Year of the Boar, Fourth Month, Day 7.

All is lost, I am alone in the world for Lord Kenta will surely come to hate me now... Helpless and faint hearted, I could not defend myself when an assassin broke into my room and made to plunge a sword into my breast.
The child, Tomoe, lies hovering between life and death. After swooning at the willow I remember waking briefly and writing in the pillow book but after that, there was nothing. I welcomed oblivion, I lay as if in stasis, aware of nothing, just a darkness that enfolded me in its velvet grip until I awoke to insistent screaming... As if my eyelids were weighed down with the coins of the dead, I dragged them open, taking precious moments to realise that the screaming was aimed at me. Tomoe knelt at my side, shaking me, screaming at me to wake up and run. And I could not. Leaden limbed I lay gasping shallow breaths of fear as I saw the shadowy harbinger of my doom looming over me, sword in hand, and had Tomoe not leapt up and thrown something at him, I would have sunk into death's waiting arms without so much as a whimper, thankful to find myself in his embrace. But the child had other ideas and she did not let up her screaming and it was as if her voice dragged me from my bed and pulled me towards the door. My limbs were so weak when I tried to move that all I could do was crawl like an invalid and though I tried to add my screams for help to hers, all that came from my throat were pathetic croaks, as if I were a frog in the throes of death.
I heard a thud beside me and I thought my doom was again at hand until I understood that the child wanted me to pick something up as she shrieked. There on the floor lay a knife... and I did pick it up but my hands shook so badly that I could barely hold it steady and as the shadow advanced I thought I would at least lose my life standing and not cowering in a corner. Then suddenly, with a bloodcurdling yell the assassin was stopped in his tracks as Tomoe jumped on his back and he fell... I breathed a shuddering sigh of relief but it was to be short-lived as her screams were cut short and the killer started towards me again. Then just as suddenly, the captain of the guards and his men burst through the paper doors and forced him to the floor and somehow I found myself at the child's side and covered in the blood which had drenched the tatami mats beneath her... thus Lord Kenta did find me, weeping and he opened his arms, and although I was afraid of his anger, I went to him.
His hands strong yet so gentle; he held me as though I were an injured bird, fragile and in need of care. When I tried to return to Tomoe's side, he turned my face away saying I did not need to see, and all the while his captains made their reports he murmured to me and his hands soothed my trembling. I know not how long we knelt there but when he released me at last, it was light and Tomoe was gone but her blood was still on the matting. His lordship refused to let me look and when I became distressed again, he held me in his arms once more and took me to his own chambers and never moving more than one hand out of contact with my body, he washed me and put clean clothes on me. He does not tell me why an assassin should come for me, I am nothing now, merely a slave, killing me would serve no purpose - there could be no gain in it... yet it happened.. and the shame I feel at knowing that a child took a knife meant for me is worse than anything I have suffered in recent months and although Lord Kenta is kind now, if she dies, he will come to resent me, I know he will, and my heart quails at the thought. I know I should beg for death it would be the honourable thing, but I cannot bring myself to do it, how I long to feel his arms around me once more as if we had never parted... I know all is lost and his concern cannot last... even my love for him lacks the strength to stop the course of nature... I must gather my strength and ask his permission to go to the temple and chant sutras for her. His lordship refused me earlier saying I was too weak, but surely he will allow it now...?

Year of the Boar, Fourth Month, Day 2.

