Chapter Text
"I've heard of you" the bannerman rustles. His stache stark and stern. The shine dripping with his worth. A daimyo. Not of lineage but a first of his kind. The crest on his kataginu is of recent reknown. Akemi smells his commute off him. This wasn't his first night at the teahouse. Won't be his last.
He was bound for Odawara.
"One cannot hear of me. I am passed down by word of mouth. To those who seek..." Akemi spoke with a designed lilt. A voice meant to inflict. Effect control. "What do you seek?" she straightens a crease in her opulent, front tied obi. A guilded thread woven into silk gifted to her by her patron.
It spoke of her nights of service. Doing precisely what set her apart from those who simply parted their legs and pinned their backs to the bed. The rare gift of enrichment. Poetry. Song. Conversation. Pleasure. The company she offered was something the rare could afford.
And many sought. The art of listening and being heard. She's been listening for what feels like a lifetime. Fourteen when she was sold. Her disgust waned with each desire put in words. Men, she surmised, fathom pleasure in only taking. A throne. A life. A child's purity.
She wonders what this one of many was here to take.
"My daughter" he pauses. Dropping midway to drain his cup of bitter sake. "She refuses her womanly fate" he slams the cup back down on the table. The kettle rattles. Akemi sits still. Her breath unhitched. Men habitually give way to petty sentiment. This was nothing unusual.
"Past her prime, prancing with no shoulders for responsibility, her head is full of fallacies..." he angles his darkened eyes at her. Frustrated. Akemi blinks slowly so as to not offend him by her confusion. How would her services contribute to this end? It evaded her.
His hand rests on the table between them "Befriend her with the determination of becoming a trusted confidant" he instructs "feed to her the merits of womanhood until she follows through." Akemi digests the conveyance. Questions overwhelm her. They all flood to one concern.
"I shall pay handsomely for the business losses you face from your absence at the chaya"
Akemi exhales. Her worries rest shadowed in the comfort of the recompense. She watches the Daimyo reach for the second cup of sake, pouring sake into it's belly until it's brimming. It scraped across the table in her direction as he let his proposition sit.
"How long will it take?" he asks.
"A week" Akemi put the cup to her lips.
*
The Morikawa estate in its essence. Sprawls. The garden thick with combed grass. Ajisai sprung from the earth. Bequeath their shade upon the Daimyo's residence. Where its pale blue petals blanket the ground. Unbruised.
Akemi's two kamuro cling to her trousseau. Yuriko. Little Nai. Asleep on each other's shoulders. Her thumb scrapes the handle of her hand fan. She begins to pray. For strength. For wisdom. For prosperity. For good luck.
The whinny of a horse falls upon her ears. Distant. Yet it's hooves beat the earth with fast approach. A voice guides it. Reigns it in with full toned sway. Deep. Rich. She hears the Lord's palanquin halt against its right of way. Who dares stand in the Lord's path?
The procession bides. His affinity restless. The porters and packhorses stalled. Slaves mutter. Advisors bicker. The retainers bow their heads. "Father!" comes the emphatic greeting. It silences all to the very end of the file. Strong heels strike the earth as a man leaps off his horse.
Akemi curls her fingers around the bars of her palanquin. Stationed tailwards. She tries to catch a glimpse. Further muttering ensues as the man approaches each palanquin. A wayward remark. An obnoxious greeting. The Lord's son? Akemi ventures a guess.
They share bearings. Tall of height, broad of shoulders, long of legs. His face is obscured by his jingasa. The laquered lip of the helmet holds his family crest. Akemi unfurls her fan as he draws closer. Eyes peeking from above the silken horizon of her shade.
His multi-hued kamishimo dipped in shades of the richest indigo. The finest weave of silver seigaiha mon... waves of water. Of good luck. He acts like no lord. His words far too provocative and his manner unfettered by courtly discipline.
Yet his bold voice swells in her breasts. His presence births an anticipation in her belly. To hang on his every word. Revel in the absence of niceties.
"And who must you be?" he cocks his chin. His riding hat gives way to a river. His eyes dressed in amber spectacles. Blue as rare stones. A blue putting his indigo dyed hitatare to shame. A blue so precious, he could wear it as a crown.
In her wonderment, Akemi fails to respond. Compelling him to raise the handle-end of his katana. Striking it along the bars of the palanquin to gather her attention. Her kamuro rouse.
"Are you mute?" the nobleman hikes the glasses up the bridge of his nose. His fingers like fine, ayame stems, wiping his splendid brow "Or do your services promise a closed mouth?" he leers and Akemi's brows lilt at his wanton. She flutters her handfan to distract from her deepening blush.
The Lord's retainer announces for the convoy to proceed. Akemi manages to bite her tongue lest she respond carelessly. What an inauspicious start to her endeavour. She wasn't here in her capacity as a courtesan. Rather a companion to the ojo-sama. Still.
