Haiku School of the Damned
Part 2: Personal Expression
Akira stopped Mai before she could run upstairs to her room. "You may as well stay down here. Lunch is almost ready. And I want to know how your first class with Madam Suzumi went." She indicated the far end of the sofa she sat on and Mai joined her.
Tom-Tom played on the floor near Akira's feet but as soon as he saw Mai, he stood shakily and using the furniture for support, shuffled awkwardly down to his older sister. She gave him a glare, hoping to send him on his way, but he laughed instead and clutched onto Mai's tunic, quickly wrinkling a chubby little fistful of burgundy silk. Taking hold of his tiny hand, Mai peeled his fingers back one by one and released the imprisoned cloth. The toddler giggled and grabbed hold of it again, thinking that Mai was playing a game. "Not very smart are you?" she whispered but felt an answering smile make her own mouth twitch.
"I'm waiting," Akira reminded Mai in a demanding voice.
Mai thought for a second before she replied. She gave her brother one more look, the urge to pat him on the head or tickle his round little belly strangely overwhelming. "It couldn't have been more obvious that you enrolled me after the class was full. And it was terrible."
"Hmmph," the noblewoman grunted disapprovingly. "I should have known. But don't think you're getting out of it. Your father and I paid good money for that class and you will attend and you will learn something." Akira stood up, patted her long brown hair and unconsciously smoothed out her red robes. "I'm going to check on lunch. Watch your brother until I get back. I sent Haruka out to buy a few things."
"Why didn't she just take Tom-Tom with her?" Mai inquired. "He spends most of his time with her anyway."
Haruka was the boy's nanny, a young woman who came highly recommended.
"What are you implying? You don't approve of the way Tom-Tom is being raised. I have other things to attend to. I can't spend my entire day changing diapers and giving baths and playing on the floor. I'm a noblewoman, for Agni's sake, not a peasant." Akira's face was flushed with anger. She moved closer to Mai, bent over and picked the toddler up, giving him a hug before passing him off to her daughter. "We'll see what you do when you get married…if that ever happens," she added bitterly.
Mai felt suitably slapped in the face just as Akira had intended her to. She shrugged it off, though the remark still stung a bit. It wasn't that Mai had any desire at all to marry one of the boys that her mother thought of so highly. They held no appeal for her. She supposed that some of them were nice enough but that didn't matter. They simply were not Zuko. It was the fact that her mother placed a much higher value on her getting married than on anything else. Mai's happiness didn't matter. What Mai might want to do or experience didn't matter. It was all about the family name and fitting in and for Agni's sake, not rocking the boat. With a sigh, she watched as her mother walked briskly out of the sitting room.
"Be glad that you're a boy, Tom-Tom," she advised and leaned back into the couch. "You're what they want. It's painfully clear that I'm not and never was."
The toddler got comfortable on Mai's lap and played with her hair, twining it around his fingers and occasionally giving it a hard tug. He laughed, a sweet, innocent, joyful sound, every time that Mai gave him a scowl.
"Get my hair out of your mouth," she chastised. "That is disgusting." Tom-Tom giggled again. Mai could do nothing but shake her head. "It's a good thing you're sort of cute."
Once the agony of lunch was over, Mai retreated to her room. She lay on her bed for awhile, processing the morning that was and wondering how she should spend the remainder of her day. She needed to write that stupid haiku, of course, but that wouldn't take long. It was supposed to be about something important to her. She didn't value a lot of things or many people, so her choice was limited; Zuko, her blades, her favorite spot in the garden, her uncle, the night time. Well, she would figure something out; maybe write a few simply for her own pleasure. Yes, that was a good idea.
But first, Mai decided to slip out of her room, tiptoeing along the hallway and down the stairs to the back of the huge house. She exited through the back door and stepped into the gardens. It was a peaceful place; somewhere she could throw her knives without being bothered. The gardener, if he was around, simply stayed out of her way and neither her mother nor her father spent a lot of time out of doors. It was almost like another private refuge; somewhere she could sit and think or dream and practice her skills.
The solitary tree that dominated the garden was already pock marked and nicked from her blades. She ran her hand down its rough bark affectionately before beginning to throw. Mai had an established routine for practice. She threw each blade into the trunk of the tree, trying her best to keep them in a tight grouping. Once done, she pulled the knives out and started again. That she did five times, blocking out everything, every sound, every sight. It was just Mai and the knives and the tree, a trinity with the girl at its apex.
Throwing knives somehow empowered Mai. It was something she had chosen on her own and something her parents barely tolerated. And she was good at it and getting better. When combined with her natural grace and movement training, it made for a formidable skill. As of yet, she really had nowhere to use it practically. But that did nothing to lessen her love of bladed weapons. It did not diminish her desire to gain as much control over them as she could.
