Shhh 死 ~ CHI ni Oborete: Chapter Three

◊ “Haha-oya?” Kazuko called out softly, shaking her mother’s hand that rest gently on her stomach. “Haha-oya.” She called out again, trying to wake her mother whom looked very pale.

Placing a firm, caring hand on his daughter’s shoulder, the Head of the House shook his head sincerely.

“You should let her rest Kazuko, she needs all the strength she can get.” He knew, deep down inside that his wife and the loving mother of his dearest child would not live through whatever illness had fallen upon her. Rising to his feet, the Head of the House peered down at his daughter for a moment with his hands neatly folded against his stomach. Saying no more to his dearest daughter, the Head of House closed the sliding paper door, returning to his daily business in the hall.

Stroking the back of her mother’s hand, Kazuko knelt over her with worry and pain in her eyes. Her mother was her life and she had so much yet to teach her about being a woman and being a wife.

“Haha-oya, please get well.” She pleads for her mother’s well being quietly. There was nothing more that she felt she could do for her mother but plead. “You have not yet made tea from the herbs I picked for you.” Sounds of last words, though she had no idea if or when her mother was to die.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days; Kazuko had no idea how much time had past, but the moment she felt movement in her hand from her mother’s she jolted awake and knelt at attention at her mother’s side. Leering down to her mother, Kazuko’s eyes were wide with surprise.

With no memory of the past few days, Kazuyo looked up to her distraught daughter with fuzzy, confused eyes. Immediately she sat up at the sight of the tears in her daughter’s eyes.

“Kazuko, what is the matter?” Her voice was strong, just as it was before she fell ill. “Why are you crying my dear?” It was clear as day that she had no memory of collapsing in the sunroom.

“Haha-oya!” Kazuko dove at her mother, wrapping her arms around her neck tightly in a terrified hug, which she thought she was never going to speak with her mother again. “You are all right.” Kazuko held onto her mother tightly, pulling herself on to her lap. She than broke down in a hysteric fit, crying loudly at the top of her lungs.

Hugging her distraught daughter in return, Kazuyo patted her head softly stroking her soft, black hair gently.

“Kazuko. It is all right. You do not need to cry.” She did not know why she was crying at all, but Kazuyo knew that if her daughter was crying, there was definitely a reason for it. “I am fine. See?” She pulled out of her daughters death-grip hug and smiled to her warmly. With gentle, caressing fingers, Kazuyo brushed the moist bangs off of her daughter’s smooth cheeks for they became tangled in the streams of tears that flowed down her face.

Sniffing to stop the liquid flowing from her nose, Kazuko looked up to her beaming mother with wet eyes. Lowering her gaze for only a moment, Kazuko nodded once, telling her mother that she believed her.
“I will go retrieve Chichi-ue to tell him the good news.” Rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her kimono, Kazuko chuckled forcefully, trying to push away her tears.

Her mother sent her a nod, giving the green light for Kazuko to be able to run and find her father to tell him that her mother was all right. With knowledge of his location this time, Kazuko was able to find him easily; still running around the corridors in her white Tabi, Kazuko was set to need a new pair soon.

“Chichi-ue!” Running into the hall, interrupting his small meeting, Kazuko ran up onto the tatami floors, kneeling down next to her father. “Haha-oya woke up! She is all right.”

It was too good to believe, the Head of the House needed to go see for himself. Only hours before his wife was barely breathing as she rests on her back in their sleeping quarters, just strong enough to keep her chest moving. Bowing to his samurais, the Head of House departed from the hall to follow Kazuko down the dark, wooden corridors back to his sleeping quarters.

Kazuko was well ahead of him, arriving at the open sliding doors before him. As the Head of House arrived at the small step up to the tatami flooring, he was faced with a petrified daughter, staring silently into the room from her knees on the edge of the tatami floor. Taking slow steps as he panted to catch his breath, the Head of House’s gaze slowly scanned over the flooring to meet the sight of his wife, lying in a pool of her own blood upon her futon.

From the time that Kazuko had run to fetch her father and the time it took them to return, Kazuyo had relapsed from her sudden appearance of gaining health again. Her episode of appearing well was only the moment before her death. As a samurai would know, one is strongest just before they are faced with death.

Kazuki, the Head of House had pushed his daughter to the side as he dashed through the paper door; having been followed closely by his loyal samurais, Kazuki was joined by Nakamura and Tanaka to possibly assist with Kazuyo.

