world of the willows - 1/1 - yunjae
Title: World of the Willows
Chapter(s): 1/1
Author: sentimentalenvy
Genre: angst,fluff,romance
Rating: PG
Warnings: purely fictional, male geisha
Pairing: Yunjae
Wordcount: 8,688
Disclaimer: I do not own any known characters in this story.
Synopsis: I did not ask to be brought into this willow world as a boy and thrown into the unrelenting surges of ‘womanhood’. What possible motive, could the Creator of life possibly have, to allow a man’s soul to suffer such degradation?
Comment(s): nrsjyj has rightfully given the geisha theme to me alone. We’ve originally had different ideas to begin with, so she believes that she thinks the fic is better off in my hands. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I’ve decided that my version has no relation to Memoirs of a Geisha. I’ve not read or watched the book and movie so I don’t see how this is going to turn out exactly like the movie. So no, I will not say it is based from the book because it really isn’t. If, however, there is a problem and you’d like to disagree otherwise, I’ve enabled my private messaging option - so if you have any problems, you can take it up with me. I will say that this was fully inspired by an autobiography by Iwasaki Mineko (yes, the retired geisha that sued Author Brown’s ass for incorporating information that wasn’t legit for Memoirs - even though technically Memoirs was fiction but w/e). If someone has written something exactly the same as me before I did, then the similarity is just a mere coincidence =_=; I wouldn’t ever sink as low as plagiarizing someone’s works. Keep that in mind, folks.
I don’t know, I’ll probably read Memoirs of a Geisha eventually. Since everyone says it’s oh so good. But I figured I’d rather read a real autobiography of facts that actually has happened rather than fiction, lol.
Other than that, I hope this turns out successful. To be honest, the idea of Jaejoong being a geisha is kind of weird to me but, I’ve always wanted to try writing something out of my comfort zone. I’m sorry this turned out to be a one shot, but these kinds of fics are difficult to write. I wanted to make it sound as realistic as possible (and it’s already weird since JJ’s a guy and this is a geisha fic so if there’s a problem, nobody’s stopping you from leaving).
I’m also sorry for the lack of updates lately. I haven’t been in the writing mood lately (no joke o_o). I’ve got a bunch of updates that are like either half or part done - including this one, which has been part done for quite a while already.
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okiya* lodging house where geishas reside
geiko* geisha
ochaya* tea house
tabi* socks that separate the large toe
okobo* six inch wooden platforms
Spring…
One out of the four seasons…
when the time has come for sakura blossoms to come into flower and dance.
Spring time has, ultimately, always been my favorite season. But it was also the same point in time when I was taken into the okiya at seven years old, forcefully disguised as a female, and shoved into the process of becoming someone I did not wish to become.
My mother, Kinomoto Yuri, is the head of the Kinomoto okiya in the karyukai district. She and my father had a total of eight children, and luckily for my mother, seven of them being all female. Each and every one of them was taken into the geisha house with no say, while she left my father and me, to live in the outskirts of town. As long as it was anywhere and everywhere that wasn’t in the vicinity of the okiya, she didn’t care where we lived.
The reason, for our moving, is that men aren’t ever allowed into any of the okiyas except with the exception of the geisha’s dressers. Guests are never forbidden from entering the lodging house but they never really get far into the house besides the main guest room. My mother was incredibly strict with that rule, and most of the time when I visited her with my father, she would treat me as coldly as she treated any outsider. The way she acted towards me, I felt as if I was despised for being born a male.
The thought of my mother not being a part of my childhood broke my heart.
That was when I turned seven on the month of January 26th, she unexpectedly showed up at our residency. She demanded in a calm tone, with immense authority, that she see me. I was incredibly surprised, and perhaps a bit overwhelmed, and somewhat happy; despite her frightening presence. My mother glided into the living room, and stood -prideful in front of me, while I was in the midst of doing my house chores.
With her gentle, yet still cold laced voice, she asked that I stand up and come to her. With great hesitation and reluctance, I slowly stood onto my shaky feet and walked over to where she was. I stared up at her beautiful face, and gulped nervously, urging desperately for the lump in my throat to go down. She examined me thoroughly for awhile and appraised me for holding such beauty. I fought the urge to cringe at the thought, for I was a boy, and according to what the children at my school had said, a real man wasn’t ever allowed to be categorized as ‘beautiful’ or any term in relation to it.
Before I realized it, she had insisted that she take me back to the okiya to stay and live there. Of course my father protested, and insisted in return that it was best that I didn’t, and that my mother was out of her mind. He had reminded her of the rules, and she nearly snapped at him, saying that she was the head of the house and she could do whatever she wanted. I was in the living room while they were in the kitchen arguing about where I was going to stay for the next years of my life. I recall overhearing my mother explaining to my father that she was going to have me disguised as a female and trained to become a geiko. My eyes doubled in size, and knew right at that moment that I wanted no such part of something so degrading towards being a male.
I wanted to grow up to be a man.
I did not want to become some professional female artist!
My father kept telling her how dishonorable she was for thinking of doing such a thing, for tainting what she worked hard for, and for being so selfish and not thinking about what was best for me - but she refused to listen.
“I wished for my last child to be the future successor to the Kinomoto okiya, in high hopes that she would be the most successful out of all my children, then only to find that my last child was born to be a male.” I cringed at the way she had said it, like it was sinful venom to the touch. Most of the times I’ve seen her, she had always remained calm and composed. Yet her aura never failed to send intimidating chills down my spine. “Impressively, from me, he has inherited the qualifications suited for such an occupation. The only problem lies within the fact that he is a male. But I don’t see why not, nor will I object, to experimentation. He may be one of the best. If he isn’t, then I will send him back here to live with you.”
“Don’t you see what you’re doing? Don’t you care at all for his well being?! Jejung is your son! You’re going to ruin his life! You’ve never thought about anything or anyone other than yourself! Therefore you have no right to come waltzing in here, talking of such preposterous nonsense, stripping him of his manhood when you’ve never so much as treated him like he was ever a child of your own!” He argued, breathing heavily, slamming his fist harshly into the counter. “I do not and will not permit it!”
My mother didn’t seem phased by my father’s outburst, and that was when I assumed she had grown accustomed to them when she took every last child from him, bringing them back to the okiya to live with her. I was the last and only one she willingly left with my father.
She then departed without protest.
