Lolita
By Jia Zhang
Act III
There had always been much ambiguity and mystery about the old Aoyagi family—a long and troubling history that not many ever bothered to look into; after all, they were the Aoyagi family, an extended line of powerful merchants and politicians that had always had some odd power over Japan. But, that was how the people always remember it to be. That was how the Aoyagi House always remembers it to be. And that was how Yuiko always remembered it to be.
There was nearly a hundred or so year history of the old Aoyagi Estate, a vast piece of land North of the central city of Tokyo. Built sometime in the late 1800s, it was the work of a famous English architect, during Japan's brief but prosperous time of companionship with old Britannia, much like the rest of Asian during that century. It was a rather large manor, the Aoyagi Estate, running hundreds of acres of land, all by now supremely valuable. It was fashioned in an old English design—the dark gray walls were covered with thick green vines that ran up to nearly the third floor. There were gardens near the back, with hundreds of different variety of flowers, and the front sod of green pasture passed over nearly a mile before it reached the front gate. The insides were full of great marble columns, rosewood floors, and velvet curtains, with hundreds of rooms, each more beautiful than the next. It was indeed a place of great beauty and magnificence, a history that was thought lost to the ages.
But of course, there is no such beauty without its dark secrets—Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Marilyn Monroe, they who were beautiful with their bitter skeletons in the closet. And there wasn't a secret in the history of Japan that could compare to the history of the Aoyagi Estate. Each of its many rooms told a tale, each of its many paintings had a memory, and each of its lowly obedient servants knew all about those secrets.
Interwine de mensonges et de beauté.
C'est une énigme, ce paradis interdit.
Tales of the dark history of the Aoyagi Estate had been passed down since the beginning of the grandeur manor between the servants, all of them carefully guarded by the head butler, who always seemed to be the watcher of the household. The servants knew what had happened in each room, in each hallway, the time, the day, and the sinful deed—murders, scandals, affairs, and the realm of the forbidden.
It was, of course, of no surprise that young Yuiko would learn of those secrets too.
Yuiko was a rather vivacious young girl, barely twelve in her years; she was a rather pleasant symbol of purity and innocence for this manor that was constantly shrouded in darkness. She was the niece of the Estate's head butler, and the daughter of one of the head maids. Throughout the majority of her life, Yuiko had spent her life working along side of her uncle and her mother in the Aoyagi Estate, so she had come to hear of one thing or the other.
But Yuiko was just a simple girl, so she had no comprehension for what the grown-up women often gossiped about as they did the daily laundry. But many of these rather peculiar stories often stuck in Yuiko's simple mind like bee to honey.
It was around the time of the former masters of the manor, the late Mr. and Mrs. Aoyagi's death, that Yuiko had heard this particular story. The Master Seimei had just returned from school to take care of his family's empire, and his younger brother Ritsuka. Yuiko remembers eavesdropping on her mother's gossip for the pure fact that it concerned her dear friend Ritsuka. She remembers how the women had rather snidely commented how it much more pleasant to have the young Master Seimei to lead the Estate, instead of his late parents. It had been a well-known fact amongst all the servants that Mrs. Aoyagi had been a rather painful woman to deal with—she herself had come from a very prominent political family. The women seemed rather glad that the late Mrs. Aoyagi had died. Then, that was when Yuiko remembers hearing something very bizarre, just as she began washing the satin pillow sheets.
One of the maids spoke of a rather curious matter—the relationship of the late Mrs. Aoyagi and her two sons. It was rather queer, said the maid, how Mrs. Aoyagi had seemed to adore one of her sons, yet seem to despise the other. It was well known that Master Seimei had been the more intellectual and gifted son of the two, but the younger brother, Ritsuka, was a deathly sweet child. The servants all regarded him with some sort of pleasantry—the adorably beautiful child, who's smile seems to make their work much more bearable. Ritsuka had always been a lovely little boy—polite, caring, sweet, with the most infectious smile.
It was a rather mysterious matter, how biased Mrs. Aoyagi was to her eldest son. Yuiko remembers well how the maids speculated that Mrs. Aoyagi wasn't the natural birth mother of Ritsuka—that he may have been her stepson. But that rather ridiculous theory was thrown out the window—one of the older maids of the house spoke rather stiffly that Ritsuka was definitely an Aoyagi, and most definitely Mrs. Aoyagi's child. Unfortunately, of course.
It was then, that a rather disturbing rumor had arisen.
One of the older maids, who had worked in the house since the late Master Aoyagi's birth, had revealed something quite disturbing she had always found. Mrs. Aoyagi was eminent for being very partial to her eldest son—showering him with affection. But, the maid had said, the kind of affection that Mrs. Aoyagi used to give to Master Seimei wasn't the type of affection a woman gives to her first born. Instead, said the maid, it was never a look of motherly love that Mrs. Aoyagi used to give her son, rather a look one would shower for a lover.
There was booming silence as this piece of information was digested.
C'était en effet la vérité horrible et fascinante.
