Where I Belong
By The Unseen Watcher
Rurouni Kenshin and Ranma ½ not mine. Belong to Takahashi-san and Watsuki- san. Story idea original. I wouldn't mind seeing variations though. I always like to see 'could be's', although I admit that 'What If's' are usually depressing and to be avoided like the flu. Hope you like it so far.
Chapter 6
------------------------
Ranma shifted uneasily in his kneeling position, looking at the walls and ceiling of his room. His mother had insisted that they go there to talk; alone. She had told the others that she would make her announcement after having a word with her son.
She had wanted privacy, which wouldn't have meant much if Nodoka hadn't also politely asked Kasumi to redirect people from the stairs. Still, Ranma knew that wouldn't stop the more determined martial artists from scaling the side of the house to listen in at the window. He knew them well. Therefore, he kept his senses alert to that possibility. Whatever his mother had to say, he wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. He knew down to his bones that something momentous was about to happen.
Ranma shifted most of his attention back to his mother, who was now kneeling across from him, her kimono modestly tucked around her. The pose was uncomfortably like the one Kasumi had taken not that long ago, when She'd wanted her own little talk with him. He felt cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
*
Nodoka looked at her son, and saw she had his attention. "Ranma, will you please open the package now." Her voice didn't quite make it sound like an order, but it was close enough. Her face was set, revealing none of her thoughts. The fact that she had referred to it as a package and not a present didn't escape him.
*
Gingerly, Ranma pulled the tight cloth aside, revealing a small wooden box, plain and unadorned. It had a small bronze latch, but showed no evidence of being locked. Flicking up the catch, he carefully raised the lid.
Inside was a small stack of neatly folded papers. Puzzled, he picked up the top one, holding it nearer the light. It was brown, and crackled with age. Turning it in his fingers, he noted some writing on the back. It was written in elegant Kanji in a handwriting he didn't recognize. The characters read simply 'My Son'. The folds of it were sealed together with wax.
Now more curious than wary, he took out another letter. This was also sealed. Written on it in the same graceful script were the words 'My Husband'.
Ranma looked up at his mother, unable to hide his incomprehension. What was this all about?
In answer, his mother reached into the lining of her obi, and withdrew a letter that was a match for the first two. However, unlike the others, this one had obviously been opened. She turned it, and he caught a brief glimpse of the characters 'My Friend'.
*
Nodoka took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. "Ranma." She said, breaking the awkward silence "many years ago I was charged by a dear friend of mine to give these letters to you on the day of your 17th birthday." She paused, gathering strength. "Along with this." She withdrew a slightly faded photograph from her kimono, handing it reverently over to the at-sea young martial artist. Ranma took the photo carefully, sensing how much his mother cared for it. Looking at it, he beheld two women, standing side by side in a pose for the camera. One was obviously a younger version of his mother. She had changed little, her young eyes appearing bright and innocent as she smiled out at him from the scene.
The other figure was that of a woman he didn't recognize. Long, feathery ebony hair framed an oval face, her most prominent feature being her deep cinnamon-brown eyes. They held a lot more of the weight of experience than the woman beside her. Ranma found himself drawn to that face. It held a sorrow that he emphasized with all too keenly. His heart went out to the young woman. Her pain was an aching echo of his own.
Forcing himself to tear his eyes from that face, he examined the rest of the setting. The two appeared to be in a small garden, around Fall if the leafless tree in the background was any indication. They both wore formal kimonos. His mother's was colorful, while her friend's was a less decorative darker color he couldn't make out, with the shapes of small white flowers visible if he strained to make out detail.
The photo only showed the women from the torso up, but it was plain to anyone that the unknown woman was heavily pregnant.
Ranma finally looked up, catching his mother's scrutinizing gaze. Nodoka looked almost anxious, leaning forward slightly. Noticing that his attention was again on her, she straightened, hands folded in her lap. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Ranma searched for words, and finally asked what he thought was the right question.
"Who is she, mom?" He asked, unable to resist looking at the tantalizing picture again, so he missed his mother's twitch.
"What do you think of her, Ranma?" She asked instead of answering, twisting her fingers slowly. Ranma's eyebrows lowered in thought, looking between her and the photograph. How to put this into words?
