by Ruby Duvall
“Mama!” she screamed, feeling her heart breaking into pieces. When she felt a hand touch her shoulder, she gasped in fright and looked to her right, where her younger brother stood. His face was tight as he took in his sister’s anguish, his beautiful brown eyes a bit red as he tried to hold in his tears.
“Sister…is mama gone?” he croaked, his lips twisting as he tried to stay calm. He really was a rapidly maturing boy. Another small sob escaped her, but she wiped at her cheeks and tried to control her breathing. Looking at her brother again, whose hand was still on her shoulder, she sucked in her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and gave him a small nod.
Oka couldn’t hold it in anymore, and he suddenly put his chin to his chest as the first few tears fell from his tightly clenched eyes. His teeth were gnashed with effort, but the sobs began to come out, and she could stand it no longer.
Pulling her brother into her arms, she held him tightly as he sat half-sprawled across her lap. They wept together, holding onto the last person they had left to call family.
Chapter Six
Having returned to his horse, Vallen checked the soggy clothing he had hastily thrown over a low tree limb and found it to be still quite soaked. Then patting the muscular neck of his nearby mount and mussing the back of his hair to speed the drying process, he turned to the saddle sitting on the ground and squatted low to dig through the saddlebag for his collapsed bow.
Just as he found and began to remove the two halves of the bow, a deep, cold pain burst through his chest. He nearly fell to his knees as the pain spread through his chest, and he gasped in agony, barely able to take in any breaths as his hand pressed against the heartache throbbing numbly inside of him.
He knew almost immediately that Shumei was in immense emotional pain, and it took only a second to realize that when he had taken her in the river, she must not have known that her mother was dead.
Always wanting to know more information than his enemies, friends or subordinates, he had been watching her home from beyond the tree line since dawn. When she first emerged from her home shortly after the sun had risen, he had nearly run to help her when she collapsed in the tall grass only fifty feet away from him, emptying her stomach onto the ground. She was very important to his survival, but he restrained himself from sprinting to her side, not wanting to reveal his presence just yet. It wasn’t long before she stood again and walked back to her home with more energy in her stride, which greatly relieved him.
After she left again later he saw that she was holding soap in her hand and walking toward the river. Seeing his chance, he had waited until she was well away before stealthily approaching her hut, trying not to alert any of her neighbors. Inside, he found her living in a destitute home, though it was at least relatively clean considering that most of the floor was just dirt. A young boy, asleep and unaware of the dangerous demon standing above him, moaned softly and turned to his side.
He assumed that this was her brother. Looking to the woman lying only a few steps away, he could tell immediately that she was dead. In fact, judging by the vapors he could see coming from her body, she had just died. Wondering if perhaps Shumei had gone to the river to cry alone, he had followed her there, only to forget any intention to comfort when he saw her naked body.
Things had progressed from there.
Now it seemed that she had returned from their interlude and found the truth of what had happened to her mother.
Thanks to the cursed Binding, though, he was experiencing her pain as well. He could practically hear her screams of grief in his head. Though normally a woman’s tears were annoying, especially after all of the women he had gone through in his existence, Shumei’s weeping somehow struck a chord within him. Chalking it up to another effect of the Binding to feel empathy with the woman to whom he was bound, he knelt there next to his saddle for several minutes until the pain began to ebb away.
He sighed in relief when her weeping ended. The cold throbbing began to fade, and the tightly held muscles in his body slowly relaxed. He audibly swallowed, glad that it was over—though he wasn’t sure if it was because his pain had dulled or because hers had…
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Shumei and Oka watched as two of the remaining field workers took up the temporary duty of gravedigger and helped bury her mother. It was lucky that today was a Sunday because only on Sundays did priests visit the gravesites of black-haired people to pray for their souls. Any other person would have a priest the day of their funeral.
She had paid twenty kols for the cheapest coffin, the only one she could afford, which used up this week’s money for her mother’s food and the ten kols that she had planned to use for new shoes.
Those present at the funeral included the village leader and his wife, the local priest and a couple of curious villagers with nothing else to do. Oka stood pressed to his sister’s side, his hands gripping her black dress and his eyes fixed on the rapidly filling hole in the ground. She had one hand on his back, holding him close as well, and absentmindedly stroked his soft, golden hair with her other hand.
“She’s really gone, sister,” he whispered, pressing his face tighter against her side.
“I know,” she calmly said, having spent her tears and not intending to shed any more in front of anyone here. “We’ll be fine by ourselves.”
The priest, having finished his sermon earlier, waited until the last shovel of dirt was thrown on top of the grave before leaving, making his way back to the temple.
Almost immediately after the priest was out of earshot, the village leader and his wife descended upon her. Akki, of course, was the first to speak.
“My, oh my…where did you get that dress, Shumei?” she asked, looking like she was being genial and only mildly interested, but her question had been spoken too quickly for her to sound anything but extremely suspicious. “It looks lovely on you, a fitting color on a day like this,” she said with a bit of a pout, as if trying to comfort her.
