a/n: Decided today update thanks to thegoatjoke, bless your beautiful heart. Progress on the next chapter is going well, hopefully I'll have something out next week.

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the frog in the well

"the sea is vast but not empty"

the man moving on

"Kaa-chan!" Hiruko rushed to Ayame's side, bumping into her legs and making her step back against Einosuke as a result. He steadied her, hand to her shoulders and she gave him a grateful smile.

"Hiru-chan, don't run inside," she chided him, leaning down to pick him up. Ayame settled him on her hip and turned to Einosuke to finish their conversation, ignoring how Hiruko messed with her hair.

"Have the arrangements for the procession for tomorrow been made?"

"Nearly finished. Some kimono and accessories have yet to arrive, and there are some shinobi we've hired to guard the line that have yet to arrive."

Ayame hummed her understanding.

In red light districts, there was a daily practice, the dochu procession where brothels would show off their best selling women, acting as an advertisement for their establishments. Dressed up in extravagance, heavy makeup and accessories, the chosen oiran would walk down the streets of the district and show themselves off to the clients that gathered in the streets to see.

As the tayu of her brothel, Ayame would be expected to lead the kōshi, girls ranked just beneath her, and for it, she'd wear special geta and walk in a way only tayu were allowed. With swooping motions, she would poise one ankle and drag her geta onto its side, adjust to distribute her weight onto her other foot, and repeat. It was difficult, exhausting, and sometimes she'd sprained her ankles if she twisted it to quick, but it was an important role.

She was the image of Einosuke's brothel.

"I'm glad you hired shinobi," Ayame admitted. "We can't let what happened last week, happen again."

In her head she still got flashes of a man darting in to stab her before she'd tripped on her geta and he'd tripped over her. The girls had screamed, just watching, and the civilian guards rushed in to take him away. All the while, Ayame stared with wide eyes realizing that the man who had done it was someone she could recognize. Kenta. The inheritor of his father's fortune and seeking purpose in his life.

He'd stared at her and though she tried to forget, the thought of it still twisted her insides.

"Of course not. Keeping you safe on your walk is my number one priority—you are my best seller, after all." He gave her a faint smile.

Ayame returned it. "Hopefully we don't have anyone crazy attempt killing me again. You'd be lost without me."

Einosuke inclined his head. "To my very core."

.

.

The dochu procession went on as it always did.

In the front of it were actors to energize the crowd. Donning animal masks and faces of historical figures, they danced and played music, creating the tempo and tone that the rest of the procession would follow. The sounds of drums guiding them, next came the civilian guards—the shinobi had turned down the offer to join—who dressed up in different levels of costume, from simple kimono to characters of their own. They held lanterns and had their faces painted with great detail—as much as the oiran had—walking with the light in their hands swaying.

She and her girls followed after that, wearing intricate and heavy kimono, stylized and decorated with boldness and rich colors in mind. Hiruko once watched her, looked after by Einosuke, and had called her 'kami-kaa-chan', gaping at her transformation into an otherworldly figure. It was this part that was most difficult and strenuous. She stood on geta that took her off the ground by twenty centimeters and did her walk, precarious as it was. She smiled, she bowed her head, she met gazes.

Then, at the end, they came to a stage. Here, the oiran performed. Dances, music, conversation. All an example to what it would be like for the client to come meet them. Afterwards, the procession reversed and the people who had missed their entrance could see their exit.

Everyday they did this.

Ayame was just glad it was over in around three hours and she could spend the rest of her day with Hiruko. Sometimes she took on a client, if they paid enough, but she didn't stress herself out as needlessly as she had in the past. In the brothel, she used her position to look after the girls and Hiruko would join her, the both of them checking in and figuring out the girl's needs and desires. It was an example to what she had become, a manager of sorts while Einosuke kept his role as the owner.

She helped him keep track of the budget, the request books, and medical check up dates. She listened to the girl's issues and their stories, set up clients to their tastes, and kept a watchful eye on their progress. She learned how to speak as if she were older—someone who had lived years beyond what she had and gave advice as she saw fit. She solved problems for the brothel.

