Author's Note: Hello everyone! New chapter woot woot! I hope you enjoy! Please favorite/review! And check out junjobingo on tumblr~
~2~
The next three months went by in a blur.
For the first few days, Misaki couldn't decide if he was heaven or hell. Some days, all he could think about was his confusion and misery, wondering if Takahiro was managing to survive without him, why he'd send Misaki off so swiftly, and whether or not he'd ever see him again. Other days, he'd wake up and notice small things, like the mossy courtyard that was lush with green bushes and small trees that lined the outside of the little pond, or the grand size of the main house, and realize that if anything, his brother had done him a fantastic favor.
He woke up one particular morning at his usual time, as soon as the pinkish hues of dawn had reached the window of the servants' quarters where he slept. Green eyes opened to crisp, pale light filtering through the closed window, the January air sticking to the glass in a haze of fog. The icy air nipped around bare toes, through the layers of blankets, sheets, and pants, covering legs. Misaki shivered and pulled closer into the ratty blanket, reaching up to rub a single eye slowly. He fought against the cold air and willed himself forward with a grunt, blinking blearily. Eyes focused on the sights of the small structure that was servants' quarters—the rolling paper-screen door that led to the outdoors; the corner that was crowded with buckets, brooms, and other cleaning supplies; the chipped, wooden chest that held his and his roommate's clothing and possessions.
He heard a snore next to him and glanced down to the mound of blankets beside him, eyes falling on the second young boy who was still fast asleep in a cocoon of fabric. He felt a pang of jealousy at Shinobu's peaceful state, dreaming happily about something or another, the way his characteristic scowl had softened, his breathing smooth and content. A small, rueful smile brushed Misaki's features when the boy sighed in his sleep—sure they were sharing a futon (Isaka made it their punishment after they dirtied Misaki's, eating late night snacks on it) but he found the contact comforting. In a small way, the warmth of another body next to his own reminded him of nights when he slept alongside Takahiro, something he never grew tired of, even long past his childhood.
But dreams could wait. He had a cooking lesson to get to.
Misaki, newly dressed, stumbled out of the room and into the biting morning air, scuttling quickly over to the entrance of the main house. In the back of the large structure, behind the grandiose front rooms that boasted wealth and elegance, there was a humble kitchen and an elderly man, the okiya's cook, waiting for him. They got to work quickly, Misaki heading outside to the large iron kettle that sat near the house, lugging along huge burlap sack of rice and a box of matches, beginning to cook the day's staple meal.
About a month after Misaki had arrived, he had been itching to pick up his cooking hobby again, and after learning the okiya had a full kitchen, he had asked the man if he could help him prepare meals during the mornings. Though the old man was perturbed by the boy's suggestion—he expected that surely the brunet wanted some kind of payment in return—he accepted. Misaki proved to be a good student and provided interesting conversation, so he soon befriended the cook and began spending the mornings at work in the kitchen.
Once he had finished his daily lesson, he thanked the man and headed off to his next job, which was cleaning the windows in Isaka and Asahina's apartment. Realizing that it was still quite early in the morning and there was a possible chance that the two men weren't awake, Misaki gingerly knocked on the wall next to the door, waiting until he heard footsteps come toward the door. Asahina said his good morning to Misaki and let the boy in, directing him to the dirtied windows.
From behind him, he heard Isaka's voice, loudly complaining. "I can't even begin to figure out what went wrong here…it's that son-of-a-bitch tailor's fault, I'm certain of it! He refuses to clean our kimono without extra charge! Only ours! That's called discrimination!"
Asahina sighed, as he made his way over to his partner, leaning over the man's shoulder to read over the problematic bill they had received.
"That bastard knows we're doing fine over here, so he figures he can hike his prices up. Did you read it?" he asked twisting around to look at Asahina; the stoic man sighed patiently and nodded. "The guy has the nerve to charge double because the kimono is coming from our place! That's fucking absurd!"
The ranting continued as Misaki cleaned the windows, slightly giggling at the man's behavior. He quickly learning that Isaka, though he had showed an intimidating face to Misaki the first time they had met, proved to be quite the jokester and kept things lively around the okiya.
"Well, there is no other cleaner in town quite like him," Asahina muttered, and then shrugged, standing straight once more. "I suppose we can pay the extra fare until we find a substitute."
