A/N: I've edited older chapters before posting this one, so if you've forgotten most of the events before just like I did, do check them out~
I feel like I haven't written for centuries, but then I haven't updated for SIX years—and that somehow feels like centuries already. T_T Sorry! Thanks so much for the encouraging old and latest reviews, and I'm sorry in advance if this chapter feels rusty. I'm really nervous about this chapter lol I guess since I haven't written a big chapter in a very long time, my confidence in my writing is really in shambles. I've written this within these past two weeks, and it's admittedly hard coming back to writing after so long.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ghost Hunt characters. Even though I'm using facts, explanations that cannot be found in any reference come from my own cognition or imagination.
Review
But then... I know it: He is a rung closer to my unreachable sky.But stepping on him... relying on him to possess it... I need to build my strength to make the huge step. And so I've decided...
To step on the rung in front of me.
"You're good," I praise him with a nod, and then I smile genuinely, tearfully, and knowingly. "You're actually very good at pretending to be the 'other Shibuya-san.' "
End of Review
"Birds learn how to fly, never knowing where flight will take them."
~Mark Nepo~
XDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
Jin blinks at me under his mask, and when he sheds his false face, he grins at me with a flash of awe. "You knew," he says with a twinkle in his eyes. "How did you know?"
My lips curve upward. "Your eyes."
He blinks again, but the twinkle in his orbs remain. "My eyes?"
"They're different..."
"How...?" His eyelids flutter, head pulled back in disbelief. Unlike his brother, I find him so animated.
I maintain my smile. "Yours look softer...and less firm."
He beholds me as if seeing me in a different light and angle. "That's quite keen of you..."
"I always observe people." Trained to know what they want. Trained to seduce.
"I see..."
Speechlessness comes, yet muffled (though failed to be so) moans and cheers echo from adjacent chambers. The varied entertainments have started. Jin stiffens too when some of those voices have gotten louder, so to distract the two of us, I try to smile again and incline my head while almost shouting, "For what you did, thank you, Shibuya-san the Second."
He flinches, but then chuckles softly. When he recovers, his grin seems to light up the room. "You can call me Jin."
"Jin as in 'tender'?" I tilt my head, his name rolling off my tongue smoothly.
"It's actually spelled as…" he trails off and suggests, as though changing his mind, "You can call me by my other name instead."
"What's your other name?" I inquire as I lean a hand on the futon and peer up at him curiously.
I notice a rosy tinge emerge on his cheeks, and my cheeks start to warm up as I grow aware of only having a light blanket—that's slowly slipping downwards—to conceal the front of my body. His haori on my back won't be enough to cover me in time.
He shunts his head as I hastily adjust the blanket up to my collarbones.
"Kazuma," he reveals after clearing his throat. "I'm Kazuma Shibuya. You can call me Kazuma."
His name means…'real harmony'?
I grip the edges of the blanket closer to my chin. I now feel like the sun has shifted all of its heat to my body. "That's a beautiful name, Kazuma-san," I remark in a hushed voice, so I don't think he'd hear me.
Yet he blushes as he averts his eyes and abashedly covers his mouth with the back of his left hand. "Thank you," comes out in his muffled voice.
My mouth parts, and then my lips turn up at the corners again. He and his twin are really peculiar creatures. I've seen many young men enter Orihime or Yoshiwara, in general, but they are just...distinct. There are those who pretend they're amateurs but actually aren't. There are those who pretend to be sophisticated but actually aren't. There are those who are really new to Yoshiwara but soon become natural to it. Yet the two Shibuya-san... They look like they know what Yoshiwara offers, yet they appear not to have done anything with its services...
They aren't experienced at all.
Aren't men supposed to partake in and enjoy the pleasure this popular place can bring? Even now, it's surprising that there are people like them. How...can there be people who care, people who don't think of us as flowers meant to play and be dirtied in the mud? Who don't see us as dolls to be displayed and toyed with by a man with deep pockets or a coin to spare? Perhaps I've been seeing only one type of man all these sheltered years that to me the twins are an enigma.
It's not that I am not glad there are young men like them... It's just...too good to be true...
"How about you?" he speaks, interrupting my thoughts.
"Hm?" I lift my head a bit.
"What's your name?" he asks while sitting down on the matted floor a few steps away from me.
My name…? Ah. Shall I say the real one or the fake one? But without mulling over it, my mouth has given away, "Mai," before I can shut it.
Gah.
"Mai?"
I nibble my lower lip and let out a breath. I can't take it back... Besides... "Mai is my real name."
He gazes at me and nods with the usual amiable smile. "Yours sounds graceful: dance."
I try not to laugh, my mouth trembling with restrained mirth. "It means a type of robe."
"Oh." His face reddens afresh, remembering at the same time as I do that I currently lack such a thing. "I-It sounds...decent."
We permit a moment of silence and awkwardness slip by before we surrender to laughter. Tears of joy gather in my eyes, and I feel free like a wind.
"Thank you." I bow briefly after a time, patting my aching stomach with one hand. "For that."
His smile keeps his face alight enough to make the stifling room we're in look more joyful. "Always my pleasure to make anyone laugh."
I return another smile then. In truth, I never think too much of my name...because remembering the loss of the people who had given it to me stabs my heart. So I think of something else and say, "Shibuya-san... your brother... He's in the repository?"
"Yeah..."
He really went... I fold my legs under my backside. "What you said... Why are you reserving me? I already told your brother that I can't help him."
He stares at me before giving a toothy grin. "Noru has found a way to set you free."
I stare back at him as though he is building a nest on his head. Why...will they go to such lengths for me? Why will they help someone like me? Is being a dream seer really important? How can they even be certain that I'm a dream seer just because of my narrated nightmares? My restless mind is still captivated, so I ask, "Do you know what it is?"
His brother doesn't mean... Does he?
"He said there's a way, but he didn't tell me. He just told me to stay here for you. To get you."
"To get me?" I blink. "But there's no other way I can get out of here. I'd already told him that." I have not gotten out in a decade. Besides that, Missus has never given me a permit to go out of Yoshiwara like my Elder Sisters, not even when I was still an attendant. My Elder Sisters can't go out alone even with their permits, but they always have an attendant or two brought along with them—besides guards who'll make sure they won't run away. Missus has never let me tag along on any of their excursions. When I complained to my Elder Sisters and the cooks and servants about this, they just remarked jokingly that the Missus has a cause to be strict, especially to a relative—a strange reply that's far from the truth.
Unless one of the twins marries me... I have no other immediate solution... Well, if I earn a great amount by working in just one night, I can buy my freedom... But no one has ever done that. No one has ever bought their freedom in one day in Yoshiwara. And unlike other pleasure houses, in Orihime, marrying a man of fortune and earning money are the only two ways, apart from death, that I can break free of my contract with the Missus; the young me had agreed to such terms from the start.
In my confusion, Kazuma-san just curves up his lips, and it feels as though the world prostrates to him when he does it. "There's always a way."
And then he grabs something from the inside of his kimono.
XDXDXDXDXD~nya~
"Are you sure this will work?" I ask and press my lips as I secure the blue cheek-cover hood, top my head with a straw hat, and look down at myself.
A boy's kimono and hakama look a little oversized on my slender form. They are in the same dark blue hue and as manly in plainness as possible. I have washed my face and freed it from the face paints with yuzu oil and warm water from a ceramic bowl sitting on the red lattice window ledge, and then I have tied my hair in a low bun underneath my hood and made sure my unmanly nape won't be in sight either.
"It will," Kazuma-san assures from beyond the folding screen.
His confidence is endearing, but I wonder if it'll be as breezy as he imagined.
I leave the concealment of the folding screen and utter, "I'm set."
He still has his back to the folding screen when I've addressed him. He doesn't really have to spin around like that since I've been covered by the screen while I dressed, but I guess it is a part of his upbringing.
Finally swiveling to me, he grins again. "You look as handsome as a boy."
Riding along, I bow and smile like a performer who ended her play. With a mocking deep voice, I say, "Indeed, I do!"
We snicker as he gives me an extra mask, a wolf one.
"Although you can just leave me here to wait... You're going to lead me back here with your brother, right? So why bring me with you?" I ask as I take the mask. I don't know how much he paid for me, but he should be my only customer until his recent payment doesn't hold after days.
He regards me with a few blinks, appearing not to know what to say, but he shrugs and displays a logic-defying smile. "If I leave you here and make you wait, you'll probably be uncertain of my word. You've had enough of this place, right? There's no need to make you more miserable by waiting for me to fetch my brother."
"Hmm..." Well, yes, I'll think he's playing around... But will it not be a great risk for him to take? Will it not be troublesome to take me back and forth?
"Besides, I already paid the initial fee. Noru will come back with the rest. The next time we'll come here, it'll be to get your things." He frowns. "And if I leave you for a day or two, they might still give you work. There's something about your Missus that makes me uneasy..."
He's really serious about this… His face has lost its mirth. Somehow, I feel my belief in him solidifying.
I turn the mask in my hands. "You might not be able to get inside Yoshiwara when we're found out... No. You might even be punished by the guards… You and your brother... Why...?"
I leave out the fact that I will get punished too. Perhaps severely. Although it's silly to ask him these questions when I've already donned the clothes he'd prepared for my sneaky departure… I can't help it.
I want to know more.
His mouth lifts on one side, albeit slight and humorless. "Even if that happens, if we're able to set you free in the end, it's still worth it."
I feel a crease between my brows. It's unfathomable… Why do they treat me with such importance? They do not even know me that much... I do not even know them that much... But why…? Why are they so kind? Why are they willing to risk so much for an alleged dream seer such as I?
He replaces his demon mask, one with a red face and yellow horns, and I hesitantly put my own guise. Then he extends his hand to me. "Ready?"
His hand...seems to glimmer.
I remember the mochi peddler. When I had freed his bird, my father's saying that not all birds can fly comes back to mind. Because...afterwards, the man who sold mochi didn't lash out on me: He cried. Perhaps, he was trapped too... by loneliness. Now that I ponder about him, he might have caught the bird to relieve him of his malady. Since he was trapped, he could trap something with him... That way, he could feel safe... maybe happy... even if he couldn't fly.
But alone... reality had pummeled him once more, and he wept... not just because of losing the bird—no, I know better now—but also due to his inability to be with the bird in the sky.
Staring at the gleaming hand Kazuma-san offers me, I think about what it is like to fly... But I soon shrug off the thought. After all, I am not a god who can make wings to instantly reach the sky.
I am not a bird that can fly.
So birds that cannot fly like me can only walk, make a rung gradually and step forward every now and then in a long span of time… Yet with Kazuma-san's hand clutching mine as we dart to Orihime's deserted corridors… I feel nearer to my goal.
I feel faster, and it seems like I'm skipping a few steps up ahead on my cloud-made staircase.