She was their nee-san, disregarding her age.

In truth, Ayame enjoyed her line of work, taking immense satisfaction from helping run the business and being able to be with her son more. It wasn't always pretty, or fun, or respectable, but she loved it.

She worked with a smile, knowing it was her own efforts that had taken her further.

the man moving on

"Beautiful, breath-taking. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as her, honest."

Sakumo was near to tossing a kunai at the chattering chuunin he had joining him on a mission he could have completed alone and in his sleep. Which he wanted to catch up on—sleep had been evading him as it often did this time of year.

January.

"White hair, like snow. Her hairstyle is hard to describe but, but her eyes. They were dark and lined with black. I got to see her up close when she came to send us off after the mission and it wasn't just the makeup making her pretty. Her bare face, hands down, the prettiest girl I've ever seen. I know it was just advertising but she—she gave me a kiss on the cheek!"

"No way."

"I'm not lying."

"Damn, I wish the Hokage would give me a mission like that."

"I'm thinking of going back again. It's a day or so away from Konoha but it's worth the travel."

Sakumo thought of her and didn't want to. He'd moved on, he had a good girlfriend. Loving, trusting, loyal. Etsuko was nothing like her.

"Where is it?"

Sakumo tried to tune it out but he heard the answer regardless and it stuck in his brain—lingering and settling.

His stomach churned and he tossed out a kunai to stop anything more being discussed.

.

.

Sakumo was just there to check, nothing else.

Just to confirm his doubts, that it was in his head and that Ayame hadn't left to become an oiran of all things. She couldn't be that much of an idiot, even if he could recall her being a bit of one. How long had it been?

Three years.

It had been three years since he'd last seen her and a year since he'd allowed himself to move on.

He thought he was going to be wrong about the hunch. He had no idea that he could be right.

Ayame was as stunning as ever and he recognized her the instant his eyes landed on her at the lead of the procession in the streets of the red light district. She walked, somehow steady despite the way she had to proceed forward. Her legs swept out, her foot resting the side of her tall geta to the ground, and she switched her feet as easily as if she had been doing it for a long time.

She looked like a goddess come to life and his heart beat at the sight of her.

It hurt. It hurt. It wasn't just the emotions that swarmed him—shock, frustration, anger, relief—it was, it was his heart, beating and ramming against the cage of his ribs. His breath felt short, and even through his mouth, he couldn't get in enough air. He felt furious, he felt glad, he felt betrayed.

Sakumo stared. He stared, and stared, and stared—watching.

She moved under his gaze, no idea he was there. Her eyes full of life. Her posturing as unique to her as she'd always been to him.

Men cheered around her, shouting a name, "Takiyasha!"

Not her name but an alias.

In the three years since he'd last seen her, what happened? What brought her to this? Did she forget everything?

In the back of head he could still hear her talking about her studies and her goals. She told him so many times, she said to him with honest eyes, I want to be a geiko. She'd taken pride in herself, it was why she had been so unattainable. Ayame couldn't be with him because she had to remain unattached, she couldn't fall in love because her work was her love.

Yet now, to the cheers of all the men around her, she walked.

the man moving on

"Takiyasha-nee-san, there's a man here to see you. He says he knows you."

"His name?" She glanced up for a brief moment to see a conflicted expression on Sayuri's face.

"He's a Konoha shinobi. He said his name is Sakumo and that you'd know him."

For a second, Ayame didn't hear what was said. Her head was rushing too much for her to make out much more than the name she hadn't heard spoken out loud in a very, very long time. She released a breath and with her rib cage feeling tight, she struggled to get in another one.

"Could you repeat that?" Ayame asked, her voice a whisper.

Sayuri's face twisted in concern. "Should I send him away?"

"No."

Ayame stood like strings were attached to her limbs. She moved from her desk—accounting forgotten—and brushed past Sayuri. Her hands shook, her legs shook, and her footsteps were unsteady. Her skin was covered with raised hairs. Her gorge rose but she fought it off with a clammy hand to her mouth.

Then, she remembered—Hiruko.

