A/N: Hey there, all my dear readers! I'm sorry that this chapter
took longer than my usual weekly update, but I've been dealing with
preparations for college lately and been a bit busy ^_^ I'm sure you all
understand. Anyways, enjoy the chapter and leave me some reviews if you
can! ^_^
** WARNING ** Ok, I know you don't want to hear this, but I gotta do it for your sake. There is some really emotional stuff about to happen in this chapter, as well as some blood and a bit of nasty stuff. Please forgive me, but it had to happen. You'll understand when you read it.
Chapter 36
The Last Thing That Was Lost
While Mayonaka begins chopping the dried yellow and brown Dang Gui rhizomes for the tea, I make my way slowly up the stairs to my bedroom. She will tell the other women that I began to bleed while fetching the water, and that I won't need to take the tonic to bring on my blood. But it is a lie. The space between my legs is still dry.
I sit heavily on my bed and eventually have to lie down due to the immense relief that is weighing down on me. "You loved a man," she had whispered into my dark brown hair, her jasmine- scented bosom pressed to my cheek, "Did you not, my dear Tansho?"
I didn't know what to say to her. She knew, of course, that I was with child. But what she desired to know was why my soul clung so uneasily to the fact-and so desperately at the same time. She had brewed Dang Gui for me so many times in the past to assist me in ridding my body of what my damned customers had left with me, and never before had I acting this way. I had always sat silently with the others as the soothing smell of the Dang Gui infusion calmed our nerves. And I was always more than happy to drink my two cups down, eager to find my sleeping gown spotted with crimson the next morning. But not today. Today I crumbled apart and wept, openly mourning what should not be naturally mourned by a whore.
"Yes," I had finally mumbled into her silk collar, "And now he's gone- -like all the others." Upon hearing that, she had sighed into my hair and pulled me away so that she could look at me. I had gazed at her silently, feeling myself being drawn into her strange honey-colored eyes, and I had told her his name.
"Could you ever give me a name before, my dear?" she had gently inquired.
And I was suddenly ashamed of myself. Not of my foolish act of falling in love with a man, not even my more foolish act of taking no precautions during our quick love affair to ensure I would not become with child. I was ashamed that I still doubted Tasuki. After all the times he made a promise to me, after all the times he kept those promises. Even after I swore to myself that I trusted him fully-I realized in that moment as I knelt in front of the midwife that I still did not trust his word. Even though I loved him with everything I had, I doubted his return just as I doubted my faith in him.
"No," I had answered truthfully. No, I had never been able to name the father of a child I carried. I had never cared.
And once again, I knew in my heart what my face, voice, and desperate eyes were giving away far too easily. I loved a man that was gone and could possibly never come back. Did I possess a heart dead enough to willingly flush from my body something that was left behind by the only man I ever loved? The thought sickened me. It frightened me. And my tears flowed as thick as blood, dripping down my cheeks and permeating Mayonaka's silk gown. But she didn't pull away; she clutched my trembling shoulders tighter in her embrace. "He said he would come back soon," I had cried out in a choked, tortured voice, "But what if he doesn't? What if this is the only true thing I have left of him?"
My voice had become a hoarse whimper, a strangled cry, and an open doorway to my heart. I was speaking the heavy words that had been heaping themselves in mounds inside of me, unable to be spoken freely and openly. I needed more than a simple answer as to what I should do; I needed human contact. I needed what Mayonaka, my dear mother, was generously giving to me at that very moment. An embrace to lie in, an ear to weep to, and a comforting voice to hear.
"Do what your heart needs to do, my dear," she had told me, "And I will keep it silent."
And so I had glanced one final time into her golden brown eyes and retreated to my room. My thoughts were rampant. Had I just made the most idiotic mistake of my life-or had I just made a decision that would soon begin to reshape my life and my body into serenity and brilliant happiness? And I constantly repeated my own words inside my mind: "The only true thing I have left of him." I reached my hand up to caress the smooth beads of my blue and red earrings, wondering if I now had something that connected me more deeply to Tasuki than any gift he could ever give. And I dared to let my fingers brush across the soft fabric of my gown below my navel. Yes, something was there. A gift so much more precious than a pair of earrings and a delicately carved wooden box. And I had made the decision to keep his gift safe.
As I lay here now, I give silent thanks to Mayonaka, and I pray to the gods that the other women will believe her tiny lie-a lie that may protect me and what I nurture within me until Tasuki returns.
