Alone

Chapter One: Fire and Terror

She rolled onto her side, opening her weary eyes. “Another sleepless night,” was the only thought to pass through her mind. She glanced out the window, looking into the starry night sky. A feeling of fear clawed its way up inside, closing in on her thoughts. So many things had happened to her all at once, all horrible.

It was the Meiji Revolution, a civil uprising transforming the samurai into gunmen. Families were being ripped apart. Many unsuspecting people were losing their loved ones, murdered ruthlessly. Unfortunately, Ayame was one of those children who would never again find comfort and safety with her loving family. Fires were breaking out all over the city, driving families out of Kyoto. People were going missing to never be found again. All these things were burned into her mind and plagued her dreams. There was one thing she had that many would go without - she had a roof over her head, although the roof no longer existed in Kyoto, now lay in Osaka.

She lay in bed watching the sunrise, knowing with each passing second she neared another day of work. It was four years ago that she came to live in the master's mansion, in Osaka. Now a sixteen-year-old, this had become routine, normal. She woke early, completed her chores, and attended to the young mistress' every whim. This was her life. This was her everything.

There she lay in bed, remembering how hard it had been for her to get this far. All the time she had spent walking, not knowing if she could get away from all the fighting, pain, and suffering. She felt so burdened. She knew that all the pain of her hated memories would someday flash again, with a clarity she had almost forgotten, and if that day should ever come, she feared she wouldn't be able to run from them as easily as she had from Kyoto.

As all these thoughts collided in her mind, the memory of the murderer's silhouette flew to the forefront of her thoughts. His features remained hidden by the blazing flames behind him, and the fear that clogged her vision and memories. She knew in her heart she had seen his face, but he was blocked from view now.

Fearing her own memories, she lifted herself slowly out of bed. She put on her navy blue Kimono, tied her black hair back with a navy blue silk ribbon, and wandered down the long hall to the kitchen. She was to serve the main household until she was old enough to lead her own life. Part of her longed for the day to come quickly, but her fearful side was willing to wait until the Meiji Revolution subsided. She pulled on her plain white apron, reminding herself to wear a smile.

As she stood in the kitchen her eyes wandered around the Alder wood, the cabinets lining the right wall, the three grand black wood stoves along the back wall, and the sinks and counters on the left. This was a kitchen for the wealthy, something Ayame would never have had the privilege to see if her family were still alive. Even though they had money, they didn’t have such an extravagant home. Her parents had believed it was best to live a simple life and save the money they had for their children's future. What good is that money for a future that would never include her family? Even if she had the money, she would have given it away in her grief.

“Ayame! Ayame!” She felt a bony finger tap her on the shoulder, startling her from her thoughts. She turned only to hear, “Take this to the young mistress' room.” Makino handed her a tray with a bowl of rice and a vegetable omelet. She nodded, her hands taking the polished silver tray.

She made her way out of the kitchen, rounded the corner and opened the door to the walkway, stopping for only a moment to enjoy the garden. It held a coy pond, with flowers placed around the five trees standing at the far corners of the yard. There was a seating area located near the pond with a walkway that led the way. Not only this, but the lawn held the greenest grass she had ever seen. There Ayame stood with a true smile on her face. If she knew anything, it was that this garden was something that continued to bring a smile to her face every time she saw it. It's not that it was anything spectacular or large, but that it was small and simple.

She looked longingly once more and then continued along the wooden pathway toward the young mistress' room. She slid the door across and laid the tray just in the doorway. Looking up Ayame stole a peak at the young mistress' sleeping face. She seemed so calm and peaceful. Then her eyes began to wander. The young mistress' room was beautiful. Her parents had spared no expense. Before she could fully take in the beauty of the room, she heard Makino calling. She quickly slides the door shut, leaving the peaceful young mistress alone once again.

