The flower which blossoms from a barren place

[C.J,]

“Shatter,” he muttered offhandedly. He had been saying that word since he was little. He always spoke in his own particular way. Formal, polite, passive yet his vernacular was always sprinkled with that word which seemed so out of place in the situations he used them in. He should have known better, yet that didn’t change his impulses.

He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, cut to a short militaristic crop but long enough that he could still yank at the ends. He tried to focus. His hands were literally numb, so cold and lifeless that somehow his fingers had become even more pale. It was all because of how nervous he was. More nervous than he had ever been in his life. It was strange. He thought he had conquered so many of his fears and insecurities. Age did that to you. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was shorter yes, but now he had a light brush of soft blonde hair on his chin. His face longer, more mature. He had grown taller – not by much but he seemed much greater in stature due to how well he had learned to control his limbs and muscles. It wasn’t training that caused this change, but his own experience going through life. It had been years hadn’t it? Years since the last time he looked in the mirror and realised how much he had aged. He was 19 now. That made him a man didn’t it?

“Shatter,” he muttered again before turning from the mirror. He paced his room. “Shatter, shatter, shatter.” As he heard himself mutter the word he realised how comforting yet foreign it was. He had used it religiously once upon a time but out of fear, nervousness and anxiety. At some point he had stopped. When was it that he gained so much of a grasp on his own life?

When he had moved in with Aimi? When he had been elevated to one of the highest ranks? When he had achieved some recognition from his peers? When he stopped feeling inferior to everyone else?

Regardless, now that all changed. He was cursing again. Muttering that word again. He had lost control of his life at some point. It was only because in the last way possible, it wasn’t just his life anymore. Today he was going to marry Aimi.

[Amy]

You have to go inside.

Nope.

Aimi, you can’t stand out here all day. You’re going to be late.

Don’t care. Can’t do it. Why did I agree to this. It was such a...when I said yes...future...and it’s here and this isn’t. I can’t...I can’t. I can’t…

Aimi’s feet finally slowed to a stop, dust creeping up her legs, a path worn clear. It had been months since she had been in her house. Her empty house. The house that had never quite been a home. Hoten had brought her back, once, after she had gotten out of the hospital. Aimi had needed clothes and a few other important things. Needed to close up the house. But since that day she had remained as far away as possible.

But now she was getting married. And she had to go inside. The very thought though, the very idea of stepping foot inside was sending her in a panic. The emptiness of the house had been one thing when her parents were alive. It was tolerable. But now…

It will be okay, dear. Just get what you need and get out. You and Hoten can come back later, when you’re ready, to take care of everything else. For now, take a deep breath, get your mother’s things, and get back to Hoten. There is a lot that needs to be done still. The sooner you go in, the sooner you can leave. I’m here.

Trembling from the inside out, from a pain that was set deep in her chest vibrated out to her palms as they pushed against the door. It had been so long but everything was so familiar. The sound of the door creaking, the smell in the air. Like she had never left.

Steady, Aimi.

The girl hadn’t even realized that she was hyperventilating, her weight held up by the doorframe. She could do this. All she needed was a few of her mother’s things. They had to be right where they always were. Who would have moved them.

As she walked down the hall her fingers trailed the walls. It wasn’t out of a desire to feel close to the house, to look for a connection that she had lost or one that she had never had. She merely didn’t trust herself to remain standing. She ignored her house as she walked through it. The pictures that dotted the walls. The accolades. They needed to be boxed up. Put away for safekeeping. The house needed to be emptied, she wouldn’t live there again.

Another time, Aimi. Get the rings and the box and let’s go.

Right.

Standing at the threshold of her parents room, Aimi could see the box on her mother’s vanity. It was small, small enough to hold in one hand. It contained her parent’s wedding rings. They never wore them on missions. It contained a few other small precious items. Items she’d need for today. Taking a deep breath, she gathered the box, tucking it under her arm. Keeping her head down, she hurried through the house, closing the door swiftly behind her. Heading towards the Shoshiki compound, never looking back.

[C.J,]

After some self-coaxing Hoten walked out of his family home. That was a mistake as his senses were instantly overwhelmed.

