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The air was hearty of ale, but this time it wasn’t because Yoshihide was sitting in that plush lounge. No, this time it wafted from behind thin shoji doors. The sliding doors were left ajar after Valencina had crashed out of the room a few moments prior, leaving little Yoshihide dumb-founded. It wasn’t that she was trying to spy per say, it was just that her curiosity had gnawed past her usual inhibitions.. After all, it was such an unusual sight.
Valencina’s drinking parties were nothing new, of course. She always had a drink in hand and getting the other Nursefathers in on her antics also wasn’t a particularly rare event. Matthias was the most common candidate. He had no problem pounding back two or three bottles with the woman, though because of his already boisterous demeanor only the smell gave it away. If Yoshihide happened to stumble across the two during their escapade he would pat his lap and call her over. He’d coo and goo over her, all while Valencina would cuss him out for spoiling her and whatnot, fortunately Yoshihide was safe from her Mother’s fists while she was sitting with him. Eventually the screaming would escalate and she’d get to make her escape, but she knew she would have to make up for the grievances in her next solo lesson with Valencina.
Rien and Callisto were much less common and not particularly interesting. Rien only attended Valencina if his beeper told him to, or if she needed a brick wall to yell at. He would get all somber and sit there stonefaced, and if Yoshihide were to approach he’d give her a hollow smile and wave her away. If Callisto was unfortunate to get caught in Valencina’s fray he’d get a little tipsy, although never enough to cause alarm in the little girl. He’d prattle on about art as usual, except with a hic or a wobble every now and then. His tone might also raise an octave if he got to a topic that he was especially passionate about. It was far from the worst thing Yoshihide ever saw, but the off-note of expressions in the man always made Yoshihide’s skin itch.
Shiomi, on the other hand, never drank. She didn’t have any wine glasses or other paraphernalia in her rooms and Yoshihide swore Valencina's liquor practically evaporated every time she crossed into the Pinky’s domain. In fact, the room itself was dried of almost any kind of condensation. Heat didn’t radiate off her Mother, but some kind of vast abyss that ate away at the air around her had always existed. Maybe that’s why Yoshihide's mouth always went dry around her. The one exception was her tears, but Yoshihide liked to think she had conquered that annoyance a while ago. (However, her hypothesis often proved wrong after speaking with Mother.)
To further confuse the matter, Shiomi hardly spoke with the other Nursefathers. She often refused to address them and would only show up when a council demanded all five of them. Yet somehow Valencina had been able to haul her bottles past those shoji doors and get that bile to stay down Shiomi’s throat. That was why Yoshihide had to see it. She hadn’t been planning to stay long, she just wanted to see what her Mother would be like–-or maybe even figure out how Valencina had manipulated her into joining her–-but Valencina’s rude exit blew her cover and now she had to address Shiomi.
“Well, are you just going to stand there and gawk at me? Do even you wish to see me at my lowest?!” Her Mother’s eyes had some kind of glaze that her usual accusatory glare did not, and from much experience Yoshihide knew she was—-as Matthias says—totally piss drunk.
“Brats like you are supposed to be sleeping. Was sapping away at my life not enough, must you curtail yours as well?!”
“I.. couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“
“What, you didn’t mean what?” The woman spoke with less calculation, but with as much bite as ever. “Are you telling me you thought I would stroke your hair and hush you to bed? That’s what that man is for. Don’t ask me for any bullshit like that.”
Yoshihide could only look lamely at her feet. For someone who was supposed to grow into an assassin with no hesitation, she sure was still slow with words. Though it wasn’t totally her fault, it just seemed that everything in her head emptied out when the Pinky addressed her.
However, something radical happened and Shiomi beckoned the girl over. “Sit.” she said.
Yoshihide did as she was told, fearful of what might otherwise. The glaze had been replaced with some kind of hysterical glint. Shiomi took a moment, looking the girl over, and after taking another swig she spoke.
“If I crushed that slender neck right now, would I be free of these webs? A mangled doll is useless, isn’t it? Ah, it would be so easy… to snuff you out right now, wouldn’t it?”
Yoshihide said nothing. She sat perfectly still with her eyes downcast, afraid even to tug at the threads on her skirt.
“But,” she continued. “It wouldn’t change a thing… They say we’re the spiders of the den, but I am no more than a fly. If I dare to thrash against the strings they only tangle more and layer upon themselves. Endlessly wrapping me in my own prison. You’re that web, do you understand?”
Another gulp of that ichor. “Ah, but even if I did kill you right now, they’d just make me have a new monster, wouldn’t they…? It’s hopeless, you can’t understand how I feel.”
Yoshihide thought she knew very well. After all, it’s the only thing her Mother spoke of. It usually just poked and prodded at her sad little heart, reminding her of what a stain she was for the Pinky, but sometimes she allowed herself to be a little rebellious and entertain the idea of feeling resentful. She didn’t care… She already knew she was a burden.
The bottle reached the zataku with a dull thud. It was empty, but the Dihui Star wasn’t. Not yet.
“Listen very carefully to me, Yoshihide.” That caught her attention, as her usual name was “wretched little thing.”
“If you ever want to escape this hellhole, you must not cut down the webs, but the spider weaving them. Only then will you be free from this endless prison.”
After that the Pinky ran out of callous remarks and silently weeped before the girl. It was a full-throttle and violent motion that her body made, however no sound came out. After a moment she lunged for Yoshihide’s neck like she had promised, but gave up and continued to sob while still holding the girl. Her Mother’s tears dampened the roots of her hair as she clutched her. In this miracle Yoshihide assumed that, somehow, she had been able to sneak under and sit inside the border of that parching aura that consumed all. The feel of her Mother’s touch that didn’t leave a bruise was so foreign. In fact, the whole scene was alien. A wet, snotty hug from her Mother, with liquor on her breath. It was almost unforgettable. Almost.
After all, this too, would be slashed away one day.