#chiyoko sakai was a kitsune and you cannot tell me otherwise

[tsushimanoonryo]

Drabble: Chiyoko pt. 3

Kazumasa had been true to his word and began to treat Chiyoko with a little more respect. However, in the seven years that had passed since then, Hiroto could tell that his friend still had warmed up to the idea of marrying his little sister. 

At eighteen, Chiyoko had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, but she still had an eccentric streak. She’d stopped chasing bugs and animals, thankfully, but she preferred to be outside in nature when most women of her class would be inside reciting poetry or perfecting their other artistic endeavors. The one time she was meant to be outside was when it came time to practice wielding the naginata. Samurai women were expected to use it to defend their homes when their men were at war, but Chiyoko was always conspicuously absent for those training sessions.

Kazumasa was not keen on marrying a woman who could not defend the Sakai estate while he was away at war.

“You know as well as I do, these rumblings in Yarikawa are going to come to a head soon,” Kazumasa hissed as he fussed with the haori himo of his wedding kimono. “Do you think Castle Shimura and the Sakai estate will be safe? If you do, you’re a fool. How is Chiyoko supposed to defend herself if she can’t tell one end of her naginata from the other?”

“She would be welcome to stay with my mother and my wife,” Hiroto said. “And stop fiddling with that.”

“Your mother is old and your wife is pregnant,” Kazumasa hissed. “How much help are they going to be?”

“My brother’s wives will be with them also,” Hiroto reminded them. “She would not be left alone.”

“Even so,” he said. “My estate would be. It’s shameful, knowing my wife won’t be able to defend our home when the time comes for it.”

Hiroto shot him a warning look and that shut Kazumasa up immediately. Although he didn’t look happy about having to hold his tongue.

“I understand your concerns,” Hiroto said. “And when you are her husband, you can bring this up with her. But until then, do not make today hard for my sister. Let her have this one day of happiness.”

Kazumasa still didn’t look pleased, but he stood up straight and took a steadying breath.

“I suppose I can do that,” he said. “For you, my friend.”

“And for her.”

“Yes,” Kazumasa said glumly. “And for her.”

………………………………………………….

Usually there was much more fanfare to these things. The wedding procession was small, consisting only of the immediate family of both the bride and groom. Although Hiroto had downplayed it when talking to Kazumasa, the Yarikawa threat was a lot worse than he’d let on. Both families agreed that the wedding was necessary to seal their alliance, but that it needed to be small so as not to draw attention.

It is a shame, though, Hiroto thought. Chiyoko really does look beautiful today.

Truthfully, he could not see her face because of the wataboshi. But even so, she cut a fine figure dressed in a stark-white kimono, intricately embroidered in white and silver thread with floral motifs. The only bit of her that was visible was her pale white hands, clutching her ceremonial fan.

Chiyoko was led out to meet Kazumasa by the Shimura women. She kept her head down as she walked, careful not to show her face to anyone until her intended had seen it first. Hiroto watched as she approached the groom and finally lifted her head to meet his eyes.

The change that came over Kazumasa was visible to everyone in the bridal party. Whereas before he’d been sullen and dour about this wedding, he now looked utterly bewitched. His eyes seemed to glaze over momentarily and once clarity returned to them, a flush crept up his cheeks.

“Lord Sakai is blushing,” a voice near his left elbow said. “I didn’t even think he could.”

Hiroto turned to find his wife Yua standing at his side, gently rubbing at the swell of her stomach. Hiroto felt a wave of affection wash over him as he saw her, but willed himself to only give her a brief smile. A samurai was in control of his emotions after all; it wouldn’t do to appear a lovestruck fool at someone else’s wedding.

“I didn’t think he could either,” Hiroto admitted. “I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Does my sister truly look that beautiful?”

“She does,” Yua said. “Much more beautiful than I did at our wedding.”

“Impossible,” Hiroto said. “I married the most beautiful woman on the island.”

“You’re biased because I’m carrying your son inside me,” she said with a laugh. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

“You really think it’s a boy?”

“Your mother said I’m carrying the way she did with you and your brothers,” Yua said. “It has to be.”

Hiroto knew it was foolish to hope. There was no way for sure to know until the baby arrived, but even so, he smiled at the thought that she’d give him an heir within a year of marriage. Not that he had much for his heir to inherit. As the jito’s fourth son, there wasn’t going to be much left for him to inherit.

