Chapter Text
Morning sunlight bled through rice paper screens, scattering gold and shadow across the polished wooden floors. The Kamo estate stirred awake, servants moving like whispers through the halls. Outside, the city murmured, a distant hum beneath the rustling trees.
Inside, one figure moved differently—brisk, eager, relentless.
[Name] hurried down the corridor, arms stacked high with freshly laundered kimonos. The weight didn’t matter. The ache in her limbs didn’t matter. Her feet barely made a sound as she weaved past others, her smile never slipping. There was work to do. That was all that mattered.
"[Name]-chan! There you are."
Hana-san’s voice cut through the soft noise of the morning. The head of the household staff stood with arms crossed, watching the girl with something between amusement and exasperation. "Did you finish polishing the floors in the east wing?"
"Yes, Hana-san!" [Name] chirped. "I also organized the storage cabinets and replaced all the candles like you mentioned yesterday!"
Hana-san’s brows lifted. "I didn’t ask you to do that until tomorrow."
[Name] shifted, her excitement undimmed. "I finished early, so I thought I should continue! The storage cabinets were messy, and some of the candles were already half-burned. It seemed best to take care of them now."
A sigh. Fond. Tired. "Very well. After you deliver those kimonos, head to the kitchen. They need help preparing for tonight’s gathering."
"Of course! Right away!" [Name] bowed—too deeply, nearly toppling the stack in her arms.
As she turned, Hana-san called after her, "And pace yourself, girl. You don’t need to finish everything in one day."
But [Name] was already gone, feet light, heart full. There was no greater joy than being useful.
The kitchen was alive. Heat swelled in the air, thick with the scent of roasting meat and simmering broth. Steam curled from enormous pots. Knives clattered. Voices overlapped, barking orders and curses. It was chaos. Controlled. Purposeful.
[Name] slipped through the doorway, scanning the scene with quick, eager eyes.
"You there—girl." The cook barely looked up as he gestured. "Take these trays to the scullery."
"Yes, sir!" She grabbed them without hesitation.
She moved like a current, weaving between bodies, hands always occupied. Washing, chopping, carrying, cleaning. The older servants slowed, took moments to breathe. She did not. When a boy tripped, sending vegetables scattering across the floor, she was already there, gathering them up before scolding could begin.
The sun climbed, then began its descent. The fires still burned, but for a moment, the rush settled. A brief lull in the storm.
"Don’t you ever get tired?" Yuki, one of the older kitchen girls, leaned against a counter, wiping sweat from her brow.
[Name] tilted her head. Blinked. "Why would I? There’s still work to do."
Yuki exchanged looks with another servant. A quiet, knowing amusement. "You’re a strange one, [Name]. Like a little working spirit in human form."
"Thank you!" [Name] beamed. The words were meant as something else, but she took them as praise.
Even as the others exhaled, let their bodies rest, she was already moving again.
There was work to do. There was always work to do.
And in that, she found happiness.
Unbeknownst to [Name], she was being observed. Standing in the shadows of an adjoining corridor, a tall figure watched her movements with calculated interest. Noritoshi Kamo's eyes narrowed slightly as he tracked the young servant's efficiency, noting how she anticipated needs before they were voiced, how she seemed immune to fatigue, how her face lit with genuine pleasure at each completed task.
"Who is that girl?" he asked quietly to the steward at his side.
The steward bowed deeply. "A servant child, Kamo-sama. She was taken in about five years ago when her family couldn't afford to feed her. She's... simple, but extraordinarily diligent."
"Simple?" Kamo's mouth curved with interest.
"Not unintelligent, master, but..." the steward hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "She lacks common sense sometimes. Doesn't understand refusal or rest. The other servants call her 'puppy girl' because of her eagerness to please. Some find it amusing to watch her tackle impossible workloads with enthusiasm."
Kamo continued watching as [Name] moved between tasks without pause, her movements precise despite her youth. "Bring her to my study tomorrow morning."
The steward's expression flickered with momentary concern before smoothing into practiced deference. "As you wish, Kamo-sama."
That evening, as [Name] helped serve dinner to the Kamo family, she couldn't help but notice the distinguished man at the head of the table. Unlike the other family members, he didn't laugh or engage in conversation. His eyes were cold, calculating, watching everyone with detached interest. When his gaze briefly met hers as she poured his tea, she felt a strange shiver—not of fear, exactly, but of recognition. Something in those eyes reminded her of the hungry cats that stalked the property's edges, always watching, always evaluating.
