Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Boy for Sale ❯ Houseboy ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Lord Gackt 
adult situations
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.16.2008 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
adult situations
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.16.2008 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Weiss Kreuz nor am I profiting from this, it is for pure reading enjoyment. The wonderful Koyasu Takehito is the creator.
The horses began pulling and Yohji slumped forward from the force. Repositioning himself, he felt safer sitting down in the hay. Standing up only gave him a closer view of his small neighborhood playmates waving to him, unaware that their friend had just been sold into child slavery. His new purpose in life was to serve his master and his master’s family.
The sky had been dark with the tiredness of early morning when it all began, but now the sun had come out of hiding. Yohji was pulled off of the cart when they arrived at the big house. It was a nice home made of stones and a wooden peeked roof, much more elegant than the square, mud houses from his village. There were a couple of fruit trees in the front yard that told him he was most likely on a ranch. They made the boy smile. It was a luxury he had never seen before. The surroundings suggested that a well off family lived here, people of integrity and grace…well, as far as local stereotypes went. Poor people like himself were considered parasites while the wealthy were sometimes worshiped.
“Come into the house, boy!” demanded an old woman in the front doorway. She looked like an old crone, dressed in worn out clothing with a matching headdress that was just as ugly. Follow me to the bed chambers. C’mon, hurry up!” Yohji did as told. “Now you usually ain’t supposed to be in here, but one of the girls took ill, so you’ll be taken her place for the next couple days. Make the beds and sweep up in here. The woman was surprised to see worried eyes staring back at her. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked, wrinkling her nose even more than it was naturally. “Start making the beds!”
“I dunno how...” Yohji replied in a low voice.
The old woman rolled her eyes. “You must be new at this,” she said with her hands to her hips. The truth was that Yohji never had a real bed himself, and therefore didn’t know how to make one up. “Should’ve known she’d be too stubborn to hire somebody with experience. Fine, I’ll show you what to do and you copy. So, pay attention.”
The beds had been a challenge, but Yohji got the hang of things fairly easily. Shortly afterward he noticed a girl passing through the hallway with a basket of laundry in her hands. She giggled at him. It was quite funny to see a man doing woman’s work. She was surprised that he wasn’t outside with the other boys, handling the animals. When Yohji was done with his chores he went looking for the old crone to ask her what else he needed to do. He hoped that doing a very good job would win him the respect of the master’s household. His new Mistress, the widow Cora Sorano, was not impressed. She awoke from her bed chamber and slipped on a flowing purple robe. It was part of her morning ritual to walk into the sitting room and reach out of one of the windows for fruit from the apple tree. That’s when she saw Yohji, tidying up. “What are you doing in here?” she asked in a cold tone.
“I was told to clean up for you mistress.”
“Why aren’t you outside collecting water, or fishing or something?” she demanded, folding her arms.
“One of the house girls is sick. I’m taking her place.”
Suddenly, the lady of the house smiled an amused, sarcastic smile. “Yes, I suppose so. You seem to be the youngest and newest of all the boys so...naturally, you’re the bitch.” Yohji swallowed hard. He hadn’t yet considered the fact that he might have to prove himself not only to this family, but to the other help in order to gain acceptance. “Now go fetch me a damp towel to clean this apple with.”
“Yes mistress,” Yohji bowed his head politely and took off in the other direction.
+++
As the day grew longer, Yohji’s responsibilities changed. His commander, the old crone who he soon learned was named Irma, stood before him. “It’s almost supper, go into the kitchen and do whatever the girls ask of you.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Yohji found himself peeling potatoes. His father had always taught him that women were feeble and impatient, that’s why they worked from home. The world was just too complicated for them. It was information that the blonde boy took as truth. But all the bed making, dusting, floor scrubbing, dishwashing, and potato peeling at hand had led him to believe differently. “Women’s work” as it was so often referred to, wasn’t nearly as simple as his father and other men made it out to be.
Houseboy
“Father! Father, no!” Yohji screamed as the young boy of merely 14 was taken away and thrown into the back of a caged cart. He grasped his fists around the wooden bars, watching in despair as he saw his captors pay his father in large gold coins.The horses began pulling and Yohji slumped forward from the force. Repositioning himself, he felt safer sitting down in the hay. Standing up only gave him a closer view of his small neighborhood playmates waving to him, unaware that their friend had just been sold into child slavery. His new purpose in life was to serve his master and his master’s family.
The sky had been dark with the tiredness of early morning when it all began, but now the sun had come out of hiding. Yohji was pulled off of the cart when they arrived at the big house. It was a nice home made of stones and a wooden peeked roof, much more elegant than the square, mud houses from his village. There were a couple of fruit trees in the front yard that told him he was most likely on a ranch. They made the boy smile. It was a luxury he had never seen before. The surroundings suggested that a well off family lived here, people of integrity and grace…well, as far as local stereotypes went. Poor people like himself were considered parasites while the wealthy were sometimes worshiped.
“Come into the house, boy!” demanded an old woman in the front doorway. She looked like an old crone, dressed in worn out clothing with a matching headdress that was just as ugly. Follow me to the bed chambers. C’mon, hurry up!” Yohji did as told. “Now you usually ain’t supposed to be in here, but one of the girls took ill, so you’ll be taken her place for the next couple days. Make the beds and sweep up in here. The woman was surprised to see worried eyes staring back at her. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked, wrinkling her nose even more than it was naturally. “Start making the beds!”
“I dunno how...” Yohji replied in a low voice.
The old woman rolled her eyes. “You must be new at this,” she said with her hands to her hips. The truth was that Yohji never had a real bed himself, and therefore didn’t know how to make one up. “Should’ve known she’d be too stubborn to hire somebody with experience. Fine, I’ll show you what to do and you copy. So, pay attention.”
The beds had been a challenge, but Yohji got the hang of things fairly easily. Shortly afterward he noticed a girl passing through the hallway with a basket of laundry in her hands. She giggled at him. It was quite funny to see a man doing woman’s work. She was surprised that he wasn’t outside with the other boys, handling the animals. When Yohji was done with his chores he went looking for the old crone to ask her what else he needed to do. He hoped that doing a very good job would win him the respect of the master’s household. His new Mistress, the widow Cora Sorano, was not impressed. She awoke from her bed chamber and slipped on a flowing purple robe. It was part of her morning ritual to walk into the sitting room and reach out of one of the windows for fruit from the apple tree. That’s when she saw Yohji, tidying up. “What are you doing in here?” she asked in a cold tone.
“I was told to clean up for you mistress.”
“Why aren’t you outside collecting water, or fishing or something?” she demanded, folding her arms.
“One of the house girls is sick. I’m taking her place.”
