Spoilers: Spoilers: Heart of Darkness (issues 35-42), The Gathering (issues 43-49)

"Everything about me is a lie

At least it feels that way

When I look in your eyes now

The truth scares the shit out of me

Whoever said love is blind or love is real

Has never felt the way that I feel

What does it matter?

What's done is done and I should

Get on with my life

Why are you haunting me?"

--Stabbing Westward

When Dreaming Ends

Part Five -- A Wiltering Flower

She was so beautiful.

It was awkward, the way she had to bend her wrist and arm in order to light the pipe that was hanging unfemininely from her lips. A woman smoking was always elegant in doing so, but no one saw the less graceful side of this act. No one saw this act at all. The woman was alone.

She inhaled before the flame fully snuffed, and let the sweet smoke fill her lungs and numb her body from the inside out. So hollow. She was always so hollow. The waxed crests of her up-done hair fell slackly against the wall, and she lolled her head off to one side with a lazy shift. Long, lovely pale fingers eased the pipe from her lips, and she let the smoke escape with a slight slacking of her jaw.

Yukimachi was as busy as a low-ranking whorehouse should be. Night had fallen a few hours ago, and she had just finished up with her first customer of the night, a man who had come to see her a great number of times in the last few weeks. In a short while she would entertain at a drinking party in one of the main rooms. For now, however, she rested. She let another part of her wilter away and die.

Up in smoke.

Across the hall she could see the hazy yellow glow of a cracked open shoji door. There was a small strip of bedding against the floor matting. The woman could not anything more than this, but she knew already that the person resting there was a geisha called O-Sen. She had lost a leg in an unfortunate accident. Her career was over. Now she was in Yukimachi. Now her life was over. If she lived through this, she would be nothing more than a cheap lay for a desperate traveler or pervert.

Otono-Tachibana Makie lifted her pipe to her lips again and inhaled. Her mind shifted, dulled, and misted over. In her leisure she did not rest as any lady should -- her legs were open and flat, her back against the wall, and her figure slack. A rag doll. A corpse. Useless.

From another room came the sound of chatter and brazen laughter. Men were getting drunk and women were getting undressed. People were letting go of everyday formalities. Young girls were letting go of their pride and humanity. The song-like chant of a drinking game droned on, and a girl who just barely knew the shamisen was plucking at the strings in painful melody. No one cared. Culture didn't matter within these walls. If men wanted culture, they would find geisha.

"Wake up," Makie said to the ceiling in a raspy sing-song whisper. "Wake up and see if this is what you're dreaming about."

Makie had forgotten just what it was to dream. Her youth had been a barren and cold one, filled with trauma and betrayal... and, to a degree, she grew up never knowing what she was missing. Deep down in her heart she had locked away her desire to lead a normal life, and all it was to her now was a constant cold stone, locked tight and icy in her chest... always throbbing, but what was a throb that you never remembered not having? This cold, it was as natural as a heartbeat.

When Anotsu Kagehisa of the Itto-Ryu came back into her life, a part of that chilled stone started to twist toward the surface. He was a symbol of her childhood, a chance for her freedom... a man who had come to save her from her life of prostitution, a hero! She loved him then, as part of her still loved him now... not so much because of who he was, but rather because of what he could become to her. Anostu, like her, was kenshi. He would not mind her dishonored past. He could give her something that she never had -- a life. A family. The closest thing to normality that a woman like Otachi-Tachibana Makie could get.

But Anotsu did not love her.

It was her swordsmanship that drew him. To him, she was a symbol of power, a weapon better than any of his swords. And, when Makie realized that, she knew that he would never give her what her heart desired. Her dreams would be just that. Fantasy. Something to jab. Something to hurt. A stone in her heart.

She was so much like him, and yet she was so different.

Makie hated herself for what she was. She hated the anger that had fueled her parries, her blows. She hated the pumping of vengeance in her veins as she practiced with her pike as a child, the feel of a powerful weapon in her hands. She hated being wrapped around death. She had been wrapped around death for too long.

Makie left Anotsu, left the geisha-house that he had put her in, and moved back to her low-class lifestyle. Now, she was a common prostitute. Again. The phantom of a man's body still sank into her inner thighs from earlier that night, and no matter how long or hard she scrubbed, that sensation always remained.

The Yukimachi was a place that frequently housed members of the Itto-Ryu. Although Makie wished to clear herself from such things, she knew that Anotsu himself would never visit this place. Besides, no whore-house was immune to the scum of society. No matter where she went, the stink would remain. She would never be free of it.

