Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Ashes to Ashes ❯ The Actors Take the Stage ( Chapter 1 )

Ashes to Ashes

Chapter One: The Actors take the Stage

DISCLAIMER: Kamatari is not mine (unfortunately) and she/he belongs to his/her rightful owners, Watsuki-sama and co. As do any other characters from Rurouni Kenshin who happen to show up. I'm only borrowing them, and I don't have any money, so it's no use suing me. Jessica, and the entire American and French cast ARE mine, so please don't borrow them without asking. (Although, why you'd want to totally eludes me.)

WARNING: This story takes place AFTER the Kyoto arc. If you do not wish to be spoiled, read no further. ALSO, this story will eventually contain a yaoi pairing. Nothing graphic, but if you don't like yaoi, it's best to nip impending fic addiction in the bud.

Now that all that is said, ENJOY! All C&C to pawscat_love@yahoo.com

Sept. 17, Meiji 13

Dear Shishio-sama,

I arrived in America today. The ship docked at a port called New York City. It is so strange here. The women wear metal shapes under their clothing. None of them are as alluring as I, though, and as I walked down the gangplank, some of the dockworkers whistled at me. I arrived at my new school only an hour ago, and already I yearn for my Ohgama. From what I've seen, the girls here are vain, stuck-up, and weak. The headmistress is, if possible, even worse. She tried to make me wear a dress like the other girls, but Mr. Baker, the government agent who was escorting me, told her that I was to be allowed to wear what I wished. I have yet to meet anyone here who is worthy of hearing your wisdom; however, I shall continue my search during dinner. I doubt that these stupid Americans will be able to grasp your genius.

I think of you every day.

Forever Yours,

Kamatari

************

I sighed as I put down my brush and glanced back over the letter in front of me, then over at the small box filled with the similar letters that I had written faithfully every day. If Shishio-sama could see into this world, he'd know I was still his.

A slight knock on the door caught my attention, and I turned, calling for them to enter as I quickly set the letter aside to dry. The door opened to admit the headmistress, one Miss van Haver. Her horsy face was made even more unattractive by the determined scowl firmly plastered across it. I noted the school uniforms she carried and grimaced.

"Well, apparently, someone here thinks she is too good to follow the rules. I don't care what your uncle says; none of my girls are going to have to go to school with you dressing as a showgirl! You're going to wear these, one way or another." She accented the not-so-subtle threat by pulling a long stick, I later learned it was called a whipping rod, out from behind the frilly constricting uniforms.

Smiling, I stood and set the box of letters aside. "I believe that Uncle Robert made it clear that I am to be allowed to dress as I choose..." I slowly walked over to the corner where I had propped the walking stick that was the only thing I was allowed to carry for my defense. "...and I have no intention of wearing those. If you truly wish to attempt to force me, I warn you now, I know how to defend myself." I lifted the stick confidently, holding it ready.

I'll probably get in trouble for this 'violation of my contract,' but SOMEONE has to teach this woman... A slight smirk curved my lips.

Before either of us had a chance to make a move, a bell rang out somewhere downstairs. My smirk grew to a full smile as I set my weapon aside. "I believe that it is time for dinner..." I bowed, "After you, Miss van Haver."

She opened her mouth to argue just as a pinched face appeared around the door. "Miss van Haver?" The voice was exactly what one would expect from such a face: high-pitched and nasal enough to make me want to wince. I recognized the girl from a brief encounter earlier in the day. Her name was Johanna Statton Richardson III, and she was everything that the name suggested. Blonde, snobby, and flat, she paraded around as reigning queen of the school, her father being a very prominent banker who donated large sums to the school. I wanted to laugh. She was weak. The weak exist only to serve the strong. One day she would serve the purpose of someone strong and all her father's money couldn't change that. I had considered challenging her, but I had more important things to do. I had, after all, promised Shishio-sama that I would spread his wisdom during dinner.

Miss van Haver turned reluctantly and followed Johanna down the hall to the stairwell. I smirked at her retreating back and folded the letter, laying it with the rest. I ran a loving hand over the box that was my only communication with my love as I turned to leave. "Aishiteru. Mata kimasu.[1]"

I left the room, locking the door behind me. That had been another of the concessions that my 'uncle' had insisted upon. That, and a private bathing area. As I continued down to dinner, I pondered the futility of trying to explain Shishio-sama's genius to idiotic Americans.

**********

By the time I made it to dinner, everyone had already been seated. I sat down in the only empty chair between two girls I had never met before. Miss van Haver and a row of girls seated near her glared balefully at me as I took my seat, but I ignored them. The girl on my left stared intensely at her silverware, not daring to meet my eyes. I mentally sneered at her for being so cowed by a group of little brats.

Turning my attention to the girl on my right, I saw that she was offering me a friendly, if shy, smile. "Hello... You're new here, right?... I'm Jessica... Jessica Fuller." Her voice was soft and pleasant, perhaps a bit too hesitant, but she couldn't be all bad if she stood up the local 'sword police.' I could also tell that this girl was used to being on the receiving end of their glares. Not only was she friendly, her clothes where older-looking, and heavily worn in places.

