Chapter
13
Disclaimer: Not much to say at this point except that Disney rules for creating this story.
Belle would not have believed how quickly the next few weeks passed. She lived with near-constant worry about her father and Koru, and whether they had safely reached the Dutch quarter. The ache of losing her father did not lessen, so she filled her days with activity in vain efforts to avoid it.
The mornings were devoted to Belle's instruction of the Beast in Western ways. She would not have expected how well-informed he was about the West, and she quickly discovered that he read Dutch far better than Belle did herself. There was little she could teach him in that quarter. He was, however, fascinated with the French language, and Belle undertook to teach him the basics. His accent was so heavily Nipponese that he could barely pronounce the rolled French "r", but he did his best. Belle also began to teach him European table manners, and once she found the kitchen she occasionally directed the preparation of a Western meal as she had in her own house in Brussels after her mother's death.
The afternoons were far more arduous for her. At those times, she struggled not only to master the Nipponese tongue, which could not have been more different from her native French, but she also strained to cram bows, gestures, and other nuances of the Nipponese culture into her brain. She often felt that her skull was about to pop open with all the new information she was absorbing. The part of the day she looked forward to the most was in the evenings, after supper. Then she would take up a daito dagger that she had selected from one of the rooms filled with unused weapons and the Beast would drill her in its basics.
"Females are ordinarily not instructed in such things," he had said when she had timidly brought up her wish to learn, "But these are not ordinary circumstances, and you are no ordinary female." Belle's pulse had raced inexplicably at this, but she had written it off as excitement at these new lessons.
Over and over she repeated the basic drills until she felt as if she were going to collapse. Each night she fell into bed exhausted, but looking forward to the progress both she and her pupil were making in their lessons. Such thoughts helped her stave off the nightmares of her father in pain, or in prison, or simply wasting away from the grief of losing her.
Nearly two weeks after his rescue of Belle the Beast was finally recovered enough from his wounds to show her about the oshiro. They continued to speak in Dutch to one another as they turned corners and peered into dusty rooms, but their talk was slowly becoming punctuated with occasional French and Nipponese. Belle still did not think she could find her way about the castle reliably, but she could perhaps manage to get lost only half as much.
They passed the nightingale corridor by, and Belle was careful not even to so much as glance down it. The pair paused outside the next, and final, corridor. One entire wall was covered by the sliding panels that the Beast had told her was typical of Nipponese interior design.
"Kirei-san," the Beast said, and Belle thought she heard hesitancy in his voice.
"Qu'est qu'un problème?" she asked in French, making him show his ivory teeth briefly in a dragon version of a smile.
"No problem, Kirei-san. You will think this request odd, but…is it possible for you to…shut your eyes?"
"Shut my eyes?" Belle wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. "Why? Is there something wrong with this next room, that you don't want me to see it?"
"No!" His voice was short and sharp, but there was the thunder-rumble in it that Belle had learned served her scarlet companion for amusement. "No, there is nothing wrong with this room. Just trust me, and close your eyes."
Belle did not ask any more questions, though her better judgment still said that to trust the dangerous-looking dragon with anything was a mistake. But after two weeks' acquaintance, Belle had come to believe that he truly meant her no harm, and that he suffered from loneliness at least as much as she did. She closed her eyes.
Lightly she felt his smooth scales beneath her fingers, guiding her forward. He was warm to her touch, not cool or slimy as other reptiles were. She heard the gentle hiss of the sliding panels being pushed back, and the corridor lightened considerably. Whatever room they were now entering had windows that let in the afternoon sunlight. The wooden floor under her feet did not feel any different than that of the corridor. The Beast's scales slid out from under her hands. She waited patiently for a moment or two, and could sense from the direction of his body warmth that he had moved to stand beside her. At last, he said, as if he were trying to hold in laughter, "You may look now."
Belle opened her eyes, and was completely astounded. The room was as long as the corridor beside it, and every inch that was not window was filled with bookshelves. Most of the shelves were full of stacks of delicate rice paper, tied neatly up in individual folds. But the shelves directly before her held European-style books, bound in leather. Many covers were beautifully embossed. Mouth open in wonder, Belle reached forward, took one off the shelf, and leafed through it. "But this is in French! How did—I mean, why is this here?"
"You will find most of these gaijin books are in Dutch, but there are French and a few German among them as well," the Beast told her, the rumble of amusement stronger in his voice. Hearing this, Belle dove in amongst the smooth covers, nearly weeping with delight to have her dear friends with her again. She barely noticed that the Beast had neatly avoiding answering her question as to how he had acquired such a collection of European books.
Belle's hand paused over one of the French books. As she pulled it from the shelf, a few true tears did fall. She curled up at the foot of the shelf, the book clutched to her chest, eyes squeezed shut.
