Chapter Text
Temari has it all. Mostly.
Not really.
Surely, she is highborn—a princess, no less—beautiful, incredibly intelligent, witty, and strong. Yet she doesn’t have it all, for she lacks something fundamental, a dick.
And much to Temari’s dismay, the absence of a cock prevents her from obtaining everything she desires in life. As a woman, she is doomed to be an extension of the men in her life; she cannot have a life of her own. There is no justice in the world, she thinks.
She would like to attend university, but women are not permitted to do so; thus, she must content herself with the family library. She would love to have the right to vote, but women are barred from political engagement. She was born to be a warrior, yet women cannot wield swords—though she does so regardless.
As the firstborn, had she been born male, she would have been the crown prince, inheriting the kingdom. Even her fortune, which she is entitled to upon her father’s death, would not be hers alone but would pass to her husband, for women cannot inherit.
Temari is doomed. She knows it. She has known it all her life. She will either marry some lord of lesser rank—though her rank is not truly hers—or remain a spinster, relying on her brother to support her in addition to his duties for the kingdom. The latter would suit her, but it will never come to pass. Her father will marry her off at the first opportunity.
“I hate black.” she says as she gazes into the mirror.
“You should accustom yourself to it. You will be wearing it for some time.” her brother Kankuro replies.
“It’s rather silly, isn’t it? I didn’t even particularly like the man. And now I must mourn him.” Temari says as she seats herself.
“The man was your betrothed, Temari. You should at least appear as if you are grieving his passing.” her younger brother Gaara remarks with a blank expression.
“I am grieving.” Temari replies with a frown. “Just not as profoundly as I should be, and that’s what saddens me further.” She had known Daimaru since childhood, and by the time she was twelve, their fathers had arranged their marriage. Temari had never regarded Daimaru as her fiancé but rather as the man who would seize the scant freedom she had. “Although, I am somewhat relieved that I have at least a year without the burden of marriage prospects. No respectable suitor would seek my hand while I am in mourning for my former fiancé.”
“That is quite cold.” Kankuro comments.
“Just ensure that no one outside our circle hears you speak so of your late fiancé.” Gaara advises.
“Of course, I am not a fool.” Temari replies.
“As for other matters, our guest will be arriving this evening,” Gaara said, as he picked up the newspaper.
“Should he really stay here? After all, we are a household in mourning.” Temari remarked.
“You cannot use your mourning as an excuse for inhospitality.” Gaara replied. Since childhood, Gaara had maintained a cold and composed demeanor, often serving as the mediator between his older siblings. “Our families have been friends for years; therefore, he must stay with us.”
“And yet, we have not even met him. That hardly qualifies as a family friend.” Temari countered.
“His father and ours fought together in the war; he even saved him, according to what Father told us,” Kankuro interjected. This statement only served to infuriate Temari further. From a young age, she had always felt the inequity in how her father treated her compared to her brothers. She resented the bond they shared with their father, the stories they knew while she remained oblivious, and the freedoms they enjoyed that were denied to her. “Jealousy,” she thought. “It is not a flattering emotion.”
“Well, if you will excuse me, I shall retire to the library. I’ll have an early night” Temari said.
She picked up a book and then seated herself upon the ottoman. Temari was aware that her father’s unfair treatment extended to her brothers, who were not to blame; the fault lay entirely with him. Her father had always regarded her as an afterthought, seldom speaking a word to her. Temari wondered if her father even knew her name, but she quickly dismissed the thought. Of course, he knew; he had named her, after all. Yet she could not help but ponder whether the story would have been different had her late mother been the one to name her.
“Lady Temari.” Baki the butler called from a few meters away.
“I did not ring for you, Baki. Did I?” she asked without lifting her gaze from the book.
“You did not, my lady. Your brothers requested that I come to persuade you to join them for dinner.” he said softly.
Temari did not have her father’s love, nor his appreciation—neither did her brothers, for their father could love no one but himself. Yet she was grateful to have grown up with Baki in the household. He had been more of a father to her than her own ever was, though she would never voice such sentiments aloud; she was far too dignified for that.
“I am not feeling well. I shall ask for a tray to be sent to my room.” she replied, turning the page of her book.
“Do you require me to call for the doctor, my lady?” Baki inquired.
“There is no need for that, Baki.”
“Then you should consider joining your brothers and the guest in the dining room. They will need your assistance in entertaining the guest.”
“Indeed, because that is precisely where a lady should be.” she said, rolling her eyes.
“You know that is not what I meant.” Baki retorted gently.
“But that is precisely what I am, is it not?” she asked, exasperated.
“I am sorry if I have upset you, my lady.” Baki replied.
“It is not your fault. It is no one’s fault,” no one's fault expect for nature, she thought.” “Very well, I shall join them for dinner. They are not the most socially adept, and neither am I, but duty demands it.” she concluded.
“Very good, my lady. I shall send Matsuri to your chambers so you may prepare.” Baki said. Temari nodded in acknowledgment before making her way to her room.
“Lady Temari, your grace.” Baki announced as he introduced her presence in the drawing room. The men present rose to welcome her.
“Lord Nara, allow me to introduce our sister, Temari.” Gaara said.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Temari said, though she did not truly mean it; it was simply the polite thing to say.
“Likewise.” Lord Nara replied.
Temari studied the young man before her. He appeared to be little more than a boy, perhaps not older than twenty-two, nearly Gaara’s age, if not younger. He was tall and slender; she feared a strong breeze might break him in half were he to stand outside for too long. However, it was not her concern. He wore an expressionless face, which made him appear rather bored.
They proceeded to the dining room, taking their respective seats. Lord Nara took a seat beside her at the table, a custom intended for the ladies to entertain their guest. “It’s absurd.” she thought.
The silence that filled the room was not unpleasant to her. She was accustomed to solitude, even if it left her alone with her thoughts, which was not always a favorable situation.
“So, Lord Nara, what brings you so far from home?” she asked, attempting to ease the atmosphere.
“I was offered a place in the applied physics lectures at the university. They have the finest program, so I could not pass up the opportunity.” he explained, taking a sip of his wine.
“Indeed, one should not shun the opportunities presented to us.” she said bitterly. She listened as her brothers spoke of the university programs, the classes Kankuro attended, and how Gaara had offered to accompany him, as they both had classes the following Monday. Temari remained silent, having nothing to contribute or offer.
“What do you think, Temari?” Kankuro asked, drawing the attention of everyone at the table to her.
“Please forgive me; I was lost in thought. What were you discussing?”
“That we should host a dinner so Lord Nara may become acquainted with the people of the town and not find his stay dull.” Kankuro said.
“Of course, it is a splendid idea.” Temari agreed, though she did not truly mean it.
“Shall we retire to the drawing room for a drink?” Gaara suggested as he rose from the table.
“You should go ahead; I shall retire early. I shall see you tomorrow.” she said, moving towards the door. Baki opened it for her.
She waited for her lady’s maid to come to her room to assist her with preparing for bed. She did not see much point in having a lady’s maid; she could dress herself if not for the complicated fastenings at her back. If it were up to her, she would forgo a lady’s maid entirely, but, like everything else in her life, it was not her choice.
Do not misunderstand her sentiments; she might dislike the constraints of being a woman, but she did not harbor ill feelings towards women themselves—though she found a few of them rather annoying, as with most people. Temari could never hate those who endured the same oppression as she did. It was a pity that talented and intelligent women were forced into passive roles in society when they were as qualified as any man.
She felt Matsuri’s fingers as she gently untangled Temari’s hairstyle.
“Is something troubling you, Lady Temari?” Matsuri asked in a gentle tone. Temari was quite fond of the girl; she had known her for many years and felt comfortable in her company.
“I am simply overwhelmed, that is all.” Temari said with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.
“I thought you would be relieved not to have to marry Daimaru.” Matsuri remarked. “I am sorry, my lady; I should not have said that.”
“Do not apologize, Matsuri; there is no need.” Temari said sincerely. “I am indeed relieved, but it has only made me realize that I am merely biding my time.”
“May I ask you something? It is quite personal, I am afraid.”
“Of course, Lady Temari.” Matsuri replied with a gentle smile.
“Do you have a dream?” Temari asked. “One of those dreams you think of just before bed, a dream that brings comfort even if it is rather unrealistic?”
Matsuri blushed. “Of course I have one, but I have never spoken of it aloud. It seems rather silly.”
“Please, do tell me.” Temari encouraged her.
“In my dreams, I am a writer.” Matsuri said, sharing her innermost secret. “People read my stories and appreciate the worldbuilding and complexity of the characters. They read what I have to say and grant me a voice I never thought I possessed.”
“Do you write?”
“Of course, merely to soothe the stirrings in my heart when life becomes overwhelming.” Matsuri replied.
“Matsuri?” Temari asked softly.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Would you allow me to read your stories?” Temari asked gently. “For once, I would very much like to read what a woman has to say rather than a man.”
“I do not know, my lady.” Matsuri said, fidgeting with her fingers, betraying her nervousness. “It is akin to allowing you to see me naked.”
“Well, you have seen me naked. Don’t you think it’s a fair exchange?” Temari replied with a smile. Matsuri returned the smile.
“Fair enough, my lady. I shall provide you with some of my manuscripts. If you require nothing further, I shall retire for the night.”
“Matsuri.” Temari called as she approached the door. She turned to face the maid. “Thank you; you are a good friend.” Temari spoke truthfully. Though she had many noble acquaintances, none understood her as well as Matsuri did.