Her family name was Hasikura, but she had been given the name Kaede,
which meant 'maple' in Japanese. Despite her rank as the personal servant
of the daimyo's wife, Kaede was not an overly pretty maiden; in fact, her
appearance rested somewhere in between, with quiet, chocolate brown eyes and
an almost sad smile that lingered just out of sight no matter the occasion.
Despite how fiercely she often struggled with it, her black tresses almost
always fell out of the bun she kept them bound in, giving an unkept touch to
her otherwise well-made appearance.
She was only nineteen years old, but had lived inside the Morishato
castle since she was fourteen. Her old master, Lord Shuuno, had been
daimyo of a neighboring region and had been acquaintances with her new
master. She had been one of many servants given to gain the new lord's
favors, but she had been selected early on by her Most Honorable Mistress to
attend her personally.
Lady Morishato had only recently fallen into the illness that foretold
of a future that would bring no more children from her womb, so her
disposition had been somewhat lacking in the beginning. Kaede often found
herself attending to her Honored Mistress's daughter Yohko instead of the
Lady herself; and oh, what a spoiled brat that one was! The daimyo's only
remaining child, he made up for his lack of time with her by spoiling her
rotten. She had none of the control and restraint that befitted one of her
rank and breeding, had a samurai's temper, and a childish haughtiness that
forced others who did know her to place her age two or so years younger than
she really was.
It had been a blessed day indeed when Lady Morishato freed Kaede from
such responsibility and made her her personal attendant. Imagine! Kaede,
personal maidservant to the daimyo's wife! She had not yet realized how
lonely Lady Morishato had become once her husband realized that she would
bear him no more children. She was not incredibly old - she had entered
this time early - but she was old enough to have sons that were grown
samurai, serving their father or other lords, and daughters that were
samurai's wives, bearing children or fighting at their beloved's side,
depending upon their husband's preferences on how a woman should act. The
sickness had left lines upon her face and her body was just beginning to
diminish. When Lord Morishato's attentions drew to the concubines that
entertained his servants and warriors, she was left alone and grew lonely.
Kaede had not realized how much she had come to love her mistress; how
attending to her and being her sole confident when her woes were great had
begun to make long days not quite so long. When she was beginning to be
asked to call her Lady Morishato instead of 'madam', then Yuri-san, Kaede
began to realize how close she and the beautiful noble woman had become.
The other maidservants began to whisper and chatter, saying of how Kaede's
higher rank was gaining her notice among the nobles, or how surely Lady
Morishato and her favorite servant were lovers, as close as they were or
appeared to be. Kaede would blush and stare at the ground, and slowly she
began to realize how alone she was among the servants.
Then Lady Morishato began to fall ill. Kaede had only celebrated her
nineteenth year a month before when Lady Morishato began to be plagued with
fits of coughing that drew up phlegm and made her throat so sore she could
not speak for hours after the fit passed. At first, Kaede let it off as an
out-of-season cold and attended to her as necessary, but as Lady Morishato's
complexion begin to turn sallow, her appetite to decrease, and her thirst to
increase, the maidservant began to realize how dire the sickness had become.
Suddenly Lord Morishato was the most attentive husband a woman could
ask for. When the news came that Lady Morishato was not the only one in his
region to catch this strange disease and that common folk were literally
wasting away because of it, he called for doctors from all over Japan in
hopes of finding a cure. Their work was fruitless and every day Lady
Morishato grew weaker and weaker. Her form turned skeletal and her
complexion became sallow; the slightest light was blinding so all the
windows were shut, as were the doors, and all the lamps were snuffed out.
Only candles were used. Every night Lord Morishato read poetry and great
Chinese literary works until she fell into a light sleep.
Eventually Lady Morishato was restricted to her bed. The plague was
sweeping the region by storm and people were dropping like flies. For fear
of the daimyo's infection as well as that of his daughter, all servants save
Kaede were kept from the dying woman and only Kaede because Lady Morishato
insisted. Even then she had to wear a facemask to escape the death that was
heavy in the air and touch her only with gloves. They could not risk
further spread of disease.
The plague began to pass, for the common folk dropped easily. Those
that were immune found themselves with the burden of supporting the daimyo's
entire region and in consequence the food stores were diminished.
Half-starved, the infected died quickly, but the daimyo himself was sure to
make sure his beloved ate properly and so prolonged the inevitable, giving
strength to her body to fight a war it would never win.
