Chapter Text
The bright morning light burns you through your eyelids, reminding you just how sensitive they can be after a night of restlessly turning. The lack of sleep manifests in several ways; the slight ache in your back, the dry eye, and your pounding headache. It wouldn’t be a good start for today.
You’re to go off into town to apply for a servant’s job, as per a written request posted along the shops. It seemed promising, considering it was for a position at the Zen’in estate, centered in Tokyo, not far from here.. The prospect of such scrutiny did seem daunting, but money was much more important right now. Your family’s debts were looming and you could use a nice, warm meal soon. Something besides old rice…
Stretching off of the worn futon, you stand and feel the weight of fatigue threatening to sink you through the floorboards. Shit. Has being out of work so long really made you so weak? You groan, watching how your parents slept nestled together on their own futon- much more worn than yours.
‘Despite everything, they still make sure I’m more comfortable than them.’
You smile, taking in their slumbering forms before you step behind the worn, wooden divider to change. Your kimono isn’t the nicest, but it’s newer than the other articles of clothing you own- which is way more suitable than necessary to apply for a servant’s position. Your eyes fall onto the paper of the divider- painted with flowers and adorned with holes from its aging state. A wedding gift to your mother from your grandparents. As you dress, you’re wondering if you’ll ever receive such a wedding gift. Or marry at all. With the looming threat of losing the house, or your parent’s death from debt collectors, it seems unlikely.
The walk to town is uneventful, though it’s bustling through the streets. Since the pay period falls on today, you know that’s why it’s overrun with eager faces. Buy the freshest goods before they’re sold out, purchase new socks, and pay off debts. So many issues packed into a small area, that’s for certain. What you hadn’t anticipated, however, was the impossibly long queue lining the wall of where you had found the write-out for the Zen’in job. Fuck. It must have been more in demand than you thought… Despite the way people talked about the Zen’in clan, they were still seemingly desperate enough to apply for the work.
‘Of course. Most of them want in so they can gossip and obtain the ‘all-in’ of the Zen’in’s. Not to forget that working in such a place looks great in writing…’
You’ll have to fight for the position, not that you’re totally confident in the ability to secure it over this many previous housemaids or mothers- all experienced with house work to an extreme degree. Considering that they most likely have tiny mouths to feed, and you don’t, they’ll be more tactful in securing the job. Still- you have your parents and home on the line. That was enough of a motivator for you.
So, like a good daughter, you get into the queue. After minutes of standing in the line that’s both growing in one direction and shortening in the other, you realize how it must look for the other women. A young woman competing with her elders for a well-paying job. ‘It must surely seem entitled of me…’ you think. Though, you can’t afford to care. Selfishness had to make its place in the world somehow.
When it comes your turn to enter the building, you’re greeted by an older woman with a greying bun atop her head. Her eyes pierce into you like she’s scathing your very soul, but her expression holds a false warmth that anyone who knows better could sense. Her kimono is neat- the Zen’in crest stitched on the chest.
”You’re here for work?” She asks with a tone that drips with annoyance but a need for confirmation. You nod, of course, giving a slight bow at the hip.
”Yes, I am.”
She hums in approval, looking you over as if you’re a bull up for purchase.
”Okay. Go inside. You’ll be given a new kimono and assigned a task.” She informs you, already looking to the next girl with a dismissive demeanor towards you.
”Wait, I got the job? What about everyone else?” You question her, anxiety thrumming in your veins and so many questions buzzing in your headache-heavy skull. She laughs, a sort of bark if anything. She finds it utterly stupid for whatever reason.
”Of course, we’re hiring servants- not concubines. We take as many as we can get.” She’s sneering at you, no doubt at the fact you should have known. What estate would hire only one servant? ‘Idiot…’ you think, berating yourself for not realizing sooner. It’s no issue, though. You still got the job.
After securing a kimono from inside the building as instructed, you’re to fill out paperwork so that your pay can be arranged. You set it up in your parents name, of course. An older man tells you that you’re being assigned to Inside work. The interior of the estate? You couldn’t be more elated, but also worried. Any estate cost a fortune and was maintained to utmost perfection, especially the Zen’in clan with its known prestige and seemingly endless wealth. Having spent time learning about the best cleaning methods through your own household chores, you felt semi-confident. Hopefully it’ll be enough to please the Zen’ins- maybe they wouldn’t fire you immediately.
If you try hard, it’ll all work itself out.
When the fresh kimonos run out, everyone is sent home to collect the bare necessities and attend to any goodbyes that they may need to make.
