Chapter Two
The sound of terse knocking made him look up from Work. Takumi muttered something about being right back, making The Work nearly sob in appreciation for the respite. Finally, a break from all the needle-work and pinching and scratching and inking and digging into his flesh. He wanted a tattoo quite desperately, The Work confessed. Although he knew there would be some amount of pain, he never bargained for it to be a torture session in the guise of a paid-service. Rolling his aching shoulders during a pause, he prayed the tattoo itself would be worthwhile or else all of this was for naught.
Takumi, on the other hand, was not affected by the same torture and could easily thank the mail person who had taken the courtesy of saying, "Mail for Usui!" At least now he did not have to bother with any superfluous chatter about how he was and how nice the day appeared and was he the only one that thought most social conventions were nothing but unnecessary nuisances? He could come up with a one-man debate in the corners of his mind over the petty matter but now was not the time for it.
Knowing he had Work waiting for him, he did not bother with flipping through the mail and instead set it down next to him before going back to the ink and his needle-brush. The man (Work, as he was dubbed for the moment) having *irezumi done was a scrawny little fellow. An accountant with a family history of grocers whom he helped on his off-days, from the little information he had conversationally given to Takumi. What had he said his name was? Fukishima? Yamimura? *Yakisoba? He certainly fit the criterion for the last one. Regardless, it was something along those lines – it was a very one-sided conversation, mind you.
But that was trivial considering it was his last day in getting his tattoo completed.
Tattooing had never been as slow of a progress as it was with this man. However, Takumi did not wholly blame the customer. After all, it could not be helped if he was unusually scrawny in build. Plus, he did not seem the type keen on physical activity. Takumi would say it was even expected that a tattoo around the arm would make him susceptible to an extensive amount of pain.
Moreover, Takumi was impressed by the little man and his fierce request: "Please decorate my arm with a serpent, Sensei!" In retrospect, the mess of helping him out of a sobbing, trembling muddle was a task he never imagined taking on. And when he had become a 'Sensei' to a man nearly five years his elder was beyond him.
Sometime early in the afternoon, Takumi finished his task and was putting his ink away while Yukimura – he finally remembered the man's name – admired the tattoo on his arm. He profusely thanked Takumi a good eight times before he was interrupted by a curt, "Thank you for patience and support."
Takumi did not have it in his heart to snap at the man because it made him feel like he was picking on a defenceless little girl (one who was not his wisenheiming neighbour). So, as much as he did not want to, he made sure to make an effort at civility. Yukimura made small talk as Takumi politely saw the man out – again, social conventions necessary to just barely maintain his business and survival. At the same time, he checked the mail he received, adding one worded answers and comments as his way of participating in their exchange. There was not much to go over, he thought absently. Some were unimportant letters, others ridiculous letters, and another did not belong to him at all. In fact, it belonged to his neighbours in the Hanano Okiya.
"‒really appreciate your service, Usui-san. I will be sure to let others know about your excellent skills and help your business grow!" He only half listened to the rest of the chatter, ready to dismiss him already, when a familiar little head bobbed past. "Oh, hello again, young lady." Apparently this Yukimura-fellow knew his innocuous (but also not) neighbour. He crouched down to her short stature with a warm smile. "Did you just return from our grocery?"
And there was the polite-hostess smile she used the first day – except this one seemed much more genial and sincere. Takumi felt disbelief at her ability to turn into an innocent and seemingly normal girl when she wasn't snarling at him like the devil's spawn. He also acknowledged a twinge of jealousy (just a smidge) but he knew that was his fault anyways and could not feel guilt for teasing her. It was much too amusing and most of his days were boring enough for him to die of from it. Besides that, she was already uncomfortable and hyperaware enough in his presence, judging from the way her eyes darted to him.
"Yes," she said, astutely ignoring Takumi and smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Peripheral vision was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. "My sisters needed some supplies."
"You always have much to keep you busy it seems." She nodded in agreement and Takumi did not miss the pointed way she stared at him for a second. To think she could get irritated simply by his being present. Just to ruffle her feathers, he smirked back at her. The other man was oblivious to the brief exchange of looks. "Do you need any help with the groceries?"
"No." To Takumi, however, the number of bags she carried said otherwise. Nevertheless, his lips stayed sealed. "But thank you for the kind offer." She barely managed to bow with the bags weighing her down.