"Asahina!" Isaka exclaimed. "That's exactly what he wants us to do! He wants our loyalty to outweigh our common sense!"
Asahina replied with a touch of sarcasm, "Okay, so we'll begin taking the kimono down to the river each week and let the old women there clean them for a couple hundred yen each. Sounds like a wonderful idea."
Isaka frowned. "That's not what I was saying."
"Then what are you saying?" Asahina questioned and his partner's grey eyes blinked in annoyance. "We aren't just going to magically find a respectable cleaner for a cheap price. You know, all the other hosts use his services too; so no wonder he's beginning to raise prices. He's the only person in town who knows how to properly wash kimono."
Though Misaki had only been living at the okiya for a short time, it felt like he'd been as much a permanent fixture as anyone else in the house, but during instances such as this, the brunet was reminded of just how much of the hosting world he didn't understand. He always questioned why Asahina and Isaka made such a big deal out of the kimono—it was apparently a project to maintain the mind-blowingly expensive pieces of clothing, and from Misaki's limited understanding, washing a day's worth of kimono and hakama alone was worth nearly two months of his and Shinobu's salary combined.
Just at this time, the door rattled again, and a petulant voice sound out throughout the office, addressing Isaka. "You said you needed something," Shinobu grunted, peevishly, still disheveled by sleep interrupted.
Isaka brightened and exclaimed, "Ah, yes Shinobu-kun. We have just the job for you." The man stood from his place at the desk and came to the young boy, grinning broadly. "You brought a bucket right?" The boy returned him a moody look, nodding and lifting the bucket to prove its presence. "Good, good," the man leered in an attempt to come off as charming, and the boy just scowled. "Now, Shinobu-kun, the toilet is starting to smell rather…putrid, so I need you to go flush it." Isaka smiled, a wicked glint.
Back then before there was plumbing in most homes, the bathroom was located on the second floor. This was because on the roof there was a tank that collected rainwater. This water poured into the house by gravity to flush the toilet. Although it was well into the winter, there had been little snowfall and therefore, no water to flush the toilet. This meant that whoever had to flush it, needed to go up on the roof with a bucket of water and pour it into the tank.
Shinobu's face twisted into horror. "Aw come on, Isaka-san," Shinobu protested desperately. "It's freezing outside!"
Isaka shrugged, floating over to the desk, where his partner had taken his place. "Ah, but the toilet needs flushing, my dear friend. Run along now!" He gave the boy a quick, dismissive flick of the hand before turning back to Asahina and the stack of papers at hand.
"But, but, but! The roof probably still has ice on it! I'll slip and die!" he wailed.
Isaka, already refocusing on the laundry-cleaning bill, scribbled something down. "That will be one less mouth to feed."
"Isaka-san!" Shinobu whined and threw himself about some more. Finally before the boy relented and head out the door, he narrowed his gaze and hollered, "Why do you give him the easy jobs? Is it because you like him more?" He was referring to Misaki and the brunet boy tensed at the notion—partially because it was true.
Isaka, unfazed, replied to the blonde's back, "Its just that sometimes you're a little shit and he's not. That's the difference."
"No, its because you have a thing for him!"
Eyes narrowed, expression unchanging, Isaka announced, "Your very fast becoming uncute Shinobu-kun. Now, get to work."
"Whatever." The boy rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room, grumbling, "Asshole."
Once the door had been harshly shut—not slammed, because Shinobu had already gotten in trouble for this a few weeks beforehand—Isaka turned to his partner and sighed. "I feel disrespected."
Asahina sighed, a common sound. "Have you ever felt respected by Shinobu-kun?"
Isaka shrugged. "True."
Isaka rounded back to the desk, sitting next to his partner as the man shifted through the papers, scribbling down his calculations and notes. After a few minutes, the two men quietly discussing other matters, Isaka rested his head down onto the bend of Asahina's free arm fondly. Asahina calmly, deftly handled the numbers and data, tired-out but in his element, replying vaguely to Isaka's chatter.
The other man noticed this quickly and grew impatient, realizing that he was no longer the center of his partner's attention. Misaki watched, amused, as Isaka ran through his repertoire of attention-seeking behaviors—he stared at Asahina, pulled him away from his work to show him a photo in a magazine, and even began tapping his fingers along the man's arm. Eventually, he stood up, went behind his partner and swung himself into the space between Asahina's back and the chair. He wrapped his arms over the man's shoulders, nuzzling his nose in the crook of the lighter brunet's neck. Asahina sighed and leaned into the touch slightly, as if he were actively refusing himself from his favorite distraction.
