Chapter 01: Prologue
Pinching the shrinking white bud in between his icy fingertips, he pulled it from his lips and exhaled a slithering sheet of smoke. Eyes utterly devoid of the kindness of humanity stared out at the darkened, bleak city before him. Needles of heavy raindrops showered the thick walled windows, filling the bedroom with a cacophony of winter's misery and his barely beating heart. He continued to gaze out at this once homely city with the bittersweet taste of memories. The ocean danced to the liquid drops that assaulted her. The cars all packed the streets and the tall buildings, speckled with golden lights, stood like protective spires all throughout, creating a skyline of success. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and forced the onslaught of his past aside.
"Now is not the time," he whispered, smooshing the cigarette bud into the crystal ashtray upon the carpeted floor beside him.
Placing his palms on the ground to either side, he pushed up into a stance. Turning away from the window, his entire naked back glowed like porcelain from the city lights. Long strides brought him to a wooden, circular table. The Stranger pulled a set of matches from his dark denim pockets and lit a stick. Bringing the flame to the black candles in the center of the table, he lit the thin torches and waved the match out. Tossing it aside onto the barren side of the table, he narrowed his strong, empty eyes upon the tools of his trade. There were many custom made pieces laying there, each in its own specially designed pocket. Reaching out to his precious little friends, he fingered the longest, sharpest one. His soft lips molded into the tiniest of smirks.
He deftly slid the instrument from its leather sheath. Flipping it around, his strong grip wrapped tightly around the metal hilt. Examining it to ensure its pristine condition, the Stranger allowed himself a full smile of pleasure. The smell of it overwhelmed his senses giving him an adrenaline rush and an excitement that he had not felt in many moons. Contemplating the task at hand, he slid the shimmering beauty back into her confines and quickly rolled up the kit, tying it securely.
"Time to put on my face," he muttered with a long, calming breath. Walking away from the table, he strolled into the small bathroom in the left corner of the bedroom. Closing the door behind him, the Stranger looked into the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair. Grabbing the small black bag off the closed lid of the toilet seat, he unzipped it and flipped through the different identities he had accumulated over the years. Fetching one of his lesser known ones, he nodded with satisfaction. Zipping that compartment back up, he then unzipped the lower section and pulled out an array of items for his preparation.
As the seconds and minutes continued to tick on by, the rain became harsher, falling without mercy upon the streets of the city. The clouds grew grimmer and the wind eerily more restless. The amount of vehicles on the roads began to decrease until there were only just the random nocturnal stragglers. When the skies roared with angry thunder is when the Stranger finally opened the bathroom door, a flood of hot steam wafting around him. After carelessly drying himself, he toweled down the mirror and carefully observed his new face. He raked back the gingery, copper locks. They were slightly dark, almost brown. But once they dried, it would be a shimmering, golden hazel. Glancing to the scruff across his cheeks and chin, he realized the new dye had also brought out a bit of color on those week-old whiskers.
"Very nice," he mumbled, dimples piercing his flawless cheeks as large green eyes became hooded with ill intention.
Keeping her back perfectly straight, and her hands elegantly clasped together, she bowed her head and pushed fluidly into a stance. Keeping her eyes close to the ground, the young woman held her breath, afraid that it would give away how frightened she was.
"Such beauty is so rare these days," the older gentlemen said, unable to take his grey lascivious gaze off of her. His English was accented heavily with Chinese undertones. A head full of long salt and pepper hair was tied neatly back in a simple ponytail, while a pointed goatee gave his expression a dark and malicious sophistication. "Tell me, when will the bidding begin for this one," he growled, stroking his smidge of a beard.
The man sitting down across from him on the clean tatami mat, legs folded formally underneath, glance briefly to the young woman and smiled proudly. "Unfortunately, the bidding for her virtue will not begin for some time yet. There is still much she must learn." Turning to his most valued client, the man bowed deeply to him. "I promise, Tsu-sama, that you shall be the first one when the time arrives."
Pleased with such hospitality and respect, Tsu nodded with satisfaction. "I shall eagerly await your offer, Sawara-san." Grunting as he struggled to his feet, he stepped closer to the young woman, his yukata falling apart to reveal his thin and unappealing chest. Bringing his nose to her neck, he inhaled deeply and licked his lips. "Mm, I cannot wait." With those final words, he took his leave.
Sawara stood up after Tsu's departure and walked up to lady. Tenderly, he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Fuwa-sama will be proud to learn that you are being sought after so soon already."
Focusing on a single spot upon the tatami, she nodded once to indicate she understood. Outside she was the perfection of elegance that had been ingrained into her since childhood. But inside… Inside she was standing in the middle of a packed room, screaming at the tops of her lungs. But it was nothing more than muted white noise. No one heard, nor cared for her pain.
Sawara glanced to the clock on the wall behind her and dropped his hand. "Go now, Kyoko. It is time for you to serve tea to the young master."
Bowing humbly to her sensei, she hastily retracted her steps and exited the guest room. Her tabi-socked feet padded lightly on the polished bamboo floors as Kyoko trekked to the kitchen. The tea was already awaiting her on a golden lacquered tray. The steam billowed from the spout of the green cast-iron pot. Two small matching cups were also placed on the tray with a small porcelain container.