She felt his gaze continue to track her palanquin as it led inside the Daimyo's courtyard. Self satisfied laughter followed her.
She heard it long after they'd crossed paths.
****
Akemi is received by the Seishitsu, Lady Iwaki. Flanked by her lady-in-waiting. She bows to her. Her face painted. Teeth blackened. Long hair travel down her back, gathered by bright ribbons. A sufficient smile that reveals the iridescence on her beni coated lips.
She orders the attendants to carry Akemi's trunks of belongings to the ladies quarters. Guiding her servant girls to their quarters.
She guides her. Wordless. The floor boards sing beneath their footsteps. Akemi glances at the married woman. The shoji door frames cast shadows on her. She's an image painted with class. Her well postured figure sheathed in juni hitoe of spring colours.
Akemi imagines wearing her finery. Slipping into it like a glove. Married into a upper house with all the wealth at her disposal. "Famed poetess of Yoshiwara... you come as our guest." The Lord's wife speaks without looking. The last resort seemed to be her making. Akemi could tell.
Some matters have strings too delicate for men to pull.
The noblewoman's voice holds restrained benignity. The kind proper women use to draw lines without sticks. An othering of the unlike. Between pity and hatred. Within the confines of the Morikawa estate, Akemi was as unlike as she could be. And yet here she was, part of her masquerade.
"Yes, madam" she responds with curtness at par with hers.
Her room is airy with a balcony. Luxury implicit in the tapestry, the laquered chest rendered of quality chestnut. A vanity. A hand painted screen. A writing bundai. A brush and a bottle of ink. An even number of paper sheets as it was expensive.
"Thankyou" she responds, turning to the lady.
"Thank me when the job is done" she makes a subtle gesture of the hand. Her attendants appear on command. They carry silk. Beni. Jewelry. Mirrors. Porcelain. A bound book containing the pleasure sutras. One hands the queen a box. She opens it to reveal a set of sexual aids. Beads, phalluses, rings, lubricant.
Akemi gives them a once over. The use of some evade her. "Should you need anything else in the way of shepherding my step child... you need only ask" the Seishitsu gestured to her attendants. "In exchange" she shuts the box close, passing it back to her attendant.
There it is. Akemi anticipates it. The cruelty of a wife who submit to every womanly rite to still end up par with a whore like her. "Know your place in this household. Bleed our coin and rest assured that I will have you bound to a tree stump and raped till you've paid back your dues."
Akemi nods meekly. Though it wasn't close to the worst that could happen to her, she had no intentions of acting otherwise. "When shall I meet her?" she asks. The Queen's thinly veiled disdain dripping off the word "stepchild" wasn't wasted on her.
Akemi imagines her to be plainly. Not rebellious. For rebellious girls are killed. She must be reluctant at best. Resisting suitors. Running their questions in circles. Akemi wouldn't need all half the things the Queen offered her. Well illusioned lies were enough.
Women have succumbed to marriage since ages come. What was another unsuspecting girl?
"Tonight" comes the answer
****
The gathering of women is small but select. Lady Iwaki's friends from aspirational clans. Married women with married daughters in attendance. The children they've left with nurses. They sit glittering under the candlelight. Their voices brash, talking of home and hearth.
Akemi feels it again. The unlikeness. She could sit among them. Pretend to have a family to talk about. Children to return to. A marital bed to tie her life to. How far would the pretense convince? Fear didn't strike from not being like them but the thought that they might not be happy either.
Yuriko turns Akemi's chin, painting her lip with beni from behind the byobu where she sat. Nai, her younger attendant, grooms her hyogo. Her butterfly shaped chignon adorned with gold kanzashi and kushi. Commotion. Servants begin rushing with sake and fruit.
"The Ronin's here" one of them mutters. Ronin? Akemi takes a deep breath. She smoothens her scarlet furisode, arranging her flowing manaita obi. The printed deer on the screen prance. Anticipating. Greetings emerge from the other side. A warm voice playfully returns.
Snide.
Too warm.
Too deep.
Akemi frowns. Fingers clutch around the stem of plum blossom in her hand. The energy in the room shifts. Their voices pitch. Simper. Flirt. An excitement overwhelms. The Seishitsu takes the platform. Elevated. Garnering attention. "Such a delightful evening" she clears her throat.
Her raised finger commands silence, proceedings. "How incredible to think we've come so far. Some of you I celebrated my wedding with... some I helped get married" her lips stretch, pointed emphasis on the words. A chuckle comes. Hot and rough. One she recognises.
Akemi's heart stills. "So tonight, I gather you with high hopes. To unwind. To mingle. To delight. To celebrate you, I invite among you, the weaver of words, Tsuno no Kase..." Akemi is nudged when she hesitates, head bowed and her face hidden behind hydrangeas.