Takumi thought of the bulky basket of laundry she dutifully carried out each morning without the slightest quiver of the arms. He never considered it, which seemed foolish now, but he knew even she had her limits. In this case, it was the number of bags she carried from the market. It was hard on her. He noted the way she repeatedly flexed her fingers. Still, she resisted exposing such vulnerability to make sure others remained ignorant of the effort she was applying to her menial chore. Obviously, Misaki had a staunch pride ‒ from his experience with it, he thought mordantly, her pride had to be three times bigger than her own body. All the same, Takumi wished he could snap at Yakisoba to move along so the girl could be on her way already.
Yukimura looked at the young girl with an expression that jumped between awe and pity. He relented with her wishes. After making sure to let her know that his offer was extended to her at any time she wanted, he bowed towards Takumi one final time and was on his way. Takumi, on the other hand, did not so much as get a glance backwards again as the girl-next-door swept off to do her own business. But he didn't mind. After all, they always met in the morning during her laundry run – not that she really seemed to want to.
He went back into his house and knowing his next appointment was hours away, he decided to finally read his newspaper. It was never interesting or insightful but, he mused with a sigh, it was the lesser of two evils. Usually, it contained the same superfluous information and gossip from the previous day but with a new element to give it a 'twist'. Even so, he read the entire bit from cover to cover. It was only when he was nearly halfway through the last article of the paper that he suddenly set it down and ran a hand down his face in exasperation. He just remembered it ‒ how could he have forgotten about it? The mixed-up letter he received. He didn't return it to the Okiya like he planned to. Better yet, he did not hand it to his haughty neighbour when he saw her. Not that she had given him the time of day, anyways.
Grumbling and cursing himself under his breath, he got up to his feet and headed over to the Okiya for the first time since he had arrived. Usually, social convention thought it necessary to greet one's new neighbours, Takumi did not know how exactly it would bode for him by greeting the owner of a geisha house and it did not help that as a young male, moving in next door would – to put it cleanly – reflect poorly of him and his interests.
He hoped that the owner was not nearly as intimidating as the young occupant he had met (and bothered) the past few mornings. Upon entering the lodge, the scent of light perfumes and a distinct undertone of sweet-sake overwhelmed his nostrils. For a moment, Takumi merely stood at the entrance, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Up ahead, he saw a lady with cropped and fashionably-combed hair talking amiably with another man and directing him into a room. A few seconds later, upon her return, she noticed the awkwardly standing Takumi and approached him with a smile.
"Welcome to the Hanano Okiya." Up close, she was significantly shorter than he was. He wondered fleetingly if they made that a qualification in this particular Okiya – it would certainly explain the so-called nine-year-old neighbour's five-year-old appearance. So, with his sarcastic thoughts in mind, he also bowed in kind. "And how are you doing today, young master?"
"Fine, thank you." Best to keep it brief, he told himself. "Actually, I moved nearby some time ago." By that he meant right next door but, from the way her eyes flashed with recognition, she obviously knew that already. "My name is Usui Takumi." He would be a little surprised if the girl had not tattled on the 'big, bad neighbour' next-door. After all, it was natural for children to want sympathy and cover in their guardians. Whether it was from a stain on their clothes or a pestering neighbour, it was simply natural to flock to the safety of an authority figure.
"Ah, yes, yes, of course, hello!" Apparently, the girl had not spread word of his boorish behaviour (he assumed she would be the type to exaggerate) if the owner's bright smile was any indication. She bowed once more, this time with more vigour. The woman was positively beaming. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Usui-san. My name is Hyuuda Satsuki and I am the chief lady manager of the Hanano Okiya. Oh, I've heard so much about you. Please treat us favourably." Takumi's forehead crumpled with confusion. From the brat's attitude, he was quite sure that girl would not have said anything but warnings and demon tales about him. It appeared that that was not the case.
Whatever the case, he pushed his perplexity aside and bowed again anyways. "I'm sorry to drop in so unexpectedly however it seems that your mail got mixed up with mine." He handed her the letter and she took it, surprised.
"I see. Thank you for bringing it over. The mailman must have had quite a number of deliveries today. Shigure-san does not usually make mistakes in his deliveries," she explained. "Even so, sorry for the trouble."
