Category: Mild Romantic Fluff
Characters: Fumikage Tokoyami, Ibara Shiozaki
Additional Tags: Feudal Japan AU
Ibara stared blankly into the curved surface as the mirror as one of her attending ladies brushed her long, trailing strands of summer green hair. The rhythmic, gentle tugging against the roots of her hair would typically be soothing, but on this day of all days, Ibara could not find joy even in the simplest of things. Not even the gentle rustling of the emerald leaves against her window or the sweet scent of the sweet pea perfume that one of the other servants spritzed against her wrists, ankles, and collarbone could bring a smile to Ibara's face. No, today, Ibara was to marry a man that she had never met.
"My Lady, you look a little pale this morning," the woman who'd been brushing her hair tutted as she tipped Ibara's chin up with a few fingers. With the same stony expression, the bride-to-be turned her face to look down at her legs, which were flush with the rose of life as compared to the pure white silk of her slip. "Have you taken ill?"
"No, I am not ill," she answered quietly. While it would be an excellent excuse to avoid meeting her suitor, it just wouldn't do. As the daughter of a wealthy merchant and artisan family, Ibara's sole responsibility was to wed an established man. She had no choice but to fulfill this role, lest she bring great shame upon her family and their name. Regardless of my feelings about it, I must perform this duty. Father and Mother's business would be ruined if I refused the hand of this man. Ibara would be given several hours before the ceremony to acclimate to her soon-to-be husband. She was grateful at least for that small window of time; she couldn't imagine walking into the anteroom to wed a complete and total stranger. All she knew about him was that he hailed from a distinguished samurai family.
Her servants knew better than to gossip with Ibara about her impending marriage, so they busied themselves with preparing Ibara's clothes. She would not don the pristine white bridal kimono until right before the ceremony, but the garment she would wear to the pre-wedding meeting was arguably more stunning. Ibara stood and raised her arms perpendicular to her body so that her servants could slip a kimono of dark green fabric over her figure. White stitching outlined large, fan-like leaves across the material, and the plants were filled in with jade cloth the same shade as Ibara's magnificent hair.
Her parents said that Ibara was born with green hair because her mother had prayed to the local forest god for fertility; the deity had blessed her, and colored Ibara's hair as a reminder of its divine blessings. The long, luscious locks marked Ibara's most striking feature, and its novelty had attracted attention from many notable suitors across the continent. Luckily, Ibara's parents were gracious enough to choose a groom who was close in age to her. Ibara didn't know how she would cope with marrying someone twenty years her senior.
"You look radiant, My Lady," one of her attendants hummed as she straightened the hem of Ibara's kimono. The royal girl blinked slowly at her reflection in the mirror. Under normal circumstances, Ibara would most certainly agree; the green hues of the fabric accented her emerald eyes and vine-green locks, while her skin provided suitable contrast to the earthy tones.
As Ibara stared at herself in the mirror, the ladies threaded a hairpin wrought from thin gold wire into her hair; a clothed peony bejeweled with topazes and jasper stones adorned the accessory, and light, wispy gold ribbons trailed down from the piece. A servant skillfully wound it through a braided section of her hair to create a regal and tasteful hairstyle. Yes, under normal circumstances, Ibara would find herself quite gorgeous indeed. However, that cold pit of dread and trepidation swallowed any and every positive emotion. The ball of darkness was like a wicked weed, smothering all other flowers of feeling with cold indifference.
Ibara forced a smile on her face as the sliding door to her bedroom opened, and her parents walked in.
"Oh, my dear, you look stunning," her mother crooned as she approached the eighteen-year-old girl. Ibara politely closed her eyes when her mother leaned in to kiss her lovingly on the cheek. Her parent flashed her a bright smile through the silvery reflection of the mirror. Ibara's own smile was strained and false. Either her mother didn't notice, or she ignored it. Ibara's father moseyed over to grasp her by the upper arms and lean over her shoulders.
"Are you ready, darling?"
