The last Utsuwa

by CrimsonValley

You should not be here.

Just the thought sent a shiver down Tsubaki's spine, causing her hands to stop mid air. The mirror, her sole companion for the time being, reflected back the full spectacle caused by her unfounded worry. Something, buried deep in the back of her mind, whispered for her to advert her eyes from the sight yet it was a request she could not respond too. Instead her gaze remained glued to her own reflection, sinking deeper and deeper into every little detail.

Her fingers, wrapped around the handle of the brush appeared to quiver. It was impossible to tell if it was simply due to being frozen, strands of her dark hair still clinging desperately to it. Or perhaps there was something else, outside of the realm of what a mirror could show that caused them to tremble. The moment that her stare persisted on over analysing something as trivial felt fleeting and eternal all at once. Only upon hearing how her breath trembled, she did tear herself from it. Although she wished for it to be a simple action of putting the brush back onto the dresser, there was far too much force behind it.

The noise upon impact made her rise from her seat, scurrying away from the sight. It's just nerves, she speculated as her fingers fidgeted about with her hair, you're letting them get the better of you. These reflections were something she had anticipated to bring comfort yet there was little precious to be found. Instead, a sense of guilt started to mix with whatever this unsettling feeling was, melting together into an unmentionable murky mess that Tsubaki found herself unable to untangle.

Deep breaths. Forcing her fingers to stop trembling, she leaned her head backwards. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Her professional input rung loud and clear within her own head. While at first it seemed to settle it all down, soon her logical judgements seemed to start rippling, small drops of misgivings tearing up any notion of normality. How many hours would she have tolled up saying the same things, to those much less fortunate than herself? Why was it now, in solitude, that she could not still her own inner reflections with the same conviction as then?

“You're making a mess of yourself.”

She made no attempt to hinder the words from leaving her lips. In fact, a sense of comfort accompanied this action, as if the mere fact that there was something to pierce through the silence was all it took.

“You can do this” Tsubaki continued, as she steered her steps back towards the dresser “it's a once in a lifetime possibility and you're going to make the best of it.”

Making use of her new conviction, she took her seat once more, running the brush quickly through her hair one last time. It was an action she had spent far too much time on, solely since she wished to stall the process of attaching the headdress. Only now did she regret declining the help to get into her attire. At the moment, it had felt embarrassing to demand others to clothe her. And even if you could use it now, she thought, it is just as well none of them can see you so frazzled.

As much as she wished to avoid it, there was no moving around the fact she needed to gaze upon her reflection once more. She allowed every critical thought to cross her mind, adjusting things as it went along. This night was important and she would not be the one to let down this time-honoured tradition. Yet, the longer her eyes remained focused, the more her heart appeared to tremble.

There was something with mirrors and this island, that she was keenly aware of. For it would have been impossible to attend to her patients without becoming painfully aware of their terror filled eyes, whenever they would get close to any surface that could reflect upon their visages. Even clear water would send the most severe of the patients into a state. One which she could never tell if it was fuelled by terror or heartbreak. Perhaps, she pondered, a bit of both?

A knock on the door, ringing as clear as a bell through the air, made her jolt upright. Anew, she felt a sense of gratitude that no one was there to witness her shallow breath and trembling fingers as she listened to the voice outside the door calling her, informing that everything was set and ready.

“I'll be out momentarily.”

Tsubaki found that as she spoke, her own voice terrified her. So meek and timid, no force whatsoever behind any of the words uttered. Only briefly did it put her to shame before she rose to her feet, a sharp breath leaving her lungs.

You should not be here.

As much as she wished to jest, to pretend that it had all but left her memory at this point, the words came back, freezing her to the spot. Cold sweat appeared to be running down the back of her neck, her inhales shallow. Although it went against all of her sensible reasoning, the sensation of something being in the room with her would not leave. A childish fear of eyes staring into her back, threatening gazes that rendered her a wreck. Beckoning her still, to turn around. To face them.

With one arm raised, she spun around, her gown flowing in the air. With cheeks red from embarrassment she took in the view of her hands, flailing into thin air. For there was no one there, just the empty room and dresser. Her arm slowly lowered, falling limply along her side. Why would anyone be here? came her aggravated thought, what on earth did you expect to be there?

She found herself about to turn back when her mind reminded her that there was indeed something, so vital to her attire, that remained on the dresser. Managing to stifle herself from uttering any curses, she made haste over towards the lovingly carved mask which rested upon it. Sighing lightly, she reached her hands out to grab onto it.

You should not be here.

Midway, her finger stopped, hovering just a few millimetres away from the mask. For a brief moment, her mind drew a blank, not allowing any thought to pass through it. Then a thought, as powerful as a tidal wave, swept over her. The words were not hers. The voice, embedded within her own head, did not belong to her. Someone else was whispering them, etching them into her very core. You should not be here. A mantra, increasing in intensity, hammering like a battle cry or the ravings of a madman.

You can't stop now! Her own inner voice tried to scream, attempting to overpower whatever foolishness that had sunk its claws into her. Tsubaki felt her lower lip trembling, her breath uncontrollably shaking along with the rest of her body. You're making a fool out of yourself! You're letting them all down!

It took all her willpower to close the last distance between her hands and the mask, snatching it up and tugging it close to her chest. And at that moment silence set in, so suddenly it made her far more petrified than the cacophony of words that had bombarded her mind just seconds ago. Her breath trembling, she slowly started to unclench her muscles, raising the mask upwards to simply stare at it.

Still in a daze, she turned towards the door, taking her first jittery steps towards it. For each one, it felt easier to breath, to rationalise this as nothing but some last minute panic due to an important cultural event. Upon reaching the door itself, her mind had once more returned to its normal self, rationalizing away any notion that she had heard voices other than her own.

Inhaling deeply one last time, she raised the mask to her face, fastening it as she had been shown countless times. Opening the door and stepping outside, these noises combined was enough to drown out the faintest whisper:

You should not be here.