Mini-glossary of Japanese words/phrases used in this chapter and roughly
translated English equivalent:
maa - well
oi - hey
hajimemashite - commonly used in greeting, 'pleased to meet you'/ 'how do you do?'
yoroshiku onegaishimasu - commonly used in greeting, 'it's a pleasure to meet you'
iie - no
hai - yes
sumimasen - excuse me/ I'm sorry
ohayo gozaimasu - good morning
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CHAPTER 5: Morning Resolutions
"Kyou-kun, what are you doing?" Shigure sounded surprised. "You're up early this morning."
"What does it look like?" Kyou kept his attention on what he was doing. "I'm making breakfast," he muttered. "Have to get up a little earlier to do that."
An eyebrow arched but Shigure remained silent, a quiet and thoughtful expression on his face that Kyou couldn't see with the way his concentration was focused with whatever it was he that he was stirring on top of the stove, the only sounds in the quiet room being those of cooking and the natural noises that filtered in from outdoors. It was an unusual sight, to say the least, as Shigure could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Kyou in the kitchen cooking something that required more preparation than pouring cold milk over a bowl of cereal. And though she wasn't here, Shigure had no doubt that this sign of domesticity from Kyou had something to do with Tohru.
Testing the waters, he sidled closer to where Kyou stood with his back facing outwards, as if shutting out in his own way everything else but the task at hand. Shigure was close enough to peer into the pot and, upon doing so, he teased playfully as he usually did whenever the occasion arose.
"That's a lot of food for one person," Shigure said lightly. "I had no idea you had such a large appetite."
Kyou just grunted, ignoring him.
Shigure paused, not used to that reaction, and decided to prod a little more. "You'll share, won't you?" he whined, leaning his body against Kyou's like a dead weight. "You wouldn't want me to starve to death, would you?"
"If you want breakfast, you have to wait for it," Kyou said tonelessly. "It's not done yet."
Shigure drew back, examining Kyou with narrowed eyes that the teenager failed to notice, concentrated on cooking as he was as he continued to stir in methodical motions, almost mechanical in a way. Truly, Kyou's reactions were beyond the norm because, under usual circumstances, he would have been quick to rise to the verbal baiting, not to mention the physical contact from when Shigure had leaned against him knowing that the touch would be hated. But not an angry word was spoken, not one punch pulled. Instead, the words had been toneless and lackluster, devoid of energy or any emotion aside from those tied to depression.
No doubt, Shigure thought, Yuki would be similar, probably still closeted up in his room at the moment with whatever was weighing on his mind, the same things weighing on Kyou. Although the depressive quiet that lay within the interior of the house would most likely have a dampening effect on the usual liveliness, Shigure did find it interesting in its own way even though the next few days might prove dull in terms of activity around the house. Besides, he knew it couldn't last.
"You're cooking breakfast for everyone?" Shigure just couldn't help poking at him, wanting some reaction. "Even your most hated rival?"
A noncommittal grunt was his reply, which was, really, an answer in itself.
"Oh, my. What a surprise! Kyou-kun's being such a wonderful house helper today!" Shigure cocked his head. "I'm sure Tohru-kun would be excited if she knew."
There was a brief pause, a frozen moment, before Kyou resumed his stirring, such a little thing but one Shigure picked up on since he had been watching out for it. He was pleased to have gotten a reaction even though he wasn't completely sure as to the reasons behind it but he shrugged it off, positive that it was inconsequential in the long run. Knowing there would be little reaction to his quips today from Kyou, as well as Yuki, Shigure made his exit because, after all, it wasn't much fun to play with those who offered no response.
"Maa," he went just as he exited, leaving thoughts of the girl who was at the heart of the situation lingering in the air, "we can tell her when she comes back."
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She woke as sunlight filtered in through the window, the warmth of the sun's rays falling across her sleepy features, rousing her from her drowsy slumber. Awareness stole upon her as sounds of the morning gradually melted into her consciousness: the droning of summer insects, the chirping cries of birds, the faint rustling of tree leaves ruffled by a passing breeze. All were familiar noises that lightened her heart.
With a tiny yawn, she sat up, rubbing at bleary eyes, as she made ready to greet the new day. Lethargic thoughts of what she could prepare for today's breakfast trickled across her sluggish mind as she did her best to blink away the last vestiges of sleep, hazily looking about her as she tried to focus herself. But any traces of sleepy fogginess dissipated immediately upon the realization of the evidence before her.
She wasn't in her room.
Gone was the large pink bed she'd spent many a nights in, replaced with the cushiony mattress of a futon laid out across the wooden floor warmed by the summer sun. Instead of her things neatly arranged in their designated spaces in or upon her set of drawers, they were jumbled together, still in the bags they had been brought over in. The warmth of the morning faded away, replaced by a chill as the reality of her situation returned to her, seeping into her mind with the unavoidable truth that seemed even more glaring in daylight than under the cover of darkness of the night.
