A/N: This chapter is short because I intend to separate explicit and non-explicit content. I use a few terms that aren't common knowledge, so here are their relevant definitions:

Tayuu: Courtesan
Kamuro: Courtesan-in-Training
Koibito: Lover

"Koe no Haruko?" Miyuki asked, her delicate brows furrowing in thought.

Nadeshiko glanced back at the woman in question, tilting her head. She wondered how Haruko was going to paint her face. Most of the tayuu applied a layer of tasteful white, but this woman had a deep golden brown complexion. That'd look awful. Then again, she supposed Haruko wouldn't begin as a tayuu. She didn't look much older than Nadeshiko herself.

Miyuki, of course, was interested in more practical things. "Are you from Suna?"

Nadeshiko blinked, glancing at her teacher. It'd explain the dusky skin, she supposed, yet she couldn't find anything else to support the conclusion.

"Around Suna," Haruko replied, looking uncomfortable.

Miyuki was always right!... unless she was arguing with Ayae, who was really just amazingly persuasive. Nadeshiko didn't think she'd ever understand why the customers preferred Ayae to Miyuki. She was too good to be true. Although she was beautiful enough to be considered perfect, Nadeshiko found her eerie.

Miyuki, on the other hand, was a lovely woman with rare indigo tresses. Though she was rather sharp-featured and slim, her smiles could light her face and brighten the moods of people around her. Nadeshiko was happy to be her kamuro.

"Miyuki-sama, whose kamuro will Haruko-san be?" She asked. Haruko reminded her of Miyuki, only sad. Nadeshiko looked over the children accompanying the woman, noting their complexions to be quite a bit lighter. She doubted they were Haruko's, because everything about her was dark, and everything about them was not.

"Ayae-sama's." Miyuki didn't hide the concern in her voice well, averting her frosty blue eyes slightly. They were quick to focus on something past Haruko's shoulder, and Nadeshiko followed their gaze.

It was early for customers to arrive, but here were two men she hadn't seen before. Maybe this was their first time hiring tayuu, because both were looking everywhere except the throng of women. Haruko turned halfway before freezing a little. Nadeshiko was stopped from moving forward by Miyuki's outstretched arm.

She studied them more closely. Although the bigger man was armed, the house received many warriors, so she guessed it was his blue skin and the odd marks on his cheeks. The smaller man was creepier, because his expression reminded her of Ayae's. The black cloaks they wore matched perfectly, yet the swirling red clouds that patterned them didn't resemble any crest she'd ever seen. Maybe they were dancers.

"Nadeshiko-chan, please take Haruko-san, Akio-kun and Tsukiko-chan to their room." Nadeshiko started when Miyuki spoke again. The children had names? She bowed briefly before beginning to comply, but she still caught a glimpse of the tall man's face as her teacher smiled at him. She could barely suppress a giggle. He looked surprised and then wary, like he couldn't believe Miyuki'd actually smile at him.

Nadeshiko knew Miyuki never faked a smile, though.

"Is something wrong, Haruko-san?" The young brunette's voice barely registered through the whirlwind of Haruko's thoughts.

Is something wrong?

Haruko shook her head vehemently, but she couldn't help thinking, ( Oh, no. Nothing's wrong. It's just convenient. ) Deidara had never brought his partner on his visits, so she doubted he told the other Akatsuki members about his relationship with Natsumi.

"Daddy wore a cloak like that whenever he came to see us." The information Tsukiko proudly shared with their guide quickly brought Haruko's attention back to the conversation. She began to snap at her niece, yet stopped as the teenager replied.

"Your father's a dancer?"

Haruko almost laughed at the intense look on the little blonde's face as she retorted, "That's what Mommy said, but I don't think they're allowed to like girls. I think he's really an artist."

She murmured as the door to their room was opened, "Yes, Tsukiko-chan, he's an artist."

"Sakurai Miyuki," Miyuki supplied again, drawing out each syllable. Where the man who introduced himself as Uchiha Itachi had been able to address her by her name as soon as she gave it, this Hoshigaki Kisame fellow was either dense or an asshole. She wasn't sure which, but she had been called 'What was that?' and 'Sakura Mizuki' already. Her answer was coming.

"Kozakura Mikazuki, then," he said, grinning toothily.

Miyuki felt agitation building, and with it, tension. Tension wasn't becoming for a tayuu like her. She took a couple breaths to steady herself, and then addressed Itachi. "Itachi-dono, Ayae-san doesn't accept multiple customers at any time. The money of your partner will not be turned down, however. I'll accept his company tonight." She took great satisfaction in the startled look on Kisame's face.

"Of course, Miyuki-san," Itachi deadpanned with a smooth bow, disregarding the opening and closing of his partner's mouth. "I'm sure Kisame-san finds your offer pleasing."

She had known there was more to these men than there appeared to be. Kisame looked appalled, for lack of a better word, and Itachi was favoring him with a stern glance.

Although it wasn't the first time Ayae had received unique guests, it wasn't Miyuki's business, either. She let her lashes settle low upon her eyes and breathed, "Follow me, Koibito."

She could see the dismay in Kisame's expression yielding to horror as she turned to approach the front door.

Itachi watched as Miyuki led Kisame away, briefly wondering if his partner would be able to handle her. Though he didn't doubt the man had been with a woman before, she was not a mere prostitute. She wouldn't have reached the highest class of courtesan by spending all her time on her back.

Resolving to cross that bridge when he came to it, he slipped in after the pair, ignoring the populated front section. His steps took him directly towards Ayae's room as his hand slid into his cloak for the mission assignment.