Wednesday – Preparations
The bath is different.
It’s been stocked with new items – oils, soaps… expensive ones, imported ones. “What are these for?” I ask.
Asato-san shrugs. “I suggest you use them.” She’s re-wrapped my hand again, this time adding strips of a stiff material. She doesn’t say anything, but I think my last fall did more damage. It’s just… pain. Grit my teeth and endure it pain, because what use are tears?
So I bathe, as best I can, with one hand. Asato-san has to help me wash the ruins of my hair. I hate the heavy smell of the products – the scrolling script reads as “English Country Rose”, but it smells no like rose I had ever known. I use it sparingly… but for once I’m allowed the time I need to get clean.
And while I soak I cannot stop and think. Of the “offers” I’ve recieved.
They’re probably right. But…. they offer me hope. That I will make it home, that there is a rescue coming… but can I even believe that? I just don’t know. The shape of this place isn’t what it was. If I accept, maybe this just -ends-, another chapter of cruelty in this world that sometimes rivals the wilderness in the price it requires for even the smallest moment of joy and punishes any deviation.
But… for all of it. The loneliness, the tears, the pain… at least we had some time together. I will carry the way he looked at me, that afternoon on the engawa, the touch of his rough hand on my cheek, for the rest of my life. Even if it’s not long. And as for the judgements laid upon me…
They’re not wrong. It only adds to the weariness, and the pain I feel in this desolate place – not just the walls of this compound, but within the confines of a space where… I’m utterly alone.
“That’s enough time!” Asato-san’s voice interrupts my musing.
I come out and instead of a kimono, I’m left only a yukata.
“Come on – there’s someone coming to dress you soon,” she grumbles. “This is the last day I have to -wait- on you, Hide-hime.” She shakes her head and laughs. “Princess indeed.”
I once… was someone’s precious hime.
(OOC – to be continued)
Three women come in, after the bath. One is clearly the most important – she’s stuffed into an opulent western silk dress, and the other two follow six steps behind her, like she’s the Empress. One carries a long box, the other, a series of smaller ones.
Asato-san bows, and even though I’m sitting already, pushes me forward so that I make a move of respect as well.
“Oh my, what a plain thing she is – no beauty at all! But she looks robust – more so that Kasumi and Anya,” she laughs, peering at me through a pair of spectacles on a chain. I look up at her, and I don’t know if it’s the comment on my looks or the general situation that shows in my eyes, but she suddenly slaps me with a force I’m not expecting. Thankfully I keep my balance and don’t need my hand…
“Girl, one thing you need to learn – this is my domain, and any… disrespect from you will not be tolerated.” She smiles, all sweetness and cruelty. “Now, say, I’m sorry, Mama-sama, I won’t be so rude and stupid again.”
I don’t get it out fast enough, so I get another slap, to the other cheek. “Say it!”
“I’m sorry, Mama-sama, I won’t be so rude and stupid again,” I get out, my face stinging.
“Now was that so bad? Since you’re being a good girl again, I’ll have Mio-chan fetch you some ice. We don’t want you swelling up! Not with you having such plump cheeks already!” She laughs, but it ends suddenly and I… know what’s expected of me.
“Thank you, Mama-sama,” I say, haltingly. Why am I calling her Mama? I know some of the red-light districts, the woman who runs the house can go by Mama or Obaa-san… but this is not one of those places, is it?
“Try better. ‘Thank you, Mama-sama for your great kindness to me’, next time.” She moves back. “Really, the manners on girls these days.”
Kichisaburo comes into the room, and goes straight to the old lady. “My lady! How wonderful you look this morning! As wonderful a sight as the sun on a radiant fall morning such as this!”
She preens under his gaze. “Why, Okita-san, the things you say…” I glance back at Asato-san, whose mouth is set into a thin line. “You make an old widow like me blush!” So here’s another that believes the imposter to be Souji…
“So you came to inspect my Hide-chan?” He takes her arm and turns to look at me. “She can be a bit willful, but I’m certain that will improve.”
“Is that what happened to her hand? Tsk tsk. She’s -old- enough to know better.”