XDXDXDXDXD~nya~
We take the rope-hoisted lift down until the fourth floor together, and then Kazuma-san takes the stairs while I continue my descent through the lift. We soon meet up on the passage outside the vacant bathhouse, traipse past empty rooms of my Elder Sisters, and exit the back door on the left side of the bustling kitchen. Outside, we move slowly through a narrow alley towards the main street, Nakanocho.
Nakanocho boulevard appears abandoned to me at day, or rather, when the sun is still up—especially late during summertime. The few roving clients aren't as noisy or energetic as when the moon shines in the sky. Only when the sun is shining will one see a courtesan or two yawning too. Any outsider may say that the sun sucks out the vitality of the nocturnal beings in Yoshiwara.
The lifelessness of the area at daytime, however, does not mean that it is less stunning than at night. No matter how many times I stride on Nakanocho, I am still breathless at Yoshiwara's splendor and vibrant colors. Just like the first time I walked on its steps, countless lined-up red lanterns hang under the eaves of the teahouses and pleasure quarters. At night, the main road of Nakanocho will irradiate with a crimson and yellow hue, a place of fiery passions. A fenced garden of small fountains and cherry trees dash across and separate the avenue like a road in itself; the wilting pink petals of the fallen blossoms scatter on the ground, and soon the trees they come from will be replaced with the blooming irises of summer.
Nakanocho intersects with many streets, and with Kazuma-san, I pass by the teahouses and little shops, glance at balconies with people already keen on sousing themselves, lazing and dozing around like the timekeepers by the clock tower. Absorbing the finest details of Yoshiwara once more, perhaps for last, I am certain that it is still an isolated floating world, frozen in time and lost in space just like its occupants and regular patrons.
Sunset is still far from occurring, so there are only a handful of people in the frequently busy street. Right now, only a bubble seller (shouting "Bubbles! Bubbles anyone!" while tapping a loop-ended stick on his bucket of water, which he'd mixed with shabon he says he got from a ranjin), a flower seller (with woven baskets full of freshly picked summer blossoms hanging on each end of a bamboo pole he's carrying over his neck and shoulders), and a handful of expected customers roam on the boulevard.
So few people... They're not enough for us to succeed in being inconspicuous at all, so Kazuma-san and I dawdle while we roam side-by-side as unnoticeable as possible. There are those who have animal masks askew on the back of their heads, so we are a little relieved that we do not stand out much.
"Is there a summer festival nearby?" I whisper to Kazuma-san with little movement of lips, despite my mask.
His eyes light up. "Perhaps."
I peer at him. He sounds excited. "Have you ever been to a summer festival before?"
He shrugs and I can hear rather than see his smile. "It will be my first summer festival here if I get to attend one."
Are there no festivals in his hometown? He must have been traveling from afar... He's going through so much bother with me... But he's not complaining... Another man may have already disciplined me in the most brutal of ways.
As we traverse Nakanocho, we try to look like customers examining parlors through the monotonous lattice windows but then changing minds. Yet only a few top-ranking courtesans can be seen by the windows, teahouses, or upon woodblock-printed portraits—including me, or what looks like me with my appellation under—plastered on some doors of the houses of assignation, so we really can't pretend much interest.
Finally, when we are a few steps away from the smooth red pillars of the Great Gate, I halt and take a breath. I bend down to tighten the ties of my straw sandals and adjust my split-toe socks. Noticing my left wrist for the first time today, the disaster that I may bring upon us both dawns on me.
"Wait, Kazuma-san!" I bolt up and tug my conspirator to stop.
He gives me a quizzical look. "Wha—?"
"I can't go out of the gate!" I say urgently in a hushed voice.
Kazuma-san slants his head. "Don't worry. The gatekeeper won't suspect you if you're relaxed."
"There's a possibility he will!" I murmur in an insistent tone and show my left wrist. "If he sees my brand!"
Every courtesan in Yoshiwara has a mark or 'brand' that can help distinguish what bordello she hails from; this has been established as suggested by the current gatekeeper. In Orihime, a red mark with the shape of a nightingale (as what my Elder Sisters told me—but really, it looks like just any bird with its vague outline) is visible on the back of our left wrists ever since we became a courtesan's attendant. Besides a symbol of distinguishability, it is also a sign of imprisonment.
The Great Gate is guarded strictly by the gatekeeper named Senda. He is the best gatekeeper Yoshiwara ever had, according to most bordello proprietors. There is a very good reason for such praise too; because of him, more or less a hundred courtesans who tried to escape Yoshiwara cannot go further than a step on the gateway. His previous occupation also helps in cementing his effectiveness; he was formerly a celebrated wrestler, and any courtesan would feel dwarfed by his size if he so much as stand before them.
As I tell all this to Kazuma-san, his gaze latches onto my wrist, contemplating.
This is my fault... I breathe out a long-drawn sigh. It is me...who started everything. It is my five-year-old aimless self who decided upon a stable life I do not really know that much...
Until now.
"I'm sorry," I tell Kazuma-san with a grimace. The small smile I give to him feels stiff. "Although you did so much for me, I really can't get out of this place." Not until the Missus gets what she wants from me.
He reaches out and squeezes my hand with the branded wrist. "Don't be sorry. There's always a way. It's just a matter of how."
I gape at him. He's really...optimistic.
Kazuma-san looks at the sky, and after a few moments of silence, he snaps his fingers to me. "I have an idea!"
He leads me into an alley before I can cut in.
XDXDXDXDXD~nya~
"It's beautiful..." I gush as I admire the black dragon's body circling my left wrist, its head jutting out over the back of my hand; it now hides the red nightingale mark completely. "So, you're a painter?"
He nods.
"For someone so young... you're very good." On the alley, Kazuma-san had taken some brush and ink bottle from the inside of his sleeves and used them to paint over my brand. Even if I remove my mask, my nose and mouth are still hidden by the cheek-cover, so with the addition of the dragon mark, hopefully our plans work out.
His cheeks flush. "Well, its just an ordinary mark, and the tint wears off easily. So..."
"So besides hunting ghosts, Yuurei Shinsengumi also consists of artisans?" I wonder aloud.
Kazuma-san cracks a smile. "Not exactly. Being a painter…is like an avocation."
"Just for leisure?"
"Yeah. Noru and I work jointly in our other occupations."
My attention diverted, I have been staring at him as he pronounced the other Shibuya-san's name. Now that I observe him... "That name... Nol?" I try what I learned to pronounce from the other Shibuya-san last night.
He blinks at me. "You know it?"
I shrug. "The other Shibuya-san taught me how to say the last sound before... How is it written?"
He beams and takes a paper inside his kimono and writes down the character for no and then two lines downward beside the latter.
"No...?"
"There are two Ls," he drawls. "Noll is my brother's foreign nickname."
"I see..." My lower lip juts out. "It's interesting that there's a sound in other countries that I only discovered now. I heard from some pilgrims and clients that Chinese people have weird sounds..."
His shoulders shake with mirth. "If you tell Lin that, he'll ignore you the whole day!"
"Lin?" I tilt my head. Who is he again…?
"He's our guardian," Kazuma-san speaks concisely, and I decide not to delve into the unknown person further.
"The other Shibuya-san... Is he a painter too?"
He shakes his head. "He's a writer while I make his illustrations."
I have never met a painter before, but my Elder Sisters always look excited upon hearing that a painter will be their client. If someone well-known paints them, after all, they will become the envy of all courtesans as well as all the women outside of Yoshiwara. It has been said that, for a low-ranking courtesan, the fastest way to rise up in ranks is to make an artist paint her. Rumors say that if there is a portrait of any courtesan anywhere, the painted girl will be an oiran immediately. Good looks aside, it is often curiosity that gives way to popularity.
After we've idled enough, Kazuma-san and I finally get out of the alley. Sweat trickles down the side of my face and on my spine. Senda, the gatekeeper, seems to be experiencing the effects of the sweltering heat as well; he's fanning himself, and the inebriated guards are fanning him too like a king on a raised platform. A low table is on top of Senda's crossed thick legs so that it looks like the table stands with the support of his said limbs instead of being erect on the platform by its own wooden legs. The table is laden with all kinds of dishes, but it isn't something new. The proprietors always indulge Senda and the guards. Every time I see him, Senda is always devouring something.
The guards fanning Senda seem to be nursing their throbbing heads after a night of revelry. They probably indulged themselves at a festival nearby, and if they continue to be as inattentive as they are, we may be able to slip unnoticed.
Kazuma-san and I are about to walk past the gatekeeper's platform and almost-dozing guards when, to our misfortune, Senda stops us in our tracks with a sword's sheath, his other hand gripping breaded shrimp by its tail, halfway to his mouth. Only the irises of his dark eyes move to scrutinize us.
I bite my lip as he examines Kazuma-san and me.
"Your hands," he grunts with a meaningful look.
Kazuma-san boldly steps forward and presents both of his hands and then wrists for inspection. He had drawn a butterfly on them by himself earlier, just to stave off suspicion. Senda's reaction is a mere lift of an eyebrow after a gaze at a book beside his leg.
Upon my turn, I can't help but tremblingly lift my hands and wrists for his view, my sleeves folded a bit. He checks the mark Kazuma-san painted on my left wrist and gazes at the book again—at the saiken, a directory of the pleasure houses in Yoshiwara, the brands, ranks, names, and titles of us courtesans—on his right.
Kazuma-san comes near bravely and impatiently to distract the former wrestler. "My brother can't be an oiran, sir. Not that I've heard of right?" He winks at me playfully under his mask.
I jounce my head, gulping.
"From what house?"
I can't give away my unmanly voice too, so I nod again with my hands still held up for his inspection.
"Speak and take off your masks," the gatekeeper demands.
I glance at Kazuma-san in panic, and he kindly steps in to save me again. "It's Kazuo. But, ah, you see, sir, my brother has an awful disease. It's his face, you see. Ah, no, you don't see it, but anyway, he has taken ill on his mouth and throat, so he can't utter a word, and well... Uh..." He leans closer and whispers audibly, "It had spread to his face like an infected crop."
Senda looks at him and then at me with disgust. He harrumphs, and when he was about to let us go, something wet drops on the back of my left hand and blots the ink of the black dragon…
And the red wings of the nightingale can be seen.
The afternoon sky, went unnoticed, is cloudless no more.
Without a beat in the sudden downpour, Senda notices my brand and exclaims, "You━!"
"RUN!" Kazuma-san snatches my right arm, and we dash out of the gate under the beating and merciless rain.
XDXDXDXD~nya~
We depart Yoshiwara as if demons are out to get us. The willow tree just outside the gate appears to wave its branches as farewell to us in the rainy breeze. The thatched teahouses on the sides of the road along the embankment are a dull yellow blur.