Suddenly, the lady of the house smiled an amused, sarcastic smile. “Yes, I suppose so. You seem to be the youngest and newest of all the boys so...naturally, you’re the bitch.” Yohji swallowed hard. He hadn’t yet considered the fact that he might have to prove himself not only to this family, but to the other help in order to gain acceptance. “Now go fetch me a damp towel to clean this apple with.”
“Yes mistress,” Yohji bowed his head politely and took off in the other direction.
+++
As the day grew longer, Yohji’s responsibilities changed. His commander, the old crone who he soon learned was named Irma, stood before him. “It’s almost supper, go into the kitchen and do whatever the girls ask of you.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Yohji found himself peeling potatoes. His father had always taught him that women were feeble and impatient, that’s why they worked from home. The world was just too complicated for them. It was information that the blonde boy took as truth. But all the bed making, dusting, floor scrubbing, dishwashing, and potato peeling at hand had led him to believe differently. “Women’s work” as it was so often referred to, wasn’t nearly as simple as his father and other men made it out to be.
+++
It was time for dinner and Yohji was still in charge of the potatoes. Right now, they were boiling with other vegetables in a chicken broth. Once the potatoes had gone tender, the soup was ready. He scooped it into several bowls that were whisked away on wooden trays by the girl servant.
The Sorano family took their places at the rectangular dining table. The lady of the house sat at the head of it. Her mother and two young daughters sat on the adjacent sides. When bread was placed on the table, they all reached for a piece and began dipping it in their soup as if it were customary. A surprise came to the daughter Fauna’s face first. “This is different,” she began. Her grandmother nodded her head with identical surprise. Her toddler sister Fiona just babbled
“I agree. What have you done differently?” Lady Cora asked while looking at a servant girl who was standing in the corner incase anyone needed her.
“Nothing, Mistress!” the girl said hastily. Fearing the woman was displeased. “It was that new boy. He must’ve tampered with my recipe. It’s all him!”
“Bring him here.”
“Yes Mistress,” agreed the girl who practically dragged Yohji out to the dinning room.
“Boy, what did you put in this soup? It doesn’t taste like usual.”
“Uh, well no one told me what to do. They just kept fussing at me, so I added whatever I thought might taste good. I added all the vegetables I was given, some salt, sugar, garlic and those red chilies that I found in the cupboard. I hope you aren’t offended.”
“Not at all.” Cora paused while eating. “Congratulations, everyone knows that I’m a very finicky eater, but you managed to get me to like something new. And just when I was beginning to hate you.” Yohji gulped slightly. “You can return to the kitchen now.”
The boy-chef bowed his head and went back to washing the pots and pans.
At night, Irma took Yohji to a shed out back where all the other slave-boys slept. Most of them didn’t even notice him come in because they were so exhausted from the physical labor of the day. Yohji was almost asleep when he was gently awoken from bed. “Hm?”
“Shhh…” Cora insisted. She beckoned for Yohji to follow her back into the main house. The young boy entered a small, cozy bedroom that had simple furnishing. “This will be your room.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get too happy. You’re only staying here because you did a good job with the food tonight and I want you to keep working in the kitchen. I won’t have my meals being handled by someone who sleeps in a dirty shed and I’m tired of those house girls bringing me tasteless rubbish. How old are you by the way?”
“Fourteen going on fifteen tomorrow.”
“Good, that’s just the right age to become an apprentice to Irma. She can’t cook much anymore because she has stiff joints and poor eye-sight, but she can teach just fine. Now smile, you won’t be spending your birthday in the yard with the other boys. Good night,” the woman said flatly and shut the bedroom door behind her.
Now it was Yohji’s responsibility to earn his keep. He had to learn well and cook well in order to keep his cushy room in the house and stay on Lady Sorano’s good side.
+++
Yohji became the center of hatred in the home. The female servants felt threatened by his presence in a place where only they were once allowed.
Yohji stayed with the Sorano family for six years, one year over due. Traditionally, slave boy’s only lived with their masters until the age of twenty, before either being freed or consenting to work for the household in exchange for of wages. But Yohji had proven to be a good cook and fairly good entertainment. Over time, even the servant girls who had once hated him began to like him, though they were often reluctant to admit it. With Yohji’s age came the promise of being kicked out of the main house. He was no longer a boy, he was a man and it wasn’t appropriate for him to live in the home anymore as a non-blood relative with no husband in the home. Fortunately, Lady Sorano was being largely pursued by a man named Bradley Crawford. They wedded and with a patriarchal figure present, Yohji was able to stay in the home.
Master Bradley had entered the family as a perfect gentleman. He was charming, intelligent, and he treated his stepdaughters as if they were his own. But there were a few situations when he had acted particularly strangely.
+++
Yohji answered his chamber door one night when he heard a soft knock. He allowed Bradley to come in. “Master Bradley, how can I serve you–,”
“I’m here on your behalf, not mine.” The man kept staring for a moment.
“Would you like to have seat?” Yohji offered. The older man slowly lowered himself onto a bench. He remained quiet. “I have some fruit if you want an–,”
“You know, you’re such a bright boy. I can’t imagine you working as a house slave for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not so bad. I have friends here and–”
“I have a fair amount of wealth and power in the community…I could make things happen for you; school, a good job outside of slavery…Yohji, if you could be anything in the world, what would it be?”
“I…” Yohji found himself in thought for a moment. No one had ever asked him that question before. He’d always accepted that his destiny was already planned for him. “A real chef maybe. I really like cooking and I’m good at it.”
“It’s settled then, you’ll help me with whatever I want and I’ll help you get into a culinary school.”
“Help you in what way? I have nothing to offer.”
“You have plenty.” Bradley crossed the room to stroke Yohji’s hair. The younger boy pulled away in disgust. “I hope you didn’t think I’d just let you go off to school for free,” the older man grinned.
“You won’t disrespect my lady’s home through infidelity with me!”
“I’m the man of this house now. My word is the highest authority and I’ll have whoever I want. Maybe it’s time you started bunking with the rest of the men slaves.” Yohji squinted his eyes. “Oh don’t look so sad, there’s always an alternative for such a handsome young fellow.”
Yohji eyed the bedroom door which was slightly ajar and made a break for it, but Bradley had already caught on and wrestled him to the floor before hitting him in the head with an oil lamp. Yohji’s limp body rested on the floor as his attacker tried to get his breath back.
Quietly, Yohji was dragged outside. Lord Bradley found a wheelbarrow and threw the boy inside. He transported his victim to the stables and from there Yohji was loaded onto an enclosed cart, much like the one he’d first arrived in.
Bradley could have killed Yohji, but he wanted the disobedient slave boy to suffer. He dumped Yohji in an alley where no one would see the misdeed and took off. He knew that Yohji might find his way back, but when he did, Bradley would be prepared to make his life miserable with lies and manipulation until the boy was ready to submit.