Turning, she started back toward the kitchen doorway. Makino scolded her for taking so long to deliver the food. Ignoring Makino, Ayame leaned against one of the wooden poles that lined the outer part of the walkway, just outside the kitchen. These poles were three feet from the house and held the pathway two feet above the grass. The pathway, which lay outside, was normally the only way the servants could take to enter the rooms, but on rainy days she was told she could use the inner hallway. She took so much pleasure looking out onto the garden that she hadn't heard the young mistress' voice calling to her. She sighed. Her time with the garden was shortened. Turning, she hurried back along the walkway toward the young mistress' room.

“Yes, young mistress?” she questioned, as she knelt outside the open door with her head bowed slightly. Calling her by name was not proper for a servant to do so.

“Send for my mother.” She sat up in bed, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, slimming down her already slim pale face as it brushed the sides of her cheeks. As she spoke her voice seemed angered by something, but her face remained with a calm appearance.

“What reason shall I tell your mother that you sent for her so early in the morning, young mistress?” There was something in the room that made her want to go to the young mistress' side and comfort her, but that would never be allowed.

“Tell her it's urgent.” When Ayame heard her voice sound with such rage, yet with the readiness to cry, she closed the door and rushed to the mistress’ door.

She glided down the pathway, gently tapping on the mistress' door. “Mistress, Mistress,” she spoke softly, wishing not to cause alarm, “the young mistress is calling for you.” She waited for the mistress to get up, but there was no sound. “Mistress? Mistress?” Ayame slid the door open, to find her breathing heavily. She raced to her side, finding her mattress stained with blood.

After a moment or two, she came to the realization that she was about to give birth to her second child. Her contractions had already started and seemed to be minutes apart. Ayame knew the mistress was pregnant but hadn’t realized she was so far along. The extreme pain must have made her unconscious. That was the only conclusion Ayame could come to. She looked around trying to see if the master was in the room, but then remembered he had left town for a day and a half on an important business trip.

Ayame stood over the mistress for a moment, panicking over delivering a baby. Her feet began to move, running throughout the house to find another servant who would know. No such luck. Instead, she found there was a midwife living only a few houses down the street. Racing out the front door, she went two houses down in both directions, feeling the pressure of time weighing down on her. Finally, she found the midwife and led her to the mistress' room. Luck was on their side because they managed to get there before it was too late.

Keama, the midwife, shouted for the other servants to clean up as much of the blood as possible. Two servants ran out of the room to get some old rags and a small pail of hot water to begin cleaning. She sent another servant to get towels for the baby and another to get a bucket of warm water to wash the infant. Then she placed a female servant at each door to the mistress' room and sent all but one of the remaining servants out of the room. Ayame was the one chosen to stay. Keama had her help with the birth of the new baby, although most of the time Ayame tried to keep her eyes shut as tight as she could. The mistress remained unconscious through it all, only moaning out of pain every once in a while. After what seemed an eternity to Ayame, the new child entered the world. A few moments later, Keama exclaimed that it was a girl. Finally, the mistress came to, just in time to hold her.

Only moments after the baby girl had come out of her mother's womb, the young mistress’ voice rang through the hallway. Keama picked up the newborn and took her to where a new bed awaited the baby. Ayame could hear the servant outside trying to persuade the young mistress to go back to her room. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be working. The door suddenly slammed open, nearly falling off the slider, and an angry young mistress came stomping in, tears streaming down her face. “Mother how could you do...,” she stopped at the site of blood that had stained the wooden floor. “What happened? Why is there so much blood?” There was a sense of fear in her voice.

“The baby came earlier than expected,” replied her mother. “She's there,” she motioned to the small crib along the far wall, “if you wish to see her.” She held a tight smile on her face as if something was on her mind. She waited for a few moments to pass by so that her daughter could speak, but she only stared down at her mother. “What's wrong, you look troubled?” asked her mother.

“I am not merely troubled. I am furious because you arranged for me to be wed without consulting me!” The anger rose in her voice with every word passing through her lips. “How could you?” Her cheeks were now flushed with rage.

“How did you come across this account? We had only just finalized it all,” her mother didn't deny the information, as most parents seemed to do until it was the day for their daughter to meet their future husband.

