Fourth Chapter
Indifference
THERE'S NOTHING
PLAIN or unremarkable about the person that stared back at her. Her perfect
eyebrows, her perfect nose, her perfect mouth, her perfect eyes, every one of
her perfect features, are perfectly organized on her flawless face. She pulled
off one of the ribbons that previously kept the jet-black waves off her face.
Now, her hair framed her face as it cascaded down her back fluidly, rippling and
shinning in its sheer health. It didn't matter how she fixed it. No matter how
her hair is styled, she's still stunning. And she knew it.
But what is
physical beauty? If it comes to that, what is money? What is power? What is
popularity?
For some
people, those seem to be the sole purpose of life. That's why many regarded her
as lucky. Lucky, indeed! If they only knew. What's the use of all those if your
spirit inside is dying? What does it matter if she is Yoshio Masago, daughter of
the most influential man in Reikai, Kumagai? So what if she's the prospect wife
of the Prince of Reikai, Koenma Daiou, heir to the throne? Who would want to
marry a complete stranger? Who would want to have everything and yet lack
freedom?
She sighed
rubbing the mirror with her long delicate white fingers. The glass had fogged
causing her reflection to look unclear.
She shivered,
hugging the plush robe close about her. She was about to call her personal
valet, the pretty girl Botan, but remembered in time that the latter is in
Ningenkai. She stood up and added some wood to the picturesque fireplace, making
the flames blaze more so. Yes, she can do those things by herself, despite
having a great multitude of servants to wait on her. She managed to learn,
somehow, during those rare times of her privacy, like now. Why then did she have
to call Botan? Force of habit, perhaps. The servants won't allow her to move a
single muscle if it can be helped.
She sank down
again in the soft bed, savoring the smoothness of the silken sheets against the
exposed part of her skin and the warmth and cuddle-someness of the thick blanket
of fur. Momentarily, she blanched, recoiling in terror as she remembered that
this object that gave her comfort was once a living thing. Her gentle heart
ached for that white-haired beast from which that hide was stolen.
It
needs it more than I do,
she thought, sighing demurly.
Her gaze
settled outside, past the curtains of her canopied bed, and out the
drapery-adorned window. The sky was dim, gloomy, and sleepy, almost reflecting
her dark mood. Yet, it somehow induced her to think, to reflect, and to muse
with her thoughts.
…
She's so lucky, she's a star
but
she cry, cry, cry with a broken heart thinking
if
there's nothing, missing in my life,
then
why do these tears come at night?
It was nearly
an hour later when she rose from her bed. Her eyes are wet.
"Where are
you, Botan?" she unwittingly murmured.
She has become
rather fond of the ferry girl. Ever since she came, Masago's spirits somehow
lifted. Botan is a happy individual and that happiness she somehow shares to
everyone around her. Masago misses her already even though she has only been
gone for barely a few hours. Masago didn't want to sink into the bleak world of
loneliness, of emptiness, of discontent. She has grown accustomed to the ferry
girl's smile that always made her appreciate herself.
Ferry girl.
Somehow, Masago can't stop referring to Botan as that. Of course, she knew the
servant girl was once the assistant of Koenma, her betrothed. However, it was
never really clear why she was displaced from her position or how the prince
reacted to it. Her father never told her.
Masago is glad
Botan was reassigned. If the prince of Reikai is anything like the way he
appears to be, Botan can't be allowed to stay with that glowering slave master.
Her sweet spirit would probably only get hurt with that kind of insensitive
master.
She, Masago, is
sensitive, and she does read a trace of sadness in her maid's countenance. Her
smile and laughter lights up the day but still, there it is. The melancholic,
almost wistful expression glints from her lavender eyes.
Perhaps, she
had been wrong about Koenma. Maybe he doted on Botan, too, like herself. Maybe
Botan didn't want to be separated from her old boss. Maybe…
If only she
could ask Botan herself! But somehow, Masago knew her servant wouldn't satisfy
her curiosity.
