Chapter Three
Yaone's bedroom was like all the other bedrooms she had ever had; when she needed comfort, there were only her own traces left from which to take it. Her texts, her herbs, her alembics and her clothing, all her own. When she lived in her family's house, her mother had let her choose her own decorations and silks, her own tapestries, and had gone down with her to the town so that the child Yaone could select a weaving of her own choosing. Her bedroom had always been her own territory. It wasn't till later that she had realised there was nothing from anyone else in there that she could hold onto.
She had had a whole night to know what was going to happen in the morning. Hyakugan Maoh. She had curled up in the wreckage of her bed, sheets torn, clothing scattered in a rage of helplessness, and looked around her room in the dying candlelight. That was the whole of her life on the shelves, from the first dried rose-petal to the last distillation of vitriol, and nothing she could do could possibly save her.
After all. It wasn't as if. She was. The sort. Of. Girl. Who. Ran. Away.
It was always your own choice. See? See?
Yaone closed her eyes, then opened them again calmly. Her hands had stopped shaking by now. She had made her bed and must lie in it. She had deliberately chosen to commit an act of sheer insanity in trusting Nii Jieni. The thought nearly made her laugh, but it would have been too close to hysteria for comfort. Now, this was familiar, this was usual; one did not panic until the operation was safely over, one did not let the hands or voice or eye tremble till the matter was done. She had been precise enough in the performance.
Time went by so slowly.
"Our lady of the various sorrows." Nii Jieni was standing there by the door, as though her sense of time had dislocated and skipped a marking on the clock, inside the room, almost within reach of where she sat at her desk. The back of her neck crawled with his nearness. "Jingle. Jingle jangle." He flapped his bunny's ears at her limply. The doll hung in his arm, eternal smile facing downwards towards the floor.
"We had a deal," she said, her voice perfectly calm. "Should I be considering breaking it?"
"Oh no." He laughed, a quick jerking amused sound. ""No, no. Mustn't back out at this point. People would call me a tease. Here." The hand that was toying with the bunny's ears tossed a pellet onto the desk. "Take it. This evening. Call it an earnest of good faith. Mm?"
Yaone didn't touch it. "What is it?"
"Oh. A change of perspective." He smiled at her. She could smell sweat and dirt and stale coffee. "Your heart's desire. Try it and see."
Time -- skipped again. His smell still dirtied her room, but he was gone.
Logic said she would be a fool to take his word for anything, a fool to swallow this pellet. Logic said she had been a fool to let him live. Logic was doubtless right.
Yaone watched her hands, watched the pellet that lay on the smooth dark wood of the desk next to them. Without her gloves, her hands were small, frail things; painted nails a vanity, thin fingers a fragility, delicate bones something that she occasionally found beautiful.
She remembered Dokugakuji talking about gambling. He'd been describing the fever that makes a losing gambler keep on throwing money into the game, in a desperate attempt to win something back, to salvage something from his losses.
The future fanned itself out in front of her in a hundred glittering choices. Spare Nii. Kill Nii. Talk to Dokugakuji. Talk to Kougaiji-sama. Kill Nii. Walk away from here, close the door, turn out the lights, leave this life behind her and with it everything she had ever thought of as honour. Walk into the laboratories and smash everything until someone brought her down and stopped her.
She watched, with the slow calm of exhaustion, as her hands picked up the pellet, and turned it between her fingers. It smelt of hair and metal and blood.
Wearily, Yaone walked across to her bed, and sat down on the edge of it, disarranging the neatly folded covers. She swallowed the pellet, and in turn sleep swallowed her in a great tide of darkness.
---
This is not-time. This is dream. The body is heavier. The hands are larger, and marked with scars. Trousers and robe hang differently on the body. The vision is not as keen.
The body rises. Walks. Yaone moves with it, trapped inside this frame of flesh and bone, a ghost looking out through someone else's eyes. She feels the brush of silk against skin, the knotting of the hands into fists, the cramping of the shoulder muscles. The body is heavy with misery.
Corridors pass.
It is night. Torches burn on the walls, circles of light between the stretches of shadow.
A door. Yaone knows the door. The large-knuckled hand (don't you know yet?) reaches to open it, pulls it open. The body walks into the room beyond. The woman is still encased in stone, eyes blankly fixed and empty, hands crossed on her breast. The ofuda strung around her flutter in the draught from the door. Kougaiji-sama stands beneath the statue, looking up at her face as though he expects to find something in it.
(your Kougaiji-sama)
Kougaiji-sama turns at the disturbance, meets the body's eyes. And
(this is not how it feels for me, Yaone says somewhere inside, in a tiny voice, as the body tightens in response and need)
says, voice empty, without even the hatred or contempt necessary for ice and cold and heart-killing bitterness, "Dokugakuji?"
