Author's Note: I've wanted to write this silly thing forever. :D The flu finally gave me the opportunity and motivation.
Warnings for this chapter: Mimihagi is a little weird, Ukitake loses his virginity.
Are you a believer in fate? I am. Some say that life is a boat, manipulated by the waves of the ocean, or the pull of the moon; that gusts of wind can fill our sails or leave us stranded. I think that it's more complicated than that. I think that our fate is an orchestration of different forces, different souls blending and harmonizing to blaze our path.
I was born into the Geisha lifestyle. When I reached the age of eleven, I was selected by the famous Geisha Mimihagi to become his apprentice. Mimihagi was the embodiment of grace, a shadow flickering in the light of a candle. As long as I would live, I would never, never forget the darkness that he possessed. It wasn't a malevolent darkness. It was the peaceful cover of a starless night. I spent hours of my life brushing through his hair, locks so thick that a handful would swallow my hand. Not once did I see a reflection in those ebony eyes. They didn't glisten with tears, nor did they shine in sunlight. He seemed to stare into space, seeing every person, every flower as a new and cold galaxy. Mimihagi in full costume walked in my dreams, the way he inked his teeth and wore only the most pitch silk. He looked like a spirit, one who existed on the other side of the candle and the star. Some said he was a devil, a hand reaching up from hell itself. But the core of our earth was lit in fire, was it not? And our heaven is dark and cold. I always thought them to be misled.
Sougyo no Kotowari. That is what he named me. I asked him once, when I was but a Fukutaichou. Why would he, a spirit of the night, choose to name me such? Tradition had predicted that my name would be Kamikake. Why the deviation?
"The ocean is terrible," he told me, eyes unfocused as he stared into the river. "It's deadly. It pulls men into its thrall, dashes them against rocks, strands them with the promise of a new destination." He lies by the riverbank, hand dipping into the slow-flowing water. "But it's so beautiful. On the surface, it reflects every beam of light it can catch. But delve deeper, and no light escapes its grasp." He smiled, though it can barely be considered such. "Life craves water to such an extent that it has its own pain, its own suffering- no, its own torture- dedicated to its craving." He brought his hand to his mouth, letting the river water drip onto his tongue.
"My sweet Jushiro, I long for you to move like darkness, swirl like galaxies, resonate like song of the planets, but quench like water. You hold a tremendous power that I can only hope that you learn to harness." He turned to me. "Your heart beats celestial, but the soul hidden in your eyes is aquatic. You cradle the terrestrial, my love."
I could have gone years, lifetimes without understanding what Mimihagi meant, his words like constellations shrouded in mist. But when I saw him for the first time… I understood.
I was still new, young and gawky, limbs long and face youthful. I was the moon in Mimihagi's orbit, with my hair of spun silver and my eyes as green as waterlilies.
Waterlilies. That's right. I was wearing my waterlily kimono, wasn't I? I loved that garment. The design on the hem and sleeves give the illusion that I walk knee-deep in the river, the silk spreading around me as if I'm a floating lantern.
As expected for a Fukutaichou, my face was painted far more intricately than that of my Taichou. But Mimihagi, in his deep eccentricity, chose to paint only half of my face in shades of white and blue. He called me his moon on the lake.
I cradle the terrestrial, he'd said.
The man sitting before me was the most earth-bound creature I've ever laid eyes upon. His hair was the deep mahogany of rich and fertile soil. It looked just as soft, though it curls as tightly and as thickly as the jungle. His eyes were a steel grey, loaded deep with strength and kindness. The gaudy kimono draped over his shoulders was… out of place among the company he kept, but it whispered his personality into my heart. Being a Geisha taught one to judge on appearances alone. It was a long-discouraged practice, 'judging a book by its cover.' But was effective. There was love swelling in that young man.
Mimihagi always had the eye to read my soul without a moment's hesitation.
"His cup is empty," he breathed flippantly, reaching an arm out from under the cover of his hair to gesture to a teapot. I bowed and took it, quietly approaching the captivating young man.
"I've never seen you around before," he said to me, giving me a smile as I pour tea into his cup.
"I am Mimihagi's Fukutaichou," I purred, brushing the back of my fingers against the clay of his cup, ensuring that the tea was still warm. It was, pleasantly so, and I placed the cup before him.
"Your name?" He brought the cup to his lips.
"Sougyo no Kotowari."
I paused as a grimace took over his face. "Does this displease you?"
