Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei
Vocabulary, Culture, and Story Notes:
This story begins in December of 1638, during the Tokugawa Era. The ruler of the country was the Shogun (in 1638, Tokugawa Iemitsu). The imperial family and their officials, known as Kuge, maintained their ceremonial purpose but lost all their political power; they were mere figureheads for the Shogun.
Feudal lords (Daimyo) served the Shogun and ruled over a fief (Han; similar to a prefecture, and since I can't find any Tokugawa maps, we're going to pretend Han equals Prefecture). Swordsmen (Samurai) worked for the Daimyo (Samurai without masters were called Rounin). Daimyo ruled over farmers (Hyakusho), who were restrained to their villages by law. Those who left their village for more than three days without a license (okurijo) were branded runaways (Kakeochi), erased from the village registry, and prevented from entering other villages by guardsmen (Banta).
The village hierarchy was thus: Village Headman (Nanushi); Land-owners (Honbyakusho); Tenants (Mizunomi Byakusho); Dependents (Cho-nai); Indentured Servants (Genin); Slaves (Genin no Fudai). Historically, human trafficking was unlawful. In this story, slavery is a legal, regulated trade.
Cities were home to artisans (Saikushi) and merchants (Chounin), low-class socially though often rich. Cities also had courtesan districts known as Flower Towns (Hanamachi; the Kyoto Hanamachi was called Shimabara). Hanamachi housed prostitutes (male—Kagema, female—Yuujo), who were only allowed out once a year to view the sakura blossoms, and to visit dying relatives. The highest-class prostitutes were known as Oiran, and the best among them was known as the Tayuu. Entertainers (Geisha) also lived in the Hanamachi, and at this point, only men were Geisha. They acted as jesters (Houkan) and drum-players (Taikomochi). I imagine that some acted as Kagema, as well.
The Shinto and Buddhist clergy (Buke) consisted of the priests and shrine maidens (miko). The Buke paid tribute to the Shogun but aside from that handled their own affairs. One of the most famous shrines in Kyoto was Kamomioya Shrine, located in the Tadasu no Mori ("Forest of Truth").
Christianity was illegal. On December 17th, 1637, there was an uprising of mainly Catholic Japanese fighting a heavy tax burden in Shimabara-shi (a city, not the Hanamachi). The rebellion lasted until April 15th, 1638, when the rebels were crushed and massacred. The Shogun seriously cracked down on Christianity after that, forcing converts to become Hidden Christians (Kakure Kirishitan).
Outcastes (Hinin) were another social group. They comprised of everyone who was not part of the above groups, or an Untouchable (Eta). Eta worked as undertakers, leatherworkers, butchers, policemen, guards, and executioners. These jobs were seriously low-class, as they dealt with death, a taboo topic in Japanese society. Eta were considered nonhumans and were forced to live in their own communities.
The Tokugawa Era was marked by national seclusion, which included banishing Portuguese traders, and restricting Dutch and Chinese traders to Dejima, an island off the coast of Nagasaki. In 1639, Tokugawa Iemitsu banished any Japanese who were married to or were children of foreigners.
Legally, the family was the smallest unit in Japanese society, so maintaining family honor and integrity was important. Adultery was punishable by public exposure up until WWI, and was one of the few circumstance in which a wife could demand a letter of divorce. Nevertheless, high-ups kept concubines (Nigou). Divorce was heavily looked down on, and in warrior families, it had to be approved by the Shogun.
Cultural References: "A veritable Genji" refers to the title character in "The Tale of Genji", renowned for having peerless good looks and for sleeping with pretty much everything not red hot or nailed down, including other boys.
As for suffixes, "-ue" is even more respectful than "-sama", denoting that the person you're addressing is "above (me)" and you are inferior to them. "Papa-san" is the title of a master of a whorehouse. "-isha" is an occupational suffix denoting a doctor.
Side Notes: The characters may behave slightly—or wildly—OOC due to the AU situation, though I'll try to depict them as faithfully as I can. There might be certain times when your disbelief is not suspended…sorry.
The Road To Hell
"Are you doing okay back there?"
"Yeah," Miya called back, weakly smiling and pressing a hand to her thirty-three weeks full womb. "The ride's not making this easy, though."