Ever since then, I hadn’t been able to see or talk to her, and I know it’s hard to believe, but I missed her terribly. Before that messy dispute, my father had taken me to the okiya to visit her at least twice a month and I cherished every moment and opportunity I had to see her. I’ve always longed for her love and approval. I’ve always wanted her to hold me and tell me that she loved me dearly, and I just wished she would have spoken to me without the iciness wrapped in her voice - just like she treated the rest of my sisters. But all of my sisters hated her with a passion. Every visit, they would come to me, hug me, take me out for walks and buy me snacks from vendors and stores like any older sister would care for her brothers, but my mother would only greet me and leave to attend to her business. If I was lucky, she would stay around for a while longer, but we wouldn’t really get much talking done.
By Spring, April of 1962, she had come back again, this time asking me personally, to come with her to live in the okiya - as a female. I wanted to refuse so badly, I wanted to cry, bang the heels of my feet disgracefully into the tatami and down right refuse. But the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t refuse. The way I saw it, was that if I agreed and bent my will and handed my rights to my mother, maybe she would come to accept me and finally care for me like I was actually a child of her own. She would probably treat me more as if I was her own daughter, but at least she would look at me as her own. I believe that was the reason I had allowed myself to be so disgracefully led out of my home and into the world of hers.
My mother made sure to dress me up before she brought me to the okiya.
“Remember that your name is no longer Jejung, but Junko - especially in the okiya, your name is Junko. You will not let anyone know of your true identity and you will keep your profile of a male as low as possible,” She said; her voice calm but ever so sharp. “Don’t you dare shed disgrace on our name and don’t let me down.”
The moment she said those words don’t let me down I found myself determined to take on the occupation, to earn her love and trust for me. To think that I did this, to my father, who had loved and accepted me with open arms of who I was, made me feel all the more worse. I loved both of my parents, and I hoped to God, that my father would forgive me of what I’ve done. He always told me that he would support me on whatever I decided to do. The training was time consuming, and I rarely had the opportunity to see my father, but I’ve always tried my best. I remember when I was fourteen years old - the last day before I was to become a ‘maiko’, he had seen me in my kimono glory, with make up and straight posture, he broke down and cried right there. I don’t know if it was out of happiness that he hadn’t seen me in so long or if it was the fact that he’d truly lost his son.
In the beginning…it was no easy task, wearing clothes obviously not fit for a male, walking around the okiya with the other women (besides my sisters) thinking I was really a female. They were easily fooled and my mother was actually quite pleased. Even as a boy, I found fascination in the kimonos, the fans, the numerous dance lessons, playing beautiful pieces with instruments I never thought I’d ever have the chance to learn, practicing my calligraphy and so forth. As much as I loved these things, I was still never fond of the etiquette lessons of behaving like a woman. Even if my natural habits were gentle, the training required me to double the gentleness and behave ladylike, which was everything that I wasn’t. But for my mother, I pushed forward, putting forth my all in what I did.
I was never allowed to do anything that was considered a threat towards my health. At school I would watch the basketball players slide and my ears reveled in the sounds of their sneakers screeching against the gravel or the glossy gym floors. I would watch the baseball players slip and slide into and onto the plates and my heart would sink at the cries of victory and slaps on the backs while they congratulated each other for a good game. My heart soared whenever I passed by the badminton courts and I knew right then and there I wanted to play. I wanted to act like a boy - I wanted to get dirty and sweat until I was slick wet. I wanted to slide in the dirt and get filth on my face and not have to worry about keeping my movements elegant and proper.
I was never enrolled in school as a female, and as much as my mother wanted to protest, my father put his foot down and said there was nothing she could say that would change his mind. I am after all, still his son.
One of the younger sisters of the seven, Yuri who was also appointed as my official onee by my mother, was the one I knew I could truly trust. The year I joined the boys’ badminton team, I was removed from the team after a season, and it was mostly because one of my other sisters, Yuna, found out and reported directly back to my mother. My mother was furious, but you could never tell, because as the head of the okiya, she could never tarnish her reputation by lashing out and roaring a bunch of obscenities at a child - let alone her own.
I’ve got to say, the moment I passed the exam, and was promoted to becoming a ‘maiko’ I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother happier. She seemed shocked but seemingly pleased that I had gotten as far as she had expected. I, however, wasn’t proud of becoming a ‘maiko’, but more of me being proud of making my mother happy. Maiko is the stage before becoming a Geisha, and it literally means woman of dance. I didn’t mind dancing at all; I just didn’t like the fact that I worked so hard just to earn the title of being a woman. But I’ve long accepted that, at that time, there was nothing I could do about it. I knew one thing was for sure.
My mother was happy.
The seasons came and gone.
I had undergone a series of torment, jealous females and a river of emotional stress. I really couldn’t fathom what it was about women that made them so touchy about everything. It was so hard to please them and as much as they tried to scare me out of the okiya, I kept on trudging forward, refusing to ever give up. My mother wouldn’t ever approve of the fact that I had thrown my hard work away for people that tried to eliminate competition the easy way.
It was then that one fateful night, when I was set to work with a few of the other girls, was when things had spiraled too far. It turned out they had plotted yet another scheme to humiliate me. But unlike the other little pranks, this ended up with me, standing in the middle of the ochaya in my undergarments. With the help of several girls teaming up around me, my kimono was ripped off my body, and one of the drunken guests had somehow grabbed and pulled at the lower half of my undergarment without me noticing.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so humiliated in my life. I was surprised when I found that instead of being disgusted, they were quite surprised and amazed. I however, was too miserable and enraged to take notice at that time. The girls that plotted against me were obviously shocked, but I’ll bet they were most angry, at the fact that their competition wasn’t a female at all. That night, the temptation of going on a rampage was strong, but instead, I slammed the head of the man into the table - positively knocking him out cold. I watched menacingly as the sharp broken edges of the ceramics slice into his cheeks and forehead with great distaste. I’m sure everyone was surprised at my actions because I had never gone as far as to hurting a fly. Ever since then, nobody ever spoke of the matter or stepped a foot in my path again. Surprisingly, my mother wasn’t angry at me for injuring the man, but she was indeed disappointed with how everyone had to find out of the truth of my identity. Nobody dared complained to her since she was the head of the house. But even then, everyone in the okiya and my guests continued to call me Junko. I suppose it was out of habit.
