Her palanquin, simple but sturdy, swayed gently as the retinue of a dozen loyal attendants, guards, and her favorite court ladies ascended the wooded path to the secluded hot springs of Yoshino. The leaves were a tapestry of crimson and gold, each gust of wind sending a silent prayer of colour fluttering to the earth.
“My lady, the water is said to heal even the weary bones of a dragon,” chirped Chika, her youngest attendant, her eyes wide as the steam from the natural springs began to ghost through the trees. Hot Springs Pleasure Trip Nene Yoshitaka JAPANE...
That evening, after a simple meal of river fish, mountain vegetables, and warm sake, Nene slipped off her formal kosode and wrapped herself in a simple yukata . The bathhouse was a large, open-air rotenburo overlooking a moonlit cascade. Steam rose like a living thing, blurring the edges of the pines. Her palanquin, simple but sturdy, swayed gently as
Soon, the other women joined her. Their chatter was a soft, comforting melody—gossip about a kimono pattern, a rumour from the capital, a silly poem one of the maids had written. For a single, perfect hour, Nene was not the “Mother of the Nation.” She was just an old woman with sore knees, laughing at a story about a clumsy stable boy. That evening, after a simple meal of river
It was for a kyūjitsu —a pleasure trip.
Nene smiled, her face lined but serene. “Then it shall certainly help an old nun’s knees.”