Hello people! This is my first Inuyasha fanfic. It takes place around 1810-
1820ish America. Something that might help you out: 1808- Slave importation
into the Americas becomes illegal.
Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha! No, I don't.
It was a quite day, as it always was. The forest jungle croaked with various frogs. A small cricket chirped with the frogs' music. A young boy, dressed in royal purple robes not fit for a wanderer, sat at the base of a tree. He fiddled in a rather bored fashion with some beads wrapped tightly around his wrist. His eyes faded slowly and his hands moved to a more comfortable location on his lap as his breathing slowed to a steady pace. The sun patched through the trees leaves from top brush and blended with his tanned skin. His black hair, pulled back into a small plait so it would stay out of his way, rubbed up against the harsh bark he was so used to. However, another young boy sitting above him, on a jetting tree branch, found his peace letting his hair free. His eyes were focusing all their attention on a small piece of string in front of him.
'Black bead,' he said to himself in his head, as he put a perfectly carved and glossy pitch bead on the small cord. 'Black bead, black bead, black bead.' He stopped and paused for a moment, searching through a little pile of black beads to the very bottom, pulling out a white fang with a hole drilled through it. 'White bead,' he concluded before starting over again. 'Black bead, black bead, black bead, black bead, white bead,' he continued. A strong wind straddled the forest, causing his hair to blow into his face. Annoyed, he snatched it with his hand and flung it back over his shoulder. 'Black bead, black bead, black bead, black bead, white bead,' growled the young boy, not liking the disturbance. He continued on until he ran out of room on the string. He tied the ends of the thread together and held it in front of him to review his masterpiece. 'It will look beautiful on her,' he said proudly. After a few minutes of carving some of the fangs to look even better and flawless, he put the necklace in his pocket so it wouldn't get lost. In his other pocket, he placed the leftover beads and in turn pulled out a long piece of leather thread. He grabbed a small section of his hair that fell next to his cheek and started wrapping the leather around it tightly. His skilled hands twisted and turned, grabbing the twine and releasing it as it soon enclosed his hair with a black covering. There was another gust of wind that caused his hair to fly in front of his face again, but this time he was less annoyed and more worried.
He looked over the tree branch flung a small twig at the young boy napping at the base of the tree's head. When he didn't wake up from his slumber, the boy from above growled and threw a rock down on his head instead. The boy woke up. He looked angrily at the other boy higher than him as he spat a warning to him in his native language. The boy on the ground warily grabbed a long pole with jangling rings on it. He blocked it in front of his body protectively as he stalked towards a bush that was shifting awkwardly against the wind. As he approached the shrubbery slowly until he saw the flash of another's eyes. He shouted a warning to his friend in the tree, who didn't budge, while the one on foot prepared for a fight. A young girl stood up from behind the bush and waved her hands harmlessly. The boy on foot stood up straighter and released from his fighting position.
"Sango-chan?" he asked with a foreign dialect. She smiled and laughed in spite of herself.
"I was just trying to surprise you," she said softly in their native tongue. The young boy only looked on and frowned slightly, turning.
"I thought you were an enemy!" he said, more to the boy in the tree than to the girl in the bush. The boy in the tree just laughed, but suddenly stopped. He held his nose in the air and sniffed the breeze. He issued more orders to the other boy and the newly arrived girl. Much to the boy's disagreement, he went ahead and marched down a small trail with the girl dubbed 'Sango-chan' not far behind. The boy in the tree stayed where he was and continued to hesitantly smell the air. Then he heard his cue. Sango screamed on the top of her lungs making the boy in the tree almost fall off. He regained his composure and jumped off the branch. As he made his way through the brush of the trail, the wind switched directions, and a strong scent of blood punched him in the face. There were so many. Why didn't he hear anything? The turned a small curve and cursed what he saw. The other boy was fighting off a hoard of white-skinned warriors such as themselves, however their eyes weren't the same.
