Disclaimer: This story is an amateur work of fanfiction. The content of this story is the creation of the author, although based on the Anime "Fushigi Yuugi", and is not intended for profit. The author does not own "Fushigi Yuugi" and any of its characters depicted within. I took the liberty of creating a few characters of my own; but they are unnamed.
Author's Note: Nakago : man or monster? This is my apology for the powerful Seiryu Seishi and my tale of his redemption. Part Two
LATE STAR RISING : PART TWO
MEMOIRS OF A MIDWIFE
Never had she before seen a bleaker dawn, the grey of the pregnant clouds thick and cold, the dead leaves rising from their earthen beds. She had heard the rumour not too long ago, ever since the Seiryu Seishi had returned from their mission to summon the great god Seiryu. The rumours were true. Seiryu had indeed been summoned. He now dwells inside his Miko. Victory was within reach.
The thrill of a soldier's victory at war was something she was never accustomed with. How could there be something as triumphant as victory in something that is forged out of the pain of death and the cries of the living? As midwife to the royal house of Kutou, she had heard labour screams of child bearing concubines, mistresses and courtesans; followed closely by the blood-curdling cries of newborn infants. Worse – she had aborted many of them herself before they were fully formed, because his most noble highness, it seemed, could strangely not afford an army of noisy rascals to call his own.
Now that the great god Seiryu had awakened from his deep slumber, she thought to finally see the peace she had so earnestly prayed for. But why, she wondered; was dawn so bleak in coming? Had it anything to do with the letter she was about to write?
My most noble lady, she wrote. I am sorry for keeping this a secret from you for so long, but I am persuaded by my very self that I would rather die than keep this from you. Her hands were trembling as they scrawled all across the paper.
I am sorry for making my own judgment. I am ready to face whatever lies ahead for me. For many months I have kept your child – yes, your child; this child I am carrying; for my own, because I cannot bear to see you bearing the burden of motherhood when I look at your situation then. They brought you to me as you were suffering with labour, eager; as I believe, to die, to leave this world behind for a place where there would be no more pain.
I cannot help but feel sorry for you, because I knew you were no mere mistress or a concubine. You had that intense suffering all about you, a suffering that I feel I could never understand. I thought that having a child to tend to and look after would not ease the situation, but worsen it more. Perhaps that was my grave mistake, or perhaps not, but it was what I believe, madam. Yet, I made my own decision that day as your child came out of your womb, to take it away; to persuade my colleagues to tell you when you wake up that it was a miscarriage.
I do not intend to keep your child away from you, my mistress. I know now who you are. I know that your time is limited, and that you had other things to do. Therefore, I decided to ease you of this burden as I call it. I apologize for my actions. I am ready to pay, but equally ready to give you back your child now that great Seiryu himself will bless this land again; thanks to your efforts. Please forgive me. I love your child as if it were my own – and I will die for it gladly for your sake, as I would die for mine.
Folding up the paper, she looked out. The skies were as grey as ever.
The valiant soldiers of Kutou now knew that the war had reached its climax. Seiryu himself was now on their side. Thousands watched as the troops stormed out of the proud city, ready to crush the armies of Konan once and for all.
Nakago rode at its head, the thickness of his elaborate dragon-shaped helmet concealing his pale blue eyes from the throng of cheering spectators that he apprehended with a simple, blank nod as he tightened his grip upon the reins. Soi rode at his side, now and then shielding a third horse from full exposure, upon which sat the Miko of Seiryu wrapped up tight in a hooded cloak; refusing to look up and out at the cheering crowd. Behind them followed Suboshi and the troops, marching proud and certain that this time the downfall of their enemies was near hand.
Soi looked at Nakago, whose sharp profile was at her side as if pasted upon the dull grey sky. Her eyes dimmed slightly when she saw that they had not even the faintest hint of pride embedded upon them, and she wondered why. She allowed her horse to pace closer to him, close enough for both horses to emit low snorts as they brushed against each other. Soi, at that moment remembered that she had never really recalled a time when Nakago showed any trace of satisfaction over the whole ordeal. It was strange. It was almost as if he had no interest whatsoever in the blessings Seiryu himself might bestow upon their country now that he had been summoned for their disposal. Seeing that he has ignored her totally as well, Soi flushed deeply before turning away.
Just then, a woman, probably in her sixties came fighting her way through the crowd with a small bundle fastened on her back. The crowd's bloodshot cries drowned away her voice as she waved her arms and shouted. Soi, curious, continued to follow her with her eyes as the horse lulled on beside her Shogun's steady pace. She had seen that woman before somewhere.
Suddenly, with a forceful push from some of the people at the back, the woman lost her balance and fell headfirst through the layer of screaming spectators, directly at the Shogun's path. Nakago had barely time to pull back the reins as hard as he could, bringing his horse to a premature halt, snorting and neighing with its front high up in the air.
