Chapter Text
Konoe Michiko 近衞 美智子
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Act I
第一章 | Chapter I
清明 "Seimei" ☘︎ Fresh Green
Akebono 曙 (Dawn)
8 March 1882,
Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company
Suez Canal, Mediterranean Sea.
Michiko blinked away drops of sweat from her dreary eyes, the weight of the journey clinging onto her body like her thick silks. Though it was first-class, humidity was unavoidable no matter the formality of the room. Fortunately, Michiko came prepared with her light-cottoned yukata and a silk ribbon to tie up her hair. Unable to stray from routine, Michiko wiped off beads of sweat on her temple and proceeded to pat her face with white powder, just enough to hide the redness from the heat. She carefully places Beni on her lips, and ended with drawing angled lines on the corner of her eyes. The hallway in which she left her room was long but rather narrow, with the echoes of her Geta resounding off the ship’s walls.
The cabin she resided in was elaborate, as was the rest of the ship. But it was far too much for her liking. Luxury and grandeur usually comforted Michiko in security and quiet, but here it plagued all her senses.
She frequented the ballroom again, as directed by her father, as building relationships with passengers alike would secure a better image for her name. Michiko understood this as her father’s way to prepare her for her performance for the Ashcrofts. Every conversation was her way of practice, but she knew better than to treat it like so.
To her surprise, conversation was hard to miss amongst the amused passengers of the Peninsular & Oriental Liner. Topics regarding her singular presence, her clothing, her makeup, or moreover her lineage. Michiko was hesitant to indulge in superficial conversation, but her upbringing forbade the indignity of subduement.
“Oh, Ms Kono, it seems you are quite the early bird as they’ve described.” A thick accent trailed the first-class deck, two young ladies dressed in mountains of maroon velvet and lemon yellow, intruded into Michiko’s supposedly private morning.
”Lady Ludiere, Lady Ringley, how do you do? I see you share my liking for the morning view.”
Michiko speaks as she bows her head ever so slightly. The two young women sit at Michiko’s table, which is housed only a few away from the highly sought after “Captain’s Table”.
Michiko had been slowly seething her way through the social warfare that was sharing meals with other nobility. She soon learned that seasoned travelers of the sea truly flourished in the splendor of eating, whilst dominating by the placement of their seating. Michiko didn’t understand it, but she assumed that sitting at that table was the way to obtain favour, and favour was what she needed amongst the prying curiosity of noblewomen.
“Oh, forgive us, we almost missed you, Ms Kono. We were just about to fill our seats. And we were hoping to… change up our usual gathering.” Lady Ringley says as she sits just across from Michiko.
“No worries at all, I was just getting lost in the scenery and the fragrance of this magnificent brew of tea.”
“Ohohoho, we were just discussing how it must be demanding to change your palette in only a few weeks, but we must have underestimated your abilities.”
”Huhuhu, well perhaps we should be careful whilst considering your…experience with our delicacies. Am I to presume your people prefer your tea straight from the source?”
“Oh no, Leora, that’s hardly cause for concern. It’s far more impressive with their restraint in their appetite. It’s a wonder how the Captain’s favor is as feeble as the wind. In just a blink of an eye, the Captain will let anyone be seated at his right hand.”
”Ohohoho… That alludes to us, Ms Kono, pray tell, how do your people find the strength to govern without the fortification of a proper breakfast? It must be difficult to maintain one’s spirits on nothing but… well, broth and rice.”
Michiko took a sip of piping hot jasmine tea, her face hardened with neutral expression. The words of these socialites scrambling to prevail the conversation, though brazen in their efforts to humiliate Michiko and her lineage, would never truly reach her mental fortitude. The years of her father’s teaching of rules & etiquette in her person, garnered Michiko’s reaction as second nature. Though she never asked why, she figured that the burning sensation on her tongue taught her to never break under pressure or pain.
Michiko opened her blue-shaded fan, her effort to cover her stone-hard expression seemed to be a fruitless act, but she knew a thing or two about sounding, and most importantly looking the part.
“You are quite observant, Lady Ludiere. We sparingly pride ourselves on devouring our farmers and hunters’ precious bounty for every meal. However, we believe that if the stomach is too full, the mind becomes… rather crowded. We prefer to leave space - for the company, for the season and for the affection between family.”
Michiko lays her gaze upon Lady Ludiere, her eyes relaxing into slits like fine porcelain.
“So I must enquire, my lady. Do you and your people not find such… emptiness… a tad bit frightening?”
The sound of Michiko’s fan snapped closed in her grasp as she placed it down into her lap. The two women shared a glance at each other, neither daring to take a gander at speaking. Michiko’s eyes averted downwards as she reached delicately for her teacup, a whisper of a tiny sip filling the distance between the group.
Lady Ludiere twitched her head to the side, likely surveying the wide room for witnesses to their conversation.
“How very… poetic, Ms Kono. A bit- breathes out a brief laugh- somber might I say? But quite ‘Eastern’....wouldn’t you say, Clara?”
