Forsaken - Chapter Three - Contest Entry
Despite his bodies reluctance Jin felt his mind crawling towards consciousness. He groaned quietly and willed himself to return to the blissful depths of slumber but the memories from the previous day were creeping forth and facilitating his journey to wakefulness.
His father was dead, his best friend an addict and two rooms away slept a handsome stranger of such a low status that Jin should never even have acknowledged his existence. Kazuya. Jin felt like a fool; what could have inspired him to act so sentimentally? It hadn’t been his intention to converse with the man, to comfort him, to kiss him. But the sight of Kazuya tied and trembling had caused a sadness in him, and he’d known that he didn’t have the strength or will-power to allow the man’s suffering to continue.
There was something in the way that the actor looked at him, so powerful and direct, and his words! Despite the dread that Jin’s presence had caused him, Kazuya had still managed to speak to him with courage. It was the rarest of traits, one that should be punishable by death, but it was too attractive to Jin, too exciting and just unpredictable enough to cause his heart to pound with adrenaline.
“My Lord,” he bolted upright as a voice from close by invaded his senses. Kazuya was knelt beside him, staring at him with an incredulous expression. Jin simply blinked. How had the filthy actor with ridiculous hair from yesterday transformed into someone so alluring? The man’s very skin seemed to glow with his life-force, the eyes sparkling and somehow mischievous, the lips not quite closed but not open either…Jin felt as though his mind were resetting itself as his body began to react with desire. “I…was told to wake you.” Kazuya said carefully, but Jin could not detect the fear that he’d witnessed the previous night. “You have…business to attend to.” Kazuya smiled then, “I’m to ask if you would require breakfast bringing to you here.”
Jin could hear the words but his mind wasn’t quite registering them as his eyes seemed to fix on Kazuya’s throat, long and slender and oh so very appealing. It wasn’t the first time that he’d been attracted to a man, in-fact he’d acquired quite the reputation in Edo for the number of people, both male and female, that he’d bedded. But no-one had ever caught his attention in this way. He was something of a selfish lover; relishing in the reluctance and eventual submission of his targets, caring not whether they reached the same level of pleasure that he most certainly wouldn’t deny himself. His interest was always purely physical and he tried to avoid sleeping with the same person more than once. He’d never married, which for one of his status was practically unheard of, and though he knew that arrangements would eventually be made, he made it his business to hold off any such ceremony for as long as possible.
Tenderness was not a trait that he offered his lovers but nor was he cruel. However he now found himself wanting to reach out for the figure that watched him with both curiosity and patience. He imagined easing him down onto his futon and undressing him, slow, careful. He wouldn’t rush, would savour each touch and every kiss…Kazuya would yield, unable to resist the sensations that Jin would cause and he wouldn’t stop until he had the boy quivering and moaning under his touches.
“My Lord?” Kazuya’s hue seemed darker suddenly, as though he were blushing at Jin’s private thoughts.
Jin blinked and raised his hands to his face as though hoping to wipe the lustful images from his mind. “Yes,” he cleared his throat, “tell my men to have breakfast brought…are you hungry?” he surprised himself with the question but Kazuya seemed entirely un-perplexed.
“I am,” he smiled and stared at Jin directly again, daring, suggestive. Jin narrowed his eyes but couldn’t really will himself to feel displeasure. Kazuya was just too attractive and enigmatic to make him angry at that moment.
“Then order breakfast for two,” he said carefully, “then I will bathe.” An image of Kazuya pressed against the side of a bath whimpering as Jin took him, darted through his mind and he couldn’t help but smirk. Kazuya, oblivious to his Lord’s fantasy, smiled his thanks and bowed before swiftly leaving the room.
It would be all too easy, Jin thought as he began to rise from his futon, to force Kazuya into such a situation. He remembered the actor’s words from the previous night as he’d reluctantly offered Jin such a service. But he also remembered how the man had stiffened under his touches, how he’d pulled away subconsciously, how he’d struggled to return the kiss. Sure Jin could force him, and over time the boy would learn to accept his place, perhaps to even experience pleasure at Jin’s hands, but for the first time in his life that wasn’t what he wanted.
He tongued his lip thoughtfully as he pulled a loose robe over himself. Kazuya was a no-body and Jin would not lower himself to wooing or flirting, but nor would he resort to force or direct cruelty. No, there had to be another way. Kazuya had to learn his place and to crave Jin’s affection. Kazuya’s place. The only issue with the young man’s role was that Jin was yet to allocate him one; not a whore or a servant or a guard…then what?
He gazed around his small chamber. The décor was simple, and the only item of furniture in the room was his futon which would be folded away by some faceless servant girl during the day and laid out again for him that night. It was one of five rooms that made up his private quarters, and he remembered even as a boy of nine, adoring the lack of pomposity that his father had favoured.
Crossing the floor he pulled back the door which lead to the room in which he had been made to study as a child. The walls were laden with books and scrolls and in the centre was a kotatsu similar to that at which he had sat with Tomohisa. He felt a pang in his chest as he thought of his old friend but immediately tried to rid himself of the unwanted emotion; there was too much else to think about; he had a domain to lead and an impudent actor to contend with. It was without hesitance that he passed through this room to come face-to-face with Kazuya once more.
Due to his bandaged fingers, the actor was struggling to fold away his futon. He seemed uncertain as to what to do when Jin entered, as he seemed to be half-way through the difficult process. Jin paused and stared at him expectantly, barely able to prevent himself from smirking at the man’s confusion. Eventually Kazuya seemed to regain his composure, dropped the bedding and bowed to Jin. “Where were you raised?” Jin moved to a low table and knelt by it.
“I’m an actor.” Kazuya said simply, returning to his task, and Jin felt a prickle of suspicion that he couldn’t explain.
“I’m aware of that,” he reached for a goblet of water that had been placed there for him, “but where? Your manners are most strange.”
Kazuya seemed to become flustered then, “I’m sorry,” he glanced upwards again, “I…I travelled a lot.” He paused and seemed to consider something, “I guess you could say my upbringing was somewhat out of the ordinary.”
Jin laughed quietly, “I guess that makes two of us then,” he muttered; he couldn’t be sure whether or not Kazuya had heard. He frowned as a thought suddenly hit him. “I’m no expert,” he said slowly, as he focused on the beautiful boy that finally appeared to have succeeded in his task, “but I thought that actors travelled in groups…”
Kazuya’s entire physique seemed to transform then as he practically cowered into himself. He walked across to Jin in silence and lowered himself to the floor. Lifting the arm of his robe he revealed the dull bruising to his flesh. “I did not suffer all of these wounds last night,” his voice shook, “last week…” he faltered and seemed to grow smaller still.
If Jin had been an emotional man then he was sure that he would have felt concern or pity. But he was not, or at least he would not entertain such a concept, so he remained silent and waited patiently for the wounded beauty to continue his tale. He barely noticed that his hand had sought out Kazuya’s covered knee, and that he was moving his thumb comfortingly over it.
“We were attacked,” the words were barely more than a breath, “on the road. They’re all dead.”
“Your sister?” Jin suddenly remembered the toy concealed within the robes that he’d worn the previous night.