Funny, she was
almost envious of Botan. Envious of what? She has everything: wealth, power,
intelligence, beauty. She's perfect according to the belief of some. It disturbs
her so badly sometimes she's tempted to do something bad deliberately just to
let them face reality. Like, she just wants to push somebody, slap him and say,
" Hello? I'm not some goddess, OK? I'm fallible. I'm just as imperfect as
any of you!"
What does it
matter? Isn't it nice to be adored? It hurts her that people can be so
superficial, so masked, so alone. Botan is different. She can be happy without
as much as an effort. Masago really does envy her after all.
Masago shifted
her position and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She saw her own
eyes staring back at her. They were exotic, large, almond-shaped, almost tilted.
The pupils shone with the emerald fire of the iris surrounding them, but
somehow, she felt it was cold. Her eyes had no depth, no eloquence, no soul. She
envied, if it was possible for her immaculate self to feel such egoism, Botan's
lavender peepers that bubbled over with emotions, shifting as her mood changes.
Almost always, it was happiness that showed through, a wistful kind of joy that
seem to reminisce on the past.
Even Botan's
mouth fascinated her. Sure, it was nothing against her small red lips many long
to kiss. However, the rose-like beauties usually remain passively tucked into a
forced, haltingly worn smile, so unlike Botan's. Hers are always formed into a
warm willing smile, or else open with casual laughter. They are nice even though
she jabbers much and doesn't even pause long enough to let the two lips touch
for longer than a couple of seconds.
She would give
anything for a life as free as Botan's!
"Masago!"
yelled a voice from outside.
No, she thought. She is trapped in a limbo-like puppet
house, one where she is being controlled like a marionette.
"I'm
coming, brother," she called back. "I'll just join you in the
den."
She threw on a
decent dress and was soon enough entering the richly furnished den of their
home. It was a little cold (not really literally, for the fireplace was blazing
deliciously) and a little stiff, but it was at least familiar and therefore
comforting.
"Ieyasu?"
she asked.
A tall figure
rose from the window seat. He
looked at her directly, bowing slightly in greeting. As always, her eyes locked
on to his. He always has that effect. Not only on her but also on most people.
It is probably
his eyes. They were almost exactly like hers but the shade of his green is
different. Hers was a fiery marble-like emerald green while his is almost
yellowish, like a cat's. They bore into your own, burning through the mask
everyone wears and seeing right through the heart. Oddly enough, it wasn't
alarming. It's rather, well, relaxing. For her, that is. For other people, they
feel a slight suspicion of treachery, which is soon conquered by a certain
feeling of tranquility and submissiveness. The difference is, Masago has known
him since birth, and they don't. At least, that's her guess.
"Good
morning, sister," he greeted her.
"Good
morning, Ieyasu," she answered demurely. "You called for me?"
"Family
talk. Sit down kid." He sat on the divan beside the fire.
"Where are
father and Atsumori?" She sat down beside him.
Ieyasu
shrugged. "They'll come soon. In the meantime, how's the prettiest girl in
all of Reikai?"
"Never
better, sir."
Ieyasu gave out
a laugh in his soft mellow voice. "Ah, you're still the same."
Masago frowned.
"What?"
"You still
don't know how to lie." He ran his fingers through his blackish green spiky
hair, whose dark tint intensifies the startling shade of his eyes. "You're
too naïve for this universe. You won't survive, girl."
"And you,
how are you doing in Makai? I heard there's trouble."
"It's
hardly our problem, really. Koenma's too paranoid if you ask me."
"Ought not
you say Koenma-sama?"
Ieyasu's upper
lip curled in amusement. "Why set a rift to discriminate between us? Future
brother-in-laws should be exactly what they'll be: brothers."
Masago turned
her face away from her brother. "And what of me?" she murmured.
