The shining rays of the sun illuminated the cracks of a shabby hut in a remote part of the village inhabited by humans at the foot of a mountain range. Its peaks were partially covered by snow, indicating that winter was approaching and that in the coming months the living conditions of the young woman who lived there would gradually deteriorate. The leaves on the trees slowly turned a yellowish shade at the end of that damp summer, piling up in front of the entrance to the little one-room house.
She could not yet tell what it would be like to spend the winter living just outside the village, where it was more difficult to access the river and dry firewood. She would have to make her own storage inside the hut, and if no one stole it, everything would work out and she could face a winter without at least freezing to death. She pulled aside the straw curtain that she used as a door to the little house, which was about a meter and a half high, just like its owner. Even so, Rin was grateful to have a roof over her head on rainy days, even if a few drops leaked from time to time. She was grateful to have walls on windy days, even if they were poorly made and full of cracks and holes.
The last three summers were the worst of her life.
In the first of them, her family was expelled from a nearby village for theft. They pointed at his mother and father as if they were thieves, which they had never been until then. They destroyed the very little they had, her siblings were sent to different places in Japan, whatever that meant to her. They said that Japan was now the name of the land they lived in, and some children in their new village liked to tell advantage by being able to write the characters on muddy earth after a spring rain.
Days after they were driven out of the village she grew up in, a monk appeared before the family of six wandering the roads under the hot sun, having their skins burned and damaged by exposure. Rin was thirteen years old when the said monk offered to take care of the three boys in different temples, educating them properly. She couldn't remember his name, she only remembered her mother's tears when she saw her father receiving sake as payment.
The rumors that her parents had stolen the last season's stock of rice in the neighboring village had finally reached the ears of the villagers there. Rin still remembered clearly the day the head villager humiliated her parents in front of the whole village, and places that were once open to her were quickly denied. The hut that they had borrowed from them was given to another family. Each day was more humiliating than the day before.
They took refuge in the forest that night, and at dusk, she got up with the urge to urinate. All that was left was the clothes on her body, a shabby kimono and a furisode* so old that the fabric began to open by itself when stretched, not exactly protecting her from the cold. Her bare feet knew which way to go to the river, and in an urgent hurry, she ran towards it in the moonlight to a more hidden place. The earth was wet and the river flowed calmly. It was a clear and stuffy night, and as Rin tied the worn obi* around her waist, she observed movement in the forest.
When she returned to the camp, being the only place her parents were given permission to stay, her mother was in tears. Rin never knew what had happened to them that fateful night. Her father never came back, and even if she asked, her mother would not answer. No explanation was ever given.
In one moon cycle, their lives were transformed like lightning striking a tree. On the night of the new moon they were driven out of the village they grew up in. On the night of the full moon, their father disappeared. Finally, on the last night of the waning moon it was her mother's turn to leave her. Inhabitants of a neighboring town said she was seen running away with a company of street performers, while other people gossiped that she had given herself over to the life of a woman of pleasure.
Rin never found out what happened, and so there she stayed, to this day still in the same spot where her parents decided to camp when they lost their hut. She hoped and kept hoping that the monk who took her brothers away would one day show up to take her back to them.
"Or maybe they will show up here to pick me up," she thought distractedly, tying straw against straw to arrange the roof of the crooked hut she slowly built at the entrance to the forest. It was a considerable distance from the nearest hut to the village, and as much as her actions had no connection whatsoever to what her parents did, if indeed they stole rice from the stock, the humiliations still lingered.
She was the example that the village mothers were happy to make as a moral lesson for their children.
"Honor your family so you don't end up like her", they said behind her back, without making much of a effort to lower their tone of voice or even disguise the disdain intrinsic to that phrase. At first she frowned, until she realized that no matter what she did, nothing would change. A fifteen year old girl was not a threat, especially when alone in the world.
Rin had always honored her family. Ending up in this condition was never a matter of choice. Life happens. It unrolls and rolls up again. An eternal wheel of fortune for some, wheel of misfortune for others.
With each cycle of the moon, she could feel her life narrowing down among the people who lived there. It was a village that was proud of its customs and used to accept visitors frequently, being more open-minded because of the comings and goings of people looking for the famous bath houses in the region. Her parents thought that there they would find shelter and food by serving the owners of these very exclusive places at the foot of the mountain, and some of them located even in places that were higher and tougher to get to. The reality could not be more different.
Whispers ended their prospects, and soon after, the desperation came.
She tossed some of the dry leaves on the ground around her crumbling little house, amidst the dry firewood she had collected over the previous two days. The sun was slowly dawning on the horizon, showing signs of the coming autumn, staining the sky with red and violet. She picked up the wooden bucket and two straw baskets inside, walking with her bare feet through the damp earth from the previous night's rain.
