There was a time when the entire world seemed at peace. Cherry blossom trees bloomed, streams ran their course, and the temples creaked as always, the distant deer scare heard in the distance. Hot springs bubbled in the cooler parts, the ocean's tide coming in on the beach, and the people went about their business.
It wasn't unheard of for families to sell their daughters into slavery, prostitution, and other illicit businesses, but the people had always accepted it, considering there was a depression, and the looming war didn't help.
He was an orphan, had been so for years now, and the only thing he ever knew was fighting. He fought in the underground fighting rings, attended the parties with his bosses, and was fawned on by the women. He never really took to the geisha, as he felt their theatrics were just that: theatrics. He didn't believe they actually liked him, but the boss always told him, as he was privy to the secrets of the okiya, that the ladies loved him, and some knew that once he had a large profit, as he was the best and undefeated and renowned for his skill, that he would make a wonderful danna one day.
But Lon'qu had no such plans. He was a lone wolf, and always had been.
Once upon a time he was the son of a blacksmith, but at the ripe old age of seven, had lost his father to pneumonia. His mother, stricken with grief, took her own life. Lon'qu was alone, and fended for himself. He taught himself to fish, hunt, and sometimes he even stole food, but the people in his small village didn't spite him for it, and often let him eat as long as he did some work for them, send messages, help the elderly, among other things. It was then, on a mission to send a message from the lady at the fish market to the man selling produce that he was captured and beaten, and eventually taught to fight. He did so, as it was the only way to let out his frustration at the cursed luck he had. Over time, fighting in the ring, making that money, soon soothed him, and he found he liked it a lot.
He could do without the parties though. He always found them, well, annoying and a complete waste of time. He didn't care much for the sake, didn't like the noisiness of the establishments, and he didn't like the fake niceties the women gave him, even if the boss was convinced they loved him.
He was a strapping young man, and the people in the syndicate often teased him about it. He was taller than everyone, yet his large visage contradicted his quiet and gentle nature, though not many knew of the gentleness he was capable of. He usually sat in stony silence. He was obedient, used to taking commands at this point, and didn't think himself to be a strong leader, as his standoffish ways would throw off any followers. Usually, if one of the younger recruits wanted to be his pupil in the ways of the sword, he barked at them some ugly thing, and scared them off. Occasionally, if he found potential in one, he would allow a short spar and teach them a new technique.
It wasn't just the 'tall, dark, and handsome' and mysterious ways that enticed the ladies. He truly was handsome. He had a good facial structure: strong jawline, high cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and luscious umber hair. His voice was deep, gruff, and women found it so alluring, even sexy. He was never rude to them; he just didn't reciprocate their affections, which made them want him more. He wasn't a lecher, a pervert, or rambunctious; it was a natural instinct for the women to want a man who treated them properly. In their society, it was normal for men to say awful things, assert their dominance, but Lon'qu held the utmost respect for them, even if it meant ignoring them. Sometimes, if a woman, a geisha usually, as that was all he was really exposed to, tripped, he would catch her and right her. If she spilled a drink, which was a huge offense as a geisha, as they were meant to keep the illusion of perfection, he would offer her his handkerchief. He never held their tiny mistakes against them, even though the other men would howl with laughter and point out her inadequacy. Lon'qu never outright defended them, but they could see in the way he set his jaw and the murderous glint in his eye that he didn't like their disdain. Defending a woman wasn't something done often in this society, as they were seen as only good for entertaining men, sex, housecleaning, and babies. But that was just the time period. Feminism was unheard of, a complete foreign concept, and it wouldn't be until much later that it would be a thing among disempowered women and even some men.
But all in all, many people saw Lon'qu as a decent man, a skilled man, and he simply let their compliments hang in the air. Kindness wasn't something he was used to.
One night, after a particularly grueling fight, and Lon'qu killing the man in the process, the syndicate decided to head out to their normal establishment. They were there so often that the head of the place kept a room reserved just for them at all times. It was beautiful, with paper lanterns giving an orange glow, the small table in the center with luxurious sitting mats all around it. Sake was always served immediately, as well as little snacks, some savory, some sweet, and there was a window, with a screen if they needed privacy, that overlooked a lovely little water garden. This night, they all took their usual seats, Lon'qu sitting beside the director of the group, and he sipped his sake quietly, not really enjoying it, but drinking it as it would be rude not to.
A geisha and her apprentice had entered, all smiles and fluttering eyelashes. The elder geisha, name of Say'ri he believed, laughed and initiated conversation as effortlessly as a fish swimming. The younger one tried her best, though Lon'qu saw the shyness in her. Usually, apprentices tried too hard, but this one seemed to be a little more demure, a little pure, and in her submissiveness there was an attraction that he never really felt before. The other men ignored her, as Say'ri was always captivating and easily the best geisha the town currently had.
"Fie, I forgot to introduce my apprentice," Say'ri apologized and bowed her head. "Please forgive my forgetfulness."
