Fic: Princess of Flowers (Historical AU)
Title : Princess of Flowers (Part 1 of 3)
Author : freeradical9
Word count : 5,300
Rating : R in parts 1 & 2, NC-17 in part 3
Warnings : AU, UST, cross-dressing, legally sanctioned prostitution, legally sanctioned indentured service, explicit M/M eventually
Summary : The pleasure district of Edo acquires a new courtesan
A/N: This is all smillaraaq's fault--first, for posting some scans here from the 85 doujinshi Shinkai Ni Sumu by Treasure, set in Edo-era Japan; then for going ahead and encouraging a plot bunny that grew into the dreaded Rabbit of Caerbannog. This is the first installment of the happy result. Many thanks go out to the following individuals for contributions that allowed this little project to happen:
jenlittlebottom: for generosity in providing some very valuable text summaries to the doujinshi
avierra: for being a resource for period costuming and for providing insightful beta comments
smillaraaq: who devoted many hours to the cause of historical research this birthday/thank you present.
Cross-posted to saiyukiyaoi and saiyuki. Comments and concrit welcome. Enjoy!
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Hakkai caught his first glimpse of the new oiran of the brothel named Tougenrou the day after the courtesan's arrival in Edo. He walked towards the double doors at the end of a long hallway, bearing a breakfast tray from the kitchens. It was still quiet in the house at this hour. Most of the main activities commenced after the sun went down, and currently it was barely noon.
Hakkai stopped, kneeling down, straightening the folds of his haori overcoat around him. Not sure of his reception, or even if the oiran was awake, he soundlessly slid one of the doors open a few centimeters. He glanced up through lowered lashes to see if he could locate the room's occupant, and almost immediately the glint of red arrested his eye. His head lifted involuntarily in surprise. The figure before him completely ensnared his gaze, robbing him of both the ability and the will to look away.
The oiran was indeed awake. He sat composed on his futon, hands folded into the sleeves of his uchikake robe. Both a calligraphy table and a samisen lay within easy reach, but he was currently occupied with neither. Instead, the elegant countenance, coiffed and painted with a subtle application of cosmetics, was turned towards the window, focused on the birds in the small garden beyond the veranda.
Goku had said that the new oiran was pretty. It only made sense; one did not become a member of the highest class of courtesan in the Yoshiwara pleasure district without being easy on the eyes. But this courtesan surpassed all expectations. The word "pretty" didn't do him justice. Rather, Hakkai found him to be breathtaking... mesmerizing... magnificent.
Something dark and possessive uncoiled at the thought, whispering seductively at the back of Hakkai's consciousness. Mine....
No. Hakkai clenched his hand over the front of his kimono, shocked and dismayed at the emotions the oiran's presence provoked. He had thought that his time at Tougenrou had safely subdued such feelings, blunting his own desires by bending and focusing his will only on the task to serve.
Only to serve. The reprimanding thought was faintly bitter. The time of a courtesan could not be bought by the likes of himself, poor and indebted as he was. To think otherwise would be sheer folly.
Still, the seductive voice whispered inside. Unspoken was the knowledge that temptation lay within reach. All he had to do was stretch out his hands to claim it.
…And betray the trust of the owner of Tougenrou, who had given Hakkai both identity and purpose, rendered from the ashes of his previous life.
Hakkai drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and with effort wrestled the beast inside of himself back into submission. Taking painstaking care to make sure no trace of it remained in his posture or expression, he smoothed the crumpled fabric of his kimono back into place.
He was just about to make his presence known, when another disquieting fact occurred to him. The oiran was fully and elaborately dressed in the many layers of kimono appropriate to the profession, hair wound above his head in an elegant style and every pin in place. Hakkai had known that the oiran had arrived at Tougenrou late last night, but he had been given to understand that none of the oiran's traveling entourage had stayed. Who then, had helped him get ready for the day?
Perhaps a more appropriate question was, had the oiran actually even slept?
Hakkai was beginning to suspect that he would have his work cut out for him, if he was to be in charge of the oiran's care. First things first. Introductions. He adjusted the placement of the breakfast tray, and then gently slid aside the door.
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Tougenrou was a nondescript building, set at the back of an alley in the flower district of Edo. Gojyo had been a little alarmed by its placement at first, wondering what kind of shady circumstances he had been sold into when his previous owner had signed over his contract of indenture. The building had, however, the full latticework across the windows, marking the establishment as a high-class and fully-licensed brothel. Gojyo had also noted that the plain façade was cleaner than the buildings that surrounded it, and the crimson paint on the wooden bars was fresh.
His room had been another matter altogether. Where Gojyo had expected it to be plain and functional, he found it instead to be warm and inviting and immaculately kept. The wide futon was dressed in silk sheets, with a fine hand-embellished coverlet. Paper lanterns stood in two corners of the room, while a third had been placed, folded up on the veranda. A silk screen with a pattern of red peonies in bloom provided a separate, private space for his personal effects, including a stand for his samisen and a small table with an expensive mirror, currently covered with embroidered cloth.
It had been far more than he had ever expected, but instead of bringing satisfaction at the achievement of the status for which he had worked and trained over a span of several years, he felt only the cold touch of dread. It couldn't last long, his new owner would soon have to find out that the purchase of this particular oiran had been a mistake.
Gojyo resisted the urge to pace, instead moving from his position on the veranda to sink onto the edge of the soft futon, settling his robes around him. No, not Gojyo anymore. He had to stop thinking of himself by his old name and go by his newly-awarded courtesan's name instead. Koubaku Tayuu.
Still, old habits were hard to break.
"Please forgive the intrusion...."
The oiran turned. A man had slid open one of the doors to the room and was kneeling in the entryway, dark head bowed. "I hope you find the accommodations to your satisfaction."
Even though his face was hidden by the bow, Gojyo could tell this person hadn't been among the servants who had been present at the arrival of the entourage last night. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am the house yarite. I am called Hakkai."
Gojyo blinked, taken aback. Yarite ranked below oiran in the hierarchy of the Yoshiwara brothels. They took no customers themselves, and so their livelihood was completely dependent on the money that the courtesans earned--a fact that often caused quite a bit of friction within a house. The yarite who had supervised Gojyo's previous house had been a retired oiran, a woman well past her prime. She had become steeped in bitterness as her beauty had faded, and had been verbally and physically abusive to her younger charges.
The appearance of this yarite was strange for a number of reasons. Arching a delicate brow, Gojyo pointed out the most obvious. "You are a man."
The dark head bowed still further. "The oiran is most observant. Is it not fitting for a oiran who is also a man?" Before Gojyo could think of a suitable response to that, Hakkai continued, "This establishment has recently come under new ownership, and I fear we are a bit understaffed. I will be seeing to your care in person until suitable attendants for the oiran's retinue can be found."
