Yang 5: Snowflake Sorrows

Yay for flashbacks and character backstory!

The sound of constant thudding filled the room. She wasn't about to give up, she'd be damned if she let them best her. It had been them, their fault; they were why she cried at night. She hated them.

 

Hatsumomo's fists were sore, but she simply gritted her teeth and kept up the ferocious assault against the door. She had an inhibitor collar around her neck, one that prevented her from accessing her chi and doubled as an explosive; if she tried to remove it without the proper code, she would die. On top of that, even if she did somehow manage to remove it and survive, the room had been specially prepared with dry air " it lacked any water vapour that she could manipulate. Maybe she could extract whatever water lay from the white rose in her hair, but she wasn’t willing to destroy it in the process. Further still, she wasn’t fully recovered from her overexertion the day before against the malevolent Kuchisake-Onna " she doubted she could muster up much mizudo techniques regardless.

 

Hatsumomo continued to pound her bruising fist against the door. They only managed to get the drop on her because she had used up most of her chi against Kuchisake-Onna; otherwise, she would’ve been able to defend herself. Who did they think they were? What did she ever do to them? No, it had been them who had wronged her, them who had ruined her life. And now it seemed they came back to finish the job...

 

Tears streamed down her face as she rested her head against the door, hope slowly evaporating from her. No; these were people far more capable than her in the mystical arts. Whether or not she was exhausted, she never stood a chance against them. She sank to her knees, tears falling fast and hard, silent as ever. Hatsumomo felt useless. She had been useless then and useless now. Why couldn't she do anything? Always the damned damsel in distress, always in trouble, always unable to do anything about it. Why did this always happen to her?

 

She longed for her mother, for her father...for her sister. But they had taken them all away from her. Especially her sister, that was the worst of it. She may not gone, but she was emotionally and mentally. Their actions resulted in her distancing from Hatsumomo, the only one she had left.

 

'Damn them all,' she thought bitterly, tears glistening on her petite face, 'Damn them!'

 

She slumped further onto the ground, lying on her side as she cried piteously. It was all she could do as unconsciousness gripped her...

 

Silent snowflakes fell from above, the sky shimmering with the precipitation. Hatsumomo smiled up at her mother, Mameha, holding onto her hand. The twelve-year old girl could barely contain the excitement bubbling within her. It was finally that time of the year: Sapporo Yuki-matsuri, the Sapporo Snow Festival, had finally arrived. She'd been looking forward to it all year, and now it was finally here -- the joy she felt was indescribable.

 

Hatsumomo had a special connection with winter. She had been born during that season, early February, and the beauty of swirling snowflakes never ceased to amaze her. Her mother had once told her that each snowflake was different, unique, and beautiful in its own way -- "Just like you", her mother had said, poking her nose, before scooping her up for a tight hug. Hatsumomo had giggled, making sure to remember her mother's words.

 

The young girl looked to her left, and saw her father, Hideo, holding hands with her sixteen year-old older sister, Sayuri. The girl looked rather cheerful, chattering excitedly with her father. Seeing her family happy made Hatsumomo smile brightly. She liked winter and its cold winds even more because it meant people were closer together, warmed by the power of their love. Winter was a beautiful time.

 

Her parents both donned pure white kimonos, crimson obi sashes binding it to their bodies, as did the children. White was the colour of the Yamaguchi family, symbolizing the purity of their clan. The Yamaguchi were considered one of the most prestigious families in Sapporo, her father acquiring the title of "The Baron"; Hatsumomo and Sayuri were also referred to kindly as the ‘Snow Princesses of Sapporo.’ The Yamaguchi family were respected and renowned for their kindness and honest words. Hatsumomo's father was gaining influence in the political scene of Japan, and would often attend banquets and ceremonies with other Japanese political figures. Her mother was often jokingly referred to as "Her Imperial Majesty" for being the dutiful wife and mother to Hideo and his children, with Hideo often being stylized by friends as "His Imperial Majesty". Hatsumomo was incredibly proud of both of her parents, as was Sayuri.