+++
When Yohji awoke, he slowly opened his green eyes, trying to make sense of his unfamiliar surroundings. That’s when he recalled the previous night. The bump he felt on the back of his head was a reminder as well.
“Good, you’re awake,” a scruffy, short man said. “I found some kids trying to pick your pockets. They were mad when they saw you didn’t have anything, so then they tried to take your nice clothes, but I ran ‘em off.”
“Where am I?” the boy asked.
“Well, I’m Jack Fennigan and you’re in my home. The wife and I dragged you in from the street.”
“That’s kind of you,” Yohji said slowly.
“Yep! No…To be honest, we saw your fancy clothes and hoped that if we returned you to your rich family we’d get a reward or somethin’.” Yohji began to laugh. “Alright, so a reward is out of the question, is it?”
“I’m not from a rich family. But I do work for one and they provide me with nice things.”
“What family is this?”
“The…uh…” Yohji started rubbing his head. “Just a moment, I should know this.”
“Have you been drinkin’? Is that why you were passed out?”
“No, I was in a struggle with someone, but…I don’t remember his name. I can’t even remember the name of the area I live in. I think the family name is Sor…Sorano!”
“Well, you’re in Oddlesburg right now, does that help any?”
Yohji shook his head. “No.” He stood up and began pacing. “I have to get back. I have to get back,” he repeated. “I just don’t remember the way.”
“Well, it looks like that nasty bump you keep rubbing at on the back of your head may have scrambled up your brain or somethin’. Hmm…You say you work for a family? A you a free-man?”
“No, I’m obligated to the Sorano family for ten years. That’s what they paid for anyway and although Lady Sorano likes me, a deal is a deal for her.”
“Oh, well then I know just where you can find some help. There’s a slave trade market nearby that has an office of slave-master records. Maybe they can look up the Sorano family for you and jog your memory about how to get back home.”
The old man took Yohji to the slave trade market. It was full of prospective buyers and slaves who had mostly been captured from a newly defeated nation after battle. “Thank you for your help,” Yohji smiled and shook hands with the old man. “I wish I could repay you somehow.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just get home!”
“I will.” The boy went into the large market and accidentally bumped into a long line of slaves who were shackled together and being hurried by as an auction took place. He kept his eyes open for the main office, where they might have his records. “There it is!” Suddenly, a gun shot went off. One of the slaves had managed to unchain himself and several others.
“Get ‘em!” an auctioneer yelled. “Hurry!”
Trying to get by, Yohji was thrown into the shuffle as a crowed of slaves surrounded him. “Here’s another one, shackle him!”
“What?!” Yohji yelled as he felt his arm grabbed. “No, I’m not one of them!”
“Shut up! I recognize those clothes. You must be from the nobility you brat! You’re country never should have gone to war over territory that was never yours.” The other man sounded bitter.
“No, these clothes were a gift. I don’t know where they came from. I’m here to find my way back home to–,”
“Just shut up!” Yohji’s captor cracked a whip across him and a few other captives. They all went down easily and were later forced onto a ship. Yohji was a slave again, but this time as a deckhand on a ship called the Silver Maiden. It was his responsibility to keep everything clear of debris and relay heavy boxes from below deck and back down again each time they came to a new port. He kept eyeing the galley every time it came into view, thinking about how he used to love working in the kitchen at home.
“What are you looking at?!” demanded Shark, his commander.
“Nothing Sir.”
“Oh, so after just two days you’re tired of moving cargo, eh? Well, too fuckin’ bad! You ain’t part of the noble class no more, little prince!” Everyone began to laugh at Yohji’s expense.
“I was never a noble! I’m here by mistake and when the Sorano family finds out what you’ve done to me, you’ll get thrown in jail for thievery.”
“Who the hell is the Sorano family?”
“I worked for them since I was a boy and you’ve stolen me from them. I was the primary cook in their household.”
“Fine then, Princey. I’ll give you a chance to prove it. If you’re so good with food that you became primary cook, go into the galley and make me something. All we’ve got is stale bread, some fish, and maybe a few spices that we pirated this week. But I doubt that a little pepper will be of any help. So go on Princey, prove to us that you know what work is and that you aren’t just a spoiled brat. Otherwise, get thrown overboard!”
“Ooooh…” the rest of the men reacted.
“Gladly!” Yohji roared back.
The galley smelled awful. An overpowering scent of rotting onions permeated the air. He picked out a few healthy ones from the sack and threw the rest far away. Yohji chopped the onions and garlic before sautéing them. He found mackerel that had been preserved and mashed it together in a bowl with his fingers, adding the sautéed onion-garlic mixture with salt. Bread was crumbled in next and he kneaded the entire recipe together. A few sailors started to crowed around as they noticed that “Princey” seemed to know what he was doing. The pepper went in next to last once Yohji finally found it. But best of all, he managed to get a hold of some good eggs that hadn’t been broken. He cracked a couple of the eggs open and mixed them in too. The boy made patties out of the mixture and began frying them up on a griddle with a little oil. The aroma brought almost everyone to the galley doorway. They peeked in and whispered among themselves wondering when the food was going to be ready.
Yohji brought out a large tray of mackerel patties and everyone took a share. They ate quietly. Some of them were smiling to themselves while others chewed slowly to savor the taste. It wasn’t a meal exactly, but it was filling and it was much better than what they’d been eating lately.
“What else can you make?” asked Yohji’s commander.
“Plenty of things.”
“Good!”
“But only if you stop working me harder than everyone else and promise to let me go once we get back to the port you found me in, so that I can get back to my family.”
Shark thought about it for a while stroking his beard. “Deal.” The two men shook hands. “Alright, you worthless wimps, everybody back to work!
This was the first moment that Yohji had actually felt a glimmer of hope. Being on the ship for several days and looking into the dull eyes of other slaves had been dreadfully depressing.
Yohji thought he heard yelling, but he was too busy daydreaming about returning home to mind. Suddenly, the ship shook as a cannon ball hit the side. It brought him back into reality and he began to look around. It was pirates, the real kind. They weren’t like the sailors on this ship who stole every once in while out of greed or adventure, these people were professionals. They did it to help their people’s economy by pirating rare goods from ships of opposing nations for trade in their cities’ marketplaces. The black sail with the skull and crossbones said it all. Danger. A red flag with black stripes and thirteen white stars communicated another message. This ship hailed from the empire of Leilan. The Leilanese were well known for their naval supremacy.