"Just be grateful the man gave us this thing for free," Hisoka responded, tugging at the reins on the failing, flea-bitten donkey a banta had foisted on rather than given them, taking what he figured constituted as pity on the broke, illegally traveling, pregnant young couple.
Of course he didn't believe them when they said they were siblings. Not that they actually were. They had no life-affirming bond of blood, only sixteen years of growing up together. Miya was a genin no fudai, the daughter of a debtor mizunomi byakusho, whose slight accent rendered her exotic and alluring enough to make Hisoka's uncle cheat on his wife with the sixteen-year-old girl and begat what was two-hundred and forty days of Hisoka's unborn cousin.
That was against the law, of course. Miya was a genin no fudai, not a yuujo or a nigou, and it was forbidden for masters to have sexual relations with their property, due to some sort of judicial review on the laws against bestiality. The Shogun thought this clause somehow humanized the whole trade. By rights, Miya could sue for her freedom.
She was about to when Iwao simply gave it to her, along with money and an okurijo. Couldn't have it publicized that a Nanushi of Kamakura was dallying with his chattel, after all. Kanagawa's particular Daimyo didn't approve of adultery and would enforce public exposure.
As for Hisoka, it came to be that Miya was tired of tending to the wounds inflicted on her de facto brother at the hands of his mother, who everyone knew but no one admitted was controlled by some sort of angry spirit. Hisoka, with a fresh black eye and blood running down his arm where his mother had thrown a ceramic vase at him, had crawled to Miya the night it was decided that she would leave the Kurosaki mansion, taking her eight-week-old fetus with her.
The money was gone, of course, as was Miya's okurijo. A few days out of the village, twenty-five weeks ago, they were accosted by masked men whose voices Hisoka recognized as having Kamakura accents, and they were left by the roadside without a pot to piss in.
"Hiso-kun, I feel ill."
"How so?" He turned around abruptly.
"I don't know," Miya said, biting her bottom lip and placing her hand against her womb. "Something just feels…wrong."
"We'll get to Kyoto soon," Hisoka said reassuringly, seeing Miya wince and a trail of sweat run down her forehead. "Definitely by the end of today, if that man wasn't lying to us."
Miya grimaced at the movement in her belly in place of a reassured reply.
"We'll find a doctor or…somebody, in Kyoto," Hisoka said, a hint of the desperate entering him, as he knew full well the emptiness of a penniless promise.
The imperial city proved to be another three-hour walk, and by the time they first saw the lights of a near-distant Kyoto the aging donkey collapsed, dead, covered both with snowfall from the gray, darkening sky and with fluid from Miya's uterus.
Hisoka gently pulled the laboring girl off the dead animal. Her feet touched ground and her knees buckled. Hisoka grabbed her, one hand on her shoulder, the other reaching around her back and supporting her elbow.
"You said we'd get to a doctor!" Miya shouted, accusing, stumbling as another contraction came upon her.
"Kyoto's right there," he said, taking one hand off her to point towards the city for a fleeting second before she need to be supported again. "Only a little bit more."
"Hisoka, tell me I wasn't stupid enough to threaten your uncle. Tell me."
"Miya-chan…"
"Why? Why did I do that, Hisoka? I should've just kept quiet…had the baby in Kamakura and given it up…"
"And he would have celebrated that by raping you again," Hisoka said through gritted teeth, walking both himself and Miya forward. She swayed in Hisoka's grasp and crumpled to the ground, gasping as pain tore through her abdomen.
"Miya!"
"I can't, Hisoka!" she screamed at him, face red and sweat-soaked. "I can't walk!"
"You can't give birth out here!" Hisoka shouted, swiping his hand through the snow-filled air.
"Hisoka, please, just go get help," Miya begged, tears now streaking her face. "Just…just leave me here and go get help!"
"Yes, I'm just going to leave you here to go find someone who'll go out in a snowstorm to help you!" Hisoka spat.
Miya opened her mouth to reply but a scream replaced it. Her back arched as she struggled to get her hands on the ground to support herself. Blood from between her legs was beginning to stain her kimono. Hisoka swore violently, wildly, pulling on her hand and somehow managing to drag her to her feet.
