Heaven's Net Is Wide by Lian Hearn (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

indifference through the unreality, doing what had to be done, meticulously and with as much justice as possible. He met endless groups of people-warriors, merchants, village headmen-explained the surrender terms as best he could to them, remaining as unmoved by their anger and lack of comprehension as by their frequent tears.

Gradually his seeming imperturbability had an effect on the frantic behavior in the town. The dancing crowds dispersed, and people began wearing their ordinary clothes again as life returned to normal. He would not allow them to descend into self-pity and victimhood. That led only to impotence and a festering resentment, which would do the Tohan’s work for them and destroy the clan from within.

But from time to time Shigeru would find himself in the grip of uncontrollable rage. It came from nowhere, as if it were some demon assailing him. He usually rushed from whatever room he was in, for he feared above all killing someone without intending to; his right hand was often bruised from punching it against a wooden pillar or a stone wall once he was alone. Sometimes he slapped his own face, thinking he was surely going mad; then he would suddenly become conscious of the world around him again-a bush warbler calling from the garden, the scent of irises, the soft pattern of rainfall-and the rage abated.

Occasionally, when alone, he was visited in a similar way by demons of overwhelming grief, for all the dead and for Akane, whom he missed with physical pain. The place of her death, the volcano’s crater, had become a center of worship for the women from the pleasure houses and for young girls in love. Shigeru occasionally visited it himself, and he often went to her father’s grave on the stone bridge, made offerings, and read the inscription he had had engraved there:

Let the unjust and disloyal beware.

Rage and grief were equally unbearable, and he struggled to keep them both at bay, but painful as they were, they made him feel real. Yet he could not allow himself to succumb to either.

Chiyo had told him what she had gleaned of the circumstances of Akane’s death. He suspected his uncle Masahiro of more than lechery-the man had been actively conspiring against him. But Akane herself had been indiscreet, had not been completely faithful to him, had been swayed by Hayato’s plight. Thoughts of revenge often came to him, but revenge would keep. He would be patient, like the heron that came every evening to fish in the streams and pools of the garden of the house by the river.

Chiyo, with her practical attitude toward matters of the body, recommended that he console himself with other girls, but he declined her offers, obscurely resenting all women for their attractiveness, their duplicity, and not wanting to become involved with anyone.

He took up residence in the house with his mother and his wife. Ichiro was delighted with the arrangement, assuring Shigeru that the life of a man retired from the world had many delights: the study of literature, religion, and philosophy; the practice of aesthetic pleasures; and, naturally, the enjoyment of culinary ones.

Lady Otori and Lady Moe were less content. Both of them felt, at some level, that it would have been more honorable for Shigeru to take his own life. They would of course have joined him in this act, but while he insisted on living, they also were obliged to.

The house, while beautiful and comfortable, was not large, and Shigeru found a certain pleasure in a simple and frugal way of life. Moe missed the luxury and splendor of the castle; while she thought she had not liked the intrigue of the deep interior, now she found she missed that too. She was not fond of her mother-in-law; Chiyo’s presence made her uneasy, arousing unpleasant memories; most of the time she had too little to occupy herself with, and she was bored. She was a wife yet not a wife; she had no children; her family were dead, her house wiped out due to the rashness of her own husband. It was an insult to them that he still lived, and she reminded him of this daily with barbed comments in company and accusations when they were alone together.

With little to do herself, Lady Otori bullied Moe more than ever, often ordering her daughter-in-law to carry out tasks that the maids should do, and usually for no reason other than spitefulness. One evening, a few weeks after the battle, before the end of the rainy season, she told Moe, who was preparing for bed, to fetch her some tea from the kitchen.

It was raining heavily, and the house was dim. Moe filled the teapot from the iron kettle that hung over the embers of the fire and took a cup to her mother-in-law.

“The water was too hot,” Lady Otori complained. “You should remove it from the flame and let it cool a little before you make tea.”

“Why don’t you ask Chiyo to make it?” Moe retorted.

“Go and make a fresh brew,” Lady Otori ordered. “Take some to your husband too. He is with Ichiro, looking at some records. See if you can’t behave like a wife to him for once.”

Moe did as she was told and, full of resentment, carried a tray with the cups of tea on it to the room that was Ichiro’s favorite.

Shigeru was there alone, reading a scroll. Several paulownia-wood boxes stood around him, and the room smelled of old paper and rue. He was immersed in study and did not look up when she came in. She knelt and placed the tray on the floor. She was seized by the urge to attack him, wound him, make him suffer as she suffered.

“You sit there like some merchant,” she said. “Why do you spend so much time in here? You are no longer a warrior at all.”

“Would you be happier if we lived apart?” he replied after a moment. “I am sure some other arrangements can