiful specimens together, let us release them together." The girls, perhaps even more confused than the Princess and Shuji, murmured their assent. "But first, my dear sisters," the Princess was now looking at them with the family's remarkable trait of staring through to people's essence, "let us remember the results of deeds performed together are always changing, but the bonds created by working together can last for generations." The forceful girl had broken the spell of the moment to make her point. "Stealthy and swift," she said, alone, at first, then with a few joining her. "Beautiful and light," they intoned together. “Honest and pure,” they affirmed. "We are the Butterfly Samurai!" they had all recovered their spirit now. With that, her hand on the butterfly cage, she turned to the far corner of the Garden and yelled, "Now!" releasing a boisterous flow of butterflies of all shapes and sizes stream out of the cage, a gravity defying waterfall, a force of color and energy racing upward into the sky in an unruly spiral of wings, each creature striving on its own, creating a pattern resembling the unloosing of a divine storebox. Shuji's trance was broken, and he turned to look at the far end where the other group had gone, and saw an identical plume of colors and wings leaping for the sky. The Garden released the pent up store of Nature from her recesses as if her architects had discovered a way to mimic creation in such exactitude it was capable of creating new life itself. High above the Garden, having made their initial dash for freedom and altitude, the butterflies diffused outward across the sky like the effluvium from a chimney, but with each soot molecule enlarged to grotesque proportion and color, each having its own life, adding to the beauty of the sky rather than detracting from it. Some circled at an intermediate height, others settled back into the Garden making their way to self-chosen roosts and feasting sites, while others drifted beyond the confines onto the grassy perimeters and streams and the woods beyond. After having been artificially constrained, Nature was finding its own equilibrium again. The girls and Shuji were not the only ones enthralled; there was a collective influx of breath over the whole affair as the butterflies executed their dance. The spectacle enhanced and exceeded everything that had come thus far and the day was only half done. The Princess took advantage of the diversion, "Go, back to your places now my sisters. I will be right behind you." She said this without rancor, just matter-of-fact, asking their assistance in something yet unexplained, which was a primary function of court attendants when dire situations arose. The expression on her face told Shuji this was such a time. He swallowed. She walked up to him, looking him in the eyes without blinking. "These sculptures are very beautiful, sir. You are an accomplished artist." Even a simple country boy like Shuji knew her smile was engineered to gain his trust and attention. "Especially the one of me. I am most flattered." And Shuji was most impressed by her. Though she was a girl, right now she was behaving like a royal, and nothing else. "I am most certain we have never met." Shuji nodded, it was the only response left to him besides staring blankly. "Then your ability to create such things speaks of great talent." She sounded grave for someone giving such a high compliment. "But it is a wild talent all the same, for the choice of your theme for the overall plan is as disastrous as your sculptures themselves are divine." She was talking quickly. The blade she was thrusting in his heart didn't hurt because of the speed, but the cut was deep. "These sculptures illustrate the Tale of Genji, do they not?" Shuji nodded, hoping this would end quickly. Even though the Princess was distressed, she was telling Shuji how he was the cause of it without making him feel totally worthless. She was simply informing him of a problem in a way that made him believe it could be fixed. "I am my parents' only child. My mother has never given my father a son, which he must have to preserve patrilineage of the fief." The Princess paused as if the pain was all hers to bear. Shuji understood this girl felt deeply, perhaps more for others' pain than for her own. "If she does not give my father a son, he will be forced to take a second wife!" Shuji knew he was supposed to uinderstand all this, but he did not. For the first time he understood he was really a simple country boy. He longed for her to explain it all to him. Maybe there was something he could do. "And you have chosen as a theme for your sculptures the story of a royal prince who is born of the Lord's concubine!!" The truth dawned on him. "I am afraid you have caused my parent's considerable disgrace today! No matter how beautiful your sculptures are, they point out to everyone present how my mother has failed my father. And your silent figures scream aloud that he must soon make a decision that would crush my mother and their marriage, no matter what is best for the clan!" The Princess was grief personified. Yet she still did not direct hatred at Shuji. Not only was he humiliated, he was even further embarrassed by her nobility. She looked up at the dais, where her parents steadfastly ignored the scene being played out in their full view. "Today my father is announcing the date of the next celebration. The Shogun is coming to visit on the occasion of their anniversary. That party will be even more splendid than this and everyone knows the secret purpose behind it is the last chance for my mother to become pregnant with a son. Many, many people support my father, but there are always those who conspire, some for power, some just for evil. "Listen to me, boy," her tone hardened around the edges, still compassionate at the core, but the steely carbon of the Imperium glinted on the edges of her voice. "If you can create such a thing as this without knowing what you were doing, then perhaps you can redeem yourself and help my parents preserve their union." Shuji nodded vigorously. Anything, anything, he wanted to say, anything to make you cease being angry with me, anything to make you happy. "That celebration will be for ritual and gift-giving to ensure fertility and blessing. Focus your wild talent on that and perhaps all will come out well in the end." Shuji understood. "Otherwise, you will discover my father's fabled magnanimity is not as infinite as some might say." The Princess looked at him with the severe dispassion doled out by rulers required to make difficult pronouncements. It was to her parents' credit that she already knew how to decree the dictates of court necessity without crushing someone's spirit. It was a skill that not many had and which was never truly comprehended by those on the receiving end. Read Chapter 40 of The Potter's Notebook.
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