"She's very pretty." He finally managed. "There's something in the way she stands that shows pride, but her eyes show she's also really sad." He shook his head, unable to sort out his mixed feelings. "She seems familiar, as if I should know her. But I can't place her. Did I meet her when I was little?" He asked.
Nodoka smiled, the expression flitting briefly over her face before it was gone, replaced by the regret in her eyes. "Yes, once, for a very short time." She whispered. She looked up and met his eyes, her own shimmering with moisture.
"She's your mother."
***
Ranma blinked, staring at the woman across from him. He couldn't think, couldn't even begin to try to examine what she had just said. His mind seemed to be caught in a loop of shock, disbelief, and denial. She couldn't have possibly said what his ears firmly told him she had. There was no way. So, while his brain called his ears liars and his wits scrambled to get back from the places they'd scattered, he could only stare at her, his eyes wide and mouth partly open.
*
Nodoka's fingers tightened around each other, but she willed herself not to drop her gaze. That would have showed a lack of resolve to the course she had now firmly set her feet upon with just three words.
"Ranma?" She said, noticing his preoccupied look. When he didn't respond she said his name louder, unable to keep the slight snap out of her voice. This was difficult enough without him paying attention. She refused to do this twice. His gaze focused, but his eyes were still wide, viewing her as if she was a strange, exotic plant that he was unsure wouldn't bite him if he wasn't careful.
"Ranma." She repeated firmly. "Are you listening to me?"
Ranma nodded, his powers of speech momentarily gone. Nodoka sighed, wishing that this day was over with. Gathering her thoughts the best she could, she began.
*****
She had been a young bride, still recently married. She spent most of her time alone at their home, waiting for her husband to return from his martial arts training. His . . . interesting . . . master had taken him and his fellow trainee Tendo-san on yet another trip. There was no way to know when he would return. Young Genma Saotome could be gone for months at a time, following a training regimen that he never discussed with his new wife. She assumed that it was far too secret for such as her to know. She was so proud to be married to such a manly man.
However, pride in her husband's imagined accomplishments could not stave off the loneliness that came at times. All alone in their house, which had been paid for by her parents, she sought to pass the time with kendo practice. He husband scorned weapons, but she had discovered a sense of calm and peace in continuing her family's sword style tradition.
Finishing her kata, she cleaned herself up and decided to go to the market to pick up a few items for dinner. Walking through her gate, she chanced to glimpse the form of a young woman about her own age stepping out of a nearby apartment complex. Young Nodoka's breath caught as she noted the classic beauty in the features of the other. Long, silky black hair framed a perfect oval face. The way she held herself, so calm and collected, was truly befitting a proper Japanese woman.
Nodoka was something of a fanatic for tradition. The proper roles of men and women in society were one of her blooming obsessions. This woman seemed to be the personification of those values. Hastily, she made sure she looked proper, then formally introduced herself. The other woman, though distant, seemed to approve of her manners. She was invited inside for tea, Nodoka took the opportunity to welcome her to the neighborhood.
*
Over the next several months, Nodoka was able to establish a friendship of sorts with her quiet neighbor. They would sit together over tea, quite often going through the entire formal ceremony. Nodoka loved to do it and her new friend seemed to expect it as a matter of course. Nodoka told her of her family situation, but spoke little of her own family and past, stating only that a matter of honor kept her away from her family and husband for the time being.
Nodoka was curious, but kept her questions to herself. It became harder, however, when the other's kimono could no longer hide the fact that she was very pregnant. Her friend was Very formal, adhering to tradition even more than Nodoka was able to. She'd been surprised to learn that Nodoka practiced kendo, but seemed to accept in her friend what was an unusual practice for a woman. She stated that it was good to be able to defend herself and her family.
Although unfailingly proper, there were still a few things about her neighbor that Nodoka found peculiar. For instance, once she invited her friend over for dinner, and the other had insisted on helping her prepare the meal. Nodoka had stepped out of the kitchen to retrieve something. When she came back, she had discovered her guest, her well-shaped eyebrows lowered in frustration, trying to use the water taps on the sink. Quickly concealing her surprise, she had politely shown how they worked.
