pull down your dreams ch 3 draft

 The fucker just up and left her.
 
 'There might,' Regina reflected, 'be some very good reasons that Ando-san was surprised to see me with Jiraiya. I'm going to guess that he is unreliable, uncommunicative, and inconsiderate.'
 
 Also an incurable liar.   
 
 She didn't know much, but he had definitely told Osafune-san that she was his child. (She got 娘 and 息子 mixed up when she just heard the syllables, but she was just gonna assume that Jiraiya had used the one that meant 'daughter' and not 'son'.)
 
 There she'd been, minding her own damn business on the sofa, and she'd looked up to see more heavily armed men in the courtyard outside her window. Three of them confronted Jiraiya, which was becoming a theme. She couldn't hear what they said, but they seemed unimpressed while Jiraiya was clearly trying to appeal to their good natures.   
 
 Then the son of a bitch had pointed at her.
 
 She froze. She was not prepared to be involved in whatever was happening. It did not seem good.
 
 There had only been a minute to panic before the group of four men had come inside. Jiraiya had indicated her and talked way too fast for her to understand. The three strangers had murmured between themselves, given her polite introductions and skeptical looks, and altogether seemed way more interested in her than she felt comfortable with.
 
 Regina was fairly certain that she was being sold into slavery and she had trusted the wrong murderer.
 
 While she had been panicking, Jiraiya leaned against the sofa and ruffled her hair. Stock-still, she'd allowed it. Her shock allowed enough clarity for her to latch onto what he was saying.   
 
 It definitely included one of the words for child. She caught that he was claiming a mother died. Presumably hers.
 
 'Really? And I didn't even know? That's a shame,' she thought, in the most useless waste of her limited brain power. 'If I'd known that I would have marked the hour and treated myself somehow.'
 
 Oh, wait. Jiraiya was making it up.
 
 She was actually a little disappointed to realize it was a bald-faced lie and that she hadn't yet achieved one of her life goals of outliving that goddamn bitch.
 
 That was a problem for another day, perhaps. Regina clenched her jaw and stared around the street for answers as the strangers took her away from the bookstore.   
 
 Jiraiya hadn't acted like he was doing something terrible to her. He'd packed up the study materials he'd bought for her, tossed them at one of the helmeted strangers, and given her a hug that she endured in silence. She felt frozen stiff- she had not anticipated that Jiraiya was going to abandon her. Clearly that had been stupid. But he'd picked her up and taken care of her the whole time she had been in this awful place and she'd just assumed- well.   
 
 The people around on the street didn't seem afraid of her escorts, Regina noticed. That might be a good sign. If anything, they got respectful body language when they were noticed. So she probably hadn't been handed over to bandits or whatever.
 
 Actually...
 
 'They're dressed like the man who asked us for paperwork at the border,' Regina realized. She stole a glance at the armor of the oldest man. It was maybe a little nicer, but it looked like it could be a uniform. 'Are they... some kind of authority? The police?'
 
 Maybe Jiraiya had handed her over to the authorities for some reason. She hadn't done anything wrong except enter the county illegally, but he'd done that too, right? So he couldn't have just pinned it on her. These guys didn't seem stupid enough to believe that.   
 
 The leader had introduced himself to her, which seemed like a good indication that they were being reasonably polite. But they hadn't bothered to explain things to her or ask her any questions. If Jiraiya had claimed she had done something wrong, they probably would have at least tried to confirm that. She wasn't being tossed around, but there seemed to be a definite assumption that she had little to no agency in whatever was happening. They didn't ask her opinion or share information.
 
 If anything, this might be... protective custody? She stole a quick second to rub at an irritation on her left calf when they paused at a street corner.  Her escorts glanced at her weird movement, but they didn't seem concerned or aggressive at all.   
 
 The last piece of information she had to work with was the fact that Jiraiya had lied out of his ass about her being his kid. That strongly suggested that such an association with him was why they would take her in.
 
 'I did think that he's constantly in danger. And that maybe he's an important person like he says he is.'
 
 She'd already decided that he wasn't lying out of ego when he claimed to be famous. He definitely was- people had lined up for hours to hear him speak.   
 
 So. She had been traveling with someone famous, who was often followed and attacked by strangers, and he had given her over to some authority figures under the lie that she was his child.
 
 'He's using his name to buy me protection and a place to stay. That means that he hasn't totally abandoned me, right? He'll probably be back. Or at least there's a good chance. So these people will probably be good to me. Unless they hate him more than they need to respect him.'
 