Misaki wasn't trying to watch, per se, but the dynamic between Isaka and Asahina was always interesting to him. It was no secret they were a couple; but there was a certain kind of closeness the two men shared…almost like family. It was charming to the young boy and mystifying at the same time, to see two people who were so deeply in love.
It took him a few weeks to truly figure out the nature of Isaka and Asahina's relationship; in his earliest months at the okiya, he just assumed they were cousins or stepbrothers. However, he was sorely mistaken. One night he'd been summoned to fetch Isaka a bowl of noodles from a local vendor, and was on his way back, he had accidentally walked in on a rather…private moment for the couple. Asahina had been…well, the memory made Misaki blush in horror. Images of the stoic man leaned over his desk, slamming into Isaka as fast as he could, being urged on by throaty whimpers and moans was more than traumatizing for the youth and immediately straightened his ideas about them out.
Misaki worked his way around the room, dusting down the dirtied windows around the office. Isaka stopped him before he was done, calling off the rest of his daily chores for a reason that was beyond Misaki. Isaka usually wasn't one to be this generous…
"Chibi-tan, we have a favor to ask of you," the man crooned, summoning the boy to the desk with the flick of his finger. Misaki made his way to the two men and kneeled down. Isaka began explaining. "Now look kid, I'm feeling charitable today, and I know you've been dying for the day I'd set you free from your duties."
Misaki brightened suddenly at the thought of a day off, thoughts flitting over to a fantasy of lazing around for the rest of the afternoon, perhaps by the radiator where he could keep away from the biting cold.
"…But the thing is, I'm not that nice," Isaka pointed out with a smug look, and the momentary gleam in Misaki's eyes was snuffed. "I have a different task for you instead of chores. Something…kind of important." The man flicked the boy a significant look, with same kind of satisfaction a master has when he dangles a bone over the snout of his hound.
The word important did have a nice ring and Misaki had been waiting for the day to prove himself to his bosses. Cajoled, he swallowed the buzzing anticipation in his throat, just to seem a little less overeager. "A-alright, Isaka-sama! What do I need to do?"
The man grinned widely, as if they'd shared a joke, and said, "Chibi-tan, I understand how anxious you've been to start hosting, and well, I can't let an opportunity like this pass you up without at least giving you a chance. So, here's the deal. I have a friend coming over, someone rather…close to me. However," Isaka sighed, "you can see that Asahina and I are rather busy today and I just can't fit entertaining into my schedule.
I figured it be rude to cancel, especially on such a good friend, so… I assumed you could pick up some quick hosting practice while he's here. Ya know," Isaka gave Misaki a knowing look, "Just keep the guy busy for a while. Nothing with too much pizzazz. It'll be simple."
"You want me to…host?" Misaki breathed, starting to feel his stomach tighten.
"Sure!" Isaka exclaimed. "Just remember all the things we practiced."
Misaki swallowed hard. Isaka and Asahina had given him a quick run down of the reality of world he had stepped into a week after he had arrived in Kyoto—how his purpose at the okiya was far from menial cleaning jobs, and rather one of high class and power.
However…Isaka and Asahina had each given him two "lessons" over the past two months, and although Misaki had a general gist of what he was supposed to do, each time they met, Misaki struggled to retain much of the vital information that held the key to his future. He sighed drawing back to previous memories in an attempt to scrounge up some of the advice his bosses had given him in those first couple of weeks.
~0~
"Kid…if you think your brother sent you here to play Cinderella, you've been mistaken."
Staring down at him, arms crossed, legs dangling off the side of his desk, Isaka Ryuuichiro was once again, discovering new ways to terrorize Misaki. Though they'd only known each other for five days, Isaka had already proved himself to be a jokester, and found most of his daily entertainment in fooling the naïve servant. Misaki quickly realized that his simple, trusting nature just wouldn't do here, so he looked back up at the man skeptically, determined that he would not be the victim of another hoodwinking.
However, whatever Isaka was planning, he sure did make it seem realistic…
He had summoned Misaki to the office that morning, and together, he and his partner Asahina were waiting. The seemingly fabricated professional atmosphere was actually weighing in on the youth. His stomach clenched nervously and he began questioning whether he was in serious trouble.
