Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.
- A Wild Sheep Chase, Murakami Haruki
Stepping out of the limo, Takashi rolled back his shoulders to ease the ache in his scapula and trapezius muscles. Practice had gone well, he was proud of his team. He'd pushed them hard in preparation of the upcoming competitive season but they had met his challenge full force. Rubbing the back of his neck and stretching it from side-to-side, he cast an unhappy glance at the clouds above him which, instead of giving relief, only seemed to trap the humidity in.
Early August and already the temperatures were climbing up past 30-degrees. It would be nice to be back Karuizawa, where the mountain air was 5 degrees cooler, relaxing with the rest of his friends. But the Host Club was for his own enjoyment, the Kendo team was his responsibility. He'd had to leave first - the team only allowed one week of free time before resuming an intense thrice-weekly practice schedule. They had a national title to defend, after all.
The other club members wouldn't miss him much anyway, except for Mitsukuni. They were all too busy trying to attract Haruhi's attention.
Satoshi stumbled out of the car beside him and began his own, slightly more dramatic, stretches. "Ouch! You were tough today, Onii-san," Satoshi said without rancor. During summer break, the middle school team joined their seniors' training once a week to practice competing against unfamiliar opponents. "Wanna hit the outdoor bath?"
"Too hot." The driver came around from the back and handed them their shinai cases. With a nod of thanks, Takashi walked to the front door and let himself inside.
Two steps into the genkan, his mother fluttered around the corner that led upstairs to the family's private quarters. "Takashi! Takashi, hurry – she's here!"
He continued taking off his shoes, waiting for his mother's words to inevitably catch up to her thoughts.
Morinozuka Kazumi shook her head as if to clear it. "Oh, what am I thinking – let me start at the beginning." She turned eyes brimming with excitement on him. "Natsumi-chan's here. She just arrived this afternoon."
His heart leapt up once before settling down. Forcing himself to stay calm, he placed his shoes so they faced out towards the door, and stepped up into the house.
"Takashi-nii's bride?" Satoshi peered around his brother's back. "Where? I want to meet her!"
"That will have to wait for dinner, your brother should be the first to say his greetings." She exhaled in a huff. "I don't know what her grandfather was thinking, not giving any notice like that. I don't have anything special prepared for dinner at all – and it's her birthday! We were just going to have somen and grilled mackerel. Oh! Satoshi, run over to the Haninozukas and see if Mitsukuni left them with any cakes before going on vacation.
"A cake should be enough, don't you think?" She peered at her sons uncertainly, her hands continuing to dance in the air like a dragonfly's wings. "Maybe I can send someone to the market for unagi…" With a shake of her head, she set the thoughts of meal preparation to one side and pushed ineffectually against the son who towered almost a full 40 centimeters over her. "Takashi, why are you still here? Go get changed. Ewww!" Getting a whiff of him, she wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. "But take a shower first, you stink of kendo."
"Hn." He nodded, heading up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he shut the door and leaned back against it, taking deep breaths to center himself.
She was here! After all this time, he finally would see her again. His lips turned up at least a quarter of a centimeter on both sides – look at him, so excited he was practically giddy. Taking another breath, he forced tension out of his shoulders and tried to quiet his racing heart. It had been so long since their last meeting that he might as well be making a first impression all over again. It had to be a good one. The last thing he wanted was to come across as over-eager – girls didn't seem to like that.
Stepping into the shower, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd be the same as he remembered. With a head shake that sent water droplets spattering against the tile, he corrected himself. Of course, she would. People grew and matured, but their essential character remained the same. He just knew that the girl he'd met so many years ago would be as perfect now as she was back then.
~oOoOo~
Ten Years Ago
"Akira-sempai, I'm glad you could come." The brown-haired stranger was almost as tall as his father, but the young boy noted he was much thinner. Almost scrawny. "I'm sorry for putting you through the trouble."
"It was no trouble, Ryuu-kun." Even at eight, Takashi could see the pain behind his father's smile. "I had business in Osaka anyway and thought it would be a good chance for these two to meet." Akira gestured between his eldest son and the girl standing by her father's side before turning to address the children next to him. "Boys, I'd like you to meet my kohai, Yoshida Ryuu."