This information was surprising as well. yarite usually filled the role of both manager and chaperone within a house, and only rarely served as attendants. Gojyo studied the yarite for a moment. If Hakkai was to serve as his attendant, he wanted a better look. "Raise your head."
There was a pause, just a shade too short to be insolence, and Hakkai slowly did as he'd been bid.
Their eyes met. Gojyo felt a shock of something like heat-lightning race over his skin.
Gojyo had spent years as a courtesan's apprentice during his long training in Kyoto, and he had seen many supervisors of many houses during that time. It wasn't just the fact that Hakkai was a man, or the painstaking politeness of his manner, or even the strange jewelry he wore, the three silver bands on his ear. No, it was the eyes, Gojyo decided. Intense and green and knowing. Even across the distance separating them, Gojyo felt as if he could fall into those dark, fathomless depths and be lost forever.
Hakkai bowed his head again, and Gojyo inhaled sharply, not realizing until that point that he had entirely forgotten to breathe.
"I've brought food from the kitchens," the yarite said. "After your long journey, you must be hungry."
Gojyo abruptly realized he was famished. In his concern over his future at Tougenrou, he had been too distracted to notice. He hadn't eaten anything at all, save for some travel rations last night on the road. Not trusting himself to speak yet, he slowly inclined his head.
The food was good. It was simple fare, only miso and rice, but it was exactly what Gojyo needed after his long journey to provide nourishment and to settle his nerves. He ate it all, with a courtesan's practiced grace. Hakkai waited patiently nearby until he finished, and Gojyo was acutely aware of his presence, conscious of him watching every last bite.
"Would you like me to bring more?" he inquired politely, as Gojyo set down the last empty bowl.
Mutely, Gojyo shook his head.
Hakkai dared to meet his gaze again. Again, there was a strange jolt, as if some invisible, palpable energy sparked between them. Gojyo was prepared for it this time, and wrapped poise around himself like a cloak, hiding its effects.
Something in the yarite's green eyes softened. "Your journey must have been difficult," he said quietly. "The proprietor will not be about for some hours yet. Perhaps I could help you to get comfortable? It would be good to get some rest while you have the chance."
Gojyo knew that he should try. His meeting with Tougenrou's owner was of extreme importance. If he was to have any kind of a future at all here, he had to make a good impression. It was difficult to do so having had no sleep.
Hakkai was moving even before Gojyo murmured his assent. The yarite crossed the distance that separated them and knelt on the futon, well within Gojyo's personal space. Gojyo tensed up, but then forced himself to relax. He'd had attendants wait on him before. Everything would be fine as long as Hakkai didn't try to directly touch his skin.
Hakkai didn't. Instead, calm, efficient hands lifted at the shoulders of his uchikake. Gojyo shrugged off the padded weight of the heavy outer robe, and Hakkai carried it to the waiting stand by the far wall. He returned a moment later to deftly untangle the silken knots of the obi cord, then unwrapped the wide band of silk itself, neatly folding it and setting it aside on the futon.
As Hakkai lifted away the first layer of kimono, his nearness caused Gojyo to catch his scent. It was a clean fragrance--soap and newly-washed clothes, without the heavy odor of added perfume. Gojyo found himself turning his head slightly, drawing in a deeper breath, allowing it to fill his lungs. There was something revitalizing, energizing about it, like a breath of fresh air in a stifling room. It made him painfully aware that he hadn't had the chance to bathe while on the road. Any unseemly odors had been covered with a oiran's perfumes, but he felt gritty beneath his clothing, and vowed to request a visit to a bathhouse before his audience with his new owner.
He had been wearing several layers of kimono under the uchikake for his travels, and Hakkai carefully removed and stored them all. When he got to the nagajuban, the under-kimono, Gojyo gestured for him to stop, feeling a faint flush rise in his cheeks. "I can manage the rest," he said softly, suddenly loath to disrobe entirely in the yarite's presence. "You may leave me now."
Hakkai bowed. "As you wish." Gojyo was fairly certain he heard the barest trace of disappointment in that voice. "I'll be back again in a few hours to help you get ready after your rest."
"Good." Gojyo watched as he calmly collected the breakfast tray and stood to exit the room.
"If you have need of my services, simply call for me," Hakkai said. "I'll be nearby." He knelt outside the entrance to the room, and soundlessly slid the door closed.
Gojyo stared after him for a few minutes after he had gone. The room suddenly seemed empty, with only one person in it.
With a resigned sigh, he reached up and began unpinning his hair, unwinding it from the supports and combs until it fell in shimmering cascades of crimson down his shoulders and past his waist. Once he'd undone the last fastening, he removed the nagajuban and laid it on the foot of the futon, leaving only a single layer of white muslin clothing next to his skin.
Finished at last, he lay tiredly back on the futon and drew the coverlet up to his chin. He didn't think that he would be able to rest at all, but he fell asleep almost instantly.
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Outside in the hallway, beyond the closed door, Hakkai stopped to let out a deep sigh. This assignment was proving much more difficult than he had expected. It made him wonder if he was being deliberately tested.
He rose slowly from his kneeling position, once again picked up the breakfast tray, and headed back towards the kitchens. However, even as he walked away, he continued to glance back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the doors to the oiran's room.
"Hakkai."
The blond haired proprietor of Tougenrou lounged at the corner of the hallway, a smoking pipe balanced in one hand. It seemed like the owner of the brothel was awake earlier than expected. Hakkai knew that the sharp violet eyes had missed nothing.
"Yes, Sanzo?" Hakkai allowed his voice to slip into the perfect combination of subservience and innocence.
Sanzo wasn't fooled. "The new courtesan is a unique find, one that is sure to make the reputation of this house. Tougenrou needs his virgin price. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but don't do anything stupid."
It was pointless to try and deny anything in front of Sanzo. Hakkai kept his features carefully bland. "I understand."
Sanzo surely knew that understanding something and obeying it were two separate things, but he didn't press the issue. He only said, "Make sure he's prepared for his official presentation later this afternoon." Placing the stem of his pipe firmly between his teeth, he pushed off the wall and walked past.
Hakkai bowed in acknowledgment, waiting until Sanzo had turned the corner that led to his office. Once the corridor was empty again, he resumed his previous course towards the kitchens.
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Gojyo slept until Hakkai returned to his room later that afternoon, to prepare him for his meeting with the brothel's owner. As it turned out, there was a bathhouse only a few buildings away, and Gojyo luxuriated in a much-needed soak in the steaming water. The nap, the bath, and the food had gone a long way to restoring his equilibrium, and as he emerged from the wooden tub, he finally felt ready to face his official presentation and for whatever might happen next.