But the circumstance seemed more and more like a hoax when Isaka began suggesting that Misaki was being trained for a much more important duty than daily chores, and the youth frowned.
…But Asahina's expression, though it was always this way, was serious and the comical glint in Isaka's eyes just wasn't there… It was confusing and so realistic, and suddenly Misaki began questioning his own logic.
Lost in a typhoon of conflicting suspicions, Misaki listened closely when Asahina said, "Misaki, you're here for a much more important purpose," in his own taciturn manner. "Your brother had much different intentions than we have originally led on."
Misaki blinked at the two men, completely baffled by the notion. He had already assumed a list of daily chores he was to complete by sundown—sweeping corridors, clearing futons in the morning, cleaning shower rooms. He had accepted his fate with relief, figuring that his brother had set him up to be hired as an in-house servant, and was expected of nothing more.
But now…
"Well…what do you mean, Asahina-sama?" the younger boy implored, straining to find the right set of words, ones that were mannerly and respectful, for speaking to his bosses. Though the atmosphere around Isaka was usually very loose, Asahina held a much sturdier, dignified aura. And although the stoic man proved himself gentle and caring, he still commanded a different kind of respect.
"As a servant, you will only make you so much money, and we understood that when we negotiated things with your brother," Asahina explained in an even tone. "We want you to be able to pay off your family's debts in a much more efficient manner." Misaki perked at the sound of completing his first and foremost mission, to provide his Takahiro with the adequate funds to foot every single gambling bill that ever haunted his family.
Isaka, who was knocking the heels of his feet back and forth on the back of the desk (Asahina cringing slightly each time the sound of his foot cracked into the wood), was clearly growing impatient. "Kid," he suddenly asked. "Do you even know what we do here?"
As embarrassing as it was, Misaki had to shake his head. He simply assumed the men were wealthy bankers or perhaps sold clothing items, guessing by the amount of hakama he had found in storage room while cleaning.
"…You mean you have no idea?"
Misaki shook his head a second time.
Isaka huffed a long, dramatic sigh, exclaiming, "Yeesh, you really are a simpleton…" Voice evening out, legs coming to a halt, Isaka leaned back onto the palms of his hands, explaining, "So, basically we sponsor hosts. We take them in and care for them, and in return, they pay us seventy percent of their earnings."
"A host?" Misaki asked shyly, feeling a blush scorch down the back of his neck when Isaka's eyes widened.
"You don't know what that is either?" the man gaped and then shook his head, bewildered, turning over his shoulder to address his partner. "You know what, how about you handle this?"
"Certainly, Ryuuichiro-sama," Asahina said to the vibrant man, and then directed his attention back to Misaki. "Hosts are, in some way, like a geisha, I suppose," the man explained. "You know what a geisha is right?" Misaki nodded earnestly, though slightly put off that Asahina thought he was ignorant enough to not understand a social concept as universal as that. "Well, hosts follow a very similar life. They spend the majority of their work day entertaining clients."
He glanced around to the desk in front of him, rustling through one of the daunting stacks of paper that all but covered the mahogany tabletop; eventually, he produced a sheet of paper with ink splotches that read a list of names. "This is a list of client requests—they call in throughout the week to request your presence, whether it be a party or a social event or a private matter. Your duty as a host is to entertain your guest and to persuade them into seeing you again. Our task is to make your agenda and prepare you to meet with these clients."
Misaki was shell-shocked.
Though he had heard of professions similar to this, the idea that he would soon be living such a life was beyond the farthest reaches of his imagination, and he swallowed hard, staring back and forth between the two men with wide eyes that untrusted their every word. This was certainly one of Isaka's jokes…
"Its actually pretty easy," Isaka shrugged. "I mean, you're often working with older, wealthy business men who have grown tired of the daily grind and their crotchety wives and want to light things up by spending a few hours with a refreshing, youthful pal. Now, I warn you, most of these guys find that your charming, bucktooth smile and cute little butt is enough to make them swing in ways they never dreamed of before, and you'll soon become the object of every single one of their wet dreams."
Forebodingly, Asahina uttered, "Ryuuichiro-sama…"
"Oh, did I say that? I meant to say sweet."
Asahina rolled his eyes, which seemed to be a common exchange between the two men, and a moment later, he continued, his sturdy voice reassuring Misaki. "I'm certain it sounds like a lot, Takahashi-san," he said, "but once you start working your way around the city, you will discover clients who will pay top dollar for an hour of your time."
