Dropping the bag onto my new bed, thoughts of how Uncle Hizashi would react ran through my mind. Would he be upset that I was going to live with my Father, the man who had kicked us out of the clan? Would he be proud that I could banish the grudge and except my family? What did he want me to do with my life now? I had never dreamt up a world without him and now, with him gone, I was lost.
From M*A*S*H, Dan Wilcox says, I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich.
Johann Schriller reassures, it is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us father and sons.
A peacefulness follows any decision, pledges Rita Mae Brown, even the wrong one.
It's not hard to make decisions when you know what your values are Roy Disney assures.
So, Uncle Hizashi wouldn't matter what I decided. As long as I'm happy, he's happy. My values are not his values so he can not speak or decide for me. Just because I share the same flesh and blood as Hiashi, does not make him my father. He sired me, nothing else. Hyuga Hizashi was my true father. The one who loved and raised me. The one who would help me hide a dead body, the person who held me when I cried. He was always there. Hiashi was not. He is not my father.
Unclipping my bag and throwing the top open I pushed against the glass box that held the arrow and took out the tea kettle that was so freaking heavy. I hadn't really noticed anything about it before. It just seemed like a normal tea kettle to me. But, as I inspected it, I noticed there was a seal on it. It was pure white, not a day aged, the complete opposite of the old kettle. Really, it needed to be junked. The seal had beautifully inscribed kanji on it that was smooth and dented beneath my finger tips. Why would Uncle Hizashi keep an old tea kettle with a seal on it? Perhaps he found it at a garage sale or it was sold to him. No, he wouldn't keep something of little value in his personal drawer. Perhaps a family heirloom. But why would he have it? Father was the oldest brother so all personal items, such as the Hyuga estate, would go to him.
Pursing my lips, I debated whether or not I should open it but decided against it. It probably smelled. I sat it on the bedside table before pulling out the kimono. It was really quite divine. I wonder if it was Uncle Hizashi's wife's. How charming. Smiling, I fixed it within its box and placed it in an empty dresser drawer.
After this, I went back and grabbed the handmade paper tie and the school assignments and placed them in a drawer in my pristine desk. The dagger set went into the same drawer. The blades were glittering silver, nearly the same color as the handle and sheath. There were three of them, two particularly long and another shorter. Each one came with bands so you could strap them on to your legs and arms. I noticed the intricate, spidery designs on the sheath and decided they were far too feminine to belong to Uncle. Another odd possession of his. It seemed he owned a lot of items that should have belonged to a woman.
Subsequent of inspecting and hiding the daggers, I took the ancient arrow in the glass box out and held it gingerly. I felt like that if I opened the box, the fresh air would cause the arrow to disintegrate. At first, I was going to place it on one of the empty shelves on my bookshelf but decided against it and concealed it beneath my bed, near my head. Plucking the book out of my pack, I hid it in the drawer in the nightstand, promising myself to read it later. I wanted to know what Uncle Hizashi was so interested in. When done with all the merchandise, I preceded with the clothes. Sometimes, if we couldn't afford any new clothes for me, I would just wear Uncle's since they were so big, they fit my form fine.
And it wasn't like I had to wear the clothes for the rest of my life. The limo driver took off to take the rest of my stuff and it made my face burn with humiliation and rage at the thought of him going through my underwear. I prayed to the Lord a woman would be there to move my stuff, perhaps one of the women from Itachi's police force. At least I could trust them. Even if they tried anything, Itachi would give them a whooping. He was like an over protective older brother to me. Only he was really attractive. Like, really attractive. Unimaginably attractive. Gorgeous.
Speaking of gorgeous, I was tempted by the kimono. It was pulling to me. Sauntering back over to the dresser, I peeked into the drawer, teasing the soft fabric with my finger tips. I would try it on just once. Yes. I would try it on and then be done with it and the temptation will leave. With a sigh and a thought about how Uncle Hizashi would be disappointed with me, I pulled the kimono out and laid it on the bed. Checking to make sure the door was closed I stripped my shoes, sweater, pants and shirt off. The sun glided over my skin and goosebumps ran over my skin.
If any of you have every put on a kimono before, you know how hard it is, especially with all the parts such as the Date eri, the datejime, the nagajuban. There are just a lot of parts and a lot of things to do. It seemed to take forever to get everything on. I rarely ever where kimonos. Uncle and I dressed up for some parties and my friends and I go to festivals every year, dressed up but nothing I had ever worn was even close to the exquisiteness as the kimono that was in Uncle's personal drawer.
When I was done and feeling good about it, I smoothed my hands along my stomach, feeling beautiful. I never considered myself attractive, not even close to my friends, but I'd like to think that I wasn't hideous. Tossing my long, eggplant colored hair over my right shoulder, I dug into the pocket of my sweater and pulled out the rings. Gingerly, I pulled the tiny silver band and slipped it onto my left ring finger. I looked like a proper wife, the kind from a fairy tale.
In 1891, Oscar Wilde wrote in The Picture of Dorian Gray, those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love; it is the faithless who know love's tragedies.
I had never dreamed of being in love or getting married and I still doubt it will ever happen. It seems almost fickle, to keep someone else with you for the rest of your life. And, to tell you the truth, humans scare me. It's so easy to hurt them and it's even harder to mend them. They can always betray you. Just like my father did to me. Because he loved my mother too much. Too much that he couldn't bare look at his own daughter.
Sitting down on the bed beside my pack, I pulled the book over to my lap. I know that I promised myself to read that tonight but I just can't help it. It looks so appetizing. Like a steak ready to be devoured. Gosh, I love books. They don't stab you in the back.
In the words of Edward P. Morgan, a book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man's mind can get both provocative and privacy.
Of course, all things considered, I'm a female.
Rather absently, I flipped through the thick, manila pages, waiting for something to catch my eye. It didn't take long. Covering one whole page was a painting of unearthly man whom was too divine to be real. If one thought that Uchiha Itachi was the most gorgeous man alive, they had not ever seen this vermilion haired man. His beauty was something legends were woven from. Scanning every feature of his pointed, youthful face, I reluctantly turned the page, wanting to know more on him, such as who he was and why he was in Uncle's history book. On the next page thought was a picture of a tea kettle. Not any tea kettle of course. No, no. It had to be my tea kettle.
A person often meet his destiny, Jean de La Fontaine admitted, on the road he took to avoid it.