I wrote this story for Desdmona’s 2003 Erotic Postcard Fiction Contest, where it received an Honorable Mention.
My dearest cousin,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I miss you very much and pray that the spirits of our ancestors watch over you.
My hand trembles, however, as I grip my brush and it hovers above the inkstone, for I do not know where to begin. So much has happened since I wrote you last.
As you know, my father secured my marriage to the great nobleman, Takashi Nobunaga, and I was sent to the capital at Edo. My wedding kimono was beautiful—red silk with embroidered irises, because of my name. The obi was so ornate that it took three servants to tie. Oh, Cousin! Never have my eyes feasted upon such magnificence.
That night, Nobunaga-sama came to me, and I quivered with anticipation. He was not unkind, but he was more used to drill with his beloved soldiers. I hope I was pleasing to him, for I wish to be a good wife. But to my sorrow, he departed on maneuvers with his cavalry the week after our marriage.
It was then that I began spending time with my new sister, Kikako. And you can imagine my surprise when she informed me that it was she who urged Nobunaga to choose me for his bride.
Where Nobunaga is taciturn, Kikako is bright and joyful like her namesake, the sunflower. We spend all our waking hours together, writing haiku or walking under the wisteria arbors.
She is even teaching me the art of ikebana, flower arranging. We use sunflowers, which are cheerful and bold, but the elegant iris is her favorite. The two complement each other, she says.
This evening, we plan a walk in the garden, and I find myself quivering with anticipation.
Oh, Cousin, I am so happy here.
Sou-sou,
Ayame-chan
The End