1. Morning Routine
The Maeda household woke up at five, starting with the head of the house who would wash his face and dress, ready to train. Shinju would follow in second, to set the example for the rest of the house, but also to wake the ‘pages’, the pupils of her father that aimed to become a master.
After washing her face both to wake herself and to get herself started she would dress in a hakama and a simple top before starting the morning training. First a warm up, then aikido, followed by archery or kendo, depending on the training schedule and specialisation.
Shinju had chosen archery, much to the dismay of her father. But she found solace in the aiming and the drawing of her bow, that moment of silence that surrounded her before the command to shoot was given.
The morning training ended at seven, where she was expected to cool down and to meditate and receive her pointers for improvements from the head. Compliments from her father were rare, especially so aimed at her, but she knew that she was his pride.
In her teen years she was expected to help out with the cleaning as well, but after her coming-of-age she was no longer considered to be a pupil anymore. Still, Shinju would remain, sometimes to help with the clean-up, other times to check up on sprains, or to give extra instructions to the younger pupils.
After showering Shinju would have breakfast at half past seven. At eight she would pay respect to her grandparents, which was also consequently the morning meeting. Reports were given, inquiries exchanged. Every start of a new month a presentation plan was given as well, every quarter a new business analysis, once a year new goals were set as well as the financial analysis. All in all the meeting could last from a mere hour to the afternoon, depending on what day of the year it was and what was on the agenda.
This was consequently also the time that Shinju’s true role within the family business started. The yearly reports, strategising, and the likes was where she was truly put in charge. If the morning allowed for it, if the meetings didn’t bleed into noon, Shinju would have the rest of the morning off until a string of meetings in the afternoon. Though, that by no way means that she could spend them at her leisure. Preparation and organisation was what followed, in which she prepared herself for whatever was scheduled later.
Sometimes, in the off-season, or usually Wednesdays, Shinju could be found in the main dojo, for once doing what she truly desired to do. But those moments were so rare, they were often more of an exception than anything.
2. Responsibility
“As the heir of the Maeda…”
Shinju could nearly dream those words, just as she could dream whatever was to follow. Yet, she didn’t show her disinterest or boredom, yet, she remained still and straight as she let the words reach her.
“As I’m sure you are well aware of…”
Her grandmother’s continued teaching of filial piety was a familiar introduction, and Shinju could almost predict what the reason was for the opening, hands wringing into each other as she just wanted to get to the point.
“Takeru is, as you know, from your mother’s side.”
Shinju felt cold as she was handed the picture. A male, of around her age, somewhat vaguely familiar, yet not. A bright smile, dark brown hair, he looked content with life, more than Shinju ever had felt with hers.
“Well trained, well educated, with a good background and a distinguished sportsman.”
Her grandmother’s words barely sounded through her as Shinju tried to maintain her breathing, trying to keep herself from showing the dread that was forming from the depth of her stomach.
“He will fill the gap that you leave when you take over. He can keep the Maeda relevant as a dojo while you focus on the business behind it.”
Her words stung, but Shinju could understand the reasoning. She didn’t have the talent with the sword. Even within archery she was considered to be somewhat average, barely able to maintain a spot on a national level.
“Takeru has five brothers and he is the middle one. I hope you will meet him with an open mind, just as he is entering this relationship with an open mind.”
Refusal was not an option, her grandmother made that implicitly clear to her and all Shinju could do was bow as she accepted the setup, her heart heavy as she realised that her life was forfeit before it even started.
3. Family Curse
Every year, without fail, Shinju and her family would visit the Oyama shrine in Kanazawa to pay her respect to the Sengoku head of the Maeda and the one that brought the family the glory they enjoy today: Toshiie Maeda. Every year it was highly anticipated, for the family believed that even skipping it for one year would trigger a family curse.
“The Maeda are not without their sins,” her grandfather spoke solemnly, “it is important that we remain humble and remember our clan’s origin.”
It was the first year that Shinju was to lead the ritual, dressed entirely in black simple robes on that chilly spring day. She was shivering each time the wind blew past her, but she would have to endure. Endure until the ritual was over.
