“What is this?” the daimyo demanded. “Why have you shaved your head? Who is this woman with you?”

But neither Sei nor the older woman spoke.

The daimyo raged, “What is this insolence? I command you to speak!”

Still, Sei and the older woman remained silent.

“What is your answer? Will you be my wife, and save your father’s life? Or shall I kill him because of your selfishness? Answer my question-yes or no, will you marry me?”

And still, neither Sei nor the older woman responded.

The daimyo spat on the ground. “Execute the old man!” he commanded. But Sei raised her hand to stop the two soldiers who stepped forward to take her father. She approached the daimyo and held out a sheet.

He gestured to one of the others in the court to take the note, as if it were beneath him to handle it personally, and growled, “Read it aloud, so that everyone can hear the words of this most disrespectful girl!”

The courtier glanced over the note and cleared his throat. He did not want to read what it said. But he had no choice:

One week ago, you asked me to be your wife. The word yes would seal our engagement, and the word no would ensure my father’s death. I will speak no words, for I am now mugon no gyo no ama-san.

The final words got caught in the courtier’s throat. He knew how this would displease the lord, as mugon no gyo meant “the discipline of not talking” and ama-san meant “nun.”

The courtier cleared his throat again and continued to read:

I have taken vows of silence and poverty, and I have shaved my head to show my dedication. I have moved to the temple on the highest mountain of the region. It is here that we feel closest to Buddha. I cannot marry you because I am already wed to the Universe. I cannot speak the answer to your question, because my vows will not allow it. Therefore, with no answer, you must release my father and I will return to the mountain temple to spend my life in devotion.

The daimyo was stunned. Though powerful, he knew better than to contradict the Great Buddha. He thought for a few moments and then made his response.

“I must commend you for your commitment,” he said. “I would not think to stop you from returning to the temple. Please do so.”

Sei bowed her head to hide the smile that might betray her sense of victory.

“But before I let you go,” the daimyo continued, “I require that you confirm, yet again, your promise of eternal silence.”

Sei bowed once more to indicate that she did. “Good,” continued the daimyo, “for if you ever speak again, I promise you this: your father’s life will be forfeit, and you will become my wife. And if your farm boy ever visits you at the temple, I will kill both him and your father and make you my wife. Is this clear?”

The daimyo let the proclamation sink in for a moment. “Do I have your word, your Holy Promise, that you shall never speak, nor ever see your farm boy, again?”

Sei stood silent for a moment, then nodded. The daimyo declared, “I am satisfied.”

On her way out of the castle, Sei saw Heisaku hidden in the wooden rafters. How much he loved her, to risk such a foolhardy gesture. Heisaku looked down with the saddest of eyes, for now he truly understood the gravity of the situation. Sei looked up at him and silently mouthed the phrase Aishiteru, “I love you.” Her glassblower’s breath carried these words to the farm boy’s ears, and it was just as Sei had promised: if he listened very hard, he could hear her whispers upon the wind.

Yakichi and Sei were taken by armed escort to the mountain temple. Her father said goodbye, but Sei, of course, could say nothing. She cried silent tears and Yakichi promised to send her a gift as soon as he could. And then he was gone.

Soon the present arrived: a full set of glassblowing tools. The other ama-san were happy to allow her this luxury, as they were deeply devoted to beauty and saw Sei’s art as yet another way to serve Buddha. Besides, the objects would provide a source of income to help meet their modest needs. Even nuns know that while poverty is a virtue, it is terribly inconvenient.

Sei was allowed to convert an empty room of the temple, and every day she worked to create all manner of objects, from dinnerware to artwork. The days became weeks and the weeks became months. Her work grew increasingly beautiful, as she perfected her techniques. And all the while, she was slowly crafting a statue in the likeness of Heisaku.

Sei would work on the statue each time she felt the need to speak, as a way to articulate her love. This meant that she worked on it daily. She created it lovingly, one minuscule section at a time. It began with the ball of his right foot. It expanded to the heel. Then, the toes. With each addition-ankle, lower shin, upper shin, knee-she would whisper while blowing the section. Aishiteru. The word was captured in the glass bubble. Aishiteru. “I love you.”

Miles away, Heisaku would feel the words in his ears. They would travel his spine and into his heart. He’d stop his plow and turn his eyes towards the distant mountain. And so it continued for years. Each time Sei felt the need to speak her love, she would blow a section of the statue, encasing her whispered breath in Heisaku’s hipbone, his finger, his shoulder, his ear…Aishiteru, aishiteru, aishiteru.

When the statue of the farm boy was completed, her love was not. So she started to create surroundings for him, beginning with a field of glass lilies in which he could stand. Later, when the lilies were completed, she would have to find something else. Perhaps, she thought, I will make a tree for my beloved to stand under… Creating the leaves alone would provide enough work to make my life bearable.

And so her life went until one morning, like any other, when Sei was cleaning herself in the mountain stream. The cold water felt good on her skin but as she washed out her hair, she felt a sharp quick pain in her neck. Before she could even react, her arms and legs began to stiffen.

Sei had been bitten by insects many times, but this was the first time she had been stung by this particular species of wasp and, as fate would have it, she suffered a severe allergic reaction. Her throat tightened, her body would not respond, and she became unable to move. Her paralyzed body was washed down the stream until it became caught upon a rock. For two hours she lay there, as the intense cold of the stream seeped into every corner of her flesh.

Eventually, another ama-san found Sei and dragged her out of the water. Sei’s eyes were unresponsive and the cold water had dropped her pulse so low as to be undetectable. More ama-san were called but none could find any sign of life and, despite their vows of silence, a chorus of tears broke the still mountain air that morning.

Sei’s paralysis was total, but she could see everything, right up until the moment the nuns respectfully closed her eyelids, believing her to be dead. Even when she had warmed slightly, the venom still immobilized her. For three days, the ama-san prayed silently over her. Yakichi was alerted and came to bury the daughter who had sacrificed her life so that he might live.

The daimyo also came, to ensure that this was no hoax. He had heard that Sei was to be buried, which made him suspicious as it was a well-known fact that Buddhists were cremated so the flames would purify the soul. If flesh remained, the soul would still long for its existence on Earth and feel uneasy in Heaven. However it was Sei’s own written request that she be buried, because she wanted to exist forever as a part of the earth that Heisaku would continue to till.

Yakichi had brought Heisaku with him, but introduced him as a new glassblowing apprentice. Fear of the daimyo made this lie necessary. Who knew what he might do if he realized that this was the youth who had bested him for Sei’s affections?