Uh, warning for some foul and sexual language?
6 Years
The princess of Kouka let out a dreamy sigh.
She had finished all of her lessons for the day and was simply passing time by daydreaming at her favorite spot in palace. Her father was busy, as usual, and there was no one to play with.
As usual.
As a result of such boredom, the red-haired princess often let her mind drift off into nonsensical scenarios. Her daydreams often included imaginations like what it would be like if she learned swordsmanship, archery, and horseback riding alongside Hak and Soo-Won, or the day Soo-Won would notice her as more than a child, the palace cook's best desserts, or when she would be able to choose another set of wardrobes, in hopes of catching Soo-Won's eye.
Soo-Won, her dear childhood friend, was included in many of her daydreams. She was so sure she liked him. He was kind and gentle towards her, so starkly different to the mean Hak who only knew how to say means things and do mean things to her.
Yona sighed once more, leaning her face against a hand, and idly gazed at one of the many flourishing gardens around the palace.
A taunting voice spoke up behind her. "If the princess sighs any more than that, she'll stink up the palace with her terrible breath."
An angry fist formed behind long silk sleeves when she heard Hak walk into the shaded pavilion. Turning around, Yona glared at her 'childhood friend' who was leaning against a large pillar and munching on an apple. Hak was always eating, sleeping, or training whenever she saw him.
He was annoying.
Hak tilted his head when he saw how the princess was scrutinizing him, fighting down a blush at her serious expression. She had never really looked at him like that.
The Wind Tribe boy heard her murmur "-he was more nice" as she turned her head away and he couldn't help but suddenly get irritated.
Yona yelped when a hand clamped down on her head rather forcefully until she faced Hak's vexed expression.
"What was that, Yona-hime?" He growled.
The princess slapped his hand away, trying to free herself. "Nothing, nothing!"
He huffed, suspicious at her behavior, but let her go. The girl pouted when she could feel the pressure on her head lifting. Why did he have to be so mean?
She turned back to daydreaming and involuntarily, a faint memory from six years ago surfaced. The time when she had wandered out of the palace, escaping the guards, and walked into Kuuto for the second time. Her second time had not been much better than the first. Yona closed her eyes when she recalled how she had gotten into so much trouble that first time, but couldn't exactly remember what had happened. But she remembered the second time, she had gotten lost. Barely six years old, and didn't know where to go in Kuuto. And someone had saved her. A boy with hair darker than Hak's and strong like him. A boy who had been as gentle as Soo-Won. A boy who had been older.
Discreetly casting a glance at Hak, Yona tried to compare the Wind Tribe boy to fuzzy memory of the mystery stranger so long ago.
How old would her mystery stranger be now? How was he doing? Was he any different? Was he still nice to all people as he had been nice to her? His voice was probably deeper, and his body probably bigger. She hoped that boy was still as gentle as he had been before.
Yona secretly wished to meet him again.
x
A man wheezed, clutching his side, as he attempted to run around the little enclosure.
Pabo swallowed down a ball of terror as he stared at the figure across the circle, trying his best to ignore the shouts of the mob that surrounded them. Sweat dripped down his face and body, the air was muggy. The underground dugout was filled with people, betting on the fight, cheering for blood. Everyone wanted to see blood.
He needed to get away. Why did he think this was a good idea? He was going to lose all his leftover money.
Who told him that underground fighting was easy money? There was nothing easy about this.
His instincts screamed for him to run run run for his life.
Pabo stumbled over to the ringleader, his knee cap throbbing in protest. "Please," he nearly sobbed. "I can't win this, I can't. I'm going to die."
The older man's hard eyes remained cold and he frowned. "Sorry, rules are rules, you're in here until the other guy calls it off."
Pabo's face froze.
"Why are you running?"
The calm voice sent chills down the man's spine. In the shadows across the small circle, a black-haired teenager stood in a casual stance. The same kid who had viciously cracked down a fist on Pabo's knee seconds earlier. After that first blow, Pabo had known he was going to get killed if he didn't get out of the fight fast, that kid's eyes thirsted for blood.