His mouth started to water as his nose was affronted by the smells of food being prepared. In the distance he could see the smoke of outdoor cook fires which would be roasting meats. Honeyed venison. Suckling boar. Bear steaks. Nearby his mother’s old bakery was alive. Inside there was an army of his clansmates who had been working for hours. Kneading bread and making pastry batter that could probably feed half of Iwa for a week. He could hear the sizzle of pans as they fried vegetables and the bubbling of soup pots inside private homes.

However not everyone was at home cooking. Whoever wasn’t was outside working. Young boys and girls were pitching tents of shimmering silks and dried pelts. Poles were erected and the Shoshiki transparent rose on a white flag bellowed every few paces. Children were scurrying about cleaning the area and planting freshly bloomed flowers at behest of their elders. The skilled artisans were at work sculpting and building various pieces to decorate the already vibrantly coloured streets of the Shoshiki compound. Musicians were practicing their various instruments and entire bands of bards were hauling equipment of wood and brass about. It was a circus with every member of the clan as well as foreigners from within and without Iwa an actor in this grand show. At the centre of the chaos was “The Kaleidoscope”, the crown of the Shoshiki’s compound and the place to be during these kinds of events.

In the shadow of the tall stain-glass tower was Hoten’s mother and the only woman who could mobilize an entire clan for such a spectacle. She stood with her crowd of prominent women discussing her plans with them further. Retainers came and fled from her to receive their orders and quickly begin them. She had little birth right which meant that her absolute control was drawn only from her charisma. Called the Precious Flower of the Shoshiki, Hana was easily an admirable beauty but possessed the intelligence and drive to move the very mountains around Iwa. Hoten walked up to his mother and her crystalline silver eyes fell on him instantly. She smiled at him, not even the softest wrinkle of age were revealed then. She combed her long blonde hair behind her ear with one finger and used the other hand to reach for him. He took his mother’s hand awkwardly.

“My sweet boy. Everything is going as scheduled. The ceremony will begin at noon and the feast will be magnificent!” She looked like she was on a high. Organizing huge outrageous events was a passion of hers, that was why he let her do it. He knew that Aimi would have wanted something simple, and Hoten himself would have been fine without any ceremony at all. However his mother would never be able to live without such a pageant of prestige for her only son – but mostly for herself. He had learned a long time to appease the forces in his life and after talking it over with Aimi, allowed his mother to create this spectacular festival. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? Didn’t you hear me? We start at noon?!” Her attitude changed the second some things weren’t happening the way she planned.
“I-I just wanted to know where Aimi was. If she was doing okay. I haven’t seen her in a while.” He responded.

“As it should be! You know it was a tradition once that the bride and groom not see each other for days before the wedding. In fact they were sent off hundreds of miles from each other and had to race back before the ceremony. To be honest that was a rather odd practice.” His mother stopped to think but quickly regained composure. “She wanted to get some things from her maiden home this morning. Probably an impulse of sentimentality. Regardless I have my top maidens escorting her so she should be back to the safe house soon, whereabouts which I will not disclose to you. Now off with you. I need you dressed now and waiting in the tower by the turn of the hour. Shoo!”

With that he fled back into his house to get ready again.

[Amy]

" Don’t touch me. "

From one place of pacing to another, Aimi was inconsolable. She wanted to be with Hoten. Or not where she was. Anywhere except where she was. In a house, with three of the most annoying maidens that she had ever met. And they wanted to dress her. And doll her up. And...Aimi couldn’t They had gotten her down to her underclothes but they wanted her to change those too. Making...comments, giggling, about what she had in store for her that night. Oh, she wanted to hurt them and it was taking all of her restraint not to. The only thing Aimi felt like she had to be thankful for was that Hoten’s mother wasn’t there. She was not a force that Aimi wanted to reckon with on this day.