"Look at them!" one of the men shouted in a language the three didn't understand. "This village was full of Asians! They aren't fit to work, they aren't fit to live!" another yelled to the other twenty men behind him. Another man stepped out of the crowd. His skin was clean, and his clothes weren't covered with blood like the rest of the men were.
"I say, look at that one over there," the man said. Instantly, all the others turned and stared at the young boy who had just arrived at the hideous scene. His village, everything he stood for, everything he protected, had died. Hundreds of his people lay across the town square, dead. All of their throats were slit, some were even hanged. How long had this gone on? Were they tortured? His eyes scanned the morbid scene and his eyes fell upon someone wearing white and red, although it was mostly red now. It stood apart from the others who were mostly dressed in dark, drab colors.
"Kikyou!" he screamed, running towards the one of many who lay dead on the dirt floor. The men watched him run across them and even shove a few of them aside.
"What is the meaning of this?" one of them asked. The young boy kneeled down the girl on the floor. His eyes were shattered. A large gash controlled her stomach, and blood poured out freely.
"Kikyou," he said silently as to not disturb her.
"Inu." she sighed, and opened her eyes softly, "Yasha?" Her hand wisped into Inuyasha's, placing something hidden in his palm. His eyes widened as he fingered the chipped object before stuffing it in his pocket. She grimaced and keeled over, wanting to hug her stomach but was unable to because of the pain. She made a small gurgling noise, and then she stopped. Stopped talking, stopped fluttering her eyes, stopped breathing at all.
"Kikyou," he said again. He brushed some hair out of her face.
"A lover-lost relationship," one of the evil white men said.
"Should we kill them?" another asked the supposed 'leader' who had noticed the young boy earlier. The other boy and girl guarded each other whenever any of the rather confused men spared a glance in their direction.
"Hold that thought," the leader said, holding up his hand to stop any of the other men from getting ideas. He eyed the young boy holding his dead lover. His hair was long, and a startling, abnormal white. The red robes he wore seemed to deem him a higher place in society than the others they had slaughtered beforehand. However he wore no shoes, and his hands were gruesomely misshapen. To match his red robes, he also had a red bandana covering his head. It was wrapped over itself repeatedly, so it looked more like a headband tied in the back, letting his bangs fall freely in front of his eyes. "However much the others were misfit for the work back home, these three seem well traveled and fit. They shall do nicely with the others, and sell for a high price."
Inuyasha along with the other boy and girl gathered closely together. These people had destroyed an entire village. It would have been no major feat, except his Kikyou had fought and lost, and this drastically decreased their odds.
"It doesn't look like they'll come quietly," the leader sighed with dismay. "Do what you must to get them on the ship." He and three other men started leaving towards the coast. "I will be with the others making sure the new slaves are kept in line." With that, they were off and out of sight. The threesome wanted to follow, but the other sixteen men that stayed behind and stopped them. Inuyasha snarled and pulled back his sleeve. five men approached him. He knocked them out with one strike of his claws. Seeing how strong he was, every other man crowded around them, and the last thing Inuyasha saw was a blonde-haired young man punching him in the stomach.
"Yasha-sama," a girl said. "Yasha-sama, wake up!" "He'll wake up when he's ready," a boy replied. There was a short pause. "Gods, he's looking at me! Yasha, wake up quickly! Don't leave me alone with him!" Inuyasha's nose flinched. He felt some shuffling near his feet and smelled the shore, although it was saltier than usual. "Yasha-sama!" Inuyasha sighed and lifted his hand, without even opening his eyes, and gripped the other boy's wrist.
"Don't lay a hand on her," he moaned.
"Yasha-sama!" the boy replied. Inuyasha opened his eyes sluggishly and used his free hand to rub his eyes.
"What happened?" he growled.
"Hoshie-san rubbed my back and his hands kept getting lower and-"
"Before that," he said.
"Oh. After the men knocked you out, we were defeated and they put us on this big wooden thing that's sailing across the sea!" Sango explained. Inuyasha sat up and looked at his surroundings. It was dark, save for some light escaping from the dank ceiling. Suddenly, the feeling hit him that they were not alone.
"People are here," he said, smelling the all-to salty atmosphere.