"Ah, Say'ri, even a perfect geisha like yourself has flaws too," laughed one of the senior recruits. Lon'qu rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Say'ri laughed lightly, though Lon'qu saw a hint of embarrassment, but she hid it well. "It seems so." She shook her head, her hair adornment jingling. "This is Ke'ri, and she is my apprentice. She shows promise, but forgive any silly things she may say." Say'ri and Ke'ri bowed respectfully. The girl's bow was flawless. It seemed being respectful and quiet was her strongest asset.
"So Ke'ri, how does it feel to be the apprentice of the most renowned geisha in all of our town?" asked another fighter. He had a gross scar over one eye, and many wondered how he still fought. He was that good, apparently.
"I wouldn't say she was renowned as so much as famous. Say'ri is more popular than the emperor, or so I hear in the markets," she cheekily quipped.
"Ohhh, we have a feisty one on our hands. It's always the quiet ones," joked the same man. "Tell me, Ke'ri, what is your special talent? What makes you so special?"
Say'ri was known for beautiful dancing with paper fans, but even often experimented with swords. Her sword dancing was unique and graceful, and many men joked only a woman of Say'ri's ilk could handle a blade so beautifully. It was usually a backhanded compliment though.
"Say'ri has taught me the way of dancing, though I also sing," Ke'ri answered.
It was interesting, as not many geisha sang. Usually they played some instrument or danced, maybe some served tea in an artful way, but singing was uncommon, and if done was done so poorly. This intrigued Lon'qu. He appreciated a good song now and then.
"Well then, little bird, let's hear it!"
Say'ri tried to deflect the attention off Ke'ri, as it was unheard of to let the apprentice shine. She usually attended mostly to watch and learn, not entertain by herself. Ke'ri blushed, a little surprised, but obliged. A geisha didn't deny a request from her gentleman company, no matter how inexperienced she may be.
"As you wish." Ke'ri stood up in one fluid motion, like a deer waking up from a long nap in the forest, and she took place near the wall, as a performing space.
Her kimono was stunning. It was a gentle pink with azure sparrows stitched in, flying along what looked like a mountainscape. Her obi was a turquoise, with silver clouds stitched in as well. Her hair was in the usual geisha hairstyle, with a small blossom ornament in her hair. He saw the white adornment in the center of the back of the hairstyle, which indicated her apprentice status.
The owner of the place had brought in a koto, at the request of the men, and Say'ri plucked the strings experimentally, tuning it. She was a skilled player.
They shared a look, and Say'ri began playing. Ke'ri took a breath and began her song.
It was breathtaking. The notes were so clear, so mournful, Lon'qu felt all the sadness he ever felt fill his stomach and throat. He looked around, and the men seemed a little moved, though not as moved as he. The song spoke of loss and sorrow, how hard it was to move on, how death would be a wonderful respite. Lon'qu wondered how true those words meant to Ke'ri.
The song was finished, a short piece, and the room was filled with silence. The men looked at each other, stunned. A small applause was given, as it was hard to give a raucous praise to a song so sad. Lon'qu blinked back tears; he'd never hear the end of it if he was caught crying, and seemed to give the strongest applause in the room. Ke'ri made eye contact with him, and gave him a small smile. This didn't go unnoticed.
"Ah, little bird is giving Lon'qu a smile. What a token of affection!" They all roared. "She has her eye on the best swordsman in all of this district!"
Ke'ri shook her head. "I saw a twinkle in his eye. I thought it was the shine of a tear, but it is the light of the moon reflected, like a pool at midnight," she amended, not wanting to give herself away. It was very smooth.
"Our Lon'qu, crying? Absurd. It is as you say, Ke'ri." But the scarred man winked at her. "But Lon'qu is stubborn and lonesome. You smile at a statue covered in the frost of Fujiyama."
Ke'ri bowed her head. "Forgive my naïveté. I am still young and foolish."
They laughed at her shame, and continued drinking, faces red. They tried to get Lon'qu to drink more, but the one cup of sake was enough for him. He glanced at Ke'ri now and again, noticing she was warming up and filling her station, but not stealing the spotlight from Say'ri.
Once it was at a late hour in the night, the moon almost gone, the geisha took their leave. Lon'qu watched Ke'ri go, captivated by her smooth walk.
The men got up, drunk as the macaques at the hot springs, and dragged Lon'qu with them. Some talked of visiting the houses in the lower districts, and Lon'qu knew what they meant, but he declined any invitation. He saw Ke'ri and Say'ri go down one of the street corners, towards the biggest okiya in the town. He said his goodbyes, and waited for the men to leave. He jogged in Ke'ri's direction. He saw Say'ri enter, taking her sandals off, and Ke'ri did the same, but he saw her tense, as if she knew he was there, like a deer knowing the hunter was near. She turned and saw him. He blushed, something he only did when a woman made a lewd comment to him, and he turned, but he saw the small smile and wave she gave him. He nodded in her direction and left.
Lon'qu didn't realize it was so easy to fall in love.