 Regina took off her shoes in the entrance of some kind of city building, and considered feeling guilty for railing at Jiraiya in her mind. She accepted the public-use green plastic slippers and decided that, no, she had been justified. He could have talked with her. Her Japanese wasn't great but he owed it to her to at least try. He was definitely an asshole.
 
 'And I should definitely try to make these people like me,' she realized grimly. 'I have no leverage, no where to go, just nothing. I'm dependent on their good natures.'
 
 That was not a good position to be in, and she didn't need to finish her International Relations degree to understand that.
 
 Assuming that Jiraiya had some leverage and status, they would take good care of her for at least a while. But if his importance dropped, or if he left her forever? She could be in some real trouble. If a half-decent person was in charge, they'd at least make a token effort to leave her in a situation where she had a chance. But she would be far from the first diplomatic guest to be put out on the streets when they became more inconvenient or expensive than useful. And god forbid they tried to ransom her back to wherever Jiraiya was from- they'd never heard of her. They wouldn't pay a corn chip to get her back. They'd probably be pretty confused to be asked.
 
 So. The urgent order of business was ingratiating herself and trying not to cause trouble, working to understand the local area, and looking for a way that she could be useful.   
 
 'Forget getting home. I'll be lucky to live out the year.'
 
 Everything was bad and she felt bad. She sat when Osafune told her to. He might have given her a concerned look before he went on ahead into some kind of office. One of his friends followed him.   
 
 The other hesitated before taking off his helmet and setting it on the table. Then he sat near her.
 
 They coexisted like that for a while. He stole a glance or two at her, square jaw unclenching once and then tightening again on whatever words he'd thought of.   
 
 This guy was younger than Osafune. Maybe he was in his forties? He had long dark hair tied back, and   a few mild pockmarks more concentrated on the left side of his face than the right. His wrinkles weren't too bad. There were more of them around his forehead and eyes than his mouth. He looked like a thoughtful person.
 
 She swallowed. “sumimasen. Chottoa konran shimasu. Doko desuka? Nani shimasuka?”  
 
 He turned his face to look at her directly and made the effort to smile softly. He didn't pretend to be surprised by her confession that she didn't understand what was happening. “koko ha tetsu kuni no shiyakushou. Shinpai shinaide kudasai. Osafune-dono ha yasashi hito. Rejina hime no tame ni Mifune-sama ni hanashimashou.”
 
 Regina felt like her spine was made of iron. “Aa, sou desuka,” she choked out. Her head was swaying.
 
 The reassurance that Osafune was a kind (or gentle? Could mean either) person was good to have. It was mildly interesting to learn that this was apparently city hall. That lined up with what she'd thought and didn't really surprise her.
 
 But it broke her brain, just a little bit, that he'd casually referred to her as “Regina-hime” when he said that Osafune was going to speak to someone on her behalf. (Who the fuck was Mifune? She should probably remember that name).   
 
 Regina-Hime.   
 
 Hime. Hime, as in princess.   
 
 Princess, as in holy shit, Jiraiya was definitely important in some way. Which was probably why he knew he could get away with brazenly walking into the country under false pretenses. He had some level of diplomatic immunity.
 
 'From their perspective, I'm... foreign nobility?' she guessed, trying to persuade her spine to stay straight when all she wanted to do was go limp and lay on her side to die. 'Jiraiya is definitely foreign to Iron, so he can't be a really minor lord or they wouldn't even know him. So he's pretty important in whatever country he's from, and that country is important enough that Iron is at least considering taking care of me on short notice to keep good relations.'
 
 First off, she had to conclude that Jiraiya was a goddamn madman. (Bless his cholesterol-clogged heart.)
 
 Secondly..   
 
 Regina did not yet have brainpower to reach a second conclusion. She was still caught on the first thing. Jiraiya was crazy. Generally benevolent, apparently, but absolutely he did not operate by normal rules.
 
 'Have I been adopted? It's going to be hard for him to ditch me at this point. Wait. Why would they even believe that story? Does Jiraiya actually have a foreign wife? Did she really die?'
 
 A man wearing more normal clothes than the armor came out of the room where Osafune had gone. He gave her a polite smile but reserved his attention for her companion. They conferred quietly at a pace that she didn't even try to understand.
 
 She probably could have fallen in with worse people. And now that she'd gone through the terror of thinking that she was being completely abandoned, she felt a bit more charitable in her assessment of Jiraiya's character. He'd really had no reason to help her, aside from being in the wrong place at the right time. Maybe he felt responsible for her because he knew what had happened to her, but there wasn't any power holding him to it. So, like. He was probably a generally good person.
 
