Golden Birdcage and Silent Yearning
The muffled thud of the vermilion gate closing behind her was like an invisible barrier, completely separating Uchiha Aoi from a world filled with blood, slaughter, and yet also filled with her own blood relatives. She stood alone in a courtyard so spacious she could hear the echo of her own heartbeat, gazing up at the cascading eaves and brackets, the meticulously painted beams and pillars, and the winding, exquisite corridors. The air was filled with a cool, distant scent of sandalwood, blending with the delicate fragrance of the courtyard's carefully cultivated flowers and plants. It felt like a world entirely different from the Uchiha clan land she had just left, suffused with the scent of smoke, blood, and sweat.
The white sandstone beneath my feet was raked into neat ripples, dotted with a few oddly shaped rocks, and an ancient pine tree was meticulously pruned into a proud posture. Everything was extremely elegant, yet also extremely deliberate, lacking the wild vitality.
"Come with me, child." Grandma's voice broke the suffocating silence, awakening Kui from her daze. The old lady's tone could be considered gentle, but beneath it lay an undeniable dignity and aloofness, honed by time and power. Supported by two humble maids, she turned and walked towards the main house. The train of her magnificent twelve-piece gown trailed on the ground, her rings and bracelets jingled softly, and every step exuded the graceful demeanor of someone who had lived in high esteem.
Aoi hurriedly stretched her still-weak legs, clumsily following. Her plain, plain new kimono stood in stark contrast to the meticulously crafted scenery of the courtyard and the sleek, soft silks of the maids. She felt like a fluttering gray sparrow that had strayed into a rich tapestry, the very notion of "out of place" written all over her.
She was led to a spacious, quiet room. The floor was covered with smooth rush mats (tatami), which exuded the fragrance of hay. A soft, hazy light filtered through the paper-covered sliding doors. Inside, a black lacquered low table, a few futons, and an exquisite gold-painted lacquer cabinet were furnished. The furnishings were simple, yet each piece exuded an understated elegance.
"You'll live here from now on." Grandma's voice sounded a little cold in the empty Japanese-style room. "A maid will come over later to help you bathe and change clothes. Your old clothes..." She glanced at Aoi's old clothes, which were clean but obviously rough and even had a little dust from travel. She frowned slightly, her carefully trimmed eyebrows almost imperceptibly. "You don't need to keep them anymore."
The words were soft, yet carried a resoluteness to erase the past. Aoi subconsciously clutched the corner of her clothes, which seemed to still linger with the dusty scent of the Uchiha clan, as well as... the faint, clear scent of the coat her brother had thrown her.
Soon, several maids, dressed in pale kosode, their manners as if cast in the same mold, filed in. They bowed silently and then set to work. Perfectly warm water was poured into the large cypress tub, even a few dried chrysanthemum petals sprinkled on the surface. A thick, warm vapor filled the air, carrying the delicate fragrance of chrysanthemums.
The maids moved gently and efficiently, undressing her in near silence and carrying her into the tub. The warm water enveloped her body, washing away the dust and fatigue of the journey, as if to remove all traces of the Uchiha family. They used delicate bath soap to scrub her body and wash her long hair, each step meticulously and with the rigor of a ritual.
Aoi let them manipulate her like a puppet, her heart filled with indescribable awkwardness and a hint of humiliation. This feeling of being completely stripped of all traces of her original nature was even colder than an ice-cold kunai.
After her bath, they dressed her in a three-layered, soft, smooth lavender kimono with small sleeves, tied at the waist with a delicate pale yellow sash button. The soft satin against her skin felt unfamiliar and velvety. A maid dried her hair, carefully combing it, and tied it into a lovely bun befitting her age, inserting a small, mother-of-pearl hairpin.
Finally, she was led to a bronze mirror, polished to a brilliant shine. A tiny figure appeared in the mirror: delicately carved from jade, exquisitely dressed, her hair perfectly combed, like a meticulously dressed porcelain doll. She felt a sense of strangeness that frightened her. It was Aoi, the noblewoman, not the Uchiha Aoi who would run along the training grounds, secretly climb trees, and hide behind her mother and brother to avoid shuriken practice.