Kazuya smiled glumly and shook his head. “No, that was four years ago. She died of…sickness.” And then, as suddenly as the quiet, emotional episode had appeared, it was gone and Kazuya seemed to transform again. “But my Lord!” his voice was warm; a tone that Jin had not previously heard. “You do not want to hear of such things! I want to thank you for the kindness that you have offered me. And I will do whatever I can to make your morning a pleasant one!”
Jin couldn’t help but laugh. It was impossible for him to describe or even comprehend but it was as though Kazuya had somehow lifted the very air in the room and created an atmosphere of friendship and relaxation; the very atmosphere that he had craved for and sought out the previous night in the home of his friend. “Who are you?” it was rhetorical, but Jin found himself hoping that Kazuya would produce some sort of response.
“My Lord,” eyes met his and he smiled, and Jin immediately spotted the irony, “I thought we’d made that clear…I’m whoever you want me to be.”
~*~*~*~
The sakura would pass and the rain season would soon be upon them, Jin thought, as he used his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. The heat seemed to be descending all too quickly this year and it did nothing to aid his concentration.
The woman on his arm, whose name he had forgotten, admired the falling petals, he nodded his agreement. She was a geisha, though not the same woman that had travelled with him from the capital the previous day.
He had insisted that they take a break from the seemingly endless discussions and debates which had soon caused a sharp pain to form in his skull. It seemed strange to him that he, a warrior by definition, should be forced to debate politics and business and to consider the future of a country that may soon be twisted out of recognition by foreign hands. Peace was all that he had ever known, for not since the battle of Sekigahara, which lay over two hundred years behind them, had the clans engaged in any real conflict.
He allowed his fingers to skim over the hilt of his weapon, his mind returning to Tomohisa once more. What purpose has a warrior if not to fight? He and his friend were trained, had been since children, and samurai alone held the right to carry swords in public. But for what? It was no wonder that Tomohisa had grown restless and sought relief in darker areas. He bit his lip; trouble was coming. He knew it as did everyone. But the enemy that hid within the shadows held the power to take up residence in the heart of any man. And that was not an enemy that one could easily fight.
“Perhaps we should return?” the geisha asked softly, “I would like to prepare some tea for my Lord.”
Jin glanced in her direction and nodded. He was samurai but he was also a leader. The Shogun demanded that men such as he be informed of current events in case they were required to advise. And it was not for him to argue with the Bakufu. But upon returning to the meeting he would be required to reach a decision regarding the embargo on foreign trade within his domain.
Revere the Emperor; Expel the Barbarians. It was a phrase forbidden in Edo, for the Tokugawa had chosen to invite the strange foreign presence into the land rather than drive them out. But the words that had started as whispers in the towns surrounding the ports housing the foreign ships, had grown into powerful slogans used by the lower classes. Words held power and Jin knew it. His father, though faithful to the Shogun, had despised the foreign presence. So where did that leave him? The people were waiting; some it seemed even dreamed that he would stand with them and their emperor who was hidden away, all powerful and yet helpless at the hands of the Bakufu. But to do that would be to turn his back on his world, his shogun and all that served him. His father had grown stubborn in his old age, and had known that he would not live long enough to witness the repercussions of the ban. But Jin was young and vulnerable: if he kept the embargo in place then he was practically joining the peasants in their political chanting; if he relaxed it then he was standing alongside the Shogun and ignoring the will of his people. And that he feared would only work against him in the future.
“You pour tea most gracefully,” he spoke to the Geisha as they neared the building. “I wonder…how do women acquire such grace?” It was a question that lacked any real feeling or curiosity but the emptiness of the silence paired with the turbulence of his own thoughts was causing him to crave the woman’s conversation.
The Geisha lifted her hand to her lips and laughed quietly, “It is not for me to reveal our secrets.” Her voice was playful and Jin immediately found himself remembering Kazuya’s words and manner of earlier, “but it is no secret that male Geisha are also able to embody such delicacy.”
Jin almost faltered in his step as he felt a sudden rush. “Did you just say male Geisha?” He felt an urge to howl at the marvellous wickedness that charged his thoughts then but chose to stare at the woman questioningly instead.
“They are very rare, my Lord,” he could detect the smile in her voice, “but there was a time when they were the most common variety. They are called Taikomochi.”
Jin frowned then as the images that had started to practically dance and swirl through his mind grew to an abrupt halt. “You mean men who bear drums?” He voiced the most literal meaning of the word. She laughed though of course there was no real cruelty there.
“That is but one name for them my Lord,” she said, “though some do play music, they offer other services too. They are story tellers and dancers…entertainers just like other Geisha.”
Jin nodded, his fantasy gradually starting to return. “But you say they are now rare? Why is that?”
The woman paused for a moment but then remembered herself and began to move again, lowering her eyes in shame for causing her Lord to falter. “I do not know that my facts are accurate, my Lord.” And he recognised the familiar deference of one that has spoken with too much excitement or confidence. “But I heard that long ago, when the clans still fought, that the Taikomochi were more than just entertainers…they were also trusted advisors to their Lords…intelligent and sometimes even respected. But when peace came such men were no longer required, they became the first Geisha,” she smiled, “but it seems that men grew to think of the role as one intended for women and so now the Taikomochi have become very rare.” She hesitated, “I also heard that many prostitutes use such a title.” She frowned, “as they do for Geisha. But as you know my Lord, that is not what we are.”
He stared at her properly then, eyes seeking out the skin beneath the make-up, and there he detected faint lines. It was not unheard of for such women to be forced to turn to prostitution when their services as Geisha were no longer required. It all depended on how generous her clientele were. He made a note to have her presented with a generous reward for the information that she had shared with him. For now he felt inspired; Kazuya would have a role at last.
~*~*~*~
Today he hated Jin. Kazuya flinched as the woman, the mother of the Okiya, slapped his hand with a leather strap. Today she was feeling generous; she’d opted for the fingers that weren’t still wrapped in bandages, gradually healing. He bowed his head and muttered his apologies for his tardiness; once again he’d proven that the shamisen was too difficult an instrument to manoeuvre using injured fingers. Today he hated Jin because six weeks earlier Jin had put him here.
It was not every night that he was permitted to return to the mansion and to the personal chambers of the most powerful man in the domain; it was every third night. Kazuya flinched again but did not allow his discomfort to show on his face. The women were watching, as they often did, revelling in his punishment. It wasn’t that they despised him, they simply thought him ridiculous, and for that he did not blame them. Taikomochi; he’d heard of such men but they were mostly centred in Kyoto and many of which were little more than common street whores. So why was he here in the training house of female Geisha? Most of them were barely out of childhood, whereas he was in his twenty second year. It was humiliating and Jin knew it and that’s why today he hated him. The beating stopped.
“Take the instrument with you.” Kumiko, the mother of the Okiya, said coldly. “Our Lord has requested you go to him for four nights, when you return you will have improved.” She turned then and moved in the direction of the door, pulling it back she revealed Haruki, one of Jin’s personal guards, the man that was always sent to escort him back to the mansion.
