Author’s notes:
If you hadn’t noticed, each of my chapter titles is actually a song name or lyric. Point out any of the artists and win a gold star.
When Suguru announces the arrival of our first two lovely ladies, you should take “miss” to mean something like “-sama.” I have written them family-name last, in all spite of tradition, for continuity.
Finally, I am not going to explain the joke about ‘powdering the nose’ unless people really don’t get it, in which case you’ll see it in the next set of author’s notes.
--
How could I believe when this cloud hangs over me/ You’re the part of me that I don’t want to see.
I could live forever here.
--
Forget it
“Sa-chan?” Suguru’s voice found its way into Sachiko’s room like so many unwelcome peeping toms. She heard it all too clearly, standing in front of her mirror re-combing her hair for the third time—a lady’s vanity, one of the many things nobody expected of her, and one of the many things she would never, ever let onto, as testified to by her dozens of fans at Lillian who positively swore that she leapt out of bed each morning with her hair looking like the very symbol of perfection that it was. “You have guests.” His voice was astonishingly curt. There was no hint of the halfway-upbeat teasing, nor of the subtle, untraceable note of
spite
distaste that was only to be expected from a man of his tastes who was destined to be wed to a woman such as myself, Sachiko quickly rationalized, not wanting to delve into psycho-analyzing his voice overly much. Not now, anyway. “Who is it?” she asked as pleasantly as possible, forcing herself to ignore Suguru’s obvious irritability. Getting into character, said that mean, hateful little voice inside of her head, that voice that, try as she might, she could not get to stop sounding so much like her mother’s.
“Miss Rei Hasekura,” he said, intoning their names as formally as they themselves had probably done as they announced their arrival, “And Miss Yoshino Shimazu. They await you downstairs. I told them,” he said ironically, “that you had to finish powdering your nose.”
In all spite of her mood and his, Sachiko had to clamp a hand firmly over her mouth at that to stifle her laugh. It was a joke her mother would have never even acknowledged, and one which any woman of good
sheltering
breeding would never have expected a man to make. And don’t forget to wipe, he would have finished, were he a man of worse breeding than he was. Even in his irritable mood, however, he would never openly admit to making a (heaven forbid) dirty joke.
She wondered about that, in any case—were he truly in so foul a mood, he would never have bothered to make her laugh like that. He would simply keep it to himself and laugh at me in his room as he
A lady does not brood. Not even about
Not thinking about that.
She refused to marvel, as she would have liked to, over how spiteful she herself could be, however. She had guests waiting for her, and she supposed her hair would have to do. “Kashi…” be nice. “Suguru,” she called back suddenly, without entirely knowing why. Maybe just to see if he was still there.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“Anything for my lady,” he said quietly, his voice still ironic. “I will make sure not to intrude upon your meal, and I’ll take your calls personally.”
She felt a pang of guilt at this, and didn’t entirely know why, but it didn’t go away as the sound of his footsteps clomped down the hall, fading quickly into nothingness.
Sachiko frowned and took one final, almost obligatory glance into the mirror. She had considered dressing as she usually did for parties and events—an entirely conservative kimono in her choice of red, purple, or blue, complete with sash and clunky wooden sandals. Today, however, was different. She justified it by telling herself that she was going outside, and that such unpragmatic dress would only lead to disaster at some point or another, but what was important was the result: A simple cream-colored coat with a light-blue button-up shirt underneath (which you must never undo even if it becomes so hot that the lakes themselves begin to boil they’ll see your shoulders) and pants which hugged her form and hid it all at once, wrought from a black, silken material. She wore shoes that weren’t quite dress shoes, but weren’t entirely sneakers, either. She wore a silk scarf as well (to hide your neck from the men) but she would probably remove that (you slut) if it became too hot (you must never become a slut like them they never wear scarves and always remove their coats to show their shoulders).
She decided it was fine, ignored her mother’s voice, now veritably screaming at her, and exited her room.
It was far easier to move in these shoes, she decided, than it was in those wooden clogs. Easier to stand up straight, to not trip. Not that she ever tripped in any event, but walking in these, she felt a huge, unfathomable burden lifted from her shoulders as she went. She felt casual, she felt comfortable. (Dangerous things). She felt…something very much like happiness flooding through her, in fact. For the first time in months, there were friends waiting for her in her house. And soon, Yumi. At this thought, her house started immediately to seem less like a
prison
big, empty castle and more like …
More like home.
She was able to descend the wide, short stairs almost silently, something she marveled at, but she did not revel so in walking that she failed to stop, as she always did, at the door just before the guest room where Suguru or one of the servants would have undoubtedly directed Rei and Yoshino to by now. She stopped there because of the mirror which hung on the door; a small thing, at face level, so that she could see her expression very clearly in it.