She finally emerges like the sun, radiant in her silk finery. Hair sleek, gold kanzashi catching the candlelight. Her bare feet pad towards the zabuton, neatly arranging herself onto it. Like sake in a cup. Her lashes flick, taking in the sight of her audience across the room.
It rests on him. Material seems to dissipate. Sights, sounds and colours give way to nothingess. He monopolize Akemi's senses. Her vision. Her lips. Speechless. He swallows her consciousness whole. The Morikawa wildchild with sapphire eyes. Indigo bathed. He sits sprawled in her line of vision.
One arm propped on the cushion. Other resting on his knee, swilling his cup of sake. Long hair gathered at the crown of his head. A stubborn lock lounges across his forehead. Swaying with the look he gives her. Intrigued. "Shall we begin?" the Lord's wife interjected.
"The pearls in my company distract me momentarily" Akemi remarked from behind the ume. It elicits laughter. Gives her time to collect herself. He laughs too. Rare as it dips an octave below the rest. Full. Hearty. Surely, this wasn't the daughter they expected her to knuckle into womanhood.
"A day beget
Of hopeful blossoms
Behold the hoverfly
Follows me home"
She smiles in the midst of soft exchanges. The women hang onto her words. Eyeing each other gleefully.
"My body bears
Breasts ripe with honey
The fruits of longing
I share with none"
"Lo a bud" Akemi's breath hitched. Gasps follow. The gold kanzashi dangling from her chignon tinkles with the shock of her looking up. The little bells swinging. The Prince responds to her. The tone of his voice dips. Sultry yet soft. Provocative as a finger to her lips.
The women fawn after him. He blocks with his raised hand a slice of peach being fed to him. He trains his aquatic eyes on her.
"Lo a bud
Of sweetest scent
It's curved petals
Shy from the hoverfly"
"Nectar brims
For the worthy wanderer
Such longing held back
Will crush your
Sweet flower"
Akemi conceals her gulp. Chest threatening to burst and spill her giddy heart. She cedes to the Prince's request. Lowering the ume into her lap. Revealing her face. He sits up. No longer indifferent. He waits on her verse. Akemi raises her eyes to meet his'. Their shine quivering.
They seem to touch without entering each other's society.
Akemi tells him:
"The hoverfly greeds
Enter my chambers
Perfumed
Steal his worth
I mustn't submit"
He scoffs. Differing.
Knuckles whitening from where he pressed the cup of sake to his smooth, terracotta lip
"Disrobe
To the whims
Of life
Fate evaded
Is no fate at all"
Akemi stretches her arm out, adding expression to her lyric. Her refusal abiding.
"A lure of songs
Weave a web
Entice me
To my end'
He retorts. Offering.
"The votive
Sits sincere
Between your breasts
You've yearned to be
Had"
They go back and forth. Akemi committed to her argument. She fights the colour rising on her cheeks. Focusing only on the words and not the meaning pregnant.
"The petals wither
She ruins
No more a flower
Dew bloody
Off her thigh"
"Find the seed
Deep within
The destruction of
becoming one
Is art"
"Beloved
Spent spring
On my
Milky waist
Just to taste me-"
The prince rises from his seat, indignant. Her words seem to offend him. His sake cup speaking for him as it goes scurrying away, teetering on the tatami. He seems to have inherited his father's temper. Akemi bites back her smile. She'd effected something. Some feeling.
He turns at the gate, the attendants chasing him step out of his path as he holds back. A retaliation he couldn't curb.
"Drown out
This wilt
In my arms
We're worth
A thousand springs"
****
"You misled me!" Akemi confronts Lady Iwaki after the affair ends and the guests depart late into the night. The platters sit empty, the bottles of sake loud, cushions scattered on the floor. Apocalyptic after the rousing evening they spent. She'd already dismissed her attendants to their room.
The Sheishitsu ignores her, instructing servants cleaning up the hall. "Don't cross the courtyard with the bottles, the Lord mustn't know" she tells them, her lady-in-waiting at her heels. She glances at her furtively. Ignoring her. Complicit in keeping her in the dark.
"I have left a week of service to join your endeavour. You cannot withhold!" Akemi insisted, blocking her path. Lady Iwaki's eyes narrow, lips thinning into a smile "Or what? You'll run back to your wonderful life? Your loving home? Your husband?" she cuts through her.
Akemi tightens her jaw, eyes reddening "You can replace me and then replace the girl who replaces me and you'll still not get what you want" she seethes. That seems to work. The Lord's wife turns to her, arms crossing from beneath her ample sleeve "What do you want?"
"I want to be treated like an exponent... not an outsider" Akemi returns to her prior deference. The Seishitsu seems to soften marginally. Then breaks out in a cackle "I've given this household my best years and still am a slave to it. You think this is something you can just ask for?"
Akemi stares at the floor. "I cannot make your task easier for you when you're paid to apply yourself. You have wits. You have liberty. Do with it what you must." Lady Iwami crosses her, her hitoe checking Akemi's shoulder rudely "if you can't then pack your belongings and leave right now."