I fall into a strange sleep, and my mind fills with dreams. I see people, images of those who I knew so long ago and the silhouettes of those I have yet to know. I then see him, my beloved Tasuki, his blazing red hair whipping about his face as if it were burning him. Water churns and surges all around him, the sky above splits apart as lighting streaks through it, black clouds hide the sun. He's drowning in the depths of the ocean, his arms thrashing wildly to try to hold his weight above the violent water of the ruthless sea. I open my mouth to call out to him, to tell him not to give up, to keep trying. I curse him for not telling me he didn't know how to swim. The bastard! I could have taught him before he left for Hokkan. But now I watch him drown alone in the cruel waters of the ocean, the fire of his hair sinking below the waves, extinguishing the flames and taking his life.
The color white surrounds me, above my head, below my feet, swirling around me in the chilled air. My bare feet sting from cold, and I glance down to see them buried up to my ankles in snow. Snow! There is no snow in Konan. My eyes dart around me, searching for something familiar. My eyes come to rest on him, his midnight black overcoat a stark contrast to the brilliant white of the snow that surrounds him. He's sitting down, his back pressed to a boulder, his eyes blank, staring ahead of him as if he were blind. He is looking at me, but I know he doesn't see me. Rivers of tears pour from his golden emerald eyes, streaming down his tanned cheeks, dripping onto his lap unnoticed. He's weeping, alone and unseen. Only I can see him.
The night sky lies above me, sprinkled with thousands of stars, all bright and easily seen in the vastness of this place. The desert, a barren and strangely exotic place envelops me. I feel the irritating sting of blowing sand in my eyes, the smooth warmth of it on the soles of my feet, the dryness that it emits into the air around me. My lover sits in the valley of two sand dunes, his chest bare and slick with sweat, his shoulders reddened from the sun. And yet he's oblivious. I sense that his mind is far away from here, trapped somewhere, unable to escape, while his body sits idly in the desert waiting to die. I touch his face with my fingertips, hoping the contact will awaken him from his mindless sleep. But he's unaware of my touch, and I am forced to watch the suppleness of his skin waste away into nothingness, his collarbone and spine becoming apparent beneath his skin. Eventually, there is nothing left of him but the stark whiteness of his bones, lying in a heap at my naked feet.
He is weeping again, crouched over a small body in a dark room. His sobs of mourning float through the air like the cries of a ghost, striking my heart like an arrow. I stand behind him as he weeps and cries, his shoulders trembling, his head hung, his hands clenched at his sides. I mourn with him and long for him to feel my fingers as they caress the smooth fiery red of his hair, but I know neither he nor I am real in this world. I am only dreaming, and only the gods know where he is, but I sense his presence in my heart. His strength, his sadness, and his triumphs reverberate through the nights that have passed, traveling along the vast distance that separates us, and burying themselves inside my heart. I feel what he feels, and I am where he is. If only he knew.
I am shoved from my dreams by an annoying glare of light shining through my eyelids. I realize with an irritated sigh that I forgot to pull the curtains around my bed to protect me from the early morning sun.
"Damn." I whisper, lazily rolling from my left side to my right to escape the glare of the morning. A strong cramp grips my lower abdomen, where I usually have pain during my blood week. I gasp as the pain flares suddenly and clutch my lower belly. I shift onto my back and my fingers drift lower until they reach my womanhood.
It is then that I feel the sticky wetness between my thighs.
No. No. Please.no.
In a startled fury, I scramble from my reclining position into an upright one, my legs and arms struggling to disentangle themselves from my linens. I can feel something warm and slick clinging to my fingers, but I refuse to look at them out of fear of what I know I will see. I then sit deathly still, my eyes wide and confused, my lips spread, my hands trembling wildly as if I were taken by a seizure.
I am too frightened to look.
But I force myself to lift my fingers to my line of vision even though I am screaming at myself not to look. And what I see makes me choke on my own saliva. I begin to wheeze violently, and before I realize what I am doing, my eyes are stinging with the salt of my warm tears. I hear a ragged scream tear lose from my throat, burning me as it escapes my mouth.
I sit in my bed, trembling in terror, shrieking in agony, staring in disbelief and fright at my blood-covered fingers. The scent of me is everywhere-the smell of my body mixed with the bold metallic spice of blood. I cry and scream, mindless and void of my sanity. My legs begin to flail and I suddenly find myself sprawled on the floor beside my bed, my knees bent and pressed together to try to stop the bleeding. But I know it's impossible. From where I lay I can see the red stains on the insides of my thighs, small scarlet rivers running down the length of my legs almost to my knees. And the front of my gown is soaked through, making the silk stick greedily to my skin.