It would be unfair to refer to the child - Tomoe, her name is - as useless, since she is of peasant stock and it is not her fault that she is uneducated in courtly ways but I feel as though a burden too great for me to shoulder has been placed upon me... she knows nothing, nay, less than nothing. She could not brew tea in the correct fashion but it was her lack of appreciation for why it must be prepared just so that I found distressing. If she is to learn to please Lord Kenta, she must work a great deal harder to polish her peasant ways, and ultimately, if she fails, so do I... I had not the time to teach her the way of the tea before his lordship required us to be at the Willow, so I prepared the tray myself and had her watch... I fairly ran to the practise ground, so terrified was I of displeasing his lordship, and the tray was heavy in my arms. Still weak from my illnesses, as I neared him, I became dizzy and swooned... Tomoe had the presence of mind to rescue the tray from crashing to the ground along with me as I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead in an attempt to stop the spinning in my head. And his lordship did see me and break into a run, as I fought to keep my eyes from closing, he all but shoved the child out of the way and grasped my hand, bringing it to his lips, he did murmur to the gods in supplication, asking them to hold me safe, and as the world turned black for me and I could see nothing, I did hear his voice break as he begged me to be well...and my heart has thawed enough to feel the dull pain of knowing that while he will whisper sweet nothings when he thinks I cannot hear, I will never again feel the blush of my cheeks as he tells me to my face that I am beautiful, or feel my heartbeat grow faster as he touches me in a loving embrace, or the heat of my loins as he engages me in the act of love... I am but property now and as a man bound by honour, he will not... cannot... treat me as anything other... I must just cling to the hope that Lord Kenta can find it within himself to treat me with at least a little more dignity in matters of his... pleasure... even if he cannot lie with me as he would with a wife....

Year of the Boar, Fourth Month, Day 1.

I lay in the dingy, squalid room where I found myself for days... I did not know myself... I waited upon death with an eager heart, lacking even the strength to do myself the honour of suicide... and thus his lordship did barge into my hallucinations and demand to know why I had not bathed, nor eaten in as long as he had not visited... Afraid of yet more humiliation at his hands even before I greeted death, I could make him no answer but bowed low to the floor, my entire body rigid and trembling with the effort as I bent my head over my finger tips... His snarl of rage filled me with foreboding and yet it was not directed at me; too dizzy to even realise what was happening, I found gentle hands at my sides leading me to the kitchen even as in my weakened state I could barely stand... I did find food and tea veritably forced down my throat and when I could stand no more, I was escorted to his lordship's chambers where upon he did have me stripped and bathed... the dirt and grime, nay, the filth that flowed into the water from my hair and skin made me almost sick and I knew not how I could have lain in such an ignominious state and not have noticed or cared... Lord Kenta has a new companion... a young girl from some village he is said to have saved from bandits... she says she honours her dead father, the village chief, by coming to serve his lordship... she has no idea what he expects of her and no idea who I used to be... he bade me teach her to serve him and then he did make us both lie, unclothed, in his bed with him as he rested - I was filled with shame and apprehension, I believed I had not the strength to do what I thought he would be expecting and the idea of a repetition of our last encounter made me feel so ill, and I lay there trembling with fear even as I tried not to show what I was feeling... but Lord Kenta did not touch either of us in even a faintly amorous way... he wrapped his arm around me and held me close... as he believed I slept I did hear him whisper that I would be safe now and that I never need be afraid again ... and as I hurriedly scribble these few words before the child and I take his tea out to him at the willow... I wonder if I dare to allow the tiny spark of hope to ignite in my heart that he.... that he still cares for me...?

Year of the Boar, Third Month, Day 25.