Every year, without fail, Shinju would have a fever dream after returning from the Oyama shrine. Though, that year that she led was the
worst, for she fell ill for a week afterwards.
“A common cold,” the doctor had said after examining her, “best to leave her to rest and keep her warm,” sounded the advice. And they respected that. But her family thought differently of the source.
“Did you dream?” her father questioned her sternly and Shinju could only nod, delirious as she felt from the fever she ran.
“Did you see him? Them?” he continued to press and Shinju could only draw a ragged breath in answer.
The dream her father referred to; a dream of who they believed to be a Toshiie remorseful of his life in which he had taken so much, hadn’t come to her. Instead Shinju had dreamt of white foxes dancing around the shrine, as if luring her. However, every year without fail her family was convinced she had dreamt the standard dream. Why else would she run the fever if not because she was the next heir of their dojo? Her father had them in his youth as well, her grandfather had been plagued by them, her great-grandfather had them lasting through his whole life.
Shinju decided to remain quiet instead, often feeling too awful to argue back, if she ever did. It was easier to have them believe that the Maeda sin had passed onto her, that the conscience of centuries of Maeda heads also rested upon her, instilling a duty to protect and glorify their old clan. Anything but a mischievous fox strangely vying for her affection.
“Now that you have led the ritual you are truly ready to succeed,” her father had said, a smile on his lips. How rare that look of satisfaction was on his face, “I will inform your grandfather, he will be pleased to hear this.”
But Shinju wasn’t pleased at all. Not if she had to fall ill for the sake of her family and be glad for it. Not if the whole curse they supposedly carried was a bunch of bogus that didn’t affect her in the way her family wanted it to.
4. Winter Moments
Winters in Kyoto didn’t tend to be cold. Rarely did it ever go below freezing point and for that Shinju was grateful, finding the single digit celsius degrees to be quite hard to withstand already.
“Shinju?” her mother’s voice sounded, looking around the room before looking down at the floor, “you will ruin your eyes like that,” she laughed, the image of her daughter cuddled up under the kotatsu while doing some paperwork.
“It is too cold,” Shinju responded, pulling the fabric of the kotatsu tighter around her, “and I’m not lying on my stomach,” she quickly informed.
“You will hurt your back then,” her mother continued, but Shinju ignored it, knowing that she was actually being scolded for her posture. But there was no one who would actually admonish her, and the female knew that she could expect a great deal more clemency from her mother than anyone else.
“Don’t you have the woolen haori your grandmother made you?” her mother continued to question, no doubt trying to coax Shinju out of her warm burrow and take a break.
Rolling onto her back with a sigh the female abandoned the papers next to her as she looked up, demonstratively pulling out an arm.
“Already wearing it,” she pouted, earning yet another laugh.
“Oh dear, did I give birth to a little frog perhaps?” her mother jested, finally moving to close the door behind her, “I will prepare some ginger tea, but do sit up already, I really don’t want you to ruin your eyes like that.”
Shinju could only sigh to herself, slowly peeling herself back into the open with a shiver.
“Nope, too cold,” Shinju tells herself, crawling back in.
5. Tradition
The plum blossom crest of the Maeda clan decorated her proudly. Five times, as tradition dictated, the red embroidery setting off beautifully against the white haori she wore over her furisode, on which the plum blossom motif returned once more, honouring her family legacy. It would be a getup she would only wear complete once. It would only be the furisode that she gets to wear again, with the coming-of-age ceremony.
“Man, this is really pretty,” Tsubame whispered as she admired Shinju from all sides, turning the female left and right as she kept on circling and circling around, “I’m almost jealous,” the friend grimaced as she patted Shinju’s arm.
“Will you be able to properly demonstrate your skills, though?” Ryu mused, a frown on his face, “those are a lot of layers, you know,” he continued as Shinju sighed.
“I will be able to change for the demonstration, that isn’t an official thing anyway. It is just to advertise the dojo,” the female explained, already dreading the rest of the day.
“Oh, so for now you just look pretty and sit still?” Tsubame chirped, clasping her hands together as she now got onto her toes, examining the decorations in Shinju’s hair. “Is this also why you had to grow your hair out this past year?” came the next question.