She bowed deeply and moved on, filing the moment away to consider later when her duties were complete.
"You've been summoned by Kamo-sama," Hana-san announced the next morning, her voice unusually tight.
[Name] looked up from where she knelt, scrubbing the wooden walkway that encircled the inner garden. "Kamo-sama? Which one?"
"Noritoshi Kamo-sama himself," Hana-san replied, her expression unreadable. "The head of our clan."
[Name]'s eyes widened. "Did I do something wrong, Hana-san?"
The older woman shook her head slowly. "No, child. But..." She paused, then sighed. "Just remember that you can say no if asked to do something that feels... beyond your duties."
[Name] blinked in confusion. Say no? The concept seemed foreign, almost nonsensical. Why would she refuse a task? Especially one given by the head of the household that had fed and clothed her for years?
"I'll do my very best for Kamo-sama!" she declared with earnest determination.
Hana-san's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Yes, I thought you might say that. Clean yourself up and change into your best uniform. I'll take you to his study."
The walk to Noritoshi Kamo's private study seemed to take both an eternity and no time at all. [Name] followed Hana-san through parts of the estate she'd never seen—corridors with finer wood, rooms with more elaborate decorations, areas where servants like her rarely ventured.
They stopped before an imposing door guarded by two stone-faced men. Hana-san knelt and motioned for [Name] to do the same.
"Kamo-sama, I've brought the girl as requested," Hana-san announced, her forehead nearly touching the polished wood floor.
"Enter," came a cool, measured voice from within.
Hana-san rose, placed a hand briefly on [Name]'s shoulder—a gesture that seemed to contain a warning—then slid open the door. With a small push, she urged [Name] forward alone.
The study was unlike any room [Name] had seen before. Shelves lined the walls, filled not just with scrolls and books but strange objects preserved in jars—things [Name]'s young mind couldn't quite comprehend. The air smelled of ink, parchment, and something metallic that reminded her of the kitchen when meat was being prepared.
At a large desk sat Noritoshi Kamo, his brush moving across paper in precise, elegant strokes. He didn't look up immediately, continuing his work as if [Name] weren't there at all.
She knelt in the center of the room, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting with the patient stillness that came naturally to her.
After what seemed like hours but was likely only minutes, Kamo set down his brush and looked directly at her. His gaze was penetrating, as if he could see beneath her skin to the very core of her being.
"Your name?" he asked, voice soft yet commanding.
"[Name], Kamo-sama," she replied without hesitation, bowing deeply.
"How old are you, [Name]?"
"Thirteen, Kamo-sama. I think." She added the last part honestly—she wasn't entirely certain of her exact age.
"And how long have you served this household?"
"Five years, Kamo-sama. Since I was small."
He nodded slightly, as if confirming information he already knew. "I'm told you're an exceptional worker. That you complete tasks faster than anyone else and never tire."
[Name]'s face brightened at what she perceived as praise. "I try my very best, Kamo-sama! I like to work. It makes me happy to be useful."
"Indeed?" Something flickered in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or amusement. "And what would you say if I told you I needed someone to assist me with my personal work? Someone loyal and hardworking who could be trusted with... delicate matters?"
[
Name]'s heart leapt. A promotion! To serve the head of the clan directly would bring honor not just to her but to Hana-san who had trained her so well.
"I would be honored beyond words, Kamo-sama!" she exclaimed, bowing so deeply her forehead touched the tatami. "I would work harder than you can imagine!"
Kamo's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm certain you would." He rose from behind his desk and approached her, circling slowly. "My work is very important, [Name]. It requires absolute discretion and obedience. Could you promise me that? Complete obedience?"
"Yes, Kamo-sama!" The words burst from her without hesitation. The concept of refusing never entered her mind. Why would it? This was what she was meant for—to serve, to please, to work.
He stopped circling and stood directly before her. "Look at me, child."
[Name] raised her eyes to meet his. For a brief moment, she thought she saw something strange—as if something else were looking out from behind his eyes, something ancient and hungry. But the impression vanished so quickly she decided she must have imagined it.
"From tomorrow, you will no longer work under Hana. You will report directly to me at my temple beyond the main estate. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Kamo-sama!"
"My work there is... special. Sacred. Others might not understand it. You must never speak of what you see or do there. Can you promise this?"
[Name] nodded eagerly. "I promise, Kamo-sama! I won't tell anyone anything!"
