Hot Springs Pleasure Trip Nene Yoshitaka Japane... Access

The inn was a modest, elegant ryokan nestled beside a rushing river. The owner, a stooped but sharp-eyed woman, bowed so deeply her forehead nearly touched the tatami. “Lady Nene, it is an honour beyond measure. The private bath has been prepared.”

Later, as the moon climbed higher and the others retired, Nene remained. She floated on her back, looking up at the stars, the water lapping at her ears. Hot Springs Pleasure Trip Nene Yoshitaka JAPANE...

She was the first to enter. The water was searing, miraculous. She gasped, then sighed, lowering her thin shoulders beneath the milky, mineral-rich water. The heat sank into her marrow, loosening decades of grief, of war, of the terrible, glorious burden of building a nation. The inn was a modest, elegant ryokan nestled

“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. The private bath has been prepared

But Nene waved a dismissive hand. “No private bath tonight. We are not here as nobility. We are here as travellers seeking warmth and rest. I shall bathe with the other women when the hour is late.”

And as her palanquin began the slow journey back to Kyoto, she felt not the ache of age, but the quiet, flowing strength of the hot springs still moving within her, a secret pleasure for a journey's end.

It was for a kyūjitsu —a pleasure trip.