(you knew who it was)
"Yes, my prince," the body says, and goes down in the full formal salute, head bowed.
"Why?" No effort wasted here. No real curiosity. No concern. No connection. Nothing.
(He's not my Kougaiji-sama)
The body's eyes watch the floor in misery. The body's voice says, "To serve you, my Prince." The body wants. The body wants so badly. The body is torn with the soul's misery, and together they push over all sorts of edges.
"Ah." Footsteps. "Down."
The body knew this would happen. The body is as prepared as it can be.
(but the mind can't go away)
The body is used. The body closes its eyes. The body feels the needle-fine points of nails cutting through the silk of the robe and piercing the shoulders. The body submits and opens and needs and wants and has to have and will take whatever it can get and the body's mouth moves as the body is taken and
(and all she can feel is the body's reflexes, nothing of Dokugakuji, and perhaps he knows nothing of her, but isn't this what you wanted, Yaone-san, didn't you want to be his, isn't this your heart's desire, don't you want your Kougaiji-sama, don't you want him, don't you want?)
shakes in orgasm
(don't you?)
and will go into the fire
(don't)
for the Red Boy
(body, soul, two sides of a coin, both given up)
and Kougaiji-sama finishes, and says, "You may go." And that is all there is to it.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, and when she looked in the mirror there was nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all, and she took her spear, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to the laboratories, and she walked in, and she threw Howan-hakase against the wall to stop her babbling, and she put her spear through Nii Jieni's chest, and she held him there as he choked on his own blood, and it ran out of his mouth and stained her shoes.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, but she would not look at her own face in the mirror, and she took her spear, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to the laboratories, and she waited there very patiently until Nii Jieni came out, and she knocked him down and beat his head in with the butt of her spear.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, noting as she did that her nails were broken and her fingers were bloody, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to the laboratories, and she walked in, and she put her bloody hands around Nii Jieni's throat, and he laughed at her as she tightened her grip until there was no air left for him to laugh with.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, because one must do these things properly, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to her stillroom, and she went in, and she mixed herself a draught of aconite, and she swallowed it, and there was nothing in her head except the single thought of make it stop.
---
And Yaone woke up.
---
Yaone's bedroom was like all the other bedrooms she had ever had; when she needed comfort, there were only her own traces left from which to take it. Her texts, her herbs, her alembics and her clothing, all her own. When she lived in her family's house, her mother had let her choose her own decorations and silks, her own tapestries, and had gone down with her to the town so that the child Yaone could select a weaving of her own choosing. Her bedroom had always been her own territory. It wasn't till later that she had realised there was nothing from anyone else in there that she could hold onto.
She had had a whole night to know what was going to happen in the morning. Hyakugan Maoh. She had curled up in the wreckage of her bed, sheets torn, clothing scattered in a rage of helplessness, and looked around her room in the dying candlelight. That was the whole of her life on the shelves, from the first dried rose-petal to the last distillation of vitriol, and nothing she could do could possibly save her.
After all. It wasn't as if. She was. The sort. Of. Girl. Who. Ran. Away.
It was always your own choice. See? See?
Yaone closed her eyes, then opened them again calmly. Her hands had stopped shaking by now. She had made her bed and must lie in it. She had deliberately chosen to commit an act of sheer insanity in trusting Nii Jieni. The thought nearly made her laugh, but it would have been too close to hysteria for comfort. Now, this was familiar, this was usual; one did not panic until the operation was safely over, one did not let the hands or voice or eye tremble till the matter was done. She had been precise enough in the performance.
Time went by so slowly.
"Our lady of the various sorrows." Nii Jieni was standing there by the door, as though her sense of time had dislocated and skipped a marking on the clock, inside the room, almost within reach of where she sat at her desk. The back of her neck crawled with his nearness. "Jingle. Jingle jangle." He flapped his bunny's ears at her limply. The doll hung in his arm, eternal smile facing downwards towards the floor.
"We had a deal," she said, her voice perfectly calm. "Should I be considering breaking it?"
"Oh no." He laughed, a quick jerking amused sound. ""No, no. Mustn't back out at this point. People would call me a tease. Here." The hand that was toying with the bunny's ears tossed a pellet onto the desk. "Take it. This evening. Call it an earnest of good faith. Mm?"
Yaone didn't touch it. "What is it?"
"Oh. A change of perspective." He smiled at her. She could smell sweat and dirt and stale coffee. "Your heart's desire. Try it and see."
Time -- skipped again. His smell still dirtied her room, but he was gone.