Ayame raced to her room, her heart racing as she took off down the halls and bypassed everyone she came across. She couldn't get there fast enough and her lungs burned by the time she did, slamming the door open and rushing in to see Einosuke and Hiruko napping inside.

Einosuke woke up at her entrance and sat up as soon as he saw her face. He turned pale.

"What is it?"

"Hide him. Hide him. Hide him."

Ayame couldn't say anything else—Hiruko was waking up, sensing something was off—and she didn't have any more time to lose.

Einosuke called for her as she turned and left, but she didn't look back.

Ayame stumbled as she attempted to slow down, unsure anymore what was an even pace. She needed to catch her breath. She needed to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Breathe. Breathe. Blink past the black dots. Breathe. Breathe.

She began to cry instead. Not a lot but her eyes misted and her breaths turned into moans as she prayed for her panic to ease in time. Ayame rubbed her sleeves over her eyes and as she neared the entrance, she managed to slow her breath and hide the shaking in her legs with somewhat confident steps.

She saw him.

Their eyes met.

She swallowed. He coughed.

"Hello," she managed and smiled. She didn't know how she did it but she was glad to know there was some part of her that wasn't useless.

"What are you doing here?"

She raised a brow. "Some things don't change."

"You have."

"I had to. No one stays young and immature forever. I just grew up—people do that."

"What are you doing here?" Sakumo repeated.

She watched him. Unlike what she had said, he had changed in his own ways. Physically, he was taller—towered over her—and his facial features were sharper, masculine in comparison to the boyish features she remembered him having. His hair was longer than she remembered it being and his face had the beginnings of laugh lines. When he was older, he'd be a wrinkled old man.

Three years. Three years had turned him into a different man, at least in the cosmetic sense.

She wondered what changes he saw in her.

None good, she assumed.

"I don't have to tell you but if you have to insist, it's because I work here."

"Why? Why did you do this to yourself?"

Sometimes Ayame forgot what the outside world was like, that what she experienced in her everyday life wasn't normal. She forgot how people outside saw her, how they saw the brothels, and how they saw her clients.

He reminded her. He reminded her with his eyes in his look of disappointment and pity.

She reeled back, furious. She'd forgotten how pissed off he made her but he had an easy time of her reminding her of that too.

Ayame kept her tone of voice cold but professional as she asked, "What did I do to myself?"

He worked his jaw and with heavy emphasis, he gestured to what stood around them. "Ruined your future! Lost your dreams to be a geiko! Stopped speaking to your brother! Why? Why did you do this?"

"It's not ruined."

He blinked. "What?"

"It isn't ruined. My life was made here—by me, with my own actions, and my own determination. Everything else, all of that was just people handing me a life plan that I never chose. They gave me opportunities that I never realized were special until I was the stupid little immature girl who lost them and disappointed everyone who had ever set me up to succeed. And then I realized in coming here, something they forgot—success isn't hand given, it's earned."

Sakumo opened his mouth, held up a hand, then groaned as he beat his face with it.

"You've always been like this. Frustrating and inconsiderate, talking as if you know everything when you clearly don't."

He wasn't wrong but he didn't know—he didn't know.

"Inconsiderate? Inconsiderate? You were the one who kept following me even when I told you to stop!"

"I clearly remember you telling me to keep doing what I wanted to."

"Thinking that eventually you'd get in your head that I wasn't interested!"

"Then why did you sleep with me?"

Ayame faltered. She sucked in a breath and took a step back. Stalling.

"You were the one who brought me to that place," he reminded her.

"It was for the present you gave me. That's why. I thought you deserved it for the jewelry."

"Fuck off with that," he snapped. He took a step forward and took advantage of her freezing to grab her. "You weren't a whore then. You didn't just give yourself to me just because of that. You felt something for me. I know it."

"I..." she trailed off and looked away. She couldn't speak with him staring at her. "I didn't know what I felt for you. Everything you did confused me. I didn't understand it, why you kept coming back. I was awful, mean, and I thought you were stupid. I still do. There was nothing redeemable in who I used to be but my face. It was all I had, all I ever was. My face and the nasty personality I had from being spoiled because of it."

