Genre: Romance/Drama
Paring: Hinata/Naruto
Rating: M
Summary: In search of the sister her father had sold to a mysterious man, Hinata sets out to become the top courtesan in Yoshiwara in the hope that her status will lead her to the secrets that keep her sister hidden. But Hinata had never accounted for Lord Uzumaki Naruto; the man who will rest at nothing until Hinata is his.
Notes: AU – set in the 19th century.
Definition(s):
Courtesan: A woman who provides companionship to men; one of the most frequent ways is through prostitution.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. This is also purely fiction and is not meant to be a factual representation of Yoshiwara or its (former) brothels.
…
…
Before the storm passes
…
…
The streets were coated in thick, powdery icicles as Hinata's small feet chased the steadily disappearing trail in front of her eyes. It was a long-winding track, made by the wheels of the cart that skittered up and down hidden pebbles and patches of snow in front of her eyes. The trail was filling up quickly. The sky was in frigid mourning as it spilled an overflowing abundance of white crystals on the ground and Hinata could painstakingly see the way her handful of clues began dwindling down.
The tears that had frozen on her cold-bitten cheeks were met with a pool of fresh new ones and Hinata, pumping her bare feet forward, saw the way the air gathered around her mouth as she screamed at the fast moving cart. She cursed at how slow she was. Cursed at how soft-pitched her voice was rather than the high commanding roar of an emperor or a lord. And when she tripped over her numb feet, falling flat faced on the ground, she cursed the heavens for her frail body.
But she didn't cease, even when her arms trembled underneath her as she attempted to push herself up, Hinata didn't stop trying to catch up with the cart that had stolen her little sister.
She had to be quicker, she thought as she clawed at the snow with a bottom lip tugged between her teeth. Quicker and stronger. Hinata winced as she put one foot forward, cringed as the other followed suit. The pain was nipping at her feet and spread like a fast moving poison through her senses, threatening to make her collapse. Her flailing arms struggled beside her, moving like a set of broken wings still fighting against the course of the wind before she took off once more with a labored grunt. Begging for her uncooperative fourteen year old body to do as it was told even as the distance between the cart and Hinata grew by every passing second. Even as the thick mist and heavy snowfall shrouded what was left of Hanabi's presence in one fell swoop.
Behind her, loud padding could be heard from legs longer and stronger than her own. The owner of the feet that had followed her, managed to overtake her. Too focused on the vague shape further down, Hinata had completely forgotten about the man who had torn after her when Hinata flitted out of her rundown home and set chase upon hearing of the deal her father had made. Vividly, Hinata could remember the dark tresses of the male who had wrapped a hand around Hanabi's upper arm, an exchange of a sack of gold and silver in the hand of her father and how the stranger had dragged her little sister outside.
She set her jaw and screamed her throat hoarse, arms swinging at her sides to aid her push forward. By now, her feet were leaving blood stains on the formerly pristine white snow in a harrowing sight. Somewhere along the way they must have been cut by burrowed stones; sliced through her delicate skin desensitized by the cold.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her high stitched bun in a fist and jerked it. Hinata's neck snapped back and she lost her footing, falling with a cry toward the sky as though she hadn't cursed it enough.
''No!'' She screeched as her father wrapped his hand around her throat and placed a knee in her stomach, attempting to restrain her on the frigid ground. His hair was wild, air-blown, the top not was half undone and long strands of black hair fell down his face while he breathed heavily. He looked almost as crazed as she did.
Hinata clawed at the hand stifling her breathing and writhed beneath her chaser maniacally, causing coldness to touch the skin that was exposed. However, Hinata had little time to worry about how chilled she felt. Panic was beginning to seize her brain the longer she remained on the ground, realizing with alarm that the distance between Hinata and her sister was increasing. Hinata saw her chances of retrieving Hanabi become virtually nonexistent.
She went into a mad frenzy.