“The Zen’in clan?” Your father asked, voice shaking but… calm. As if he had to steady himself. You’re not sure why his reaction is so.. off. But maybe he’s nervous about you leaving home.
“That’s not a small name. I… I trust you’ll keep your head down while you’re there? I can see you already made up your mind. And the pay.. Well, it’s not extravagant but it is.. something. More than something…” he says. You think there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t.
“Of course, father. I intend to work hard, maybe they’ll promote me after some time.” You tell him, but you’re not so sure of the words yourself. A promotion to a servant? That’s not likely. Unless you were an elder and had some background.
“Work hard..” your mother repeats, wringing the ends of her sleeves in a nervous habit. It was a habit she indulged to avoid biting at her nails.
The night seems endless. You can hear mosquitoes buzzing outside, newborns fussing from houses down, and the walls of your own creaking. They’re heavy with age and much needed repairs that will never see the light of day. You turn on your futon, staring a hole into the cloth bundle containing the things you’ll bring with you tomorrow. A semi-broken comb from your mother, two kimonos, and a pair of socks that don’t have holes.
Everything feels so small and cramped, suffocating, yet sleep finds you. Your mother wakes you with a shake to your shoulder, and when you open your eyes, you can see she’s been crying. You knew that your departure would be hard for her to handle, but crying? It seemed excessive somehow, though you reassure yourself that anyone would be lucky to have a loving mother who cries over them.
Servants passed through a corridor- in such order that it was almost eerie to anyone that doesn’t carry the Zen’in name. Footsteps muted on polished floors and words kept to a murmur. Watching from the sidelines was the Zen’in heir, Naoya. Every little movement caught his eye in boredom. One woman bowed too late, another smudged a tray she was carrying, and god forbid he tried to listen to the gossiping. The smallest fuck-ups had him gritting his teeth, but he stopped himself. It was too early to get so worked up over the clans poor choice in hiring.
“I should stop before I get forehead wrinkles like my old man,” Naoya muttered to himself. He reached his hands up to his collar, straightening it before making his way down a hallway that cut off into a tea room. His aunt followed behind, silent. She knelt down to open the door for her nephew, gaze lowered the entire time.
Inside the room, Naoya’s father Naobito sat alongside Naoya’s cousin Jinichi and Uncle Ogi.
“Good morning. I suppose whatever you summoned me for is worth the headache?”
Naobito grunted, taking a sip from his gourd.
“Sure- sit.” He instructed, gesturing loosely to one of the floor cushions at the low table. Naoya sat, his face showing his clear irritation. His posture was proper and his hand gentle as he grabbed his tea cup.
“Speak, then,” He said before putting the cup to his lips.
“You’re going to be promoted to clan head. I’m getting too old and sick to keep up, you know.” Naobito spoke, slamming the gourd down with clumsiness.
“But if you’re not going to take it seriously and worry about producing an he-“
“Enough. I didn’t come here to discuss breeding like a damn animal. I’ll have a son when I find someone worthy of carrying the Zen’in name. That’s the fucking problem with this clan, you all settle for mediocrity. Take Ogi for example. If you’d used your head before spreading your seed, you wouldn’t have had a defective child like mak-“
“You’re 27 and not even married,” Jinichi grunted, unibrow furrowed. Naoya shot him a look and slammed his fist on the table, his childish side coming out so easily that it was almost amusing.
“Well forgive me for being the only fucking one in this family with self control!” Naoya huffed and like clockwork his posture drooped. He put his chin in his palm, elbow on the table. He always seemed to stray from his collected demeanor when he was embarrassed- and so easily, too.
“At least I’m not desperate enough to marry the first woman who shows an ounce of attention. Some of you could learn a thing or two about standards; this entire clan could. There’s no order, and even the women wandering around cleaning this place are incompetent.” He complained, going off subject. When Naoya got riled up or humiliated, he often started rambling or veering off subject about anything there was to be upset about. It was a guarantee.
“Well, we’ve hired new servants. They’ll be starting today. Those already employed will be let go.” Ogi responded, indifferent to Naoya’s gripes.
Naoya raised a brow but said nothing, not very amused. The complaint wasn’t that serious, just a way for him to deflect his insecurities.
“There was a younger girl in the bunch. We looked at her last name and it seems her father owed money to the clan some time ago. We weren’t going to worry about it, but it’s too opportune don’t you think? She can be collateral.” Ogi explained, leaning into his fist. He had that stupid smirk on his face. The Zen’in clan never hired the younger bunch, they were often less inclined with respecting their elders or more so, slacking off. Considering that the women working for them now were lackluster, Naoya was displeased. Very much so.
