Part 3

Murasakiiro knelt as she opened the door to the banquet room and had her head bowed as she entered the room, turning her back to show an expanse of gold and silver obi, and sliding the door shut. Her hair was a dark rich red that was pinned up with silver and shell combs and she wore two long thin pendant earrings, and her kimono was dipped almost scandalously low at the back. The other geisha gave her small glares that they almost completely hid behind their fans, and small smiles, but Crawford noticed, that these other women seemed to consider Murasakiiro a threat.

Crawford hated geisha parties. Most of the geisha were shallow vain creatures with very little appreciation of modern culture, as if they had never lived beyond the 1850's. Takatori, on the other hand loved them, and seemed to enjoy arranging them, though he was usually too busy to attend. It invariably meant Takatori slapping Crawford on the back and telling him to enjoy himself whilst Schuldig spent all night filing his nails watching Takatori and then telepathically teasing Crawford for being around some of Tokyo's most beautiful women and being bored senseless.

Well, Crawford thought to himself, if they are slightly antagonist if it will give me something to do. Then Murasakiiro turned and Crawford almost did a double take. He had never seen anyone so very beautiful, those pale high cheekbones, the thin wide mouth, and those bright beautiful violet coloured eyes. She was haunting, and she looked uncannily like Weiss' Abyssinian, but he would never sit so subserviently on the floor like this beautiful geisha was doing, with her head tilted. Then she looked at Crawford and blinked once, and then twice.

"Would you prefer if we spoke in English?" Murasakiiro asked in a soft but deep voice, a voice that reminded him of a certain English actress that he had lusted after as a teenager. "I believe it would make you more comfortable. I am as confident in English as Japanese. Would you care for some sake? Or would you prefer tea?"

Now it was Crawford's turn to blink once, and then twice. Murasakiiro had caught him completely unawares. The geisha never spoke in English, most thinking it a barbarian language, and they never offered him tea. "I am Murasakiiro, as I am sure that the others have told you. Can I be honoured with your name?"

Crawford was gaping just a touch, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, a woman that looked uncannily like Weiss' Abyssinian, a man he had secretly lusted over for months, was smiling at him with a faint and rather sexy smile and asking his name. "Bradley Crawford." he said bowing his head, he considered offering her his hand to shake but the palm was just a bit sweaty so he just bowed his head. "Call me Crawford. I detest Bradley."

She smiled again, tilting her head. "You do not strike me as the kind of person that would willingly attend such banquets, you seem uncomfortable among such luxuries." She said pouring a small bowl of the sake for him, baring a length of smooth white forearm. Her kimono was strictly fastened at the front, but it did dip almost scandalously low at the back. He had heard a lot from Takatori lately about this new geisha that he desperately wanted to meet, before being called away to a last minute party that was being held by a political competitor. He had specifically requested her to wait on him, and in his absence she was waiting on Crawford. He was beginning to understand the appeal of geisha parties.

"I must say that I am not." Crawford continued, "but this is the first time that I have met such an open geisha."

Murasakiiro smiled again, it was an almost smirk. "I was a scandal in Hokkaido for my smart mouth." She poured herself a bowl of the sake and sipped it, leaving a red smear on the edge of the cup. "However I find it advantageous in my art to be a little open."

Crawford leaned forward, after living so long with Schuldig it was nice having someone flirt with him without being so brazen as "have me now", Murasakiiro's coy smiles and delicate euphemisms were actually quite charming. "And tell me, Murasakiiro-sama, what is your art that you should be a little open for."

Murasakiiro laughed, just a little, "How do you say it in English?" She paused, patting her fan against her cheek, "I am a poet. My art is haiku and waka. I have a little gift for it."

Once again she had caught him unawares, most geisha were proud of their art, but it tended to be song, or kouta or dance, again Murasakiiro was different from the rest of the geisha. "Would you recite for me?" he asked.

"I would be honoured." Murasakiiro smiled again, it was a small and rather fetching smile that seemed to mean more to Crawford than the daring smiles of most of the women he knew. She raised her slim white hands over her head and clapped twice, all of the other geisha turned her head and then shuffled back so that all the customers of the banquet could see Murasakiiro clearly. "Crawford-san has asked that I read for him." She said, "but I have nothing prepared, so I must trust in another poet to entertain you this evening, and in honour of our guest I trust that Miss Dickinson will suffice."

For the third time Murasakiiro caught Crawford in shock, he had no preparation for her to read Emily Dickinson in her soft husky voice.

"The moon is distant from the sea,

and yet with amber hands

she leads him, docile as a boy,

Along appointed sands.

He never misses a degree;

Obedient to her eye,

He comes just so far toward the town

Just so far goes away

Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand,

And mine the distant sea,-

Obedient to the least command

Thine eyes impose on me."

Crawford's voice stuck in his throat, it was common not to acknowledge a geisha's art and then to reflect the wonder in a gift at the end of the night, but Crawford couldn't help himself. He began to clap, low, and then the rest of the customers turned to look at him, and then they began to clap as well. Murasakiiro blushed clean to the roots of her dark red hair, lowering her eyes. Several of the other geisha just glared but did well to hide their displeasure. "I cannot accept such respect," she said, snapping out her fan and hiding a very faint smile behind it, "the verse was not mine, do not applaud me this evening, applaud Miss Dickinson."