This wasn't where she was supposed to be.
She was no longer in the haven of Shigure's house, no longer expected to prepare the meals or perform the other household chores that had been hers to execute with surety since she had begun living there. Now her life was cast into uncertainty, the safe structure of her days falling apart, and she wondered what to do with herself in this new sphere she had been set into, a place where her role would be dictated by the one who lorded over her friends and, at present, even her.
Her friends.
At the thought of them, a depressed mood settled upon her as her shoulders drooped and she wondered how they were doing, worried over how they'd get along without her, hoped they were well in spite of her own concerns about this new situation they all found themselves in. Loneliness and doubts pressed down upon her and she shifted in agitation, needing something to distract her from her train of thought, made restless from the oddity of being inactive with nothing to do, no schedule to follow and cling to.
She felt useless.
Her eyes fell upon the bags containing her belongings, placed off to the side. She hadn't bothered to touch them last night other than to retrieve her nightclothes which she had immediately put on before curling into the futon left to her, hoping that sleep would come to claim her and chase the memories of the past hours away. Now she reached for them, her anchor, something solid to hold onto in the multitude of uncertainties that presently surrounded her.
She concentrated on the task of delving into the bags and discovering just what had been packed away for her: clothes, grooming accessories, summer homework for school, her mother's picture which had been swaddled in the material of her clothes with care to insure that it would arrive safely on the trip over. It was the last item that caught her full attention, or rather, the two folded notes that were laid upon the cool glass of the picture frame.
She carefully unfolded them, reading their contents out loud to herself.
"Honda-san," she recited softly, "I hope this note finds you well. There's much I want to say, but not enough time. Shigure said to wait, to see what happens, to keep our distance, that it's what you would want. We agreed and I hope it's the right decision, that it really is what you want. But, Honda-san, I pray that this will only be for a short while and you'll come home soon. Hatori promised to do his best to keep us informed so if there's anything, anything at all, that you want done, then tell him and we'll do our best to follow through. Whatever it takes. In the meantime, don't worry yourself over us and please concentrate on taking care of yourself. We would all be very concerned if anything were to happen to such an important member of our house. Yuki."
A soft bittersweet smile touched her face at the concern underlying the brief message. Her smile widened even more at a glance at the next note, unsigned and even shorter than the previous one, very much like its creator.
"Oi," it began, "If something's wrong, let us know and we'll come bust you out. And don't go stupid worrying about the dumb dog and damned mouse. I'll take care of the house stuff while you're gone. Just hurry up and get back."
The words before her began to waver and blur and she had to blink rapidly to still the emotional tears that threatened to flow. A part of her feared that she'd never be able to get them to stop once they started falling in a never-ending cascade and she didn't want to be that weak, so undeserving of the care and concern given to her, inherent in the notes bestowed upon her. They were such small things, and yet so much more as they represented the worries that she knew everyone must be feeling for her, just as she had for them. And she wanted badly to see them, to return to the familiarity of what she had known. The emotions were so strong that she could practically taste them. But she knew that such a thing was impossible right now.
She had promised.
For better or worse, she had bound herself to him and couldn't go back. She breathed deeply, repeatedly, to steady herself as she told herself over and over to be strong so that she wouldn't bring disappointment to those who had conferred their affection to her, so that she wouldn't disappoint herself. To be weak would be to betray the emotions everyone had entrusted to her and she couldn't allow herself to do such a thing. To be worthy of warranting such sentiments directed towards her, she had to scrounge up every last bit of courage she possessed and forge ahead, no matter what the outcome may be.
"Mother," she addressed the picture she held, "I'll do my best. For everyone."
With that thought in mind, she determinedly set herself to prepare for the day. After placing her mother's picture safely to the side and tucking the notes snugly between the pages of her schoolbooks to protect them from damage, she began to dress for the day.
But as she unbuttoned the top of her pajamas, more and more flesh was revealed to the light of day, highlighting the angry purple blemishes that speckled the smoothness of her skin that had been concealed last night beneath her clothing. She touched her face, the faint pain reminding her that not everything was concealed.
It was strange how she had forgotten them for a while and how the bruises seemed to hurt more when she could see them.
She shuddered when she recalled the hands that had administered them, taken delight in inflicting them, the darkness of the room emphasizing the black volatile emotions he'd radiated then. Although, she thought, it hadn't been the pain that had bothered her so much as the shock of receiving such treatment. And worse than the physical torments had been the snaking whispers that had wrapped around her in the oppressing shadows, lashing and caressing at the same time, low dark murmurs that had related what had been, what was, what would be.
And all of it was at the power of his whim.