" Miss Tanaka...we really need to get you ready. If we do not start now we won’t be ready in time. Please just change into the clothes Miss Hana sent for you… "

She was making them nervous. Aimi knew that she was. In her palm rested her parent’s wedding rings. Their shapes imprinting into her palm as she held onto them like her life depended on it. They were holding her together and tearing her apart all at the same time. With every beat of her heart she could feel them in her palm. One beat reminding her that they would have been so proud. The next, remembering that they should be there with her. It shouldn’t be Shoshiki maidens preparing her for her wedding. It shouldn’t be Hana picking out her dress. Turning the entire clan grounds into a party. It should be her mother there. Dressing her. telling her about her own wedding day. Giving her the comfort she so desperately needed.

I can’t do this.

The words were spoken out loud but they weren’t for the women in the room. They weren’t for the Genma. Aimi wasn’t sure who they were for but they weren’t for anyone who could help her. But the silly maidens didn’t know that.

" Dear, you’ll be fine. Just hold still and we’ll have you changed in no time. The carriage will be here soon. "

Nodding numbly, Aimi didn’t fight this time as they slid the remaining clothes off of her body, sliding new ones on. White ones, with lace, completely impractical. They lathered her in lotions and scents as she kept her fist closed and her eyes staring straight ahead. Listening to her own heartbeat, holding onto the repetitive nature. Letting it keep her steady and on her feet. Using it to fool herself into thinking she could do this. She could be a bride. It was only for a day, how bad could it be. And then they brought out the dress.

" No. That’s NOT what we agreed on. "

" Miss Hana designed it herself...she said that it would suit your figure well and that the green would make uh...you know...less...noticeable...she really insisted. "

" I wanted simple. This is not simple. "

Aimi stared at the monstrosity that was presented to her. Heavy fabric, white, woven. It was form fitting, a long train extending down the back. Green floral designs covered the front of the dress in the chest area, swirling down and over the left hip and all down the train. The stitching was the same green and the lining as well. Aimi wouldn’t try to deny that it was gorgeous but it wasn’t what she wanted. Squaring herself off, she crossed her arms. Clearly not willing to budge without a fight.

[C.J,]

A deep breath was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality now. In one part it was entirely like a dream. In a day, in hours, in minutes he would be with Aimi again. She and him would walk down the aisle and when that short walk was done they would be married.

Married.

Was it too cynical that deep inside of himself he never actually thought this day would happen. Was he wrong to flirt with the idea that their relationship was doomed? Cursed in fact. He had his own battles to fight. Personally. His self-consciousness, his feebleness, his fears. She had her own troubles to. Love didn’t wash those away. They weren’t miraculously remade perfect whenever they were together. He had learned that much at some point.

Was it when Aimi was destroyed? When he was pulled out of his house in the middle of the night and dragged into the snow and to an underground facility. Where he had to stand and watch the girl he cared more about than any other person in the world be consumed by some strange chakra. He witnessed her destroyed – as a single being – and remade again as a something else. A host. He was horrified at first. In his eyes Aimi was gone and replaced with the Genma wearing her skin. She was a monster no different than the beasts borrowing under the village. He had nightmares for weeks afterward – he never told her. The village gave him a duty. Stay close to the new host, failure to do so would cost more than his own life. He told himself if he could be strong for his village. It was just another performance after all.
He peeked through the crystal double doors. People were seated already. Hundreds of people that he or Aimi had interacted with throughout their lives. Comrades. Clansmates. Officials. Students. He rested his head against the cool stone. He needed something solid now.

Somehow another memory was stronger in his mind. Stronger than watching a girl losing her innocents in front of him. It was the days after her transformation. Visiting her at a private clinic. She had lost control. Rampaging and raving. Hoten thought he was prepared for it at first. He had acquainted himself with protocol. They would attempt to pacify her. If they failed to do so there were shinobi waiting to extract the Genma and put it into another host. That should have given him peace. The thief using Aimi’s face would be gone. He would be free. But in the moments thinking about this fact he was scared. More scared than he was of Aimi, Hoten was scared of not even seeing her face again. The only thing in his mind was even if it was an imposter in front of him, he would rather that than not have her any more at all. As long as it looked like her he would be okay. It was at that moment love became more complicate in Hoten’s mind than could be explained in any script.
She would arrive any second.