Kazuya clenched his teeth; only two nights had passed by since he’d last been forced to spend time in the company of Akanishi Jin. He lowered his head to Haruki with as much grace and femininity as he could muster. Some of the younger Maiko that watched him giggled quietly and Kazuya felt as though his throat were tightening with the effort to hold his pose. But he succeeded because after years of heartache and anger and loneliness he’d learned that the only way to survive was to adapt. He hated Jin today but tomorrow he might feel differently.
The Lord was mocking him, humiliating him, trying to break his spirit by forcing him to act out this charade. There had been times, when Kazuya had spent his nights in the mansion, that he’d considered crossing into Jin’s chamber and murdering him in his bed. In fact that was his most regular emotion towards the samurai. But there had been rare occasions when he’d spotted something in Jin’s expression that had taken his breath away. The warmth that he’d spotted that first night; the happiness at hearing a song that Kazuya was close to perfecting; the calm during a conversation that they shared over breakfast. Sometimes, just sometimes, Kazuya allowed himself to believe that somewhere in Jin he had a friend.
But today was no such time and the thought of standing in the man’s presence made him feel numb with revulsion. Not since that first night had Jin made any sort of advancement towards him but Kazuya was no fool. This role that he was being forced to play was all part of some deluded fantasy on Jin’s part, and eventually the man’s patience would run out. There had been occasions when he’d convinced himself that he might be able to go through with it, to let Jin have his way, after all it would only have to happen the once; everyone knew Jin’s reputation; the man rarely required seconds. But mostly, thinking about it made Kazuya feel sick with fear; he’d never been with a man, had never felt any real desire to. It was bad enough that he’d been stamped into a position of playing a woman’s role; singing and dancing and flirting and flattering. If Jin made him go any further, he feared his mask might shatter.
He felt hands on him then; the women were undressing him and preparing him for the meeting with his Lord. They were skilled, and though his costume was elaborate it did not compare to those worn by the real Geisha, and so he soon found himself dressed and shuffling awkwardly behind Haruki in the direction of Jin’s home.
“Where are you going all dressed up like that?” a familiar voice from behind caused Kazuya to flinch and Haruki immediately span round to defend him if necessary. But upon viewing the speaker his eyes widened in shock and his sword dropped to his side as he fell into a bow. Kazuya simply stared at the man coldly.
“I’m on my way to visit my Lord,” he spoke eventually, “though I don’t know why he wishes for me to dress this way.”
The surprise on Jin’s face at his forwardness was impossible to miss. But Kazuya didn’t care, not today; there were too many other emotions that he had to contend with.
“Perhaps he finds you quite appealing.” Jin reached out then and took him by the arm. And it took all of Kazuya’s self-control not to pull away hatefully. “It’s unusual to see a man in such fine…”
“That is because no man with any self-respect would dress this way.” The angry words had left Kazuya before he could pause to think.
But Jin seemed un-phased. “Then apparently you have no self-respect,” he smirked and turned, his eyes lacking the warmth that Kazuya secretly longed to find there.
Kazuya tried to stop, as fury struggled to take hold but Jin would not allow it and immediately proceeded to drag him along the street. But the length and weight of his kimono and the unsteadiness that he felt while attempting to walk in geta footwear caused him to lose his balance and stumble. But Jin it seemed had prepared himself for such an eventuality and immediately turned to steady him, his arm moving protectively around his back. Kazuya couldn’t think, couldn’t speak as he stared hopelessly up into the eyes that commanded so much of his time and spirit. He felt the emotions in his chest starting to struggle upwards. He’d barely had time to heal and recover before Jin had sent him to the Okiya. His body felt heavy with exhaustion and every limb ached. But such discomforts did not compare to the loneliness that seemed to grow in strength whenever he met Jin’s eyes.
“Come on,” Jin said softly, “let’s get you home.”
“I hate you.” His voice trembled as he felt himself reaching up for Jin’s face. The Lord’s eyes seemed to sparkle then though Kazuya couldn’t be certain of the emotion. “Why are you doing this to me?” He felt Jin’s arm tightening around him and suddenly the man leaned in closer and before Kazuya could react their lips touched.
It was brief and gentle and almost shy but the fear and disgust that Kazuya had expected to feel was absent. And then Jin was pulling away, amusement clear in his expression. “Oh Kazuya,” he brushed his thumb over Kazuya’s still parted lips. “I do it because it’s fun.”
That broke the spell. Every hateful emotion that Kazuya had ever felt towards the arrogant Samurai Lord flooded his senses and he tried to throw himself onto the monster that mocked him with such pleasure and ease. But Jin had prepared for that too, and his hands immediately moved to block the attack, and seized the hand with the broken fingers. Kazuya screamed; despite the time that had passed any pressure still felt agonizing. “Shhhh….” Jin soothed, “now be a good boy and let’s go home.”
~*~*~*~
Kazuya had gone limp, was simply allowing himself to pulled into the house and in the direction of Jin’s chamber. That wasn’t what he wanted; it was the fight in the boy, the witty comebacks, the honesty that he yearned for. I hate you. Those words had hit him like a thousand tiny shards piercing every part of him, body and soul. But he hadn’t shown it, had known that he couldn’t allow Kazuya to know how close he was to breaking. Ridicule came easily; he knew how to manipulate the beautiful creature that posed as a cultured entertainer. But in humiliating the daring young actor he was damaging himself. Every hurtful remark or embarrassing situation that he forced Kazuya into caused him an ache in his chest that he couldn’t explain.
He was relieved when he finally reached his rooms. He pushed Kazuya gently through the door and pulled it closed behind them. Ever since that day over six weeks earlier when he’d decided to relax the trade embargo, sealing his place within the Bakufu, he’d grown acutely aware of the anger and betrayal that many of the lower citizens felt at his decision. No-one would approach him directly of course, but he could feel their stares and sometimes even detect their whispers. Once he would have punished them for such disloyalty but exhaustion and isolation had culled any such inclination.
The nights that Kazuya spent with him had become his only luxury. And on many occasion he’d had to fight the urge to take the next step in their relationship and enact his greatest fantasy. But he always held back, for deep in his gut he knew that Kazuya was not ready; Kazuya had not yet accepted his place. It shamed the boy to have to dress and behave so effeminately, and on occasion Jin had considered cancelling the agreement that he had with the Okiya. But then Kazuya’s tongue would spring to life and Jin would feel the thrill of the banter. There was a pride there too, skulking within the shame, whenever he successfully performed a dance or a song that he’d been made to practice tirelessly. Jin could see it in Kazuya’s expression, the occasional touch of joy and calm after completing his task.
“Sake?” he turned to the man now, who was glaring at him, rage and hurt glowing in his expression.
“Whatever my Lord requires.” He answered tonelessly. That wasn’t enough; that wasn’t what Jin needed from him.
“I like that you hate me.” He smiled and began to walk in the direction of the room containing the kotatsu. It was a lie, but he felt the atmosphere change as Kazuya struggled to hold back his frustration. “Bring the Sake. You will drink with me tonight.”
Kazuya obeyed just as Jin knew he would. His mind floated back to their very first encounter; the only time that he had witnessed Kazuya drunk on alcohol. He allowed his hand to dip into his robes and stroke the wooden object concealed there; it was sentimental lunacy and eventually he would have to re-establish some real control but for now the object comforted him.
