Kaminoyama {Zella and Alan23}

❁Empress Momoko Aizawa❁

As Ling-we looked on with anticpation and envy, Caverlyman Zumozo turned his body just a little to the empress in return. They were subtle movements ladden with meaningful undertone, an aftraction so poignant that they both seemed to fall into it with no ability to turn away from it.

Zumozo was hard to deny. Ling-we saw it to, he was poised in a stoic and masculine way and yet the way he had willingly given himself over to blame when Momoko had her mishap shrouded him in a sense of mystery and intensity. Such intensity gave his already handsome features an almost heroic sharpness to them. Both girls could not help but look at it with admiration but for Momoko... it felt like so much more.

In turn with moving closer to Momoko, she moved closer to him and eventually he lifted his arm to drape it over her shoulder. For many lower class men and woman this would be a small gesture, but wih the Empress, the holy and beautiful empress it was a much larger deal. One of the points of the gesture was is boast of affection, a sort of primal affection that Momoko had never felt before and yet she felt instantly comfortable with, like she had been in his embrace for years.

His face was turned towards her and with a gentle touch he lifted her face so that she gazed back at him. She offered him a soft and meek smile that could only serve to encourage his next move. Her brought their faces only inches apart and Momoko let out a soft huff of anticipation. It was a little foolish of her to allow this to go on but for the moment she had lost her better judgement and allowed his lips to press against hers. Moments later her parted her lips to dart his tongue inside and Momoko let out a muffled cry of surprise against his mouth. She did not repell him thoughm she never even though of it. Instead she let him endulge in the kiss, enjoying her second kiss greatly herself and when he finally parted their lips she looked at him with a dazed and heady expression.

Then, suddenly she slapped her hands up to cover her face and hide the incoming blushing, bowing her head also she admitted aloud. "Oh Zumozo! I don't know what to do...." lifting her head and parting her fingers a little so she could peep at him through them.

There comes a time when one can neither win nor lose. When two oaths, two duties, conflict. Some men, when faced with such a dilemma would allow their minds to fall top pieces, be paralyzed into helpless inactivity. "No matter what I do," they would whine, "I lose."

For Zumozo, however, a man trained in the self-reliance necessary for his trade, such a conclusion was meaningless. Indeed, that the paradox was a problem would not occur to him. For him, it presented as "I have a duty to maintain protocol before my empress. I have a duty to protect my sister, who is a helpless woman. I cannot do both. Therefore, I can choose which duty I perform." For him, it was like the difference between one choice of sweetmeat or two. He possessed freedom, rather than being constrained. Circumstances under which he operated best.

It must not be supposed, however, that his choice was easy. Captivated as he was by his sister, longing to protect her as he did, he was conscious too of his other duty, to maintain respect for her position. The fact that he was torn in two, however, he pushed aside, as his training had taught him. In his trade, you made a decision and only changed it if circumstances gave you good reason. Surrendering the initiative by shilly-shallying was the quickest way to die.

"No," he laughed, showing no trace of indecision or nervousness. "You don't. But I do."

He might - as would a less confident man - have simply stayed there, exchanging kisses with his empress, for she was, he knew, powerless to prevent him. He was stronger than Ling-We and her combined, and could do whatever he liked. But this would merely be an insignificance. An admission that what he had done was shameful, unworthy.

"Stand up," he said. His voice was soft, but given in a tone that said, softly but unmistakeably, "there will be no discussion. I am in command."

He pulled her to her feet, regardless of whether or not she wished to comply. Ling-We gasped again, but she too was unable to muster the force of personality to encourage her mistress to defy him. Instead, she rushed forward to smooth Momoko's kimono, but was brought to s sharp halt as Zumozo glared at her. "Stay where you are," he snapped. "It is my job to look after her."

Regardless of the empress' obvious embarrassment at having a man perform such duties, he bent down at the empress' rear and pushed his hand up under the hem of her kimono, gripping the under-kimono and pulling it down tight and smooth so that wrinkles no longer showed through to mar the perfect line of her outer clothing. He fixed the garment's collar, rearranged a tendril of hair that had slipped forward over her ear.

