The men of her family did not have brown eyes. As alike as a set of tea cups they march in line. Like the leaves of her grandmother's prized trees they fluttered and danced pointless in their failure to establish individuality. They every one thought her odd. Her eyes however were highly coveted. Changing eye like the spirited black opals men searched for in the winter-bound mountains.
Her father tried to kill her because of them before ever she drew breath. The ancient nanny told her so between sips of stolen sake. "Eyes wide you were born though naught but water streamed from your nostrils. We thought you a corpse possessed but your grandmother would suffer no one near you. She refused to let your father touch you." Refusing to accept failure he married her off not three days later. Men from the distant clan rode to gather her not three weeks after. Held in a basket between them she slept nearly the entire time rocked by the horse's motions.
When three years old her mother sent her old nurse. When only six both mother and nurse died as though they had but one heart between them. Drawing on their eyebrows the black-mouthed ladies whispered as she walked by dressed like a boy. Hoping to protect her own grandson the bitter matriarch would have her dressed no other way and her own mother-in-law was no help. Comforted and befriended by no one but the celestial dog she was overjoyed when a maid began to chat with her. "Where do you get the fine threads you weave your bracelets with?" So she told of the dog whose head laid on her pillow singing quiet lullabies in a human tongue. So she hid the maid behind a screen when he came the next night with a bright white puppy; it cried like a human babe and the maid screamed frightening them away.
Beaten senseless by the iron-armed matriarch she lies insensible that night with the ladies of the manor. Beneath the priest's veil she can hear the howling of her only friend as he searches for her. The rosary around her waist clicks like a feeding skeleton as she dreams of gods and shogi boards, of dogs and boys who kill like men. In the night she cries out feverish with pain. The maid bathes her brow and hands unable to look at her with one eye swollen shut and the other glossed with shame. "I am sorry little princess my empty head has seen yours cracked." After that night she doesn't see the girl again.
When the brown-eyes man comes around the first time he is clumsy and rude like a rangy alley mutt. His eyes glide over the others as though they were a pair of tramps crossing hills. She plays with the gold and silver bracelets woven over many a lazy afternoon sitting in the mulberry tree. And suddenly she looks up as though coming up for breath. Meeting his jester eyes she knows he will be her first and last. Her pillow amidst the Lady's attendants is gilded with strands of silver and gold. The Lady's eyes are cold as she studies the pillow tea cup sitting like a lotus in her child size hand. Meeting the currently green eyes of her daughter-in-law she smiles like a snake. "Open the bathhouse for this child and I."
Talon-sharp fingernails find her maidenhead as the cold eyes shine like their water-slick skin. They are the same size though the Lady curves and blossoms as she hasn't yet. "You will never have my son little demon whore." For a moment the eyes are telling and Hirasha remembers being led out as the teenager who is her husband visits his mother. She remembers they embraced less like family and more like lovers. She opens her mouth to say, to say anything - instead she gasps maidenhead obliterated with one vindictive gesture. She rides behind one of the men who originally brought her tears in her eyes. These are only from the wind unlike those from riding him. He is kind though dosing her with liquor and a strange kind of smoke. No one greets her in the courtyard.
Three days later the Hatoru clan is a necropolis. Five days after that Lady Hatoru and her mother-in-law are found. No one speaks of their defilement, but poor jokes involving bathes and laundry poles make the rounds. Her father broods beneath the tree her mother planted twelve years ago an eggshell fragile cup in his hand. She steps on her kimono hem not sure how to walk in it and the cup gains a new crack from top to bottom.
He hurts her the first time. Finishing he does not look at her his hands - the long, fine fingered ones she inherited- fumbling with his ties. "Speak to no one." He stands leaving her shivering on the damp matting praying this will be a one-time thing. Somehow he is here, her dog who is no one, only a pet around for comfort. "Let me heal you. Don't be afraid." His tongue is warm and soft licking the pain away. She shudders with a whimper as he laughs eyes a warm brown. For a moment she is terrified and then his tongue returns to her sex blanking her mind.
Her brown-eyed man is at the gate one day. This time she expects him having worn a priest's veil for twelve nights. He smiles at her with eyes she knows well. A boy follows him hair tarnished silver, porcelain face utterly bored. Yawning he reveals teeth like a lion cub's (or a wolf's). Already shamed her father chases the brown-eyed man away with handfuls of salt, iron, and mother's blood. That night he is rougher. Wiping himself clean with her floor-length hair he spits in her face. "You will never be a dog's whore! Tell your precious Ainu that!" Her eyes glower at his back with an infernal flame as he closes the door upon her face.
Watching the coffin burn she is inwardly elated though she weeps as expected. Her dog's head is warm and solid beneath a trembling hand. Grandmother is not here to stand between her and the mob this time. Turning from the flames to study her protector she wonders at the solemn look in his eyes. Perhaps it is more this unnatural solemnity then the rumors that form a near perfect radius of space between them and the crowd. The dog snuffs before yawning to reveal teeth brown with recent blood. Kumomaru her younger brother still dusty from the road walks toward her. Stopping just two feet short he bows deeply eyes focused on the dog. With a grin it barks once and disappears. Two days later she is turned out of the house despite her brother's protests. Laughing she wishes him well and promises the grimly satisfied elders nothing will go right for them 'til they do right by her.
Three months later they finally find her - a month pregnant and looking closer to seven. She smiles no longer conscious of her nudity mouth stained red from the meat in her hands. Tori says something foolish hand quivering above his sword hilt. A laughing voice thunders through the clearing and his head lies at her dirt caked feet. She nudges it with a toe as the shout comes again, "Iron Reaper Soul Stealer!" The horse screams falling apart like an overripe melon hitting the ground. Watching the ground become mud as it chokes on the excess blood the men are silent. Kurio looks up meeting the gaze of the figure standing further back in the clearing. She sees his face and takes pity saying, "Go on I'll be along in a while." Eyes bright and happy she walks them back halfway and vanishes. A year later she waits at the gates a bouncing baby boy on her hip. He has a dog's ears atop his head and once she catches her aunt stripping him in search of a tail. Calmly, slowly she breaks the bitch's hands. Smiling she picks up her son.
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Once she asked him, "What color are your eyes really?" A sharp, lazy grin and then, "Green."