"Of course, Father," Ibara responded smoothly. The lie rolled off her tongue like syrup- with practiced ease. "I am more than ready to do my duty to the family. This marriage will be prosperous for us." The wealthy merchant smiled widely and patted her shoulders approvingly. Now that the preparations were complete, they swiftly bundled Ibara into a carriage. The wagon featured the height of comfort- minx fur comforters, feather-stuffed pillows, and silk curtains- but Ibara fidgeted endlessly amongst the luxurious items. Nausea spun her belly around, and the jostling of the carriage on the uneven dirt path worsened it. Ibara pushed her head out of the window, hoping the cold air would settle her sickness. It calmed somewhat, but her throat remained tight with unease, making every breath harsh and laborious.
The Tokoyami estate resided in a nearby valley, which belonged to a rich daimyo who made his fortune by maintaining and operating large commercial farms. According to her parents, the Tokoyami family was one of the samurai clans that managed the sprawling collection of farmsteads. The local farmers spoke highly of both the daimyo and the small assortment of samurai that maintained the peace and order. Hence, it relieved Ibara that she wouldn't be immigrating to a lawless, turbulent region- if the rumors proved right, anyway. The estate was a mere two-hour journey by horse-drawn cart.
Not a long voyage by any means, but it was the longest two hours of Ibara's life.
Ibara gulped down several breaths of air when the carriage driver opened the door. Though she'd possessed access to the window, it seemed like the air beyond the cart was fresher and crisper. It flooded her lungs with an uplifting cold- only for a few moments. When Ibara's slippers met the bright green grass, the reality of her situation slammed back down upon her shoulders. Phantom aches of the burden she bore made her back muscles burn and throb. She hardly registered taking her father's arm and walking down the cobblestone path leading to the mansion. Ibara's main priority at this point was breathing.
Her lungs seemed none too keen on inflating and providing her body with oxygen. Focusing on breathing appeared to further their disobedience, so instead, she attempted to focus on her surroundings. Shady wisteria trees lined the neat stone pathway; their wispy fronds curled over the lane to create a tunnel-like atmosphere. The feather-like branches ruffled in the breeze, mirroring Ibara's waves of green hair, which rippled like green water as the wind played the strands like harp strings. The floral fragrance of their creamy purple plumes mingled with the scent of sweet pea still dousing Ibara's skin. She found the aroma soothing, so her nerves settled just a bit.
They jumped back into high-gear once the house came into view. It was a magnificent, grand structure with an ornate porch stretching around the building, adorned with a white lattice trellis trawling with dark green vines. Through the gap in the porch above the stairs, she could see a sliding door painted with a lovely rendition of crows resting in the branches of an oak tree. Ibara huddled close to her father as they strode up the path. While her parents exuded auras of confidence and poise, anxiety bled from Ibara's pores like dark, putrid water. When they stepped up onto the portico, the front doors slid open to reveal a dark-haired man and woman wearing regal purple-and-white kimonos.
"Welcome to our home. Please, come inside," the man said with a regal bow. Ibara pressed against her father's arm, regarding the noble couple with wide eyes. As the man raised his head, his gaze flickered to her. The deep ruby hue of his irises unsettled Ibara. Ibara likened them to bright red blood, and the image of the liquid leaking from her mangled, dead body suddenly bloomed in her head. The nausea returned full-force, but there was nothing to be done. Her parents quickly ushered her into the abode.
The polished wood beneath Ibara's feet made not a creak as she hobbled alongside her father. A maid poured five glasses of aromatic ginger tea and distributed them to the families as they sat on cushions around a small coffee table. Her suitor was nowhere to be seen. Ibara wasn't sure if that relieved or disconcerted her.
"Your reputation proceeds you, My Lady Shiozaki," the head of the Tokoyami household smiled at Ibara with a respectful dip of his head. "Truly, words of your beauty do you no justice. You are even more splendid than the rumors suggest." Though Ibara's tongue was as dry as sandpaper, she forced herself to provide a small word of thanks. "We have much to discuss concerning the wedding ceremony to be performed at dusk," he continued with a languid wave to her parents. "My son, Fumikage, is much eager to meet you. He is waiting in our garden out back."
