InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Transient Winds ❯ Painful Truths ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Thanks for the review Bastion: I like gold stars. Your right about the history (did not do enough research). I am going to make a few changes in that area. Unfortunately, I don’t have a beta reader, so by the time I’m done going over and over a chapter, it turns into a blur, but I will say I do like the way it’s coming along. Oh, yea, trust your gut instinct, it seems to be leading you down the right path. I don’t want to give away too much. Once again, thanks for your comment and continue reading.


Sorry so late.




He approached from the distance, bouncing upon a gallant looking steed. It’s sheer coat flawless, shimmering like well made brown silk in the noonday sun. Muscles trimmed and tense, it galloped over the terrain with hoofs that clopped on the ground in a rhythmic tune.


The servants in the yard ceased their duties to stare at the gentleman as he approached. He held his head high and without effort he was marvelous in his samurai uniform. His hair had fallen from the high knot that held it earlier that morning, allowing the locks to danced behind him, cascading through the wind as he gripped the reins of his horse. He was handsome today. He had been impeccably groom by his servants and even his earlier rut wasn’t enough to flaw his perfect form.


“Lord Yamato has returned,” a hush whisper spread from one mouth to another. They could not help, but stand in awe of him. He was like a god.


From behind a clothesline, in clear view of the samurai, Itsuka could feel her heart fluttering like a million tiny butterflies. A lone sheet in her hands, draping on the dusty ground as she gazed at him. Her lips parted and she spoke his name to make it all the more real to her.


“Lord Yamato.” So light was her voice as she stood there allowing the clean sheet to slip from her hands, spilling onto the ground. The thought of getting reprimanded for permitting the sheet to collect dirt did nothing as she did not move to pick it up. Never had her eyes seen such a beautiful sight.


He was perfect and she could not help wishing that she was the woman that would share his bed at night.


She clasped her hand, one on top of the other over her heart to keep it from fluttering out of her chest. When he reached the outskirts of the yard, it was as if he had heard that pounding of her heart. His eyes fell to her’s in a brief moment of passing.


Time itself had stopped for her. She could have fainted right then and there. Her knees buckled and she grabbed the clothing line before her to steady herself. A light smile crossed her lips and she was in heaven.


He had seen her if nothing else and she had been his attention for that instant. Itsuka found that she loved it.


What a man, she thought. Her simple smile turning into a grin from ear to ear.


“Itsuka-san?” the voice was a quiet whispering in her ear.


It was him, she was sure. He had felt what she had felt, wanted what she wanted, and he turned to come get her.


“Yes, my lord,” she sung turning to fall into his arms where he would take her away, far away from this place. “I-“


“Itsuka-san?” The voice was questioning her now and came in to high pitched and light to ever be the voice of her beloved lord.


Itsuka blinked once. Then again, finding scrawny arms holding her up and she leaned her head onto a thin bone hard shoulder.


“What?” she jumped up as slow comprehension came upon her and she found herself propped against one of the smaller maids of the household. Her narrow eyes larger than Itsuka had ever seen them, staring at her as though she had lost her mind.


Damn it all, Itsuka thought the hint of embarrassment painting her cheeks rosy. Though instead of a simple apology, Itsuka found herself frustrated.


How could it have not been him? He had, after all, glance at her and she was sure that something had transpired, but she could not figure if it was just her that felt that something.


“You interrupted my thoughts, damn you,” she snapped at the girl, placing her palms to the girls chest and heaving her to the ground.


She fell on her bottom with a soft plop, to stun to react to Itsuka, her kimono absorbing the morning dew. She gazed up at the older girl in wonderment.


Itsuka hated her. Even as she stared down at her, she hated the way her hair graced her back elegantly, caressing the sides of her elliptically shaped face. More than that she hated the way the dark locks cast shadows on her perfectly straight nose making it look smaller than it was. She looked more like a doll than the inadequate servant of her lord.


Gekido stared back up at her, her eyes once again returning to the thin slits of anger that she had approached Itsuka with. The sight of the fallen sheet had met that she was slacking of again. If she had not been so tired, she would have definitely pummeled the arrogant witch.


She frowned lifting herself from the ground taking into account how easy it would be to jump on her back as she turned to walk away. Her head held high, proud of her shameless behavior towards Gekido.


Sighing, she gathered the dirty sheet in her hands, watching Itsuka stroll towards the house.