Takumi gave a small smile, just a slight upwards tilt of the lips, yet it was an accomplishment for him. At least he knew his neighbours were pleasant – with a few exceptions. Yet those (she) would be manageable. It provided him with a good way to pass the mornings, which were relatively uneventful even in the middle of the week. Judging by the number of wealthy looking men that exited one of the rooms – laughing raucously, he might add – the same could not be said of business within the Okiya. "It's no trouble," he told her.
Walking out after the group of men (he would never understand people's fixations with such places) were the Geishas. Dressed in decorative kimonos and heavily made-up with several hair ornaments, they smiled indulgently and bowed to their customers. One in particular caught his eye. The only one he knew among them.
"Thank you, little one," one of the men said – it was plain to see whom he addressed. He crouched slightly in front of her with a smarmy smile. "Big brother will bring you some nice treats for next time, okay?"
She must have been used to such treatment from her 'big brothers' because, yet again, she imparted the same perfectly practiced smile and bow she did upon their first meeting. His first experience with it was enough for him to be able to see right through the too-perfect action. "Thank you for your kind patronage, masters."
The others followed suit, adding, "Please be careful on your way back." The three of them watched the men leave when Takumi locked gazes with the girl he met in the morning. Her eyes widened and he could see the panic that flooded them as they darted about. All at once, she swiftly spun on her heels and turned her back to him. He watched as she muttered something to one of the older girls beside her before scurrying back inside the room she had exited, the steady tap-tap-tap rhythm of her feet echoing in his ears.
Satsuki turned towards the guests who approached her. She greeted them graciously, asking about how their visit went as she made the necessary transactions with them. Happily, the group gushed about their entertainers and how much they enjoyed themselves and how nice they felt the atmosphere Hanano Okiya was. Takumi, waiting so he could just get his parting greetings over with – social conventions were indeed such a hassle! – stood quietly to the side.
"The little maiko you have here seems to be flourishing."
His friend, nodding solemnly as though they were discussing the country's politics, added, "Indeed, she's very skilled."
"To think it's only been a few years since she began. She'll be a fully grown butterfly in no time."
Takumi was relieved when they left and even more relieved when he was able to leave the Hanano Okiya. Although it did not affect him initially, he soon realized that the scent of perfume, no matter how light, was suffocating. He was not used to such scents, especially for long bouts of time. It would have been impossible to wait it out any longer than he had. Although, in retrospect, the flowery fragrances were nothing compared to the way he felt asphyxiated by the weight of little Tsubomi's words from earlier in the morning.
"Not if the caterpillar gets eaten by a bird."
"Unless it withers away or gets picked."
"Then, that flower would be lucky. But I'm not that flower."
Takumi wondered if little Tsubomi – he wished he knew her name – felt the same asphyxiation, morning after morning; day after day; week after week.
He had seen her! The obnoxious, brutish, neighbour-from-hell had seen her!
Misaki wiped at the tables furiously, wondering how she could have let her guard down so foolishly. With a bitter frown, she realized that she lost some of her vigilance in the past few years, having gotten so used to the peacefulness of the town and the Okiya. Even when she knew better. Even when she told herself over and over that this life was one of survival and she would become the weakest link; the most vulnerable prey. Even when she decided to become stronger and stay on her guard at all times.
'This,' she thought to herself angrily. 'This is what happens when you're too naïve. Stupid people think they can step all over you and ruin you.'
But no more. Such vulnerability would have to be put to an end. Without a doubt, she lived around trustworthy and honest people. However, she had seen and felt the effects – the terrible consequences – of naivety first hand. It was up to her to become strong, not only for herself but for those she took it upon herself to protect. And their new neighbour was exactly the 'thing' they needed protection from.
"Misa-chan, I think that spot of the table is plenty clean now."
Misaki blinked up at Erika and then down at her hand which had been scrubbing the same spot for minutes without end. "Ah! S-S-Sorry!" Erika laughed off the apology, saying it was fine.
"If I didn't see you do it, I would think that you waxed the tables," she teased.
'Great,' she thought mordantly. Now, she would have to polish the entire table in the same way so it all looked evenly cleaned. As if she actually needed more work on her plate. When she was done with the rest of the table, Subaru helped her fix the make-up and hair ornaments that had come out of place in her spontaneous and flustered cleaning spree.