I smiled in return and offered her my hand, an American custom I had picked up on the ship. "Kama... Karalyn Smith." I almost bit my tongue. I must be more tired than I thought to slip up like that! She didn't seem to notice, though, as she accepted my hand with a smile. A blush heated her face when that simple gesture caused a renewed wave of angry glares punctuated by scornful whispers. I was growing weary of their childish tactics, but I ignored them yet again. The girl on my left remained entranced by her soupspoon.

A serving girl appeared carrying several steaming trays, and Jessica released my hand as the girl set one in front of her. I could see two other girls setting identical trays in front of the rest of the students, who ignored their very existence. Jessica, however, smiled graciously and thanked the mousy little servant.

Hmmm... She's kind to those weaker than her... what a ridiculous waste of time...

As the serving girl set my tray in front of me, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the girl seated on Jessica's right reach out and pull Jessica's braid. As her head jerked back, she tipped the full spoon that had been on it's way to her mouth all over her dress. I noticed Johanna smirking in triumph from her seat at Miss van Haver's right hand. Jessica merely sat for a long moment staring at the large splotch spreading across her lap.

"Well, well... Clumsy as usual, I see." Miss van Haver tutted with an exaggerated sigh. "Don't just sit there, girl, go upstairs and change." Jessica whispered something pleadingly and began to rise. "What was that? Speak up girl!" Miss van Haver snapped, her voice full of malicious amusement.

Tears dripping silently off her chin, Jessica bowed her head and addressed her napkin, "I don't have another uniform, Miss van Haver."

"Oh, that's right. Your parents could only afford to buy you one uniform." Miss van Haver gave another dramatic sigh, and I could tell that she was enjoying this immensely. "Well, I'm sure that if you ask nicely, one of the other girls will lend you one of theirs."

I could see by the looks on the faces of the others that no one would, either out of cruelty or fear. A picture flashed through my mind of the dozen school uniforms still strewn across the couch where the headmistress had left them. I decided it would be more than worth the trouble to spoil their little game if it meant gaining even a small point against Johanna and her aides.

"You can borrow one of mine, if you don't mind it being a bit long..." my voice rang out in the silence. The headmistress's head jerked up and she glared at me in astonishment. Growing tired of this little game she and the girls played, I returned her glare full force. After a few moments, she dropped her gaze and waved us away from the table. Jessica audibly sobbed in relief as we left the room.

**********

Our journey to the second floor was completed in silence. Slowly, Jessica composed herself, and as I opened the door to my room, I felt an odd urge to break the suddenly smothering quiet. "The skirt will be too long, and I think the... the... What's the word? Around the chest? It might be too tight around the chest, but..." I began, babbling uncharacteristically as I moved into the room. I had never been good with crying women.

"That's all right," her soft voice sliced through my chatter, shaking only slightly. She was staring at the floor as though it had the answer to life hidden in it somewhere. "None of my dresses have ever fit very well." She paused, not looking up. A tear slid down her cheek and she rubbed it away angrily. "Thank you for helping me... They won't like you having spoiled their fun, though, so be careful. I don't want you to have trouble with them because you didn't know better than to help me..."

But I did know better... The strong survive, the weak die. But she is weak... I glanced at her as I sorted through the uniforms, searching for one that would fit her the best. She had finally raised her eyes and was staring in awe at the mountains of boxes piled around the room. No. She is strong... Stronger than the others, at any rate. She has survived this long, and she would have survived without my help. The headmistress is the one who is weak. She may push people around, but she has never had to truly prove her strength.

I turned back to Jessica and held out the loosest uniform I had. "Who are 'they'? Johanna?" I asked as I showed her over to the partitioned bathing area.
She nodded as she disappeared behind the screen. "Johanna, Paula Davies- her father is Johanna's father's partner, Rebecca Artlous- daughter of a sea captain, and a few others. Even those that don't agree with Johanna are too afraid to disobey her." Her voice was muffled as she fought with the buttons on the back of her dress.

"Here... Let me." I stepped around the screen and quickly unbuttoned the dozens of tiny, annoying buttons that were most of the reason I refused to wear western clothing. I then retreated to the room proper and waited for her to hand the soiled gown over to me. When she did, I rinsed it as best I could in the pail of water set beside a large, cave-like structure. I wrung the dress out and was hanging it up on a nearby rack when Jessica stepped out of the bathing area. She looked much improved by the simple act of changing clothes.

She was tall for a woman, her long red-brown hair was caught back in two tight braids that reached her waist. I was a bit taller, but that was to be expected. Her face was a slender oval dominated by a pair of large blue-green eyes. Between those eyes, a tiny, uptilted, nearly overlooked nose completed the picture of quaint beauty she presented. I eyed her nose thoughtfully. The dim light of the room prevented me from being positive, but I was almost certain she had freckles.

She still isn't as sexy as I, though. I thought with a small smirk.

Jessica smoothed her skirt nervously, blushing under my critical eye. The skirt was almost three inches too long, I noted dispassionately as I glanced at the pile of uniforms on the nearby couch.