Her arrogance was more than enough for a servant girl. Gekido found out over the years that her on going friendship with Lady Miyabi had much to do with it. It was because of that that she was able to get away with a number of things that Gekido would not dream of doing.


A promiscuous girl was what Itsuka was. She was still just a child to Gekido, despite the fact that she was a year over Gekido. Her childish pouts and selfish attitude were not the makings of a mature woman and could only lead to downfall in Gekido’s opinion.


It boggled her mind to see the lady with such a girl. What could the two of them share so that it brought a relationship between them? They were so opposite.


Tossing her hair back over her shoulders, Gekido tightened her grip on the now dirty sheet.


A bitch was what she was, she smirked as a chilly breeze swept through the locks on her head.



Almost there.


She could see it over the horizon. It shown like a safe haven, something of heaven.


Miyabi’s feet staggered over the rough terrain, rocks gnawing at her toes. Some had started to bleed.


Tears had dried on her cheeks leaving crusted tracks of salt around her eyes, but the river…


That same river that she had so carelessly stared into after her hair laid by her feet. It was only inches away and there she could wash herself, clean her face and look something of a human again.


The fuzzy haze that had clouded her mind was starting to clear, and the pain in her legs had become numb. Never had she walked such a distance. It was tiring and without clothes is was unbearable. Racing behind bushes was not what she thought a lady should have to do and yet here she was. Each passerby she would run scared, finding the nearest tree or bush that could cover her enough to suffice.


It was true humiliation. She had thought that only a man with the same wits as her father could come up with such a chastisement for something that she had not done. Maybe she should not have been caught out at night with such a man, but she had not touch him.


He had touched her though and in all regards it had been utterly weird. He was a monk, for goodness sake. Why would he?


Still, it went no further. She had tried to explain that. She had tried to tell her father that she had remained innocent of all wrong doing on her part and he should know now, more than anybody that she was truthful in her words.


It made her sick, even as she stared down into the water of the river as it frolicked over embedded rocks.


Without warning, she collapsed to her knees, jagged rocks sending sharp pains up her legs. She had run to long and to hard, but she could not be out of her father’s territory at sunset. Sounds could already be heard throughout the forest. Sounds that Miyabi had never heard sending waves of panic and fear through her.


Her second demon contact was something that she did not want to go through alone. She did not know what to do to rid herself of demons, nor did she think anyone would come to her rescue, after all no one had saved her for the lord.


Besides that, it was cold. The breezes of wind had turned into a bitter frost that ached Miyabi’s bones.


Feeble, yet determine, she cupped the water in her hands in a gawky manner. Her shaking allowing the water to slip between her fingers before she could press it to her lips.


By her third dismal try, she growled out in frustration and submerged her head into the water, devouring the cool contents like a savage beast. It filled her belly with nothing, but weight, making her sicker than she had been when she laid beneath the lord as he ripped her clothing.


When she could not take in anymore without a breath, she lifted her head with all intend of ducking it once again, but the light whistle in the wind echoed around her and with it the sound of leaves being crushed on the ground.


Someone was coming. Her first instinct was to run, hide, and hope that they would simply pass by. So she poised herself behind the nearest bush, not far from the river’s edge and waited.


Tenrai flicked his braid over his shoulder, a frown maimed his face. It stunk, just like the rest of his garments.


Signing, he wasted no time in ripping the purple kesa from his robe. After spending the night in a horse stable, it was the least trouble he supposed. Especially since he woke beneath the belly of an overgrown monster that he was sure had some type of demon heritage. ‘Clydesdale.’ They told him.


A demonic animal, he thought staring at the beautifully kept steed. Still, it was rare and huge, and rare and huge creatures brought in rare and huge prices.


“Indeed,” he spoke out loud.


One the bright side, the day was the ideal introduction to the winter months. A chilly breeze came from the north bringing with it a tranquil air to the forest. Something that Tenrai was scarcely use to and he enjoyed the peace about him. Even the trees, that were turning an uncomely shade of brown, were lively.


Larks sang in the distance, and he whistled with them. Not a song just a conjunction of notes that made no sense.


He had been more than happy when the villagers told him of the stream that resided to the west. Now, he treaded over the dirt path, his sandals gritty on his feet. The stream was only a few feet away and he could hear the racing waters.


Before he relieved himself of his clothes for the necessary bath, he tossed the purple cloth into the water and watched as it floated away catching on a cluster of rocks hindering its travels down river.


“As you should be,” he nodded at the fabric as though it had in some way obeyed his command.


