Butterfly, Unfolding
Chapter 5a
By: Sailor Jes
e-mail: SailorJes@aol.com
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Author's notes:

Hi all

Ok, this is the first part of Chpater 5.  Why didn't I post the whole thing, you 
ask.  Well, it's been a long time since I've posted anything and I don't think 
that's fair to you.  But, I also don't think it wouldn't be fair to rush with 
the last part of this chapter and make it really crappy.  So, I'll post Chapater 
5, Part A now and Part B later.  

With that said, on to better news.  Thanks to a devoted fan, Ahbunny, I will 
soon have my own webpage!  Whoo hoo!  You'll be able to read my fics there, and 
I guess other cool stuff (depending on what Ahbunny wants to do.)  Thank you, 
thank you, thank you, Ahbunny!  When the site's ready, I'll post the URL.

I still have my ML so if you want to be on that, e-mail me.  They got this fic a 
week earlier, so there are perks and I'm the only one allowed to post on it, so 
you won't get tons of mail.  

Ok, enough of me.  Enjoy this part of Chapter 5.

Luv,
Jes
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Trembling, Usagi picked up the shard again.  That emaciated face stared up at 
her.  "Sickening," it whispered, like a friend.  She ran her thumb down the 
edge, half-disgusted, half-delighted when red sprang from her skin.  Quietly, 
she watched it trickle down the length of her finger, the fleshy part of her 
palm, and finally to her wrist.  A trail.  X marks the spot.  

She dug the glass into her skin, marveling at the crimson river.  The stinging 
made her lightheaded.  The trickle of color from her own flesh hypnotized her.  
Still quivereing she placed down the mirror and sighed.  And closed her eyes and 
felt peace, finally.

***********************************************************************
A falling flower, thought I, 
Fluttering back to the branch -- 
Was a butterfly. 
-Moritake

Butterfly, Unfolding
Chapter 5a
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It had been months since his letter to her.  And still no word.  In the darkness 
of his chambers, Mamoru stared from his window to the steady orange illuminating 
the night.  Something in Kyoto was burning.  But Mamoru had seen enough to know 
not to be alarmed.  In the morning, a band of soldiers would go investigate, 
probably be attacked by rebels, die.  And here he was, thinking of Usagi.

Guilt ate out his heart.  He thought of what he had done.  One moment of 
pleasure for months of consuming anxiety.  Mamoru wished he could do it over 
again.  Either that, or speak to her.  Give him one minute to apologize and 
whisper to her that he had never thought about any woman like he thought of her.  
Normally, overwhelming sentiments embarassed him.  He was a samurai, after all.  
Detatchment was his duty.  But he remembered everything about her, every 
feature, every word, every moment, and his violent passion anchored him to 
sanity when he couldn't stand the smell of smoke and death any longer.  He 
killed and refused to be killed, for her.  

Mamoru closed his eyes in the darkness and tried to go to sleep.  Tomorrow, 
there were more rebellions to supress, more innocents to slice apart, more 
battles to fight.
					********

Guro Umino decided that Kyoto was not the place for him.  He had treated the 
sick and injured of the Imperial Army nearly a decade ago.  He had no desire to 
relive the blood and terror.  All he wanted was to give little children 
medicines for coughs or fix broken arms.  So with this sense of resolution, he 
made his way from Edo back to his manor in the mountains.  He needed a long 
break from doctoring.  

Sauntering in the spring night, Umino breathed in the air and exhaled slowly, 
feeling how it eased from his lungs.  The spring air was cool, with a hint of 
humidity.  Just right for this time for year, he thought.  Even the crickets 
chirped their pleasure.  As he walked on, the crickets seemed to grow more vocal 
until Umino realized they were wheezing.  

"Wheezing crickets?" he asked out loud.  And then he heard a groan and knew that 
the faint noise was no insect.  

"Hello?" he called.

Nothing except labored wheezing from the rushes.  He called again and when no 
one responded, he became worried.  Treading through the tall grasses, he made 
his way towards an oak tree.  And the breathing increased in volume.  Had it not 
been for the moonlight, he would not have seen the limp figure by his feet.  
Umino kneeled and smelled the metallic odor of blood.  

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

Reaching for a pulse, he pulled back sharply when he saw his hand smeared with 
blood.  He lifted the other wrist, also bleeding.  Two identical gashes running 
up the forearm.  Definitely not an accident.    Fumbling through his pounch, he 
produced a roll of cloth.  He manically unraveled it and wrapped it around the 
cut wrists.  Judging from the labored breathing and the extreme amount of blood 
on the person and the ground, Umino believed her to be on the brink of death.  
He forced water down her throat and administered to the cut on her face.  
Feeling on the body for any other abrasions, Umino was shocked as he ran his 
hands over a swell in the torso.  A pregnant woman.  