But why him?
"Why you?"
Pablo flinched. Had he said that aloud?
The man brought his shaky eyes to his opponent's gaze.
"Do you know a lady named Mi-Wah? From the west district?"
That prostitute from the big fancy house? She didn't give him her body, even when he visited her five times. He should have known better than to waste money on a courtesan's 'visiting time', it was all a joke. Just because they knew how to pour tea and play some music didn't mean they could refuse him, when he had spent so much money just to spend time with them. He just wanted some sex with prettier faces, that's all.
As he recalled the identity of the woman, Pabo realized that the noise level around them had dropped to fervent whispering. The spectators were all speaking in low voices, behind hands, and from the corner of his eye, Pabo could see changes of bets being quickly made. What was happening? What's going on?
"Oh man, that guy's gonna get pummeled," someone giggled.
"Bloody paste."
Another murmured, "Ah, so that's why Takumi had Ogi's men drag him here."
"Damn, feel sorry for the guy," others whispered pitifully.
Pabo couldn't handle the tittering. Were they making fun of him?
"What?!" He shouted, increasingly frightened even more by his situation. He was getting beaten up by a kid two times younger than him, and now the crowd was turning on him?
"S-so, what about her?" Pabo tried to dial up the bravado in his voice. It wasn't working though, he could barely draw out the words, the kid's golden eyes felt like claws, dissecting.
The kid stepped to the middle, coming out of the shadows, half covered in light. "She got a bruise from a nasty customer today. Would you know about how she got hurt?"
Pabo stiffened. "You're kidding me," he breathed in disbelief. "You're throwing a hissy fit over a whore?"
Someone behind him did a low whistle. "You're screwed, man."
Pabo couldn't respond to the commentator because a fist suddenly planted itself into his lower abdomen. Feeling the knuckles dig into his gut, the man doubled over, retching, throwing up his dinner from earlier.
"I make it a point to make sure that our women are treated nicely," the kid said in an airy tone. How was he talking so calmly? If Pabo didn't know any better, that same voice could be used to discuss mundane topics in the markets.
"So what," Pabo groaned over his pain. "I paid for her, five times, and she didn't even let me touch her."
His opponent crouched down to one knee and had the gall to laugh in his face. "Oh, so you paid for her? You thought you could just pay your way into an oiran's legs?"
Judging from the heavy sarcasm, the man thought that it might be better to stay quiet.
"Let me guess, you're not from Kuuto, are you?"
Pabo shook his head, distressed, rasping, "Mapo Village, a day's travel from Kuuto."
There was an elegant snort. "Pabo from Mapo Village. You're not too far from home, but you obviously don't know much about oirans."
Again, Pabo chose to be quiet, desperately wishing to be let off the hook.
"Get up."
Don't get up, instincts told him. Against his better judgement, Pabo staggered to his feet.
Pabo was now groveling, attempting to worm his way out of the situation. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"Ah, I'm sure you are," his tormentor said lightly. Pabo lifted his head, almost with a bit of hope.
"But I'm afraid that all sniveling idiots like yourself seem to forget lessons. I have to make sure to deliver one so you don't ever forget that you're sorry."
Pabo's breaths were shallow. This can't be happening.
"This can't be happening," his voice croaked out before a leg swung at his hip, knocking Pabo over to the dusty ground.
Over the man's sputtering to get dirt out of his mouth, the kid continued his breezy tone. "Someone told me how you boasted about passing the preliminaries of the annual sparring matches at the Castle a year ago."
That's a lie, Pabo's mind yelled. He had been bragging, he had only passed the first round. The man barely managed to upright himself from the ground, when a hard fist drove down like a cane on his left shoulder. Pabo fell again.
"Get up. Let's test out how strong you are. I'll give you a lesson about oirans while we're at it."
Pabo didn't know he could hurt so much. He was sure that ugly bruises covered his skin, that his face was swollen beyond recognition. Some parts of his skin felt so tight and thin that blood would burst out. His body was shaking, in fear and in pain, and in exhaustion.