"Kirei-san! What is wrong?" The Beast's voice spoke from far away, sounding deeply concerned. When Belle did not answer, she felt him bring his face closer to her shoulder by the warm and gentle breeze of his breath that brushed her hair. "Kirei-san, what is troubling you? I thought you would enjoy my library, but…" He trailed away uncertainly.
"Oh, no! It isn't that!" Belle's eyes flew open, to find the Beast's fire-colored ones, crinkled anxiously among scaly folds, were inches from her face. "I love your library. It's wonderful. It is just, seeing this book again…" She took a deep breath to hold in her sobs.
Gently he eased the book from her embrace. "Le Morte d'Arthur," he read haltingly, stumbling over the French pronunciation. Ordinarily such an attempt would have brought a smile to Belle's face, but this time she was too lost in memory.
"It was her favorite," she murmured dully, staring straight ahead, eyes seeing the past.
"Your mother's?"
She nodded. She had told him a few days earlier about the loss that still plagued her heart. "We used to read together," Belle whispered, "We read that one so many times I lost count. I think she had it memorized, beginning to end. And then, when she died…it hurt even to look at that book. I would always think of never hearing her voice again in this life…"
"I am truly sorry for your loss, Kirei-san."
Belle reached out without thinking and gently stroked the tiny smooth scales of his eyebrow ridge. "But it hurt even worse when we had to sell that book. We had to sell all of our books in order to pay passage to Nippon," she explained at the question in his slit-pupiled eyes. "Giving up her favorite stories, it was almost as bad as losing her once again. And now, to see it here, so far from home…it was too much."
"I understand." They were silent together for a few minutes. Belle watched the sun creep slowly across the dusty floor without really seeing it, her mind still on her mother's face. At length, the Beast stirred beside her. "But how best to remedy this still-fresh sorrow? Would it be better to put this book where you cannot see, and thus spare you the pain of your memories? Or perhaps we could brush off the dust and read it together as you used to do? I will improve in my furan-seisu," Belle managed a watery smile over his valiant effort to pronounce the word 'français', "and you shall perhaps revisit pleasanter times with your mother."
Belle reached out a shaking hand and took the book from him, reverently. "I'd like that very much."
Thus began their ritual of reading French novels aloud for half an hour before lunch, beginning with 'Le Morte d'Arthur' and finding new favorites on the shelves. The Beast had been right on two counts: his French improved rapidly with the extra practice, and she discovered that the painful memories of her mother slowly became less painful as she remembered the good times they had once shared. And she was very grateful to the Beast for the slight lessening of the ache around her heart.
Not all of Belle's encounters with him were so benign. Tempers still flared occasionally, the reasons various and mostly minor, but usually both of them would rapidly miss the other's company and within hours they would be tentatively laughing together about whatever had caused the dispute. Once, Belle was so annoyed with him that she rigged a trap similar to the one she had set for Getsuru her last night in the Dutch quarter. It had not taken her long to discover how he 'secretly' made his way around the oshiro: she'd watched him climb a wall to reach the ceiling beams one evening not too long after he showed her the library. In keeping, she simply placed a bucket of water and a trip-rope in the rafters near her corridor. Though he had been annoyed with her for several days afterwards, it had been worth it to see the look on his reptilian face when he was doused in water and realized she had figured out his secret. The next time they argued Belle found herself doused in a bath of mud as she exited her room. Her shriek of shock and fury was echoed with a throaty chuckle fading down the corridor.
And so the autumn and winter months passed on relatively peacefully in the oshiro, until the Beast suggested a special evening to celebrate the first day of spring. Belle had been living in the oshiro for nearly seven months. She had put on a fine celebration for Yuletide complete with all the traditions she cherished, and the Beast had reciprocated with a New Year's celebration the likes of which the onii servants told Belle they had never before seen. But this spring celebration would be different; it was to be a marking of the progress both of them had made in their studies of one another's cultures and would encompass aspects of both.
Author's note: This is a warm fuzzy chapter before the 'ballroom' scene and its aftermath. I have often wondered how Belle and the Beast got to know one another enough to fall in love in the fairly short time the movie gives them, so I've taken the liberty of extending the time frame quite a bit so that they have time to form a really lasting friendship and emotional connection. Now, fasten your seatbelts and adjust your crash helmets! The real fireworks are about to begin…
Jya matashita,
SamoaPhoenix9
Marissa and Mordred--Apologies to you both for using Le Morte in this chapter. I know your secret ambition is to go back in time and assassinate Malory, but indulge me this once.
Jarethsdragon--Domo arigato gozaimasu for all the stuff you sent me about sword construction and the etiquette surrounding them! I wasn't bored at all; Japanese culture fascinates me even though I don't do martial arts or anime. For the sake of the story, I may be forced to bend a few of the rules about others touching Nightingale. Or I may not. Hopefully it won't come to that, but gomen nasai in advance if it does. Your information is absolutely invaluable. Total side note--I do not plan to have Belle commit hara-kiri, but thanks for the info regarding honorable female suicide as well. ;)