Her numb fingers scratched her father's flesh open, legs shooting up to kick him wherever it may hurt. But she was thin. All bones, no meat. Years of poverty would do that; strip a girl of her physical strength. The snow wasn't helping either. The cold had soaked her to the bones and made them all stiff and jerky so she couldn't extend her arms and legs properly. Much less call out energy she didn't have. There was nothing she could do to fight the man on top of her and the helplessness of it all just made her scream louder.
Someone. Anyone.
Please!
Hear her.
But life was no kabuki; no one actually came dancing around to save the girl. No matter how hard she cried.
Her father's hand came down in a flash and backhanded her across the face, spurting blood into her mouth. Her bottom lip had cracked open.
She whined.
''Silence.'' Hyūga Hiashi's voice was deadly quiet.
Hinata knew that tone. Her father wasn't one to frequently hit his daughters, but when he did, they could tell it was coming in the way the soft-spoken man lowered his voice. He was no lord, but he may as well have been born from the same tree.
She lamented under her breath, still pulling on his hand and clothing knowing it wouldn't lead her anywhere, but refusing to give up.
''I'll deal with you at home,'' he finished gravely, eyes narrowed into slits.
''Hanabi…'' She choked in between sobs, ignoring her own dire situation and the promised threat her father had uttered. ''We—I have to,'' she swallowed around a lump, ''to save her. She needs me, father. Father, why?''
Her inquiry remained as a thick blob of darkness between them. Unanswered.
His hand quickly switched to grab her arm before she could get it into her mind to escape, then he stood and began pulling her stiff body gracelessly across the snow.
She struggled to pull herself free or at the very least get a grip on the soft sinking ice with her feet. Her legs were dragging limply behind her and were unable to find purchase. Her wet hands slipped down his thin wrist, incapable of making fine finger movements because she had lost all sense of feeling inside of them. They jumped, stilted unnecessarily, crackled and slipped as though they were trying to grab a hold on water. If Hinata hadn't seen her hands move, she wouldn't have believed they were working at all.
''Why did you do it, father?'' Her cry of desperation turned into an eerie chant, ''Why'd you do it? Why'd you do it? Why'd you do it?!''
But she wasn't really looking for answers.
Hinata didn't believe he could really explain himself. And perhaps the man of the house understood that too. Maybe that was the reason he had remained silent all throughout their long walk back to their shriveled, godforsaken home, because there was no explaining something like… this. Selling a daughter to the highest bidder was one devoid of an excuse.
No, what Hinata was really doing was allowing her heart to cry aloud. There weren't any words she could scream that would quiet the blearing ache inside of her chest.
They weren't just sisters, Hanabi and Hinata, they were also best friends. They squabbled and made up. They cried and laughed together. They talked about dreams and reckoned they'd share them somewhere down the line. When Hinata was older, stomach heavy with life and a husband at her side, Hanabi would be there. When Hanabi was older, hands cradling her own babe, a husband in the other room, Hinata would be there. Neither could envision a future without the other. They never thought they'd have to.
''Why?!''
Her voice carried through the wind, but her father never broke pace.
Hanabi liked calling her a hero, even though Hinata wasn't very brave… but sometimes, Hinata would throw herself between her sister and a stray, wild cat or share her meager meal so her sister's stomach wouldn't growl so loud in the middle of the night and though Hinata thought it was normal, Hanabi thought it was heroic.
What a joke… Hinata, a hero?
A tear slipped from her left eye.
She couldn't even save one little girl.
''Damn you,'' she whispered softly. ''Damn you. Give her back. Give my sister back…''
Her body had become too rigid to move. Right now, she was like a moppet on a leash; like clay in his hands; like a body without a soul.
And how empty it was.
To live without a soul.
…
The memory slowly went up in smoke as the female attendant behind her finished putting the pins in her long, dark blue hair, securing the thick strands in place in elaborate upswept buns. Her hair was parted in six different sections before it was tied down on her head, leaving only her bangs free. The traditional hairstyle, shimada, was common for women of all statures in this day and age, and prostitutes were no exception.