More important than makeup or hair is your expression, which you must always check before you greet even your closest friends, because your expression is makeup. If incorrectly applied, people will think worse of you, much like a woman who heaps on too much or applies none at all; and like makeup, small hints and changes applied in simply innocuous areas can make all the difference in the world to that end.
She found her expression needed very little touching up, which pleased her. Her mouth was naturally curved up in a polite grin, though it was a little too open for her
mother’s
tastes. She fixed it easily, and then opened the door.
The next room was by and far the most plush and cushy in the house—it had to be, her mother had said when they furnished it, because it was the room in which you inconvenienced your guests to wait. The walls were a gentle, soothing cream color, spotlessly painted, with pictures of landscapes, both painted and photographed, all along it. The couches which lined it were the same color, and the most comfortable in the house. There was music coming from hidden speakers in the walls, gentle and traditional, and the carpet—the only room that was carpeted—was smooth, not rough and grainy like most rugs.
In all, a perfect room for a deception, if one was needed. Which it wasn’t.
Rei and Yoshino were seated on the center and right edge, respectively, of the couch facing Sachiko, dressed simply in jeans and sweaters—Sachiko was used to being silently accused of overdressing—and both smiled openly and unguardedly as she entered, and rose to meet her as gentlemen might. They both bowed deeply and formally, though Yoshino’s was anxious and frustrated, and then moved towards her and, before she could protest, threw their arms around her at once.
The hug was brief and sisterly, and the room was empty, but still Sachiko felt heat rise to her cheeks. Perhaps it was simply relief. If they were offended at her inaction, they didn’t show it. Likely they simply knew her well. “Sachiko,” Rei smiled. “It’s been a while.”
“It has,” Sachiko returned pleasantly. “I hope you’ve been well.” Gently prompt.
“I have, and so has Yoshino.” She indicated the girl next to her, who hmphed at being spoken for.
“I have indeed been well, as Onee-sama pointed out,” she interjected. Rei blushed a little and shrugged, as though to say, there’s no helping it, and for the second time that day, Sachiko held in a laugh. It was a most wonderful thing to her, though if she kept doing this, she would lose her control shortly. “How have you been?”
Why even keep it in?
Because she’s not here. Seemed the only valid explanation. “I’ve been quite well, thank you.” Now tell them the happy news. Tell them you’re engaged, and they’ll smile and congratulate me and ask me when the wedding is and I can get back to acting. “I’ve …”
They looked at her expectantly.
But then I don’t get to see her. Not really.
Can’t you enjoy yourself, just this once? Let your hair down, unbutton your (slut) coat, have fun like a real human being? Just this once? Who’s going to see you, but the silent butlers and Suguru?
It pained her a little to realize that she had come into this endeavor not even planning to have fun. Not planning to enjoy herself.
Pained her and disgusted her.
Her mother would say the outside world had made her soft.
Right now, she wasn’t sure what she’d have to say to that.
But forget it. If she was doomed to a life of taking lovers in marriage to Suguru, of forced servitude to the beast called marriage, then why not forget about it for just a day? Just one little day.
Right?
“Chosen what I think I want to do with the rest of my life.”
They both seemed honestly delighted. She had never regarded herself as directionless, any more than any other high school student, but she got the feeling that some did, as they questioned her about her intended major and she, having given it no more thought than was necessary to get her mother off her back, replied as gracefully as possible that she was still uncertain.
“What is it? Do you know your major, or do you have a career path chosen?”
“Both,” she said. “I’d like to pursue a degree in Japanese literature and composition, and become a writer.”
Yoshino seemed surprised, but Rei clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth and smiled. It was obvious that she was going to say something important, but she held it back, only smiling. “I think it’s perfect,” she said. “Absolutely perfect for you.”
The bitter little thing in the back of her head said, Why? Because I’m the kind of girl who ought to be held in captivity for the rest of her life? Because if I’m to be confined to a room or two, I’d best learn how to entertain myself?
These are my friends, you bitch. How dare you?
The last surprised even Sachiko. She said it in her head, to her mother’s voice, and the voice abruptly vanished. It didn’t act shocked or offended. Simply disappeared at the slightest hint of resistance.
Just like before.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate that.”
Rei smiled. “It just happens that I’m doing the same thing.”
This surprised Sachiko. Rei had never been any great shakes with words or, really, with art. She was very feminine, but her taste in books leaned very painfully towards the romantic and very painfully away from the well-respected. In reality, she wasn’t that different from Yoshino, whose tastes fell along the lines of Ikenami Shoutarou, sports, and Akira Kurosawa.
