A/N: Last chapter, last chapter, last chapter!
Chapter 7: Hitotsu Negai no Taika (The price of a wish)
Harumi sat in front of the round mirror perched on her wooded dresser, untangling her hair painstakingly, pulling locks of silky black strands away from her face and neck and tying it into a styled bun, keeping them together with a bejeweled comb and long flower-shaped pins. She applied a white foundation onto her face carefully, painting her eyes with dark kohl and her lips with blood red rouge. It was like a ritual, each movement filled with precision and reverence for perfection.
After Harumi had swathed her bony, ailment-plague form in her best kimono, a silky leaf green garment with patterns of amber dragonflies outlined with silver threads, flying above fields of heathers. It was held together by a golden brown obi around her middle, tied below her breasts, exposing her shoulders and her cleavage.
She peered into the mirror and was satisfied. Her preparation was almost done; there was only one final act left. One pale hand reached for the third dresser from the top, and pulled out a dark blue box. The dark-haired girl opened the lid carefully, the tips of her finger brushing the velvety inner lining, and took out the object inside: it was a hairpin, a cluster of plastic Sakura flowers stuck to one end. The other end was sharp as a dagger, the metal surface of the material glistening in the light.
'Sakura petals started out white as pure snow. Yet, do you know why Sakura petals turn pink?'
Harumi closed her eyes, bent down and clutched the accessory close to her heart.
'Because they drink the blood of the corpse buried underneath the tree.' (A/N: The quote is from CLAMP's Tokyo Babylon)
"Shigeru-kun no tame ni (for Shigeru's sake)…"The girl took a deep breath to stifle her tears. Then, her resolution steeled, she looked up, and placed the clip securely in her hair.
Shuffling out of the room carefully so as not to crease the kimono, Harumi turned around after she had slid the paper door open, her eyes seeking the face of the pink-haired boy, slumbering under the futon they shared. A small smile broke in her face when she saw him drooling to his pillow.
"Sayounara…Shigeru-kun," Harumi whispered as she forced herself to leave him in the safety of their sanctuary, "Kimi no shiawase o inori shiteimasu kara…kore kara mo…zutto (I have always pray for your happiness…and from now on too)." Her soft voice echoed even after the petite woman had left, her presence lingering like a ghost.
Suwabara Kai didn't see the point of his trip to the brothel. Scratch that, he considered the belief of going to battlefields while retaining one's virginity as bad luck as unfounded (A/N: There was such a conviction, okay?). If it wasn't his respect for his master, who had adopted him, the grandson of a former, renowned samurai who had committed suicide when the Bafuku reign ended wouldn't step a foot on such a filthy place, which reeked of evil. He did admit that he owed the slightly perverted man much; if it weren't for him, his colleagues in the army would never see Suwabara's true potentials past his tarnished predecessor's reputation.
"Irasai mase (Welcome)!" A cute green-eyed brunette with a sweet smile greeted the men as they walked past the entrance door. Having been raised in a dojo and currently working in a place teeming with males and permeated with masculinity, the tall, bandana-donning tanned young man had little exposure to the opposite sex. His face turned completely red when he laid his eyes on the brunette's bare skin. "W-what?" he exclaimed, blood dripping off his nose, "How indecent! It shouldn't be allowed-"
"Tsukino-chan!" his master greeted the girl cheerfully, "Oesashiburi ne (Long time no see)! I miss you so much!" he pressed his face on her torso.
Suwabara was aghast by the licentiousness of the action. "Shishou!" he couldn't believe this…ludicrous, lust-driven creature was his honorary master, no matter how attractive this Tsukino person was…
"Really? I'm so glad you're happy to see me!" her smile camouflaging her true emotions, Tsukino pushed the old man slightly apart. "But I bet you'll be happier when you see her! You're so lucky! There's a special appearance tonight!"
"Ooh! Who is it? Who is it?" he asked enthusiastically, "Is the hot mama finally on the market?"
Tsukino sweat dropped visibly. Trying so hard not to laugh, the teenager remarked, "If you mean Yukino-sama…no. She's forever off the market." 'Not to you, anyway. She's got her own man,' she couldn't help but comment inwardly. "By the way," Tsukino turned to Suwabara abruptly, "Is he the one?"
Under the gaze of such gorgeous eyes, Suwabara was drenched in cold sweat. "Yes!" his master introduced him proudly, "This is my adopted son, Suwabara Kai!"
"H-hajime mashite (Nice to meet you)," the samurai boy stuttered and bowed deeply, his spine stiff as a board, as though he had no joints in his body.
"Hajime mashite!" Tsukino replied cheerfully, amused by his gaucheness. Well, it was to be expected from a virgin. "Well, what are we waiting for!" she gestured at the corridor, "Let's go to the antechamber!"