"Come on, Miya-chan, you're stronger than this," he said, trying to add confidence to fear as he debated carrying her into the city. Reality immediately murdered that particular brand of wishful thinking. He weighed as much as she did and almost seven months worth of food deprivation had rendered his muscles as weak as a child's.
He set his jaw and mustered up the last remaining vestiges of his strength to continue to bear her on.
"What's keeping you, Tsuzuki-kun? That's the fifth time in a few minutes."
The low, smooth voice of his master managed to catch half of Tsuzuki's interest; the other half persisted in concentrating on the distant sounds of what was not the roaring wind.
"Muraki-ue, you don't hear that?" Tsuzuki asked, stepping away.
"Hear what?" Muraki asked, giving off every signal that he did not particularly care.
"Voices. It sounds like voices," Tsuzuki said, taking another step away from Muraki.
"Well, you were a banta once," Muraki said plainly, tugging his foreign-made fur coat tighter around him. "Fine then. You're not going to rest until you know what's going on. You remember the way to Kokakuro, don't you?"
"Yes," Tsuzuki said, trying to keep his annoyance at the innuendo of his stupidity below his voice.
"I'll see you there. And don't tarry, unless you're particularly fond of sleeping outside in this weather."
Knowing that Muraki was inclined to make good on his threats, Tsuzuki's steps were somewhat quicker than he would have liked them to be.
Seeing someone approaching them triggered a panicked string of Hisoka's worst nightmares. A banta. The banta in the last two neighborhoods before the last hadn't been moved enough to give more than a cupful of water to the obviously pregnant girl. If this one were along the same vein, Miya would be giving birth either in a bush or in a jail cell. If he were like the second banta they'd come across, Miya wouldn't even be delivering a live baby.
"Miya, come on, we have to get out of here," he said. She had fallen to her knees at his feet, her arms twisted haphazardly in his hands as he tried to pull her up. Her foot slid on the slick ground and she hit the ground again, letting out a tortured cry upon impact. Blood was beginning to bypass her clothes and run straight down her legs.
Tsuzuki stopped in his tracks, a few feet away from the scene he witnessed with horrified eyes.
"Miya, it's a banta. We have to get out of here!" Hisoka hissed, doubling his efforts to pull her up. Miya yanked her arm out of Hisoka's grasp and instead reached out toward Tsuzuki.
"Banta-san, please!" Miya yelled, tears clouding her vision. "Please, let us into Kyoto!"
Tsuzuki swallowed, hard, and stepped forward, banishing the awful memories that she had cropped up.
"We'll leave as soon as the baby's delivered, I swear it, but—" Hisoka began.
"Don't worry about it. I'm not Kyoto's banta," Tsuzuki said, kneeling in front of Miya. "Can you walk at all?"
Miya shook her head.
"Then I need to carry you. Put your arms around my neck, okay? Don't worry," Tsuzuki said, addressing this last comment to Hisoka as he slipped his arm around Miya's knees and his other around her back. "I've done this before."
Miya cried out in pain as Tsuzuki lifted her off the ground. One hand grabbed the collar of his kimono and the other flailed wildly for Hisoka's. He snatched it up quickly and then placed it around Tsuzuki's neck.
"She needs a doctor…"
"It's okay. I'm taking her to one," Tsuzuki said, sensing the distrust in the boy's voice.
The door slid open and Oriya looked up. Not many people bothered to come into Shimabara in the dead of winter, especially not in a snowstorm. No whore was worth it, and his girls often looked forward to wintertime as their unofficial vacation.
"It's been awhile, Kazutaka," Oriya said, smiling at the silver-haired doctor who shut the door behind him.
"Same, Oriya," Muraki answered. "The girls have missed me, I presume?"
"Tsubaki has," Oriya said, thinking of the tayuu, a girl fallen from the family of Hakata-ku's most prominent merchant because of her love affair with the doctor. They had been caught in a compromising situation when she was thirteen and she had been disowned; Muraki had ceremoniously dumped her at Kokakuro. "Where's Tsuzuki?"
"He heard something by the edge of town. I let him investigate."
"You're not worried that he'll run off?"
"The man has need of my powers," Muraki said plainly. "I doubt he'll run away before he's gotten what he needs."
"Are you staying at the inn?"
"Yes. Ukyo's family has not permitted me to stay with them." And for a moment Muraki's eyes hardened and Oriya's softened as they both thought of Muraki's deceased wife.
"You could always stay here," Oriya offered.
"Yes, and perhaps I'll get one of the girls in trouble…make it worth my while."
Oriya was about to reply when the door slid open again and three people stumbled in, out of breath and shivering, clothes soaked with melting snow.
"What's the meaning of this?" Oriya demanded, rising from his seat on the floor.
"I think it's quite obvious, Oriya," Muraki said lazily. "The young lady is giving birth. Though one must wonder why they're here, at a whorehouse, not at a hospital."
"They can't go there. There's no time," Tsuzuki said hastily, seeing Muraki's eyebrow rise.
"And they have no okurijo," Muraki filled in. "Otherwise they'd already be there, is that correct?"
"Muraki-ue, please, you could—" Tsuzuki began.
"A first-time birth, judging by her age. Difficult, if the blood means anything, and perhaps early?" Muraki asked leisurely, arching an eyebrow. "That's not an easy task. And quite something to ask of me when I'm not at work."
Miya shrieked, writhing in Tsuzuki's arms, and a pair of passing whores stopped to stare.
"Please!" Hisoka yelled. "She's going to die!"
"Kazutaka, you can handle difficult labors," Oriya said. "It's not the delivery that—" He stopped at the fleeting look of pain on Muraki's face.
"Am I to take this to mean you want me to help them, Oriya?" Muraki asked. "I've really no objection to it, but there is a fee to be paid. Judging from their looks, they can't afford to pay me."
"I'll cover it," Oriya said quickly, seeing the horrified look on Hisoka's face and catching it just before it turned to complete despair. "I will pay for them."
"Oh, you will, will you?" Muraki asked, still sounding slightly entertained by the whole affair. "Well, he is quite a pretty boy, Oriya. A veritable Genji. And you have no males here, the last time I checked. That can't be good for business."
"Muraki," Oriya said, a warning in his voice.
"All right," Muraki said, with an aggravated sigh. "Where can she go?"
"Yuma, go get everything off your bed," Oriya ordered one of the prostitutes who had stopped to witness the scene, and the young blonde immediately took off.
"Well, follow the whore," Muraki said, trailing lazily after Yuma. Tsuzuki glanced back at the white-faced Hisoka for a moment, before jogging after his master.
"You're lucky you came here, boy," Oriya said. "Anyone else would've laughed in your face."
"Thank you," Hisoka said in a rush. "I'll find a way to pay you—"
"Don't worry about that right now," Oriya interrupted. "We'll talk about money when you aren't ready to collapse. Tsubaki!"
The other prostitute stepped forward obediently. "Oriya-sama?"
"Put something on his bones," Oriya said. "There's no use in me helping these two if they die."
"Yes, Oriya-sama," Tsubaki said, going for Hisoka and offering her hand. "Please, come with me."
"I have to be with my sister," Hisoka protested.
"If you don't eat something and get out of those wet clothes, you're going to get sick," Tsubaki said reasonably. "Please, come with me."
The months of near-starvation and the panic of the past twenty minutes took their toll with a decisive blow and a half-dazed Hisoka allowed himself to be pulled out of the foyer.
"Here." Tsubaki guided him into a room and shut the sliding door behind her. "I hope you don't mind having to wear women's clothes…"
For the first time in months Hisoka saw opulence and it dazzled him. The bed was obviously foreign and stuffed with down, with a canopy supported by mahogany beams. Gold decorations and incense seemed to overwhelm the room, so much that he couldn't see the walls or smell the food cooking downstairs.
"Oh…Eileen sent all my clothes to the washwoman!" he heard Tsubaki say from somewhere behind him. "Then I'll just have to…here."
Hisoka turned around and then quickly looked away. He had never even seen Miya without her clothes on—she made sure of that—and Tsubaki had quickly and he suspected expertly doffed the yukata she had been wearing.
"Is something wrong?"