I kick at the floor like a madwoman, trying to get away from my bed, propelling myself into the far wall of my bedroom, against my wardrobe door. My head bangs against the smooth, dark, wood, bringing me to my senses momentarily. I reach my hand above my head, my soiled hand held far away from my body, and I grasp the handle of my wardrobe door, pulling myself clumsily to my feet again.
What I see in my bed causes a tidal wave of nausea to crash into me, making my head spiral into nothingness. And as I fall to my knees heavily and heave the warm, sour contents of my stomach onto the floor of my bedroom, the image of my bed remains burned into my mind.
Blood the color of my lover's hair is pooled where my body once lay. Fire. A blazing fire so bright that my eyes begin to dim at the painful burning it creates. As the warm salt of my sweat and tears glides down the valleys of my face, I fall in a heap on my side, exhausted, horrified, and wracked with agony as my womb continues to cramp and expel. The moment I feel myself slipping away into the release of unconsciousness, I curl my hands around my stomach and hold myself in sorrow. And as I fall into darkness, I mourn what will never be.
I mourn the gift that was taken from me. The gift that was lost.
It is difficult for me to say where I am.
At first, I believe it is summer. I feel the warmth of the mid-day sun on me, reddening my cheeks and forehead. I see billowing white clouds around me, and suddenly realize that I am behind the tavern washing linens and hanging them to dry on lines tied from tree to tree. The crisp scent of crushed, wet grass surrounds me, as does the smell of my sweat mixed with my perfume. My hands are raised to the sky, pulling a sheet from the drying line and smoothing it until I folds neatly in my arms. I then place it in the basket at my feet and begin folding another linen.
And then I feel the chill of the winter air nipping at me as I stand deathly still in the city's main square. My eyes are lifted to the black sky above the capital, as are the eyes of the hundreds of other people that surround me. Suddenly, streams of magnificent light sail through the frozen air with a deafening boom, illuminating the dark sky and blending with the stars. Another thunderous crash and the sky is filled with scintillating blues, reds, greens, and yellows that erupt and fall slowly to the earth in showers of sparkles. I listen as the people around me shout, laugh, and gasp in awe of the magnificent fireworks. It is only when I smell the aroma of candies, baked pies, and dumplings do I realize that it is the night of the Winter Festival.
And then I feel both the warmth and the cold, and I wonder if I am really anywhere at all. I panic for a moment, then realize that this place is rather calming--rather enjoyable. And I relax as the darkness keeps its place around me, holding me in, keeping me safe, keeping everything else away.
And so I sleep on, oblivious to the blood that continues to flow from me, oblivious to the pain that is dulling my soul.
A/N: I think this may be the saddest chapter I've ever written for this fic. I know all of you are probably wondering how in hell I could ever write something so heartbreaking. The angst will lighten up soon, though, so you don't need to worry about bracing yourself for the next chapter (it's not half as bad as these last few have been). Well, obviously she is neither going to keep the baby OR abort it. The important part of this chapter is that she decided to have her child, but then fate interfered with her decision and made her feel totally helpless and depressed all over again. By engulfing Tansho entirely in her grief and misery, I am slowly building up her resistance to it so that she can eventually confront Shingen (I know that I'm partially giving my upcoming plot away, but I've felt so sorry for all of you who are commenting on how sad my last several chapters have been. I just wanted to give all of you some hope to help you through the next chapters. ^_^)
So what will happen now that things have totally turned back around for Tansho? How will this affect her life? Could the poor girl's life get any worse?
Reply to reviewers:
Penguine: Yeah, I never thought that Hotonori's knowing about Tansho's pregnancy would help her. Thanks for explaining that! ^_^
Galena Silveroak: Thanks for all the great comments (and especially for noticing my bit of research on the Dang Gui ^_^) And, I'm just curious, but what the hell is Pennyroyal? ^_^
Cacat-angel: I just thought it's be interesting to talk about the contraceptives used back then in ancient China. And, yes, the infamous "fuck" incident. Will we ever live that down, hun? ^_^ Thanks for the critique about detail (I'll watch out for that!) And, don't worry, you'll get to see what's happening with Tasuki. ^_^ And no tragic ending!! I never give away my plot development, but I will tell you everything ends happy! ^_~
OholeyKittness: Thanks so much, hon! You're so sweet!! ^_^
Touki Yume: Nope, this is definitely not a normal story (as you have just read.)
