Snow, Blood and Green Tea (Part 1)

I stood in the garden, snow clinging to my clothes, my hair, my lips. The morning had broken with a blizzard but still she had insisted, no, ordered me to her house for tea.

So while I am waiting, shivering in the cold, allow me to explain just a little. This will be no ordinary garden tea and this is without a doubt no ordinary woman to whom I refer. I have been living in Japan for five months now. Every day I had watched her from across the school's staffroom when I was certain she wasn't looking. Occasionally I was gifted with a smile when she caught me. A shy smile, the one Japanese women are so well trained to offer, but behind those dark eyes lay the cat, watching, waiting and it drove me quite near to madness.

And so now I waited. She knew I was there, for she had told me to wait. I ask you, what sane woman asks one to wait as the winds lash your hair like whips against your skin and the cold creeps into your very bones to make them ache. Perhaps she didn't know that this was the first time I had even seen snow, or perhaps she did. I never claimed that she was sane.

"Wen-chan. Come in!" The sound of her voice barely pierced through the muffled howling of the wind, but I heard and I obeyed. Wen-chan, that happens to be my nick-name here but it should only be used by my closest of friends. Now while I desired this woman beyond anything I could even hope to comprehend, she was by no means as close as that. She was being unprecedentedly familiar and this disturbed me. It sent shivers all up along my spine. Or perhaps I was simply overreacting and it was only the nipping snow that caused my discomfort.

Stepping into the entrance hall I slipped my shoes off and was instantly barraged by the deep colours and textures of the woman's house. Crimson reds and forest greens throbbed deeply, all fringed with details and borders of gold. This served to lift the sober mood, but she had left all the rooms unmistakably dark. The floors were all of wood, again something dark and tinted ever so subtly with red. I found myself smiling as my nose caught the scents of sandalwood, pine and myrrh. Yes, she smelt like her house.

"Welcome," her voice rang out, trailing off into fractures of echoes as it skipped across the wooden floors. The split-toed socks she wore hadn't made a sound on those polished floors and the incense of the house had served to mask her scent. But I knew she was there. I always knew, the same way a fox knows the wolf and stays out of its way. I think that she had meant to startle me, moving silently, ghost in her home. But I played this particular game far better than her and we both understood I had won this round.

"You told me once that you wished to learn the Art of Tea Ceremony?" Her voice was as soft as a brush on paper, lilting at the question that was no question. There was no refusing this request, there never was with her.

Voice catching in my throat I replied, "Yes..." I had to bite back 'Mistress'. I often did, so familiar was her tone to my training. Instead I supplied, "...sensei." Teacher. It was traditional and I have always been a stickler for tradition.

She turned from me without a word. Her slender finger wound its way thoughtfully through a loose stand of waterfall black hair, before curling over her shoulder and beckoning me with a mute summons.

Immediately I was after her, padding silently like a foxy kitsune though this house that whispered to me. The older woman stopped in front of a sliding shoji door, and I paused to, watching warily. My emerald eyes squinted into the darkness as she slid it open. I could see nothing, I could sense nothing. She stepped inside without hesitation, that very same darkness swallowing her whole.

With my heart in my throat I could do nothing but stand there, staring into the blackness which seemed to seep like ink around the edges to this portal demanding all of my trust.

"Are we afraid of the dark?" came the steel soft voice.

"Not at all," I replied quickly, searching for any hint of her shape, "In fact...I rather like the dark, it's far more comforting...that whole...return to the womb theory."

Her voice whipped out from the inky hole, "Hush little fox. For someone who is so clever, you talk far too much. Now come inside or go home."

I winced. The ultimatum had been laid down and I should never have hesitated for that long. But this would be my decision and mine alone. There would be no shifting of blame this snow hidden day. A moment later I was lost into the darkness. A quiet swish as the door closed behind me. A brush of fabric against my cheek. A sudden panic, quickly quelled. I had made my choice. There was no turning back from here.