plot? four chapters into *my* fanfiction? it's more likely than you think.
"Samama, do you know the man who lives across the road from you?"
Samama looked up from the letter she was writing. She wasn't angry, but Hanana jumped anyway. It had been a few days since she'd started tending to Samama's greenhouse and she was still getting used to her. So far, Samama had treated her with the same respect and affection that Putata and Mekeke did, but she always seemed to be busy. Case in point, the letter. As much as she hated to interrupt, Hanana had spent the past few days working up the courage to ask. She couldn't back down now.
"I do. What do you want to know about him?"
Hanana was surprised. She'd thought Samama wouldn't want to elaborate. Now she wasn't sure where to start. She'd been wearing Yukiki's scarf for weeks now and being so close to his house only made her think about him more.
"Um," she said, "what kind of person would you say he is?"
Samama tapped her pen against her desk. "I'd say he's a snob who doesn't care about anyone for himself, but after what Mekeke and Putata told me about you, I'm not as sure. We don't exactly get along."
"Why not?"
"We're too similar. It makes our differences that much more intolerable."
They did have the same intensity. Hanana was aware that she didn't know everything about Yukiki, but it was difficult reconciling Samama's description with the man she'd met. A selfish man wouldn't have bothered sheltering her. He certainly wouldn't have stood up to a policeman for her.
"He told me he was dangerous. Is that true?"
Samama was quiet for a long time. Eventually, she said, "He has the potential to be dangerous. I don't think he'd ever purposefully harm you. You should still be cautious." She sighed. "Mekeke and Putata are trying to protect you, but you were involved the moment you met them."
"Involved in what?"
"I promised I wouldn't say."
Hanana frowned. "Do you think I'm better off not knowing?"
"Not really, but I understand why they think that. I could be wrong." Samama stood up. "You should be getting back. It's almost dinner."
Hanana wished she could stay and learn more. Samama was more willing to be upfront with her than Mekeke and Putata. A part of her was tempted to knock on Yukiki's door and confront him directly. She'd thought about returning the scarf the past few times she'd come to Samama's house. Would he even open the door if he knew it was her?
At least she couldn't complain about the job. Samama gave her full reign of the greenhouse, including the key. Hanana had also started looking around the garden proper to prepare it for spring. Samama treated her garden as storage for machine parts, but Hanana had discovered some old flower beds buried under the snow. She could picture them full of tulips or daffodils, a bulb plant that would be easy to care for.
When she wasn't watering, feeding, or pruning, Samama had her come inside to eat or have tea. Hanana wasn't sure how to feel about it. The other servants—there weren't many—took their meals in the kitchen. Hanana didn't know why she was being treated differently. She suspected that Samama simply wanted company.
"Be careful on your way home," Samama advised before Hanana left for the day. "It might start sleeting and you wouldn't want to get caught unaware."
Hanana nodded. The clouds overhead had gathered into a dark, bulging mass. She hoped it would hold off until she was safe indoors. She checked that her scarf was snug around her neck and that her coat was buttoned all the way. As she headed down the street, she allowed herself one last glance at Yukiki's house. He hadn't shown up so far. Hanana wondered what he did all day.
Some of the houses she passed were already decorated for Christmas. Hanana smiled at the wreaths hanging from their doors. She was looking forward to the holiday. She wanted to get Putata and Mekeke gifts. Hopefully they weren't buying her anything, seeing as they'd already given her a room, food, and new clothes. The only thing they hadn't replaced so far were her boots, which… to be honest, needed replacing.
I should give Samama a gift, too. Though what would a well-to-do woman like her possibly want? Hanana had half a mind to make something, but her sewing skills weren't as polished as Mekeke's, and she didn't know how to cook. Perhaps some new flowers for the garden or the greenhouse? Hanana dismissed the idea. That was the gift she would want. Samama was more interested in machinery and sports.
If she hadn't been deep in thought, she would have heard the carriage approaching. Hanana only became aware of it when it came to a sudden stop a few paces ahead. Hanana stopped as well. The door opened, and a man jumped out. His face was obscured by a hood, the rest of him hidden under his cape. Hanana had never seen him before in her life, but his shadowy appearance awakened a primal fear in her chest. He moved toward her.
Hanana ran. The pavement was slick with ice and snowmelt. The soles of her boots, smooth from years of use, couldn't find purchase. Her feet slid out from under her and she hit the ground hard. Hanana tried to get back up. She had to get away. She didn't know who he was or what he wanted, but it couldn't be good.
A shadow fell over her. She looked up. The hooded man was right in front of her, which was impossible. She'd run the other way. She hadn't even heard him chase her.
"Please don't," Hanana said, though she didn't know what she was pleading for. She scrambled backwards, pushing herself away with her hands and feet.
