A Heart in Autumn

"But Okaasan..."

"You know better than that," she said in a low voice. I flinched at such a horrendous slip, but continued with my argument.

"But Okaasama, why can't I invite Kimiko over? She said she'd really like to see my house over the break, and I haven't ever had a friend..."

"Iie. I won't have other filthy children in my house. Having you home is quite enough for the servants to handle."

"But she comes from one of the wealthier families at the academy, Okaasama, and is very well-mannered. I'm sure she wouldn't be any trouble, and I was hoping to have a sparring partner over the winter. Onegai shimasu," I pleaded.

"Iie. That's what your sensei is for. Now go back to your room and study. I'm tired." She waved her hand at me in a clear motion, and I sighed, knowing I had lost yet again.

"Hai, Okaasama." I bobbed slightly and turned, not daring to let my shoulders slump in my mother's presence, and silently left the parlor. I mechanically ascended the decadent gold leaf-and-polished marble staircase and passed down several opulently-furnished corridors to my room.

Or what was once my room. It seemed that as soon as I was safely enrolled in Ohtori Academy, my private quarters had been transformed into yet another spare bedroom.

As if we didn't have enough of those, I thought bitterly as I sank into the bed.

My bed. It was my bed, damn it.

She wasn't really tired, I scowled. She was just tired of having to deal with me. Tired of having to see my face, the face that must have reminded her so much of Otousama that she couldn't stand to look at me.

Mistake.

That's all I ever was, along with that entire farce of a marriage.

Blinking unshed tears from my eyes, I lay there on the bed, once again dreaming of what my life might have been like if I had been given into my father's care when I was young. Would he see me as a mistake? Would he let me have friends? Would he care if I was happy or sad? Would he be there when I needed him?

I lay there for a while, thinking dark thoughts, then decided that I should be doing something more productive with my time. I scrubbed my face with a hand to banish any tears that may have escaped my eyelids, then sat up and left the room.

Training. I was getting soft. What I needed was a good, long bout of practice to take my mind off the disappointment I should not have been feeling.

Why should I have even bothered? I half-wondered as I carefully skirted the main staircase and took the servant's steps down to the ground floor. I had already known my mother would not grant my request, but some small spark of hope had made me ask despite that knowledge.

That audience had only reaffirmed my belief that hopes were for fools.

As I passed through the kitchen, I absently nodded to the chef and the few attendants on duty there, my mind still entangled within a turmoil that I had become intimately familiar with over the years.

When things got rough, I hid behind my training. Yet because of this, I was considered one of Yamura-sensei's best students. I had never been in any competitions due to my own choice, yet the man claimed I was still one of the most talented swordfighters of my age that he had ever seen.

Too bad I never felt like it.

I soon reached the small shed where my twin blades were being kept while I was on break (unfortunately, Okaasama wouldn't let me keep them in the house), and unlocked the sticky door with as little sound as possible. I had found this place on the estate long ago, and had made the abandoned gardener's shack my own, using my allowance to have the building repaired when I was young.

The room, with its now-peeling yellow wallpaper and scuffed oaken floor, used to be my playhouse, where I could avoid Okaasama and spend the afternoon playing with my overstuffed toys in relative peace.

It was just another form of running away, I realized.

The only difference between that and the form I practiced now was that swordfighting was actually useful. It gave me a target to attack, and maybe in the future, could become my vocation in life-as a well-respected sensei.

The short Toledo swords that had been hanging on a rack near the door were quickly strapped to my back, and I spared a glance at two dusty, wooden practice swords that lay long-unused in a corner. The grip of one was covered in winding strips of faded black leather, while the other was sheathed in a musty shade of white.

Kuro and Shiro, my best friends at one time. They seemed so small now, just lying there unloved in the corner of this hovel...

I shook my head of the memories the sight had invoked and scowled, then, turning to close and lock the door before heading towards the open patch of grass I used to practice at when I was at home.

"Home," I snorted, unsheathing both swords and settling myself into a ready position. The sunlight arced across the gleaming blades as I began my dance, a higher-level combat form known only to those of the Yamura school. "A stranger would feel more at home here," I growled as I turned to face the late morning brightness, almost daring it to blind me as I continued to perform one set after another of potentially lethal moves.

My mother hates me. My father abandoned me. I have no real friends at school. They don't care. Why should I care? I don't need them, do I? I don't need simpering affection that is only given out of concern for one's own welfare. I can manage. I am alone, I always have been, and I can handle that.

