Chapter One

With his last breath, Shunsuke placed the flower in my hands. A single rose … my favourite. From that day forth, members of the Tsubakikoji family began to look upon me with different eyes.

With the death of my husband, the Tsubakikoji were no longer required to politely ignore my “humble” upbringing. Daughter of a beggar and a beggar who begged from beggars, my blood runs black with the shame of my heritage. It is for that reason above all others that I shall never cease to be grateful for Shunsuke’s love. Like a benevolent deity, he reached down from the sky and lifted me into heaven, high above the clinging muck of my station. I still remember the day we met. I tried to steal his opium, and he beat me unconscious with an ebony cane. I didn’t realise it then, but that was the best beating of my life. 

And now Shunsuke is dead. With the thud of a wayward boomerang, the water of my happiness was poured down a drain of despair and into a sewer of sadness. Shunsuke is gone. He shall never return.

Of course, the sisters Tsubakikoji were predictably tactful in the days immediately following my beloved’s demise. Even they were not callous enough to risk confrontation while Shunsuke’s body was still yet warm. But now that they have extended the maximum amount of courtesy required by polite society, they circle me as a tribe of negro savages circles a cauldron at a cannibal feast. I can see the hunger in their eyes: they want the estate. Shunsuke’s estate. My rightful inheritance.

The sisters and their matriarch will inevitably challenge my claim – of that I have no doubt. But I shall yet prevail! My foes appear formidable, but they are riddled with cowardice, and their fear of scandal prevents them from rallying allies to their cause. After all, if word got out that the ladies Tsubakikoji were harassing a newly-made widow like a gang of ruffians, there would certainly be outrage. For even in acts of wanton cruelty, the aristocracy are anything but indiscreet. Asking for help in a matter like this would be more than a mere faux pas: it would be a disgrace akin to roasting an infant on a spit.

Whatever the case, whether they come alone or en masse, I am prepared to meet my destiny. I am prepared to rise above my roots, to claim what is mine, to heave my bosom, and to face the women who would take what is left of my desiccated happiness. I shall retain and restore my husband’s legacy, and I shall scratch away the three little fleas that dance in the hairs of his cold and lifeless crotch.  

One and all, the ladies Tsubakikoji shall feel the wrath of my slap.