 

The snow continued to drift lazily all about them as they made their way to the pavilion, their wooden geta leaving prints in the snow. The entire family had long since mastered the shoes to the point they could walk without slipping, even in such compromising weather. Up ahead, Hatsumomo saw brilliant lights and large ice and snow sculptures. She tugged her mother's hand, Mameha smiling and turning to her husband.

 

"Anata, let us hurry." Turning a benevolent eye to her daughter, she smiled as she continued. "Hatsumomo wishes to see the geisha."

 

The geisha. Yes, Hatsumomo wanted to see them. To her, they were the highlight of the entire event. Their pale, powdered faces...their white, silken kimonos...their flawless, elegant dancing...they were beautiful, almost ethereal. Supernatural beauties, silent and graceful, calm and benevolent. She also felt there was a thrilling, dangerous factor about them...behind their sensu fans and flowing kimonos, they seemed to be secretive. She admired that about them.

 

Soon, they caught up to the masses of people, watching the spectacle before them. Hatsumomo gasped -- the geisha were shuffling onto the stage, silent and graceful as ever. Instantly they sank into formation, forming a single line behind the geisha before them. Their sensu fans opened in unison, forming a rising and descending arc as the geisha fluttered their fans, their movements swift and fluid. They broke apart, dashing about the stage, twirling and flowing, never missing a beat.

 

Hatsumomo watched them with wonder. All of the geisha's actions and demeanour could be summarized in a single word: elegant.

 

She whirled to face her sister, grasping her hand in hers. "Sayuri, I want to become a geisha! Become one with me!"

 

Her sister hesitated for a moment, before yanking her hands out of her younger sister's grasp. "No, Hatsumomo. I have other plans, and plan to become something more useful than a silly geisha. Don't be stupid. And don't be selfish."

 

"Sayuri." Hideo's voice was sharp, unflinching. "Apologize to your sister."

 

The sixteen year old girl frowned, angry. She was always the one getting reprimanded, not sweet, precious little Hatsumomo. Reigning in her anger, she eyed her sister disdainfully before muttering an apology. That did nothing to lessen the hurt Hatsumomo was feeling at her sister's reprimand.

 

Mameha, sensing Hatsumomo was more hurt than she was letting on, knelt down before her youngest daughter. Looking her in the eye, she wiped the tears that had begun to fall down her child's cheeks. She gave Hatsumomo a small, bright smile.

 

"Listen to me, Hatsumomo. I know how much you love the ways of the geisha. If it is your wish to become one, then a geisha you shall be. I promise this to you, my daughter. Do not shed tears. Harsh words do not deserve them -- reserve your tears for moments of happiness, my child, not moments of sorrow. "

 

Hatsumomo sniffed, rubbing at her eye. She nodded, slowly stopping her tears. It was then she noticed. "Okaa-san, your favourite kimono." She pointed to the kimono, where her mother knelt in the snow and dirt. "It's ruined."

 

Mameha smiled. "What is a ruined kimono compared to happiness of my child? Family heirloom or not, you and your happiness are far more valuable, Hatsumomo. Of that, there is no doubt. Worry not, my child, for it is not the only heirloom of which I have in my possession." Pulling out a small box from within the folds of her kimono, she winked at her youngest daughter. “It is something I noticed near our own house. You recall the rose bed in our front garden?” Hatsumomo nodded as she sniffled, prompting her mother to continue.

 

“When autumn left, so too did the roses with it. However, day after day, without my noticing, there remained a single white rose which silently endured all that winter had to offer it. It was only today that I had realized it still remained where all others had been lost. Even if I did not manage to appreciate its beauty, the rose remained steadfast in its will to survive, its will to stand tall for all that it embodied: beauty, patience, quite strength, and above all, purity.” Mameha lifted the rose head gently out of the box, lightly brushing her child’s hair as she placed it by Hatsumomo’s temple. Looking at her handiwork, her kind eyes crinkled at the corners slightly as she smiled her brightest one of all. “Look at you, my daughter, so beautiful, so pure. Whenever you feel doubt or seem to lose patience, remember how this very rose remained vigilant and endured something as formidable as winter, displaying its quiet strength for all to see, regardless of whether or not anyone chose to look. It, like the geisha, is of few words, for their actions speak far more eloquently than their words could.” Poking her daughter light-heartedly on the nose, she teased, “It just so happens that I may know a young little girl like this rose. Much like the rose, she is more beautiful than she knows. And stronger at that as well.”