Without realizing, my straw hat has flown off my head. Sloshing water from puddles on the hems of our hakama, Kazuma-san and I run hand-in-hand along the readily wet road outside Yoshiwara. We pass by people pulling wagons that are stuck in the mud. We pass by spilled bushels of rice and upended carts and fallen horses—all their owners wallowing in disaster and loss.
The rain pours without relent. Both Kazuma-san and I have been soaked to the bone in no time, and our clothes cling to every frame of our bodies. Loose strands of our wet hairs drip excess rain drops on our faces. Our pants are drowned by the noises of thunder and hard rain.
Our socked feet have become dirty; they have been washed with rain and then muddied again—becoming an endless cycle during our unstoppable flight. The gatekeeper and guards of Yoshiwara have not pursued us, luckily, yet it may be just the weather they're having a problem with—or only one courtesan is expendable... until they will learn I am an oiran from Orihime.
For the first time, however, I am very thankful for the storm.
We're a bit past the long embankment when Kazuma-san gestures a carefully treading packhorse driver to stop. The driver has been guiding two horses along the muddied ground. One of the horses, a chestnut bay, is carrying a rather bulky load spread across its backsides. The second horse, a dappled gray, stands tall without burden on the contrary.
"How much is the spotted one?" Kazuma-san asks, panting like me after such a nonstop run.
"I'm not selling," the driver throws back at him, almost like a spit.
"Will a ryou suffice for it?"
The driver makes a grunting sound, although I've seen him bite his lower lip for a moment.
The rain has mellowed down into a steady drumbeat on this spot. If the winds keep blowing, anytime soon, the rain will wane and give way to an almost cloudless sky. Still, noticing the sedge hats on the driver's horse, Kazuma-san also persuades the man to sell them to him. When my savior finally raises the cost to two gold coins for the horse and hats, the driver visibly crumples with greed, although he tries to mask his face with annoyance and hesitation.
The deal settled, Kazuma-san and I wordlessly mount the horse bareback and tied our sedge hats securely. Kazuma-san tosses two ryou to the packhorse driver and with an encouraging kick, we gallop farther from Yoshiwara and the dike. I cling to Kazuma-san from behind, my arms hugging his midriff. Nostalgia hits me as I recall riding another horse alone in another time, with my father instructing me on his favorite black gelding of a breed he boasts comes from Arabia. We would race and later get scolded by my mother who was worried sick that I might have fallen and broken my neck.
Not wanting to remember memories that will just sadden me, I shout to Kazuma-san in the thundering hoofbeats and splashing rain puddles, "Where are we headed?"
Without looking behind him and his body leaning forward, he replies, "Sensouji!"
I worry my bottom lip with my teeth. Sensouji, a temple, is another familiar place from my vagabond days. It was there where I spent the last coin I got from selling my father's favorite horse.
It's also there where I met the Missus.
"Isn't it too near?" I say in a shaky voice.
"It's crowded!" Kazuma-san flings back against the wind. "Easier to disappear!"
Not knowing what he really meant, I keep my silence and hug him tighter as the horse leaps over a mire-looking patch of road and turns around a bend. From afar, I can see the five-storied, blue-roofed pagoda—its peak like a raised set of fish bones completely free of flesh—and the main building of the Sensouji's grounds. How odd. I'm used to seeing these structures only through the red lattice windows and balconies of Orihime.
After passing a copse of trees, we emerge into a road lined with thatched and tiled houses on both sides, and the pagoda and the main temple grow nearer and nearer in sight. We turn another corner, going into and out of wide and narrow roads and a bridge as if to confuse anyone tailing us. But I don't think we have much to worry for now; there are still a lot of people, roaming around every nook and cranny of Asakusa, whose tracks can hide ours.
We dismount by the mews on the left side, before the gate to the temple grounds. We still have our masks on and with them Kazuma-san negotiated the price of the horse we'd just ridden to exhaustion. He sold it for one gold coin, but he didn't object to the lower price. Once he got the pouch filled with silver coins, he takes me to the Kaminarimon, the gate to Kinryuuzan or otherwise known as Sensouji.
Despite the tamed rain that may return to a vehement downpour, there's still a lot of people in the temple. Some of the goers are pilgrims who mark it as one of their numerous destinations. Others go here to haggle with the wares sold by the countless stores and vendors all over the place. Children play in and out of the rain, to their parents' resignation. It was decreed that vendors who put up their stalls in here would clean up after themselves and the temple grounds. The goers are also prohibited to eat on the temple grounds but are allowed to buy themselves food and eat outside. Since then, it's been a rowdy but clean place.
As was customary, Kazuma-san and I cleanse our mouths and hands with the water on the stone basin, past the entrance with the statues of the wind and thunder gods. Between the statues is a huge red lantern, its base underneath engraved with a dragon which children playfully poke at. Like at Yoshiwara, we rove the streets as curious worshippers and visitors. I see pigeons shivering and huddling under the eaves of the shops that lined the sides of the path to the main temple, resembling the humans seeking shelter beside them as well; some of the worshippers have been caught in the rain and are thereby waiting for it to stop among the heat of small crowds. Other visitors amble comfortably under their vibrant oiled paper umbrellas or straw hats and coats.
Stepping further on the temple grounds, the feeling of familiarity heightens. It was here where I tried buying a charm for luck but got turned away because of how filthy I was. It was here near that mound with the big bell that I sought refuge and cried for my mother and father. By the shrine of Jizo, a god said to protect children, I had prayed for food… for the return of my family… for hope. I recall turning the praying-wheel on the wooden pillar of his shrine and wishing for whatever wrongdoing I have, the times I have been disobedient to my parents, to be forgotten.
As it turns out, the god has not forgotten, but delayed repercussions; for if he had dismissed whatever sin I have that cost me my family, perhaps I wouldn't have met the Missus by the main temple—offering me first the sweet yellow berries of the orange lantern plants she sells at Sensouji every year and then a more permanent and tempting proposition of shelter, food, and livelihood at Yoshiwara.
Of a family.
I have thought we would be going into the Revolving Library, where we stop to stare at the images of two figures stepping on demons plastered to its doors, but at the sonorous peal of the bells that signal the start of the monkey's hour, we resume our walk around the main temple. The raising voices of the throng consume our thoughts. Kazuma-san and I barely talk and prefer to communicate with our eyes. We hold hands to prevent losing each other in the growing crowd. At the end of our leisurely stroll, we proceed to the five-storied pagoda and go around it to the back.
The pagoda is a monument for the dead, but people are not allowed to enter it… unless they have the means or purpose in doing so. From outside the smell of incense sticks wafts the air, the smell of burning pine, sandalwood, and cedar assaults our noses. We sneak in as quickly as we can, slipping through a small door under the stairs. Inside the first story, the painting of what must be Kannon, the goddess of mercy and compassion, stands on the center and top of a steep, stairway-looking crimson structure, each rung filled with dark tablets with names written on them—the posthumous names of the dead. Beside some tablets are small bowls where incense sticks stood, and the smoke smells stronger as we near by.
Afore the tablets I stop, bow, and put my hands together in prayer for the dead and for myself. If Kannon-sama will have mercy on me, then I hope I can really escape the binds of Yoshiwara. That whatever madness I am doing will be fruitful.
After my brief prayer, I look around. The pillars, like outside, are made of reddish wood, but the floorboards are dark and sometimes appear lacquered. The room is dimly lit by the yellow glow of hanging bronze lanterns and deserted except for a man squatting before the stairs of memorial tablets. The man wears a dark robe and a large light-colored cloth over his shoulder. His head and neck are completely out of view inside a straw basket.
The stranger slips the mouthpiece of his flute underneath his straw cover and plays a light-hearted skipping tune, too cheerful for such a somber place. It's a wonder that no abbots or monks have come to chastise him.
I've heard rather than seen Kazuma-san's smile. "Bou-san!" he calls and the light tune halts.
The monk turns his body to us, his straw-hooded head slanting as though in curiosity. "Jin?" a deep voice comes out.
Kazuma-san nods, and he ushers me to join him approach the sitting man.
The monk's covered head wheels to me. "And who's that with you?" He continues to tilt his head, if possible even dipping deeper backwards, almost showing his chin.
Kazuma-san takes his mask off and sends me a reassuring smile. "You can take off yours as well. This komusou is a friend of mine, as well as my brother's. He's also an esteemed member of Yuurei Shinsengumi."
"Tch. Esteemed in your eyes at least." He lifts his straw cover up before I can even untie my hat and mask and uncover my cheeks. And I can't help but stare at him. He's pretty young, probably past twenty-three harvests. His hair is a shocking color of newly wet hay instead of the bald or salt-and-pepper variety I have expected. He wears his mane long and tied with a white paper in a low ponytail.
Clearing my throat when I realize I've been staring at him boldly, I remove my hood and cheek-cover and truthfully say, "I-I'm Mai."
If the monk is astounded to see a girl underneath a man's trappings, he does not make it known. "Of what house, may I inquire?"
"Just—" I take a breath "—just Mai."
The monk nods solemnly, trying to figure me out probably, but then his face loosens and displays a well-toothed grin, "Nice to meet you. I'm Houshou Takigawa, a monk from Mt. Kouya."
I dip my head, rather stiffly. "Nice to meet you, Takigawa-san."
"You can call me Bou-san, Mai-chan—Ah, can I call you that?"
I stare at him. It's a bit early and intimate at first meeting to establish such… like a little sister or a close friend… I send Kazuma-san a glance, and he just smiles at me in encouragement. Feeding off from his positivity, I concede to the monk, "Yes, you can call me that."
"All right." He puts his hands together and bows to Kannon-sama. Then he pivots to Kazuma-san once more. "Now, what's this all about, young man? And what's with both of you looking so bedraggled and suspicious?"
"Never mind our current state." Kazuma-san waves a hand as if shooing the thought away, and his face turns grave. "We need your help. Specifically, we need a place to stay for the night, before we ride all the way to Nihonbashi."
The monk regards both of us and asks, "That's all right and all, but what's all this about? What's going on?"
Kazuma-san takes a moment to reply, and I catch my breath as well. Then, looking at Bou-san, I inquire, "If we tell you, do you swear you won't tell a soul?"
He gazes at me with an inscrutable expression and inclines his head. "Your strictest confidence, for my life."
I let out a surprised chuckle, a little incredulous. "You need not sacrifice that much… for a stranger like me. But… thank you."
"We need a place to stay for the night, somewhere we can be safe at least for a while," Kazuma-san explains.
"Are you in great trouble?" Bou-san casts us a look of disapproval.
"I'm…an oiran," I supply by way of explanation, my cheeks heating up. I should not feel shame, but I do although I haven't done anything yet that Buddhist monks and the bodhisattvas will condemn me to the Hell of No Respite for.