"This tea? Ugh." He set it aside. "Drink it. What do you taste?"
I hesitated. He lifted cup and reached out to take my wrist, turning my palm skyward and lacing the cup in it. I take it reluctantly, and bring it to my lips for a taste.
"It's matcha." He nodded, sticking his tongue out playfully.
"Sweetheart, do you mind discreetly bringing me some sake?" He paused. "Wait, you never told me your name."
I regarded him with confusion. "I did. It's Sougyo no-"
"No. Your name." He was insistent.
"...Jushiro Ukitake," I whispered to him, and could see the shiver up his spine.
It was a task, I recall. But I was able to place a tiny dish of sake into his hands. He rewarded me with the most radiant smile, capable of sowing the seeds of a bountiful garden in my heart.
That night, as we left the teahouse, Mimihagi turned to face me, nearly disappearing into the approaching dawn that hadn't yet broken. "Bid goodnight to your client, Sougyo no Kotowari." His head cocked as he drifted away, making it clear that he wasn't going to wait for me. The okiya was close. I knew my way, even in the sunless morning.
"Good evening," I said softly, bowing low to this stranger who had lightened my night, making a fledgling Fukutaichou feel as alluring and captivating as his Taichou.
He didn't respond. Instead, he kissed me.
Inexperience overwhelmed me as his arms wrapped around my thin body. One held my waist, while the other cupped the back of my head. I held my arms up in surrender, unsure of what to do. My breath slowed and my heart quickened as he encouraged me to open my mouth, his tongue flicking at my lips and teeth. I respond instinctively and his tongue made itself at home in my mouth, sending sparks of excitement up my spine as he grinned against my lips, body pressing against mine. I lower my hands, one resting on his shoulder while the other supported his cheek. He tasted like sake and rice, with just a hint of green tea.
My breath was thin and labored when he pulled away, licking gently at my bottom lip.
"If all matcha could pass through your lips before meeting mine, I might find it more tempting than wine."
The compliment sped my heart. His mouth was smeared with blue, and panic filled me.
"I must go," I said urgently, trying to find Mimihagi in the distance. I turned out of his arms and he twirled me back in.
"Wait," he whispered, kissing my neck, and I briefly forget my urgency. "Shunsui Kyouraku. That's my name. Shunsui Kyouraku." He kissed my ear gently enough to make my knees weak, before patting my bottom in a way that should have offended me.
"Go. Don't get in trouble with your Taichou."
I smiled and stepped away, though hesitated for a second. "Shall I see you again?"
"Bet on it, baby."
As I walked away, excitement still pounding in my chest, he licked his lips slowly, but didn't bother to wipe my makeup off of his mouth.
If nothing else, Shunsui Kyouraku was a man of his word. Every party where Mimihagi was expected to entertain, he followed like a lost puppy. If it had been anybody else, they would have been seen as a pest at best, unsettling at worst. But that man shoved his way into social circles that I wouldn't have thought him capable of, with that goofy kimono and the even goofier little goatee on his chin.
But as I looked at him, I could still feel the gentle scratch of that goatee against my hairless chin. I could still taste sake as it was filtered through his lips, and it made my heart clench.
"Geisha do not feel love," Mimihagi told me one day, snapping a gold paper fan closed against his thigh. "It is not within our nature. Men and women desire us, tell us they love us.. but we know better, Jushiro. We are beyond that."
I had known why he said that. He saw the way that Kyouraku and I would look at one another at parties. Mimihagi could be cruel and merciless when the mood struck him. And with such an important, delicate topic, I expected him to be. But he remained level, the soft and muffled Mimihagi that I knew well. He wasn't trying to scare me, he was going to let me learn the lesson on my own.
Shunsui Kyouraku was an open book, fascinating and deeply faceted. He worked for the government, and was climbing his way up the ranks at an unsurpassed rate. The night we'd met, he was a mere junior contractor, little more than a glorified errand boy. He was a full contractor at the point, working and negotiating with influential crowds. It was no surprise that they were able to pay the rates of Mimihagi, not to mention my rate, which was half of my Taichou's.
My heart beat rapidly as I felt the box hidden in my sleeve. My Mizuage ceremony was scheduled to be held at the end of the week. Mimihagi had selected most of the bidders by hand, but was allowing me to invite one man or woman of my choosing to bid.
He had to know who I was going to select.
