Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Kazemaru and Miharu ❯ Chapter 33

Miharu was thrilled by baa-san's idea. She set to work on the light blue kimono eagerly, choosing a simple design of a sakura branch. She would have liked to cover the whole kimono, but there wasn't enough thread, and it wouldn't be proper for an old woman, anyway. It was wonderful for alleviating her boredom, and at times she found herself making just a few more stitches before she ran to greet Kaze. She looked forward to her meeting with the old woman with both excitement and apprehension. She wasn't sure what the old woman new of Kaze, or of her.

 

At last, she finished the project, and began to beg Kaze to take her to Yokosuka. The days were becoming chilly, and she didn't look forward to being shut up all winter. Eventually he gave in, and carried her quickly to the little hut that served as the old woman's home and restaurant. He made a little cooing noise, and soon the sound of shuffling footsteps approached the back door.

 

“Obaa-san, my wife has come to visit you, as you asked,” Kaze said respectfully.

 

She smacked him upside the head, startling Miharu. “Don't you O-anything me, young man. You're just showing off for your wife.”

 

He laughed, and she patted his face. “It's very nice to meet you, though…”

 

Miharu squeaked. “Oh I'm sorry, my name is Miharu. It's very nice to meet you.” She bobbed her a quick bow.

 

The old woman gave off a throaty chuckle. “Kaze here should have told me your name, there's no need to worry.”

 

Kaze put his hands on his hips. “Well if you think I'm going to run off blushing, you're wrong,” he grinned.

 

She smiled and patted his face again. “Good. That's the Kaze-kun I know. Now go run off and do whatever it is you men have to do all day.”

 

“I will return in the middle afternoon,” he said softly, and kissed Miharu on the forehead. “Have fun.”

 

She nodded and held his hand a moment, and then he left.

 

“Well, come on in then. It's not much, I know, but it's warmer than it is out here,” The old woman gestured for Miharu to follow her into the house. Once inside, they sat beside a small fire pit, which glowed warmly and seemed just the thing to cut the chill.

 

“Would you like some tea?” The old woman asked.

 

“Oh yes, please.” Miharu gently accepted the cup from the old woman's hands, feeling a bit more comfortable but still unsure how she was supposed to act.

 

“So, when did you come to live with Kaze-kun?” the old woman asked lightly.

 

Miharu was glad the old woman could not see the blush on her cheeks. “Late in the sixth month.”

 

She nodded. “And I take it that since you are out, you're not with child?”

 

Miharu blushed deeper and almost choked on her tea. “No, I'm not.”

 

The old woman seemed to sense her embarrassment and chuckled kindly. “Well, there's time enough for that, I suppose. Although, I hear some of the more powerful yokai women only give birth every hundred years or so.”

 

Miharu nodded, having no clue what to respond to that. She quickly surmised that baa-san knew that Kaze was yokai, and must assume that she, as his mate, would be so also.

 

“It makes sense, I suppose,” the old woman went on. “You live so long, if you bred as much as humans there would be so many yokai they'd be spilling out into the sea.”

 

Miharu genuinely joined in the old woman's laughter, the image truly funny to her. They quieted to sipping their tea, and Miharu thought. She had never really considered children. Any child she gave Kaze would be a hanyou, neither here nor there, the subjects of forlorn and depressing stories told to encourage humans to stick to their own.

 

She shook her head to herself. It would still be Kaze's child, and that was all that really mattered to her.

 

“So,” the old woman interrupted her thoughts. “What motif did you choose for the kimono I gave you?”

 

Miharu smiled. “Sakura.” She unwrapped the fabric covering on the kimono and handed it to the old woman. “I know it's a bit early for New Year's, but I thought it might be nice to wear something that looked forward to the spring in the winter. And it looks so nice with the light blue color.”

 

The blind woman found the embellished corner of the hem, and smoothed her fingers over it. The stitches were perfectly even, and for the first time in a while, she wished that she could see the beautiful blossoms in thread. She would just have to have someone describe them to her. “This is very good work,” she said solemnly. “Where did you learn to embroider so well? I would not have guessed it from someone of your rank.”

 

Miharu floundered for words for a moment. She guessed that the closer to the truth it was, the better it would sound. “I learned it in my childhood home. My ladies-in-waiting and I would often grow bored, and it was such a pleasure to compose pretty poetry while sewing beautiful kimonos.”

 

Truth be told, she had been taught it carefully in case of the wonderful chance that she may be chosen as a handmaiden to the empress, although it seemed rather unlikely since she hadn't really been born into nobility.

 

The old woman took the story as it was, though, and turned around to open a small chest and pull something out. She handed it to Miharu, who discovered it to be a bag containing some coins.