"O-Anrui?"

The voice filtered weakly through the cracked-open shoji. The owner of the house, upon looking at her, had given her the name -- Silent Tears. Makie didn't much appreciate it, but her eyes, her face, her being... Everything about her was solemn and sad. In a low-class whorehouse, this didn't go well with customers, but Makie's beauty made up for it... she resembled a high-class courtesan, fickle and brooding, which made loins stir and purses empty. People came to Yukimachi, and they could, for a price, pretend that they were at a much more classy establishment.

"...Anrui-san...?" O-Sen, the crippled girl, had a voice as still and pathetic as she was. The girl was bedridden, unable to move... the pain was so great, the wounds so tender, that she could only lie on her back and wonder if, perhaps, death would not have been a better fate.

Makie often lied in her own bed and wondered the same thing. But why bother with death, if you weren't even really living in the first place?

Makie, in no rush, drew in another lingering inhale on her pipe. She held the smoke in her lungs, closed her eyes, and tiredly blew it up, up... past her head, toward the ceiling, spiraling away to where dreams exist, teasingly out of reach.

-           -           -           -

Night had fallen again by the time Renzo had found Yukimachi. It was still relatively early, and yet a small line had formed at the gates. Inside, music and laughter clashed together in a strange sort of sync, something both alluring and repelling in the same beat. Every sound was distilled by the harsh tang of spilled wine.

Quite a few men were in obscuring hats and cloaks with their heads kept low, as it was dishonorable to be seen in a place like this one. They handed in their weapons and other belongings at the front, and Renzo craned his neck to look at the man who was checking them in. He was large and burly -- obviously a man who could toss a few troublemakers into the streets (broken in pieces, usually!) without much of a problem. Renzo swallowed back worriedly, and looked from side to side as he waited his turn. He felt very exposed and out of place.

And then the guard was looking down at him. An eyebrow was raised, and Renzo suddenly was aware of how scrawny and small he was. He could sense the man's gaze on his frame, and then on the sword and parcel at his back.

"Do you know where you are, kid?"

Renzo felt some of his apprehension dissipate into a glare. He was surprised to see the vaguest flicker of a smile break onto the man's strong face in response to this -- it was instantaneous, and although amused it was also a bit impressed. Somewhat. After all, this was a man of business. He didn't have time for such notions.

"Look, kiddo, I can't just let you in here, unless you're entertaining." A joke, accompanied by an obvious wink. Yukimachi didn't really specialize in boys, although it was true that Renzo would have had better luck trying to sell himself into the brothel than he would trying to simply walk in like a common man.

However, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Or, rather, he had a purse.

The small parcel, filled with a coil of mon, was all of the money that he had. Renzo did not think about the future. It was the moment that mattered right now. He could manage keeping himself alive, yes, but it would do no good if he had to spend that time wandering. This money -- hardly enough to buy a few meals, anyway -- would best be sent getting him on the right path.

"I need to get inside," Renzo said flatly, keeping his brown eyes level with the guard's own. It was almost humorous -- the boy stood shorter than he, and lacked almost all of his girth. His hand remained on the purse as if it were of great worth. "There is someone that I wish to speak to. I can keep my head low, I can avoid getting in anyone's way. I just need a few minutes."

The guard listened, although his eyebrow remained high and taut. His amusement seemed to teeter toward annoyance, and Renzo, so Adult and Calm in his words, felt himself falter a bit. His hand shook a little as he hastily pulled it off the purse, leaving it on the counter.

"Give me your sword." The guard said.

Renzo, shocked that the man was consenting, blinked rapidly and handed over the sword that the had slung over his shoulder. He didn't realize that, as a boy, he was as harmless and not worth fretting over. He wasn't going to give the girls any trouble, and he wasn't going to participate in any activities, even if he wanted to. He would be laughed out of any gathering. If anything, he'd be free entertainment. A good laugh.

"Three-quarters of an hour," the guard said. "If you aren't back out here before then, I'm keeping this." He tapped the sword and gave him a wooden identification card in its place. Renzo took this equally seriously, although the guard forgot about him as soon as he had passed, as their small conversation had held up the line.

When he passed freely through the gate, a wave of relief left him light and airy. However, that was quickly replaced by a new anxiety -- he had gotten into Yukimachi, but that was only the start of it. He had to find the wounded geisha, and he had to do it quickly. A few men, obscured by raincloaks and rented clothes, scoffed or laughed openly when they brushed by him. He could feel people watching him, and he hastily shifted his pack--the guard hadn't questioned him on it--and tugged at his collar, before walking across the small yard to the building.

