I start my day at 6 a.m. My attendant comes to fetch me for my hot, pre-prepared bath. I hold my arms out and sigh, trying not to blush as the attendants strip me of my nightgown. I step into the bath and they wash my hair and back, letting me have the privacy of washing my own front.

After I finish bathing, I step out of the tub and they towel dry me, put me in a fluffy, purple robe and sit me on a stool in front of the vanity mirror. They brush out my hair, taking turns until it is dry and straight and perfect. Then they dress me in a silk kimono and do my hair up in an elaborate bun with many ornaments. A layer of pale peach color covers my face and my eyes are lined with black as pink is brushed over my lips.

I am a doll, silent and accepting.

By this time, it is nearly 9 a.m. and I am rushed down to eat breakfast with my father. He is cold, distant, but ever watchful. One mistake means I can forget about my half an hour of free-time today.

I am the perfect princess, silent, graceful, accommodating without losing my authority. My father sets down his chopsticks and stands, nodding to me. I rise and then bow low to him, my heart soaring.

Today, I can leave the palace.

My classes come next; speech-making, tea etiquette, painting, grace and posture, lyre, calligraphy. I do exactly as I should, missing not even one beat or messing up not one brush stroke.

I am a doll, perfect and attentive.

It is 5:30 p.m. and I am allowed to leave in half an hour. I am rushed back to my dressing room where the attendants shed my kimono for silk pants in navy blue and a silk top in lavender and white. The make-up is removed and my hair is let loose.

At the front door, I am handed a parasol, I take it without a word, and I am led to the front gate where a guard nods to me and opens the door. I glide through the gate, keeping my pace even as my heart pounds faster.

I am a doll, patient and poised.

I turn the corner, out of the sight of preying eyes and I run. As fast as I can, I run. Half an hour. Half an hour, I chant to myself.

A market comes into sight and I slow down, passing a flower shop, a bookstore, a barbecue restaurant. Finally. The ramen shop. I duck behind a display for newspapers and peek over the top.

There he is. Blonde, blue eyes, always smiling. My heartbeat quickens as I hear his laugh but then falls. He is paying for his meal, I have come too late. He walks out of sight and I stay where I am.

I am a doll, hollow and masked.

I sigh, turning around to slowly head home. A tap on my shoulder. I turn. Eyes widen. It's him. "You forgot this" he says, holding out my parasol. I can barely breathe. "Th-thank you" I whisper, taking from him. Our fingers touch, my heart pounds against my ribs.

"I see you here sometimes" he continues, walking with me a little ways "you're really pretty. Come talk to me next time you're around. My name's Naruto." My cheeks have painted themselves permanently pink. "H-hinata." I stammer, not quite believing what is happening.

He smiles at me and asks if I can stay for a while now. I nod, even though I know I'll pay for it later. He is worth a few angry looks from my father and no free-time for the rest of the week.

I am Hinata, and for now, with him, I am free.