The smell of wet earth invaded her nostrils pleasantly.
As much as the villagers had moved her away from the village to a deserted place considerably away from the river, Rin had found a path to a little frequented pond in the area. To tell the truth, she had never seen another soul in those surroundings. She walked for hours through the forest, jumping over large rocks and waving to the foxes she used to see there.
They didn't judge her. They did not exclude her.
She felt comfortable with animals, much more than humans.
"Humans who, when they want something, eliminate all prejudices," she thought gloomily, reaching the banks of the secret lake. The water was warm, steaming hot, which made Rin suspect that it might be a place connected to the luxurious establishments near there.
Even if there was no one around, it was better to be quick.
She removed her worn, gray obi, leaving it in one of the straw baskets. She threw her battered beige kimono over it, leaving only her nagajuban underneath, stained with sweat and other elements from last night. She removed it, completely undressed, and sat down on one of the rocks in front of the pond, examining it carefully. A small scarlet stain indicated that her moment of the lunar cycle had finally come around, causing her to breathe relieved.
Once again Inari-sama had answered her night prayers.
She dipped her old nagajuban into the warm waters of the lake, rubbing it aggressively with her bony fingers. The sight of her wrist made her pause for a few moments before she went back to rubbing the battered and yellowed fabric. With each season it seemed that her skin clung to the bones, circling them and settling easily. It had been a little over two years since she had worn the same clothes every day, and contrary to expectations, Rin did not lose them. "Maybe in length, my legs are a little longer...," she thought analyzing her own bare, bony, muddy ankles.
She rubbed the stain for a while longer in the thermal water, finding herself satisfied and tossing the nagajuban over the other basket, outstretched. The wind would dry it in a matter of minutes. She put her feet in the lake, wiping her reddened hands and washing her face, entered the water silently. Her long black hair floated on the surface of the dark, steaming water.
She felt her muscles slowly relax.
There were still bruises all over his ribs and thighs, but at least they were now turning green instead of purple. She leaned against a huge rock in the middle of the lake, closing her eyes for a few moments.
Her stomach growled.
She hadn't eaten anything yesterday.
"Time to go to town," she thought sadly. She still had the previous night's payment for her night services, and although it wasn't much, she would be able to buy something at the street market that would last at least until tomorrow.
Her dried lips curved up and pressed against each other, trembling, holding back the cry tight in her throat. She would not allow herself to behave like this, for the moment she stopped interrupting her feelings, she would not be able to do what she was doing to survive.
She walked to the shore of the lake after a few minutes spent there, stepping cautiously over some familiar rocks so that she wouldn't slip. Her ankle was still bruised and slightly swollen from the fall she took a few days ago, the bruise already fading. When she couldn't get anything to eat for more than two days, she ventured out in the early morning hours to the gardens and plantations of the town's bathhouses and teahouses.
If there was one skill Rin had acquired over the past three summers, it was to remain silent and motionless for as long as she could. She was inspired by the foxes that prowled the area and how they made their way to get food, always on the prowl, always lurking. Ears always standing up.
Her long wet hair remained loose for now, drying out in the wind, while the young woman checked her nagajuban. "It's still damp, but that's what I have for today," she reflected sighing, feeling her skin shiver as it came into contact with the cold fabric. She waited a few minutes and put the kimono on top, combing the long black strands of her hair with a wooden comb without several of its teeth.
As she tied the obi over the kimono, she heard noises in the distance. She looked around her, motionless, searching for where they might possibly be coming from. She put one straw basket into the other, quickly collecting water from the lake with the wooden bucket. Female giggles echoed coming from the far bank of the lake, unexpected for the time of day. The bathhouses didn't open until after noon, and even then she doubted that guests would go to that isolated lake in the wilderness of a closed forest and an ancient cemetery. Buddhist gravestones were everywhere among the trees, bushes, and rocks.
Amused shrieks and giggles now echoed throughout the lake, and although she couldn't see their figures before sneaking into the forest with wet hair, her almond eyes saw other easier elements. The figure of what looked like a soldier held up a large white tent with huge characters unreadable to Rin, containing emblems that were not exactly unfamiliar to her. She shrugged, turning her back to what was happening in the distance, stepping onto the wet forest floor.
(...)
She took her geta* out of her mother's straw bag. As much as she walked barefoot in her village, it was not acceptable to enter a fortified city without her shoes. "Well, acceptable it is... but everyone will pretend I don't exist," Rin pondered, putting them on behind a tree before crossing the large Shinto gates of the gateway. The first time she went there, she received some 'advice' from one of the soldiers guarding that feud.