Shinju could only nod, though even that she barely could do without feeling like she was about to throw herself out of balance, the hair decorations heavy like a crown. Once more the reddish pink blossoms of her crest prided in her hair, contrasting against the dark tresses that were woven so intricately.
“Does this mean we will have to call you Shinju-hime from now on?” This time it was the teasing voice of Aoi that sounded, and Shinju could only grimace back.
“Please don’t.”
“You look like one of those debuting maikos.”
“That is an insult to both sides, Ryu.”
“Ah, but surely you will be able to wear these headpieces again, right?”
“No, I ho—“
“Shinju.”
The conversation between her friends and her halted as the group of senior high schoolers turned around slowly as her grandmother approached.
“Gra— lady Maeda? Mrs. Maeda? Grand madame Maeda?”
Without a fail Ryu managed to make a fool out of himself by panicking over the wrong thing. Luckily, her grandmother ignored him as she turned towards Shinju alone.
“The ceremony is about to start, tell your friends to find a seat in the crowd.”
Short instructions exchanged Shinju threw her friends an apologetic look before allowing herself to raise up her feet, her legs wobbling lightly on the geta that she wore before finding her balance and grounding herself.
“Well, see you on stage,” Shinju sighed, a short scoff escaping the teen as she shuffled towards the front, ready to start the initiation ceremony in which she would be declared an adult and the heir of Maeda.
The initiation-ceremony of the Maeda held a lot of similarities to the national coming-of-age ceremony. In a way, this was the Maeda’s way of saying that Shinju had grown up, and that she was ready to take her place and play her role in society. In a way, this was a coming-of-age by itself, though partially turned into a pr-event to garner that attention.
Climbing onto the stage Shinju made her way over to her grandparents, in front of whom she bowed first before pouring them a drink. Receiving their blessings she would then turn around, to her parents, and repeat the same thing, before finally facing the crowd, in front of whom she would also bow and then recite her vows.
A vow for her filiality.
A vow of her determination.
A vow of her loyalty.
Vows that would bind her. And had Shinju known at seventeen what she would know at twenty, and lament at 24, she would have fought against these vows.
6. Fighting
She was so sick and tired of everything. So sick and tired of the culture and traditions she had been trapped within.
Her return from the US had changed her as a person. New York City had forced her to realise the trap in which she lived, the gap in which she had fallen and to which she had returned.
It was the culture of her people, they had said. It was tradition, they had excused. Shinju had left it at that, kept herself quiet, smothered her heart. She had excused herself, and her wants and wishes, all for the sake of culture and tradition.
But she returned from NYC, with a MBA in tow, with all of the certificates to be a leader. She returned from freedom. Two years didn’t sound long, but it was long enough to change Shinju, long enough to make her heart reluctant and aching as she returned.
“No?” her grandfather spoke, voice so dangerously low as Shinju knelt in front of him. “What is it that you got into your head so far abroad? How dare you reject your legacy?”
His questions were sharp, and Shinju knew that she had to be careful with what she said next.
“Passing down the dojo through family will hurt the Maeda,” Shinju started, not missing out the shift in her grandfather’s posture, “we need dedicated people, we need zeal and passion, not obsolete traditions.”
It was the first time Shinju had spoken so firmly to her grandfather. The first time she had dared to express herself.
Drawing in a sharp breath the Maeda patriarch grew severe in his expression, his face taut as he looked down on his only granddaughter.
“Your zeal is in your filiality. Your passion cultivated. Your dedication is set by your sense of duty,” he firmly spoke, his usual gentle demeanour gone, “unless your parents have failed in your upbringing I do not see your point.”
To this Shinju flinched, not liking the direction the conversation was going into as she clenched her fists, her heart beating rapidly and felt in her throat.
“They haven’t. I just see no sense in insis—“
“Then is it the country in the west that has brought you these strange ideas?” her grandfather cut her off harshly, “have they taught you to disrespect your duties and your legacy?”
His voice never rose as he spoke, but Shinju much rather had her grandfather scream at him. At least then she wouldn’t feel quite so bad, at least then she felt that she could scream herself as well.