He laughed.
“You’re kidding. Oh, the clan’s help is terrible. Let’s hire even younger women with no home training, that will fix it-“ He mocked, throwing his hands up.
“She’s not going to be help, Naoya. She’s working under you. Think of it like… a personal attendant. Once her father hears of it, he’ll be sure to start making payments soon. He knows how women get treated when they step out of line. Besides, we can’t keep up the clan's wealth if we brush off everyone who owes us money.”
“That’s fucking stupid. I don't need a personal handmaid to help me piss or make my bed. Some fucking nobody owing us money doesn’t concern me.” Naoya stood, looking down at the bunch with eerie disdain.
“I’ll be clan head soon, so it doesn’t matter. Just see to it that the paperwork is settled,” He said, exiting the room. Naoya’s aunt was still kneeling, holding the door open for him before sliding it back into place. She followed him down the hallway as he mumbled to himself.
“Eyes forward- and straighten your back. You need to appear like you have some sense once you enter the Zen’in house.” The same old woman from earlier had everyone outside the estate, picking them apart and correcting anything that was off. But for some reason, she was especially picky with you.
“Let your hair down.” You hesitated for a moment. Why take your hair down? Everyone else had been instructed to wear it neatly, arranged out of their face while they cleaned. You complied, though. Letting it fall down into place.
“Hm. Not bad. You listen, at least.” She comments, stepping back.
“When you all enter this household, you will not speak unless spoken to. You will not talk back, you will not do anything that you think you shouldn’t, and you certainly will NOT disrespect any man in the house. If he tells you to kneel, you kneel. Anything you’re told, consider it done without question.” She turns and starts on the gravely path lining the stone wall outside the grounds. It leads to some old steps, and everyone is following in order. Even you. Even as your throat feels tight. What kind of place were you going to? What were you about to go into?
Inside the estate, it’s well kept but there’s an aura of something unmistakable. The same kind of feeling you’d get walking into a graveyard at night- even though it’s early…
It’s traditional, tidy. There’s several rooms off to the sides of each hallway, clearly the servants quarters are in this wing.
“Pick a room, pick a futon- it’s where you’ll be sleeping.” The woman says, trying to pick up everyone’s pace. You look into one of the rooms curiously before stepping in. Then, you’re pulled back by the neck of your kimono.
“Not you. You’ll be sleeping closer to the Zen’in family. You’re going to be attending to the heir.” She says, finally cluing you in on why she’s been so particular with you.
The heir? You didn’t know if you could handle that. You’ve only ever done basic housework- this was too much.
“I don’t think-“
“You will. You want money, right? Just listen to what he tells you to do and you’ll be fine. You have a nice ass and a pretty face, so there’s not much to worry about with him. Again- just don’t step out of line.” Her words are cruder than you could have expected from her. You swallow the thick lump in your throat, disliking the implication of being looked at like a prime feast.
The two of you stand there as she watches everyone put down their things, before listing off directions for them to go where they’ve been assigned to work. The kitchen, the garden, a tea room, the list goes on. When everyone disperses she starts to walk off, expecting you to follow. You shake. Understandably enough for anyone in your position. You’d probably tremble more if you really knew the nature of the Zen'in clan’s favorite son, but right now, it’s a guessing game.
After rounding some corners and going through a wider door than the rest, the hall here is more polished and well maintained. The family’s wing of the estate, no doubt. Down the hall, the woman stops short of a door- expecting you to open it. You come to the realization and kneel, sliding it open for her. She hums and you see a pair of sock-clad feet out of the corner of your eye- a leg bouncing as if waiting impatiently.
“Tch. Does it really take so long to order around a bunch of mindless birds? I was expecting you’d be here around fifteen minutes ago.” A male voice says with malice that seems so normal for him. He isn’t even acknowledging you. Why would he?
“Forgive me, Naoya-Sama. We’ve hired more help than expected. I’ve brought the girl.” She apologizes, her stern tone gone and replaced with a sense of fear. A moment passes.
“Is she fucking stupid? Why is she still in the hallway?” He scoffs, almost laughing.
“Get the fuck in here.” His tone is so flat that it scares you more than if he had raised his voice. You scramble faster than you thought possible of yourself, entering the room in a blur. You get down onto the floor to bow before even getting a good look at him- too afraid he’d lash out if you stare him in the face.
“Greetings, Naoya-sa-“ You go to use his name, but it was a mistake. Clearly.