He spoke softly, very close to her ear, as he pressed her against the wall of the fortress, raising the hem of her kimono to her waist. Rin's nose, against the stone wall, was now bleeding from the impact.
Nabeshima-san was his name.
"A whore who doesn't even try to disguise what she is", he laughed, pushing the nagajuban aside, showing off the naked legs of the almond-eyed young woman, slapping her bottom painfully with the palm of his hand before spreading her legs.
Rin rolled her eyes, remembering that moment as she walked around in her cheap, extremely uncomfortable geta that hurt between her toes. If she were to cry for every time that happened, she would spend the rest of her life in tears.
Busier than usual, the town built around the large residence of the feudal lords of that region had never been as busy as it was now. Several children were running around the cobblestone streets inconsequently, pushing people around to see the fireworks displays. Rin looked around, not understanding what was different about that early afternoon. Stands of all kinds were arranged along the main street of the fief, street performers danced around the edges seeking attention, drawings were sold by another stand. A sketch artist stood in front of the customer, drawing him with brushes.
She felt strange with such joy and enthusiasm around her. Unlike in her village, no one stopped their activities to observe the presence of the young woman alone. Rin blinked. She could see that other young women were also alone, all with signs on their kanzashi* indicating their ranking in the pleasure district. Like Rin, they also had the obi tied above their stomachs instead of their backs. The almond-eyed young woman winced in embarrassment as three of them passed by laughing, eating a yakitori* that smelled wonderful to her nostrils. Her stomach growled once more and Rin put her hands around her belly, frowning in pain.
Men dressed on their haori and hakama delicately adorned with emblems passed Rin along with their wives and children, enjoying the great open-air fair. Finding herself in the middle of the crowd and hungry, she walked to the nearest food stand, the three coins in her straw bag kanzashi adorned with flowers found in the middle of the road gave her a better appearance than she usually had, although she knew, looking at her reflection in the large pots hanging there, that her excessive thinness told the truth of her life.
Sighing in frustration, she looked away and waited her turn in line. Two young men in front of her, dressed in a respectable set of kimono and hakama, possibly sons of good local families, were chatting excitedly. The long braided hair of both was decorated with unfamiliar emblems, but as her mother had once told her
"For people like us, unknown emblems are better than the opposite," she repeated the phrase of her mother, who had long ago abandoned her to her own fate in the world. She could feel anger, hatred, sadness, frustration. She could feel many things about her family, her life, and the people who turned their backs on them... but at the end of the day, when her stomach growls, when the icy night wind comes, what kind of feeling would keep her alive?
"...and their long claws!", exclaimed one of the young men, handing a coin to the young man who was roasting yakitori on a charcoal grill. Black smoke rose above the stand, drawing some groups away from the area. Rin continued to listen to the two boys talking. "Fushizu-dono* knows how to entertain them, but I would be afraid."
The other boy nodded.
Fushizu-dono.
Wasn't that the name of the feudal lord of that land?
Rin raised her eyebrows, impressed. Those boys were much more than heirs of good families, they were tied inherently to the owner of that feud. She looked around once more, feeling insecure. It was better to leave after getting the yakitori. She would try to look for some mushrooms through the forest on her way back to the village.
"Fushizu-dono had studied for years with youkais, so I'm not surprised that he was an exemplary host," the latter praised, excited about who knows what was going on. The little man at the booth handed them both several yakitori, making the young woman's mouth water . "Thank you, Oji-san*. Have a nice afternoon."
The boys bowed quickly to the little man, bent and aged. His hairlessness made his head look like a glistening boiled egg when standing under the late summer sun. But when he laid his downcast eyes on the almond-eyed girl, and especially on her obi tied in front of her kimono, his lips curved in disgust and full of contempt.
"There's nothing here for you", he said rudely, closing his eyes in her direction. Rin looked back, checking to see if there was anyone else in line, finding herself alone. She turned her attention to the gentleman with the boiled egg head and, with determination, opened her purse and offered a coin to him, who raised an eyebrow. "Go away before I call the guards!"
Rin frowned.
"I'm not deaf, much less dumb," she thought angrily, craving for a yakitori with all her strength, even if it was the last thing she would ever eat in her life. Her voice was inexplicably absent for some days, and today was one of them. It was something that happened since she found herself alone in the world.
The gentleman turned his back to her immediately, checking the kitchen behind him without paying any attention to the presence of the almond-eyed young woman with her hand outstretched on the counter. Rin bit her lower lip, undecided what she should do. Her stomach ached, begging for the food that was right there in front of her on the grill. The fat from the chicken around the skewer dripped through the grates, making her mouth water. She could not remember the last time she had had the opportunity to eat chicken.