“Take your positions!” Yohji and all the other men scrambled to the defense. As the other ship got closer, ropes with hooks on them were charged into the side of the Silver Maiden. Pirates began crawling across and swarming like insects. There were too many of them. Because the Silver Maiden had recently unloaded at a port, there weren’t many valuable things to take, but whichever slaves seemed to be fit and in good health were ordered onto the Leilanese ship at gunpoint. Slightly devastated by the cannon blow, there was no way for the Silver Maiden to catch up and wage revenge or at least get their stuff back.
+++
Although he was no longer at sea, everything seemed absolutely hopeless as Yohji sat in a bed of hay and rags in a cell. He was in some sort of dungeon where a uniformed man with a looking glass was inspecting him and the other captives before writing notations in a leather-bound booklet. “Sir,” Yohji called to him. “Sir.”
“What is it, rodent?”
Yohji frowned. He was tired of being called everything except for his name. “Sir, I can’t be a slave here. I belong to someone else.”
“When our ships pirated the one you were on, everything on board became ours, even you. Fair is fair.”
“No, you don’t understand. I was onboard by mistake and they were willing to take me back to the family that owns me, but–well, you know what happened.” The other man didn’t seem moved. “Listen, I was kidnapped from the Sorano family by a man named Bradley Crawford. Once the lawmen from my country find out that you’re holding me, they’ll consider you an accessory to Crawford and you’ll be in deep shit!”
“Fine,” the man rolled his eyes. “What is your name?”
“Yohji Kudou.”
“I’ll search some slave trade records for the name of the family you say owns you. But if you aren’t listed under their household you might as well start making yourself at home.”
Soon afterward, it was time for all of the slaves to be put to work. Yohji however, was left in the dungeon. Common law stated that if you made a kidnapped slave do work, you would owe wages to his or her rightful owners. And depending on the circumstances, the rate could be rather steep. It was best to just keep the blonde out of the way while an investigation of his history went on.
+++
After two days, Yohji could hardly stand it anymore. He was always alone in the dungeon and very little light came in through the iron bars of the small windows. Candles were only lit at night, but by then he was ready to sleep.
On the sixth day Yohji was found in his cell completely naked with a blank stare on his face when a maid came to serve him water. He was in a trance that had been brought on by a combination of claustrophobia, loneliness, and boredom. A doctor was informed of is condition and came down to take a look. “Fresh air. Take him for a walk,” the doctor insisted as he packed up his medical bag.
The long haired man was bathed and given a clean pair of clothes that the other slaves had already received as fieldwork attire. Yohji was led to a stone bench in a garden where the greenery around him only intensified the color of his eyes, as noted by the maid who was accompanying him. “Such beautiful eyes.” Yohji pulled away as she leaned nearer to him. “Sorry. I almost forgot about your nervous condition.” Just then a party of three men strolled by. They all looked very sharp and official, but the one in the middle was the most impressive. He had delicate porcelain skin and lavender eyes that were framed by dark lashes. His red hair shined under the sunlight and complimented the royal blue of his cape. The uniform underneath was of varying degrees of more blue with gold filigree embellishments. His tall black boots commanded authority and all together, he managed to catch Yohji’s otherwise unattainable attention.
“What’s going on?!” demanded one of the men coming toward Yohji and the girl. “How dare you bring a slave away from his work, and a man no less. You whore, you and your sweetheart will be punished!”
“No,” the girl tried to explain. “He’s sick! He’s very sick! I was told take him out of the dungeon. A doctor even came to look at him,” she said frantically. She’d never been in trouble before.
“Enough,” said the redhead. “Is this the one who claims ownership by another family?”
“Yes,” the maid nodded her head.
“I recall hearing about him.” The red haired man turned his attention to Yohji and looked at his hands, grabbing one of them abruptly. “You’re no slave boy!” the red haired man nearly growled. “Your hands are too soft, too clean…they don’t have any scars!” the other man said as he completed his inspection. “You’re a liar! You’ve just been trying to buy yourself time.”
“No!” Yohji pulled his hand back and shook his head. “I cook! I cook! I don’t do labor!” The boy stood up from the stone bench. But he was still in such a frail condition that his feet gave out underneath him. The maid braced him with help from one of the men.
+++
Yohji woke up an hour after the garden episode in a bed. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the one back home, but it was better than the dungeon floor of his cell. “Get up!” he heard a voice say. “Right now.” The young man erected himself from bed and threw his legs over the edge. The man practically yelling at him was the one he’d first met in the dungeon, taking notes on all of the prisoners. “It’s been nearly seven days and we’ve found no record of you as a registered slave.”
“I, I work for the Sorano family. You can look them up, they live in the countryside and–.”
“Oh, I know who they are,” the man interrupted. “But I saw no record of them owning a slave boy named Yohji Kudou.”
“Then there must be some mistake,” the young man insisted. His heart was beginning to beat more quickly with anxiety. “Can’t you send out a letter to them or something?”
“I’m not a postman and you’re not that important. Now let me see your hands.” The man took Yohji by his wrist. “The emperor was right, you don’t have hands like a slave,” the older man whispered to himself.
“I cook. I tried to tell him that. I don’t know if he listened.”
“Well, that still doesn’t escape you from work. You’ll just have to do it in the kitchen. I’ll have the kitchen staff fit you with the proper clothes, you certainly can’t wear those laborers rags in front of the emperor or his guests, especially not tonight,” the man said as he began leaving the room.
“Tonight? Sir! Sir, please.”
“That’s General Morrison to you.”
“My apologies General, but what exactly is going on tonight?”
“A party, all of the kitchen staff will be on duty, so pay attention to whatever you’re told to do.”
Yohji only had a few moments to himself before the sous-chef, Andrea, arrived. He was given a uniform of black pants, and a burgundy jacket with black and gold trim to wear over a crisp white shirt. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail with black ribbon to complete the outfit. “Let’s go,” Andrea beckoned. She began cooking while explaining his role in tonight’s activities to him. “It’s very simple. The first wave of servants will bring the food out. It’s your job to clear each course just before they bring the next one out. We’ll rehearse soon. Just remember to be polite, don’t speak unless spoken to, and wait for the announcement before clearing the plates. Don’t just starting taking food away left and right. You got it?”
The blonde already knew this method of serving food. After all, he’d been primary cook in the Sorano household for years and had served a dozen or more large parties during the holidays. But now he knew it was best to just listen and take direction. Being that there was an impending rehearsal, he had a feeling things might get more complicated.
+++
It wasn’t until the guests arrived that Yohji started to become nervous. He could hear the echoes of their laughter and voices as the entered the openness of the main hall. From behind a corner, he could see their shadows on the black and white checkered floor as they passed under the great chandelier. He swallowed hard and took his position with the other “second wave” servants at the back of the kitchen.
When dinner began, the head chef inspected each platter once before the first course was taken out to the dinning table. “Second wave, enter the dining room in exactly ten minutes.” Andrea directed. It was up to her to keep the servants in line so that the head chef could concentrate more on the meals being prepared.