Takashi bowed low, introducing himself in the most formal way he knew how. It was important to get this right. Important that both the girl and her father think well of him. As far back as he could remember, he'd known that one day he and Yoshida Natsumi would be husband and wife. It was all arranged, just like his parents' marriage had been. And his grandparents', and his aunts', uncles', cousins', and every Morinozuka's ever - stretching all the way back to the sons of Morinozuka Goro himself. Back to the days when Oda Nobunaga ruled.
After Satoshi's polite 'nice to meet you,' Yoshida returned their greeting and prompted his children to do the same. Natsumi softly said her name and bowed her head, ducking it so fast Takashi barely got a look at her - only a quick impression of big brown eyes peering out of a tiny face, putting him in mind of a docile animal. A bunny, maybe, or a doe. Wrapping her arm around the little boy next to her, Natsumi studied the three Morinozuka men from under lowered lashes.
Definitely a doe, Takashi decided – skittish and wary of strangers but protective of her younger family members.
When it was his turn, her brother refused to speak, clenching his jaw and jutting out his lower lip. Natsumi's hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his head, pushing it down in a bow. "This is my brother, Tastsuya." Her eyes communicated an apology for his rudeness and Takashi's good impression of her only grew.
"Congratulations, Sempai, I heard you'll represent Tokyo in the All Japan Kendo Championship this year," said her father once introductions were complete. The longer sentence gave him trouble and he coughed violently into his handkerchief, struggling for breath.
Akira patiently waited for him to finish, politely not talking over his ragged exhalations. "It would be better if I could meet you there in the finals, like we'd always planned."
The other adult shrugged and smiled with only one side of his mouth. "What was it Takahira-sensei used to say – after rain falls, the ground hardens?" His smile faded. "Although lately it feels more like a deluge that washes away all in its path."
"Takashi," said the elder Morinozuka, "It's a nice day. Why don't the four of you go play. Adult talk is always boring for children."
Takashi inclined his head, obedient to his father's discretely worded command, and ushered his charges towards the playground and away from the bench which the two men sat down at.
"Onee-chan, I don't wanna play," whined Tatsuya when they were out of earshot, stomping his foot for emphasis, "It's cold. I wanna go home."
Both Morinozuka brothers raised their eyebrows at this. Even though it was October, the temperature was still above 20 – easily 5 degrees higher than Tokyo.
"I know, Tatsu-chan, but please be good!" Casting her eyes back to where their fathers were engaged in an intense conversation, she lowered her voice. "Papa's been looking forward to seeing his friend all week. If we go now, he'd be sad."
Tatsuya crossed his arms and his pout deepened.
Satoshi bounced up next to the unhappy child. "Tatsuya-kun, let's go down the slide! I know how to go really, really fast. I'll show you!"
The younger boy shook his head violently back and forth. "Don't wanna. Slides are scary."
"How about the sandbox," his sister wheedled, "We can build a fort and play siege. You like that."
"No. That's all dirty." He sneered. "Oji-chan says only peasants get their hands dirty."
Natsumi's lower lip quivered and Takashi wanted to scold the little boy for being so troublesome. "Please, Tatsu-chan," she whispered, hitching her voice on a sob, "Please be good for Papa. If… if you play nicely until it's time to go, I'll… I'll ask him to get us some dango on the way home…." Her voice trailed off pleadingly.
"Ice cream," he countered, "I want ice cream." Smugness washed over him when she nodded. Takashi guessed this had been his goal all along.
"Thank you, Tatsu-chan, thank you," she said, more grateful than she should be to the little beast.
"I wanna play on the swings," declared the little emperor, "Onee-chan, push me!"
She started to head towards the swings, but Takashi stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Satoshi can push." Silently, his eyes asked the youngest Morinozuka to take charge of the misbehaving child.
Satoshi beamed back. "Sure thing, Onii-san!" He grabbed Tatsuya's arm and pulled him toward the swing set before the younger child could act up again.
"Spoiled." Takashi stated under his breath.