She took a breath and braced herself for it—meeting his gaze up so close.

"And you, you were a boy in love with the image of a girl praying at a shrine. Wanting to keep her to yourself, you begged for her to marry you. You wanted to capture who you saw. That beautiful visage, that face bowed in prayer, the girl who looked up in surprise. You wanted what you could have never gotten. Beauty, Sakumo, fades. It doesn't last. What you had for me, could have never lasted."

His hand relaxed and slid off her arm as he stood there, staring, expression pained.

"I wanted it to. I wanted to know more. I stayed because I wanted to know more. Not for your face, but because you were always saying what I least expected. Confusing me, messing with my head. I was always on my toes trying to keep up with you. You were a completely different person to anyone I had ever met. You weren't awful, you were humoring me because you're kind to others and what they feel. I took advantage of that. I'm sorry, I took advantage of you."

"I'm sorry," she echoed, bowing her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Sakumo hugged her, and as used to it as she was to being embraced, his hold had a special texture she had found nowhere else. He held her like she couldn't break.

"Ayame," he breathed, then pulled away to face her. "Tell me, did you ever love me? At all?" He searched her eyes. She wasn't sure how she looked, wasn't sure what message she was sending him if she remained silent.

"I loved you. I loved the idea of you. A boy who kept visiting a girl and waiting loyally for her to defrost. Like a hero in some sort of folk tale, rescuing her from loneliness. That was it. That was what I saw in you. That was who I loved."

"Me too." He laughed, tears brimming at the edges of his eyes, too much of a shinobi to let them spill. "I loved that lonely, frosted girl."

She exhaled and they both laughed—nerves vanishing and her heart slowing to a pace that she could live with.

Ayame grinned, attempting to change the subject. "I'm told you love someone else now too."

Sakumo blinked. "Who did you hear that from?"

"My brother. You didn't think we'd forget each other forever, did you?"

"Ah, no, just thought he would have taken you from this place."

She shook her head. "He knows I'm happy here. And he knows that I never kept him from being a shinobi when I hated his job too."

Sakumo quirked a tired grin at that. "I'm glad you're happy. You seem to be successful here."

"How did you hear about this place anyway?" she asked, curious.

He turned sheepish. "Ah, teammates were talking about a beautiful oiran with white hair. I came here just to check. I was worried, have been since you told me nothing about your leaving. Not even a goodbye."

Ayame winced and thought of Hiruko and felt her stomach sink a bit. Guilt. She felt guilty for taking Sakumo's chance to be a father—it wasn't as if she hadn't realized when she first decided to hide it—but she didn't regret it. To regret would be to call it a mistake and she had never seen Hiruko in her life as a mistake.

He would have chances to have other children. On the other hand, Hiruko would be her only one.

"It was personal matters. I didn't want to bother you with it, and I didn't want to keep you attached to me. That was all it was."

"I see."

"I was happy to hear you had moved on. I worried you might be too stupid to."

"Ouch," he said, chuckling. "Yeah, Etsuko is special to me. She's part of why I came here. I wanted to see you, and I wanted to know it was right that I gave up."

Ayame smiled, though it might have been a sad one. "Sometimes married men come to me, not because the want to replace their wives, but because they can't be honest. Tell her about me. Even if you think it might be awkward. She has to know. I don't want you to become someone who can't be honest with your wife."

Sakumo's cheek turned flushed. "She's not my wife yet!"

Ayame laughed at that. "You proposed to me the first time we met! You can't clam up now."

Now he was really beginning to look troubled, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking away. "I know, I know it's just that—"

"You love her. You love her so much that the thought she might say no terrifies you. It's okay to be afraid, that's what true love feels like." Not that she would ever actually know about that for certain.

"I waited because I wanted to see you again. I wanted to know for certain how I felt about you."

Ayame's grin turn wide, to the point that her cheeks hurt. "Did you figure it out, stupid?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling and looking sheepish. "Yeah, I did."

"I'm glad you came," she told him, surprised that it was the truth.

"Me too."

She left her smile there, just long enough for him to return it. She sobered afterwards and reminded herself that she would never see him again—should never see him again.

