Chapter Text
You gasp for air as another strong wave shoves you into the rocks below. You kick your feet. You scrabble furiously with your arms. You roll your body as a dolphin might, but getting nowhere as far as a dolphin would. At last, a wave meets you, pushes you forward, and you smear onto gritty sand, coughing out sea water. With the last of your strength, you flip over, using an arm to shield your eyes from the rising sun. The world around you goes blurry, until all you can see is a bright orange disk on the horizon. You close your eyes.
“Miss! Miss!”
A warm hand touches your shoulder and shakes you, startling you back to consciousness. You open your eyes again, not sure how long they’ve been closed.
“Miss! Are you alright?”
You wheeze in answer. A man’s face swims into view, still fuzzy around the edges.
“Shit, Captain, help me over here. Do you have an extra blanket?”
Something cool bumps against your lip, and then something wet.
“Have some water, Miss.” He tips the jug further, letting more drops trickle into your parched mouth. You swallow desperately. You cough.
Something impossibly soft drapes around you, envelops you. The sensation is unfamiliar, but welcome. You nuzzle into it, feeling the tickle against your skin. How warm. It feels like the very sun’s rays have wrapped around you.
“What’s your name, Miss?”
You can see the man more clearly now. His hair is brown, and his eyes are kind. He helps you into a sitting position, wrapping the softness around you even tighter. You hadn’t realized you were shivering until it slowed.
“Miss? Can you speak?”
Right, he had asked you a question. “Y-yes,” you try. It comes out reedy and hollow. Is that your voice?
The man kneels in front of you. “I’m Komori Motoya. You can call me Motoya if you’d like.”
“Mo-to-ya.” You sound out the syllables. You try to imitate the pitches he made, but the ones you produce don’t quite match. He smiles.
“That’s it. What’s your name?”
You open your mouth, but you don’t know what sounds to make. You try to draw up the pitches from your memory, but nothing surfaces. “I…”
“I…?”
You shake your head. “I can’t remember…”
“Good god.” Motoya jerks his head to the side. “Captain, can you ready the carriage?” He turns back to you, his face creased with concern. “Miss, do you remember anything? Where you come from? Were you with anyone?”
You consider each question in turn, but again, no answers bubble forth. You only remember the wash of the sea, and the sensation of water flooding into your body, burning you from within. You shiver again. “N-no…” You pull the warmth around you closer. What was it called… a blanket? “I can’t remember.”
Motoya shuffles, and then suddenly you’re being hoisted up. Your toes grip at the sand, the grains pouring over your feet, shifting underneath you. You wobble. Motoya’s strong arm is the only thing keeping you steady.
“I gotcha,” he says, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders. “We’ll make our way to the carriage, okay?”
“Carriage?”
“You can stay with us until you’re feeling better. You’re obviously not well.”
Even if you’d wanted to protest, you’d be too weak to do so. Motoya helps you into what looks like a large boat with a cover over it, attached to wheels. There are large beasts leashed to it, their front hoofs pawing at the ground. They looked like… horses. The name for them comes to you. Horses. Four large, white horses, wearing clothing of some kind, banners that hang over their bodies, in a bright green, like the type of sea kelp you’re fond of eating. Your stomach growls. What a laugh. You remember sea kelp, but not your own name.
The carriage bumps along the ground, jostling you this way and that. You knock into Motoya more than once, and you apologize, but he merely rests a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll be there soon, don’t worry, Miss. Just rest.”
“Where are we going?” It occurs to you that Motoya could mean you harm, but you feel inclined to trust him. Maybe that makes you foolish.
Instead of answering, he laughs. “If you have to ask, you’re probably not from around here then, Miss.”
Was the answer obvious? You peek out the window of the carriage, drinking in the colors that speed past. Greens and oranges and pinks and whites, a bouquet of colors, and Motoya seems used to them. He’s not even glancing at the window, he’s just observing you, head slightly cocked to the side as if trying to figure you out.
“I can’t even remember my own name,” you remind him.