Natsumi whirled on him, hands clenched into fists at her side. "He is not! He just… he just acts a bit babyish sometimes. He only just turned four!"
"Satoshi's four too." His brother would turn five in a couple of months, making him almost a full year older, but even last year he never acted like that. Satoshi was a good kid.
Tears gathered at the edge of her eyes, threatening to spill over and guilt hit him like a bokken to the stomach. He hadn't liked the way the boy treated his sister, but all he was doing by saying anything was make her feel bad. "I'm sorry." He ducked his head. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."
As fast as her fury had appeared, it vanished. "No. It's okay." She bit her lip and watched the ground. "I know he's spoiled. But…" Her shoulders curved inwards, making her seem even tinier, reminding him of the kitten he'd found abandoned in the park last winter – straggly and cold and needing someone to protect it. "But Papa works hard so he's too tired to play when he comes home and Mama… all Mama does anymore is cry. Tatsu-chan doesn't know any different but I had two whole years with them before… before…"
She shrugged and let the sentence die. "If I spoil him, it's to make up for that. To make up for the fact that he only has me to take care of him."
"Who takes care of you?" Takashi asked quietly.
"Silly!" She laughed and shook his question off. "I'm the big sister. I take care of myself."
He opened his mouth to say that he'd take care of her. That he'd chase the shadows away from her eyes. She was his bride so that was his job, right? But, he was only eight. He couldn't make her any promises – not yet. Not until he grew up. So, he said it the only way he could. "Let's play."
Her face lit up and then fell again. "I should watch my brother."
"Satoshi will watch him." He nodded to where Tatsuya seemed to be playing happily with the other boy now that ice cream was involved.
Her teeth worried her lower lip again. It was kind of cute. "Okay. Maybe for a little bit."
Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he tugged her to the opposite end of the playground from the swings. She dug her heels into the play chips. "Where are we going?"
"The merry-go-round." When he'd suggested they play, her eyes had gone straight toward it.
All resistance ceased and soon they were racing for it hand in hand.
"Get on, I'll get it started," he offered when they arrived. She jumped up to stand on the edge, facing towards the center, and held the railing tight with both hands.
Takashi grabbed the rail to her right and began running counter-clockwise with all his might. The merry-go-round went faster, and faster, and faster still. Natsumi leaned back as far as she could go. As it picked up speed, she dropped her right hand off the bar, stretching it out and angling her body into the wind.
"Takashi-kun, it's wonderful!" she cried, "Get on!"
He jumped on the toy, stretching himself flat on the bottom so he could feel the vibrations rumbling all up and down his spine and cushioning his head on his hands so he could watch her. The wind whipped her hair around her like a cloud. Rather than cringing from it, she somehow stretched her arms even wider as if to embrace it, tilted her head back and laughed.
Right then and there, Takashi lost his heart.
~ooOoO~
That had been the last time, the only time, they had ever met. A few months later, her father died and she was sent to boarding school in Switzerland. While waiting for the day they'd come face-to-face again, he'd treasured that one memory like a precious jewel – tucking it in a deep, hidden corner of his soul and bringing it out as needed to examine it. Each time, discovering some new beauty in it.
While other boys his age had obsessed over gravure idols or become infatuated with their classmates, his dreams had been grounded in reality. Built around the woman who would be his wife. A woman who was kind, modest, and dutiful. Who had a gentle spirit, yet would fight for those she loved like a tigress. One who possessed the kind of inner strength that let her stare the wind down and laugh. A true yamato nadeshiko – a flower of Japanese womanhood.
Shower over, he wrapped a towel around his waist while assessing his closet. He should wear his hakama, it would be traditional for a first formal meeting, but it would probably be too much. Too close to wedding clothes. It was only a summer visit, after all. He didn't want to freak her out. Still, the occasion did call for something nicer than the athletic wear he typically wore. Flipping through hangers, he settled on a pair of slacks and a dress shirt.
After one last futile attempt to get his hair to lie flat, he headed downstairs to meet his destiny.
~oOoOo~
Her hair was pink.
