When Sachiko angrily corrects, “Miss Fukuzawa,” you may liken that to “Fukuzawa-sama,” as though the butler had said, “Fukuzawa-san” or simply, “Fukuzawa.”
--
Rain, rain, go away / come again another day / all the world is waiting for the sun
--
Rain
Sachiko had never really formed an opinion about the rain until the day of her picnic with Yumi. Until that point, rain had meant an umbrella and a change of socks at the day’s end. Maybe she would have to pay attention to where exactly her skirt went. Maybe it would be muggy afterwards. Maybe she’d need a jacket because it was cold.
maybe yumi will run to
Simple things. Rain was an inconvenience at worst, and relaxing to listen to at best.
Today, though. Today rain was something evil, a Satan-spawned plague brought on by too much pornography and cursing and not enough prayer by the world at large; rain was something to be hated and feared. Rain was…her in the rain again not me
Rain was beginning to tickle the cement directly in front of Sachiko, slowly, steadily changing its color to that strange color, impossible to label, that was nothing more than a darker, more translucent version of itself. It was raining.
At first, Sachiko’s mind didn’t register the consequences of the current weather situation. It listed through all of the little things automatically; she subconsciously considered the need for an umbrella if she were to leave the house; how many changes of socks she had left in her drawer; whether pants or a skirt would be more acceptable for the day’s wear. Perhaps this withdrawal into routine was her mind’s way of reeling in shock. Maybe Sachiko was just a difficult person to really bother.
Or maybe not. A few moments later, it hit her, all at once, full in the face: It’s raining.
We can’t have a picnic in the rain.
Our plans are ruined. I’ll have to
cancel
call Yumi
again
and then there will be all the hassle of rescheduling a date after the ground has dried and she’ll probably just want to call the whole thing off and
“Sa-chan?” Suguru’s pleasant, cautious voice didn’t so much startle her out of her halfway-panicked reverie as it engaged her reflexive politeness.
“Yes?” She turned automatically, tearing her eyes away from the off-colored pavement with some difficulty. “What is it?” As she focused on Suguru, the past day’s argument flooded freshly back into her mind, and she had to fight to keep her voice level with him.
As far as confrontation is concerned, a lady should have no recollection of any day but the present. The only thing a lady might carry that is worse than suspicion is a grudge. Each morning, you should wake feeling refreshed, a freshly bloomed flower.
Who had told her all of these things? They moved through her mind with a specific voice, but one that she could not place.
“Nothing,” Suguru said. “Only that you seemed lost deep in thought, and I was curious what it was.”
Suguru has never been curious a day in his life.
The only thing a lady could carry that is worse than…
“It’s nothing.” Though she showed no outward sign, Sachiko was, in fact, struggling to come up with an answer to his question that would satiate his ‘curiosity’ to the point where for once in his life he’d just f--
a lady does not curse
go away.
“I’m simply trying to think of a place near the river that would be suitable for a picnic in this weather.” Their family had been planning for many years to install a gazebo in that area, but Sachiko could not for the life of her remember if they had ever gotten around to it or not. Which probably meant they hadn’t. Her heart sunk a little further down towards her toes.
“Oh, are you still doing that? With this weather?” Suguru said in his most blasé tone, something that Sachiko wasn’t used to from him. From his parents, and his siblings, yes. But never him. He’s never been…
The only thing…
But Sachiko felt it anyway, the suspicion. Suguru was up to something; had he been asked by somebody
my parents
to do something? To stop her, perhaps, from leaving the property?
The reason that suspicion comes so close to topping this list is this; I will only tell you once, so listen closely: The only enemies a lady should have should require no suspicion. You should simply assume that whatever your enemies say and do is gifted with either an ulterior motive or a frankly malicious intent. A lady who simply flings suspicion around willy-nilly will be put in her place far more quickly than you could dream by those who she considers to be above suspicion.
Is Suguru my enemy?
The side of her which still reeled from
not thinking about that
events that had long since been and gone said yes as immediately and firmly as they could, but the more rational side of her told her differently. The more rational side of her told her that maybe Suguru had retained his mood from yesterday, and that whatever had been plaguing him them was still eating at him now.
The more rational side of her told her, in short, that Suguru was just being moody. She could empathize with it, even if she would never condone acting on it. But then, that school that he went to didn’t teach restraint nearly as adeptly as did hers; his actions regarding Yumi’s little brother, Yuuki, were enough to prove that.
So, with a great effort and a small intake of breathe, she let go of her nagging suspicion and dealt with him as she always did: Shortly.
“Yumi and I have held these plans for several days,” she said shortly, her tone dropping a bit to imply a subtle sort of lecture—the kind she used to reserve for Rosa Gigantea during her moments of indiscretion. “And because they are on our property, it is my responsibility to ensure that they go smoothly, and since these plans are not my plans alone, it would be incredibly rude of me to simply decide that, because of a simple thing like the rain, everybody, even those who I have not spoken with directly on the matter, should simply interrupt their plans. That is my responsibility. You should know that.”