Thanks to everyone else who left a review for me!! Luv you all!!
** WARNING ** Ok, I know you don't want to hear this, but I gotta do it for your sake. There is some really emotional stuff about to happen in this chapter, as well as some blood and a bit of nasty stuff. Please forgive me, but it had to happen. You'll understand when you read it.
Chapter 36
The Last Thing That Was Lost
While Mayonaka begins chopping the dried yellow and brown Dang Gui rhizomes for the tea, I make my way slowly up the stairs to my bedroom. She will tell the other women that I began to bleed while fetching the water, and that I won't need to take the tonic to bring on my blood. But it is a lie. The space between my legs is still dry.
I sit heavily on my bed and eventually have to lie down due to the immense relief that is weighing down on me. "You loved a man," she had whispered into my dark brown hair, her jasmine- scented bosom pressed to my cheek, "Did you not, my dear Tansho?"
I didn't know what to say to her. She knew, of course, that I was with child. But what she desired to know was why my soul clung so uneasily to the fact-and so desperately at the same time. She had brewed Dang Gui for me so many times in the past to assist me in ridding my body of what my damned customers had left with me, and never before had I acting this way. I had always sat silently with the others as the soothing smell of the Dang Gui infusion calmed our nerves. And I was always more than happy to drink my two cups down, eager to find my sleeping gown spotted with crimson the next morning. But not today. Today I crumbled apart and wept, openly mourning what should not be naturally mourned by a whore.
"Yes," I had finally mumbled into her silk collar, "And now he's gone- -like all the others." Upon hearing that, she had sighed into my hair and pulled me away so that she could look at me. I had gazed at her silently, feeling myself being drawn into her strange honey-colored eyes, and I had told her his name.
"Could you ever give me a name before, my dear?" she had gently inquired.
And I was suddenly ashamed of myself. Not of my foolish act of falling in love with a man, not even my more foolish act of taking no precautions during our quick love affair to ensure I would not become with child. I was ashamed that I still doubted Tasuki. After all the times he made a promise to me, after all the times he kept those promises. Even after I swore to myself that I trusted him fully-I realized in that moment as I knelt in front of the midwife that I still did not trust his word. Even though I loved him with everything I had, I doubted his return just as I doubted my faith in him.
"No," I had answered truthfully. No, I had never been able to name the father of a child I carried. I had never cared.
And once again, I knew in my heart what my face, voice, and desperate eyes were giving away far too easily. I loved a man that was gone and could possibly never come back. Did I possess a heart dead enough to willingly flush from my body something that was left behind by the only man I ever loved? The thought sickened me. It frightened me. And my tears flowed as thick as blood, dripping down my cheeks and permeating Mayonaka's silk gown. But she didn't pull away; she clutched my trembling shoulders tighter in her embrace. "He said he would come back soon," I had cried out in a choked, tortured voice, "But what if he doesn't? What if this is the only true thing I have left of him?"
My voice had become a hoarse whimper, a strangled cry, and an open doorway to my heart. I was speaking the heavy words that had been heaping themselves in mounds inside of me, unable to be spoken freely and openly. I needed more than a simple answer as to what I should do; I needed human contact. I needed what Mayonaka, my dear mother, was generously giving to me at that very moment. An embrace to lie in, an ear to weep to, and a comforting voice to hear.
"Do what your heart needs to do, my dear," she had told me, "And I will keep it silent."
And so I had glanced one final time into her golden brown eyes and retreated to my room. My thoughts were rampant. Had I just made the most idiotic mistake of my life-or had I just made a decision that would soon begin to reshape my life and my body into serenity and brilliant happiness? And I constantly repeated my own words inside my mind: "The only true thing I have left of him." I reached my hand up to caress the smooth beads of my blue and red earrings, wondering if I now had something that connected me more deeply to Tasuki than any gift he could ever give. And I dared to let my fingers brush across the soft fabric of my gown below my navel. Yes, something was there. A gift so much more precious than a pair of earrings and a delicately carved wooden box. And I had made the decision to keep his gift safe.
As I lay here now, I give silent thanks to Mayonaka, and I pray to the gods that the other women will believe her tiny lie-a lie that may protect me and what I nurture within me until Tasuki returns.
