Hello my dears! For those of you who adored the cuteness of last chapter please don't go sharpen your pitchforks after finishing this one. That being said, Chapter 15 IS going to be uploaded on the Seventh of October, that is, in about a week. Unless it seems as though people absolutely cannot live without an immediate update, I'm going to take my time with the follow up chapter to this. I do love you all, and I do know that this will terrify some of you, but this has also been part of the planning for this story since about February of this year...
I'm also uploading this now because I can't help myself, I've had it done for a couple of days. Now that the plots we've been playing with for almost a year are all coming together, it's like I can write faster and such. So until that kind of stops up, I'll be including the projected-update day in the chapter notes for each chapter for awhile. Don't know how long, but yeah.
Funfact: Albinism is rather common, at least more common than you'd think, in Japan—at least according to the infallible internet. Yes, this is true, and apparently the 22nd Emperor of Japan, Seimei was albino himself (one of the ones who may or may not have been made up).
Funfact: If you visit someone's anything in Japan, bring gifts. Gifts like WHOA. Got it? Got it.
Funfact: There were lots of rules about how you had to talk to samurai, because they were the highest-class people that you would be likely to encounter on a walk down the street. You wouldn't encounter a daimyo, lord, or other aristocrat and most certainly wouldn't encounter a member of the imperial family—and if you did, you wouldn't be talking to them, you'd be throwing yourself to the ground in respect. Or not, but then your neck would get intimate with an axe.
Funfact: Those of you who know the actual translation of "oni" know that it means something far more terrifying than "demon," but for the purposes of this story all (three) of us have overlooked that. Demons and their ilk in Japanese mythology are effing terrifying, as in you need a new fundoshi (Samurai-style undies) after seeing one. But people were actually pretty cool if they outwitted a demon, troll, ogre, spirit, anything—because hey, you, a lowly weak human, outwitted an effing supernatural being. Also: Thank you for letting me handwave my way around that so far.
Don'tgetyourpitchforks-no-jutsu: Chapter 15 is going to be uploaded sometime next week, perhaps next Friday. So pitchforks are bad, because they prevent Friday, Oct 7 upload date because of interwebs hospital visit.
Funotherstuff: More funfacts can be found on the OniOnna blog over on tumblr.
With that,
Enjoy!
Itachi's mother had been in delicate health ever since his father had passed away. They had been committed to one another in a rare way, and Itachi was sure that if it hadn't have been for Sasuke—barely five at the time—she might have let herself waste away completely. She had made her children her life after his father's passing, but she was often ill. If they had been a poor family, she would have died by now. These days she was quite frail, and rarely left their house.
The trip to Fujimi that he had asked for and been allowed would be her last, Itachi could feel it. His mother might not even make it to Fujimi, let alone live long enough to be arrested. This was going to stress her system to the point of breaking, but Itachi didn't want her to die in prison, awaiting execution, betrayed by her own son. If he could hasten her death this way and save her from that…he would. His brother he left to the bakufu's agents. In a series of letters over the last several weeks, Sasuke had indicated his plans to be formally adopted into his master's family as the heir-apparent—despite Itachi's strong counseling against such a move. He had even gone so far as to outright forbid his brother from doing such a thing—and Sasuke had gone so far as to blatantly ignore him, writing back to tell him such.
And so Itachi had decided not to try to see his brother before the arrests started—they were apparently brothers only in name and faith and little else. He had no use for such a distraction as Sasuke in the coming weeks.
Sakura missed her mother and father—early on she had been so off kilter from their abrupt departure from her life that she hadn't had time to ache for their presence. But now, two weeks after the harvest was completed, all the rice was stored properly, and the leaves of the trees were starting to turn, she missed them. Her mother and father loved to sit outside with her and look at the autumn leaves falling, comparing their colors sometimes to Ume's hair, and drinking hot teas in the brisk turning-to-winter air. She knew she could do those things with Kakashi, or even Tenzou if she were desperately lonely, but it just wasn't the same.
