Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Kazemaru and Miharu ❯ Chapter 34

Now that Miharu had something with which to pass the time, the days seemed to go much more quickly. She had the furisode sewed up in two days, and laid out the design with basting the next. She then started at the bottom of the kimono and worked her way up the design, in case she ran out of thread. In just nine days she had completed the sweeping pattern, and even Kaze was impressed with the effect.

 

A little begging and some `persuasion' easily convinced Kaze to take her to the village again. Baa-san gave the article a thorough inspection, shaking her head in wonder. “All this in only six days?” she murmured.

 

“Well…” Miharu shrugged with humility, “I don't really have anything else to do.”

 

The old woman carefully folded the item back up and handed it to Miharu, who carefully bundled it in a scrap of green cloth. “You must go right away,” she insisted, “I'm anxious to hear how it goes.”

 

Miharu laughed happily and slipped on the padded haori again This time, she had chosen her most worn and simple kimono, really more of a thick yokata, which she had only been using as a cover to sleep. With the haori, she looked downright shabby, with the exception of her fine hair and hands.

 

The short trip to the merchant's shop seemed to take forever in her mind, and at last she made her way through the blue-green curtains. However, she couldn't see the shopkeeper's wife anywhere. She timidly approached the merchant himself, remembering that he had been rather opposed to her idea.

 

“Sumimasen…” she began, “Is your lady wife here? I've returned with the embroidery, as promised.”

 

He barely glanced at her. “She's in the back, dyeing. You can show it to me.”

 

Miharu wanted to protest, but felt it might make her seem insolent. She set the green bundle on a nearby counter and untied it, careful not to let more than necessary show. She grabbed the shoulders of the furisode, and drew it back in one swift movement, opening the garment all at once.

 

The merchant slowly set down his abacus, his eyes and mouth open. “Oba-san!” he shouted, not looking away, “Get in here!”

 

There was a shout of protest, but the following string of muttered complaints drew louder as she approached the shop front. She was wiping her blue-stained arms on a scrap of fabric, and glanced at her husband for only a moment before following his line of sight.

 

“Sweet Kami…” she murmured, and reached out to touch the fabric before remembering the dye and snatching her hand back. The fabric had been made into a young girl's furisode, with the sleeves almost as long as the hem. Wrapping around from the front was a phoenix in flight, the sleeves scattered with red, orange, and yellow feathers that morphed into flames. The single eye of the phoenix was the distinctive indigo, making it stand out in an already incredible design. The fabric now looked decidedly gold, against the flame-like pattern.

 

At last the merchant came forward and examined the stitch work. “This is very well done,” he admitted. He looked at her for the first time since she had brought out the piece, his face a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “Where did you learn such skill.”

 

Miharu ducked her head, really not wanting the attention focused on her. “My father had hoped to put me in the service of the daimyo's daughter, but I fell in love and married instead.”

 

The wife laughed softly. “Just as well, you'd be out of work now anyway. When the girl ran off with some tramp of a lover Lord Nakamura dismissed all of her maids.” She shook her head. “But I'm sure he'll snatch this up for his new bride.”

 

Miharu blanched, both at the idea of her friends being thrust upon the world, and that her father had remarried. “F-forgive me, I'm afraid gossip is slow to reach us in the countryside…” she said quickly.

 

The woman tossed the towel on the counter and began to pick the dye out of the cracks in her hands. “Oh, well, I hear the daughter fell in love with some artist or whatnot and ran away with him. Probably for the best, though, no one of real standing would stoop to even take her as a lover.”

 

Miharu felt her face flush, unaware of the reality of her standing. “And the bride?” she choked out.

 

“Well, of course the Lord needs a new line of succession, so he snatched up a young vassal's daughter, quick as the wind. She's very pretty, I hear, about your age.”

 

Before Miharu could become totally consumed by this idea, her mind shoved it away into a cupboard to deal with later. “You like the kimono, then?”

 

“Oh yes!” The merchant declared. “I'll gladly give you a gold coin and two silvers for it. And from now on, to make things simple, you won't have to buy the supplies. You can keep any leftover thread for yourself, and we'll pay you for your efforts when you return.”

 

Miharu grinned. “That would be wonderful!” She began to fold up the kimono, and the two merchants seemed sad to see it go. The wife excused herself to tend to the dyeing, and the Merchant showed her a few nice silks. She chose a deep sky blue and a variety of white and blue threads, deciding to go with a simpler winter-themed kimono this time.

 

And so Miharu began her business as an embroiderer, which she quite enjoyed. Many times the merchants begged her to move to town so that she might work with them more often, but she absolutely insisted she stay with her husband.

 

Kazemaru, however, noticed a change in his bride. She grew humble, almost self-effacing, and it worried him to see his once confident Miharu shrink into this new form.

 

“You know,” he confronted her one day, “I think you're taking this pretending to be a peasant woman a little too seriously,” he tilted her chin up, as it should be. “You are a hime, my love, and when you're not off playacting you should remember this.”