"If you want, you can have the rest of the uniforms..." My tired mind cast about for the correct phrasing, "I won't ever wear them." I waved a dismissing hand at the offending fabric.

Jessica blinked at me incredulously. "But... we're required to wear them. And besides, Karilyn, these outfits are too beautiful for me to wear!" She sputtered slightly and fervently shook her head.

It took me a long moment to catch up with the torrent of words, and I pressed a hand to my aching forehead. "Onegai... Please, could you speak a bit more slowly?" Jessica blinked at me blankly for a moment before her brow furrowed. To forestall her questions, I forced a blush and lowered my eyes, "English is not my native language, and when I'm tired it become difficult for me to keep up."

Confusion passed over her face in a visible wave, chased swiftly away by a burning curiosity that made her eyes glow.

So the mouse becomes a kitten... Interesting. I grinned at the thought, which only added to Jessica's confusion.

"But your name... Karilyn Smith. Aren't you American?" She was so perplexed that it was almost comical.

Ah kitten... Not everyone is a cat like you. There are dogs in the world... and wolves. I indulged myself and made a moue of distaste at the thought before clearing my expression. Shaking my head ruefully, I smiled. Americans are so arrogant. "My father was British, but I lived with my mother in Japan since I was born. The only English that I speak is what Uncle Robert could teach me."

Well that isn't a total lie... There is every possibility that my father was a gaijin. Kaa-san would bed anyone just to have a place to sleep. As for the last... I remembered the long weeks spent listening and repeating, listening and repeating, ten hours a day, every single day. The fewer total lies, the easier it will be to keep track…

"You have to be able to understand to be an effective spy."

"You said this wasn't a spying mission!"

"Just because the initial plan doesn't involve something doesn't mean that it won't come up! It's best to be prepared for anything. You'd be wise to remember that, Miss Smith, or we may have to re-evaluate our dealings with you."

"My name is Honjo Kamatari!"

-CRACK!-

One of those pompous bastards slapped me!

"You are whoever we say you are, freak! Now, shut up and pay attention!"

I smirked maliciously at the memory. The man who had slapped me had been found the following morning on the passenger deck with a broken arm... among other things. I had been treated with more respect after that.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry! I had no idea that you were foreign!" Jessica's slightly ashamed exclamations pulled me from my memories. I raised my eyebrows as another wave of confusion washed over her face. "But if you are from Japan, why did you travel here instead of San Francisco or Seattle?"

I remembered reading about San Francisco in one of the many monstrous tomes I was required to read in my 'free' time. There was also the thought that I had heard it mentioned in Kyoto once or twice, as well. "I didn't come directly from Japan. I traveled to join my uncle at his estate in Paris. We stayed there for a month before he was able to escort me here. I wasn't even aware that I would be coming to America when I first left Japan."

"Oh…" her voice trailed off and her eyes widened dreamily, "You've been to Paris?"

My smile widened in amusement at so typical a reaction. "Yes. My uncle has an estate there." I didn't mention that the 'estate' was the foreign embassy and my 'uncle' a government goon. I also didn't mention that I had spent my time in Paris tracking down two Japanese informants who had outlived their usefulness.

"Did you get to wear any beautiful French clothing?" Jessica's eyes were still unfocused and her voice assured me that she wasn't anywhere near New York City.

I searched my mind quickly for the meaning of the word 'clo-thing,' but it eluded my fatigued efforts. "Clo-thing?" It galled me to have to ask for aid, but… I should know that word!

"Hmmm…? Oh!" Jessica blinked as she was catapulted back into reality. "Clothing means dresses, pants, gowns, shirts, and the like."

Filing that bit of information away and berating myself for forgetting it in the first place, I walked over to a large trunk that had been set off to one side at the back of the room. It took me a moment to find the key ring in my obi so that I could unlock the chest.

"Oh…" Jessica's shocked exclamation floated to my ears as I opened the trunk. She gaped speechlessly as I pulled the dozens of gowns out of the trunk. Every last one of them was unworn, as I had no wish to wear the tight, bulky, western'clo-thing.' My 'uncle' had insisted on buying them for me in all the colors of the rainbow, except red, which he said was the color of whores. Remembering Yumi, I had had to agree. I had repeatedly explained that I wouldn't wear them, but as usual, I was ignored.

How am I supposed to move silently or fight in all that fabric? The government unofficials, as I had taken to calling my escorts, had tried to force me to wear them later. It had taken me taking eight of them on at once for them to give me up as a lost cause.

"Do you want on? I won't wear them." I sneered at the rainbow of silks, satins, and wools draped haphazardly on the couch.

"Me?! Have one of those? I couldn't! Those are far too nice for me!" Jessica shook her head quickly, but I could see the longing in her eyes.

She's such a modest person… How annoying.

"No, I…" What is the word? "I…" I learned it when giving an invitation. "I… insist!" That's it! I cheered myself silently. "I insist that you have one." I began digging through the pile holding different dresses up to her. She protested all the while, but I feigned ignorance and she eventually gave up. Finally, I came across a sky blue dress that went perfectly with her coloring. The simple cut would accent her slender figure as well, I noted. "This one." I nodded firmly. "You must have this one."