Microwaves, too, seemed to be an unknown, and Nodoka had once had to quickly intercept her from putting a can of soup in it. Her friend would listen closely to her explanations of how things worked, nodding. Nodoka wasn't sure if she really understood what she was saying. The woman's face seemed to be set in a permanent expression of cool indifference toward the world around her. Only her eyes gave her interest away, but only on occasion.
**
When the time finally came for her friend to give birth, she would not hear of going to a hospital. She had managed, with some confusion Nodoka knew, to call Nodoka on the phone in the middle of the night.
Nodoka entered the little apartment her friend kept herself sequestered in most of the time. She again noted how sparse and uninviting it seemed; like it was no home at all, but only a temporary stop.
Having been taught properly by her mother, Nodoka had helped her friend through the long hours of labor as best she could. Luckily, there were no complications and a tired Nodoka eventually held a healthy dark-haired baby boy in her arms. Cleaning them both up, she laid the baby into his mother's arms.
As her friend looked at her new son, a rare smile touched her lips, reaching even her eyes. The true warmth enhanced her beauty, even worn out from the labor as she was. Nodoka stayed with them for a few days to help out, before returning to her own home.
That night, she stared wistfully out at the sky, the longing to have her own little one rising up as a dull ache in her chest. With he husband gone so much and as time passed, so did her hopes of ever being a mother.
**
The next day she gathered together a food bundle to take next door. Stepping outside, she nearly tripped over a small basket set on her porch. Laying aside her package, she bent over the object, moving the cloth wrapping to reveal the small baby sleeping within. Her breath caught in wonder and then fear as she recognized him as her friend's new little son.
Gathering him carefully into her arms, she was about to go and quickly check on her friend, fearing for her condition, when a packet of letters fell out of the loosened blanket, landing at her feet. Leaning over with the child held carefully against her, she picked it up.
There were three letters, all sealed. One was addressed to her. A fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach, Nodoka broke that one open and read.
TO MY DEAREST FRIEND,
I WISH TO EXPRESS IN WRITING WHAT I COULD NOT TELL YOU IN PERSON. ARIGATO GOZEIMASHITA AND THE KINDNESS YOU HAVE SHOWN A COMPLETE STRANGER. I HAVE COME TO ADMIRE YOUR STRENGTH OF CHARACTER AND STRONG VALUES IN THE SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME WE HAVE HAD TOGETHER.
I NOW MUST ASK YOU A GREAT FAVOR. DUE TO A BLOOD FEUD AND OTHER EVENTS I HAVE BEEN ASKED NOT TO RELATE, IT IS DOUBTFUL THAT MY SON WOULD LIVE LONG WERE I TO TAKE HIM HOME AT THIS TIME. I ASK THAT YOU WOULD PLEASE CARE FOR HIM.
SHOULD ANYTHING HAPPEN TO ME, I HAVE BEEN PROMISED THAT HE WILL BE DELIVERED TO HIS FATHER ON HIS 17TH BIRTHDAY. I KNOW YOU AND KNOW THAT YOU WILL RAISE HIM PROPERLY TO BE A TRUE MAN. I KNOW OF YOUR DESIRE FOR A FAMILY AND WOULD BE HONORED IF YOU WOULD CONSIDER HIM AS YOUR OWN.
Nodoka's hand began to shake as she read on.
I HAVE NOT GIVEN HIM A NAME, KNOWING MY TIME WITH HIM WAS SHORT. I AM GRATEFUL SIMPLY FOR THE CHANCE I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TO ALLOW HIM LIFE. NAME HIM WELL, FOR IF HE IS ANYTHING LIKE HIS FATHER, HIS SPIRIT SHALL BE IMPOSSIBLE TO TAME. I HAVE THE FEELING THAT I WILL NOT BE ALLOWED TO SEE HIM AGAIN IN THIS LIFE, BUT I KNOW I LEAVE HIM IN GOOD, LOVING HANDS.
Nodoka read the rest of the letter, scarcely breathing. She looked again at the bundle in her arms, sadness warring with joy in her heart. She sat on her porch for a long time, reading and thinking.
**
When Genma came back from his latest training trip, he was greeted by his smiling wife and their new son, Ranma.
-----------------
Sorry for delay. Hope this sparks your interest a bit. Translation: Arigato Gezeimashita- VERY formal way of thanking someone for their hospitality. I get the feeling that SHE'D be formal even to one she considered a friend. It seems like her character.