Breath hot beneath her nose, Akemi balls her fists tight till her nails leave crescents on her palms. She exhales, promising herself to detangle the predicament tomorrow earlier. Wondering if her greed had doomed her. That she was out of her depth.
Shoulders slumped. Ready to obscure herself to her quarters. An attendant hinders her at the verge of exit "The Oji-denka summons you" he points to the west wing. Akemi furrows her brows, furisode swishing behind her. She follows in the wake of the disgruntled Prince.
Prince? Bastard? Ronin?
She had no idea. Cracks grew in her propriety and charm. Too tired to keep performing. She smells it before she sees it. Drawing closer to the door. The thick, earthy musk of the deepest pits of the body. The firm striking of flesh upon flesh. Pitiful cries. A harmony.
Akemi parts the slide, lips agape. Eyes widen. The Prince's hair spills below his back, eyes maddened as he takes a girl from behind. His arms and shoulders boast well fed muscle beneath the sinewy frame. Double phalluses harness his lean hips, penetrating her to the hilt.
Pulling back. Forcing back in.
His forearm flexes. Forcing her down to perform oral sex on another girl beneath them. Her legs splayed, face buried in the Prince's nethers. Nails scraping his thighs. Another embraces him from the back. Fondling his breasts. Kissing his smooth neck.
Their futon misshapen, the sheets coil around their debauchery. The Prince locks eyes with her. Like crashing waves of the sea, ravaging her. He climaxes, a weighted groan, buckling. He reaches his hand out to her. Taunting her. Tormenting her. Akemi slides the shoji door shut.
She runs back to her room. Wounded without knowing why. The kanzashi is ripped out of her hair, the vermillion silk falls. The mirror reflects her face of despair. She looks like a fool. The beni now smeared from her lips. Akemi grips the kushi, ready to launch it at the mirror.
Sense prevails. She crawls into bed. Their moans ringing in her long after she succumbs to troubled sleep.
****
"More?" Yuriko asks and Akemi blinks, staring down her bowl of breakfast. Unevenly eaten. The room swills. Little children prance. The Lord's younger heirs. The Sheishitsu glances at her sideways as she shuffled into the dining area, sitting down next to her and her perpetually mute lady-in-waiting.
"You look hideous" Lady Iwaki remarks, ingesting the smallest portion of rice. "I didn't sleep very well" Akemi glares at her owlishly before gesturing to Yuriko that she's done. The noblewoman wipes her mouth with an embroidered kerchief "I'm not paying you to sleep. No one does. Isn't that your shtick?" she remarks under her breath.
"What are you even paying me to do?" Akemi asks pointedly. The Prince materialises at the door, blocking the morning light "Morning, Matsuno, Kiri... Suki... " he swerves around the girls, nudging them enough to make them teeter their piled trays. They giggle. He grabs one by the waist, steadying her tray before she toppled it. She thanks him profusely.
Akemi feels the food rise back up her throat. He'd polished himself clean. Hair swept back into a chignon, fingers lotioned, brow silky. He bows to the Sheishitsu, "I hope you slept like an owl" he tells her. She gives him an equally passive smile. Thin and ill wished.
He crosses Akemi, giving her a subtle wink. She bows her head quickly, disappointed at her nose chasing the scent of incense on his sleeve. He seats himself down next to her. One of his servant girls brings him breakfast. It seems to be a fixture. Miso soup, rice, kobachi and lots of quail eggs.
Akemi watches as one of the young heirs run up to the Prince. He steals an egg from his tray, gleefully biting into it. The golden yolk pools around his rosebud lips. The prince only laughs, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth. "I will change" he announces before Lady Iwaki can protest.
"Being able to change something, isn't a license to keep sullying it" she protests nonetheless "or better yet, wash your own sleeves" she mutters under her breath. Akemi stares at the Prince, his jovial interaction with his young brother. To think he can cherish such innocence.
He catches her eye. Akemi hastily looks away, reaching for her cup of tea. She feels his gaze linger as she puts it to her lips. "I apologise for last night" his voice is soft. Akemi feels the tea flood her nose, eyes reddening as she kept herself from hacking in an unladylike manner
"Your highness needn't apologise" she covers her mouth. Her eyes watering. The Prince's lips curl into a smile. Their natural colour deep and rich. "But I must. You are a remarkable artist and I failed to appreciate your... talents to the full extent" he admits.
Akemi tries to speak but it takes every fibre of her being to not cough her spirits out. Her nose burns. Her temples hurting. She continues covering half her face. "How about... you give me a second chance to prove myself a worthy audience" he tilts his head, a wanton lock loosens from his knot, falling across his forehead "Would you prefer us to be alone?"