Hakkai materialized behind him, slipping a robe over his naked shoulders and causing him to stifle a yelp of surprise. It was only by main force of will that Gojyo prevented himself from letting loose a volley of curse words originating from his long-ago years living on the streets.
Hakkai met Gojyo's indignation with a low bow. "It would not do for the oiran to catch a chill." His voice was prim, and not apologetic in the least.
Gojyo tied his robe and crossed both arms over his chest. "A little warning next time," he said shortly. It was alarming, the ease with which the yarite was managing to insinuate himself within Gojyo's personal space. He was coming dangerously close to a contact that Gojyo simply couldn't allow.
Arrangements for the afternoon presentation went smoothly. Gojyo settled himself on his futon, allowing Hakkai to move efficiently around the room, bringing him all the finest silks and cosmetics so that he could look his very best. The yarite's instincts were uncanny. More than once, Gojyo found himself opening his mouth to request an item, only to find that Hakkai had already placed it on the futon within easy reach.
Gojyo watched from the corner of his eye as Hakkai went about his duties. The yarite spoke with cultured refinement and moved with a dancer's grace. However, he looked to be nearly the same age as Gojyo, which made it unlikely that he had ever been a practicing courtesan. Perhaps he'd trained as a geisha? Male geisha were in decline, fallen out of favor in Edo as female geisha gained in prestige and popularity. Anyone with the training would have been forced to find alternate work. The intriguing possibility made Gojyo intensely curious, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ask.
There was only one almost-incident during the preparations, as the yarite began to help him with his hair. Hakkai reached out with bare fingers to touch the oiran's right temple, to gather up the fine strands of crimson. Gojyo anticipated the move, deflecting Hakkai's outstretched hand with a nonchalant lift of one silk-clad forearm.
Green eyes flew to meet his, clearly startled at the skilled interception. That gaze shifted as Gojyo held out a long-handled wooden hair comb. "I would appreciate it," the oiran said softly, "if you would use this."
The dark eyebrows twitched downward in a faintly puzzled frown. Hakkai accepted the comb without protest, however. "As you wish."
Gojyo sat unmoving as the brush stroked the tangles from the crimson strands. He tried not to think about the light touches that gripped the occasional recalcitrant hank of hair, or about the fact that he could feel Hakkai's warm, steady breaths falling lightly on the back of his neck.
The meeting later that afternoon with the brothel's owner, Genjo Sanzo, was… anti-climactic. The audience lasted less than a handful of minutes. The oiran prostrated himself on the tatami mats while his new master instructed him in bored tones as to his duties at Tougenrou. During the first few weeks of his stay here, those duties largely involved capturing the interest of prospective bidders for Gojyo's virgin price.
Gojyo did his best to keep his mouth shut, trying to avoid any kind of confrontation. He found that he didn't much care for the sullen, terse man who was his new master. He could only hope that the feeling wasn't mutual. Throughout the audience, Genjo Sanzo's expression had been impossible to read. It made Gojyo unsure if he was making a good impression; or even whether he was making any kind of impression at all.
The thought sat heavily on him, even after he had returned to his room. Gojyo was certain that he could manage the first few weeks here. He'd be expected to entertain customers, serving them sake and tobacco, playing the samisen, practicing calligraphy, playing at dice. If he were fortunate, he would receive compliments and romantic letters from wealthy patrons. If he were luckier still, there would be gifts and tokens of affection as the customers vied over his virgin price.
No, the first few weeks would be fine. Etiquette would serve to protect him, since none of the prospective bidders were allowed to touch him while the bidding was underway. It was afterwards that was going to be the major issue.
The man who had previously held Gojyo's contract of indenture had sold him under dishonest means. He had extolled the exotic crimson coloration of the oiran's hair and eyes, and had never once hinted at the secret of their accompanying curse.
It was only a matter of time before it was discovered here. Tougenrou's owner didn't exactly seem like the understanding sort, and Gojyo was beginning to doubt that he would get any mercy at all from that quarter. The idea of breaking his contract and fleeing back to the streets was beginning to look better and better all the time.
It was in that mood in which Hakkai found him, when he returned to the room as the shadows lengthened, bringing Gojyo the evening meal. Gojyo hadn't been expecting to eat much, he didn't really have any appetite. However, as with the breakfast it was simple but nourishing fare, and before he had hardly realized it, he found himself finishing it all. Again, the yarite stayed, waiting patiently while Gojyo ate.
When he had finished the last grain of rice, Hakkai straightened the empty dishes and gathered up the tray. The oiran thought he would leave, but he hesitated for an odd, suspended moment. Gojyo heard him draw in a deep breath, then he carefully set the tray off to the side.
"The oiran seems preoccupied," Hakkai observed, his gaze focused studiously on the tatami mats. "The transition to a new place can be difficult. Perhaps the oiran would care to indulge in a game of chance to pass the time?"
Gojyo blinked at the unexpected suggestion. He nearly said no. The yarite's close presence was dangerous enough as it was; Gojyo knew he shouldn't do anything to encourage it. At the same time, the thought of spending the remaining evening hours in this empty room worrying uselessly about his bleak future was an equally distasteful choice.
He nodded. Hakkai went to the dresser to fetch Gojyo's small ivory case of dice.
They played on the cleared surface of the calligraphy table. Gojyo started off the same way he would have with a customer, going easy with the intention of allowing his opponent to win the first few rounds. He quickly found, however, that Hakkai was more than capable of holding his own, and so he began to play in earnest. It felt good not to have to hold back, and before he realized it, the two of them were chatting amiably about inconsequential things, and Gojyo found himself relaxing in spite of himself.
That is, until Hakkai looked up in an unguarded moment, and Gojyo saw something dark and feral flicker in the depths his eyes.
What surprised him even more than the blatant and unexpected hunger was his own involuntary reaction to it. Gojyo found himself inexorably drawn in, literally swaying closer until they were a mere hands-breadth apart, the lacquered surface of the calligraphy table the only thing that kept them apart. The yarite raised a hand into the space that separated them, reaching forward as if to touch the oiran's cheek.
Gojyo immediately woke to the danger, shying back before the fingers made contact. To his immense surprise, one silk-clad arm was suddenly caught--and when Gojyo gave a firm tug to break free he discovered that the slim fingers imprisoning his wrist were as strong and unyielding as tempered steel.
"Please," Hakkai said quietly. "You have ink. Here," he made a vague gesture towards the side of his own cheek, before reaching out a second time towards the oiran's face. Hakkai's gaze was strangely intent, all traces of his deferential manner had completely vanished. He had drawn Gojyo's hand in close to his chest, and his grip prevented Gojyo from moving far enough back in order to evade the yarite's reach.
