Shades All Over Babylon: Chapter 2
Title: Shades All Over Babylon (Chapter 2)
Rating: PG-13ish
Pairing: WataruxKomu, MizuxKomu, MizuxTomu, TomuxKimu, TomuxKomu, and more
Summary: In a medieval universe, Hikaru is a blacksmith's daughter working under the abusive authority of her father and his assistant, Wataru. At the time of the story she has forged a sword to be presented to the ambassador prince from the Red East, Todoroki. Hikaru, determined not to live another day in her father's house, will do anything she can to get away...
Hikaru cursed loud enough for clouds to hear as she picked at her tattered, sticky, shirt.
“Gods damn her, cast all the curses under sun down upon her!” She swore through grit teeth. For all her oaths she felt no better; there was not a word for her pain. She had to peel off her shirt carefully, fiber by fiber, to stop from peeling up her skin. Tears rose in her eyes, betraying her agony. The whip bites crossed twice over her shoulders, once over her rear, and back and forth again over the back of her legs. Wataru’s musky taste lingered in her mouth like a living thing.
“You‘ll keep silent to your father,” the woman had taunted, and walked out into the sunlight. “As if he would mind.”
Hikaru slumped on her modest pallet and leaned against the wall. Her choppy reddish curls were plastered against her forehead. She held her shirt bundled in her trembling hands. She had to bathe, there was no getting around it. She would be there when the sword was presented. She would not have the prince see her through layers of soot and dust.
She grabbed a clean pair of trousers, a deep blue tunic and cream-colored shirt from the chest at the foot of her bed. She opened her door just a crack to make sure the kitchen was empty. It was. She slunk silently through and out the back door. Their blood-colored chickens chased seeds along the foot paths. The day was growing warmer and the scent of their small farmyard was rising from the mulched ground. There was a time when they smell of warm horses, corn meal, and freshly-turned earth was comforting to her. Now she hated it as she hated everything else. She lingered for a few moments against the shadowed side of their modest cottage, watching with fox-eyes for the presence of Wataru or her father. When it was clear, she scattered the chickens and headed for the broken fence at the edge of their property. Past the boundary tall golden grass sprang up, humming with grasshoppers. A large green grasshopper landed on her shoulder and clung. She reached for it half-heartedly and it sprang back into the old wheat.
The land quickly turned into a young forest. She crept through a dense grove, ducking mazes of white branches and new leaves glowing with the sun. Her legs became soaked with chill dew. Through the still forest was the lakeside that they shared with a few neighbors in this more rural-area of the city. Water-birds hopped among the white-washed rocks and snatched up the morning’s stranded fish. Hikaru undid her belt, slipped off her pants and boots, and waded in.
The water was freezing and streamed from her hair like icicles. She scrubbed quickly, shivering out of her bones. When she turned back and moved towards shore she heard it: the sound of tools ringing in the forge. She stiffened, eyebrow raising. There should have been no more forge work today. She had finished it all. She leapt out of the water and staggered into her new clothes, not feeling the pull of it against her wounds. Hikaru was still yanking one boot up past her ankle when she staggered through the door, coughing at the sudden change of air.
Her father turned to her, scowling. “Were you running around half-naked? Your hair is still wet. Y-” He stopped and stared at her chest, hard. “Your shirt is wet. Have some decency, for god sakes! God knows it’s too late for you, but you still have to live under my roof so make my suffering a little less.”
His words were nothing to her, but she pulled her tunic on over her shirt to silence his complaining. “Father, what are you doing?” She struggled to peer around his broad shoulders at what he was working on. He held her words in as high regard as she held his, and he ignored her. She growled in frustration and slipped past him to the worktable, crying out in anger.
“You old fool! What are you doing?!”
Her Alexandria, her precious Alexandria…
Hikaru and her father each had their own sigil which they fixed into the hilt to attest to their workmanship. Her father’s was always a bear’s head fashioned of one stone or another. Hers was always the triple moonstone pressed close in a triangle. Her moonstones were gone and an ugly bear’s head roared in its place. He lifted the sword and blew away the scrap curls of metal. Hikaru knew her father’s mind.
“You would take credit for the work I’ve done, in case the prince finds it favorable.” She growled, finding it hard to breathe.
“That is the way many businesses work,” he said without concern.
“That is not how this business works,” she answered, knowing that she shouldn’t, not when her father stood so close to the sword. He would wield it at her without a second thought.
He didn’t reach for the sword, but his lips grew tight, all but vanishing under his bristled mustache. “That is not for you to decide.”
“But it is for you to steal my work like a street thief?” She snapped, her voice trembling at the last word. She was going too far. Her whip wounds ached as if to upbraid her. She expected the fist to slam into her face at any second. She began to raise her hands, stepping away as if she’d stumbled onto a feasting mountain lion.
But her father’s eyes just bored into her, and strangely, softened. Pity. She noticed for the first time how hateful pity made his face look. He was looking not at her face, but at the sleeve of her shirt. She looked for herself. The blood had begun to soak through from her shoulder. Hikaru looked up to meet her father’s gaze. Suddenly she felt seven years young, reliving one of the daily disappointments her parents’ coldness had brought her.
“Why don’t you stop that damn woman then, father? Why not show you have bones beneath your skin instead of just standing aside and looking at me with pity later?! You’ve stolen my sword, why don’t you beat me about the head with it while you’re at it!” The words just kept coming, bereft of sense and forethought. Hikaru’s heart was crying. Half of her wished her father would throw off his hate and sweep her up into his arms, stroke her curls; tell her that even though she had been rejected by all the young men in the city he still loved her with that undying paternal love. What she wouldn’t give to be told she had a place in the world.
Instead she saw fury tighten every fiber of his body. He drummed his fist against his leg. It was what he did when he was struggling not to swing it.
“The sword will be presented with my emblem. I am the master of this business,” he said. That was it. That was final. He left her alone, shivering and remembering the hours she had spent delicately laying down the moonstones in perfect harmony. She began to look around for them. They were on the floor, smeared with soot. She picked up the tiny jewels and pressed them deep into her trouser pockets. They felt warm against her fingers. She imagined they were saying to her Don’t cry, don’t cry. She listened to them. She had no time for crying.
~~~~~~ Sorry it's so short, guys. I already have the next chapter ready, though. n_n And hey you, comment! Even just to say that you read it- I'd ADORE it! It's always disconcerting to feel like you're posting into this black, empty, void with no one around that hears you. If you've ever posted on LJ, I'm sure you know that I'm talking about. =)