My debut and experiences as a geiko was…quite unforgettable.
Along the years of my progression and perseverance, my mother gradually started to treat me more like her child. But she was still a hard woman, and with her, I knew there were always going to be boundaries. I of course knew when not to cross them. There were times and moments when I loved my career, because I always had the opportunities to meet so many different people. Naturally, there were the guests that I absolutely could not stand, but we’ve always been taught and strictly trained to be courteous, and maintain our composure when dealing with guests no matter how they drove us to the brink of insanity. My father was always…always a patient man and I’ve always looked up to him as a child, even now.
I’ve always looked forward to talking with the celebrities - especially if the customers were older than me. I believed that the older they were, the wiser they were. The wiser they were, the more I would learn. Even though we were supposed to study beforehand on the background of the guests and research about their occupations, there were always going to be new things to be taught and learned. I liked to see the opportunity as a give and take process. They would often ask me questions about me and my experiences as a geiko and in return they would educate and share their use of knowledge with me. I looked forward to every moment of it. But the bottom line was, that whomever our guest was going to be, we always had to do research and study. That way, we would be able to strike up a conversation with them, thus, keeping them entertained.
I’ve had my share of favorite customers…
and I may have favored one particular man the most.
It was in the ochaya, and Yuri had informed me of the information I was going to have to study up on. His name was Jung Yunho; he was a 27 year old Korean man, interested in expanding his businesses in Japan. Both his parents had passed on early, and he had rightfully taken the custody of the company from his greedy uncle, and was one of the youngest business men, taking the business realm in Korea by storm. I wasn’t fond of several of his colleagues, automatically assuming that we didn’t understand a word of Korean as they spoke with lecherous grins smeared over their faces. Just how did Korean men see their women? I wanted to cringe in disgust but I knew better that a geiko’s facial expression shouldn’t ever be tainted with such ugliness.
Obviously, there was never the time to master a language so quickly, but we studied hard with the basics. Even then, we still didn’t speak much - just barely - enough to get by. We’ve been receiving a good handful of Korean guests lately, so we were told that it was best that we started learning.
The first meeting between us had been awkward for me, for he was one of the best looking guests I’d to entertain. His company was pleasurable, and I had to say, he behaved like the perfect gentleman. He was kind to me even when several of the girls had tried to make a fool out of me yet again - but I was long used to that. He asked me what my name was, and almost out of interest in him, I almost blurted out my real name. I introduced myself to him in Korean, because it was a standard that we do so in the customer’s mother tongue before engaging into any sort of conversation. I was still determined on mastering the language, but it was most certainly not an easy task, for the language was incredibly complex and difficult to me.
His soft laugh sent shivers down my spine and greeted me back. Afterwards, he complimented on how well my Korean was, in Japanese, and I ended up blushing and insisting that it was only a line that any non-Korean speaker could master.
I was most impressed by how fluent his Japanese was. It seemed to flow out of his bow shaped lips so freely. It turned out that he had happened to study through middle school and high school for six years before he moved back to Korea to continue his training in the industry. Almost every time, my ears tingled when he spoke to his colleagues in Korean, and though I couldn’t understand 90% of it, it still excited me - sent a wave of happiness down my spine. I had a true passion for foreign languages. If I could learn all of them at once, I really really would.
I was most shocked that as time passed, he would keep on requesting for my services every time he booked a night at the ochaya, and almost automatically I would accept. There were so many things that he taught me about the business world, and I realized that I wanted to take part in it. I told myself that when my debts were paid off as a geiko, I was going to leave. I’ve often thought about how my mother would react, but at that point, I’ve realized that Yunho had opened so many doors for me. I wanted to confide in him so badly, but it was undoubtedly impossible to tell him that I was a man. He was one of our best customers and my mother would raise hell if he ever stopped coming here because of me.
Then I found myself anticipating every chance I’ve gotten to meet him. It was almost automatic when I was informed of Jung-san’s booking of the ochaya because I would automatically assume that he would ask for me. And every time, he always would. He would always lean over, not particularly touching me, and whisper that I was his favorite. He never failed to raise that tingling feeling in my body. Butterflies always fluttered in frenzy in my stomach whenever I was around him. Months and months have gone by and it wasn’t until then had I discovered that I might have had a little puppy love crush on the man. I still wasn’t sure if it was from me idolizing him or if it was a possibility of the chance that I could actually see myself falling in love with him.
He confirmed my suspicions the night he asked me to take a stroll along the garden with him, and of course, it was automatic for me to agree. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice, considering the fact that he was a customer, who was paying for my services. I gracefully make my way towards the entrance, making sure my tabi socks were in place before shifting them into my okobos.
Yunho moved to help me but I bring up a hand in refusal, telling him it was alright. I was long used to walking in these. I must admit that it was absolutely frustrating at first, but there were times that I thanked them for granting my desired height. I was only 170cm (5 foot 7) and remained 54kg (120 lbs.) while Yunho was at least 191cm (6 foot 3). So I guess the okobos did do a good job in boosting my self confidence in terms of height. I’ve often wondered had I not lived in the okiya and trained under women’s standards, would I have been taller? I’ve always wished to be at least 178cm (5 foot 10) but I suppose with all these diets and restrictions that was never going to happen.
We gradually made our way towards the back of the ochaya where the garden was located. He gestures his arm out to me and I stare at him in confusion and more hesitation before he tells me that it was okay. We were never allowed to touch our guests without their approval, and even though none of my customers had a problem with it, I found myself cautious with my actions around this man. My hand moves up slowly to touch at his arm hesitantly, and I swallow with difficulty, as I tried not to apply pressure into his toned biceps. How would he think of me then? My heart twisted in jealousy. I wished I had half the body this man had.
We spent the night walking around the garden, mostly him leading me, while he asked me to tell him more about myself. I thought I had told him everything there was already (especially during those parties he had held at the ochaya). But surprisingly enough, I couldn’t seem to run out of stories, I of course, kept the male experiences out. We’ve made a circle around the beautiful garden, and I always kept my gaze trained onto the ground or up at his face when he wasn’t looking at me. I could never seem to look him straight into the eyes.
He led me up the little bridge, and we stayed there, watching the water softly running up and down into the pond. It was until he asked me the question that had thrown me off guard - completely.