Kazuko on the other hand had dropped to her knees on the tatami floor at the entrance of the sleeping quarters, mortified in seeing her mother’s lifeless body lying face down on her futon which was soaked and stained in an enormous amount of blood. The white that resembled white, fluffy clouds on a spring morning were now crimson with the sign of death.

Kazuko gripped the tanned tatami flooring with white knuckled fingers, her small arms shook in terror as she stared at the panic on the three men surrounding her mother. In pure shock, the young ten-year-old girl had not even noticed the sharp pain coming from her nails as they began to peel from her skin as she dug them into the stringed bamboo of the floors. Everything seemed to have stopped; time, air, sound, Kazuko was frozen in fright. Watching her father and his two samurais frantically pulling at her mother and resting her on her back on the flat tatami flooring away from her stained futon; Kazuko’s eyes seemed to have been playing tricks on her; everything moved slowly, rippling away from the original form, everything moved as a virtual echo, creating images that she had never seen before.

In a soundless world, Kazuko was finally able to take a deep breath, making her head dizzy. Filling her lungs with as much air that could fit, the young ten-year-old had let out a mighty shriek; screaming at the top of her lungs before losing consciousness herself, collapsing on the tatami flooring.

Had it been minutes since that moment? Had it been hours since that moment? Had it been days since that moment? Whichever it may have been, Kazuko had woken quickly, shooting up from her bed in her own room. At some point, her father or one of their loyal servants had carried her to her room and placed her gently under the covers. Kazuko jumped up from her bed, throwing the covers off of her and ran down out of the room as fast as she could towards her father’s room.

“Chichi-ue!” Sliding the door open as fast as she could and with all her strength, Kazuko was met with eye to eye with an empty room and a neatly made futon in the middle. The young mistress called out again as her gaze jumped down one hall and the next. Kazuko ran down the hall that lead to the rest of the house, if her father was not in his room, than he must have been in the only other room she had ever seen him in when it was not meal time.

In the meeting hall where her father would have meetings and private talks with his samurais, Kazuko had finally found her father, dressed in the darkest kimono he had owned, Kazuki was kneeling respectfully, facing the door wearing his Mofuku, awaiting Kazuko. With a pile of clothing next to him, the terrified young girl could only imagine that the pile of clothing was for her.

“Kazuko, you must prepare.” Sliding the pile of clothes towards the door, Kazuko’s father spoke tonelessly, as if everything was drained out of him, starting with his will to continue.

With her thin, pink lips parted slightly, the young girl’s jaw quivered as she held back her urge to scream and cry again; that was not a dream as she had hoped, what had happened was surely true. Pressing her lips together and closing her eyes gently, Kazuko bowed her head to her father and crawled into the large, empty room, gathering her clothes to change.

Though a time with little resources, there was still a great deal of manpower and respect for those who have lost their lives. In a large wooden box had been placed the clean, well dressed body of Kazuyo, Kazuko’s mother; with her arms neatly folded on her stomach and a peaceful expression on her motionless face, the cover was placed atop the box. With assistance of ten of Kazuki’s strongest men was the box guided into a deep hole in the ground by ropes wrapped around the bottom of the box. In a large, clear field underneath a large willow tree had the location been chosen for the burial ground for Kazuyo Kanzaki, wife and mother of the House of Shi.

After the small gathering of samurais and townspeople for the farewell of her mother, Kazuko had retreated to her bedroom again, throwing herself down on her bed not paying any attention to her Mofuku. Though she was young, her Mofuku was detailed just as greatly as her father’s. Solid black in colour, trim in a satin-like material against the silk of the body; the fitted kimono trailed down to the young mistress’ toes and covered them perfectly. The fitted sleeves had draped down revealing the white fabric of the undergarment. The black satin obi stretched from her small hips, over her ribs. The many layers of each piece fit together perfectly, even after throwing herself to the floor roughly as she had done.

Reaching for her pillow and pulling it to rest her cheek on, Kazuko cuddled her pillow tightly and closed her eyes quietly. Sprawled out on her single futon with her feet hanging off on to the tatami, Kazuko quickly fell asleep once again. There was no explanation as to how long she had been asleep since her mother had died so suddenly, and the ceremony was not long at all, yet Kazuko found that she was drained of all her energy and motivation to do anything. ◊