Saiunkoku: Bara-Hime and The Steamed Bun Spirit
for julineci, who will very possibly kill me for this. hee. ^___^
p.s. best if you don't ask.
Bara-Hime and The Steamed Bun Spirit; or Why Shuurei's Face Resembled A Steamed Bun When She was Young
by omi
The women of the Hyou family line were taught from a very young age to be very very careful in everything they do.
Balance was vital.
Moderation, essential.
And so, the Hyou women floated through life serene, calm and unruffled. Not for them, the great passions, the burning loves. No overwhelming interests, or all-consuming hobbies. Everything could be put down and discarded with nothing more than the slightest pang of regret. So the Bara-Hime was taught, from the moment she was born. There were rather painful lessons on the way, of course, but the Bara-Hime was clever and quick-witted, and never, ever, made the same mistake twice. And for these qualities, and her unparallelled beauty, she was adored and revered by her clan by the time she reached her sixteen birthday...
From a safe distance, of course.
However, fate was fickle and capricious, and by Bara-Hime's seventeenth birthday, she escaped from her home and family by eloping with her would-be assasin. Before the year was out, she was safely ensconed in the loving arms of her new husband in their new house in the capital on the other side of the country.
The first months together were bliss, except for one tiny fact that marred the perfection that was Bara-Hime's marital life.
Bara-Hime could not cook.
The same pale slender fingers that could embroider leaping dragons and flying phoenixes, or write beautiful flowing calligraphy or draw intricate landscape drawings, somehow fumble and flail when holding a ladle, or a wok, or a pot. Sauces burned, her soups were murky bitter concoctions, and her dishes all turned into a brown unidentifiable mess.
Her husband, Shouka ate them with gusto, all the same, praising her cooking skills to the skies, even as all around him, the rest of the household turn green and rush for the nearest bucket.
Bara-Hime was despondent. It was the first time in her young life, that she encountered something she could not master. She had so wanted to be the perfect wife to her husband! Like most people, to whom most things come easily, Bara-Hime could not accept her ignominious defeat in that most basic of wifely skills.
At very least, Bara-Hime declared to herself, after another disasterous incident in the kitchen, she must be able to make the steamed buns her husband so adored.
And so Shouka's young beautiful wife rolled up her sleeves and buried herself in flour and water and bamboo steamers.
The days passed, and plate after plate of misshapened steamed buns flew out her kitchen and into her husband's eagerly awaiting mouth. Slowly, as Bara-Hime slaved away, kneading and shaping bits of dough around its red bean filling, her skills improved, as did the edibility of the buns she made.
Encouraged by her improvement, Bara-Hime redoubled her efforts, entirely forgetting her strict childhood training for detachment in all things.
Her steamed buns took on a white fluffy aspect, positively tantalising in its aspect and smell. It was then that Bara-Hime took the ambitious step of branching out from red-bean steamed buns to the more challenging savoury chive buns with just the slightest hitch on the way (when the chives mysteriously burned on her first attempt).
Her husband's girth expanded at an equally rapid rate, and he ordered, with great pleasure, new clothes, and especially, new belts to better accommodate his young wife's food.
Bara-Hime was on a roll.
One day, Bara-Hime was idly kneading out yet another batch of dough for her steamed buns while contemplating her first attempt at the epitome of steamed buns -- the roast pork bun -- when something strange happened under her fingers.
The dough trembled.
Bara-Hime jumped away from her table. This has never happened before! Cautiously, she poked at the pale dough. The dough shuddered again, and then, with increasing speed, expanded and expanded until it was in the rough shape and size of a full grown man.
'Oh My Love,' exclaimed the dough-man. 'I have been awoken by your sweet passion as your slender fingers knead my flesh. I have felt the heat of your love, intermingled in the steam of the bamboo steamer, and the softness of your fingers as you pull me out.
'I am here, the embodiment of all the steamed buns you so lovingly made, to be with you forever and ever!'
Bara-Hime shrank back, frightened and not a little repentful. She had forgotten all the dire warnings by her elders! The powers that flowed in the bloodlines of the Hyou womenfolk was strange and bizarre and frequently dangerous. As the doughman -- or more accurately, the Steamed Bun Spirit -- advanced upon Bara-Hime, she had never been more forcibly reminded of that fact.
