It was another day within this small prefecture. The air was humid, the sun shone powerfully at its zenith, the sky was a clear, beautiful azura.
It was nice, and rightfully so.
Yet today was unlike any other for these two souls. From once a common street whore within the red-light district, Kiku, who once would sell her body out for the meager scraps of her patrons and slave-like pay her Warabihime strewn out. It felt self-degrading, she hated the prospect of being used over and over again until—inevitably being disposed of when her natural beauty famished.
She had seen it happen countless times.
This would have been her life until her death, a constant loop of monotony and darkness. Until… she saw a light. The light was indescribable, unlike any she had ever seen. This light was going to be the catalyst to change her worldview. He was a simple Ronin in passing, a masterless samurai shunned out by society, a disgrace.
He dressed in a tattered kimono, his body flaccid, ravenous, and yet with all of this… his expression was unperturbed and serene.
Hell, it seemed his body's current state bore nothing of its physical disclosure. Was it not nagging at him? Confused by the Ronin's odd demeanor, Kiku, as any sensible person would, approached the enmity of a man.
Was he fine?
Who was he?
What was their story?
Even years later Kiku never truly understood what sparked her interest in him, or why she approached that simple Ronin. Even if the words couldn't be uttered to describe her actions, she never needed to because her feelings justified them—it just felt natural.
That was all there was to it.
She merely felt an ethereal pulling sensation with them, and before she knew it Kiku was already on the earthen street striding towards them.
At first she was sceptical, so she scrutinised the Ronin's expression from a distance. Only after noticing nothing suspicious did Kiku walk to the man.
Noticing the raven-haired woman eyeing him, Yuto sighed, mistaking her distant observation for scrutiny, or believing she saw him as a possible client to target.
The man sighed with a wry smile. He had only entered the red-light district as a means of reaching the following town faster. Yuto genuinely had no interest in indulging in women, drinks, or gambling. Sure, he didn't have the funds to do any of this, but even if he had such wealth, such endeavors seemed unsightly and pitiful for both parties, much to his disliking.
Of course, he had no way to know what Kiku was thinking, so as humans tend to do, he assumed the worst.
Approaching the Ronin, Kiku, now eye to eye with the fellow, curtsied a slight bow quickly before beginning to speak.
"I am humbled, but to what end does your road proceed?" she began, her tone formal.
"Pardon?" Yuto replied, confused by the musing. "Is this manner another phrase?" He sighed.
Widening her eyes, Kiku realised the man's confusion. "No, no," she quickly voiced with a subtle shake of her head. "I humbly poise—why is it, even with such a disheveled appearance, you seem so unbothered? Do you not see your own grievance?" she pressed.
With his confusion externally subsided, he nodded. "You ask why I seem as I do?" He mumbled under his breath, more of a question to himself than anything. Conceding his past prejudice, the man began to entertain the woman's question.
Using her past experiences from the many patrons she had tended to, Kiku was able to guide the conversation with the Ronin with formal language and questions poised not with specifics, but just common conundrums about his life. She didn't ask for personal details, merely building inquiries off the simple information gathered from a previous retort.
Even if she wanted to deny it, she was rather gifted in luring men.
As they spoke to one another, time seemed to pass—it became lively, informal, and free. Strolling arm to arm around the district, these two of different past and experience were able to bond. Even Yuto, an otherwise reserved and isolated person, was now animatedly expressing himself. It was a cliché seen countless times.
Yet… it was their cliché.
So it was fine…
It was special.
If one truly gave it a thought, then everything in life was mere cliché—from birth, to marriage, to death, to aspirations, to writing, and simple other. It was all a patch woven from the same string.
All that mattered was how one offset themselves.
After several tens of minutes of banter and a few hundred meters of amble stroll through the bustling, brothel-smelling streets, was it until the two sat atop a grassy hill.
There was a cool breeze through the trees, the landscape was tranquil. Kiku, seated next to the Ronin, leaned up against him. Yuto's arm settled around her waist and pulled her slightly closer.
"You said you had a song your mother taught you," Kiku said with a soft smile. "Would you sing it for me?"
Scratching his chin, Yuto gave the ask a thought. "Well, I don't possess the best of vocals," he demurred.
"Well, then let me hear it," she teased.
Yuto laughed. "Alright, but alas, you've been warned."
Clearing his throat, he began. "When dawn comes and night dies, the cries of the evil spirits who lurk in the shrouds of shadows are…"
His voice wasn't beautiful, nor particularly grand. It didn't have that sentimental tone which would stir the soul, nor did it cause the land around him to weep. But it was nice enough.
