The white was spread one her face, the brush ran along the nape of her neck, spreading the rice paste ever further along her pale skin. Her face was totally white and now they were taking the moister that had been left over from the paste.
The coal stick was lit and then blown out, it did not hurt as she touched it to her eyebrows an coloured them in to a light brown or to her eyelid as she made a thin line around her eye, slightly thicker at the top.
They painted in her lips, the bottom a slightly round half circle and the top with two points, both were smaller than her actually lips in a blood red. A light summer red was added to her icy blue eyes on the corners. Her face was powdered as her servants handed her a small mirror, the 'W' at the back of her neck was perfect.
She stood, letting them bind her, her well endowed chest being tied down against her body securely. When everything was tied they slipped the white tabi socks over her legs, the spilt in between her hallux and second toe.
She already wore her nagajuban, which they had tied over to keep her skin from rubbing painfully before they slipped the black and red furisode over and fixed the slip collar underneath.
Her servants fingers were diligent as they tied the obi in a butterfly knot at her back. They then fixed the stray pieces of her wispy shoulder length platinum hair with several clips and pins before she was turned around twice to check for imperfection. They slipped on her sandals as a man holding a small but sturdy umbrella waited for her just outside the door.
She could see his shadow through the rice paper doors, her head servant kneeled and opened the shoji doors as the man turned around, holding the umbrella up against the rain that threatened to steal away the perfection.
She calmly and without a sound folded her hands at her waist and stepped underneath the umbrella and they were off through the rain, she lifted her kimono slightly higher to keep the hem out of the water and mud before they got to the carriage. She was helped within and the door closed with a finally clicked.
The reason, as she would tell now was because of a lord, whom had called her honourable father and his troops to arms. But her honourable father had passed away only days ago and the news had not yet been brought to the warring lord, Hideyoshi Toyotomi.
She sneered in the darkness of her carriage, she was now the leader of her people and the lady of the troops. So as respectfully as she could she would ask to be let alone while she mourned her fathers death. Yet she did not hope for her question to be let off with only a sympathetic smile and wave of a giant fist.
No she had no hope what so ever of the lord even allowing her to mourn her father, instead she would be going out onto the battlefield in her ninja and assassin garb to fight a battle she could care less about.
She fingered the mon on her sleeve, triple wolf heads in gold. Her family symbol, meaning wisdom and loyalty.
Loyalty, most men and women didn't know the meaning. Always greedy for power, money and fame, always going by their own wants and not by anyone else's.
They back stabbed and killed, they concerned themselves with money and fame, land and rights. Not by family or even what they had. Always by what they wanted and usually couldn't obtain.
Even though she was wealthy, money meant nothing, even though she had land, the right to it meant nothing. Everything meant nothing, because she felt as if she had nothing.
Her mother had died in childbirth with her younger sister, her sister had not made it that horrible winter. Her father had died of illness because of a battle wound and his last words haunted her.
You are born in a time of war, I almost did not want to see your face when you came into this horrid world. Yet as I did, I saw something in your eyes, a feeling that held no meaning to you yet. It was sadness, almost unlike any other I have seen before, you were sad to have been born. And I had not wished to ever seen it on your beautiful face again.
Her father had then died, she had ripped off her ninja headband and had thrown it across the room with a metal thunk as it fell to the floor. Her servants had jumped at the sound but no one came to rescue her from her anger and pain.
She had cried, the first time in a long time since she was five. She had seen the death of many men, had been wounded mortally on the battlefield and yet she still stood. She had scars that probably should have killed her yet she still lived.
And her father had in his entire life ha never gotten a single wound before then and had died from only one.
She had been cursed by the god of death to forever see everyone die around her but keep living in pain. To forever walk a bloody battlefield with wounds and scars that could not seem to kill her.
She was cursed to watch her family die in front of her eyes and watch as the pain ate her from within with prying claws and razor teeth.
Cursed at birth, never to die.