"Move out of the way, you damn woman!"
Some of the soldiers at the rear came, shouting curses at the woman, clubbing her off the road while some struggled with the panicking animal.
Soi watched in silence as the guards fiercely pushed the woman back into the crowd, her greying bundled hair loose now, falling down to her hips. The bundle she carried upon her back too, came off, revealing a small, crying child.
The female Sieshi opened her slender eyes wide. The child's blue eyes were impossible to ignore. It's curly ringlets of hair were as golden as the sunrays.
It was not the best of occupations, being a midwife, especially in this god-forsaken place; with more pregnant and delivering concubine, courtesan or palace-lady than she could count. They called her the Death-Nurse. She was a midwife, all right; but she handled only the unwanted, killed the unborn – did the dirty work, as she herself put it. She was sick of it. She was sick of the Lord Emperor, with all his women, sick of the palace lords and their women – sick that they bestowed upon her the responsibility of abortion; and the blame along with it. Why bring children to the world at all, if they were not to want them? Or why not allow the place to stream with running, laughing, playing children if they could make them just as easily as they are making now? But no. It always ended in abortion, abortion for her – making her the killer, the evil woman, the slaughterer of innocent lives.
Two attendants stood beside her as she briskly ordered the drapes drawn back. She was in a foul mood, as she always was when she had to deliver children like this. Presently, two guards entered, carrying a young, delirious woman; the bulge of pregnancy unmistakable even under the shadows.
"What is this?" she spat furiously. "Did anybody tell me that the pregnancy is mature? What am I supposed to do, club a full-formed child to death?"
The young nurse at her side gave a low whimper. The young mother-to-be also whined softly, her brow wet with sweat gleaming in the poor light.
"Answer me. Must I deliver this child, or must I not?" she hissed. "Is the Emperor finally sane enough to add another heir to his wealth? I assure you – if each and every one of those I aborted were allowed to live – bless them – the whole empire would be bankrupt by now."
"If the Emperor hears of your arrogance, I swear you would join them in their earthen beds," replied one of the guards. "You are no different from us, woman. We are all killers. But .." he sneered, "rest easy – this time. This woman is not the Emperor's, and you are free to do with the child as you please."
She could not care less. All she knew and cared, was that this child, unborn for now, but due any second; would not face any better than death. Even though she felt with intensity of passion that it was not her right to establish judgment then and there ending the pain of existence for this unhappy child, there was many a time she wished it. They never cared for wayward children. They never did; and that cruel little deed was all she was asked to handle. This was no different. She just knew it.
Seeing that the guards cared not in the least bit what she might do to the child, assuming at the same time nothing whatsoever was expected from the Emperor in this business, she breathed deeply. The burning pain inside her chest did not subside at all.
"You may leave now."
The guards' sneer lingered even after her attendants has shut the door behind them as they went.
The young woman was sobbing silently. Bits of skin peeping out of her bulging belly glistened with sweat. She deserved better, thought the midwife. She deserved more than being a palace lady. But … alas, what kind of woman had ever challenged imperial Kutou, and won?
The young woman began to cry.
"Mistress, she is in labour."
"I can see that," she snapped, waving the young nurse to back away. The maid consented. She understood her mistress' foul mood all to well.
"Damn these ridiculous garments they wrap their women up with," she fumed fiercely. "Give her the breathing space. You – take it off. All of it, you hear?"
The cries went wilder and harder as the nurses removed her clothes, her scarlet lips furious and terrifying as she bit upon them like a savage.
"For pity's sake!" cried the midwife. "Stop holding it back, girl. Scream all you like. It'll only hurt worse if you forbid yourself. Scream, damn you!"
The air was shred apart once more by a shrill, blood curdling cry of desperate pain. The midwife pried her legs apart as the nurses held both her sweaty arms. Her white bosom heaved up and down, her demented face fierce and furious. There was something different about this young woman. Under the lamps, her body was glistening white and pearly. The long, silken tresses of red hair flopped all over her side, back and front in a messy disarray. She was different – somehow, the midwife knew that. There was an unique label of pain and suffering embedded behind those pale, blue eyes.
"It's coming, mistress."
The young nurses squealed, the shrill cry of birth drowning out the rest. The cild was coming with a howl and a scream. The midwife simply looked with that far-fetched gaze upon her weary eyes. A bloody little head was appearing…
She yelled for cooling cloths to soothe a burning forehead. The young new mother was breaking with fever, It was like a hundred births before. But still … thought the midwife - there was something embedded upon those pale blue eyes.
"Mistress?"