"My attendant shall escort you," the mother piped up with a serene smile. The maid shuffled forward, bowed to Ibara, and then gestured toward the hallway leading out of the room. "We would like to give you this time to yourselves to get to know each other."
Ibara knew this meeting was coming, but it did not stop all the starch from dissolving from her knees. She clutched the edge of the coffee-table in a white-knuckled grip as she pushed herself to her feet. Thankfully, the skirt of her kimono hid her wobbling knees. Ibara took a few moments to discreetly gather herself by steadying her breathing and steeling her nerves. It worked only just enough for her to take some tentative steps towards the attendant. The young girl immediately turned and disappeared into the thin hallway leading into the interior of the house. Ibara sucked in a breath and, without looking back at her mother and father, followed the servant.
Sunlight filtered in through the cloth windows to cast the hallway in a bright gold atmosphere. The stripes of light dappled across Ibara's dark green kimono to dye it the brilliant emerald of her eyes. They walked for about two minutes before they came upon another sliding door. Ibara could hear birdsong and the babbling of window drifting through the thick cloth panes. The servant bowed to her once more.
"This is the entrance to the garden. When the preparations for the ceremony are complete, I will fetch you. Please excuse me," the maid said, bowing deeper. Ibara acknowledged the young maid with a curt nod. Dismissed, the maid shuffled away down the hall. Ibara sucked in a nervous breath and faced the door. By all rights, it was an ordinary sliding door, but to Ibara, it looked like the entranceway to another dimension. Does it lead to Heaven or Hell? she wondered with an anxious gulp. Her fingers trembled as they slotted into the groove in the smooth wooden frame. The door rattled quietly as she drew it open. Fresh air carrying the aroma of various plants jumped through the gap, and the breeze ruffled the skirt of Ibara's silk kimono friskily. Ibara opened the door halfway and shyly peered around it.
A garden extended behind the small porch ringing the backside of the structure. A massive wisteria, which dwarfed the specimens lining the path leading up to the house, dominated the back corner of the backyard. Its purple blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze like noiseless windchimes. A rock pathway meandered from the wooden steps around the grassy expanse, trailing around iron-wrought benches and flower patches and a koi pond with a small bubbling waterfall. Songbirds flitted through the grass, pecking at the ground in search of seeds and grubs. Ibara could see no one in her direct line of sight, so she cleared her throat and hesitantly called, "Hello?"
Ibara flinched when she heard the distinct sound of grass crunching underfoot. She used the door to shield the majority of her body as the footsteps approached. Suddenly, the songbirds scattered into the sky with frantic chirps and twitters to disappear into the leaves of the oak leaves looming over the garden wall. Ibara's eyes widened as a young man strolled into view and squinted directly at her.
He was a handsome fellow; there was no doubt about it. His hair was a deep black like his parents', shining with a violet tinge in the bright sunlight. It was close-cropped around his neck and ears but fluffy around the top, poofing out at the back not unlike a bird's fluffy short tail feathers. He wore a cotton yukata of violet accented with lavender and white underlayers. A hand rested on the deep purple hilt of the katana secured to his hips. What captivated Ibara was his eyes, however- like his father's, they were a deep crimson. They set like hard-cut rubies in his pale face, but their glittering harshness didn't unsettle Ibara as before. Gleaming intelligence and curiosity shone within those vermillion irises, and Ibara found herself intrigued.
As Fumikage stared at her, Ibara remained huddled behind the door.