Inside, it was a little less crowded, but much louder. The entryway led into a few corridors, all lined with rooms filled with noisy, vulgar parties. The tatami were old and frayed and the shoji was low-quality, but none of the men around him paid attention to that. They were escorted, by maids, into a waiting room.

No one paid attention to Renzo for a long time. It was only when he started walking towards a hallway when he was stopped -- a middle-aged woman, the lines in her face accented by the make-up that was supposed to be hiding it, stepped in his way. "Why, hello! What rich father are you blessed with?" She chuckled behind a sleeve in a cute fashion, behaving much too youthfully for her age. She knew that this was no customer, but that made teasing all the more fun. "What would you like, then? Asame, the playful kitten? Butterfly, the endurant? A youthful, innocent beauty, or a seasoned lover?"

"I'm looking for a cripple." Renzo said.

-           -           -           -

"Shh, shh," Makie whispered warmly. When she entered O-Sen's room, she had undergone a shift -- although her eyes were still deep and solemn, she had taken an almost motherly air. With tenderness, she shifted the bedding around the girl's frame, being careful of the wrapped stump that was her leg. Tenderly, and with a wan loving smile, she brushed a few strands of hair away from the woman's forehead. "It'll be alright, dear. Just try to relax. Don't let your muscles tense."

"Did you hear?" Someone said in the party that was going on in the room next door. "A sword polisher was killed earlier this afternoon. It seems he pissed off some tight-assed samurai..."

"Samurai," another man said. "What a joke! They wear their swords and strut around like they're everything -- most of them have never been in a real fight in their life! They're holding on to a paper rope!"

"Not this one," the first man said. "He's as touchy as a viper near a hot-poker. If a peasant so much as looks at him wrong, ffffttt, he's done."

"After the paperwork, of course!"

"Yup. Sign a few documents, and you're clear. If only getting away with everything else was that easy!" The fact that his voice was slurred became more evident here, and sure enough, Makie soon heard the clink of a sake flask against a cup.

"I hear he's still angry! Looking for something, people say."

"Oh, heads will roll!"

"Do heads ever not roll?"

"Hush, now," one of the courtesans said. Her voice was high and chirpy, floating. "This is no place for such talk! In here, there is only wine and the carefree."

O-Sen was very beautiful. The haggardness of her suffering seemed to enhance that, but no drama could change the state of her leg. If the infection healed and she lived, she would be nothing but a cripple -- without family, without employment, an outcast. Perhaps the Yukimachi would continue to take her in (Makie had a feeling that Anotsu Kagehisa was part of the reason why she was here in the first place), but she would be nothing but a whore to the men who couldn't afford to lay with anything else. Those men would be dirty, cruel, and vicious. O-Sen, on top of that, was used to geisha-hood. She was cultured and well-spoken, a woman that had sold her talents rather than her body. To change over... Oh, there was no good luck on the road ahead. Makie had a good reason to pity this woman. Her problems made Makie's life seem a little less troublesome, although Makie knew that they were both essentially in the same boat. They were floundering in something that they could never change.

Makie was holding a cup of warm tea to the woman's lips when Hana, the maid, came to the open door. "Mistress?" She was, being but a youth, dressed simply in a plain-patterned kimono.  "The Lady O-Sen's Honorable Younger Brother is here."

Both Makie and O-Sen's eyes narrowed in curiosity, although Makie was really the only one who could properly turn her head and see who Hana was talking about. Standing in the doorway was a young man -- more a boy than a man, really, although the look on his face seemed to hold something that no child should. His chest, partially exposed under the looseness of his kimono, was hairless and leanly muscled, bony in places. His shaggy hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and, if he cleaned up a bit, he could probably come off as a rather lovely youth.

"That's all I'll need," Renzo said.

Hana placed her hands neatly on her thighs, fingertips touching, palms down, and she bowed to him. She would have otherwise been obliged to serve him something, to settle him in properly... but this was a place of business, and Renzo was not a part of that. She was glad to be relieved, and did not argue to stay.

Renzo stepped into the room. His bow was hastened. For a moment, his heartbeat had quickened. That woman, caring for the one he now knew to be called O-Sen. She was so... what was it about her? Beautiful, yes, that was obvious, but there was something deeper than that. When he looked into her eyes, it was like he was walking into a tunnel that had no beginning and no end.

