Red String of Fate

"Have you learned something from that?" Minami asked, as she watched his shoulders slump in acknowledgment.

"Not until I met someone so very different from them. Someone kinder, gentler, someone whose laughter wasn't laced with ridicule or vindictiveness. Who knew she would turn out to be the daughter of a diplomat destined to get married to some guy overseas? What country is your father a diplomat in anyways?" Ethan asked in a mental fog.

Minami smiled, chuckled, then spoke, "Men can't seem to see the answers in front of them."

Ethan looked up, reading her face, and smiled, shaking his head, "I see; so damn obvious. Why else would you be in the United States?"

"I didn't mean to insult you, Ethan. I'm sorry if it came across that way. My father says ... keep your family close, your enemies closer. I'm not sure, at this point, which one I am."

"You didn't, and it didn't come across that way. I'm a guy who sometimes gets lost in algorithms and doesn't always see the low-hanging branches. As a result, I get smacked on the head before I get to taste the sweetest, higher-hanging fruits. Perhaps the same with the women in my past. I deserved that comment."

Watching Ethan staring at the empty glass of wine, Minami realized her host role had taken a very bad turn. The day was intended to lighten the mood and make a deeper connection with Ethan. Instead, it had turned into a downward spiral.

"Ethan, you mentioned the three-three-three rules of dating yesterday. The last one spoke of setting expectations."

Ethan nodded, and Minami continued.

"I would like to set an expectation for the two of us in our time together. An expectation that we are open and honest about how we feel about each other. We have three weeks before my father comes. Can you accept that and — be open?"

Ethan heard the words, but it took some time to process. He finally realized she wasn't closing the door on developing a relationship. She seemed to be encouraging it.

"Don't answer yet," she quickly added, as she realized he was about to answer.

"I have something for you. When receiving guests at a tea ceremony, it is customary to provide a small gift." Minami rose and left Ethan momentarily, then returned carrying a picture frame. She bowed to Ethan, sat down, and bowed slightly again, extending her hands with the frame.

Ethan turned the frame over. His eyes lit up, and a half smile replaced the somberness that had previously settled upon his dower face. It was Ethan grinning while snapping a shot of a cormorant with its wings spread to dry in the sun — above Ethan's head, a Cooper's hawk swooped into view with its salmon-colored chest and a long, striped tail. It was a stunning photo.

Ethan looked up into those deep, dark eyes and expressed his gratitude at receiving her gift, "Arigatou gozaimashita."

"You are welcome, Ethan."

"Let's see if a poor host can make up for her poor manners by trying to remember how to conduct a proper tea ceremony. Meanwhile, I have something else for you to see."

Gracefully, she rose, cleared the place settings into the kitchen, and then brought a laptop for Ethan to view the video presentation she had prepared for him while she went to the kitchen for the tea ceremony preparations.

The video opened with a vibrant view of Tokyo. As the camera panned over the bustling city, it transitioned to a tranquil ocean setting, where undulating waves serenely washed onto the shores of San Francisco Bay. The calming Japanese flute music in the background worked to soothe Ethan's mind as the panoramic view of the Bay faded. The screen swept eastward, disappeared, and reopened on a picture of the bright-yellow door across from Ethan's apartment.

The scene repeated itself, but this time, a floating crimson-red silk thread was superimposed on the video, gracefully matching the undulations of the ocean's waves. It circled over Tokyo, weaving its way over the sea, and then, for a moment, it hovered over San Francisco as if contemplating the vast distances. Soon, it sped across the Heartland of America before gently landing at the threshold of Minami's bright-yellow door.

Ethan watched, mesmerized by the effort put into the production. Minami had mastered more than just photojournalism. The ocean waves returned as the music played, with the solitary red thread flowing on the waters. The following superimposed words scrolled upward to disappear off the screen:

"Akai ito de musubareteru — the red string of fate entwines us. According to an enduring Japanese legend whispered through the ages, an invisible crimson thread of destiny unites all lovers. This delicate thread connects you to your soulmate, even when your paths have yet to cross. Those connected by this scarlet thread are destined to meet and fall in love, no matter the vast oceans that may separate them. Your string may intersect with the lives of others, at times becoming entangled in the web of fate, but invariably, you are destined to follow the trail of this unseen ruby-red thread to the one who waits at its other end.

If we remain open and patient, even if we must traverse the world from Tokyo to the Heartland of America, this Japanese legend assures us that we will ultimately find the one eternally bound to us at the far end of this invisible ruby-red thread."

Ethan smiled. The poignant meaning seemed clear to him, just as clear as the red string that stretched from his doorway to Minami's, connecting their destinies."

Minami returned from the kitchen, carefully balancing a tray laden with items for the tea ceremony. "I am sorry, Ethan, I am such a poor host. The tea ceremony is supposed to bring harmony and inner peace to guests by allowing them to break from the outside world and focus on the simple, transitory moment of drinking tea. I brought troubled waters to our ceremony instead. Let me make up for that now."

Ethan started to answer as she set the tea service and preparation tools beside her. She pursed her lips and placed a shushing finger on them. Ethan stopped before uttering a word, realizing she was attempting to rebalance the harmony and tranquility of the time-honored tea ceremony. Her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed slowly, in and out, with a slight huff to calm her mind and find her center.

