I firmly stepped towards an old two-storey house not too far from the village centre. The bleak sky caught my gaze and I lifted my head – the full moon, bathed in deep crimson, was shining down on me, covering my figure in cold faint light. The wind which thrashed around harshly all day finally died down, as if someone sang it a soft lullaby and put it to soundless sleep. A nightingale chirped its fragile melody. What a naive bird. The song reached the hawk which was circling in the darkness, anxious to find its prey. The hunt will begin soon, but the night is still young.

I opened the door only to be met by many different voices, mostly ones which belonged to men. The place with tables was dimly lit, creating an intimate atmosphere, but the stage was bright and colourful. Three women sat there, smiling and holding some traditional instruments. Vivid kimonos were wrapped around their bodies and white paint hid their true faces. Dolls. Pathetic.

I inhaled the air. The scent of vanilla and alcohol was strong, almost heady. The strings of shamisen were touched and refreshing music filled my ears. My muscles relaxed slowly, melting to the elegant sound.

The smell of vanilla… The voice of shamisen.

'Hello,' a soft voice spoke to me and I glanced to my right.

A geisha stood beside me, her fingers locked together gracefully, a fake smile playing on the blood red lips. Her eyes sank into mine for a few seconds, then looked away, seeking to keep the mystery between us.

'Would you like to sit down and have something to drink?' She asked me quietly and I only nodded, not impressed with the falseness she was giving me.

Her make-up couldn't hide the wrinkles in her face or at least I could see them. The lure in her voice didn't captivate me at all.

An old geisha. Probably the mistress of this house. Experienced one. Nothing worth to keep my eyes on.

The woman accompanied me to the table across from the right side of the stage. The view from here seemed good enough, so I sat down.

The presence of this old geisha was irritating.

'Sake please,' I muttered and she bowed to me, still smiling sweetly.

She left.

'Did you hear about Madara Uchiha…?'

I turned slightly. Two men sat not too far from me.

'He killed fifty man all on his own!' The bald-headed one spoke again. 'Don't you think he is too dangerous for Konoha?'

His companion, a man with thick black beard, nodded.

'You're right. If he decides to go against our village, this might cause us trouble. That Uchiha clan is too unpredictable. Hokage should take full control of it, damn!'

The following conversation wasn't interesting anymore.

Foolishness is a weakness. Fools should be slaughtered, one by one.

This world is foolish.

'Here's your sake, mister.'

A bottle and a cup was placed on my table. The geisha from before leaned in, pouring some drink to me. I took it from her hands.

'May I know your name?' She asked me, kneeling down by my side.

'I believe that's none of your concern.'

'As you wish, sir.'

Five geishas appeared on the stage. Two of them were holding shamisens while the other three had large neat fans in their hands. They were going to dance. The audience clapped and the show began.

I have found her. She was standing in the far left. The moves of her pure fair hands were refined and light, like the voice of a nightingale. Her distant eyes were closed, only dark eyelashes quivered gently from time to time. The paint on her face didn't stood out much because her features were naturally beautiful. Just perfect and flawless. Her hair was long and raven black, with a flower hairpin at the side. Her flexible slender frame was hidden by a deep crimson kimono with a white floral print and black obi. She stretched her arm.

What a beauty. Like a serene work of art, created by the most talented painter. The smell of vanilla and the voice of shamisen, it all belonged to her.

I need to hear her voice. It must be like silk.

Vanity and plenitude. Fragility and eternity. I need to feel her. I need to break her. I need to...

'Shiori-san is new here,' the woman next to me explained calmly. 'She's inexperienced and her price is high.'

I stared at her emptily. The displeasure in her sickly sweet tone was obvious. I felt disgust cling to my throat. It felt heavy.

Anticipation was seeping to my brain. My muscles tensed again.

'It doesn't matter. How much?'

I eyed that girl again. The dance has ended and she caught my gaze for a mere second.

Shiori's P.O.V

I felt someone's intent eyes land on me.

It was him. Definitely him.

He was majestic and noble. The way he sat there, so proudly and firmly, gave him away. His long midnight dark hair fell on his red shiny armor which matched the same coloured eyes. Those eyes... Emotionless, but somehow uncomfortable stare told me many things I couldn't understand. It felt like he could see right through me. And pale lips, forming a straight line. Sharp cheekbones.

The face of a warrior. Would I be able to forget it? I don't think so. The face of hatred and proficiency. Everything around him blurred as I couldn't look away. My heart beat faster and faster with every moment, as if it was the last struggle before death.

He said something to the mistress beside him and she answered. His expression didn't change at all and he whispered a few words again. His orbs kept drawing me in.

He was giving her money.

The lights, colours, smell of sake and his presence... My mind was twisting and ripping apart.

The full bloody moon was shining, engulfing me in flames.