"I'll say," Sango said. "There are at least one hundred of the Neko-clan here. It's rather cramped, but they saved you some room over here in the back corner." They suddenly hit a large wave and caused Sango to fall over. The rather perverted young boy never lost his equanimity.
"Hey, Miroku," Inuyasha said. The boy turned his head and looked at the white haired boy still sitting on the wet floor. "When do you plan on talking?"
"I prefer not to talk in the presence of the Neko-clan. I never trusted them." Despite his serious demeanor, Inuyasha just rolled his eyes.
"You just hate them because their miko refused to bear your children," he said with a condescending tone. Miroku, unsettled, sat down next to Sango and leisurely wrapped his arm around her waste.
"Hoshie-sama!"
"If you don't cut that out, I'm going to throw you off this thing," Inuyasha warned.
"You're lucky you found the one for you," Miroku spat in reply. Sango reacted and jabbed him in the ribs with her sharp elbow.
"Hoshie-sama!" she repeated with a harsher tone. Miroku, catching his words too late, turned to where Inuyasha was sitting, but he was already gone.
"Don't worry about me," he said as he explored the beams that supported the room where the Neko-clan and themselves were kept. "I'm fine, totally over her." Sango and Miroku looked on with worried faces. It wasn't long until the darkness of the room consumed him and he was out of sight.
"I don't think he's okay at all," Sango said dismally as Inuyasha passed through a grate where light passed through, just as another wave crashed and splattered him with water. He sat down Indian-style and squeezed the salty liquid out of his hair with his claws.
"You know, you worry about Inuyasha too much," Miroku said. Another wave came by and knocked him off his beam.
"Why, are you jealous?" she asked. He instantly leaped back on the beam and crept away to a spot a little drier.
"Of course not. I find fretting for the ones you care for very attractive," he said as he slipped his hand down Sango's thigh. "I just wish you'd worry about me."
SLAP!
***
It was very noisy for the morning. The sun radiated through the windows of the large house as horses trampled down the dirt streets. A young girl cracked open her eyes as the light hit it's nine o'clock spot. Her nose wrinkled and she sat up, scratching her matted, black hair. She stumbled over to a stool where she climbed a stool to look outside. The dusty pavement matched with the dull, russet buildings, each identical to each other. Across the street, there was a small building, where the dreary, burgundy sign 'Market & Feed' painted on a wooden backing. On the front porch, there were three old rocking chairs, two with ladies in them, one with a man. The first lady sat in a high-collar deep blue dress, filled with layers and pins, button and hooks. She used a paper flyer with printing of a new feed store opening down the lane to fan herself from the rustic summer morning. The second lady was significantly younger, with a maroon dress of the same design. The only difference was that she used a fabric fan imported from Spain to cool herself off. The last, the man, was old and weak. He used an ivory cane, which was currently resting up against the store wall, to walk, however now was his time for rest. He wore a dark green striped pin suit and sweated with dignity, but gladly accepted a glass of cool water from his own black slave.
The girl looked with satisfaction as the young lady in maroon, her own mistress, accepted some tea from the man's slave, signifying that she would be there for a while. She sighed and took off her pajamas, and the layer under it, wearing nothing but her brassiere and underwear. It was significantly cooler inside than it was outside in the intense heat, and the smaller amount of clothes helped a great deal. The girl wasn't a slave, she wasn't black, but had not yet earned her freedom.
Her father, when she was young, did a bunch of, what he told her before he died, 'very bad mistakes.' However, she knew already. She didn't like the idea of hearing the news from the constable. Apparently, the food that they had been eating the past few weeks before his death wasn't legally theirs. Before paying off his debts to the food store, England had suffered under the worst blizzard in years, and he suffered under the flu. The constables, therefore as payment, sent the uninvolved girl and her poor brother to the Americas to be sold off as indentured servants. Somewhere in the midst of the sailing and the hustle of the American streets, they were separated and she hadn't seen him in the past five years. She was worried, of course. Who wouldn't be? However, if it weren't for the last thing her father said on his deathbed, 'Keep Souta under your eye,' she would have been less unsettled.