“So how long is it, exactly, that you’re going to keep playing this charade before you finally tell me?” He suddenly asks, his hand now gripping at mine just a little tighter. I stare at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion, I open my mouth to say something - but I didn’t really know what to say besides
“…What do you mean?”
“I think you know very well as to where I’m getting at.”
Yunho seemed serious, and I scolded myself forcefully not to note of how fantastic and breathtakingly handsome he looked under the moonlight. This obviously wasn’t the right time but there were moments when my mind couldn’t help but drift and wander. I’ve figured out long ago that looking anywhere but his face actually helped a bundle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“Is lying one of the services geikos provide for their customers?” He asks, his voice dripping venomously with sarcasm that struck painfully at my chest. Why did he suddenly want to inspect me like this? Why couldn’t people just believe what they saw with their two eyes and just leave it be?
“…” I wanted to say something, anything, that would break the cold tension but there was nothing I could say. Well, there was nothing to say that would make it any less awkward anyway.
“What is your real name?”
“My name is Kinomoto Junko, Jung Yunho-san. That is all there is to it.”
“Your real name.”
“I don’t know what it is that you speak of.”
An audible gasp slipped past my lips as he suddenly reached up to jerk my chin back and up towards his. He was never rough, it wasn’t painful at all, but I’ll bet he could see the fear and borderline anxiety in my eyes.
“You may be beautiful enough to pull off the exterior of a woman,” He started, looking straight into my glossy orbs. “But your aura is one that is a man’s. Don’t tell me you thought you could fool someone that is of your kind. A man knows when he’s being played with, especially when the person is that of the same sex.”
I wanted to throw half of my body over the bridge and hurl. Either that or toss my whole body into the pond and hide under the arch and wished for the pond to swallow me whole. I couldn’t help but feel hurt by the context of his words. What exactly did he mean? What was he trying to say?
That he felt insulted that I had tried to fool him into thinking I was a woman?
Did he no longer wish for my company because of the fact that I wasn’t a woman?
Who was I kidding…?
Men weren’t meant to become Geikos.
Geikos were women of the arts.
I obviously didn’t belong.
My fingers were clenching tightly together and my fingernails were digging insistently into the palm of my hands. Whatever pain I was supposed to feel from the pinching didn’t help, for I was too pained, with the fact that he had figured out the truth. I felt like I was torn between pleasing my mother and throwing everything away from possibly being rejected by the one man I cared about.
“It seemed to be working quite well these past few years,” I retorted, shakily, knowing that I’ve pretty much given myself away with that statement.
“What fools they must’ve been then.”
My chest tightened at his amused chuckle as he dropped my chin and turned away. My hand automatically reaches out to him, and the words of pleading almost slipped past his lips. I didn’t want to throw my pride away by throwing myself onto my knees and tugging at his slacks for forgiveness. Then again, I didn’t have much of that left anyway - nor if I even had that at all.
I stood there like a fool, staring at his broad back, and I thought to myself that I had lost him for sure. Holding the waterworks back, I kept my gaze trained onto his back and occasionally towards the landscape of the pond. I was positive that he wanted anything to do with me anymore. He wouldn’t request for me for his upcoming ochaya occasions and it was quite possible that he wasn’t going to ever request for anyone from the Kinomotos. My heart pounded fiercely against my chest and instead of feeling worry of what my mother was going to do with me…I felt a pang of sorrow and regret.
I’ve never been rejected in my life.
Everything that I did, I always tried my best at, and I was given credit for my efforts and perseverance. But with love, I had never given love a chance. Perhaps this could be considered one of those times that I’d experience rejection. Yunho hadn’t said a word. I knew at that moment there was no chance for me. Yuri had undergone a series of rejections and reciprocating of the feelings and she had fallen in and out of love too many times to count on my fingers. How could people possibly, willingly, go through this kind of torment?
“I…” I managed to let out a mumble, staring at Yunho’s back, urging myself to swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll inform the head mother of the okiya that I will no longer be of service to your upcoming bookings. Rest assured, Jung Yunho-san,” I said stiffly, trying to remain polite and as professional as I possibly could. “I sincerely apologize for all the trouble I may have caused you.” I bowed, even though his back was still turned towards me.
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that,” He suddenly spoke, after a few moments of silence, which startled me.
“Eh?” I looked up.
He didn’t seem angry, but he didn’t seem thrilled either. I wasn’t sure what to think, let alone act.
“Maa, I’ve taken care of business in Japan. I won’t be back - well, for quite a while anyway.”
“I-I see…” I tried to fight the shakiness in my response as I let out a short, nervous laugh. “I’m glad you’ve accomplished whatever it is that you needed to do. I extend my congratulations.”
Yunho laughed.
“You’re an odd one, Junko-ssi.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I believe I still have your performance to prepare for,” I replied, lightly, keeping the atmosphere alive. I suppose that was also my terrible attempt at ridding the air of misery on my part.
“Tell me your real name, Junko-ssi.” Yunho murmured, finally turning around to meet my eyes once more. “Please.”
I stare at him in a daze. What more could he possibly want? I’ve already told him the truth and he was going to leave anyway. I found it utterly useless if I were to tell him of my real name. It would make things more painful for me as well, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t change much of anything.
Instead, I offered him a weak smile and shook my head.
“I’m sorry, Yunho-san. It isn’t my obligation to tell.”
My knees were already beginning to feel weak, so I turned, sparing him one last pitiful glance before walking back towards the ochaya. As saddened I am with how things came to be, I was determined to give Jung Yunho one last, memorable, and breathtaking performance.
That night, I never did get the chance to offer him a proper bidding - not even an informal farewell. I had left earlier, right after my performance was over and Yuri had come over to hand me a box, telling me that the box was from Jung Yunho himself.
I remember taking it hesitantly and a bit eagerly at the same time, jerking it open to see a beautiful long stemmed rose with a lace and a note that was written entirely in Korean.
To my favorite person:
It was a pleasure, Junko-ssi.
Though it’s a shame we’ve not the opportunity for a formal goodbye.
Why you left so quickly in an attempt to avoid me…
I can’t even begin to fathom…
You’ve always been one full of mystery, so I guess I’m not too surprised.
Odd ball Junko-ssi, I thank you for these past two years of your honesty, your loyal services
and the one person I could confide in.
Let us meet again in the future.
