A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

He woke to something unusually soft cushioning his head (which he found to be rather sore indeed). That answered that old question, then. He could indeed get drunk. He was only thankful that he did not yet feel sickly, though perhaps that might be preferable to feeling as though his skull would open at any second.

As he shifted in an attempt to sit up, he found that he had neglected to use a pillow entirely, and had instead lain across the bed, using his wife as a pillow. She looked ever so sweet as she slept, a little smile curling her lips. He could not help but kiss her forehead. He was obligated to.

He rolled out of bed with less grace than he was want to, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him, and an acute dizziness suddenly assailing him. He reached out a hand toward a nearby table in order to steady himself. When his vision had cleared, he was finally able to evaluate the room in which they found themselves.

It was definitely not Imagawa’s bed chamber, and for that he was grateful. It was smaller than the room they had found him in, and slightly more conservative, but the bed was still made up in that western style, and was as soft as a thousand goose feathers.

There was even a mirror on the wall – it was a wealthy person that inhabited this room indeed. He wandered over to it, more out of curiosity than anything else, not quite remembering the last time he had looked at himself.

"Ah."

He had known his hair had grown at some point, but it still felt odd to see himself with a healthy amount of hair. His eyes looked red and tired, but his expression was that of a contended man. He smiled back at himself, pleased by what he saw. The face of a Daimyo. It was not too bad, after all.

"Hm?" Even hungover, his senses were still sharp, and the footsteps approaching the door of their room did not escape his notice. The morning sunlight silhouetted a man against the paper wall.

He walked toward it with light footsteps, suspicious. This castle would still be full of rats, and it would not be surprising to find one or two men that came in search of his life.

"You?" He was surprised to see the face of the male servant that he had given orders to last night. And it seemed the man was just as surprised to see him open the door as suddenly as he did, as he jumped.

"Yes, my Lord!" The man greeted him, bowing deeply. "You instructed that I come and find you at noon."

"Is it really noon already?" Gengyo asked, genuinely surprised. All around was quiet. Even the scampering of a mouse would have stood out against it.

"It is, my Lord." The servant assured him.

Gengyo scratched his head, squinting back at him, and noting the sun that was filling the lower floor with light. They celebrated rather late into the night, he knew. But beyond that, he could not remember much. He had grown gradually more and more drunk, and with each bottle, his memory had worsened. "Mm... What were we going to do again?"

"You asked that I show you around the castle my Lord..." The servant replied back hesitantly, put off by Gengyo’s casual demeanour, unsure whether he was being tested.

"Ah, that’s right. Okay, let’s do that that." He strode back into the room, and slipped into his shoes, sparing Akiko a glance, wondering whether he should wake her or not. Seeing how soundly she was sleeping, he opted instead to pull up the quilt, and leave her for a while longer, closing the door after himself.

As soon as he stepped out of the door, he could already see men lying here and there, passed out from their drunkenness. "This way, my Lord." He followed the lead of the servant, as he led him about the lower floor.

"This is the throne room, my Lord, where Imagawa would receive guests." Gengyo nodded, already guessing as much, more interested in the mass of men that were lying here and there, bottles still in their hands. He expected the whole room might smell of vomit and urine by now, but in fact, the scent was rather pleasant. Lavender, or some other sort of flower. Not only the smell, he could not even see any pools of bodily fluids.

It was unusual to say the least - with a gathering of that size, and with the celebrations being so heavy - that everything remained so clean, and he felt he might know the reason why. "Did you truly stay up all night to clean up after us? You could have waited till morning."

"It is our honour to serve our Lord! We stayed up throughout the night to make sure that everything would be orderly upon the Lord’s awakening."

"You didn’t sleep at all?" He questioned with a frown.

"We do not need any sleep, my Lord. We can have our fill of it at any time, but service to his lordship is only in the here and now, so we must fulfil our blessing with all we have."

Gengyo groaned in response to his excessive flattering, already able to see the bags under the man’s eyes, and the sluggish nature with which he moved. He was evidently exhausted. "Nonsense. After you have showed me around here, take yourself, and tell the others. Its time that you have slept. Do not do anything but sleep until tomorrow morning – that’s an order." He issued it as though it were a command, already seeing the servant opening his mouth as if to protest.

"It will be done as you say, my Lord. We will sleep vigorously so that we might serve you better in the days to come." He said instead. Gengyo thought he might have seen the man cast the smallest of smiles, but it was gone just as quickly as it came, and so he was unsure whether or not he had merely imagined it.

The tour continued, and he showed Gengyo each of the finely furnished lower floor rooms. "The entire ground floor is filled up with rooms for persons to stay, my Lord." With his own eyes, Gengyo could already make that out himself, but he nodded nonetheless, not wishing to quieten the man only to lose out on the event where he might say something useful. They were richly furnished rooms, as one might expect from being so close to the Daimyo’s quarters, and most beds were bejewelled in some way. It was unnecessary extravagance to say the least.

"This is the cellar, Lord, where the wine and sake are kept. It is also a food store for that which we cannot source fresh." Even the cellar was likely more pleasant to live in than many a man’s house.

"This is the dojo, my Lord, where the higher-ranking men were allowed to spar, often as entertainment for the Daim— apologies, for Imagawa."

"Very good, and the last floor?"

"The last floor is the bathhouse, Lord. Imagawa did not make it up here often, but it was enjoyed by others very much." Even now, that room was steamy. Iron pots sat above flames, their waters being warmed, before two burly servants would grasp a wooden handle each, before pouring it into the pool.

It was heavily scented as well, just as other places were. With the many candles lighting the vast room, and with the lack of light that permeated, it created quite the moody but peaceful atmosphere.

There were three large separate marble baths, and the servants ran back and forth, trying to regulate the temperature of them, their faces plastered with false smiles so that they would not look to be disliking their task.

’This could be improved’. Was his immediate thought as he beheld the amount of man power needed to sustain it.

"It looks rather pleasant. Have you tried it before?" He questioned. One thing he had been lacking since coming to this time was enjoying such an extravagant bath. Servants drew it up, but he never created much fuss, knowing how time consuming it was. Often, he would count himself lucky just having to bear liquid that was not freezing cold.

"Oh no, my Lord! I would never presume to. The servants have a separate bathhouse – this is for the nobility only."

"Good. I’ll find my way back downstairs. Go and enjoy a bath, and get the others to join you. I would think my men will have awoken by now."

"But my Lord! There is still more for me to show you!" The servant called out in panic, seeing him already beginning to leave.

"I’ll see to it another time. Do as you’re told."

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