The man crouched. His cape opened up like bat's wings and engulfed her. The last thing Hanana was aware of was a sweet scent, and then there was only darkness.
She was trapped. The walls were closing in, threatening to suffocate her. Hanana couldn't remember how she got here. All she knew was that they'd taken away the light. The floor was cold. Her whole body was cold. She hugged herself in an attempt to keep warm. She thought she heard voices, but they were distant and she couldn't understand them. When were they going to bring back the light? Would they ever bring it back?
"No," she rasped.
Something touched her shoulder. Hanana's eyes flew open. There was light. She was relieved until she realized where she was. She sat up. The hooded man was sitting opposite her in the carriage. Hanana pressed herself into the far corner.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "What's going on?"
He didn't answer.
Hanana looked around. She wasn't in a cab. The interior was too nice. This was someone's personal property. She couldn't panic. She had to stay calm if she wanted to get out of here.
"Where are you taking me?"
This time, the man pointed to the door. Hanana realized they weren't moving. It appeared they were already at their destination. She didn't move. She would wait to see what the man did first.
He waited a few minutes, then, seeming to understand, got out of the carriage. Hanana peered out the door. They were on an unfamiliar street, parked in front of an old townhouse, similar to Samama and Yukiki's but not as well kept. It was later than it had been when she'd left Samama's. How long had she been unconscious?
The man extended a gloved hand. Hanana ignored it. She didn't need to be helped down. However, as she stood, her legs wobbled. Whatever he'd given her to knock her out hadn't quite worn off. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to stay upright as she got out.
I must not be afraid. I'll get out this somehow. Hanana found herself clutching Yukiki's scarf for comfort. The hooded man climbed the steps to the front door and held it open for her. Hanana wondered what was preventing her from just running away. Then she remembered how quickly he'd caught up to her earlier. And with her body still drugged, she probably wouldn't make it as far.
The foyer smelled musty, as if the dusting had been neglected for years. Hanana couldn't make out much in the darkness, but the wallpaper had faded considerably. The lamps were gas. They'd left their mark on the walls as well. Whoever lived here was no gentleman or gentlewoman. Even Mekeke and Putata didn't live this way.
There was a rustle of fabric. Hanana turned to see the hooded figure hanging up his cape. She was surprised to see his clothes were white. No one wore that much white in the city. You could never keep it clean. A shirt or a gown that only ever saw the ballroom could be managed. Trousers were out of the question. Even tennis whites had to be changed frequently, or so she had heard. Yet this man's were impeccable. She wondered if it was thanks to the cloak.
He was not a large man, she realized. He'd only seemed terrifyingly huge when she was looking up at him. In fact, he seemed frail. He had thin hands. His bones stood out through his skin. In the flickering lamplight, she made out the ridges of scars along his mouth and over his right eye. No wonder he wore a hood. She couldn't help feeling sympathetic for whatever had happened to him. If he hadn't kidnapped her, Hanana wouldn't have felt afraid in his presence.
The man gestured toward an open door down the hall. Hanana went to it. The room was filled with furniture, draped in white sheets like ghosts. A fire flickered in the grate. Shadows danced around the corners of the room. They seemed to reach for her. Hanana hesitated, but a light touch on her shoulder prompted her forward.
There was another man. He'd positioned himself away from the light, but Hanana could see his shape settled into one of the armchairs. She entered just enough to be considered "in the room" and stopped. She didn't want to get any closer to him than she had to.
"Now," said the man in the chair. "Let's see if we can shed some light on this situation."
"Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"
"I'm asking the questions here. Your job is to answer truthfully."
Hanana folded her arms over her chest. Maybe they wouldn't hurt her if she played along. "Alright. I'll do my best."
The man shifted forward. The firelight caught the side of his face. Hanana couldn't put her finger on it, but there was an odd quality to his skin. "How did you get involved with Putata and Mekeke?"
"They found me when I was in need. When they offered to help, I accepted."
"Is that all? It doesn't seem like a coincidence that they happened to find you in Samama's garden. Or that you're working there now."
This was related to the thing no one would tell her. Hanana swallowed her fear, even as it threatened to choke her. This might be her chance to learn what it was.
"How do you know about that?" she asked. "Something tells me you didn't hear it from Putata or Mekeke."
"Of course not. They tried to keep you a secret. It would've worked if I hadn't seen you that day."
Hanana remembered the carriage that had splashed them that first day. Was this man the same person Putata and Mekeke had been talking about?
"They told me you don't know anything, but I'm not convinced," the man went on. He paused. "That's funny."
"What is?"
"Yukiki swore up and down he'd never heard of you. If that's the case, then why are you wearing his scarf?"
