Author's note: Comments and criticisms of any kind are great appreciated. Please nitpick. My thanks.
Disclaimer: RK, and all characters thereof, belong to their perspective owners. This is not for profit.
--
Chapter 1: Prologue
Sky. Indigo sky. An ominous indigo sky.
Rose. A white rose. A fading white rose.
Calm … Peace … Serenity …
Tokio lowered her writing brush to the paper and completed the last stroke.
Serenity.
The kanji character stood in stark contrast against the pristine white sheet; the word's jagged dark lines soiled the paper's immaculate splendor.
Serenity.
The character stood off balance, the horizontal stroke cut too sharply - it looked almost like a sword.
Hajime.
No, she mustn't think about that.
Serenity.
She would start over again, from the beginning.
A soft knock on the shoji door broke her concentration, and whilst she strove to overcome the disruption, the shoji slid aside and a servant woman's voice drifted through, "My lady-"
"In a minute." Tokio replied as she set aside the blemished sheet of paper and reached for a new one.
However, before she could begin again, more footsteps - a heavier tread this time, stormed into the room.
"Tokio, what are you doing practicing your calligraphy? Why aren't you dressed? Your wedding is only an hour away!" Bellowed her brother.
Or more precisely, her half-brother. Tokio had no full siblings, but she did have illegitimate half-brothers by the score. She often wondered where her half-sisters were; they must exist, but her father never seemed interested in bringing them home. After all, daughters were nothing more than useless mouths to feed.
Tokio dipped her brush into a well of black ink.
"Go and request for lady Takagi's presence! NOW!" Her half-brother roared at the servant.
And the woman took off running, doubtlessly in fear of his belligerent mood and an even more notorious temper, which left Tokio as the sole object of his fury.
"You better be ready as soon as your mother gets here!" He threatened.
But Tokio did not respond. For once, he did not intimidate her. Tokio knew that he would not overstep his bounds on the eve of her wedding to a man of their father's insistence. A man, whose name alone, inspired mind numbing terror amongst the Kyoto populace. Compared to that, even her half-brother's fits of rage seemed benign. So Tokio lowered her brush to the fresh sheet of paper instead, and formed a dark horizontal line; she watched as the black ink bled into the virgin leaf and said not a word. Through the harsh silence, she could sense her brother's mounting rage at her disobedience; the resulting crackles of his knuckles as he clenched his hand into a fist heralded his riposte.
Tokio's hand stumbled in mid-stroke, a part of her wondering if she had finally pushed him too far. But her mother's arrival, along with the servant, disrupted whatever he might have planned. He grudgingly bowed and left.
The shoji closed. Silence descended the room like a fine mist, protecting her sanctuary behind its veil. Tokio took a long deep breath and lowered her brush to the paper for the final stroke.
Serenity.
The kanji character stood even more off balanced now; the unwept beads of dark ink, formed when her hand had faltered, made the writing appear as if by a child's hand. She pushed aside the blemished sheet of paper but did not reach for a new one. Time had forbidden her from correcting the mistake, however much she might have aspired to. Her wedding loomed upon the horizon, and she could ill afford to be late. She relinquished her writing brush, stood, and stepped towards the white kimono hanging in middle of the room. Her fingers limped down the lapel as she removed the gown from the hanger and enclosed herself within its colorless expanse. The servant rushed forward and bound the obi around her so tightly that she could no longer breathe. But she uttered no complaint. The room already reverberated so loudly with her mother's soundless grief that Tokio had no heart to compound it with cries of her own.
"It is almost finished my lady," The servant hastened her words as she began to spread white foundation across Tokio's face and neck until none of Tokio's own coloring remained. Then on went the black eye-shadow, the pale blush, and a crimson fluid across the lips. When the mirror was finally held up for Tokio's inspection, she could no longer recognize the dark-eyed pallid-skinned creature staring back.
"Leave us," her mother said to the servant.
The woman bowed. Then with an armload of Tokio's former clothing, writing brush, and calligraphy paper, the woman left the room, clearing away the last vestiges of Tokio's occupancy.
The shoji closed.
For a long moment, Tokio sat beside her mother, and together, they gazed towards the open window like a pair of marble statues trapped by a curse, all too aware of their lives gushing out of their desperate grasps. So many words … so much warmth …
… all expressed by this moment of companionship. Tokio savored her final seconds of that summer afternoon in her mother's perfect love.
Then life rushed forward and the moment forsook them without warning.
"Your carriage is ready, so hurry up! Let's go!" Her half-brother's fist pounded against the shoji frame, causing it to quake in sync with Tokio's heart.
She closed her eyes and stilled the thumping Strange, how she could spend her whole life readying for this moment, only to feel completely unprepared when it did arrive. She took a final breath, stood, and turned to leave. At the last instant, her mother's fingers reached out and gripped her own.
Their touch lingered then broke.
"We both know this day would come." Tokio finally whispered.
"But I had expected you to marry into a prominent house, not to some Shinsengumi nobody! What are you going to do?"
"I am going to be strong and I am going to survive, because that is how you've raised me."
Her mother looked up at her and slowly studied every detail of her face, whether to assess for reactions or to memorize it for eternity, Tokio could not discern. But for her part, she knew that this moment would be forever etched into her memory.
"I said: Let's go!" Her half-brother threw aside the shoji door and growled at her before heading down the hallway, expecting her to follow obediently behind.
For a second, Tokio almost refused, was almost tempted to escape from it all. But her fantasy died as swiftly as it came. She had no more power to change her circumstances than she had to alter the weather. No, the daimyo would not be amused by her defiance; her own father would hunt her down like a stray animal, and her mother would …
No, she would not choose a path of pointless protest. No.
Instead, she would choose to embrace her future. For it would consume her whether she wanted it to or not.