InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Kiyou Nitsuite Amedare: Ten, Tentou, ken Touhou ❯ Goban Bundan ( Chapter 5 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

"I had told her, how could I when I was graced with an Okaa-san such as her? How could I be cruel when all the love of Kami-sama was gifted to me through a solitary, beautiful woman? "

Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Samurai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.17.2006 | Updated On: 04.17.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.8K | Visits: 502 | Status: Completed

A/n: I wanted to say a quick thank you to all those who have reviewed so far… thank you! Now, enjoy.

Goban Bundan

“Onegai! Obaa-san, I didn't know! Onegai! Yamete!” I had cried out pathetically, attempting to cover my head to ward off the raining blows that fell upon me. I was dripping wet, which caused the strikes to sting all that much more. By this time, I had been at the Okiya for about four months, doing nothing every day except fulfilling my daily chores. I was nothing more then than an invisible insect, ready to be squashed under the heel of any one person. The only thing by then that had eased my loneliness slightly was two people… One, was the geisha Kaede, who despite her slightly plain appearance was one of the kindest people I had ever met. This is what made her glow with beauty in my eyes, and never before had I met anyone who could play the shamisen as well as her. The way she plucked the strings with such grace left anyone listening to the beautiful music she created enchanted. I quite often found myself kneeling outside her room, listening to her practice, left in a trance as I was transported from this place… from this time, to somewhere far away and wonderful.

The other that had filled my heart was a girl my age, named Sango, who unfortunately I did not get to see often due to our conflicting errands. The only times we caught sight of each other was in our room, and in passing throughout the day. Though we shared a room, often we were too tired from the day's activities to converse. We slept soundly at night and woke before the sun, only to have to dress quickly and rush down to breakfast before another long day.

Well, this particular day I had done my usual routine… I had cleaned every Geisha's room, and was returning from fetching water as suddenly it was knocked over in to me, and I felt a very familiar rod striking me upon the back. I cried out in pain, dropping the bucket as I ducked away from it. “Stupid, stupid girl!” A woman we called Obaa-chan struck me. She hadn't been at the Okiya when I first arrived, but was away on business. When she had returned, I learned very quickly about her sour temperament, and the woman made Nigou-san seem like a saint.

“Nani!” I gasped out, wailing loudly at every blow. “You ruined Yura's kimono!” she accused, bringing the rod down upon my fragile flesh and bones with such force I was sure she could very well break me in some place. “Gomen nasai! Onegai, sumimasen! I didn't know!” When I spoke these words, I was completely honest. I had no idea what the woman spoke of.

“Clumsy, foolish, ignorant, ungrateful girl! Bakemono! You half-breed filth!”

I cried harshly, the hot tears streaming down my face.

I was being punished, when it wasn't my doing.

And when I looked past her, I saw Yura and Ayame snickering softly at my predicament. On the inside, I was seething.

I was shaking, quivering in fright as I awaited another blow… but it never came… Slowly, I chanced opening one eye to look in fright at Obaa-san. Beside her, Nigou-san stood with a hand on her arm. She held her firmly, and they were staring at each other. They spoke to each other through their looks, their silent conversation escalating until Obaa-san grew angry and threw the bamboo rod at me and I whimpered softly, closing my eyes and shaking again. “If you dare touch another one of the girls' things in such a desecrating manner again, I shall beat you until your skin in crimson with blood, you filthy girl!”

I stared after the older woman in shock, my eyebrows coming together in absolute confusion. Nigou-san looked down at me in some sympathy, and I could not help myself as I fell to my knees and sobbed to myself. “Naze…?” I looked up to her, in askance for some sort of answer.

Nigou-san looked down upon me, and spoke so softly. “I know it is not your fault, little one.” When she said these words, I felt somewhat relieved… but the words she spoke next drove in to my like a wakizashi. “But Obaa-san will always believe you are at fault, little Kikyou-chan, for your heritage.” Still, I didn't understand. I wasn't sure when I would ever understand what made me so different from anyone else. You see, my mother hadn't explained to me who I actually was, and it wasn't until later that I found out. But for that moment, I felt so incriminated… so violated against my person, so very wronged… Yet even still, I felt how a small fish must feel in the bottom of the pond, hoping not to be seen by the larger fish, but knowing nothing you can do will ever save you from the destiny of only being the food of another.

My heart clenched, and I nodded. I kept my tears in, and swallowed my pain thickly as if it were a sour medicine I had been given. It coated my insides, and drove away my sensibility.