“Really,” Sachiko said in a pleasant, I have no idea what else to say to that tone. “Do you know what you plan to do with it?”
“History,” Rei said at once, as though she’d been rehearsing it. “Literature history fascinates me. I think I’ll probably get my doctorate, and then go back and teach at a university.”
That sounded a little more like Rei. Rei had always been an impressive teacher—anybody on the Kendo team could have attested to that. Even so…
Didn’t her parents put up a fit?
Didn’t yours?
Sachiko still didn’t know how to deal with that.
Apparently, she didn’t have to. A moment later, the doorbell rang again. Without even having to think about it, as though informed by some sixth sense, Sachiko’s heart leapt
Yumi.
and she started for the door, quickly. She was certain that had she been entertaining
real
guests
not friends
she would have received funny looks for moving so quickly, or, really, at all, when she had people to do that sort of thing.
However, the fact remained that she had people to do that sort of thing, and sometimes it seemed like they sat at the door (see A/N below) waiting for people to arrive. Maybe they did. Sachiko, her heart half in her belly and half in her throat, could only freeze and pretend she hadn’t done anything at all as she heard the door open, and the pleasant, disinterested voices of her butlers greet somebody
Yumi.
in a pleasant, disinterested way that seemed to stretch on into infinity, heaping formality after formality after formality after fucking formality
a lady is patient.
don’t dare explode like that aloud
onto the new guests. And they, of course, were required to do the same in return, and so Sachiko was forced to wait there, staring straight at the door, nearly choking on her heart. She was certain that Rei and Yoshino were staring at her (though, in reality, they were doing nothing of the sort: They understood how she felt better than she could have possibly fathomed) but she felt comfortable enough around them not to care. Or maybe she couldn’t help it.
At first, the only voice returning the greetings was the one that Sachiko most distinctly did not want to hear, the one that she didn’t ask to attend: Sei. “Thank you very much for inviting us into your house,” she said. The butler returned her pleasantry and she retaliated, “No, don’t worry about us, we’ll just announce ourselves. I’m nowhere near rich enough for that.” A polite chuckle from the butler, and then, something that made her ears alive again, tingling and electric: A light, high voice, pleasant, restrained and yet genuine, laughing.
Yumi.
Every muscle in Sachiko’s body began to tug at her, to force her to move, to scream, go, go, GO TO HER. Every muscle, every fiber of her heart, body, soul, and mind. Every synapse in her head sparked, all spelling the same thing, except one.
That one little voice.
That one little f—
A lady does not curse, not even to herself. How many times must I remind you of that, you stupid girl?
That one little voice. The voice she called mother, and that her mother called breeding, or perhaps training. The one that said: Wait here. It won’t be much longer, and think of how much face you’ll save.
And speaking of face, check your expression. It’s running down your cheeks.
And on command, Sachiko straightened her face immediately, and turned to Rei and Yoshino, who were simply waiting politely, hands folded in their laps, eyes staring at nothing at all, not waiting, simply there. “I apologize for the wait,” she said, “but it seems two more of our guestshave arrived. If you’d like a refreshment while we wait for the final one, I would be more than happy to get you one.”
The door opened, and Sachiko hadn’t ever cared about refreshments. Rei and Yoshino didn’t mind.
“Onee-sama?”
Yumi’s voice was exactly as she remembered it, even as nervous and uncertain as it was now. The phone couldn’t even come close to matching it. It never even occurred to Sachiko that the waiting had made her half-crazy as she thought about how distorted it all seemed over that stupid wire. She wanted to run for Yumi, to sweep her up in her arms, hug her, tell her how much she missed her. She wanted to stare into the eyes of her petite soeur, and
“Yumi!” she said calmly, feigning that her delight was only a polite feint, as she always did. “It has been a while.”
“It…” It was obvious, even to an untrained eye as Sachiko’s, that Yumi was working very hard not to do what Sachiko had
needed to
thought about doing. “It has. I hope you’ve been well, Onee-sama?”
Sachiko smiled evenly. Stop it, Yumi. Just come for me. God, I’ve missed you. Stop it. I know I trained you to do it, but don’t listen to me, I’m just a stupid
“I have. I’ve…” Missed you.
“I’ve missed you, Onee-sama,” Yumi said as gently as she could. She was learning—not two months ago, she’d have cried it out, and dashed for Sachiko. As of now, she simply walked quickly, but the result was certainly the same: A moment later, Sachiko felt Yumi’s warm body pressing up against her, and without thinking about it, she folded her arms around the girl and squeezed.
Yumi.
She kept smiling.
--
A/N from above: I hate playing against the Butlers. They always camp the doors.
Back to Fake Index - Back to Maria-sama ga Miteru Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction