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Miharu-gozen sat in the depths of the garden, staring past the flowers up at the clouds in the sky. She neatly folded her hands in her lap, as a swell of sheer happiness flowed inside of her. "Mmm," she hummed, a soft sound that came from deep in her throat.

The garden was as tranquil as ever. It was the perfect place for someone as shy as Miharu to escape to, to get away from the pushy Samurai Lords, from merciless court gossip, or from the general competition that accompanied the rank of Shirabyoshi. In the garden, she often forgot about those certain trials and pressures. This was where all of life's chains were loosened, if only for a while.

Her warm gaze shifted back to the sakura trees she sat under. It was summer now, past the time for the famous Cherry Blossom Festival. The young woman reflected upon that festival, remembering how all of the petals had fallen in successive gusts of brilliant white. It was a two-minute display that she looked forward to each year. The same tree that had shed so many petals then was now full of healthy, deep magenta leaves that shaded the sunlight in irregular patches from her heavily made-up skin. A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as she peered back down into her lap, at her delicate Shirabyoshi hands.

"Hi!" Mizu piped, popping up from behind a bit of shrubbery in a fashion rather similar to a meerkat. One could almost see her little ears twittering as her bright, large eyes grinned at Atsuko.

"Hey, you're my age, correct? Isn't this place neat?" She was grinning appreciatively now, taking her attention away from the girl in front of her and letting it wander over the flowers and trees and beauty. When she turned back, however, her face was set in a lined, grim [removed](which was comic, considering her young features).

"Guess what I heard? I heard that this place is haunted. Like... with all the old Shirabyoshi who still want to perform, you know? I heard some of the older girls whispering that they saw a woman in white dancing in here last month. Isn't that neat? Oh, I'm Mizu, by the way. It's nice to meet you!"

Mizu's fast talking and nosiness had gotten her in trouble before, as expected. Her sheer blissful ignorance of her surroundings--and her situation--had also gotten her in trouble. Miharu could have likely been standing directly behind her and the talkative child wouldn't have noticed.

A yelp escaped the girl's lips as she was suddenly greeted. Jumping, she stumbled backwards, falling promptly - and extremely ungracefully - on her bottom. Flushing, she opened her mouth to speak, but promptly shut it again a the other girl began to talk.

While listening, Atsuko looked at the other girl curiously. Another maid, like her? She smiled politely, and give a little dip of her head despite the fact she was still sitting on the ground. "I'm probably around your age, yes." She laughed softly, "And this place is really beautiful. I have to say that I'm pretty impressed by it."

Her face seemed to perk up with interest as Mizu continued, and she tilted her head thoughtfully. "Haunted? Really?" Maybe she'd try to catch a glimpse of this said spirit sometime. Mizu certainly did seem like a nice girl, if not a little over energetic. Not that that was bad - on the contrary, Atsuko hoped that this maid would end up becoming one of her first friends in this place. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I'm Atsuko."

It looked as if she would have said something else when another voice spoke - one that certainly didn't belong to a girl their age (or anyone their age, for that matter). She stared up at the older man, and grimaced. 'A noble! And I'm just sitting on the ground like this!'

Scrambling up hastily, she pat off her rather worn clothing, giving a little bow. "So it seems?" Atsuko said hesitantly, looking at Mizu. She wanted to know more about this haunting, but was it alright to talk about it in front of a random nobleman?

Mizu was delighted. Whether for better or worse, she had grown to accept and even enjoy attention, as she had been showered with all sorts of it since she was little. It was usually negative attention, true, but moments like these were fantastic.

"Oh, it's wonderful to meet you, Atsuko! And you, Lady Miharu, and you, um, Sir." Well, the character with the smooth voice and the somehow commanding silence was interesting. And the Lady! Mizu admired them both, though in different ways, immediately. With her signature sharp, wide grin, nearly quivering with excitement, she plopped on a stone bench and sat cross-legged, eyes ablaze, the tale already twirling in her head. She seemed unphased at the arrivals, only pleasantly surprised that her audience had increased.