"What is it that's got you so agitated, Misa-chan?" Evidently, she had noticed Misaki's earlier distress.
"Nothing, *Onee-sama. I'm fine." The older girl looked doubtful but let her drop the issue without pressing any further. She just hoped that Subaru did not notify Satsuki about her strange behaviour. Moreover, she pleaded that Honoka did not take too much notice.
It was all that stupid, stalking neighbour's fault. But he was unbelievably thick if he thought for even a second that she would allow his presence and the memory of his nefarious smirk haunt her within her own territory.
If there were two things Ayuzawa Misaki did not take to kindly it was, one, losing battles and, two, trespassers. Henceforth, she decided she would neither lose to her neighbour nor allow him to haunt her on her own grounds.
Takumi tried to go back to the unfinished article, he really did. But the ridiculous article – some speculation of conspiracy that expounded on "the growth of some company's trade with foreign countries" and the journalist's fear that Japan would be "vulnerable for conquest in the eyes of enemy aliens if it did not work to elevate itself to greatness" – was far from where his mind wanted to be. Over and over, without his consent, it wandered off to further decipher the cryptic words of his neighbour when he would be forced to yank it back to what he wanted. He was so distracted by self-opposition and roundabout tug-of-war that he was confused when he heard loud rapping on his door.
He looked up at the clock. It was already afternoon. It was too late for mail and he was not one to usually get visitors any time of the day – unless they were there to get tattoos. 'The four o'clock appointment,' he recalled in relief.
Finally. A more reliable diversion. Two and a half hours of irezumi and a grown man crying was sure to keep his mind off of– no, he thought with a deep frown. He wouldn't even dare to think about it. So, putting off his article again, he grabbed it and threw it into his rubbish bin with the surety that he would never get back to it anyways. Then, he leisurely made his way to the door where his customer waited patiently. Takumi showed him the way in and allowed him to get comfortable while he returned shortly with his supplies. After getting his supplies, he made sure to get a tray with a cup of tea. He learned early on that the best way to deal with people getting tattoos, especially those new to it or unused to prolonged pain for hours at a time, was to serve them something that would calm their nerves. Although, not everyone required it.
His customer – a bespectacled man named Koganei – insisted he was of the latter.
In the span of the first ten minutes, Takumi found out that his customer was a government agent and although they were supposed to be prohibited from things such as tattoos, Koganei was high enough in rank to have them brush the infraction aside. 'Because the world is nothing if all matters did not always boils down to rank and influence,' he thought dispassionately. That and the fact that his wife, a woman named 'Tsubaki', would be mighty pleased that he was having *tsubaki inked into his skin. And a tiger to match with it, of course.
In other words, the tattoos were a way to stroke his ego, which the young tattoo artist soon discovered was rather frail. It turned out that Koganei was not a man unable to go without the tea after all. Takumi, who sensed the struggle he had in keeping face, blandly excused himself for a moment to go to the washroom and give the man some time. By the time he returned, the entire cup of tea, which was probably lukewarm at best for being out for so long, had been drained. Takumi wisely decided not to comment on it and quietly went back to his work.
By the time he was done with it and paid, Koganei craned his neck over his shoulder to get a look at the younger man's handiwork. Takumi couldn't be sure if he actually saw it or not but he assumed he did and was pleased with the tattoo because he insisted on taking him out to the next-door geisha house for a drink. He tried to talk him out of the prospect but the mulish jackass would not take 'no' for an answer. And that was how Usui Takumi was coerced into going right back to what he was trying to divert his attentions from. One long and torturous hour later, the young lad was still sitting next to dense lightweight who was ardently downing his something-th glass of whatever wine he ordered.
Koganei gave a satisfied sigh and asked for another one before turning to Takumi with a belch. The tattoo artist, who was not only underage and preferred not to divulge his control and consciousness to a bitter beverage, was not impressed at all. The icy expression flew right over the other man's head. "To think you live by such a great place and‒hic!‒and don't come here." He watched the geishas at the front of the parlour performing *kabuki for the masses. Although it was afternoon, the place was dimly lit to provide an ambiance that was more appropriate for the type of entertainment provided.