"You know, oirans train for years and years to perfect all aspects of entertainment."
His opponent was no longer a simple opponent. That kid was a demon.
"Singing, dancing, musical instruments, etiquette, social decorum, history, politics," he listed. A hard elbow dug into Pabo's rib, robbing him of oxygen. The crowd let out a wave of ooh, wincing at the second-hand pain.
He fell down on his knees. Pabo's world went white with pain. He could feel tears trailing grooves down his face. Some parts of his body would go numb after getting hammered, only to return with a sensation of deep-boned burning that wouldn't lessen. That monster never aimed for the vitals, but knew where to hit so it hurt the most.
"Their faces and bodies aren't the only assets, oirans are also praised for their quick wit and lovely company."
He ached all over. Some places throbbed, other parts were on fire, most were piercing. Especially if he moved, even more if he sucked in a breath of air.
The tormentor's voice was hollow. "They're meant to serve people who could afford them on a monthly basis, successful merchants and nobles and the like."
A ruthless punch to the sternum. Pabo couldn't breathe.
"And some peasant thought he could just pay for sex with an oiran."
And every time a blow was landed. He'd be ordered to get up.
"Get up."
A finger twitched. If he didn't get up in time, he'd be kicked.
Was it worth it? A few seconds of nothing, only to get beaten down again?
Pabo gasped, inhaling dirt as he did so, when a foot grinded down the back of his hand.
"Already tired?"
"P-please," Pabo whimpered. Fat tears dribbled down his face, mixing with bloody snot. "Please, s-stop."
Perhaps the most frightening thing about the entire beating was that the kid's voice never changed.
The foot pressed against his hand even harder, gravel crunching into his skin and bones.
It was that same horrifyingly unruffled voice. "You don't step a foot inside our brothel again, do you hear me? Not with that attitude."
Pabo's head nodded frantically. Please, please, please, please. He understood.
His mercy came in the form of a fist, one aimed for his temple. A sharp rap to the head, rattling his brain inside the skull, and then darkness blanketed his conscious.
If anything, Pabo welcomed the darkness.
x
When Takumi went home that night, he bit back a sigh when he saw a lantern lit at the brothel's backdoor.
Yeri was waiting for him.
As expected, it was his mother standing with barely concealed rage and Nana right behind, wringing her hands in worry. It was always the same sight, whenever he came home knowing he was in trouble. It never changed, even now, when Takumi was seventeen years old. Old enough to be taking care of himself.
Takumi knew he didn't have to explain what he had been up to during the night. His fists wrapped with bloodied gauzes, sweaty clothes clinging to his toned form and a sack of coins hanging from the belt, earnings from another illegal underground fight.
He had gotten himself involved in the fighting ring since two years ago for two purposes: learning how to brawl and winning bets. Quite frankly, Takumi personally thought it was one of the better ways of raking in money despite all the risks involved. Not only did he quickly learn to fight, as pain was a fast teacher, but he also learned how to asses his opponents. All it would take was one full lookover to judge a person's posture, appearance, and gleam in their eye for Takumi to calculate everything he needed to know to have a crack on their weaknesses and strengths. If they favored their left arm or left, if they were a kicker or puncher, bouncy or sturdy, experienced or rookie, bends or snaps, heavy or light.
It was also an excuse to beat down people who dared to mistreat workers in the brothel. A pudgy merchant slapped one of the courtesans? Drag the lowlife down to the underground fighting ring, force him to bet all the money and jewels he had on him, then rob the merchant of all his bets by rigging the matches a little bit. A mercenary punched a brothel worker? Pay someone to tease him with joining the underground ring for just one night, for what was the harm in participating in a soft, civilian league of brawling? Surely, a mercenary who worked out of Kuuto could handle cushiony underground rings, but instead get beat down either by Takumi's own hand or another.