She lay alone on her bed. Her pale face was thin and drawn, and her amber
eyes fluttered weakly as bony fingers grasped at the blankets that vainly
tried to keep her warm from an icy chill that came from no wind. The
sickness turned out to be a wasting disease and her form was so slight she
made not an impression upon the lightweight blankets that sheathed her tired
body. Occasionally she slept, but today she would not, for she felt the icy
fingertips upon her breath even when she was already half gone. "Kaede."
"Yuri-san." With gentle brown eyes, the not yet twenty-year-old woman
looked down at her, tears threatening to set themselves free. She
remembered how proud, how vibrant her mistress had been when first she had
come under her servitude. Kaede resisted the urge to close her eyes and
block out the truth of what the terrible disease had made Lady Morishato
become.
Her breath was ragged, but even, willing the spirits to give her
strength enough to live long enough not to submit. "Kaede, my death is
near. I wish to see my husband."
Kaede's voice caught. "Yuri-san, do not speak so. The disease will
pass," she said, for none of the doctors had dared tell Lady Morishato that
the disease itself was fatal and without cure. They did not want to
dishearten her. "And you know Morishato-sama is forbidden to enter. All
others are forbidden to enter save me!"
"Kaede." Despite how frail she appeared, Lady Morishato's voice was
firm and strong, calling up memories of prouder days before the disease had
chosen her. "You will not deny me!" There was a slight pause and the
maidservant realized that the dying woman was struggling for breath. "I
wish to see my husband."
"My Lady!" Kaede looked and sounded as horrified as she felt. She
reached to clasp her mistress's hand and held it tightly, biting her lip.
"The d-doctors have forbidden it, Most Honorable mistress. There is a
chance t-that the disease.. It may still be contagious. Yuri.." Her voice
faltered slightly. "We cannot risk the daimyo's getting infected.."
Yet still Lady Morishato remained stubborn. Perhaps the sickness
clouded her judgement or perhaps she did not want to face her impending doom
without the presence of her beloved. Whatever the reason, Kaede could not
fathom it. "I wish to see my husband again before I die."
There was a long, muted pause before the young woman's head bowed in
quiet assent and she let her hand release her grip on the dying Lady's hand.
"As you wish, madam. I-I will obey."
Bowing in meek formality, Kaede exited the private chambers, then
strode down the corridor silently until she found another servant to pass
the message along.
Lord Morishato Chikara kneeled in front of the door, opened to allow
the sunlight in. His expression was grim and his eyes were closed as he
struggled in a moment of peace and solitude to find escape in meditation,
oblivious to his surroundings and the samurai guards that watched him in
pitying silence. After his last daughter had been born, after his wife had
fallen into the time when no more children would be brought forth, he had
been negligent of her and what precious time they had left had flitted away
as quickly as he could grasp it, bringing the darkening present fully upon
him.
His wife, his beautiful Yuri, was dying. When the disease had first
risen up he had dismissed it as a minor trouble and expected it to go away.
Kaede was a capable servant, he had thought of her well enough for her to
deal with such a minor mishap. The opposite happened, for his negligence
and his dependence on a mere servant angered the spirits, and the sickness
turned into a plague. His region was poor and wasted and his own soul was
downcast.
Morishato remained unchanged as the servant appeared and scrambled to
place before him and knelt, bowing so deeply his head touched the floor. He
shook slightly in nervousness until the daimyo indicated for him to speak.
"Most Honorable master," the servant quavered, for rare had been the time he
had spoken to his master. He had been employed at the castle for only a few
short months. "Lady Morishato has requested your presence in her chambers."
The worry-numbed lord only nodded and rose to his feet. "Arigato..
Thank you," he murmured before dismissing the servant. He turned his back
and stepped inside, indicating the door be closed and so it was. Two
samurai flanked him as he made the solemn walk down the corridor that led to
his wife's chambers. One of them, Takahashi, was a close companion and had
declared himself Morishato's chief retainer and personal protector not long
before he had become daimyo. He was extremely protective, nearly possessive
of him, and was a pleasant contrast to Morishato's grim, commanding presence
with his quiet thoughtful disposition and his skill with issuing an order in
near silence.
Takahashi was as silent and solemn as his companion and master, quiet
gray eyes staring out straight ahead of him, one hand settled lightly over
his katana's hilt despite how protocol often called such a gesture
insulting. Beside him trudged a much younger, more inexperienced samurai
who had only recently come of age. An older samurai, Kaniche Akira, who had
pledged himself to Morishato, had adopted the youth into the family. The
old samurai had been one of the first to die of the wasting disease that had
taken the country by storm and Kaniche had taken his place as one of
Morishato's warriors not long before the Lady became ill as well.