Then, the rumor began to build. Some of the maids had always seen that Mrs. Aoyagi regard his son in rather inappropriate manner. She'd hold and touch him like no mother ever should, and her kisses never seemed to be for the corner of the mouth.
Of course, none of these women ever spoke out loud of what they pondered in their minds, but it was well insinuated in that conversation. Although Yuiko didn't understand too well what the women were talking about, she was smart enough to understand what they seemed to have understood—there was never an innocent relationship between the late Mrs. Aoyagi and her eldest son.
Mrs. Aoyagi was always such a wrathful woman, said one maid. She did not need to continue, for all the maids thought the same thing—'It wouldn't be a surprise if she had attempted such a thing.'
But Yuiko didn't consider how this would affect the young Ritsuka, but that empty thought was quickly trampled by another revelation by the gossiping maids.
Suddenly, a young maid openly gave out an idea—'what if Ritsuka wasn't Master Aoyagi's son?'. But they all knew that young Master Ritsuka was definitely an Aoyagi. A shroud of silence fell over the women as each of them began to grasp that bit of hearsay. For a long time, what seemed like an eternity, none of them spoke. Yuiko remembers that it was a moment of frightening silence. But it was shattered by sound of her uncle coming into the laundry room, telling the women off for talking too much and not working enough.
That matter of gossip was never spoken of again.
Silence, silence. C'est un secret dont nous ne parlons pas.
Of course, Yuiko didn't understand what those words meant at the time. Of course Ritsuka was Master Aoyagi's son, and Ritsuka was definitely an Aoyagi. So how could Ritsuka be an Aoyagi if he wasn't Master Aoyagi's son? Who else could Ritsuka be the son of?
It was a child's reasoning—that had no poison lingering in it.
L'esprit de la fille n'a eu aucun poison.
At the time, what she didn't understand couldn't be applied to that thoughtful question—of how much Mrs. Aoyagi had seemed to detest her youngest son. It was still even a puzzle to the gossiping women, but they didn't consider many factors that may have led to an answer—how much Seimei seemed to adore his younger brother, how much attention he had showered on Ritsuka, how much more kind and thoughtful Seimei was to Ritsuka compared to everyone else, how much more important was Ritsuka to Seimei.
Perhaps those considerations may have sought an answer to such a startling family secret.
Of course, even without the full understanding of such a matter, Yuiko had thought of the matter much like how she would think of the matter if she knew the truth—that Mrs. Aoyagi and Ritsuka were like Snow White and her evil Stepmother.
It was an odd sort of tale by the Brothers Grimm.
Une histoire sinistre foncée de beauté et de déception.
But the time of pondering for the old glory of the Aoyagi family was dead and gone with the death of Seimei—the last true tie between the Estate and that old grandeur, which had withered away with the departure of such a true Aoyagi heir. After all, Ritsuka, a bright and splendid child, no matter his brilliance and adoration by all, could not compare to the intellect that Seimei had possessed. It would be years, perhaps, before that child could become a man—to transform from caterpillar to a butterfly.
Of course, to Soubi, Ritsuka was already a butterfly.
Mon papillon.
From the moment the silver-haired man had entered into the manor, he created a spur of rumors and other speculations. The House deemed Soubi as someone whom didn't seem appropriate to be the temporary guardian of the old Estate, much less be the guardian of the young Ritsuka. All of the women that worked in the house found Soubi to be rather strange, but handsome nonetheless. He was regarded as some odd enigmatic figure that before had never existed in anyone the House had known, with the exception of Seimei. He was kind, courteous, and never seemed to trouble anyone. He kept the estate in the tip-top condition that Seimei had done. But those were only Soubi's exterior features—secretly, the House knew that Soubi was a man with many secrets, as many as the House has known through its hundred-year centennial.
The House also knows, that from the instant Agatsuma Soubi had entered into the grandeur manor, he never had an innocent gaze for the young Ritsuka.
But the House chose to say nothing of it.
Ne voir l'aucun mal.
Ne parlez aucun mal.
N'entendez aucun mal.
Nous sommes aveugles et muets.
It was just in the manner of the Aoyagi Estate to keep everything steady, to keep everything in that picture perfect condition, to keep everything in its old age glory and beauty, to keep everything hidden under the surface of the water.
Which may be why Yuiko thought nothing of that particular evening.
It was a Saturday evening, the one evening that the servants of the House had a little break, if they had completed their dutiful chores. Normally, Yuiko would be free this night to go into town with her mother or friends from school to visit the cinemas, but she had skipped her laundry duties the day before, and was now forced by her mother to make up for them. She was probably the only one in the house, she had thought, since everything was deathly quiet, without the normal movements of the servants. From each of the many rooms, Yuiko collected the bed and pillow sheets for washing. From each room she went, unnoticed by the House.
