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sister twice before, first many years ago at Einosuke and Fumiko’s wedding, and once more during a family cherry blossom viewing excursion to Kyoto. They hadn’t spoken at the wedding, but in Kyoto they sat together at the edge of the wooden walkway that bordered the rock garden at Ryoanji Temple, while Einosuke sketched it, even then preparing his replica. Tsune was younger than her sister by some half dozen years, but even then it was clear she would become the true family beauty, not only exquisite of face and form, but in possession of a poise and bearing surpassing even those of Fumiko.
    Because Manjiro had not known what to do with the chocolates he had hidden them in his father’s room, behind a screen and beneath a window that was kept open at night to accommodate Lord Okubo’s love of cold air. He had been afraid to speak of the unexpected gift before Tsune arrived, for neither Lord Okubo nor Einosuke had visited a foreign vessel yet, and he knew they would be angry with him for accepting the gift at all. But the presence of Tsune gave him some latitude. Until quite recently everyone had said she was destined to marry high, an opinion that, by bestowing a foreign gift like this, Manjiro, rather than promoting his own vague hopes, oddly seemed to magnify.
    â€œI know you remember our meeting in Kyoto, Manjiro-san,” Tsune said. She had taken the chocolate box from him and placed it on the tatami. “I know you remember the occasion, but do you remember our conversation? I do. I remember what we talked about that day, but I think you do not.”
    In fact Manjiro remembered every second of his time with Tsune, not only what they had said, but that he had hoped against hope that when they got older there might be a marriage arrangement for them. Einosuke had talked with him about it once or twice several years ago, but with the advancing wealth and stature of Tsune’s clan, the possibility had grown slight. So Manjiro’s tendency was to dismiss this small resumption of such talk now, wondering only what had changed to once again make him a more likely candidate. That Einosuke had successfully married her sister meant little because Einosuke was Lord Okubo’s eldest son and heir.
    â€œWe spoke of lots of things,” he said, “and I remember them all. What seems ironic now is that for a while we tried to guess what people in foreign countries might be like. I remember that your interest was as keen as my own.”
    He was ashamed of it, but Manjiro wanted to work the conversation around to his time aboard the foreign ship, so that he might tell Tsune about his private conversation with that strange and black-faced entertainer. And since he had not been able to do it with the chocolates, he was now trying to use the past.
    â€œAh, then you do remember,” she said. “You bragged that you would travel, that you would subdue foreign enemies and one day know the world. I did not believe you then, but how proud we all are now.”
    Manjiro reddened and looked down. By speaking so directly wasn’t she saying that his maneuver had been too obvious, that he was too brazenly asking for the compliment he had received? She gazed at him steadily, and just then Lord Okubo entered the room. Einosuke and Fumiko were with him, O-bata behind them, trying not to trip under the weight of a tea and sembei tray. When Einosuke opened the shoji , the March air played upon the replica garden as if to further remind the two potential lovers of their conversation at the edge of the original one. The raked lines of gravel and the garden’s mauve walls added definition to the moss that clung to each of Einosuke’s boulders, both large and small. Manjiro was so taken by the sight, and by the nearness of Tsune, that he failed to notice everyone else focusing on the strange-looking box.
    â€œManjiro has given me his welcoming gift,” Tsune mildly said. “Whatever might it