Sanuki no Suke’s Diary Volume 2 (2)

 

     While the new Emperor is a precious memento of my late Sovereign, I remain convinced that serving him at this time is ill-advised. Even when I first entered court service years ago, I hesitated to appear in public. Yet, urged by my parents and my sister, Kenshi, I found myself unable to voice my reservations, which became as entangled within my mind as seaweed washed ashore.

     Now, history seems to repeat itself, and I feel my will is not entirely my own. I find myself wondering: if the Retired Emperor Shirakawa were to hear that I had renounced the world and taken the tonsure, would he finally release me from this obligation? This thought only deepens my melancholy as the months drift by. Yet, if I were to become a nun, how could I justify the timing? To cut my hair of my own volition—even in ancient tales, those who did so are often mocked as foolish, and I cannot help but agree. Thus, I cannot bring myself to make such a final, irrevocable decision.

     "I hope that my body might simply wither away under the weight of my own sorrow. Then, at least, I would have a reason to decline," I think to myself as the days slip away.

     Meanwhile, frequent letters arrive with urgent pleas: "The new Emperor’s wet nurses are still only of the sixth rank; until they are promoted to the fifth, they cannot serve the Imperial meals. The 23rd, 6th, and 8th are auspicious days. Please, hasten your return."

     Despite these summons, I remain paralyzed. Even reflecting on my past years in the Imperial Court, I was plagued by inner turmoil and never truly felt I belonged. I became emaciated and unsightly, constantly agonizing over whether I should resign. At that time, I clung to the late Emperor’s kindness; yet, I was always acutely aware of the "intentions" (the critical eyes) of the high-ranking officials and those around him. Since my sister, the Sanmi, served with such flawless composure, I felt a heavy responsibility to match her standards and was ever-vigilant not to cause even the slightest friction.

     Even if I were to return to service now, it would be impossible to live as I once did. The new Emperor is but a child; he will not recognize me as the one who served Emperor Horikawa with such devotion. If I were to perform my duties in my accustomed manner, the onlookers—those who belong entirely to this new era—would surely judge me. They would not see my loyalty, but only a woman pathetically clinging to a vanished past, unable to adapt to the present.

I wear these mourning weeds,

Whose sleeves have been forever drenched in tears—

These ink-dyed robes,

The final, fading vestige of my Lord.