Akemi tries to turn away before it happens. Unsuccessful. She splutters green tea into the Prince's lap. Her chest hurts as she coughs uncontrollably. Yuriko rushes over with a pot of water. The Prince rubs her back. Worried. The children hound them, peering at her. "Idiot" Lady Iwaki sits unmoved. Her lady in waiting lets out a subtle snort.
****
Akemi paints herself into the corner of her balcony, a spyglass propped on the ledge. It oversees the flag-lined courtyard where the Prince trains. He draws twin arrows against his bow. His quiver exhausted. A hay stuffed bust stands stilted several metres away. He makes the mark each time. Arrows sprout from the dummy's face. She shudders.
"Miss" Yuriko parts the door to her room. "Did he leave his garments behind?" Akemi asks without turning away from still unable to distinguish from afar. Yuriko steps inside, nodding her head. She presents his silk kamishimo, delicately hanging it up. The tea had long dried but the discourtesy still tainted it.
"I can wash it" Yuriko shrugs. "No" Akemi angled the spyglass to hone in on his hips. Her voice a mumble beneath her nose. She wished to wash his kamishimo for him. After the events at breakfast, it was the least she could do to make amends. "Did you find out what else he does in a day?" she dials its resolution.
"His attendant said he trains in swordfighting, archery and dressage all morning. By noon he reads philosophy, historical texts, administration and governance" Yuriko counts off her fingers "In the evening, he unwinds by indulging in the arts. At night he practices calligraphy"
Yuriko approaches Akemi, kneeling next to her "What are you looking at?" she whispers. Akemi continues studying him. The act must look like insanity. "You know, you can just talk to him right?" Yuriko suggests. Akemi pulls the spyglass down from the ledge "Talking is for children."
She lifts her brows "To excel, you must learn to only say what men want to hear" she places her hand upon her chest "like I will tonight." Akemi rests her arm on the ledge, pinning her chin above "He's requested a private performance. I shall take this as my chance to strike intimacy."
Yuriko frowns, her chance now to say "Right." Akemi begins to question it but gets a nudge from Yuriko who cocks her head towards the courtyard below. The Prince looks up at them. His perfect brow arched. "Duck" Akemi pushes Yuriko's head down from the ledge. After some moments, she peeks back up to see the courtyard empty.
****
Akemi blows out the incense. Sandalwood. The swirls rise in thick rings. She bathes his hung kamishimo in its scent. She'd cleaned and pressed it. Draped it on a rack. She touches the inside the cuff. The embroidered ajisai sits embossed on the lining. She smiles. Now whenever he'd disrobe, he'd find the flower imprinted on his wrist. She'd already embossed it on Nai's arm to give it a test.
She carries the incense to the fine table lining the wall, burying it into the bronze vessel. It would fill the room soon enough. She'd spent all day preparing. Her shamisen rests near her floor cushion. The furisode retired for the night, a ruby rich, heavily embroidered hikizuri takes its place. Lengthy obi tied behind, its ends fan on the floor.
Curling over the zabuton, she cradles the shamisen. Fingers flit across its stem, fine tuning it for her performance. A decorated chignon felt impersonal. She'd let her hair flood down to her hips. A gold saichi upon her forehead. Such as the sun resting upon the horizon before it sinks.
Eyes lined to her temples, lips painted in the shape of a heart. Her fingernails and toes, she dyed red. She'd forgone the face paint. To appear vulnerable. Yet impactful. An image of Amaterasu. The Sun herself. Should the nightingales begin singing. The Prince would penetrate her society. Done with his day's work. Share in her company. His dark robes pleated, across her, lay on the tatami.
She was prepared to regale him. To build a stage out of her femininity. Tied into her long tongued obi. Words to exchange. Foster deep. The shoji door gives way and Akemi senses him before he steps inside. "Your highness" she prostrates herself from the waist up. Arms pressed to the floor. "Rise" he slides the door shut behind him "you needn't bow to me"
Akemi straightens her spine. Gaze lowered, arm curled around her shamisen. His footsteps strike gently. Belying his weighted presence. His towering, robust frame. He arrives cloaked in a simple haori, the inner lining woven richly of a lively sea. The tapesty on his collars matches the silk of his hakama.
The loosely knotted cord at his waist exposes his chest. Still damp from his bath. Wearing no under garments. "Tonight, we are equals" he sprawls himself before her. Close. Face aglow beneath the candlelight. The tan skin of his cheek is smooth and unblemished. Akemi feels her ears ring. Bells chime. Singing. She struggles to gather herself. He keeps undoing her.
Akemi watches him glance at his hung kamishimo. "I seek your pardon. I displayed incivility this morning. For that I atone" she gestured to his now refined regalia. "Do you reckon I care for civility?" he asks softly, smoothing the pleats of his hakama.
