It was strange to watch the boy that Kenshin had once been, but it was very much him, honorable, honest, and already trying to take the weight of the world onto his shoulders. Sayuri wanted to reach out through time and halt him from what he was planning, knowing that it would only bring sorrow to the boy. But these were merely ghosts of the past, things that could not be changed. Everything you have done has been in a an attempt to help those who cannot help themselves. If only I were so noble. The thought gave way to her own memories of that age.
The room was mostly dark, only lit by dozens of small candles on the ground. Sayuri knelt in the middle, looking no older than sixteen herself. the beautifully elaborate kimono that she wore was pulled down with her obi holding it together at the waist, revealing her bare upper body to the chilled air. Her breasts were rounded but not quite as large as they were now, having not come into full adulthood yet.
But that was not the focus. Instead there was an old man kneeling behind her. beside him were several tools - needles, wooden hammers, and small cups of various inks. It was an ancient tattooing kit. with careful hands, he would dip the needle into the ink before quickly tapping it into the skin. Sayuri remained perfectly still and silent. This had not been the first time she had endured this, nor would it be her last. Sound would only earn punishment.
For what seemed like an eternity, she knelt, still as a statue, but with a final wipe with the blood and ink covered rag, it was done. The old man bowed as her father came in. "It is done. The pain will be strong for a few days and it is best that she wear loose clothing to sooth it."
"She will wear what she always has. Make yourself presentable daughter." Came the cold response of the man who had sired her. Careful to remain impassive, she nodded and very slowly slid the kimono back on, ignoring the searing pain. Carefully, she then stood and bowed to both men. The old tattooer gave her a look that was sympathetic before giving one final goodbye.
"Father... If... if we may speak?" Sayuri tried to walk to him, but flinched as the weight of her kimono pressed against the sensitive and still somewhat bloody skin. Her father's lips turned downward in a frown and at that and she immediately straightened again. "Father please... we spoke that if I could prove myself, then maybe I could go out for the cherry blossom festival this year."
"And you have done nothing but disappoint me. You cannot even approach me with the grace befitting a woman of your standing." His voice was cold and Sayuri's eyes immediately went downcast. "I am trying father. Please. I have not left the compound since brother ran away." It had been the story she was told, and being a child, she believed it.
"And you will not be until you can prove to me that you will not shame me. I'm starting to think that will never happen though." And with that, he left.
Time seemed change and now Sayuri seemed to be sitting high on the roof of the main house of the manor, her kimono bunched up and wrinked in places as she looked out at the world that she never could live in. Students from the nearby high school seemed to walk past in groups, never noticing the girl who yearned for just one friend. Looking lonely, the young woman was about to stand so she could climb back down before her father returned when there was a small paper butterfly that fluttered to her and a single young man that stood there watching her.
Surprised, she took the note and read it, but by the time she looked back, the boy was gone.
Time changed and seemed to move in a series of moments as the girl continued to sit up there, but notes were passed back and fourth, paper butterflies on the wind. Her first true friend... her first true love...