 

Hatsumomo smiled tremulously, throwing her arms around her mother's neck, threatening to burst into tears again. Her mother picked her up, patting her gently on the back, whispering soothing words into her ear. Hatsumomo calmed down, but by the time she turned to watch the show again, the geisha were finishing up their act and swiftly gliding down the stage stairs and out of sight once more.

 

They stayed for a while, watching people sculpt and shape snow into statues. Her father was nearby, discussing something with a Chinese diplomat. She overheard the Chinese man mention "Yakuza", and her father's face darkened. His tone for the rest of the discussion was sharp, and Hatsumomo didn't need to hear the rest to know why.

 

Her father had a raging hatred for all things Yakuza. Should he have become successful in his bid to become the Prime Minister, he intended to issue a crackdown on the Yakuza, hell-bent on eradicating the gang. "They may have had noble intentions once," he had once said at a conference, "But they've long since devolved into common thugs and warlords, no longer the peace-brokers they once were. They've long since outlived their usefulness, and provide more harm than good. How can any citizen feel safe with such a treacherous gang roaming free? They shan't be around much longer if I had my way." Hatsumomo was looking at him, and she could see the angry passion in her father's eyes and speech. Her father enraged was a fearsome sight to behold.

 

Soon after, it was time to return home. Her mother held her hand once more, Sayuri refusing to hold her father's. She was still bristling over the slight he had dealt her earlier. Her father paid her no mind; he knew that she would get over it eventually, and that she always kept her anger much longer than others.

 

The Yamaguchi family made their way through the snow-obstructed path, following the fresh pair of footsteps that others had left behind. The path cut through the busy streets, turning onto an alleyway. They were halfway through the alley before an ominous bad feeling gripped Hatsumomo. She couldn't help but whimper. Tugging on her mother's kimono, she whispered, "Okaa-san..."

 

"I know, Hatsumomo," her mother murmured. Hideo glanced from the corner of his eye, grimacing. They were being followed. He subtly gestured for his family to continue on forwards, indicating them not to act as though they were alarmed. It would be disadvantageous for them to alert those that followed them that they were aware of their presence.

 

Onwards, the Yamaguchi family strode, calamity raging beneath a facade of calmness. Out of the corner of her eye, Hatsumomo saw her father discreetly give Sayuri an object. Mameha clasped Hatsumomo's hand tighter. Turning to Sayuri, she called, "Sayuri, you have a mark on your face. Come, let me wipe it off." Sayuri immediately understood and went over to her mother, who mimed the motion of wiping something off Sayuri's cheek; in actuality, she was taking the object and placing it within the inside of the chest folds of her kimono. She then clasped onto Sayuri's hand too, nonchalantly striding forward with her children.

 

Hideo gritted his teeth; it seemed they had no choice. He gestured to his family to run when he gave the signal. The night was loud from the streets and the bustling activity of nearby vendors, but Hatsumomo could still hear her own heart pounding in her chest. And the moment she focused on her heartbeat, her father whispered "Ike! Go!"

 

Her mother dashed forward, as did Sayuri, but Hatsumomo stumbled from the suddenness of the action. Thankfully, her mother's grip on her allowed her leverage with which to stabilize herself after a moment, running with her mother and sister. She concentrated on running, several seconds having passed, before looking back. She gasped.

 

Her father was still there.

 

"Otou-san!"

 

"Ike!" Hideo shouted, facing the men head on. There were five of them, rather young men, barely out of their teens. A few carried guns, while one or two held swords. Hideo scoffed, bringing out a small blade, a tanto, from within the folds of his kimono. "Just a bunch of brats. You think you can defeat me at your age? You've got a long way to go."

 

The men sneered. One spoke up, saying, "You've got a problem with the Yakuza? You certainly don't seem fond of us, even though we've done nothing to you. Why the resentment, old man?"