Kazuya was moving with more grace than Jin had ever witnessed before. But something told him that the man’s intentions were not to please him but rather to spite him. He located the sake and two beakers and brought them to the kotatsu, lowered himself and filled Jin’s cup in silence. He then placed the bottle on the table and stared at Jin expectantly.
Jin smirked and settled himself on the ground, his elbow resting on the kotatsu and his chin fitting easily into his hand. “You expect me to pour your drink?” the air between them felt as though it had been charged by some unseen force.
Kazuya’s expression did not falter, nor did his eyes waver. “I do not.” He said curtly, “I have no intention of drinking with you.”
Jin raised his brow and scooped his drink into his hand. “Then why did you bring two cups?” he felt his heart skip as Kazuya’s eyes flashed; he’d slipped up and he was no doubt cursing himself for it.
“Why have you called me back for so long?” Kazuya dodged Jin’s question with one of his own. Jin could feel the hatred radiating from him. He wondered what had caused Kazuya to change so drastically since their last meeting only two days previously. He frowned and placed his cup down. Kazuya’s moods were unpredictable; it hadn’t taken him long to discover that, but this was different. He’d never been on the receiving end of such a murderous glare.
“Maybe I missed you.” He answered lightly, glancing expectantly at his empty cup. Kazuya reached for the bottle and filled it again but still his own remained empty. “Are you sure you won’t drink with me?” Suddenly he wasn’t enjoying the other man’s discomfort and anger. He remembered Kazuya’s words from their first meeting. I’m looking at you as a man. He hadn’t realised at the time just how significant those words would become. People feared him and respected him and obeyed him; he’d asked Kazuya to offer him his honesty. I hate you. He no longer knew how to feel.
“I’m sure.” Kazuya answered coldly. “I don’t believe that you missed me. There must be another reason.”
There was not. But Jin suddenly felt ashamed of the desperation he’d felt to see his Taikomochi again. “If there is then that’s my business.” He said quietly but his voice was strained and he could feel his heart sinking into despair. “You may go to bed if you wish.” He sighed and reached to fill his own cup this time.
“I do wish.” Kazuya said darkly. He rose to go.
“I wish you wouldn’t.” Jin’s voice cracked as the thought of being left alone hit him with incredible force. He craved comfort and safety and that feeling that he’d once sought with Pi and had occasionally found in Kazuya on the good days. But such days were becoming few.
“Don’t play games with me Akanishi!” the man’s voice was venomous as he rounded on him. “I’ve tried to obey you…I’ve done everything you’ve asked.” He stepped forward and loomed over Jin. “If you need some dainty little Geisha to please you then hire one! But that’s not me.” Jin reached up then and yanked him downwards, while using his leg to trip the furious man. The movement was so sudden and unexpected that Kazuya crumpled immediately. “They ridicule me.” He continued as he struggled to pull free from Jin’s hold. “I don’t deserve this!”
“It’s for me to decide what you deserve!” Jin said loudly then, fingers fastening themselves around Kazuya’s wrists. By this point the livid actor was already too tangled in his kimono to offer any sort of real resistance. “You belong to me.”
Kazuya was stronger than he looked as he tried to struggle and wriggle out of Jin’s hold. But the man’s emotion was inhibiting his ability to strike out effectively. And after several long moments he seemed to sink as though the last of his energy had been sapped. “You think this is fun,” he said quietly, eyes cast downwards, “and it’s my job to entertain you.” The sudden lack of resistance staggered Jin.
“I’m not enjoying you like this.” He said carefully, loosening his hold on Kazuya’s wrists. “I know that you…” he searched desperately for a replacement word, “…dislike me.” Kazuya’s eyes darted upwards to meet his. “But you weren’t this upset before.”
“Maybe I was!” Kazuya snapped pulling his arms inwards protectively. “Maybe I just hid it better.”
Jin could no longer remain passive as his heart crashed. He lowered his eyes and turned away; the only person that truly dared be honest with him despised him. And he was fine with that, or at least he would be, he just needed time to adjust. Kazuya it seemed had noticed the sorrow in his expression however, and Jin was shocked to feel the man’s fingers rest against his own. “I’m sorry my Lord,” the man said quietly, “I didn’t mean it…” he hesitated, “I don’t want to be this…I’m an actor…I don’t know how to be a Taikomochi…” He paused again as Jin turned to look at him, “but I don’t hate you.” He removed his hand and bit his lip. “And I’ll try harder.”
“Tell me what’s wrong, Kazuya.” Jin wondered why he was whispering. Kazuya shook his head and Jin thought that he detected tears in his eyes. “Please.” It was only then that he realised how very close they were to each other. Kazuya looked at him and he felt his heart tremor as he recognized the same loneliness that was silently devouring his insides.
“It’s her anniversary.” Kazuya whispered too. He cleared his throat. “My sister…four years ago today she…” Jin frowned, not really understanding. Kazuya laughed darkly. “You’re a samurai…I don’t really expect you to understand…”
“You should not mourn the dead…they are gone…” Jin repeated the teachings of his youth. He had experienced loss but no-one had ever caused him to feel grief; no-one had ever mattered enough for that.
“I miss her,” Kazuya mumbled, “she was the only person that understood how I felt.”
“About what?” Jin was even more confused than he had been earlier.
“About everything.” Kazuya gave him a look as though he were trying to read his every thought.
“Love makes you weak,” Jin said carefully, “you should not allow yourself to be…”
“I am not like you,” Kazuya interrupted, “I do not belong to your world or your rules. I am free to feel whatever I please.” But his words lacked anger and disrespect; he spoke them as though they were simple facts but with them came tears. Kazuya moved to wipe them away but to Jin’s horror and confusion they kept coming. Save for Tomohisa, he had never witnessed such direct emotion from another person. “I’m sorry.” Kazuya stammered, as he tried to pull away but Jin held him tight.
His hands moved without him really thinking, plunging into his robes and pulling out the wooden spinning top. “Here,” he said quietly, handing the item to the shivering man. Kazuya jolted in shock as he took in the sight of the toy that he’d no doubt believed to be lost.
“You…” he breathed, taking the toy between his fingers and staring at Jin questioningly, “you kept it?”
“I should have returned it sooner.” Jin felt ashamed, “I’m sorry…I just…” he coughed. Could he tell the truth? But the look in Kazuya’s eyes told him that he had little choice. “I liked what you said…”
“What I said?” Kazuya seemed to be moving closer to him despite the fact that Jin could detect no movement.
“About hope and joy,” he could feel his face growing hot as he confessed, “you were right.”
Kazuya’s face broke into the most beautiful of smiles as realisation dawned. Jin couldn’t remember ever feeling more uncertain and found himself frozen still anticipating a real response from his geisha. And then Kazuya was there, fingers tangled in his top knot, lips pressed against his own. He gasped as he tasted the salt of the man’s tears. Lifting his hands cautiously he allowed them to rest against Kazuya’s sides as he relaxed into the kiss, exploring his mouth slowly with his own.
And then it was over. Kazuya was staring at him as though astounded by his own actions. Jin smiled, reached for the sake, filled Kazuya’s cup and passed it to him. The man stared at it with uncertainty but when Jin raised his own to him, he immediately imitated the action. “To your sister,” Jin said solemnly, “may she rest peacefully.”