"Miss Shiozaki?" he called inquiringly. His voice vibrated with a deep bass, but it carried a light-hearted tone. Ibara's anxieties began to wane, so she crept out from behind the door to walk out onto the porch. A pink haze appeared on her cheeks as his eyes visibly widened in awe. "F-forgive me," he stammered after a few seconds of staring and hastily turned away. "I am simply overcome by your beauty…"
"You're too kind," Ibara smiled shyly. To be honest, she had not been sure what this son of a prominent samurai would be like; she was relieved to find him courteous and even a bit meek. Curiosity soon began to overtake her hesitations, so she walked closer to the top of the steps leading down to the garden. Fumikage's gaze flickered to her, and before she could begin walking down the steps, he rushed forward to offer her his hand. "Thank you." His hand was soft and welcoming as it gently embraced her fingers. He guided her down the steps and, when she regarded him expectantly, brought her hand to his mouth to respectfully kiss the top of her hand.
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he smiled gallantly. Though it was purely customary to address her in such a way, Ibara could detect genuine joy swimming in his bright red irises.
"As am I," she responded kindly. Fumikage's gaze slowly trailed to her flowing waves of jade-green hair. When Ibara noticed his captivated stare, she giggled and offered him a swathe of her locks. He began to stammer and sputter refusals, flapping his hands about, but Ibara pushed the chunk of hair forward with a gentle laugh. "I don't mind. It isn't every day that you see a woman with green hair, no?" Fumikage gulped audibly but nodded and timidly took the hair in his hands. An awed breath ghosted past his lips as he admired the sheen of the green mane, and his thumb slowly trailed over the smooth strands, as if he appreciated the most beautiful gemstone. The way he drank in the luster of her hair made her cheeks redden further. Under his intense gaze, Ibara felt nothing less than a goddess.
"Simply marvelous… I have never seen anything like it…" Fumikage murmured. His gaze flickered upwards, and his red irises locked with Ibara's green ones. With a nervous cough, he hastily dropped her hair and straightened back up to maintain some sense of poise. "Miss Shiozaki-"
"Ibara," she corrected. A red hue blazed over the entirety of his face, and Ibara chuckled at how cute the young man was. "We are to be married today. Please, call me Ibara," she insisted. He wrung his hands uncertainly for a few seconds.
"R-right then. Ibara," he nodded, saying her name slowly like he was experimentally rolling it over his tongue. "As such, you may call me Fumikage." He blushed fiercely when she repeated his name. "A-a-anyway, would you like to stroll with me around the garden?" he asked and offered her his arm. Ibara glanced around the extravagant backyard; it stretched along the entire backside of the manor, with the back wall a small black line in the distance. The stone path wandered through the garden, and its meandering curves would provide a nice long walk indeed. Smiling amiably, Ibara hooked her arms around Fumikage's. A heat rose to her face when she felt the solid muscle hidden beneath the thick cloth, so she tried to focus on maintaining a friendly aura rather than on indecent thoughts. As she rested her hand on the thick of his arm, he draped his over hers. His touch was gentle and kind.
The walked in tandem along the winding pathway. Ibara esteemed the bamboo water fountain that filled the air with a repetitive, calm tapping as it flowed water into the koi pond. They paused beside the small pool, and Ibara watched the fish swimming along the muddy bottom. They flitted through the roots of the lotuses blooming on the surface in their big green pads, the shadows dappling their red, white, orange, and black multicolored scales. Ibara could barely see her reflection in the clear water and flushed when she noticed Fumikage smiling adoringly at her. After a few more minutes of watching the fish swim, they continued on their way.
"I am told that your mother crafts luxury clothes and accessories, and your father sells them, and this is how your family made your fortune," Fumikage said after some time strolling down the path. "Did your mother make this?" he asked with a gesture to the ornate hairpin adorning her hair. Ibara raised a hand to touch the cloth-and-wire construction.
"Yes. She made it especially for this meeting."
"She is very talented. I will have to extend her my compliments," Fumikage smiled as he appreciated the lavish fixture. "Are you also a seamstress or craftswoman?" Ibara flushed and looked bashfully down at her feet.