“Who the fuck asked you to speak to me?” He stood up with a fluid motion, his feet coming into full view- right where you were staring a hole into the tatami mat.
“Stand up. It’s pathetic.” You comply at a pace that is slow but not so fast it’s clumsy. You’re not sure what makes him angry, as everything seems to piss him off. So, you keep your head tilted- taking in the color of his hakama and kimono. His chest is broad, his arms crossed along his chest.
“You can leave now. I have no use for you.” Naoya says flatly, waving a hand off to the woman who had brought you here. There’s no need to address anyone by name. Everyone always knows who he’s talking towards. When she’s gone and the door is closed, it feels like the room is shrinking. You don’t know how long your breath has been holding in your chest. Without warning, his hand grabs your chin and is tilting your face up to his. Naoya’s grip is nothing short of painful, and his face is.. something. His jawline is sharp and his eyes are more so, while being a deep gold. His mouth frowns more on one side, probably a quirk.
Piercings glint on both of his ears, a questionable choice, you think, aside from his clearly dyed hair. It’s a weird mix within the traditional setting you’re both in.
“You’re going to tend to me, understand? I don’t need a fucking maid tripping over me, but you might as well make yourself useful while you’re here. You’ll wake up before me every morning and have my tea ready- right there.” He uses his grip to turn your head in the direction of the kotatsu before bringing your gaze back to him. You want nothing more to spit in his face right now. You’ve never felt that way about anyone- and you’re so tempted that you’re scared you might just do it on impulse.
“Then, while I’m waking up- you’ll prepare a bath. Hot. Not warm. Not scalding. I can dress myself just fine. Anything else is up to the day in question. Whether it’s a clan meeting or if there isn’t shit going on.”
You nod. You know not to acknowledge him verbally.
“You know how to shut your mouth. Good. I don’t want to hear any talking from you unless I explicitly ask for it. Now, you see that futon over there?” He once again turns your head so you can see, your breath hitching and stilling in your lungs. You see the futon. Small and not too old. It’s tucked off in the corner, right inside the Oshiire on the second shelf. The space below could be used for your belongings- which you now realize you left near the servants quarters. You pray no one has taken the liberty of stealing anything or tossing the cloth bag away.
“That’s where you sleep. That way, you can’t be fucking tardy. Understood?”
Another nod.
“Hm. Now, I need to go off on clan business. Get me a pair of sandals from the chest.” He releases your chin with a shove, and you will yourself over to the wooden thing. It’s adorned with a carving of a tiger surrounded by leaves. Something so beautiful is out of place being owned by a person like him, you think to yourself.
You open it and pull out a pair of Waraji sandals, ignoring the searing feeling of eyes on your neck. When you turn, he’s sitting on the edge of the futon, holding a pair of clippers.
“You’re going to tie them for me. A man doesn’t need to do something beneath him when women are around.” You acknowledge his words with a look and kneel in front of him, the nervous energy palpable. He’s manspreading, leaning his elbow onto his knee as he watches with boredom. You tie with haste and knowledge you had from watching your father tie his own sandals every now and then. You clip the strings of the first, starting on the second. You’re shaking a little from this position, sure, you’re only tying his sandals- but it’s too close to his body for comfort.
When you’re finished, he snatches the clippers back and sets them aside.
“While I’m gone, you can busy yourself being useful. However you see fit, that is. Just don’t go messing with my shit. Is that clear?” He asks as he stands, no regard that you’re still kneeled. He steps across your hand, making you yelp quietly. You look down and nurse your skin, squeezing the tender flesh to soothe the pain from the rough straw that cut you.
“You don’t need to answer to any of the women in the house. Because when I call for you, I’d prefer you not be busy doing some menial task that they forced you into doing. You answer to me. No one else. You respect the other men on the property, like you’re supposed to, but if you’re asked to do something- just tell them to fuck off. Politely.” He says, not giving you a second glance. He stops at the door, and you take your cue to come open the door for him. He hums, walking through. It seems you hadn’t responded too late for his liking. You shut the door back, left alone in the room. For now…
You’re not sure what to do. All you can think of is to make his futon and tidy the Kotatsu. So you do, which takes little to no time. You decide to grab your belongings from the servants quarters- finding that it’s untouched. You bring your things into his room, stuffing the small back into the Oshiire, on the shelf below your futon.
You kneel next to the futon, sighing deeply. It’s a shuddering breath that you feel like you’ve been holding for hours. It was going to be hell working here.
hours. It was going to be hell working here.