"Follow," he said to Ling-We.

He took the empress' hand and led her towards the door, guiding her to where they would be seen in public, before all the palace officials. Ling_We followed, her heart in her mouth at this shocking breach of protocol.

❁Empress Momoko Aizawa❁

Momoko kept her hands to her face. How silly it was to be taken by someone so quickly. She had only just met him and she was meant to conduct herself with much more dignity and poise then this. Yet here she was, making out with him like she was a common whore and now whining about not knowing what to do about it. However he seemed to know and when he spoke of knowing Momoko spread her fingers wider to look at him better. He seemed so cool, so collected... as if none of this bothered him. Who could truely look into the affections of the empress and not tremble before them.

He told her to stand and his voice whilst quiet was commanding and authoritative in a way. It actually reminded Momoko of her dear father and she quickly obeyed and stood without even asking questions. Even when he told her there would be no questions and that he was in command now. Momoko simply nodded in agreement. Which was a terrible thing for a leader of a country, for what was left of humanity to do.

She complied but still he pulled and she let out a little huff as she was forced to quickly raise. "Zumozo..." she breathed, though she offered no more resistance then that. Instead she looked to Ling-We, as if hoping for some advice on what to do. The look was surely what made Ling-we come over to her, though that was quickly halted when Zumozo told her to stay where she was and that it was his job to look after her. His tone had been harsh and sharp, telling off Momoko's handmaiden and both girls looked to one another once more.

Before Momoko could say anything he bent and grabbed at the hem of her kimono, gripping the under-kimono and giving it a tug downward, smoothing it out in the process. Momoko kept her hands raised, watching him in amazement, shocked that he was doing this and that he thought it his job to look after her. He moved then to fix her collar, even her hair. His movements were careful and calculated, the movements of a thorough man. Momoko admired it in a way and once more felt reminded of her father.

He took Momoko's hand and lead her towards the door, telling Ling-We in the process to follow. The handmaiden followed, still in stunned silence but Momoko finally spoke, asking. "What are we doing? What is your idea?"

"It's to remind everyone," he told her, softly in her ear so that only she could hear, "that you are empress. That you do what you choose, when you choose. That you associate with who you wish, rather than those chosen for you. That you do not have to lurk in corners, frightened what this official or that might think, taking your orders from every inferior pooh-bah or flunky who chooses to give them."

He steered her along the corridor, into the area where the lesser members of court gathered. Now that he had decided upon his course, he was committed. He sensed that Momoko was frightened, shocked at what he was doing, at showing such defiance to protocol and custom, but he had determined this was a necessary course of action to break the power that the system held over her, by dint of an unspoken, nebulous power. In any case, there was nothing she could do about it. She was nowhere near strong enough to resist.

As they entered the hall, full of various social-climbing members of the aristocracy, there was a massive collective gasp. As one, every single eye broke from whatever they were looking at and stared. There were tinkles as dropped glasses hit the floor. Why, the empress never came in here, ever. Who was the mysterious man walking beside her, holding her arm as if he were her lover?

Following behind, Ling-We felt a dreadful sense of foreboding. There would be trouble come of this, for sure. Yet she sensed, too, that if it did, Zumozo would find some way to deal with it. Certainly the few younger aristocrats present did not stare for long, for the sight of a cavalryman - the most feared of any of the imperial army, and wearing his sword at that did not encourage them to offend. Few young blades cared to take on such a man in single combat, even if the empress were not with him. The older men might have challenged him in a different sense, but the decorations he wore provided a perfect antidote to the status and power of such men.

"The empress and I," Zumozo said, softly, yet in a voice that carried all around the room, "have decided we wish to dance." He took her to the very centre of the floor, and took positions for one of the common dances that were in vogue that year. In fact, he had probably walked her too quickly, for her tight kimono had not been designed for fast movement and was already rumpled and clinging, and her hair was falling apart again, but though Ling-We ached to rush and attend to her mistress' deshabille she did not dare.

