Petty_Official Synopsis
The many seasons of life bring endless hardships and suffering. The spring rain seeps cold into the flesh, the summer sun boils the blood, the autumn winds are cruel, lukewarm, harsh winter freezes the soul, and yet there is a faint smile through it all.
Facing the moon, I am uneasy. The wolf howls, and I am afraid. The sword in my hand does not reassure me; the blood only pricks at the memory. Listen and I will tell you a fable from long ago, a story like a hundred seasons until the end of the night.
The Fuma clan was one of the seven great clans of the Whistlethorn continent. Each clan was backed by a major family under the command of the shogunate. For a hundred years, the Fuma clan had been slowly deteriorating, growing weaker and losing their standing. It was only a matter of time before they were wiped out. Their destruction would bring about a series of events that would shake the entire continent to its core.
The Fuma clan was in an uproar; today was the birth of the clan head's tenth son. The loud sounds of the music and festivities made it seem like a happy occasion, but a discerning eye would reveal the torrents rampant under the surface.
One would only have to look at the higher-standing members of the family to realize the truth. Many of them had frowns on their faces, and only the old matriarch seemed happy. The father had a slight frown on his face; the old matriarch's gaze was impassive, and the mother was terrified.
The reason was simple: the mother of the tenth young master was a maid, a servant in name, but a slave in actuality. This was because of the clan's strict hierarchy.A new son being born into the clan had upset the delicate balance of power between the feuding factions. "Waah," the baby's cry, brought silence to the hall as it seemed to entrance everyone, bringing a change to many faces in the room. Finally, a stony voice called out, "Bring him up." The midwife hurried to give the child to the patriarch, almost dropping it. After that, she scurried away and let out a sigh of relief.
The old patriarch glanced at the child before speaking, "Today I have another grandchild and the clan; another arm." The old man glanced at the child and inwardly sighed before speaking, "This child has sharp eyes. His gaze is still, which is rare in a newborn. Since his birth was but a few minutes ago, his crying has already stopped and his eyes resemble those of a hawk, so his name will be Taka. "
After he said these words, the hall became silent. It was as if someone had dropped a bomb. This was because everyone knew what it meant for the old patriarch to personally name the child; it meant that he had accepted the newly dubbed Taka as a potential heir to the Fuma lineage. These words were like a thunderstorm in the ringing of the ears of the various figures in the hall, each beginning to hatch their own plots and schemes.
Madam Ito marched into her courtyard fuming. Veins writhed on her arm as she clenched her fist, her nails biting deep into her palm. "Sanji, that bastard, I knew he had been fooling around, so I kept a close eye on that cousin of his; was it not enough that I allowed him three wives and a concubine?" She placed her thumb in her mouth in frustration and bit hard, tearing a chunk of skin off. She entered her room and sat in the center with her legs folded behind her and bowed her head on the tatami floor. Incoherent sounds came from her lips, and after fifteen minutes, she lifted her head; her eyes were bloodshot, and a wisp of madness flickered in and out.
"Keiko Hitomi, enter." The two maidservants standing in front of her room quivered and stared at each other uneasily; they had seen when Madam Ito had bit into her thumb, and that was never a good sign. Whenever Madam Ito mutilated herself, she transformed into a madwoman who lashed out at everything. They entered the room timidly, and Keiko intentionally lagged behind Hitomi. This soon proved to be a wise decision. As soon as Hitomi entered Madam Ito's room, she was asked to prepare tea. As Hitomi prepared tea using her master's favorite tea set, Keiko stood off to the side, not too far or too close, according to Madam Ito. A few minutes later, Hitomi made the table and arranged it according to Madam Ito's preferences. Just as she was pouring the boiling water into her master's favorite china, she stumbled, and a drop of boiling water fell on Madam Ito's skin. "BLAAM!", Hitomi was sent crashing to the floor and a red palm print scarred her face. The boiling water fell on her in the process, severely burning her, pieces of china shards cut into her skin. Madam Ito's shallow breathing from above sounded in her ears, and she raised her head and saw Madam Ito's contorted face leering at her. "Filthy slave, how dare you! Are you also attempting to shame me?"
"No, mistress, I..-I would never!", Hitomi cried repeatedly shaking her head.
"Little bitch, stop lying. I'm sure you became my maid so you could climb into my husband's bed like that imp!" She delivered a fierce kick to Hitomi's stomach, causing saliva to drip from her mouth. "No, never! That was never my intention. Please believe me!" "You filthy tramp, you dare to suggest I'm lying; Keiko, summon the disciplinary maids and order them to flog her thirty times!"
"Yes, Madam Keiko." She bowed low, then hurried to carry out her task.
"No mistress, please forgive me!" Tears streamed down Hitomi's face and her faces was now botched with snot, distorting her once pretty countenance; she dragged herself through the shards on the china on the floor cutting herself in the process and held onto Madam Ito's heel and desperately begged and pleaded for mercy. Madam Ito's countenance became black as she viciously struck Hitomi with her heel. Blood dripped from her nose and mouth, but Hitomi refused to budge and clung to Madam Ito as one would cling to a lifeline. About three minutes later, Keiko entered the room with some disciplinary maids in tow. She bowed to Madam Ito and gave Hitomi a pitying look, then walked to a corner of the room and didn't let out a single sound, melding completely into the background as Hitomi was dragged off of Madam Ito, out of the room and into the courtyard, still begging and pleading.
"Klack, klack, klack." Many hours later, the sound of wooden sandals echoed as a twelve-year-old child entered the courtyard and headed towards Madam Ito's room, pausing momentarily to stare at the bloodstains at the very center, then passing by without a change in his expression. He entered her room and called out to her, "Mother, what happened here?" Madam Ito rose from her curtained bed and rushed towards the child. "Akira-chan, a little maid, reached above her station and tried to harm me, so I taught her a lesson, that's all."
"Really?", "How unfortunate, but this is the sixth one this month alone." "I may believe you, father, however..." The child let his words trail off as a small smile was planted on his face, however anyone would be able to tell what the child was hinting at.
"No! Akira-chan, your father will punish me; what should I do?"
"Hmm, so even you know how to be afraid." "Alright, I'll help you since this incident could affect my position as heir, but you have to do as I say." She gripped his flowing yakuta robes as the wind blew in from the open shoji doors and the darkening sky started to release raindrops, providing an eerie feel to the picture of a kneeling mother and an upright son.
"Yes, I'll do as you say." An ominous smile spread across the child's face.
"Good, then you might as well disfigure yourself.