For a moment after she said it, she even believed it.
No, longer than a moment. As she articulated, carefully, her sentence chastising Suguru, she felt her worry vanish and her confidence return; she was not an upbeat person by nature, but she was also not one to simply give up on something.
Suguru’s face did not display its usual cool indifference, but rather a sort of satisfaction. “I see,” he said calmly. “Forgive my rudeness, then. And…” he waited a moment, testing the waters carefully, trying to avoid another lecture, “if I may suggest it, there is a lovely gazebo near the edge of the river that has gone rather underused since its completion several months ago. Perhaps you should have your picnic there.”
Sachiko’s mind cleared immediately at this, and though she didn’t give a smile, she wanted to. Briefly, she even felt something other than her usual vague sense of hostility towards Suguru.
She didn’t show that, either.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll probably do that. Thank you for your suggestion.”
“Anything for you, milady,” Suguru said with a grin, and then gave a small bow. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I’m very sorry for the trouble,” Sachiko said by way of a dismissal, a hint which Suguru, surprisingly, took. He gave her one final grin, and then turned and left the kitchen quickly, as though retreating to his secret hideout.
Perhaps that’s not a bad analogy, either. Sachiko still had no idea where he went to for hours at a time. She had even once
twice
searched for him, unsuccessfully that firsttime.
That issue laid to rest, the rain become something friendly again; Sachiko was very glad of this change in perspective. The more she considered it, the less she really wanted to make an enemy of something as powerful as the elements; the true path to being a malcontent lay, she understood, in finding very obscure things to focus one’s hatred on, rather than doing as most of the world does and focusing it on one or two people, typically an ex-lover or a public figure.
Or a family member.
That wasn’t entirely fair, though, so Sachiko drove it from her head at roughly the same time that the door to the kitchen slid silently open and the impassive figure entered without any particular addition to the room’s noise levels.
“Miss Sachiko,” the butler said, his voice indicating a question but his words indicating an uninteresting observation. Why, yes, that is a Sachiko sitting in our kitchen. But, Takashi, however did it get there? I could have sworn I set the traps last night. “There is a phone call waiting for you on line two.”
“Did you ask who it was from?” Sachiko asked, suddenly irate. The best explanation she could come up with this sudden mood swing was that he probably had asked. She couldn’t explain it any better than that.
“I believe she mentioned her family name…I believe it was…” he paused for a moment, and had he been permitted by Sachiko’s family to chew on his lip, he would have almost certainly been doing so. “Fukuzawa.”
There. That was it; the butler’s tone was what had pissed her off; or, not precisely his tone. His demeanor.
It’s the same demeanor he’s always held with my family—one of indifference. That’s why mother likes him so much; she reminds him of father.
Sachiko had often wondered where she had left off calling her father "daddy"Maybe she never had. She couldn’t remember.
She was not so attached to that image of her father. Maybe that was another reason she didn’t consider Suguru her enemy—one thing that he had never been was indifferent. He was infuriating, sometimes spiteful, and often—in her mind—a complete bastard, but he was never indifferent.
“Miss Fukuzawa,” she said, allowing her voice to carry that same I sign your paychecks, so the next words out of your mouth had goddamn better be an apology tone already possessed by so many millions of dissatisfied retail customers the world over, “is my petite soeur, and is thereby as,” dear to me, “much of a member of this family as any of its blood relatives. Please treat her, whether to her face or to mine, with the same respect and courtesy,” and indifference, “that you would afford to any of your employers.”
The butler, whose name Sachiko could not remember for the life of her, bowed humbly and falsely, apologizing as profusely and disingenuously as was appropriate. He exited a moment later, and a moment after that, the line button on the kitchen phone began blinking. Sachiko crossed the kitchen as quickly as her skirt’s hem would allow, but then paused a moment before she reached the phone.
I’m not wearing a skirt.
She was wearing her nightgown. It had only been half an hour since she had gotten out of bed, though it had been distinctly longer since she’d woken.
She paused a moment to ponder what this meant, but couldn’t come up with anything particularly satisfactory, so she picked the phone up and spoke into it, though she knew precisely who was on the line and who they were waiting for, “Sachiko Ogasawara speaking.” She sometimes wondered why she even bothered saying her family name—whoever called her house had heard it at least twice before they ever spoke to the person they were trying to get to; at least once before they spoke to a real human being.
A lady announces her presence in precisely the same manner no matter where she is. A lady does not slack off simply because she is at home. You should not answer a phone with, yeah, who is it? any more than you should answer your husband calling you in that way.
“Sachiko-onee-sama?” Yumi was practically stuttering, and Sachiko had to keep herself from giggling. Yumi had been caught between her mistakes and her training, and had spoken like a child calling out in awe to her older sister. It was really very
sweet
poorly trained, but Sachiko thought she could allow her petite seour this one slip.
Because she brings you such joy.
“I think onee-sama will suffice, don’t you?” Sachiko said pleasantly.
Are you…teasing her?
Sachiko supposed she was.