A prostitute… Although that wasn't entirely correct. Hinata watched her folded hands on top of her lap as the woman behind her busied herself with putting the final ornament—a golden frame—in so it looped around the curve of the coiffure.
Hinata was a courtesan, a woman learning to become well-versed in the arts of taking care of a man's needs and that didn't necessary mean sleeping with them, but it counted as one of the job descriptions nonetheless.
It had been a while since that dreadful wintry day had taken place. Hinata had seen the seasons change twice since then. Autumns and Springs without her little sister, Summers and Winters in grief until that feeling of pain and helplessness slowly morphed into something else. Into a beast that ripped her from her bedding one day and catapulted her into an establishment where men went to sin.
Hinata breathed through her mouth slowly to calm herself down.
Who had she hated most back then? She wondered, working through a light breathing exercise to silence the palpitations of her heart. Was it her father, the man who had handed over his nine year old daughter for a few coins simply because poverty frightened him? Was it the dark haired man who had snatched her sister without a second look back? No doubt had she hated them—did she still hate them—but to Hinata there was a more insistent hatred that she fostered, a self-deprecating loathing she couldn't shake off even 'till this very day.
Hinata was an older sister who had failed to protect the youngest and that… was something she could not forgive. Did not want to forgive.
She shuttered her eyes when she was hit with a sudden wave of regret.
Patience, Hinata. She sighed. Patience is virtue.
All in due time.
Just then, the red folding screen behind them shot open. The female attendant turned away from her, facing their company with a low bowed head and hands clasped against her stomach in deference.
''My lady,'' she spoke, sight kept at the tatami mat.
''Is she ready?'' A sultry voice questioned in reply, feet shuffling forward to enter the room.
''Yes, my lady. I've scarcely finished her hair. She has been dressed in the fabric you've requested and I have painted her face.''
''Not too thick I hope? She's pale enough already.''
''Of course.''
''Good. Thank you, Ayame. You may be excused.''
Ayame curtsied quickly before she darted out of the room, sliding the frame closed behind her and leaving Hinata alone with the woman.
Softly, Hinata perceived the sound of the sloshing of a drink, before the woman who had entered the dressing quarters directed her molten sugar speech toward Hinata with one single command.
''Rise.''
Hinata did as she was told and turned to face the woman. Hinata's dress was less ornate compared to her company. In Hinata's case, she was wearing a flowery printed kimono with light purple fabric. The flowers were white and gold, stitched onto the skirt and the wide sleeves of her dress. The sash, tied low beneath her chest, was colorfully printed with an array of white and golden flowers intertwined as if they were growing on a branch, accentuating her full bust size and popping out the curve of her hips despite how loose the robes fell to her feet.
The woman before her on the other hand, looked as though the stars had come down and wrapped their ethereal forms around her curvaceous body. Her robes were long and heavy, Hinata could tell without touching. Hefty, in the way the clothing pulled the golden haired beauty's shoulders up and made her walk with a straight gait and dignified back. They stretched far behind her and were colored in a ruby red that fit the shade of her painted lips. Etched into the fabric were golden intricate patterns that appeared to be telling a story that Hinata couldn't understand, but was easily fascinated by. She watched as the wavy lines embroiled and danced in a still poem, coiled around each other as if to kiss, simply to part ways as they neared the woman's heart.
The only things that were out of place were her slender fingers clutching a bottle of sake and the bored look on her lovely, white-powdered face.
''You look beautiful,'' the older woman gulped down an impressive amount of sake in one go.
''Thank you, Tsunade-sama,'' was her quiet reply, curtsying like the young attendant had as Hinata lowered her head in a placating bow.
Tsunade waved her free hand, plucking the head of the bottle from her lips. ''Oh, don't thank me,'' she swallowed. ''I didn't do anything worth mentioning. I only came to check on you.''