Yohji followed the line of servants into the grand dining room. As the first course came to a close, he and his team removed the plates and fluidly walked through the empty spaces in the line of first wave servants who were walking forward with the next course. At the end of the large dining room four servants entered the kitchen from the left while four others went in through the right. All of the guests smiled with delight each time the kitchen staff traded off this way. Choreography was something Yohji and the servant girls never practiced at home. But here in Fujimiya’s palace, dinner was not only delicious, it was entertaining. The harpists made it especially delightful. Emperor Fujimiya however, was not amused. Not because he’d seen it all so many times, but because he just wasn’t a social person. He preferred solitude and only attended these parties because his family and advisors insisted upon them.
The redhead did not join his guests for dessert out on the patio and retired to his bedchamber instead. He rang a bell for about ten seconds before a maid recognized the sound and came rushing to his room. She knocked at the door. “Come in,” he replied.
“You rang, Sir?”
“I want dessert brought to my room.”
“Yes Sir.” The girl strode as quickly as she could to the kitchen and alerted the sous-chef who was usually in charge of bringing the emperor his food upon request, but she passed on the responsibility to Yohji.
The green eyed boy quietly delivered a glass dish of dessert to his new master. He bowed and began to leave.
“I havn’t dismissed you yet,” Fujimiya said. “Sit,” the emperor demanded, pointing to a sofa against the wall. He was insulted that Yohji, who he already had a bad impression of hadn’t bothered to ask if there was anything else he could do for his master. So to punish him, he made the boy wait in utter nervousness. He stared at him with cold eyes and wouldn’t look away while eating his food in bed. But part of him knew it was wrong to put so much pressure on someone who hadn’t done anything terribly wrong. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Yohji Kudou.”
“Well, I’m Emperor Ran Fujimiya in case you don’t know already.
“Pleased to meet you, Master.”
“You’re being here leads me to believe that they still haven’t located your slave trade records, have they?”
“No, Master.”
“Judging by your attire, I see they’ve got you working in the kitchen. Isn’t that what you say you did in your old home?”
“Yes.”
The redhead stared at his glass dish oddly for a moment. “I could’ve sworn that Chef Beauvais made cinnamon pastries today for dessert, but this is pudding. In fact, I’m sure he did. My mother requested it for the party because they’re her favorite. Where did you get this?” the man said in reference to the pudding. “Did Beauvais make it especially for me?”
“No, I made it in secret for myself. The guests had eaten all the pastries, so I brought it to you in exchange. I hope you aren’t insulted.”
“Only if it’s poison,” the redhead lifted a suspicious brow and stopped eating for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on Yohji. “Come here. Kneel before my bed.” The long haired man obeyed without resistance. “Open your mouth.” Ran fed his servant a spoonful of the dessert. “Now swallow it and hold out your tongue.” The redhead inspected Yohji’s mouth to make sure that the food had actually gone down. “Hm, you don’t seem to be dead or dying.”
“I assure you, Master it’s no poison, just banana pudding with cookies, and fresh banana.”
“Ha! It tastes a lot more exquisite than that. I’m beginning to wonder if you really made this at all.”
“It was none other than I, Master. I made the pudding with a fair amount of cinnamon, vanilla, and some other spices. Then I poured layers of it and the cookies with banana in a dish before letting it sit in the ice box so that the flavor would mature. Don’t those plain cookies taste better than usual?” Yohji spoke with a passion.
“Yes, they do,” Ran admitted. He wanted to smile, but no one was allowed to see that part of him. It was very uncharacteristic for him to carry out even the simplest of conversations with the domestic help, especially new ones…but being around Yohji had a calming affect.
“What else can you make?”
Yohji smiled for a moment before answering. “Plenty of things.” He shut his eyes briefly while saying those words once more and hoped that this time he’d actually get a chance to prove it.
It was time for dinner and Yohji was still in charge of the potatoes. Right now, they were boiling with other vegetables in a chicken broth. Once the potatoes had gone tender, the soup was ready. He scooped it into several bowls that were whisked away on wooden trays by the girl servant.
The Sorano family took their places at the rectangular dining table. The lady of the house sat at the head of it. Her mother and two young daughters sat on the adjacent sides. When bread was placed on the table, they all reached for a piece and began dipping it in their soup as if it were customary. A surprise came to the daughter Fauna’s face first. “This is different,” she began. Her grandmother nodded her head with identical surprise. Her toddler sister Fiona just babbled
“I agree. What have you done differently?” Lady Cora asked while looking at a servant girl who was standing in the corner incase anyone needed her.
“Nothing, Mistress!” the girl said hastily. Fearing the woman was displeased. “It was that new boy. He must’ve tampered with my recipe. It’s all him!”
“Bring him here.”
“Yes Mistress,” agreed the girl who practically dragged Yohji out to the dinning room.
“Boy, what did you put in this soup? It doesn’t taste like usual.”
“Uh, well no one told me what to do. They just kept fussing at me, so I added whatever I thought might taste good. I added all the vegetables I was given, some salt, sugar, garlic and those red chilies that I found in the cupboard. I hope you aren’t offended.”
“Not at all.” Cora paused while eating. “Congratulations, everyone knows that I’m a very finicky eater, but you managed to get me to like something new. And just when I was beginning to hate you.” Yohji gulped slightly. “You can return to the kitchen now.”
The boy-chef bowed his head and went back to washing the pots and pans.
At night, Irma took Yohji to a shed out back where all the other slave-boys slept. Most of them didn’t even notice him come in because they were so exhausted from the physical labor of the day. Yohji was almost asleep when he was gently awoken from bed. “Hm?”
“Shhh…” Cora insisted. She beckoned for Yohji to follow her back into the main house. The young boy entered a small, cozy bedroom that had simple furnishing. “This will be your room.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get too happy. You’re only staying here because you did a good job with the food tonight and I want you to keep working in the kitchen. I won’t have my meals being handled by someone who sleeps in a dirty shed and I’m tired of those house girls bringing me tasteless rubbish. How old are you by the way?”
“Fourteen going on fifteen tomorrow.”
“Good, that’s just the right age to become an apprentice to Irma. She can’t cook much anymore because she has stiff joints and poor eye-sight, but she can teach just fine. Now smile, you won’t be spending your birthday in the yard with the other boys. Good night,” the woman said flatly and shut the bedroom door behind her.
Now it was Yohji’s responsibility to earn his keep. He had to learn well and cook well in order to keep his cushy room in the house and stay on Lady Sorano’s good side.
+++
Yohji became the center of hatred in the home. The female servants felt threatened by his presence in a place where only they were once allowed.