Kaniche tried so hard to live up to his surrogate father's reputation,
for Akira had been old enough to have fought in battles before peacetime
settled upon the land and had earned quite a name for himself. The lad had
all but hero-worshipped the old samurai and was struggling very hard to echo
his demeanor and poise, maybe even try to take his place entirely.
"Morishato-sama." Takahashi's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts and
halted his pace as well. Looking up into his retainer's eyes, then looking
around, Morishato realized that they had arrived at his wife's chambers and
that her private maidservant had been waiting for them. Fidgeting
nervously, Kaede bowed deeply to him once his attention was upon her and
cleared her throat without straightening.
"My mistress wishes to see you, master." Kaede spoke in quiet tones,
closing her eyes for fear he would see her tears, see how she shamed her
mistress's fate by showing such weakness.
"Hai.. Yes." Morishato's head bobbed in acknowledgment, his voice
sounding tired. With a wave of his hand he indicated for the two samurai to
remain outside while he followed the young woman inside his wife's chambers.
The chamber was dark, for the light had long ago burned at his
beloved's eyes, and the air slightly stale without circulation. Morishato
knelt beside the bed where his wife lay silently, her breathing shallow and
even. Kaede offered a facemask to him, which he declined. "Master, the
disease," she started to protest before he grunted the command to be silent.
Reluctantly she obeyed.
Morishato returned his attention to the pale figure beneath the
blankets, reaching to tuck some ebony hair behind her ear. Tears stung his
eyes; despite the disease that ate away at her body, her beauty still shone
like a torch at the end of a dark tunnel. The gentle touch was enough to
stir her from the light sleep she seemed to occupy all too often these days,
and her long eyelashes fluttered to allow almond brown eyes to peek through.
A smile crept across her bone-weary face. "Chikara.." she whispered
voicelessly. "You came."
"How could I not?" Morishato stifled the urge to cry. He was samurai,
as was his wife, and he would not shame her by showing such weakness. His
given name literally meant 'power' and he would show strength as well! His
fingertips still rested on her cheek, despite the murmured protests the
maidservant continued to issue.
Her smile faltered, then her eyes closed. "My lord, I am dying."
"Yuri.."
"No!" Her eyes flew open so wide he could see the flecks of green
within the brown of her irises. Her hand, so thin he could count each bone
and joint beneath the skin, reached to grab his and held it with a strength
that betrayed her frail form. "My Lord, you must not shame me in this way!
I cannot die like this, taken by a disease that robs me of my youth and
pride. It is.. without honor. Without courage to be taken without fight,
without anger." Her eyelashes fluttered. "My husband.."
"Ok'san.. Wife," Morishato murmured in reply, lifting a hand to place
it over hers. The question, though unspoken, left a heavy burden upon his
shoulders and, though he had lived to respect death and not fear it, he
feared the request she was making of him. "What you ask me.."
"Please, honorable husband." It was a whisper upon her lips and even
as she spoke it she tried to sit up. "Lift me from this bed and take me to
the window. I want to see the sun before I die."
Kaniche fidgeted as he stood outside the private chambers, struggling
to hear what went on inside without letting Takahashi notice, though he was
certain the older samurai already had. He swallowed hard, remembering the
look in his master's eyes when the servant had brought him the message of
his wife's request. There was a.. darkness there, a darkness that disturbed
the young samurai to the point where he could find no words to describe it.
Struggling to remain still, Kaniche studied a spot on the ground, his
eyebrows drawn together.
Takahashi, in turn, stared straight ahead, his own face a mask of calm,
hiding the conflict within. Ah, Chikara! How I long to be with you, my
friend, to share this terrible burden. No man should suffer this, let alone
by himself. He moistened his lips, remembering how joyous his best friend
had been when he had returned from the miai - the marriage meeting - with
good news of Yuri's parents' acceptance. It had only been a few months
before that he had become Morishato's chief retainer. That had been a good
year, the same Morishato had ascended to the rank of daimyo.
But this one was foul, Takahashi thought with a grimace that faded
before his younger companion could notice. His master was nearly fallen
into poverty, his wife dying before his eyes, and only his daughter Yohko
remaining and she not yet come of age! Would the spirits not relent in
their anger upon him and his? Takahashi released a breath he had not
realized he was keeping and allowed his gaze to shift to the samurai who
stood opposite beside him.