"Modest and beautiful." One of the other customers said, "come Murasakiiro, will you not honour us with your smile?"

"A smile is a pale thing in comparison to your adulation." She said with a small smile. Crawford mentally counted it off. She had answered him with a haiku. There was a small cheer as they realised it. The other geisha just glared even harder.

"Another." Another customer said.

"How can I live up to the expectations of my guests this evening?" Murasakiiro answered, standing up and smoothing out the long fabric of her dark green kimono, showing the inside line of a dark purple that brought out the unusual colour of her eyes. "Please excuse me, I have other obligations this evening." She bowed her head, and spread the lush fabric of her kimono.

Crawford stood up "Murasakiiro-sama, I would be upset if you left me this evening, when the night is still yet so young."

Murasakiiro matched his gaze for a full moment and then blushed again, a pale pink flush that crawled down the skin of her neck to her bosom. "By your will." She said, settling down again, but the way she had stood the fabric of her kimono had loosened so when she knelt it pooled around her like a puddle. "After all yours is the amber eyes that impose your will on me."

Murasakiiro stayed by Crawford's side for the rest of the evening, and in that time they discussed topics as diverse as soccer and English poetry. It seemed she was also well versed in Coleridge and Poe, but had a fondness for Dickinson, where Crawford himself liked Whitman. They discussed opera and musicals, and other displays at the theatre, and when the time came to part he pressed a fat roll of bills into her hand and asked permission to invite her again. She smiled and pressed her fan into his hand in exchange for the money. "But Crawford-san, come next week my time as an apprentice in Tokyo will be done, and I shall be in Gion. I am honoured by your attention, but I fear I cannot accept it."

Crawford frowned. "Then I shall follow you to Gion." He said, "I will speak to your Okiya in the morning to enquire after your patronage."

Murasakiiro paled even further, her creamy skin took on a grey tone. "You flatter me more than such a humble geisha deserves."

Another geisha who had introduced herself as Tenshiko appeared behind her, this one was striking but lacked Murasakiiro's alien beauty, she placed her hand on Murasakiiro's waist and her head on her shoulder. "I will recommend your -application to the Okasan of our Okiya, Crawford-san, poor Murasakiiro has simply been caught unawares by your largess. Normally she is not so shy." Crawford handed a second roll of money into Tenshiko's hand.

"Will you be joining Murasakiiro in Gion?" He asked.

Tenshiko shook her head causing the jewels in her hair to tinkle pleasantly. "No, Crawford-san, Murasakiiro goes to Gion to train a Maiko of promise, she has been summoned by the Okiya of the Ichirogo teahouse. It is a mark of great honour. Now, please excuse us, Crawford-san. It is late and such beauty is rewarded by rest."

"Murasakiiro-sama." Crawford said as they went to walk away. He reached out and took her hand, pulling her back and twisting her on her socked foot and stole a kiss. Just a small kiss, a very faint press of the lips. She gasped and pressed her hand to her lips, Tenshiko laughed just a little and then tapped Crawford on the hand with her fan to free Murasakiiro and together they vanished into a large black car that was waiting for them.

"Ohmigod." Tenshiko said in the car as she started to pull the combs from her hair, "you've got a fan and a half, and Crawford-san, one of the most powerful men in the Tokyo diet, he's the bodyguard of Takatori-san."

Murasakiiro glowered and her eyebrows drew a long thin line and she muttered "Shi-ne" under his breath. "I'm going to complain about sexual harassment, kissed by Oracle of Schwarz."

"Come on," Tenshiko said with a low laugh, "he's gorgeous, rich and clever, what more can a geisha want from her patron?" She stretched her long legs out in front of her and cast her head back, her black hair falling down around her neck.

"He's also the head of a rival assassination group and bodyguard of my worst enemy. It's obviously just a small problem, and now he's going to follow me to Gion, and lets not imagine what will happen when he finds out Murasakiiro's deadly secret." Murasakiiro said, loosening the combs from her hair. "And I had to break the rest of tonight's appointments for him. I'm never going to hear the end of it. That's a lot of money lost."

"He gave me two hundred thousand yen." Tenshiko said, trying to appeal to Murasakiiro's mercenary nature. "How much did he give you?"

She pulled the bill roll from her obi and began to count. "One million yen." She said, and then counted it again, "ohmigod." She breathed, her hand, "I just got given a million yen for reading a poem I learned in high-school. If I was a girl I think I would faint."

"Ohmigod." Tenshiko said, flapping her hands excitedly. "I hope I attract someone like Crawford-san, because," she paused, "gorgeous, and one million yen for a night. Not including wages." Murasakiiro waited in the back of the car, fanning herself with the money.

At the Okiya Obasan was waiting up for him, she wore a light yukuta and when she came in she hugged her tight. "star of our Okiya you are, they will speak of Murasakiiro in years to come, we can charge double for both Tenshiko and Hatsumomo, Crawford-san called asking to speak to you, I explained that you were not back, and that you would not be entertaining tomorrow because you would be travelling to Gion, nonetheless there was reference to a gift, and he offered to pay triple your flower money for this evening because he made you break your appointments." That time Murasakiiro did faint.