Logic said she would be a fool to take his word for anything, a fool to swallow this pellet. Logic said she had been a fool to let him live. Logic was doubtless right.
Yaone watched her hands, watched the pellet that lay on the smooth dark wood of the desk next to them. Without her gloves, her hands were small, frail things; painted nails a vanity, thin fingers a fragility, delicate bones something that she occasionally found beautiful.
She remembered Dokugakuji talking about gambling. He'd been describing the fever that makes a losing gambler keep on throwing money into the game, in a desperate attempt to win something back, to salvage something from his losses.
The future fanned itself out in front of her in a hundred glittering choices. Spare Nii. Kill Nii. Talk to Dokugakuji. Talk to Kougaiji-sama. Kill Nii. Walk away from here, close the door, turn out the lights, leave this life behind her and with it everything she had ever thought of as honour. Walk into the laboratories and smash everything until someone brought her down and stopped her.
She watched, with the slow calm of exhaustion, as her hands picked up the pellet, and turned it between her fingers. It smelt of hair and metal and blood.
Wearily, Yaone walked across to her bed, and sat down on the edge of it, disarranging the neatly folded covers. She swallowed the pellet, and in turn sleep swallowed her in a great tide of darkness.
---
This is not-time. This is dream. The body is heavier. The hands are larger, and marked with scars. Trousers and robe hang differently on the body. The vision is not as keen.
The body rises. Walks. Yaone moves with it, trapped inside this frame of flesh and bone, a ghost looking out through someone else's eyes. She feels the brush of silk against skin, the knotting of the hands into fists, the cramping of the shoulder muscles. The body is heavy with misery.
Corridors pass.
It is night. Torches burn on the walls, circles of light between the stretches of shadow.
A door. Yaone knows the door. The large-knuckled hand (don't you know yet?) reaches to open it, pulls it open. The body walks into the room beyond. The woman is still encased in stone, eyes blankly fixed and empty, hands crossed on her breast. The ofuda strung around her flutter in the draught from the door. Kougaiji-sama stands beneath the statue, looking up at her face as though he expects to find something in it.
(your Kougaiji-sama)
Kougaiji-sama turns at the disturbance, meets the body's eyes. And
(this is not how it feels for me, Yaone says somewhere inside, in a tiny voice, as the body tightens in response and need)
says, voice empty, without even the hatred or contempt necessary for ice and cold and heart-killing bitterness, "Dokugakuji?"
(you knew who it was)
"Yes, my prince," the body says, and goes down in the full formal salute, head bowed.
"Why?" No effort wasted here. No real curiosity. No concern. No connection. Nothing.
(He's not my Kougaiji-sama)
The body's eyes watch the floor in misery. The body's voice says, "To serve you, my Prince." The body wants. The body wants so badly. The body is torn with the soul's misery, and together they push over all sorts of edges.
"Ah." Footsteps. "Down."
The body knew this would happen. The body is as prepared as it can be.
(but the mind can't go away)
The body is used. The body closes its eyes. The body feels the needle-fine points of nails cutting through the silk of the robe and piercing the shoulders. The body submits and opens and needs and wants and has to have and will take whatever it can get and the body's mouth moves as the body is taken and
(and all she can feel is the body's reflexes, nothing of Dokugakuji, and perhaps he knows nothing of her, but isn't this what you wanted, Yaone-san, didn't you want to be his, isn't this your heart's desire, don't you want your Kougaiji-sama, don't you want him, don't you want?)
shakes in orgasm
(don't you?)
and will go into the fire
(don't)
for the Red Boy
(body, soul, two sides of a coin, both given up)
and Kougaiji-sama finishes, and says, "You may go." And that is all there is to it.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, and when she looked in the mirror there was nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all, and she took her spear, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to the laboratories, and she walked in, and she threw Howan-hakase against the wall to stop her babbling, and she put her spear through Nii Jieni's chest, and she held him there as he choked on his own blood, and it ran out of his mouth and stained her shoes.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, but she would not look at her own face in the mirror, and she took her spear, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to the laboratories, and she waited there very patiently until Nii Jieni came out, and she knocked him down and beat his head in with the butt of her spear.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, noting as she did that her nails were broken and her fingers were bloody, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to the laboratories, and she walked in, and she put her bloody hands around Nii Jieni's throat, and he laughed at her as she tightened her grip until there was no air left for him to laugh with.
---
And Yaone woke up.
And she got out of bed and dressed herself, because one must do these things properly, and she walked through the corridors of the castle until she came to her stillroom, and she went in, and she mixed herself a draught of aconite, and she swallowed it, and there was nothing in her head except the single thought of make it stop.
---
And Yaone woke up.
---
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