She shook her head, as if trying to shake away those dark thoughts as well, and quickly dressed, avoiding looking at her marred flesh as much as possible until concealed by a barrier of cloth. But when she'd finished dressing, stowed away her pajamas, and folded her futon up and placed it off to the side, there was nothing left for her to do. She was unfamiliar with the workings of the Honke and wasn't sure of how to go about it, how the place was structured, whether she needed to ask permission before doing anything or not. Did she have to wait to be summoned before doing anything? She just wasn't sure and resolved it to herself she shouldn't take anything upon herself without checking, that the safest method would be to simply remain as she was and wait.
She didn't want to make him mad.
That was the uppermost concern in her mind. The bruises on her body were proof of that as they gave off twinges of pain with any wrong move she made. And she was sure that he'd only been annoyed for the most part, that she hadn't even come close to seeing what he was truly capable of were he to lose control of the volatile rage she sensed deep within him. He was unpredictable, shifting moods so rapidly that she couldn't keep up. She couldn't read him, his emotions, although that could have been partly because her own emotions had been in an upheaval as well. But she had a feeling that anyone would have a hard time deciphering what was on his mind, how to deal with him. The only thing she was certain of was that, for everyone's sake, keeping him as calm as possible was of utmost importance. For that purpose, she needed to do whatever she could to the best of her abilities to keep him satisfied. And so she told herself to wait until he called for her for whatever reason it might be.
Still, despite her resolve, she couldn't help but stiffen at the sound of light tapping on the paper of the sliding door to her room. Even to her ears, her voice sounded too tight when she voiced her permission to enter. When the door slid open, she couldn't help but sag a little in relief to see that the person revealed wasn't whom she was expecting at all but rather a serious-faced middle-aged woman dressed in traditional Japanese kimono. She watched as the woman bowed.
"Hajimemashite," she greeted. "My name is Souma Natsuki."
With wide-eyes, Tohru quickly bowed back as she responded, "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu. I'm Honda Tohru."
"I know." Natsuki stared back at her with an unfathomable gaze before sliding it away. "I'll be serving you for the duration of your stay. If there is anything you need, please ask me."
Tohru started to protest. "Oh, I don't want to bother-"
"It's by Akito-san's order," Natsuki said firmly. "I'm to ensure that you have everything you require." She glanced down. "With his approval."
"Of course," she said softly, depression sneaking upon her once more at the reminder of whom she was bound to. Still, she did her best to not let it get her down, chasing away the negative emotions, and smiled at Natsuki. "I'm sorry for imposing on you but I'll try not to trouble you too much."
Natsuki blinked. "Iie. I don't mind." Then she motioned with her hand to proceed down the hallway. "Akito-san has requested your presence. Please follow me."
"H-hai," Tohru stuttered as nervousness fluttered within her.
She stepped out of her room, sliding the door closed behind her before she began trailing a few paces behind Natsuki.
Though the distance between her room and Akito's was short, her nerves and worries made it seem longer. The most trivial things that popped into her mind on their brief journey only served to make her more anxious. She fretted over whether she'd made any noises this morning loud enough to disturb or annoy him, wondered how she should greet him after what had transpired last night, became uneasy at the state of her dress.
Suddenly that thought concerned her most, consuming her mind above all else as she worried over how common her clothes were and if it was rude of her to appear before him like this. Judging from Natsuki and Akito's clothes, the style of dress that seemed to be favored within the Honke was that of traditional Japanese. Since Akito was the head of the clan, such a trend probably reflected his tastes.
She ran her fingers over the bottom of her own shirt that she'd gotten for a bargain at a summer sale. She'd been happy with it at the time but now, on her way to meet the one whose benevolence she was presently dependent upon, it bothered her more than she thought it would. But there was nothing she could do about it. Even with her part-time job, she didn't have the money it took to buy a kimono as expensive as one cost. She could only go as she was, in the plain clothes her meager funds had stretched to allow her to purchase, and pray that the Souma head wouldn't be offended by it. She didn't know what would happen if just this little thing were to set him off.
Something terrible, at least, she was sure.
A low scraping noise tore her from her roiling thoughts as she realized they had reached the entrance of their destination while she watched Natsuki sliding the door to the room open. The nervous tension that trembled throughout her body grew worse as she watched Natsuki bow respectfully to the occupant within and then motion for her to enter. Her concentration upon her apprehensions were so strong, she couldn't help but let out a startled gasp at the sound of the door sliding closed behind her, a soft vibration that seemed to hold a ring of finality as it echoed in the otherwise silent room, grating on her taut nerves at this sign that she was being left on her own.
That she was alone with him.
Drawing in a shuddering breath as she tried to calm herself, she slowly turned to look at the other person in the room only to find that he wasn't exactly inside. As they had been last night, the outer doors of the room had been slid open all the way, allowing the light of the sun to wash away the shadows of the interior. He laid with his back to her, head propped up on one arm, just beyond those doors, sprawled across the wooden floor that extended outside like a porch. From her viewpoint, he was framed by the opening, presenting a lovely pastoral picture set as he was against the backdrop of the outdoor garden that was bathed in the glow of summer sunlight. It was such a peaceful scene and she was at a loss of what to do.
