Chapter 4

Yuuki woke up with a start. The scenes he saw in his sleep felt too real, too much like flashes of memory rather than a dream. Every time after he wakes up, he has a hard time distinguishing between what is real and what is illusionary.

His whole body right now felt like it died and came back to life once again— the piercing pain was in every cell of his body. Part of it that hurt the most originated from his throat. He had put a hand on it, and once again in his unsteady vision, had seen black—so much black. Breathe. He had been drowning in black, suffocating with black, black dripping from his fingers, from his mouth where he had touched it with his other hand, his ear, his nose. Breathe. Black flowed out onto the futon beneath him dripping drop by drop onto the ground.

Yuuki knew on some subconscious level that he was no longer in the cold waters of the ocean, no longer suffocating in its depths, but the illusions and the pain persisted. Just breathe. Searing pain, the sort that made him heave, made him think, almost clearly, this was the pain of dying.

The dream became one with the reality. Why was it so difficult to breathe?

The locks of his hair had obstructed his vision as he shot up from his lying position. Then suddenly he remembered the words Tsumoru-san said about his hair the first time she met him — 'Dark blue. Not black'. It was just his hair, he felt ridiculous hyperventilating because of something like this. The pain wasn't real, and neither were the frightening rivers of black mercilessly submerged him into their clutches.

Yuuki heaved deeply as he combed his hair behind his ears — away from his face. His field of vision cleared; the bright rays of sun scattered all over the room, the particles of dust danced in the air, his potted plant was green as always on his windowsill, the wooden bucket near his futon was surprisingly empty today.

Then the tinge of red was caught in his field of vision as he put his hands down —the series of crescent-shaped marks on his palms were clearly recent and were left behind by the owner's own nails. The marks were real. The slight pain was real. They were real.

Now that the sound of his own breathing was no longer heavy in his ears, he could hear other things. Things like the chirping of the birds, the hurried footsteps of other servants behind his door, the hustle and bustle of the people outside Okiya. They were real.

It has been two years since Yuuki came to Okiya. As soon as he turned six - his dreams become more and more bizarre.

Sometimes it was like bright splashes of colour that flickered faster than his brain could process— it wasn't rare for him to throw up in the middle of the night because of them.

Sometimes his dreams showed incredible sights he had never seen -he could never even imagine, the people he never met - the conversations he never had. These dreams always made him bizarrely confused leaving only the feeling of emptiness in their wake.

Sometimes it was like today— old dream, no…old memory, that haunted him for months after he almost drowned. But why - was it always so dark in his dream? Didn't it happen during the day in the shallow waters of his village? Why did this dream made him think it wasn't his memory but something else?

"Yuuki! What are you doing - still dawdling in your bed? We gotta go to the school." Iroha- Kamuro of Nichiro and his only friend- woke him up out of his stupor. Like any other children of the same age who got stuck in the same place they became friends in record time.

Konohagakure was a massive Village. Yuuki was only allowed to go to the market and school that situated all in one district and he already had blisters from all that walking. Maybe it was the fault of those uncomfortable wooden sandals, Zori. Every time he sees shinobi footwear that made out of cloth and leather, he could only wipe his drool of.

If Zori was just uncomfortable then Geta - that they teach how to walk on at school - was just pure torture. Sometimes he wants to hit the person who created this monstrosity with his Geta. You basically walked balancing on two wooden planks and not only you weren't supposed to flail your arms around – you were supposed to make it look elegant and effortless.

Yuuki held hands together with Iroha as they ran towards their school. Passing by the playground he could see others his age playing tag and throwing blunted kunai at the trees. They should be students of shinobi Academy.

"Rin! Rin! Did you see it? I hit the mark!" The kid with weird goggles on his head shouted in joy at the girl who was practicing bandaging on herself.

"Is it something to be proud of?" The lazy voice drawled off. "Shut up, Bakashi! Like you could do better…" Yuuki had hard time tearing his eyes away from them, for some reason they seemed familiar.

In all honesty Yuuki was jealous of them. There were too many things he was forbidden to do after coming to Okiya. Not to say something outrageous as playing with kunai, he wasn't even allowed to touch it- lest he scarred himself. He should be cheerful but not loud, elegant and soft spoken - just saying 'shut up' would have him flogged by Mother.

Essentially, they weren't allowed to be humans but only perfect harmless dolls. Don't get him wrong— he was grateful to Okiya and Yagura, without them he wouldn't even have the opportunity to live so well off- to learn the skills that only someone from upper classes could study (many farmers have never even heard how koto sounded), to be fed till he sated, and have roof under his head, but… it was stifling.

Other servants and Kamuro practically worshipped the place, but somehow in the back of his head he felt rather than getting lucky to be there, he was trapped instead. Then he remembered people who toiled from dusk till dawn on their fields, who might not get enough food even after working so hard and felt the wave of shame overcome him. He was so ungrateful.

Today no matter how much he tried to pay attention to the lessons, he couldn't concentrate at all — visions of black haunted his every step. The only thing he didn't fuck up out of everything was his dance and dizi, but he could do them even with his eyes closed so this achievement wasn't particularly inspiring. Yagura was the one paying for his meals and schooling, and he couldn't even take it seriously. He was the worst.

That day after he already felt guilty, he met Yagura together with Nichiro, they both seemed rather drunk but in a good mood. Yuuki didn't know how to feel about this sight. Everyone in Okiya knew that they couldn't stand each other. It was better to leave now.

"Ah! Isn't thish - ithat..ze-is hahaha isn't that your Kamuro? He is smallsh enough to get unnoticed. Let him do thish," Nichiro said while giggling like a drunk and hooking his arm around Yagura's neck. "Yuuki, come here!" Yagura called him and whispered something into his ear.

After listening to his instructions paled faced Yuuki carefully picked up the luxurious kimono from the low table where two courtesans were sitting at and left on weak legs. To stay at the top of Okiya one needed to use all means possible.

Yuuki changed his hairstyle from the usual braid to a neat low bun, his hands were trembling. Instead of yellow clothes that Yagura told him to change into, he hesitantly put on grey kimono of servants.

He silently tiptoed to the sliding door panel of Mitsuru-san's personal quarters, he made sure no one saw him on his way. Before he could open it, the person walked out of it colliding with him. Yuuki immediately ducked his head and ran away after forcing the clothes into the hands of that person. After that he didn't return immediately to Yagura's quarters or his own rooms for a couple of hours. Instead, he himself behind the laundry room and waited tremblingly in a chilling wind.

That night he couldn't fall asleep even after burning hot with fever. No one came after him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

The birds were chirping, the sun shone brightly, anxiety was gnawing at his insides. As he was dumping the waters from the bucket, he suddenly heard many footsteps approaching him. His body tensed but he pretended to be nonchalant and go in the opposite direction behind the barn. The next second his whole body was pressed into the ground.

Iroha stood in his yellow kimono -signature colour of his master- with neat low bun on his head at the porch. "It is him. It definitely him. I saw him myself," he loudly shouted while pointing at Yuuki. No. It can't be.