Kichisaburo looks at me, almost sadly. “Ah, do forgive me, but my Hide-chan can make me so very upset sometimes.” He turns his sad eyes to the old woman. “You -do- forgive me, my lady?”
“Oh, always for you!” she says, laughing. Then she gives the younger of the two woman a sharp look, in a very different tone than the one she’d been using for the imposter. “Mio-chan. Ice. Now.”
The girl bobs a silent curtsey, and scampers off.
“Well, get to it, Momoe-san. Mio-chan will be back momentarily. You have a lot of work to do to make her presentable.”
Kichisaburo smiles at the woman. “So, can I come have lunch with you today? I’ve been so bored here.”
“Oh, no, no, I’m sorry, Okita-san, but orders are for you to stay here until tonight.” She shakes her head. “And you have to get ready too!” He pouts, but she touches his face. “Oh, don’t look like that. We’ll have a little chat soon.”
She leaves as the girl comes back with two packets of ice, wrapped in a cloth. I hold them to each cheek… remembering another use I had for ice. My Ai-chan… my Makoto… my Tsutomu-kun. They have Yukiko-san…. right? Had he hurt anyone else he would have been torturing me with that information, but he’s not… so I can only hope that my children are protected…
(OOC – to be continued)
The older of the two maids sets up things in the little room. Out of one box comes a wig – styled in a way that I left behind, years ago, when I decided that fashion would allow me to wear my wavy hair in a style that better suited it and not the torture of hot plates and oil. She’s none too gentle with the hairpins…. but I endure it.
Endure… endure… that’s what Tsutomu-kun tells Makoto.
And then I’m dressed in undergarments – I’m surprised that they’re a bit on the cheap and stiff side.
Then… the biggest of the boxes is opened. I see what it is.
“No… no…” I say, getting up and -fleeing- from it. It’s something I’ve longed to wear, but… no. Not here. And why?
It’s a shiromuku, its gleaming whiteness overwhelming the room.
The maids, and Asato-san, corner me. “Sit down!” she hisses.
The younger maid says, “Miss, no good will come of you not going along. Just come get dressed.” The older maid leaves, and the one that was called Mio shakes her head. “Well, now you’ve done it.”
The old woman comes back, dressed this time in a formal kimono. “So I hear that you’ve chosen to be difficult.” She comes closer and smiles at me. “You need to apologize to Mama-sama.”
“That’s a bridal kimono! What is going on?” I say, looking around the room.
She sneers at me. “Oh, -that-. Don’t worry, you’re not actually going to be a bride as he has two already, but my son is a bit sentimental.”
Son? I look around, I have to -get out-. No more getting along…
“My lady? Is there something I can help with?” Kichisaburo enters the room. “Oh, no, is my Hide-san being naughty again? When will she learn?” But I can barely hear him, as he’s dressed… he’s wearing a formal ensemble of traditional clothes… and the stolen haori that once belonged to Todou-san. It’s so bizzare… what I’m supposed to wear, what he’s wearing…
“Yes – make sure that she can walk but not run, please Okita-san?” Her look to me is like ice. The maids come and before I can move, grab each arm and hold me down. And Kichisaburo takes his stolen sword, still in its saya, and comes down on my right ankle. I cry out, as he keeps hitting it.
“You – doctor woman – get it so she can walk, or hobble.” She comes back to me with a smile. “Now, if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have some ice for it. Nice, cold ice, and maybe even let the doctor put some numbing salve on it. What does a good girl say?”
I want to strike out. But with Kichisaburo here I’m overpowered, and even without, I’m outnumbered.
My head down, I say. “I’m sorry, Mama-sama. That I didn’t obey you.”
She pats my head. “That’s a start.” To her maids, or Asato-san, or Kichisaburo , I can’t tell, she says, “I’ll break this one much faster that I did the first two.” Then. “Get her dressed. She’s going to need a lot of work on that face of hers.”
As she wraps my ankle, Asato-san says, “if you wouldn’t do all this it would go better for you. Why can’t you just be compliant?”
(OOC – to be continued)