Your favorite customer,
Yunho
It was one of my most memorable nights yet. I still can’t ever forget it - even to this day. The long stemmed rose he had given me as a present had long withered and passed, but I still kept the stem and its dry and very dead petal companions with it in its long wooden box, placed snuggly in one of my shelves at home.
There were plenty of fresh faced customers that were plenty handsome. But as handsome and charming as they were, I never felt that same spark that I had when I was with Yunho. Many day and nights had passed and there was never one day that I’ve never thought about him. I’ve thought about what he was doing at that very moment. I’ve thought about how his business was booming in Korea as well as Japan. I was always quite informed about his businesses here. I remember always tripping my way towards the front door for the morning paper. Just seeing his face and name alone on the headlines of the Business section always had my heart in great excitement.
I’ve recently resigned from my place as a gekio by the time my contract had expired and I had officially paid off the expenses that my mother had put me through for training. By the age of 27, I had informed my mother of my withdrawal, and as surprised as she was, she eventually decided to respect my wishes, finally handing the key to my freedom. I couldn’t ever forget the look on her face. It was as if she was regretful in pushing me towards a path I did not wish to walk.
I couldn’t forget of the way she apologized for putting me through such trials, and I ended up crumbling into tears, curling myself into the warmth that was my mother. She had called me her son, how proud she was of me for enduring such torment, and I told her with my whole being that I didn’t care. My mother saw through my efforts. I cried out of happiness that she had seen what I had sought out to do. And even though in the end, when I finally decided to set my own path, open my own doors and set my own destiny, the fact that I loved my mother would never change. And knowing that my mother loved me in return took me on an emotional ride down memory lane.
I couldn’t ever stop crying that day.
The first thing I did when I resigned from my occupation as a geiko was get my first male haircut. I haven’t had an actual boy cut since I was 7 years old. I’ve often seen several teenagers with their hair a tad longer with fringes swiped across their foreheads. I’ve longed to try the look of bangs since I’d entered the okiya. But of course a geiko’s hair was always either tied up or hair split to one side or the other. I loved walking out of the hair shop, basking in the glory of actually feeling like a man. I wasn’t wearing anything remotely feminine and it felt amazingly different when several women casted glance of interest as they walked past me.
My mother helped me get settled into a new home, and contacted my father for me, telling him of the news that was sure to make him happy. I soon enrolled into school and decided to follow Yunho’s footsteps into the business world and major in Business Management. The classes were enjoyable and I felt overjoyed with the information I’d learned within the days.
I realized that tonight was the same night that I had first met Yunho back in the ochaya. Amazingly, I haven’t thought about him for the past week - due to the overflowing assignments and reports I had to write and finish over the course of a two week deadline. The thought however, suddenly made me feel a bit melancholy. I’ve never realized the possibility of really never seeing him again. It had been 4 years since I’d last seen him. I haven’t heard of any of his trips ever coming back to Japan. He had plenty of people hired to take care of his branch here. I didn’t see the purpose of him coming back at all.
I stared off into the sauces and little menu beside me, and before I could start tearing up, the waiter had approached me and brought me my dinner. Looking up at him and thanking him lowly, he soon left and I found myself sitting alone again. It was at least 10 in the evening into the night. It was a Saturday, so I suppose everyone had either work or school the next day. I picked up my chopsticks gingerly, and mumbled a quiet, “Itadakimasu,” before I snapped my chopsticks open and started picking at my food.
My habits of eating like a lady still didn’t seem to wear off, and I guess it was nothing to be surprised about, seeing as to how I’ve been raised like this the majority of my life. I was thankful not to be getting any stares from any of the few customers or waiters. The food was delicious, but it still didn’t help in lifting my spirits. I don’t know what it was about today that had me constantly thinking about him, but I didn’t like it one bit. Maybe it was the curse of that rose he had given me. Seeing it everyday was just a reminder of how I had let him go so easily.
…and how he had done just the same.
I let the tip of my chopsticks rest against my lower lip as I still pondered in thought, then shut my eyes and shook my head.
No. I really shouldn’t think about him anymore.
Thinking my tonkatsu needed some soy sauce; I reached over without looking, and knocked the soy sauce over. I let out a quick shoot before scrambling for the napkin and wiping the little puddle of sauce down.
“Still as clumsy as ever I see.”
My hands froze in place, and I stared forward, the sight of a man’s long legs leading up to a crotch I’d know anywhere. It really couldn’t…possibly…
“You haven’t changed much, odd ball Junko-ssi.”
My ears weren’t foreign to his voice and my body wasn’t foreign to his presence. I think I was too scared to believe it. I felt that this might have been another one of my disappointing dreams.
“Yah, what’s the matter, Junko-ssi? I should get a complimentary for being able to recognize you without your face caked in make up,” Yunho laughed, now crouching down to his knees so that he was at eye level with me.
God…
DAMN…
He was most likely at least 31 years old by now and it looked as if he had hardly aged! I couldn’t tell if I was overjoyed with happiness or if I was scared of what he would think of seeing me without my geiko exterior.
“H-Yunho-san…” I managed to smile weakly, feeling my fingers tremble slightly as I set down my chopsticks. “It’s…been a while.”
“So it has,” Yunho let out a soft laugh, seating himself in front of me.
It was awkward at first; the waiter came along and asked him if he wanted to order something, and after he did, it had become awkward again. Yunho insisted that I not mind him and continue eating but I only shook my head and said that I’d wait for his food to arrive. Besides, I was still too used on the mannerisms of Geiko ways. Even if I wasn’t a geiko anymore, it was still strange and impolite of me to eat in front of someone without food, especially if they were an ex-customer.
“You cut your hair…” He murmured, reaching out to caress one of the tails resting against my cheeks. I fought a blush and nodded, every nerve in my body so tempted to lean into his touch.
I've really missed him...
“I like it.”
We ended up catching up all throughout dinner and I couldn’t help but somehow lose the nervousness that was bottled up inside of me earlier. Yunho turned up back in Japan because the last person he left in charge of this branch had apparently screwed up and how he had to come back and set things right - and knowing Yunho, I knew he was going to get this problem resolved soon enough. A part of me was thankful that such unfortunate news had to happen, but I got to see him again, didn’t I?