"Yeah, that's what I heard. Well, the whole haunted thing began like fifteen years ago, when a new ruling family overthrew the old one down at the port. There were Shirabyoshi at the palace, of course, and it was a big celebration for the Spring Festival. They performed with their hearts on the stage, every movement precise, every poem and story capturing. One Shirabyoshi--a dancer, they say, stole the show. She danced as though she were walking on clouds, and was so beautiful that the audience could hardly breath. It was right at her crescendo, the moment of her dance where the music was getting faster and faster and the crowd was wide-eyed, when the assassins broke in. Everything went dark, she vanished, the audience screamed, and then the building went up in smoke. Days later, after picking threw the wreckage, her secret lost love, the son of this very palace, found her necklace-- a beautiful pearl necklace that he had bought for her, burnt in the ashes. He knew she was gone, and he vowed that he would find her killer or perish trying. He was searching for a month when he found the killers-- and he demanded a duel. The fight was magnificent, and so well matched, but just when her lost love was about to strike the final blow, the killer's acquaintance struck him from behind, and he joined his love, whispering only 'I'll meet you in the spirit world' as his eyes dimmed. Little did he know, however, that his beautiful love was not waiting for him, for she had stayed in our own world. She never did finish her amazing dance, the one that was sure to go down in history, and she simply couldn't leave her time on Earth without it. And so, here she stays, in the palace of her perished love, sweeping the halls in the ghostly white and red gown she had performed in, dancing in hopes that someone will see her final performance so that she can go home in peace."

Her father would be proud of that little speech, she thought. He had been working with her for years now on story-telling, ever since she was little, and she was drawn to the art like a moth to the flame. Her strange, light eyes traveled dramatically over each of the faces there, her knees now hugged tight to her chest, her smile both sweet and slightly sinister.

Unlike Atsuko, naturally, Mizu didn't really think about things before she did them, and didn't consider for a single, flickering moment whether or not such a tale was quite appropriate for a noble, or a Lady such as Miharu. All she was thinking of was the ghostly dancer and her passionate story, and all the wonderful details and emotions of such a tale. And, perhaps, she was thinking of her small audience's reaction.

Her gray-blue eyes seemed to widen a little upon the appearance of the Shirabyoshi. She looked up at the woman somewhat stunned, before bowing quickly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miharu-sama." Atsuko nearly squeaked, looking rather unnerved right now in her attempt to be as polite as possible. "And you, Mikado-sama." She added with another bow. Maybe she was overdoing the respect, but oh well. It wasn't everyday she found herself in the company of a cheerful maid, beautiful Shirabyoshi, and rather elegant noble.

She listened intently to Mizu as she began to tell the story, ans by the end if it, she found herself frowning. Not in disapproval however, but more in unhappiness at the ending of the story. "Oh - how sad!" Atsuko was never one for tragic endings - they always left her feeling rather depressed herself. 'If that story was true,' She thought to herself, 'Perhaps I could seek out the Shirabyoshi and help her rest in peace.'

Oh, how naive the girl was. Still, the thought stuck in her mind as she peered up at Reizei. "You've never heard this tale before, Mikado-sama?" She asked curiously, looking thoughtful. Or maybe it really was just a legend.

Mao dusted off her dirty uniform, gazing longingly at the sun-drenched trees outside. Her back hurt from climbing under and around the many furnishings of the palace, dusting, sweeping, and scrubbing- as a new girl, she was given these lowliest of tasks to teach her humility and proper respect.

Not that she needed it- ever-stoic Mao was content with her fare in life, and pleased with her newfound peace and sense of home in the Shirabyoshi complex. The dreams and aspirations of the other girls were inspiring, and she felt more positive than she'd ever before in her 14 years of life.

Sprinking water on one final bamboo sprig, she resolved to take an appreciative stroll in the gardens beyond the door panel, carting the large, cumbersome water-jug along in a pretense of work.

A few moments into her walk she cursed her bad luck as she rounded a corner to be confronted with two of her fellow maids, a Shirabyoshi, and a strange man. She quickly made like she was sprinkling water on the flowers before her, hoping they wouldn't notice her shirking her duties as she allowed their conversation to waft in her direction.