Hello, once again, to all. It has been awhile since I last updated, and I am sorry to say that 'Creatures of Habit' has been put on hiatus until further-if any-notice. Yet I feel that you will find this tale more enjoyable. Or at the least I hope.

Now for warnings and disclaimers. This story was inspired by the book Memoirs of a Geisha, so I think that needs credit. Secondly, I am not an expert in Japanese culture, so do not rip off my head for any errors. Do help me correct them, but do not kill me. Finally, this is a Ruroni Kenshin (I do not own that series) fic that is slightly AU and has HOMOSEXUALITY. That's right, there are GAY guys and hints at LESBIANS. And to add icing to the metaphorical cake, there is CROSS DRESSING and at points EXTREME PERVERSION. So, if you are a crazed Christian, or a poor, innocent soul, leave now. Go, run on. Or if you want to be further screwed, go to NyktaVykta's stories.

Onwards, lecherous persons!

Chapter One: Of Shinta

It must seem odd to you, I know, to be hearing of my tale. Why, I was-am-famous for what I was and did. But I will tell you my story anyway, child, for one's must be told.

I am more commonly known as Kiyoka Mutsuru, for that was my geisha name. I was born with the name of Shinta Ichniro in a small, nameless village about sixty kilometers south of Kyoto. As Shinta, I was the only son of the village carpenter, and soon to be the sole survivor of the Ichniro family. But I am sure you are wondering more of how a man could be a geisha.

Geisha are magnificent, if you look past the crude slurs that pop up so often now. They entertain, and know more tricks of the human male mind than they themselves. We know how to back-stab our fellow artisans, how to avoid it, how to move so as to make a post-man drop his letters in utter awe. We are the goddesses of Japan, the supreme. Of course, that comes from one-if you were to speak to a danna's(1) wife, you would hear less kind words.

As I said, we are the manipulative type, and I so happened to be the rope in a tug of war between two geisha women, one knowing of my secret. Do not get hasty now, that part of my tale will come soon, and mind that the seed must send fragile roots into the earth before a blossom occurs.

In my village, we had a poor-but happy-little existence. I had two sisters, Yuki and Kazuko, a mother, Kyoko, and my carpenter father Itaru. We had the village standard two-room hut, with our bathroom outdoors. I didn't mind it-I am male after all, but Kazuko would complain about the rain when she had to take care of business, so to speak. The town was small and kind, and the largest problem we had was which family had to cross the narrow river to wash clothes.

My childhood, or the early part of it-was a blissful one. Most days I would sing rhymes to little Yuki who would clap in delight, and then play 'roll the ball of string' with Kazuko and some other local girls. I still find that I prefer the company of women, to be honest. On lucky days, my father would construct a kite for us, and that was shared by the riverside. In fact, our life was so happy I never thought that I would see a day where I cried in the village. I had never cried there.

But a day did come. It was near the beginning of the Revolution, about seven years or so, when It struck the village like a skipped rock slaps the river surface. The name of the disease, I later found, was Cholera. This one fears not much is recalled about that time of death. I think that the mind will block out painful times such as that.

I do recall the last one to go, Yuki, telling me something that would save me in the long, hard years ahead. Her little, sweaty visage peered up into mine, hazel-nut eyes shining, and she said this to me.

"Pretty Shin-Shin...Go be strong, Shin-Shin...Make Shin-Shin happy and proud, not Yuki."

Shin-Shin was my nick-name in the town, but it didn't matter then. My beloved three-winter old sister then closed her precious eyes and died. Death is not poetic, you see. It is evil and rancid, and needs nor deserves a pretty code name. I took Yuki's last words to heart, carving them into my memory sharply. Slipping on my zori(2), I ran out into the rainy summer eve and pushed on out of the village, into a road I did not know.

It was there that Shinta Ichniro, the son of a carpenter in a nameless town, sunk to his knees and cried exactly seventeen drops of salty, sea-like liquid. Then, he partly died as well. He was nameless now, like the town-not on the way to Kiyoka, but certainly away from Shin-Shin. I stood from the damp grass, brushed my hakama(3) off, and walked down the road.

Did I really have a choice, I wonder?

For the RK unknowing, Kenshin's name was once Shinta.

Some terms for you:

(1) Danna-the term for a Geisha's 'bank'-a man that pays all of her bills in order for favors. Sexual ones.

(2)Zori-The shoes Japanese people wars-the wooden ones, look like flip-flops...

(3)Hakama-Pleated pant-skirt. Traditional clothing that is beginning to appear at graduations nad the like.

So, do you enjoy? Hate? Let me know by poking at that little lavender button.