Unguarded and unabashed, he tore from his robes like a eager child, elated to be free of the stench of horses. They were vastly becoming annoying. Or maybe it was the people upon them, after all that bastard had stopped the beast before him when it sneezed.


Tanaka.


The name still brought about a bitter taste. Though exceedingly grateful for his release, it was hard not to loathe a man like that. His worldly aggression was uncalled for and sorely misplaced on the young boyish-girl that he calmed as his daughter.


If Tenrai would have known that he would have to leave so abruptly he would have taken more of a tour around Tenrai‘s abode. Riches were sure to embellish the home. At least, he had obtained a wonderfully rich looking vase that he’d hacked off for breakfast in the village.


Sure it was worth so much more, but it would be a terrible burden carrying it in the sleeve of his robe with the scrolls, bottle of sake, and the small golden box that seemed to make the entire night worth wild. So delicately detailed and placed aside like nothing.


Tanaka was rich undeniably so. He would not miss such a small trinket that simply decorated the small corner table of the guest room.


He sighed rather noisily, stretching bare limbs towards the sky completely unaware of the astonished eyes lurking in the bush. He was to concerned with the coolness of the water as he tested it with a tap of his big toe.


“Damn it all.”


Miyabi’s eyes were wide, glittering like jewels under the setting sun. Questions raced through her head, ones that she would be to ashamed to ask anyone, but the closet of friends.


He was so lean. Taller without his robes and with limbs that could easily wrap around her twice. Toned by years of training and, yet he seemed so fragile as though he could breakdown at a moments notice. Not that he was delicate, she noticed as he fell into the cold water with only a slight wince, but his movements were lingering, moving with an unrelenting sadness that was only noticeable by an observant eye.


Life with her father had taught her to be weary and over sensitive toward the actions of men. They made her apprehensive.


He was no different. As her eyes roamed the scenic view of skin touched slightly by the ending summer sun, she became frightfully aware of how unseasoned she was. More so when she laid eyes upon his pale bottom, toned and tightly put together.


Was that what she could expect from Lord Yamato?


Was that what made them so powerful? So much more powerful than her?


Her own situation forgotten, she quickly covered her eyes out of respect, grateful that he had not turned around for her to gain a full view of his frontal area. She did not want to see it. She did not want to know.


However, she could not deny the truth that she was taken with the desire to view the sensual man.


What a worthless wife she would be if she was caught staring at a naked man through the dense greener of the forest? She could not truly yield anything of merit to her husband with such disloyal behavior. Was that not the reason she was in such a position?


Naked, running through the forest like a savage monkey, hiding from society. Shameful of their eyes, for fear that she would be thought of as crazy, unfit for civilization.


If she had minded herself, she would not be out in the wilderness left to wonder home, guided by thin slits in the trunks of trees. The daimyo had ever intention of her returning to him as he sliced them with the tip of his sword.


Apprehending her situation made the water in her stomach seem all the more heavier. Her eyes were still covered and her thoughts had made warm water slip between her fingers that covered her face.

How could she? How could she stop to gawk at an unsuspecting man? Her future husband was waiting. The man who would take her away and keep her safe for the rest of her life. He was her savior. No matter how she tired to deny it, everything was clear. He was her only way out without death and still he could be the death of any woman.


Suddenly she felt more than exposed. She felt dirty, disgusting. She was to become a lady.


In her state, she could defile her future lord’s name and her father would not hesitate in her chastisement.


My way out, she thought the emotions on her face betraying the emotions in her mind.


It was fate. Her fate and nothing could stop it.


As she sat there, naked and half frozen, she was willing accept that fact. She would willingly take upon herself the burden of her father’s desire for power and her lord’s repute.


It was the frigid stream of water that tumbled down her cheek that woke her from her cogitation, and she was back in the forest, hiding behind the brush.


The monk had closed his eyes and his head tilted back. She was not sure if he was sleep or in some form of Buddhist meditation. Neither did she care anymore. His purple cloth was still entangled in the bed of rocks only a few feet from where she hid. Wet or not, it would serve her better now than it had ever done him.


In his mind over matter state, Tenrai had failed in noticing Miyabi as she crept from behind the brush, but he knew that she was there. She had shifted her weight behind the brush as she stared at him sounding off a series of small crumbing leaves. Who she was and why she spied on him were not that important as he sensed no danger.


She was weak, he figured. He would leave once his bath was over.