Picking up the tray, Kyoko exited the kitchen and walked around to the left, up the stairs to the very top floor of the manor. Upon reaching his room, she knelt and lightly knocked on the bamboo frame.
"Yeah, whatever," a man's voice yelled with irritation.
Kyoko stood with the tray after sliding the doors open and walked over to the large bed on the other side of the room. She then walked back to close the doors.
This was the only room in the entire manor that parted ways with the traditional atmosphere of the business. Instead of a futon, there was a large bed resting on a frame low to the ground. The tatami mats had been removed, leaving the wooden floor bare. Each side of the bed had an accompanying small nightstand with large lamps.
After pouring the tea, she grasped it with her palms and offered it to the young man, careful not to meet his eyes and illustrate any sense of disrespect. Gripping the cup with his fingertips, he brought the piping hot liquid to his lips and sipped it, not bothering to remove his gaze from her smooth face.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked with utmost politeness.
Putting the cup down on the tray beside the bed, he stood up straighter. The black sheets that covered his body, fell down partway revealing his strong muscular chest. Her heart tightened at the sight, but her expression gave nothing away. Stretching his hand out towards her, he gently stroked the curve of her chin along her jaw. "The same thing I ask for every night, Kyoko."
Shutting her lids tight, she looked away and crawled back. "Please, Fuwa-san I cannot—"
"Sho," he interrupted her vehemently. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Sho?"
"I cannot!" she argued, standing up and giving her back to him. "It's not right. Why can you not see that what you are asking of me is just not possible! I am nothing more than… than a serving girl in your father's household. I cannot be what you want me to be."
Flinging the sheet off himself, he dragged himself from the warmth of his bed and approached her slowly. "I don't give a damn what my father thinks. You should know that." Her silence was filled with the pattering sounds of the rain upon their shingled rooftops. Sighing sadly, he placed his palms upon her shoulder and squeezed affectionately. "Please, Kyoko. Do you honestly not see my feelings for you?" Sho forced her about and moved his palms to her chilled cheeks. "You are the only reason I stay here."
Exhaling, she lifted her eyes to his. "I cannot return your feelings. This is the only home I have ever had and I have nothing left in this world except for it. I cannot risk losing everything I have worked so hard for."
"You will never lose anything!" Sho shouted, pulling her closer to him. "I will take care of you. I will take care of everything for you."
Covering his hands with her trembling ones, she forced a smile. "You may not see it right now, but you will do what your father asks of you… Sho."
Touching his forehead to hers, he gritted his teeth at her words, wanting so desperately to defy her. Deep down, the adolescent knew that whatever he said would be meaningless without action. Words were useless before the eyes of this angel. Yet, the simple sound of his name upon her tongue made all of his worries melt away. "Say it again…" he whispered.
"Sho…"
"Let me love you, my dearest Kyoko." He whispered, his resolve diminishing before her presence.
Breaking him free of her, Kyoko stepped back and continued to do so until the distance would refute any chance of intimacy. "I am sorry, but I have my duties to the Fuwa house, and… being yours is not an honor I am allowed privilege of." Kyoko bowed deeply. "Forgive me… Fuwa-san."
He watched her retreating back and curled his fingers into fists of despair.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" The older man asked with slightly accented English. He grabbed the decanter and poured the amber liquid into two crystal glasses. Setting aside the bottle, he snagged the drinks and walked over to sitting area before the expansive European style fireplace, the only source of illumination in one of the mansion's many living rooms. Handing one to his comrade, he then sat down on the opposite seat, regarding him curiously. "You will be starting a war for the ages."
A gaze heavy with the burden of mourning and vengeance, he eyed the translucent honey liquid, pondering his best friend's words. After taking a deep breath, he sipped the beverage, relishing the burn that filled his throat and chest as it went down, smooth and exquisite. "You have splendid taste," he said with a soft chuckle.
"Don't deflect with me," the foreigner responded curtly. "You really must contemplate the decision that you are making. This war could be catastrophic, on a scale you may not be prepared for-"
"If they didn't want war, then maybe they shouldn't have killed her!" He interrupted, raising his deep, rough voice with mounting impatience. Pushing to his feet, he began to pace the space before the dancing flames. "I know damn well what the bloody consequences of this decision entail. I am not a fucking fool. But they... He shall not be free of this sin. I will not allow it!"
Sighing, Lory simply nodded. He took a couple of long swigs of his own drink as defeat to his companion's plight began to pull him beneath the blankets of irrational brashness. "Fine, Kuu. If this is what you truly want."
Looking over his shoulder at the man who had been his closest confidante for the vast majority of his life, Hizuri Kuu made an attempt to gauge his true thoughts. Takarada Lory was a handsome man in his mid-forties, with long wavy brown hair that was tied back into a small bun. His mouth and chin were embraced with a neat bush of a goatee to match. He sat in his oversized Victorian chair, wrapped up comfortably in a silken black robe, looking devilish and paternal. Licking his lips, Kuu dropped his tone. "Are you certain, can I count on your support?"
He simply nodded once. "Always. You have my support always."
Smiling handsomely, Kuu walked over to Lory. They clanked their glasses in a salute to the chaos that was to arise. "To Juliena."
"To Juliena."
Thank you for reading this story. I will update soon. Take care.