"I'm usually quite busy providing my services," Takumi explained, taking a small sip from his barely touched drink. He was still on his first one and, damn, it burned his throat. He managed not to reel back from the bitter taste. "I'm also underage," he added pointedly.
Koganei easily brushed the reason aside. "Just let them know of your acquaintance with me and you will be fine from here on out. Besides, age is not a matter when you are increasing your knowledge in culture." Takumi had several misgivings of what this man defined as 'culture' but made no comment, letting him flaunt his position without reaction with the hopes that he would quickly get bored and leave. Apparently, he was wrong to think the bespectacled man could not get more annoying. "To make use of such a blessing is such-" Takumi's lips pressed together tightly as some of the other man's wine sloshed out, splattering onto his yukata "-a waste of your youth, you know. And look at you!" By the slight slur in his voice, it was easy to tell that he was slowly coming under the influence of his drink. He blinked unevenly and sullenly gestured to all of the younger man. "I bet women are all over you, you lucky bastard." Takumi bristled, but did not speak. "I wasn't exactly an *ikemen growing up but I was lucky. The girl I loved decided to settle for me. Yup. I was a lucky one."
It seemed that the man was no longer interested in drinking or ogling the geishas at the parlour's front. Instead, Koganei spent a minute swirling his drink about in his glass with his face buried in his other arm. A range of emotions crossed his face as though the churning liquid was speaking to him until he set down the glass down loudly against the table. He turned to look at Takumi with solemn eyes.
'Now what,' he wondered wearily. He had not signed up for an emotional confession-session. It was instances like this – though he never imagined something of this sort would happen to him – that made Takumi averse to providing any special attention to his cliental. After all, there was no benefit in making it his business to know about them outside of what he was paid for. 'I should have lied while I had the chance.'
"You know what, Usui?"
The person in question sighed and humoured the man with an explicitly uninterested, "What?"
"I have a wife at home," he stated, sheer awe in his voice and face as though the prospect never occurred to him. Fantastic, Takumi thought darkly, but made no comment on the ridiculous and arbitrary fact. "I'd love to stay and chat but I have to be on my way right now."
Still, Takumi stared at him flatly, the tips of his fingers tapping against the table in silent fury. 'You say that as though I'm the one that dragged you here, you bastard.'
"Please. Don't stay on my account," he said in a pitiful attempt at sounding gracious. Clearly, he did not make the cut. But Koganei was still marvelling over his marriage to notice his irritation.
"While it's a shame I live so far from here, I don't think I mind the distance. I have a great family, y'know." He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath about his wife. Obviously done flaunting his career, he decided to take a new course by parading his pride for his family.
'Brilliant,' Takumi thought mordantly. Another thing he could add to the list of things he did not care for and never would care for.
Koganei stood up from his seat, wobbling for a second before he steadied himself and bowed to Usui clumsily. "Thanks again for your schwer-soor-services," he finally managed to get out.
And at long last, after one more chuckle, the man left. Takumi stared at his back, cursing how long he had to suffer while the latter walked away with renewed vigour and a distinct spring in his steps. Finally, he pushed away his blasted drink and let his head drop against the table. He should have received payment for having an hour of his life wasted as well as enduring the muddled musings of a class-A moron. He heard someone approach him and lifted his head up slowly, not wanting to deal with any more troublesome people. Takumi was more than ready to go home and collapse into his futon.
Instead, he found the manager of the Okiya looking down at him with a small smile. "Hello again, Usui-san. You look quite exhausted." Her eyes seemed to twinkle with mirth, as though she had easily figured him out and was laughing at his expense but wisely not mentioning it. He was glad the world was not completely full of idiots. "Would you like another drink?"
For a moment, he only stared at her in contemplation. Her smile was kind and had a maternal feeling about it. It seemed out-of-place. Perverse even, considering her occupation. There was something different in the way she treated him compared to their first meeting. Whatever it was, Satsuki had a peculiar feeling about her, less professional as she had been before and more familiar, open. Like she included Takumi into a secret faction without his knowing. For the first time, he was having difficulty reading a person.
Satsuki eyed the drink in front of him, the one he had barely skimmed a layer from, and it was evident that she was waiting for his response. She did not even need the answer – he was aware that she already knew it – still, he played along with her game of kind-hostess and respected-guest.
"No, thank you."
