Title: Katori
Author: Kyatsuki Ora
Notes: Okay. This chapter is where stuff happens. People are introduced and our main characters get to know each other. Please, by the end of this chapter, tell me if you have a specific direction you think the story should take.
It's only three days later when Kyoraku called for him. Reading the letter silently, Aizen could not help but smirked slightly, but he was glad for the distraction from the tedium. This short amount of time for him to return from his visit in the Flower Town usually meant that something was not right. Perhaps his visit did not have the desired results?
Feeling slightly more benevolent than usual, he made sure that several of his most recent paintings came with him. Just as he stepped onto the genkan of Kyoraku's home, a flash of twirling sleeves made his heart lurch. He knew that Kyoraku does not dance, and there's something familiar about the movement and the accompaniment music.
"Shirokuren no Murasaki-Azami…" The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about it. The flying silver birds of last meeting changed into scarlet and yellow leaves scattering in a field of golden grass. Under the long sweeping black hair, however, was the same dancer as before.
The accompaniment trailed off into silence, though it hung in the air as an inquiry.
Slightly raising his eyebrow, Kyoraku looked from on to the other. "You have met?"
The dancer smiled. "We have never been introduced, though this is not the first time we've laid eyes on each other."
Obviously, Kyoraku was wondering where they could have met, giving that Aizen was suppose to be incognito for five months. "This is the one I have told you about. My friend, Sosuke Aizen."
The dancer bowed before him, white hands peaked out under the sleeves. "I am called Shirokuren Katori. It is an honor to meet you."
He inclined his head in reply. "It is a pleasure."
"I hope you will forgive my…impudence from our last meeting." Her tone was respectful, fitting the stringent edicts of her profession. Yet, there is no meekness or subservient tone in her speech.
Shaking his head, Aizen dismissed the apology. "I hope time will find us another occasion."
"Now you have piqued my curiosity." Kyoraku said, eyes shining with interest. "Where did you two meet?"
The two exchanged a look, but did not produce a reply. Kyoraku grunted. "Oh, fine. You came prepared today, Sosuke?"
Aizen knew that he didn't have to ask for his sharp eyes already caught the long slender tube slipped under his sleeve.
"Since you've cut Katori's performance short, it's only fair that you take up the flow."
Aizen considered arguing back, but chose to follow his friend's wishes. Mutely, he pulled out each of his carefully prepared paintings and hung them on the bamboo poles he brought. Time passed as Aizen shared his tales on the various places he traveled. Mostly, his paintings consist of nature and rural scenes. There was one, however, that is different. It depicted a woman, her face and body half-hidden by cranes in flight, dancing amid the thistles around the pond. She wore a tantalizing smile, beckoning the viewers to join her in the dance.
Instinctively, Katori stretched out her hand and traced the brushwork of this painting. A painting of her. She marveled at the little details of that day that he remembers. The light reflected from the ripples in the pond, the translucent petals of the thistle flowers… In fact, the painting seemed to not be made of ink, but of light itself.
Noticing where her attention was, Aizen remarked. "She is a beautiful and talented woman, isn't she?"
"Sosuke-han is very generous in his praise," Katori wore a slight smile on her face, dipping her head towards him. Their comments drew Kyoraku to their spot.
After analyzing the picture for a few moments, he commented with an open note of admiration. "It is a most exquisite painting."
"What is your name?" Aizen suddenly asked after the silence, drawing a surprised glance from Kyoraku.
Another smile appeared. "A geisha has but one name, Sosuke-han." The hand then retreated beneath the sleeve of the kimono. "The name you gave me is the same as my surname, so, if it pleases you, you may call me by that name."
"Rather poetic too," Kyoraku added, "It suits you."
Katori lowered her eyes and smiled again, her face like a painted mask.
A slick sound followed and soon the bamboo tube Aizen carried appeared in front of Katori's lowered face. Raising her head, she glanced at the brown-haired man, a quizzical frown on her face.
"In dream, we met but for the briefest instance. / Upon waking, only the ghost of my remembrance remained."
Frank surprise appeared on Kyoraku's face, but Aizen continued to stare intensely at Katori.
"Is reality a delusion? Is dream my haven? / I am lost in the fluttering of bird wings in this beautiful dream," came the mild return. Surprise once again flitted across Kyoraku's eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of Katori's mouth. Using a silk handkerchief, she took down one of the hairpins. "I have nothing to compare to your invaluable gift, but please accept this as a token of my appreciation."
Before Aizen could say anything, the shamisen accompaniment player opened the door to allow a serving woman to bring more sweets and gui hua jiu. It's only when they went to walk in the garden did Kyoraku pulled him aside. Surprised by the degree of seriousness he displayed, Aizen followed him.
"This is unlike you, Sosuke," Kyoraku began, staring at the autumn leaves drifting slowly to the ground. Its slow dance in the air was accompanied by the music of the shamisen and Katori's voice. "The only reason I introduced you to her was because she is an artist. I didn't expect you to court her attention!"
"I only wanted to know her name," Aizen said, slightly defensive.
"And give her a painting that costs thousands of yen in the process?" Voice turning sharp, Kyoraku retorted. "For the sake of … you were reciting one of your poems to her."
"And she responded with one of her own."
"Therefore?"
Knowing that it probably would annoy Kyoraku, Aizen answered glibly. "So, she's as talented as you say."
He didn't react the way Aizen expected, but remained serious and apprehensive. "I won't pretend to know under what circumstances she entered the Flower Town, but no matter what the story is, she is a geisha, Aizen."
"Also an artist," Aizen pointed it out, puzzled by the intensity of his focus on this topic. And the use of last names came only when Kyoraku is worried, which was making him more puzzled by the second.
"A paid one! Exchange letters and gifts, if you want. Buy her favors, if you must. But her name! You have no idea what you're asking for. A geisha's name is renounced forever once she takes upon that role. Please do remember what role she plays."
Stunned by the force behind his words, Aizen remained mute for some time. After Kyoraku studied him for a while, he turned and walked toward the music. "Just remember what I've said." Soon, Aizen followed him towards the house.
As noon changed to dusk, Aizen's eyes often lingered on the movements of the slender hands, the flashes of a smile tinged with melancholy and the brown eyes half-hidden by the long lashes.
For the first time, Aizen chose to abandon himself in the scent of gui hua jiu and the scent of autumn leaves.
-han - Kyoto version of san
-gui hua jiu - the closest translation I could get is Sweet Osmanthus Wine. It's a light wine steeped in cassia flowers. Smells awesome, I can tell you.
-two lines of poems - I wrote that. Feel free to flame me. I know they suck.
-a geisha's name - although I made that up, I think there is truth to the words.
-Katori - beautiful bird
Thank you for reading! Hopefully they sound more Asian this time rather than British.