Should she greet him as good manners dictated and break the tranquil silence of the setting? Or remain silent and wait until she was addressed first?
Thoughts whirling as she tried to figure out what to do, she recalled that Natsuki hadn't uttered a single word once they'd reached the room. Although Natsuki had said her last name was Souma, which meant she was related somehow to the head of the clan, she also seemed to have the status of a servant. If the accepted custom of the Honke was that even a servant who bore Souma blood should remain silent in the presence of the family head, then didn't that mean she should stay quiet as well? After all, with her orphaned status and being dependent upon living with the Souma family, wasn't she of an even lower class than a servant with relational ties to the clan?
She came to the conclusion that voicing a greeting could be construed as an attempt to overstep the boundaries of her position and resolved to wait until she was called upon, not wanting to appear rude in anyway on the first day of her official residence in the Honke. And so she remained still as the time lengthened and continued to stretch on, began growing drowsy once again, eyelids drooping, as the silence lulled away her tension into a state of serenity.
"How long are you going to remain like that?"
The sharp voice jerked her immediately out of her daze, heart leaping to her throat, as her eyes snapped wide open and glanced at the figure that had spoken. She found that he had rolled over until he was facing her, still lying prone across the outer boards of the porch, the colorful layers of his kimono cushioning him from the hard wood floor. Gazing at him, she thought, not for the first time and probably not the last, that he really was extremely beautiful, the attractiveness of his almost feminine appearance rivaling that of even Yuki's.
Once again, the idea crossed her mind that the Souma clan was filled with princely men. But whereas Yuki might be considered a prince of light with his fair looks, the one in front of her had to be the opposite with a darkness that went beyond the physical that even the brightness of the summer could do little to fade.
"Well?" prompted Akito.
She stiffened at the sound of that cold voice, a wintery and chilly tone that sent shivers down her spine, when she realized that she had allowed her mind to drift again while she'd been caught up in examining his appearance. She silently berated herself for being rude enough to stare and for allowing her mind to wander elsewhere. She stared back at him with wide eyes, scrambling for an idea for what to do, trembling when that dark gaze of his narrowed at her in a way that had little to do with mercy and everything to do with inspiring fear.
"You're very rude, aren't you? Staying silent so long without announcing your presence. You didn't even bother to greet me."
At those cold words spoken so harshly, her eyes rounded in horror. He had been expecting her to speak first? She had guessed wrong about what action she was supposed to take and now he thought she was rude when she'd done her best to try not to appear that way. Visibly upset, she bowed deeply in apology, doing what she could to rectify any discourtesy seen on her part.
"Sumimasen. I didn't mean to offend you." She straightened, giving him a nervous look. She saw that he was still staring at her with what she assumed to be a somewhat expectant look, as if waiting to hear her utter something else, and she struggled to find just what it was that he wanted her to say. "Ohayo gozaimasu."
His gaze bored into her for so long in wordless silence that she grew even more agitated, heart thudding even faster as she wondered if she was expected to do more. But her mind drew a blank and she couldn't think of anything else. She tried to steel herself, preparing for whatever lashing he'd rain down upon her for her rudeness as the fearful tension within her mounted.
Futile preparations as the explosion she waited for never came.
He gave a bored sigh as the intensity in his gaze lessened, causing her to muscles to sag in relief at her reprieve as her greeting, belated as it might be, seemed to have won acceptance. A part of her was amazed that such a small issue had become of such importance in such a short amount of time. And she wondered if all such trivial matters were to take the same weight in the course of her stay and imagined that, if so, it was going to be exhausting for her. But she warned herself not to let her mind drift again and risk his further irritation, setting herself to the task of focusing her concentration attentively on him, watching carefully for any hint that would indicate his mood and give her a foothold as to what method would be best to take in her dealings with him. So alertly was she waiting that she immediately caught the tiny flicker of his hand as he motioned her closer.
"Come here," he commanded.
She obeyed instantly and was by his side in moments. She stood there uncertainly, looming over him in her standing position. It was a disrespectful position, she thought, for her as the guest to tower over someone of such an elevated status as the head of the Souma family. So thinking, she lowered herself until she was kneeling on the floor, legs folded beneath her, keep her eyes politely averted from staring directly at him.
"Did I give you permission to sit down?"
Her gaze flew to his, panic chasing across her features at having done something construed as impolite once again, distressed emotions that his sharp eyes picked up on right away.
Satisfied with the reaction, he allowed a thin smile to curl the tight line of his lips, reveling in the power he held over her, over everyone. His hand came up, feathering over the purple blemish on her cheek that seemed even darker with the light from the sun falling over it, highlighting it. He so enjoyed that brown gaze that was focused upon him; fear that he was the cause of reflected in their depths. He took even more pleasure at the shock that entered those brown orbs at the next words that fell from his lips.