"Hope!" a lady's voice hollered from downstairs. The girl's eyes opened quickly from her daydream from the past. "Hope, are you up yet?" It was her mistress. Quickly, the girl sat up and looked around blindly. "Are you outside?" As she dashed to her closet, she took out a dull, tweed dress. It was the non-denominational brown that was suited with most slaves and indentured servants such as herself. She quickly slipped the dress on and pulled out a slightly lighter tanned vest that she tied on her chest. As her hands combed through her hair like a brush, she took out a small hat that fit more like a bandana. It was white with brown cloth that continued over the back of her head. Lastly, she put on a pair of shoes, cheaply made and far too small, before she rushed down the stairs.
"I'm up here, ma'am!" she called in reply. She looped down the spiral staircase and grabbed the banister before performing her final turn. "Ma'am?" she called again, right before running into her and her best tea set.
"Hope!" she cried with dismay. Quickly, Hope grabbed the other end of the tray before it tipped over and shattered on the floor.
"Don't worry ma'am," Hope said breathlessly. She noticed that the tea set was made out of the fragile china. "Ma'am, do you have guests over?" she inquired.
"Yes. You recall Gabriel, right?" she asked, placing the tea set in Hope's hands as she nodded quickly. How could she forget? She had looked after her son every time she and her mistress went out on holiday. "She's visiting for a while. I wasn't sure if you were awake yet, so I was going to say you were out back working," she added, winking. Gabriel, long for 'Gabby.' As her name implies, her love for talking is only surpassed by her love for the church. Hope followed inside with the tray balanced in her hands. "Here she is!" her mistress said happily. "I caught her out back working in the garden." Hope gracefully placed a teacup on the small table across from Gabriel.
"I never knew she was such a hard worker!" she said with her southern accent, as if Hope working was an amazing stunt. "I have always heard that Asians had a wonderful work ethic." Hope turned to her mistress, smirking so that Gabriel wouldn't see. "Oh, does she speak English, by chance?" Hope wanted to faint. What did she think she spoke, Japanese? She had lived in an English-speaking environment her entire life. It was almost amazing that Gabriel trusted her with her children when she didn't even know what language she spoke.
"Yes, she's fluent," her mistress sighed to Gabriel's own stupidity.
"Oh, yes, that reminds me," she said, coughing hesitantly. Hope took this as her turn to leave. She took the tray and left back into the kitchen and closed the door. However, as soon as she put the tray on the counter, she rushed to the crack in the door frame so she listen. "Okay, I didn't know how she'd react hearing this."
"Hearing what, Gabby?"
"I heard that there was a new shipment of slaves coming in at an undisclosed location," she whispered.
"Gabby!" Hope's mistress laughed. "You know slave importation is outrageously outlawed. It must be a myth!"
"No! This is true! I remembered you saying how you wished you had a few slaves to help you out with the garden. Hope is great, I'm sure, but she's not nearly enough to pull off enough crop to last you all winter!"
"I know that," she sighed. Hope, listening in the kitchen, sighed and backed away.
'She wants to buy illegally immigrated slaves,' Hope thought to herself. 'I really don't mind the extra help, but this could really get her in trouble.'
"Hope!" her mistress called, opening the kitchen door. "Oh!" she cried, surprised to see her standing so close. "Gabriel has notified me of an event coming up that I would rather not miss. I am leaving tonight for three day trip to the bay. Gabriel has asked that you watch her son, Sebastian."
'Ech, what a horrible name,' Hope said to herself.
"Of course!" she said merrily. "I'd love to." Her mistress smiled and turned back around so she could go upstairs and pack.
"I'm going up so I can pick up my son. I'll come back soon to pick up Savanna," Gabriel explained. Hope nodded, figuring it would be best not to talk and keep her guessing about whether she really spoke English or not. Gabriel nodded nervously and left before she wasted too much time.
"Mistress is going to be gone for three days," Hope sighed. "But on the good side, mistress will be gone for three days!" She happily skipped back up to the attic to straighten up her living quarters. Sebastian coming to visit was always a treat.
Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha! No, I don't.
It was a quite day, as it always was. The forest jungle croaked with various frogs. A small cricket chirped with the frogs' music. A young boy, dressed in royal purple robes not fit for a wanderer, sat at the base of a tree. He fiddled in a rather bored fashion with some beads wrapped tightly around his wrist. His eyes faded slowly and his hands moved to a more comfortable location on his lap as his breathing slowed to a steady pace. The sun patched through the trees leaves from top brush and blended with his tanned skin. His black hair, pulled back into a small plait so it would stay out of his way, rubbed up against the harsh bark he was so used to. However, another young boy sitting above him, on a jetting tree branch, found his peace letting his hair free. His eyes were focusing all their attention on a small piece of string in front of him.
'Black bead,' he said to himself in his head, as he put a perfectly carved and glossy pitch bead on the small cord. 'Black bead, black bead, black bead.' He stopped and paused for a moment, searching through a little pile of black beads to the very bottom, pulling out a white fang with a hole drilled through it. 'White bead,' he concluded before starting over again. 'Black bead, black bead, black bead, black bead, white bead,' he continued. A strong wind straddled the forest, causing his hair to blow into his face. Annoyed, he snatched it with his hand and flung it back over his shoulder. 'Black bead, black bead, black bead, black bead, white bead,' growled the young boy, not liking the disturbance. He continued on until he ran out of room on the string. He tied the ends of the thread together and held it in front of him to review his masterpiece. 'It will look beautiful on her,' he said proudly. After a few minutes of carving some of the fangs to look even better and flawless, he put the necklace in his pocket so it wouldn't get lost. In his other pocket, he placed the leftover beads and in turn pulled out a long piece of leather thread. He grabbed a small section of his hair that fell next to his cheek and started wrapping the leather around it tightly. His skilled hands twisted and turned, grabbing the twine and releasing it as it soon enclosed his hair with a black covering. There was another gust of wind that caused his hair to fly in front of his face again, but this time he was less annoyed and more worried.
He looked over the tree branch flung a small twig at the young boy napping at the base of the tree's head. When he didn't wake up from his slumber, the boy from above growled and threw a rock down on his head instead. The boy woke up. He looked angrily at the other boy higher than him as he spat a warning to him in his native language. The boy on the ground warily grabbed a long pole with jangling rings on it. He blocked it in front of his body protectively as he stalked towards a bush that was shifting awkwardly against the wind. As he approached the shrubbery slowly until he saw the flash of another's eyes. He shouted a warning to his friend in the tree, who didn't budge, while the one on foot prepared for a fight. A young girl stood up from behind the bush and waved her hands harmlessly. The boy on foot stood up straighter and released from his fighting position.
"Sango-chan?" he asked with a foreign dialect. She smiled and laughed in spite of herself.
"I was just trying to surprise you," she said softly in their native tongue. The young boy only looked on and frowned slightly, turning.
"I thought you were an enemy!" he said, more to the boy in the tree than to the girl in the bush. The boy in the tree just laughed, but suddenly stopped. He held his nose in the air and sniffed the breeze. He issued more orders to the other boy and the newly arrived girl. Much to the boy's disagreement, he went ahead and marched down a small trail with the girl dubbed 'Sango-chan' not far behind. The boy in the tree stayed where he was and continued to hesitantly smell the air. Then he heard his cue. Sango screamed on the top of her lungs making the boy in the tree almost fall off. He regained his composure and jumped off the branch. As he made his way through the brush of the trail, the wind switched directions, and a strong scent of blood punched him in the face. There were so many. Why didn't he hear anything? The turned a small curve and cursed what he saw. The other boy was fighting off a hoard of white-skinned warriors such as themselves, however their eyes weren't the same.
"Look at them!" one of the men shouted in a language the three didn't understand. "This village was full of Asians! They aren't fit to work, they aren't fit to live!" another yelled to the other twenty men behind him. Another man stepped out of the crowd. His skin was clean, and his clothes weren't covered with blood like the rest of the men were.