A huge sense of loss and confusion surged into my heart like a tide.
In the following days, Aoi began her routine and stereotyped life in the aristocratic mansion. Every day seemed to be measured with a precise ruler.
In the morning, at the first light of dawn, she would be gently awakened by a maid. After washing and dressing, she would be led by the maid to the main house to pay her respects to her grandmother. There were strict rules for the morning greeting, the angle of the bow, and even the direction of the eye contact. Breakfast consisted of a few small dishes, a bowl of rice, and a bowl of miso soup served in exquisite lacquerware. The portions were so delicate that each bite had to be chewed slowly and without making any sound.
The morning is a fixed study time. An old female official with a serious expression and a downturned mouth is responsible for teaching her aristocratic etiquette. How to walk (the size and rhythm of the steps), how to sit and lie down (the sitting posture, the order of standing up), how to serve tea (the position of the fingers, the direction of the cup handle), how to greet people of different status (the respect of the language, the depth of the bow)... It is extremely tedious. Every action needs to be practiced repeatedly until it becomes muscle memory and conforms to the regulations in the thick "Female Rules" and "Etiquette". Kui's casual thinking of modern people seems out of place here. Often because of minor mistakes - such as taking a slightly larger step when walking, or not arranging the hem of her clothes absolutely flat when sitting down - the female official will use a cold ruler to gently tap her arm or calf, accompanied by a calm reminder: "Miss, please pay attention."
In the afternoon, she sometimes needed to learn flower arrangement, identifying different flowers and the "meanings" they represented; sometimes she needed to learn to smell incense (the art of incense), distinguishing between spices with extremely similar smells; more often, she was just asked to stay quietly in the room to "cultivate tranquility" - that is, staring at the courtyard, or practicing calligraphy, and she must not run or make noise, or even show her emotions too much.
The food was always exquisite, yet tinged with a persistent hunger. The room was spacious and comfortable, yet it felt like another, more ornate cage, a web of invisible rules woven into a web that bound her. The maids were always respectful, yet they also maintained an unbridgeable distance, never saying much, never overstepping the bounds. While her grandmother never treated her harshly, providing her with the best of everything, her food, clothing, shelter, and transportation, her care was always veiled by a veil of formality, carrying with it scrutiny, expectations, and a subtle sense of distance, borne of her "ninja father."
She began to miss the Uchiha clan land madly. She missed the training ground, which was fraught with danger but where she could run and shout freely; she missed her mother's warm, fragrant embrace; she missed the coarse candies her twin brothers secretly gave her, which were so sweet that they were almost sticky; she even began to miss the taste of the rough, yet filling, whole grains that provided energy.
And the person she thought about the most was her brother Uchiha Madara, who was silent all the way but brought her to safety.
She remembered the water bag and sour plums he handed her, the coat that smelled of body temperature and gunpowder, his cold profile and taut jawline when he opened his Sharingan, his figure that scared away the ronin with his murderous aura alone, and his back as he resolutely left without looking back.
Longing was silent, yet like a vine growing in the dark night, it quietly coiled around her heart, tightening and aching. She secretly hid the insignificant little stone she had brought from the Uchiha clan, clutching it tightly in her hand as she slept at night. The cold touch was the only real link connecting her to the past, to that silent brother, reminding her of where she came from.
She often stood alone beneath the exquisite corridor, gazing at the pines and cypresses in the courtyard, meticulously pruned to a pristine state, their elegant forms stripped of their true nature. She felt like they were transplanted into this rich soil, meticulously pruned and watered according to the mold of a "noble lady," drifting further and further away from the true, slightly wild "Uchiha Aoi."
This world, safe, prosperous, and elegant, shielded from the flames of war and bloodshed, yet it left her feeling an unprecedented, deep-seated loneliness and suffocation. She began to truly understand the price her mother paid for her "ordinary" life—the price she paid for her family, kinship, freedom, and her true self, in exchange for a seemingly stable and peaceful future nestled in a gilded birdcage. And this future had only just begun.
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