"You can't," Gojyo said, hating the sound of desperation in his voice. He turned his head aside, causing the hair not bound up on the top of his head to fall forward, hiding his face. He knew that he should struggle, knew that if he put enough force behind his resistance he would be able to break free. Somehow he just couldn't marshal the will to force Hakkai away.
Perhaps he'd be lucky and this time nothing would happen.
As Hakkai's fingers drew close to Gojyo's face, there was a flicker of crimson light. The oiran's tainted blood woke. Gojyo didn't want it to happen, but couldn't stop it, even knowing what would come next. Unable to make himself watch, Gojyo's eyes spasmed closed.
Once, during his apprenticeship, Gojyo had been given the task to entertain a client who was waiting for the attentions of a house courtesan. Customers were not allowed to lay hands on apprentices, but this particular client was aggressive and drunk, and had bribed the male servants charged with keeping order in the brothel. The customer had cornered Gojyo in an empty room at the back of the house with the unmistakable intention of rape.
The man hadn't succeeded. Instead he'd been carried out of the brothel with third degree burns all over his body.
Gojyo had learned not to let anyone touch his bare skin after that.
To his horror, Gojyo felt the familiar rush of power, heard the crackle of flames exactly as he had that time before. He expected it to be accompanied by anguished cries and the stench of burning flesh.
What he heard instead was Hakkai's soft murmur, his tone full of pleased enlightenment. "Ah, I see. So you haven't learned to control it yet."
Gojyo's eyes flew open in astonishment. "You...."
Hakkai's hand, whole and unsinged, hovered just shy of touching the side of Gojyo's face. The crimson flames that had sprung up in the oiran's defense crackled and snapped all around the two of them. Rather than incinerating everything within a two-meter radius, however, the angry fire had been answered by a corona of soft green light.
Green to counter red-opposite and complementary colors.
"How," Gojyo found himself staring. "How are you able to avoid being burned?"
"Your youryoku, your demon power, appears to be keyed to touch. My chi triggered it, though as you can see, I didn't actually touch you." Hakkai lowered his hand again with a show of extreme reluctance. As he did, both the crimson flames and the green light faded and vanished. "It's fortunate that this didn't happen with a customer. I'll have to discuss this with Sanzo, to find out what he intends to do about it."
Something in Gojyo's chest clenched. Of course, the yarite would have to report this unforgivable flaw in Tougenrou's newly-acquired courtesan. "Do about it?" Gojyo's voice came out sounding bitter. "What do you think he'll do? I'm an abomination. He'll have no choice but to have me killed or cast out of the city in disgrace."
Hakkai fixed him with a very strange look. "Did you really think that Sanzo wouldn't suspect anything? Your taboo blood is likely the very reason he purchased your contract of indenture. I wouldn't worry." Hakkai absently began to gather up the stray dice. "Sanzo seems to have taken to collecting abominations, lately."
Gojyo let the statement pass without comment, staring doubtfully down at the lacquered wood of the calligraphy table.
Something brushed unexpectedly against Gojyo's shoulder. With a start, he realized that it was Hakkai's hand, resting safely on the surface of the heavy layers of silks and brocades. "Try not to worry," the yarite said earnestly. "It's in Tougenrou's best interests to help you in this. I expect that Sanzo will arrange additional training for you very soon."
"Training?" Gojyo said, unable to keep the suspicious note out of his voice. "Just what exactly does that mean?"
"Exactly what you think it means," Hakkai replied, his expression somber. “Learning to control your youryoku is the only way to fulfill your contract and your obligations to this house--since it will prevent you from harming anyone by accident. There's a benefit to yourself, as well." Hakkai released Gojyo's shoulder and sat back on his heels, setting the oiran's case of dice aside. "Protection. This business is not without its share of risk. Learn to control your power, and no client who visits Tougenrou will ever be able to lay a disrespectful hand on you."
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Sanzo was completely unsurprised by Hakkai's news.
"Ch. I knew that idiot who sold him to me didn't have a clue." He scowled down at a piece of parchment paper lying before him on his desk. The paper message had arrived about an hour ago, a directive from Sanzo's superiors. The missive had already put Tougenrou's owner in a bad mood, and Hakkai hesitated to add to the burden. He had felt, however, that the situation couldn't wait.
"He's like Goku was, when you first found him," Hakkai observed. "The oiran has had absolutely no formal training. If his demon power stays unchecked, it will cause significant problems for us."
"Hn." Sanzo studied the parchment message a moment longer, then folded it and lit a corner of it with the flint lighter for his pipe. When it had burned over halfway through, he dropped it into the tray for ashes on the corner of his desk, and watched as it was completely consumed by the flames. "Take care of it, then. You have a week."
Hakkai had been afraid of that. He wanted to refuse outright. This went far beyond the bounds of his contract, and refusing would be the smart thing to do. Instead, he found himself saying with some chagrin, "A week is hardly enough time. The oiran has been walking around with a wild power for years, and you want it tamed in a matter of days?"
"You can handle it." Sanzo turned his attention to the other paperwork on his desk, clearly a sign that he didn't intend to discuss matters further. "I've already scheduled the first client, to start the bidding on his virgin price."
It was difficult for Hakkai to remember his place. He remembered it, then promptly ignored it, allowing a hard edge to creep into his voice. "Then re-schedule the first meeting."
Sanzo looked at him, violet eyes snapping with irritation at being forced to continue the conversation. "The first client," he said, "is a very important daimyo. We cannot afford to offer insult. The oiran won't be sleeping with anyone yet; his exotic looks will bring lots of interest, and I expect the bidding to go on for several weeks. That amount of time should be more than enough."
Hakkai wasn't sure that his self-control would last that long. It was bad enough to be in the oiran's presence in an attendant's role, having contact with hair and clothing rather than skin. If he was going to be drawing out the oiran's power, the contact would have to become much more direct. He thought again of the smooth curve of the oiran's cheek just a heartbeat away from his hand, wondering how the delicate ridges of the twin scars would feel, brushing against his palm. The mere thought was enough to provoke a flash of heat, and he bit down on his tongue until the pain provided enough distraction for arousal to subside.
He wasn't sure that even that would be a deterrent, when the oiran was present in the flesh in the very same room.
He nearly told Sanzo as much. However, the alternative was worse. The idea of someone else taming the oiran's wild power, of laying touches on that face and those hands, and that pale, pale throat... the beast inside Hakkai stirred angrily. It caused him to remain silent, probably unwisely so.
He became aware that Sanzo was staring at him steadily, almost as if he could sense the turmoil beneath the surface. At length, Tougenrou's master said, "Is that all?"
Hakkai gave a rather stiff bow. "I'll see that things are carried out according to your will."