“My mother told me as she was dying that this was a present to me. She had received it as a gift from my father when they married, but she never wore it because it was too fine for working in the fields. She wanted me to wear it since my other dress was in such disrepair,” she explained, having worked out this excuse with Oka late last night.
She had had to tell him about Vallen. She left out the worst details, only saying that the demon was forcing her to trade her time, and Oka, fortunately, had not pressed for a more specific answer. Since only he and she knew, he remained passive next to her side, and his face gave away nothing when Akki’s eyes shot to him to see if he was at all surprised by Shumei’s answer.
“I see,” she said slowly.
“I had wondered how father had afforded such a dress, but it was not an appropriate time to question mother about such things,” she further explained, looking down at her brother. “I’m very grateful that Oka is still alive though. He’s very precious to me.”
“A-as he is to us all, Shumei,” Akki agreed, though her tone was devoid of sincerity. Shumei couldn’t trust anyone’s outward appearance as a blackie. Many people around her had told her with smiling faces that she was going to Oblivion someday.
“Thank you, Madam Akki,” she said, wishing she could make the vulgar gesture with her hand without being seen. Looking briefly over Akki’s shoulder, she caught Kimen’s gaze, and it held a powerful emotion. He looked…like he was about to eat a mouse. She wished it were Akki and her strong resemblance to rodents that held his predatory gaze, but she knew that she was the mouse today.
“Well, Kimen and I must be going. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do in the fields today now that your mother is gone,” she prodded, her smile getting bigger as she relished the cut to Shumei’s composure. She gave no outward reaction, though, visibly disappointing the woman. Akki then abruptly turned away and walked past her husband, who stared only a second longer before turning as well and walking back toward his home.
&nb
sp; Shumei and her brother then watched as the gravediggers began to pat the earth down, spreading out the remaining dirt to make the extra volume of soil less obvious. The burial site was in a smaller cemetery behind the regular cemetery, which was now much fuller than it had been before winter. The smaller cemetery was meant for black-haired villagers, and it only had two more places left before it was full too. An extension would have to be made someday.
If you wanted to read the names of deceased black-haired villagers, though, you were out of luck. To supposedly give the person’s soul a clean slate and prevent any lurking evils from following the soul to the Garden of the Divine One, a black-haired villager was buried with no name on their tombstone—only a date of death. Each grave marker was simply a square, stone column no wider than a man’s fist. Shumei took a minute to count the small columns in the separate cemetery and found that nearly forty black-haired members had been buried here. The oldest tombstone was close to three hundred years old. In fact, several black-haired villagers seemed to have died at the same time.
“I wonder what a priest might say during my funeral,” a sultry voice said from behind Shumei. Turning in surprise, which jostled Oka quite a bit, Shumei found the somber face of the witch looking at her intently, or rather, she was looking at her dress very intently.
“I overheard the origin of your dress earlier, and I must say that I’m ever so curious about how your mother or father obtained such a fine piece of work,” she complimented, gesturing toward the embroidery along the bottom of the dress. “Water lilies suit you rather well, though I might’ve chosen a different color for the embroidery.”
“Did you need something, Madam Majo?” Shumei asked, a blush coloring her cheeks despite her best attempts to prevent it. Even after the intense sex she had recently experienced twice with Vallen, the memory of what Majo had done when they were alone in her hut was still clear and still embarrassing.
Majo slowly smiled and folded her arms, which made her breasts swell upward. She looked down at Oka, who was regarding her silently and without a single hint of expression.
“I just wanted to inquire after your health, dear Shumei,” she said, looking up at her again. “It would be a shame if poor Master Oka had to lose his entire family should you come down with the Burning as well.”
Shumei’s jaw tightened, but only slightly. The early morning nausea and vomiting had returned this morning, though she felt fine now. When she woke up, sleeping on her mother’s old mat with her brother once again tucked in front of her, her chest had felt constricted, as if her dress were tied too tightly. Then the nausea had begun. She was able to leave Oka sleeping while she endured it, and it had only lasted perhaps two hours.
“I’m fine, Madam Majo. I haven’t had any of the usual symptoms.” Of course, the vomiting was not a usual symptom, so she wasn’t exactly lying. She watched as Majo’s eyes slowly traveled down to her chest, and she knew she was blushing brightly when Majo’s smile widened.
“You certainly look very healthy, dear Shumei,” she said softly. “Ah, but take care of yourself anyway. I look forward to your delivery next week,” she purred, turning slowly. Of the three idling villagers still milling about, the two men ogled the witch and the old woman scowled at her, but she paid them no heed as she swept past, walking smoothly back toward her home.
Seeing that their only entertainment for the day was over, the three villagers meandered off on their own ways, and she wondered why the two men didn’t go help in the crop fields since the village was already short-handed. Many people in the village were still sick.
“We’re done,” the two gravediggers called. She slowly turned to look at them and felt Oka start to finally move away from her.
“Thank you for your hard work, sirs,” Oka said as he tipped his head down in thanks. The two field workers looked at each other with confusion and returned the nod since Oka officially outranked them in the social hierarchy of the village.