"Take off your clothes."
maa - well
oi - hey
hajimemashite - commonly used in greeting, 'pleased to meet you'/ 'how do you do?'
yoroshiku onegaishimasu - commonly used in greeting, 'it's a pleasure to meet you'
iie - no
hai - yes
sumimasen - excuse me/ I'm sorry
ohayo gozaimasu - good morning
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CHAPTER 5: Morning Resolutions
"Kyou-kun, what are you doing?" Shigure sounded surprised. "You're up early this morning."
"What does it look like?" Kyou kept his attention on what he was doing. "I'm making breakfast," he muttered. "Have to get up a little earlier to do that."
An eyebrow arched but Shigure remained silent, a quiet and thoughtful expression on his face that Kyou couldn't see with the way his concentration was focused with whatever it was he that he was stirring on top of the stove, the only sounds in the quiet room being those of cooking and the natural noises that filtered in from outdoors. It was an unusual sight, to say the least, as Shigure could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Kyou in the kitchen cooking something that required more preparation than pouring cold milk over a bowl of cereal. And though she wasn't here, Shigure had no doubt that this sign of domesticity from Kyou had something to do with Tohru.
Testing the waters, he sidled closer to where Kyou stood with his back facing outwards, as if shutting out in his own way everything else but the task at hand. Shigure was close enough to peer into the pot and, upon doing so, he teased playfully as he usually did whenever the occasion arose.
"That's a lot of food for one person," Shigure said lightly. "I had no idea you had such a large appetite."
Kyou just grunted, ignoring him.
Shigure paused, not used to that reaction, and decided to prod a little more. "You'll share, won't you?" he whined, leaning his body against Kyou's like a dead weight. "You wouldn't want me to starve to death, would you?"
"If you want breakfast, you have to wait for it," Kyou said tonelessly. "It's not done yet."
Shigure drew back, examining Kyou with narrowed eyes that the teenager failed to notice, concentrated on cooking as he was as he continued to stir in methodical motions, almost mechanical in a way. Truly, Kyou's reactions were beyond the norm because, under usual circumstances, he would have been quick to rise to the verbal baiting, not to mention the physical contact from when Shigure had leaned against him knowing that the touch would be hated. But not an angry word was spoken, not one punch pulled. Instead, the words had been toneless and lackluster, devoid of energy or any emotion aside from those tied to depression.
No doubt, Shigure thought, Yuki would be similar, probably still closeted up in his room at the moment with whatever was weighing on his mind, the same things weighing on Kyou. Although the depressive quiet that lay within the interior of the house would most likely have a dampening effect on the usual liveliness, Shigure did find it interesting in its own way even though the next few days might prove dull in terms of activity around the house. Besides, he knew it couldn't last.
"You're cooking breakfast for everyone?" Shigure just couldn't help poking at him, wanting some reaction. "Even your most hated rival?"
A noncommittal grunt was his reply, which was, really, an answer in itself.
"Oh, my. What a surprise! Kyou-kun's being such a wonderful house helper today!" Shigure cocked his head. "I'm sure Tohru-kun would be excited if she knew."
There was a brief pause, a frozen moment, before Kyou resumed his stirring, such a little thing but one Shigure picked up on since he had been watching out for it. He was pleased to have gotten a reaction even though he wasn't completely sure as to the reasons behind it but he shrugged it off, positive that it was inconsequential in the long run. Knowing there would be little reaction to his quips today from Kyou, as well as Yuki, Shigure made his exit because, after all, it wasn't much fun to play with those who offered no response.
"Maa," he went just as he exited, leaving thoughts of the girl who was at the heart of the situation lingering in the air, "we can tell her when she comes back."
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She woke as sunlight filtered in through the window, the warmth of the sun's rays falling across her sleepy features, rousing her from her drowsy slumber. Awareness stole upon her as sounds of the morning gradually melted into her consciousness: the droning of summer insects, the chirping cries of birds, the faint rustling of tree leaves ruffled by a passing breeze. All were familiar noises that lightened her heart.
With a tiny yawn, she sat up, rubbing at bleary eyes, as she made ready to greet the new day. Lethargic thoughts of what she could prepare for today's breakfast trickled across her sluggish mind as she did her best to blink away the last vestiges of sleep, hazily looking about her as she tried to focus herself. But any traces of sleepy fogginess dissipated immediately upon the realization of the evidence before her.
She wasn't in her room.
Gone was the large pink bed she'd spent many a nights in, replaced with the cushiony mattress of a futon laid out across the wooden floor warmed by the summer sun. Instead of her things neatly arranged in their designated spaces in or upon her set of drawers, they were jumbled together, still in the bags they had been brought over in. The warmth of the morning faded away, replaced by a chill as the reality of her situation returned to her, seeping into her mind with the unavoidable truth that seemed even more glaring in daylight than under the cover of darkness of the night.