She observed Takumi briefly and then looked around her, quietly dissecting the environment with her keen eyes. The hours of night were creeping in. Yet, surprisingly enough, it was not demanding at all. On such a slow night, the girls were doing well both on the stage and the ones who were tending to refreshment requests. One pair of hands less would not hurt them and besides, she was long overdue for a break with how busy the rest of the afternoon had been.
Politely, Satsuki inquired if he would mind her company and Takumi allowed her to do so with a simple shrug. It was her property and she was free to do as she pleased, he told her. Satsuki laughed at that and gracefully sat herself down across from him. She had noticed the reluctance with which he had come to the Okiya tonight as well as his exasperation. Twice, the girls had come to her in jitters, confirming in hushed tones that that was the new neighbour. Satsuki was quite sure a great many of her workers, contracted but not lodging in the Okiya were deeply regretting their decisions. She watched as he seemed to perk up for a moment, eyes looking behind her. Curious at what could have caught his attention, she also turned around and caught Misaki scowling in their direction. However, as soon as she saw that Satsuki's back was no longer to her, she contorted her face into a painful smile and quickly disappeared into the back with her tray of soiled glasses. Turning back to the man across from her, Satsuki saw him smirk vaguely.
"I see you've already gotten to know our little flower," Satsuki said with a blithe laugh, shaking her head at her (really, both of their) childish antics. But this seemed to help the young man sober up. Whatever hint of amusement that was on his face had been wiped away. "I hope you don't think I was prying but I happened to see you talking to her the other day. It was very interesting." He wondered briefly if he was in trouble. "I have never seen her make such interesting faces around others."
It seemed he was not in trouble. Strange. Nevertheless, Takumi digested her words with care. Another minute passed and Satsuki thought that he was done talking for the night when he asked, "What is she doing here?"
It was a random question to say the least, almost like a topic change. But in the short time she had spoken to him, Satsuki did not believe that Usui Takumi was not someone who wasted his words on trivial matters, especially something as pathetic as a change of topic. That would show a lack of understanding on his part and he seemed to be of the same spirit as Misaki when it came down to a confrontation.
"The same thing the other girls here are doing," she answered. Though it could be considered cryptic and mean of her, Satsuki kept in mind her responsibility to each of her girls and their privacy. Takumi did not seem to mind the obscurity of her response and took it in stride, waiting to see if she would elaborate at all. This once, she decided, she would give him a leg to stand on. "Trying to survive."
She was happy to see that her answer was exactly the one he had been looking for.
It was official. He was haunting her.
Going to sleep with the thought that as soon as she woke up that morning, as soon as she started her day, he would crop up with the intention of troubling her and making sure her mood stayed miserable for the rest of it. It had been less than pleasant falling asleep and simply nasty waking up. Aoi's comment at breakfast about looking like a "scraggly raccoon" did not have a positive effect on her esteem either.
How was it that a five-year-old could be so discourteous when some of the most compassionate women within Japan raised him? Save for Honoka, of course. Nonetheless, even Honoka managed to show sporadic bursts of kindness from time to time. Or maybe, Misaki thought, she was not thinking of the reasons with the proper logic. Since, Honoka was the most daunting and easily capable of causing fatalities with her sharp tongue it only made sense that she was secretly teaching Aoi the Art of Tormenting Misaki!
'Urgh. Wake up brain, wake up.' She let her head fall into her hands only to quickly pull it back up when her face lodged itself into a cold and sodden blanket – Honoka's blanket. 'How frightfully appropriate.' She groaned loudly as no one was in the room to inquire about her strangeness. She was quite certain. All around her, the world was conspiring on ruining her day.
As it usually did, the laundry was done in the span of a little under two hours – including the time Misaki had unintentionally devoted to beating herself with soggy clothing and imagined herself wringing out the neck of that tosser, Usui. However, that was only the easy part of her task. There was a time, Misaki recalled sadly, where the entire chore was merely a chore. It had no unnecessary labels or titles that discriminated between 'good parts' and 'bad parts'. Yet that seemed like a long time ago.
'Only four days ago,' she reminded herself.
Wondering whether he would be waiting outside for her again, Misaki gingerly opened the back door a few inches to peek out into the yard. She searched the entire area with a sweeping look making sure she saw no sign of her maddening neighbour.