''Your kindness is too much, Tsunade-sama. I am very grateful for your concern…''
Hinata meant it. Having the oiran—the top courtesan in Yoshiwara—worry about her was an honor in itself. The oiran was regarded with more esteem than any courtesan available. There were parades dedicated to them, stories and songs made in their names. They were stationed at the highest peak of the city with many men never getting any further than entertaining dreams of spending a night with an oiran, as they watched from a distance upon a tower they could not reach. An oiran was the epitome of beauty, femininity and grace.
As desirable as the sun… and just as unattainable. Only the richest men in the world could afford Tsunade.
''…But it is needless,'' Hinata resumed with downcast eyes.
''So you've said before,'' Tsunade quipped. She watched the girl with a leveled eye, mindlessly swishing the liquid around. ''But I cannot help but be a little concerned, you see. Most young girls do not prostrate themselves in front of a whore house and beg to become a prostitute. You do know that's what you'll be doing, right? Fucking men for a living.''
''So you've said before, Tsunade-sama.'' Hinata smiled at her evenly, returning Tsunade's words without ill intent. Hinata's eyes were dull, but determined. She did not look like a confused, unawares little girl. ''When I arrived here, you had made my job description very clear. I know what I am doing.''
''Tch,'' the older woman curled her upper lip. For a woman who was supposed to be the epitome of femininity, Tsunade was very different in her private life. Hinata reckoned it was an occupational hazard; pretending, in order to fit inside the public eye. However, Hinata was accomplished in wearing masks. ''It's still hard to understand. Why would a sixteen year old girl decide to let old geezers fuck her into submission? You're young and beautiful. Even if you're poor to top it off, you could easily ensnare a middle-class man or even an unsuspecting high-born lord and live a relatively comfortable life shitting out babes. So, why this?'' Tsunade narrowed her eyes and stepped into Hinata's personal space, using her free hand to cup Hinata's chin and raise her bowed head. Brown eyes glared down at her. ''No doubt are you going to be the highlight of this place with eyes like yours. Never seen 'em lavender. But you can make it without being here too, so why?''
''Tsunade-sama, I've told you. I need the money.''
With a snarl, Tsunade roughly pushed her face away and swiveled around. ''That old story again, huh? Fine. See if I care. I've seen plenty of girls catch diseases here. Seen them thrown out with the trash.'' Hinata winced. ''Because they weren't worth much. The rest of them had to pay for their own health expenses, because this place doesn't really care about product that can't be used. I've seen girls get pregnant and were forced to leave. Others had to abandon their kids, but only if their cunt was good enough to bring in coins.'' Tsunade whirled around sharply with a glare so furious, Hinata bumped into a cabinet as she instinctively backed away, fear gripping her trembling heart. Thinking she would be hit, Hinata was surprised when Tsunade merely raised her voice. ''There is no life for a whore and to see someone like you, march in here—willingly—and indifferent, makes me angry in ways I can't even explain. Don't underestimate the life of a courtesan!''
''I—I'm not. I swear.''
This life was not really a life. Hinata understood that.
But right now—or for the past two years, to be exact—Hinata hadn't really been living at all.
Losing a sister, was like losing half of a soul. How could Hinata move on when her life was incomplete?
She couldn't tell Tsunade the real reason. At least, not yet. Mainly because Hinata didn't know Tsunade well enough, and talking about something this dangerous to a practical stranger could very well work against her.
Hinata had launched herself into the darkness knowing she wouldn't get out without being tainted, but if she planned to find the man who had taken away her light… then this was the only road she could embark on.
Because that man would be here.
There were days where she fell asleep and woke up disoriented, convinced Hanabi was sleeping in the same futon like a captive of the past.
When the fog of sleep slid off and her hands were the first to discover the emptiness beside her, Hinata was split apart by grief that turned her throat raw and bloody as though she was reliving the day she had been forsaken by the heavens.
''You could have fooled me,'' Tsunade supplied sarcastically, taking a sip of her sake in anger. ''Well, go on then. It's your debut. Since you're young, I'm guessing you're still a virgin. First time hurts.''
''I'm sure it does.'' Hinata made her way to the sliding frame, but paused as she stood side by side the oiran, then she bowed in reverence. Minding her manners. ''But… there are worse pains in life.''
