I'll Do My Crying in the Rain

Chapter 7  -- An Untenable Fog: Everything Comes Undone

By Gabi (gabi@pinkfluffy.net)

As Soujiro had predicted, Kuri's recovery took several weeks.  Still, she proved hardier than he had guessed, and after the first week of staying carefully tended in bed by both Toshio and his sister, by turns, she refused to stay in bed any longer and began to putter around the house, looking for something to busy herself with.  She still felt rather weak, and strenuous activity tired her out quickly, so she was little use at anything that involved serious labor. 

Soujiro had forbidden her to stay outside for any extended period of time, and although this made her feel dependent, she was glad for it.  She didn't him want to see how much the incident had affected her.  She didn't want him to feel guilty about it, although she was sure he did in some sense.  After all, he was her protector and he'd allowed her to be hurt.  Even on the most shallow level that had to be bad for his ego.

She wasn't sure how he was taking it at all, really.  Since the night of the attack he'd been strangely distant.  She tried to convince herself that it was just the harvest that kept him away.  He did come back late every night, clad only in his hakama, that had been rolled to the knees to keep them from getting too dirty.  He and Toshio were well into the rice harvest now and there were few evenings that they didn't come back completely covered in mud, ready for their dinners before they bathed.

She liked to stand in the doorway of the house to welcome them back in.  She wasn't much help preparing dinner, since Kimiko seemed to have everything very efficiently under control.  She wanted to feel useful in some way, and they only way she knew how was to simply offer her smile and company after their tiring day in the fields.

Soujiro said little to her while she prattled, he seemed quiet and withdrawn, but Toshio was quite animated.  He seemed to be interested in everything she had to say and whenever she fell silent, waiting for Soujiro to join in their conversation, he would prompt her to continue.  He always had a kind word, or a gentle smile for her, although she noticed he blushed a lot.  He was just shy, she guessed.

Kimiko, while never openly hostile, was as chill as the night air had become.  She seemed reserved and docile, and Kuri felt that the elder woman disapproved of both the kind words that Toshio offered so glibly and the stoic stares that Kuri occasionally caught from Soujiro.  She seemed to think that Kuri was far too active for an invalid and far too talkative when she should be waiting to be spoken to.  Kuri was acutely aware of her own lack of social graces, or graces of any sort, really, whenever she took the time to examine Kimiko at all.

The elegant crane girl was reserved, quiet, and graceful.  She never moved unless it was deliberate and often sat still for hours, reading quietly, or arranging small bouquets of wild flowers that Toshio occasionally brought her.  She managed the house almost entirely herself, and made all the food without assistance.  When Kuri offered to help she declined, citing that Kuri was both a guest and an invalid.  Kuri was too intimidated by her icy exterior to protest much.  After all, she seemed to have everything under control without aid.

Kimiko rarely spoke to Kuri or Soujiro directly, but she often spoke to her quietly to her brother.   Strangely enough, Soujiro, who showed almost no interest in Kuri, still found time to speak with Kimiko, mostly about the family's history and their current finances.  To Kuri it seemed as if he were inventing reasons to speak with her.

Altogether, it was an uncomfortable atmosphere.  Soujiro was ignoring her and devoting his attentions entirely elsewhere.  The only comfort she had was Toshio.  Kuri was sure that he could sense her discomfort and was going out of his way to make her feel welcome and liked in a difficult situation.

And it was difficult.  Every evening Soujiro came in from the fields, caked in mud, half clothed, and aching from labor that his well toned muscles, trained for years for combat, were not used to or prepared for.  He was working himself to exhaustion, she could tell, and she longed to comfort him, but she had no idea how to approach him.  He rarely answered her questions in anything more than a few words, and he seemed terribly forbidding and distant, as if she were staring at him through thick plate glass.

Every night he went to sleep scant inches away from her, on his own worn sleeping mat, but they might as well have been sleeping in different cities, for the intimacy she felt with him.  It was as if he'd forgotten her, even forgotten that she was his child, his comfort.  She seemed to be nothing more than his charge, and she couldn't help but wondering if he'd purposefully distanced himself to keep her from getting the wrong idea again.

She wouldn't let herself cry at night, although sometimes she wanted to.  He slept too close and too lightly.  If she cried he would know, and then he would probably berate her for being childish.  She was being childish, after all.  Toshio and his sister had been nothing but kind to them, giving them shelter and paying the doctor's bills even when they themselves had very little money.  She had no right to dislike or resent Kimiko or Toshio, but she couldn't help wishing that she and Soujiro were free from the place.  She wanted to be alone with him again, wandering the roads and camping outside.  There at least the only competition she had for his attention was his own inner monologue.