Knives back in their holsters, Mai found a bench and sat, enjoying the cool breeze that blew gently through the garden, making the giant leaves of the oak tree rustle soothingly. The desire to close her eyes became greater and greater the longer she sat. Eventually she gave in and dozed, her worries and fears dropping away for a brief but blissful time. It was the sound of her mother's voice that woke her up. Anger flared within Mai, white and hot, but she kept her face carefully schooled and her body still, not giving anything away.
"I couldn't find you up in your room," Akira whined. "Then I had to look through the whole house. Next time you leave, let someone know."
"The garden is part of the house; I didn't leave." Mai gave her eyes an exaggerated roll and got up from the bench. Whatever peace she had experienced had been irrevocably broken; may as well retreat into her room now.
Akira had other plans. "My dear friend, Emiko, is coming over for a quick cup of tea and I expect you to join us. It's time you learned to participate in a discussion with adult ladies. You will be doing a lot of that in the future." Mai's mother turned around and headed back toward the house. "I hope," she added quietly.
As with most of her life, Mai had no choice in the matter. She followed her mother inside and helped her set out the tea things. Occasionally Akira liked to do things herself, feeling more qualified than the servants who handled day to day chores. When she had a guest, she preferred to make the tea herself and get the table ready.
"Mai, take those flowers from the sitting room and put them on the table here, will you?" Akira continued to fuss, making sure that everything looked absolutely perfect.
"Here." Mai returned with the vase and placed it at the table's center, straightening a few of the fresh cut blooms.
"Good, good; let the servant open the door when Emiko rings. I certainly don't want her to think that I need to do everything myself."
"Whatever," Mai replied. She returned to the living room and slouched on the sofa, wishing that she could head up to her room instead.
The chimes rang a few minutes later and the girl felt the all too familiar unease at the thought of company. Visitors meant discussions and complaints about her behavior, her mood, her dress, her likes and dislikes and so on. There was never anything much positive said, unless the guest felt sorry for Akira and tried to see something valuable in Mai.
"Well, at least she's a good looking girl. She can change her behavior and her attitude but an ugly girl will always be ugly." It was Emiko who had said that on her last visit. "So, Akira, there is hope for Mai."
The housekeeper let Emiko into the foyer and then led the perfectly made up, well dressed woman down the hall. Akira rushed out of the dining room and greeted her friend, taking her hand and tugging her into the dining room. "It's wonderful to see you, Emiko. Sit; the tea is ready."
Mai wondered if perhaps her mother had forgotten about her. She stood up and as silently as she could, glided out of the sitting room. Just as she was about to mount the stairs, Akira's voice deflated her slim hope.
"Mai, Mrs. Uchida is here. Come into the dining room and join us."
"Damn." Mai cursed under her breath and walked with leaden feet back the way she had come. She pulled her mouth into a barely there smile and bowed to Emiko. "Good afternoon," she said dully.
"As cheery as ever, I see," the woman replied derisively. "Goodness, Mai, can't you put on a proper smile."
The girl wasn't going to let that go. "Maybe when I have something to smile about." Her voice held just a hint of combativeness and her pale gold eyes met Emiko's head on.
"Well, now you're being rude and ungrateful. I hope you realize just how unhappy you make your mother." Emiko glared at Mai and then shot Akira a sympathetic look. "Sometimes it happens, Akira. Some children are born contrary and never fit in. I think you have one of those children. I hope for your sake that Tom-Tom is not."
Mai shoved her hands into her wide sleeves and made tight fists. It helped dispel the urge to punch Emiko, make that stupid look on her face go away.
Akira gave the woman a weak smile and poured the tea. "Oh, I'm sure that Tom-Tom will make us proud. Mai has yet to settle into her role as a young noblewoman, but in time I'm confident that she will."
"Mmm," Emiko hummed doubtfully as she took a sip of her green tea with lemon. "We'll see."
"She started Madam Suzumi's haiku class just this morning. I think she needed something to do. Isn't that right, Mai?" Akira's eyes were practically begging Mai to say something appropriate.
"Oh, I'm here now, am I?" She looked pointedly at her mother who gave her a narrow eyed glare back. "I don't need haiku class. What's the point?"
Their guest put on an especially smug expression. "My daughter, Kinue, took that class a few years ago. She absolutely loved it and composed the most beautiful haikus. Now she's successfully married and expecting her first child."
"Like I said," Mai shrugged, "what's the point?"
The two adults were getting angry now; Mai could see it in the way their postures changed. She really didn't care, however, and let her remark hang there while she sipped her own tea and nabbed a biscuit.
"Perhaps you could recite a haiku for us, Mai, one you wrote this morning." Akira was grasping now, trying to save face somehow and hoping that her daughter would do it for her.
Emiko raked her eyes over Mai's slender form and wondered what the girl would do. Part of her wanted a disaster. It would make her feel even better about her own daughter. And part of her felt sorry for Akira, hoped that Mai would for once simply do what any good daughter would, what Kinue would have.