And then she walked out, leaving the beautiful woman in stunned silence.
…
The brothel had three dozen tatami rooms spread upstairs and downstairs. The women slept in those quarters and worked in them too. However, the real work happened downstairs where a wide expansive room was situated in front of the street and closed off by thick, white bars so the passersby could peek into the brothel and its available women. If they saw someone to their liking, they could enter through the door and speak to a chief attendant, put out an offer and wait for the chief attendant to accept.
With an array of women to choose from, one had to make themselves more charming if they desired to rope in at least one man for the night. Seducing a man was hard, which was why so much attention was invested in hair, clothing and complexion to make oneself more appealing; dip a man in lust and need, until even common sense lost its foothold. There were many men who forgot themselves in a place as nefarious as Yoshiwara and ended up dwelling in the pleasures it had to offer, but it was the brothel in this inner part of the city that reigned them in.
And it was there where Hinata's journey would start.
She quietly made her way across the wooden boards and down the stairs at the end of the corridor, keeping her hands neatly clasped in front of her in a manner of sophistication. A lady of dreams—a physical form of femininity that woke a man's deep rooted senses—rather than the distorted illusion she really was.
Below was where she found others like her. Women dressed in colorful robes and hairdos adorned with pins, combs and different shades of lint and twigs to keep their shimada in place. Some wore their hair high perched on top of their heads, others low at the nape of their necks in elaborate twists and turns to give them a flare of elegance. They were all beautiful in a way that made Hinata stare. Their gentle hand movements when they spoke or laughed, like flattening a palm of their hand against the corner of their mouth as they looked away or holding it as a half enclosed fist between their bosom, were very subtle. Mild. And to the person completely unfamiliar of a courtesan's nature, it wouldn't have appeared premeditated at all.
However, Hinata knew from the brief lessons she had gotten from Tsunade that it was anything but a blasé display of cuteness. Courtesans didn't only take care of their outer appearances, but their mannerisms, demeanors—starting with looking from below their eyelashes to ushering a sly veer in their hips while they walked—and their inherent or academic talents, were well-polished. A courtesan used everything in her disposal to charm a man.
Hinata witnessed many such actions on her way to the barred off chamber and therefore failed to realize the spectacle she had become as she passed her co-workers and the handful of customers. The night had just begun and the customers were only now trickling in. Too concentrated on filing away the useful information she was gathering around her, Hinata was subjected to the curious and rivetted gazes that trailed down her shapely form, her natural pale features and exotic eye color.
She turned left at the appropriate time and found her place of destination. Already, the spacious room was filled with an assembly of beautifully clothed young girls crowding the bars, whispering sweetened phrases into the overcast sky like fallen angels trying to get back home, coaxing a man or two with the smooth stretch of a bared shoulder—a knee inching from between a robe—a seemingly accidental slip of the fabric down the puffed curve of a breast.
Her insides trembled at the sight. Calm down. Hinata discreetly wiped her clammy hands down her kimono and proceeded toward the bars. She had practiced this not too long ago. Granted, back then Hinata didn't have an audience except for Tsunade and one of the female chief attendants, Chiyo, so expecting a practice session to proceed like the real thing was probably not the most logical assumption. Perhaps if she envisioned the same image she had at the time, Hinata could forget the twinge in her stomach and the anguish threatening to seize her throat.
So, Hinata thought of Hanabi.
She imagined seeing the tiny smile that filled Hanabi's small face… Her long untamable brown hair dancing in the wind… The days they spend huddled together trying to keep warm… The music they made on an old koto… The games they played…
And then the cruel hands that tore her away.
The look in her eyes became sharper and with prudent steps, Hinata sidled through the crowd, kneeling down to prod her way through. Eyes all around her darted her way, sensual movements stilted as the young girls stopped to survey the sudden intrusion, simply to be left holding their tongues. Just when Hinata's hand bridged the last row of girls and she was about to be in full view of the street by taking advantage of their momentarily stupefaction, a hand clamped down on her upper arm. Hinata turned around with a disconcerted albeit slightly frightened look on her face. Were one of the women trying to keep her from snatching away a client?