"And you know what they'll pay even more for?" Isaka questioned, mischief clear in his voice. He answered his own question with a smirk. "Your virginity."
What! It struck him like a rock to the skull—his virginity was being sold off? To a man? The boy choked, whipping his gaze over to Asahina, to see it were true—the man looked down at him sympathetically and he glanced back to Isaka in horror. Without realizing it, Misaki's breaths had grown unsteady, swallowing hard to try to even them out.
Several quiet moments passed, and eventually Misaki spoke. "…Wait, so is this why Shinobu is at the okiya too?" he ventured, sounding strained. The two men nodded. "And this is why I'm here. To entertain…men? Like a prostitute?"
"Not like a prostitute," Asahina quickly corrected him. "You sell your virginity only for the purpose of finding a danna, a patron who promises to support your living expenses for as long as you are hosting. You can only make money if you have a danna…being a host is very expensive and Isaka and I only pay for so much. And once you have secured that benefactor, you are only required to hold a sexual relationship with that man. You will still meet with other clients to make money, but your relationship with your patron is utmost important."
Misaki stared up at the man, horrified.
"Precisely," Isaka chirped. "See, isn't this nice and simple?"
Misaki wanted to say no, but his tongue remained still within his mouth, lips thin, a general queasiness having briefly swept over him at the bewildering circumstances, which were starting to sound less and less like an innocent joke and more like a cruel punishment. The worst part was…this wasn't a prank.
Noticing the youth's nauseated expression, Asahina set him free for the day. It took Misaki two weeks and a long conversation with Shinobu (which really wasn't very helpful) to truly allow the reality of his fate to soak in. All he'd needed was a chance to remind himself that he was doing this for his brother, and once he had, his opposition began to subside, allowing this thought to become is fighting mantra.
"For Nii-chan," he told himself. "I'll do anything for nii-chan."
~0~
Without much true advice to fall back on, Misaki felt his nerves start to sink in. When he really thought about it, Isaka had spent most of their "lesson time" teasing and joking, as usual….
There was certainly no way Misaki would be able to professionally tend to this guest.
Feeling low, the youth made his way out of the office. He was following behind Asahina, who had said he was going to pick out something for him to wear. Although Misaki felt his regular clothes were probably just fine, he couldn't quite argue with his boss, and rather fell behind the man's stride as they made their way down to the first floor, out the door, and toward the structure that stored a plentiful collection of kimono, hakama, and other expensive wears.
Asahina, though he truly felt sorry for Misaki's lack of training, worked quickly and deftly. Misaki had never experienced how elaborate dressing in such luxurious kimono was, so it was strange and mystifying as Asahina worked quickly around him, straightening fabric, tying knots, and folding silk as if it were a simple task—he managed to make Misaki look grand, even as he engaged the youth in a full conversation. He adorned the boy in a husky, yellow kimono and navy hakama, giving him hosting tips as he skillfully worked with the kimono. Though in hindsight, it was a rather simple outfit in comparison to his later ensembles, Misaki had never worn such expensive clothing before and felt his insecurities were hidden under the layers and layers of heavy, stitched material that dressed his body.
From there they headed back to the main house. Isaka was already in the front room, and he was playfully chatting up another man who was dressed in a trim, western suit. The noise of the door opening drew their attention and once the okiya owner realized it was them, he called out, "Ah, finally!"
"Hello," Asahina said, bowing down to greet the guest, who had turned around and was staring curiously at youth. He nodded and bowed in response, though it was distant, attention honed in on the brunet boy.
Then Isaka exclaimed to the man, "Here, here, come meet my newest trainee, Takahashi-san!" He urged the man with a light tap on the back and the visitor stepped forward, eyes still intently trained on Misaki.
"U-uh…" Not sure quite how to respond, Misaki took this as his cue to bow, politely saying, "Hello, I'm Takahashi. Pleased to meet you." There was a moment, once Misaki had completed his bow, where the two of them made eye contact, just a hair of a second, and yet, it felt like a lifetime—they pulled away from each other, the guest swallowing hard and Misaki averting his gaze, embarrassed by the attention.
Then, the man repeated the greeting, saying in a low, smooth voice, "Pleasure Takahashi-san, I'm Usami Haruhiko."
~o~