I know not how long it has been since I was last able to lift my brush and commit my thoughts to paper... days, perhaps even weeks have passed and I find myself wondering if my mind is still sound... I lay in my bed gripped by fever, delirious, unaware of anything around me but the pain that wracked my body... I awoke once to find Lord Kenta and his mother, Lady Yuki, staring down at me as I burned with a fire so hot I thought my very being would burst into flames... moaning with a deep seated pain that would not go away and only worsened when he had the healers undress me and bathe me... They quarrelled although I could not understand over what, and after Lady Yuki had departed the room, he knelt beside me, pressed his hand to the side of my face and asked me not to make him punish me again... How I wanted to scream that I had not made him... that I had done nothing but love him... yet it was all I could do to make my eyes meet his... I know not if it was a dream... the next time I awoke it was to find the healer laying strips of something cold and soothing against my burning skin. He tells me that I had an allergic reaction to the bamboo with which Lord Kenta switched me, and that had his Lordship not brought me to the healing rooms, I could well be dead now... Perhaps it would be better if I were... I am confined now, it took me a long while to realise that I was not hallucinating and that I had been moved to other quarters.... my possessions, such as they were at the Tavern, minus my silks, were thrown into crates and in turn the crates were thrown in a corner of this room. It was a long while before I dared to investigate, before I stopped wondering whether someone would reprimand me if I opened them... and when I did, I found that my papers had been gathered together and wedged inside a cosmetics box... It seems they remain unread... I am sure if it were otherwise I would have suffered greatly by now. It was longer still before I discovered where exactly I had been moved to... I speak of this numbly, I am not sure I even believe it myself... Lord Kenta has brought me to my castle... I hesitate to say home, since it is not longer my mine... I had some vague romantic notion that his Lordship would rule from afar, stepping in from time to time to see that everything was being run to his satisfaction... and although each time something terrible happens to me, I speak of my heart being broken, this time it is the truth, I barely know that it beats within my own body... such was the ache within me that after my tears had finally dried, there was nothing left. He has brought his parents here, to the House of Silent Thunder... they and his staff have appropriated my home, everything and everyone in it... the healer (his lordship's) - told me, unknowing who I was, that my men were given a choice, join the House of White Lake or leave, many of my best soldiers chose death and many have become ronin. Worse yet, others fight for White Lake now. Many are under the impression that I am dead... rumours fly throughout the House as to what I did and some of the things people are willing to believe of me, disgust me. My House is gone. I know not what has happened to the Ladies of my House but I fear it can be nothing good... The matriarchal society into which I was born has been destroyed and Silent Thunder operates under White Lake law now... Lord Kenta has not been to see me for days and I know not what I should do... I have not eaten since I left the healing rooms and I have been able only to drink the tepid water that was left in a wash basin... my own state would bother me if I had anything left to feel... as it is, I simply wait... faintly disgusted by my own piteous state... wondering which will come first... death or Lord Kenta...

Year of the Boar, Third Month, Day 11.

It is difficult to sleep, and what little sleep there is, is plagued by nightmares. Nightmares of running through my castle which is empty but burning to a cinder behind me as I try to escape the flames, or of trying to flee a battlefield awash with the blood of my people. These and other such similar images have invaded my dreams for as long as I can remember but never with as much ferocity and clarity as they have of late...
But last night... last night - would that all my dreams were so pleasant - I dreamt of Lord Kenta. That he did come to me in my chamber, that he did come to me in need and desirous of holding me within his embrace. And when he held me, it was with such tenderness - so gentle his touch and in his eyes I could see such affection. And in my dream when he entered me, it was lovingly, even passionately. I clung to him weeping, such was my joy at feeling him move inside me once more as if we were meant to be together and upon his release, he cried out my name and then, Lord Kenta too, did weep. And in that moment, that spilt second, all my pain went away... none of it mattered because he had come back to me...
But before the morning light crept across the sky, he was gone. And then I wept different tears; tears of bitter longing and there was an ache in my heart that would not be soothed.
In the morning when I woke, my face was still wet with tears and my eyelids were swollen. And now, as I lie here on my front, unable to get up, scrawling these words even as patches of red and black dance in front of my eyes and my forehead burns with a fever which threatens to turn into a delirium, my dream forces me to face facts. One fact in particular which pains me greatly but I must acknowledge it if I am to survive. The awful truth is, that I would rather be here, humiliated and in pain with the chance to see a flash of what I once thought he felt for me in his eyes, the chance that he might hold me, consumed by the passion I once thought was there, even for a spilt second, than not be here with him at all. I cannot escape the fact that I am besotted, my passion for Lord Kenta consumes me such that I allow him to treat me worse than... well... I must get well and I must make plans to take back my house, as it is, I shame my mother and my mother's family... I must get ahold of myself and redeem my House...