The prostitute led the two into a large room, where two rows of trays filled with appetizing dishes were set. Two women were singing and playing the shamisen. Other than Suwabara and his master, there were a few other men in the entertainment hall, appearing respectable in fine clothes. Each of them had at least one woman on his side, dressed in colourful, revealing kimono, laughing, flirting and pouring him sake and singing praises to every word that came out of his lips.
Suwabara couldn't stand the noise, the extravagance, the white elephants. This place is for the vain, the obnoxious, the sinners who craved for exaltations. Blood rushing to his head (and out of his nostrils), the bandana boy clenched his fists. He was about to rise to his feet when the paper door slid open. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting," a voice, pleasant as the sound of spring, floated into the room.
The owner was such a striking person, pale with dollish features, large dark eyes framed by smoldering long lashes, small button nose, round, peach face and plump cherry lips, a classically beautiful Japanese woman. Her make up served to accentuate her finer features, not gaudy as many others were. She looked out of place, and Suwabara itched to pull her kimono up, cover her body properly so she would look like the respectable young woman her aura emanated.
"HARUMI-CHAN!" the men gasped, their responses to her arrival over the top. Many jaws hit the floor. Some rubbed their eyes disbelievingly, and a few didn't dare to breathe, afraid that the mirage will disappear in a blink of an eye. A bespectacled man with graying hair stepped out and approached her. "Is that really you?
The doll smiled picturesquely. "Of course it is me, Yamamoto-san," she answered him, and he was off to seventh heaven, so ecstatic that she could recall him. "I'm sorry I've been absent for a while…my health had been fragile…" she threw her gaze to the ground in a poetic way.
"Kinishinai de (don't worry about it), Harumi-chan!" one by one, men abandoned other prostitutes and swarmed around her like bees buzzing around a flower, parched men to an oasis in the desert. Hurt and jealous, the girls shot Harumi deadly glares that if looks could kill, Harumi would have been six feet under. Only Tsukino offered the dark-haired girl a worried look, showing concern for her conditions. Harumi appreciated it and conveyed her reply with a nod.
Another female which wasn't dejected with the turn of event was Yukino. Donning an elaborate, trademark red kimono with patterns of golden eagles, her hair styled to the nines and sparkling with jewels, she had been the queen of the ball (so called), and she was a bit annoyed that Harumi had stolen all the attention, but the thought of the money trickling into her purse tomorrow, after all the men in the room had Harumi, overweighed her covetousness. Yukino was a devil before she was a woman.
Having Harumi back on the shelf would boost her revenue. Losing her last year had really hurt Yukino's pocket. Sure, Murasaki was pretty, and his clients were mostly high-ranked people, government officials, aristocrats, military leaders – there were surprisingly many of them who had a skeleton in their closets and preferred men over their wives; they were willing to cork out a large sum of money for Murasaki – he was the only male prostitute around who could dress as a drag and pull it off. Consequently, Yukino became a monopoly; she could set a price as high as she wanted, and many still purchased Murasaki's services. However, his pool of clients was still way, way smaller than that of Harumi. With Harumi, Yukino was able to reap the most from men from all sorts of income levels.
Plus, from now on, Murasaki would be working alongside her! There were two golden-egg-laying chicks instead of one! Frankly, Harumi had handed her the best present on a silver platter. Yukino couldn't be happier than this.
Little did the woman know…karmic retribution never fails.
"Is that?" all of a sudden, Harumi exclaimed loudly, raised her hand over the heads of her admirers and pointed at the wakizashi (medium-length sword) tied to Suwabara's waist, effectively stopping their flirtatious advances on her as she swam through a crowd of lusty men and made her way to Suwabara. The prostitute scrutinised the sheath and the handle of the sword before cocking her eyebrows. "Is that the water blade?" she gasped.
Suwabara Kai was surprised that a girl, much less one with a shoddy occupation, could recognise his treasured weapon. Very few possessed good eyes for katanas nowadays. "Yes," he replied her.
Harumi 'ooh'-ed and 'ah'-ed before looking up into Suwabara's eyes, half-covered by the rim of the bandana. "May I see it?" the attractive girl showed him puppy-dog eyes, her obsidian irises sparkling. "I have heard of the twin swords of the water blade and the zephyr blade…I told myself I absolutely have to see at least one of the two in my life!"
Completely defeated, Suwabara gave in to the request, and handed the girl his water blade, which he normally wouldn't have let anyone other than himself touch. Harumi received it by the handle, her hold firm, and inspected the protective charm by the base of the steel. An ordinary girl would treat such lethal instrument gingerly, but there was no hesitation in her actions.