The water, no matter how cool, was still a nice comfort this time of day. The soft, soothing sound of the crystal liquid as it rushed down stream was truly wonderful. Swaying with the breeze, then splashing with a vigorous force.


Absolutely wonderful, he thought. He could feel the tension in his body relaxing, washing away with the motion around him.


It was the unnatural motions of the water that stirred him. Alerted, his eyes shot opened and his head whirled towards the noise. His body motions that of a warrior in battle. He nearly jumped to his feet, almost grabbed the closes rock to him and heaved it towards the intruder. But at the sight before his eyes, he stopped.


The beauty that stood there had his kesa gripped tightly against her chest. Water dripped from her hair gluing it to her head, while her skin gleamed the color of honey. The look on her face was stunned and frightened, yet more so determined. Her eyes shined like the very water he sat in. Her thighs poked out from the cover of his kesa as she covered herself with what she could.


He blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. Maybe dreaming, still in his meditative state. For she was a true vision. A breath of fresh air. Then just as quick as she had appeared, she disappeared turning to run from him.


To rid herself of his sights, without realizing that she had embedded her image forever in his mind.


He watched her go, uncovered from the back. Memorizing ever jiggle and move her body made. Exquisite she was. The sun just lightly touching her exposed skin and she was everything that he could have asked for.


It was the burning in his lungs that enlightened him to breath. Slowly, order and logic returned to his mind and so did the realization that she had also made away with his kesa.


It had been the third one this month and Mushin would be more than upset even though it had been Tenrai’s own responsibility to bless the frivolous thing.


“Wait,” he choked out. A massive lump in his throat restricted much of what he wanted to say as she completely vanished from sight. As greatly as he wanted to follow, he stayed his place, the small drops of water on his skin unbearably cold. Her face becoming recognizable in his mind and he felt a pit of regret in his heart.


Why was she like this and how could he have passed up such a woman, mistaking her for a child? What he had seen did nothing for a child?


And his kesa. It suited her, more so than him. After all how would it look if he half robed, chased her half covered in his purple cloth towards the palace.


It would look like exactly what he wanted it to look like. He would be the last to complain. Maybe he’d catch up with her and tumble to the grass. She’d laugh and they’d find themselves tangled together.


Ridiculous, he laughed taking back to the waters, ducking his head low. At least he still had the small box.


He sighed regretting how much he liked that boyish hair cut.





Geki do was a quite girl, obedient and most sincere, when not bothered. She was light on her feet and considered one of the more striking servants of the lord’s mansion. Though she never acted the part and never halted in her duties to give attention to the male population. Still, she was not ignorant of what she was. Neither was she naïve as to why Itsuka hated her so.


She had watched her over her many years of service to the lord. She was a jealous girl, even of the lady, though poor Miyabi had no knowledge of it. Behind closed doors she whispered about her, told of how her father hated her and would never accept such a child to rule his countries and others laughed, and commented as though they could take her place, but Gekido only watched.


She personally never had a hate for the lady, only admiration at first sight. She held her head high and the remnants of a smile on her face. Her kimono had been tailored to fit her thin frame and she was magnificent. At the age of twelve, Miyabi stood by her father in the court of lord’s. It was her mother’s gathering and, yet Miyabi was the belle of the ball, though she did not act as though she truly knew her own beauty. She was, dare she say it, down to earth.


It was at this gathering that Gekido had first served. Her hands were shaking and she felt uneasy as their eyes turned to her for drinks. It was those hard-nosed lords that scared her so and it was one of those that she spilt her first sake on. Showering his robe with small droplets of the liquid, that would never be gotten out. Before she could get out the first words of apology, he lifted his hand to strike her with his own sense of justice.


It was Miyabi that grabbed her servant robes and tugged her from his grasp. She stood before him as though his equal measuring a perfect two feet shorter than him. “Allow her the opportunity to apologize before you strike her down,” she spoke so bold and clear. Not a word flinched, not a word stuttered.


It was shocking and even the lord gazed at her in amazement as she dared him to speak. Gekido felt her stomach flip. That moment had been so tense that she could still feel her heart flutter at the relief the lady had provided her with. The lord only laughed as he stared down at her, claiming that she would be a bride to behold one of these days.


Miyabi had smiled at her and ordered her like she had taken her mother’s place. “Go, sit for a while before returning. Catch your breath.”


Gekido had raced from the room in her mind she could still see the lady. So bold, daring, and untouched by the looks of the lord. It still amazed her how she could be so damned confident in the mist of royalty.