Her brain racing, Bara-Hime held up a bamboo steamer and said, 'Wait!'
The Steamed Bun Spirit halted. 'What's the matter, O Love?'
Bara-Hime said, 'It's... it's just that you're still very, er, doughy, and I fear that you may not, that is to say, hold up to the, ah, exertions of our love. Perhaps we should wait until you've been properly steamed, and more... hardy, before we get to, to know each other better.' She finished, smiling desperately against her fear.
'Ah, you may have a point,' said the Steamed Bun Spirit. 'But do you have a steamer big enough for me? For I am of epic proportions...'
Bara-Hime hastily assured the Steamed Bun Spirit that she would be able to have the largest bamboo steamer made. And sure enough, just before nightfall, the servants had built a massive fire in the garden, just next to the pond and laid a huge bamboo steamer basket atop of seven large vats of boiling water.
The Steamed Bun Spirit looked doubtfully at the steamer. 'Are you entirely certain it would be all right?'
Bara-Hime nodded and assured the Steamed Bun Spirit. 'Yes, yes. How could a steamed bun spirit not undergo steaming? You wouldn't be complete if you didn't!' she said with forced gaiety.
And so the Steamed Bun Spirit went willingly into the giant bamboo steamer, and the terrified servants rushed to push the cover over it.
Fifteen minutes passed. 'Am I done yet, Dearest Lady?' asked the Steamed Bun Spirit.
'Oh no, no yet,' said Bara-Hime, as she gestured the servants to build up the fire.
Another twenty minutes passed. 'Bara-Hime, I am feeling rather hot. Can I come out now?' asked the Steamed Bun Spirit.
'Oh no,' said Bara-Hime again. 'You're larger than all the other steamed buns, and would take much, much longer to steam properly.' And she ordered the servants to add more boiling water to the vats.
A half hour passed. The Steamed Bun Spirit spoke, rather weaker than before. 'Bara-Hime, I think I may be overcooked... I have to come out now...'
Bara-Hime swallowed hard as she signalled the servants to be ready. 'Oh well, if you must. Why don't you come out now?'
The cover moved. A enormous white fluffy head emerged slowly for the steamer. And at Bara-Hime's nod, the servants rushed forward with large gleaming hooks, and pushed the Steamed Bun Spirit into the fish pond!
The Steamed Bun Spirit fell in with a large splash. 'Oooo~~~gurgle gurgle gurgh--' The Steamed Bun Spirit swiftly became waterlogged in the cold pond water, and the koi in the pond -- notorious for eating absolutely anything -- began to swim around the Steamed Bun Spirit in a great swarm, eating as the Steamed Bun Spirits broke into parts.
Soon, the Steamed Bun Spirit was nothing more than a crumb floating forlornly on the calm water of the pond. And then, after a leisurely gulp by a fat white and red koi, even that last crumb was gone.
Bara-Hime heaved a great sigh of relief, and sank to her feet. 'Never again,' she swore to herself, looking at the placid green waters.
'What are you doing in the garden?' asked Shouka puzzled as he came into the garden after everything was over. 'I smelt the most lovely smell of steamed bun from my study... What's all this? Are you feeding the fish with buns now?' Shouka reached into the giant steamer, and picked up a tiny morsel of the steamed bun spirit that was stuck in the corner, and popped it into his mouth.
'No!' exclaimed Bara-Hime. She rushed to her husband and examined him anxiously. 'Are you all right? Do you feel strange?'
Shouka blinked. 'I'm fine. Why?'
Bara-Hime sighed and embraced her husband. 'Thank godness! It was nothing. Just another failed cooking experiment, dear. I was worried you might not feel well after eating it.'
Shouka smiled indulgently at his wife. 'Silly, I will eat anything you make!'
Bara-Hime smiled back, and hugged her husband all the tighter. And if Shouka was more affectionate than usual that night, Bara-Hime paid it no mind. Her husband was frequently affectionate, in any case.
So it came to pass, that Bara-Hime finally learnt the Hyou womenfolk's vaunted ability in moderation and calmness and she exercised it constantly with an iron will.
...
Nine months later, Shouka and Bara-Hime's daughter was born. The midwife proudly placed the small squalling baby in Bara-Hime's awaiting arms. Bara-Hime took one look at her new-born daughter, screamed and fainted dead away.
