Shinokai

Torture

"Go pray now, you wretch"
The voice of my deceased spouse's mother cut through me like a sharp blade. Even after his passing, she continued to speak with contempt.

Prayer is the sole moment in the day when I am able to escape her critical look, enduring commands, and degradations. This is my sole means of salvation.

"Sure, Mom"
I replied softly, lowering my head to conceal my tightly clenched fists.

Since my husband passed away, my daily routine has remained unchanged. Widows are required to have their husband's family members accompany them when leaving the house. I can't buy products, go for a stroll among the trees, or enjoy the birds' songs. I feel trapped, like a bird confined in a cage. The only comfort is found in prayer in a small room fragrant with incense and the gentle sound of bells. This location is referred to as a yoshitsu - a space designated for meditation and prayer. In that place, I sense a sliver of freedom.

I'm restricted to wearing only white garments, the symbol of sadness. Every day, I'm draped in a white kimono, serving as a constant reminder of my bleak and joyless present existence. White, traditionally representing purity, now signifies confinement to me. Widows do not have the privilege of colors, of life, of joy. They have permission to exist only.

They can eat once daily, and it's always soup of some sort. I have lost my enjoyment of the flavor. I eat for survival, not for enjoyment. But throughout the four years I spent with him, I grew accustomed to the situation, even though my animosity towards him remained unchanged.

"Mom, I'm heading to Yoshitsu's place"  (a place/house of rest intended for prayer)
I repeated when she didn't respond to my earlier words

She gazed at me and allowed me. Her gaze always made me feel like I was responsible for her son's death. She despises me above all else, but merely puts up with me due to our family's good reputation.

When I was still a child, my parents handed me over to this family. I hadn't met my husband until we got married, and he passed away shortly after the wedding. The manner of his death remains unknown, casting a dark cloud of mystery over us. I stayed in this residence, under his parents' control, and now I am simply a servant to my mother-in-law.

I stepped into the yoshitsu and bowed down in front of the altar. The gentle smoke from the incense sticks made my nose tingle, so I shut my eyes, seeking tranquility. It was the sole time during the day when I could contemplate a different existence. Regarding the potential opportunity to flee. Where can I conceal myself? A woman who has lost her husband in a society where women lack autonomy would have no means of protection.

I was still questioning the circumstances surrounding my fiance's death. We had not been married for a long time, hence I was unsure what true love really meant. He was a man who didn't speak much and lacked romance. His presence in my life felt like something I had to do rather than something I wanted to do. Yet, his death remained an enigma that I couldn't overlook.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March of the year 1732.

A man of great height, carrying a weapon in his belt, arrived back at his house. This man was the person I was engaged to. It was getting late, with the night concealing everything beneath its dark cover.

"Welcome back"
I whispered, lowering myself to the ground in a respectful gesture, suitable for the spouse of a warrior.

"Sure"
He answered curtly, displaying no emotion as he removed his clothing along with his weapon. His stance was weighted, stressed, similar to someone who has endured a tough day.

I stood up from kneeling and moved towards him to assist with the clothing. He declined my offer, even though it was my responsibility as his spouse.

«He said he was tired and going to sleep without even glancing at me»