By The Unseen Watcher
Rurouni Kenshin and Ranma ½ not mine. Belong to Takahashi-san and Watsuki- san. Story idea original. I wouldn't mind seeing variations though. I always like to see 'could be's', although I admit that 'What If's' are usually depressing and to be avoided like the flu. Hope you like it so far.
Chapter 6
------------------------
Ranma shifted uneasily in his kneeling position, looking at the walls and ceiling of his room. His mother had insisted that they go there to talk; alone. She had told the others that she would make her announcement after having a word with her son.
She had wanted privacy, which wouldn't have meant much if Nodoka hadn't also politely asked Kasumi to redirect people from the stairs. Still, Ranma knew that wouldn't stop the more determined martial artists from scaling the side of the house to listen in at the window. He knew them well. Therefore, he kept his senses alert to that possibility. Whatever his mother had to say, he wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. He knew down to his bones that something momentous was about to happen.
Ranma shifted most of his attention back to his mother, who was now kneeling across from him, her kimono modestly tucked around her. The pose was uncomfortably like the one Kasumi had taken not that long ago, when She'd wanted her own little talk with him. He felt cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
*
Nodoka looked at her son, and saw she had his attention. "Ranma, will you please open the package now." Her voice didn't quite make it sound like an order, but it was close enough. Her face was set, revealing none of her thoughts. The fact that she had referred to it as a package and not a present didn't escape him.
*
Gingerly, Ranma pulled the tight cloth aside, revealing a small wooden box, plain and unadorned. It had a small bronze latch, but showed no evidence of being locked. Flicking up the catch, he carefully raised the lid.
Inside was a small stack of neatly folded papers. Puzzled, he picked up the top one, holding it nearer the light. It was brown, and crackled with age. Turning it in his fingers, he noted some writing on the back. It was written in elegant Kanji in a handwriting he didn't recognize. The characters read simply 'My Son'. The folds of it were sealed together with wax.
Now more curious than wary, he took out another letter. This was also sealed. Written on it in the same graceful script were the words 'My Husband'.
Ranma looked up at his mother, unable to hide his incomprehension. What was this all about?
In answer, his mother reached into the lining of her obi, and withdrew a letter that was a match for the first two. However, unlike the others, this one had obviously been opened. She turned it, and he caught a brief glimpse of the characters 'My Friend'.
*
Nodoka took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. "Ranma." She said, breaking the awkward silence "many years ago I was charged by a dear friend of mine to give these letters to you on the day of your 17th birthday." She paused, gathering strength. "Along with this." She withdrew a slightly faded photograph from her kimono, handing it reverently over to the at-sea young martial artist. Ranma took the photo carefully, sensing how much his mother cared for it. Looking at it, he beheld two women, standing side by side in a pose for the camera. One was obviously a younger version of his mother. She had changed little, her young eyes appearing bright and innocent as she smiled out at him from the scene.
The other figure was that of a woman he didn't recognize. Long, feathery ebony hair framed an oval face, her most prominent feature being her deep cinnamon-brown eyes. They held a lot more of the weight of experience than the woman beside her. Ranma found himself drawn to that face. It held a sorrow that he emphasized with all too keenly. His heart went out to the young woman. Her pain was an aching echo of his own.
Forcing himself to tear his eyes from that face, he examined the rest of the setting. The two appeared to be in a small garden, around Fall if the leafless tree in the background was any indication. They both wore formal kimonos. His mother's was colorful, while her friend's was a less decorative darker color he couldn't make out, with the shapes of small white flowers visible if he strained to make out detail.
The photo only showed the women from the torso up, but it was plain to anyone that the unknown woman was heavily pregnant.
Ranma finally looked up, catching his mother's scrutinizing gaze. Nodoka looked almost anxious, leaning forward slightly. Noticing that his attention was again on her, she straightened, hands folded in her lap. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Ranma searched for words, and finally asked what he thought was the right question.
"Who is she, mom?" He asked, unable to resist looking at the tantalizing picture again, so he missed his mother's twitch.
"What do you think of her, Ranma?" She asked instead of answering, twisting her fingers slowly. Ranma's eyebrows lowered in thought, looking between her and the photograph. How to put this into words?
