had overheard her grandmother telling Magistrate Ueda, "It isn't right to treat Reiko like a boy. If you don't stop these ridiculous lessons, she'll never learn her place in the world. She must be taught some feminine accomplishments, or she'll never get a husband."
Magistrate Ueda had compromised, continuing the lessons but also engaging teachers to instruct Reiko in sewing, flower arranging, music, and the tea ceremony. And still she had clung to her dreams. Her life would be different from other women's: She would have adventures; she would achieve glory.
Then, when Reiko was fifteen, her grandmother had persuaded the magistrate that it was time for her to marry. Her first miai-the formal meeting between a prospective bride and groom and their families- had taken place at Zojo Temple. Reiko, who had observed the lives of her aunts and cousins, didn't want to marry at all. She knew that wives must obey every command and cater to every whim of their husbands, passively enduring insults or abuse. Even the most respected man could be a tyrant in his own home, forbidding his wife to speak, forcing physical attentions upon her, begetting one child after another until her health failed, then neglecting her to dally with concubines or prostitutes. While men came and went as they pleased, a wife of Reiko's social class stayed home unless given her husband's permission to attend religious ceremonies or family functions. Servants relieved her of household chores, but kept her idle, useless. To Reiko, marriage seemed like a trap to be avoided at all cost. And her first suitor did nothing to change her mind.
He was a rich, high-ranking Tokugawa bureaucrat. He was also fat, forty, and stupid; during a picnic under the blossoming cherry trees, he got extremely drunk, making lewd remarks about his patronage of the Yoshiwara courtesans. To Reiko's horror, she saw that her grandmother and the go-between didn't share her revulsion; the social and financial advantages of the match blinded them to the man's flaws. Magistrate Ueda would not meet Reiko's gaze, and she sensed that he wanted to break off the negotiations but couldn't find an acceptable reason for doing so. Reiko decided to take matters into her own hands.
"Do you think there was any way Japan could have conquered Korea ninety-eight years ago, instead of having to give up and withdraw the troops?" she asked the bureaucrat.
"Why, I-I'm sure I don't know," he blustered, eyeing her with surprise."I never thought about it."
But Reiko had. While her grandmother and the go-between stared in dismay and her father tried to hide a smile, she stated her opinion- that Japanese victory over Korea could have been achieved-giving explanations at great length. The next day, the bureaucrat ended the marriage negotiations with a letter that read, "Miss Reiko is too forward, impertinent, and disrespectful to make a good wife. Good luck finding someone else to marry her."
Subsequent miai with other unattractive men had ended similarly. Reiko's family protested, scolded, and finally gave up in despair. She rejoiced. Then, on her nineteenth birthday, Magistrate Ueda summoned her to his office and said sadly, "Daughter, I understand your reluctance to marry; it's my own fault for encouraging your interest in unfeminine pursuits. But I won't be able to take care of you forever. You need a husband to protect you when I am dead and gone."
"Father, I'm educated, I can fight, I can take care of myself," Reiko protested, though she knew he spoke the truth. Women did not hold government posts, run businesses, or work as anything other than servants, farm laborers, nuns, or prostitutes. These options repelled Reiko, as did the prospect of living on the charity of relatives. She bowed her head, acknowledging defeat.
"We've received a new marriage proposal," Magistrate Ueda said, "and please don't ruin the negotiations, because we may never get another. It's from Sano Ichiro, the shogun's most honorable