"You should go though and never come back, promise me. This place isn't for devoted men like you."

He laughed like it was a joke.

"Noted."

Then he left.

She watched him go and disappear. As soon as he was out of sight, she collapsed. Her hands went to her face and her shoulders sunk in exhaustion, she had no energy to move. Her legs were numb and she felt empty.

Einosuke's arrival changed that.

"What the hell happened?" he asked her and she forced herself to look up. "The girls told me you were running like yokai were after you. They thought you lost it."

"It wasn't anything much," she answered, then laughed. "Hiruko's father just stopped by."

"Oh."

"It ended better than I expected but I can't move anymore. I was so scared! But he's moved onto someone else and won't be coming back."

"That's good," Einosuke commented before scooping her off the floor.

"People are gonna think we're in love," she said, batting her lashes and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"At this point, we might as well be married."

Ayame chuckled at that. "If I were born a man, I know you'd find me irresistible."

Einosuke paused and looked at her, expression smoky. "Who's to say I don't already find you that way?" he asked, then kissed her as if full of passion. He pulled back seconds later and raised a brow.

"Nothing?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered.

Ayame kissed him on the cheek. "There's no marriage in the works for either of us, but at least we won't die alone."

"You were always the sweetest to me, Aya. Such loyalty, I'll have to reward you with... giving you your freedom."

It was so sudden, she couldn't even laugh.

"What?" She must have heard him wrong. Ayame stared.

"Your debt. It's gone. Has been for a while but I was slow to tell you."

"Oh." She frowned at him. "Why? Did you think I would leave?"

"No, I was more afraid you wouldn't. I wasn't sure how I would talk you into it."

"What do you mean?"

"Ayame, you need to think of your future. Of Hiruko's."

She shook her head, confused. "We like it here, both of us. You see how happy he is, you watch him more than anyone else."

Einosuke sighed. "Women stay in this life for too long and they die, they just die—young. Their health breaks down and no one can help because there's no taking it back, there's no taking back the years of strain it puts onto the body. I'm the son of a dead whore, I saw it happen in front of me and you think I want it to happen to anyone else?"

It clicked into place. Why she didn't see women beyond a certain age in the brothel. Why everyone loved Einosuke so much. Why she loved him so much. In a world where business and ethics stood at odds, he brought them together. He took the debts of girls and had them work, had them grow, he watched over them. He watched over her.

Then he let them go.

"I can't control what you do. I don't want to. If you stayed, I wouldn't fight it. But I'm here because I can't look away from the shit that happens in this place. I'm here because it's all I've known. Ask yourself why is it that you're here, and if it's a place you want Hiruko to grow up in. He's still young. He still doesn't understand this world and he needs you to. You're young now, and you can still be something more. Hiruko can be something more."

Hiruko. The boy she'd do anything for.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I'll go."

Einosuke smiled, kissed her cheek, and said, "You're my favorite girl. You'll get jealous if I don't say it but it's true. That's why, let's both meet someone we can fall in love with. Let's not be alone. You and I both know it's the worst way to live."

It was a promise.

"Okay," she said again.

"A devoted girl like you doesn't belong in a place like this."

Ayame sobbed at that, covered her face in her hands and gave a soft cry.

"Thank you," she managed to get out.

"Thank you," he returned.

chapter seven - end

The reason why I didn't want to write prostitution in an unredeemable light is that, even today in Japan there are women who carry on these oiran traditions (without the sex, due to laws). The dochu procession can still be enjoyed because they wanted to preserve it and they saw a reason to keep it alive. I believe these women take pride in this part of history and I find myself wanting to write matters like these with contrasting lights to incorporate a reason for someone to feel this way.

Not everything is black and white, of course, and there are awful aspects to prostitution but I don't think its right to dismiss the humanity of the people involved, the history of it and how it has always affected our world—and always will, somewhere. It's been fun for me to explore these kinds of themes. I'm just a bit sad it hasn't been that way for a lot of readers.

Age Guide;

(In Story - Chapter Seven)

Jiraiya - 23

Sakumo - 20

Ayame - 21

Hiruko - 3