He studied her face for several long moments, as if searching for something. Whatever he sought, he seemed to find it, for he nodded with satisfaction.
"Perfect. You're exactly what I've been looking for." He returned to his desk and picked up a small bell, ringing it once. The door slid open, and the steward appeared. "Take her to gather her belongings. She'll be moving to the quarters near my temple immediately."
"Immediately, Kamo-sama?" Even the normally impassive steward seemed surprised.
"Yes. I have important work that cannot wait." Kamo turned his attention back to [Name]. "You're eager to begin your new duties, aren't you, [Name]?"
Her face lit with genuine happiness. "Yes, Kamo-sama! I can't wait to be useful to you!"
As the steward led her from the room, she heard Kamo murmur behind her, "And useful you shall be, little one. More useful than you could possibly imagine."
Word spread quickly through the servant quarters that [Name] had been selected for special duties under Noritoshi Kamo himself. The reactions were mixed—some envied her good fortune, but others exchanged worried glances and whispered behind their hands.
As [Name] gathered her few possessions, Hana-san entered the small room that had been her home for five years.
"[Name]," the older woman began, her voice unusually hesitant. "Are you certain about this?"
[Name] looked up from folding her spare uniform, confusion evident on her face. "Certain? Of course! Kamo-sama chose me specially! Isn't it wonderful?"
Hana-san sat heavily on the edge of [Name]'s sleeping mat. "Child, there are... stories about Kamo-sama's temple. About the work he does there."
"Important work," [Name] nodded enthusiastically. "Sacred work, he said."
"Yes, but..." Hana-san seemed to struggle with her words. "Not all important work is... good work. Do you understand?"
[Name] tilted her head, genuinely perplexed. "But how could Kamo-sama's work not be good? He's the head of the clan."
Hana-san sighed deeply, recognizing the futility of trying to explain complex moral ambiguities to someone whose worldview was as straightforward as [Name]'s. "Listen to me carefully. If ever you feel afraid, or if anything happens that makes you uncomfortable, you can come back here. You understand? You're allowed to leave if you need to."
[Name] nodded solemnly, though the concept seemed abstract to her. Why would she ever want to leave? Why would she ever feel afraid while doing her duty?
"I'll make you proud, Hana-san," she promised, misunderstanding the older woman's concern as worry about her performance. "I'll work harder than ever!"
Hana-san's eyes glistened with unexpected moisture. She reached out and, in a rare display of affection, briefly touched [Name]'s cheek. "You already make me proud, child. Just... remember what I said."
The temple stood apart from the main estate, nestled against the base of a small mountain. Unlike the elegant simplicity of the Kamo residence, the temple had a forbidding quality—its curved roof lines more severe, its stone foundation darker, its wooden pillars carved with symbols [Name] didn't recognize.
A servant [Name] had never seen before led her to a small room adjoining the temple's main structure. "Your quarters," the woman explained curtly. "Be ready at dawn. Kamo-sama rises early."
Left alone, [Name] carefully arranged her few possessions, smoothed her bedding, and knelt to wait. Even though no specific instructions had been given for the remainder of the day, it felt wrong to be idle. Perhaps she should explore, familiarize herself with her new workplace?
The decision made, she slid open her door and stepped into the corridor. The temple was eerily quiet compared to the bustling main house. Her footsteps seemed unnaturally loud on the wooden floors as she made her way through dimly lit hallways.
She passed a series of closed doors, hesitating before each one, unsure if she was permitted to look inside. Finally, she came to a large central chamber. The door was partially open, and she could hear movement within.
Propriety dictated that she announce herself, but curiosity—a rare impulse for her—won out. She peered through the gap.
The chamber was dominated by a large stone table at its center. Shelves similar to those in Kamo's study lined the walls, filled with jars containing things she couldn't quite make out. Kamo stood with his back to her, mixing something in a bowl, his movements precise and methodical.
As she watched, he set down the bowl and turned toward something out of her line of sight. When he moved, she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a person strapped to the stone table—but that couldn't be right. Why would someone be tied down?
but what lay upon it made her mind stutter and skip like a scratched record. There was red - so much red - and something that moved in ways bodies shouldn't move.
"Fascinating," Kamo murmured, his voice seeming to come from very far away. "Your body continues to resist ordinary cursed energy, yet responds so beautifully to my blood manipulation technique. I wonder..."