These thoughts and more whirled through my mind as I myself whirled with the furious pattern, a pattern that I knew could have easily won me several trophies had I ever bothered to enter a tournament.

Worthless. Those gold-colored tin-and-Plexiglas trinkets meant nothing to me, not as much as an honest smile or a small congratulatory comment from Yamura-sensei. I never wanted the recognition, anyway, not from those other idiots out in the world.

Why can't Okaasama be proud of me?

That single question ground my practice to a halt. Mentally snorting, physically panting, I decided I had had enough sword practice for the day. My focus had been lost in one fell swoop, and it would be foolish to continue training if my form was hindered by the imbalance.

One day, I vowed, I would be perfect. I would make my mother proud of me... or die trying.

Enough of that, Hikari, I chided, sliding my twin swords back into their sheaths and returning to the playhouse to clean and store them.

She wasn't going to control me forever, soon I'd be back to my own life at the academy... what little life I had... but that didn't matter. So Kimiko couldn't come over. So she'd probably take it as a final insult and drift away, as so many other potential friends had over the years. It did not matter. I wouldn't let it matter.

Sensei cared. In spite of everything else, Sensei was there for me.

I carefully, methodically wiped down and polished my blades, making sure the sheaths were clean and free of grime as well before replacing both short swords and leaning them up against the frilly wall of the hut. Stepping outside, I shut and locked the door behind me, not giving the rest of the room a single glance.

Thoughts spun themselves together in my mind as I walked off the property, not yet ready to return to the house and my unfeeling parent.

You can't change the past, Hikari.

But you can't change the future, either, I answered myself, sighing as the sun seemed to grow hotter and shadow-lines grew stronger around me.

Stuck at Ohtori, stuck at home... when is my life going to change? When is the world going to change? The sun ducked behind a cloud again, giving me a brief respite, and an easy breeze began to flutter around me, but it went virtually unnoticed as I blankly continued towards the nearby town, my inner dialogue driving me onward.

Not until you make it change, girl. Now, what do you propose to do?

I paused mentally, barely realizing that I had come upon a paved road and was no longer walking among the grass. I stayed along the edge, wary of cars, but otherwise, there was no real reason for me to note where I was going. I knew the town, I knew this road.

What do you propose I do? I'm only thirteen. I can't do anything. The school hates me, my mother hates me. I have no real purpose in this life, I don't know anything. I'm useless.

So? You already knew that. But then, who do you think told you that in the first place? You aren't worthless, useless, or anything else. You can do things. You know you can.

"I can't," I replied out loud, finally noticing that I was getting close to town. Yes, there's the old dead tree we always pass on our way in... dead and bare, like me...

Like everything. Everything I touch withers away. Nothing ever stays constant.

And whose fault is that? the words whispered in my mind.

Mine, I thought automatically. Everything was always my fault. I was always blamed. No one gave a damn about me. Who would?

Nobody, I answered myself. Nobody...

What about Sensei? a small voice asked, timid and fearful. Sensei likes us. He wants us to do better. He cares.

I had to agree with that, and continued into the city proper, my feet mechanically guiding me safely around busy shoppers, businesspeople, and cavorting children to bring me to the one place where I might find some small comfort.

Sensei's dojo.

Being a Tuesday, the habitual "closed" sign was on the door, but I knew better than to believe that. Smirking, I gave a rap upon the frame--quick, efficient, and enough to get the man's attention should he be anywhere within the offices beyond the portal.

I could almost feel Yamura-sensei's presence as he approached, giving a quick peek through the blinds at my side before unlocking and opening the door, a welcoming smile lighting up his face.

"Ah, Hikari-san!" he cried, ushering me inside with a gesture, "Come in, come in. I hadn't realized you were home... back on break, are you?"

"Hai, Sensei," I replied, giving a small smile as I made my way into the hallway that separated the office space from the training area. Turning back, I watched the man close and bolt the door before waving me over to his study.

"Good, good," my sensei nodded, following me in and sinking into the large chair behind his desk. "Have you been keeping up with your studies?"

"Hai, Sensei, both academic and martial." I sat demurely in a chair near the door, making myself slightly more comfortable than I would have had I been anywhere else.

"Wonderful!" the man grinned, picking up and straightening a pile of papers on his desk before placing them in a file folder and sliding that into a drawer. "Please forgive me, Hikari, but you caught me in the middle of my filing." He gave a cheeky smile that strangely did not seem out of place on his aged face, and I let myself return an impish grin.