This wasn't where she was supposed to be.
She was no longer in the haven of Shigure's house, no longer expected to prepare the meals or perform the other household chores that had been hers to execute with surety since she had begun living there. Now her life was cast into uncertainty, the safe structure of her days falling apart, and she wondered what to do with herself in this new sphere she had been set into, a place where her role would be dictated by the one who lorded over her friends and, at present, even her.
Her friends.
At the thought of them, a depressed mood settled upon her as her shoulders drooped and she wondered how they were doing, worried over how they'd get along without her, hoped they were well in spite of her own concerns about this new situation they all found themselves in. Loneliness and doubts pressed down upon her and she shifted in agitation, needing something to distract her from her train of thought, made restless from the oddity of being inactive with nothing to do, no schedule to follow and cling to.
She felt useless.
Her eyes fell upon the bags containing her belongings, placed off to the side. She hadn't bothered to touch them last night other than to retrieve her nightclothes which she had immediately put on before curling into the futon left to her, hoping that sleep would come to claim her and chase the memories of the past hours away. Now she reached for them, her anchor, something solid to hold onto in the multitude of uncertainties that presently surrounded her.
She concentrated on the task of delving into the bags and discovering just what had been packed away for her: clothes, grooming accessories, summer homework for school, her mother's picture which had been swaddled in the material of her clothes with care to insure that it would arrive safely on the trip over. It was the last item that caught her full attention, or rather, the two folded notes that were laid upon the cool glass of the picture frame.
She carefully unfolded them, reading their contents out loud to herself.
"Honda-san," she recited softly, "I hope this note finds you well. There's much I want to say, but not enough time. Shigure said to wait, to see what happens, to keep our distance, that it's what you would want. We agreed and I hope it's the right decision, that it really is what you want. But, Honda-san, I pray that this will only be for a short while and you'll come home soon. Hatori promised to do his best to keep us informed so if there's anything, anything at all, that you want done, then tell him and we'll do our best to follow through. Whatever it takes. In the meantime, don't worry yourself over us and please concentrate on taking care of yourself. We would all be very concerned if anything were to happen to such an important member of our house. Yuki."
A soft bittersweet smile touched her face at the concern underlying the brief message. Her smile widened even more at a glance at the next note, unsigned and even shorter than the previous one, very much like its creator.
"Oi," it began, "If something's wrong, let us know and we'll come bust you out. And don't go stupid worrying about the dumb dog and damned mouse. I'll take care of the house stuff while you're gone. Just hurry up and get back."
The words before her began to waver and blur and she had to blink rapidly to still the emotional tears that threatened to flow. A part of her feared that she'd never be able to get them to stop once they started falling in a never-ending cascade and she didn't want to be that weak, so undeserving of the care and concern given to her, inherent in the notes bestowed upon her. They were such small things, and yet so much more as they represented the worries that she knew everyone must be feeling for her, just as she had for them. And she wanted badly to see them, to return to the familiarity of what she had known. The emotions were so strong that she could practically taste them. But she knew that such a thing was impossible right now.
She had promised.
For better or worse, she had bound herself to him and couldn't go back. She breathed deeply, repeatedly, to steady herself as she told herself over and over to be strong so that she wouldn't bring disappointment to those who had conferred their affection to her, so that she wouldn't disappoint herself. To be weak would be to betray the emotions everyone had entrusted to her and she couldn't allow herself to do such a thing. To be worthy of warranting such sentiments directed towards her, she had to scrounge up every last bit of courage she possessed and forge ahead, no matter what the outcome may be.
"Mother," she addressed the picture she held, "I'll do my best. For everyone."
With that thought in mind, she determinedly set herself to prepare for the day. After placing her mother's picture safely to the side and tucking the notes snugly between the pages of her schoolbooks to protect them from damage, she began to dress for the day.
But as she unbuttoned the top of her pajamas, more and more flesh was revealed to the light of day, highlighting the angry purple blemishes that speckled the smoothness of her skin that had been concealed last night beneath her clothing. She touched her face, the faint pain reminding her that not everything was concealed.
It was strange how she had forgotten them for a while and how the bruises seemed to hurt more when she could see them.
She shuddered when she recalled the hands that had administered them, taken delight in inflicting them, the darkness of the room emphasizing the black volatile emotions he'd radiated then. Although, she thought, it hadn't been the pain that had bothered her so much as the shock of receiving such treatment. And worse than the physical torments had been the snaking whispers that had wrapped around her in the oppressing shadows, lashing and caressing at the same time, low dark murmurs that had related what had been, what was, what would be.
And all of it was at the power of his whim.