And blue. Green. Purple. Some orange. And every other color imaginable. But, besides the roots, the closest thing to a natural color was the strand of fire engine red behind her right ear. Cumulatively, it didn't look dyed so much as what you would get if you gave a toddler a box of crayons.
Where had the girl from his memories gone? Had she really changed that much or were his memories only an illusion? A fantasy built up over time.
While the son studied the sullen figure sitting across from him, the father shouldered the burden of facilitating a conversation between someone who wasn't good with words and someone who didn't want to talk. "Takashi, Natsumi-chan's grandfather has sent her to live with us. Now that both of you are of age, he sees no reason to delay the marriage."
"Hn."
With relief, Takashi noted her face was just as cute – tiny and heart-shaped with delicate features and skin as luminescent as a pearl – then he immediately felt ashamed. Looks weren't important. Or they shouldn't be. Not when compared to character. But a part of him whispered that it wasn't a bad thing to be attracted to your wife.
And he most definitely was.
Although the dress she wore was shapeless, it poked out in all the right places. Estimating her height, he placed her at a couple of centimeters taller than Honey and shorter than Haruhi. Just his type – tiny and curvy with big brown eyes.
But her hair was pink!
"I don't see any reason to rush things, though." Akira continued in what had become a monologue. "Arranged marriages may be our family tradition, but child marriages aren't. Natsumi-chan we'll be pleased to have you stay with us while you finish high school. Think of it as a good opportunity for the two of you to become acquainted. For all of us to get to know you better."
"Mmm."
The eyes. That was where the real difference was. What made it impossible for him to reconcile the past Natsumi with the present. No longer soft and gentle, they observed the world from behind a wall. He couldn't help thinking of the time he'd come across a squirrel that had won the fight to escape a neighborhood dog before collapsing on the ground from its injuries. As he'd wrapped it in his blazer to take to the vet, its eyes held that same far-off stare. As if looking at something only they could see.
"I suppose you've both had enough of an old man blathering on." Akira's voice was tinged with amusement. "Okaa-san should have dinner ready soon, Takashi why don't you show Natsumi-can around so she knows where everything is."
"Yes, Otou-san." They both rose to their feet and Takashi motioned for her to precede him out the door.
She didn't say a word, either of acknowledgement or thanks or leave taking.
Outside the audience room, he gestured down the hallway to his right. "My father's office is next door. Down around the corner from it is a meditation room. Feel free to use it anytime. It and the rest of this wing are also open to the students and servants who live here." Her nose wrinkled slightly at the word 'meditation' before she caught herself and resumed her air of indifference.
"These four rooms are for entertaining and meetings," he pointed at the two doors down the hall toward the front door and the first two along the engawa running the length of the main section. "The third door at the end is the dining room. We have both family and formal meals there. Across the hall, in the corner of the east wing, is the kitchen."
Natsumi didn't even nod, just filed it all away as impassively as Kyoya at his most opaque.
Turning to a side cupboard, he pulled out two pairs of outdoor shoes and handed the smaller set to her. "I'll show you the garden." Was it his imagination, or did the edge of her mouth lift up the smallest amount? He didn't think so - her speed at sitting down on the edge of the engawa to trade out her slippers bordered on eager.
Winding their way through the gardens, he had to walk slow. Natsumi kept trailing behind and he'd turn around to catch her stopped in the middle of the path, eyes roaming over some feature he'd walked past so many times he'd ceased to notice it. He was glad she didn't look at him. If she had, she would have caught the faint smile on his face, seen his pleasure that something was able to stir her feelings. Instinct warned him that the minute she realized she'd allowed something to slip past her guard she'd quickly shutter it away again. When they walked by the pond, she stared for five full minutes at the Koi gathering around the edge – trained by years of experience to associate a human shadow with food. This time her apathy fell away enough for the tiniest of smiles to appear before returning so quick he wasn't sure it had ever left at all.
Past the gardens were the dojos. "Classes for advanced students are held in the two larger buildings; the smaller one in the middle is for family use and private lessons. Back behind the trees is the dormitory for the servants and students who live here full time. Next to it is an outdoor bath you can use, but check with father or mother first. There are a lot of men about the estate."