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TBC....
Author : freeradical9
Word count : 5,300
Rating : R in parts 1 & 2, NC-17 in part 3
Warnings : AU, UST, cross-dressing, legally sanctioned prostitution, legally sanctioned indentured service, explicit M/M eventually
Summary : The pleasure district of Edo acquires a new courtesan
A/N: This is all smillaraaq's fault--first, for posting some scans here from the 85 doujinshi Shinkai Ni Sumu by Treasure, set in Edo-era Japan; then for going ahead and encouraging a plot bunny that grew into the dreaded Rabbit of Caerbannog. This is the first installment of the happy result. Many thanks go out to the following individuals for contributions that allowed this little project to happen:
jenlittlebottom: for generosity in providing some very valuable text summaries to the doujinshi
avierra: for being a resource for period costuming and for providing insightful beta comments
smillaraaq: who devoted many hours to the cause of historical research this birthday/thank you present.
Cross-posted to saiyukiyaoi and saiyuki. Comments and concrit welcome. Enjoy!
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Hakkai caught his first glimpse of the new oiran of the brothel named Tougenrou the day after the courtesan's arrival in Edo. He walked towards the double doors at the end of a long hallway, bearing a breakfast tray from the kitchens. It was still quiet in the house at this hour. Most of the main activities commenced after the sun went down, and currently it was barely noon.
Hakkai stopped, kneeling down, straightening the folds of his haori overcoat around him. Not sure of his reception, or even if the oiran was awake, he soundlessly slid one of the doors open a few centimeters. He glanced up through lowered lashes to see if he could locate the room's occupant, and almost immediately the glint of red arrested his eye. His head lifted involuntarily in surprise. The figure before him completely ensnared his gaze, robbing him of both the ability and the will to look away.
The oiran was indeed awake. He sat composed on his futon, hands folded into the sleeves of his uchikake robe. Both a calligraphy table and a samisen lay within easy reach, but he was currently occupied with neither. Instead, the elegant countenance, coiffed and painted with a subtle application of cosmetics, was turned towards the window, focused on the birds in the small garden beyond the veranda.
Goku had said that the new oiran was pretty. It only made sense; one did not become a member of the highest class of courtesan in the Yoshiwara pleasure district without being easy on the eyes. But this courtesan surpassed all expectations. The word "pretty" didn't do him justice. Rather, Hakkai found him to be breathtaking... mesmerizing... magnificent.
Something dark and possessive uncoiled at the thought, whispering seductively at the back of Hakkai's consciousness. Mine....
No. Hakkai clenched his hand over the front of his kimono, shocked and dismayed at the emotions the oiran's presence provoked. He had thought that his time at Tougenrou had safely subdued such feelings, blunting his own desires by bending and focusing his will only on the task to serve.
Only to serve. The reprimanding thought was faintly bitter. The time of a courtesan could not be bought by the likes of himself, poor and indebted as he was. To think otherwise would be sheer folly.
Still, the seductive voice whispered inside. Unspoken was the knowledge that temptation lay within reach. All he had to do was stretch out his hands to claim it.
…And betray the trust of the owner of Tougenrou, who had given Hakkai both identity and purpose, rendered from the ashes of his previous life.
Hakkai drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and with effort wrestled the beast inside of himself back into submission. Taking painstaking care to make sure no trace of it remained in his posture or expression, he smoothed the crumpled fabric of his kimono back into place.
He was just about to make his presence known, when another disquieting fact occurred to him. The oiran was fully and elaborately dressed in the many layers of kimono appropriate to the profession, hair wound above his head in an elegant style and every pin in place. Hakkai had known that the oiran had arrived at Tougenrou late last night, but he had been given to understand that none of the oiran's traveling entourage had stayed. Who then, had helped him get ready for the day?
Perhaps a more appropriate question was, had the oiran actually even slept?
Hakkai was beginning to suspect that he would have his work cut out for him, if he was to be in charge of the oiran's care. First things first. Introductions. He adjusted the placement of the breakfast tray, and then gently slid aside the door.
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Tougenrou was a nondescript building, set at the back of an alley in the flower district of Edo. Gojyo had been a little alarmed by its placement at first, wondering what kind of shady circumstances he had been sold into when his previous owner had signed over his contract of indenture. The building had, however, the full latticework across the windows, marking the establishment as a high-class and fully-licensed brothel. Gojyo had also noted that the plain façade was cleaner than the buildings that surrounded it, and the crimson paint on the wooden bars was fresh.
His room had been another matter altogether. Where Gojyo had expected it to be plain and functional, he found it instead to be warm and inviting and immaculately kept. The wide futon was dressed in silk sheets, with a fine hand-embellished coverlet. Paper lanterns stood in two corners of the room, while a third had been placed, folded up on the veranda. A silk screen with a pattern of red peonies in bloom provided a separate, private space for his personal effects, including a stand for his samisen and a small table with an expensive mirror, currently covered with embroidered cloth.
It had been far more than he had ever expected, but instead of bringing satisfaction at the achievement of the status for which he had worked and trained over a span of several years, he felt only the cold touch of dread. It couldn't last long, his new owner would soon have to find out that the purchase of this particular oiran had been a mistake.
Gojyo resisted the urge to pace, instead moving from his position on the veranda to sink onto the edge of the soft futon, settling his robes around him. No, not Gojyo anymore. He had to stop thinking of himself by his old name and go by his newly-awarded courtesan's name instead. Koubaku Tayuu.
Still, old habits were hard to break.
"Please forgive the intrusion...."
The oiran turned. A man had slid open one of the doors to the room and was kneeling in the entryway, dark head bowed. "I hope you find the accommodations to your satisfaction."
Even though his face was hidden by the bow, Gojyo could tell this person hadn't been among the servants who had been present at the arrival of the entourage last night. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am the house yarite. I am called Hakkai."
Gojyo blinked, taken aback. Yarite ranked below oiran in the hierarchy of the Yoshiwara brothels. They took no customers themselves, and so their livelihood was completely dependent on the money that the courtesans earned--a fact that often caused quite a bit of friction within a house. The yarite who had supervised Gojyo's previous house had been a retired oiran, a woman well past her prime. She had become steeped in bitterness as her beauty had faded, and had been verbally and physically abusive to her younger charges.
The appearance of this yarite was strange for a number of reasons. Arching a delicate brow, Gojyo pointed out the most obvious. "You are a man."
The dark head bowed still further. "The oiran is most observant. Is it not fitting for a oiran who is also a man?" Before Gojyo could think of a suitable response to that, Hakkai continued, "This establishment has recently come under new ownership, and I fear we are a bit understaffed. I will be seeing to your care in person until suitable attendants for the oiran's retinue can be found."