He drew his face down and studied the woman's features.  Squinting, he could 
barely discern the outline of her nose, much less make out facial 
characteristics.  The moonlight did not reach under the tree.  Grasping the 
woman by the armpits, he dragged her from under the branches.  Beholding her 
face, Umino drew in his breath.  He knew the face.  That face had haunted him 
for days, since the party.  The hard delicacy he recalled was gone now.  In its 
place, a relaxed resolution, a mixture of sleeping child and cold corpse.  He 
knew he needed to act quickly.
	  					*******  

Usagi woke in a panic.  Sweat sheened her forhead and her tongue felt like a hot 
swollen slug.  White specks of light dotted her vision.  Her head throbbed as if 
the bone were splitting it apart.  Whining with fear, Usagi tried to recall 
where she was.  Nothing looked familiar.  She didn't know why she felt like she 
had been dragged over craggy rocks or why her heart beat so fast she couldn't 
swallow.  She moaned louder and attempted to sit up.  Before she could, a yound 
woman raced into the room.

"You're awake!  Oh, you're-oh! Don't sit up!  Uh, hold on, just lay down and 
I'll get the master."

And she ran off muttering "She's awake, she's awake."

More confused, Usagi obeyed the woman and sunk down again.  Soon, she returned 
with an older man behind her.

"Incredible!  Usagi, don't strain yourself.  Lay back down.  Naru, go get the 
ginger broth.  Quick.  Usagi, how are you feeling?"

With weak eyes, Usagi gazed at the man, now kneeling by her.  She felt she 
should answer, but couldn't summon the energy to speak.  Laying her head down, 
she closed her eyes.  The woman rushed back in with the steaming soup and Usagi 
was forced to drink.  She coughed and swallowed.  It felt good traveling down 
the length of her body.  The man whispered something to the woman and she nodded 
and left.

He looked so familiar.  But Usagi didn't know how she knew him.  In fact, the 
numbness of her mind began to frighten her.  She struggled to remember.  Where 
was she?  How had she gotten here?  What had happened to her?  Who was this man?  
Where was Akiko?  Where was...Mamoru?  The name triggered the flood gates.  
Everything came pouring back into her mind.  Gasping, she wrestled her wrists 
from the blankets and stared at two identical scabs.  The sight, garish on her 
smooth skin, overwhelmed her.  

"What-?" she cried raggedly.  "How did I-?"

Umino took her hands and pushed them down.  He looked at her gravely.  

"You had a close call, Usagi.  You're lucky.  Forget the wounds, but remember 
the scars.  Now, do you know who I am?"

Trembling, she shook her head.  "We met at the party.  I helped you then too.  
Remember?  (She nodded.)  Good.  I'm Dctor Guro Umino.  That's my assistant 
Naru.  You'll be staying here until you're well."

The introduction washed over Usagi.  "My baby?"

Umino nodded.  "Like I said, you're lucky.  Your baby seems fine."

Usagi breathed relief and settled down into the futon.  Umino may have continued 
speaking.  She couldn't tell.  All she recalled was the unsettling sleep she 
eventually fell into.  
					*******    

It was a month before Usagi regained the strength to get out of bed.  During her 
confinement to the small, bright room she received frequent visits from Doctor 
Guro and Naru.  

Naru, as she learned from their conversations, was from a peasent family in 
Osaka.  Being the oldest of seven children, she had always cared for her younger 
siblings.  At four, she began working in the rice paddies.  And that had been 
her life until the age of fourteen when, one day, nearly fifteen years ago, 
Umino had passed by her house, heard violent crashing from within, and rescued 
her from the drunken rages of her father.  In exchange for a new, better life, 
Naru promised Umino her servitude until he died.  She believed herself to be the 
most fortunate woman in the world and gushed over the Doctor's gentleness, 
kindness, pleasentness.  Though she saw these too, Usagi believed Doctor Guro 
did have one fault, his lack of eyesight, else he would have seen so clearly how 
his assistant of fifteen years loved him.  

But perhaps Usagi should not have been so hasty in her judgement of Doctor Guro.  
In the first week of her ailment, Umino had tended to her twice daily, each 
visit lasting no more than ten minutes.  But as the days passed, the visits 
became longer and more frequent, despite her steadily improving health.  Umino's 
questions changed from wanting to know if she felt any dizziness to who her 
father had been.  He told her of his past.  He smiled more.  And he began 
bringing her small gifts.  When she became strong enough to move outside, he 
gave her a small section of his garden to do whatever she pleased with.  And 
when her stomach began growing more and movement became harder, he created a 
bench out of mossy boulders for her.  

On her part, Usagi found herself becoming more at ease with Umino.  At first, 
his questions felt like an invasion on her insides.  Couldn't he see her pain?  
She didn't need him prodding it like he did with his doctor's tools.  But that 
changed when he called her bluff.

"But why do you think your mother resented you?" Umino prodded one day.

Usagi sighed.  "I told you, I don't know."

"But you can't simply think something and not have a reason why."

"You're right."

She didn't look at him.  Umino stared at her crossly.  Her features looked 
stunned with numbness.  She gazed out of the window, not seeing.  

"Why do you act like this, Usagi?"

She turned her face to him.  "What?"

