Chương 3: The winding of tales
(Misaki)
The Miso soup and tender Soba noodles this bright morning tasted like bits of heavens. Baba sat across from me at the great table, praising the many skewers of Yakatori being carried to and from the room by the early morning maids. I am sure that that is one thing our people never suspected of their ruler. The Emperor had a broad love of cuisine. He was always trying something new from one foreign country or another. That of he was requesting Akame make some ancient dish he remembered from his childhood.
The dining hall was elaborate with vibrant red wall and powder blue arched ceilings. My mother had always appreciated color, so I was told. Apparently, that made Hiroshima Castle quite rare. My father could not find it in himself to change the paint. This room comforted me immensely throughout the years whenever I was in it. I felt closer to my mother here.
"Pa- I mean Otosan," I smiled faintly. "May I sit in on the
"meetings today? I would like to learn about our country."
Everyday there were a set of meetings held by the many advisers and privy councilmen of our beloved country who voiced and commented on the demands of our people and the laws and treaties that could be solutions to current state problems. Luckily, my father's reign thus far has not be problematic. He was just ruler uncorrupted by the greed being all powerful came with. But he still harbored a firm backbone. He kept the same advisers he had chosen when he descended the throne and carried a mind of his own.
These meetings took up at least half of the suns cycle across the bright sky. His look was solemn when he answered. He did not even glance up from his plate.
"Of course, not my child. Only when you are married will your husband be a part of council and adviser meetings. Then he may choose to share his information with you. But only if you are obedient and quiet like the breeze."
When he did look to me his expression was apologetic and sorrowful. I was not surprised by the answer he gave. All I'd ever heard as a child was how I would never descend the throne. How I would never govern my own people the way I saw fit. Only male airs harbored that "right".
Unfortunately, my mother died bringing me into this world, so I never had the chance to know her. Most of the country whispered cursed things about my birth. Many say I killed my mother on purpose as I was born. How that made any sense was beyond my capability of understanding. Most towns gossiped that I would even plunge the country into eternal darkness. I fought hard to not listen in the rare times that I did hear the rumors spread amongst the maids.
As the maids in clean silkworm woven robes worked to clear the king's placings before he rose to his feet, I chewed on.
"Watashi no Takaramonno, you have the best job of us all. You simply need to enjoy life." He patted my cheek tenderly before departing from me to begin his day as ruler of this kingdom.
My rooms were clean and decorated in powder blue and deep red sheer curtains. The sliding windowpanes opened to show one of the best views inside of the palace. Mount Fuji sat wrapped in mist and thin clouds. The sky was a soft pink at the edges and turned to a bright and colorful purple the further back you traveled. My Yukata, hand stitched with blue rolling clouds and tall grass, different color flowers on the bodice native to our country, and two faint dragons of elements dancing and intertwining down towards the hem. Lay on the bed. Succulent plants in clay pots sat clustered near my door. Kneeling, my dresser Osa sat at the foot of my door bowing. She would not enter or move without permission to do so.
"Ohairi Kidasai." She bowed low again.
I despised the feeling of having power but knowing that in truth I carried none aside from scaring the life out of the guards. "Ojama Shimasu," I answered curtly.
As Osa silently washed my skin with hot water from the boiling bins in the lower level laundry bureaus I pondered over my fathers' brief words.
Kirisuto! How can he possibly be right? Was this really all that I was meant for? Just a Ningyo, never given opportunity to progress? Nothing but weaving classes, calligraphy, etiquette, literacy, and how to impress marriage prospects?
I settled into the gold basin and resigned myself to this very grand but dismal life.
(Chi)
My hands were a deep red.
They were stained this sickening color as I poured boiled hot water over coal and used a thick strip of cloth to clean the stained slab of marble. Memories of my childhood here, the moments where everyone was present for dinner, when my mother smiled the most at my father. When He taught me the way of the warrior while my mother slept late at night.
I sucked in a sharp breath and lifted my hand. The skin was rubbed raw and bloody on the side. Zi sucked my teeth in anger and sighed. My memories were turning into ghosts. Glancing up, I lingered on my father's form which I had wrapped in rounds of cotton cloth as I'd seen him do many times over throughout the years.
The warming sun was gone by the time I finished. I tacked up the black gelding I had raised and led him over to the body. My hands were shaking violently as I bent to move him. Clenching and loosening them continuously, relaxing the muscles within, I hoisted my father up and onto the back of Okami. I climbed atop him next, swinging my leg over the side. Patting the stubborn animal on the neck I carefully led him from our broad home gates.
Our house had been larger than most in Osaka. The Emperor and my father had been good friends for many years. He'd awarded him this piece of land when my father was just a young Samurai.
I took his body to the small gathering of lavender flowers just outside of town. There was an abundance of forestation, so wood was not hard to come by. It took a few hours to create the flat slab pyre but once I was done, I watched with every plume of smoke that carried the last pieces of family I had left away. Finally, when there was nothing, but ashen bone left, I took my leave of the quiet place.
Arriving back home I saw so many tokens of remembrance of my childhood, my family, my clan, it was almost too much to bear. I gripped the reins in grief. I suddenly came to the realization that I would need to leave. Residing here would bring me nothing but sorrows and dark demons. I gathered up my Tanto, both Katana, Wakazashi, and Tosei-Gusoku; Armor father had kept well-hidden over the years. It was black and well crafted. I was now old enough to fit the plated chest armor and shoulder pads. My swords rested in their Scabbards strapped to my back; Wakazashi at my hip.
I took one long last look at our two-story home. This was where I had grown up, but bitter nostalgia set in because I knew in my soul that I would not be back to pat the mats or sweep the kitchens for my mother, or have large family meals with the clan.
This was goodbye.
The Armor rubbed together as I walked over to the old Willow. I clutched the demon mask in my hand hard. Seeing all the names of the people we had lost through the course of time leading to now was devastating. My father's entire clan was up here. Though, amid the sorrow hovering over the house like a poison a smile pricked my jaw as my mothers' name floated in on the breeze on one of the long wispy branches in front of me. Catching myself, I stepped forward and carefully tied the red string attached to my father's name squarely beneath my mothers.
"May you both find peace together."
Locking the latch at the gate behind me and squaring my shoulders, I tucked my mask around the fit of my face and nudged Okami onward, taking off at a canter down the winding road.
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