"I say, look at that one over there," the man said. Instantly, all the others turned and stared at the young boy who had just arrived at the hideous scene. His village, everything he stood for, everything he protected, had died. Hundreds of his people lay across the town square, dead. All of their throats were slit, some were even hanged. How long had this gone on? Were they tortured? His eyes scanned the morbid scene and his eyes fell upon someone wearing white and red, although it was mostly red now. It stood apart from the others who were mostly dressed in dark, drab colors.
"Kikyou!" he screamed, running towards the one of many who lay dead on the dirt floor. The men watched him run across them and even shove a few of them aside.
"What is the meaning of this?" one of them asked. The young boy kneeled down the girl on the floor. His eyes were shattered. A large gash controlled her stomach, and blood poured out freely.
"Kikyou," he said silently as to not disturb her.
"Inu." she sighed, and opened her eyes softly, "Yasha?" Her hand wisped into Inuyasha's, placing something hidden in his palm. His eyes widened as he fingered the chipped object before stuffing it in his pocket. She grimaced and keeled over, wanting to hug her stomach but was unable to because of the pain. She made a small gurgling noise, and then she stopped. Stopped talking, stopped fluttering her eyes, stopped breathing at all.
"Kikyou," he said again. He brushed some hair out of her face.
"A lover-lost relationship," one of the evil white men said.
"Should we kill them?" another asked the supposed 'leader' who had noticed the young boy earlier. The other boy and girl guarded each other whenever any of the rather confused men spared a glance in their direction.
"Hold that thought," the leader said, holding up his hand to stop any of the other men from getting ideas. He eyed the young boy holding his dead lover. His hair was long, and a startling, abnormal white. The red robes he wore seemed to deem him a higher place in society than the others they had slaughtered beforehand. However he wore no shoes, and his hands were gruesomely misshapen. To match his red robes, he also had a red bandana covering his head. It was wrapped over itself repeatedly, so it looked more like a headband tied in the back, letting his bangs fall freely in front of his eyes. "However much the others were misfit for the work back home, these three seem well traveled and fit. They shall do nicely with the others, and sell for a high price."
Inuyasha along with the other boy and girl gathered closely together. These people had destroyed an entire village. It would have been no major feat, except his Kikyou had fought and lost, and this drastically decreased their odds.
"It doesn't look like they'll come quietly," the leader sighed with dismay. "Do what you must to get them on the ship." He and three other men started leaving towards the coast. "I will be with the others making sure the new slaves are kept in line." With that, they were off and out of sight. The threesome wanted to follow, but the other sixteen men that stayed behind and stopped them. Inuyasha snarled and pulled back his sleeve. five men approached him. He knocked them out with one strike of his claws. Seeing how strong he was, every other man crowded around them, and the last thing Inuyasha saw was a blonde-haired young man punching him in the stomach.
"Yasha-sama," a girl said. "Yasha-sama, wake up!" "He'll wake up when he's ready," a boy replied. There was a short pause. "Gods, he's looking at me! Yasha, wake up quickly! Don't leave me alone with him!" Inuyasha's nose flinched. He felt some shuffling near his feet and smelled the shore, although it was saltier than usual. "Yasha-sama!" Inuyasha sighed and lifted his hand, without even opening his eyes, and gripped the other boy's wrist.
"Don't lay a hand on her," he moaned.
"Yasha-sama!" the boy replied. Inuyasha opened his eyes sluggishly and used his free hand to rub his eyes.
"What happened?" he growled.
"Hoshie-san rubbed my back and his hands kept getting lower and-"
"Before that," he said.
"Oh. After the men knocked you out, we were defeated and they put us on this big wooden thing that's sailing across the sea!" Sango explained. Inuyasha sat up and looked at his surroundings. It was dark, save for some light escaping from the dank ceiling. Suddenly, the feeling hit him that they were not alone.
"People are here," he said, smelling the all-to salty atmosphere.