Yohji stayed with the Sorano family for six years, one year over due. Traditionally, slave boy’s only lived with their masters until the age of twenty, before either being freed or consenting to work for the household in exchange for of wages. But Yohji had proven to be a good cook and fairly good entertainment. Over time, even the servant girls who had once hated him began to like him, though they were often reluctant to admit it. With Yohji’s age came the promise of being kicked out of the main house. He was no longer a boy, he was a man and it wasn’t appropriate for him to live in the home anymore as a non-blood relative with no husband in the home. Fortunately, Lady Sorano was being largely pursued by a man named Bradley Crawford. They wedded and with a patriarchal figure present, Yohji was able to stay in the home.
Master Bradley had entered the family as a perfect gentleman. He was charming, intelligent, and he treated his stepdaughters as if they were his own. But there were a few situations when he had acted particularly strangely.
+++
Yohji answered his chamber door one night when he heard a soft knock. He allowed Bradley to come in. “Master Bradley, how can I serve you–,”
“I’m here on your behalf, not mine.” The man kept staring for a moment.
“Would you like to have seat?” Yohji offered. The older man slowly lowered himself onto a bench. He remained quiet. “I have some fruit if you want an–,”
“You know, you’re such a bright boy. I can’t imagine you working as a house slave for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not so bad. I have friends here and–”
“I have a fair amount of wealth and power in the community…I could make things happen for you; school, a good job outside of slavery…Yohji, if you could be anything in the world, what would it be?”
“I…” Yohji found himself in thought for a moment. No one had ever asked him that question before. He’d always accepted that his destiny was already planned for him. “A real chef maybe. I really like cooking and I’m good at it.”
“It’s settled then, you’ll help me with whatever I want and I’ll help you get into a culinary school.”
“Help you in what way? I have nothing to offer.”
“You have plenty.” Bradley crossed the room to stroke Yohji’s hair. The younger boy pulled away in disgust. “I hope you didn’t think I’d just let you go off to school for free,” the older man grinned.
“You won’t disrespect my lady’s home through infidelity with me!”
“I’m the man of this house now. My word is the highest authority and I’ll have whoever I want. Maybe it’s time you started bunking with the rest of the men slaves.” Yohji squinted his eyes. “Oh don’t look so sad, there’s always an alternative for such a handsome young fellow.”
Yohji eyed the bedroom door which was slightly ajar and made a break for it, but Bradley had already caught on and wrestled him to the floor before hitting him in the head with an oil lamp. Yohji’s limp body rested on the floor as his attacker tried to get his breath back.
Quietly, Yohji was dragged outside. Lord Bradley found a wheelbarrow and threw the boy inside. He transported his victim to the stables and from there Yohji was loaded onto an enclosed cart, much like the one he’d first arrived in.
Bradley could have killed Yohji, but he wanted the disobedient slave boy to suffer. He dumped Yohji in an alley where no one would see the misdeed and took off. He knew that Yohji might find his way back, but when he did, Bradley would be prepared to make his life miserable with lies and manipulation until the boy was ready to submit.
+++
When Yohji awoke, he slowly opened his green eyes, trying to make sense of his unfamiliar surroundings. That’s when he recalled the previous night. The bump he felt on the back of his head was a reminder as well.
“Good, you’re awake,” a scruffy, short man said. “I found some kids trying to pick your pockets. They were mad when they saw you didn’t have anything, so then they tried to take your nice clothes, but I ran ‘em off.”
“Where am I?” the boy asked.
“Well, I’m Jack Fennigan and you’re in my home. The wife and I dragged you in from the street.”
“That’s kind of you,” Yohji said slowly.
“Yep! No…To be honest, we saw your fancy clothes and hoped that if we returned you to your rich family we’d get a reward or somethin’.” Yohji began to laugh. “Alright, so a reward is out of the question, is it?”
“I’m not from a rich family. But I do work for one and they provide me with nice things.”
“What family is this?”
“The…uh…” Yohji started rubbing his head. “Just a moment, I should know this.”
“Have you been drinkin’? Is that why you were passed out?”
“No, I was in a struggle with someone, but…I don’t remember his name. I can’t even remember the name of the area I live in. I think the family name is Sor…Sorano!”
“Well, you’re in Oddlesburg right now, does that help any?”
Yohji shook his head. “No.” He stood up and began pacing. “I have to get back. I have to get back,” he repeated. “I just don’t remember the way.”
“Well, it looks like that nasty bump you keep rubbing at on the back of your head may have scrambled up your brain or somethin’. Hmm…You say you work for a family? A you a free-man?”
“No, I’m obligated to the Sorano family for ten years. That’s what they paid for anyway and although Lady Sorano likes me, a deal is a deal for her.”
“Oh, well then I know just where you can find some help. There’s a slave trade market nearby that has an office of slave-master records. Maybe they can look up the Sorano family for you and jog your memory about how to get back home.”
The old man took Yohji to the slave trade market. It was full of prospective buyers and slaves who had mostly been captured from a newly defeated nation after battle. “Thank you for your help,” Yohji smiled and shook hands with the old man. “I wish I could repay you somehow.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just get home!”
“I will.” The boy went into the large market and accidentally bumped into a long line of slaves who were shackled together and being hurried by as an auction took place. He kept his eyes open for the main office, where they might have his records. “There it is!” Suddenly, a gun shot went off. One of the slaves had managed to unchain himself and several others.
“Get ‘em!” an auctioneer yelled. “Hurry!”
Trying to get by, Yohji was thrown into the shuffle as a crowed of slaves surrounded him. “Here’s another one, shackle him!”
“What?!” Yohji yelled as he felt his arm grabbed. “No, I’m not one of them!”
“Shut up! I recognize those clothes. You must be from the nobility you brat! You’re country never should have gone to war over territory that was never yours.” The other man sounded bitter.
“No, these clothes were a gift. I don’t know where they came from. I’m here to find my way back home to–,”
“Just shut up!” Yohji’s captor cracked a whip across him and a few other captives. They all went down easily and were later forced onto a ship. Yohji was a slave again, but this time as a deckhand on a ship called the Silver Maiden. It was his responsibility to keep everything clear of debris and relay heavy boxes from below deck and back down again each time they came to a new port. He kept eyeing the galley every time it came into view, thinking about how he used to love working in the kitchen at home.
“What are you looking at?!” demanded Shark, his commander.
“Nothing Sir.”
“Oh, so after just two days you’re tired of moving cargo, eh? Well, too fuckin’ bad! You ain’t part of the noble class no more, little prince!” Everyone began to laugh at Yohji’s expense.
“I was never a noble! I’m here by mistake and when the Sorano family finds out what you’ve done to me, you’ll get thrown in jail for thievery.”
“Who the hell is the Sorano family?”
