Yogo took a long puff from his pipe, leaned his head back and may have been looking at the ceiling. Ayame wasn’t entirely sure if his eyes were open any longer or not. It probably didn’t matter anyhow, at least he wasn’t staring at her anymore. The silence dragged on. She pretended to be interested in anything else in the room but him, but after looking at the single picture on the wall for the fifth time, and readjusting the teaspoon again it was proving to be a difficult task. She glanced over at Yogo, he was puffing away and drinking himself surely silly. Perhaps if he kept this up she could get through this night without having to fend for her dignity. Yogo had made more than one attempt to get into her bed. Even spoken about it to other people! It was mortifying… at least, at the time it was. The thought didn’t seem to be such a horrible one at the moment.
Ayame rolled her shoulders back, she was feeling strange. Like something warm was running up her spine and pooling in her skull. The roses were so pungent she could almost taste the velvety scent. She flicked her tongue over her teeth and knitted her brows, running over the possible causes for her to be feeling this way. She looked down at the tea, tipping the cup and watching the liquid slide to the corner gently rocking until the top was smooth as glass again. It was fascinating, how still something like water could become. Swirling the cup a few times she set it down and followed the small waves spinning around and around, slowing and finally coming to a stop. An undisturbed golden and transparent pond, the candlelight a burning reflection on its cool surface.“Ayame?” She jumped at her name. Somehow she had become so enthralled she had forgotten Yogo was still in the room.
“Yes?” She looked over at him. His head was still turned towards the ceiling, pipe in hand and cup neatly set next to him. He looked so comfortable, leaning against the wall like that. Much like tonight’s events weren’t unusual at all to him and he was just continuing on as normal.
“Why do you think your mother betrothed you to me? She must not care for you very much if she’s willing to marry you off to a Yogo.” He sat forward and was looking at her. Disgust was clearly on his face and she couldn’t help but feel angry. Angry that this is what she was left to deal with. Angry that her family was attempting to doom her. Angry that he would be disgusted at all, she was a powerful shugenja from a noble family and he should be happy to be paired with her!
“I was thinking the same thing!” Ayame wished she could take those words back as soon as she said them. She saw Yogo look down, clearly hurt as if she had slapped him. The realization creeping in that he wasn’t disgusted with her, but with himself. She shifted in her seat, she wasn’t the type to needlessly harm others, even if he was overtly rude and crude most of the time. Ayame looked down, brushing her kimono smooth in her lap. “I mean, I’ve been meaning to ask her myself. I just can’t fathom why we would marry into the Scorpion clan instead of clans we have stronger ties with.”
“What type of man did you think you would marry?”
She smiled softly imagining her happy family. “I don’t know… He would be a shugenja, that’s for certain. Together we would be a force to be reckoned with. And handsome, that wouldn’t hurt. Maybe even refined in the more eloquent things in life. I guess I just picture my parents when I think of how a marriage should be.”
In her mind, the shadow of the man she stood by started to fill in with Yogo’s face. He was handsome, no one could deny that. And he truly was a powerful shugenja, displaying techniques the Isawa’s knew little about. He may be a little rough around the edges, but he conducted himself a perfect gentleman during the tea ceremony. She peered at Yogo, that warmness from her spine spreading across her back. It occurred to her that she was already a lucky woman. Yes, he was a Yogo, and there were countless stories about the Yogo curse, but not every Yogo succumbed to it. He filled all her other hopes for a husband, maybe she would continue to be lucky and he would be one untouched by Fu Leng.
“Hm.” Yogo uttered pouring himself another drink. “What is that like?”
“What is what like?”
Yogo shrugged still looking towards the ground. “A family.”
Ayame tilted her head at the oddness of the question. Everyone had a family unless you were orphaned, and even then you were taken in by relatives. Surely he knew what a family was like. “I… don’t think I follow, Yogo. Do you mean with siblings?”
“Call me Miroku.” It was strange to hear, even though she knew she would be marrying this man someday she hadn’t considered dropping formalities and addressing him on a personal basis. That would require actually getting close to him on an emotional level, and of all the things The Empire knew, getting friendly with a Yogo could be the beginning of your demise. No, she didn’t think she was ready for that yet. Ayame quite liked living.
“I meant what I had asked,” Yogo began. “Ayame, do you know about the curse the Yogo’s carry?”
“As much as anyone else. By loving a Yogo you have made a death wish.” It was Ayame’s turn to advert her gaze. Talking about such things wasn’t something you did in polite company. ‘Though,’ Ayame thought to herself, ‘Yogo rarely is polite, so it can’t be so terrible.’ Rich laughter shook her from her thoughts. Yogo was chuckling at her, or at least at what she had said. She really wanted to be angry, what right did he have to laugh at her, this was a serious matter, one she was directly involved in. The anger didn’t come, in its place came a smile to her lips. His laugh was sweet, musical, enchanting. She felt a pull, a desire to hear him laugh again.
“Is that honestly what you believe?” He asked while pouring another drink, his grin still on his face. “No, that’s not the way it works. If that were the case I’m sure many women would have perished upon the sight of me before even knowing my name.” Yogo shook his head and snickered. “You see, when Fu Leng cursed my ancestor, it was promised that he would betray the one he loved most. This never happened. He lived out the rest of his life in fear, but at least he knew love. His children, however, weren’t as lucky. And that is, of course, where I come in, and … well, the rest of the Yogos.”
Yogo uncrossed his legs, bringing a knee up to his chest and resting an arm on it. “You’re safe to love whomever you wish, Ayame. But me, I may not be safe to those I care about.” His smile had faded and the light went out of his eyes. “Any Yogo could be a danger to The Empire, the clan, to his own family… You never know who has been unfortunate enough to carry on this damned curse until it’s too late and someone is forever scarred. Because of that I never really had a family. Whenever I started to bond with someone, my aunt, grandfather, even my own parents, they moved me to another relative in order to protect themselves.” Yogo swirled his cup idly, taking a sip before continuing. “You see, I meant what I had asked. What is it like having people you love in your life?”
It was possibly the saddest moment in Ayame’s life. To imagine never having her parents was hard. To know that they were afraid of their own child was unfathomable to her. And here sat Miroku, his whole life exactly that, void of caring, friendships, and closeness, and all because he was born with a name. She could now see the way it had hurt him, his behavior suddenly making sense. If Miroku never had a friend it was no wonder he was gruff and lacked a way to express himself in a friendly manner. If people feared he would fall in love with them, it was no surprise he pursued the company of women outside of a relationship. How else would you gain any sort of resemblance of love?
He was different to her now. When she looked at Miroku, he wasn’t just a sleazy, rude, and awkward person. He was alone. The way he spoke to her was probably the only way he knew how to interact with people, and for that she forgave him. All the seemingly offensive qualities she had picked at and decided were too egregious to excuse were excused now. She wanted to be his friend, give him a reason to smile and not have to see that painful longing in his eyes. He was much more handsome when he smiled.
No comments:
Post a Comment