She shook her head, as if trying to shake away those dark thoughts as well, and quickly dressed, avoiding looking at her marred flesh as much as possible until concealed by a barrier of cloth. But when she'd finished dressing, stowed away her pajamas, and folded her futon up and placed it off to the side, there was nothing left for her to do. She was unfamiliar with the workings of the Honke and wasn't sure of how to go about it, how the place was structured, whether she needed to ask permission before doing anything or not. Did she have to wait to be summoned before doing anything? She just wasn't sure and resolved it to herself she shouldn't take anything upon herself without checking, that the safest method would be to simply remain as she was and wait.
She didn't want to make him mad.
That was the uppermost concern in her mind. The bruises on her body were proof of that as they gave off twinges of pain with any wrong move she made. And she was sure that he'd only been annoyed for the most part, that she hadn't even come close to seeing what he was truly capable of were he to lose control of the volatile rage she sensed deep within him. He was unpredictable, shifting moods so rapidly that she couldn't keep up. She couldn't read him, his emotions, although that could have been partly because her own emotions had been in an upheaval as well. But she had a feeling that anyone would have a hard time deciphering what was on his mind, how to deal with him. The only thing she was certain of was that, for everyone's sake, keeping him as calm as possible was of utmost importance. For that purpose, she needed to do whatever she could to the best of her abilities to keep him satisfied. And so she told herself to wait until he called for her for whatever reason it might be.
Still, despite her resolve, she couldn't help but stiffen at the sound of light tapping on the paper of the sliding door to her room. Even to her ears, her voice sounded too tight when she voiced her permission to enter. When the door slid open, she couldn't help but sag a little in relief to see that the person revealed wasn't whom she was expecting at all but rather a serious-faced middle-aged woman dressed in traditional Japanese kimono. She watched as the woman bowed.
"Hajimemashite," she greeted. "My name is Souma Natsuki."
With wide-eyes, Tohru quickly bowed back as she responded, "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu. I'm Honda Tohru."
"I know." Natsuki stared back at her with an unfathomable gaze before sliding it away. "I'll be serving you for the duration of your stay. If there is anything you need, please ask me."
Tohru started to protest. "Oh, I don't want to bother-"
"It's by Akito-san's order," Natsuki said firmly. "I'm to ensure that you have everything you require." She glanced down. "With his approval."
"Of course," she said softly, depression sneaking upon her once more at the reminder of whom she was bound to. Still, she did her best to not let it get her down, chasing away the negative emotions, and smiled at Natsuki. "I'm sorry for imposing on you but I'll try not to trouble you too much."
Natsuki blinked. "Iie. I don't mind." Then she motioned with her hand to proceed down the hallway. "Akito-san has requested your presence. Please follow me."
"H-hai," Tohru stuttered as nervousness fluttered within her.
She stepped out of her room, sliding the door closed behind her before she began trailing a few paces behind Natsuki.
Though the distance between her room and Akito's was short, her nerves and worries made it seem longer. The most trivial things that popped into her mind on their brief journey only served to make her more anxious. She fretted over whether she'd made any noises this morning loud enough to disturb or annoy him, wondered how she should greet him after what had transpired last night, became uneasy at the state of her dress.
Suddenly that thought concerned her most, consuming her mind above all else as she worried over how common her clothes were and if it was rude of her to appear before him like this. Judging from Natsuki and Akito's clothes, the style of dress that seemed to be favored within the Honke was that of traditional Japanese. Since Akito was the head of the clan, such a trend probably reflected his tastes.
She ran her fingers over the bottom of her own shirt that she'd gotten for a bargain at a summer sale. She'd been happy with it at the time but now, on her way to meet the one whose benevolence she was presently dependent upon, it bothered her more than she thought it would. But there was nothing she could do about it. Even with her part-time job, she didn't have the money it took to buy a kimono as expensive as one cost. She could only go as she was, in the plain clothes her meager funds had stretched to allow her to purchase, and pray that the Souma head wouldn't be offended by it. She didn't know what would happen if just this little thing were to set him off.
Something terrible, at least, she was sure.
A low scraping noise tore her from her roiling thoughts as she realized they had reached the entrance of their destination while she watched Natsuki sliding the door to the room open. The nervous tension that trembled throughout her body grew worse as she watched Natsuki bow respectfully to the occupant within and then motion for her to enter. Her concentration upon her apprehensions were so strong, she couldn't help but let out a startled gasp at the sound of the door sliding closed behind her, a soft vibration that seemed to hold a ring of finality as it echoed in the otherwise silent room, grating on her taut nerves at this sign that she was being left on her own.
That she was alone with him.
Drawing in a shuddering breath as she tried to calm herself, she slowly turned to look at the other person in the room only to find that he wasn't exactly inside. As they had been last night, the outer doors of the room had been slid open all the way, allowing the light of the sun to wash away the shadows of the interior. He laid with his back to her, head propped up on one arm, just beyond those doors, sprawled across the wooden floor that extended outside like a porch. From her viewpoint, he was framed by the opening, presenting a lovely pastoral picture set as he was against the backdrop of the outdoor garden that was bathed in the glow of summer sunlight. It was such a peaceful scene and she was at a loss of what to do.