Hanana's hand flew to her throat. "How are you so sure it's his?"
"The person who made it for him personalized it. I bet you never looked at it closely before."
Hanana unwound the scarf and searched for a monogram. There was none. But then she saw it: a tiny embroidered snowman. It was minimalist, but the shape was unmistakable. She'd never thought to look before. She didn't think it mattered.
A thought struck her. Yukiki had lied for her sake. She was sure of it. What she knew and Samama's account clashed even fiercer in her mind. What's worse, the web that had been slowly becoming more visible around her had grown even more tangled. Were any of these connections really coincidences?
"Why… why are you bothering with me?" Hanana said. "I'm no one."
"I can't be sure of that."
Hanana twisted the scarf in her hands. "Can you at least explain to me what's going on? No one will tell me. How do you all know each other? Why is it so terrible if I know the truth?"
"Telling you would defeat the purpose."
This was going nowhere. Hanana looked over her shoulder. The pale man was guarding the exit. She could make a run for it, but she didn't know how to get back home.
"If you really are just the naïve little girl you pretend to be, then you're in over your head," the man said. "If you're not, we'll have to deal with you. Either way, it's in your best interests to cut ties with Putata and Mekeke. That goes for Samama and Yukiki as well."
"I can't cut ties with Samama. I need the work."
"I'm sure someone else will take you in. You have a natural talent for getting people to care about you. Looks like even Yukiki isn't immune."
"You act like it's impossible for him to show a bit of kindness."
"That's because it is. I don't know if you've noticed, but we're not exactly 'normal people.' Some of us can't even show our faces in public." He was talking about the pale man. He didn't say it, but Hanana knew. "Whether you're weaseling your way in on purpose or by accident doesn't matter. We can't risk exposure by some stupid woman."
Blood rushed to Hanana's cheeks. "I'm not a threat to your organization. It is an organization, isn't it? Some kind of crime syndicate? This stupid woman could figure out that much."
The man blinked in surprise. He gathered himself quickly. "It's none of your concern!"
I'm close or I'm right. A chill ran down Hanana's spine. What had she gotten herself into? She wrapped the scarf around her neck again. "If you didn't want me to find out, you shouldn't have brought me here. I'm not an idiot. Thank you, though. I've learned a lot. Now, if you'll excuse me."
The man stood up. "We're not done yet."
Hanana ignored him. She looked the pale man in his unscarred eye. "Putata and Mekeke are probably worried about me. I need to go home."
He looked back at her. There was no cruelty or apathy in his gaze. There was just an unfathomable sadness that tugged on Hanana's heartstrings. She was willing to bet he'd been put up to kidnapping her by his companion.
"You're not leaving without—"
The pale man stepped aside. Hanana ducked past him and ran down the hall for the front door. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed him blocking the sitting room entrance so his companion couldn't follow.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The sun had just set outside. Hanana picked a direction at random and continued running down the street. Her head spun as she tried to process this new information. It made sense, but she didn't want to believe it. Mekeke and Putata were part of a crime syndicate. If they were part of a crime syndicate, then so were Yukiki and Samama.
What did they do? Deal in opium? Money laundering? Murder? She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't even picture it. No wonder they had tried to keep it a secret. Putata had laughed off her Bluebeard comparison, but it was turning out to be accurate. Her current lodgings, her job, her happiness, all came with this dark price.
Hanana didn't want to go home. She wouldn't be able to look Putata and Mekeke in the eye. All their attempts to keep her safe had been for nothing. That strange man and his assistant had just been waiting for their moment to strike. She didn't doubt that Mekeke and Putata's intentions were good, but what if they wanted her to lie for them, or turn a blind eye to their dealings?
I would've done it.
She skidded to a halt. The world appeared to tilt. Hanana steadied herself on a lamppost. She didn't know what to think. It was all so confusing. Had she changed? Was it her new life or her old one that had made her this way?
She needed someone she could trust. Someone who would be honest with her. Hanana had already decided she couldn't go back to the flat. Yukiki was an enigma. That left Samama. Hanana didn't know how involved Samama was with this mysterious organization, but she'd seemed to be the most straightforward. Maybe she could help figure things out at the very least.
Hanana kept going until she reached a busier street. A quick search of her pockets confirmed that she had enough to hail a cab. She was lucky she got one when she did, because the sky opened up not long after. Sleet pattered on the roof of the cab the entire drive to Samama's house and was still going strong when she got out.
The chill went straight to her bones. Hanana ran up to the door and frantically pressed the doorbell. By the time the maid answered, Hanana was hugging herself and violently shivering.
"Miss Samama!" the maid called, bringing Hanana inside. "Miss Samama, please come quickly!"