“You have grown impudent. It is time that you return already, and that you respect your duties again. I shall not forgive you for a second time.”
With that the conversation was over and Shinju was cut off from speaking her mind,just like that.
“Yes, grandfather,” Shinju replied instead, bowing one last time before she rose to her feet to leave, but not before her grandfather addressed her one last time.
“I have never approved of you going to the west to pursue that MBA, don’t make me regret it more than I already have. Your role is clear, see to it that you meet the expectations set.”
Nodding Shinju quickly left the room, her hand reaching over her chest as she clenched the fabric on top of it, her nails scraping over the skin harshly as if wanting to claw out that ache she felt deep within.
7. Animal cuddles
She felt herself a little overwhelmed by the affection given, the paws firmly set onto her shoulders as the full weight of the dog pushed her down.
“Hey, hey, stop that,” she giggled, but her fingers continued to scratch the samoyed behind his ears, not truly minding the excitement of the pet. It earned her another faceful of white fluff, earning yet another giggle as Shinju finally allowed herself to fall to the ground.
“He likes you,” Tsubame smiled. Peeling off her dog the female ruffed his fur one last time before commanding him to sit down. “Shiro has missed you, it seems, the little mischief,” her friend continued affectionately.
Sighing, Shinju rolled herself up straight again, hands dusting herself off from the fur that had transferred, “I have missed Shiro as well,” she admitted, reaching out a hand towards the samoyed who immediately handed her a paw of his own, “he is such a good boy,” Shinju exclaimed to this, petting his head.
“Okay, but what about me? Did you miss me? Or are we only friends because of my dog?”
Tsubame wasted no time in firing off her own questions, a bright grin crossing her face as she pulled Shinju into a hug of her own, “welcome back, frog,” she said, earning a scoff from Shinju.
“Maybe it is because of Shiro! I certainly didn’t miss my mother’s nickname,” Shinju exclaimed, but hugged her friend back all the same. A bark followed from Shiro, having recognised his name as he wanted in on the affection.
Rolling her eyes Tsubame let go of a quasi-offended scoff, a hand flitting over her chest with a gasp, “I will have you know that I didn’t have Shiro yet back in high school, so better set those priorities straight.”
To this the both of them laughed, a fit of giggles following as Shiro started to paw at the ladies, wanting back his attention.
8, Hobbies
“Do you have any hobbies?”
Takeru’s question shouldn’t have been any surprise, and yet it was as Shinju blinked her eyes, the cup of coffee halfway to her lips.
“Ahaha, don’t look so startled, please. I just want to get to know you better,” the brunette smiled gingerly, as he quickly backtracked, “maybe we could try something you like for the next date?” he continued, rubbing the back of his head.
Sucking in a sigh, Shinju tried to formulate an answer, wondering what she did besides from working as she eyed Takeru, wondering how honest she could be as well. He was, after all, handpicked by her grandmother and mother, there was no say in his genuinity.
“Ah, I should probably start myself?” Takeru continued to talk, much like the whole meeting had been like. Takeru talking to fill up the silence as Shinju kept to herself. It was already off to a great start, but Shinju honestly couldn’t feel herself opening up, not under these circumstances and it frustrated her.
“Obviously, I like kendo. I currently am participating in the nationals and hope to nab that first place,” Takeru rattled off and Shinju felt a flush of envy.
He liked what he did and he was good at it as well. Takeru was, by all means, the opposite of herself, the female judged.
“But next to kendo I also have a life, you know. I enjoy karaoke, going to bars, watching action movies, go-karting, fast rides…”
Takeru confidently listed off everything he enjoyed as he fell silent, soft brown eyes smiling at Shinju to encourage her to do the same.
“Your turn, missus, what do you do to relax,” he smiled, and Shinju wondered whether the two of them, if she had met this man under different circumstances, could have been friends instead.
“I also enjoy spending time with friends,” Shinju finally relented as she thought about all that calmed her down, “I also enjoy some calligraphy, and I studied sign language in America,” the female listed off, slowly finding the things she enjoyed when she was allowed some leisure.
“America? How exciting. I heard that you went abroad, right? You must be so smart, I never went, haha,” Takeru had interrupted her list with another beaming smile, more interested in her time abroad than anything else.