Bou-san blinks and goggles at me, and then lets out a hearty laugh. He stands and pats Kazuma-san's shoulder. "Well done, young man. Well done! Wouldn't have the guts to smuggle out one, mind you, in my whole life!"
Kazuma-san visibly reddens. "It's not that, Bou-san! I'm taking her to my brother."
Seemingly sobered, Bou-san says, "You can just ride all the way to Nihonbashi if you want. No need to stay anywhere near here."
"Yes, but…" Kazuma-san furrows his brow. "I have a feeling we're being watched. We need a place…to disappear."
Being watched? I quiver. I have been busy pretending and reminiscing to notice anything amiss.
Bou-san narrows his eyes. "You have the stones with you."
"Yes," Kazuma-san says, looking grim, "but I don't want to use them unless it's necessary."
The monk sighs. "If you two feel like you're being watched, then you definitely are. Many eyes and noses here." He rubs his chin. "Let's see… You two are wet with rain, so we'll need to get you both out of those clothes. Give the appearance that you haven't been outside yet…" He claps his hands together, and with a dazzling smile he gestures for us to follow him.
XDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
Shoden temple lies on top of a small hill, called Matsuchiyama, overlooking the glittering Sumida river. The air is damp, and the wind cold in the rain's aftermath. A half-moon mars the now inky sky with its silvery light. Stone lanterns illuminate the sides of the slightly winding stairs to the temple. The smell of fresh produce cooked in soy sauce, sesame oil, and spices reaches my nostrils and makes my mouth water; Kazuma-san and I have not eaten since we dashed out of Yoshiwara. We had no time to grab something as well from Sensouji.
Dressed as a komusou like Bou-san, Kazuma-san and I had to learn a few notes of the flute earlier to keep our pretense. I am not skilled at it, but I have learned to play the wind instrument as well as stringed ones; as a courtesan, one must know how to thoroughly entertain clients—may it be through music or poetry or the carnal variety. With that new skill, we have kept our roles as mendicant exorcists all the way through the monkey and rooster's hours.
Outside Kinryuuzan, a couple of people had stopped us for an exorcism, and Bou-san complied with a silent nod. Unadvised to talk, Kazuma-san and I had watched as the monk took out his gold vajra and chanted in a language I do not know or understand. His work was compensated with kind rather than money, so climbing our way up the stairs of Matsuchiyama at this moment, we're carrying all sorts of things: a chicken cackling in a bamboo cage, a gourd with goat's milk, a robe made of silk, and sacks of cabbage, goji berry, ginseng, and corn.
On top of the staircase, a figure stands waiting for us. Only the moving glow of a round paper lantern indicates the figure's human (more or less) presence. Upon closer inspection, the familiar face propels me, leaving my burden on the remaining top steps.
"Ayako!" I hug the miko who has been my confidant in Yoshiwara. She is garbed in a whitish kimono and scarlet hakama, and her reddish brown hair is tied up on the back by a long dark string.
"Mai?" she utters in a startled voice. "Is that you?"
I pull back and take off my basket-hood. "It's me!"
"How did you—?"
"You know this infernal woman?" Bou-san asks in an irritated tone, his head free of the basket as well and the caged chicken clucking beside his feet.
Infernal? I examine the monk and miko glaring at each other.
"It's been a while, shrine maiden," Bou-san greets in a mocking voice.
"That it is, you depraved monk."
The monk glowers back. "Rude as ever, but as usual I didn't start it."
"Yes, you did, but you're always in denial," hisses Ayako.
"What can I do? I've got a tendency to curse in front of you. Most effective to ward off evil by evil, you know."
Ignoring him but not looking directly at me, Ayako snarls, "So, you know this beggar, Mai?"
"He's—"
"What did you say? I'm pretty sure I heard 'beguiler.' " Bou-san returns.
"No, you didn't. Are you deaf or daft? With your age, it's probably both."
"You old hag—"
I sidle up to Kazuma-san who just doffed his straw hood and put down his sacks of food with a sigh. "Are they always like this?"
His mouth goes up at the corners, making my heart pound. "Always."
I cover my mouth, giggling, as Ayako smacks Bou-san with the stick from which end her lantern hangs. I myself had teased and annoyed the shrine maiden with her beauty and age before, but I've never seen her so volatile.
"Shall we stop them?" Kazuma-san proposes.
"Must we?" I muse.
He shakes his head and, with a heart-stopping smile, winks. "Not my cup of tea. Let's go on ahead."
My laughter rings pleasantly in the night breeze.
The fenced temple grounds aren't as dark as I thought. For one, the trees that may have blocked the view of the moon at night have been cut off into stumps people could sit on. As a result, the corners are moonlit where the torches and stone lanterns cannot reach. Besides that, there are fireflies, their tail-lights flickering at an irregular rate compared to our breathing.
The sounds of cicadas, frogs, and owls serve as an earthy welcome into this sacred place. I have not been to this temple before, but just like Sensouji it has small shrines here and there, a big bell, a stage hall for kagura, lodging for the priests and pilgrims or other temple caretakers, a garden (which I can't see in plain sight right now), a large incense burner, a shop for talismans, and of course the main temple building. Being a place of worship for the god Shoden, however, statues, engravings, or motifs of money pouches for success and radishes for health, good match, and family harmony are everywhere. The lanterns under the eaves of the main temple even have alternating designs of radishes and money pouches.
I usually hear about this place from my Elder Sisters. It is where they go to pray for a fortunate marriage with one of their beloved customers. And secretly, to some like Ume-nee-san, it is where they desperately pray that their increasing bellies won't turn their lovers away. People outside of Yoshiwara, on the other hand, go here to stand by the fences and see the overlooking view of the Sumida river, Imado bridge, the blooming flowers at Mukoujima which is a bank across, or all of them in one.
"I know Ayako occasionally gets called to Yoshiwara," Kazuma-san begins carefully as we invite ourselves into the temple lodging house, "but for you two to be friends…"
"I thought you knew," I say in all honesty. "After all, Shibuya-san knew about me being a 'dream seer' from her." Women who come inside Yoshiwara don't usually get out of it, but in Ayako's case, she has the license to go in and out freely as a physician.
He stops at the entrance with me and presses his lips. "My brother and his damn secrets."
I don't know what to say in response to that, so I ask, "How did you meet Ayako? I don't recall her talking about staying at a shrine nearby."
"Through Bou-san." Kazuma-san laughs softly while taking off his straw sandals after my lead. "He didn't have a choice, and she was the only miko he knows that is trustworthy enough. I believe she sojourns at shrines every now and then."
"I see… We don't speak at length through the lattice windows at Yoshiwara for fear of the Missus's prying eyes. I've always assumed she lives in a hut far away, being a physician more than a miko."
I wonder how they're all connected… and where I come in, if I do… But I keep my thoughts to myself.
The interior of the two-story lodging house boasts of walls with white plaster and birch wainscoting. The corridors are well-lit by paper lanterns; their candles, according to Kazuma-san, are changed every hour. Ayako, whose argument with Bou-san has come to a pause, directs us to a plain room with floor lanterns shaped like a closed white paper bowl painted with pink petals and mounted on a thin pole and meager pedestal. The smell of burning whale oil is oddly comforting as we sit back without any care for formalities.
"Because of the irresponsible and thoughtless monk, you two have probably not eaten yet," Ayako guesses correctly. "Dinner is almost served, so wait here for a moment." To Bou-san, she says with a frown, "Since you brought an offering this time, I won't turn you out. Be grateful."
"I always bring an offering. You're the one who isn't grateful," Bou-san grumbles.
"They're not to my taste, so they end up as a waste."
"They're offerings, but they're not meant for you," the monk grits out.
The shrine maiden leaves with a huff, and Bou-san grins at us. "I won, didn't I?"
Kazuma-san and I simply shrug.
The tray tables lodged later by Ayako and a few servants before us are full with delectable-looking dishes an emperor may want to feast upon. In a short time, I dig my spoon into a soup of finely pounded squash topped with dried seaweed. Around the end of my chopsticks, I roll strips of stir-fried carrots, bean noodles, and needle mushrooms. Next, I sample the fried tofu with sesame seeds, spicy radish and bamboo shoots wrapped in tofu, and breaded sweet potatoes.
If I moaned in delight, nobody has scolded me about it. I am not the only one who eats with abandon, foregoing etiquette. Evidently, Kazuma-san and Bou-san are as famished as I am. I myself have not eaten since Kazuma-san arrived for me at Orihime. With an empty stomach, I've been trained to look at more tempting, glittering food than the ones we're having now and ignore the pangs of hunger scratching my mind; it's important, Missus said, that we don't eat with the clients. Despite warnings, my Elder Sisters, especially Ume-nee-san, once made me taste the remainders of the banquets they attended, but they never tasted like the food we're now feasting upon; the food this time tastes of freedom—filling me up with energy in every bite.
"It must have been hard," Ayako comments while watching me eat in gusto. "Getting away."
I gulp. "I would have told you… if I'd known where to meet you besides Yoshiwara."
The miko shakes her head. "Don't tell me—whatever you're going to do or wherever you're going from now on. I haven't been able to keep your secret before from this stupid, big-mouthed, and conniving monk here. I may have only succumbed to sake when he plied it to me over and over that one time, but I will never know what may happen if it were someone else I'd disclosed with. I will be meeting the magistrate of temples and shrines soon, and though I always decline him, there is a limit to my resistance. It's better to be cautious."
"I understand..." I give her a solemn nod. "Thank you, for thinking that far."
Her eyes soften. "Will you be all right?" She looks at Kazuma-san. "Truly?"
"She will be," Kazuma-san says in a determined voice.
Ayako breathes out. "For both your sakes, I hope…"
"What do you have to meet the magistrate for?" Bou-san says, chomping on his breaded sweet potato.
"What else do you think? There's a dispute about the distribution of charms as usual."
"Mhmm, that's not the only dispute I've heard." He looks away, seemingly disinterested. "There's that about you miko being decreed to be wives of mountain ascetics or dance masters. Onmyouji too, I heard."
"That is irrelevant."
"It isn't if Lin ends up with you." Bou-san shivers dramatically. "Poor man."
Ayako's response is a thwack with a thick fan out of nowhere. Kazuma-san and I try to hold our laughter, but fail and end up coughing it out. In the end we all burst out laughing.
"You guys stink," says Ayako bluntly after our meal. We have just exited the room where we dined and stopped at the corridor when she had told us to.
Bou-san sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "See here, woman—"
"It's the truth," Ayako sniffs. "Mai, come and take a bath with me."
"Ye-Yeah…" My face warms up as Kazuma-san and Bou-san clear their throats and look elsewhere.
"I'm going to meditate," the monk begins walking away, arms folded on the back of his head.
"Shall I join you?" Kazuma-san suggests.