Akemi's eyes are drawn to his ankle. Peeking from where his sock and hem fails to meet. The dip in his sleeve exposes the inside of his forearm. His parted haori slips down his chest. The flesh of his breast slips out. Only a crescent of his nipple shows. Like the moon. "I do not know the Prince enough to say" Akemi smiles, a touch of blush coloring her face
He strokes the cord of his haori "I am no Prince." Akemi shakes her head, saichi glinting. "Your eyes. Your blade. Your words. They impose reign without you wielding them. What are you if not one?" her breath catches.
He laughs. Slow and deep. "Mizu" the word arrives like the fragrance of nightflowers. Akemi bows again, the name delights her. She lets it hang in the air. Rain down on her. "And what shall I call you?" Mizu asks. Akemi dithers "Tsuno no Kase" she offers.
"Your real name" his brows knit. Needful. Like he was aggrieved by it being withheld. He travels his eyes from the guilded spokes of her saichi down to her naked, painted toes "Your accent. Your finery. Your beauty. Your name is but a title. Just like mine"
Akemi twirls her plectrum between her fingers, pressing it to the shamisen strings. "I shall commence my performance" she gazes at him past her shoulder "My name will be woven into the song... pay heed... you will soon find out"
Akemi begins playing. A nasally belt of her voice narrates to the Prince. A nagauta. A love story. Of the moon blenching at its reflection in the river. It's shape terrible and bruised. Each ripple causes it to doubt itself. The fish hide from it. The stars bicker to outshine it.
The moon sets out to ask the thief if it finds it beautiful. He rebukes it. How it foils his delicate schemes. Glaring brightly upon them. The moon chases the asagao, its petal shied from the dark. It berates. That it must hide upon its rise. The moon weeps. To retire itself from the sky.
"The sun unfetters its lips so bold.
That his bride be shunned by those lesser.
Have I not smiled upon you,
With my light even in the densest shadow.
Have I not chased you endlessly?
Yearning to be one?
Turn to me in this night plentiful
Sleep in my sleeve till we kiss at dawn"
Akemi stills her pluck. Eyes still closed. She smiles, expectant as she looks upon the Prince. His beautiful neck exposed as he'd thrown his head back. His jaw smooth, unshadowed by facial hair. Savouring her song.
He pauses in thought. Raising his head back up. His eyes appear drunken. Half lidded yet honed. On her. Like he was drunking her up. "Yoko" he answers. Her name he guesses wrong. Akemi shakes her head as he gives it some attempts.
"Asahi?" "Akari?" "Akemi?" his voice lilts and Akemi burns. Her shoulders slump as she closes her eyes again. "Again" she requests meekly. Her eyes damp. He obliges
"Akemi" he repeats, voice softer. "Akemi" he rises, drawing closer to her. Akemi keeps her eyes lowered, clutching her shamisen. He reaches for it, taking it from her. Resting it gently on the tatami besides them. His haori pulls apart, chest bared. A tattoo sits on his sternum, concealed before by the knot. Now boldly visible.
A rising phoenix. It's wings spread. Eyes blue.
His hand rests heavy on her calf, dragging up her knee, gripping under her thigh. He climbs over her. Pulling her forward with a strong tug. Closer. With a gasp. She flattens under him. Legs open. Sombre. Her fists ball against the floor as he straddles her. Single handedly. He unties his hakama.
His eyes fuel with lust. Their color awake. Swilling. "You made me climax in my hakama" he throws apart the folds of her hikizuri "Did some yosei teach you how to bewitch people like this?" His face finds home in the crook of her neck, buried in her black hair. "Your highness" she feels his weight pin her, clutching his shoulder "Must we do this?"
He slips between her milky thighs, groaning "What do you mean?" his breath is jagged, rushed. His mind elsewhere. "Can't we share this evening without lovemaking?" her voice quivers. Thin with desire. "Isn't that what you're here to do?" he pressed his nose to her neck, inhaling her deep within his chest. Akemi fights out of the flood of desire. Confronted by fact.
"How dare you?" all traces of the decadent haze gone. The incense dissipates. She grabs the shamisen, swinging at the Prince's head. He stumbles off her and Akemi glares at him. Chest heaving. Shamisen hoisted above her head. Her bare legs exposed by her parted hikizuri kimono.
"What...?" Mizu appears confused. His hair, now dry, fall over his eyes. His clothes as disheveled as hers. Haori undone. His unknotted hakama droops around his hips, exposing only the periphery of his lush groin. His pubic hair dark and fine. Hips cut with lean muscle.
"Is that what you think I'm here to do?" Akemi asks, lowering the shamisen "Is that why you summoned me to your room last night? To join your orgy?". A part of her rifts. Irrationally. This is what she did for a living. But him assuming it broke her heart. "I reckoned..." his thoughts struggle to realign "you were here for me"
Akemi frowns, eyes damp "I am... but to be your companion. Not your bedwarmer" This seems to stun him to reality as well. He shakes his head. "I never asked for a companion" he ties the cord to his hakama back. Shoulders tense. Akemi panics.