Suwabara's suspicion was proven correct when Harumi took the sword off the sheath in one smooth movement, her right hand tense, and pointed the sharp edge at the empty air in front of her. "This is truly a fine sword," she complimented as flashes of lights danced on the metal, and closed her eyes before giving it a horizontal swing, cutting across one of the candles in a clean stroke, "She can sing magnificently," her voice was filled with awe.
The Samurai's descendant was surprised. "You can hear it too?"
Harumi nodded, and again, put the blade back into her protective covering in one effortless, elegant move. "Watashi mo…bushin no musume nan deshita kara (I, too, was the daughter of a samurai)…" she whispered wistfully, her gaze staying on the heirloom for seconds before she returned it to the young man.
Suwabara sensed the doubts underlining her voice, the burden on those fragile-boned shoulders, the spider webs around her form that held her heart captive. The fighter perceived that this young woman, whose pureness had let her hear his water blade's melody, was forcing herself to commit an act she was going to regret, and he wished to wash the devils away, save this damsel in distress. His hand enclosed hers as he reached out for his sword. "Harumi-san-"
The prostitute flinched at his politeness, fear clouding her beautiful eyes as she jerked her hand away from the warmth of this man's limb. Thankfully, nobody notice this miniscule glimpse to the turmoil under her skin. "Well, then!" As Harumi stood up, her face had transformed to a plastic mask, her lips painted to a grin. "Odoritai! Ii desu ka (I wish to dance! Is it okay with you)?"
"Ooh!" The other men were getting excited. "Dance for us! Dance for us, Harumi-chan!" they chanted as they rushed back to their seats. "We're really lucky today!" the males chattered in anticipation.
Harumi looked sideways at Tsukino. "Then, Tsukino-san, please play me 'Sakura-bito' with the koto," she said to the green-eyed brunette, not trusting the girl who was currently playing the instrument, the same girl who was also shooting daggers to Harumi's back. "And Midori-san," she addressed the girl who had once helped Azuma, a rare one who wasn't resentful of the attentions Harumi'd stolen from her, "Can you please sing the lyrics?"
"All right," the two females nodded. Tsukino placed herself behind the long, wooden, musical instrument, and took over. Fingers equipped with metal nails poised over the strings, Harumi gave the other girl a signal, before she started plucking.
The music began with a bang, a loud resonation of a combination of low-pitched and high-pitched sounds produced together in a fast pace. Gradually, the song became gentler, more melancholic, reverberating like waves, breaking at the shores before washing off the sands.
Then Midori opened her mouth and sang, of star-crossed lovers, of clandestine rendezvous under sakura trees, of tragedies upon being discovered. Her voice wasn't golden but it was steady, low and unique, lending to the desolate ambience.
The two were brilliant, but everyone was enraptured by the pale goddess at the centre of the room, eyes glued on her as she swayed to the beats, slender body curving lithely. Harumi wasn't holding on to props like fans or shawl, but she could portray the spring breeze with her kimono, the raining sakura petals, a warm embrace, the heart beating faster. Each joint, each appendage moved with purpose in a slow, refined motion. Eyes hooded, brows creased, her expressive countenance conveyed the emotions embedded in the song. A tear shed on soft cheek spoke volumes of the lovers' emotion when they were forcedly parted.
Most of the time, only one to two parts of her body shifted, as though it was a trick of the eye. The upper arm was motionless when she rotated her wrist and her fingers stirred, one by one, a tree branch speaking in the wind. Her shoulders were level when the graceful ivory pillar that was her neck turned, her torso immobile as her hips gyrated, her face frozen as her dark brown eyes were cast down. Each time she moved, the garment covering her body rode up her thighs, slid down her chest, exposing inches and inches of infuriating bits of skin, driving the audience nuts with adulterated desire.
Reaching the climax of the piece, when the couple, hearts shattered, chose to commit suicide, hoping that they could be together should they be reincarnated, Harumi halted. Spine still as a statue, her hands rose slightly, slowly, to her head, and as soon as her hand trapped four of her hairpins between her fingers, she yanked all of them off, causing a sheet of silky hair to submit to gravity and cascade down her back like waterfalls of pitch black ink. Some strands strayed to her face and gave her an ethereal appearance. Her left hand dropped to her side, releasing two pins that fell to the bamboo floor with soft thuds, but her right hand only let go of one pin. There was one pin left, one with pink sakura flowers stuck to it. Harumi clenched her right fist around the end of the accessory, and raised her dominant hand over her head.
