Chapter 4
Disclaimer: Disney owns Beauty and the Beast. And the part of my heart that doesn't belong to my family. (Sounding a bit Oscar-ish, aren't I?)
The Next Morning
Belle did her best to go through her usual routine, ignoring the niggling sensation that something was wrong. That's just because you are missing Papa, she told herself whenever she began to grow nervous. It didn't help that she had to come in from purchasing the day's food to an empty house, something she had never done before in her life. In Brussels they had always had two maids and a cook, in addition to Belle and her mother, to carry out the household tasks. But the cost of traveling to Japan had been so much that until Maurice began selling some of his wares they could not afford to hire any servants.
Belle did not like the silence that hovered over the house like a dark cloud. She found herself jumping at strange noises, and felt restless but didn't want to go out. There's nowhere to go, anyhow. The thought set her even more on edge. She tried to settle back and read her new book, but she could not find a comfortable spot with enough light. At last, she determined to go sit on the front steps. But there it was too noisy; she couldn't concentrate. Just as she had resigned herself to going back inside, a dark shadow fell across her open page.
"Oh, good afternoon, Getsuru," she said in Dutch, glad enough for any distraction from her present mood.
"Konnichiwa, Beru-san. It is marvelous weather we are having, no?" Getsuru said, bowing deeply.
A small alarm bell went off inside Belle's head. Contrasting this overly polite behavior to the Nipponese man's outright rudeness the morning before, she could sense that something was afoot. However, there was no harm in continuing to be friendly. "The sun is quite strong today," she agreed. "It is such a lovely day to be outside!"
"My thoughts exactly!" Getsuru said jovially. "Perhaps you and I could take a short walk together. It might take your mind from your father's…prolonged…absence."
Belle studied Getsuru carefully, searching him for any ill intentions. This was the first time she had really taken any time to survey the man at close range. Though tall for a Nipponese, he was only an inch or so taller than Belle. His straight black hair was always pulled smoothly back into a horsetail, the hair itself longer than Belle's own wavy brown hair that brushed the base of her shoulderblades when it was wet. His face was smooth, with angular lines and the narrow eyes of a full-blood Nipponese. There seemed to be perpetual calculation in their deep brown depths, even when he was at his most charming. Under the traditional dark blue cotton costume that was required of all samurai, she could see a barely concealed hint of trained muscle and lightning-fast reflexes. He always wore his katana, the curved longsword of the samurai, tied to his belt along with a shorter dagger, what he called a daito, thrust into his sash. He usually carried a bow as well, one that was taller than he, and a quiver filled with razor-sharp arrows. However, on this particular day he had left them behind.
Belle chose to take this gesture as a peace offering. "Very well. I accept your kind invitation."
With a low, European-style bow that made Belle wonder exactly how much time he had spent practicing, Getsuru offered his arm. Tucking her book in a convenient niche under the front step, Belle took it and they started off down the street.
Belle soon realized that Getsuru had a specific destination in mind: the house of his Dutch friend Bram.
"Where on earth are we going?" she asked, completely at sea when Getsuru casually opened the front door without knocking and walked her inside.
"You will see." He led her up the stairs and into a spare, empty, bedroom. When he closed the door behind them, Belle's nerves began to falter and fray.
"What's going on?" she asked, struggling to keep the panic from her voice.
"Just a moment, Beru-san. Here, put this on, quickly." He tossed her a large roll of dark blue cloth. When unwrapped, Belle could see that it was a full-length cloak with a generous hood, wide enough to conceal nearly everything about her.
Belle began to see where this was going. "Wait a minute. This is very, very, illegal. If we were caught—"
Getsuru held up his hand. "Do not trouble yourself. I am well-connected in this town. You will not be harmed--as long as you are with me. Now, watch what a true man can accomplish." With that, he seized the frame of the low bed in one hand and heaved. The bed groaned and came away from the wall, revealing a dark opening that seemed to lead into the next house. On the other side of the Dutch quarter wall.
"Wait. Please." Belle begged, trying to slide her hand casually onto the handle of the door to the rest of the house. "We barely know each other. Why take such terrible risks for me?"
Getsuru took her hand, pulling her irresistibly towards the tunnel. "Surely you see we are meant for one another, you and me. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, far surpassing any of the other bland creatures who call themselves women these days. I am the most handsome man in town, and the most skilled at the warrior arts. Come. I will show you around your new home." He gave a harder tug, wrenching her arm. Belle dug in her heals, straining to break free, but she slid helplessly across the polished floor. Her plain working shoes could find no purchase to hold her back.
"Are you out of your mind?" she half-whispered, half-screamed, hoping no one else would hear. Her thoughts struggled to grasp the full implications of what Getsuru was not-so-subtly hinting at, even as her feet struggled fruitlessly to grasp the floor. "You actually think--" The words caught in her throat. "You want me to—" Again, the words would not come, in any language. Belle was so choked with the feelings boiling inside her that she could hardly breathe. In a burst of strength she yanked away from Getsuru and darted to the door. He caught her just as she reached for the handle, and pinned her against it with her back crushed against its smooth wood. She could see his face coming towards her, and she did the only thing she could think of. She slapped him with all her strength, then pulled at the door handle and darted out. She heard a crash from behind her as Getsuru came hurling out of the spare bedroom to hit the wall and reel dazedly to the floor.
Belle ran. Past Bram's puzzled face, down the stairs, out the front door. Past the staring Dutch quarter residents and their boring lives. She did not stop, nor did she take her hands from her mouth to release her strangled yell of shock, fury, misery, disappointment, loneliness, and a thousand other emotions until she was safely locked in her own room and had a pillow stuffed into her face to muffle the noise. Even so, she was certain it still carried from one end of the Dutch compound to the other.
A few streets over, Bram was helping Getsuru climb to his feet. "So," he asked cheerfully when his Nipponese friend finally focused on his face. "How'd it go?"
He ducked the answer with a barely disguised chuckle.
Author's note: Sorry, guys, another short one. Hopefully this chapter will keep the originality folks happy while still staying sort of with the Disney plot. And no, we don't get to hear about Maurice until a future chapter. Gomen nasai!
SamoaPhoenix9