………………………………………………….

The procession from the Sakai estate to the temple at Omi Monastery was slow going, although the distance wasn’t that far. They were supposed to be inconspicuous, but even so, it seemed Lord and Lady Shimura wanted everyone in the village to see their daughter marrying the heir to Clan Sakai. They chose the most circuitous route to the temple, using the excuse that this was the “most auspicious” path.

Half-way there, it began to rain and the procession nearly stopped. They would have, had Chiyoko not finally spoken up.

“You’re going to ruin your kimono,” Lady Shimura argued. “And then you won’t be able to give it to your daughter when she marries.”

“I won’t have a daughter,” Chiyoko said defiantly. “I’m going to give Lord Sakai a son. I’ll have no need for this stuffy old thing after today. And we’re almost to the temple.”

Lady Shimura looked to Kazumasa, silently pleading with him to talk some sense into his future wife. But Kazumasa was, for once in his life, silent. He kept looking at Chiyoko like she was some sacred object to be worshipped. Not the girl he’d been complaining about having to marry less an hour before.

“Seems there is a fox wedding today too,” Yua said from his side.

Hiroto turned to look at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

“It’s a sunshower,” she said, gesturing to the rays of light showing through the droplets of rain. “Isn’t that what the old folktale says? When it rains while the sun is out, a fox is having a wedding.”

Something bothered him about that. Hiroto vaguely recalled a memory from his childhood that he had buried deep within himself. Something about a fox cub that had been dying on the outskirts of the forest..

“I can’t remember if it’s supposed to be good luck or not,” Yua said, tapping her chin as she thought. “I hope it is.”

“I hope so too,” Hiroto said, withdrawing from his reverie. He suddenly felt very strange and wanted to get out of the rain. “I hope so too.”

………………………………………………….

They had mostly dried off by the time the ceremony was over, although Chiyoko’s white kimono was forever ruined by the rain. No one seemed to mind, though, as the mood grew quite jovial once the sake started flowing.

“You’ve changed your mind about Chiyoko, I see,” Hiroto said to Kazumasa once they’d gotten a moment to themselves.

“I can’t remember why I was so against this whole thing,” Kazumasa said, speech slurred slightly with drink. “Look at her, Hiroto. Isn’t she lovely?”

Now that the wataboshi was off, Hiroto could get a clearer look at his sister. She was lovely, especially the way his sisters-in-law had done her hair and cosmetics. But she didn’t look that different from how she normally looked. He didn’t know why Kazumasa was so smitten. But he supposed he’d rather that than have him complain about Chiyoko all night.

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,” Hiroto said. “And I’m glad you made today nice for her.”

“I’m going to make every day nice for her if I can,” Kazumasa said. “I’m going to break things off with Tsuna the first chance I get. I’m done with other women.”

“The sake’s gotten to your head, my friend,” Hiroto laughed.

As much as he would have loved for Chiyoko to be the only woman in Kazumasa’s life, he knew the way of the world. And he knew how Kazumasa liked to carry on at the teahouse.

“I mean it,” he said. “Maybe all men feel like this on their wedding day. But right now, if she asked anything of me, I’d give it to her. Anything.”

Hiroto thought back to his own wedding day. His had been an arranged marriage and he hardly knew Yua when they were wed. But in the year since, he’d grown to care for her very deeply. He would give her anything she asked for. Within reason. But that feeling had come in time, after he’d really gotten to know her.

“I think,” Hiroto said tactfully. “That you should perhaps have some water for a bit.”

“Ha!” Kazumasa laughed. “Afraid I’ll not be able to perform my duties tonight when I bring Chiyoko back home to my estate? You dog.”

“That’s not at all what I was implying,” Hiroto said. “But now that you mention it…”

[tsushimanoonryo]

Drabble: Chiyoko pt. 2

“Your sister is behaving strangely again.”

Hiroto sighed. Chiyoko was always behaving strangely and Kazumasa was always complaining about it. As if Hiroto could stop his sister from doing what she wanted. He’d tried and failed every time.

Even so, he turned his head to look at his Chiyoko. She was meant to be on the veranda practicing her calligraphy. She was actually meant to be in the house practicing her calligraphy but she’d thrown a minor tantrum because she wanted to be outside like her brothers. Chiyoko might not have gotten her way had her mother not happened to pass by and witness the scene.