“Y-yes,” Yumi said, composing herself as quickly as she could. “Of course. I’m very sorry, onee-sama.” It was the third time she’d slipped in three days; Sachiko imagined she must be getting a bit disheartened, and wanted desperately, in some backwards part of her heart, to comfort her. She didn’t, though.
“In any case, what had you called to talk about, Yumi?” She realized fully well that this was, nearly word-for-word, the exact same thing that she had said to Yumi the last time she’d called, but didn’t think much of it; it was the same thing she said to a lot of people. It was just part of her
training
personality.
There was a brief silence from Yumi’s end of the line, and then, slowly and carefully, “I was…ah…wondering if you still wanted to have the picnic, since it’s raining outside.” She stopped again, and Sachiko was unsure as to whether she was waiting for an answer or simply considering what to say next; this was a problem that Sachiko didn’t have with many people—she was fully capable of reading most people like books. Bold-faced books, at that. Not Yumi, though; so while Sachiko paused to consider this, Yumi seemed to grow disheartened again, or nervous, or both. “If not, I’d be happy to reschedule it for another day—I can call Yoshino, and Rei lives right next door to her, and…”
Sachiko waited for this pause to last a second or two—even if your husband is spouting sheer nonsense at you, you will wait for him to finish before speaking your fair part. Interruption is inexcusable—and then said, “I don’t think that we have to call off the picnic just yet, Yumi; we have a small gazebo near the river that would be perfect to take shelter in. If that’s alright with you, that is.”
“Of—of course!” Yumi’s relief was fairly well palpable, even over the phone. “I’d love t—er…I’d be glad to.”
Something small and cruel inside of Sachiko whispered to her, that girl is of ill breeding; she is too easily excitable, and even many more years of training can do nothing to cure that.
But that’s not true, Sachiko knew. In front of others, in front of men, Yumi is exemplary. It’s only when she’s...
Being herself?
“Wonderful,” Sachiko said. “Will you be making your own way over, or shall I have someone come to pick you up?”
“I—” there was a noise from Yumi’s end of the phone—a sharp blaring sound, like a car’s horn. Twice more, and Yumi said, “Excuse me for a moment, onee-sama. I should—” Again.
“Of course,” Sachiko said, as curious as Yumi probably was, though it was harder to gauge now that Yumi had a hold of herself again.
A moment later, Yumi’s voice reappeared, confused. “Onee-sama, did you invite Rosa Gigantea to this picnic?” In an involuntary moment of panic, Sachiko's mind jumped someplace she didn't really want it going, so she paused and forced herself to think rationally. Yumi knows a different Rosa Gigantea than I do. It couldn't be her.
“I thought that you had invited Shimako,” Sachiko frowned. But Shimako would never sit outside and blare a horn at somebody.
“Not…not that Rosa Gigantea.”
It took Sachiko less than a second to catch onto what Yumi was saying, to realize that her instinct had been, as it usually was, dead on.
“Satou Sei?” she said, a little horrified.
“Yes.” Yumi sounded too stunned to say anything more articulate. Sachiko couldn’t blame her.
“What is she...,” Shimako wouldn’t have told her. She probably doesn’t even speak to her anymore. So who could have…
From Yumi’s end of the phone: “Yumi? There’s somebody here to see you.” And a moment later, from a familiar voice, “Yumi! It’s been a while!”
“Sei! What are you—” Yumi’s voice was muffled, and Sachiko had to fight off the urge to make a fool of herself by telling Sei off over the phone.
“I’m here to pick you up, of course. Sachiko’s having a picnic, isn’t she?”
A crunching sound filled the line, the sound of the receiver being tossed around slightly, probably in an effort to stabilize it against one’s ear, and then, “Onee-sama, Sei is—”
“You may, if you please, tell her not to be so forward with you,” Sachiko snapped a little more harshly than she’d intended to. In the next instant, worry filled her that she’d somehow hurt Yumi’s feelings by snapping at her.
Before she could apologize—that’s not saying much. A lot of things will happen before you apologize to somebody, said that little bitter thing in her head—Sei said, “Don’t worry, Sachiko! I’ll have her to your house pretty quickly!”
“I’m really sorry, onee-sama!” Yumi called. “I tried to stop—”
“Come on, Yumi,” Sei said. “We don’t want to be late!”
The line went dead.
Sachiko stood there for a moment afterwards, the phone still pressed against her ear, torn between irritation and something very much resembling jealousy.
Don’t worry about it, she told herself forcefully. Sei is…eccentric. She won’t have any adverse affect on Yumi. On the training that you’ve been giving her.
Sachiko didn’t believe for a moment that this was what was bothering her about Sei’s visit. It would have been like telling the Prime Minister that the reason the economy was in a slump was because skyscrapers were being built too tall and fancy.
Shaking her head, Sachiko forced herself to forget about it. She had work to do now—she had to prepare umbrellas and food, though the food had mostly been prepared by the cooking staff last night, and she had to change into clothes that were suitable for public viewing.
But nobody could ever forget about something that easily.
Not really.
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