-x-
The skirmish between the Harusame Space Pirates and the lone chief of the Thousand Blooms doesn't last long. The woman across from him had keeled over valiantly after murdering six of his men, cuts and bruises forming on her lone body.
It wasn't supposed to be violent - his mercenary ship had only wanted to stop at Yoshiwara for a while, to meet up with potential investors - investors who were interested in government turmoil, and wanted the serious means to achieve it. Kamui was Yoshiwara's overlord, and he had expected a peaceful exchange, far from paramilitary soldiers who came as swift as night. Not this.
Takasugi walked towards her; his men are cautious and issue warnings. He sends them back. They are disposable tools.
He is always intrigued by foolish people - the sorts that would go headstrong into a situation where there was no possible way out. This woman is one such example. He brings his sword out, to slash her throat and to end her suffering.
And then he stands over her.
There are no fatal wounds; her training has served her well. Instead it is the small things that have incapacitated her - nicks, bruises, but there are too many for her to stand up. His men are damned incompetent, he thinks. Swords are too cumbersome for men who have no memory of war; the elegance of Zura's swordsmanship and the quick improvisation of Gintoki's movements are much too high of a standard to live up to these days. He can see how kunai with proper mastery would provide a faster and more clean way of killing.
His mouth bit thoughtfully on his pipe, one of his few indulgences. Their eyes lock - his green, hers a striking ultraviolet. Her pupils dilate and her wrist twitches as if she was able to throw another kunai once more, but eventually the blood seeps out of her black kimono. She is dying.
He finally turns away from her. "Bansai."
"Sir?"
"We're leaving. Tell our investors to meet us in space - away from potential intruders." As an afterthought, he added, "And perhaps you might find someone to patch her up?"
Bansai raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be more prudent to, ah, eliminate her? She's an eyewitness to our ship."
"This is Yoshiwara; it won't matter. The Shogun has washed his hands of this city. What do you hear in her song? Tell me."
The man cocked his head sideways. "A turbulent storm of rock and roll with an old ballade in the background. Strong - beautiful - powerful. It's a beautiful melody."
Takasugi smirked. "So perhaps I shall chalk this up to a whim, then."
"Perhaps," Bansai allowed.
-x-
Tsukuyo forces herself to forget about the mysterious stranger; it's easy enough at first after her subordinate finds her lying in an abandoned street and gently drags her body to be bandaged. There's patrols and paperwork and the concerns of prostitutes to be dealt with. But when she receives the first watch in the dark alleys of Yoshiwara, a paranoia descends again, the dark thoughts clouding her mind once more.
Tsukuyo has experienced near-death several times, but nothing had clinched fear in her as much as staring into the eyes of that man. Jiraia was one thing, Hosen another, but this man was an unquantified factor. Prior behaviors could be observed, predicted. Not unknown factors.
She shook her head.
The snow fell upon Yoshiwara in thick layers. It was rare in the city to have such weather; and as such there were less patrons walking around the brothels and tea shops at the time when it was supposed to be the busiest.
Tsukuyo herself was not coping well with the climate change. She was starting to have difficulty breathing, and for once she had put the pipe away in her room. Shivering in the unexpected cold, she bunched her robes even closer to her slim body. Yoshiwara had never seen snow before this winter came, and while it was bewitching and lovely, it was also inconvenient for her to patrol the city.
Suddenly one of her subordinates appeared to her and bowed. "Boss. Someone requested you."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know who he is, but he wanted to be in the company of the strongest woman I could find. I said that you weren't available, so I suggested that perhaps he would enjoy the company of Hinowa-sama more. Yet, he declined and wished to see the famed Courtesan of Death. He paid twice as much as it would cost to see her."
Tsukuyo blanched at the absurd sum of money. Who was this obviously wealthy patron who had requested her company?
"… Has he come here before?"
Her subordinate shook her head. "I don't know. But I think he is an acquaintance of Kamui-sama."
Shivers ran up her spine. Tsukuyo thanked her subordinate before heading home in a hurry to change into her courtesan costume. She did not fail to slip an extra kunai under her sleeve.
She slid the door to perhaps one of the most opulent rooms that Yoshiwara had to offer. She bowed and spoke quietly, but firmly. "Tsukuyo, at your service."
A mysterious figure was sitting at the edge of a window, leg propped up with a shamisen on his lap.
"Delighted to meet you," Takasugi Shinsuke says, smiling widely.
-x-