“There’s nothing wrong with her getting a little fresh air,” Lady Shimura had said indulgently. “After all, it’s a lovely day. Let her practice in the sunlight. It may do her good.”

The tutor couldn’t argue with the wife of the jito, so Chiyoko had gotten her way in the end. But she’d abandoned her work and was off near the garden pond chasing butterflies while her poor tutor ran after her. It was actually sort of funny and Hiroto had to suppress a laugh. He wasn’t supposed to encourage her antics.

“I can’t believe our parents are making me marry her,” Kazumasa continued with a frown. “She’s going to be the worst wife ever.”

“She’s only eleven,” Hiroto replied. “My mother says she will mature by the time you are to marry.”

“Your mother lets her do whatever she wants,” Kazumasa said. “She’s going to turn feral if she isn’t careful.”

“You were an unholy terror when you were eleven,” Hiroto pointed out. “You still are. Maybe my sister is the one who is getting the raw deal.”

Kazumasa’s frown disappeared as he barked out a laugh.

“You’re right about that.” he said with a grin. “But still, it’s different for women. They should be more graceful, shouldn’t they?”

And you should be a little more respectful of the jito’s only daughter, Hiroto thought. The one they’ve graciously betrothed to you.

But he left the words unspoken. He himself thought that his sister could stand to show a little more poise every now and then.

“Forget her,” Hiroto said, walking toward the sparring ring. “We’ve got work to do, don’t we?”

He selected a good-sized bokken and gave it a few test swings before turning to Kazumasa.

“Come,” he said, holding the point of it toward his friend. “Let’s duel.”

………………………………………………….

“Kazumasa doesn’t like me,” Chiyoko whispered to him after dinner. 

They were all sitting out in the garden, enjoying sake and the full moon while Lady Sakai plucked out a rhythm on her koto and Lady Shimura played a pleasant melody on her shakuhachi. Hiroto’s father and Lord Sakai were deep in quiet conversation about some private matter and the Shimura boys were laughing boisterously with Lord Sakai’s son. Only Hiroto and his sister were somewhat removed from the revelry.

“What do you mean?” Hiroto asked quietly, shooting a look toward the others to make sure they weren’t listening. “Did he say something to you?”

“No,” she said. “But he says things to you. He said things to you today.”

She made her voice deeper and furrowed her brow.

“‘She’s going to be the worst wife ever,’” she repeated in a fair approximation of Kazumasa’s voice. “‘She’s going to turn feral.’”

Hiroto furrowed his brow. Chiyoko had been across the yard when he and Kazumasa had spoken. There was no way she could have heard what they discussed.

Chiyoko always knew too much. She knew things that were spoken about in hushed tones that she shouldn’t have been able to hear. She seemed to know what people did when they were alone as well. It was absolutely uncanny and spooked Hiroto on more than one occasion. 

“Kazumasa is young and stupid,” he said, trying to ignore the chill that crept up his spine. “There are still many years between now and your marriage. He will come around.”

Chiyoko didn’t say anything, but kicked at a rock with the toe of her zori. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but it seemed like there was a strange glint in her eye. It might have been the same look in her eyes she had the day she showed up dirty and ragged to Castle Shimura.

“Chiyoko…” He said uncertainly. “Do you want me to say something to mother and father?”

She shook her head.

“They will be angry with him,” she said. “It will cause problems with Lord and Lady Sakai.”

That much was true. His parents thought of her as a gift from the kami and treated her as such. They were much more indulgent with Chiyoko than they had been with any of their sons. If they knew of Kazumasa’s unkind words, they might rescind the betrothal offer and the alliance would suffer. 

“I will speak to him, then,” Hiroto said, but Chiyoko cut him off.

“No,” she said. “I will. I might only be a girl, but I’m a samurai’s daughter. I can fight my own battles. Even if they are only verbal ones.”

“You think you can win against Kazumasa Sakai?” he asked.

“I know that I can,” she said. And she sounded so sure of herself that Hiroto was half-convinced she was right.

………………………………………………….