But there was no more need for anything else now. It was finished with a cry as raw as a seed, strangely reminiscent of; and quaintly similar with that of a rumbling cloud fresh with rain. She knew too well that only the treasures that were washed ashore had true value, not the greatness or fierceness of the foaming blue brine that had brought them in, after all.
"Mistress! Look!" screamed both her young attendants. The new mother's body was glowing with a strange, blue sheen.
They stood speechless until the light faded back in, broken only by the birth-cry of the newborn. Quickly blinking away, the midwife ordered one attendant for a damp cloth to wipe the infant with, while the other fanned the mother with a piece of cloth. She was delirious again, muttering something. The midwife cradled the newborn upon her bare arms after cutting the umbilical cord and wrapped it with a damp towel.
"Nakago …" sobbed the mother softly. "Nakago .."
"Mistress. What is that on her thigh?"
She vaguely looked. Her head was spinning as the strange blue sheen appeared again around the mother's naked body. A richer, brighter shade of blue traced a strange symbol on her milk-white thigh as she moaned softly.
"Nakago .."
"She can't be a .."
The mistress bid them silent with a stern glare. But it soon softened into a faint smile as she gently lay the infant beside its sobbing, delirious mother. It was so fair, so pale and beautiful, she thought. And its hair … like golden strings, so soft and fine. She dried her forehead and covered both mother and child with a blanket as the blue light faded back in once more.
"Seishi!"
She sharply looked at them. The two young nurses looked back as they stood, trembling.
"What should we do now, mistress?"
How could she know? This was not like a hundred births she had a hand in – as before. None of those so called hundred births had emerged out of the pain of a Seishi of Seiryu.
And who would the father be? Not the Emperor, hopefully. But what now? Would he care? Would she risk it, or was a Seishi ready to look after a child and leave her duties behind? Or, would she just spare her the burden? But how? Would she be killed if she pass judgment on this child on her own?
"No!" She spoke out, looking at the bleak climbing night as she pulled the curtains back. "No more … no more …"
She turned back again, only to see the soft pink flesh of the newborn snuggling close to its mother's body; its delicate eyes shut tight, not ready to meet the light. She had no idea what would happen – what the guards would do, nor what the mother herself was capable of doing when she woke. She was a Seishi, the highest ranking of Kutou's soldiers, and more. But … would this position be at risk if she gave this child to her …?
"Get me my basket," she said at last. Her tone was quite calm as she looked at the frightened nurses, one face at a time. ""In the name of Mighty Seiryu's Seven Stars, on my own head be the blame – I will take this child for my own!"
"Mistress! No!" gasped the nurses. She looked at their eyes again, her smile fixed and somehow madly terrifying.
"A Seishi has no time for children," she said simply. "She just miscarried, that's all."
Then she grabbed the cane basket, laid inside it the sleeping newborn after tearing it away from its mother, prying it loose as its tiny hand still clutched its mother's breast. She covered it up with laundry and marched out of the room.
Outside, the stars of Seiryu were slowly climbing the night sky.
Perhaps things were supposed to be that way, after all. The dawn will always be dull and dismal, because it is a dull and dismal world. And the dawn will be bright and cheerful too – in a bright and cheerful world – a world that she had all to herself, a world inside her.
"Move, old witch!"
The guard kicked her away, but she was frantic to come out again. The child on her back was crying wildly.
"Please, you must allow me to see …"
"MOVE!"
"I need to see Lady Soi. I must!"
The old woman ended up at the front again, groping her way through until she ended between Nakago and Soi, causing a stir among the horses, the crowd all around them whooping and spewing fitfully. Soi halted her horse when she heard her name mentioned, while Nakago at her front moved on quite unconcerned. Just as a guard at her side raised his sword, Soi stopped him with a brisk show of her hand.
"Keep that little devil quiet!" roared the guard, lowering his weapon.
"Hold your peace," said Soi. She turned to the old woman, still mesmerized by the beauty of the child the old woman had on her back. "What do you want, woman?"
The old woman could not meet her eyes. She kept her head low.
"Forgive me for my rude disturbance, mistress. Forgive me."
"My time is short," said Soi without looking at her.
The woman reached inside the folds of her garment and took out a piece of folded paper, handing it to the female Seishi.
"This message is all, my mistress,"
"I have no time for this, woman" Soi said.
The child was still crying, but it was safe, cradled upon her nanny's back.
"You must read it, mistress."
Soi frowned at her, crumpled the piece of paper in her hand, and threw it at her side.
"I said I have no time."
It was too late to turn back now. Nakago, riding ahead of her, halted and turned halfway back. The Miko of Seiryu behind her was getting fidgety too. With one great heave rising up her breast, Soi gently kicked her animal at the side, looked away, and rode on. The cries of the child soon disappeared, fading at the distance.
End of Part Two
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