Still, as the days passed, she got stronger and stronger, and she was able to do more around the house.  It made her feel considerably less useless, although it did little to improve the personal miasma that seemed to dominate them all.  She was desperately hoping that she'd be well enough to travel before heavy snows set in.  Then they might be able to leave and get out of the heavy air that seemed to hold them all in tactile stasis.  If she was not well by the time the heavy snows set in she was terribly afraid they they'd end up wintering in the hollow little house with its hospitable occupants.  She didn't think she could stand a whole winter of this.

The hesitant looks she caught Kimiko giving Soujiro when she thought no one was looking were enough to drive Kuri nearly up the wall with both anxiety and jealousy.  Somehow, in the scant hours she'd spent unconscious, this girl had managed to get herself into a position that it had taken Kuri months of constant companionship to get herself into.  Kimiko now seemed to be the confidant, and Kuri couldn't help but noticing that when he spoke to her, he spoke to her as an equal.  They always spoke of affairs of the government or finance, things that Kuri didn't know a thing about.  They spoke candidly, and Soujiro seemed to actually listen to the crane girl and think about what she said carefully.  Kuri found herself feeling terribly inadequate, and it probably showed, because whenever Kuri was left out of conversations, Toshio made a special effort to talk to her and make her feel as if she belonged.  When they spoke it almost always fell to Kuri and Toshio and Soujiro and Kimiko.  It did little to lighten her mood.

And yet, she tried to make herself useful and pleasant.  When she got strong enough she offered her services as an errand girl, as it got her out of the stifling house and out from under the disapproving eye of Kimiko.  It also meant that she got to go out to the fields occasionally and offer her sound advice on harvesting rice.  She had, after all, grown up on a farm.  This was at least one thing she was able to dispense advice on and know what she was talking about.  Soujiro even occasionally responded to her when she offered some gem of a tidbit.  Generally he just quietly reminded her to keep her owagi around her so she wouldn't catch cold and then proceeded to splash through the chill waters of the rice paddies in something little better than his skivvies.   She wasn't sure how many times he'd told her to keep her coat on, but she was sure it had to be up in the hundreds now.  It seemed to be his new catch phrase, as if "Of course, Kuri-san" hadn't been damnable enough.

But she wasn't really allowed out to the fields very much.  She spent a great deal of her time trotting to and fro between the farm and the town.  The farm was always running short of some bit of food or another, since they had to buy supplies in such small quantities, in an attempt to ration out the money they had left.  Since they always bought very little, Kuri was generally able to carry it herself.  When it was too much for her, Soujiro went alone to get it from the town.

But beans?  Beans she could carry.  Beans were what she was after on a crisp late November morning.  Beans to make bean curds to have with the rice that was all blessedly harvested now.  Toshio had offered to walk with her to the town, but she had politely declined.  His interest in her now made her feel a little uncomfortable. Soujiro had found some task for him at the last minute, so at least he was busy.  Soujiro had not offered to go with her.  She was not surprised.

The walk into town was a pleasant one.  The air was chill, but not uncomfortably cold and the dirt path was neither too muddy nor too dusty.  It was almost enough to make her forget her current situation.  Almost enough, but not quite, and Kuri found herself brooding moodily about it despite the pleasantness of the day.

The small back path into town also led her conveniently close to the small house where he sister rented a room.  Kuri often stopped by and laid Hina low with all her current worries and musings, and the older girl did her best to comfort her sister.  Kuri felt like talking that day, as it generally made her feel at least somewhat better, but the shades were drawn on the rental room and no one answered her repetitive knocking.  Hina was probably out working.  Kuri was just going to have to deal with her problems herself.

Well, at least she might as well be useful.  Activity often kept Kuri's mind from wandering too far, so her chance to chat with her sister gone, Kuri headed over to the store where she could fill Kimiko's request for more beans. 

Kuri was rounding the corner of the store when two familiar voices cause her to stop in her tracks.  She rolled her eyes.  The last thing she want to deal with now were the hens.  The hens, as Kuri had dubbed them, were a group of gossiping town women who seemed to spend most of their time sitting around in the town store and talking about everyone's business but their own.

They did not like Kuri, after she had responded rather rudely to their first passive-aggressive questions and comments, and Kuri did not like them, as they seemed to serve no other purpose than to make other people's lives miserable.

