Daughter 

Kiyohime jumped, startled, from her seated position on the floor, the sound of shattering porcelain echoing in the darkness. “Mama, are you alright?” she asked quickly. In the pitch-black room, she assumed her mother couldn’t see and had stumbled, knocking over the teacup.

“Sit down!”

Lady Murasaki’s voice was a whip-crack, filled with an imperious authority that tolerated no dissent. Kiyohime’s knees felt weak, and she involuntarily dropped back into a formal, perfect kneeling position. Mama is so fierce, she thought, her heart pounding. Is this how she always speaks to the servants?

“Has Momozawa not taught you any etiquette?” Lady Murasaki’s voice was full of a cold, sharp displeasure. “Why are you so agitated over such a small thing?”

“I was just worried about you, Mama…” Kiyohime said, her voice full of a child’s raw, wounded disappointment. In the darkness, she couldn’t see her mother’s expression. She felt like a newly hatched chick that had broken free of its shell, only to find itself in a strange, unfamiliar world with no mother in sight.

Lady Murasaki’s voice gradually softened, the icy edges melting away. “You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was worried about you, Mama,” Kiyohime said, surprised by the question. It was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” Lady Murasaki murmured, the words almost to herself, a strange, desolate sound. “What daughter in this world would not be worried about her mother.”

Hearing the unexpected softness in her mother’s tone, Kiyohime finally relaxed and smiled into the darkness. “That’s right.”

“Wipe that smile off your face,” her mother’s voice immediately turned stern again, the warmth vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Kiyohime let out a small, hurt whimper, like a wolf cub that had been cast out of the den by its mother, still not free from the memory of being cared for, now wailing alone and lost in the wilderness.

Hearing the sound, a flicker of something—regret? pain?—seemed to touch Lady Murasaki’s heart. “Kiyohime?” she called out suddenly, her voice cutting through the gloom.

“I’m here.”

“Kiyohime,” she called again, the name a strange, questioning sound on her lips.

“I’m here.”

Lady Murasaki fell silent again. After a long, long time, her voice, as fragile as shattered glass, said, “Come here. Let Mama have a look at you.”

“Okay.” Kiyohime slowly began to crawl forward on the cool tatami mats.

“Be careful. There’s a step in front of you. Don’t trip.”

“Mama, I haven’t even stood up yet,” Kiyohime said, finally rising to her feet. “I thought you could see in the dark, so that’s why you didn’t turn on the lights. I didn’t realize you couldn’t see either,” she said with a small, triumphant laugh.

Lady Murasaki said nothing.

I guess I won that round, Kiyohime thought happily. She got down on all fours and, like a little cat, began to crawl silently forward, intending to suddenly appear in front of her mother and give her a good scare. She would never normally dare to do such a thing, but for some reason, in this strange, dark room, she now had the courage.

Just then, a knock at the door stopped her in her tracks. The shadowy figure of her mother in front of her seemed to suddenly be right upon her. “No need to knock. Come in,” Lady Murasaki said, her voice once again calm and controlled.

Kiyohime was so startled she fell back onto her bottom and looked toward the door.

The paper-screen door slid open slowly. The light from the corridor outside was not much brighter than the darkness within the room. But Kiyohime recognized the person standing in the middle. It’s my brother! she thought, a wave of pure, uncomplicated joy washing over her. But she saw that his face was filled with an urgent, frantic expression she had never seen before.

…

Haruka had been held fast by the butler’s hand. “Mrs. Butler, why are you stopping me?” he had asked, his voice frantic.

“Where is the Young Master going in such a hurry?” Momozawa Ai asked coolly.

“Lady Murasaki has summoned Kiyohime. It can’t be that simple, can it?”

“Has the Young Master forgotten to call the Lady ‘Mother’ again?”

Haruka ignored her. He raised his voice, his words a desperate gamble. “That empty pit by my father’s grave… is it for burying Kiyohime?”

“The Young Master has a very vivid imagination,” Momozawa Ai said softly.

Haruka stared at her. Her expression did not change, but he could feel the grip on his arm growing tighter, a silent warning. “Mrs. Butler, you’re hurting me.”

“My apologies, Young Master.” Momozawa Ai released him and bowed respectfully.

Haruka did not try to run. He looked around. “Besides you, no one knows where Kiyohime has gone, do they? And those two maids won’t be back anytime soon.”

“The Young Master is as quick as ever,” Momozawa Ai said. “Indeed, the Lady has not chosen poorly.”

Haruka took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. “What does she intend to do to Kiyohime?”

“The Lady wishes to pave the way for you, Young Master.” The words were a calm, brutal confirmation of his worst fears.

“Are you not afraid that I will resent you for this in the future?” Haruka said, his voice sharp with a cold fury.

Momozawa Ai slowly leaned in, looking up at him, her beautiful, bewitching face unmoved. “In the future, you may dispose of me as you wish, Young Master,” she said, her voice a light, silken whisper. “My only fear is that your punishment will not be severe enough.”

Haruka saw that he was getting nowhere with her.

“Do not be anxious, Young Master,” she continued. “In an hour, I will naturally take you to see the Lady. She has important matters to discuss with you as well.”

The words fell on deaf ears. He felt helpless, trapped. No matter how clever he was, he was powerless. It doesn’t matter who my mother is, he thought, a cold clarity settling over him. I cannot rely on anyone. The only person I can rely on is myself.

Suddenly, a desperate, dangerous plan came to him. “Mrs. Butler,” he said, “your daughter looks a lot like you.”

Momozawa Ai was surprised. “What do you mean, Young Master?”

“I don’t know if Kiyohime is Lady Murasaki’s daughter,” Haruka said, his voice level, “but I am certain that Sakuya is your daughter.”

“Yes. Sakuya is the only daughter I have.”

Momozawa Ai seemed to sigh, understanding the veiled threat in his words. “Young Master, why must you go to such lengths for the Second Young Mistress? You have only known each other for a day and a night. You may not even be ‘family’.”

“The time may be short, and we may not be related, but I already think of her as my ‘sister’.”

“I have heard the servants say that you are very kind, Young Master. Surely you would not make things difficult for my daughter.”

“You don’t know me, Mrs. Butler,” Haruka said, his voice chillingly calm. “I put my friends and family first, and kindness second. Sakuya and I are not close. What happens to her is no concern of mine. I would not do anything despicable, of course, but I might use the First Young Mistress’s methods to ‘discipline’ her a little.”

“To be driven out of the Fujiwara household would be worse than death for her, Young Master.”

“Do you really think Sakuya’s life in the Fujiwara household will be easy from now on?” Haruka said with a humorless laugh.

“Please speak plainly, Young Master.”

“Do I need to? You know what I mean, Mrs. Butler,” Haruka said. “Sakuya is Kiyohime’s personal maid. Without Kiyohime, what will her future be? Who can she serve? Only the First Young Mistress or myself. And from the looks of it, how long can you protect her? Besides, you have been seeking me out again and again. You must be feeling uneasy yourself.” He paused, delivering the final, killing blow. “But you are backed by Lady Murasaki. Why would you be uneasy? Unless… unless the Old Mistress entrusted you to care for Lady Murasaki long ago, and it was only later that you truly attached yourself to her?”

For the first time, a flicker of genuine panic appeared on Momozawa Ai’s perfect, ice-sculpture face. She bowed quickly, a deep, sudden gesture of submission. “Young Master, please do not spread such rumors.”