Post by Hope on Mar 5, 2014 21:28:40 GMT -5
Emotions spun out of control in her mind as Tenko lie on the tatami of her old room. It had been kept dusted, but was obviously unused for at least the last six months. The last time anyone in the house knew the young woman was still alive. The last time she wanted any of them, her family, to even know she was alive. And yet as her tears, spit and sweat from her forehead created a little puddle of proof under her head that discounted the myth surrounding her legal demise. Both teens had been long since disinherited by the Suzumei. There was no doubt that Kokuou and Ria and Crystal had long since moved on with their lives. And yet there she lay, her arms and legs wrapped around her old pillow as she wept into the straw mats of the only room she had ever considered her own.
What terrified me will terrify others; and I need only describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow.
Not one of several tattered and stolen tents the twins had camped in. Not one of the grandiose cold rooms in Mamoru's mansion with their unfamiliar mattresses. Not even the gardens of the Honjou the sister's would so commonly pass out in after a day or two of training. This was a room given to her and only her; her room in which nothing was shared. A room in which she could laugh or cry or eat or sleep or anything she wanted.
She could be with her sister. She could be alone. But, more importantly, she could be with friends.
The world to her was a terrifying monster of the oppressiveness of her everyday social poverty. It wasn't that she was poor; it was that she lacked the ability to desire social mobility. Or, at least, she was afraid that had she attempted to climb any ladders she would only find herself too tempted to push it off the wall and knock everyone else down with her. Yes: ultimately she wasn't afraid of any lumbering monster waiting to spirit her away in some dark alley…she was afraid of learning, some day, that the monster was herself.
But as long as she could just lie there, feeling the pitter pater of rain against the ceramic tiles and feeling the occasional fleeting presence wander down the hall unaware of the dark room left normally unoccupied for a girl thought long dead, she knew the monster wouldn't hurt anyone. She knew, squeezing down on the ever-warming pillow as her own spiritual energy slipped between her fingers, that this room was the only sanctuary in which she knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that she was human.
And as she rolled away from the door she didn't take even a moments notice to the fact that not a single drop of reishi was being drawn from anyone else in the house. Nor that any of the spiritual pressures she thought she felt were merely in the figment of her imagination; her perception extending no further than the four wooden corners of her perfect little world: the empty room, her jacket tossed to one corner and her pillow in her arms.