For Shuurei had a face that looked exactly the same as a steamed bun.
- fini -
p.s. best if you don't ask.
Bara-Hime and The Steamed Bun Spirit; or Why Shuurei's Face Resembled A Steamed Bun When She was Young
by omi
The women of the Hyou family line were taught from a very young age to be very very careful in everything they do.
Balance was vital.
Moderation, essential.
And so, the Hyou women floated through life serene, calm and unruffled. Not for them, the great passions, the burning loves. No overwhelming interests, or all-consuming hobbies. Everything could be put down and discarded with nothing more than the slightest pang of regret. So the Bara-Hime was taught, from the moment she was born. There were rather painful lessons on the way, of course, but the Bara-Hime was clever and quick-witted, and never, ever, made the same mistake twice. And for these qualities, and her unparallelled beauty, she was adored and revered by her clan by the time she reached her sixteen birthday...
From a safe distance, of course.
However, fate was fickle and capricious, and by Bara-Hime's seventeenth birthday, she escaped from her home and family by eloping with her would-be assasin. Before the year was out, she was safely ensconed in the loving arms of her new husband in their new house in the capital on the other side of the country.
The first months together were bliss, except for one tiny fact that marred the perfection that was Bara-Hime's marital life.
Bara-Hime could not cook.
The same pale slender fingers that could embroider leaping dragons and flying phoenixes, or write beautiful flowing calligraphy or draw intricate landscape drawings, somehow fumble and flail when holding a ladle, or a wok, or a pot. Sauces burned, her soups were murky bitter concoctions, and her dishes all turned into a brown unidentifiable mess.
Her husband, Shouka ate them with gusto, all the same, praising her cooking skills to the skies, even as all around him, the rest of the household turn green and rush for the nearest bucket.
Bara-Hime was despondent. It was the first time in her young life, that she encountered something she could not master. She had so wanted to be the perfect wife to her husband! Like most people, to whom most things come easily, Bara-Hime could not accept her ignominious defeat in that most basic of wifely skills.
At very least, Bara-Hime declared to herself, after another disasterous incident in the kitchen, she must be able to make the steamed buns her husband so adored.
And so Shouka's young beautiful wife rolled up her sleeves and buried herself in flour and water and bamboo steamers.
The days passed, and plate after plate of misshapened steamed buns flew out her kitchen and into her husband's eagerly awaiting mouth. Slowly, as Bara-Hime slaved away, kneading and shaping bits of dough around its red bean filling, her skills improved, as did the edibility of the buns she made.
Encouraged by her improvement, Bara-Hime redoubled her efforts, entirely forgetting her strict childhood training for detachment in all things.
Her steamed buns took on a white fluffy aspect, positively tantalising in its aspect and smell. It was then that Bara-Hime took the ambitious step of branching out from red-bean steamed buns to the more challenging savoury chive buns with just the slightest hitch on the way (when the chives mysteriously burned on her first attempt).
Her husband's girth expanded at an equally rapid rate, and he ordered, with great pleasure, new clothes, and especially, new belts to better accommodate his young wife's food.
Bara-Hime was on a roll.
One day, Bara-Hime was idly kneading out yet another batch of dough for her steamed buns while contemplating her first attempt at the epitome of steamed buns -- the roast pork bun -- when something strange happened under her fingers.
The dough trembled.
Bara-Hime jumped away from her table. This has never happened before! Cautiously, she poked at the pale dough. The dough shuddered again, and then, with increasing speed, expanded and expanded until it was in the rough shape and size of a full grown man.
'Oh My Love,' exclaimed the dough-man. 'I have been awoken by your sweet passion as your slender fingers knead my flesh. I have felt the heat of your love, intermingled in the steam of the bamboo steamer, and the softness of your fingers as you pull me out.
'I am here, the embodiment of all the steamed buns you so lovingly made, to be with you forever and ever!'
Bara-Hime shrank back, frightened and not a little repentful. She had forgotten all the dire warnings by her elders! The powers that flowed in the bloodlines of the Hyou womenfolk was strange and bizarre and frequently dangerous. As the doughman -- or more accurately, the Steamed Bun Spirit -- advanced upon Bara-Hime, she had never been more forcibly reminded of that fact.
Her brain racing, Bara-Hime held up a bamboo steamer and said, 'Wait!'