I fall into a strange sleep, and my mind fills with dreams. I see people, images of those who I knew so long ago and the silhouettes of those I have yet to know. I then see him, my beloved Tasuki, his blazing red hair whipping about his face as if it were burning him. Water churns and surges all around him, the sky above splits apart as lighting streaks through it, black clouds hide the sun. He's drowning in the depths of the ocean, his arms thrashing wildly to try to hold his weight above the violent water of the ruthless sea. I open my mouth to call out to him, to tell him not to give up, to keep trying. I curse him for not telling me he didn't know how to swim. The bastard! I could have taught him before he left for Hokkan. But now I watch him drown alone in the cruel waters of the ocean, the fire of his hair sinking below the waves, extinguishing the flames and taking his life.
The color white surrounds me, above my head, below my feet, swirling around me in the chilled air. My bare feet sting from cold, and I glance down to see them buried up to my ankles in snow. Snow! There is no snow in Konan. My eyes dart around me, searching for something familiar. My eyes come to rest on him, his midnight black overcoat a stark contrast to the brilliant white of the snow that surrounds him. He's sitting down, his back pressed to a boulder, his eyes blank, staring ahead of him as if he were blind. He is looking at me, but I know he doesn't see me. Rivers of tears pour from his golden emerald eyes, streaming down his tanned cheeks, dripping onto his lap unnoticed. He's weeping, alone and unseen. Only I can see him.
The night sky lies above me, sprinkled with thousands of stars, all bright and easily seen in the vastness of this place. The desert, a barren and strangely exotic place envelops me. I feel the irritating sting of blowing sand in my eyes, the smooth warmth of it on the soles of my feet, the dryness that it emits into the air around me. My lover sits in the valley of two sand dunes, his chest bare and slick with sweat, his shoulders reddened from the sun. And yet he's oblivious. I sense that his mind is far away from here, trapped somewhere, unable to escape, while his body sits idly in the desert waiting to die. I touch his face with my fingertips, hoping the contact will awaken him from his mindless sleep. But he's unaware of my touch, and I am forced to watch the suppleness of his skin waste away into nothingness, his collarbone and spine becoming apparent beneath his skin. Eventually, there is nothing left of him but the stark whiteness of his bones, lying in a heap at my naked feet.
He is weeping again, crouched over a small body in a dark room. His sobs of mourning float through the air like the cries of a ghost, striking my heart like an arrow. I stand behind him as he weeps and cries, his shoulders trembling, his head hung, his hands clenched at his sides. I mourn with him and long for him to feel my fingers as they caress the smooth fiery red of his hair, but I know neither he nor I am real in this world. I am only dreaming, and only the gods know where he is, but I sense his presence in my heart. His strength, his sadness, and his triumphs reverberate through the nights that have passed, traveling along the vast distance that separates us, and burying themselves inside my heart. I feel what he feels, and I am where he is. If only he knew.
I am shoved from my dreams by an annoying glare of light shining through my eyelids. I realize with an irritated sigh that I forgot to pull the curtains around my bed to protect me from the early morning sun.
"Damn." I whisper, lazily rolling from my left side to my right to escape the glare of the morning. A strong cramp grips my lower abdomen, where I usually have pain during my blood week. I gasp as the pain flares suddenly and clutch my lower belly. I shift onto my back and my fingers drift lower until they reach my womanhood.
It is then that I feel the sticky wetness between my thighs.
No. No. Please.no.
In a startled fury, I scramble from my reclining position into an upright one, my legs and arms struggling to disentangle themselves from my linens. I can feel something warm and slick clinging to my fingers, but I refuse to look at them out of fear of what I know I will see. I then sit deathly still, my eyes wide and confused, my lips spread, my hands trembling wildly as if I were taken by a seizure.
I am too frightened to look.
But I force myself to lift my fingers to my line of vision even though I am screaming at myself not to look. And what I see makes me choke on my own saliva. I begin to wheeze violently, and before I realize what I am doing, my eyes are stinging with the salt of my warm tears. I hear a ragged scream tear lose from my throat, burning me as it escapes my mouth.
I sit in my bed, trembling in terror, shrieking in agony, staring in disbelief and fright at my blood-covered fingers. The scent of me is everywhere-the smell of my body mixed with the bold metallic spice of blood. I cry and scream, mindless and void of my sanity. My legs begin to flail and I suddenly find myself sprawled on the floor beside my bed, my knees bent and pressed together to try to stop the bleeding. But I know it's impossible. From where I lay I can see the red stains on the insides of my thighs, small scarlet rivers running down the length of my legs almost to my knees. And the front of my gown is soaked through, making the silk stick greedily to my skin.