I spent the next ten minutes attempting to persuade Jessica to take the dress, but she remained firm in her refusal. Reluctantly, I began to repack the trunk, throwing in three of the uniforms when Jessica wasn't looking. It took quite a while to get the dresses packed, and by the time we got to the sky blue dress, there was no more room in the chest.

I blinked at the full chest innocently, "Nani? It won't fit."

"What?" Jessica asked, glancing up from where she had been running her hand over the light silk of the sky blue dress. I gestured at the overflowing container. "Oh!" She tried in vain to force the dress to fit, but finally had to concede defeat or risk causing damage.

With a sigh she glanced around the room. "Well, where do you want to put it?"

The trap is sprung! I quickly hid a smirk. "I don't have anywhere else to put it. Jessica, please keep it for me."

"What?" She stared at the dress in her hands, "I couldn't possibly..."

"Well where do you... Where else can I put it?"

"Ummmm..." She glanced around the room, her gaze almost finding the clothespress on the other side of the room.

I stepped forward, drawing her attention, and gave her my best pleading look. "Please, Jessica?"

"But..." I batted my eyelashes at her. "Oh... Fine!" She huffed in annoyance but looked with longing at the dress she held, "But I'm only holding it for you, OK?"

Sure. Another smirk threatened to cross my face, but I ducked my head to hide it. "Hai, hai." I nodded. Jessica gave me an odd look and moved to leave.

"I'm going to take this back to my room and hang it up before it wrinkles," She looked askance at me. I smiled and nodded dismissal, but her attention had been caught by something on my left. I followed her gaze and realized that I had unconsciously been running my fingers over the large black enameled box on my desk.

Jessica walked over to me slowly, her eyes taking in the fine art and kanji on the surface of the box. "What does it say?"

"Jakuni kyoushouku" I whispered, my eyes tearing slightly. "Shishio-sama..." I raised my eyes to see Jessica looking at me with concern. Blinking rapidly, I forced my lips into a slight smile, "Ah, Gomen. It roughly translates to 'the strong survive; the weak die.'"

Jessica's eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

I smiled softly at the words on the box. "Brilliant..." The word barely wavered in the stillness, and I cleared my throat, returning my gaze to Jessica's flabbergasted countenance. "It's brilliant, don't you think?"

She finally seemed to recover herself and stammered out, "W...what?!"

Three months ago, I would have been taken aback by her reaction. So many people had I tried to speak to now, though, that I ignored it and continued on.

"The weak exist only to serve the purpose of the strong. It is a theory much like that of Mr. Darwin who has recently come into so much fame. Survival of the fittest. The strong survive by feeding on the weak. It is a brilliant theory."

"How horrible! You can't honestly believe that, can you?" Jessica burst out, shock causing her to pale.

"Why shouldn't I believe it? It's the truth." Now I was a bit at loss. This was a different reaction that I was used to. Usually people questioned my sanity, not the validity of Shishio-sama's philosophy.

"The truth?!" Anger caused a brilliant flush to heat her cheeks, contrasting sharply with the pallor still coating the rest of her skin. "How can that be the truth? There are many kinds of strength! Everyone deserves a chance to live and discover their own kind of strength!" She was almost shouting now, her eyes burning with an inner fire that reminded me painfully of Shishio-sama.

My mind was totally blank. I couldn't think of a single argument for her logic. What do I say? Shishio-sama, I wish you were here to help me with what to say... But you said I would be a good speaker, and I will! For you, Shishio-sama... "Everyone? Shishio-sama taught me that..."

"She-she-oh-sah-mah?" Jessica interrupted me softly.

I scowled slightly, but took the hint. There would be time another day. "Shishio-sama. He was... my love. He... died." I cleared my suddenly choked throat and gripped the beautiful black box a little tighter to steady myself.

"I'm sorry..." Jessica whispered with genuine contrition. "Is he the one who taught you that twisted bit of logic?" she waved a hand at the box on the table.

"Yes." I nodded sadly. "He lived his life by those words." I ran my hand one last time over the letter box and then stepped away from the desk.

"How did he die?" Her hesitant question made me stumble slightly. Jessica stepped forward in alarm, but I steadied myself.

"He... he burned to death." I whispered, remembering what Chou had told me of what happened at the fortress.

For a long moment Jessica stood silently, staring at the floor. When she looked up, however, I was surprised to see that her eyes were filled with tears. "I'm so sorry." she whispered, stepping forward to hug me.

I stiffened at her embrace, unsure of what to do. Finally, I relaxed and smoothed her hair soothingly, a motion I remembered to be comforting from my time with kaa-san. "Daijoubu. It's all right, little kitten. His life lives on in me."

Jessica stepped back and sniffed, rubbing at her reddened eyes, "Look at me... what a mess!" Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the clock sitting on a shelf over the cave-like recess. "Oh dear... We've been up here nearly and hour. The others will be almost done eating." She smiled ruefully and walked to the door, smoothing the light folds our hug had imprinted in the precious silk gown.

