Of Fans and Swords

I stared at the pillow tired from the night before. Mother was surely going to yell at me for ruining my hair. Mother isn’t going to be so pleased.

I rolled over to look at the ceiling. The bright rays of sun stung my eyes making me squint.

When was the last time I only slept for two hours? It was the night before and the night before that.

I sat up in bed and looked down at my pillow. My makeup had smudged onto the pillow, blending the red with the white, making it rosy color, which then had smudged on my face.

Trying to shake off my weariness, I stepped out of bed and walked over to my dressing table where a maid had placed a basin full of warm water hours before I awoke. I tugged at the various cords of my obi, slowly loosening them. Reluctantly, I through my weighty kimono onto the floor and dressed myself in a cotton dressing robe.

I washed my face quickly admiring the change of my skin color turn from milk white to its tan tone in the jade mirror of my dressing table.

When I was young everyone said I was a mirror image of my mother; dark eyes, lacquer black hair and naturally dark eye lashes. Now everyone said that I was the most beautiful woman in Kyoto.

It was said that I was born from the Sakura trees themselves, but that was just a story they made to cover up the truth that they didn’t want to hear.

I made my way downstairs the steps creaking as I descended. The okiya was quite except for the occasional clink when chopsticks were set down. Turning into the room off of the hallway, I joined Mother and the two other makio and three geisha that lived with us. They were all up before me, as always. I sat down at the table, farthest away from Mother.

“Sakura! What did I say!?” Mother stared at me with her yellow eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m late again, Mother.” I bowed apologetically.

“Be grateful that we didn’t kick you out yet after that display.” I felt ashamed that I had never made it past makio because of my clumsiness. No one wanted a clumsy geisha. Therefore I had no money of my own, all that I earned was the okiya’s.
The youngest makio, Akina, served me some breakfast. Being the youngest in the okiya, Akina was the nicest to me.

“Aww, is little Akina-san playing slave to Sakura-chan? How cute.” The elder geisha laughed and Mother watched them taunt Akina and I and did nothing to stop it.