Asami was staring into her mirror, admiring herself. It was a finely crafted mirror, likely handmade by a skilled artisan from the Land of Fire. A golden frame, ornate with swirling cloud motifs reminiscent of the Fire Daimyō's court, encased the pristine glass. Her reflection was that of a little girl — sweet, cute, and cuddly. Even Okaa-san, her mother, said she was the most adorable child in all of Konoha. So it had to be true — even if Okaa-san was clearly biased.
Her jet-black eyes… Her long silken black hair… Her smooth and tender cheeks… Her fair complexion… Her soft, pink lips… No wrinkles… No moles… No blemishes… She was seemingly perfect — her appearance reminiscent of a porcelain doll crafted by masterful hands.
The girl in the mirror mimicked her every movement. Asami raised her hand — the girl raised hers. Asami tilted her head — the girl followed. Asami furrowed her brows — the mirror image did the same. A small smile curled her lips, echoed perfectly. It was her. She was the girl in the mirror, and the girl in the mirror was her. This was who she was now — her new self.
"..." Her fingers pressed against the cold glass, palm to palm, as if trying to reach through. She lost herself in her own black eyes — deep, endless, abyssal. They weren't the eyes she remembered having in her past life, yet she found them beautiful. Haunting and mysterious, they seemed to belong to someone with secrets hidden in the shadows.
Her lips moved in a soft whisper. "Am I not an adorable child…"
"Asami-chan, what are you doing there?"
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Okaa-san's voice carried a gentle admonishment. "Asami-chan, that's the tenth time today I've caught you gazing at your reflection. If you're not careful, you'll forget to eat. I can't let my precious little princess starve to death in front of a mirror."
She pinched Asami's chubby cheeks affectionately. Asami pouted, cheeks red from the onslaught. She didn't like being pinched — Okaa-san knew that. And yet, she did it anyway, torturing her with overly affectionate love.
Okaa-san smiled with mischief. "Otherwise, I might have to take that beloved mirror of yours away, Asami-chan. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
"..." Asami stiffened. No, not the mirror! That was a sacred treasure! It must be protected!
She lowered her head, guilt washing over her face. Her voice was laced with sorrow. "But… I was just wondering if I'll ever be as beautiful as Okaa-san…"
Her big, glimmering eyes filled with tears — the most powerful weapon in a little girl's arsenal.
It worked like a charm. Okaa-san's expression melted instantly. She knelt and hugged her tight, her voice dripping with emotion. "Oh, my sweet little Asami-chan. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll grow up and break many hearts — just like your father used to."
"..." Asami raised a hand timidly. "Okaa-san, um… Why were you looking for me? Is something going on?"
Clapping her hands, Okaa-san nodded. "Yes, yes! We're expecting an important visitor today. So you must be on your best behavior — and presentable."
"Presentable?" Asami shivered. She knew what that meant.
"Yes, presentable." Okaa-san beamed with enthusiasm.
"..." Asami frowned. No, not again. Not another dressing session. Once was already more than enough. She was a girl, not a decorative doll.
With utmost stealth, she began her retreat — inch by inch, sliding toward the open doorway like a ninja on a mission. But her mission failed spectacularly.
"Where do you think you're going, Asami-chan?" Okaa-san's hand latched onto the back of her collar. There was no escape. Her captor smiled with wicked glee. Resistance was not only futile — it was laughable.
"Um… ehehe… Okaa-san…" Asami laughed nervously.
And so, the dressing ritual commenced.
Okaa-san relished every moment, dressing her precious daughter in yet another tailored kimono. This one was lavender with sakura blossoms embroidered along the hem — a spring motif. It wasn't the only kimono in her collection. Oh no, she had dozens — maybe hundreds. Enough to fill three wardrobes. Kimonos for every season, every occasion, every festival, every single day of the year. It was practically a compulsion.
There was no denying it — Okaa-san had an obsession. A serious one. Silk, satin, brocade — she adored them all. And Asami was her ever-willing — or perhaps not-so-willing — mannequin. Not that Asami could truly complain. Deep down, she liked being doted on. Somewhere in her small, fluttering heart, she felt happy. Loved. Cherished. She was Asami-hime — her mother's little princess.
After the kimono was fastened with a red silk obi, and a butterfly-shaped ribbon adorned her head, Okaa-san stepped back with glowing pride. "And… finished! What do you think, Asami-chan? Marvelous, aren't you?"
Asami turned back to the mirror.
She was… adorable. Cuddly, huggly, sweet like dango on a stick.
As always, Okaa-san had dollified her to perfection.