Kiku closed her eyes with a serene smile and relaxed posture, her fingers entwining with the hand on her stomach.
She didn't know when she went from simply leaning on him onto his lap.
She also didn't know who started kissing who, but it felt nice, it felt kind, genuine. It provided her closure as she deepened the kiss with Yuto. Those fears which seemed to taunt her seemed to vanish.
Kissing under the moonlight was nice.
After several minutes they both reluctantly pulled apart. By now they were both finely acquainted and any previous inhibitions were removed. Lifting themselves off the bed of grass, they both addressed that it would be best if they stopped for the day after they noticed the dark tapestry of night.
With a bow to one another the two quickly arranged another similar conclave the following evening.
Thus began a future that neither knew they would ever obtain—the kindling of such an otherwise general future. Such a future that many exploit to satisfy their lust or greed. Yet, for these two souls obtaining such prevalent desire was frankly a lofty ideal.
It's funny how fate played its cards, rolled its dice. It was a tangled tapestry, and maybe life's moments are threads merely woven together into a predetermined path… but such oblivion was bliss.
~~~
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Around six years have passed since their first encounter. Then 18 and now 24, they married a little over four years ago. During this short intermission they had striven for the conception of a child, though failing each time…
Until finally she conceived a child. Kiku, who after rigorous study on a horde of varied antenatal material, was finally in labor after nine months.
The source materials were truly a tedious jargon, everything seemingly had to be perfect—from the food she ate, to the amount of stimulation she was forced to limit herself with.
For example, on the "Dog Day" in the Chinese Zodiac, in your fifth month of pregnancy one would commit a long prayer to repetition for several hours, for a safe delivery. May I mind you, this was just one of the many superstitious things done.
But she knew it would all be worth it when their blessing was born.
Within a maternity home built on the outskirts of their newly settled farm, Kiku sat on a bed of straw covered with a thick wool blanket for added comfort. Surrounded by her mother-in-law and the local midwives, she mentally prepared herself for the following 20 minutes to two hours by clenching the white rope which hung from the ceiling.
Males were "pardoned" from bearing witness to this, which was a kind way of saying their presence would only taint the process of delivery. It was customary.
The contractions in her vaginal cavity were already beginning to become increasingly more potent and agonizing, with her water breaking only six hours prior. Kiku knew she was nearing labor.
Wince!
Suppressing a cry, Kiku began to undergo the painful process of shield delivery.
Holding onto the "labor rope" with all of her fleeting might, she began to push down. Her flowery patterned kimono was unlaced and propped open which gave witness to her cleavage and pelvis.
The pain was inhumane. Several times during the delivery she had even cried due to the sheer strain on her cervix and womb.
"Shut up and deliver the baby!" one of the midwives yelled in an attempt to distract the awaited mother from the onslaught of pain rushing from her lower region.
Thirty minutes later and her hell was over…
It was cold.
A weak burst of gale echoed through the humble maternity hut. With his eyes fluttering open unwarranted of his own control, Rue was immediately blinded by the steady streams of golden light which shafted through the small crevices gaping in the ceiling and walls.
With his thoughts still in the primal chaos which resulted from his death, and mind floundered by confusion, he lethargically began to dart his eyes around.
Scouting his surroundings, Rue became gradually—and I mean gradually—more and more disturbed.
Seven Asian women, all of differing age brackets, surrounded him, all dotting the same expecting expression.
Confused, Rue unconsciously attempted to wield his appendages.
Much to his dismay his motor control was none, and his speech was nothing more than small cries. Holistically, his body felt frail, weak, and small.
It almost felt as if the entirety of his body underwent an atrophy. With a mortifying realization dawning upon him, Rue frantically uplifted his gaze.
'Oh no…'
Meeting his eye was a beautiful black-haired woman, whom he had never seen before, whose hair seemed darker than those of the wings of ravens, and two pits of bright amethyst-colored eyes. Her expression was contempt yet labored. It was full of maternal warmth… tears of joy welled in her eyes as she met his gaze…
That expression…
It felt like hers.
'It… looks like—Mom's.'
If he could, Rue would have bitten his lower lip and restrained such emotions, subduing them onto the deep abyss of others waiting to be unleashed. He was simply too frightened to present such a weakness to others.
Yet now…
…Maybe… just maybe it was okay…
Hic–hic–Waaaaaaah!
The feeble wails of Rue filled the hut.
His old name, old heritage, old appearance, origin—frankly it was most likely not America so old his nationality—everything which made him physically him was no more.
A dog is a dog therefore it's a dog, yet such a saying is no longer affiliated with him.
Another chance, though unwanted, was a human experience for him to savor and exploit.