After the death of her mother, Miyabi became withdrawn and the only person who could get close to her was Itsuka, who had seemed to be her friend since childhood. Everyone else was dealt a business exterior, as servant and master.


But now…


Gekido bit her lip as she recalled to mind the look on the lady’s face that morning as she announced the arrival of Lord Yamato. So happy that she had been the first to met her with the news, only to be boggled when she laid eyes on the lady’s face. So confused, so much more alone than she had been before.


Her father, Gekido gritted her teeth at the thought of that man. She hated him for the things that he had done to Miyabi. What a fool of a man, he was?


Why he hated his own daughter so much was not clear, but no man could do the things that he had done without hate. Gekido was sure of it and still…


Sometimes she found herself wanting to say something encouraging when she was alone with her, cleaning the small confides of her room, but she was afraid to. To shy, she didn’t want to sound stupid or like a babbling servant to the lady. There was nothing worst than having the woman you admire the most think of you as idiotic. So Gekido kept to herself, promising one day that she would speak to her and say the words that will be necessary to say.


She stifled a yawn as her feet shuffled down the wooden steps toward the yard and she bobbed her head to the tune it made in her mind. It was well pass noon and her run in with Itsuka had been long forgiven, but never forgotten.


Her nose turned up at the thought of her approaching the rows of clothing lines. Stomping off like she had the world in the palm of her hands. She was no lady, that was for sure.


Gekido grunted at her own annoying thoughts. She had told herself to forget Itsuka, though it was troubling. The way she got away with her unorthodox behavior.


“Let it be, Gekido,” she whispered tugging that same fallen sheet from that morning, over the line with meticulous precisions. She ran her hands over the soaked fabric making sure there were no wrinkles tainting the sheet that Itsuka dropped.


With another long suffering sigh, she continued her inspection. To her, it had to be perfect for the lady as she was sure that she would use it before her father would. After all, it was the least she could do and her work mirrored it. That perfection that the others had come to expect from her work.


She even folded with accuracy, hating to find the least bit of unruly fabric. Her grandmother had taught her that she was a reflection of her work and Gekido wanted to look her best for when Miyabi took notice. Convinced, that one day she would notice her and thank her and maybe they could become friends as close as she and Itsuka.


But I would be different, she smiled rubbing her fingers over the hanging sheet, once again going over each thread for unwanted mistakes.


Just as a grin crossed her lips, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a lovely shade of purple, limping up the hilly horizon. She strained her eyes to make out the figure, vigilant about outsiders. More so of monks.


But slow and steady realization took her and her heart leaped to her throat. She was not sure if she should race to her or stay were she was. Lady Miyabi was only a few yards away, tears raced down her cheeks and her face was twisted in waves of agony.


Gekido was frozen in place.


How she wished to race to her and comfort her. She could lead her into the house and into her room, take care of her as a friend and servant, but she could not move. Could not even breath until the burning in her lungs became an intense flame. Then she gasped for air.


Move, she screamed in her head. Please move.


“My lady!” the shout came from the opposite side of the yard. Her grandmother voice was frantic. Gekido only stared as the older woman ran rather lopsided towards the girl as she collapsed to her knees in the grass.


Tears could have fell out of Gekido’s eyes as she watched on. Why could she not move? Why could she not have been the first one to her lady’s side?


Suddenly, the weight of the world was on her shoulders as she cursed herself five times over for her panicked reaction.


I wanted to be the one, she cried inside. I wanted to be the one.



The lady was put to bed without a visit from her father or Lord Yamato. They both had been locked in Tanaka’s study, not to be bothered by something as petty as Miyabi’s return, as clearly stated by Tanaka after a servant, hysterical and perplexed, had dared to enter and state the obvious.


Itsuka was smiling though even as she closed the door to Tanaka’s study. The lord had cut his eyes at her and for a moment he had a look of recollection in his eyes. It was better than nothing. She wanted to make her move. She was ready to show him that she was more than just the lady’s servant, but every time she got close to him, there was Tanaka.


Damn, if he was not the biggest annoyance in the entire compound, she frowned to herself clenching her fist to keep her anger at bay. The worst thing she could do was to stomp into the study and explode on Tanaka. It would only show how disobedient she could be.


A lord needed a compliant wife of a humble mind and superb body. And she easily considered herself breathtaking. After all she had a thin waist and high perked breast. Everything a man would want.


And I am sharp too, she laughed under the cover of her hand. Almost to sharp for my own good, she encouraged herself feeling as if she had accomplished the title of lady already.


“There you are.” His voice was almost an irritation. If he had not been so good in bed, she would have told him to leave.


“Mushin,“ she gasped.


He had appeared in front of her so quickly that she nearly fell into him, but he grabbed her shoulders to steady her steps and pulled her into a small storage room. It was only big enough for the two of them along with the few crates of rice crop and a stream of light from a small opening in the worn bamboo of the wall.


She thought of him as pathetic as he stared at her with a gleam in his eye as if she was everything. She pressed her back against the wall, readying herself to let him know what she felt, but he spoke first.


“I had to see you,“ he whispered easily shutting them in the small and crowded room. “I must speak to you.“


“Mushin, what are you doing?“ she grunted balling her already tight fist tighter. Would he get in her way as well?


“I must tell you.” Then without warning he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that she did not want to pull away from. After all, he was well rounded in that area.


By the time she caught herself, he was drawing away from her. He smiled and for a moment he was even more handsome than the lord, but his robes could not stand up to the strength of a samurai uniform. Neither was his hands draped in rare jewels.


Unexpectedly, Mushin gazed deep into her eyes, with every fiber of his being, freezing her in place. He wanted her to listen to his words, watch his movements and remember this moment for the rest of their lives, together. “I love you, Itsuka.“


Her breath was lost and her heart fluttered at the sheer excitement she felt. He loved her. Mushin loved her and he wanted her to know. Never had a man spoken those words to her, not even her own father had been so passionate.


The wind whistled through the small bamboo hole lifting the ends of her hair at the perfect angles to cast the perfect shadows. On her face the look of a woman perfectly dazed and in her mind the perfect atmosphere. It was the perfect dream, but every time she blinded it was not the perfect man.


Though touched by his confession, she could not control the drop her heart made, landing at her feet. She did not want Mushin. She did not think she wanted Mushin.


His words as pure and genuine as they were, came from the wrong mouth, laid in the heart of the wrong man, but his touch on her arms were gentle and his kisses were as sweet as the watermelons her father had grown when he was able.


He was absolutely wonderful as he stood there beaming down on her. Not waiting on her responses, he glanced over his shoulder as if someone was watching the two. “I will return for you,“ he promised her moving in for another kiss and she did not stop him.


His confession was painful. She could not decipher why until she felt his arms tighten around her locking her securely to his chest. She loved that feeling. Nothing could compare to that flutter in her belly, that weakness in her knees. Absolutely perfect.


Not that Itsuka did not love him. She had a sentiment for all of her lovers, but she never planned to marry him. How could he think that she would settle for his life? He could only provide the mediocre life that she was so use to.


He pulled her closer and for a moment she was lost as was he. The gentle caress on her back, the depths of his love, and the texture of his lips upon hers was more than she could handle. Her heart broke as he released her from his lips and from his grasp.


Subsequently, she forgot to think until he touched her cheek wiping away the delicate jewel like tear. She had not even known that she had started crying.


That jolly laughter of his filled her head and he spoke, “Do not be worried, my love. I will renounce my position, and throw down my robes. First, I must fulfill my promise to my fellow monk and I will return with money for your freedom from this place.”


His promise was gut wrenching. Never had someone offered her such a pleasure. It hurt.


As a last ignorant attempt at reassurance, he smiled at her renewing his eye contact. “I will not forget my promise.“


Finally, he turned away from her, leaving her with the same dumbfounded look that she had had when he first pulled her into the small closet. Still, he confused it with an emotion of magnificent shock and smiled to himself as he stepped out of the enclosure to depart and be on his way.


Before she could gain any resolve to stop him and speak the truth behind her tears, he was gone.


Echoes of his kiss made her touch her lips.


How could he ever think that she wanted to be with him in a small house, in a small village, with millions of tiny babies to care for like a common village peasant?


I want bigger things, she told herself. Better things.


“Only if-“ she whispered to herself, gripping her heart through the material of her kimono. The ache would not stop. “If only-“


Her knees went weak in response, letting her body slide down the wall until her bottom hit the floor.


Why won’t they stop? She asked herself reaching to wipe away the tears that had started to surface like a waterfall from the corners of her eyes. It was unbearable. His words were unbearable and had started to play over and over in her mind.


If only the tears would stop.


Immediately, she buried her face in her hands.


“Curse you, Mushin,” she whispered through her palms finding herself unable to hold back the open sobs that escaped her.


He should have just left her, like the others.