'Misery really does love company…' ran through Shiori's mind while she stared numbly at her family's shrine and contemplated what she should do now.

Tears built up in her eyes and the only thing that she wanted to do was curl up under her futon and cry long and hard until all of her problems just went AWAY!

The only thing that prevented Shiori from doing just that was the social conditioning she had gone through since she had been born in this world. In the society she was now living in, it was not acceptable to just feel sorry for yourself. Her parents had made sure to punish every overemotional outburst strongly. Her behavior reflected on the rest of the family, after all. Her grandmother was even stricter in that aspect. A lady didn't show her true feelings, no matter how bad the situation was.

But damn it! She had just turned twelve years old, for God's sake.

With a sigh, Shiori instead wiped away the tears from her cheeks and eyes and thought back how all of this started.

The year had begun with an unforeseeable flood that had destroyed half of her family's crops. It was a pretty devastating loss because it not only meant that they were going to have a lean winter but also that they wouldn't be able to pay for the medicine her grandmother so desperately needed.

Shiori was acutely aware of how imperative proper medicine was for her grandmother. After all, they shared a room and it was her responsibility to look after her proud and now invalid grandmother. Shiori had been trying to alleviate the chronic coughs for months now with only minimal success. Her grandmother needed antibiotics and strong ones. It was heartbreaking for Shiori to watch the woman that had raised her become weaker and weaker with each day. The elderly woman had taught her everything from reading, writing, and counting, to manners and tea ceremonies.

Shizuka had once been the younger daughter of an impoverished noble family and had married Shiori's grandfather after said family had been killed on their way to their relatives. Her grandmother had been without any means but her stunning blue eyes and long silky black hair in the countryside and had used those to secure a marriage to a young man. Only a year ago Shizuka admitted to Shiori that this had been harder to accomplish than she had expected. In the countryside, women of her education and build were considered useless; they had no skills that would keep the family alive and fed. She had been lucky that Shiori's grandfather had fallen head over heels for her looks and had had no parents left that could have objected to his choice of bride. These looks and rather frail stature for a farmer-daughter was what Shizuka passed down to Shiori, at least according to their neighbors. Shiori, thanks to the hard life and deficient nutrition looked a lot more mature than children in her age bracket normally did, also thinner but that went without saying. Her grandmother was very proud of Shiori's beauty and regularly ran her fingers through her hair to free it of all its knots and tangles. Shiori, with her inky black hair and blue eyes probably reminded her grandmother of herself when she was young and what she had lost, because she sometimes caught her grandmother staring longingly at her before her lips pressed together and the expression turned into grief.

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When Shizuka's time finally came Shiori had seen it coming for days. Her grandmother's cough had become worse with each day and her already frail body clearly couldn't take the additional strain anymore. Shiori had lamented fate bitterly while she cared for the dying woman, Shizuka was barely fifty-four, young even for the farmers who had a shorter life-expectancy than most social classes. Though if you believed the gossip in their small village it was longer than anyone had given her when she had first married.

Shizuka died only in the company of her twelve-year-old granddaughter, which was bittersweet because Shizuka couldn't say goodbye to her son but it also made a last conversation between them possible that gave Shiori courage in the following years.

"… Shiori…" she wheezed out between coughing fits, the thick yellow and green slime clogging up her throat.

"Obaa-san, don't try to speak. Concentrate on breathing." Shiori murmured while she gently tugged the bedding up again.

Her grandmother's surprising strong grip clamped around her wrist, "Listen to me girl!"

The sharp sentence was followed by an even stronger coughing fit, but this time Shiori only helped her grandmother to straighten up a bit and said nothing. What could she have said anyway?

"Shiori-chan, promise me something." Her grandmother's voice was rough and weak and so completely different from the days she had instructed her in tea ceremonies.

"Anything." Shiori swore.

"Promise me that you won't let yourself be forced into a marriage here… not even when your idiot of a father orders you… p-promise me that you make something of yourself… w-we both know how smart you are. You don't belong here."

Her grandmother's words were interrupted by bigger and smaller coughing fits, but her words were clearly discernible in the otherwise empty house. Her parents were on the field and on Shizuka's order Shiori hadn't left to call for them.

Shiori's lips trembled but she bravely swallowed down her tears. Now was not the moment to break down, no matter how much she wanted to, so she nodded her head and said, "I-I promise, Obaa-san."

"Good. Now lift the tatami mat in that corner over there," her grandmother instructed, while Shizuka's breathing was getting even heavier and shallower.

Doing as she was told, Shiori gently tugged up the straw mats that had never been switched as far as Shiori was aware. Underneath it was a small brown package. Shiori brought the package over and then carefully opened it under the sharp eyes of her grandmother. Once it was open, she stared.

"That…"

"This is the only thing I could save when my husband sold all my belongings after our marriage… it is the last token of my birth family that I have left over… and now it is yours."

Shiori continued to stare at the small jade comb, it was probably worth about half of the house. In Kawa this was a small fortune.

"A-are you sure?"

"There is no one else I would rather give this to." Her grandmother smiled she looked satisfied for the first time in a long while.

"I will treasure it, I promise." Shiori swore while she pressed the delicate carved comb against her chest.

"I know you will… and you will give it to your eldest daughter one day. I wish to see it pass through the generations following you." Her grandmother said with another small smile, "Now child, leave me to rest for a bit." Shizuka said, tired of the conversation and gently closed her eyes.

Shiori sat beside her grandmother and watched as coughs now and then shook her grandmother's body while her pale body fought for each breath… until she wasn't breathing anymore. It took Shiori a moment to register what had happened. They had had a conversation only minutes before and now… now she was gone. At least Shizuka had passed away painlessly during her sleep. The house was empty and quiet with only Shiori present while she stared down at her grandmother's body. A tear fell down her cheeks, then another and then Shiori let go and sobbed helplessly while her throat closed-up and the pain in her chest and lungs overwhelmed her. Here in the empty house she had been born in, away from any observers Shiori allowed herself to mourn her grandmother's death openly.

Shizuka had understood her better than Shiori's more simple-minded parents ever could. Her Obaa-san had been the one that had noticed her quick mind and had taught her a lot more than the basics of reading and writing. Shiori learned the beauty of calligraphy as well as the few poems that Shizuka could still remember from her own youth. Whenever she could, Shiori practiced her brushstrokes diligently with water on the smoothed down rocks beside the river. For that, she smuggled out one of her father's two brushes. Thankfully she had never been caught while doing this or her father would have most definitely beaten her something fierce. Shiori had learned quickly to never invoke the ire of her father through disobeying an order; after all, corporal punishment was common practice in the Elemental Countries.

In later years, her grandmother had shown her the difference between the greetings of the different classes. She had even given Shiori lessons in small talk at court and other seemingly inconsequent things that a poor farmer's daughter would never have the need of. These lessons were kept a well-guarded secret, because both were aware that should Shiori's parents ever learn of them they would put an end to them. Which would have hurt Shiori immensely, she loved those lessons, loved spending time with the only person that had recognized her intelligence and supported and encouraged it in any way she could.

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When her parents returned in the evening, Shiori had dried her tears and covered her grandmother's face with a white cloth. She was in the middle of the ritual washing and the house smelled of the homemade incense. She did all this with utmost care and consideration; Shiori would not shame herself or her grandmother through blundering the death rituals in her grief.

On the next day, Shizuka was buried on the far side of the house in a small ceremony that they could not afford, but was still done to keep her grandmother's spirit appeased.

The small jade comb her grandmother had passed down to her was returned to its hiding place until the day Shiori would finally be able to wear it openly.