Trope: Platonic Prostitute

Time: 21st Century; AU

Characters: _ and _

"Um," I say unsure of my idea for a second. "I was wondering if I would just be able to talk instead of…you know."

"Instead of having sex," the young woman in the cut-off shirt and skirt clarifies.

"Yes." I am starting to regret the idea, but I am hoping that she won't mind. "Preferably I would like someone anonymous to talk to."

The woman looks like she considers it for a few moments before asking, "Will you still be paying me?"

I shift my hands into my pockets and bring out my meager amount of bills. "I only get five hundred yen of spending money monthly."

She stares at them for a moment before bursting into a round of laughter. "I'm sorry," she says trying to regain her composure, "but that's just sad. Are you unemployed or something?"

"No," I reply, hardly offended. I am aware that it isn't even enough money to buy a bag of candy. "I am a manager of a supermarket and have two part-time jobs on the side." Her eyebrows lift questioning. "My wife is very strict on money."

She nods in understanding and then sits on the room's desk. "Alright. Go on."

I hesitate. "You'll stay for five hundred?"

She shrugs. "I am under a pimp. Even if you pay me a one million yen I have a set amount I would get. He would get the rest of the money."

I take a seat on the cheap hotel bed. "Can you leave him? Or, I suppose, do you want to leave him? Do you get enough money for the necessities?"

She shakes her head back and forth. Her cheaply dyed blue hair brushes against her cheeks. "I don't have anything to rely on if I do leave. It's not like a business would hire me looking like this," she adds with a laugh.

She smiles kindly at me. "Don't worry about me, old man. I can take care of myself. Now, I think you were going to complain about your wife, or is that only part of your problems?"

I'm starting to feel like my problems are much less important compared to hers.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, standing up to get a bag of fries from a fast food restaurant I ate at earlier.

"No, no," she says holding up her hands and shaking her head. "Really, you don't have to."

"I don't mind." I smile at her. "I can't pay you much, so at the very least let me give you a meal."

I place the container of fries in the microwave and set it to cook. I lean against the counter and ask a question that had been bothering me since I opened the door for her.

"How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

She sits up straighter. "I'm old enough to be in this business, aren't I?"

"Are you?" I ask her. Her eyebrows lower slightly. "You look like you are sixteen at the very most."

She doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds, and the microwave beeping interrupts us. I pull the fries out and hand it to her. She sets it beside her on the desk and grins a bit at me. "I feel like this has become less about you and more about me."

I shrug a bit at the statement and smile kindly at her. "I was never good at talking about my problems anyway."

She blushes a bit and glances down at the floor. "Thanks, oldie," she says quietly, "for the food and all."

"Of course," I tell her.

In the following hour she tells me a little bit about her life. She says that she has five siblings and half-siblings. Her father was absent a majority of the time, so she and her siblings had to take care of themselves. She grew up in another large city by the ocean but ran away to Tokyo for a better life. She ended up caught in sex trafficking.

Despite my insisting, she refuses to go to the police, saying that she would end up in an orphanage where she would have less freedom than she does now. She then wants me to tell her about my life, so I reluctantly do.

I tell her a bit about my jobs and then about my critical wife who is never happy with what she has, always seeking what she doesn't. I tell her about my twenty-eight year old neet son who begs me for video games but doesn't take up the offer of a job at my business. I love them both, but they don't appreciate my efforts. They only want more and blame me if they don't get it.

"Why don't you leave them?" she asks.

I frown slightly. "They are my family. They depend on me."

"Yeah, but they treat you badly. You said so yourself. Why can you just say 'No, I work hard for you. You should be happy' to your wife and say 'Why don't you get a job?' to your son?" she insists.

I pause for a moment before replying, "People live in the realities they want to accept. They are still my family, and I have to take care of them, even if that means allowing them to continue living how they do."

"But you're not happy," she points out.

I shrug. "That is my own problem. I love them enough to sacrifice my happiness for them."

"But that isn't right!" She clenches her fists. "They should care about you the way you care about them! You're a good man, far too good for them to treat you like crap!"

"I could say the same for you," I point out. I am flattered, though, that she cares about me. I feel protective of her, and I want to get her out of the situation she is stuck in. I just don't know how to help her.

"You have the chance to leave your problems," she says. "I don't." She stands up and brushes her skirt off before smiling apologetically at me. "I should go. It was nice to meet you, oldie." She grins at me. "What is your name? At this point I might as well call you jisan instead of oldie."

I smile back at her. "My name is Yoichi Oizumi. I don't mind being called oldie or uncle. I would like to know your name too, if that is alright with you."

"Nowadays I'm am called Service more than anything," she says embarrassed.

I think for a moment before saying, "What about Kandai-sa? It suits you."

She looks at me stunned for a few seconds before laughing. She has to wipe her eyes quickly before replying. "That sounds…I would like that very much. Thank you." She places both hands on her hips and adds, "I'm not as graceful when it comes to names, so you're still going to be oldie to me."

"I don't mind," I reply, chuckling a bit.

We both stand still for a while looking at each other. It isn't very likely that we will meet outside of this hotel room.

I start to say, "Listen-"

"I think-" Kandai-sa starts at the same time.

We both pause to let the other continue. After a few seconds, Generosity laughs.

"If I don't get called for another job I can see you here next week, oldie, if you want to meet again that is," she tells me with a grin.

I smile back. "I would be honored to share your company."

She holds back a blush and then adds with mock sternness, "You have to bring some food- and not just for me. There has to be some for you too."

"Okay, I will."

She gives me a small wave before exiting the room. I stand still for a moment, feeling better than I have felt in possibly months. It dawns on me too late that she didn't even take my money.

Kandai-sa. Generosity. It really does suit her.

Characters: Yoichi Oizumi and Service