Samama was there in moments. She shucked a pair of work gloves from her hands and stuffed them into her pocket. The maid stepped aside, allowing Samama to grab Hanana by the shoulders.
"What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"I was… there were these strange men. They took me to an old house and threatened me. They think I know something, but I don't. You know I don't!"
Samama's eyes widened, then instantly narrowed. "That bastard. I had a bad feeling about this. Did he hurt you?"
"No. He was all talk." Hanana thought back. "Maybe he would have, if I didn't cooperate. Listen, Samama. I don't know who I can trust right now. You have to tell me what all of this is about."
"I will, I promise, but it sounds like you've been through a lot. Why don't you sit down and catch your breath?"
Hanana nodded. She let Samama guide her to the sitting room. She prayed she'd made the right decision. Samama rang for tea and settled Hanana in an armchair, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.
"There," she said. "God, you're freezing. You didn't walk here, did you?"
"I took a cab. But I didn't have an umbrella when I got out."
Samama frowned. "You're very sensitive to the cold, more than most people. Thank goodness you came here."
"Samama, who are the people who kidnapped me?"
"The one who talked to you was Giruru. I assume he had Dokuku with him. They're joined at the hip, since Giruru refuses to cut the apron strings already."
"How do you know them?"
"It's a long story. The short version is that we owe each other." She sighed. "That's how I got into this mess—debt."
"So, it has to do with money?"
"No. It's more like… well, it's like what Putata and Mekeke did for you. They helped me once. You could even say they saved my life."
Hanana couldn't imagine what Samama would need saving from. She also had a hard time picturing Giruru rescuing anyone.
"From the way he talked," Hanana said, "I guessed that you and the others are part of a crime syndicate. I can't be sure what you do exactly, but it's true, isn't it?"
Samama's face fell. She sat on the arm of a nearby chair, folding her hands. "You're not wrong. There are some illegal activities, though not what you'd think."
Hanana's spirits sank even lower than before. All this time and they'd been lying to her. "Are Putata and Mekeke…?"
"They're who they really say they are. I don't always agree with what they do, but they genuinely care about you. Most of their work is honest. If you're worried about their shadier side, don't be. They're just a pair of common hustlers."
"What about the others? What do they do?" She didn't say "you and Yukiki." It sounded like an accusation.
"It's complicated."
"You promised to explain."
"I did, but—" She was interrupted by the doorbell.
Hanana stiffened. Was it Putata and Mekeke, searching for her because she hadn't come home? Or was it Giruru, out for revenge?
"You can't tell anyone I'm here," she pleaded.
Samama shook her head. "I'll handle them. Just stay where you are." She got up and left the room.
Hanana waited in terrified silence. She would have to leave the city. It broke her heart just thinking about it, but what choice did she have? The country was more suited to her anyway. She wasn't made to live amongst smog and steel and machinery. She was of the earth. The best thing was to do was start over.
Her heart ached. In the short time she'd known them, Hanana had come to love Mekeke and Putata very much. They were practically her brothers. And Samama and Pururu had been there when she needed them, too. How could she abandon her family? It would be like cutting off her hand.
Hanana heard voices at the door—Samama's and a man's. It didn't sound like Putata, Mekeke, or Giruru. Samama also sounded calm, not angry or defensive at all. Though she'd been told to stay put, Hanana was curious. Was there someone else she didn't know about? Maybe they would be willing to help.
She opened the sitting room door an inch and peered out. Samama was speaking through a crack in the front door. Whoever it was, she wasn't letting him in.
"How do I know you're not going to make things worse? You could've been responsible for putting the idea in Giruru's head. I know you didn't approve of her."
"I'm not responsible for anything Giruru does. It's her fault for clinging to Mekeke and Putata instead of striking out when she first started having suspicions."
Yukiki. Hanana could recognize his voice now that there was less between them. She touched her scarf.
"Don't blame her. She had nothing. You're well aware of that."
Yukiki scoffed. "I could've warned her away myself I didn't think Mekeke and Putata would get tired of her. It looks like they're taking longer than usual."
It felt like a slap. To be talked about so dismissively…
"Or maybe they won't get tired of her, because they love her. Just because you don't understand human emotion—!"
"Samama, I know she's here. We can stand here talking all night or we can solve the problem. Which do you prefer?"
There was a long pause. Then, Hanana emerged from the sitting room. Samama gave her a look that no doubt meant, "You were supposed to be hiding!"
"Let him in," Hanana said. "After all, he already knows."
Samama hesitated for a second longer before opening the door. Yukiki entered, dusting ice off his coat. He looked at Hanana, then looked away. He said nothing.
"Well, since you're here," Samama said, "you can tell her what she's gotten into."