“I worked for them since I was a boy and you’ve stolen me from them. I was the primary cook in their household.”
“Fine then, Princey. I’ll give you a chance to prove it. If you’re so good with food that you became primary cook, go into the galley and make me something. All we’ve got is stale bread, some fish, and maybe a few spices that we pirated this week. But I doubt that a little pepper will be of any help. So go on Princey, prove to us that you know what work is and that you aren’t just a spoiled brat. Otherwise, get thrown overboard!”
“Ooooh…” the rest of the men reacted.
“Gladly!” Yohji roared back.
The galley smelled awful. An overpowering scent of rotting onions permeated the air. He picked out a few healthy ones from the sack and threw the rest far away. Yohji chopped the onions and garlic before sautéing them. He found mackerel that had been preserved and mashed it together in a bowl with his fingers, adding the sautéed onion-garlic mixture with salt. Bread was crumbled in next and he kneaded the entire recipe together. A few sailors started to crowed around as they noticed that “Princey” seemed to know what he was doing. The pepper went in next to last once Yohji finally found it. But best of all, he managed to get a hold of some good eggs that hadn’t been broken. He cracked a couple of the eggs open and mixed them in too. The boy made patties out of the mixture and began frying them up on a griddle with a little oil. The aroma brought almost everyone to the galley doorway. They peeked in and whispered among themselves wondering when the food was going to be ready.
Yohji brought out a large tray of mackerel patties and everyone took a share. They ate quietly. Some of them were smiling to themselves while others chewed slowly to savor the taste. It wasn’t a meal exactly, but it was filling and it was much better than what they’d been eating lately.
“What else can you make?” asked Yohji’s commander.
“Plenty of things.”
“Good!”
“But only if you stop working me harder than everyone else and promise to let me go once we get back to the port you found me in, so that I can get back to my family.”
Shark thought about it for a while stroking his beard. “Deal.” The two men shook hands. “Alright, you worthless wimps, everybody back to work!
This was the first moment that Yohji had actually felt a glimmer of hope. Being on the ship for several days and looking into the dull eyes of other slaves had been dreadfully depressing.
Yohji thought he heard yelling, but he was too busy daydreaming about returning home to mind. Suddenly, the ship shook as a cannon ball hit the side. It brought him back into reality and he began to look around. It was pirates, the real kind. They weren’t like the sailors on this ship who stole every once in while out of greed or adventure, these people were professionals. They did it to help their people’s economy by pirating rare goods from ships of opposing nations for trade in their cities’ marketplaces. The black sail with the skull and crossbones said it all. Danger. A red flag with black stripes and thirteen white stars communicated another message. This ship hailed from the empire of Leilan. The Leilanese were well known for their naval supremacy.
“Take your positions!” Yohji and all the other men scrambled to the defense. As the other ship got closer, ropes with hooks on them were charged into the side of the Silver Maiden. Pirates began crawling across and swarming like insects. There were too many of them. Because the Silver Maiden had recently unloaded at a port, there weren’t many valuable things to take, but whichever slaves seemed to be fit and in good health were ordered onto the Leilanese ship at gunpoint. Slightly devastated by the cannon blow, there was no way for the Silver Maiden to catch up and wage revenge or at least get their stuff back.
+++
Although he was no longer at sea, everything seemed absolutely hopeless as Yohji sat in a bed of hay and rags in a cell. He was in some sort of dungeon where a uniformed man with a looking glass was inspecting him and the other captives before writing notations in a leather-bound booklet. “Sir,” Yohji called to him. “Sir.”
“What is it, rodent?”
Yohji frowned. He was tired of being called everything except for his name. “Sir, I can’t be a slave here. I belong to someone else.”
“When our ships pirated the one you were on, everything on board became ours, even you. Fair is fair.”
“No, you don’t understand. I was onboard by mistake and they were willing to take me back to the family that owns me, but–well, you know what happened.” The other man didn’t seem moved. “Listen, I was kidnapped from the Sorano family by a man named Bradley Crawford. Once the lawmen from my country find out that you’re holding me, they’ll consider you an accessory to Crawford and you’ll be in deep shit!”
“Fine,” the man rolled his eyes. “What is your name?”
“Yohji Kudou.”
“I’ll search some slave trade records for the name of the family you say owns you. But if you aren’t listed under their household you might as well start making yourself at home.”
Soon afterward, it was time for all of the slaves to be put to work. Yohji however, was left in the dungeon. Common law stated that if you made a kidnapped slave do work, you would owe wages to his or her rightful owners. And depending on the circumstances, the rate could be rather steep. It was best to just keep the blonde out of the way while an investigation of his history went on.
+++
After two days, Yohji could hardly stand it anymore. He was always alone in the dungeon and very little light came in through the iron bars of the small windows. Candles were only lit at night, but by then he was ready to sleep.
On the sixth day Yohji was found in his cell completely naked with a blank stare on his face when a maid came to serve him water. He was in a trance that had been brought on by a combination of claustrophobia, loneliness, and boredom. A doctor was informed of is condition and came down to take a look. “Fresh air. Take him for a walk,” the doctor insisted as he packed up his medical bag.
The long haired man was bathed and given a clean pair of clothes that the other slaves had already received as fieldwork attire. Yohji was led to a stone bench in a garden where the greenery around him only intensified the color of his eyes, as noted by the maid who was accompanying him. “Such beautiful eyes.” Yohji pulled away as she leaned nearer to him. “Sorry. I almost forgot about your nervous condition.” Just then a party of three men strolled by. They all looked very sharp and official, but the one in the middle was the most impressive. He had delicate porcelain skin and lavender eyes that were framed by dark lashes. His red hair shined under the sunlight and complimented the royal blue of his cape. The uniform underneath was of varying degrees of more blue with gold filigree embellishments. His tall black boots commanded authority and all together, he managed to catch Yohji’s otherwise unattainable attention.
“What’s going on?!” demanded one of the men coming toward Yohji and the girl. “How dare you bring a slave away from his work, and a man no less. You whore, you and your sweetheart will be punished!”
“No,” the girl tried to explain. “He’s sick! He’s very sick! I was told take him out of the dungeon. A doctor even came to look at him,” she said frantically. She’d never been in trouble before.
“Enough,” said the redhead. “Is this the one who claims ownership by another family?”
“Yes,” the maid nodded her head.
“I recall hearing about him.” The red haired man turned his attention to Yohji and looked at his hands, grabbing one of them abruptly. “You’re no slave boy!” the red haired man nearly growled. “Your hands are too soft, too clean…they don’t have any scars!” the other man said as he completed his inspection. “You’re a liar! You’ve just been trying to buy yourself time.”
“No!” Yohji pulled his hand back and shook his head. “I cook! I cook! I don’t do labor!” The boy stood up from the stone bench. But he was still in such a frail condition that his feet gave out underneath him. The maid braced him with help from one of the men.