Or had Hinata already caught someone's eye and was this a chief attendant's attempt to get her out of the chamber and into a stranger's arms? Even though Hinata had made up her mind months prior, she'd be lying if she said doing this was easy or an act without fear.
She was still only human.
Instead, Hinata was faced with a green eyed, golden haired enchanter about her own age who spoke with an inviting tongue.
''One who throws herself in a den of wolves should not be surprised when she is eaten.''
The women had parted like an unruly sea tide, retiring to opposite ends of the room and leaving the area in front of the beams empty, save for a few courtesans that had no other place to fall back to.
Hinata was frozen, shooting a quick glance at the grip around her arm. It didn't assert any pressure. Neither did the blonde haired woman in a soft blue kimono decorated with fallen leaves, seem particularly threatening. But Hinata was conscious of the way everyone had reacted to this mysterious girl; how her very voice was powerful enough to make a row of courtesans yield.
Tentatively, Hinata spoke. ''My apologies if I appeared too impatient.'' She paused, eyes cast downwards. It would do her no good to make any enemies in this place. Tsunade had confided in her that it was a highly competitive brothel and Hinata wasn't sure if she would be able to fend both outside enemies as inner enemies off. She had been too greedy, but Hinata couldn't help it. Two years had passed since Hanabi had been taken. There wasn't any more time to waste. ''I was told to go near the barrier and wait until I was picked.''
The young woman's green eyes gleamed as she chuckled behind an open palm. ''I suppose you don't really have to do anything to garner attention. Just wait until you're picked, huh?'' She quietly regarded Hinata, mirth dancing in her grass colored orbs. Hinata didn't spy any malice. Contrary, this girl was an open window of warmth. ''But. That is true to some degree. How else do we intend to be noticed if we do not alert the world of our presence? Don't look so frightened, sweetie. Look,'' she tapped Hinata's knee with a finger and shrewdly jutted her chin toward the scattered women who were watching the enfolding display with a flare of hostility… Oh.
''We may sleep with a lord for an hour, but we will sleep with these women for days,'' she added in a faint whisper that only Hinata could hear.
''I see,'' Hinata began, frowning to herself. She had just been well on her way to making enemies and it wasn't this golden haired courtesan that Hinata had to worry about—Hinata let her eyes dwell over the pretty robes and powdered faces surrounding her—it was everyone else. ''A den of wolves… I understand.'' Then she smiled, sighing to herself. ''Oftentimes I allow my heart to overrule my common sense. I know better, but…''
But her personal situation called for desperation.
The courtesan silently considered the petite girl in front of her with growing curiosity. ''…Well. It's a good thing I was here, right? My name is Yamanaka Ino. Please call me Ino. You're the new girl, aren't you? Let's get along.''
Hinata didn't entertain the thought of friendships, refusing to stray from her goal of retrieving her little sister with distractions, but having a comrade in this place?
It could work in her favor, so she smiled politely in response. ''Hyūga Hinata. Please do call me Hinata, Ino-san.''
''Just Ino is fine, Hinata.''
''Ino, then. I'll be sure to do so.''
''Good. Anyway, that wasn't the only thing I wanted to warn you about.'' She let a pause weigh. ''No matter how in need you are for coins, sometimes it's a good thing to remain unnoticed.''
Hinata's brows furrowed. ''Why do you say that?''
Ino's eyes darkened just then and Hinata felt her heart lurch into her throat. ''Because there are some men you're best off never sharing a futon with. If—'' Something in the corner of the blonde's eye caught her attention and made her head snap up, eyes wide like silvered plates.
Puzzled by the odd reaction, Hinata turned around to see what had caused her fellow courtesan to shut down, only to stumble on the fact that they had become the center of attention to a large group of passersby and lords. Though it wasn't just anyone's eyes that had rendered her petrified, despite how all of them watched Hinata in a way she had never experienced before.