A sound came from the table - something between a sob and a gurgle - and bile rose in [Name]'s throat. This wasn't like anything she knew. This wasn't cleaning or cooking or serving tea. This was wrong wrong wrong but her mind couldn't quite grasp how wrong, couldn't fully process what she was seeing.
"You may enter, [Name]. No need to lurk in doorways."
She flinched violently at his voice, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might burst. Her legs moved without her permission, carrying her into the chamber as they always did when given a command, even as her mind screamed at her to run.
"I-I'm so sorry, Kamo-sama," she whispered, the words coming out thin and reedy. The metallic smell hit her then - thick and cloying - and her stomach roiled. She swallowed convulsively, desperately trying not to be sick.
"No matter. In fact, your timing is excellent. You can begin your duties immediately." His voice was calm, almost pleased, as if they were discussing laundry or dishes rather than... rather than...
"Come closer."
Her feet moved again, puppet-like. Each step brought more details into focus - details her mind shied away from, refusing to form them into coherent shapes. Dark stains on Kamo's hands. Tools laid out that looked like cooking implements but couldn't be, mustn't be.
"Your first task is simple," he continued, gesturing to a basin of water and cloths. "Clean the subject thoroughly when I'm finished. Every drop of blood must be removed. Can you do that?"
The word 'blood' made her stomach lurch again. She could taste bile in the back of her throat. Say no, a distant part of her mind whispered. Run. Hide. But those concepts were as foreign to her as the horrors before her. Her mouth formed the only words it knew.
"Y-yes, Kamo-sama." Her voice didn't sound like her own.
"Excellent. I knew you were the perfect choice. Watch carefully now."
As he turned back to his work, [Name] stood rooted to the spot, trembling slightly. Her mind tried desperately to retreat into thoughts of simpler tasks - folding linens, sweeping floors - but the sounds from the table kept dragging her back to the present horror. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, but she didn't dare move to wipe them away.
The person on the table made another sound - one that would echo in her nightmares for years to come. [Name]'s hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, nails digging crescents into her palms. Still, she stood there, because standing and watching and obeying was all she knew how to do.
And something inside her - the bright, happy thing that had made her who she was - began to curl up and die.
"Clean everything thoroughly," Kamo instructed, already turning away from the table and its pitiful occupant. "When you're finished, inform the guards to... dispose of what remains."
[Name] stared at the basin of water and pile of cloths, her hands shaking as she reached for them. The person on the table had gone quiet now, mercifully still. She couldn't tell if they were breathing. Didn't want to know.
The water was warm when she dipped the cloth in. Clean everything thoroughly. It was just cleaning, right? Just like cleaning the kitchen after the butcher delivered meat. Just like... just like...
Her first touch to the skin made her gag. The blood was already cooling, tacky under her fingers. Some of it had dried in patterns she didn't understand - didn't want to understand. Dark bruises bloomed where Kamo's blood manipulation had twisted beneath the surface.
"Thoroughly," Kamo's voice drifted from where he stood organizing his tools. "Don't miss any spots."
[Name] nodded mechanically, unable to form words. The cloth turned red almost immediately. She rinsed it, watched the water swirl with crimson clouds. Dipped it again. Cleaned another section. Rinsed. Again. Again. Again.
Her movements became automatic, her mind retreating to a distant place where this wasn't real. Where she was just cleaning spilled tea or dirt from the garden. Where the cooling flesh beneath her hands wasn't human. Where the salt water dripping onto her work wasn't her own tears.
Time lost meaning. It could have been minutes or hours before she finished. The basin water was deep red now, the cloths stained beyond saving. Everything was clean, just as ordered, but [Name] felt filthy in a way no amount of washing would ever fix.
"Well done," Kamo said, inspecting her work. "You have steady hands. That will be useful."
She should have felt proud of the praise. Should have beamed with pleasure as she always did when completing a task well. Instead, she felt hollow, scraped out, like something essential had been cleaned away along with the blood.
"Thank you, Kamo-sama," she whispered, her voice as empty as she felt.
"Rest now. We begin again at dawn."
Begin again. There would be more. This wasn't a single terrible task but her new purpose. Her new normal.
As she walked back to her room on legs that somehow still worked, [Name] realized that the happy, simple girl who had woken up this morning - the puppy-like servant who lived for praise and work - had died somewhere between the first scream and the last rinse of the cloth.
She didn't know who she was becoming instead.
She wasn't sure she wanted to know.