 

“I take it you can manage to pass as human?” the old woman mused.

 

“I do alright,” Miharu smiled at her own reply.

 

“Well, there's a fabric merchant not that far away you could go to. I'd go myself, but I've the restaurant to attend to—who knows when someone might drop in,” she explained.

 

Miharu was startled by the suggestion, and set her tea cup down lest she drop it. “I—well, I'm not really dressed for it….” She was, in fact, entirely too well dressed to go shopping without someone noticing.

 

The old woman frowned. “What are you wearing?”

 

Miharu looked down at herself. “Well, my kimono is fairly simple, it's just an expensive dye, but my Haori is entirely too fancy. The obi is a bit on the luxurious side, too. I'd rather not attract attention, you know.”

 

“Oh, of course. I understand. But I have an idea. It's a bit nippish outside, I have an old, worn padded Haori you could borrow. It closes with toggles, and no one would notice your obi.”

 

Miharu tapped a finger against her mouth and slowly smiled. “You know, that might just work.”

 

Soon they were in a flurry of ideas, preparing Miharu for her little excursion to the fabric merchant. She replaced her fancy Haori with the old woman's, and it did the trick marvelously.

 

“Here, un-tuck your hair from behind your ears so it covers them, and I'll tie it behind you to keep it there,” the old woman suggested.

 

Miharu knew she had no reason to hide her ears, but complied. Besides, most peasant women tied their hair back to keep it out of the way. She did seem to have an awful lot of it.

 

“My, your hair is so heavy and smooth,” the old woman commented. “What color is it?”

 

Miharu paused a moment, wondering what she meant, and then realized that yokai did seem to have an alarming variety of hair colors. “Oh, it's black,” she said quickly. “But it does have this lovely blue sheen to it in the light.”

 

The old woman smiled. “I'd say I was jealous, but I don't really know what my hair looks like anymore.”

 

Miharu looked at her for a long time, taking in the image of the old woman as if she had not seen her properly before. She was not so frail as some old people were, but her clouded eyes gave her a strange appearance, almost like a yokai. Her hair was almost whiter than Kaze's, but much finer and thinner. “`We pay for wisdom and honor with beauty and strength,' ne?” she quoted.

 

The old woman smiled her secret little smile again, and nodded. “That we do. Now here's what you should say. Tell the fabric merchant that you are newly wed to a vegetable farmer who lives over the hills. To help the two of you make it through the winter, you would like to sell them some embroidery. Purchase something of their suggestion with the money I gave you, and some nice threads to do the job. Then come back here and tell me all about it,” she grinned.

 

They stepped out the back and the old woman gestured blindly towards the east. “Now, just go down this road until another one crosses it. Turn right, and after a little ways you'll see a shop on your right hand with bright, blue-green curtains in the doorway. It's their special dye. Take your time, and I'll have something for us to eat when you get back.” She gave her a light push in the right direction and then went back into the house.

 

Miharu stood still for a moment, a wave of anxiety washing over her. She had never gone shopping, never walked down the streets of a village, never gone anywhere alone. She had only gone a few places in her life, and they were always the palaces of her father's friends. She swallowed the lump in her throat, felt for the purse of money in the inside pocket of the padded Haori, and then set off.

 

As she walked down the dirt road, the shops on either side of the road began to be a bit more populated. People smiled and bobbed her quick bows as they passed, and she struggled to return the gesture without being mildly irritated. She was disguised as a peasant, so she shouldn't expect any more respect than that.

 

She came to the crossroad, turned right, and immediately saw the distinctive blue-green doorway curtain. Glad to have found her way so quickly, she rushed across the road, and was nearly run over by a man on a horse. She nearly tripped over her own feet as the horse shied away from her with a loud squeal, mimicking her own small scream.

 

“Watch where you're going, peasant!” the rider shouted.

 

Miharu instantly recognized the man as a messenger in her father's employ and quickly ducked her head to avoid recognition. “I'm terribly sorry, sir,” she said quickly, and scampered off. In retrospect, she realized it was fortunate she recognized the man. Had it been a stranger, she may have forgotten her guise and chastised him for not looking where he was going!

 

She pushed her way through the curtains and was met with the strange smell of dyes and a riot of color in both fabric and thread. A middle aged woman sat spinning in one corner, and a man, likely her husband, was haggling with another merchant.

 

“Excuse me,” she spoke softly to the woman in the corner. “I was wondering if you could help me….”

 

The woman stopped spinning and scrutinized her with a suspicious eye. “What do you want?” she asked, only mildly rude.

 

“W-well…” Miharu stammered, both from nervousness and trying to remember the story she had been given. “I've just recently wed a vegetable farmer over the hill. Our crop was particularly bad this year, and to help us through the winter I was wondering if I might sell some embroidered pieces to you.”