This time, Pabo had been a simple Sky soldier seeking some basic gratification in the pleasure districts of Kuuto, using saved up wages. The ill-informed man thought that he could buy his way into one of the best brothels in town, assuming that business was conducted the same way as his previous experiences with regular prostitutes. Pabo had gotten excited at the sight of Mi-Wah, dumping the required price of booking a room with her for the evening, but Takumi had heard from other brothel workers about how he had thrown a tantrum that first time he had visited the oiran, demanding that he deserved more than a simple tea ceremony and music from her. After his fifth visit and fifth denial of intimacy, he had lost his temper, resulting in a bruised and humiliated Mi-Wah. Takumi had come home almost an hour later and upon seeing one of their own injured, he requested the identity of the person who inflicted the bruise before stalking out and seeking vengeance. He had bribed Ogi to get some muscled men to haul Pabo into one of the underground fighting rings, forcing the indignant soldier to bet on the leftovers of his wages, and then joined the match himself.
Either way, Yeri didn't approve. She had caught on within less than six months of when he had first started fighting. To say that she wasn't happy when she found out was an understatement. Right now was no different.
Walking up the door, Takumi looked up to his mother's enraged hazel eyes, only to have his face slapped, the sound ringing in the night. Nana gasped in shock. The stinging lingered on Takumi's cheek as he lowered gaze.
Yeri's voice was tight with anger. "I thought I had told you stop fighting," she seethed. A peek through his bangs told him that his mother was furious to the point of furrowing her brows, carving lines into her delicate skin. His mother had conceived him when she had been young, but her age was in the beginning steps of letting itself show; Yeri was still beautiful and was evidently the type to age gracefully, however signs of years was not welcomed in her line of work.
Unraveling the coin bag from his hip, Takumi turned it over in his hand, allowing the coins inside to jingle merrily. "I got a lot this time, more than usual."
"I don't care about your blood money!" Yeri snapped. "And I don't care about your twisted sense of justice, going after people who hurt members of the brothel."
Catching the eye of Nana, who was silently pleading for Takumi to close his mouth, he stayed quiet. It seemed that it would be no good if he tried to talk back.
"Now go apologize to Mi-Wah, she's been worried about your safety," his mother ordered, having no more patience with her son.
Takumi ducked his head, entering the brothel and shouldering past his mother without another word.
"And get rid of those bandages!" Yeri nearly shouted behind him. At her words, Takumi immediately unraveled the gauzes, throwing the bloodied fabrics into the nearest garbage bin.
He headed upstairs to the private quarters where most rooms were filled with sleeping occupants, but a few were still awake, one of them was Mi-Wah. He approached the sliding door, knocking gently on the wooden frame.
A soft voice called out, "Who is it?"
"Me."
There was a bit of rustling, perhaps objects and clothes being hastily reorganized, before he was allowed to enter. Inside was a pretty dark-haired lady in her pale cream nightgowns accompanied by two of her juniors, oirans-in-training. The two younger girls gaped at the disheveled visitor while Mi-Wah gestured for him to sit down, almost insisting.
The dark-haired lady smiled sadly at the young man. "Takumi, you really scared me earlier, running off like that."
Takumi studied the courtesan's face, eyeing the splotchy blue bruise blooming on the side of her face. Her lip must have also been busted in the same blow, because her lower lip was scabbed with blood. The explosion of temper from before, when he had first seen her face, wasn't as strong now. Knowing that Pabo's smashed unconscious face was lying on dirt barely kept the anger at bay.
"Have you iced it?"
Mi-Wah tried for a bigger a smile, but winced when it tugged on her injured lip. She caught the darkening of Takumi's expression as she did so and tried to reassure him.
"I have, and I've used a poultice so it's healing now," she said, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "You don't have to concern yourself with it."
Takumi's shoulders lowered a fraction. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I shouldn't have gone after him without talking to you first."
The oiran's lips quirked upwards. He was always so polite to members of the brothels. The rest of Kuuto didn't often see this part of him, they only saw the cold and taciturn persona instead. His reputation in the illegal underground fighting rings only exacerbated the rumors.