He didn’t seem bothered at all that I was a male and he even told me that he liked my appearance of the way I was now compared to when I was what he called ‘dolled up’ and confined. I ended up laughing it off and told him of how free I finally felt. I told him of how free I felt to finally be able to tell him everything. Yunho smiled at me and placed one hand on top of mine, holding it in his grasp, and saying of how glad he was for me. It turns out that a half year, into the year of my services, he had figured me out. He didn’t know of my situation with my mother that time, but I guess I’d also ended slipping up on a few of the details I considered minor. I should’ve known Yunho would’ve caught on sooner or later - seeing as to how he was an intelligent man.
Speaking of intelligent, not to mention incredibly sneaky, he let me insist on paying for the both of us. I cursed in my mind, realizing that I didn’t have enough cash on me. I didn’t think anything through though, when I handed my credit card over to the waiter and he had given my receipt back to sign. I knew I was doomed the moment Yunho said my real name.
“So, Jejung now, is it?”
…Oh
poo.
I pouted, quickly signing the receipt and writing the tip down as I handed the waiter the check back.
“I don’t get why you’d even bother continuing to let me call you by your geiko name,” He said, amused, with also an expression of utter perplex. “You shouldn’t hide it from me. I like your name, Jejung-ssi.” Yunho grinned, testing my name on his tongue. “I rather fancy calling you that than Junko.”
“It’s quite a shame because I’m too used to the Junko ne,” I sigh, finding it too embarrassing to look him in the eye. I liked the way my name rolled off his tongue. It most definitely bothered me even more because I was suddenly feeling a little hot and bothered.
My feelings for him never changed and I don’t think they ever would. But I knew very well that he was only here on business. He was not here for me. I knew better than that. It was nice see him again, it was so great to finally catch up and talk to him, feel his presence around me again. But I knew if we were to be close again, it would only make letting him go even harder. Plus, his stare never left me and I was starting to feel nervous.
I cleared my throat and stood up slowly, giving him a slight bow out of habit.
“It was nice to see you tonight, Yunho-san. I hope to see you again sometime, when you visit Japan again.” I purposely added a light tone to the end, at my usual attempt to make things less awkward. I turn away from the table a little too quick for my liking and my body immediately tensed at Yunho calling out my name.
“Jejung-ah!”
“W-What is it?” I managed to stutter out, turning around just in time for him to step too close for comfort. He still stood as tall as ever. Where were those okobos when you needed them?!
“Let me take you home.”
I let out a nervous laugh, and the gush of air pushing out of my lips sounded too forced for my taste.
“It’s…quite alright, Yunho-san. Really,” I insisted, now immediately walking towards the exit and out into the open sidewalk.
“Jejung, are you trying to pull another abort mission on me?” Yunho asks immediately, reaching out and grabbing at my arm. “Please.”
“Yun-” I really didn’t want to end up lashing out at him, drown him in my venting and frustrations. Even if we were to be best friends, it just wouldn’t do with me. I wanted to be more than friends, and besides, his home is in Korea and I belonged here.
“I was foolish enough to let you go the first time. Please don’t let me regret it a second time. Let me take you home.”
I hated the feelings that were rushing in frenzy within me. I wanted to beat at him and abuse him until he felt the same way I did. Yes, we had let go of each other, but he was the one that could’ve come here to see me, couldn’t he? Then why didn’t he?
“No, please. Yunho lets just cut our ties here. We’ll meet whenever we meet,” I said, automatically regretting at how cold I sounded.
“What are you saying?” He demanded, still not letting go of my arm.
“I…! I’m saying it’s pointless, alright?! Even if we were to become good friends we’re just too far apart! And - !” I stop myself before I could spill the beans. Oh God, what would he think of me if he found out? “Just - forget it. The answer is no, alright?” I jerked my arm free and turned around quickly, heading towards the wrong direction, but I knew I’d have the take the long detour home.
“No…No, I won’t allow it. I refuse to believe so!” I heard Yunho exclaim, and within a flash, I felt myself being pulled back, my back meeting his chest. My body automatically shuddered at his proximity and I had to fight back a moan of frustration and a tinge of pleasure. I’d honestly never been held so intimately like this before - it was thrilling - and frightful at the same time. But I really couldn’t give in.
I just couldn’t…
Perhaps telling him of my feelings would get him to leave.
It was for my own good as well as his.
Jerking myself free from his grasp was no easy task. As a matter of fact, it was still impossible. He had me cocooned in his arms around my body, not helping me at all with my getaway.
“O-Oi! Stop it! Let go! Why are you being so persistent?!”
“I can’t,” Yunho let out a grunt as I elbowed him particularly hard in the stomach. “I’m sorry; Jejung, but I can’t make the same mistake.”
“Let me go, baka!”
After much struggling, we were finally at a standstill, and my shoulders shuddered at the feel of his warm breath hitting my neck. I wanted to so badly give in and tell him how I felt. My mind was split in two and I just didn’t know what to do anymore. So I let Yunho have his way - anything for him to leave me alone.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” There was a pause, and I hear Yunho intake a quick breath as his arms move down to tighten them around my waist, making sure that I couldn’t go anywhere else. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
“You’ve done so already. I don’t see the problem in letting me go this time around.” I caught myself mumbling bitterly, turning my head to look at him, but Yunho held me tighter, preventing me from doing so.
“I know. Besides you, I had no reason in coming to Japan after we’ve set up our branch here. I-My advisors were keeping me from coming to Japan, especially when there was no real emergency. T-They insisted that it was a waste of time. I knew it was stupid of me to have listened to them. I’m sorry, Jejung…”
“You’re an idiot.” I scoffed, shaking my head as I looked away.
“I know.”
“And…the only reason you’re back is because of the issue with your branch here,” I sigh at the saddened truth, turning around to face him. “You just so happened to meet me here by coincidence.”
“Wh-No!”
“And if you hadn’t met me again, you would’ve finished your business here and taken the next flight out of Japan.” I shook my head. “What future could we possibly have together, Yunho? Honestly!”
“So you do care for me.” I could hear the relief laced in his voice.
“Yes.” I nodded, figuring that it didn’t make a difference. He was going to go back whether he liked it or not. “I do. But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Yes, it does!” Yunho exclaimed, looking down at my hands as he grabbed them into his. “And you’re wrong. I dropped by the okiya to see you, but Mother Kinomoto said that you had withdrawn, and moved out. She informed me of where you might be and I’d decided to take that chance. Who would’ve known I'd been so lucky?” He whispered, hands moving up to hold my cheeks, his thumb smoothing out a drop of moisture that had slipped past my eye. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you since I left. You’ve robbed the breath out of me the moment I saw you the first night I booked at the ochaya. I’ve never stopped thinking about you and if I let you go again I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”
Yunho then shook his head in realization to his words and I winced as his fingers dug harder into my waist.