I walked with her to her room to hang up the dress. Her room was much smaller than mine. The bed was little more than a hard, thin mattress and a few boards and nails. A rickety, oft patched desk and worn-out chair graced one corner, while on the opposite wall was a tiny imitation of the cave-like hole in my room. I think it is called a fire-home.

"I'm sure that this is much smaller and less extravagant than you are used to..." Jessica began in a voice clouded with embarrassment.

"Daijoubu." I cut her off quickly, "Rooms in Japan are smaller than this." I finished my perusal of the room and glanced back at her to find a look of confusion on her face. "Nani?"

"Nah-knee? Die-joh-boo? What do those mean?" She asked hesitantly.

"Ah... Sou ka. I see. Gomen..." I gave myself a mental smack when I realized that I was just adding to the problem. "Go-me-n," I broke down the syllables and roughly sketched the kana in the air, "means 'I'm sorry.' Da-i-jo-u-bu means 'It's alright' or if you are asking about a person, 'I'm alright.' Na-ni is the equivalent of the English word 'What.'"

"Oh... Sew Cah?" She smiled broadly at her attempt and giggled. I laughed with her as she finished hanging the dress. "We should go back downstairs. Miss van Haver will be angry that we took so long." She sighed. With a bow, I motioned for her to precede me out the door.

As we walked down the stairs, I could hear her whispering beneath her breath, "Daijoubu, 'It's/I'm alright.' Nani. 'What?' Sew Cah... No... That doesn't sound correct..."

"It's Sou ka." I corrected, smiling.

"Sou ka?" She glanced at me for reassurance, and then, when I nodded in encouragement, she continued her whisperings. She had repeated the list of phrases several times when we reached the entrance hall, from which we could hear the high-pitched voices of the girls talking as well as Miss van Haver bellowing about our continued absence. I exchanged a wry glance with Jessica and entered the dining room. The myriad of voices immediately stopped.

Miss van Haver glared at us as we moved forward to take our seats. The soup had long since been taken away and all of the other students were three-quarters of the way through the main course. I picked up the cumbersome American eating utensils and finally began my dinner.

The meal was, I decided after the first bite, less than tempting. A piece of grease-soaked shoe-leather drowned in a watery sauce that was dotted with floating bits of limp, long-dead vegetables was NOT my idea of food. Shrugging lightly, I attempted to set my discomfort aside.

If I can ignore the pain of being wounded in battle, then I can ignore the disgusting taste of this food. Feeling my resolve stiffen at my little pep talk, I took another bite...

...And let out a small squeak of disgust when my mouth was filled with slimy grease.

Ok, so I can't.

Giving up on the food, I glanced up and noticed that everyone was still watching Jessica and me. Well, everyone except the girl on my right and the two girls across the table from her, who were watching the grease ooze across their plates. I would have shrugged it off, but I noticed that Jessica was not holding up well under the close scrutiny. She had tried several times to begin eating again, but she was so nervous that she couldn't get any food to stay on her fork.

I sighed, totally out of patience with this childish game. Catching the eye of the girl nearest us, I summoned up an annoyed glare. Her eyes widened in surprise and a few seconds later lowered in defeat. The two girls seated on her left, noting their friend's lack of success, lowered their eyes without a fight.

A small sound made everyone at the table flinch and for a split second the eyes trained on Jessica and me flicked toward the head of the table in fear. Knowing where the sound had come from, I passed my gaze to the seat at Miss van Haver's right hand. There, like a betrayed queen, sat Johanna Statton Richardson III. The instant my eyes met her angry gray glare, every eye was on us. I was surprised to note that even the plate-watchers on my left had raised their eyes.

Johanna lifted her nose even higher in the air and met my glare head on.

For several minutes we just sat there, everyone watching us holding their collective breath. The longer I met her glare, the redder Johanna's face got, and the tighter she pursed her lips. When her look got no reaction from me, she began to realize that she was fighting a losing battle. I could see the wheels turning to ponderously in her mind as she started to look for a way out. Her eyes lit up and I knew she thought that she'd found a way to back down and still salvage her rather copious pride. Her eyes went almost immediately from glaring and angry to amused and contemptuous.

"Hmph. Foreigners. Do you not know that it is rude to stare?" She smirked slightly and dropped her eyes to continue her meal.

I smirked softly. Does she really think that an amateurish move such as that would fell me, Ohgama no Kamatari of the Juppon Gatana?

"Ah, gomen. Forgive me. It is only that in my country, the women wear a thick white cream to hide their ugliness. I would offer to let you borrow some of mine, but I highly doubt that it would do you any good." I watched, amused, as Johanna began to choke on a piece of food. The girls around her jumped up in fright, patting her ineffectually on the back and shrieking. After coughing for several long moments, tears streaming down her face, Johanna finally recovered herself enough to allow a few of the other girls to help her back to her room. Miss van Haver gave me a malevolent glare and hurried after them.