 

Hideo glared at them. "You harmed my city, my country. You're nothing but a bunch of street rats and wanna-be warlords. I won't have you in my Sapporo. Not in my Japan."

 

The boy leered at him. "Gee, guess we've got no choice but to teach you a lesson you won't forget. Not that you won't be around to remember it, though. The kumicho wants you dead, so forgive me, old man. This is just business, nothing personal." He ran forward, his sword dragging on the ground, ripping it up as he approached.

 

"It's plenty personal." With that, Hideo sprinted forward as well, his sword slashing upwards at his target. Their swords met, barely grazing off each other, as they ran past each other. Blood splattered the ground, as a fresh wound burst open on the Yakuza thug. His thigh was slashed open, blood flowing freely in heavy rivulets. The boy gasped, lurching in pain as he sank to the ground, his leg in his iron grip as he tried to stop the bleeding.

 

The other young men saw how Hideo had made short work of their comrade. "Do not take him lightly!" Another shouted, pointing his gun at Hideo. "Do not underestimate him, or you'll end up like Katsumi there."

 

Hideo dashed forward, intent on attacking the new speaker. The men began to shoot bullets at him, and he angled his sword in respect to each pulling of the trigger, barely deflecting them as he quickly approached. One of the men aimed at Hideo's thigh, and pulled the trigger. A bullet sped from his gun, piercing the man through the leg. Hideo faltered for but a moment, gritting his teeth in pain, before continuing his attack. The sword came swinging down, relieving the man who shot him of his fingers in a splash of crimson blood. A howl erupted from the boy, blood spurting from where his now-liberated appendages once were.

 

Another quick stroke slashed through the shoulder of another, the man falling down before he could even bring his gun up. A fourth man tried to parry his thrust, barely managing to deflect it, but it slashed the left side of his torso. The man went down without a fight, grasping the wound where the blood stained his bright white shirt.

 

"You hurt my family," Hideo shouted at them as they fell, "Now I'll hurt you."

 

It was now one-on-one. The large young man glared at him, speaking bluntly to Hideo. "Your family?" he questioned. "What have we done to your family? They are running away as we speak. Your family has yet to be harmed. In truth, it is you we want. I fail to understand how we've harmed your family."

 

Hideo scoffed again. "You fail to understand much." He pointed his sword threateningly at the man. "Japan is my family."

 

Hideo dashed forward, surprisingly quick for his age, closing the distance between them. He raised his sword, about to slash it downwards and cleave his opponent in two, but the man calmly raised his gun with alarming speed and pulled the trigger, letting a bullet fly. Hideo had just enough time to widen his eyes in surprise before the bullet took him in the center of his forehead, between his eyes. He uttered a moan before sinking to his knees, dropping down to the floor. He slumped over, lying on his stomach as blood pooled around his head.

 

The man gazed at him passively. "Then let Japan pay your funeral costs."

 

Hatsumomo saw it all as she turned to run. The altercation had lasted a few minutes. No...it wasn't an altercation. It was a slaughter, mostly by her father's hand, though he was a casualty too. Tears streamed down her face, cries wrenched from her as she ran with her mother and sister. Mameha was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in distress and sorrow. She knew that the moment Hideo signalled them to leave, she would never see him again. Sayuri was oddly silent, lacking any emotion.

 

Mameha interrupted Hatsumomo's sobbing. "Hatsumomo, Sayuri. Listen to me. Your father has made a noble sacrifice. He did it to protect Sapporo. To protect Japan." Her hands tightened momentarily, a reassuring action. "And he did it especially for you. Never forget that. Never forget what kind of man your father was." Hatsumomo nodded, tears obstructing her vision. Sayuri made no response.  "Do not let his legacy die."

 

"A legacy isn't so hard to kill."

 

The voice caught them off-guard. Mameha stopped them all -- the man that had slain her husband stood before them, nonchalant as he blocked their path. She took a step back, still grasping her children’s' hands, but the man raised the gun, saying, "Don't bother. You can't run faster than this bullet can fly."

