The Moon Illuminates My Scars

You must never raise your voice. You must grit your teeth. You will bear it. You will be able to withstand.

-

Ritsu-sensei was never kind. He was cold. He was impatient with tears, with emotions. He taught me to lock my screams in my throat. Don't give the enemy the satisfaction, was his reasoning. I was a good pupil. I learned well.

I was twelve when I lost my ears. It was right after a session. Ritsu-sensei never said a word. I had my hands pressed to the wall. I said nothing when his hands held my wrists and pinned them to the wall.

What did he see? Under the illumination of the moon our hands looked ghostly pale. My back burned from the lashes and I could feel blood trickling from the broken skin. Did I look like the many butterfly specimens trapped in his glass display cases, as silent and as immobile, as beautiful?

Submit. Be dominated. That is your fate.

I must have let loose a sound, a whimper perhaps, because Ritsu-sensei shushed into my ear. The first thrust filled me and I hissed from the pain. The second thrust went deeper and the pain intensified. He wasn't rough, but he wasn't particularly gentle. I clenched my hands into tiny fists. They trembled in Ritsu-sensei's hands. He tightened his hold and continued his slow, rhythmic thrusts.

The pain subsided but the discomfort remained. Gasps sometimes choked from my lips but Ritsu-sensei didn't seem to mind those noises. He didn't seem to mind my calling out his name either. Did he find them stimulating, breathless and passionate as they were?

I was stupid to think that things would remain unchanged. Nagisa-sensei was horrified when she found out.

He's still only a child! she screamed at Ritsu-sensei, and I, unable to leave, lingered uncertainly at the doorway.

I felt ashamed.

What is he, a replacement for his mother?

I felt betrayed.

Ritsu-sensei dismissed the accusations, his expression cold and mask-like as ever. He pretended to not notice the hurt in Nagisa-sensei's voice. He pretended to not notice the hurt in me.

From then on he avoided looking directly into my eyes.

Was it guilt?

He spoke often of my mother.

I hated that.

I thought he would be the one to write my name, but it wasn't to be. I was to be given to someone else.

Aoyagi Seimei.

I'm not afraid of giving you my name. I'm not afraid of owning you. I'm not afraid of controlling you.

Beloved.

Devote everything to me.

He wanted me.

-

I was impatient with tears, with emotions. But the wet tracks sliding down his cheeks were for me, and they were exquisite in the moonlight. His fingers were ice cold against my neck, trembling as they traced along my scars.

Who did this to you? he demanded, aghast, angry, and terribly sad. He considered it vile, violent. But to me it was a gift; my master gave me his name and in return he has my undying devotion.

But Kio cannot possibly comprehend that.

Our lips came together naturally. My first kiss. His surprise stifled his sobs. I think he knew in that instant that I cannot belong to him. I cannot belong to anyone but the name engraved on my skin. He understood that if he understood nothing else.

But we shared that one intimate moment and it belonged to us only.