Kazuya nodded but seemed unable to offer any words of his own. They drank.
“Thank you.” Kazuya managed eventually.
Jin just smiled.
His father was dead, his best friend an addict and two rooms away slept a handsome stranger of such a low status that Jin should never even have acknowledged his existence. Kazuya. Jin felt like a fool; what could have inspired him to act so sentimentally? It hadn’t been his intention to converse with the man, to comfort him, to kiss him. But the sight of Kazuya tied and trembling had caused a sadness in him, and he’d known that he didn’t have the strength or will-power to allow the man’s suffering to continue.
There was something in the way that the actor looked at him, so powerful and direct, and his words! Despite the dread that Jin’s presence had caused him, Kazuya had still managed to speak to him with courage. It was the rarest of traits, one that should be punishable by death, but it was too attractive to Jin, too exciting and just unpredictable enough to cause his heart to pound with adrenaline.
“My Lord,” he bolted upright as a voice from close by invaded his senses. Kazuya was knelt beside him, staring at him with an incredulous expression. Jin simply blinked. How had the filthy actor with ridiculous hair from yesterday transformed into someone so alluring? The man’s very skin seemed to glow with his life-force, the eyes sparkling and somehow mischievous, the lips not quite closed but not open either…Jin felt as though his mind were resetting itself as his body began to react with desire. “I…was told to wake you.” Kazuya said carefully, but Jin could not detect the fear that he’d witnessed the previous night. “You have…business to attend to.” Kazuya smiled then, “I’m to ask if you would require breakfast bringing to you here.”
Jin could hear the words but his mind wasn’t quite registering them as his eyes seemed to fix on Kazuya’s throat, long and slender and oh so very appealing. It wasn’t the first time that he’d been attracted to a man, in-fact he’d acquired quite the reputation in Edo for the number of people, both male and female, that he’d bedded. But no-one had ever caught his attention in this way. He was something of a selfish lover; relishing in the reluctance and eventual submission of his targets, caring not whether they reached the same level of pleasure that he most certainly wouldn’t deny himself. His interest was always purely physical and he tried to avoid sleeping with the same person more than once. He’d never married, which for one of his status was practically unheard of, and though he knew that arrangements would eventually be made, he made it his business to hold off any such ceremony for as long as possible.
Tenderness was not a trait that he offered his lovers but nor was he cruel. However he now found himself wanting to reach out for the figure that watched him with both curiosity and patience. He imagined easing him down onto his futon and undressing him, slow, careful. He wouldn’t rush, would savour each touch and every kiss…Kazuya would yield, unable to resist the sensations that Jin would cause and he wouldn’t stop until he had the boy quivering and moaning under his touches.
“My Lord?” Kazuya’s hue seemed darker suddenly, as though he were blushing at Jin’s private thoughts.
Jin blinked and raised his hands to his face as though hoping to wipe the lustful images from his mind. “Yes,” he cleared his throat, “tell my men to have breakfast brought…are you hungry?” he surprised himself with the question but Kazuya seemed entirely un-perplexed.
“I am,” he smiled and stared at Jin directly again, daring, suggestive. Jin narrowed his eyes but couldn’t really will himself to feel displeasure. Kazuya was just too attractive and enigmatic to make him angry at that moment.
“Then order breakfast for two,” he said carefully, “then I will bathe.” An image of Kazuya pressed against the side of a bath whimpering as Jin took him, darted through his mind and he couldn’t help but smirk. Kazuya, oblivious to his Lord’s fantasy, smiled his thanks and bowed before swiftly leaving the room.
It would be all too easy, Jin thought as he began to rise from his futon, to force Kazuya into such a situation. He remembered the actor’s words from the previous night as he’d reluctantly offered Jin such a service. But he also remembered how the man had stiffened under his touches, how he’d pulled away subconsciously, how he’d struggled to return the kiss. Sure Jin could force him, and over time the boy would learn to accept his place, perhaps to even experience pleasure at Jin’s hands, but for the first time in his life that wasn’t what he wanted.
He tongued his lip thoughtfully as he pulled a loose robe over himself. Kazuya was a no-body and Jin would not lower himself to wooing or flirting, but nor would he resort to force or direct cruelty. No, there had to be another way. Kazuya had to learn his place and to crave Jin’s affection. Kazuya’s place. The only issue with the young man’s role was that Jin was yet to allocate him one; not a whore or a servant or a guard…then what?
He gazed around his small chamber. The décor was simple, and the only item of furniture in the room was his futon which would be folded away by some faceless servant girl during the day and laid out again for him that night. It was one of five rooms that made up his private quarters, and he remembered even as a boy of nine, adoring the lack of pomposity that his father had favoured.
Crossing the floor he pulled back the door which lead to the room in which he had been made to study as a child. The walls were laden with books and scrolls and in the centre was a kotatsu similar to that at which he had sat with Tomohisa. He felt a pang in his chest as he thought of his old friend but immediately tried to rid himself of the unwanted emotion; there was too much else to think about; he had a domain to lead and an impudent actor to contend with. It was without hesitance that he passed through this room to come face-to-face with Kazuya once more.
Due to his bandaged fingers, the actor was struggling to fold away his futon. He seemed uncertain as to what to do when Jin entered, as he seemed to be half-way through the difficult process. Jin paused and stared at him expectantly, barely able to prevent himself from smirking at the man’s confusion. Eventually Kazuya seemed to regain his composure, dropped the bedding and bowed to Jin. “Where were you raised?” Jin moved to a low table and knelt by it.
“I’m an actor.” Kazuya said simply, returning to his task, and Jin felt a prickle of suspicion that he couldn’t explain.
“I’m aware of that,” he reached for a goblet of water that had been placed there for him, “but where? Your manners are most strange.”
Kazuya seemed to become flustered then, “I’m sorry,” he glanced upwards again, “I…I travelled a lot.” He paused and seemed to consider something, “I guess you could say my upbringing was somewhat out of the ordinary.”
Jin laughed quietly, “I guess that makes two of us then,” he muttered; he couldn’t be sure whether or not Kazuya had heard. He frowned as a thought suddenly hit him. “I’m no expert,” he said slowly, as he focused on the beautiful boy that finally appeared to have succeeded in his task, “but I thought that actors travelled in groups…”
Kazuya’s entire physique seemed to transform then as he practically cowered into himself. He walked across to Jin in silence and lowered himself to the floor. Lifting the arm of his robe he revealed the dull bruising to his flesh. “I did not suffer all of these wounds last night,” his voice shook, “last week…” he faltered and seemed to grow smaller still.
If Jin had been an emotional man then he was sure that he would have felt concern or pity. But he was not, or at least he would not entertain such a concept, so he remained silent and waited patiently for the wounded beauty to continue his tale. He barely noticed that his hand had sought out Kazuya’s covered knee, and that he was moving his thumb comfortingly over it.
“We were attacked,” the words were barely more than a breath, “on the road. They’re all dead.”
“Your sister?” Jin suddenly remembered the toy concealed within the robes that he’d worn the previous night.
