Tokyo Ever After: A Novel (Tokyo Ever After #1)(61)

“Mr. Fuchigami reports your studies are going well,” the empress says, eyes gleaming. With a dainty, speckled hand, she picks up the teacup and takes a slow sip.

“I still have much to learn,” I reply serenely.

The empress presses her lips together. “Yes,” she says, placing the teacup down with a distinct click. “You haven’t chosen a hobby.”

“I haven’t, but I do enjoy botany.” Whew. Way to think on your feet, Izumi.

She tilts her head. “That would be acceptable. Your father has a fondness for orchids.” Could she know my father’s affinity for orchids is in direct correlation with his affinity for my mother? “Much too finicky for me. I prefer azaleas. When I was a little girl, I used to drink the nectar from the flowers.”

I brighten a little. “I did that, too.” Mom had azalea plants all over our property. She taught me how to pull the blossom from the stem and slurp from the tip of the flower like her mother had shown her. I always thought it was something unique to us, to our family. But maybe it was more. A connection to Japan, an invisible tether. “Is there a variety you prefer? I quite enjoy the omurasaki.”

I’ve caught her attention. “It is a lovely bloom,” she says. “Your mother is a botanist?”

“She teaches biology at the collegiate level and botany is a passion of hers, yes.”

She eyes me shrewdly.

The emperor taps his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “It would be better if your parents were married.”

My insides turn to dust.

“Please don’t,” my father says to his father.

My grandfather waves his hand like the emperor he is. “Fifteen hundred years of monarchy and we’ve never had a child born out of wedlock.”

“That’s not true.” My father is flushed. “Or are you forgetting the former concubine quarters, now horse stalls?”

The emperor raises his bushy eyebrows. “You should marry her mother. Have more children. A boy.”

In Japan, only males may inherit the throne. It goes against my grain. I’ve had heated discussions with Mr. Fuchigami about this. Japan had female empresses up until the eighteenth century. Then in the nineteenth century, the Meiji Constitution blocked female heirs.

My father says, “It might be time the laws are changed.”

My heart stalls. Most women born into the imperial family marry commoners, like my cousin Sachiko. She’s engaged to the heir of a rice empire. When they wed, Sachiko will officially leave the imperial family. She’ll lose her title. It seems I’ll follow the same path someday, way into the future. But my father is suggesting that I might become empress. Whoa, that’s a can of worms I’m not ready to open now.

“Izumi-chan,” the empress says, “What are your thoughts on this?”

Think about what you would normally say, then do the opposite was Mariko’s last bit of parting advice to me. But I owe it to myself and to all women to say something about gender biases. Actually, I have quite a few thoughts. I am my mother’s daughter, after all.

Carefully, I set my teacup down to consider the most diplomatic response. “The Imperial Household Law stipulates that only men whose fathers are emperors may inherit the throne. However, some scholars may argue that such law violates the principle that men and women be treated equally as set forth in Article 14 of the constitution.”

“You’ve studied the constitution?” The emperor eyes me keenly.

“Yes,” I say evenly. Thank you, Mariko and Mr. Fuchigami. “Historically, there has been precedence for females to reign.” I list off the eight empresses, speaking in my own self-interest. Might as well. Men have been doing it for years. “We might even argue the goddess Amaterasu was the first to rule,” I say lightly.

My father smiles behind his hand.

The empress takes a sip of tea. “I am inclined to agree with you.”

“What of tradition?” the emperor asks. “Three generations have passed since the Meiji charter took effect.” There is no heat in his statement. It’s as if he’s enjoying a lively debate.

My father chimes in. “Traditions are important. But I believe they can unite as easily as they divide. You and mother have broken several traditions over the years. Raising your children in your own home…”

I nod, knowing what he’s referring to. Mariko showed me news clippings. The emperor had been raised away from his parents, and the nation was shocked when he didn’t follow in their footsteps. Too modern, they said. The end of the monarchy. I send my father a silent thanks.

The empress says softly, “A new tradition was born after that.”

My grandfather pats his knee. “Whatever the answer, it is not up to us to decide. The people will.”

We all agree to that. Bigger things are at play here, and it isn’t a decision one person will make. That’s a part of being in an institution. I am my father’s daughter, too. We all have our place.

It doesn’t mean the story can’t change. It just affects how it will.

Besides, I don’t even know if I want to be empress. Being a princess is hard enough. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to have the choice, though. That’s what this is about. Choices.

The emperor stands, followed by the empress. The room springs to life. Chamberlains and attendants close in. My father rises from his chair. I stand too, keeping my gloves tucked in my hand.