The last room she was supposed to collect sheets from was one of the rooms at the end of the quarter of the House, where all the rooms were large and grand. This particular room was often used by Soubi to do his reading, or studies or paintings, and it was regarded as his studio. Many times, Ritsuka would be in this room as well, to read poetry and watch Soubi paint. For Yuiko, she didn't know whether or not that Mr. Agatsuma, as he was known, was in his room, his art studio, or was he out in the city with Master Ritsuka, as they had habitually done on Saturday nights for the many months that Soubi had been in the house.
So when Yuiko came to the hallway of the grand bedrooms, she saw that Soubi's studio door was open—and that was queer, for all the doors of all the other rooms were closed. It had been curious to the House from the beginning as to why Soubi had chosen to use that room as his studio, or why he had never done anything to move the other items from the room. Instead, Soubi simply said that he would like the House remains as it was when Seimei had died, and that he had chosen the room for the simple fact that it had very large windows with great lighting.
When Yuiko approached the door, she didn't know what to expect. Then, she heard the voice of Ritsuka, reading what seemed like poetry.
The sun makes his overture beyond the horizon,
and sings of the symphony long lost to the ages.
Tomorrow, we shall forget the finches in the trees,
and the blue bird upon my windowsill.
The storm would have long past the morning dew, and
whatever is left of our past history has been shattered
into bits of ash and mold.
Would you then finally take my hand and lead
me into our garden paradise, for only
with you can I see my longed utopia.
And Yuiko saw an image through the crack of the open door—Soubi leaned back in a loving rosewood rocking chair, with Ritsuka sitting on his lap in nothing but one of the rather large white shirts he often wore. But Yuiko had found the position of where Ritsuka sat to be rather odd. The boy had a rather splendid smile on his face as he flipped through the pages of the book of poems, skimming through some of them rather quickly. He read one, after another, and one more—his voice singing the words. But Yuiko knew that Ritsuka did not read those poems for himself, for Ritsuka had never breathed as much love into those words for anyone as he did at that moment for Soubi.
And then, she saw Soubi's foot, pushing against the floor, and the rocking chair creaked as it began to tilt back and forth. Yuiko saw Ritsuka move along with the chair, his breathing suddenly heavy. His amethyst eyes closed, and he lowered his hands, the book nearly falling to the floor. And Yuiko saw, the odd rhythmic movement and sound of the rocking chair moving back and forth, and look of adoration in Soubi's eyes as he gazed as the boy before him. Ritsuka's cheeks were slightly tinged with pink and his back was arch in crescent, and there was a rather odd expression upon his face. And in the violent silence of House, there came a soft moan of pleasure.
C'était un secret. On l'a interdit -- un amour comme Romeo et Juliet.
It would be years later that Yuiko would once again remember that day, and the house she had grew up in. It would be years later that Yuiko would remember that quiet Saturday evening when she saw something she knew she never should have seen—something forbidden, yet oddly beautiful in its own right. And it would be years later that Yuiko would truly understand the magnitude of what she had seen.
But the Yuiko of the moment was just a little girl, in a House with many secrets and many lies. So, she thought nothing of what she had seen.
Elle n'a pensé rien à lui.
End Act III
Author's Note:
Yuiko may not understand it, but I hope everyone else was able to understand what the hell I was insinuating at the end of Act III.
((dies ))What the hell was I thinking writing this fic? ((goes crazy)) I have lost it. As you have probably noticed by now, each of the chapters so far has featured a different character, and yes this chapter did have Yuiko. But she was more of a medium for the Aoyagi Estate in this story more than anything else. It's also to show the apathy of certain individuals in certain situations cough. This was quite a hard chapter to write, because it had so much description. But I think it came out rather well.
The inspiration for the Aoyagi Estate actually came from Manderley, an old English manor in the novel Rebecca. I've been reading a bit of the book before I wrote this chapter, so there was a lot of inspiration from the novel for this Act. Also, please note that the Aoyagi house is a very important property in this fic, as that it is rather personified as person, and this will be noted more significantly towards the end of the story. (Also, the fic will have longer chapters as the story goes on)
Also, another thing I insinuated in this story is the relationship between Seimei and his mother. And no, it isn't completely what you may have imagined. I was thinking more in the lines of sexual abuse, than incest. And no, the bit I insinuated about Ritsuka being Seimei's son is not true. That factor does not exist in my fic. Due to his mother's sexual abuse, Seimei is more protective of Ritsuka than anything else. And because of the attention and love Seimei shows to Ritsuka, it makes their mother jealous, thus is why she tends to be a little cruel to her youngest child.
I am cruel and evil woman. ((sigh)) For anyone who had seen the movie Lolita, or read the book, you may recognize the same scene with Humbert and Lolita and the damn fucking rocking chair. twitches uncontrollably I thought it was a very important piece, which is why I had to incorporate it into this Act. No matter how much it disturbs me. ((twitch twitch)) Oh, and the stupid poem is by me…
Wow, that was a long note.
Anyways, thanks for reading, don't eat me, and please! Don't report me to Interpol!
Jia Zhang
© August, 2005 by Jia Zhang. All rights reserved.