InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Kiyou Nitsuite Amedare: Ten, Tentou, ken Touhou ❯ Joban Bundan ( Chapter 10 )

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

"Sango reached down and circled my wrist with her hand, keeping me from leaving.

'Why are you so angry?' she whispered quietly..."

Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Samurai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.01.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.0K | Visits: 549 | Status: Completed

A/n: See? Told you I'd keep up with it, ne?

Seiai-chan: I hope everything's well with you.

MyInterests: I would say I hope it reminds you of good things, but this is kind of a sad story… so I can't expect it to be happy all the time, ne?

PrincessMelissa83: I'm happy you love them both ^^. You're such a sweetie.

Draggoden: Silent audiences ^^? That sounds kind of romantic, doesn't it? Anyway, thank you for breaking away from the general silence to say at least you like it. ^^. I appreciate it.

Seiai-chan: And you really are too sweet!!

Joban Bundan

For days on end I weighed out the consequences of my escape. Was it worth it? In my soul, I felt it, felt the dire need that closed in on me like a dark night. Yet there would be no absolution for me if I was caught. Being caught was not an option. I would just have to succeed.

At the same time I was realistic. I must envision a worse case scenario, and must not let that slip from my mind. If I did something to this affect, I would have to be thorough about it.

And thoroughness for a ten year old girl was sometimes hard to come by, but I tried my best with my young mind to remain logical.

“You must not walk like an urchin! It's unattractive!” Obaa-san shouted loudly at me. Whipping me across the back to correct my posture, I stiffened my spine like a board, looking straight ahead and lifting my chin high.

“You must not look arrogant!” She struck the back of my head, but not hard. That would cause unconsciousness, and she wanted to get the fullest profit from me able, so she must work hard with me to ensure I was walking perfection.

I was not sure why… I would simply be a gaishou, a whore, and I winced at the thought. I would be filth…

I turned as gracefully as I possibly could, and Obaa-san watched me with scrutinizing evaluation. I walked back across the room, trying my best to please the psychotic woman, but that would be like trying to appease a carnivore with greens. It just wouldn't happen.

“Bah! Baka otome!” she struck my foot suddenly and tripped me up, and I fell on the tatami mat before her. “You are hopeless, and a waste of my precious time! Leave me!”

I gathered up my yukata and stood hastily, making my way from her room as fast as I could without running. We were not permitted to run, for it was ungraceful.

I wasn't sure why Obaa-san summoned me to lessons with her that day. We never got anywhere, and she herself had admitted that. But perhaps she just wished to be cruel to me that day.

We had been loosing money, and no one was quite sure why. There was a rumor of pilfering among the girls, for the accounts did not reflect the girls' income. None of their accounts were accurate. And it wasn't just a little… it was now stacking to quite a small fortune, and it had been going on for nearly two months now.

Obaa-san even had the town officials brought in to investigate and search all the geisha's rooms. Even Nigou-san was not an exception to Obaa-san's suspicions, yet the officials could not find proof that it was anyone's doing. Obaa-san was seething by the time they left to say the least.

And I'm sure you can guess easily who had the pleasure of facing the brunt end of her wrath.

I raced upstairs to my room, uncaring of the chores I was neglecting.

I had felt full that day, weary. It just happened to be one of those days. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, yet I felt the injustice stinging me sharper than ever.

And I was full of empty tears that had not been shed in far too long.

Collapsing upon my bedroll, I let the fat tears fall from my eyes, screaming a silent scream. I could not make noise, I could not give the throaty, soul-filled sob I so longed to give.

I am unsure how long I laid motionless there, allowing the tears to come from me.

I felt so old then… filled with a weariness that was beyond my years. I felt spread thin, and ready to fade.

I wanted to get away…

“Kagome-chan…?”

I froze, not responding. Through my haze-filled mind, I did not recognize the voice right away, so I was afraid that I might be in trouble… What if it was one of the girls? They would never give me peace of mind if they saw my tears…

But as I felt a soft, warm hand laid on my shoulder, squeezing it in what I perceived as a way of reassurance, I lifted my eyes to look upon soulful brown eyes.

“S-Sango-chan?” I whispered, lifting my hand to rub away the dried trails that gave me away.

I had always loved Sango-chan's eyes… they contained this sort of reddish hue, that gave me the impression of fire.

When walking in the market together, people would ask us if we were sisters. We would giggled, and nod our heads, enjoying our private little joke.

…funny, we always called it a joke. It wasn't quite a joke, and rather more of a sad story. But if we did not laugh, we would be overcome with sadness by the thought of it. So it was our joke.

The joke was simply fire and water… if she got too hot, I would cool her down. And if I got too cool, she would heat me up and fill me with life again. We complimented each other this way, and became sort of like family. We were indeed sisters in soul, and that was our private life.

We were the only one another had now.

And so we had to make this thought happy.

“Kagome-chan… did Obaa-san make you cry again?” Sango-chan reached down and wiped at my eyes. I closed them in loathing, though… a hatred of their color washed over me at the thought she saw them clearly.

She always saw through me.

“Kagome-chan… your eyes look so like the rain. I am jealous,” she quietly joked, cradling my face in her hands like she would a small child.

I suppose… I really was a small child then.

“Do not be ridiculous. They are ugly,” I muttered bitterly, pulling away as gently as I could while I felt this overwhelming hatred of them. This anger that burned me alive, simply because of the shade of my eyes.

Sango reached down and circled my wrist with her hand, keeping me from leaving.

“Why are you so angry?” she whispered quietly in the darkness of the room, trying to keep the fact that we were both neglecting our duties from being apparent to the maids downstairs.

I gestured vaguely towards the direction of Obaa-san's room, looking at her with some measure of disbelief at the fact she could be so naïve.

“Because, Sango-chan, most of the world judges me simply because of the color of my eyes. I understand it now. I understand what they mean when they say `hafuu' or insult me. I'm a half breed in their eyes, and I finally understand what that means to them,” I hissed out my words with such venom, I'm sure I sounded like Obaa-san myself.

“And what does it mean to them?”

I remember feeling dumbstruck. I had wondered, then, if Sango was really that ignorant.

“Inferior. I'm beneath them.”

I watched her sigh, and stand.

Gently, she took both my hands… they were somewhat rough still, even after all this time from living in the country… She turned them over a bit, tracing the lines of my palm with her fingers.

“My Okaa-san… before she died, once told me something when I was younger. She said no matter the person, their life blood is the same color as your own. I didn't understand at the time, but she said it at a time when there was a group of men, beating an orphan who had only stolen bread to survive. But they said she was inferior.”

Sango lifted my hand to her lips, and pressed a soft kiss to them. I felt the tears rising to my eyes again, even as I tried to hard to force them back.

Force the sorrow back…

“It does not matter the color of your eyes. And they are bakemono to not realize exactly who you are because of it, Ane'ue.”

I didn't fight it as those words I longed to hear reach my ears, and I collapsed against Sango, allowing years of hurt to fall down upon me and shed themselves against her yukata.

And all she did for me was hold me, smoothing my hair down and smiling.

Glossary (I usually forget this! I sorry!):

Hafu- a term used to signify someone who is only half Japanese. Usually the other half is that of a foreigner.

Bakemono-monster

Ane'ue- Honorable Elder Sister