Kazuya smiled glumly and shook his head. “No, that was four years ago. She died of…sickness.” And then, as suddenly as the quiet, emotional episode had appeared, it was gone and Kazuya seemed to transform again. “But my Lord!” his voice was warm; a tone that Jin had not previously heard. “You do not want to hear of such things! I want to thank you for the kindness that you have offered me. And I will do whatever I can to make your morning a pleasant one!”
Jin couldn’t help but laugh. It was impossible for him to describe or even comprehend but it was as though Kazuya had somehow lifted the very air in the room and created an atmosphere of friendship and relaxation; the very atmosphere that he had craved for and sought out the previous night in the home of his friend. “Who are you?” it was rhetorical, but Jin found himself hoping that Kazuya would produce some sort of response.
“My Lord,” eyes met his and he smiled, and Jin immediately spotted the irony, “I thought we’d made that clear…I’m whoever you want me to be.”
~*~*~*~
The sakura would pass and the rain season would soon be upon them, Jin thought, as he used his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. The heat seemed to be descending all too quickly this year and it did nothing to aid his concentration.
The woman on his arm, whose name he had forgotten, admired the falling petals, he nodded his agreement. She was a geisha, though not the same woman that had travelled with him from the capital the previous day.
He had insisted that they take a break from the seemingly endless discussions and debates which had soon caused a sharp pain to form in his skull. It seemed strange to him that he, a warrior by definition, should be forced to debate politics and business and to consider the future of a country that may soon be twisted out of recognition by foreign hands. Peace was all that he had ever known, for not since the battle of Sekigahara, which lay over two hundred years behind them, had the clans engaged in any real conflict.
He allowed his fingers to skim over the hilt of his weapon, his mind returning to Tomohisa once more. What purpose has a warrior if not to fight? He and his friend were trained, had been since children, and samurai alone held the right to carry swords in public. But for what? It was no wonder that Tomohisa had grown restless and sought relief in darker areas. He bit his lip; trouble was coming. He knew it as did everyone. But the enemy that hid within the shadows held the power to take up residence in the heart of any man. And that was not an enemy that one could easily fight.
“Perhaps we should return?” the geisha asked softly, “I would like to prepare some tea for my Lord.”
Jin glanced in her direction and nodded. He was samurai but he was also a leader. The Shogun demanded that men such as he be informed of current events in case they were required to advise. And it was not for him to argue with the Bakufu. But upon returning to the meeting he would be required to reach a decision regarding the embargo on foreign trade within his domain.
Revere the Emperor; Expel the Barbarians. It was a phrase forbidden in Edo, for the Tokugawa had chosen to invite the strange foreign presence into the land rather than drive them out. But the words that had started as whispers in the towns surrounding the ports housing the foreign ships, had grown into powerful slogans used by the lower classes. Words held power and Jin knew it. His father, though faithful to the Shogun, had despised the foreign presence. So where did that leave him? The people were waiting; some it seemed even dreamed that he would stand with them and their emperor who was hidden away, all powerful and yet helpless at the hands of the Bakufu. But to do that would be to turn his back on his world, his shogun and all that served him. His father had grown stubborn in his old age, and had known that he would not live long enough to witness the repercussions of the ban. But Jin was young and vulnerable: if he kept the embargo in place then he was practically joining the peasants in their political chanting; if he relaxed it then he was standing alongside the Shogun and ignoring the will of his people. And that he feared would only work against him in the future.
“You pour tea most gracefully,” he spoke to the Geisha as they neared the building. “I wonder…how do women acquire such grace?” It was a question that lacked any real feeling or curiosity but the emptiness of the silence paired with the turbulence of his own thoughts was causing him to crave the woman’s conversation.
The Geisha lifted her hand to her lips and laughed quietly, “It is not for me to reveal our secrets.” Her voice was playful and Jin immediately found himself remembering Kazuya’s words and manner of earlier, “but it is no secret that male Geisha are also able to embody such delicacy.”
Jin almost faltered in his step as he felt a sudden rush. “Did you just say male Geisha?” He felt an urge to howl at the marvellous wickedness that charged his thoughts then but chose to stare at the woman questioningly instead.
“They are very rare, my Lord,” he could detect the smile in her voice, “but there was a time when they were the most common variety. They are called Taikomochi.”
Jin frowned then as the images that had started to practically dance and swirl through his mind grew to an abrupt halt. “You mean men who bear drums?” He voiced the most literal meaning of the word. She laughed though of course there was no real cruelty there.
“That is but one name for them my Lord,” she said, “though some do play music, they offer other services too. They are story tellers and dancers…entertainers just like other Geisha.”
Jin nodded, his fantasy gradually starting to return. “But you say they are now rare? Why is that?”
The woman paused for a moment but then remembered herself and began to move again, lowering her eyes in shame for causing her Lord to falter. “I do not know that my facts are accurate, my Lord.” And he recognised the familiar deference of one that has spoken with too much excitement or confidence. “But I heard that long ago, when the clans still fought, that the Taikomochi were more than just entertainers…they were also trusted advisors to their Lords…intelligent and sometimes even respected. But when peace came such men were no longer required, they became the first Geisha,” she smiled, “but it seems that men grew to think of the role as one intended for women and so now the Taikomochi have become very rare.” She hesitated, “I also heard that many prostitutes use such a title.” She frowned, “as they do for Geisha. But as you know my Lord, that is not what we are.”
He stared at her properly then, eyes seeking out the skin beneath the make-up, and there he detected faint lines. It was not unheard of for such women to be forced to turn to prostitution when their services as Geisha were no longer required. It all depended on how generous her clientele were. He made a note to have her presented with a generous reward for the information that she had shared with him. For now he felt inspired; Kazuya would have a role at last.
~*~*~*~
Today he hated Jin. Kazuya flinched as the woman, the mother of the Okiya, slapped his hand with a leather strap. Today she was feeling generous; she’d opted for the fingers that weren’t still wrapped in bandages, gradually healing. He bowed his head and muttered his apologies for his tardiness; once again he’d proven that the shamisen was too difficult an instrument to manoeuvre using injured fingers. Today he hated Jin because six weeks earlier Jin had put him here.
It was not every night that he was permitted to return to the mansion and to the personal chambers of the most powerful man in the domain; it was every third night. Kazuya flinched again but did not allow his discomfort to show on his face. The women were watching, as they often did, revelling in his punishment. It wasn’t that they despised him, they simply thought him ridiculous, and for that he did not blame them. Taikomochi; he’d heard of such men but they were mostly centred in Kyoto and many of which were little more than common street whores. So why was he here in the training house of female Geisha? Most of them were barely out of childhood, whereas he was in his twenty second year. It was humiliating and Jin knew it and that’s why today he hated him. The beating stopped.
“Take the instrument with you.” Kumiko, the mother of the Okiya, said coldly. “Our Lord has requested you go to him for four nights, when you return you will have improved.” She turned then and moved in the direction of the door, pulling it back she revealed Haruki, one of Jin’s personal guards, the man that was always sent to escort him back to the mansion.
Kazuya clenched his teeth; only two nights had passed by since he’d last been forced to spend time in the company of Akanishi Jin. He lowered his head to Haruki with as much grace and femininity as he could muster. Some of the younger Maiko that watched him giggled quietly and Kazuya felt as though his throat were tightening with the effort to hold his pose. But he succeeded because after years of heartache and anger and loneliness he’d learned that the only way to survive was to adapt. He hated Jin today but tomorrow he might feel differently.