"My mother taught me the craft, but I am not nearly as talented. My father says it is unbecoming of someone of my stature, but the servants say my true talent lies in the cultivation of plants…" she admitted meekly. Ibara possessed a great love of plants. From a young age, she had frequented their manor's herb garden, which the cooks used rather than importing spices. They said that Ibara possessed a "green thumb"- an inherent ability to make plants flourish and thrive. "It is not a very useful talent for a noblewoman…"
"No!" Fumikage interjected, and she peered at him out of the corners of her eyes. He blushed slightly and adjusted his tone to a calmer one. "N-no," he repeated softly, "I think that is a charming gift. I-if it pleases you," he stammered with a sweeping gesture to the garden, "you can have leave of this place as you wish. The servants tend it, but if it made you happy, I would have you tend to it as you desire." Ibara could not hide the eager expression that bloomed over her face.
"Really?!" As she enthusiastically looked around the garden, ideas for improvements sparked in her mind. Fumikage chuckled as he watched her glance around fervently. After a few seconds, she recalled her place and looked down at the hem of her dress in embarrassment. "Ah… Forgive me."
"Do not ask forgiveness," he corrected her. His hand twitched once before resting under her chin to tilt her face up slowly. Her eyes widened when they met his ruby irises. "If this place makes you happy, then I am delighted." His thumb swept once across her cheek in a feather-light touch before his hand dropped back to his side. A bright red tinge appeared on his face, and he cleared his throat gracelessly. "Sh-shall we continue…?" Ibara nodded sagely, and, feeling slightly bold, pressed herself a little closer to Fumikage. If he took notice of her intimate action, he didn't acknowledge it.
The sun inched across the blazing blue sky as they ambled down the garden path. They discussed many things, including their respective childhoods and interests. Ibara had been surprised to learn that Fumikage was not merely a samurai in training, but also practice. He recounted a harrowing trail of hunting bandits in the nearby mountains for the daimyo, and how his first real battle had earned him a scar on his forearm. He showed it to her. Ibara marveled at the thin white line crossing the otherwise unmarred skin, and gulped when she imagined a sharp blade biting into the flesh of her own forearm. A phantom stinging pain slashed at her limb, and so she clutched it tightly.
"Did it hurt?" she whispered, eye flicking up to his. Amusement danced in his crimson eyes as he chuckled at her.
"Yes, it did hurt," he chortled. "But I am better for the wound. I lived to fight another day and learned my sword better to prevent it from ever happening again." Ibara nodded slowly, tracing the thin and unassuming scar with her fingertip. She jerked away when Fumikage flinched, and she wondered if perhaps the area was still sensitive. When she opened her mouth to apologize, he laughed. "That tickled." She blinked a few times. She smiled with a soft giggle.
After the sun had reached the highest point in the sky to beat down upon them, the pair of young nobles reclined under the wisteria tree to partake in its lovely shade. Their shoulders touched as they lounged against the thick trunk, and every subtle movement that made their arms brush sent crackling fire through Ibara's nerves.
"Your home is truly beautiful," Ibara sighed contentedly as she watched a few cotton-white butterflies dart through a nearby flowerbed. They perched on the bright blue flowers to suckle at the nectar within. Ibara felt more at ease than she ever had in the splendid garden, even if she was seated beside the man she was to marry in a few hours.
"I am relieved you find this place to your liking." He was silent for a few seconds, then fidgeted uncomfortably. "To be honest," he confessed with an awkward scratch at the back of his neck, "I was concerned that you would be unhappy in coming here. I understand that marrying a man you have never met is daunting…" His vermillion eyes flickered to her face, and he flashed her a discomfited smile. "But I hope that you can still find it in yourself to learn to love me…"
"Fumikage," Ibara whispered in admiration. The boy's eyes were sad as he stared forlornly at the katana resting against the tree trunk. He is as uneasy about this as I am, she realized. She reached out to grasp one of his hands with both her own. "There is… much I do not know yet about you, just is there is much you don't know about me," she admitted with knitted eyebrows and a frown, "and I would be remiss to deny that I am still uncertain." Fumikage looked at her uncomfortably.