 

The woman set down the spinning. “Well, let's see `em,” she coaxed, sounding only vaguely interested.

 

“Uh… I, well I haven't made them yet. I thought perhaps I could buy some fabric and thread from you, something of your choice, and then sell it back for a little more….” Miharu trailed off. The shopkeeper's wife looked very suspicious, but a small war took place over her features. She was a merchant—the lowest of classes, and she could understand falling on hard times.

 

“Let me talk to my old man a moment, and I'll see what I can do.” She got up stiffly and walked over to the man, who had just concluded his business with the other merchant. They spoke quietly for a few moments, their voices occasionally harsh with bickering, but she couldn't make out the words. At last the man threw his hands in the air and turned to some other business. The wife, looking smug, dug out a small bolt of cloth from a cupboard, and handed it to Miharu. It was a strange, yellow-green-orange color, and not very attractive.

 

“Well, we'll give you a test first. This was a new dye we got, supposed to be gold, but as you can see, it didn't turn out so well. Make something sellable out of it and you've got yourself a deal.”

 

Miharu passed her hand over the sturdy cloth, a somewhat rough silk. She could see how it might look like gold, with the right colors to match. Without a word, she walked to the skeins of thread and began plucking off reds, yellows, oranges and browns, and one of the unique turquoise blues. The wife followed, frowning at her choices.

 

“It's a bit late in the year for autumn patterns, but it's your gamble. That will be two silver and three coppers.”

 

Miharu was thrilled the shopkeeper's wife had mentioned the coins by material and not name, or otherwise she would have been at a loss. She poured out the purse into her hand, and counted three silvers and about a dozen coppers. She handed over the proper amount, and the woman regarded each carefully for authenticity. She nodded, satisfied, and slipped the coins into her own purse.

 

“Now, don't take too long with that, or you'll lose your market altogether,” she warned, still assuming Miharu was going to sew an autumnal design.

 

“Thank you, I'll try to be quick, but it might be a week or so, since I intend to embroider the whole piece,” she hinted.

 

The woman laughed. “Well, that's a bit ambitious, but I thought you had a little much thread.”

 

Miharu smiled in return and made her way out of the shop. It wasn't terribly difficult to make her way back to the old woman's house, now that she knew to look out for horses and oxcarts. Once inside the back door, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and sat down at the fire pit.

 

As she shrugged off the padded haori, the old woman came shuffling in from the front.

 

“Hello, Obaa-san,” Miharu said cheerily, not wanting to frighten her. She reached back and undid the ponytail, letting her hair fall around her comfortably once more.

 

“Back already? I thought it might have taken some convincing them,” the old woman mused as she sat down next to Miharu, holding out her hands for the fabric.

 

Miharu placed the small bolt in her hands and smiled. “Well, they had a bad batch of dye and wondered if I might do something with it. I'm thinking a furisode, if there's enough. At least that way I won't be tempted to keep it!”

 

The old woman laughed at her, and then Miharu told her the secret idea she had for the embroidery pattern, and the old woman's blind eyes lit up with mischief. “That will certainly surprise them, and I'd imagine they'll at least give you a gold coin for it.

 

Miharu nodded. “The money's not really important, it's really more just of a challenge for me.”

 

“Well you must bring it to me before you sell it off, so I can get another feel of your fine stitches,” the old woman admonished.

 

“Certainly!” Miharu laughed a little.

 

They discussed other ideas for embroidery until Kaze returned, and then he took her back to the island.

 

“Did you have fun?” Kaze asked warily. He wanted Miharu to be happy, but worried about the risk of letting her be seen.

 

“Oh, yes,” Miharu said happily. “Baa-san is wonderful company.” She then proceeded to tell Kaze the whole story, watching his mildly horrified expression carefully.

 

“Don't be so alarmed, my love. No one in the village has ever seen me before, and even father's messenger didn't recognize me. `Clothes make the man,' and that's true of women also. No one would expect a daimyo's daughter to go gallivanting about in an old woman's coat, now would they?”

 

Kazemaru seemed to relax a little, but was still wary. “Well, if you think you can manage it, I suppose it's ok….”

 

Miharu hugged him as a way of thanks and then showed him her purchases. He was less interested in her plans than the old woman had been, but that was no surprise. He was just glad to see her happy and industrious again, and resolved not to worry about it too much.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN:

Bwahahahaha! I am back from the dead. Wasn't able to work on this story for ages because college got in the way, then moving, and on top of that I was dreading writing some of the upcoming scenes, but I'm sure you'll love them. Comments are greatly appreciated.