水に流す
mizu ni nagasu
I awake to the sound of fresh linens fluttering in the breeze. Drawing the sheets close to my chest, I gaze closely at the peaceful face of the Earl as he sleeps. The pale white colour of my kosode stands out painfully against the vast ocean of oxford blue covers that swallow the bed. I stretch my body, feeling the indent of the mattress change as it rolls beneath my back. It is early morning, and the manor is still. Across the room, a small pool of sunlight sprouts tenderly beneath the window—soft and yellow.
For a few moments, I lie still and listen to the hands of an antique clock as it ticks away time in a room that is not my own. Taking a shaky breath, I press my cold fingertips against the resting male's right eye. He stirs a little under my touch, but does not wake. The warmth from his skin tickles my hand.
The clock's mechanical heart continues to beat and I wait for a moment before slipping fluidly from the covers. The carpet feels thick under my bare feet as I stride across the dimly lit room. Abandoning my shoes, I allow the heavy oak door to close noiselessly behind me so that I can melt into the bleached air of the halls like a wandering ghost.
My hair spills around me as I descend the staircase to the garden. Planted in rows from the body of the manor like little white soldiers, danna-sama's favourite roses bloom in the caress of pearly morning dew. Overhead, the sun continues to rise—licking me softly with its rays. The amber of my irises gleams against the horizon in compliant defiance as I gaze unblinkingly at a vast carpet of green. My hair, loose and untamed, bends to the will of a chilly breeze.
"Ojou-san."
I look up at his handsome silhouette against the light. With the corners of his lips turned into a closed-lip smile, the perfect butler closes what little distance separates us with inhuman speed. His gloved hands trace my jawline gently, reminding me of kisses from butterflies. In return, I raise a hand and lightly trace the healing gash on the left cheek of such a beautiful face.
"I don't like it." My voice declares tonelessly.
Chuckling, he kisses my fingertips. "Please do forgive me ojou-san. Our guests were rather impatient and uncooperative last evening."
I nod, staring into his ruby eyes.
"Ojou-san," his velvet voice lulls after a moment's pause, "young master shall be very cross if you continue to tempt me this way." There is a ghost of a smirk on his face. "However," the smoky sound continues as a pair of cool lips brush against mine, "I suppose it is fortunate that bocchan has always had an insatiable fondness for challenging games."
"Mr. Sebastian!" a cheerful voice calls. I blink at the sunny mess of blonde hair that is Finnian as he bobs into view with an arm full of bluebells. He pauses for a moment once he notices me, and then smiles widely. "Good morning, Lady Sadayakko!"
"Ohayou gozaimasu, Finny." I reply. Sebastian-san is the only one in the household who addresses me as ojou-san.
"Where would you like me to set up the lounge chairs for this afternoon, Mr. Sebastian?" the happy gardener asks with considerable enthusiasm. Turning to me, his grin only grows wider. "Aren't you excited, Lady Sadayakko? It'll be Mr. Sebastian's 50th win in a row if he beats the kenpo master at this afternoon's duel!"
I discover that the afternoon is warm as I shift under the shade of a large umbrella. Beside me, danna-sama takes a sip of lemonade as he watches Sebastian-san with a predatory gleam in his cerulean eye. I curl my fingers around the cup of mugicha in my lap and follow the direction of his gaze curiously.
Moments later, a scowl spreads across the Earl's face as Sebastian-san dutifully reminded him of the conditions of the perfect butler's victory. I allow myself a small quiet laugh as I stand and ask to be excused for my dance lesson with Tanaka-san. Danna-sama nods and I stay only long enough to see Sebastian-san empty the salted drink that he is given in one gulp while the little lord smirks victoriously.
The ballroom is empty as I enter, having changed into a black and red hanfu dancing dress with gold stitchings. Tanaka-san smiles at me and music echoes through the far-reaching space soon after.
Onii-sama once told me that Confucius said to never give a sword to a man who could not dance. Red ribbons fly around me as I follow the beat, making large and smooth movements with my arms so that they flow slowly and gracefully through the air when the tempo is slow but shake and flutter with energy when the pace increases. Bending my torso and my back, I make small jetes and pas de bourres to add to the difficulty of the footwork as I glide across the floor as if I were walking on clouds.
When I finish, Tanaka-san is nowhere to be seen. Instead, I find myself face to face with an elegant shade of Prussian blue that threatens to swallow me whole. A ringed hand grasps my waist and I feel warm lips brush against my forehead.
Our situation is scandalous in a country where God is worshipped and praised: the head of a distinguished family and his 舞妓.
Nevertheless, I rest my head against danna-sama's shoulder. What good was a god to a non-believer?
