Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Kazemaru and Miharu ❯ Chapter 35

“There.” Miharu laid down the kimono and spread her hands over it. She had put much thought into this one, requesting the fabric to be dyed specially for this purpose. From the hem to about knee height, it was dyed a beautiful deep indigo, and beyond that a light sky blue. She had stitched white waves into the dark blue, and clouds and birds in the upper. It was simple in concept, but exquisite in execution. She smoothed her hands over the fabric smoothly.

 

Kaze walked over and viewed the kimono as well. “I have to admit, I like that one. It's very beautiful.”

 

She smiled up at him. “Well, I wanted to make it special.”

 

He tilted his head. “Why? What's the occaision?”

 

She looked back at the kimono, nervous now that the moment had come. “It's the last one I'll be making, at least for a while.”

 

He sat next to her, fingering the fabric himself. “And why is that? You seem to love it so.”

 

“Well,” she said quietly as she began to fold up the kimono, “I really won't be able to go out in a few weeks or so.”

 

Kaze successfully plaid dumb. “Why not?”

 

Miharu became more flustered by the minute, but never stopped smiling. “Because of my condition. It's not polite.”

 

Kaze put a hand to her forehead. “Are you ill? I hope you haven't caught something from those townspeople.”

 

She laughed. “No, I'm not ill. I'm… Kaze, I'm…” her voice dropped to a whisper. “I'm going to have a baby.”

 

“Well, yes, but why should that stop you from—”

 

“You KNEW???” she interrupted.

 

A grin slowly stole across his face. “Well of course I knew. I could smell the difference. Besides,” his grin took on a mischievous tilt. “I assure you, it was no accident.”

 

Miharu looked for a moment as if she would admonish him, but instead threw her arms about his neck. “Oh, Kaze,” she murmured into his neck. “Thank you,” she barely breathed the last.

 

He patted her back, the grin now plastered to his face. “Anything to make you happy, my love.”

 

She sat back. “Well of course I'm happy…” she said, once again smoothing her hands over the fabric. Her cheer had darkened, though, and he wondered at the sudden change.

 

“But…” he prompted.

 

“It's just…” she tilted her head and sighed. “I guess I'm just nervous,” she admitted.

 

“Nervous?” Kaze laughed. “I'm sure you'll be a fine mother.”

 

She looked at him, surprised. “Well, it's not that,” she laughed a little.

 

He frowned a little, rubbing her arm. “Then what?”

 

She smiled sadly. “It's my first time, of course. I just hope we both make it through alright.”

 

Kaze's frown deepend in confusion. Miharu saw this and guessed he didn't know. “Kaze, my love,” she said softly, returning his comforting gesture and not quite meeting his eyes. “Many human women die in childbirth, as do the children.”

 

Kaze felt a sort of paralysis come over him. “No… but… you've been well cared for…” he argued.

 

She shrugged. “Peasant women seem to do better, actually. Not so delicate, I suppose.”

 

A helpless anger rose in Kazemaru, and he clenched his fists tightly. “Why didn't she tell me?” he ground out.

 

“Baa-san?” Miharu guessed, and shrugged. “It may not have occurred to her to mention, since it's such common knowledge amongst humans. Besides…” she frowned a moment. “I'm not sure she knows I'm human….”

 

Kaze did not hear this last, he was so engulfed by his worry. “What… what can I do?” he said, feeling helpless.

 

She smiled and patted his leg. “Well, I'll do all the work when it comes to it, so don't worry. But I would feel more comfortable if I weren't alone…” she suggested quietly.

 

Kaze brightened. “Perhaps you should go stay with the old woman?”

 

Miharu laughed. “Oh, I couldn't possibly impose upon her. It will be at least another six months, and the last bit is rather imposing.”

 

He frowned at the lightness of her tone. “What do you suggest then?” he asked slowly.

 

“Well…” she twisted the hem of her kimono sleeve nervously. “The tradition amongst humans is for the woman… to return to her family at this time,” she said softly, looking at her knees.

 

Kaze put his face in his hand. “You can't be serious. He disowned you, Miharu. I doubt he'd take you back in your need.”

 

“But that would be precisely when he would take me,” she argued, “when he felt I needed help. Besides, our marriage is solidified now, there's no denying it. And I heard he took a new wife, about my age. Surely she would understand, if not he.”

 

Kazemaru pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't like this. I don't trust him.”

 

Miharu sighed. “I know, but where else am I going to go?”

 

She said this with such a dejected and frightened tone that Kaze could not find it within himself to object further without a better suggestion.

 

“I won't have to go right away,” she said consolingly. “We should probably wait a month or so, until it's apparent that I am… as I say I am.”

 

Kaze nodded, resolving to find a better solution in the meantime.

 

 

 

A month and a half passed and Kaze had found no alternative. In all truth, he didn't even know where to begin to look. Miharu's stomach began to swell, until it was obvious even when she was dressed. She had taken to wearing his mother's kimono, as it adjusted to her shape and didn't have a dangerously tight obi. The blind woman had given them some clothes for her to wear to her laying-in, but they were old and worn, and Miharu opted to wait until she left to use them.