 

Miharu ducked her head once more and set down her sewing. “Oh, it's not that…” she said quietly.

 

Kazemaru quickly surmised there was something more serious, since he had been mostly kidding in his admonitions. He moved to sit behind her, leaning her back against him and nuzzling her neck. “What is bothering you then?”

 

She sighed heavily. “When I first brought the phoenix kimono to the merchants, they said something about me. Well, not to my face you see,” she explained against his sudden stiffness. “They were speaking of Lord Nakamura's daughter. They didn't know it was me.”

 

“What did they say?” Kazemaru asked, sounding dangerously vengeful.

 

“Well… the rumor is that I ran away with a travelling artist. The merchant's wife said that it was a fortunate thing, though, since no one of good standing would even lower themselves to take me as a lover…” Miharu felt her head swim, and she fought against the urge to cry.

 

Kazemaru hugged her a little tighter. “Well, that just shows how stupid humans in general are,” he argued.

 

Miharu sighed again. “I know, but it made me realize I had no idea what my position in the world had really been. I asked baa-san about it, discreetly, and she said that I was too unrefined,” she sniffed. “That I was considered beautiful, but that my manners were lacking and that not even all of my maids could read. I had thought I had made some sort of accomplishment by learning hiragana….” Her voice hitched as she suppressed a sob, “but appearantly I'm still just some backwater Samurai's daughter….”

 

“Shh.” Kaze turned her around in his lap, kissing her forehead and wiping away the fat tears running down her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Perhaps that's where you came from, but my love,” he smiled, “you are a hime,” he emphasized. “Mate to the ruler of a good sixth of Japan! That's something to be proud of isn't it?”

 

“But my upbringing…” she lamented.

 

He made a dismissive noise. “I wouldn't care what you were, I still would have snatched you up. You could be the lowest low and I'd still love you.”

 

She stopped crying, and bit her lip a moment. “Even if I were a prostitute?” she said, naming the position he listed.

 

Kaze looked away. “Well…” he thought a moment… “It would take some time to track down and kill all of your previous clients, but yes.”

 

Miharu laughed a little through her tears, and Kaze smiled, but she quickly sobered again. “But I still bring you dishonor,” she argued. “I'm human.”

 

He pulled her into an embrace so she wouldn't see the turmoil on her face. “It doesn't matter to me. I love you, and I made this choice willingly.”

 

Miharu seemed to accept this and calmed significantly, especially when he began to distract her with lovely kisses.

 

 

 

Still concerned with her self-esteem, Kaze consulted the blind woman for her advice on how to cheer her up.

 

“Well…” the old woman said thoughtfully. “I don't think any false substitution is going to make her happier for very long. I would find some way to raise her stature legitimately.”

 

Kaze frowned. “Well she's a hime, now, you can't get much better than that!”

 

The old woman smiled and laughed. “That depends,” she argued. “When a woman marries, she certainly achieves the honor of her husband, but this is really just borrowed.”

 

“Borrowed? How?” Kaze was alarmed.

 

“Well, what is the point of taking a wife, dear boy, if not to have children! If a woman cannot prove herself useful in this function, it is not uncommon for her to be quickly replaced by a concubine, or worse, quietly divorced and returned to her family. Only when she has borne a child, and sometimes really only when she bears a son, will a woman be secure in her marriage.”

 

Kazemaru mulled that over for a long time. It was more complicated than that, in this particular situation. Children would be a delight, no doubt, but they would be hanyou, as equally unable to enter human or yokai society as Miharu herself, and just one more life to protect and hide. Kaze had been careful to avoid coupling when Miharu was fertile—which he could easily tell by the way she smelled, and figured if a child was really meant to come, she would conceive anyway.

 

The old woman seemed to sense his thoughts, as usual. “Of course, that's just the way society looks at it. It's also a personal desire for the woman. I myself had two daughters, grown up, married off to merchants and never heard from again. I do somewhat regret never having a son, but my husband never seemed discouraged by it. For me, having children gave new scope to my life, gave me something to devote myself to. They were my joy, and I was most depressed when they had to go.”

 

This time, Kaze took her words to heart. He could see how such a thing would make Miharu happy. As he had told Kaito months earlier, there was no guarantee that their children wouldn't be able to pass as human, and therefore interact with other humans in disguise as she did now. Even if they were noticeably different, the child could be a companion to Miharu, something even he realized she desperately needed. He returned to the island in much better spirits.

 

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

AN:

*rubs hands together* And so the plot progresses! Oh, I forgot to mention last time, a furisode is a kimono with the long sleeves. Nowadays it's only worn by unmarried women over the age of 20 (which means I never got to wear one, *pout*) but in the edo period they were simply worn for special occasions or just to look pretty. Also, older or married women are expected to wear kimonos that aren't as fancy, both in cut and decoration, but the higher echelons of society generally ignored this rule.