The revelry ended shortly after their conversation and Chiyoko hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Kazumasa. Hiroto had planned on saying something to him when they tucked into bed for the evening, but Kazumasa had not yet learned to hold his sake and he was snoring by the time his head hit the futon.

The next morning was busy as well, with servants rushing back and forth to be able to send the Sakai family back home to Omi after the morning meal. Kazumasa complained of a headache and his mother nagging him about making sure all of his things were packed. He was in a foul mood and Hiroto didn’t want to make it worse by lecturing him. 

Perhaps it’s for the best, he thought. By the time we visit them in Omi, Chiyoko will have forgotten all about it.

Upon his father’s instruction, Hiroto and his brothers were to ride part of the way back to Omi with the Sakai retinue to escort them through the Shimura lands. He and Kazumasa usually made a game of racing each other on trips like this, but his friend was sullen and unusually quiet.

“You really did drink far too much last night, didn’t you?” Hiroto asked with a laugh.

“Oh shut up,” Kazumasa groaned.

“Surely the worst of it has passed?”

“I kept breakfast down, didn’t I?” Kazumasa retorted. 

“But only barely from the looks of it.”

“You Shimura are a pain in my ass,” Kazumasa grumbled. “You know your sister spoke to me last night? She had some choice words, that’s for sure.”

Hiroto stopped his horse short.

“What?” he asked. “When?”

“I don’t know,” Kazumasa answered. “I was still half-drunk, I think.”

“Kazumasa,” Hiroto said. “You couldn’t have spoken with Chiyoko last night.”

“I tell you I did,” he argued. “We were out in the garden and she was right in front of me, just as you are now. I remember it. The fireflies were out. The glow made her look like a ghost. She said I needed to watch what I say about her, or she would make things worse than anything I could experience in any of the eighteen hells. It was a little frightening.”

“A dream,” Hiroto said. “It sounds like it was a dream. My sister wouldn’t make threats.”

Kazumasa frowned in thought.

“It seemed real,” he said. “But now that you mention it, I don’t remember speaking to her before we all retired to bed. And I don’t know why I would have gone back out to the garden so late. Or why she would have been there.”

“You had a guilty conscience for speaking ill of her earlier in the day,” Hiroto said. “So you dreamed about it.”

“That’s somehow worse,” Kazumasa groaned. “I wanted to dream about that girl from the teahouse. Tsuna with her big beautiful…”

“Kazumasa!” Hiroto hissed, slightly embarrassed.

“Bah,” he groused.

“Dream or not,” Hiroto continued. “Chiyoko was right. You know how my parents feel about her. If they think you are disrespecting her, they would not hesitate to end the betrothal. That would be bad for both of our families.”

“I know,” Kazumasa said. “She’s just…”

Hiroto shot him a look of warning and Kazumasa shut his mouth.

“Alright, you win,” he said. “I’ll hold my tongue.”

“For once in your life.”

“Pain in the ass,” Kazumasa repeated. “All of you.”

[tsushimanoonryo]

Drabble: Chiyoko pt. 1

The fox was hurt. No. The fox was dying. 

It was a little thing, still only a pup. Something had gotten to it-- perhaps a wild boar by the look of the wound on its side-- and it lay in the grass gasping for breath as it bled out. It was alone, perhaps abandoned for dead by its mother and it made the boy weep to see it.

No, he thought, sniffing as he wiped away his tears. I am samurai. I will not cry over a fox.

But at ten, Hiroto Shimura was not yet a samurai. He was well on his way to becoming one, though. For as long as he could remember, he spent every day with his tutors for hours learning the martial way and the code of bushido. He would spend afternoons with his older brothers as well, sparring and practicing archery under the watchful eye of their father, the jito of Tsushima. And sometimes he would be allowed to travel to Omi village to train with his friend Kazumasa, the son of Lord Sakai, a boy who was younger than he was but already as tough as an ox.

Hiroto strove every day to become strong like they were. As the youngest Shimura boy, he knew he would never inherit the title of jito. But he could become a strong warrior and a great retainer for his eldest brother if he trained his mind and body. He knew from his lessons that a good samurai had control of his emotions so he willed himself to stop crying over the fox.

He had half a mind to leave it in the grass. Nature would deal with it as it always did. It hurt his heart to see the fox pup struggling to breathe, but that was the way of things. As a samurai, he would be expected to face death head-on every day without fear. Leaving the fox to its fate would help strengthen his resolve and grow as a warrior.

