Cloud Castles

by Sophia Ai, Torrey Pines High School '22

June 24, 2020

"Consumed" by Tracy Li, Del Norte High School '21

Her servants pulled her out of bed when Amaterasu had barely begun her journey across the skies, the goddess’s swirls of brilliant pinks and oranges bleeding into the serene darkness of the night. Her eyelids were still heavy with sleep as they silently ushered her into the bath and fretted around her for hours. Her cheeks became translucent as the face powder was gently patted onto her face; her mouth resembled a drop of blood on snow as rogue was smeared across her lips. She watched as they layered garment after garment onto her body until her arms were heavy with the weight of the kimono’s embroidered sleeves and responsibility.

She nodded silently while her mother instructed her how to conduct herself in front of the suitor: Only speak when spoken to, bow your head, straighten your back when you sit, smile pleasantly and please please please don’t start that awful habit of yours; staring and picking at your nails while your future in-laws are talking will bring dishonor to the family name, do you understand?

She could only look down at her geta sandals as her mother’s rambling continued; after all, any sign of defiance would result in another scolding.

Her father came rumbling out of his bedroom, yelling at the servants to prepare the palanquins. Her mother quickly whisked her away to where the four carriers were waiting. She took a deep breath, silently wishing her peaceful days within the family residency goodbye, and took her first step to fulfill her duty as she allowed herself to be carried away towards her fate.

She sat there, a porcelain doll: eyes as soft and innocent as pink cherry blossoms in spring, cheeks as bright as the golden summer sun, lips as full as the deep crimson of autumn, skin as white as fresh snow on a winter morning. Her ebony hair was piled high on her head, adorned with jeweled combs and colorful hairpins that winked in the light, anything that indicated social status and wealth.

She winced as she shifted in her seat. Her legs folded under her were beginning to ache; the relentless droning of the matchmaker became a chant that began to pound in her head. She could understand that he’s the son of a respectable samurai and marrying him would raise her family’s social prominence. She could understand that her role was to become the perfect bride, a pawn in her father’s game of chess. She couldn’t understand why she must remain chained to this room and its suffocating walls while the sky was spiraling with brushstrokes of white clouds and the grass was dancing to the music of a slight breeze.

She knew that on a spring day just like this six years ago, when her unbound hair still flowed freely with the wind and her body was small enough to steal sweets unnoticed from the kitchen, she met a boy.

✽ ✽ ✽

She quickly dove into the camellia bushes, escaping the governess’ frantic calls. Her hands were clutching a small square of yokan, her favorite dessert, snatched from the pantry while the cook wasn’t looking. She giggled, pleased with her success. Her bliss was interrupted by a sudden rustle of the leaves as an unkempt head of hair popped out of the bushes. She saw a boy her age with dirt under his fingernails, his shoes in tatters, his eyes wide and innocent, and skin tanned from hours working in the sun. She watched as he frantically tumbled out of the leaves and onto his knees, bowing his head. She heard him call her “Hime-sama,” Princess, as he stumbled over his words, stringing together a lousy excuse for his disgraceful behavior. She shook her head and extended her hand towards him with the yokan, offering a piece. Her eyes followed his dark, tanned hand as it brushed against her pale, slim fingers, marveling at how rough and grimy his hands were. She brought her half of the yokan to her lips, and the pair sat in silence as they savored the sweet taste of red bean spread across their tongues. Her governess called again, and she hastily brushed the dirt off her kimono and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, erasing all evidence of her crime. She waved a silent goodbye to the boy and dashed to her room, the sweetness of the yokan lingering on her lips.

✽ ✽ ✽

She stared at the teacup in front of her, entranced by the curling steam. She was aware of the suitor’s eyes greedily raking over her body as if she was simply a toy for him to play with, and her hands itched to pick at her nails to distract herself. Her arms resisted the urge to wipe all of the morning’s work away, to take off her mask of beauty and innocence and run to the gardens to taste the yokan with the servant boy again.

She glanced at the matchmaker, an elderly woman embraced by an air of dignity; her silver hair neatly pinned into a halo around her head and her arms folded into her lap like origami. She noticed the smug smile on her face; the woman seemed pleased with the couple in front of her: the young, beautiful daughter of a daimyo lord and the son of one of the most powerful samurai in the country. She knew that to the matchmaker, she was just another means of acquiring more wealth after the marriage was consummated.

She glanced at her father, a middle-aged man with his topknot tucked underneath his eboshi cap; his chest puffed out like a rooster, pride radiating from every inch of his body. She noticed her father eyeing the expensive silk of the kimono her future father-in-law wore. Her ears rang every time he spoke, his voice sending ripples through the air.

She glanced at the suitor, a man ten years her senior with the eyes of a snake: small, squinted, and quick to lock on her body like she was his prey. She could feel his eyes stripping away each layer of her kimono until her pale shoulders were bare and exposed for him to leer, completely ignoring the marriage discussions between the matchmaker and the house heads. She turned away in disgust.