He noticed that some children were playing with fireworks nearby, emitting gunpowder smoke to add to the black smoke from the charcoal on the grill. The old man got down from the counter, ignoring her completely, wiping a piece of cloth on a bucket of water. The children ran again, preparing to light a new little gunpowder toy, and when they did, Rin's almond eyes widened in an impulse.
In one furtive movement, her hand reached for five yakitori at once, running amidst the smoke and the children exploding their fireworks. She hurriedly stuffed the yakitori into her straw bag, and when she heard shouting in the distance, she knew it was the voice of the little man with the boiled egg head, crouching down in the crowd so that no one would suspect it was her. She crawled along the legs of the people on the main street of the town, getting mud and gunpowder all over her kimono. Her heart was beating fast as she got up and ran again, bursting the strap of her geta. She stopped to take the geta in her hand, knowing she couldn't afford to get a new one, and when she looked back she saw two guards talking to the old man and the two boys who had previously bought yakitori from that stall. Her eyes widened when she realized that one of them was the guard who had raped her in the past, Nabeshima-san.
She stopped running, crouching down in the crowd again, being stared at by a woman who was extremely intrigued to see her. She had bumped into her legs, dirtying her elegant, white tabi*es with mud. Her dark brown eyes landed on her kimono first, then on her geta with the torn strap she was holding, and then on her already shredded kanzashi. With no time to waste on strangers, although it was one of the few times someone had actually noticed her presence publicly, she hurriedly walked past her.
Suddenly she felt someone grab her forearm without any kindness, squeezing it to the bone, which was exactly what had been left after so many seasons without eating properly. He looked back in shock, seeing one of the soldiers of the feud.
Her breath choked in mid-stride.
It was one thing to be caught by one of the guards at the city gates, but quite another to engage the soldiers of the Daimyo*. He was wearing a moss-green haori* in a combination with a dark brown hakama, supporting two samurai swords at his waist. His black hair was braided into a high bun, indicating his rank in the hierarchy of the Daimyo samurai of the region.
Rin swallowed dryly, her heart pounding in her chest.
The samurai narrowed his gaze, annoyed.
- Let her go, Ikoma-san," the elegant woman with the obliging, dark brown eyes asked. Her long hair was high in a bun suitable for the highest rank of wives of the Shogun's generals, adorned with jewelry, flowers, and combs in materials Rin had never before had the privilege of seeing. His tone of voice was patient, yet hurried. - She looks hungry. We should have compassion for everyone who doesn't have our privileges.
The samurai's narrowed eyes analyzed her in a few seconds, dropping her soon after. He folded his arms, frowning, still staring straight at her. His sharp eyes seemed to have seen much of what the world could offer, tired and focused at the same time.
"Izayoi-sama, as always, with reason bound to heart." he declared respectfully, nodding toward the stunning woman as a clear demonstration of his place in the hierarchy of things. "...sama...?", Rin repeated internally, landing her perplexed gaze on this Izayoi-sama. Her kimono had so many layers she could barely count, several of them in colors she hadn't even seen on a textile. Gold bird prints swirled above a black background on her obi, matching the plum and purple shades on the various layers of the kimono, being a hikizuri*. It was the first time Rin had seen this type of kimono in her entire life. "Thank Izayoi-sama for the kindness, girl."
Her rapid breathing moved her chest frantically. He looked at the samurai first, and then turned her attention to whoever that woman was, her honorific could never be forgotten. Not only was it the first time the young woman had seen a hikizuri in her short life, it was also the first time she had heard someone close to her being honored with the -sama.
She fell onto her knees, touching the point of her gunpowder-smeared nose to the mud at the feet of her zori* in a deep bow. It was the best she could think of in the midst of all that turmoil.
"Hurry up," she heard her voice, Izayoi-sama, accepting her thanks by nodding slightly when Rin raised her gaze. Every movement that came from her was subtle and delicate. Izayoi-sama was a leafy cherry tree, while Rin was nothing more than a dying bush with no leaves, let alone flowers. "Ikoma-san will distract them."
Rin nodded, rising from the muddy street in one motion, dashing to the large city gates. She ran past the distracted guards, who didn't even notice her presence among all the people entering and leaving the late summer festival. She only had the courage to stop running when reached the narrow road leading to the villages at the foot of the mountains, resting her hands on her thighs as she tried to catch her breath.
Izayoi-sama.
"Who was that woman?" she wondered confusedly, pulling one of the yakitori out of her bag.
When she took the first bite, a smile full of pleasure immediately took her lips. The fat from the chicken slid across her delicate lips, taking up her chin and staining her nagajuban. It didn't matter that she would have to wash it in the lake again tomorrow. It didn't matter that she had almost been caught, arrested, and killed by the city guards.
Yakitori was her favorite food.