Smiling sweetly, she reached up to run her fingers through his fluffy raven hair, finding it softer than a bird's down. "I do not know yet what is to become of the two of us in this union, but there is one thing I can say for certain. As we take our vows with the gods as our witnesses, I will mean every word, because I have never met a man as kind and true as you." He flushed red at her high praise, and he looked down at their adjoined hands. "I came here afraid to meet the man I was to wed. I am not afraid to learn to love you anymore."
"That relieves me," Fumikage murmured with a tiny smile. He edged out his thumb to stroke Ibara's knuckles adoringly. "I am lucky," he laughed and looked up with a bright smile. "I never imagined that I would marry a woman blessed by a god." His hand pushed into her waves of green hair to tuck it behind her ear; as it retreated, it came to rest on her cheek, thumb sweeping arcs under her eye. She leaned into his touch, smiling at the peculiar softness of his calloused hand against her face. "I am sure the god looks upon you fondly, being such a generous and honorable woman as you are."
"You flatter me," she chuckled. Her eyes grew lidded as Fumikage's continuous caresses eased her into a sense of security and comfort. There was no lie in his touch; though they had just met, genuine care and love existed in his soft strokes over her skin. Ibara's eyelashes fluttered demurely as his smile widened.
"You may not want to look at me like that," he warned spiritedly. "I may do something quite unbecoming of one of my stature." At the usage of the phrase she had uttered not long ago, Ibara laughed good-naturedly.
"Well," she smiled invitingly, "I think we have established that I am used to doing things unbecoming of my stature." His lips curled upward into a smirk. Ibara shifted so that she was facing him fully as his hand pushed further against her cheek. She inhaled deeply in expectation as his face began to enclose on hers. Fumikage's gaze trained on her lips, which parted slightly in preparation. The tip of his nose brushed against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed so that she could abandon herself in the feeling of their lips melding together.
Ibara released the breath she had been holding in a slow, contented sigh. Fumikage's lips were soft and supple as they worked against Ibara's mouth in hesitant, gentle motions. It was a sweet and chaste kiss but not without incredible feeling. When he pulled away, her eyes fluttered open, and she regarded him bashfully. He observed her with similar shyness, and he squeezed her hand firmly.
However, before he could say anything, the servant called from the porch. Though the young girl probably couldn't see them in the dappled shadows of the large wisteria, the two nobles separated a bit and let go of one another hands to avoid any undue scolding. Fumikage shouted back to acknowledge they had heard the servant's summons before looking at Ibara with a wan smile.
"Are you ready? It seems our parents have agreed on the final preparations." Four hours ago, a pit of dread would've balled up Ibara's belly, and nausea would've tainted her answer; now, after spending this short time with the young samurai, she was remarkably at peace. She stood and brushed the grass bits from the skirt of her kimono, and then breathed in calmly.
"Yes. I am ready," Ibara nodded and exhaled a deep breath. She cast him a pleasant smile and extended her hand. "Walk in with me?" she requested hopefully. Fumikage raised an eyebrow at her, weighing the options. Their parents would likely disapprove of their closeness; after all, it was improper to be so intimate before one is married. He decided that he didn't care and grasped her hand, using the other to grip his sword and use it as leverage to push himself up. Ibara flushed when he interlaced their fingers and smiled affectionately at her.
"All right, then. Let's go."
The wisteria flowers kissed Ibara's face and shoulders as she walked through them, almost as if they were offering her their congratulations. The doused her in their floral perfume and deposited their small lavender petals in her long hair. The pond bubbled a little louder as she passed, or so she imagined, like it was celebrating the union to come. Smiling shyly, she rested her head on Fumikage's shoulder as they approached the porch. He didn't say anything, but instead leaned his head against hers with a slight nuzzle, threading his raven hairs with her jade ones.
"Do you think they would consent to letting us marry under the wisteria? It's such a splendid tree." Fumikage chuckled and nodded his head, making their hairs twist further together.
"I am sure that can be arranged."
They walked into the house, and so began the first moment of the rest of their hopefully blessed days together…