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...?