Punishment

Even though Kiyohime didn’t believe the maids’ gossip, she was thoroughly, poisonously disgusted by it. If this is how they talk, then how will the other servants who hear these rumors look at me from now on? she thought, a furious, white-hot fire igniting within her, threatening to consume everything in its path.

She immediately dismissed the two maids she had been playing with and confided in Sakuya, her voice a low, trembling whisper that betrayed the depth of her rage.

Sakuya blinked her sapphire-blue eyes, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Kiyohime’s red ones, and gently stroked Kiyohime’s smooth, long hair. “Second Young Mistress, of course you are the Lady’s daughter. You two look so much alike.”

“My brother looks much more like her than I do,” Kiyohime said sullenly, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

Even though Sakuya harbored a deep dislike for Haruka, she couldn’t help but feel her heart skip a beat when she pictured his face. He really was born with a beautiful face, she thought with a sense of weary resignation. If you said he was the Lady’s biological son, plenty of people would probably believe it without question.

But she said, her voice a comforting balm, “It’s normal for beautiful people to have similar features. If we ignore our hair color, people could say you have a few features that look like my mother. Does that make you my mother’s daughter?”

Kiyohime felt a little better after hearing that, the logic a small anchor in her sea of fury. She reached out and touched Sakuya’s golden ponytail. “Then that makes you my little sister.”

Sakuya smiled and touched Kiyohime’s cheek, her voice a sweet, playful murmur. “Onee-chan.”

The two of them huddled together, laughing sweetly. If one ignored their hair, no one would think they were master and servant; they truly looked like a pair of inseparable sisters, a brief, peaceful tableau.

Kiyohime laughed for a while, but then she remembered the maids’ vicious gossip. Those servants can’t even spin a proper lie, she thought, her anger returning. Why couldn’t they just say Haruka is my real brother, who was kidnapped by a bad woman as a child and has only just now returned?

She looked at Sakuya, whose lovely, petal-like face was adorned with a smile. Sakuya is so beautiful, too, Kiyohime thought, a strange melancholy settling over her, but she looks more like my older sister. Being with her is fun, but for some reason, my heart doesn’t beat as fast as when I’m with my brother.

Her mood soured again. “Let’s go find those two,” she said to Sakuya, her voice hard as stone.

“Do you remember what they look like, Young Mistress?” Sakuya asked, her own expression growing serious.

“Perfectly.”

The two of them immediately went and summoned the servants. The Fujiwara household had many, but today, most were busy with the Old Mistress’s “exorcism.” Only a few were free for other tasks. On this special, somber day, all the servants were dressed in identical, severe black kimonos.

Kiyohime had them line up, and she immediately recognized the two maids. Her anger flared, hot and uncontrollable, and she had the bodyguards drag them forward from the line.

Kiyohime smiled, a beautiful, chilling expression that promised pain. “You like to wag your tongues behind people’s backs, do you? Let’s see if you can still speak ill of others in the future.” With a flick of her hand, she had a bodyguard bring over a large pair of rusty pliers. She deliberately clicked them open and shut in front of the terrified maids, the sound a metallic, ominous threat. “Who told you these fabricated lies?”

The two maids trembled, their faces ashen. Kiyohime raised a delicate eyebrow, her finger pointing at the other servants behind them. “If you two tell me who it was, I’ll let you go.”

The maid who had started the rumor looked behind her, her eyes darting frantically, then said, her voice a terrified squeak, “She… she’s not here.”

Kiyohime’s red lips parted slightly in a mock pout. “Then you must be the source!” She had only intended to make an example of them, and perhaps root out a few others. Since there were no others to be found, she would make do with the prey she had.

The maid’s face turned a deathly shade of white. She immediately knelt, her forehead touching the rough gravel. “Young Mistress, it really wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?”

“She… she…” The maid was like a fish on a hot pan, flailing and gasping, but she didn’t dare say the person’s name, the fear of a greater punishment sealing her lips.

Kiyohime assumed she was lying. With a cold glance, the two bodyguards dragged her forward. The cold, unforgiving steel of the pliers was forced into her mouth. With a single, brutal twist, a bloody molar rolled across the ground like a grotesque pebble, stopping at the feet of the other maid, who was so terrified her legs gave out from under her.

Kiyohime found this amusing, her beautiful face lit up with a cruel, delighted smile. She picked up the tooth from the ground and dangled it in front of the other maid, who had collapsed in a heap, unable to move, a puddle forming beneath her.

Suddenly, Kiyohime felt bored. Useless, she thought with a flash of contempt. Seeing as you didn’t say anything bad about me, I’ll spare you this time.

She turned back. The maid whose tooth had been pulled was still screaming, her mouth agape like a fish being held tightly by the bodyguards, her cries a shrill, piercing sound that cut through the afternoon quiet. The sound attracted the maids from the neighboring areas. Suzune, who had just finished arranging for lunch, also came over when she heard the screams. Kiyohime saw her and, intending to frighten her as well, had her and a few other maids stay and watch as she publicly announced the maid’s crime of gossiping, making a brutal, bloody example of her.

And that was the scene Haruka had walked in on.

Haruka was deeply suspicious. It’s one thing for me to suspect Lady Murasaki isn’t my birth mother, but how would they know so quickly, and have the audacity to speak of it in private? He felt something was deeply wrong, a puppeteer’s strings he couldn’t yet see. The thought only strengthened his resolve to find out the truth.

Kiyohime, unaware of Haruka’s presence behind her, smiled cruelly. “Let me try pulling one out, too.”

She took the pliers from the bodyguard and inserted them into the maid’s mouth. She didn’t have much strength, and the pliers slipped twice on the slick blood before she finally managed to get a grip on an incisor and snap it in half with a sickening crunch. As the maid wailed, Kiyohime tilted back her pale neck, her face bathed in a glorious, triumphant smile. She handed the pliers to Sakuya. “Sakuya, you try.”

But she noticed Sakuya was staring behind her, her blue eyes wide with alarm.

Confused, Kiyohime turned and saw Haruka slowly approaching, his face a calm, unreadable mask. She hastily shoved the pliers into Sakuya’s hands.

Sakuya looked utterly helpless. She bowed her head, her single golden ponytail hanging like a branch weighed down by heavy rain. “Good day, Young Master.” The other servants followed suit, their voices a frightened, collective murmur.

Haruka glanced at the maid on the ground, who was now moaning softly, her face a bloody, unrecognizable mess. Three blood-stained teeth lay on the gravel beside her like discarded stones.

Kiyohime was flustered, terrified of leaving a bad impression on him, but she forced a cruel smile, her voice a brittle thing. “What is it? Are you going to punish me for the sake of a servant again?” At the word “punish,” the soles of her feet began to itch, her crystal-clear toes curling inside her geta in delicious anticipation.

“Give me the pliers,” Haruka said, his voice quiet but firm, cutting through her chaotic thoughts.

Hearing his words, Kiyohime’s body moved uncontrollably. She started to raise her hand to give him the pliers, but then she thought, her mind a dizzying whirl of confusion, Is he going to punish me for a servant again? Is he going to pull out my teeth with the pliers? But that would hurt and make me ugly. If he really wants to, should I let him? Her hand was already raised, but then she realized he hadn’t been speaking to her. He was looking at Sakuya. Kiyohime quickly, shamefacedly, pretended to be adjusting her hair, her cheeks burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the sun.