Kaniche. Though the boy tried hard enough, he did not quite make a
suitable replacement for his sire, taken by that thrice-accursed plague. He
was still too young, just barely come of age to be considered an adult, and
he still exhibited an aura of inexperience that got him treated like a
novice more often than not. When Kaniche, feeling eyes upon him, turned to
look back at Takahashi, he looked away, his sad gray eyes turning to stone
once more to hide his thoughts. And he fancies young Yohko as well. Would
he ask Morishato if the two could be married, Takahashi could not help but
wonder.
As if on cue, the young maiden herself appeared. She was young, turned
thirteen the month before, but she as well exhibited inexperience as well as
immaturity. "Takahashi-san. Kaniche-san." Her head dipped in greeting to
them both and looked slight perturbed when they did not bow. They were
guarding now. "Where is my father?"
"Lord Morishato is with your mother." Takahashi's head dipped in a
polite nod.
"Oh." Yohko's large brown eyes blinked slowly, a few strands of black
falling out of place. Her hair was cut short, just shoulder-length with a
section of it twisted into a bun, an intricately carved wooden pin holding
it in place. Her eyebrows drew together: "I thought no one could see my
mother, as ill as she is." A spark of hope outshone her ruffled pride. "Is
she feeling better?"
"I am afraid not, madam. She requested to see your father."
"And not me?" Yohko bristled visibly, but tried to suppress it. She
owed them that courtesy. Flatly, she said, "I would like to see her."
"I wouldn't recommend it," Kaniche cut in, standing slightly straight
as he regarded the daimyo's youngest daughter. Takahashi noted with a sly
smile, despite the situation, the slight rosy hue the youth's cheeks had
become. "Her Ladyship is still quite ill, madam, and so many have gotten
sick.." Briefly, his voice caught in his throat, remembering another that
had fallen to the plague that had taken the countryside by storm.. He
recovered. "We would not want you to fall ill as well."
Yohko bristled visibly. She possessed her parents' commanding
presence, but little of their control. "Why is my father allowed to see her
and I am not?" she demanded hotly.
Kaniche's gaze met the floor and Takahashi stepped in, voice gruff.
Daimyo's daughter or not, she was stepping over the line. "Lady Morishato
requested to see him, mistress, and no other. Under normal circumstances no
one would be allowed to see her period."
"My mother is on her death-bed and I am forbidden to see her?" Yohko
spat out without thinking, then turned her back before Takahashi could
reply. "Fine then. I see how little I mean to her.." Her voice was bitter
and insulted. "Send a messenger when she is dead."
"Mistress.." Kaniche tried to cut in, but the hotheaded adolescent was
already halfway down the corridor before the protest left his lips. Looking
uncertain, the youth looked to the older samurai for advice. In reply,
Takahashi offered a sad, knowing smile and jerked his head in the direction
Yohko was fleeing. "Go after her, Kaniche. Her temper will boil as it
always does and now is a time when she must remember who she is."
"Hai, Takahashi-san." Bowing, Kaniche started to move after her, then
paused. Looking back over his shoulder, he offered a slight smile in
return. "And.. I will try my best."
"Of course," Takahashi murmured in reply, then offered a trace of a
smile. "I'd expect nothing more from the son of Kaniche Akira." He
suppressed a chuckle at the shade of red the lad's cheeks turned, then
indicated for him to go with a slight nod. As the youth ran off, nearly
tripping over the hem of his hakama as he did so, Takahashi's thoughtful
gaze turned back to the door that still remained closed.
How are you, master, and how do you fare? Does Yuri feel well after
these long, horrid months? Or is it, as I suspect, much more dire and
bringing ill tidings to this castle once more?
Morishato gently set his wife down in front of the window, the sun
bathing her disease-wearied face with golden warmth. For the first time in
days, a genuine smile flickered on her lips and held, and she inhaled the
fresh air as if it were her first breath of it. Worriedly, from her corner,
Kaede called out, "Mistress.. Are you certain the light does not hurt your
eyes?"
"No.." Her brown eyes were oddly light with relief. "Not at all,
Kaede. It is wonderful." She breathed a sigh and relaxed slightly,
shoulders slumping forward. "It has been so long.. since last I saw the
sun."
Morishato began, "Koibito.. Beloved.."
"No." Too weak to resume her position, Yuri continued to rest in that
slightly slumped position. "My decision has been made, husband, and you
will not deter me from it. I will not succumb to this sickness."
Kaede allowed her hands to go to her face, hiding her shameful tears
from the Lord and his wife. Morishato stood there silently for a long
moment, staring down at his wife. His swords - the katana and the short
sword, a wakizashi - felt very heavy at his side now and he suppressed the
desire to tear them off and throw them at the wall. Instead he set them
into place in front of his wife, within reach, and stepped back slightly
with his eyes on her.