Should she greet him as good manners dictated and break the tranquil silence of the setting? Or remain silent and wait until she was addressed first?
Thoughts whirling as she tried to figure out what to do, she recalled that Natsuki hadn't uttered a single word once they'd reached the room. Although Natsuki had said her last name was Souma, which meant she was related somehow to the head of the clan, she also seemed to have the status of a servant. If the accepted custom of the Honke was that even a servant who bore Souma blood should remain silent in the presence of the family head, then didn't that mean she should stay quiet as well? After all, with her orphaned status and being dependent upon living with the Souma family, wasn't she of an even lower class than a servant with relational ties to the clan?
She came to the conclusion that voicing a greeting could be construed as an attempt to overstep the boundaries of her position and resolved to wait until she was called upon, not wanting to appear rude in anyway on the first day of her official residence in the Honke. And so she remained still as the time lengthened and continued to stretch on, began growing drowsy once again, eyelids drooping, as the silence lulled away her tension into a state of serenity.
"How long are you going to remain like that?"
The sharp voice jerked her immediately out of her daze, heart leaping to her throat, as her eyes snapped wide open and glanced at the figure that had spoken. She found that he had rolled over until he was facing her, still lying prone across the outer boards of the porch, the colorful layers of his kimono cushioning him from the hard wood floor. Gazing at him, she thought, not for the first time and probably not the last, that he really was extremely beautiful, the attractiveness of his almost feminine appearance rivaling that of even Yuki's.
Once again, the idea crossed her mind that the Souma clan was filled with princely men. But whereas Yuki might be considered a prince of light with his fair looks, the one in front of her had to be the opposite with a darkness that went beyond the physical that even the brightness of the summer could do little to fade.
"Well?" prompted Akito.
She stiffened at the sound of that cold voice, a wintery and chilly tone that sent shivers down her spine, when she realized that she had allowed her mind to drift again while she'd been caught up in examining his appearance. She silently berated herself for being rude enough to stare and for allowing her mind to wander elsewhere. She stared back at him with wide eyes, scrambling for an idea for what to do, trembling when that dark gaze of his narrowed at her in a way that had little to do with mercy and everything to do with inspiring fear.
"You're very rude, aren't you? Staying silent so long without announcing your presence. You didn't even bother to greet me."
At those cold words spoken so harshly, her eyes rounded in horror. He had been expecting her to speak first? She had guessed wrong about what action she was supposed to take and now he thought she was rude when she'd done her best to try not to appear that way. Visibly upset, she bowed deeply in apology, doing what she could to rectify any discourtesy seen on her part.
"Sumimasen. I didn't mean to offend you." She straightened, giving him a nervous look. She saw that he was still staring at her with what she assumed to be a somewhat expectant look, as if waiting to hear her utter something else, and she struggled to find just what it was that he wanted her to say. "Ohayo gozaimasu."
His gaze bored into her for so long in wordless silence that she grew even more agitated, heart thudding even faster as she wondered if she was expected to do more. But her mind drew a blank and she couldn't think of anything else. She tried to steel herself, preparing for whatever lashing he'd rain down upon her for her rudeness as the fearful tension within her mounted.
Futile preparations as the explosion she waited for never came.
He gave a bored sigh as the intensity in his gaze lessened, causing her to muscles to sag in relief at her reprieve as her greeting, belated as it might be, seemed to have won acceptance. A part of her was amazed that such a small issue had become of such importance in such a short amount of time. And she wondered if all such trivial matters were to take the same weight in the course of her stay and imagined that, if so, it was going to be exhausting for her. But she warned herself not to let her mind drift again and risk his further irritation, setting herself to the task of focusing her concentration attentively on him, watching carefully for any hint that would indicate his mood and give her a foothold as to what method would be best to take in her dealings with him. So alertly was she waiting that she immediately caught the tiny flicker of his hand as he motioned her closer.
"Come here," he commanded.
She obeyed instantly and was by his side in moments. She stood there uncertainly, looming over him in her standing position. It was a disrespectful position, she thought, for her as the guest to tower over someone of such an elevated status as the head of the Souma family. So thinking, she lowered herself until she was kneeling on the floor, legs folded beneath her, keep her eyes politely averted from staring directly at him.
"Did I give you permission to sit down?"
Her gaze flew to his, panic chasing across her features at having done something construed as impolite once again, distressed emotions that his sharp eyes picked up on right away.
Satisfied with the reaction, he allowed a thin smile to curl the tight line of his lips, reveling in the power he held over her, over everyone. His hand came up, feathering over the purple blemish on her cheek that seemed even darker with the light from the sun falling over it, highlighting it. He so enjoyed that brown gaze that was focused upon him; fear that he was the cause of reflected in their depths. He took even more pleasure at the shock that entered those brown orbs at the next words that fell from his lips.
"Take off your clothes."