"I'll say," Sango said. "There are at least one hundred of the Neko-clan here. It's rather cramped, but they saved you some room over here in the back corner." They suddenly hit a large wave and caused Sango to fall over. The rather perverted young boy never lost his equanimity.
"Hey, Miroku," Inuyasha said. The boy turned his head and looked at the white haired boy still sitting on the wet floor. "When do you plan on talking?"
"I prefer not to talk in the presence of the Neko-clan. I never trusted them." Despite his serious demeanor, Inuyasha just rolled his eyes.
"You just hate them because their miko refused to bear your children," he said with a condescending tone. Miroku, unsettled, sat down next to Sango and leisurely wrapped his arm around her waste.
"Hoshie-sama!"
"If you don't cut that out, I'm going to throw you off this thing," Inuyasha warned.
"You're lucky you found the one for you," Miroku spat in reply. Sango reacted and jabbed him in the ribs with her sharp elbow.
"Hoshie-sama!" she repeated with a harsher tone. Miroku, catching his words too late, turned to where Inuyasha was sitting, but he was already gone.
"Don't worry about me," he said as he explored the beams that supported the room where the Neko-clan and themselves were kept. "I'm fine, totally over her." Sango and Miroku looked on with worried faces. It wasn't long until the darkness of the room consumed him and he was out of sight.
"I don't think he's okay at all," Sango said dismally as Inuyasha passed through a grate where light passed through, just as another wave crashed and splattered him with water. He sat down Indian-style and squeezed the salty liquid out of his hair with his claws.
"You know, you worry about Inuyasha too much," Miroku said. Another wave came by and knocked him off his beam.
"Why, are you jealous?" she asked. He instantly leaped back on the beam and crept away to a spot a little drier.
"Of course not. I find fretting for the ones you care for very attractive," he said as he slipped his hand down Sango's thigh. "I just wish you'd worry about me."
SLAP!
***
It was very noisy for the morning. The sun radiated through the windows of the large house as horses trampled down the dirt streets. A young girl cracked open her eyes as the light hit it's nine o'clock spot. Her nose wrinkled and she sat up, scratching her matted, black hair. She stumbled over to a stool where she climbed a stool to look outside. The dusty pavement matched with the dull, russet buildings, each identical to each other. Across the street, there was a small building, where the dreary, burgundy sign 'Market & Feed' painted on a wooden backing. On the front porch, there were three old rocking chairs, two with ladies in them, one with a man. The first lady sat in a high-collar deep blue dress, filled with layers and pins, button and hooks. She used a paper flyer with printing of a new feed store opening down the lane to fan herself from the rustic summer morning. The second lady was significantly younger, with a maroon dress of the same design. The only difference was that she used a fabric fan imported from Spain to cool herself off. The last, the man, was old and weak. He used an ivory cane, which was currently resting up against the store wall, to walk, however now was his time for rest. He wore a dark green striped pin suit and sweated with dignity, but gladly accepted a glass of cool water from his own black slave.
The girl looked with satisfaction as the young lady in maroon, her own mistress, accepted some tea from the man's slave, signifying that she would be there for a while. She sighed and took off her pajamas, and the layer under it, wearing nothing but her brassiere and underwear. It was significantly cooler inside than it was outside in the intense heat, and the smaller amount of clothes helped a great deal. The girl wasn't a slave, she wasn't black, but had not yet earned her freedom.
Her father, when she was young, did a bunch of, what he told her before he died, 'very bad mistakes.' However, she knew already. She didn't like the idea of hearing the news from the constable. Apparently, the food that they had been eating the past few weeks before his death wasn't legally theirs. Before paying off his debts to the food store, England had suffered under the worst blizzard in years, and he suffered under the flu. The constables, therefore as payment, sent the uninvolved girl and her poor brother to the Americas to be sold off as indentured servants. Somewhere in the midst of the sailing and the hustle of the American streets, they were separated and she hadn't seen him in the past five years. She was worried, of course. Who wouldn't be? However, if it weren't for the last thing her father said on his deathbed, 'Keep Souta under your eye,' she would have been less unsettled.