With both Johanna and Miss van Haver gone, the rest of the girls seemed to lose their bravado, and the meal finished in peace. Miss van Haver hurried back into the room once, staying only long enough to dismiss us, then hurried back out. I kept close to Jessica as we made our way upstairs, but none of the others even acknowledged our presence. I hesitated outside my door, ostensibly unlocking it, long enough to see Jessica safely enter her room before going into my own. Closing the door with only slightly more force than necessary, I sank down on the couch by the door.

Now what am I supposed to do? I wondered. After long moments, my exhausted mind finally settled on unpacking as a way to waste time.

As I rose, however, Jessica's now dry school uniform caught my eye, and I decided to return it to her. She has few enough without one getting lost in this mess.

Nodding firmly, I opened the door and strode purposefully into the hall, knocking Jessica to the ground.

We blinked at each other for a long moment before I remembered myself and helped her to her feet. "Daijoubu ka? I'm sorry."

"I'm fine... Daijoubu...?" She mumbled hesitantly, then continued when I didn't find fault, "I was just going to come see if you needed any help unpacking."

I smiled, "I was just about to begin when I remembered your uniform. It's dry now." I held the garment out to her.

"Oh!" She blinked in surprise, "I had forgotten. Thank you..." She paused, her brow furrowed in thought. "What is 'Thank you' in Japanese?"

"Arigatou." I enunciated, smiling at her look of intense concentration. With an inward smirk, I decided to have a little fun with her. "Or domo arigatou, or arigatou gozaimas, or domo arigatou gozaimas." My inward smirk fought its way onto my face as her eyes widened to the size of saucers, her nose almost disappearing in comparison. "It depends on the situation. For you purposes, 'arigatou' will suffice."

She swallowed and nodded, looking very overwhelmed and mouthing the word and its English cousin almost unconsciously. Then, she tilted her head to one side. "Do you need any help unpacking?" Her eyes wandered around me to stare longingly at the unusual objects strewn about my room. I could tell that she was absolutely dying to rummage through it all.

"Of course. I'd welcome any company right now. Well... almost any." My eyes traveled meaningfully to the door of Johanna's room, right across the hall from my own. Jessica giggled and I moved aside to let her enter my room.

We stopped, just inside the door, eyeing the mountains of boxes and chests piled around the room.

Noting that this was going to be a rather long and drawn out task, I decided, with no small amount of mental snickering, to be a gentleman and let the lady choose. "Anou... Where do you want to start?"

Jessica eyed the room thoughtfully before settling on the enameled chest filled with Paris' finest. "We should unpack those first so that the creases can settle," she nodded and started purposefully forward.

A smirk curved my lips as I playfully returned, "Sure, sure. You just want to see them again." I was rewarded with one of her all too frequent blushes.

As we unpacked the dresses, and Jessica showed me how to hang them up, I told her about my month in Paris. I gave as detailed accounts as I could recall of the endless fittings, dinners, and dances that had been my life. Liberally interspersed where cajoling remarks as I tried to get her to take more of the, in my opinion, most useless piles of fabric ever created. She pretended not to hear, but every opportunity she got, she ran her hands over the shimmering fabrics. Once, I had to do some quick moving to hide the uniforms I had thrown in there earlier before she could see them. I lay them on top of the pile still draped across the couch when she was occupied with another dress. When we had gotten all the dresses in the chest hung up, Jessica noticed the flat boxes tiling the bottom.

"What are these?" She asked, lifting one out and opening it. For a moment, it looked as though the box would tumble out of her suddenly slack fingers. "Oh!" I glanced over her shoulder. The box contained jeweled necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, brooches, hair combs, hairpins, and even an anklet or two. They were, like the dresses they accompanied, unworn.

"Gifts," I shrugged, "from friends of my uncle in Paris." Those friends included four dukes, a prince, a dozen rich diplomats and a healthy spattering of wealthy merchants. She just continued to sit there, gaping into the box, so I reached around her and pulled out one of the necklaces. It was a string of pearls with a diamond pendant and a silver clasp. "This was given to me on the day I left Paris to come here by a young man named Georgio Lorence. His father runs an import business. The silver is from Spain, the pearls from South America, and the diamond from the wild jungles of Africa. There are matching earrings in there somewhere." I set the pearls back in the box and lifted out one of the few items in that I actually enjoyed. "This," I began, turning it my hands, my voice softening from acid amusement to wistful reminiscence, "was given to me by an admiral. Admiral Winst." I pointed to the large black opal set in the sophisticatedly unadorned mother of pearl brooch. "He won that in a card game in India, and found the shell that makes up the back after his first ever shipwreck when he was just a cabin boy. I used to sit for hours and listen to his tales." I smiled and settled the brooch carefully back into the box. Jessica stared at it for a moment, then remembering our purpose, began to unload the box carefully into a large cabinet to one side. I watched her, lost in thought. The Admiral had been the only one in all of Paris to see me for what I truly was. Only an hour after we had been introduced, he had cornered me in the garden and asked me what my game was. I had considered killing him, but it had been so early in my stay that I couldn't afford to blow my cover. For a good half-hour, we had sat, and I had made up lie after lie after lie to try and cover for myself. Each time, however, he had simply shaken his head and frowned at me. Finally, totally exasperated, I told him the truth, thinking that it was far less believable than any of the other stories I had told. To my great surprise, instead of shaking his head when I was done, he had simply nodded thoughtfully and risen to leave. I had jumped up and placed myself between him and the exit to the garden, asking incredulously why on earth he had believed such an outlandish story and praying that none were near enough to hear the very real panic in my voice. He had simply replied that, for a spy, I was a rotten liar. I was reaching into my obi for the short knife I was allowed in those days when he frowned and, eyeing the arm hidden behind my back, told me that I needn't worry that he would betray me. I blinked at him in surprise and suspicion, and he muttered something about having been to Japan once and seen the beauty of the land and her people. There was a loneliness and wistful longing in his voice that brought to mind Shishio-sama. I had dropped my arm back to my side and nodded, moving from my position blocking his way and sitting back down on the garden bench. He headed back towards main house where the dance I was currently supposed to be attending was being held, but paused at the garden gate. When I glanced up and raised an eyebrow, he smiled and offered me his arm. The rest of my stay he had escorted me to parties and essentially rescued me from total boredom. I smiled fondly and forcibly returned my mind to the present, where Jessica had just finished hanging up the last necklace and pair of earrings.