 'Fine. I forgive him for giving me no forewarning. Because I'm a princess now and that means they'll probably not leave me to die anywhere.'
 
 But if he didn't show back up within a week, he was going right back on the shit list.
 
 “ikimasu.”
 
 She stood without really thinking and followed her companion. It was getting late, so it was a relief that the next place she was taken to was clearly meant to be a sleeping area. The building was close to city hall- was it part of Osafune's residencess? The building looked like it belonged to someone important.
 
 'Is this my room?' Regina cautiously picked her way around, but there wasn't much to see. It was a 6-mat tatami room. The only furniture was a small table with four cushions waiting quietly for company. There was a scroll with one enormous, artistically illegible kanji in the little alcove to the side. The wall furthest from the door was graced by a window that showed some hedges and a body of water in the distance.   
 
 'Maybe I should ask for... I don't know. A shelf? For my one bag.'
 
 She checked the closet. It was huge, but pretty much the only thing inside was the futon set.   
 
 An older woman with a pleasant but firm mien emerged after a short time. She introduced herself as “Fujita” and then wrestled Regina into a kimono and pinned up her hair. Regina tried to make small talk, but it became clear that Fujita wasn't interested.
 
 Regina had the sinking suspicion that her kimono was meant for a man- it was a very plain blue and white stripe design. And most Japanese ladies' clothes weren't meant for her height. The shoes she was given were definitely ladies', because they were way too small. Half her heel hung off the back and her feet were definitely going to blister and bleed where the thong cut between her toes.   
 
 She winced her way to a dining area a two minute walk away where she was told to take off the shoes again and put them in a cubby. There, Fujita-san indicated a certain cushion and then left.
 
 Fujita-san returned only a minute later, carrying a tray full of dishes. A younger girl was silently following with another try.
 
 Regina began to stand. “tetsudau shi mashouka?”
 
 The looks she got told her that no, absolutely not, she should not be helping. The younger woman looked appalled at the suggestion and refused to make any kind of eye contact as she laid out an array of dishes.
 
 Regina sat back down.
 
 The first dish was a small square about as long as her thumb. It looked like cold, raw octopus with some seaweed, probably in a citrus or vinegar solution. That one would be good. The second plate was small and round- a trio of tsukemono samples. She recognized daikon and carrot and something purple that might be dyed ginger. Tsukemono was hard to predict. Sometimes she loved it, sometimes she tried hiding it under the decorative shiso leaves that other foods sometimes came on.
 
 Next, Regina and two other placements got covered bowls that would be miso soup, and an oblong dish with three whole fish. She tried not to make eye contact, which was kind of easy on the technicality that the fish's eyes had all burnt away and were black holes in their sad little crispy faces. They all had   the telltale large bellies that meant they were full of bitter eggs.
 
 'I hate shishamo. That's so gross.'
 
 She should probably have kept a neutral face, but Regina honestly didn't try that hard. Shishamo was almost every trait she didn't like in Japanese food. She didn't like to be served entire animals with bones and faces and crunchy fins that she was supposed to eat.   
 
 'I really should be polite. Most Japanese people like shishamo, so this might mean they're trying to serve me a nice meal. At least it's not the really tiny fish that still have their eyes,' she consoled herself.   
 
 'But... it probably will be tomorrow. Chirimen are a fall food too, I think.'
 
 Well, that attempt to soothe herself backfired.
 
 Cold tofu with green onion slices on top- that was good. There was absolutely nothing problematic about that dish. She felt a bit better when that was set down. Next came a small glass at each placement of cold barley tea.   
 
 The door rolled open. Osafune gave her a nod and then took the spot at the head of the table. On his heels was an elderly woman who was absolutely tiny. She shook and shuffled her way to the place directly across from Regina.
 
 “haha, kochira ha jiraiya no densetu sannin sama no musume desu.” He sounded pretty formal, so Regina gave a bow on instinct to the introduction. She didn't understand Jiraiya's title, but it sounded like a big deal.
 
 “Hajimemashite. Regina to iimasu. Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” Regina murmured. This at least was easy. She could introduce herself in her sleep. She was super proficient at sharing her name and saying the cultural equivalent of “it's nice to meet you.” What a champion. She bowed again as she finished.
 