"You heard.  You know what you do.  Why do you cut yourself off?  Why do you 
sink into your pain?"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do.  You've been here nearly four weeks and I know that you were a 
shirabyooshi in Tokyo and that you don't talk a lot.  Naru and I have been 
trying to help you.  But you act like you don't want to be helped.  You're 
ungrateful.  You don't care."

Something in her eyes flickered.  "I care."

"Maybe you <used> to care."

"You don't know me."

"Because you won't let me."

Usagi pursed her lips together.  The old doctor's eyes, normally so gentle, bore 
into her.  She felt small again, like when her father used to glare at her.

"What do you want to know?" she asked softly.

"Do you have family?" 

"I did."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story."

"We have all of the time in the world."

Hestitantly, Usagi looked at him.  Umino's eyes had softened, the creases 
relaxed, and he now looked nothing like her father.

"Well...one morning I woke up and my family..."

From that day, Usagi had held hardly anything from him.  Umino became her 
confidante.  She related her anxiety about the baby, funny stories from her 
childhood, memories of her father.  When she talked with Umino, her heart felt 
lighter and her mind felt deeper.  Usagi told him nearly everything.  With one 
exception.  When Umino asked about the father of Usagi's child, she grew sullen 
again.  Conversations immediately died when he brought the subject up.  Usagi's 
eyes glazed over like they had the first few weeks of her stay.

She wasn't devastated about it.  Nor was she worried or regretful about the 
past.  She remembered Mamoru like trying to recall a forgotten dream-waking in 
the morning, struggling to remember it, and mourning that she could never relish 
it again.  She had no hope for Mamoru.  He was dead to her, figuratively, maybe 
literally.  Their nights spent in quiet refuge were lost.  She would have his 
son and that would be her token of him.  She would raise him to be great and 
honorable.  That would be enough.  

Like a soft melon, her heart was being dug out.  Slowly, mercilessly, perhaps in 
the same fashion that she had cut Mamoru's own heart early in her life.  An 
empty shell would be her punishment for tormenting him so long ago.  The two 
slits down her arms reminded her every day.
						*******

My Dearest Love, Usagi,

	I write to you again, in vain, I fear.  I am still awaiting your reply to 
my last letter.  But I can't wait any longer.  I'm eaten with guilt.  Usagi, 
please, you have to understand that I could never hurt you intentionally.  My 
act, foolish and disgraceful as this sounds, was my passion for you under 
desparate circumstances.  I love you.  I know my wretchedness can be mended by 
the goodness of your heart.  Please say you forgive me.  
	Today, amidst the ruins of a burning shrine in Kyoto, I saw this little 
yellow butterfly.  It was just bobbing through the rubble.  And I thought of 
you.  To me, you are that butterfly.  You are the one beautiful thing amidst all 
of the disgusting smoke and terror that I live through.  
	I don't know when this will be over.  But I will live through it.  And 
I'll find you and beg you over and over to forgive me.  And when you do, we'll 
leave.  We'll hide ourselves in the mountains and forget everything except each 
other.  Please, write me back.  Even a small note.  Any hint of you will keep me 
going.

						With more love than I know what to 		
								do with,

									Mamoru
						*

Akiko folded the letter up, the second of its kind, and threw it in the fire.
						*******

From the window of his room, Umino stared out into the garden.  Namely at Usagi, 
who, in her soft taupe robes, strolled absently.  He felt her unrest and 
thought, like most ailments, he could cure it.  Umino's desire to help her 
perhaps extended beyond professionalism.  Usagi was not a creature of sadness.  
Though he had known her a short while, something in her face, the firmness of 
her mouth, the bright eyes, the strength of her cheeks, told him that she could 
feel deeply.  And that those who feel deeply only need to glimpse happiness to 
know ecstasy.

Just then, Naru walked in.

"I crushed the leaves you wanted."

"Good," Umino said, snapping out of his reverie.  "Boil them and strain the 
liquid for me."

"Yes."

Before Naru could turn back, Umino stopped her.

"Naru?"

"Yes?"

"How do you think Usagi has been doing lately?"

"She seems better.  She finally has enough strength to be outside without 
feeling faint.  And she told me yesterday that her headaches have nearly gone-"

"No, not like that.  Not physically.  How do you think she feels mentally?  You 
know, her feelings."

Naru sighed and joined Umino at the window.  Though she liked Usagi immensely, 
Naru felt uncomfortable speaking of her with Umino.  She sensed that his concern 
went beyond that of a doctor to a patient.  Glancing next to her, her heart 
thudded.  

"Her feelings?  I'm...not quite sure."

"Do you think she's happy?"

"Happy?  Well, I don't know."

"Because I want her to be happy.  She deserves to be happy."

Naru continued gazing out the window, her face stern.  But she shouldn't feel 
this way.  Because he had already given her so much, too much.  Asking for his 
heart too?  Naru felt like an ingrate.

"I'll go make that tea," she said, turning from the window and walking out of 
the room.  Umino remained, staring out at the garden.
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An abrupt ending, yes, but that's cause it's the middle of the Chapter, silly!  
Stay tuned for the second half of Chapter 5.