Year of the Boar, Third Month, Day 10.

The welts on my.... skin... do not heal as they should.... the skin is tight and inflamed... they bleed and no amount of salve seems to dull the pain. Standing is awful, walking worse and sitting is absolute torture... I feel hot and yet I shiver... I know not what I should do, asking for help would be so humiliating... yet if I do not... could I die from this...? I know not. I am afraid...

Year of the Boar, Third Month, Day 8.

Still barely able to move without pain, I tried to set some more of my affairs in order this aft. And I did find another maudlin poem I had written to Lord Kenta...

His eyes are jewels glittering in the sunlight.

His laughter, music floating on an evening breeze.

Should I ask, will he agree?

Have I changed so much in these past weeks...? Once my head was filled with romance, now it is all I can do to think of anything but pain. Once his voice warmed me and the touch of his fingertips sent thrills of pleasure down my spine. Now... now... the sound of his voice freezes the blood within my veins and his touch sends shivers of fear rippling through my body... When did I become so stupid that I allowed this to happen to me...?

Year of the Boar, Third Month, Day 7.

Oh, my heart.

Shattered.

Tiny fragments seek the light.

Obliterated.

Thin splinters find only dark.

Love. The cruelest pain of all.

I think this shall suffice as my death poem, now that I have committed it to paper, I may at least rest easy, knowing that if I die, my poem is written and saved...

Year of the Boar, Third Month, Day 3.

I had thought I had no tears left to cry. I had thought I no pain left to feel. I had thought there no humiliation left to experience. How naive I was, nay, am. I had recovered from my illness and was folding my silks, packing them away for I shall not need them in the foreseeable future; I came across some verses I had written with the intention of giving them to Lord Kenta... It was but a few short weeks ago, though it does seem as a lifetime...

"And if his eyes reflect the beauty of the lakes

Shall I drown in them; shall I let them possess me....?"

Whatever could I have been thinking....? Lord Kenta did come to me in my chamber and tell me that he was forced to punish me for not having been available to serve him these days past. He asked me what punishment I thought suitable for myself and never believing for a moment that he could be so cruel, bitterly I did suggest another switching. As if I never meant anything to him, he bade me sweep the tea set from the table and once I was disrobed, lie across it. Without expression he did go out onto the balcony and cut a bamboo stripling, whereupon he .... I cannot go on... I cannot... my heart has shattered into a hundred thousand tiny pieces and my mind may not be far behind it... When he was finished he did remind me that for every disobedience henceforth, the number of strokes would double... I am in agony already... I dare not move for fear of breaking my skin open again... and if I should displease his Lordship before the week is out, another of his punishments shall surely kill me... I am mortified that upon his final blow my bladder did release itself, a week ago, I could never have imagined such degradation... Coldly Lord Kenta did tell me to guard the bamboo switch well for it is to be his instrument of punishment. He bade me clean myself and attend him in his rooms. I know not how long I lay upon the table unable to move, I can barely stand, I know not how I shall attend him... I cannot go on, death would be preferable to this abasement... I shall think upon my death poem and commit it to paper before I die without one...

Year of the Boar, Second Month, Day 30.