This information was surprising as well. yarite usually filled the role of both manager and chaperone within a house, and only rarely served as attendants. Gojyo studied the yarite for a moment. If Hakkai was to serve as his attendant, he wanted a better look. "Raise your head."
There was a pause, just a shade too short to be insolence, and Hakkai slowly did as he'd been bid.
Their eyes met. Gojyo felt a shock of something like heat-lightning race over his skin.
Gojyo had spent years as a courtesan's apprentice during his long training in Kyoto, and he had seen many supervisors of many houses during that time. It wasn't just the fact that Hakkai was a man, or the painstaking politeness of his manner, or even the strange jewelry he wore, the three silver bands on his ear. No, it was the eyes, Gojyo decided. Intense and green and knowing. Even across the distance separating them, Gojyo felt as if he could fall into those dark, fathomless depths and be lost forever.
Hakkai bowed his head again, and Gojyo inhaled sharply, not realizing until that point that he had entirely forgotten to breathe.
"I've brought food from the kitchens," the yarite said. "After your long journey, you must be hungry."
Gojyo abruptly realized he was famished. In his concern over his future at Tougenrou, he had been too distracted to notice. He hadn't eaten anything at all, save for some travel rations last night on the road. Not trusting himself to speak yet, he slowly inclined his head.
The food was good. It was simple fare, only miso and rice, but it was exactly what Gojyo needed after his long journey to provide nourishment and to settle his nerves. He ate it all, with a courtesan's practiced grace. Hakkai waited patiently nearby until he finished, and Gojyo was acutely aware of his presence, conscious of him watching every last bite.
"Would you like me to bring more?" he inquired politely, as Gojyo set down the last empty bowl.
Mutely, Gojyo shook his head.
Hakkai dared to meet his gaze again. Again, there was a strange jolt, as if some invisible, palpable energy sparked between them. Gojyo was prepared for it this time, and wrapped poise around himself like a cloak, hiding its effects.
Something in the yarite's green eyes softened. "Your journey must have been difficult," he said quietly. "The proprietor will not be about for some hours yet. Perhaps I could help you to get comfortable? It would be good to get some rest while you have the chance."
Gojyo knew that he should try. His meeting with Tougenrou's owner was of extreme importance. If he was to have any kind of a future at all here, he had to make a good impression. It was difficult to do so having had no sleep.
Hakkai was moving even before Gojyo murmured his assent. The yarite crossed the distance that separated them and knelt on the futon, well within Gojyo's personal space. Gojyo tensed up, but then forced himself to relax. He'd had attendants wait on him before. Everything would be fine as long as Hakkai didn't try to directly touch his skin.
Hakkai didn't. Instead, calm, efficient hands lifted at the shoulders of his uchikake. Gojyo shrugged off the padded weight of the heavy outer robe, and Hakkai carried it to the waiting stand by the far wall. He returned a moment later to deftly untangle the silken knots of the obi cord, then unwrapped the wide band of silk itself, neatly folding it and setting it aside on the futon.
As Hakkai lifted away the first layer of kimono, his nearness caused Gojyo to catch his scent. It was a clean fragrance--soap and newly-washed clothes, without the heavy odor of added perfume. Gojyo found himself turning his head slightly, drawing in a deeper breath, allowing it to fill his lungs. There was something revitalizing, energizing about it, like a breath of fresh air in a stifling room. It made him painfully aware that he hadn't had the chance to bathe while on the road. Any unseemly odors had been covered with a oiran's perfumes, but he felt gritty beneath his clothing, and vowed to request a visit to a bathhouse before his audience with his new owner.
He had been wearing several layers of kimono under the uchikake for his travels, and Hakkai carefully removed and stored them all. When he got to the nagajuban, the under-kimono, Gojyo gestured for him to stop, feeling a faint flush rise in his cheeks. "I can manage the rest," he said softly, suddenly loath to disrobe entirely in the yarite's presence. "You may leave me now."
Hakkai bowed. "As you wish." Gojyo was fairly certain he heard the barest trace of disappointment in that voice. "I'll be back again in a few hours to help you get ready after your rest."
"Good." Gojyo watched as he calmly collected the breakfast tray and stood to exit the room.
"If you have need of my services, simply call for me," Hakkai said. "I'll be nearby." He knelt outside the entrance to the room, and soundlessly slid the door closed.
Gojyo stared after him for a few minutes after he had gone. The room suddenly seemed empty, with only one person in it.
With a resigned sigh, he reached up and began unpinning his hair, unwinding it from the supports and combs until it fell in shimmering cascades of crimson down his shoulders and past his waist. Once he'd undone the last fastening, he removed the nagajuban and laid it on the foot of the futon, leaving only a single layer of white muslin clothing next to his skin.
Finished at last, he lay tiredly back on the futon and drew the coverlet up to his chin. He didn't think that he would be able to rest at all, but he fell asleep almost instantly.
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Outside in the hallway, beyond the closed door, Hakkai stopped to let out a deep sigh. This assignment was proving much more difficult than he had expected. It made him wonder if he was being deliberately tested.
He rose slowly from his kneeling position, once again picked up the breakfast tray, and headed back towards the kitchens. However, even as he walked away, he continued to glance back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the doors to the oiran's room.
"Hakkai."
The blond haired proprietor of Tougenrou lounged at the corner of the hallway, a smoking pipe balanced in one hand. It seemed like the owner of the brothel was awake earlier than expected. Hakkai knew that the sharp violet eyes had missed nothing.
"Yes, Sanzo?" Hakkai allowed his voice to slip into the perfect combination of subservience and innocence.
Sanzo wasn't fooled. "The new courtesan is a unique find, one that is sure to make the reputation of this house. Tougenrou needs his virgin price. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but don't do anything stupid."
It was pointless to try and deny anything in front of Sanzo. Hakkai kept his features carefully bland. "I understand."
Sanzo surely knew that understanding something and obeying it were two separate things, but he didn't press the issue. He only said, "Make sure he's prepared for his official presentation later this afternoon." Placing the stem of his pipe firmly between his teeth, he pushed off the wall and walked past.
Hakkai bowed in acknowledgment, waiting until Sanzo had turned the corner that led to his office. Once the corridor was empty again, he resumed his previous course towards the kitchens.
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Gojyo slept until Hakkai returned to his room later that afternoon, to prepare him for his meeting with the brothel's owner. As it turned out, there was a bathhouse only a few buildings away, and Gojyo luxuriated in a much-needed soak in the steaming water. The nap, the bath, and the food had gone a long way to restoring his equilibrium, and as he emerged from the wooden tub, he finally felt ready to face his official presentation and for whatever might happen next.