Taking a moment to think, and to count out her syllables, Mai composed one on the spot.
Pretty, empty world
All that is said…meaningless
I yearn for freedom
Mai's mother looked so disappointed and for the briefest of moments, the girl felt the tiniest twinge of guilt. After Akira's disappointment came Akira's anger.
"Get upstairs to your room and don't come back down until breakfast tomorrow." The words were sharp and clipped and the tone was icy cold.
Mai got up from her seat, reached over and took three more biscuits before bowing to Emiko and sauntering up to her room. Her mother's mortified words drifted up the staircase after her. Emiko's deliberately loud suggestion followed her too and it made her blanch.
"Maybe you need to send her away; or perhaps Hoshi could get a posting in the Earth Kingdom colonies. Mai might finally come to appreciate what she has here. And when she comes back, maybe, just maybe, she'll be the daughter you want."
Once her door was locked, Mai dropped down on to her bed with a thump. Much as she hated her situation, the thought of pulling up stakes and moving to the Earth Kingdom was even worse. Unless, she thought with a smile, she was lucky enough to run into Zuko. The chances were slim or less, but it would be something to hang on to. Mai was good at that; living her life around one or two hopes, nothing more substantial than that.
Mai ended up falling asleep again and by the time she woke, it was dark outside. The darkness made her smile and she threw her all her shutters open, allowing the cooler evening breeze easy entrance. The sky was beautiful, an almost full moon dominating it with its yellowy glow. She took a few deep breaths of moist air, it felt as though it might rain, and then decided to write. After lighting her lamp with spark rocks, she sat down at her desk, pulled out her writing supplies and picked up her brush, not ready yet to dip it in the ink. Haiku couldn't just flow like free verse could; there was a distinct structure that it needed to follow and that required an extra bit of thought.
"Zuko," she murmured to herself and brought up the last image of him she had.
A few days before the Agni Kai that had changed everything, Mai had visited the palace. Zuko had been confident and they had sat together holding hands, not talking much, they never really did. He had been thirteen and full of life, hope for the future. His eyes had shone with something that he seemed to reserve for Mai. Those eyes always made her feel special. But when they looked off into the distance, often they were sad and that saddened Mai in turn.
It was Azula who had ordered her over, not Zuko. All her meetings with the prince over the first few months of her 'friendship' with Princess Azula had been chance. But those chance meetings had planted the seeds for something greater. Soon there were deliberately stolen moments, then hours and their strange relationship had flowered into something quite special.
After two years apart, the loss Mai felt had not lessened. She ached for Zuko as much now as she had then, when he was first banished from his own nation, sent out into the world to search for the last remaining aribender, the Avatar. She sighed and swiped at the moisture in her eyes. Getting the paper wet would not do her any good.
She thought about those eyes; they were beautiful and Mai had always felt that she could lose herself in them. Dipping her brush she formed her characters, counting out syllables as she went.
Eyes of purest gold
When I look, I fall in deep
Swim in their sad depths
There was no way she would take that to class the next day. It was too personal, too painful and something just for her.
Please come back to me
My frozen heart longs for you
Don't take forever
They came fast and furious now. Mai had found an outlet, a way to express her buried feelings, capture them in three short lines so that she could see them in black on white, so bold, so stark, suddenly so real.
Will you know me still?
Mai's lip began to quiver and she felt tears form in her eyes again.
Will you be forever changed?
Could we start again?
She got up for a moment and went to stand by the window again, everything suddenly too much for her.
"Sorry, Zuko, but I need to think about something else now."
Moving aside the paper so it could dry, she got another sheet and smoothed it out; time to have some fun. She thought about the girls in her class, how shallow they were or were raised to be, and the venom dripped off her brush.
Makeup and ribbons
Nauseating chatter, Ugh
Can I kill them please?
Empty headed dolls
Just waiting to get married
I want to vomit
She giggled quietly and imagined reciting those lines in class. The look on Madam Suzumi's face would almost be worth the trouble she would be in. Mai wondered if any of the students would even understand who or what she was writing about. "Probably not," Mai snorted. Her mother came to mind next and the woman's motivation for sending Mai to the ridiculous class.
Just why am I here?
Mother wants to waste my time
Make me a lady
"I'll never be what you consider a lady, Mother," Mai said softly. "I don't fit."
Finally, she contemplated her knives. They were so important to her; literally, they had carved out a fragile sense of identity for Mai. Those beautiful, sharp, deadly weapons were almost a part of her, a part that she wouldn't give up for anything.
I hold it up high
Flashes of light break the dark
Cold, hard, sharp, steel; blade
That was the one she would bring to class tomorrow. Satisfied, Mai set the paper aside, blew out the light and sat in the dark.