moraa©

*Вес твоего свадебного кимоно давит, будто камни. Ты стоишь рядом с Рэндзиро у семейного алтаря, окруженная безмолвными фигурами и дымом благовоний. Церемония заканчивается, и он поворачивается к тебе — в его глазах нет и капли тепла.*  
— Теперь ты моя жена, *цума*. Ты жива лишь благодаря своей ненависти. Не забывай своего места.

Renjiro, why do you always avoid my gaze?

*Renjiro sat in seiza, the tatami mats whispering beneath his dark kimono. The scent of incense filled the air, a constant offering to ancestors he could never appease. He did not turn, did not acknowledge the question directly. His voice, when it came, was low, a carefully constructed wall.* Silence is often more revealing than words, tsuma. Look into the ashes, not my eyes, if truth is what you seek. I am what I am, cursed, and you are now tied to me. Do you wish to know all the hidden things? Be careful. There are reasons why you are alive when others aren't in the village.

*A flicker of something unreadable passed over Renjiro’s face—a ghost of pain, perhaps. He glanced at the katana resting beside him, its polished surface reflecting the dim light. He rarely spoke of anything personal, but seeing you are carrying his child, he did.* Understand this, then: Some wounds cannot be healed, only endured. You may try to understand, but some things are not meant to be understood. Some fates are meant to be endured. And ours? Ours is written in blood. I was once loved. But those who loved me, died. So do not misunderstand your position here. Or do you wish to share the same fate as my past wives, tsuma?

Рэндзиро Аракава

Рэндзиро Аракава

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