From Kakita Ryoku's Famous Novel, Winter
… And then there was the Dragon diplomat, standing in the corner like the mountains of his ancestry: stoic, alone and unapproachable. I, of course, would not allow it. I disengaged myself from my entirely boring company of Lions and Crabs and paraded myself toward the solitary Dragon.
“You look so lonely, Kitsuki-san,” I said to him.
“Do the mountains look so lonely, Madame?” he answered.
Engaging conversation at last! This was going to prove worthwhile.
“Sometimes,” I answered. “Sometimes I look out and see the distant mountains, and they look so cold. I sing to them sometimes, to let them know I see them and I care.”
“Is compassion such a worthless virtue to throw it away on a mountain?” he asked.
“Certainly not!” I answered, letting my voice carry a little further than our little corner, to let others know that we had engaged in what proved to be the conversation of the evening. “Why, is it not true that every mountain has a soul? Every tree, every forest, every stream? Compassion cannot be wasted, even if it is not reciprocated.” I let my voice turn a little tender at the end there, to give him the gist of my meaning without causing any offense.
His features were unchanged. “You tell me that compassion is never wasted, and I ask you, what good is brought about by kissing pigs?”
By that time, we had gathered a small crowd, and I could hear muffled laughter behind the fans that shrouded their lips. “Why, Kitsuki-san, surely you are not equating yourself to swine?”
“I am not,” he answered. “Are you?”
I blushed (a talent I learned from a rather skilled Scorpion. “Certainly not. You are far from a pig, Kitsuki-san.”
He crossed his arms. “What am I, then?”
A moment of anticipation swept over the room as they all waited for my answer. I smiled. “You have the bearing of a mountain, Kitsuki-san.”
“A mountain. Cold and lonely, then?” he said.
I had to hide my face behind my own fan then, “Lord Kitsuki, you are teasing me.”
“Who is to blame, the trapper for setting the trap or the fox for stepping into it?”
I had him! I knew that story, and I knew the right answer. “The trapper!” I said. “For the fox does not know the nature of the trap.”
“Even when it is disguised as a mountain,” he said.
There was a slight breeze then, and they all turned to see who had entered the hall. I heard someone mention the name, and I bowed to the Dragon. “I am sorry I must leave you now, Kitsuki-san. I must go and greet my new guest.”
He returned my bow. “Certainly, Kakita-san. And keep your eyes open for snares pretending to be mountains.”
I smiled and bowed again, and silently vowed never to invite a Dragon to my winter court again.
“You look so lonely, Kitsuki-san,” I said to him.
“Do the mountains look so lonely, Madame?” he answered.
Engaging conversation at last! This was going to prove worthwhile.
“Sometimes,” I answered. “Sometimes I look out and see the distant mountains, and they look so cold. I sing to them sometimes, to let them know I see them and I care.”
“Is compassion such a worthless virtue to throw it away on a mountain?” he asked.
“Certainly not!” I answered, letting my voice carry a little further than our little corner, to let others know that we had engaged in what proved to be the conversation of the evening. “Why, is it not true that every mountain has a soul? Every tree, every forest, every stream? Compassion cannot be wasted, even if it is not reciprocated.” I let my voice turn a little tender at the end there, to give him the gist of my meaning without causing any offense.
His features were unchanged. “You tell me that compassion is never wasted, and I ask you, what good is brought about by kissing pigs?”
By that time, we had gathered a small crowd, and I could hear muffled laughter behind the fans that shrouded their lips. “Why, Kitsuki-san, surely you are not equating yourself to swine?”
“I am not,” he answered. “Are you?”
I blushed (a talent I learned from a rather skilled Scorpion. “Certainly not. You are far from a pig, Kitsuki-san.”
He crossed his arms. “What am I, then?”
A moment of anticipation swept over the room as they all waited for my answer. I smiled. “You have the bearing of a mountain, Kitsuki-san.”
“A mountain. Cold and lonely, then?” he said.
I had to hide my face behind my own fan then, “Lord Kitsuki, you are teasing me.”
“Who is to blame, the trapper for setting the trap or the fox for stepping into it?”
I had him! I knew that story, and I knew the right answer. “The trapper!” I said. “For the fox does not know the nature of the trap.”
“Even when it is disguised as a mountain,” he said.
There was a slight breeze then, and they all turned to see who had entered the hall. I heard someone mention the name, and I bowed to the Dragon. “I am sorry I must leave you now, Kitsuki-san. I must go and greet my new guest.”
He returned my bow. “Certainly, Kakita-san. And keep your eyes open for snares pretending to be mountains.”
I smiled and bowed again, and silently vowed never to invite a Dragon to my winter court again.