With a reverence that spoke of how well she knew these blades that had
been constant companion to her Lord husband, the dying woman took up the
wakizashi from its stand and unsheathed it, grasping its hilt with both
hands. She drew in a ragged breath and felt some of her strength seep from
her, mentally willing the rest of it to remain. For my husband, she thought
with closed eyes. For his honor and mine, and for that of my daughter. She
swallowed, silently offering a prayer to the spirits, then plunged the short
sword into her abdomen.
Pain flooded her body as the sword sliced into her flesh and she
toppled forward, strength fleeing from her as pain grew fiery. Before her
head met the floor she heard her husband cry out and felt his katana slice
through the air and through her neck. Blessed darkness enveloped her and
the last thing she heard was Kaede's crying.
"Go away."
Yohko glared at the young samurai that followed her, arms crossed over
her chest sullenly. "I mean it, Kaniche-san, leave me in peace!"
"Listen to me, madam," Kaniche said hurriedly, looking flustered. He
was older than her by three years, yet even in anger she wielded command
with skill reminiscent of both her sire and dam. "This is not the time to be
throwing a fit! You are the last daughter of the daimyo, Lord Morishato,
and - by the rising sun, girl – act like it! Can't your father be allowed
time alone with her in her final days?"
"I am her daughter!" Yohko whirled on him, tears smarting her sharp
brown eyes. "Their daughter! She never cared anything for me, throwing the
chore of raising me to petty servants like that whore Kaede under the excuse
that I would learn modesty! I do not care that she is dying! Let her rot
in her bed, waste away like garbage! That's what she is – garbage, Garbage,
GARBAGE!"
Without thinking, Kaniche's hand lashed out and backhanded her
fiercely, sending her sprawling into the dirt. Gasping, the tears sprung
loose, Yohko teetered uneasily as she made it to her feet, staring at him
aghast as a hand touched her tender cheek. "You.. slapped me!" she
whispered, shocked, then angry. "Filth!" She spat. "I could have you killed
for that!"
"I will not allow you to speak out against my master or his wife, no
matter who you are!" Kaniche shot back, meeting her vehemence with some of
his own. "Lord Morishato is my master and he is your master, and to speak
out against him and his is an insult against his honor, including yours!
You are samurai, Morishato Yohko: act like it!"
The stunned look in Yohko's eyes was enough to make him want to take it
all back, fall to one knee, and pledge himself to her. How could he care so
deeply for one he felt like slapping nearly all the time? She was spoiled,
she was rude, and she was incredibly self-centered, yet there were times
when even she looked innocent and beautiful, looking so much like the woman
she could be..
"Madam.." Kaniche started before a servant ran up, interrupting the
exchange with an awkward bow and a sorrowful expression.
"Master, madam, sumi-masen.. Excuse me." The servant's eyes rolled
wildly in his sockets, as if he were mad or ready to explode. "His Lordship
bade me come tell you.. t-to inform you of what has happened."
"Nani? What?" Yohko's expression changed sharply, looking worried and
uneasy. She shot Kaniche a Look, which said silently that this would not be
forgotten, then looked back to the servant, biting her lip. "Tell me! What
has happened? My mother..?"
The servant stared at her with eyes so large they threatened to bug
out; liquefied as they were, it seemed as if he were melting from the inside
out. "Gomen nasai.. Honorable Mistress, Lady Morishato is dead. She
committed ritual suicide rather than succumb to the disease that plagued
her. Not a half hour ago."
"Seppuku.." Kaniche whispered with an odd sense of relief. Even on her
deathbed Lady Morishato was a strong, proud woman. She was indeed the
picture perfect example of a samurai. For a moment, he stood numbly,
staring at the servant as the news sunk in, then turned his head sharply to
look at the young woman who had been standing silent since the news escaped
from the servant's mouth.
Yohko looked frozen. She stared blankly into space, jaw slightly
agape, and her fingers curled into fists at her side. Then she blinked
slowly, mouth closing, and looked between samurai and servant before turning
her back to both. In monotone, she whispered, "You are both dismissed. I
would wander the gardens.. alone, if I might."
So, Kaniche thought dryly as he regarded her back. So Yohko did not
hate her mother as she had announced before. Perhaps that heart of ice
could be melted. Perhaps.. He shook his head sharply. Now was not the time
for such things. Kaniche's expression hardened and he gave her a curt nod,
then did the same to the servant. He gathered his thoughts for a moment,
then adjusted his robes slightly before leaving, following one of the
twisting paths that would lead back to the Morishato castle.
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