 It must have been the correct response, because Osafune's mother gave her a gummy smile. “Hajimemashite,” she said in the tiniest, wibbly-wobbliest little old lady voice. And then... she was a lot harder to understand. But her name might have been “Kumiko.” Other than that... Regina just had no idea what the hell had been said. It might have been in a regional dialect she didn't know. It might also just have been kind of formal. Regina didn't really know.   
 
 Japanese is hard, okay?
 
 'Am I supposed to use her first name? Probably not. 99 times out of 100 that is hella rude. But she probably has the same last name as her son. So am I meant to use her first name for clarity's sake?'
 
 Regina smiled and hoped the despair wasn't showing in her eyes. “Sumimasen, nihongo ga amari...” she trailed off politely, because the only way she knew how to say that she wasn't skilled at Japanese was actually kind of a rude word. This seemed like a very bad time to knowingly say something with a rude nuance.
 
 Luckily, she seemed to get it. She nodded a few times, smile strained but not offended or anything. Her attention waned and Regina relaxed a bit as Osafune and his mother spoke quickly.
 
 Rice was brought in, steaming hot. That was the signal for the meal to start. She copied her companions in clasping her hands in front of her chin like she was about to pretend to pray. Osafune gave the “ittadakimasu” and was moving to pick up his chopsticks by the time Regina and Kumiko echoed it.   
 
 She stumbled and suffered her way through some basic conversation- Kumiko was hard to understand, but after a while started to get the hang of keeping her vocabulary more accessible. Osafune was largely silent, except to ask her basic questions that made her kind of nervous.
 
 How old was she?
 
 Should she lie? What if the truth (24 years) didn't match Jiraiya's story?
 
 How was her family?
 
 She mostly winced and felt distressed until Kumiko said something chiding.
 
 What were her interests?
 
 That one was easy, at least. She liked to read and study and relax.
 
 Where was she from?
 
 This turned out to be the impassible question. Osafune had never heard of Minnesota. His follow-up question was how the name was written. His brows furrowed at the English, he seemed distressed about the katakana version. He eventually conveyed that it must have a kanji name because they were going to see Mifune-sama in the near future.   
 
 She did not exactly see how those two things might connect. Did Mifune-sama really hate katakana?
 
 'To be fair, I hate katakana. Too many of the syllables look the same and it gives me a headache. Plus I guess it's basically used as the Japanese version of allcaps. Maybe Osafune thinks a kanji version would be more dignified?'
 
 There just wasn't a kanji name for Minnesota, though. It was always written in katakana.
 
 It must have been important, because after the plates were carried out he'd called for paper and clearly meant to stay until Minnesota had an adequate name.
 
 'But America has both types,' Regina remembered. 'The kanji one is just assigned based on the sounds, I guess. I could do that for Minnesota- just think of some kanji that match the sounds and claim that's what it is.'
 
 'Mi' was easy. 美, beauty, she saw that all the time in names and stuff. 'Ne'? It'd have to just be 'ne' because she couldn't think of any kanji read as 'neso'. Um... sleep? 寝. 'ta' was easiest, that would be field. 田 was used in, like, everything, it would fit as the last kanji for a place name.   
 
 But 'so' stumped her for a bit. Like... She struggled for a while with the blank space in the name. She was not going to use the kanji for 'clean' because that was actually 'sou' and it was too hard to write out all the time. But she couldn't think of anything else. Oh. Ancestor? 祖? She vaguely remembered that kanji existed.
 
 She didn't write it correctly the first time, but she got close enough for Osafune to understand what she was trying to do and correct it. He wrote the full name out on a clean paper and added “country” to it. Then he leaned back to look at the name as whole.   
 
 Regina twisted her hands and hoped she was done with this, because it was weirdly stressful and she felt guilty about trying to name something that already had a name.   
 
 美寝祖田国
 
 Osafune's mustache twitched when he gave one barking laugh. The look he gave her was assessing, then it turned amused.
 
 “何？”She said, just a little closer to snapping than she'd like. But she didn't see what was funny and that had been so troublesome that she would hate having to start again because the combination didn't work or said something stupid.
 
 Luckily, Osafune didn't take her tone personally. He managed to communicate that the combination actually had a nuance close to 'the field of beautiful wives', which was a little hard to see. Was sleep + ancestor an older word that could be used for wife? It wasn't modern Japanese, she was pretty sure. But it would kind of make sense...   
 
 He didn't protest when she said that was fine. Whatever, it was just the name of her home state, which she would have to convey to nearly every new person she met. This definitely wasn't a permanent decision that would come back to haunt her later. Totes fine.