"Not so fast." Ayako points at the two men. "You two will help heat our bath outside. One of you will be in charge of chopping firewood, and the other will feed the fire."
Bou-san spins back to us. "You can't be serious! At a time like this?" He crosses his arms. "I won't do it."
"If you don't, then I won't heat your bath in return. Do you think my delicate arms can chop a thick log? Are you going to have Mai and me do it?"
"Nothing about you is delicate at all, so stop acting frail."
Ayako clenches her teeth. "Now you're really getting on my nerves, monk."
Kazuma-san steps in between them. "Now, now, I'll do the chopping."
"Me too," I offer hastily and add in a light-hearted tone, "I'm not as delicate as Ayako."
"The hell you will!" Bou-san points at Ayako. "I shall heat up your bath, and if your skin burns, don't blame us."
The miko raises her chin. "Just try, and I'll curse you to death."
"That is if your curse doesn't backfire on you," the monk scoffs.
"Have you forgotten that you're in one of my territories? I am more powerful than you can ever dream of."
"As if! You've failed more times than I can count."
Ayako cries in frustration, and Bou-san throws a smug smile. Kazuma-san and I exhale and share a look of defeat.
Whatever happened between the two, I have no desire to know at this time. Hopefully, their barks are simply that—barks.
XDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
"Have you been dreaming of those women again?" Ayako asks as she sinks into the wooden tub beside me after we cleansed ourselves.
"Not recently." Not frequently. I shake my head, cupping water and pouring it on my arm. It smells like a basket of yuzu had been squeezed into the tub, the sweet and tangy scent refreshing my mind.
"That's good."
Outside, the sounds of something sharp and heavy hitting wood punctuate the ones from nature. Kazuma-san and Bou-san must be chopping wood now.
My eyes downcast, I fold my knees and rest my chin on top of them. "Shibuya-san… Kazuma-san's brother said I'm a dream seer. Is that really true?"
"Perhaps. I have no way to know."
"I think he said something like you telling him? Don't you do divinations through fire?"
"That's for the future, and it rarely happens. And I didn't say anything of the sort; he must have assumed. What I let slip to the monk wasn't anything specific. At least, I don't think I was coherent. I hadn't thought that idiot would believe me."
From what? With what exactly? How much had he assumed? "And Bou-san told Shibuya-san? Are they looking for dream seers? Like the man I kept hearing about… Lin, then?" For some reason, I enjoy saying his name. It's like being able to do something that everyone else can for the first time.
"Hmm, I guess," Ayako considers. "He's a mystery himself, just like Jin's brother."
"Shibuya-san?"
"Always playing hard-to-get when he enjoys attention," she huffs.
I splutter, "Ayako! You didn't!"
"Yes, I did," the miko says with a flick of her finger, splashing my arm with bathwater. "He's a fine specimen. So as Jin, although he just indulges me with his potent smiles."
I snicker. "Oh kami-sama… What did Bou-san say?"
"Why should I care what he says?" She scowls and raises her voice. "He's not my type."
"I heard that," Bou-san replies from outside.
"Bou-san!" Kazuma-san utters sharply.
Ack. I've forgotten they may hear us.
"I know, that's why I said it," Ayako sings and warns, "Don't you dare peep at us."
"As if!" the monk speaks gruffly. "Stop laughing, Jin!"
"Sorry!" Kazuma-san laughs aloud. "I can't—Hey, be careful with that ax!"
I chuckle as I hear the monk cursing and Kazuma-san fretting outside. Then to Ayako I probe, "You're not a member of Yuurei Shinsengumi?"
"I help them from time to time."
"Ehhh." I draw out a gust of air and run my hands through the ends of my long hair; if not for Yoshiwara's fashion, I would have cut it shorter. "Aren't you busy already?"
"The pay is excellent for an on-the-side job."
Must be, or they couldn't afford a night or more at Yoshiwara. I let a moment of silence go, but my thoughts sway on to a personal realm. I drop my voice into a whisper. "Ayako, now that I'm outside, do you think I'll remember?" Or discover?
"Remember what?" Her voice lowers as well.
"My parents." Why did they have to die?
She keeps mum for a bit, pouring water on my head and then patting it tenderly. "Time will tell."
No, only my memories can tell, but they're not reliable.
XDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
Ayako got me a room for myself. I should feel safe being alone in a room at the temple grounds, but disturbing thoughts seem to leak from the walls.
"I'll be on the next room if you need me," Kazuma-san reassures me when Ayako left us both on the corridor of the upper floor. He just finished his bath and now wears a plain pale green yukata like me.
"Can you stay?" I blurt out and hasten to elaborate, "For a while? Until I fall asleep?"
He hesitates but then agrees. He sits on the wall beside the shoji doors as I lie on the futon Ayako had someone prepare for me. "What do you want to know?" he cuts through the chase.
"Your brother… Shibuya-san… What is he like?" After all, if I'm going to work with him, I should know better who I'll be dealing with.
Kazuma-san ponders for a moment, searching for the right words. It's highly unusual to ask someone about somebody else who looks exactly like him. Although his face remains open and eager, it still feels like I'm looking at Shibuya-san without the severity that is characteristic of someone with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Truth be told, I'm liking Kazuma-san more and more. It's hard not to when he's been so kind to me.
"He's orderly," Kazuma-san finally supplies.
"To the finest details?"
He bobs his head. "He can be, yes. He's a natural philosopher after all."
"I thought he writes novels."
Kazuma-san laughs. "He loathes poetry."
"Isn't that different?"
"Most stories are poetic. He looks ready to puke if you read one to him or if you drag him to watch a play."
I can't envision Shibuya-san being felled by a verse. I absolutely want to see that. "What else? What does he write then?"
"Well, observations, hypotheses, experiments—rather boring stuff," he says in a noncommittal tone yet with a fond face nevertheless, "but he can tell them to you without being uninteresting. He leaves you in awe. He bathes and buries himself with them everyday. He lights up when he finds out something."
Not a grain of a romantic, I must say. At least, not for anyone else but his work. I don't know what to think about that. "Does he have tempers?"
"You mean, 'Does he get angry?' Occasionally. But he's not violent. He won't hit someone, but he lets things hit them."
He lets—? "He uses tools?"
"Well, no… Not directly…"
I must have looked lost for he gives me a merciful expression.
"It's complicated. It's not something I can explain believably."
"I see…"
He gives me an inquisitive look. "I've been wondering…"
I raise a brow. "What is it?"
"Di-Did you and my brother…?" He waves his hand, unable to continue and his cheeks turning scarlet.
I slant my head. "Did we what?"
His face and neck have turned red all over. "Di-Did you two… you know…?"
All I can give him is a blank face.
He shunts his head and covers his mouth. "Ne-Never mind!" He rises briskly and nods at me with a redder stain on his cheeks. "Goo-Good night."
"Good night," I say, nonplussed.
He gets out in a hurry, but then comes to a stop and closes the paper-screen doors slowly.
"What did he want to ask?" I mutter when the doors to his room nearby audibly slammed shut. "Did Shibuya-san and I…?"
"Please take advantage of me."
…Eyes clearly amused, Shibuya-san lifts his eyebrow. "Why?"
"The Missus is checking on us…"
I squeak and hide under the covers. Did Kazuma-san mean THAT?!
XDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
I wake up to the musty smell of horses and hay and something burning.
"Okaa? Otou?" I rub my eyes. My parents usually find me in the stables and carry me to my room before dawn. I've often stayed long to listen to ghost stories from our stablemen, but this is the second time that they left me asleep on the hay.
My stomach growls as I rise, the hay I used to lie on stuck to my clothes. The burning smell ushers me to the kitchen in the hopes that someone can fix me a rice ball or soup. But it's vacant. Rice grains are left unwashed in the iron pot, and the fish are badly burnt in the fire pit. There are some burnt sweet potatoes, however, so I pierce one with a stick and peel its skin. I blow on it while eating although it's not so hot anymore; the fire must have died sometime ago.
Drinking water from the well after my meal, I hear some shouts from somewhere in the house. I brighten up. Are they just playing some hiding game with me? Or just got back from somewhere?
I abandon the ladle I used as a cup and run into the house. The rooms and the indoor garden are empty. I haven't run into anyone on the hallways as well.
Where is everyone?
Another shout echoes from somewhere, but I know now where it could be from. I turn and dash all around the hallways to the front veranda. Finally I see people, whispering and silent ones. Their backs face me, but I've been with them long enough to know whose backs they're from.
"My lord… My lady…" some murmur repeatedly.
The sunlight shines brightly on my spot of the veranda, so I have not seen anything else until I stepped down to join the crowd. To a child like me it's a confounding sight; before the crowd, someone hangs from a branch of the old camphor tree by his roped ankles.
"Renounce!" a voice booms from beyond the backs of the crowd, halting me from running and squeezing into the latter's stilled forms.
"I have nothing to renounce!" a familiar voice responds, and protests and wails issue from the people.
Otou? I step forward in wonder. His voice wasn't very clear.
"Please believe us!" another voice, clearer this time, emerges.
Okaa! I shove myself into the tight-knit crowd, but they do not part for me. "Okaa! Otou! O—"
"Who's that?" the booming voice asks, and I stop moving.
I hear gasps. One of the stablemen grabs my arm and hushes me. The servants' faces are sweaty and sad and frightened.
"Please let go of my husband!" my mother croaks out behind the wall of people who stand stiffer than before, covering me with their heights like towering pillars.
Again, I call out, "Okaa! I'm—"
A hand covers my nose and mouth, and my next words are muffled. I move sideways to break free, but many hands steady me. Bodies move closer as though to trap me. More hands press against my nose and mouth, and I can't breathe. The sun shines blindingly and hurts my eyes. The oppressive heat of the morning prickles my skin.
My father and mother continue to cry out, but I can't make sense of their words. I cannot see them. The world swirls.
Okaa… Otou…
My eyes flutter to a close.
XDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
I jolt awake and stiffen.
Red eyes hover above mine in the darkness. I open my mouth to scream, but cold hands continue to press harder against my lips and nose. Fear numbs every thought, but my body reacts the same as before; I writhe under the weight of whatever creature sits on top of me.
"Mai!" Kazuma-san's voice bounces off the walls.
Thuds and crashes and chants reverberate from outside, enough to distract the red-eyed thing. I press forward and push the creature away with all my might. The sudden absence of those cold hands allows me a sharp intake of breath and successive deep ones after. The creature, a shadowy figure in the distance, gets back to its feet like a cat merely tumbling on the ground and paces as a predator planning to strike again. I sit up and crawl back to the wall beyond the head of my futon.
"Mai!"