And, most importantly, she looked like she didn't belong here. Her kimono, although finer than anything that he'd ever seen, was just as low-rate as the rest of them here. But her features were perfect, like they came from the pages of a book of woodblock prints, an artists fabled fantasy. Makie's face had no lines, no marks. Her flesh seemed to be carved of ivory, flawless. If he touched her, would she be as cold as a statue? As cold as her eyes?

No, not cold. Sad. Almost... empty. And yet, more full than any normal eyes should be at the exact same time.

Stunning.

Renzo shook his thoughts from his head.

"I didn't know that you had a brother," Makie said to O-Sen, although her eyes remained on the boy, unreadable.

"I don't."

"I'm sorry," Renzo said. "I just needed an excuse to get to you, I didn't want to waste time down there. Look--" For a moment he turned his eyes back up to Makie. She knew that he was questioning her presence, perhaps questioning himself for speaking in it. It was obvious that he had something very private to say. This was no causal, social visit.

"Excuse me," Makie said graciously. With willowy grace she lowered herself in a demure, alluring bow -- the painted nape of her neck was deliciously exposed, and yet there was something much more noble about it. This was no common whore, Renzo found himself thinking again. This was no common anything.

Oh, the way her eyes looked at him, when she lifted her head. And, with a perfect roll, she rose to her feet in a rustle of fabric and floated elegantly across the room. The elaborateness of her kimono was enhanced by her straight stature, and Renzo watched the arrangements of crimsons and golds rustle by him in a waft of sandalwood perfume. With a jangle of hair-ornaments she bowed to him again, elegantly tipping her ornate head just slightly to one side. She slid the shoji to a close with a muffled clack, and then Renzo and O-Sen were alone.

Makie was curious, but not to any great degree. There were plenty of strange affairs in the Willow World, and this was probably just one of them. There were more important things to worry about -- particularly, the time. In a short while, the owner of the house would come upstairs to look for her. Her life in the underworld would continue.

She leaned against the wall that she had been sitting by before, and sank back down onto her bottom, a sharp contrast to the formality that she had shown only moments earlier. Noncommittally, she picked up her pipe from its holder. Makie brought it to her lips, and relished a few more moments of detachment with a long, deep drag.

-           -           -           -

Renzo didn't mince words. He didn't know much about formality, and even if he did, he wasn't one to use it often. "My name is Kawakami Renzo," he said. "I am seeking to avenge my father's death. I have reason to believe the same man who did this to you was the one who killed my father."

O-Sen shifted her head off to one side to look at him. Her neck had gotten thin and sinewy, and her yellow-flecked eyes sunk into a deathly pale face. Her bony fingers opened and closed against her bedding, the barest glimmer of an acknowledgement. The unreadable smile on her face was so weak that it was almost hard to see in the first place. She seemed tired and unfazed by his presence and his quest. Something inside of her had grown immune to surprises. Or, perhaps, she no longer cared about such things.

Renzo saw this sadness, this aura of death in a living body. For a moment, he chided himself for being so uncaring. This was a victim, just as much as he. That brute, that monster... he had done this to her, as if she had no value as a human being. Renzo himself should not simply consider her another go piece in his game of vengeance.

A little more patient now, he knelt by her side. The tea that Makie had set aside on a low table came to his attention, and he offered her some. When she had had enough, she smiled graciously -- and yet emotionlessly -- and said, "I understand what it is to loose someone dear to me," Her voice sounded as exhausted as she looked, there was a weakness in it that almost went below the grave. She spoke very slowly. "Ask me whatever you wish, I will help you as best as I can."

"Tell me about the man who attacked you." Renzo said.

"I was asked to pose as a man named Anotsu Kagehisa. He hired me and a number of other women to travel in his stead, hoping to divert attackers. The man who.." She took in a deep breath. "...who came upon me that day, he was one of those seeking him."

"Was there a girl with him?"

O-Sen wet her lips. The day was fuzzy in her memory, the first part of the attack because of her shock, and the second half because unconsciousness had slowly taken her. However, she did remember a girl. "Yes."

Renzo felt his heart race. "They attacked you because they thought you were this man?"

"Yes. They seek to find him -- many people do, really. That is why I was hired to distract them so that he could go on his way safely."

"Anotsu Kagehisa?"

Makie, who was only half-listening outside, twitched sat bolt upright at Renzo's bold declaration of her past-lover's name. Eyes wide, she stared ahead glazedly for a moment, as if she had just been smacked across the head by an unseen hand. Her pipe clattered silently into her lap, and ash sprayed out from it like blood from a victim of the blade.