“That’s true. But also, we found you by the sea. Maybe you were in some kind of ship wreck,” he says, casting a concerned glance over you.
You search your mind again, for memories of a ship of some kind. You recall one, a large, spectacular sight, gleaming with light and bustling with bright music. And dancing. That image seems to stick sharpest in your mind. People dancing, with skirts grasped in their hands, arms looped around one another, hopping in time to a fiddle and a tambourine.
You try to prod the memory forward, to will yourself to remember what happens next. You come up blank again, the ship in your memory blurring in your mind. “Maybe,” you say.
Motoya hums as the carriage halts. “Hopefully some rest will help you remember. Let me help you out, Miss.”
You give him most of your weight. Your legs still feel unsteady, and your feet flex and relax in an awkward rhythm, not used to the sensations now assaulting you. Sharp stones cut like knives against the arches of your feet, and cool blades of grass flick over your ankles. You gasp when you finally raise your head. The door in front of you is grand and imposing, all painted glass and wrought metalwork. It rises high above you, tucked in a brilliant white stone archway that carries the rest of the castle, made of thousands more of the same white stone, molded into walls and turrets and towers. More of the green banners flap in the wind, one from each turret.
The door swings open, and Motoya lifts you inside, nodding to a guard just within the entrance. “He’s in his study, I presume?”
The guard inclines his head, sweeping his polearm towards the wide hall within.
“Thank you.” Motoya guides you inside. The floor is less sharp here, you note with relief. You’re stepping on more blankets, but these are red, unlike the blue one still wrapped around you.
“Motoya? What’s the meaning of this?”
With alarm, you realize you’ve walked through another door. You lock eyes with another man, and your first instinct is to hide behind Motoya. Your chest tightens.
“Sakusa, I found her at the beach this morning. She was barely breathing.”
“So?”
“So! Are you so cruel, cousin? She can’t even remember her name, or where she’s from. She can barely walk. I thought it’d be good to bring her here and let her rest for a while.”
Sakusa clicks his tongue impatiently. “Why should I care?”
“Sakusa,” Motoya sounds upset now. He lowers his voice. “She might have been in a ship wreck,” he pleads. “Sakusa, be reasonable. She needs our help.”
There’s a long silence.
“Fine,” Sakusa grits out. “But she’s your responsibility. Get her to a room, she’s dripping all over my carpet.”
“Of course, of course.” Motoya turns and all but carries you back towards the door.
“And get the girl some damn clothes, for God’s sake, Motoya.”
The door slams with a crack like thunder, and you nearly trip from the shock. Motoya steadies you once again.
“Well, I think that went rather well, don’t you?”
“I—I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense, nonsense. Sakusa’s just like that. You’ll get used to it soon. Here we are.”
You stand in the grandest bedroom you’ve ever seen. The bed is piled high with blankets, from what you can see. The bed has a roof too, apparently, and more blankets drape down, but these float more than the one you are clinging to. They’re white but clear at the same time, and the slight breeze from the window makes them wave, as if welcoming you, encouraging you to bury yourself into the bed within.
You do just that, letting the blanket around your shoulders drop to the ground as you wobble your way to the bed. You push past the white, translucent material and make a nest in the blankets within. Sighs bubble from you. You feel warm, so so warm.
“Um.” Motoya’s back is to you. “Let me close the curtains, Miss, and I’ll find you some clothes.” Curtains, he calls them. Motoya, still with his back to you, tugs the white fabric until there’s no more gap remaining. He bustles off, shouting down the hallway.
He returns a short while later, his eyes averted as he holds out a ‘nightgown’ for you. “We’ll get you something more proper later,” he says. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”
After the door shuts, you slip on the nightgown. It’s cool to the touch, and it reminds you of water as it slides down your body. It’s a pale blue too, like the blanket you had discarded, and like the sea you had nearly drowned in.
You stare up at the canopy of the bed, shading you with more of the same gentle white fabric. It reminds you of your memory at the moment. Indistinct, unfocused. You drift off to sleep, and Sakusa’s face ghosts through your dreams.