Chapter Text
Solitude harvests nothing but misery, its curse a slow yet harrowing process. She did not notice it being planted, only vaguely aware of its roots taking hold within her. This seed of loneliness, germinating in darkness, grows into an empty feeling so desperate for stimulation that its flowers leave nothing but a hollow shell. By then, there is nothing to do but die, surrounded by shadow.
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As long as she could remember, Mafuyu was alone. Not in a literal sense, as her mother visited her often in her tower, but after countless nightfalls and just as many sunrises, never surprising her, it was impossible to feel anything other than a crushing seclusion. That was the point though, wasn’t it?
Mafuyu did not dream. Not anymore, at least. As a young girl, she fantasized about running through the forest and laughing alongside the birds, but when she awoke in her bed with nothing in front of her except the spiral of stairs, she wept. At some point the darkness of night stained her dreams, and sleep became nothing more than an absence of daylight.
Her early days were crammed with reading from the moment she could understand the words in front of her, though so few texts met her mother’s standards that Mafuyu had memorized not only every word but each miniscule crease in the pages and stray dot of ink. It was all the same, even when the words were placed in a different order. Many of the books were stories depicting the terrible things humans did, usually sin, betrayal and crime. They always left Mafuyu with a sense of shame for being curious about what lay beyond her tower, yet they somehow also intensified her desire to know more. Perhaps in an effort to distract her restless mind, her mother taught her weaving and mending, and when her technique was considered adequate, she was given materials and instructions to do work for the villagers. Should her work not hold up… well, Mafuyu wouldn’t allow a chance to find out what would happen.
If she wasn’t working on braiding rope or patching clothes, Mafuyu found herself staring out her window at the top of the structure for hours, watching the birds flutter in and out of the trees that surrounded her tower. They reminded her of her own powerlessness, being so small in a large world while she herself was trapped. Her envy gnawed at her consciousness, always returning to the question of why she was kept away. Was it punishment for something horrible she had done, lost in the cloud of her memories? Was the world truly so treacherous, and she should be grateful? When she went down these roads, it always ended in a headache.
This logical enigma had led Mafuyu to ask about her tower on a few rare occasions, when the discordance twisting inside her mind begged for an answer. Her mother’s responses became more assertive with each mention of the subject, as if they had much else to discuss when she visited.
At first, she assured Mafuyu, “I only want to protect you! You’re my most precious thing.” A generous reply, though it wasn’t satisfying. The fresh fruits and vegetables she used in her meals were precious to her, but that didn’t keep Mafuyu from eating them. Some things shouldn’t be preserved for eternity.
When she was a little older, it became, “I don’t want to see you debase yourself like those village children. You’re better than that.” This was what Mafuyu gathered from her readings, reinforcing her perception of the local humans. Why, then, did her mother continue doing business with them, insisting that Mafuyu’s work be of the highest quality if the clients were so low?
However, when she grew old enough to truly lament her isolation, her mother’s reason took on a reproachful tone. “What else could you need, Mafuyu? Why are you so intent on throwing yourself into the world of peasants? Surely you know by now that they can give you nothing, only take and take until you’re nothing but a tossed-aside rotten core.” Rotten. Is that what she was destined to be?
She was expected to be content with this, and so content she was, at least on the surface. Over time, she was convinced that she was selfish for wishing for anything new in her life, arrogant for questioning her mother’s guidance, yet also extraordinarily pure and gifted. This paradox crystalized into a dull void inside Mafuyu, settling in nicely between her head and her heart. Stasis was safe. Inaction was protection. Protection was love.
How long must this lonely life go on?
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Grow, this distant hope. May it some day bloom into the picture I once dreamed of.