"I assure you, that is no problem to me. Please, continue."

"My thanks," he rumbled gently before reaching for another stack of multicolored slips and began to quickly sort them. "So, how have you been faring since your return home?"

I pinked a bit in anger, not because of the question or the questioner, but at the memories of this morning. "As expected, Sensei. I only arrived yesterday evening." My voice was as smooth and controlled as I had hoped.

The man behind the desk nodded slowly, reading much from those few words, as I knew he would. "So, what are you planning to do?" I blinked.

"I hadn't really thought about that," I reluctantly admitted. "I wish I could return to school early, but it will remain closed for the rest of the week."

"You can't run from this forever, Hikari-san," Yamura-sensei admonished as he stood and took a file from a shelf.

Just watch me, I mentally snorted as he began to flip through the manila folder and continued.

"I am not asking you to rebel against your mother's authority, young lady, never think that, but it would be in your best interest to try and work something out with your mother. You are old enough to understand the need for communication, and perhaps speaking with her could give both you and her new insights." I scowled openly, letting my distaste for that approach be known.

"I would rather not, Sensei."

"I don't believe it would hurt you to try," the older man continued, and I shook my head as he placed the file on his desk and began to shuffle and add to its contents.

"You don't know my mother as well as I do, Sensei," I sighed, listening to the rustling of the papers for a moment before continuing. "I believe she holds me in almost utter contempt. Rational conversation does not have any effect upon her actions. Pleading does not sway her. Emotional displays are seen as weaknesses. That is, if she does not send me away immediately, Sensei," I ended coldly, bitterness creeping into my voice. "It seems I tire her greatly."

"All the more need for communication, Hikari," the man glibly replied.

"It's circuitous. The more I try to explain, the less she wants to hear." Yamura-sensei shook his greying head and placed the folder back upon the shelf behind him.

"As you wish, child," he sighed, "but I honestly think that you should give your okaasama one more chance."

"She blew that this morning," I countered rudely, blushing terribly in embarrassment before trying to excuse my gaffe. "Ah, forgive me." A quick bow in my seat, an acknowledgement from Yamura-sensei, and I continued the explanation. "Okaasama was unwilling to listen to my request to have a friend visit over the break. She claimed that she did not wish to have more 'filthy children' in our home." I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened, not willing to shed them for fear that my mother would somehow leap out of the shadows and rebuke me in front of my sensei.

I would not let them fall. I would not be that weak.

A warm hand fell to my shoulder, and I knew that the older man was standing before me, a sadness in his eyes.

"I understand, Hikari-san. If you truly think there is nothing more that you can do, then let things be awhile." I heard him shuffle back to his papers, heard the creak of his chair and the falling of his weight upon it, and soon felt that my eyes were clear enough to take a glance around the room.

Yamura-sensei was looking at me with a pain in his eyes, a pain that he had never displayed before. I sent him a questioning gaze, and he sighed, closing those burning orbs, hiding the hurt from my view as he settled back in his cushioned seat.

"Just memories, Hikari-san. Thoughts of the past, and what I wish I could have changed." He opened his eyes, now only filmed with a slight tinge of sorrow, and turned back to the work on his desk.

"Was there anything else you wished to discuss, Hikari? Or would you perhaps like to use the dojo? It shall be accessible to you any time you wish to use it while you are on vacation," Sensei said, sensing the previous subject was closed, at least for now.

"Arigatou gozaimasu, Sensei, and no, I have nothing else I wish to discuss," I replied, standing and smoothing the tucks of my blouse and pants. Ah, pants, another thing I missed because of school... I hated those dratted skirts, with their garish color and devilish habit of fluttering up at the slightest hint of a breeze...

I gave a smooth bow and thanked the man before me for his hospitality, waiting until he returned my gesture before standing and leaving the building, feeling better than I had for months despite the somber tone our conversation had ended with.

The late afternoon sun shone down upon the streets of the little city as I began my walk home, letting my mind wrap around what Sensei had said to me for the entire trip. I had been given much to think about, but knew that in the end, any arguments I might make before my okaasama would be futile.

In the end I gave up, deciding only on the fact that I would take as much advantage of Yamura-sensei's offer as I could, and practice my swordsmanship until it was time to return home... to Ohtori Academy.