After a duet that I performed with my Taichou, I made my rounds, pouring sake for all of our guests. When I arrived at Kyouraku's cup, I discreetly slid the lacquered box into his lap. His fingers brushed mine as I pulled my hand away. He knew the implication.
His tone changed for the rest of the night. He grew quiet, barely taking his eyes off of me to engage his business partners in conversation.
When it was time to leave, Shunsui took me behind the teahouse. I expected a quick kiss, as had become customary for us.
I wasn't expecting him to take me by the cheeks and pull me into the most fierce kiss he was capable of. He left me breathless and gasping, lips swollen suspiciously and beginning to bruise. He nibbled at my neck, groans reverberating through my throat.
"Fuck, I want you so bad," he moaned, hands roaming hungrily over my body. I can feel his hands reach down his own body, and I can hear the rustling of his hakama.
"S-stop."
There was no hesitance. He stopped. For a moment, at least.
"Baby," he whined, sucking on my earlobe. "I want you so fucking badly," he reiterated, brow knit in desperation.
"I said, stop." The firmness in my voice made him recoil. I looked him dead in the eye. "I am no whore," I spat, smoothing out my kimono. "I apologize if I have somehow misled you or made you feel that your sexual advances were welcome or appropriate. If you feel desire for me and wish for me to spend a night in your bed, then you will follow the proper channels, and not attempt to take advantage of me behind a teahouse like you would a common prostitute."
I tightened my obi around my body as I walked away, aiming to catch up with my Taichou. I could feel him groan and saw him rub his face in shame as I spared him a look.
I held my chin high as I stormed off. I would need to, if I was going to forbid the gathering tears from falling from my eyes.
Geisha don't feel love.
The aching in my chest was a childish illusion borne from hope and naievety.
I sold for the price of 5000 yen. Mimihagi was satisfied. The money didn't interest me. I was still upset about what had happened earlier in the week. Guilt ate at my appetite, my sleep, my enthusiasm. I didn't care who purchased the rights to my virginity. It didn't interest me.
That man, the one I'd spoken to so harshly- though it was deserved- the one who could barely contain his immature enthusiasm for me… he interested me.
I spent the day moping. When Mimihagi retrieved me, I followed him like a puppet, empty and tired. For the first and last time in my life, Mimihagi pulled me into a hug and whispered, "You will sing for him a music so sweet." He kissed my cheek and led me into the unfamiliar building.
Though the room was unfamiliar, the man sitting in front of me wasn't.
Kyouraku.
After Mimihagi lit the incense and the three of us spent time in prayer, he departed without a word. I sat in front of him, white kimono draped around my too-thin body, staring at him in awe.
"Why?" I asked. "Why, after what I said?"
Kyouraku grinned. "Because you were right. And I apologize." He stroked my cheek, smoothing down any hair that escaped from my ponytail. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he marveled, looking fondly into my eyes. "Like the sun reflecting on the mountain snow. Beautiful."
Experimentally, he reached back and released the red silk tie holding my hair back. The strands, thin and silver, fell into place around my face. He couldn't resist running both hands through it, a child-like glee in his eyes.
"It's so soft, like a bunny rabbit," he praised. "You should wear it down more often. Look at yourself." He turned my body toward a mirror and I took a second to marvel. Not at my hair, mind you, but at the precious man combing his large, calloused, and particularly hairy fingers through my hair. He looked so pleased with himself.
I felt his chin on my shoulder. I kissed his temple.
"We don't have to have sex. If you just want to lie here for a while, I'm okay with that." He moved to press our noses together and I shook my head.
"You didn't pay such a hefty price to cuddle with me."
"No. But I wouldn't hesitate to."
With that, I pressed my lips to his. I crawled into Shunsui's lap and took one of his hands in both of mine. When we parted, I brought the center of his palm to my chest, and bring it back to my obi, gaze locked onto his.
Time lost all meaning. The only thing that mattered was this beautiful man sobbing his pleasure into my throat. I clawed desperately against his back, his scalp, anywhere I could reach, fearing that my soul would leave my body and drift into space. But he held onto me just as tightly, willing me to stay with him as we made love. And that was what it had to be. No whore felt that way each time she opened her legs, or nobody would ever do anything else. Though the lovebites and fingerprints on my body would fade, my heart would never be the same after that night.
Mimihagi was wrong.