Her parents had been her world for most of her childhood—she had been shunned by most other children because of how she looked—she had a wide, tall forehead, green eyes, and her hair. Her mother had had the same problems, but Sakura couldn't but feel that hers had been far worse—her father wasn't as feisty as her grandfather had been, and Masaki didn't inspire the bone-chilling fear in their neighbors bones as Ume's father had. Until Sakura was seven she had had no friends, and even then she gained only two. Ino and Hinata were sisters, and each had been married off as soon as possible, at fourteen and fifteen. Ino had reached out to Sakura because Ino herself was cursed with snow-white hair and pale watery eyes—apparently Hinata was as well, but she was the eldest daughter and had her hair dyed black by her parents, something which Ino refused to do. They'd been her only friends until their marriages. She missed them too, having been able to see them sometimes in Iimori, but she missed her parents far more.
Deciding to bring it up soon, Sakura subtly checked if they could afford a trip to Iimori—depending on when they left it could be a two day journey rather than a single day's walk, and also planning for if it stretched into two days because then they would need to stay at a ryokan. After that they would also need to bring gifts to give her parents as thanks for allowing them to visit—and Tenzou might require Asuma's help, which would require a gift probably as thanks. On top of those worries and budgeting concerns, Sakura also felt she would need to get something for Tenzou, seeing as he would be left alone with Pakkun for several days. The dog liked Tenzou quite well, but played quite roughly with him—and him only, Pakkun didn't dare lift a tooth or paw against Kakashi, and was made of playful yips and tail-wagging for Sakura.
Kakashi was combing her hair as was their usual tradition when she mentioned the trip to him.
"What would you think of going to Iimori this winter for a few days? We could stay with my parents," the comb didn't twitch or even pause in her hair as Kakashi smoothly finished the stroke. There was nothing to be nervous about, but Sakura still wished she could see his face as he thought over her idea. She still remembered the flecks of silver in her father's hair, and the way her mother had held her tea cup, but remembering was not the same as seeing.
"Yes, we can do that—if we can afford it," he reached around her to take her hand, setting down the comb so that his other arm could wrap over her shoulders to hug her, "knowing you, you wouldn't have suggested it unless we could. Poor Tenzou, alone with Pakkun for a week. When would you like me to write to your father? Tomorrow?"
The blinding smile she gave him was more than enough—with that it was settled, and he eventually went back to combing her hair. And the next morning, true to his word, Kakashi wrote the letter as she and Tenzou cleaned up breakfast. Sakura was standing to get her list to check off a few of the morning's chores when Kakashi glanced up at her from where he sat still composing his words to her father—in his eye was the expectation that she accompany him to Fujimi to see it delivered.
Their walk, later on in the morning, was as uneventful as it had been the previous three times they'd gone to the town-proper of Fujimi. It was going to be a cool day, with slight breezes sometimes making it almost chilly—fall was in mid-swing, and winter would soon be upon them. Sakura walked close to Kakashi—for closeness mostly, but also to put a damper on her nerves. The last time they'd gone to Fujimi was over three weeks ago, and she had felt even more threatened than the last time she'd gone. It was as though the villagers were gaining an immunity against their silent or whispered judgments and were moving towards open confrontations. At least, as open a confrontation a commoner could have with a landed samurai. Kakashi's rank would hopefully keep tensions at a lower boil than they had been sometimes in Iimori.
As they approached the town gate, Sakura threaded her hands into the crook of Kakashi's arm and more precisely matched his steps. She planned on keeping them there for the duration of their visit—she had no letter to deliver, no reason to do anything but cling to Kakashi for support. His free hand moved to cover and hold hers, while a quick glance up at his face revealed his wry look. This was the town he'd always lived in, it probably pained him that she was so afraid of it.
After submitting the letter to her father to be delivered to the Springtime merchant's shop in Iimori, Kakashi asked softly if she needed anything in town—there was little sense in returning next week for something which could be gotten today. All Sakura could think of was perhaps some dried fish, to start saving some for the winter when no fresh fish would be had. So it was as they walked across the village towards the merchant that the dreaded question finally came, called out across the street and directed towards Kakashi himself.
"What do you owe that demon that you had to marry her after wishing for luck and fortune, Hatake-sama?" Kakashi's back didn't go ramrod straight as Sakura had almost expected—but then again, neither did hers as she had known the question would come out somehow or other. But Kakashi did turn—taking Sakura with him, attached as she was to his elbow—towards the questioner. He obviously recognized the voice, while Sakura tried not to look like she was going to start crying.