“It was no problem, Master Oka,” the bigger field worker said. “We have to get back to the fields now, though. S-sorry for your loss.” With that, the two of them also walked away, carrying their tools with them. It was only because Oka was blond that they didn’t charge her for digging the grave.
Shumei watched their retreating backs for only a few seconds before turning and walking a few steps closer to her mother’s grave. She knew she’d easily be able to pick out this spot again so that she could pray to the right grave in the future. Her mother’s plot was in the very southeastern corner of the cemetery.
“Mother has happiness now. You know that, don’t you?” Oka said quietly as he pressed close to her side again. She automatically put her arm around his back. “She’s in the Garden of the Divine One and with our father. She knows no sadness now.”
“I know that, Oka, but I mourn the life she had when she was here. I mourn that her passing wasn’t easier…I mourn that we didn’t have more time with her.”
They were both silent for several minutes after that, looking sadly at the fresh marker driven into the ground at the head of their mother’s grave.
Finally, Oka spoke.
“Why is life so hard?” he softly asked, sniffing. Shumei looked down at him, though she couldn’t see his face, and brushed her hand over his soft golden hair.
“I don’t know, Oka.”
Chapter Eight
That night, Shumei found herself unable to sleep. Her brother was curled up tightly in front of her with one arm thrown out toward the dying fire. Her head was resting on her bent left arm, and her right hand rubbed small circles against Oka’s shoulder. He wasn’t sleeping very peacefully and she wasn’t sleeping at all.
Thinking that maybe he was cold, she flipped her side of their blanket over him, especially since her new dress was much warmer than her old one and was pretty much a blanket in itself. Tucking the blanket around his small frame, she slowly stood, wanting to stretch a bit. Raising her arms above her head, she felt the dress slide along her skin as it moved with her and thoughts of Vallen came rushing at her.
The sound of his deep, smooth voice, the feel of his hands pulling her closer, the look in his eyes when he was watching her…
Lowering her arms again, she smoothed the dress down, looking into the tiny flames of the fire and wondering why she wasn’t angrier when she thought of Vallen. Hadn’t he made her life ten times more difficult than it already was? Hadn’t he stolen the only innocence she could lay claim to? Hadn’t he berated her, manipulated her and lied to her?
Truthfully, though, not much was different. The only difficulty was that she had another appointment every week, but it was one that didn’t involve getting paid a pittance for backbreaking labor. This time, she would only have to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with someone whose mere appearance made her thighs clench. The innocence she had lost was innocence that had never helped her before. She was as hated in her own village as she was before Vallen had entered her life.
She had berated him as much as he had berated her and though he had manipulated her, even tricked her once with his words, he had never forced her into anything. From the second the Binding had been placed upon both of them, he had always given her a choice and had always spoken the truth to her. She was just too inexperienced at dealing with people like Vallen to come out the victor.
She began to recall their conversation at the river as she stretched her back, her arms straight behind her. He had told her that he was willing to do anything to have her and her womanly favors at his disposal, even take her on as what she assumed would be his mistress, though she wasn’t quite sure if that was the word. She was pretty sure that a mistress was a “kept woman”, or a fancy word for a concubine.
She frowned as she relaxed her position, rolling her shoulders now. She would not be his mistress then. She merely had a choice now as to when she would give him her favors rather than whenever he decided to accost her.
However, looking at the dress she wore, she wondered
if she hadn’t already taken on that title. Her mind moved on to when he had said that he would take her and her brother to live with him. The idea even now sounded ludicrous…suddenly pack up and leave her home to live with some man, or rather, demon, and pretend to be genial as he attempts to help raise her brother while spending each night on top of her?
It sounded rather like what would happen if she married Akiji.
Something about Akiji made her extremely wary. Of course, Vallen scared her too but there seemed to be gentleness in Vallen that he hid…and which Akiji faked. The promise Vallen had made to never hurt her wasn’t part of the bargain—it was a gesture to show her that he wouldn’t use force—would never need it. He asked honestly and sweetly for her kiss, gave her clothing without asking for something in return and…
Shumei shook her head somewhat violently, her long, wavy hair flying about her face. Why was she thinking this way? She should be thinking of ways to escape his bargain, to escape him.
Her mind suddenly stopped, and she realized that Vallen had never included her mother in the deal. Now that her mother was dead, the deal made sense. Had he already known?
Her jaw tightened with anger as she realized that he most likely had known that her mother was dead when he confronted her at the river. He had known all of those other things about her fellow villagers. She stepped down off the wooden area, standing on Oka’s old sleeping mat, and clenched her hands into fists.
He must have known and he hadn’t told her. He even acted as if she knew. How could she have known? Would she have gone to the river for a routine bath knowing that her brother was sleeping in the same room as his dead mother? What if Oka had woken up first? She would never have left the two of them like that had she known…
Her breathing was fast and shallow as she tried to control her anger.
He couldn’t strike her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t strike him, and the next time she saw him, she was going to hit him. Hit him hard enough to make blood flow, she was sure of it.