"She's very pretty." He finally managed. "There's something in the way she stands that shows pride, but her eyes show she's also really sad." He shook his head, unable to sort out his mixed feelings. "She seems familiar, as if I should know her. But I can't place her. Did I meet her when I was little?" He asked.
Nodoka smiled, the expression flitting briefly over her face before it was gone, replaced by the regret in her eyes. "Yes, once, for a very short time." She whispered. She looked up and met his eyes, her own shimmering with moisture.
"She's your mother."
***
Ranma blinked, staring at the woman across from him. He couldn't think, couldn't even begin to try to examine what she had just said. His mind seemed to be caught in a loop of shock, disbelief, and denial. She couldn't have possibly said what his ears firmly told him she had. There was no way. So, while his brain called his ears liars and his wits scrambled to get back from the places they'd scattered, he could only stare at her, his eyes wide and mouth partly open.
*
Nodoka's fingers tightened around each other, but she willed herself not to drop her gaze. That would have showed a lack of resolve to the course she had now firmly set her feet upon with just three words.
"Ranma?" She said, noticing his preoccupied look. When he didn't respond she said his name louder, unable to keep the slight snap out of her voice. This was difficult enough without him paying attention. She refused to do this twice. His gaze focused, but his eyes were still wide, viewing her as if she was a strange, exotic plant that he was unsure wouldn't bite him if he wasn't careful.
"Ranma." She repeated firmly. "Are you listening to me?"
Ranma nodded, his powers of speech momentarily gone. Nodoka sighed, wishing that this day was over with. Gathering her thoughts the best she could, she began.
*****
She had been a young bride, still recently married. She spent most of her time alone at their home, waiting for her husband to return from his martial arts training. His . . . interesting . . . master had taken him and his fellow trainee Tendo-san on yet another trip. There was no way to know when he would return. Young Genma Saotome could be gone for months at a time, following a training regimen that he never discussed with his new wife. She assumed that it was far too secret for such as her to know. She was so proud to be married to such a manly man.
However, pride in her husband's imagined accomplishments could not stave off the loneliness that came at times. All alone in their house, which had been paid for by her parents, she sought to pass the time with kendo practice. He husband scorned weapons, but she had discovered a sense of calm and peace in continuing her family's sword style tradition.
Finishing her kata, she cleaned herself up and decided to go to the market to pick up a few items for dinner. Walking through her gate, she chanced to glimpse the form of a young woman about her own age stepping out of a nearby apartment complex. Young Nodoka's breath caught as she noted the classic beauty in the features of the other. Long, silky black hair framed a perfect oval face. The way she held herself, so calm and collected, was truly befitting a proper Japanese woman.
Nodoka was something of a fanatic for tradition. The proper roles of men and women in society were one of her blooming obsessions. This woman seemed to be the personification of those values. Hastily, she made sure she looked proper, then formally introduced herself. The other woman, though distant, seemed to approve of her manners. She was invited inside for tea, Nodoka took the opportunity to welcome her to the neighborhood.
*
Over the next several months, Nodoka was able to establish a friendship of sorts with her quiet neighbor. They would sit together over tea, quite often going through the entire formal ceremony. Nodoka loved to do it and her new friend seemed to expect it as a matter of course. Nodoka told her of her family situation, but spoke little of her own family and past, stating only that a matter of honor kept her away from her family and husband for the time being.
Nodoka was curious, but kept her questions to herself. It became harder, however, when the other's kimono could no longer hide the fact that she was very pregnant. Her friend was Very formal, adhering to tradition even more than Nodoka was able to. She'd been surprised to learn that Nodoka practiced kendo, but seemed to accept in her friend what was an unusual practice for a woman. She stated that it was good to be able to defend herself and her family.
Although unfailingly proper, there were still a few things about her neighbor that Nodoka found peculiar. For instance, once she invited her friend over for dinner, and the other had insisted on helping her prepare the meal. Nodoka had stepped out of the kitchen to retrieve something. When she came back, she had discovered her guest, her well-shaped eyebrows lowered in frustration, trying to use the water taps on the sink. Quickly concealing her surprise, she had politely shown how they worked.
