There was only one path left for her as a samurai's daughter. She threw away her choices in disgrace, and was fortunate to be given this one before even considering what she and her baby would have done alone in exile. She recoiled from the very thought, finding herself sucking her thumb again. Another weakness.

Composing herself, she walked behind the screen. Everyone looked at her. Family close and far, restraining themselves. An amused official. Her cousin with a sword in his belt, the only one standing. On the floor next to him was a rug with a wrapped dagger waiting in front of it. With practiced motions she opened and dropped her robe, leaving only a white loincloth and her hair bindings, and carefully knelt on the rug.

Everything disappeared but the dagger. Now all that was left is to prove what she is. With one hand she unwrapped it, pulled it rightward and plunged it into her side, but her neck is what hurt.

Warm fluid trickled over her and she found herself upside down with her face pressed on something soft. She did it! She had this strength all along. None could doubt it, and nothing else she did mattered, however shameful. But the pain reasserted itself followed by the intrusive awareness that she wasn't breathing. Her cousin didn't let her roll on the floor, and she hasn't fallen yet. Her lips probed in front, finding a nipple. She sucked in the sweetness and felt it overflowing.