+++
Yohji woke up an hour after the garden episode in a bed. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the one back home, but it was better than the dungeon floor of his cell. “Get up!” he heard a voice say. “Right now.” The young man erected himself from bed and threw his legs over the edge. The man practically yelling at him was the one he’d first met in the dungeon, taking notes on all of the prisoners. “It’s been nearly seven days and we’ve found no record of you as a registered slave.”
“I, I work for the Sorano family. You can look them up, they live in the countryside and–.”
“Oh, I know who they are,” the man interrupted. “But I saw no record of them owning a slave boy named Yohji Kudou.”
“Then there must be some mistake,” the young man insisted. His heart was beginning to beat more quickly with anxiety. “Can’t you send out a letter to them or something?”
“I’m not a postman and you’re not that important. Now let me see your hands.” The man took Yohji by his wrist. “The emperor was right, you don’t have hands like a slave,” the older man whispered to himself.
“I cook. I tried to tell him that. I don’t know if he listened.”
“Well, that still doesn’t escape you from work. You’ll just have to do it in the kitchen. I’ll have the kitchen staff fit you with the proper clothes, you certainly can’t wear those laborers rags in front of the emperor or his guests, especially not tonight,” the man said as he began leaving the room.
“Tonight? Sir! Sir, please.”
“That’s General Morrison to you.”
“My apologies General, but what exactly is going on tonight?”
“A party, all of the kitchen staff will be on duty, so pay attention to whatever you’re told to do.”
Yohji only had a few moments to himself before the sous-chef, Andrea, arrived. He was given a uniform of black pants, and a burgundy jacket with black and gold trim to wear over a crisp white shirt. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail with black ribbon to complete the outfit. “Let’s go,” Andrea beckoned. She began cooking while explaining his role in tonight’s activities to him. “It’s very simple. The first wave of servants will bring the food out. It’s your job to clear each course just before they bring the next one out. We’ll rehearse soon. Just remember to be polite, don’t speak unless spoken to, and wait for the announcement before clearing the plates. Don’t just starting taking food away left and right. You got it?”
The blonde already knew this method of serving food. After all, he’d been primary cook in the Sorano household for years and had served a dozen or more large parties during the holidays. But now he knew it was best to just listen and take direction. Being that there was an impending rehearsal, he had a feeling things might get more complicated.
+++
It wasn’t until the guests arrived that Yohji started to become nervous. He could hear the echoes of their laughter and voices as the entered the openness of the main hall. From behind a corner, he could see their shadows on the black and white checkered floor as they passed under the great chandelier. He swallowed hard and took his position with the other “second wave” servants at the back of the kitchen.
When dinner began, the head chef inspected each platter once before the first course was taken out to the dinning table. “Second wave, enter the dining room in exactly ten minutes.” Andrea directed. It was up to her to keep the servants in line so that the head chef could concentrate more on the meals being prepared.
Yohji followed the line of servants into the grand dining room. As the first course came to a close, he and his team removed the plates and fluidly walked through the empty spaces in the line of first wave servants who were walking forward with the next course. At the end of the large dining room four servants entered the kitchen from the left while four others went in through the right. All of the guests smiled with delight each time the kitchen staff traded off this way. Choreography was something Yohji and the servant girls never practiced at home. But here in Fujimiya’s palace, dinner was not only delicious, it was entertaining. The harpists made it especially delightful. Emperor Fujimiya however, was not amused. Not because he’d seen it all so many times, but because he just wasn’t a social person. He preferred solitude and only attended these parties because his family and advisors insisted upon them.
The redhead did not join his guests for dessert out on the patio and retired to his bedchamber instead. He rang a bell for about ten seconds before a maid recognized the sound and came rushing to his room. She knocked at the door. “Come in,” he replied.
“You rang, Sir?”
“I want dessert brought to my room.”
“Yes Sir.” The girl strode as quickly as she could to the kitchen and alerted the sous-chef who was usually in charge of bringing the emperor his food upon request, but she passed on the responsibility to Yohji.
The green eyed boy quietly delivered a glass dish of dessert to his new master. He bowed and began to leave.
“I havn’t dismissed you yet,” Fujimiya said. “Sit,” the emperor demanded, pointing to a sofa against the wall. He was insulted that Yohji, who he already had a bad impression of hadn’t bothered to ask if there was anything else he could do for his master. So to punish him, he made the boy wait in utter nervousness. He stared at him with cold eyes and wouldn’t look away while eating his food in bed. But part of him knew it was wrong to put so much pressure on someone who hadn’t done anything terribly wrong. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Yohji Kudou.”
“Well, I’m Emperor Ran Fujimiya in case you don’t know already.
“Pleased to meet you, Master.”
“You’re being here leads me to believe that they still haven’t located your slave trade records, have they?”
“No, Master.”
“Judging by your attire, I see they’ve got you working in the kitchen. Isn’t that what you say you did in your old home?”
“Yes.”
The redhead stared at his glass dish oddly for a moment. “I could’ve sworn that Chef Beauvais made cinnamon pastries today for dessert, but this is pudding. In fact, I’m sure he did. My mother requested it for the party because they’re her favorite. Where did you get this?” the man said in reference to the pudding. “Did Beauvais make it especially for me?”
“No, I made it in secret for myself. The guests had eaten all the pastries, so I brought it to you in exchange. I hope you aren’t insulted.”
“Only if it’s poison,” the redhead lifted a suspicious brow and stopped eating for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on Yohji. “Come here. Kneel before my bed.” The long haired man obeyed without resistance. “Open your mouth.” Ran fed his servant a spoonful of the dessert. “Now swallow it and hold out your tongue.” The redhead inspected Yohji’s mouth to make sure that the food had actually gone down. “Hm, you don’t seem to be dead or dying.”
“I assure you, Master it’s no poison, just banana pudding with cookies, and fresh banana.”
“Ha! It tastes a lot more exquisite than that. I’m beginning to wonder if you really made this at all.”
“It was none other than I, Master. I made the pudding with a fair amount of cinnamon, vanilla, and some other spices. Then I poured layers of it and the cookies with banana in a dish before letting it sit in the ice box so that the flavor would mature. Don’t those plain cookies taste better than usual?” Yohji spoke with a passion.
“Yes, they do,” Ran admitted. He wanted to smile, but no one was allowed to see that part of him. It was very uncharacteristic for him to carry out even the simplest of conversations with the domestic help, especially new ones…but being around Yohji had a calming affect.
“What else can you make?”
Yohji smiled for a moment before answering. “Plenty of things.” He shut his eyes briefly while saying those words once more and hoped that this time he’d actually get a chance to prove it.