Returning the now empty box to the bottom of the chest, she picked up one of the four remaining ones. It was the largest by far and was so full that it had had to be tied shut with a red ribbon. She glanced askance at me, hesitant to open it.

"Love letters." I felt my smile grow wider in amusement, "I received at least four a day during the last two weeks of my stay in Paris." That had been gratifying, but even more so was the disgusted reaction it elicited from my government watchdogs.

Jessica was gazing at the unopened box longingly, "How wonderful it must have been. I dare say I wouldn't have received a one."

I laughed and took the box from her, "You would have," I assured her with conviction, "Boys are silly like that. They only adored me so because I was 'exotic' and 'unusual' and 'amazingly different.'" I paused to scrunch my nose at her, "Their own words, mind, and none of them terribly original." I gave the red ribbon a gently tug and the box sprung open.

A bundle of letters, tied both together and individually with ribbons of soft gray, tumbled to the floor.

Jessica handed them to me as I set the box on a nearby table, careful to make sure no other bundles fell out. I knelt beside her on the floor and held the bundle to the candlelight. In the top corner of every envelope was a crest with a lion on it embossed in gold. "Monsieur Valaine. I met him at my very first ball. The only reason I remembered him at all was because he stepped on my feet when we danced, spilled lemonade on me when we didn't, and then sent me a letter every day till I left telling me how much of a goddess I was." Jessica gaped and laughed sympathetically, and my smile turned almost feral, "As if I wasn't already aware of that fact," I smoothed my hair.

Seeing her eyes glint with amusement, I blushed slightly and added ruefully, "You really have to give the poor child some credit though, for he's only eighteen and has spent the past ten years at a monastery." I shrugged and set the letters on the table beside the box of their kin. "Those go in my desk."

Nodding, Jessica peered back into the mostly empty chest, "What is in the rest of these?" she asked, waving a hand at the three remaining boxes.

"Hmmm... I believe that this one is hair ribbons, this one French cosmetics, and this..." I trailed off, my tired brain refusing to recall the day that I had packed the boxes in preparation for boarding the ship to America. "This one is..." I lifted the box out and opened a corner to peer in, "Oh. Patches."

Jessica blinked, totally clueless, and eyed the pale green kimono I was wearing. With a gentle laugh, I shook my head, "Not patches for clo-thing. In Paris, it is all the fashion for ladies to apply patches to their faces. I've heard that there is even a whole language that one can speak just by the type and placement of your patches, but understanding it eluded me for the most part." I shrugged and turned to the cabinet where Jessica had put my jewelry. Opening the first drawer my hand encountered, I opened the box and overturned it, dumping the patches haphazardly inside and then slamming the drawer shut. The ribbons followed into the drawer immediately below.

Jessica quickly stacked the jars of cosmetics on one of the tables. It had a mirror on the back, and I recalled that it was quite aptly named a 'vanity.' My government escort had taken inordinate pleasure in informing me of that fact one morning when I refused to leave my cabin until I had finished fixing my hair. For a few days, this had provided them no end of entertainment and me no end of annoyance, till I finally grew tired and put an end to the snide comments.

For several minutes, we tugged and pushed the chest until it set up against the far wall, out of our way. I considered just lifting it up and moving it myself, but I decided it would probably be a bad idea to appear stronger than is normal for a woman. By the time we finished Jessica was winded, so we paused to assess the situation.

"Well... That's one out of," I counted quickly and sighed, "eight. Not counting the all the boxes."

Jessica moaned and slumped onto the chest, "We're never going to finish! My whole family combined doesn't have this much..." She trailed off, a slight flush climbing her cheeks. "Well, we'd better get what you'll need for class tomorrow out before bedtime."

I nodded at the practicality of that statement, berating myself for not thinking of it in the first place. Glancing around, I spotted the chests containing my 'Eastern garb' as the government lackeys had called it. "Those are the only clo-thing that I ever wear." I glanced sideways as Jessica made a small noise.