My throat hurts. "Ka—"
Something gets thrown off and meets hard wood in a resounding crack. I hear something hitting the mats near me. Cold air rushes in from the side where the doors supposedly are, and Kazuma-san approaches me with a lantern in hand. He puts down the lantern beside me and checks my shaken form. At that moment the room is alit, and I see the black-clad, red-eyed creature more fully, crouching a couple of steps away from the foot of my futon. On the far left of my tossed blankets, another creature like him lies limp on top of the broken wooden frames and torn papers of my room's doors.
"A shinobi…?"I murmur. Though their appearance seems human, there's something peculiar about—
"Mai! Let's go!" Kazuma-san grabs my arm and helps me up.
The conscious shinobi in my room lunges at us that instant, but Kazuma-san spins and plants one swift punch to its gut. The red-eyed creature shrieks like an animal I cannot name. Its body shakes violently and then goes motionless on the floor. The air crackles, and Kazuma-san's right hand glows like a tail-light of a firefly.
I want to ask about what he did, but something comes crashing again on the next room. I hear shrieks similar to the creature Kazuma-san defeated and also shrieks from other humans staying here.
"Monk, you're saying the wrong mantra!" Ayako's vexed voice penetrates the night.
I gasp. "Ayako and Bou-san, the others—"
"They'll be fine," Kazuma-san says aloud in the cacophony. "Together, they're strong!"
We run to the dark corridors. All manner of shadows haunt us, shapes I want to un-see and not think about too much swivel to us. I have felt rather than seen Kazuma-san lift and swing his arms, and blood-curdling grunts and howls and chirps ensue from his offensive and defensive attacks. As much as I can, I kick and elbow the otherworldly being to help clear our path. A shinobi grips strands of my tousled long hair, and yelping I hit him with my fist, successfully connecting with his chin.
It's almost a miracle that we are able to get past and down the corridors full of shinobi. Most of it though is thanks to some unseen priests or monks chanting to protect themselves, the lodgers, and the temple grounds as a whole. We're nearly out of the entrance when another group of shinobi lands and stands outside the doors, waiting for us. My breath catches. We're trapped! I glance at Kazuma-san, who's panting harder than me, but still he raises his hand—
"Rin pyou tou sha kai jin retsu zai zen!" a deep voice cuts through the darkness behind us, and the shinobi by the entrance are nowhere to be seen at the blink of an eye.
"Bou-san!" I yell in relief, looking for him in the darkness.
"Go!" he says. "Don't worry about us!"
With a whisper of gratitude, we escape through the front doors at last. The race has not ended however. More shinobi await on the rooftops of the shrines and gate, and in the moonlight, I see them carrying tiny things that are glinting like a flower blade—
"To the fence!" Kazuma-san hollers, and in our hurry to go over the fences of the temple grounds, his grasp slips off me.
Something plunges into my left arm, just above my elbow. I gasp out, but there's no time to stop and look and stare. The creatures chirp and hoot from behind in pursuit of us, so without thinking I take out the shuriken lodged in my arm. With a soft cry and growl, I aim the weapon back to a shinobi leaping to us. I don't look back if my aim was true. I resume running, despite the stinging pain.
The grasses on the slope of Matsuchiyama are still wet, but the ground isn't slippery under our bare feet. The random distribution of a handful of trees beyond the fences twists the path we take downwards. Our followers gain upon us slowly; some of them clumsily hit the tree trunks and branches and fall down comically. Kazuma-san and I reach the few houses near the bank of Sumida river and hear shrill cries from afar behind us, but we persevere ahead. I follow Kazuma-san along the alleys he tugs me to. When we get to the riverbank, we keep running until we wade through the river, parting reeds hindering our way. The air is hot, but numbing cold seeps into my clothes and skin below.
We walk in the river until we're both waist-deep. Kazuma-san pivots to me, takes out two necklaces—each made of string with a dark stone pendant—that he wears hidden under his kimono, and puts one over my head. "Rub the stone like this with your one hand and hold my hand with the other," he instructs me, and I reluctantly do what he said.
"What are we—?"
"It'll be alright. Don't let go of my hand," he says.
As we rub the stones and link hands together, he starts talking under his breath. It must be an incantation of sorts, for after a few words, I feel the water around us subsiding as though a hole is sucking in the river water somewhere. Time seems to slow as water swirls around our waists. Underneath the water, I feel something crawling its way from my toes to my ankles. A shadow looms over us, and when I look to my side, I see a huge slow-moving wave towering overhead like a giant glaring down at us.
"Kazuma-san!" I spit out with a stricken voice, but he carries on murmuring while his hand is fastened to mine. His only response is a firm squeeze.
The water all over our waists and down to our feet is gone now; the river water has drawn back from the shorelines and hangs back on our side as a bigger wave than before, blocking the half-moon from view but still borrowing its illumination to cast a shimmering greenish glow upon its waters. Anytime now, it will beat us down and toss us back ashore, but right now the wave stands like a string of a bow held, unreleased.
I hear hoots and howls echoing nearer, time regaining its momentum again. The shinobi have caught up with us. Besides that, the creepy things below my feet, which I see now as pale ghost-looking hands, takes hold of my ankles and yank hard.
"Kazu—!" I topple backwards, bringing Kazuma-san with me.
His grip tightens, but he lets himself get dragged into whatever underground pit we're falling into. The wave comes down upon us, its foamy head about to gobble us whole. But that doesn't happen as the ground swallows us, and all I see is a pink hue that of a grapefruit's flesh.
Is it water? I can breathe normally yet bubbles form before me. It takes me a moment to realize Kazuma-san is gone. I open my mouth to shout but I can't hear anything. I thrash in the water, swishing here and there, looking for Kazuma-san. Without warning, my mouth is assaulted by a bitter taste, and then the breathable water turns red. The surface above looks like a distant silver light. It hurts to look at so I close my eyes.
Strangely, I don't feel an ache in my throat and lungs. The water tastes sweet now instead of bitter. Still alone, images drift in my mind: a man hanging upside down from a tree, his knees and feet—the only ones visible—wriggling and his other half steeped in what smells like horse manure; a woman resembling my mother being dragged by a horse and splashed a large pot of boiling water, her screams of agony rending my soul. Hot tears fall down my face. All the while I feel a hand over my mouth as I watch the two people's torture and suffering. My screams are muffled.
And I can't breathe.
I do not know if they're memories or nightmares untold, but they feel real. I have no clear recollection of my parents' death, or if I'd seen them die identically to the images in my mind. I remember mostly blissful fragments that make me put together what my life was with them, but the way they died is vague. How I came to be a vagabond with only my father's horse as a companion is vague. Yet remembering the loss of my parents is enough to make me feel pain in my chest at the thought of what could have been.
When I lost my father's seal, the only memento I did not give up to Missus, during my oiran procession at Yoshiwara, I was devastated. To me it was a sign that my luck has run out. That I have now teetered to the edge of hell in which I could not return.
Drowning in this blood-colored water right now, it feels like I'm really in hell. The pain is both physical and mental. I burn all over and hurt all over.
Okaa… Otou…!
Grief and sorrow hit me like a series of rocks I recall being thrown at me once. This is the outside world, and bit by bit it comes back to me why I don't want to escape Yoshiwara as a child and even now, unconsciously, as a disillusioned young woman. It's astonishing how much I've forgotten through time. One day, my horrific memories will probably resurface so that I know not where my nightmares started and ended. The happy and sad memories will blend into a unified whole, and I do not know if I want to unearth all of my past—the missing true pieces the Missus never told me.
The feeling is faint, but I sense hands hold my arms. Someone heaves me upwards, preventing me from sinking into the dark depths of my nightmarish visions and the reddish liquid. My body weary, I let whoever it is to drag me out of the bloody abyss. I try opening my eyes, and I'm gifted with a blurry, eye-watering vision. I close them again, my eyes stinging.
My arm stings as well. I thrash my feet, propelling myself up and away from the stinging water. Away from the swallowing darkness below. A gasp and a series of coughs wrack my body when I break out to the surface. I hear sputtering sounds beside me, someone holding me close.
Kazuma-san combs his damp hair back and rubs a hand over his face. Wheeling to me, his face is awash with relief. "Ma—"
"Hooooy! Are ya young'uns well?" a raspy voice interrupts.
We turn to see a man on a fishing boat waving at us.
"We're well!" Kazuma-san manages to cough out.
"I'll throw ya a net, so come grab it with yer lady, lad!"
"Yes! Thank you!" Kazuma-san brushes strands of my own wet hair out of my face. "Mai, hold on to me."
We swim to the net and boat without a fuss. I can hear no unearthly sounds anymore; our pursuers have vanished. Strong, wiry arms haul us up onto the boat. For a moment I sit with my arms resting over the edge, evening my breath and coughing out more water out of my lungs. The events and images in my head are still fresh and a bit dizzying.
"Here ya go, lad, lady." The scrawny man who saved us hands us a blanket and cups of some steaming drink. The half of his boat has a roof made of bamboo, straw, and leathery cloth—apparently to protect him from the elements. A lantern hangs at the center of the eaves, illuminating the boat, and in that small shelter, we can see that he has a brazier and hay bales to sleep on among his other effects.
The beverage he gave us is sweet and sour, but it warms my throat and stomach. A spot on my left arm throbs, and holding the cup with my left hand, I put my right over the spot above my elbow. When I take my hand out, I see a dark reddish wetness on my fingers.
"You're hurt!" Kazuma-san exclaims.
I wave a hand. "You're hurt as well."
He has small cuts on his face, hands, and feet, but he thinks nothing of them and merely pats the sides of his kimono, looking for something.
"Ah, calm yerself, lad, or rock us over, ya will," the fisherman advises and gives me a nod. "I've an ointment for cuts. Some vinegar to clean that too, hm? Hold on and I'll get 'em for ya."
I bunch up my left sleeve, and Kazuma-san apologetically pours a small cup of vinegar on my wound. I bite my lip at the intense, burning pain. Tears well up in my eyes, and I clench my teeth and fists. His hands gentle, Kazuma-san dabs the ointment on my wound after. It smells of coconut oil, but it doesn't irritate my nose. While Kazuma-san rolls around a strip of cloth over my arms, the stinging pain has already lessened. After cleaning and dabbing my own cuts, I return the favor to Kazuma-san.
Having finished, I bow to the fisherman. "Thank you, sir."
He blinks at me and chuckles heartily. "It's nothin', milady."
"Where are we right now?" Kazuma-san asks, reminding me that we're somewhere unknown.
The man cocks his head. "Ya two've been drinking and swam yerselves sober, have ya? Not drowning yerselves like other idiot lovers, I hope?"
"N-No! We're not—" I protest.
"Well, we're in old Sumida, we are. Been fishing 'bout here and there since I was a wee lad. Down there behind ya is Nihonbashi."