I kick at the floor like a madwoman, trying to get away from my bed, propelling myself into the far wall of my bedroom, against my wardrobe door. My head bangs against the smooth, dark, wood, bringing me to my senses momentarily. I reach my hand above my head, my soiled hand held far away from my body, and I grasp the handle of my wardrobe door, pulling myself clumsily to my feet again.
What I see in my bed causes a tidal wave of nausea to crash into me, making my head spiral into nothingness. And as I fall to my knees heavily and heave the warm, sour contents of my stomach onto the floor of my bedroom, the image of my bed remains burned into my mind.
Blood the color of my lover's hair is pooled where my body once lay. Fire. A blazing fire so bright that my eyes begin to dim at the painful burning it creates. As the warm salt of my sweat and tears glides down the valleys of my face, I fall in a heap on my side, exhausted, horrified, and wracked with agony as my womb continues to cramp and expel. The moment I feel myself slipping away into the release of unconsciousness, I curl my hands around my stomach and hold myself in sorrow. And as I fall into darkness, I mourn what will never be.
I mourn the gift that was taken from me. The gift that was lost.
It is difficult for me to say where I am.
At first, I believe it is summer. I feel the warmth of the mid-day sun on me, reddening my cheeks and forehead. I see billowing white clouds around me, and suddenly realize that I am behind the tavern washing linens and hanging them to dry on lines tied from tree to tree. The crisp scent of crushed, wet grass surrounds me, as does the smell of my sweat mixed with my perfume. My hands are raised to the sky, pulling a sheet from the drying line and smoothing it until I folds neatly in my arms. I then place it in the basket at my feet and begin folding another linen.
And then I feel the chill of the winter air nipping at me as I stand deathly still in the city's main square. My eyes are lifted to the black sky above the capital, as are the eyes of the hundreds of other people that surround me. Suddenly, streams of magnificent light sail through the frozen air with a deafening boom, illuminating the dark sky and blending with the stars. Another thunderous crash and the sky is filled with scintillating blues, reds, greens, and yellows that erupt and fall slowly to the earth in showers of sparkles. I listen as the people around me shout, laugh, and gasp in awe of the magnificent fireworks. It is only when I smell the aroma of candies, baked pies, and dumplings do I realize that it is the night of the Winter Festival.
And then I feel both the warmth and the cold, and I wonder if I am really anywhere at all. I panic for a moment, then realize that this place is rather calming--rather enjoyable. And I relax as the darkness keeps its place around me, holding me in, keeping me safe, keeping everything else away.
And so I sleep on, oblivious to the blood that continues to flow from me, oblivious to the pain that is dulling my soul.
A/N: I think this may be the saddest chapter I've ever written for this fic. I know all of you are probably wondering how in hell I could ever write something so heartbreaking. The angst will lighten up soon, though, so you don't need to worry about bracing yourself for the next chapter (it's not half as bad as these last few have been). Well, obviously she is neither going to keep the baby OR abort it. The important part of this chapter is that she decided to have her child, but then fate interfered with her decision and made her feel totally helpless and depressed all over again. By engulfing Tansho entirely in her grief and misery, I am slowly building up her resistance to it so that she can eventually confront Shingen (I know that I'm partially giving my upcoming plot away, but I've felt so sorry for all of you who are commenting on how sad my last several chapters have been. I just wanted to give all of you some hope to help you through the next chapters. ^_^)
So what will happen now that things have totally turned back around for Tansho? How will this affect her life? Could the poor girl's life get any worse?
Reply to reviewers:
Penguine: Yeah, I never thought that Hotonori's knowing about Tansho's pregnancy would help her. Thanks for explaining that! ^_^
Galena Silveroak: Thanks for all the great comments (and especially for noticing my bit of research on the Dang Gui ^_^) And, I'm just curious, but what the hell is Pennyroyal? ^_^
Cacat-angel: I just thought it's be interesting to talk about the contraceptives used back then in ancient China. And, yes, the infamous "fuck" incident. Will we ever live that down, hun? ^_^ Thanks for the critique about detail (I'll watch out for that!) And, don't worry, you'll get to see what's happening with Tasuki. ^_^ And no tragic ending!! I never give away my plot development, but I will tell you everything ends happy! ^_~
OholeyKittness: Thanks so much, hon! You're so sweet!! ^_^
Touki Yume: Nope, this is definitely not a normal story (as you have just read.)
Thanks to everyone else who left a review for me!! Luv you all!!