"Don't go!" Akemi crawls after him, insistent. She grabs the hem of his haori as he gets up to leave "Please... I need the money. I can sing, dance, paint and read for you. I can teach you. I can... help you become a woman..." she cries.
This seems to pierce his heart. Eyes darkening. "Is that how you've seen me all along? Some sort of broken man?" he takes her hand, tugging it off his haori "Unhand me." He strides far from her. Sliding the shoji shut. The soft click like a bang. Lasting long after he'd left.
****
Akemi clears her throat, requesting to enter. The Sheishitsu seats behind the tea table, a shallow vase flanking her, fresh flowers spread on a tray as she wields a pair of clippers. Snipping away before dinner. Her lady in waiting sits fanning her, folding the fan swiftly when she sees her.
Akemi approaches the table, hands clutching something in her lap. She'd washed her makeup and changed out of her hikizuri. Returning to her quieter furisode. She seats herself across from her. Bowing. "What do you need now?" Lady Iwaki twirls a plum blossom, refining it's bunches for display.
"Nothing" Akemi continues bowing "I came to apologise and to bid adieu before I depart for Yoshiwara." "What?" the Seishitsu clicks the clippers down, flower stems still bunched in her hand.
"You're right, I'm just a whore who oversells herself" she admits "Despite my attempts, I cannot reconcile with the Prince. My talents are unfit towards this end" she raises the object in her lap. A laquered box. She cracks it open. It brims with stacked koban and her kanzashi covered by silk.
"My recompense for the inconvenience I caused you." She bows again before the Sheishitsu. "Are you stupid?" Lady Iwaki layers her concern "It's horribly late in the night." "No" Akemi shakes her head "I cannot reap your hospitality another second. I have made arrangements for my commute"
Lady Iwaki's knuckles pale as she clutches her flowers tight. Releasing them after a while. "Go" she dismisses her after her words embitter the air between them. She doesn't sound cold or upset. Neither particularly troubled. There might be a touch of sympathy but the Sheishitsu clings to her stoicism.
****
"We can still turn back" Yuriko insists again. Akemi lifts a finger to her lips. She decided she'd stop replying after the third protest. Secretly, she wishes for Yuriko to harden against her. Throw a fit. Leap out of the norimono so she'd have an excuse to stop and reconsider.
"The Ronin gave me a daruma" Nai bounces the wooden doll in her little hands. Akemi smiles "Is that your name for him?" she asks. Nai shrugs "That's what they all call him. The samurai of the waves" she modulates her voice how a storyteller would.
Akemi frowns, turning away to stare out of the bars of the palanquin. She wasn't a fool. She could trick, scheme, lie and seduce the Prince into getting her promised bag of coin but the look on his face this evening stayed seared behind her eyelids. She couldn't do that to him.
She couldn't fix something that wasn't broken. She couldn't look into his boundless blue eyes and act like she was everything he needed. "Why do you deny yourself happiness?" Yuriko accuses her. Akemi sighs. "I'll find us another client soon." "It's not about the money" she argues. "Then?" Akemi lifts her brow.
"You know you like him" Yuriko cuts through the pretense. Akemi glares at her, raising her handfan "Another word from your mouth and I'll beat you." "You won't" Yuriko crosses her arms, incensed "You're a coward."
The night road was desolate and shadowy. Their dorimono led its path with oil lamps, six men carrying them. A supply of oil enough to last them into the morning. Akemi had stripped Yuriko, Nai and herself of all valuables. If she prayed hard enough. They'd reach safe and sound.
She joins her hands, muttering beneath her breath. They cross another milemarker. Venturing forth. A loud crack. Akemi's eyes fly open as she feels the palanquin teeter sharply, swaying as they halt. Crash to the ground. Yelling. Metal clangs. Bandits. They smash their lamps.
Immersed in darkness, Akemi leans across "When I count to three, leap from this door and run far into those bushes on the side of the road. Hide there until morning" she instructs Yuriko and Nai. She holds her fingers up and on three, climbs out of the opposite side of the palanquin.
Loudly announcing herself. She grabs their attention. Five men in all. Brandishing farming equipment as makeshift tools. She watches her kamuro sneak across the road, exhaling. It didn't matter what comes next. One of them strides up to her, grabbing her by the neck. Portly. Fat fingered.
He rips the collar of her kimono aside. The embroidered sigil sits beneath its fold. "An oiran" he leers. Burly. Ringleader. He gestures his sickle to the norimono "Take everything" he points to the palanquin. He holds his blade to her neck "What shall I do with you?" he asks, pressing it deeper.
The night neighs. Hooves beat the dirt road from far away. Akemi closes her eyes, tears pooling as she recognises it. He sweeps through the shadows of trees, galloping to where they were stranded. The men raise their sickles and pitchforks. Poised.
The dark descends upon them heavily. The clouds sit sultry and dense. The Prince screeches to a halt, the reigns straining as his horse rises on its hind legs. Akemi hears the stirrups click, his twin scabbards colliding on his hip. His eyes glint in the dark.