In obedience to the cavalryman's order, the attendant flicked the switch and perfectly recorded music flooded the hall in excellent fidelity. The others present imemdiately took partners and resumed the dance, not daring to stare too openly.

❁Empress Momoko Aizawa❁

Zumozo did not exactly answer her, at least not as blunt and understandable as Momoko wanted. Her heart was hammering nervously against her chest and oh how she did not enjoy that feeling. However for some strange reason she trusted Zumozo and nodded her head in pretend understanding. He had a point though, she should not be so scared... her father did whatever he wished and his father would of before him no doubt. Just because Momoko was a woman it did not mean she was not a ruler... she was, she was a goddess.

He lead her down and through the hall until he took her into the gala area where many members of her court and the upper class came to socialize with one another whilst waiting around in hopes for an audience or at least a glimps at their holy ruler. Momoko felt her face begin to redden, quickly and very subtly she gasped and murmured. "No no... we... we cant be here." but they were and Zumozo lead her into the room.

Suddenly everyone gasped, it had only taken moments for them all to realize that the Empress had arrived, seemingly randomly and that she had someone on her arm that many of them wouldn't recognize. This was absolutely terrible and scared, Momoko ran through her mind, trying to decide something to say. However she did not need to say anything because Zumozo announced that the two of them had came to dance. The guests looked among themselves, each looking terribly confused. However eventually the crowed parted enough to make room for the Empress and this... man.

Momoko looked to Zumozo, trying to hide her sheer shock at being asked to dance, at least in a sense. However when Zumozo moved to lead her where they could dance, she could not help but smile and she followed, eventually meeting up and close to him. Of course there was music being played but it was quickly changed to something slower and more traditional in nature. Momoko could not help but let the people watching fade from her mind a little, she had never gotten to dance so openly with a man before and she felt heady with excitement.

Holding Momoko, Zumozo felt, was like cradling a small, frightened bird. She was nervous, trembling, very much afraid. he could feel her heart beating against his chest. he wodnered if this demonstration, this power play was, perhaps, a bridge too far, too much too soon, for her sensibilities. But he fought down these thoughts. She needed, he knew, to assert herself, and if she was unable to do so from her own mind, she needed external aid.

As the music changed to a slower, more traditional genre, he looked down at her face and saw the beginnings of a smile, which encouraged him a little. true, the various court hangers-on and social-climbers were still gaping, some of them looking shocked (though he fancied he saw a few looks of approval, too) but what of it? She was, after all, the empress, and could dance where, and with whom, she liked. For that matter, was he not a hero of the empire, as the medal ribbons he wore proved, and as such had as much right to be here and dance as anyone? If they disliked what was happening, he told himself, they could either challenge him (which would be far from wise) or the empress, which was even less so!

To be sure, had he had the chance to plan this out, he might have arranged things differently. her kimono was too tight for proper dancing, the sleeves kept getting in the way, and it persisted in clinging and riding up, showing the outlines of her form which would cause a shocking scandal in itself. He tried, as best he was able without drawing attention to the situation, to un-cling it for her, but while this might be done on her back, he could hardly pull it away from her rear, where the clinging was worst of all. He even fancied he saw one of the females giggling behind a gloved hand. Had it been a man mocking the empress, he might have scowled him into silence, but in this society no man might threaten a woman, however subtly, and still maintain any kind of regard.

The dance continued, sweeping in and out of the other dancers, avoiding collisions with great skill that he wouldn't have expected with someone as inexperienced as the empress (or, more likely, he reminded himself, that other dancers subtly gave ground, for to collide with the empress and her partner would be social suicide!) and moving to the rhythm of the music.

He whispered down at her how beautiful she looked, as any man might to his partner. But he wondered if this had ever been said to her before by a commoner.