“You left one of the letters on the floor, opened.” She lied. Ayame had seen her snooping through her father’s desk. There she had come across the letter.

“Calm down. Yes, your father arranged for you to marry, but we chose a charming young man. We've also made sure he would be able to take care of all your needs and more.” Her words were so soothing Ayame almost wished she were the one to marry.

“I want...,” By the sound of her voice one could tell she felt defeated and rethought what she wanted to say, then continued, “mother I just wish you had involved me in this decision.” Ayame soon found the tension in the air was so thick, it became hard to breathe and she began to feel faint.

“Your father wanted to wait until the final arrangements were made before speaking to you.” Her mother's voice came out in a pleading way toward her daughter, as though she was asking for forgiveness. “We can discuss this more later. I'm not feeling well at the moment.” Near the end of their argument, she seemed to be taking deeper breaths. She was exhausted, seeming as though she was about to let death steal her away. But Ayame knew well, from the stories the servants told about the mistress, that death would have to fight to steal her away.

The young mistress was so absorbed in her anger she had just noticed her mother's predicament. “I'm sorry, mother, to have bothered you at this particular moment, but I felt it could wait no longer.” With those last words, she left the room, wandering down the hall toward her own room.

The eventful day soon came to an end, for the family at least. Ayame still had some chores to complete around the kitchen, while the other workers cleaned around the house and yard. She took her time cleaning the floor, washing dishes, and putting away objects lying about. The time ticked away until the clock chimed, signalling eleven. When she walked down the hallway to her room she found all the other servants had finished and gone to bed some time ago. She pulled on her nightgown, crawled into bed and yanked the covers over her head. Her sleepy eyes slowly closed, with dreams immediately beginning to fill her lonely thoughts. Slowly her mind drifted to the beautiful days of the past.

The most wonderful dreams ran through her mind, like fairies dancing in a meadow. There they sat, mother, father and her little sister surrounding her, with their garden in the background. Her mother was singing her favourite story. The song was old, one she had been told since she was born. It was about the demons that once roamed the earth. According to the story, there was a young male demon that fell in love with a mortal girl, but it was not so easy for them. They had to face the world with this new kind of love and hopefully be welcomed, or instead be condemned for it. The name of the story was 'Together', and her mother told it often because she believed true love could conquer all. That was what she was trying to teach Ayame and her little sister. There was more to the storytelling of horrors: that the mortal had some destiny she must fulfill, but that part of the story had been tucked away in the depths of Ayame's mind.

Everyone was happy until the sun started to dip beyond the horizon. Then the house lit up in flames and screams from neighbours echoed throughout the backyard. She turned her head for a moment, just a moment, to see a figure leaping out of the flames of their house towards her family. The last thing she heard was her mother telling her to run and never look back. But she did look. Instead of seeing the happy scenery, it was a m******e. Her parents lay dead and her sister no longer cried. She heeded her mother’s words and now ran; she didn't stop until the screams had all faded away. She ran until her knees buckled and she sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face. Never again did she look back, not wanting to see the scene of horror she left behind, never again.

Suddenly she woke up and raised one hand to her cheeks where many tears had fallen. She maneuvered her legs over the side of her bed and got up. Closing her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, she dressed in a rosy red Kimono and pulled her hair up and away from her face. She washed and then went to the kitchen to start her day's work.

The young mistress stayed cooped up in her room. When she did leave her room, it was only to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, Ayame could tell she was unhappy, because of the masked smile she wore. But who would be happy with an arranged marriage that had never been discussed? She wanted to comfort the young mistress, but instead, she remained within her boundaries as a servant.

The tense air changed that afternoon when the clock struck twelve with the sound of a knock at the door. A servant answered it and there stood the master of the house. He had finally come home from his trip, but to his misfortune, not to the most welcoming circumstances. He got both happiness and sadness in one conversation with his wife. Even though he was now home, he did not seem to have the words to bring the young mistress from her room. In the past, she would have listened to her father and done whatever he told her, but this time it seems everything had gone too far for him to get through to her.