"Keep pushing, horseman" the Ringleader announces to him as the Prince dismounts his ride. "You do not want to be part of this" he wrangles Akemi to his front, using her body as a shield. He presses his blade harder into her neck, causing her to cry out.
A flash of metal slices the air. Akemi's vision spatters red. She feels the man's body slump down on her, a knife sticking out of his forehead.
She gasps, shrugging him off as his blood soaks her cloak. The fellow bandits circle the palanquin, trees rustling. Akemi, near blinded by the blood, stumbles to the side of the road. Kneeling as she struggles to see. She hears a breeze. No. It was a katana unsheathing.
A metallic twang resounds, following it, the dull, wet slicing open of flesh. More blood spraying. Akemi grabs her head, making herself as small as she can. More cuts spark through the air, colliding with their rusted arms.
She hears them yelp and groan. Hitting the ground one after the other. One tries to crawl away. The katana comes down. Precise yet unforgiving. A lawless entity in itself.
Akemi crouches there, shaking. Waiting for the nightmare to end. She feels a touch on her shoulder and she cowers, slowly peering up. Mizu gazes at her. His anxious face thinly masked with severity. He pulls her to her feet, holding her as she swayed a little.
He wipes her eye clean with the heel of his hand. The soft pad of his thumb. Her vision unsullies. The sky follows suit. The clouds clearing to reveal the moon. Benevolent upon them. Akemi looks around them, bodies of the bandits opened and lay bleeding. The porters deserted them.
Akemi stares below at the road. Seeing his blade drip blood, mixing with the dirt. The Prince pulls her chin between his bloody fingers, raising her face. Akemi keeps her eyes lowered. He slowly turns her chin to study one cheek, then the other. She bears no cuts.
"How dare you?" he asks. His voice gravelly and taut. Akemi fights the tears overring at her lashes again. He releases her chin, cupping her face whole in his sizeable palm. Pulling her closer. She dares to cast her gaze upon him.
His face pale as the moon. Top knot undone as loose strands frame his face, hair flowing from the crown of his head where he'd gathered it with a cord. Brows knit. His lip quivers. Crushed by her heedlessness. Akemi can't bear to be witnessed by him.
Yuriko and Nai run out of the bushes and Mizu points the sword in their direction. "Wait! It's my girls" Akemi rushes to them, spreading her cloak to hide the bloodshed from their eyes. Yuriko pushes her away, hiding Nai behind her back "You did this" she hisses at her.
"I..." she tries to explain but it all feels like excuses even before it leaves her mouth. Akemi glances frantically between them. Mizu exhales, swiping the blood of his katana before sheathing it again. He whistles for his horse, striding to it and climbing on his back in a strong, swift motion. Akemi gulps. Thinking of their journey back to Yoshiwara. She reaches for Yuriko but she retreats.
More guards arrive on horseback. Metal beating the earth. Yuriko runs to them, Nai's hand clasped around her wrist. Mizu watches them board their backs. They take their belongings from the norimono too. Riding right back to the Morikawa estate. The Prince stays.
Akemi holds back, feet firmly planted on the ground. Though the sight of blood sickens her. Weakens her spirit. She hears hooves click. The beautiful, tan beast trots towards her. Its muscles rippling beneath its rich coat. She sees Mizu's bloodied hand unfurl for hers.
"I..." her voice snags "cannot return. I'm being paid to deceive you" she wavers
"Then deceive me"
Akemi fights the sob "I can't"
"Take my hand before I climb down and beat you" he simply states
"Then beat me" Akemi cries "I've done you great disservice"
"So have I" he laughs. Low and throaty. Still patient. "I walk out on your performances, expose myself to you, pounce on you like a depraved demon, treat you like a common whore" he grows sombre
"Now I'll make sure to beat you too"
Akemi lets out a choked sob. Guised as a laugh. His breath seems to halt at the sound of it. He beckons her again
"Come on" he whispers
Akemi swallows her hesitation. Mute as she grabs his hand and seats herself behind him. She teeters, clutching the Prince's chest to steady herself. She feels their proximity. His back is much broader from up close. The warmth of his body seeps through his clothes.
She yearns to wrap her arms around him but shies, gripping the back of the saddle instead. The horse whinnies as Mizu refuses to move. He looks back at her. His eyes knowing. Akemi clears her throat, hands flitting before she finally curls them around him. One up his chest, gripping his shoulder. The other around his waist. She slowly loosens herself against him. Melding into his silhouette.
"Good girl" Mizu knees the beast. A sharp click of his tongue as they pick up, blustering back to Morikawa estate. Cheek pressed to his back, Akemi closes her eyes. The moon runs after her. Confronted by her pounding heart. How should she guard this deluge?
Yuriko was naive. But she didn't have the heart to remind her. A whore like her, she knew, was not afforded fantasies like love.
****