After we had regained our footing upon the earth, he held me for as long as he could, nose buried into my hair as we talked. And we talked for hours. About his work, about mine. We teased each other about the noises we'd made, the way we refused to break contact. He held my hand as he laid behind me, letting that arm rest on my waist. I could have laid there, ignoring the wet spot beneath us in favor of his warm breath on my ear, humming sweetly as he tangled his legs with mine. Shunsui Kyouraku intoxicated me, down to the very soul.
It wasn't just his love, his sex, his very existence making me reluctant to leave him. I strongly suspected, from the time that I was a child, that the human heart and mind knew more than it could from mere fact alone.
When I had exited the okiya, I was a virgin Fukutaichou. When I re-entered, I was a young man, well on his way to becoming a successful Geisha.
In the cover of the night, my revered Mimihagi had passed onto the next life.
For as long as I would live, I would never tell the story of his death to any living soul. It wasn't my place.
Mimihagi's death left me adrift on a still sea, without wind or current. I could only row and pray.
The gods were making it very clear to me that they had sent Shunsui Kyouraku as my guardian angel, a spirit of the earth who loved me with more intensity than I ever could have fathomed.
I opened the door to him one night, bringing him in from the heavy, soaking summer thunderstorm. He took me by the waist and kissed me as soon as the door was closed.
"Kyouraku, what ar-"
His eyes were full of love, pupils opening like the unfolding of a new lily. "Marry me."
I stand, dumbfounded. "I..?"
"Marry me," he insisted- no, begged- clinging to my waist like I might drift away from him.
I turned in his arms, though I made no move to leave. He let his chin drop to my shoulder, stubble scraping against the delicate skin of my throat. "I could give you all that you could ever wish for. We'd be so happy." His eyes were closed, and mine followed suit.
"I can't." The words broke my heart. I brought my hand to my chest, hoping to dull the pain. "I can't. I'm a geisha."
"You don't have to be. I have the money to care for you."
"It's what I'm born to. I can't deny my destiny." I stroked his cheek and he leaned into the touch. "It is my responsibility to carry on Mimihagi's legacy. I can't simply allow him to die."
I think he'd known what my response was going to be. He knew what I was, who I was destined to be. But he wanted to hope, wanted to act like it was possible for me to go to him, to join his side and let him give me the world.
I opened my mouth to tell him how much he meant to me, how much I longed to say yes, if I had been born into any other life. "Shhh." He put his finger against my lips, tragic smile on his mouth. "Jushiro Ukitake. Have you ever received a gift before?"
I shook my head. "Only you."
He gave me a sad smile, stroking my hair out of my eyes. "Then allow me to spoil you. Come, quickly. I can't keep them waiting."
I took his hand and allowed him to lead me. We made our way deeper into the northern part of the district, where only the most wealthy of the Geisha lived.
"You cannot be serious." I gazed upon the okiya. I knew it. There wasn't a Geisha in Seireitei that did not know it. The Zerobantai Okiya was famous for holding the most highly revered Geisha in the world.
"I'm serious."
I held my breath as the gate opened. I gasped in awe as Shutara emerged from the confines of the okiya, looking as radiant as possible in the swift-hitting summer storm. She was the most intimidating woman I'd laid eyes upon. Even in leisure, her hair was adorned with gold, her lips painted red. She gestured us closer, welcoming us out of the rain. She circled me several times, analyzing my posture, my features, my breath, my composure, my spirit.
"Mimihagi left his handprint on your heart." She pressed her hand to my chest. "From today, you are my Fukutaichou." She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Kyouraku. Help him gather his effects. We shall leave the gate unlocked for one night only. I expect him not to delay." She stared into his soul.
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Was it a delay? Perhaps. But we couldn't resist. The moment we made it back to Mimihagi's house, he threw me against the wall, opening my yukata in desperation.
We made love as quickly as we could, unable to keep our hands to ourselves, not knowing when our next opportunity would arise. He was rough, but every twinge I felt as I carried kimono boxes to the carriage filled my heart with fond memories. I smiled to him as we sat across from one another. He kicked his sandal off and rubbed his foot against mine, keeping that contact for the entire ride back to Zerobantai.
My days became a blur. Shutara was a far more strict Taichou than Mimihagi had ever been. Sneaking off with Kyouraku would have earned me a whipping that I'd never forget. The gates locked behind me, and intruders would answer to their crimes with a bullet to the head. It was too risky. So I kept my contact with him brief, chaste. A soft stroke of the thigh while serving tea, a lingering hand and stare while handing him a cup of sake. I felt us drifting apart, and no matter how hard I rowed to him, I could never touch him.