Ieyasu raised
his eyebrows. "You don't like the arrangement? I, for one, thought you'd be
happy. You so admired the chap."
" A crush,
yes, years ago. Marriage is a different matter. For one thing, well, there must
be love."
"Sometimes,
Masago, I suffer to think how useless your beauty is if you don't have brains at
par with it. Sure, you're intelligent alright, but you don't have much
sense."
"But I
don't even know him! Besides-"
"Koenma is
famous. You, for one, are a best match for him. Are you throwing away this
chance to be queen?"
"I'm tired
of this ostentatious life," she whispered. "I want to be of some
use."
"Then
marry him. That way you can serve not only him, but also your countrymen, and of
course, your kinsmen."
"But I
haven't even gotten to know him, aside from the functions and parties and
stuff."
"What more
do you want? Other people don't know him at all. Not personally, like you."
He
hates me, that old snob! And I'm not too fond of him either, she thought. But before she could say anything else, the doors slammed
against the adjacent walls as it opened.
In came a tall
young man not in the least unlike Ieyasu; same built, same manly finesse, same
hair, (though the former's hair is long and was tied into a ponytail) everything
alike as if cloned, except for the eyes. The scowling glittering eyes were
almost the same but the iris is a dark jade green; fathomless, a whirlpool of
undisclosed emotions. This time, the anger and disappointment showed through.
"Masago, how can you do that?" he yelled. He had the same voice
as Ieyasu but less mellow and somewhat authoritative. "Do you realize how
much shame you have caused our family? Father could have lost his job. What's
the idea of ditching the Prince of Reikai?"
"I'm
sorry, brother!" she pleaded tearfully, wringing her hands in despair.
"I didn't think he'd come at all. He didn't twenty-five times before."
A short pudgy
old man came pattering in. "Oh dear me!" he exclaimed.
"Now, now, Ash. Don't upset your sister."
"Father,
please. I don't think she understands what's at stake here."
"Yeah?"
butted in Ieyasu. "I understand perfectly, as perfect as yourself, o
flawless Atsumori. You're afraid you'd fall out of favor from the palace, afraid
you'll lose your precious little position as the intelligence center director.
Or maybe you love Enma's butt too much to stop from kissing it."
" Ieyasu,"
Kumagai attempted to say. "That's a very offensive thing to say to
your-."
"I'll
handle it, Father," interrupted Atsumori. "Listen, you. If there's
anybody who should be afraid, it should be you. The Makai embassy is a mess and
nothing's happening about that problem-"
"Boys-"
"What?"
quipped Ieyasu disdainfully. "You want it to become worse?"
"Ieyasu-"
"That's
not funny, you!" growled Atsumori, even more furiously. "If I had not
intervened, your butt would have been roasting in the torture chambers of Makai.
A hell of a thank you I got."
"Atsumori-"
"Stay out
of this, father," said Ieyasu. He's, mad, too. His eyes glared at the other
luminously. "I see. So now you think you're better. I wouldn't be in this
mess in the first place if that person in charge of the IC did his job and
prevented the leakage of information from the archives."
"Mercy!"
"That’s
not the point here!" Atsumori raged, ignoring the gibbering old man.
"It's not easy being in my position. With all these powerful beings, what
prevents an inside job-"
"So now
you're blaming me!" roared Ieyasu.
"I'm
risking everything trying to help you! Don't put words into my mouth, you
worthless ingrate."
"I didn't
ask for you help."
"Boys!"
yelled Kumagai. "Stop this!"
"STAY OUT
OF THIS OLD MAN!" screamed the other two. They resumed their explosive
arguing until someone finally started a fistfight. They didn't notice the girl
slip out of the uproarious room. They didn't see the tears forming in her eyes.
Notes:
Erg!
I forgot! You know, I had a hard time deciding whether or not I should add the
lyrics of Britney's Lucky. I thought it's a nice touch but then again I'm not
too fond of Britney Spears. Oh,
well!