“No. I know I won’t. Jejung…I-I think…”
My heart raced in anticipation as my ears grew sensitive and I didn’t think I would ever hear those words. Oh God, please, don’t toy with me Jung Yunho. If you really say it, you really have to mean it, because I don’t think I’ll be able to think straight when you do.
“Jejung. Jejung I’m in love with you.”
At that moment
At that moment I was really lost for words. I had no words to offer him nor did I have any for myself.
But I knew how I felt.
I knew for a fact that I loved him too.
I gazed searchingly into his eyes and I knew his intentions were sincere. It was almost instinctive when my arms moved around his waist to hold him still,
before I leant up and stood on my toes,
barely enough to catch his lips in a soft kiss.
I’ve often wondered how I ended up here.
If I hadn’t gone through the trouble of throwing everything I was just to earn the love and trust from my mother, one way or another, would I still have found love? I’ve realized that the path I dreaded walking led me to the both of them anyway. Sometimes I wonder what God really had planned for me. But I know one thing is for sure.
My story does not end here.
A/N: Actually, it does, but your imagination can run wild about what happens after, lol. Comments and opinions are adored ^^
Chapter(s): 1/1
Author: sentimentalenvy
Genre: angst,fluff,romance
Rating: PG
Warnings: purely fictional, male geisha
Pairing: Yunjae
Wordcount: 8,688
Disclaimer: I do not own any known characters in this story.
Synopsis: I did not ask to be brought into this willow world as a boy and thrown into the unrelenting surges of ‘womanhood’. What possible motive, could the Creator of life possibly have, to allow a man’s soul to suffer such degradation?
Comment(s): nrsjyj has rightfully given the geisha theme to me alone. We’ve originally had different ideas to begin with, so she believes that she thinks the fic is better off in my hands. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and I’ve decided that my version has no relation to Memoirs of a Geisha. I’ve not read or watched the book and movie so I don’t see how this is going to turn out exactly like the movie. So no, I will not say it is based from the book because it really isn’t. If, however, there is a problem and you’d like to disagree otherwise, I’ve enabled my private messaging option - so if you have any problems, you can take it up with me. I will say that this was fully inspired by an autobiography by Iwasaki Mineko (yes, the retired geisha that sued Author Brown’s ass for incorporating information that wasn’t legit for Memoirs - even though technically Memoirs was fiction but w/e). If someone has written something exactly the same as me before I did, then the similarity is just a mere coincidence =_=; I wouldn’t ever sink as low as plagiarizing someone’s works. Keep that in mind, folks.
I don’t know, I’ll probably read Memoirs of a Geisha eventually. Since everyone says it’s oh so good. But I figured I’d rather read a real autobiography of facts that actually has happened rather than fiction, lol.
Other than that, I hope this turns out successful. To be honest, the idea of Jaejoong being a geisha is kind of weird to me but, I’ve always wanted to try writing something out of my comfort zone. I’m sorry this turned out to be a one shot, but these kinds of fics are difficult to write. I wanted to make it sound as realistic as possible (and it’s already weird since JJ’s a guy and this is a geisha fic so if there’s a problem, nobody’s stopping you from leaving).
I’m also sorry for the lack of updates lately. I haven’t been in the writing mood lately (no joke o_o). I’ve got a bunch of updates that are like either half or part done - including this one, which has been part done for quite a while already.
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okiya* lodging house where geishas reside
geiko* geisha
ochaya* tea house
tabi* socks that separate the large toe
okobo* six inch wooden platforms
Spring…
One out of the four seasons…
when the time has come for sakura blossoms to come into flower and dance.
Spring time has, ultimately, always been my favorite season. But it was also the same point in time when I was taken into the okiya at seven years old, forcefully disguised as a female, and shoved into the process of becoming someone I did not wish to become.
My mother, Kinomoto Yuri, is the head of the Kinomoto okiya in the karyukai district. She and my father had a total of eight children, and luckily for my mother, seven of them being all female. Each and every one of them was taken into the geisha house with no say, while she left my father and me, to live in the outskirts of town. As long as it was anywhere and everywhere that wasn’t in the vicinity of the okiya, she didn’t care where we lived.
The reason, for our moving, is that men aren’t ever allowed into any of the okiyas except with the exception of the geisha’s dressers. Guests are never forbidden from entering the lodging house but they never really get far into the house besides the main guest room. My mother was incredibly strict with that rule, and most of the time when I visited her with my father, she would treat me as coldly as she treated any outsider. The way she acted towards me, I felt as if I was despised for being born a male.
The thought of my mother not being a part of my childhood broke my heart.
That was when I turned seven on the month of January 26th, she unexpectedly showed up at our residency. She demanded in a calm tone, with immense authority, that she see me. I was incredibly surprised, and perhaps a bit overwhelmed, and somewhat happy; despite her frightening presence. My mother glided into the living room, and stood -prideful in front of me, while I was in the midst of doing my house chores.
With her gentle, yet still cold laced voice, she asked that I stand up and come to her. With great hesitation and reluctance, I slowly stood onto my shaky feet and walked over to where she was. I stared up at her beautiful face, and gulped nervously, urging desperately for the lump in my throat to go down. She examined me thoroughly for awhile and appraised me for holding such beauty. I fought the urge to cringe at the thought, for I was a boy, and according to what the children at my school had said, a real man wasn’t ever allowed to be categorized as ‘beautiful’ or any term in relation to it.
Before I realized it, she had insisted that she take me back to the okiya to stay and live there. Of course my father protested, and insisted in return that it was best that I didn’t, and that my mother was out of her mind. He had reminded her of the rules, and she nearly snapped at him, saying that she was the head of the house and she could do whatever she wanted. I was in the living room while they were in the kitchen arguing about where I was going to stay for the next years of my life. I recall overhearing my mother explaining to my father that she was going to have me disguised as a female and trained to become a geiko. My eyes doubled in size, and knew right at that moment that I wanted no such part of something so degrading towards being a male.
I wanted to grow up to be a man.
