This chapter contains trigger content for sexual abuse
When the erratic pace of her mind partners with the composed portion of her body, she senses the impending detachment. It never changes. Whether it be with Lord Mizuku, Lord Inazaki or another Lord she cannot recall, her conscious will automatically depart. Perhaps not out of fear, or anger, but a lack of connection. The latter is that missing puzzle she finds bothersome, however the ideology surrounding the term did not exist in her world six months ago. That does not refute the fact it was never there.
The disconcerting change resides in her imagination. It may be attributed to these newly spawned feelings she is so unaccustomed to, but a deeper portion of her muse is accountable. Her mind refuses to detach from Shisui. Even when she closes her eyes and reimagines herself in an alternate existence. He is there. Always.
And though Lord Inazaki is not perturb by her change in demeanour, he still likes to question.
"This is interesting, you seem to show a lot more facial expression this time round. Have I improved?"
Lord Inazaki is that one person who scouts for compliments, yet over the years, he seems to have accepted that Honoka is incapable of providing any appropriate feedback.
"I do not understand what you mean. May I ask you to reframe that question?" Honoka asks.
Her tone is as vacant as ever. A perfect mimic of the interest she has in Lord Inazaki and his mountain of ego rubbing queries.
He frowns and gives her that resigned smirk she does not understand.
Without further questioning, he continues with his deeds, and Honoka is back in her world of confusion - indifferent and non-responsive.
She does not like to taint her memories of Shisui, but the thoughts compel her into a trance. The reverie is likened to that sweet feeling of comfort, and the way he makes her feel at ease. Secured. Wanted.
But it disturbs her, because instead of Lord Inazaki, she thinks of Shisui in his place and the desirous response she gets in anticipation. Logic has no say in this space, and though she is already faced with the inexplicable emotions she has for Shisui, she is finding it difficult to comprehend the accompanying lust.
"Lust is a sexual desire that originates from an innate biological response."
The extract is from a book she read the previous night. But the more she repeats the sentence in her head, the less it makes sense to her.
The incongruent nature of her feelings, paired with the physical manifestation of desire, has no logical meaning. Maybe it is her inability to comprehend feelings again?
Regardless, her body revels in the excitement her conscious gives her. Even if Shisui's act may be similar to that of Lord Inazaki if he were doing the same thing to her, she finds the thought exhilarating.
Would this be where the idea of connection comes in? Does having that connection really change the way a person feels when engaged in such intimate acts?
Honoka has never thought of such conundrums. The body is just another tool used to enact change. It does not belong to her. She is the property of Root. And yet the past few months have given her insights into what the body can attain when in the presence of someone it cares about. It is an addictive feeling, a sensation Honoka cannot ascertain.
No matter how far Shisui drifts from her, it is her conscious that takes on this new, disconcerting role - fantasy. Frankly, she is content with living in this imaginary world if she ever lets go of the need to have an explanation for everything.
It draws her memories back to when they were by the village waterfall. That time when Shisui undressed his shirt and she was hovering unnoticed in the background with an immense level of curiosity. Hours in, days later and she still could not dismiss that desirous image from her mind. It was another component that spawned a host of new inscrutable feelings. And thus begins the escalating complexity of her conundrum. How does love and lust interplay?
x
She does not anticipate his presence. Sheltered within the recess of her own subconscious, Honoka departs Lord Inazaki's inn and makes for the night skies.
But Shisui is already waiting by the exit with a parade of obscure expressions. He does not look at her when she approaches. And though she is unsure of his appearance, intuition tells her he has been there for some time.
Without delay, the surge of guilt intrudes. It begins with the inappropriate response to Shisui's question from earlier tonight, to the inundating salacious thoughts of him during her time with Lord Inazaki. For the life of her, she cannot comprehend the fluctuating changes to her feelings, and the more she ruminates, the more painful it gets.
"Good evening, Shisui, how do you do?" Honoka says.
He gives a puzzled frown yet speaks in a surprisingly light manner.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes. May I ask why you are out here so late?"
Inquisitive as she may be, she gets the inkling her need for such information stems purely from her love for Shisui.
"Waiting for you," he answers quietly.
The impassivity that sits complacently across her features gently dissipates. And for the first time, her face curves into a multitude of heartening expressions.
"May I ask why you feel the need to wait for me?"
Shisui may have anticipated her question, because his startled reaction is more congruent with that of Honoka's sudden hopeful mannerisms.
"Even if I couldn't stop you from meeting Lord Inazaki, I still have a duty. We are on a mission, and it is my responsibility to safeguard you."
He gives her a look that signifies resignation.
Though Honoka does not fully comprehend the disheartened meaning behind Shisui's gaze, she actively senses the resentment. It manifests in ways that unsettles her core, and disturbs her safety. However, she cannot link the sensations to its origin. Whether it be Shisui himself, his words or the underlying rationale, her pragmatic mind does not differentiate.
"I see. Then I must thank you for assisting with my safety."
She gives a bow that elucidates gratitude.
Shisui does not respond to her action, instead, he turns and gestures her to follow.
"Excuse me Shisui, but may I please stop by the shops to pick up some medication?"
"There is nothing opened right now," he answers, "what medication do you need?"
When Honoka remains silent, he halts in his tracks and turns to her with heightened curiosity.
"It is…it is…ah…for…minor wounds," she answers reluctantly.
He gazes at her with accelerating suspicion, but does not question.
From the depths of his pocket, he draws out a small glass jar and hands it to her.
"This should suffice until tomorrow morning when you can get what you need," he says.
Honoka accepts it without hesitation.
"Thank you, Shisui. I will return it to you first thing tomorrow morning."
"No need. You can keep it, I have plenty," he gestures airily, "let's just get back to the inn. It's getting late."
x
She spends the next hour fiddling with the glass jar. Its use may be artificial, but there is an element of sentimentality attached to it. This is the second time Shisui has 'gifted' her something. Both occasions occurred when she was in dire need of assistance.
"Apply directly to the site of injury. Use sparingly."
She reads the tiny print across the black and orange coloured label. Over and over. Without rhyme or reason. And when she opens the jar, there is about a quarter of the content left. She wonders whether Shisui was the one utilising the ointment, or whether it was used to help injured comrades?
Regardless, she undresses and begins the onerous application. It happens every time. Whether it be Lord Mizuku, Lord Inazaki or another Lord she cannot recall, they are all the same. She is used to it, but her body will never condition itself to such brutality.
Her mind and her body have always been at war. Where one accepts it as a pragmatic sacrifice, an act that benefits the safety and prosperity of her village, the other sees it as a violation. Her body does not respond favourably to the constant savagery of lecherous acts. There were previous physical constraints that intermittently protected her, but that was solely dependent on the timing of each month.
She starts from the top and makes her way down. Across her body, there are bruises, bite marks and scratches that have etched itself against the delicateness of her pale skin. Her breasts have always taken the full brunt. For what reason, she does not know, but it gives her middle that very brief window of respite during more violent acts of intimacy. That does not necessarily spare her from the bleeding she gets or the ache that impinge days later. Nevertheless, she likens it to the injuries acquired during battle. There is logic to this when it is for the sake of her village.
The ointment does not sting like the one she is accustomed to using. This one gives that warming sensation that strongly associates with security. Maybe there is a psychological aspect to it, that it comes from Shisui and that it is reminiscent of comfort and protection?
Even as she dresses and lays down beneath the coolness of sheets, she places the jar by her side as a reminder. It keeps her safe and shelters her from troubling thoughts. And when she closes her eyes, she envisages the jar as Shisui, perhaps hopeful that it will translate into dreams.