Her hand shook as she picked up the teacup, her mind rushing to block out the overbearing presence of the matchmaker, her father’s booming voice, and the lustful eyes of the suitor. She swallowed her pride with the bitter taste of matcha tea, burying her reluctance in the back of her mind. Her only purpose was to marry, bear an heir, and live the rest of her days serving her husband and son. Her future was irrevocable, plain and simple, and yet she still prayed to the gods to turn back time and whisk her away.

✽ ✽ ✽

She finished her studies early, rushing to the gardens in hopes of meeting the servant boy. She tiptoed across the stone path, careful not to trip over the stone lanterns. Her eyes immediately spotted the familiar mop of hair near the bonsai trees, and she ran as quickly as she could in her elevated wooden sandals while her hands gathered the long silks of her kimono in her arms. She stopped behind him, still ogling at his tanned skin, and tapped him on the shoulder as lightly as she could, lighter than a feather’s touch. She stepped back as he spun around, shears in hand and a flurry of clipped maple leaves rained down like snow. Her lips bloomed into a small smile and she waved, and the boy hurriedly brushed the clippings out of his hair, bowing and calling her “Hime-sama” again. She shook her head, and the boy gave a small laugh of relief and pointed to the sky. Her eyes followed his hand, and her breath was taken away by the cotton balls of clouds drifting aimlessly across the canvas of airy blues of the sky. She eagerly listened as he told her of all the tales of gods and goddesses and of their dwelling place, Takamagahara, a grand palace in the heavens overflowing with luxury. She couldn’t help but smile as he promised he would take her to the cloud castles when they were older, but her heart couldn’t help but ache as her subconscious reminded her of her fate.

✽ ✽ ✽

Her wedding date was set; in one month’s time, she would no longer be her parents’ daughter. She peered through a small hole in the screen separating her room from the cacophony of activity in the courtyard, watching as servants scurried back and forth like a line of ants with decorative screens, paintings, and multiple chests balanced on their backs. Her father was at the center of it all, barking orders to be as careful with the dowry items as possible, so as not to sully his name. She was startled by a curt knock followed by the familiar scrape of the sliding door. Her attendant bowed her head as she stepped into the room, placing a folded wedding kimono on her futon. She didn’t even bother to turn around and look, knowing all too well what it meant. She heard her mother’s muffled voice outside her room and the sound of the door scraping against the floor pierced the air again. Her hair on her arms stood on edge as her mother’s footsteps edged closer and closer, dreading another lecture of obeying her mother-in-law and yielding to her husband’s desires. Her head turned at a soft thump next to her and her eyes rested upon a volume of The Tale of Genji next to her arms. Her mother stayed silent and touched her shoulder, the only sign of motherly love she’s shown since that day, almost as if she was apologizing. She waited until her mother’s footsteps receded and the door slid shut. Her fingers brushed against the leathery cover of the book and whispered a soft “Thank you.”

✽ ✽ ✽

She would never forget the memories of the events that unfolded that day. She awoke to a commotion in the courtyards outside of her room, immediately recognizing her father’s authoritative tone, the governess’ nasally voice, and the protests of the servant boy. Her mind raced as she slipped a robe over her nightgown, her heart violently pounding like a drum against her chest. She froze as she attempted to make sense of the sight in front of her: her father’s beet-red face, contorting with anger, her mother’s head down, conforming with silence, the governess’s contemptuous smirk, radiating with triumph, and the servant boy’s blatant protest, rebelling with desperation, his eyes wild with fear as two guards restrained his arms. She tried to say something, to ask what, no, why, this was happening, but her voice stuck in her throat. Her father began to speak, but she couldn’t hear anything he was saying over the loud thumping of her heartbeat. She could only look at the servant boy, desperate to make eye contact, but he only looked away with guilt spread across his face. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she attempted to fight back the tears that threatened to overflow. Her eyes widened as her father waved his hand and the guards saluted in response and began to march the boy away, his heels carving lines in the gravel to form rivers for her tears. She kicked and screamed against the governess’ arms that held her back, begging him to come back and to never leave, to remember that he promised to take her to the cloud castles. She screamed that she didn’t care if he was just a servant who tended to the bonsai trees in the gardens or if someone of noble birth like her should ever befriend someone with skin as tanned as his. Her vision became blurry with tears, and out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother slowly lift her hand, her face twisted with pain as she dropped her arm in defeat. Her father only stood and watched, his expression hard and unforgiving. She never heard a response.

✽ ✽ ✽

She let the servants pull her out of bed when Amaterasu hadn’t even started her journey across the skies, the horizon stained with a dark indigo. Her face once again became a ghostly pale as the face powder was patted onto her face, and her lips were painted the color of blood. Her arms became heavier and heavier as each white layer of the wedding kimono was draped over her body until she stood in the mirror and saw an unrecognizable girl staring back. She tucked her mother’s copy of The Tale of Genji into her luggage before she was ushered into the palanquins by her attendants. She found herself in the same suffocating room as before where she first met the suitor, except this time, he was the groom and she the bride. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, the voice of the priest fading away to the back of her mind along with her memories of the boy, the yokan they shared, and the cloud castles he promised they’d see. She opened her eyes, now the wife of a man she didn’t love.

The skies were clear.