"Noriaki-kun, I don't owe her anything more than your father owed your mother—although I plan on repaying my debt with far more gratitude than he did. You could wish for luck yourself, if you were brave enough to find and marry a demon girl—it doesn't take much I assure you," he said, a laugh hinting in his voice, "my Sakura is quite harmless, as you can see. And of course, once you prove yourself brave enough to seek her hand, she will grant you fortune and luck as a reward." And then with a smile, Kakashi turned once again to lead the way to the merchant. By the time they finished their business there—Sakura having been too flustered to remotely remember what she needed—and walked outside once more it seemed Kakashi's words and defense of her had spread like wildfire through the various shops and main-street houses. The stares they got along the way to the gate were unlike any Sakura had ever faced.
The villagers were shocked that the truth they had all known had been so freely admitted, even used as a taunt against their own. The strange, white haired samurai had married a demon girl and been rewarded with worldly success because of it. The staring faces they passed held also a grudging amount of respect—everyone knew after all that demons could hold a human form if they wished, but in their true appearance were terrifying even to adult men. She managed to hold her head just as she was supposed to until they were a far distance from the gate of town, and only then did she bend her head to hide her tears—tears of what, she didn't know. Her hands were trapped by Kakashi who wouldn't let them go even when she tried to tug away, and the last thing she wanted was to lean against him as her support. Because he had just fed the village exactly what it had wanted to hear since they'd first caught a glimpse of her—they wanted to know if she was really a demon or not, and he had told them outright that she was. So she just hung her head and cried since he wouldn't let her go.
"I know you're upse—no, you are more than that, you're angry with me. But now no one will ever ask again," she couldn't even wipe at her eyes because he still firmly had her hands tucked between his elbow and his own larger hand, "their curiosity is satisfied and their rumors will stop—they won't—"—damn him!
"Kakashi! Stop, just—just stop. You just told the entire town, confirmed it in broad daylight that their rumors are true, that I'm—I'm n—I'm not human, how will they treat me now that they 'know' that about me? Yes, they'll stop whispering after me, after us, but only because they don't have anything left to gossip about other than what kind of demon I am! For my entire life I've had to fight that, and deal with that, and—how could you?" her voice was rising and rising, breaking occasionally from her tears. At some point she'd wrenched one of her hands away from him. The thought of slapping his face momentarily flashed through her mind, but one look up into his eye killed the idea, he looked as though she'd already slapped him. Her free hand instead moved to cover her face as she tried to hide—from her husband, herself, the world, Sakura couldn't decide. She just wept bitterly.
As he was fond of doing but very cautiously now, Kakashi wrapped an arm around her waist and held her but instead of putting his cheek against her head he pressed his lips against her forehead. It wasn't a kiss at first, just something to put his skin against hers somehow. When he finally spoke he only lifted his lips away from her skin just enough to mumble. His voice was low—and sad.
"Because I love you, Sakura—I love you more each day, I can't bear to see you in pain, and I thought that they would stop hurting you so badly if they could just stop waiting for an answer, but now," his arms tightened around her and he took a breath as though it pained him, "now I wish I hadn't answered them, I wish I'd known how sorry I would be for doing so. Because I am, Sakura," he did kiss her forehead then, it was tender and lingered even once he stopped, "I am so very sorry."
The trip to Fujimi took six days because of how slowly Mikoto's litter had to go—any faster and she would wince in pain at the jostling motion of it. Itachi was already forcing her to do this with the ulterior motive of hastening her death, but he didn't want to put her in undue pain. The family doctor had strongly advised against Itachi's idea of bringing his mother with him, but in the end had to bow to the Uchiwa family head's orders. The doctor had confirmed Itachi's belief that if he were to take Mikoto with him to visit his uncle Fugaku, she wasn't likely to survive the trip.
Against all odds, she had survived the trip—Itachi had, after-all, inherited his both stubborn streak and his faith from his mother—but Mikoto was left bedridden. She was in pain as well as too weak to stand—but she was happy to be in Fujimi. Aside from Obito, who had passed away, and Shisui who was living in Edo, she was able to see her three nieces and some of their children. If Itachi hadn't brought her here with him, she wouldn't have gotten to see them. At least, she saw them with smiles on their faces now rather than seeing them in prison, awaiting execution—if she survived the trip to Nagasaki that is. Itachi was convinced that despite how cruel it was to drag a dying woman across Japan, his mission had been one of mercy.