She bowed and, with deft precision, proceeded to clean and offer for inspection the tea preparation instruments as prescribed by the ritual, showing respect for her guest. Minami's preparations moved through a series of choreographed steps, effortlessly gliding through the whole ceremony like a flawless ballerina, so that each action came straight from her soul. Jaku, an air of tranquility, permeated the room. Ethan watched, entranced. Her moments were just as precise as the video he watched earlier, even better, he felt.

Everything had been prepared: one steaming teapot, two warmed tea cups sans handles, a bamboo whisk, and tongs for the loose-leaf tea; two tea strainers and two fine-linen napkins folded just so. Everything was precisely in its place.

Minami placed Ethan's cup onto the little woven mat, and the strainer went in before she tipped the ceramic teapot and poured the water. Minami counted silently, indicating the minutes to Ethan by holding up a finger, first one, then two, before removing the strainer and placing it on a linen napkin. Then, she stirred it with the bamboo whisk precisely twelve times.

One hand underneath the cup, she turned it twice, then bowed, offering him his tea. Ethan remembered the video, received it with two hands, bowed, and sipped the tea, bowing again in acknowledgment.

Minami smiled at his etiquette and then prepared a second cup in the same manner. She held it up to Ethan, bowed, and sipped it silently. Both were bound by the spell of the music from the video still playing and the tranquility of the tea ceremony's symbolic intent of providing a respite from the outside world to a host's guest. The ritual was profoundly philosophical and tied to the legend of the Red String of Fate story portrayed in the video. Ethan's thoughts of the past and the uncertainties in their discussion vanished, as he felt the effects of the tea ceremony.

"Now, I believe you were going to say something, Mr. Ethan Reynolds, some minutes ago?"

"I was about to say I didn't know about the Red String of Fate and hadn't thought about Destiny as something that would ever cross my path in the business world. I recently encountered a red thread without recognizing its significance, including twice in California, once at the restaurant, and most recently, it guided me to the 'Doorway of the Rising Sun.' Ms. Minami Sasaki, I don't think this is a coincidence."

"I, too, have had a similar experience. When you came to borrow a can opener, I found a small red dot that unwound into a red silk thread outside my door. I didn't think it was important then and threw it away. However, when we returned from the water preserve, I found a red silk thread around the lens cover in my backpack. I never had anything red in there, and it certainly wasn't around the lens cap when I put it back on at the lake. When we held the thread in the restaurant, I felt a gentle current flow through it. I thought it was my imagination. Ethan, this can't be a coincidence."

"No, I suppose not, Minami. What do you propose we do about it? Your father ..."

"My father's journey is three weeks away, Ethan. In the meantime, I suggest we follow the Red Silk Thread of Fate to its Destiny."

"And that would be?"

"Do you see that red silk thread that runs under your cushion and down the hallway? Let's follow it and see where it leads?" Minami smiled at Ethan, who looked down and noticed the thread encircling his cushion.

He rose, and she reached up to hold his hand; gently, he lifted his host to her feet. "This is a bit like the yellow brick road in The Wizard of Oz," he whispered, holding her against his chest and kissing her.

"That story ended with Dorothy waking up back at her home, Ethan ... I don't want to walk that road."

"Then, perhaps we should write another story ..." he whispered, as he retook her hand and followed the red silk string. The string led under a door, and Ethan pushed it open.

"One question," Ethan sighed as he held her, "how does this kimono thing come undone?"

"Men tend to overlook the obvious," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It starts by untying the silk thread belt around my waist. Here, let me show you." Minami stepped back as Ethan watched several layers of clothing and fasteners drop, one by one, until she stood before him — left with but a timid smile and long flowing hair.

"I feel like an eighteen-year-old again — not knowing what to do," Ethan whispered, as he gazed at her naked body, soaking in her femininity, and leaned down to kiss her gently.

"Perhaps, after we get you out of your tailored suit, handsome Clark Kent, it will all come back to you," Minami whispered, as she pressed against him, feeling the firm shape at his groin. Minami smiled as he continued to stare in wonder, and then her hands helped with Ethan's belt as he shed his suit coat and tie and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

"It's coming back to me now," he moaned, as he embraced her, skin on skin, and felt the warmth of their bodies pressing together.

Ethan swept her up into his arms and carried her to her bed, laying her down in the middle. He slid next to her, and she turned and faced him. "Slow and gentle. I want to feel every movement as it grows until we can't hold back."

"Slow and gentle — careful not to break the invisible silk thread that binds us," Ethan whispered, as he entered her.

"Yes, just like that," Minami coaxed, feeling Ethan's hardness slowly penetrating her, easing himself inside her, gently stopping to let her adjust. She let go of her thoughts of her father's pending arrival and allowed the connection of the Invisible Red String of Fate to carry out her destiny.

Deeply joined and centered, Minami and Ethan lay in blissful stillness. The soft, harmonious rhythm of their breathing filled the room as the red silk string crossed the pillows at their heads. Ethan could feel her heart beating in delicate synchrony with his, and she, in turn, sensed the rhythmic cadence of his own. Slowly, the undulating waves of romance enveloped them, gently rising in intensity until their hearts pounded, entwined by the Red Silk Thread.

And in that moment, they knew that no force on Earth, or in the cosmos, could ever sever the bond they now shared. The Japanese Red String of Fate proved it went beyond legend, crossed oceans of time and space, and landed squarely in the Heartland of America, bonding two lovers — though still with an uncertain future.

Thanks goes out to kenjisato for his assistance editing this missive. My work seems much better, with the glitches ironed out under his watchful eye.

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Dmallord

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