Thankfully the hens tended to be out of the store by about an hour after lunch time, so Kuri tried to time her visits so she missed them completely.  They were overdue to leave now, and Kuri fervently hoped that if she stayed back and waited for a few minutes they'd leave and she would be able to buy her beans in peace.  She didn't mind waiting half an hour if it meant she wouldn't have to deal with them.  She settled against the corner of the building and waited for them to leave. 

Kuri didn't really want to listen to them.  She knew that listening to gossip never helped any situation, and certainly, listening to these old biddies gossip could only make her situation worse.  However, situated as she was against the corner of the building, with them talking as loudly as they did, gossiping so everyone could hear, she wasn't able to sustain her attempted immunity.

She only caught fragments at first, but as soon as she realized what they were talking about she couldn't help but concentrate on their words in an attempt to piece together what they were talking about.  It chilled her heart.

"Its just so wonderful this is happening for them.  They have such hard times, and Yokano-san was such a good man.  That boy is obviously of good samurai stock, you can tell by looking at him."

"You're so very right.  It's a shame they're going to wait until after spring planting to have the ceremony, but of course they need to have a good financial base to support any blessings that might come along."

"Those blessings might come along a little sooner than expected, unless they're careful.  Really, no matter how good it is for their family, it is a little shameless."

"Especially with that other girl in the house.  Really, Toshio-san can do better than her.  Doesn't Sendai Town have enough pretty girls to choose from?"

"Yes, but Toshio-san has always been a little odd.  You really can't blame him for it, he has had a difficult life."

"Well, there is always the chance he will come to his senses.  When Seta-san and Kimiko-san get married perhaps they'll send the girl to live in town with her family.  You know, that rough, brawling girl.  That would certainly show that girl her place.  Seta-san certainly shouldn't be expected to support her along with his own family."

"She could probably get a job as a waitress at that bar where her sister works.  That kind of thing would probably suit her.  She has the manners for it."

No.  It wasn't true.  It couldn't be true.  Soujiro would never do something like that to her.  He couldn't.  But, but, the pieces all fit.  That's why he'd spent so much time talking about Finances and family history with Kimiko.  That's why he never paid any attention to her any more.  That's why he had thrown himself so whole heartedly into the harvest.  He was planning his future.  But no, that couldn't be true.  They'd been through so much together.  These women were wrong.  They had to be wrong.  She had to find out what was going on.  She had to find Soujiro.  She couldn't stand hearing them talk anymore.

She ran back the way she came as if a demon were after her, her sandals beating the dirt even as she struggled with the tears that had been threatening to come for so long now.  This could not be happening.  This could not be happening.  This could not be happening.

She got back to the farm in record time, despite the ragged sobs that made it difficult to breathe.  She wouldn't let herself stop, not until she found Soujiro and demanded to know what was going on.  Her hair, which she had hurriedly bound with her ribbon some hours before, finally came loose after her frantic sprint from town and although she has the presence of mind to catch it and keep it from falling to the ground, she was too preoccupied to do anything with it other than loosely tie it around her wrist. 

She had to find Soujiro.  She had to.  She deserved to know what was going on.  She had to know.  She had to.  So preoccupied was she that she did not bother to watch where she was going and ran smack into the line of fresh clothing that had been hung out to dry that morning.  Flailing frustratedly, in an attempt to get untangled all she managed to do was bring the piece of clothing down on top of her.  Unable to deal with any more she dropped to the ground as she scrabbled to get the garment off of her.

She froze as soon as she realized what it was.  It was Soujiro's gi, although it looked somehow different.  There was something about it that unsettled her.  There was something about it that wasn't right.  Then she saw them.

Lined up along the right shoulder, like a rank of soldiers, was a row of neat, precise stitches done in such an elegant way that they weren't even noticeable until you looked.  If she looked closely she could still make out the larger gouged holes where her own crude stitching had be ripped out.

She was oddly calm.  Well, there it was then.  There was nothing binding them now, since the ties of the heart could be rent so easily.  He had every right to be happy in his own way, and she would trouble him no more.  He obviously didn't need or want her around, except in a proprietary, fatherly sort of way.  She didn't need a daddy to take care of her.  

She disentangled herself from the gi and then stood.  She took one last look around the farm, taking in the tranquil serenity, and then Kuri turned and walked away, leaving both the gi and her ribbon behind her, tangled in a discarded pile.