I have been ill these past few days and unable to write... even now, I do not know if I wish to commit recent events to paper, so distressing have they been... Lord Kenta did inform me a few days past that he would be entertaining a guest and that I was expected to serve tea and attend them until his guest did see fit to depart. Considering the other indignities he has visited upon me since my enslavement, I did not see this as being too much of a trial and I had calmed considerably since my last episode, largely thanks, I must admit it, to an herbal tea courtesy of my good friend Ariel, who seeks to help me any way she can... I had little idea that his Lordship meant to make me wait until late evening to attend him, and when I saw who his guest was - it was as if he had taken a dagger and plunged it deep into my breast. Had he done so, he could not have caused me more pain... For his guest was none other than that well-known harlot, Yuika of the House of the Dying Crane. My heart stopped in my chest, such was my anguish that I froze in my place at the fireside. Lord Kenta had evidently apprised her of our situation for when she entered on his arm, Yuika cast me such a look of scorn that I all but withered where I knelt. They took their time settling and then his Lordship did demand I serve them tea; all the while they simpered and flirted and whispered hotly into each others ears, I did my best to avert my gaze. When Yuika wrapped her arms languorously around Lord Kenta's neck, I did make to leave but he demanded I stay, saying that he had need of my services yet. But he asked nothing of me, just that I wait there and as the evening grew longer he did draw Yuika onto his lap and planting hot kisses on her neck, he pushed open her silks... And she... she threw a languid glance in my direction before she placed her hand over his and began murmuring to him... An icy shard of pain entered my heart and even as hot tears pricked the backs of my eyes once more, I could bear it no longer. As their embrace grew more heated, I crept from the room on trembling knees and stumbling down the back stairs I did flee the Tavern. Blinded by my tears I ran into the night, through the brambles which did tear at my hands and bare feet, I ran on into the darkness, uncaring of my life, only wanting to be free of the pain within me. I know not how long I ran, gasping for breath. The cold night air fair rent my lungs and as I tripped and fell over the Moors as I tried to escape my distress, there came an hour when I could no longer get up and I was pulled into the dizzying embrace of nothingness.
I know not how long I lay there unconscious. Nor how Lord Kenta found me, or if anything further did befall me in my unconscious state. We have not spoken about it. We have not spoken at all. His Lordship has not been unkind, he has treated me with courtesy, one might even say tenderness since I have been been confined to my bed. But he refuses to speak even a single word to me, if he wishes to communicate, he sends word via Ariel or a servant. I know not if his anger drives him thus, or if I am too far beyond redemption for him to bother with... and I... I am numb. I no longer feel anything. The icy shard that had entered my heart in the tea room, did spread its way through my chest and into the rest of me. A searing white hot pain washed through me, cleansing me, until the pain was so intense it went away, taking with it my ability to feel. I believe I have lost the will to care what happens to me now...

Year of the Boar, Second Month, Day 26.

My writings were cut short yesterday by Lord Kenta' s return and when I was able to rescue them, I found that in my hurry to hide my papers, I had pushed them under my blankets while the ink was still wet. To my dismay, they were crumpled and smudged beyond legibility. I had been feeling calmer today, less tearful, but upon forcing myself to rewrite what I had imparted for those who may follow me, I relived every moment of it. Once again, I am gripped by the fear of what is to come. And I find that yet again, like a silly girl, I am wracked by fits of sobbing. I am disgusted by my own weakness- still bruised from the switching his Lordship meted out, it is painful to sit properly, and yet I know I must endure it without complaint, for if I do not, I may incur his wrath once more. Disgusted also by my desperation to please him and save my own skin, no, not just my own, that of my House. For if I do not redeem myself in his eyes, the fate of the members of my Household may be worse than mine... My cheeks burn afresh with humiliation as the sound of his voice rings in my ears, deriding my attempts at pleasing him last eve, for I knew not how to do it... My stomach lurches at the thought of having to do it again... and I feel a deep sense of shame that he expected me to be skilled in such arts as are reserved for slaves and whores... My honour is compromised, I am all but undone... I do not know what to do....

Year of the Boar, Second Month, Day 25.