The Lord was mocking him, humiliating him, trying to break his spirit by forcing him to act out this charade. There had been times, when Kazuya had spent his nights in the mansion, that he’d considered crossing into Jin’s chamber and murdering him in his bed. In fact that was his most regular emotion towards the samurai. But there had been rare occasions when he’d spotted something in Jin’s expression that had taken his breath away. The warmth that he’d spotted that first night; the happiness at hearing a song that Kazuya was close to perfecting; the calm during a conversation that they shared over breakfast. Sometimes, just sometimes, Kazuya allowed himself to believe that somewhere in Jin he had a friend.
But today was no such time and the thought of standing in the man’s presence made him feel numb with revulsion. Not since that first night had Jin made any sort of advancement towards him but Kazuya was no fool. This role that he was being forced to play was all part of some deluded fantasy on Jin’s part, and eventually the man’s patience would run out. There had been occasions when he’d convinced himself that he might be able to go through with it, to let Jin have his way, after all it would only have to happen the once; everyone knew Jin’s reputation; the man rarely required seconds. But mostly, thinking about it made Kazuya feel sick with fear; he’d never been with a man, had never felt any real desire to. It was bad enough that he’d been stamped into a position of playing a woman’s role; singing and dancing and flirting and flattering. If Jin made him go any further, he feared his mask might shatter.
He felt hands on him then; the women were undressing him and preparing him for the meeting with his Lord. They were skilled, and though his costume was elaborate it did not compare to those worn by the real Geisha, and so he soon found himself dressed and shuffling awkwardly behind Haruki in the direction of Jin’s home.
“Where are you going all dressed up like that?” a familiar voice from behind caused Kazuya to flinch and Haruki immediately span round to defend him if necessary. But upon viewing the speaker his eyes widened in shock and his sword dropped to his side as he fell into a bow. Kazuya simply stared at the man coldly.
“I’m on my way to visit my Lord,” he spoke eventually, “though I don’t know why he wishes for me to dress this way.”
The surprise on Jin’s face at his forwardness was impossible to miss. But Kazuya didn’t care, not today; there were too many other emotions that he had to contend with.
“Perhaps he finds you quite appealing.” Jin reached out then and took him by the arm. And it took all of Kazuya’s self-control not to pull away hatefully. “It’s unusual to see a man in such fine…”
“That is because no man with any self-respect would dress this way.” The angry words had left Kazuya before he could pause to think.
But Jin seemed un-phased. “Then apparently you have no self-respect,” he smirked and turned, his eyes lacking the warmth that Kazuya secretly longed to find there.
Kazuya tried to stop, as fury struggled to take hold but Jin would not allow it and immediately proceeded to drag him along the street. But the length and weight of his kimono and the unsteadiness that he felt while attempting to walk in geta footwear caused him to lose his balance and stumble. But Jin it seemed had prepared himself for such an eventuality and immediately turned to steady him, his arm moving protectively around his back. Kazuya couldn’t think, couldn’t speak as he stared hopelessly up into the eyes that commanded so much of his time and spirit. He felt the emotions in his chest starting to struggle upwards. He’d barely had time to heal and recover before Jin had sent him to the Okiya. His body felt heavy with exhaustion and every limb ached. But such discomforts did not compare to the loneliness that seemed to grow in strength whenever he met Jin’s eyes.
“Come on,” Jin said softly, “let’s get you home.”
“I hate you.” His voice trembled as he felt himself reaching up for Jin’s face. The Lord’s eyes seemed to sparkle then though Kazuya couldn’t be certain of the emotion. “Why are you doing this to me?” He felt Jin’s arm tightening around him and suddenly the man leaned in closer and before Kazuya could react their lips touched.
It was brief and gentle and almost shy but the fear and disgust that Kazuya had expected to feel was absent. And then Jin was pulling away, amusement clear in his expression. “Oh Kazuya,” he brushed his thumb over Kazuya’s still parted lips. “I do it because it’s fun.”
That broke the spell. Every hateful emotion that Kazuya had ever felt towards the arrogant Samurai Lord flooded his senses and he tried to throw himself onto the monster that mocked him with such pleasure and ease. But Jin had prepared for that too, and his hands immediately moved to block the attack, and seized the hand with the broken fingers. Kazuya screamed; despite the time that had passed any pressure still felt agonizing. “Shhhh….” Jin soothed, “now be a good boy and let’s go home.”
~*~*~*~
Kazuya had gone limp, was simply allowing himself to pulled into the house and in the direction of Jin’s chamber. That wasn’t what he wanted; it was the fight in the boy, the witty comebacks, the honesty that he yearned for. I hate you. Those words had hit him like a thousand tiny shards piercing every part of him, body and soul. But he hadn’t shown it, had known that he couldn’t allow Kazuya to know how close he was to breaking. Ridicule came easily; he knew how to manipulate the beautiful creature that posed as a cultured entertainer. But in humiliating the daring young actor he was damaging himself. Every hurtful remark or embarrassing situation that he forced Kazuya into caused him an ache in his chest that he couldn’t explain.
He was relieved when he finally reached his rooms. He pushed Kazuya gently through the door and pulled it closed behind them. Ever since that day over six weeks earlier when he’d decided to relax the trade embargo, sealing his place within the Bakufu, he’d grown acutely aware of the anger and betrayal that many of the lower citizens felt at his decision. No-one would approach him directly of course, but he could feel their stares and sometimes even detect their whispers. Once he would have punished them for such disloyalty but exhaustion and isolation had culled any such inclination.
The nights that Kazuya spent with him had become his only luxury. And on many occasion he’d had to fight the urge to take the next step in their relationship and enact his greatest fantasy. But he always held back, for deep in his gut he knew that Kazuya was not ready; Kazuya had not yet accepted his place. It shamed the boy to have to dress and behave so effeminately, and on occasion Jin had considered cancelling the agreement that he had with the Okiya. But then Kazuya’s tongue would spring to life and Jin would feel the thrill of the banter. There was a pride there too, skulking within the shame, whenever he successfully performed a dance or a song that he’d been made to practice tirelessly. Jin could see it in Kazuya’s expression, the occasional touch of joy and calm after completing his task.
“Sake?” he turned to the man now, who was glaring at him, rage and hurt glowing in his expression.
“Whatever my Lord requires.” He answered tonelessly. That wasn’t enough; that wasn’t what Jin needed from him.
“I like that you hate me.” He smiled and began to walk in the direction of the room containing the kotatsu. It was a lie, but he felt the atmosphere change as Kazuya struggled to hold back his frustration. “Bring the Sake. You will drink with me tonight.”
Kazuya obeyed just as Jin knew he would. His mind floated back to their very first encounter; the only time that he had witnessed Kazuya drunk on alcohol. He allowed his hand to dip into his robes and stroke the wooden object concealed there; it was sentimental lunacy and eventually he would have to re-establish some real control but for now the object comforted him.
Kazuya was moving with more grace than Jin had ever witnessed before. But something told him that the man’s intentions were not to please him but rather to spite him. He located the sake and two beakers and brought them to the kotatsu, lowered himself and filled Jin’s cup in silence. He then placed the bottle on the table and stared at Jin expectantly.