 

Mameha knew his words to be true. Her grip on her children’s' hands tightened, fear for their safety coursing through her. She ushered them behind her, her arms spread out as she protected her children.

 

"Tell me," Mameha said, her voice unquivering. "Tell me the name of my husband's murderer."

 

The man smiled and bowed. "I would have the honour of killing Yamaguchi Hideo. My name is Hiroki."

 

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, anger tainting her tone. "What do you gain from this? How does killing my husband and children and myself help you in any way at all?"

 

The man appraised her, gun still poised at her chest. "It sends a message," he admitted. "There is a saying: Deru kugi wa utareru. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down. Those who speak out against the Yakuza, like a nail, shall get struck down."

 

Mameha tensed. "You murdered my husband, seek to murder me, and will take my children's lives because my husband spoke out against you?" She shook her head. "Surely your organization is that of the devil's."

 

"Even devils can have their use, Mameha-san."

 

"Perhaps yours will be to die." Quick as a whip, Mameha pulled out the object from the inside chest folds of her kimono. Hatsumomo gasped -- it turned out to be a gun. So that's what Otou-san gave to Sayuri to give to Okaa-san. No sooner had she pulled it out and let fly a bullet had a bullet been fired in return. The bullet she shot sped through the air, making contact with the man's ear. The appendage exploded, blood spurting out from the wound. Hatsumomo gasped at her mother's work, never having known her mother was well-versed in guns. She turned to look at her mother...and screamed.

 

Blood was seeping through the midsection of her pure white kimono. A large red stain crept across the surface of the kimono, growing in size. The blood from the shot had also splattered onto the snowy, pure white ground around them. The rose in Hatsumomo’s hair was also drenched in her mother’s blood, a disbelieving look on Hatsumomo’s face " she couldn’t comprehend what was happening, the shock having stunned her. Mameha said nothing, just a look of sorrow on her face.

 

"Gomen...nasai...Hatsumomo...Sayuri..."

 

She sank to her knees, clutching at the wound as the blood stain grew ever larger. Hatsumomo's hands flew up to her mouth, tears streaming down her face harder than ever, stifling sobs that racked throughout her body. "Okaa-san", she whispered, unbelieving of what she saw. "Okaa-san."

 

The man looked down at Mameha with almost distaste. "Dying piteously on the ground, just as your husband did minutes before you. What a pitiful sight this is, the once respected Yamaguchi family lying on the ground, helpless." He grunted. "Utterly pitiful."

 

A second shot rang out, Mameha's last act of defiance. Blood exploded out of Hiroki's right foot, his shoes burst open. The man grunted in pain, but said no words. He aimed the gun at her heart, before pausing. "Any last words you'd like to share with your children?"

 

Mameha's weak rasp was barely discernible, but the man heard it all the same. "I love you, my children." Weakly turning her head to Hiroki, she gasped at him. "Jigoku-e ike. Go to hell."

 

The man smiled a rueful smile. "I'll see you there." He pulled the trigger, a bullet piercing Mameha's heart. The woman died instantly, her blood painting a gruesome picture on the pure white snow once more.

 

Hatsumomo was convulsing with the sobs that racked her body. She couldn't control it anymore, running to her mother's side and sobbing over her body. The man Hiroki glanced at her, raising a gun to the child before him. "I've no orders to kill you. However, you are part of the Yamaguchi family, and that alone is merit enough to be killed by the Yakuza." He lowered the gun, glaring at her contemptuously. "But you are not even worth the kill."

 

Hatsumomo barely heard him. She was sobbing over the corpse of her mother, the mother who had be so very joyous and alive only hours ago...

 

Sayuri looked frozen. She didn't know how to react. The man caught sight of her, approaching her menacingly. "What did your mother say?" He grasped her face, looking her in the eye as she glared piteously through her tears at him. He smiled. "I recall she said there were some marks on your face. I see nothing." He pulled a switchblade from his back pocket, watching Sayuri's eyes widen in terror as she realized what he intended to do. "But perhaps I can provide some for you."

Sayuri's screaming filled the air of the alleyway, mingling with Hatsumomo's sobs.