beautiful one, sharer of my longing

18: Real pain

content warning: eating disorders

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You were no stranger to staring.

Growing up in a powerful feif, from a young age you had to have your privacy broken countless times. Waist measurements, thigh measurements, chest measurements and the like were not strange to you. Normalcy was being judged by the women fitting you in your kimonos and commenting on your body as if you were not in the room.

"She's got a little fat still." One seamstress told your mother, who sat in the corner as all the women in the room stared bullet holes into your naked body.

"Just baby fat," she waved her off, "she'll lose it in no time."

"We'll have to lower her intake...I shall tell the head of the kitchens."

You were eight.

You stared at yourself in the mirror day after day, that damn measurement tape feeling like a binder every time it touched you. Bad food mixed with too small of portion sizes for you to feel full became your good friends. Forced fasting and endless comments by the women of how a certain material would look hugging your body which, to you, looked fine.

Until it didn't, until you looked at yourself along with them and scrutinized every inch of your skin. In your early adolescence, your body underwent changes and grew into itself, into womanhood and you freaked out.

"Oh, you're getting big." The same seamstress you've had since childhood clicked her tongue, her name Takara.

Mother had since died, but you were sure she would agree anyway. Naoya was always her favorite.

"I am." you agreed, hand on your hip and squeezing the flesh.

"Why are you eating so little?" Naoya asked with unease one day. "It's disrespectful not to finish it."

"They are saying I need to lose weight."

"Well, I don't think you do."

"They are adamant." you shot back, continuing to cut the fish in front of you and lay it flat to have something to do.

"Father, she is not eating."

"Again?" he sighed.

"I can't eat it," you reasoned, "Takara informed me so."

"Eat it or I'll shove it down your throat."

"But-"

Naoya jumped in his seat when his father reached over him and grabbed you by the chin, pulling your mouth open and stuffing it with the fish fresh from his hand. You gasped and struggled as his fingers worked the meat down your throat, choking so bad that your teeth clamped down on his fingers.

Naobito released you with a snarl, uncaring of your heavy breathing and borderline choking. Everyone's eyes avoided you.

You, however felt guilty and felt like a failure.

I am not supposed to have this much. How will they perceive me now?

"Your belly's a little distended," Takara commented a few days later, "have you been following the diet we talked about?"

"I'm trying." you said nervously, not daring to look at her disapproving countenance.

"How much are they giving you?"

"As much as Naoya gets?"

"Damn servants!" she grumbled, "I shall talk to them about the portion sizes, again." Just thinking of your father gripping you like that and shoving food down your mouth made you want to throw up.