Had I a jewel for every tear I have shed since yesterday, I should already have enough to buy an entire kingdom... I cannot stop, inconsolable, I am unable to control myself. My hands tremble so badly that several times I have sent my brush clattering to the ground and I have ruined several pages by smudging the ink into indecipherable stains. I have made numerous attempts to make this entry but even when I manage to control my brush, my tears spill onto my paper and turn my words into pale smears of ink... I must persevere, I must keep this book to serve as a warning to any that would be tempted to make my mistake. So little time has passed since I was enslaved, yet it feels as though months have gone by, as though I have already changed beyond recognition. I am afraid of what I shall become, afraid I shall lose my very self.I thought in my girlish naivete that Lord Kenta cared for me, even as he enslaved me, I believed he did it only for my own good, to teach me a valuable lesson in life... but even after so little time, I am becoming convinced that he had no feeling for me at all. Not even the slightest... Fresh tears spoil this page yet again as I reflect on what happened earlier. I do not want to write it down, to even think on it, but if I do not, then those who follow me, will not see the folly of what I did, and may yet suffer as I do. He was tired when he returned to the Tavern and bid me attend him, his needs were such that they are reserved for slaves and common whores. No Lady would ever be asked to perform such vulgarities... A week ago, I would have spat blood if a man had made even the barest hint of such a suggestion and walked away - severing our relationship. But last night, I did as he asked. Not only that but I did not complain or ask him to reconsider his request. I am disgusted at my own weakness, I am frightened by what I am becoming, where will this end? Weeping I serviced him, and he rewarded me by allowing me to lie with him through the night. I lay awake, afraid to move lest I disturb him and be made to do it again.. I cannot adequately articulate how foul a deed it was - if he bids me do it again, I do not see how I shall be able to ... He comes.... I must hide these pages away

Year of the Boar, Second Month, Day 24.

My eyelids are swollen from the tears I have been shedding since night fell... My eyes sparkle with the weight of those I have yet to weep. Since sundown I have been berating myself for my own stupidity. Had I but thought any of this would happen, I would have forfeited a hundred thousand portraits rather than enrage his Lordship thus. Had I but refused the price of the portrait... had I but never asked for it... Still, the Heavens are lined with wishes, I have made my bed and I shall have to lie in it. Such was the beauty of the artist's work... her skill at bringing those she drew to life; I was entranced, smitten by the idea of having one of myself... a gift for the love of my life... I had imagined the artist's owner might ask for a fortune which I would gladly have given... I was mistaken... his price was too high and yet I chose to pay it, such was my blindness. What price could be so high, you ask? Nought but the silk from my back. None too high, you say. Indeed not, except that the silk was to be given where I stood posing for the portrait, in the common room of the Tavern where I broke my travel that evening. And it was as I stood in my shift waiting for another set of silks as the artist's owner cast his eyes over my figure, that his Lordship did arrive at the Tavern.Upon being re-dressed in another piece of magnificent silk, I did suggest a walk around the lake to the Tea house. We talked awhile - I did murmur that I was ashamed and sorry that I had hurt him by my actions. He appeared mollified and stupidly I flitted to another discussion. I proposed a formal alliance between our Houses, a marriage. He seemed not to understand what I was asking, we quarrelled and he refused my proposal. Thus, in accordance with the traditions of the House of Silent Thunder, a rule created centuries ago to stop flighty girls from proposing marriage without truly thinking over the consequences, the entire House is enslaved. I never imagined that I would be one such flighty girl. And as I sit here, contemplating my fate and my guilt, I weep bitter tears over my own folly. Lord Kenta did say to me that when I had redeemed myself in his eyes, I may be reinstated but... how can I ever expect to redeem myself when each time he asks something of me, I cannot do it to his satisfaction? I am helpless, unskilled in anything but falconry, entrapped by my own station in life. I sob in humiliation this night, his Lordship sought to teach me a lesson, and such a lesson, I can hardly bear to think about it. I forgot my new status as we sat in the Tavern talking and drinking with friends and I was disrespectful. How could I have known that he would drag me out to the stables and take his riding crop to my backside...? My cheeks burn with shame and I cannot remove the memory of being strung up and stripped like a common slave from my mind. And all the while his eyes were cold, as he took my face in his hand and asked if I had further disrespectful comments to make. I do not believe I shall ever be able to stop weeping...