Microwaves, too, seemed to be an unknown, and Nodoka had once had to quickly intercept her from putting a can of soup in it. Her friend would listen closely to her explanations of how things worked, nodding. Nodoka wasn't sure if she really understood what she was saying. The woman's face seemed to be set in a permanent expression of cool indifference toward the world around her. Only her eyes gave her interest away, but only on occasion.
**
When the time finally came for her friend to give birth, she would not hear of going to a hospital. She had managed, with some confusion Nodoka knew, to call Nodoka on the phone in the middle of the night.
Nodoka entered the little apartment her friend kept herself sequestered in most of the time. She again noted how sparse and uninviting it seemed; like it was no home at all, but only a temporary stop.
Having been taught properly by her mother, Nodoka had helped her friend through the long hours of labor as best she could. Luckily, there were no complications and a tired Nodoka eventually held a healthy dark-haired baby boy in her arms. Cleaning them both up, she laid the baby into his mother's arms.
As her friend looked at her new son, a rare smile touched her lips, reaching even her eyes. The true warmth enhanced her beauty, even worn out from the labor as she was. Nodoka stayed with them for a few days to help out, before returning to her own home.
That night, she stared wistfully out at the sky, the longing to have her own little one rising up as a dull ache in her chest. With he husband gone so much and as time passed, so did her hopes of ever being a mother.
**
The next day she gathered together a food bundle to take next door. Stepping outside, she nearly tripped over a small basket set on her porch. Laying aside her package, she bent over the object, moving the cloth wrapping to reveal the small baby sleeping within. Her breath caught in wonder and then fear as she recognized him as her friend's new little son.
Gathering him carefully into her arms, she was about to go and quickly check on her friend, fearing for her condition, when a packet of letters fell out of the loosened blanket, landing at her feet. Leaning over with the child held carefully against her, she picked it up.
There were three letters, all sealed. One was addressed to her. A fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach, Nodoka broke that one open and read.
TO MY DEAREST FRIEND,
I WISH TO EXPRESS IN WRITING WHAT I COULD NOT TELL YOU IN PERSON. ARIGATO GOZEIMASHITA AND THE KINDNESS YOU HAVE SHOWN A COMPLETE STRANGER. I HAVE COME TO ADMIRE YOUR STRENGTH OF CHARACTER AND STRONG VALUES IN THE SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME WE HAVE HAD TOGETHER.
I NOW MUST ASK YOU A GREAT FAVOR. DUE TO A BLOOD FEUD AND OTHER EVENTS I HAVE BEEN ASKED NOT TO RELATE, IT IS DOUBTFUL THAT MY SON WOULD LIVE LONG WERE I TO TAKE HIM HOME AT THIS TIME. I ASK THAT YOU WOULD PLEASE CARE FOR HIM.
SHOULD ANYTHING HAPPEN TO ME, I HAVE BEEN PROMISED THAT HE WILL BE DELIVERED TO HIS FATHER ON HIS 17TH BIRTHDAY. I KNOW YOU AND KNOW THAT YOU WILL RAISE HIM PROPERLY TO BE A TRUE MAN. I KNOW OF YOUR DESIRE FOR A FAMILY AND WOULD BE HONORED IF YOU WOULD CONSIDER HIM AS YOUR OWN.
Nodoka's hand began to shake as she read on.
I HAVE NOT GIVEN HIM A NAME, KNOWING MY TIME WITH HIM WAS SHORT. I AM GRATEFUL SIMPLY FOR THE CHANCE I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TO ALLOW HIM LIFE. NAME HIM WELL, FOR IF HE IS ANYTHING LIKE HIS FATHER, HIS SPIRIT SHALL BE IMPOSSIBLE TO TAME. I HAVE THE FEELING THAT I WILL NOT BE ALLOWED TO SEE HIM AGAIN IN THIS LIFE, BUT I KNOW I LEAVE HIM IN GOOD, LOVING HANDS.
Nodoka read the rest of the letter, scarcely breathing. She looked again at the bundle in her arms, sadness warring with joy in her heart. She sat on her porch for a long time, reading and thinking.
**
When Genma came back from his latest training trip, he was greeted by his smiling wife and their new son, Ranma.
-----------------
Sorry for delay. Hope this sparks your interest a bit. Translation: Arigato Gezeimashita- VERY formal way of thanking someone for their hospitality. I get the feeling that SHE'D be formal even to one she considered a friend. It seems like her character.