Nigou-san stood there, considering me silently as she tapped her bamboo rod against her calf. She frowned unpleasantly, and spoke to me, “Continue your chores, Kikyou-chan. Forget today, and do your best to not make Obaa-san angry again.” At this, she turned and left me in the courtyard, dripping wet with shame. I might as well have been naked in front of an audience, for so did I feel exposed to the world.

And even more so, I could not imagine how not to make the old woman angry. How does one prevent malice in another, when that malice is directed at your very existence?

I stood there shivering, and the only thing I could come to conclusion for response to this and my feelings, was to pick up the discarded water bucket and turn around again to fill it.

And I really did try to forget the pain that ripped through my body unmercifully with each step, and the coldness that left me shivering at the biting that found a home deep within my bones.

~~~*~~~

“Kikyou-chan, you aren't very bright, are you?” Yura asked me idly as she watched me placidly cleaning her room. I chose not to respond and for a rather great while, she sat there staring at her fingernails. But at length, she spoke again, “It seems to be not only are you dumb, you are deaf as well. What misfortune! Karma must not favor you too highly, for a creature as pitiful as yourself seems to be such a clumsy thing.” Again, I ignored her, trying not to seem rude at the same time. But eventually she grew angry with me, and shouted at me, “You will not ignore me when I speak to you, half-breed!” I flinched at these words, for long ago I had come to associate them with something bad.

“Forgive me, apparently I am as dumb as you thought for ignoring you,” I said, hoping none of the bitterness I felt fell out of my mouth like a thunderstorm. I tried to remain impassive, but she gave me a puzzled look and stared at me as if she were trying to determine something. But either way, she shrugged and stood. “I have much better things to do then entertain myself with dumb little creatures that don't know a common pigeon from a nightingale.” She stood and left, but I could not help but notice with a little longing the grace in which she moved. She appeared to glide, for she took such small steps the bottom of her kimono fluttered as if a wind were present.

Now, when she spoke this, she was subtly stabbing at our difference in not only status, but ancestry. I felt my shoulders hunch up at this, for I knew she was insulting me, but again I was left in wonder. I had come to understand negativity by the way someone spoke to me, and the way they looked at me. Even if someone had a blank face, and happened to glance my way, I could still catch the way someone squinted in loathe, or the way one's mouth would quirk around the edges just the slightest in what I perceived as distaste.

Later that day, I found myself scrubbing the floors in the hall. I was pretty much alone with myself, for the maids had already retired to bed. Obaa-san was already in her room, and Nigou-san as well as the four Geisha of the house were out for the evening and would not be back until late. Though my muscles burned in exhaustion and protest from the pain I felt from the whipping I had received the other day, I did not stop.

Somehow, I found myself thinking I deserved it. I was at fault for everything, because of who I was.

Of course now, I realize this reasoning was foolish and undeserved, but I could not help but think this.

I was at fault for the cruel words Yura spoke to me today. I was at fault for Obaa-san whipping me, and the ruined kimono I had not even touched. I was at fault for being sold, at fault for being captured, and at fault for my Okaa-san dying.

I could not stop the circle of thoughts that formed a dark cloud over my mind, causing such anger within me I felt my hand stop as I saw my Okaa-san's face before my eyes. Soft and proud, and so loving. Never reproving me, never striking me. I recalled once she even told me how perfect I was, for never once did I speak cruel words despite the cruelty those around me gave to me in abundance.

I had told her, how could I when I was graced with an Okaa-san such as her? How could I be cruel when all the love of Kami-sama was gifted to me through a solitary, beautiful woman? I believe I saw tears of happiness in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. She merely bent down to embrace me lovingly in the middle of the street, and I felt my heart stop at such a public display of affection. I felt as if I might soar the skies… A woman of noble birth is supposed to be a lady, and a lady does not do such things as what she did for me. And to me, this made her warm embrace all the more special.

But as I looked at my hands, growing calloused from the continual labor I did… And that dirty rag in my hand, lying beneath it… I felt akin to it. That dirty rag was me, worthless for anything but to be unnoticed and used until I was nothing but filth. Angry tears came to my eyes, angry tears that Kami-sama was the cruelest of all to me, and took away the only thing I held sacred in my life.

I wiped away my tears harshly, rubbing my eyes until I was sure they were permanently rubbed back in to my soul.

I sniffed, leaning back down and rubbing my hand roughly in to the ground, as if trying to grind away the pain I felt welling inside me.

It was then that I promised myself, that I would never disgrace my mother's memory by allowing myself to think of her.

She was too pure to have a tainted half-breed like me touch her, if only through thought.