She was biting her lip and appeared to be having a debate with herself. Finally, she noticed me watching and mumbled, "Clothing. It's clothing."

"Clothing?" She nodded. "Clothing." Shrugging, I helped her up and padded over to the first of two chests. It was my favorite, and one of my few remaining possessions from my time as a member of the Juppon Gatana. I pulled my key ring out of my obi and unlocked the beautifully carved silver lock. As I opened the chest, Jessica gasped behind me.

"I can see how French clothing would seem so inconsequential if that is what you are used to!" she whispered. Her amazed oohing and aahing continued as I lifted the emerald green silk outer kimono. It had been hand embroidered in a paler green with dozens of large lotus flowers. Jessica's eyes widened in amazement at the sheer simplicity, and yet intense beauty, of the design. They widened even more when they saw the volume of fabric that comprised the kimono, then narrowed in confusion, "How... Where can you hang it?"

I laughed lightly and bent to dig around at one side of the chest. A moment later, my hand emerged, dragging an odd looking contraption of wood and springs with it. "Monsieur du Pase, a kindly and eccentric elder gentleman who lived next door to us in Paris, crafted these for me when I had the same problem there." With a sharp tug, I pulled on the two front portions of wood and they swung outward, locking in place to form a solid bar of wood with a hook in the exact center. Handing this to Jessica, I draped the kimono over it, smoothing the fabric carefully. Then, I carefully folded the two bars back in, crossing the sleeves over the main body of the kimono and compacting it enough to make it a simple matter to hang in the clothes press.

Or it would have been a simple matter if there was any room in the clothes press not taken up by the riotously colored French dresses. For a long moment we examined the situation in silence.

Finally, I turned to Jessica, "There's no help for it. My kimono will never fit with all those ridiculous dresses in there, and my kimono are the important things. We'll have to pack the dresses back up..." Seeing her face fall, I sprung my trap, "Unless you will keep some of them in your room for me...?" She opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off, "No?" I sighed loudly, "Well then help me take them all down to pack back up." Reaching out I grabbed a handful of dresses and headed across the room to the chest they had previously inhabited. I smirked as I noticed Jessica was not following me.

"...wait..." I almost didn't hear her soft protest. Turning, I raised an eyebrow in question. She stared piercingly at me for a moment and then gave a huff. "Oh, fine!" She snatched the dresses out of my hands and grabbed another handful out of the press. "I'm only doing this because there's no room in your closet, and if you pack them back up for the full term, they'll get permanently creased. Besides, my clothes-press has a lock on it, so they'll be safe enough in it." She turned and flounced out of the room. I smiled softly at her retreating back. I was even forced to chuckle when, even as put out as she was, she shut the door with enough care that it barely clicked.

By the time she returned, I had hung the entire first chest of kimono up and was just opening the second chest. She knocked so quietly for a moment I thought it was my imagination, but then the door was opened a crack and she slipped in timidly. Apparently during her absence, her pique had worn off. With a sheepish smile, she joined me at the chest.

This chest was rather plain, bought more for function and sturdiness than decor. The appearance was echoed perfectly in the contents. It held a few dozen plain under kimono, all my obi and the various things for tying them, my tabi, long strips of cloth of various uses, a few pair of getta, and a dozen pair of zori.

Smirking I noted that in these two chests, I had more clothes than most people use their entire lives. I had been rather annoyed at my guides when they took me shopping, so I had decided that I was going to milk my new position for all it was worth. It had been grand, my last day in Japan, in Tokyo, almost a year ago, to walk into a shop, point, and have any item I desired purchased. Needless to say, I had gotten a bit carried away, however, I justified it with the fact that I would not be returning to my home for a long, long time.

Shaking off the melancholy that that thought brought with it, I noticed that Jessica had been unusually quiet during my packing. Chalking it up to awe at the very strangeness of the items, I placed the last pair of zori in the bottom of the clothes press.

As I turned from the chest, stretching to ease my slightly aching back, a movement caught my eye. I chuckled under my breath. Jessica had dozed off standing up, and was swaying slightly. I eyed the metal corset amusedly.

Well, at least they are good for something.

"Jessica..." I whispered, tapping her on the shoulder, "Jessica, wake up." Her eyes opened sleepily, no recognition in their clouded depths. I tapped her again, and she jumped, realizing where she was and mumbling a sleepy apology. I shrugged it off and steered her toward the door, ignoring her half-hearted protests.

With a gentle shove, I sent her out the door. A soft "'rigatou" drifted back to me, and I giggled. Once I had made sure that she made it to her room, I closed the door and went back to work, unpacking the various boxes of hair accessories and cosmetics and assorted miscellaneous items that accompanied my clothing.

The large grandfather clock in the main entry was just chiming midnight when I fell into the passably comfortable western bed. There hadn't been time to unpack my futon.

My head hit the pillow at chime number three, and I had a rather sour thought: One day down, only one hundred and eighty or so more to go... I couldn't summon up the energy to grimace.

The last sound I heard was the clock's fourth chime as darkness blanketed me.

*****

[1] Mata kimasu- I'll return later.