A kendo class was in progress in the west dojo, the sharp crack of bamboo swords hitting against each other and bellowed kiai wafted out of the wide open windows and doors. Natsumi's steps faltered as they neared, her head turning as if drawn by an invisible rope. As if she couldn't help but peek inside. "Your father was a kendo-ka. Did he train you?" It was the first personal question he'd asked.
She shrugged, not looking at him. "Maybe. I don't remember."
"Do you want to learn?"
The eyes that flew to his face glowed with anticipation. For a second, he thought he'd found the girl from his memory again, but the light was quickly extinguished and she looked away. "You don't have to do this, you know."
"Hn?"
"You don't have to try and be nice to me. I mean – this is the twenty-first century, not the Edo era. An arranged marriage? It's archaic. Like something out of a badly written Victorian novel. So, it's okay. I'm not expecting you to act like a doting boyfriend or anything. I'm sure you don't want to marry a stranger any more than I do. I bet if we just ride this out, the whole thing will get called off soon, anyway."
Takashi could only stand there and blink while his mind reeled. Over the years he'd worried her feelings might be slower to develop than his. Worried that they might not ever meet again until they were adults. Even worried (just once but he still felt shame over it) that she might not be pretty anymore. But never once had he thought she might not want this.
Or that he might be having second thoughts himself.
He wanted to say that this was his family's tradition and he believed in it. That for over a thousand years, this way had been successful. That Morinozukas married then fell in love with the person their parents chose for them.
But he held back.
Maybe she had changed or maybe he just didn't remember things the way they were. But all the traits he'd admired about her, that he'd expected to see in her, were nowhere to be found. Or buried so deep they might as well not exist. Without compatibility, without mutual commitment – was a successful match even possible?
A small tendril of doubt wound its way around his heart like a strangling vine, choking off the faith which had always sustained him. Perhaps, just perhaps, his parents had made a mistake.
Unable to say any of that, what he said instead was, "We've met."
That seemed to throw her, uncertainty softening her jaded eyes. "We did? When?"
"Ten years ago. In Osaka. You were…" Different. Sweeter. More hopeful. "…younger."
"Oh." She twirled a green strand of hair around her fingers before tucking it back behind her ear. "That was long ago. I don't really remember much from back then." Somehow he knew she was lying. "Well, that doesn't really change things, though, does it?" For the first time, she smiled - a tight, bleak lifting of the lips. "Look, I'll promise to stay out of your way and you can stay out of mine. You seem a nice guy - tall and good-looking, too - you probably have your pick of girls. You don't want to be saddled with someone like me. Don't worry, I don't think I'll be here to bother you much longer."
Overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts and feelings, he couldn't sort them out fast enough to respond.
"I'm tired, it was a long trip, and I'm not very hungry. I'm just going to go to bed." Turning to walk back to the house, she stopped him when he made a move to follow. "It's okay, you don't need to escort me. I'll ask one of the servants to show me to my room."
He watched her until she vanished down the path, confusion and doubt warring within him. For the first time in his life, the future stretched before him was filled with uncertainty.
And he didn't like it one bit.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who's already favorited or followed this story and especially to those who've left a review.
Chapter Title Trope Referenced: "Yamato Nadeshiko," defined as a 'Traditional Japanese ideal woman: submissive, but not a pushover.' (ref. TV Tropes)
Some review responses:
lillyannp - Mori's POV – asked and granted. I'll be switching between them within chapters (and also Honey, Reiko, and maybe even a bit of Kasanoda) as the story goes on. Glad you liked the bamboo thingy. I pulled some of the 'feel' for the house from the mansion in Kazuma no Stigma, but built my own floorplans.
Storz, Katmar1994, Dei, and Unraveling E's Soul – Over this first arc, I'll be revealing a lot of the backstory explaining Natsumi, her grandfather's, and even Akira's behavior. And, yeah, Takashi and Natsumi are both going to be in for it.
Germanwriter and Ghostly Guest - *blushes*. I really hope this story can live up to your expectations.