'Excellent. It looks like he's not there today.' Perhaps she overestimated his abilities and interest in picking on her. Perhaps, even he had enough of a heart to realize when she was trying to avoid him and wanted to be alone. Once more, she peered through the crack in the door. Her eyes scanned the premises of the yard, sharply eying the hedges and her dreaded neighbour's empty porch. Misaki resented the idea of having to be careful and almost apprehensive in her own territory but that stupid Usui made things impossible for her to do – especially after last night. But, today, he was not there. Today, he could not goad her. Today, she would be fine. 'It should be okay.'
"Misa-chan." Misaki jolted in surprise, feeling her heart stop altogether for a millisecond. Regaining control of her breathing and making sure to school her face, she turned around to find Subaru looking down at her curiously. "What are you doing?"
Misaki gave her a small smile, hoping she did not look suspicious. For all the world, she was not the best actress around those who knew her well enough. "Nothing. I'm just going to go and hang the laundry."
Subaru smiled kindly at her and quickly pulled her hair into a bun. "In that case, why don't I help you? I'm not busy with anything right now." While every one of her sisters within the Okiya were nice, Subaru was by far the most compassionate and helpful, usually loved by her customers for her gentle nature.
"It's fine, thank you. I can do it on my own." The older girl gave her an indulgent smile and an odd amount of guilt made its way into Misaki. It was not as though she had lied to Subaru.
"I know you can but look at how big that pile of clothes is. It'll be faster with two hands, right?" Her protest stopped short when Subaru took hold of the other hand of the wicker basket that Misaki usually carried out and Misaki knew it was a lost cause. So, she forced herself to trudge along beside the other girl – was the basket a little heavier than usual or was it harder to move when she was being helped? Whatever the case, she made sure to move along with Subaru's speed and balance ("This basket is so heavy. You're amazing for carrying it everyday, Misa-chan.") She couldn't risk spilling the clothes. Still, things went on with more fluidity as they began to hang the clothing up.
'It's nice to have some company,' Misaki thought. They decided that things would go quickly if they both started on opposite ends of the lines and made their way to the centre. As though she had heard her thoughts, Subaru looked over her shoulder to flash her a spirited grin and Misaki returned the gesture with her own timid smile.
She was so busy wringing and hanging the laundry, she did not notice the approaching man-plague until he stood over the hedge and said, "Hello again, Tsubomi-chan."
Author's Note: Thank you very much for all the kind reviews and views. I appreciate all the support I am getting.
In particular, I think what made me laugh was the review as left by Queen Ore-sama. Truly, I laughed quite loudly (snorts and all) when I read it. I suppose he does seem like a pedophile, no? Funnily enough, I never meant for it to seem that way considering this is a progression I'm trying to depict. It is a very good thing that he isn't hitting on her – at least, that is how I perceive my story (as an added note within this note, I should say that I stick to John Green's policy of a story and it's interpretation belonging to it's reader). But, yeah, he was not written as a pedophile originally nor will he written as such in the future. Otherwise, there will be police sirens in the near future for our main man. ;)
*Translation and Terminology Notes
Irezumi: tattooing in Japanese which is referred to as "insertion of ink" as a permanent skin decoration; can include many styles of tattooing (traditional by hand, machine insertion) but in the story's context it is very specific to the traditional Japanese hand-tattooing method called tebori ("to carve, sculpt, or inscribe) – which is admired for the way it can create very delicate gradations of colour which are more difficult to do with machines
Yakisoba: fried buck-wheat noodles (ramen-style noodles) that are usually quite thin in appearance (offshoot of the more widely recognized Chinese chow mein) – not to be mistaken for the softer, thicker variation of fried udon noodles known as "yakiudon"
Tsubaki: it means "camellia" in Japanese, which is a type of flower
Kabuki: as taken from Google (thank you technology!), "a form of traditional Japanese drama [and theatre] with highly stylized song, mime, and dance". Today, it is limited to males as a form of classical art however it was once considered an (erotic) form of theatre performed by both genders as entertainment
Ikemen: a Japanese expression that means "very handsome man" or in just plain ol' Anglais, it translates as a "hot guy"
Author's Note (again): I am SO sorry for all of this pointless writing in my notes. I don't blame anyone who skips them. Truthfully, it is what I would probably do were I in your shoes.
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