"Hope!" a lady's voice hollered from downstairs. The girl's eyes opened quickly from her daydream from the past. "Hope, are you up yet?" It was her mistress. Quickly, the girl sat up and looked around blindly. "Are you outside?" As she dashed to her closet, she took out a dull, tweed dress. It was the non-denominational brown that was suited with most slaves and indentured servants such as herself. She quickly slipped the dress on and pulled out a slightly lighter tanned vest that she tied on her chest. As her hands combed through her hair like a brush, she took out a small hat that fit more like a bandana. It was white with brown cloth that continued over the back of her head. Lastly, she put on a pair of shoes, cheaply made and far too small, before she rushed down the stairs.
"I'm up here, ma'am!" she called in reply. She looped down the spiral staircase and grabbed the banister before performing her final turn. "Ma'am?" she called again, right before running into her and her best tea set.
"Hope!" she cried with dismay. Quickly, Hope grabbed the other end of the tray before it tipped over and shattered on the floor.
"Don't worry ma'am," Hope said breathlessly. She noticed that the tea set was made out of the fragile china. "Ma'am, do you have guests over?" she inquired.
"Yes. You recall Gabriel, right?" she asked, placing the tea set in Hope's hands as she nodded quickly. How could she forget? She had looked after her son every time she and her mistress went out on holiday. "She's visiting for a while. I wasn't sure if you were awake yet, so I was going to say you were out back working," she added, winking. Gabriel, long for 'Gabby.' As her name implies, her love for talking is only surpassed by her love for the church. Hope followed inside with the tray balanced in her hands. "Here she is!" her mistress said happily. "I caught her out back working in the garden." Hope gracefully placed a teacup on the small table across from Gabriel.
"I never knew she was such a hard worker!" she said with her southern accent, as if Hope working was an amazing stunt. "I have always heard that Asians had a wonderful work ethic." Hope turned to her mistress, smirking so that Gabriel wouldn't see. "Oh, does she speak English, by chance?" Hope wanted to faint. What did she think she spoke, Japanese? She had lived in an English-speaking environment her entire life. It was almost amazing that Gabriel trusted her with her children when she didn't even know what language she spoke.
"Yes, she's fluent," her mistress sighed to Gabriel's own stupidity.
"Oh, yes, that reminds me," she said, coughing hesitantly. Hope took this as her turn to leave. She took the tray and left back into the kitchen and closed the door. However, as soon as she put the tray on the counter, she rushed to the crack in the door frame so she listen. "Okay, I didn't know how she'd react hearing this."
"Hearing what, Gabby?"
"I heard that there was a new shipment of slaves coming in at an undisclosed location," she whispered.
"Gabby!" Hope's mistress laughed. "You know slave importation is outrageously outlawed. It must be a myth!"
"No! This is true! I remembered you saying how you wished you had a few slaves to help you out with the garden. Hope is great, I'm sure, but she's not nearly enough to pull off enough crop to last you all winter!"
"I know that," she sighed. Hope, listening in the kitchen, sighed and backed away.
'She wants to buy illegally immigrated slaves,' Hope thought to herself. 'I really don't mind the extra help, but this could really get her in trouble.'
"Hope!" her mistress called, opening the kitchen door. "Oh!" she cried, surprised to see her standing so close. "Gabriel has notified me of an event coming up that I would rather not miss. I am leaving tonight for three day trip to the bay. Gabriel has asked that you watch her son, Sebastian."
'Ech, what a horrible name,' Hope said to herself.
"Of course!" she said merrily. "I'd love to." Her mistress smiled and turned back around so she could go upstairs and pack.
"I'm going up so I can pick up my son. I'll come back soon to pick up Savanna," Gabriel explained. Hope nodded, figuring it would be best not to talk and keep her guessing about whether she really spoke English or not. Gabriel nodded nervously and left before she wasted too much time.
"Mistress is going to be gone for three days," Hope sighed. "But on the good side, mistress will be gone for three days!" She happily skipped back up to the attic to straighten up her living quarters. Sebastian coming to visit was always a treat.