Kazuma-san and I turn to see the famous bridge and share a meaningful look, both of relief and exhaustion. Agog, I scan the surroundings of the canal we're in. A row of light-colored houses lines both sides of it. The fetid smell of fish intensifies as the man, who introduces himself as Amano, steers us nearer to the bridge. There are many boats docked against the stone embankments on both sides, but their owners are either asleep or unloading barrels of fish or produce, readying themselves for the soon-opening markets.
Becoming aware of our current location, a curiosity niggles my mind. Nihonbashi isn't so far away from Asakusa, but how did we get from one part of Sumida river to another? I want to ask Kazuma-san, but the fisherman is watching us with suspicion.
"What hour is it?" Kazuma-san presses on.
Amano-san makes a face, counting with his fingers. "Still the hour of the tiger." He glances at me. "That cut is now good, eh? Me wife made that, she did. Fishes can be vile beasts. They taste good though. Must be all me blood they drank."
That remark coaxes a smile from both Kazuma-san and I. The suspicion from the fisherman's face fades away, and he grins with us, satisfied with himself.
A cheerful, companionable silence drapes over us as we ride nearer to the great arch of the bridge called Nihonbashi. I have too many questions, too many doubts. But during our respite on the boat, I try to wash them away. Once we're on land, I will let myself think of them to exhaustion. But now, just now, I drink in the moonlit sight before me.
XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
We bid farewell to the kind Amano-san at the stone steps near the end of the bridge. To my surprise Kazuma-san gives him a couple of coins in gratitude, and the astonished man hesitantly accepts them, waves us goodbye, and bows at us while rowing away. "Take care, young'uns! Don't go swimming foxed, ya hear?"
"Thank you for your help," I return, his gap-toothed grin infectious.
"Thank you for taking care of us!" Kazuma-san waves back at Amano-san. When he sees my curious gaze afterward, he scratches his head sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting to be attacked this midnight, but in case we need to rush out…"
I admire his foresight. "Those creatures before… What are they?"
"I've only heard of them. I believe they're called Hawks." His eyes narrow. "That explains why they didn't pursue us along the dike outside Yoshiwara. Those birds could track us easily."
Did the Missus hire them? Or Senda-san, the gatekeeper? I shiver. "What a fitting name…" They sounded like birds, now that I think about it. "Will Ayako and the others really be all right?"
"She and Bou-san alone can take care of them. I have faith in their abilities since I've seen them in action."
"What should we do?" I know nothing about dealing with those kinds of supernatural beings.
"We'll be safe around Nihonbashi," he speaks with an indisputable tone.
We start walking down the square of fish markets. Even now, I feel like I'm walking in a dream, though that dream is filled with the smell of fish currently. There are more people in the square than I've initially thought at this time. Already, the vendors are unloading their goods for sale and opening their shops. Many men carry poles over their necks with fish-loaded wooden buckets on each end. A couple of men have a huge tuna or other type of fish on each end of their poles. Everyone seems to be minding their own business. No one has noticed our wet clothes and disheveled appearances.
When we enter a road out of the square, the stink of fish slowly fades away in every step, and there are fewer people meandering beside us. A quiet outside the early bustle of the markets pervades the path we take, and I begin afresh, "What happened in the river? How did we get here so quickly?"
Kazuma-san grimaces. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to use the stones to get here. It's not a good experience even for fast travels."
"Did you see…disturbing images as well?"
Nodding, he explains, "It gives us a glimpse of the Sanzu river and shows us haunting visions."
The Sanzu river… The river dead people cross in the afterlife… Where sinners drown… Shuddering, I inquire softly, "Do you think those visions are real?"
"As real as they can be." He squeezes my hand. "I apologize for having you go through that and making you wet and cold again."
I shake my head, although I do feel cold despite still having the blanket the fisherman gave us on my shoulders. "I understand why. Still… It seems unbelievable. I feel like I've discovered a new world."
"A more dangerous one, to my utter regret." He sighs and stops walking. "At least, we've arrived to where my brother is."
I follow his gaze and find a shop that's opened halfway. The oil lanterns light up the store full of shelves of books. Inside are three men conversing with their backs to us. "Is this…the repository Shibuya-san was talking about?"
Kazuma-san's nod confirms it. "We're finally here."
"Jin," a voice intercepts my next words, and we both turn to one of the men conversing earlier.
Kazuma-san blinks in recognition. "Ah, Lin."
I jolt. "Eh?" This is Lin? I've thought he'd be older, but just like Bou-san, he's young—probably older than the monk, but still young. Upon closer view, he is taller than Kazuma-san and I. One of his eyes is concealed by a long fringe, and the unhidden one scans our figures with nonchalance. Dressed in a light and dark kimono, he emanates an eerie aura as I meet his gaze.
Lin-san stares at me, yet his expressionlessness doesn't change. After an awkward pause, to me he says with finality, "You are a dream seer, Taniyama-no-Mai."
Astounded, I open my mouth, but I can't reply... Besides the fact that he spoke with certainty, I remember very well that only Missus knows my complete name. "Ho-How did you—?"
"My shiki told me," he answers without a change in his features.
"Shi—What?" I feel like a fish out of water—which is laughably half-true since I just got out of the river.
"Don't scare her, Lin," Kazuma-san admonishes and tells me, "Lin is an onmyouji, and he has invisible beings under his command called shiki. They won't hurt you. Don't worry."
Invisible? Even with Kazuma-san's comfort, the outside world seems stranger and creepier.
"Lin, where's Noll?" Kazuma-san looks around for his same-faced brother.
"He's below."
"Pardon me, but I don't understand," I say, waving my hands. "Ri—Lin-san, how do you know my name?"
He peers at me unwaveringly, and I've thought he won't answer.
But he does.
"My shiki told me," he repeats and adds, "everything about you."
I gape at him, shocked to the bone. How did they—How could they have known? I've never told anyone besides the Missus, and my family… my family has no records anywhere. Not anymore.
He shrugs and, as though he heard my question, returns, "They just do." He turns around without another word, back to the store.
"He doesn't speak much most often," Kazuma-san discloses with a small smile, "and he doesn't look easygoing. But he's not a bad person." He offers a hand to me, and perplexed I allow him and the onmyouji to lead me into the depths of the repository.
XDXDXDXD~nya~
I have never told anyone about my past… At least, not much. The Missus knows because of a comb that had held my hair in an askew bun when we first met; she had reminded me of it before my fifteenth summer. It had the crest of my family, and so it became my collateral when I first signed the contract to the Orihime House. I will only get it back if I have finished or bought and married my way out of the contract—a devil's bargain, to be exact.
If Lin-san knows... If he knows that much without me even telling him, perhaps knowing more than I know of myself… If he knows because of unseen creatures he calls 'shiki,' then I will have to believe him—in time. I've never told anyone about the past memories I can remember, yet this onmyouji probably knows of my unspoken tale.
He might know…of the sin I don't know I'd committed. He might know what took my family from me.
So I follow him and Kazuma-san around the repository, past dusty bookshelves and a doorway with cloth-strip curtains to the entrance of a rope-hoisted lift. The confining box transports us to an underground room filled with more books and bookshelves than I've ever seen in my whole life. Unlike above, nobody seems to be there at all when we set afoot it. Only the countless lit candles—wondrously floating on trough-like stone basins and illuminating the different paths to bookshelves—wave their flames at us in greeting.
It's like stepping into a whole new world, rich in mystery and power. People can plot the downfall of empires in this underground, topple enemies none the wiser. People can hold secret meetings here, plan escapes and heists. Anything can happen in this place, and in spite of the uncertainty of my future, a heat of excitement courses through my veins.
Really, when will I ever have such a clandestine night again in an underground like this?
Lin-san gives us a nod before making himself scarce. He goes back up through the lift, leaving me and Kazuma-san to search for Shibuya-san.
But he finds us first.
"Jin," a voice creeps out behind rows of bookshelves, and after a bit I may have been convinced it's the other Shibuya-san's ghost or I'm hearing things if the very solid and alive man has not stepped out unhidden. He frowns at us and says in an irritated voice, "What are you both doing here?"
"I can't just leave her there. Something bad almost happened to her," Kazuma-san replies in a tired voice. I don't think he'd even slept a wink before the Hawks attacked us.
Shibuya-san doesn't seem to register his brother's reply, and I follow his gaze, which has locked on my torn and red-speckled left sleeve—the bandage Kazuma-san has applied showing underneath. He whips his head to his brother and says in a menacing, accusatory tone, "She's hurt, and so are you. What happened?"
"An unexpected skirmish with the Hawks." Kazuma-san appears repentant, avoiding our gazes. "I wasn't able to deflect everything they threw our way."
He's not to blame actually. I should have protected myself better. But battles, even brief, don't always leave people unscathed.
"You fool," Shibuya-san chastises his brother, "if you could have waited a bit more, I would have returned in no time and prevented any clash at all."
In a beat, Kazuma-san's features darken, and his next words come out in a snap. "You're a fool too if you think we can leave her alone! Do you know how many customers that dwarf had accepted for her just for one night? Even if I'd given 35 ryou for a month of assignation, she could give Mai more work if I so much as leave for the night!"
Shibuya-san falls silent, and then emits a heavy sigh. "I know that. I was about to return immediately."
"By then, you would be hours late." His brother's words drip with venom.
"Yes, and we wouldn't have to worry about the magistrates going after our tails."
Kazuma-san curls his lips in disdain. "Are you saying I shouldn't have helped her escape her fate?"
"That is not what I meant." Shibuya-san counters his brother's heated gaze with his own. "I left you with her, and I also sent Jon to help—although he probably met with some difficulty along the way. If you had waited inside Yoshiwara, in or out the house she resided in, we might not need to deal with how to get her back inside and settle an imminent dispute with magistrates, gatekeepers, and other people policing that place."
"And where do you propose we should wait? In another bordello? In side alleys which, if you don't know or have forgotten, are still open for wandering noses, ears, and eyes?"
Shibuya-san presses his lips into a thin line. "The fifth floor of Orihime. You two could have been safe there."
"In a haunted place? That's the best you can think of?" retorts Kazuma-san, exasperated.
The other Shibuya-san's glare can set souls aflame. "You can protect her, can you not? Or have you forgotten how to do that?"
Their exchange coming into a draw, it seems, they grow quiet, eyes clashing like lightning bolts. When Kazuma-san steps forward as though to lunge towards his brother, I finally come to my bearings.
"That's enough!" I implore, unable to stop myself from meddling. In all honesty, anger simmers inside me too, and I shoot a glare at Shibuya-san. "You have no idea what we've gone through just to get here! You have no idea at all." My voice shakes, lips trembling, but I continue while looking at him haughtily, just as I have been trained by my Elder Sisters to look at men who will want to bed me, "Sure, Kazuma-san"—Shibuya-san's eyebrow goes up at my more familiar address—"could have done things differently, but had he acted another way, we would have been found out even so, as you well know. What he did, he did to buy us more time. To buy you more time."