 

She grew more nervous and fidgety by the day. She tried to control the mood swings that often overtook her, but was plagued by a constant craving for beef that Kaze had difficulty acquiring in ample amounts. To his dismay, Kaze found Miharu more and more difficult to handle. She seemed a bit mad, in truth, and he clearly saw where the tradition of returning the wife to her own people originated. He also was growing more nervous, worried about the outcome and wondering if he was caring for her—and the child—well enough. Finally one day, he gave in. He figured it was better if he chose an anxious moment to break, rather than in frustration.

 

“I think you should get your things together today,” he said quietly over breakfast. “You should go to Kurihama tomorrow.”

 

Miharu stopped eating and stared at him with a mixed expression. He could tell she was glad to go, though she tried not to show it, but she looked nervous as well. Now that the moment to return had come, the reality of the danger she was in, both from her pregnancy and a possibly angry father. But she hoped and prayed that he would have had time to calm down and adjust to the idea, however difficult it might be.

 

“Alright,” she said calmly, and pushed her breakfast around with her chopsticks a bit more.

 

“You should eat that, you know,” Kaze chastised.

 

She sighed. “I know. I just don't feel all that hungry in the mornings. I'm lucky I don't get sick like some women do. And anyway I feel so—” she stopped midsentence and put a hand to her stomach, looking surprised.

 

Kaze dropped his chopsticks. “What's wrong?” he asked, suddenly terrified.

 

“Nothing,” she said absently, her brow furrowed in concentration. “I think it just… Ah!” She grinned, delighted. “He moved!”

 

Kaze rushed over to sit next to her and placed his hand where hers had been. He waited a full minute, then two, and just as he was about to pull his hand away he felt the tiniest pressure against his palm. “I felt it!” he laughed, swelling with pride. “A good, strong kick, to be sure!”

 

Miharu laughed at this, knowing it wasn't as strong as the previous two had been. The poor thing had probably tired itself out, she imagined, and had given one last effort for his father.

 

Suddenly Kaze didn't want her to go, but he kept it from her. He knew, in all honesty, that even a disappointed father armed with hoards of servants and nursemaids could better care for her at this point than he could. It hurt him to admit this, though.

 

Miharu finished off her breakfast with new enthusiasm, and set to packing her things. There wasn't much to bring, the maternity kimono, a few undergarments and her sewing kit for entertainment. She resolved to return not only with her child but also with her beloved koto, which she had much regretted leaving behind. She had everything together before lunch, and as the day progressed they fell into a sort of nervous silence.

 

Kaze was stoically pensive, which was unusual for him. Miharu wanted to offer him some sort of reassurance, but was loath to bring it up. There was no making small-talk with him, as they had no separate experiences worth sharing. At last she fell back on her meager education to break the silence.

 

“I had the pleasure once of reading the pillow book of Sei Shonagon. She was one of the empress's ladies about 400 years ago. She was a rival of Lady Murasaki, the author of `The Tale of Genji.' Perhaps you've heard of it?”

 

Kaze shook his head and stared into his cup. From it eminated a strong, strange smell. He hadn't told her what it was, and hadn't allowed her to drink it. She highly suspected it was yokai alcohol, but allowed him his discretions since he rarely drank it. She didn't even know where he kept it, she would leave their little room for a moment, and on her return find him with cup in hand.

 

“Well,” she went on, “It's a lovely story. Lately I've related to Evening Faces a lot, although,” she blanched, “One can hope the similarities are only fleeting. Anyway, I'm getting off track. Instead of writing fiction, Shonagon kept a diary of sorts. It's lovely to read all the descriptions of court dress and poetry from that era…” she sighed. “There's this particularly touching moment where the empress has been gone from the main palace—she moved to her own to have one of her princesses, you see—and while the tradition was for her to remain a year after the birth, only 9 months later the emperor and his wife met at a festival they oversaw. He so missed her he begged her to come back. She, being a proper lady, reluctantly turned him down. But the emperor was so desperate to have her back that he went to her father, the chamberlain—who, if I remember correctly, was the one who actually held power—and begged him to convince the empress to come back.

 

“Well, the chamberlain went straight to his daughter and gave her a good stiff lecture on obeying her husband. Throughout it she bowed her head and accepted his criticism, but Shonagon could see that behind her fan, her mistress hid a wide smile. You see, it was her father's disapproval she had feared to incur by returning too soon. Before he left, the chamberlain smiled as well, knowing the truth of it all.”

 

Kaze was silent a moment, as if waiting for more. “Why are you telling me this?” There was no irritation in his voice, only curiosity.

 

She shrugged a little and smoothed a wrinkle from the folds of her kimono. “I just always thought it was such a beautiful scene.” She looked back up to him. “I'll come back to you as soon as I can, you know.”

 

He allowed himself a smile, imagining that day. “I know, my love. It just doesn't make it any easier.”

 

She nodded, still smiling a little, and leaned her head on his shoulder lightly. He set his cup on the table and brushed his fingers along her hair and cheek. “You are so precious to me,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I'd give anything to keep you by my side and protect you.”

 

She patted his hand. “I know. I love you, too.”

 

He chuckled at that. How well she knew him.

 

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

AN

 

Poor Kaze, he needs a copy of “The Care and Keeping of Humans!” (Harry Potter joke).

More chapters to follow soon, I promise!