“It was a good time, yes,” the female answered as they slipped into a back and forth about her experience abroad. Each question hammered the female’s heart shut even more, as it became clear to her that Takeru truly held no interest in her as a person.
9. Festival/Celebration
“Gee, you ladies clean up,” Ryu looked impressed as he eyed both Tsubame and Shinju up and down, “though, that yukata doesn’t beat what you wore at the initiation,” the male continued, receiving a scoff from Shinju.
“Perhaps, but it is a thousand times more comfortable and breathable,” she retorted, rolling her eyes, “besides, when does Tsubame not look dressed to the T?” Shinju followed, nudging her fair friend.
To this the gymnast rolled her own eyes at the other two, her fingers running through her straight bangs as she shrugged, “can’t help it that all Ryu has going for him is that handsome face of his,” she spoke, a sardonic smile adorning the fair features of their very own fairy.
“It truly is no wonder that all the girls line up for Shinju instead,” Tsubame ended her attack, to which Ryu threw her a look.
“Well, no wonder that she has to deal with the confessions meant for you!”
“Yes, because even for male standards you are jus—“
“Let’s hold hands,” Shinju interrupted as she pulled out two pieces of fabric and started to tie the three of them together.
“Can’t afford to lose you guys in the crowd, right?” she continues with a teasing smile, deliberately tying Tsubame and Ryu together, “it will even be good diplomacy, now you are forced to hold hands,” she continued, enjoying the grumbling expressions of her friends.
“At least let me in the middle, so that I have a beautiful sandwich of good smelling people,” Ryu exclaimed before Tsubame tugged at the ribbon, forcing the male to stumble back.
“Nuhuh, the female said, pushing her wrist into Shinju’s vision, “she gets tied to me. Can’t have people believe she actually will settle for the likes of you!”
“And you don’t worry about your reputation?”
“As if anyone would believe I’d take a liking to you.”
The bickering between her friends earned a giggle from Shinju as she quietly tied another ribbon between the two of them, leaving no hands free for either whilst she went off on her own.
10. History
“You’re Maeda-san, right?”
The question came at random, coming from a young bespectacled man in a white lab coat.
“Depends on who asks,” Shinju spoke, apprehensive on why she was being approached, her posture ready to flee on the spot if needed.
The male’s expression widened, quickly fixing himself as he pushed up his glasses, a sigh escaping him as if to reset himself.
“Forgive me, I’m Sasuke Mikumo, astrophysicist and Sengoku fan,” the male introduced himself and Shinju let go of an involuntary sigh herself, already dreading whatever was to follow.
“Just visit the Maeda dojo, don’t approach me on campus,” the female quickly excused herself as she made her way down another path, hoping to shake Sasuke off.
This didn’t work, clearly as the male caught up to her again, arms spread wide as he dropped himself down onto his knees for a bow.
“Forgive me, but please hear me out. I’m not looking to sign up for classes, since I already have, nor for history lessons, since I already have, but I was hoping to observe a live specimen of a descendant of the Sengoku warlords.”
How Sasuke could say all of this with a perfectly straight face and without shame was beyond Shinju, bug noticing the way people stared and were staring the female ushered Sasuke up, a firm arm pulling him up onto his feet.
“Could have sent me an email instead, we’re both students. Fine, I relent, what classes did you sign up for in the dojo and what branch?”
The answer that came to that question was quite horrifying as well.
“I signed up at the main branch, figuring that the centre piece figures are likely to be there, though after examination they put me into the kindergarten class,” Sasuke admitted meekly as Shinju couldn’t believe her luck.
“What discipline?” Shinju questioned, already fearing the worst.
“All, and I know you teach the aikido and archery disciplines,” Sasuke deadpanned back at her, face unmoving as ever as he continued, “I start today, forgive my impudence, shis—“
“Stop. Just. Stop,” Shinju told him, feeling all of the energy sap out of her as she wondered what she had done to deserve this.
“One last question,” Sasuke spoke up, unflinching and unwavering; “do you descent from Toshiie or Keiji Maeda?”
Shinju could only groan at that.
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