Despite my anger, strangely, having seen them fight about me somehow…makes me happy. They've been talking about taking me away from Yoshiwara… They've been thinking about saving me… And…such a thought, that there are people who care though I don't know them that much…makes me so happy.
"Mai…" Kazuma-san throws a glower at his brother once more. "It's no use reasoning with him."
I take a look at his face, bridled anger reddening his features. Noticing that sobers me. I will not have them come to blows for such a matter… for me. I am not worth the fuss at all.
Gently, slowly, I put a hand on Kazuma-san's arm, and he stops glowering at Shibuya-san, closes his half-parted mouth that's bracing for another round of arguments, and offers me a questioning glance. I shake my head, and he lowers his fisted hands, unclenching them with a look that's mulish.
Again I turn to the calmer twin who stands stiffly with his jaws drawn taut. "Shibuya-san, I am very indebted to your brother right now for taking me out of Yoshiwara. I'm sorry, though, that because of me you two have courted trouble instead. In order to prevent that, I'll return to Yoshiwara all by myself."
Kazuma-san jerks as if slapped. "Mai! That's—" he stops as I send him an assuring smile.
"I enjoyed the time I spent with you outside Yoshiwara, although it was very brief. I've…forgotten what the outside world is like, and I've experienced unconditional kindness I've never thought I would do so again. But"—I take a breath—"I have a debt to the Missus who gave me shelter, food, and clothes all these years. If I return by myself, the Missus will certainly, furtively settle everything as much as she can to avoid a scandal."
She will be stricter, meaner… But when has she not when it comes to me? If she makes me stay on the fifth floor of Orihime just like those women before… I will fight for my sanity if need be.
"Mai, there has to be a way…"
I give him a small sad smile. That one way will be asking too much from either of them. They're still young like me… A better future awaits them, and they do not have to forsake that. They mustn't get embroiled with me.
"Noll!" Kazuma's voice is laced with desperation. "You said it's not easy to take Mai away just by paying her proprietor. That her proprietor wouldn't give her up easily because of who she is. Since money isn't the only solution, haven't you found anything else to save her from that place?"
Shibuya-san nods. "I have."
"Then, how—?"
The more-composed brother shrugs, but with a cocksure tilt of his lips, to me he asks, "We just have to wed, do we not?"
XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
Kazuma-san and I gawk at him as though his soul has gone out of his body. Then my face sears as Shibuya-san continues to stare at me, observing my response.
All my life I've been trained to seduce people and to look detached in the midst of men; Missus and my Elder Sisters said it's ideal for a courtesan to appear cold yet be accomplished at many things. Men should woo a courtesan, not the other way around; a courtesan's job is to tug the right heartstrings and purse strings—keep patrons interested, have them toss out their coins, and beg for more of her coquettish smiles and feathery touches. But my training lacks guidance against being seduced by some men… Specifically men who don't even try to seduce me but still achieve that rare feat of catching my breath and tearing my veil of indifference.
Shibuya-san does just that, and somehow my mind wars with my heart. My mouth parts, the word "Yes" at the tip of my tongue. But a portion of me holds back and shuts it. Wistful thoughts pervade my mind, but I try to shake them off. The courtesan rules stuck in my head invade and kick them out. I try to keep my face straight, but inside I'm swooning.
Shrieking. Melting.
It's beyond me how he and Kazuma-san look the same yet feel so, so different.
"No-Noll, you're not joking, are you?" Kazuma-san's cheeks turn red. "You do not have to go that far, do you?"
He looks at me for help but I cannot speak. It seems like Shibuya-san hasn't told him about the marriage condition, or he'd never known there is only one way for a man doing business in Orihime. Even if they're solving a case in there, I doubt that the Missus would relent and let any of them simply pay for me. Rules are rules, and the Missus is a stickler for them—especially her own rules. Because of who I am… or who I am supposed to be… the Missus has a steeper price on my person than the others. She won't be contented by a measly sum and offer of marriage.
Shibuya-san should know that by now… if he knows who I really am.
"Do I ever jest?" Shibuya-san heaves a sigh. The gravity of what he's offering me and what he's prepared to do tickles my heart.
"Well, you know―" Kazuma-san furrows his brow.
Shibuya-san locks his eyes with mine. "Can you make tea?"
I bob my head blankly.
"Noll, you━"
"Do you think I'm handsome?" Shibuya-san carries on, ignoring Kazuma-san.
"Noll!"
I am too speechless that I nod absentmindedly once more, but I hastily amend that with a, "You and Kazuma-san both."
"It's settled then." My unusual suitor lifts an eyebrow at his brother. "Any other objections?"
Kazuma-san sputters, "Noll! How can you decide like that?"
"She can make tea and thinks I'm handsome. She has a very good taste, don't you think?" Shibuya-san answers, smirking at his gentle brother, and the latter and I stare at him in puzzlement. Then he gazes back at me. "What is your decision, Taniyama-san?"
I blink at him. Of course Lin-san must have told him my last name. But…has he known it from the start?
"She thinks we are handsome," Kazuma-san corrects belatedly, then asks with a scowl, "Noll... is that really the only other way?"
The questioned doesn't answer, but he and I peer at each other as though trying to read each other's minds.
There is no other way. A courtesan's contract in Orihime specifically says that if a man wishes to free a courtesan, he must pay for her and marry her. Marriage and fortune ensure that the pleasure house will wash its hands off the debts and upkeep of any aging courtesan. In addition… the Missus will ask for favors, ones that the husband of her former courtesan will be compelled to give by nature of their association. Only lords and rich merchants can usually do that... But Shibuya-san…?
"Are those the only reasons you can think of?" Kazuma-san shakes his head, sounding incredulous.
Shibuya-san looks at me from head to toe, making heat travel all over my body as his gaze has. "Exceptional coupling aside, I was led to believe you oiran are…gifted in other areas."
"Noll!" comes Kazuma-san's choked rebuke.
Oh kami… I cannot keep my face straight, and fairly give up doing so. I am not a shying lady, at least not supposed to be entirely. I have seen a lot in my early years of training that a child shouldn't, and they were things I wasn't left a choice but to see because they were a part of my so-called tutelage. Language in Yoshiwara is coarse, roguish, and uninhibited sometimes too, courtesy of the clerks, guards, and infatuated idiots we like to call clients or customers. Men there have accosted me and my peers with more lascivious tongues, so Shibuya-san's remarks are pretty tame, and well… matter-of-fact.
Unlike those offensive men I've met, his frankness appeals to me in a way that laughter escapes from my mouth, breaking the inner tension. I forget my embarrassment and let myself go.
When was the last time I've laughed a lot like this? So carefree…and just alive?
There is no space for real happiness in Yoshiwara. Everyday the Missus serves as a reminder for us courtesans that we have great debts to her from the instant we walked into her care. The camaraderie everyone has seemingly built is as fragile as porcelain wares. Beneath the surface is venomous rivalry and misery. What friendships we have made for the time being can change into ill will. But everyone tries to be pleasant above the surface and learns to project their sharp interior through well-placed poetic barbs as we'd been taught.
I'm currently drenched, probably stinky as well from the dip in Sumida river. And yet a handsome young man proposed to me without minding my attire. It's almost romantic, if not for his casual way of asking it. Still, it's more than I've imagined a future customer who would like to have me to wife will do—to accept me in my graceless form despite anything.
Of course, I will additionally have to be his dream seer… Another boon for him. As for me… In that room where dust gathers, my head is gradually clearing up. What is my decision?
Feeling slightly mischievous and directing a steady gaze at Shibuya-san, I toss back, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
Kazuma-san's snaps his head to me, his jaw slack. "Mai━"
"Yes." Shibuya-san doesn't even blink. Motionless, he may not have taken a breath as well.
That douses awake his tongue-tied brother for a bit. "Hey, hold on, you two!"
"Do you want my body?" I ask with long-practiced nonchalance, hoping the heat on my cheeks does not color my face too much, for my blush to be invisible in even the dimmest angles.
Speechless, Kazuma-san flushes while Shibuya-san watches me, shrugs, and turns up a corner of his mouth. "Yes."
Liar. The latter's eyes do not even show a flicker of desire for me, but...if not for this trait in him... I may not have trusted him from the start.
"Besides your good looks and fortune," I say with a defiant raise of my brow, "what can you offer me?"
He blinks at me, as though not expecting my question, and scowls in confusion. "You will have the protection of my name."
I try not to look away and hold his gaze. My cheeks feel like hot coals. "And what of your heart?"
"My heart?" he echoes, taken aback.
I nod regally. "Yes, your heart. If I am to marry you, I would want nothing less."
In truth, I would marry him for less, but even that 'less' should be sufficient and worth it. I guess my somewhat high standards come from the fact that I've been around unfavorable and shallow men for a long time.
I will not marry a man I cannot stand.
"You will have my unswerving loyalty," he answers finally, resolutely, "now and onwards."
Ah… In the end, I favor sincerity over honor.
Slowly, I kneel and bow.
Bemused, Kazuma-san reaches out to me. "Mai, what are you doing?"
In silent apology, I ignore his question and listen to only myself. "Shibuya-san, I will..." My lips spread into a smile. "I will have to refuse." At the ensuing stunned silence and an escaped snort from Kazuma-san, I add as an afterthought, "But I shall consider it. After all"—I pause to glimpse at Shibuya-san who arches a curious brow, infusing my voice with a suppressed laugh as I recall what he'd told Missus after I first met him—"Kazuya-san, you and I had an interesting, wild night."
XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD~nya~
A/N: Will Mai marry him? Hahahahaha
Sorry, sorry for the very long wait! I have always planned this chapter to be long, but I didn't expect to only be able to write after six years had passed. I had planned this chapter when I finished ch 3 six years ago, but I've only finished writing it last week. T_T I have never forgotten my stories, but I usually get distracted by real life stuff. I hope you enjoyed this overdue chapter~! ^^
I chose Kazuma as Gene's Japanese name because... it sounds sexy! LOL No, really haha ^^ It's because of the meaning and you know... close to Kazuya and, in retrospect, the twins' mother's name—and well, it fits him too. :D Well, actually, he just needed a Japanese name... =.= Who says only Naru's Japanese name should be sexeeehhh...? XP Heheeeee
Terms:
Ranjin= Dutch people
Shabon=soap
Ryou=a unit of currency for a gold coin that is equivalent to about $300+ today
Monkey's hour= 3-5 PM
Tiger's hour=3-5 AM
Rooster's hour= 5-7 PM
Kagura=a Shinto dance
Otou and Okaa=Father and Mother
Shinobi=a spy or mercenary; ninja is the Chinese reading of the written characters of shinobi while shinobi is the Japanese reading.
Shuriken=a weapon made of blades in different designs or shapes for throwing (much like a dagger)