Jin smirked and settled himself on the ground, his elbow resting on the kotatsu and his chin fitting easily into his hand. “You expect me to pour your drink?” the air between them felt as though it had been charged by some unseen force.
Kazuya’s expression did not falter, nor did his eyes waver. “I do not.” He said curtly, “I have no intention of drinking with you.”
Jin raised his brow and scooped his drink into his hand. “Then why did you bring two cups?” he felt his heart skip as Kazuya’s eyes flashed; he’d slipped up and he was no doubt cursing himself for it.
“Why have you called me back for so long?” Kazuya dodged Jin’s question with one of his own. Jin could feel the hatred radiating from him. He wondered what had caused Kazuya to change so drastically since their last meeting only two days previously. He frowned and placed his cup down. Kazuya’s moods were unpredictable; it hadn’t taken him long to discover that, but this was different. He’d never been on the receiving end of such a murderous glare.
“Maybe I missed you.” He answered lightly, glancing expectantly at his empty cup. Kazuya reached for the bottle and filled it again but still his own remained empty. “Are you sure you won’t drink with me?” Suddenly he wasn’t enjoying the other man’s discomfort and anger. He remembered Kazuya’s words from their first meeting. I’m looking at you as a man. He hadn’t realised at the time just how significant those words would become. People feared him and respected him and obeyed him; he’d asked Kazuya to offer him his honesty. I hate you. He no longer knew how to feel.
“I’m sure.” Kazuya answered coldly. “I don’t believe that you missed me. There must be another reason.”
There was not. But Jin suddenly felt ashamed of the desperation he’d felt to see his Taikomochi again. “If there is then that’s my business.” He said quietly but his voice was strained and he could feel his heart sinking into despair. “You may go to bed if you wish.” He sighed and reached to fill his own cup this time.
“I do wish.” Kazuya said darkly. He rose to go.
“I wish you wouldn’t.” Jin’s voice cracked as the thought of being left alone hit him with incredible force. He craved comfort and safety and that feeling that he’d once sought with Pi and had occasionally found in Kazuya on the good days. But such days were becoming few.
“Don’t play games with me Akanishi!” the man’s voice was venomous as he rounded on him. “I’ve tried to obey you…I’ve done everything you’ve asked.” He stepped forward and loomed over Jin. “If you need some dainty little Geisha to please you then hire one! But that’s not me.” Jin reached up then and yanked him downwards, while using his leg to trip the furious man. The movement was so sudden and unexpected that Kazuya crumpled immediately. “They ridicule me.” He continued as he struggled to pull free from Jin’s hold. “I don’t deserve this!”
“It’s for me to decide what you deserve!” Jin said loudly then, fingers fastening themselves around Kazuya’s wrists. By this point the livid actor was already too tangled in his kimono to offer any sort of real resistance. “You belong to me.”
Kazuya was stronger than he looked as he tried to struggle and wriggle out of Jin’s hold. But the man’s emotion was inhibiting his ability to strike out effectively. And after several long moments he seemed to sink as though the last of his energy had been sapped. “You think this is fun,” he said quietly, eyes cast downwards, “and it’s my job to entertain you.” The sudden lack of resistance staggered Jin.
“I’m not enjoying you like this.” He said carefully, loosening his hold on Kazuya’s wrists. “I know that you…” he searched desperately for a replacement word, “…dislike me.” Kazuya’s eyes darted upwards to meet his. “But you weren’t this upset before.”
“Maybe I was!” Kazuya snapped pulling his arms inwards protectively. “Maybe I just hid it better.”
Jin could no longer remain passive as his heart crashed. He lowered his eyes and turned away; the only person that truly dared be honest with him despised him. And he was fine with that, or at least he would be, he just needed time to adjust. Kazuya it seemed had noticed the sorrow in his expression however, and Jin was shocked to feel the man’s fingers rest against his own. “I’m sorry my Lord,” the man said quietly, “I didn’t mean it…” he hesitated, “I don’t want to be this…I’m an actor…I don’t know how to be a Taikomochi…” He paused again as Jin turned to look at him, “but I don’t hate you.” He removed his hand and bit his lip. “And I’ll try harder.”
“Tell me what’s wrong, Kazuya.” Jin wondered why he was whispering. Kazuya shook his head and Jin thought that he detected tears in his eyes. “Please.” It was only then that he realised how very close they were to each other. Kazuya looked at him and he felt his heart tremor as he recognized the same loneliness that was silently devouring his insides.
“It’s her anniversary.” Kazuya whispered too. He cleared his throat. “My sister…four years ago today she…” Jin frowned, not really understanding. Kazuya laughed darkly. “You’re a samurai…I don’t really expect you to understand…”
“You should not mourn the dead…they are gone…” Jin repeated the teachings of his youth. He had experienced loss but no-one had ever caused him to feel grief; no-one had ever mattered enough for that.
“I miss her,” Kazuya mumbled, “she was the only person that understood how I felt.”
“About what?” Jin was even more confused than he had been earlier.
“About everything.” Kazuya gave him a look as though he were trying to read his every thought.
“Love makes you weak,” Jin said carefully, “you should not allow yourself to be…”
“I am not like you,” Kazuya interrupted, “I do not belong to your world or your rules. I am free to feel whatever I please.” But his words lacked anger and disrespect; he spoke them as though they were simple facts but with them came tears. Kazuya moved to wipe them away but to Jin’s horror and confusion they kept coming. Save for Tomohisa, he had never witnessed such direct emotion from another person. “I’m sorry.” Kazuya stammered, as he tried to pull away but Jin held him tight.
His hands moved without him really thinking, plunging into his robes and pulling out the wooden spinning top. “Here,” he said quietly, handing the item to the shivering man. Kazuya jolted in shock as he took in the sight of the toy that he’d no doubt believed to be lost.
“You…” he breathed, taking the toy between his fingers and staring at Jin questioningly, “you kept it?”
“I should have returned it sooner.” Jin felt ashamed, “I’m sorry…I just…” he coughed. Could he tell the truth? But the look in Kazuya’s eyes told him that he had little choice. “I liked what you said…”
“What I said?” Kazuya seemed to be moving closer to him despite the fact that Jin could detect no movement.
“About hope and joy,” he could feel his face growing hot as he confessed, “you were right.”
Kazuya’s face broke into the most beautiful of smiles as realisation dawned. Jin couldn’t remember ever feeling more uncertain and found himself frozen still anticipating a real response from his geisha. And then Kazuya was there, fingers tangled in his top knot, lips pressed against his own. He gasped as he tasted the salt of the man’s tears. Lifting his hands cautiously he allowed them to rest against Kazuya’s sides as he relaxed into the kiss, exploring his mouth slowly with his own.
And then it was over. Kazuya was staring at him as though astounded by his own actions. Jin smiled, reached for the sake, filled Kazuya’s cup and passed it to him. The man stared at it with uncertainty but when Jin raised his own to him, he immediately imitated the action. “To your sister,” Jin said solemnly, “may she rest peacefully.”
Kazuya nodded but seemed unable to offer any words of his own. They drank.
“Thank you.” Kazuya managed eventually.
Jin just smiled.