"You're…you just…"
"What? Oh." She looked down at her pale, slim body, the object of many men's salivating attentions. "Well…I can't say it isn't refreshing to have a man be embarrassed to see me naked," Tsubaki said, smiling weakly. "So then, that girl…she really is your sister?"
"No, she's not," Hisoka said. "But it's not my child."
"Whose is it?"
"It's my uncle's," Hisoka said, with bitter relish at the thought of doing any small damage to his family's name.
Tsubaki covered her mouth. "How terrible. A genin, was she?"
"Genin no fudai."
"It was similar with me. I caught my father with my maid two years ago. I did my best to get us thrown out after that…oh, I'm sorry. I'm being rude. Here." She outstretched her arm, the yukata in hand.
"N-no, you keep it," Hisoka said, backing away, trying to avoid looking at her.
"You're going to have to get used to naked girls if you're going to be living here," Tsubaki said, and Hisoka noted that even that statement, coming from her, was elegant and ladylike. "Yuma will go entire summers without wearing anything at all."
"I'm not planning on staying here," Hisoka said.
"Where is it that you're going?"
"Anywhere."
Tsubaki studied his face for a moment, before a certain sadness crept into her eyes. "Forgive me," she said. "I'm being nosy. Here, please take this."
"But…"
"My duty is to obey my Papa-san," Tsubaki said. "He told me to make sure you don't die tonight. That means dry clothes and a hot meal. There aren't any men here besides Oriya-sama and Watari-san, and their rooms are private, otherwise I'd bring you something of theirs. So, please…just take it."
"What will you wear?"
"Oh, I have plenty of blankets to wrap around me," Tsubaki said cheerfully.
Hisoka hesitated, and then quickly snatched the yukata out of Tsubaki's hands. She turned her back to search out some blankets, and he hastily, clumsily peeled off his wet kimono and yanked on the yukata.
She turned back to him, smiling, a blanket wrapped around her torso and lower body. "It looks good on you."
"Should I be flattered?" he asked, glancing down at what was obviously designed to be feminine.
"Of course. You're almost as beautiful as Wakaba-miko."
"Who?"
"Wakaba-miko. Oh, she doesn't live in Shimabara, of course. She lives at Kamomioya Shrine. We only see her once a year, at Hanami. Okay. Now, we need to get you something to eat. You look like you're going to collapse. When was the last time you ate?"
"Yesterday."
"That's not so bad. What did you eat?"
"Bread. Half a loaf, each."
She looked stricken. "Is that typical?"
Hisoka shrugged to the affirmative.
"We feed the stray cats around here better!" she exclaimed, aghast. "How long have you be traveling?"
"A week over seven months."
"Where from?"
"Kamakura."
"Did you leave as soon as you found out she was with child?"
"No. About eight weeks afterward."
"So that's…" Tsubaki quickly did some mental math. "Five weeks early. A first-time birth?" Hisoka nodded again. "And with that journey…it's the work of the gods that she hasn't died already."
"And I have to make sure she doesn't now. Excuse me." He stepped past her, and Tsubaki saw plainly what she had noticed earlier.
"What's wrong with your walk?" she asked, as his hand reached for the door. He stopped, and Tsubaki's gaze swept first to the back of his head and then lower, down to his bare, dirty, near-frostbitten feet. Her eyes widened as she realized the reason why she thought his steps were awkward and jerking. His left foot was turned inward at an odd, almost twisted angle.
"Who did that?" she asked.
"My mother," Hisoka said, not looking at her, the desire to salvage his pride outweighed by the desire to damage his mother's reputation as well as his father's. "She…is prone to bouts of rage, and I was asleep at the wrong time."
"How…?"
"She threw a pot on my ankle. And then proceeded to beat my foot with it."
Tsubaki's wide eyes, if it were humanly possible, expanded even further. "And this is seven months old?"
"Older. Obviously, walking Japan wasn't conducive to it healing properly."
"You need to let Muraki-isha look at this."
Hisoka shrugged. "I've survived walking on it for months. I can live with it. In any case, Miya needs his attention first."
"Your sister's name?" He nodded. Tsubaki smiled. "You really love her, don't you?"
"She's my sister."
"And does her brother have a name?"
"Hisoka."
"No family name?"
"Not anymore."