"I was more frightened of you getting hurt," she murmured, observing the faint scars on his hands and arms that accumulated rapidly ever since he had begun fighting. She was sure there were more hiding underneath his clothes.
"You really worried your mother, you know," Mi-Wah added, fondly noting how Takumi sighed at her words. She also noticed how one side of his face was pink, as if someone had slapped him. Most likely his mother.
"I don't need any more women worrying over me," he grumbled endearingly. Mi-Wah chuckled knowingly, half of the brothel had lended a hand in raising him, before waving him off.
"Alright, off you go then. Go wash up and get some sleep," she said in a mockingly stern voice.
Takumi huffed in amusement. "It's like I have more than one mother." He got up to leave, but placed a brief kiss on Mi-Wah's bruised cheek as he did so. The dark-haired beauty murmured good night when he closed the sliding door shut.
There was a beat of silence before one of her juniors squealed. "Was that Takumi? The one we've been hearing about?"
Mi-Wah stifled a yawn. "He is. You've heard of him?"
Her other junior nodded vigorously. "Yes! We've never seen him until now, but he's so much better than what everyone says about him."
The oiran laid down on her futon, adjusting her pillows. "And what do people say about him?"
Her precious juniors had lovesick expressions as they began whispering about the young man in hushed tones. Mi-Wah's eyes fluttered shut in exhaustion, content with chatter that helped put her to sleep. It was no secret that many of the younger oirans-in-training of their brothel admired Takumi ever since he had his growth spurt, shooting up like a bamboo sprout. In fact, he had become such a troublesome target of affections that some of their trainees had gotten a little too distracted from their duties. Yeri's little boy was growing up to be a young man, stealing hearts already. Where had all the years flown by?
Because of the trouble, the head matron ordered him to keep a lower profile than he already did. Sadly as a result, Takumi didn't show his face in the brothel as often and many of the older courtesans and workers missed his presence. Since he couldn't be an extra helping hand there, he was forced to work outside. Mi-Wah unhappily suspected that his casual banishment was what induced his involvement in the illegal underground fights. It already stressed out Yeri enough to know that Takumi also had a horrible habit of pickpocketing people off the streets of Kuuto, his mother must be pulling her hair out to know about the fighting rings.
Mi-Wah was about to fall asleep when one of the girls tapped her shoulder.
"Mi-Wah, is it true that he goes after people who hurt members of the brothel? Is that what he did for you today?"
The courtesan cracked open an eye, seeing the expectancy in her apprentices' sparkling eyes. "Yes, it happens sometimes," she sighed. The girls muffled their high-pitched squeals of delight into their blankets.
"He's just like a gentleman!"
"A prince, a real prince!"
Mi-Wah refrained from rolling her eyes. Honestly, her students were too cute and a little too innocent for their own good. Yes, Takumi was kind, but just as he was kind, he was also frighteningly unemotional about people he didn't care about. Would it be better if she shattered their glamorous image of him now or later?
"Kill the light," she told them. "Since I won't be working until this bruise heals, we'll be focusing on your studies full time beginning with tea ceremonies tomorrow. Rest up, we have a long day ahead of us."
Her pupils gulped at the news and hurriedly blew out the flame, pulling their covers over their bodies.
One girl piped up hesitantly. "Mi-Wah, just one more question."
She shrugged. "Fine, what is it?"
"Does he kiss all of the courtesans like that?"
Mi-Wah could almost hear the underlying question, if I became a courtesan, would he treat me like that?, and turned away from her students.
"That's enough gossiping for one night, girls, go to sleep."
x
Skipping through time because I want to get to the juicy Plot quick lol. Hope you guys don't mind. Thank you all for your encouraging reviews!
A guest asked if I drew the cover of the story, and I did! Actually, I drew all of my stories' covers. I'll be changing the cover in the next update, if you're interested in seeing my stories' covers, just shoot me a PM or let me know in the review and I'll post them on my tumblr (dantedont . tumblr . com).