Hakkai materialized behind him, slipping a robe over his naked shoulders and causing him to stifle a yelp of surprise. It was only by main force of will that Gojyo prevented himself from letting loose a volley of curse words originating from his long-ago years living on the streets.
Hakkai met Gojyo's indignation with a low bow. "It would not do for the oiran to catch a chill." His voice was prim, and not apologetic in the least.
Gojyo tied his robe and crossed both arms over his chest. "A little warning next time," he said shortly. It was alarming, the ease with which the yarite was managing to insinuate himself within Gojyo's personal space. He was coming dangerously close to a contact that Gojyo simply couldn't allow.
Arrangements for the afternoon presentation went smoothly. Gojyo settled himself on his futon, allowing Hakkai to move efficiently around the room, bringing him all the finest silks and cosmetics so that he could look his very best. The yarite's instincts were uncanny. More than once, Gojyo found himself opening his mouth to request an item, only to find that Hakkai had already placed it on the futon within easy reach.
Gojyo watched from the corner of his eye as Hakkai went about his duties. The yarite spoke with cultured refinement and moved with a dancer's grace. However, he looked to be nearly the same age as Gojyo, which made it unlikely that he had ever been a practicing courtesan. Perhaps he'd trained as a geisha? Male geisha were in decline, fallen out of favor in Edo as female geisha gained in prestige and popularity. Anyone with the training would have been forced to find alternate work. The intriguing possibility made Gojyo intensely curious, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ask.
There was only one almost-incident during the preparations, as the yarite began to help him with his hair. Hakkai reached out with bare fingers to touch the oiran's right temple, to gather up the fine strands of crimson. Gojyo anticipated the move, deflecting Hakkai's outstretched hand with a nonchalant lift of one silk-clad forearm.
Green eyes flew to meet his, clearly startled at the skilled interception. That gaze shifted as Gojyo held out a long-handled wooden hair comb. "I would appreciate it," the oiran said softly, "if you would use this."
The dark eyebrows twitched downward in a faintly puzzled frown. Hakkai accepted the comb without protest, however. "As you wish."
Gojyo sat unmoving as the brush stroked the tangles from the crimson strands. He tried not to think about the light touches that gripped the occasional recalcitrant hank of hair, or about the fact that he could feel Hakkai's warm, steady breaths falling lightly on the back of his neck.
The meeting later that afternoon with the brothel's owner, Genjo Sanzo, was… anti-climactic. The audience lasted less than a handful of minutes. The oiran prostrated himself on the tatami mats while his new master instructed him in bored tones as to his duties at Tougenrou. During the first few weeks of his stay here, those duties largely involved capturing the interest of prospective bidders for Gojyo's virgin price.
Gojyo did his best to keep his mouth shut, trying to avoid any kind of confrontation. He found that he didn't much care for the sullen, terse man who was his new master. He could only hope that the feeling wasn't mutual. Throughout the audience, Genjo Sanzo's expression had been impossible to read. It made Gojyo unsure if he was making a good impression; or even whether he was making any kind of impression at all.
The thought sat heavily on him, even after he had returned to his room. Gojyo was certain that he could manage the first few weeks here. He'd be expected to entertain customers, serving them sake and tobacco, playing the samisen, practicing calligraphy, playing at dice. If he were fortunate, he would receive compliments and romantic letters from wealthy patrons. If he were luckier still, there would be gifts and tokens of affection as the customers vied over his virgin price.
No, the first few weeks would be fine. Etiquette would serve to protect him, since none of the prospective bidders were allowed to touch him while the bidding was underway. It was afterwards that was going to be the major issue.
The man who had previously held Gojyo's contract of indenture had sold him under dishonest means. He had extolled the exotic crimson coloration of the oiran's hair and eyes, and had never once hinted at the secret of their accompanying curse.
It was only a matter of time before it was discovered here. Tougenrou's owner didn't exactly seem like the understanding sort, and Gojyo was beginning to doubt that he would get any mercy at all from that quarter. The idea of breaking his contract and fleeing back to the streets was beginning to look better and better all the time.
It was in that mood in which Hakkai found him, when he returned to the room as the shadows lengthened, bringing Gojyo the evening meal. Gojyo hadn't been expecting to eat much, he didn't really have any appetite. However, as with the breakfast it was simple but nourishing fare, and before he had hardly realized it, he found himself finishing it all. Again, the yarite stayed, waiting patiently while Gojyo ate.
When he had finished the last grain of rice, Hakkai straightened the empty dishes and gathered up the tray. The oiran thought he would leave, but he hesitated for an odd, suspended moment. Gojyo heard him draw in a deep breath, then he carefully set the tray off to the side.
"The oiran seems preoccupied," Hakkai observed, his gaze focused studiously on the tatami mats. "The transition to a new place can be difficult. Perhaps the oiran would care to indulge in a game of chance to pass the time?"
Gojyo blinked at the unexpected suggestion. He nearly said no. The yarite's close presence was dangerous enough as it was; Gojyo knew he shouldn't do anything to encourage it. At the same time, the thought of spending the remaining evening hours in this empty room worrying uselessly about his bleak future was an equally distasteful choice.
He nodded. Hakkai went to the dresser to fetch Gojyo's small ivory case of dice.
They played on the cleared surface of the calligraphy table. Gojyo started off the same way he would have with a customer, going easy with the intention of allowing his opponent to win the first few rounds. He quickly found, however, that Hakkai was more than capable of holding his own, and so he began to play in earnest. It felt good not to have to hold back, and before he realized it, the two of them were chatting amiably about inconsequential things, and Gojyo found himself relaxing in spite of himself.
That is, until Hakkai looked up in an unguarded moment, and Gojyo saw something dark and feral flicker in the depths his eyes.
What surprised him even more than the blatant and unexpected hunger was his own involuntary reaction to it. Gojyo found himself inexorably drawn in, literally swaying closer until they were a mere hands-breadth apart, the lacquered surface of the calligraphy table the only thing that kept them apart. The yarite raised a hand into the space that separated them, reaching forward as if to touch the oiran's cheek.
Gojyo immediately woke to the danger, shying back before the fingers made contact. To his immense surprise, one silk-clad arm was suddenly caught--and when Gojyo gave a firm tug to break free he discovered that the slim fingers imprisoning his wrist were as strong and unyielding as tempered steel.
"Please," Hakkai said quietly. "You have ink. Here," he made a vague gesture towards the side of his own cheek, before reaching out a second time towards the oiran's face. Hakkai's gaze was strangely intent, all traces of his deferential manner had completely vanished. He had drawn Gojyo's hand in close to his chest, and his grip prevented Gojyo from moving far enough back in order to evade the yarite's reach.