Suwabara was impressed. This young woman had been trained in the art. The technique of isolation required more energy than mindless dancing. Putting her sultriness aside, this person was a painting in motion. She could have become a famous geisha or something, something better than this. It was such a pity how fate could break a person with such potential…
However, the bandana donning man suspected something amiss, when Harumi stopped a fraction of a millisecond to catch her breath, her chest expanding outwards, a bead of cold sweat treading down the dip on the back of her neck. Suddenly the pained façade didn't seem like an act anymore. Suwabara was anxious when her breathing became slightly more laboured. She could have fooled others, but not him. When she tugged the long needle-like pins out of her hair, Suwabara's astute eyes saw one of the pins cut strands of black hair as it was wrenched out of her bun, so sharp it was. When Harumi retained that pin in her hand, and crouched down slightly, her widened, malice-filled eyes fixed on a target, her legs poised to jump, to attack, Suwabara was alarmed.
Something was really, really wrong.
Kanmuri woke up with a jolt, his body springing off the mattress as though his soul had wandered away when his eyes were closed and dropped back onto his body moments before his eyelids snapped open. Violet orbs were presented with a very dim view of the ceiling, his pupil expanding to adjust to the darkness. "Harumi?" sandpapery voice called out, shattering the still air. Heavy silence pressed on his ears, and his heart stopped beating. "Harumi, what time is this?" he spoke louder, and attempted to turn to his side to catch a glimpse of the antique clock on the drawers; his limbs were so leaden it felt like rolling a barrel of oil.
A few seconds flew by before the pink-haired boy was able to register what it meant to have both arms of the mechanical device pointing at the number 9. "God!" he gasped, and dragged his dead weight of a body to the closet, nearly tripping on his pajama as he stripped and put on the topmost kimono from the pile (he didn't even know whether it's his or Harumi's), dashed towards dresser, hands raking through the cosmetics on the wooden surface. "How could I have slept for so long? The guests are scheduled to come at 730 pm! The devil is so going to beat me blue!" He murmured absently as he peered into the mirror, eyes squinting in the shady lighting, combed his hair haphazardly and pinned his fringe up by the first hairclip he plucked from the box of accessories (the hell with matching it with his clothes).
His fingers froze when he reached the container of white foundation. The beauty product was finished to its end, not a drop left at the bottom. Which did not match up with Kanmuri's memory, because as far as his genius brain could recall, there was definitely enough foundation for one more usage.
"Harumi?" his heart sped up, for reasons unconnected to his previous rushed actions. The pink-haired boy looked around again, more awake this time. There was nobody else in the room. This did not bode well at all. "Did she go to the toilet?" he murmured to himself as he walked out, disregarding the fact that he was only half-dressed. "Harumi? Where are you?" his panic built up after he could not find her in the washroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, the hallways - anywhere. "Harumi!?" he was close to yelling. 'Is she serving customers? Why? Did Yukino find her on her way to the toilet, saw that she was well enough to walk around and force her to work!?'
Kanmuri's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar scream.
Her lungs were burning. She choked; tears, heat, hatred and anger welling in her chest, bitter as bile. May be it was the taste of vomit she was an inch away from spilling, the coppery liquid rubies lining her oesophagus. 'Finally, finally,' Harumi thought reverently.
In a blink of an eye, Harumi launched herself to the platform Yukino was lounging on, knocking trays of food down, grilled fishes, slices of yellow radish, pinkish gingers, grains of fine rice flying, porcelain shattering to pieces under the dollish girl's socked feet. The change was so abrupt the devil couldn't react in time when Harumi's fingers curled around the fabric of the collar of the pimp's elaborate kimono, knuckles white, the other hand holding the hair pin jabbing the pointy end to the side of Yukino's neck.
"That-" Harumi gasped as crimson droplets sprayed out of the puncture wound, raising her limb and driving the pin to another patch of skin, "was for Masanobu. This-" Harumi gritted her teeth as she pushed and pushed and pushed. "is for Shigeru!" She pulled the pin and raised her hand again, this time aiming for one of those hateful eyes.
A/N: Okay folks, that was the further I had written 8 years ago. After this, Tsukino and the guests attempted to retrain Harumi but Harumi struggled and knocked the candles. The tatami caught fire and it spread too fast due to the alcohol. The guests and other prostitutes were fleeing. Tsukino wanted to flee with Harumi but Harumi insisted on making sure Yukino stay in the fire by retraining her...with Harumi's weight. Harumi yelled at Tsukino to leave the brothel. Tsukino met Shigeru on her way out. Shigeru wanted to save Harumi but Tsukino pushed him the other direction.
With Maboroshi-ya and Yukino dead, Shigeru was free. He decided to be employed by Leol and Meister Kirisaki.
Preview: Kurenai namida (Crimson Tears)
Set after Murasaki Iro no Sora. Tsutsumi and Azuma were sent to war, but they never returned. Kanmuri had a choice: to move on, or to retread the path of prostitution to find them. Which should he choose? Yaoi MaleOCsxKanmuri, AzumaxKanmuri
A/N: I was planning for this sequel...but of course, since I can't even finish Murasaki, I can't write Kurenai.