“Yes, uh, definitely! We- actually we were- I just remembered I have affairs to take care of in my quarters.” Her breath deepened as her face contorted with a strained smile.
“Of course, Leora- Uh, Ms Ringley. I shall assist you. With… those affairs.”
The two ladies left abruptly, not sparing Michiko another look as they retreated to wherever they came from. Michiko closed her eyes, letting the smoothness of refreshing jasmine flow down her throat. Once she knew they had ceased, Michiko rested her heavy back on the chair, the thickness of her Obi inhibiting any sense of comfort. The silence of the saloon was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thrum of engines—a heartbeat of steel that seemed to mock her own.
She looked at her hands; the pale silk of her sleeves was slightly damp where she had clenched her fists. One slip of the tongue, and she would have been the 'charming but fragile doll' they so wanted to ridicule for entertainment. Then, the phantom weight settled on her shoulders. It was the familiar, suffocating cold of her father’s silence. She dared not to look up, afraid that his being may stand amongst the velvet curtains, his brows furrowed in an unreadable expression. It didn’t help that the smell of the room was similar to her father’s favourite Kizami (Tobacco).
Michiko was almost lost in the dread until she shifted back to reality. Though sudden, she felt a presence lighter than her fathers’ remain in the room.
“It’s best you present yourself to me, Takashi-san. I wouldn’t like to assume you were planning on surprising me.”
The older man was encased in a suit of black broadcloth stiffened like a cage of ink. His high starched collar bit into his neck, forcing his head into a posture of artificial arrogance that sat poorly on his features. The sight had irked Michiko, still she kept the feeling tightly veiled under indifference. Michiko was aware that this journey will fundamentally change her no matter her resistance. She could only wonder how… but above all, she will not let herself be re-sculpted into something else. Nevertheless, it was a thought she dared not to entertain.
“My apologies, Michiko-sama. I was only going to supervise you from a distance, but I may have overheard your conversation with the daughters of Ringley and Ludiere. And I’d just like to personally applaud your performance.”
Michiko finally turned her head to face the man, fully taking in his altered appearance. Even though she had seen Takashi Kamakuro lingering around the Konoe Estate, she’d know his face amongst the waves of foreigners. But now, she wouldn’t have recognized him at all. And even if she did, she had previously witnessed this man, highly revered by her father, share laughter with other Englishmen. It was puzzling why she had to be under the guidance of him now, but she decided to play along anyways.
“Oh? Your compliments lead me to believe that you thought I couldn’t handle them on my own, Takashi-san.”
“Oh no, haha, forgive my manner of wording. I meant not to exude impertinence, my lady. Simply, I wished to express my admiration for your linguistic skills. I would know that English is complex, not just in structure but in its…emotional effect on others.”
Michiko took another sip of her tea, closing her eyes once again. She hadn’t spoken her mother tongue since she left Yokohama. Even if she didn’t admit to it, Takashi’s stable demeanor was the most comfort she had felt since the start of her journey; alongside the fact she didn’t need to worry about slipping on her words.
“Well, I wouldn’t be my father’s daughter if I didn’t spend my time…sharpening my resolve. Besides, like flies to a spider’s silk, the noblewomen here simply have no manners at all.”
Takashi sits down on the cushioned chair in a swift motion, placing his cane by the side of the table. He begins the conversation in English.
“Haha, perhaps I shall not attempt to hide my honesty. I had my doubts about your father’s plan to send you all the way to London for his deal with the Ashcrofts. I guess I… sit corrected, and haven’t fully grasped the extent of your competence.”
Michiko could barely hide the condescension on her face, only being able to subdue her feelings by narrowing her eyes at Takashi’s overall direction.
She was extremely exasperated by the repeated assessment of herself from others. Underestimation was worse than failure to her. The belief that she wasn’t put for the task at hand; it boiled the simmering frustration in her. But she kept it close to her heart, and promised to never offer any outward indication of it. Just so that the world couldn’t undermine her inner turmoil as well.
“Arguably… It is far more impressive yet inconceivable to ever try to doubt Chichi-ue, Takashi-san. Moreover, I… do not ‘sit’ confirmed about your intentions on this ship.”
Takashi smiles with contempt as he looks off into the distant ocean.
“Hmph, well let’s just say I wanted a vacation.”
Michiko looked towards his seemingly relaxed expression, any notion of reliance on her face unapparent.
“But most of all, I wanted to ensure your safety. As a pledge of my loyalty to the Konoe Household.”
“Didn’t you just mention you ‘doubted’ my father’s plans for me?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be here If I truly did now… Would I?”
Michiko spared a glance at Takashi, a ghost of a crease appearing on her painted brow. She continued her now completely disregarded and ‘plentiful’ morning to herself. A heavy sigh released from her lungs as she finished her tea. The journey was going to feel longer now, with Takashi’s occupancy beside her, she knew her experience could be improved… or heavier with the burden of another pair of eyes.
But for now, she’d let the gravitas of companionship fill the space that her anxiety had once harboured in, and accepted the possibilities to come with hopeful ease.