Sanuki no Suke’s Diary: Days of Imperial Mourning (2)

 

     As dawn broke and everyone rose, I looked around and saw that the blinds in the Emperor's room were covered with coarse reeds—and so many of them. Their edges were a somber gray. The screens attached to the sliding doors were also gray, fitted with white wooden crossbeams. There was no chair set out for the ritual haircut; I wondered if such a thing was deemed inappropriate during this period of deep mourning, or if it was simply skipped because of the Emperor’s tender age. When I offered him his meal, he ate with his tiny chin thrusting out earnestly—a sight that was thoroughly endearing.

     Near noon, the Lord Regent arrived, and everyone in attendance straightened their posture. I thought to myself, "In the days of the late Emperor, he was a mature adult, so I would naturally stand up and step back even during his meals, and he would even quietly signal me when to do so. But now, with this child Emperor, if I were to stand up and leave him during a meal, it would surely be frowned upon as a failure of my duty." Thus, I remained seated. Yet, even as I sat there, how could I not feel pangs of guilt over the many years I had spent so carelessly and selfishly, despite having received such boundless, invaluable kindness from the late Emperor?

     Overwhelmed by shame, I sat with my head bowed. Just then, I heard the Regent's voice inquiring of the attendants outside the sliding door:

     "Who is waiting within?"

     "It is Sanuki no Suke," they apparently replied.

     Upon hearing this, the Lord Regent knelt close right behind the sliding door and spoke to me:

     "Since when have you been serving here? Please, you must continue your service in the future. I miss the late Emperor so deeply; I only wish we could talk of those gone days together to comfort our grieving hearts."

     His words were truly heartbreaking, revealing that he harbored the very same sorrow as I did. It brought back a vivid memory: once, the late Emperor had asked, "Who is on duty to serve the table today?" and upon hearing that it was this Lord Regent in his younger days, the Emperor had playfully stuck out his tongue, hitched up his robes, and ran away, much to everyone's amusement. Knowing that it was this lord who had been part of that fond memory, my heart swelled with such emotion that I could not bring myself to utter a single word.

     As I remained silent, the Regent spoke again:

     "This is quite unexpected. I never imagined I would come so close to speak with you like this. I remember when the late Emperor was gravely ill; you were lying right beside him. When I came to visit, he intentionally raised his knees to hide you from my sight. To think we would meet in this manner now... He truly did try to shield you, didn't he? How fleeting and unpredictable this human world is."

     With these poignant words, he rose to his feet. Hearing him speak of the past, I felt the profound truth in his words, and the world around me felt unendurably harsh.

     And so, this unremarkable New Year's Day came to a close. As the days passed, the colors of people's mourning clothes faded, each in their own way.