❁Empress Momoko Aizawa❁

Momoko was unaware of the struggle inside of himself that Zumozo was facing. The way he wrestled with his thoughts and teaming desires were unknown to her. Momoko could not even entertain that someone would want her so, even after the complements, the kisses... it just seemed so incredibly unlikely. But he held her close to him and she did indeed tremble like a frightened little bird, though the closeness of him was a comfort she could not explain, even if you asked her to.

The music changed and he looked to Momoko and she up at him. Of course her smile was present, how could it not be. Here he was making more of an effort with her then any man before. Not fearful of her and her statue but wanting to help her and protect her. Of course things were not as bad as Momoko had indeed feared. While some people were shocked, others agape, some looked on in approval, some in envy. For Zumozo was not just anyone, he was a celebrated soldier and a hero of their people, that reminated with some people and Momoko was glad.

She should of been distressed about her Kimono, it was not meant for dancing, despite its extra practicality and so as she moved it rode and shifting in an array of potentionally humiliating ways. She should of been distressed about the people mocking her, the people Zumozo had to stare into silence and that was simply because she had not even seen them, all she was looking at was him, as they moved together, misty eyed and foggy brained. Never had she done something so delightfully romantic and after her first two kisses, it was all so very exhilarating and intoxicating.

He lead her with expert movement and dodged other dancers, she was a decent dancer as well, though clumsier due to her Kimono and almost dazed state of mind. He made things even worse when he twirled her and rounded her and whispered down at her how beautiful she looked. Worse because as starry eyed with youthful wonder as she was, as completely unaware of all the people, who had faded out of her mind whilst dancing, she rose up to her tip toes and tried to kiss him once more, eager to feel the thrill of it again, even through the fear.

Momoko's attempt to kiss Zumozo caused quite a stir in the room. That a stranger - and a nobody at that - should not only be dancing with the empress in public, but even seemed to be leading her, as if she were lower in the social hierarchy - this was flabbergasting enough. But that the empress should not only be tolerating it, but even seemed to be going along with it, this was so unprecedented that more than one of the ladies felt as if they wished to faint, and not a few of the males wondered if they were dreaming. And then, when she leaned up for a kiss, they all knew the world had well and truly been turned upside down.

Not the least shocked was Ling-We. She knew that such behavior was unbecoming to the empress. That appearing in public in this kimono was a disastrous breach of protocol, especially since her reaching up caused it to hike up over her slim ankles, showing inches of calf that were positively indecent. The exertions of the dance had caused the empress' silk hose to wrinkle around her thin ankles, which was most certainly calculated to make her look ridiculous, especially in front of so many important people. Her mistress sagging stockings were, in fact, a curse to Ling-We, for though she could smooth her sash or kimono or fix her hair in public (if she were quick and discreet enough) she could hardly fling up the kimono of the ruler of the entire empire and begin pulling her stockings up!

*****

Zumozo had caught the mood of the room, but didn't care overmuch. In fact he had expected it. The empress needed to make a demonstration, show she was not some cringing wilted flower that was afraid to appear in public, but a dominant woman who could do as she wished in her own domain at least. At first when he caught Ling-We's frantic expression he dismissed it as general shock, but when she frantyically flicked her eyes down to her mistress' ankles he saw the specific cause of her distress. The empress' stockings were falling down, one of them already gathering around her ankle over her tabi-slipper, and the other was not far off it. If any of the hangers-on had laughed at her he would have challenged them to a duel immediately, but none of them did. Though the way they were making it obvious they were looking at anywhere but the empress, especially her legs, told the whole story. Somehow this pretending not to notice boded as much embarrassment for his sister as open staring might have!

He was half hoping Momoko would not notice what had happened, and half hoping she would, though how she might correct it without making even more of a spectacle of herself he had no idea. And as he calculated, he found himself distracted, so that it was too late to realize what she was doing, until suddenly he found her lips locke don his in a kiss, and he had no choice but to go along with it.

"Well, that'll set the wolf among the prey," he thought, with the relaxed cynicism that knows it is now too late to worry.