The Steamed Bun Spirit halted. 'What's the matter, O Love?'
Bara-Hime said, 'It's... it's just that you're still very, er, doughy, and I fear that you may not, that is to say, hold up to the, ah, exertions of our love. Perhaps we should wait until you've been properly steamed, and more... hardy, before we get to, to know each other better.' She finished, smiling desperately against her fear.
'Ah, you may have a point,' said the Steamed Bun Spirit. 'But do you have a steamer big enough for me? For I am of epic proportions...'
Bara-Hime hastily assured the Steamed Bun Spirit that she would be able to have the largest bamboo steamer made. And sure enough, just before nightfall, the servants had built a massive fire in the garden, just next to the pond and laid a huge bamboo steamer basket atop of seven large vats of boiling water.
The Steamed Bun Spirit looked doubtfully at the steamer. 'Are you entirely certain it would be all right?'
Bara-Hime nodded and assured the Steamed Bun Spirit. 'Yes, yes. How could a steamed bun spirit not undergo steaming? You wouldn't be complete if you didn't!' she said with forced gaiety.
And so the Steamed Bun Spirit went willingly into the giant bamboo steamer, and the terrified servants rushed to push the cover over it.
Fifteen minutes passed. 'Am I done yet, Dearest Lady?' asked the Steamed Bun Spirit.
'Oh no, no yet,' said Bara-Hime, as she gestured the servants to build up the fire.
Another twenty minutes passed. 'Bara-Hime, I am feeling rather hot. Can I come out now?' asked the Steamed Bun Spirit.
'Oh no,' said Bara-Hime again. 'You're larger than all the other steamed buns, and would take much, much longer to steam properly.' And she ordered the servants to add more boiling water to the vats.
A half hour passed. The Steamed Bun Spirit spoke, rather weaker than before. 'Bara-Hime, I think I may be overcooked... I have to come out now...'
Bara-Hime swallowed hard as she signalled the servants to be ready. 'Oh well, if you must. Why don't you come out now?'
The cover moved. A enormous white fluffy head emerged slowly for the steamer. And at Bara-Hime's nod, the servants rushed forward with large gleaming hooks, and pushed the Steamed Bun Spirit into the fish pond!
The Steamed Bun Spirit fell in with a large splash. 'Oooo~~~gurgle gurgle gurgh--' The Steamed Bun Spirit swiftly became waterlogged in the cold pond water, and the koi in the pond -- notorious for eating absolutely anything -- began to swim around the Steamed Bun Spirit in a great swarm, eating as the Steamed Bun Spirits broke into parts.
Soon, the Steamed Bun Spirit was nothing more than a crumb floating forlornly on the calm water of the pond. And then, after a leisurely gulp by a fat white and red koi, even that last crumb was gone.
Bara-Hime heaved a great sigh of relief, and sank to her feet. 'Never again,' she swore to herself, looking at the placid green waters.
'What are you doing in the garden?' asked Shouka puzzled as he came into the garden after everything was over. 'I smelt the most lovely smell of steamed bun from my study... What's all this? Are you feeding the fish with buns now?' Shouka reached into the giant steamer, and picked up a tiny morsel of the steamed bun spirit that was stuck in the corner, and popped it into his mouth.
'No!' exclaimed Bara-Hime. She rushed to her husband and examined him anxiously. 'Are you all right? Do you feel strange?'
Shouka blinked. 'I'm fine. Why?'
Bara-Hime sighed and embraced her husband. 'Thank godness! It was nothing. Just another failed cooking experiment, dear. I was worried you might not feel well after eating it.'
Shouka smiled indulgently at his wife. 'Silly, I will eat anything you make!'
Bara-Hime smiled back, and hugged her husband all the tighter. And if Shouka was more affectionate than usual that night, Bara-Hime paid it no mind. Her husband was frequently affectionate, in any case.
So it came to pass, that Bara-Hime finally learnt the Hyou womenfolk's vaunted ability in moderation and calmness and she exercised it constantly with an iron will.
...
Nine months later, Shouka and Bara-Hime's daughter was born. The midwife proudly placed the small squalling baby in Bara-Hime's awaiting arms. Bara-Hime took one look at her new-born daughter, screamed and fainted dead away.
For Shuurei had a face that looked exactly the same as a steamed bun.
- fini -