No. What had really rendered Hinata incapable of moving, were the blue eyes of a whisker marked man that seemed to penetrate her soul.
''Men like him,'' Hinata heard Ino whisper with quiet distress into the thick fog that was steadily becoming her mind. ''Even wolves dare not cross men like him,'' she squeaked.
…
''P—please calm down.''
''I was here first!'' Bellowed a stout man, top of his head shaven while the rest of his long, dark strands were fastened into a top knot. ''How dare you ignore me?''
''Please!'' Interfered another, cutting his eyes to the larger man. He angled himself to face the receiver of his own growing agitation with a withering glare. ''You were set on a different courtesan until you laid eyes upon her. In my opinion, you've wasted your chances!''
The stout man huffed indignantly, furious at the commoner who dared speak out of turn. If he didn't find himself in a brothel, the lord would have had him hanged for it too! ''Your opinion is of little importance. If I say I'll have her, than I will!''
''Excuse me,'' began a male behind them. The two turned around and faced the voice with annoyed frowns plastered on their foreheads. The man was cladded in a dark grey and blue yukata and had his hand raised as though he was in a classroom. Rather than speaking to the arguing men in front of him, he directed his sight to the flushed chief attendant who seemed to seriously consider abandoning his post and get out of dodge before the thriving angry flames in physical form turned him into ash. ''I will pay twenty golden coins for the pale eyed courtesan.''
All three men stared at him with wide open mouths.
Whether they were shocked at the amount the man was willing to pay or shocked that there was another contender for the young girl's affection, wasn't clear.
''I will pay twenty-two coins!'' Hollered another man who made his way across the floor and toward the group, seemingly having just entered the building. All four men could only stare as their new competition was trailed by half a dozen of men, some lords and some mere commoners, and how that group was becoming increasingly larger by with every second. All of them throwing out prices for the brothel's newest recruit.
''Thirty golden coins!'' Proclaimed the next over the clamor of loud voices, using his elbows to jut into the sides of his competitors as he made his way toward the chief attendant while looking like a starved hound.
''Then I'll raise your thirty golden coins to thirty-three,'' insisted another lord, already envisioning the fresh and exotic beauty squirming beneath him and finding himself salivating.
''Thirty-five, I won't go any higher!'' Said the next.
But the prices kept increasing despite that initial claim. The group was beginning to reach fifty golden coins for a night with the foreign beauty that had them captivated the moment they had laid eyes on her.
The chief attendant was starting to look very queasy with his hands up in a placating manner, trying to quiet the gathering down. ''Please don't speak interchangeably. I won't be able to—''
''I said I was first!''
''It's not about who is first, you bastard—''
''What did you just call me, peasant?!''
''—it's about who pays most,'' he continued. ''I say forty-two golden coins. Forty-two!''
Ignoring the chief attendant, the group resumed shouting over each other, verbal attacks turning personal while prices were thrown about. The chief attendant had never experienced something like this before and found himself completely underqualified. More than once did he consider seppuku right there and then to take himself out of his misery. This job was not worth the trouble.
Wasn't there anyone who could save him?
''Two hundred golden coins,'' declared a booming voice.
Immediately everyone shut up and turned to look at the owner of that daring statement. The chief attendant's eyes glistened in slight disbelief and awe at the thought of seeing the incredulity of his current predicament ending. No one would be able to pay so much, let alone top that amount.
Which was why he was skeptical, because no one could actual pay that amount… until he saw who it was.
The new bidder advanced leisurely, a surreptitious grin on his face while a black haired man followed closely behind. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously.
The gathering of men moved to allow the blue eyed lord access to the chief attendant. He rummaged through the inner pockets of his yukata and pulled out a sack of coins, dropping it heavily into the sweaty palms of the waiting attendant.
The chief attendant was too busy recovering his fallen jaw from the floor and glancing at the unique whisker marks on the cheeks of the new bidder, knowing there was only one man in Japan with that face.
''That much will do, won't it?''
…
…
…
TBC