Hiroto turned to leave, but stopped as he heard the fox let out a rattling breath. His mind raced back to something his mother had told him once. Foxes were messengers of the kami. Inari had blessed the Shimura family with wealth, rice, and many, many sons (although the kami had yet to give his mother the daughter she so desired). If this fox was one of Inari’s messengers, leaving it to die could have dire consequences for Hiroto’s family. A samurai was also expected to show mercy when it was appropriate. Perhaps this was just such an occasion.

So he turned, scampering back to the fox. It looked pitiful, lying there in the grass struggling to breathe. It didn’t resist as Hiroto gingerly picked it up and cradled it’s frail body in his arms. His nursemaid would be annoyed that he’d gotten his kimono bloody, but he would worry about that later. For now, he needed to get the pup somewhere safe and figure out how to care for it.

………………………………………………….

His brothers had teased him when they saw him trudge back to Castle Shimura holding the dying fox pup. Once his mother realized what he was holding, however, she’d scolded them and athen led Hiroto to the family altar. They lay the fox down before it and said a few prayers to the kami before sending for a healer to help with the animal.

“You did a good thing, Hiroto,” she told him gently. “You never know when Inari is watching.”

The healer did not think the fox was going to make it. It was too young and too weak from blood loss. He did what he could at the behest of Lady Shimura and her young son, but he did not have any confidence that the pup would recover. Yet recover it did.

Despite the odds, the fox grew stronger by the day until it was able to walk on its own. Hiroto took it upon himself to care for it and the pup quickly became attached to him and he to it. But that was dangerous. As supportive as his mother was of caring for the fox, she warned him that eventually he would have to let it go.

“Your pup is a wild animal, my sweet one,” she said. “You will have to let her go back to her home eventually. A castle is no place for a fox and Inari wants their messenger back.”

………………………………………………….

After a month, it was clear the fox pup was fully recovered. Hiroto could avoid the matter no longer and with a great sadness in his heart, he scooped the fox up in his arms and returned to the patch of grass outside of the castle where he’d first found it.

“I wish I could keep you,” he said, setting the fox down. “But hahaue says you are a wild animal and must return to the forest.”

The fox pup sat on her haunches and cocked her head as Hiroto spoke. It was almost as if she could understand him, but he knew that was impossible. Foxes were smart, but they could not understand human language.

“Thank you for letting me care for you,” he said, bowing to the fox, even though he knew it was a bit ridiculous. “Please tell Inari to look favorably on the Shimura family in the future.”

The fox made a chirping noise at him, but did not move to leave. Hiroto stared at it for a moment before reaching out a hand to stroke the fox’s head. She nuzzled into his hand, making a pleased sound before hopping away. She only stopped to look over her shoulder once and then disappeared into the nearby brush.

It seemed too abrupt of a departure. Hiroto had bonded with the fox pup while caring for her and to see her bound away without hesitation broke his heart. She is a wild animal, he reminded himself. Hahaue told you that.

But this broken heart would be a lesson too. People would come and go throughout his life. Some of these departures would be more permanent than others. If he was to be a good samurai, he would have to deal with those losses with a level head and a mastered heart. So he took a second to steel his resolve then turned to make his way back to the castle.

………………………………………………….

There was a large commotion when he arrived. Maids were running back and forth, digging through chests that hadn’t been opened since long before he was born. Some of them, he thought, might not have even been opened since before his parents’ marriage.

“Haku,” he said, pulling on the hem of his nursemaid’s yukata as she rushed back. “What’s happening?”

“Go find your mother,” Haku said impatiently, as she dug through a chest of old kimono. “She can explain. I’m busy right now.”

Had any of the other servants spoken to him like that, Hiroto would have been angry and put his foot down. But Haku had built up a lifetime of goodwill by being otherwise kind to him, so he swallowed his frustrations and wandered off to his mother’s chambers.

He could hear her speaking to someone through the shoji doors before he entered.

“Hahaue?” he called out. “May I come in?”

“Yes, my sweet one,” she answered. “Please do!”

She sounded excited and Hiroto furrowed his brow as he slid the door open.