Itachi was subtle in asking his uncle-turned-father-figure about the family situation—trying to find out if they had done anything he would need to tell his contacts in the government about, like converting anyone in the township. His questions were vague—where there any weddings in the last year that he should know about? Any new families in the town? His uncle was open with the information, always saying that he prayed for them when they weren't kirishitan and saying he prayed with them when they were. It was so painfully easy, and Itachi was glad that he had managed to provide up-to-date information to the shogun's investigation team. It would be painfully embarrassing to have to revise his statements, and doing so would perhaps cast doubt upon his certification that the names he provided were the only kakure kirishitans he knew of.
That was the exact opposite of what needed to happen—he needed the investigators to have complete faith in his testimony, he needed them to be forgiving men who would spare the lives of his infant second cousins. Itachi knew that he would likely only get the former rather than both, but he was trying to be hopeful as he faced down his death. The investigators were to enter Fujimi fourteen days after Itachi's arrival, and the arrests would take place the following day.
It was a little more than a week after their entrance to Fujimi that his mother had started to weaken significantly—the doctor said she would pass away within the next day or so, giving her not even another week to live. Itachi took over care for her, feeding her and helping her to drink, everything. He was sure his face was haggard, sleep-deprived lines carving their way into his cheeks in all likelihood. His mother could very rarely sleep herself, she was in a great deal of pain most of the time it seemed. It was in the early hours of morning—or the very late ones of night, Itachi was far too exhausted to care—they both lay awake in her room, lit dimly by a single lamp. His shoulders rested on Mikoto's futon, his head tucked against her hip as she lay flat on her back. Her hand rested against his jaw and her thumb stroked back and forth on his cheek.
Itachi stared up into the gloom of the rafters, listening to his mother's labored breathing. She would probably die before dawn, and for the first time really her death became real to Itachi. For the past six weeks he had regarded himself and all of his relatives as dead, but his mother was really going to die soon. All of their deaths were his fault, but hers was the only one he could control and so he had.
"Kaa-san?" he heard her turn her head to face his voice a little, indicate that she was awake and listening to him.
"Would you still love me if I were to do a bad thing for a good reason—for the right reason? Would God?"
"Yes, and yes. God will always love you, just as I will always love you."
He stayed silent for a few minutes after that, while his mother continued to stroke his cheek with her cool thumb. He could sense her eyes looking at him, asking him about the strange mood that had taken over him. Itachi breathed in a long sigh, knowing that he had to tell her—she had to know, she couldn't die not knowing that soon the entire family would join her in Heaven. He found he couldn't be loyal to both his religion and his state and live—but he could if he were dead. She also had to know about what he had done. He wondered if she would still love him then.
"Are you sad you're dying here? You were strong enough to wander through the streets in Edo a few weeks ago, you could have ranted your love for God then and died for Him, but you're here instead because I made you." She didn't say anything for a moment, just lay there in silence, her thumb sweeping across his face.
"We all do as we are planned to do. We choose our paths, but it was God who laid them out and He knows they are best for us. It was planned for you to come here and bring me with you, there are no more questions after that my son. Nothing God plans is ever bad, Itachi, and actions are always the right ones if you feel Him guiding you towards them, even if they're painful or you don't understand them." Her soft, weak voice trailed off, but her thumb maintained its soothing rhythm against his skin. For the first time since he had betrayed his family, Itachi let his guard down. Silent, hot tears slid from his eyes, trickling into his hair on one side of his face and hitting his mother's feeble hand on the other.
"Thank you, that helps—I love you Kaa-san."
He knew she smiled, because she always smiled when he told her she had helped him. And he also knew that she had seen through his questions and knew what he had done, she had perhaps always known that he couldn't shoulder both his family's faith and his loyalty to the entire system of Tokugawa rule—she was his mother, she was supposed to know those things. With that small measure of peace he let himself fall asleep with her hand still cupping his cheek.
When Itachi woke up again, seemingly only moments later, her thumb had stilled on his cheek and her fingers were limp and cool to the touch. Uchiwa Mikoto was dead.
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