"Yes," O-Sen said. Already, her voice was tiring. She hadn't spoken much since the accident, and any use of energy took toll on her health quickly. "He told us to tell everything, if... if we were... hurt." She coughed a little, and with a rustle her shoulder shifted. Renzo moved to help adjust her.

"Here, let me..."

"Thank you."

"Who is he?" Renzo asked. "This Anotsu guy."

Makie, unabashedly now, shifted and lolled around on her hands and knees. She crawled forward a few steps, and then slowly eased herself onto her feet to approach the shoji, which she knelt next to to listen better, with wide and unbelieving eyes.

O-Sen breathed out a little chuckle, and then said. "The Itto-Ryu?" Something seemed weaker about her all of a sudden, but her tone said what her words could not -- few people were unaware of the name Anotsu Kagehisa, and everyone knew about the Itto-Ryu. The fact that the boy seemed oblivious was humorous.

Indeed, Renzo did not know much of the Itto-Ryu. However, with a flash he came to a realization. With a quiet, contemplative voice he said, almost to himself, "Rin, she..."

"Your dad," Renzo said. "He really got killed?"

"Yup," Rin had said to him, "By men of the Itto-Ryu."

"Itto-Ryu? What's that?"

"Huh? What? Come on. You have to know that."

His breath quickened to match the pace of his pulse. The Itto-Ryu! Anotsu Kagehisa! This was it! This was the key to everything! This is what he was looking for!

"They are hunting down Anotsu Kagehisa," Renzo said. "That's how I can find them." Unable to contain the anxious excitement that was coursing through his body, he found himself leaning forward to ask intensely, "Do you know where he is heading?"

Makie too felt her breath catch in her chest, and she stared fixatedly at the wall as she too waited for the geisha's reply. What was this, that was unfolding? The fact that young Rin was interwoven in this was not lost on the woman, and Makie felt her heart sink with dread. Whatever this boy's quest was, she had a feeling it would not bring good things.

But then, of course, nothing did.

"Anrui!" A sharp voice called out from downstairs, and Makie did not realize that she was being called until the name had been shouted two more times, and when footsteps began pounding up the stairs. Tightening her lips, she looked at the shoji that separated her from O-Sen's room, back over her shoulder, and then to the shoji again. With a frown and a frustrated, pounding heart, she pulled at her robes and rose quickly to her feet. Rushing and anxious still, she went to meet up with her employer before the crone got all the way up the stairs.

"Kaga," O-Sen said. "He's going to Kaga."

"Kaga." Renzo repeated. And for a moment, he felt his first rush of genuine hope.

Glossary:

Sake – Japanese rice wine

Shamisen – three-stringed lute

Note on Spoilers vs. AU: At this point in the story I am going to begin to branch out into a more creative, personal idea of where I want things to go with the characters. Therefore, if you read anywhere beyond The Gathering (issues 43-49)   in the manga you may question what the hell is going on. ^_~ I may weave in events that happen later in the manga (especially from Beasts (issues 66-72)) along with the fiction, and I'll just put a plain 'spoiler' warning down to show this.

Confusing? Yeah, I think so too. It's really not that important, just covering my ass a bit. ^_~ This is meant to be read, not analyzed.

A/N: Finally, another chapter. It's a long one, hopefully someone actually got through it. The next chapter is going to be a huge chunk of action… yes, yes, I know, I promised action for this chapter, but things kind of wrote themselves and pushed some stuff ahead a bit. For sure, though, fight-scenes Samura-style to come!

And this, in many ways, ends the 'prologue' and starts the real story. =P Everything should really start moving from here. ^_^ Thanks again, everyone, for reading and leaving your comments – it's really great, seeing the feedback. Be sure to check out all of the other BoTI fanfics out there if you haven't already, there's some good stuff out there!


***spoilers ahead*** There was also a comment in terms of timeline – I apologize, I'm working in and out of the manga quite a bit. This story takes place during the time when Anotsu Kagehisa is working to make the Itto-Ryu a real school within the Bafuku –Rin and Manji are currently separated, Magatsu is hunting Shira, and Makie is, long since, 'out of the picture.' In terms of time, then, this story really isn't taking place that far away from Kawakami Araya's death – a few months, maybe, if not less. As long as it took for the events that happened between the graphic novels Dark Shadows and The Gathering II.