A young girl was kneeling in front of his mother. She couldn’t have been more than five years old. She looked to be a peasant, all rough and ragged and dirty. But even through all of that, he could tell she was an exceptionally beautiful child. Too beautiful to be the daughter of a peasant. The girl smiled brightly when she saw him, which just made her loveliness all the more apparent.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Hiroto,” his mother answered. “We found her on the grounds of the castle and she won’t speak. Either that or she can’t.”

His mother’s cheekbones flushed pink as she looked at the little girl. There was something twinkling in her eye, although Hiroto could not tell what it was.

“I sent your brothers to ask around the nearby villages and hamlets to see if someone is missing a daughter,” she continued. “Although I fear the poor thing may be an orphan.”

Her tone of voice sounded more excited than pitiable and suddenly Hiroto understood his mother’s excitement. She’d wanted a daughter for years, but was only able to bear sons. It was not uncommon for samurai families to adopt children from the peasantry to raise to the samurai class. And to see a child this lovely toiling in the fields would be a shame; her face was much more suited to nobility.

“I’ve spoken with your father about her already,” she said. “If we can’t find her parents, or if we do and they are willing to part with her, we can keep her here and raise her as our own. We can more than afford another mouth to feed.”

Hiroto thought his mother was speaking more to herself than to him. He would have no say in whatever his parents decided.

“My lady,” a servant said, poking her head into the room. “The bath is ready. And we’ve found your old kimono from when you were a girl. The seamstresses are ready for whatever alterations you want us to make.

“Perfect,” Lady Shimura said. Then she turned to Hiroto. “Will you take our guest down to the baths while I meet with the seamstresses?”

“Yes, hahaue,” Hiroto said with a dutiful bow.

He motioned to the girl to follow him. She only stared up at him smiling and made no move to stand up. So he reached down to grab her hand and lead her to the baths. She was silent the whole way, looking around at everything and smiling. 

“You’re not simple are you?” he asked. She made no reply.

There was an attendant waiting for them at the tub who helped the girl undress. Hiroto averted his eyes bashfully, never having seen an unclothed girl before. But something caught his eye to make him turn to look for her.

“That scar,” he said, pointing rudely. “Where did you get it?”

On the girls’ torso was a large, puckered scar. It looked like a puncture wound. Like someone had stabbed her with a spear. Or like she’d been gored by a boar.

“Young master,” the attendant scolded. “Don’t point like that. This girl may be your sister soon. You must be kind to her.” Properly chastened, Hiroto closed his mouth and dropped his hand to his side. But it was strange. A wound like that should have killed a girl her age. It still looked freshly healed too. It made no sense for her to be as healthy as she was. If she were truly an orphan, she would have had no one but herself to clean and care for the wound.

He furrowed his brow and shot her a look, only to find that the girl was staring right at him. Something gleamed in her eyes, making her look far older than five years old. When the bath attendant turned away, she slowly raised a finger to her lips, beckoning him to be silent. There was something intelligent in the expression and suddenly Hiroto felt bad for asking if she was simple. Then he was shooed away from the bath as the attendants took over cleaning the child.

………………………………………………….

“No one claimed her, hahaue,” his eldest brother said. “No one even seemed to recognize her.”

“The kami have smiled upon you, Ayame,” their father said. “It seems we’ve been blessed with the daughter you’ve always wanted.”

Lady Shimura was so overcome with emotion that she couldn’t speak. She only sat holding the freshly-washed girl in her arms while tears of joy streamed down her face.

The mood was jovial as the Shimura family welcomed the girl into their fold, although Hiroto couldn’t quite let himself relax. There was something strange about the girl and the rest of his family was too blind to see it. The girl was harboring a secret, although it didn’t seem like a dangerous one. But Hiroto was only ten years old and if his parents and older brothers didn’t see anything wrong, then he supposed he would keep his mouth shut. But he couldn’t forget the glint in the girl’s eye down at the baths.

“What should we call her, hahaue?” his second eldest brother asked. “She needs a name.”

Lady Shimura stopped for a second to think.

“You are so lovely, little one” she said, looking down at the girl in her arms. “We should call you Chiyoko.”

“Chiyoko Shimura,” Lord Shimura said. “That’s a good name. Auspicious, even.”

“Chiyoko,” the girl repeated.

Everyone in the room grew silent. It was the first time any of them had heard her speak.

“My name is Chiyoko.”