"You can't," Gojyo said, hating the sound of desperation in his voice. He turned his head aside, causing the hair not bound up on the top of his head to fall forward, hiding his face. He knew that he should struggle, knew that if he put enough force behind his resistance he would be able to break free. Somehow he just couldn't marshal the will to force Hakkai away.
Perhaps he'd be lucky and this time nothing would happen.
As Hakkai's fingers drew close to Gojyo's face, there was a flicker of crimson light. The oiran's tainted blood woke. Gojyo didn't want it to happen, but couldn't stop it, even knowing what would come next. Unable to make himself watch, Gojyo's eyes spasmed closed.
Once, during his apprenticeship, Gojyo had been given the task to entertain a client who was waiting for the attentions of a house courtesan. Customers were not allowed to lay hands on apprentices, but this particular client was aggressive and drunk, and had bribed the male servants charged with keeping order in the brothel. The customer had cornered Gojyo in an empty room at the back of the house with the unmistakable intention of rape.
The man hadn't succeeded. Instead he'd been carried out of the brothel with third degree burns all over his body.
Gojyo had learned not to let anyone touch his bare skin after that.
To his horror, Gojyo felt the familiar rush of power, heard the crackle of flames exactly as he had that time before. He expected it to be accompanied by anguished cries and the stench of burning flesh.
What he heard instead was Hakkai's soft murmur, his tone full of pleased enlightenment. "Ah, I see. So you haven't learned to control it yet."
Gojyo's eyes flew open in astonishment. "You...."
Hakkai's hand, whole and unsinged, hovered just shy of touching the side of Gojyo's face. The crimson flames that had sprung up in the oiran's defense crackled and snapped all around the two of them. Rather than incinerating everything within a two-meter radius, however, the angry fire had been answered by a corona of soft green light.
Green to counter red-opposite and complementary colors.
"How," Gojyo found himself staring. "How are you able to avoid being burned?"
"Your youryoku, your demon power, appears to be keyed to touch. My chi triggered it, though as you can see, I didn't actually touch you." Hakkai lowered his hand again with a show of extreme reluctance. As he did, both the crimson flames and the green light faded and vanished. "It's fortunate that this didn't happen with a customer. I'll have to discuss this with Sanzo, to find out what he intends to do about it."
Something in Gojyo's chest clenched. Of course, the yarite would have to report this unforgivable flaw in Tougenrou's newly-acquired courtesan. "Do about it?" Gojyo's voice came out sounding bitter. "What do you think he'll do? I'm an abomination. He'll have no choice but to have me killed or cast out of the city in disgrace."
Hakkai fixed him with a very strange look. "Did you really think that Sanzo wouldn't suspect anything? Your taboo blood is likely the very reason he purchased your contract of indenture. I wouldn't worry." Hakkai absently began to gather up the stray dice. "Sanzo seems to have taken to collecting abominations, lately."
Gojyo let the statement pass without comment, staring doubtfully down at the lacquered wood of the calligraphy table.
Something brushed unexpectedly against Gojyo's shoulder. With a start, he realized that it was Hakkai's hand, resting safely on the surface of the heavy layers of silks and brocades. "Try not to worry," the yarite said earnestly. "It's in Tougenrou's best interests to help you in this. I expect that Sanzo will arrange additional training for you very soon."
"Training?" Gojyo said, unable to keep the suspicious note out of his voice. "Just what exactly does that mean?"
"Exactly what you think it means," Hakkai replied, his expression somber. “Learning to control your youryoku is the only way to fulfill your contract and your obligations to this house--since it will prevent you from harming anyone by accident. There's a benefit to yourself, as well." Hakkai released Gojyo's shoulder and sat back on his heels, setting the oiran's case of dice aside. "Protection. This business is not without its share of risk. Learn to control your power, and no client who visits Tougenrou will ever be able to lay a disrespectful hand on you."
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Sanzo was completely unsurprised by Hakkai's news.
"Ch. I knew that idiot who sold him to me didn't have a clue." He scowled down at a piece of parchment paper lying before him on his desk. The paper message had arrived about an hour ago, a directive from Sanzo's superiors. The missive had already put Tougenrou's owner in a bad mood, and Hakkai hesitated to add to the burden. He had felt, however, that the situation couldn't wait.
"He's like Goku was, when you first found him," Hakkai observed. "The oiran has had absolutely no formal training. If his demon power stays unchecked, it will cause significant problems for us."
"Hn." Sanzo studied the parchment message a moment longer, then folded it and lit a corner of it with the flint lighter for his pipe. When it had burned over halfway through, he dropped it into the tray for ashes on the corner of his desk, and watched as it was completely consumed by the flames. "Take care of it, then. You have a week."
Hakkai had been afraid of that. He wanted to refuse outright. This went far beyond the bounds of his contract, and refusing would be the smart thing to do. Instead, he found himself saying with some chagrin, "A week is hardly enough time. The oiran has been walking around with a wild power for years, and you want it tamed in a matter of days?"
"You can handle it." Sanzo turned his attention to the other paperwork on his desk, clearly a sign that he didn't intend to discuss matters further. "I've already scheduled the first client, to start the bidding on his virgin price."
It was difficult for Hakkai to remember his place. He remembered it, then promptly ignored it, allowing a hard edge to creep into his voice. "Then re-schedule the first meeting."
Sanzo looked at him, violet eyes snapping with irritation at being forced to continue the conversation. "The first client," he said, "is a very important daimyo. We cannot afford to offer insult. The oiran won't be sleeping with anyone yet; his exotic looks will bring lots of interest, and I expect the bidding to go on for several weeks. That amount of time should be more than enough."
Hakkai wasn't sure that his self-control would last that long. It was bad enough to be in the oiran's presence in an attendant's role, having contact with hair and clothing rather than skin. If he was going to be drawing out the oiran's power, the contact would have to become much more direct. He thought again of the smooth curve of the oiran's cheek just a heartbeat away from his hand, wondering how the delicate ridges of the twin scars would feel, brushing against his palm. The mere thought was enough to provoke a flash of heat, and he bit down on his tongue until the pain provided enough distraction for arousal to subside.
He wasn't sure that even that would be a deterrent, when the oiran was present in the flesh in the very same room.
He nearly told Sanzo as much. However, the alternative was worse. The idea of someone else taming the oiran's wild power, of laying touches on that face and those hands, and that pale, pale throat... the beast inside Hakkai stirred angrily. It caused him to remain silent, probably unwisely so.
He became aware that Sanzo was staring at him steadily, almost as if he could sense the turmoil beneath the surface. At length, Tougenrou's master said, "Is that all?"
Hakkai gave a rather stiff bow. "I'll see that things are carried out according to your will."
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TBC....