Chapter 1

It’s dark. Wet. Warm.

Two of the three things I just felt previously, but lacking any of the discomfort. Or was it just previous? My mind was in a haze. I couldn’t see, only feel, bumping around inside something I couldn’t comprehend. It started squeezing me, pushing, and pushing. I was forced to go with the motion.

Ow! I couldn’t speak but the thought was nearly audible as I felt myself get kicked in the face. I reeled, shoved back against the soft wall that was attempting to move me on. Something wiggled in my way, moving the same direction but blocking me, a tangle of limbs obstructing me until they seemed to disappear. Then I followed.

It’s loud. Dry. Cool.

The air wrapped around me first before hands and fabric followed, quickly surrounding my body in a haste. There was yelling, shouting in words I didn’t know. I cried, unable to do anything else as the sudden shock rocked me. My eyes cracked open, squinting at the harsh light that seemed more colourful and vivid than anything before. All I can see as I look up is a woman, smiling down at me.

She was beautiful. Exhausted, sweating, auburn hair clinging to her face, but beautiful. Looking into my eyes, she struggled, smile cracking and lips trembling as she fought to say one word.

“Ren”

I didn’t remember seeing her anymore after that. I didn’t really remember any day beyond that very well, the fleeting passage of years marked by growing, learning, adapting. A day or two would stand out but the further back they go the foggier they were. It was always just the three of us; father, my sister Rose, and myself. My father told us that twins were just too much for her, the stress of a double birth draining the life from her body. Still, we were never made to feel guilty about it; death from childbirth was a simple reality here. I came to learn that that was not too uncommon in this world, where medicine was behind modern Japan. Certainly the theory of what I understood appeared to be present, but technologically, I was living in a medieval age.

Medieval was certainly the best way to describe the town; I repeatedly found myself missing the luxuries I used to take for granted. Books. Spices. Indoor plumbing. They had some of those in the city but our cottage on the outskirts was somewhat lacking. And with just the three of us living there, my sister and I helped with the upkeep, assisting in the greenhouse, fetching well water, cleaning the house; responsibilities that grew from when we were around six or seven years old.

Our father, who would have been called a floriculturist in my past life, was simply 'Jard the Gardener'. Despite us living outside of the city proper, Gleban, whose walls stood tall as if daring someone to attempt breaching them, he was still popular enough with his craft to attract customers. It was a rare day that no one came by carriage to the shop front, the first floor of our home, to purchase an arrangement or just something novel. And while flowers still held a feminine connotation in this world, it baffled me that their cultivation was considered a ‘manly’ profession; something of an intellectual art, it seemed. And like my father, and his father, whom I never met, I appeared to be expected to continue the family business.

I shifted in my seat, the wood feeling harder under me than it did most days. The dinner table was silent; usually my sister would be leading a conversation of whatever inane topic crossed her mind, but instead she sat quiet, as if picking up on the tension. Or maybe the food was suddenly better today. I tentatively dipped my spoon into the soup before me and raised it up. Still tasted like water.

“Ren.” My father’s voice cut through my attempt at distraction. “I know you have your… reservations about the garden, but I hope that we can start your apprenticeship on a good note?”

‘Apprenticeship’… seemed a mere formality at this point. It wasn’t uncommon for children to apprentice under their parents, or so I understood. The lack of neighbouring peers meant that most of my information about the city and culture was second hand from customers, whatever they wished to divulge.

“It’s your birthday in less than a week,” Jard continued, halting my veering train of thought. “It’s a big one, reaching the age of maturity. I was thinking perhaps inviting the neighbours again for a little celebration?”

“Sure.” I nodded. Simple. Polite. Uninterested.

Rose enthusiastically nodded as well, but he didn’t seem too worried about her response; she was generally up for any sort of party.

From the corner of my eye I saw my father purse his lips, brow scrunching. I didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to say it. But I was the child and he was the adult. “I know it’s not the most exciting job,” he started, looping back around to the looming apprenticeship. “But it always brings a smile to people’s face. And you have a steady hand; you’ve always been good with the pollen brush,” he complimented, reaching for what he could.

“Sure.” I nodded. Simple. Polite. Uninterested.

This time he grimaced. “Look, Ren,” he recalibrated, “I know it’s not glamorous or inside the city like your sis—Ahem!” He quickly cut himself off as he likely noticed my eyes narrow slightly. “I mean, well… someone has to be the head of the house and take over someday!” he blurted out, exasperated.

I looked up, surprised at the sudden exclamation. This was far from the first conversation that we’d had about the situation, but he hadn’t been so bold about it before. His gentle nature often clashed with his large frame but I felt his shadow as he seemed to loom over me in the moment.

I stood, rising from my seat to meet him eye to eye. My chair skid along the floor, tipping and almost toppling backwards before loudly falling back into place. I opened my mouth to argue but nothing came out. I just stared at him, locking eyes in a terse glare. I didn’t even know why I was being so stubborn. I liked the shop, and garden, to an extent. It wasn’t the worst thing to do, and I wasn’t the worst at it. Rose and I had been tending to the flowers and customers for years now. It was as much of me in this world as my career was in my last.

I sighed, sitting down. “Someday, perhaps,” I repeated, noncommittal. My spoon went back into the flavourless soup and we returned to our tense silence.

~~~

“I really don’t get what the big deal is,” Rose commented as she stepped out from behind the changing curtain, clothed for sleep. “You knew this was coming; not like we could put a delay on our twelfth birthday.” She shrugged, her expression undecided between caring and indifferent. “Besides, you don’t have to travel for your apprenticeship.”

“It’s different for you,” I moaned. “You get to go into the city. Do you know how many times I’ve been into the city? Five times! …Or six… maybe seven? But you get my point.”

“Yeah, woo, I get to go into the gutter of the city for common drudgery.” She raised her hands in mock celebration, matching her equally unenthused tone.

“Seamstress training is hardly drudgery,” I interjected, sitting up in bed.

“It’s close enough… Well, fine, maybe not that bad, but it’s not like I could take over the garden.”

“Couldn’t you though? I’d switch with you in a heartbeat!”

“You really want to wear the seamstress’ dress that badly?” she asked, and I could hear the grinning smirk on her voice. I just rolled my eyes and threw my pillow across the room, hitting her square in the shoulder. “Ha, if you garden like you throw, maybe a switch would be better,” she jeered.

I sighed, flopping back down onto the now uncushioned mattress. “I know you’re looking forward to it. You can’t hide it from me, even if you’re just trying to make me feel better.” I let out a slow sigh. “And don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I hate the greenhouse or anything, it’s just… You ever wanted to do anything bigger?”

There was silence. I wasn’t sure if she didn’t have anything to say or just didn’t have anything to say yet. But I didn’t want to sleep with that question hanging in the air, not after she tried to console me. “…Can I have my pillow back?”

The response was the pillow silently thrown back at my face, and my sister’s chuckle as it audibly connected.