I did not want to become some professional female artist!
My father kept telling her how dishonorable she was for thinking of doing such a thing, for tainting what she worked hard for, and for being so selfish and not thinking about what was best for me - but she refused to listen.
“I wished for my last child to be the future successor to the Kinomoto okiya, in high hopes that she would be the most successful out of all my children, then only to find that my last child was born to be a male.” I cringed at the way she had said it, like it was sinful venom to the touch. Most of the times I’ve seen her, she had always remained calm and composed. Yet her aura never failed to send intimidating chills down my spine. “Impressively, from me, he has inherited the qualifications suited for such an occupation. The only problem lies within the fact that he is a male. But I don’t see why not, nor will I object, to experimentation. He may be one of the best. If he isn’t, then I will send him back here to live with you.”
“Don’t you see what you’re doing? Don’t you care at all for his well being?! Jejung is your son! You’re going to ruin his life! You’ve never thought about anything or anyone other than yourself! Therefore you have no right to come waltzing in here, talking of such preposterous nonsense, stripping him of his manhood when you’ve never so much as treated him like he was ever a child of your own!” He argued, breathing heavily, slamming his fist harshly into the counter. “I do not and will not permit it!”
My mother didn’t seem phased by my father’s outburst, and that was when I assumed she had grown accustomed to them when she took every last child from him, bringing them back to the okiya to live with her. I was the last and only one she willingly left with my father.
She then departed without protest.
Ever since then, I hadn’t been able to see or talk to her, and I know it’s hard to believe, but I missed her terribly. Before that messy dispute, my father had taken me to the okiya to visit her at least twice a month and I cherished every moment and opportunity I had to see her. I’ve always longed for her love and approval. I’ve always wanted her to hold me and tell me that she loved me dearly, and I just wished she would have spoken to me without the iciness wrapped in her voice - just like she treated the rest of my sisters. But all of my sisters hated her with a passion. Every visit, they would come to me, hug me, take me out for walks and buy me snacks from vendors and stores like any older sister would care for her brothers, but my mother would only greet me and leave to attend to her business. If I was lucky, she would stay around for a while longer, but we wouldn’t really get much talking done.
By Spring, April of 1962, she had come back again, this time asking me personally, to come with her to live in the okiya - as a female. I wanted to refuse so badly, I wanted to cry, bang the heels of my feet disgracefully into the tatami and down right refuse. But the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t refuse. The way I saw it, was that if I agreed and bent my will and handed my rights to my mother, maybe she would come to accept me and finally care for me like I was actually a child of her own. She would probably treat me more as if I was her own daughter, but at least she would look at me as her own. I believe that was the reason I had allowed myself to be so disgracefully led out of my home and into the world of hers.
My mother made sure to dress me up before she brought me to the okiya.
“Remember that your name is no longer Jejung, but Junko - especially in the okiya, your name is Junko. You will not let anyone know of your true identity and you will keep your profile of a male as low as possible,” She said; her voice calm but ever so sharp. “Don’t you dare shed disgrace on our name and don’t let me down.”
The moment she said those words don’t let me down I found myself determined to take on the occupation, to earn her love and trust for me. To think that I did this, to my father, who had loved and accepted me with open arms of who I was, made me feel all the more worse. I loved both of my parents, and I hoped to God, that my father would forgive me of what I’ve done. He always told me that he would support me on whatever I decided to do. The training was time consuming, and I rarely had the opportunity to see my father, but I’ve always tried my best. I remember when I was fourteen years old - the last day before I was to become a ‘maiko’, he had seen me in my kimono glory, with make up and straight posture, he broke down and cried right there. I don’t know if it was out of happiness that he hadn’t seen me in so long or if it was the fact that he’d truly lost his son.
In the beginning…it was no easy task, wearing clothes obviously not fit for a male, walking around the okiya with the other women (besides my sisters) thinking I was really a female. They were easily fooled and my mother was actually quite pleased. Even as a boy, I found fascination in the kimonos, the fans, the numerous dance lessons, playing beautiful pieces with instruments I never thought I’d ever have the chance to learn, practicing my calligraphy and so forth. As much as I loved these things, I was still never fond of the etiquette lessons of behaving like a woman. Even if my natural habits were gentle, the training required me to double the gentleness and behave ladylike, which was everything that I wasn’t. But for my mother, I pushed forward, putting forth my all in what I did.
I was never allowed to do anything that was considered a threat towards my health. At school I would watch the basketball players slide and my ears reveled in the sounds of their sneakers screeching against the gravel or the glossy gym floors. I would watch the baseball players slip and slide into and onto the plates and my heart would sink at the cries of victory and slaps on the backs while they congratulated each other for a good game. My heart soared whenever I passed by the badminton courts and I knew right then and there I wanted to play. I wanted to act like a boy - I wanted to get dirty and sweat until I was slick wet. I wanted to slide in the dirt and get filth on my face and not have to worry about keeping my movements elegant and proper.
I was never enrolled in school as a female, and as much as my mother wanted to protest, my father put his foot down and said there was nothing she could say that would change his mind. I am after all, still his son.
One of the younger sisters of the seven, Yuri who was also appointed as my official onee by my mother, was the one I knew I could truly trust. The year I joined the boys’ badminton team, I was removed from the team after a season, and it was mostly because one of my other sisters, Yuna, found out and reported directly back to my mother. My mother was furious, but you could never tell, because as the head of the okiya, she could never tarnish her reputation by lashing out and roaring a bunch of obscenities at a child - let alone her own.
I’ve got to say, the moment I passed the exam, and was promoted to becoming a ‘maiko’ I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother happier. She seemed shocked but seemingly pleased that I had gotten as far as she had expected. I, however, wasn’t proud of becoming a ‘maiko’, but more of me being proud of making my mother happy. Maiko is the stage before becoming a Geisha, and it literally means woman of dance. I didn’t mind dancing at all; I just didn’t like the fact that I worked so hard just to earn the title of being a woman. But I’ve long accepted that, at that time, there was nothing I could do about it. I knew one thing was for sure.
My mother was happy.
The seasons came and gone.
I had undergone a series of torment, jealous females and a river of emotional stress. I really couldn’t fathom what it was about women that made them so touchy about everything. It was so hard to please them and as much as they tried to scare me out of the okiya, I kept on trudging forward, refusing to ever give up. My mother wouldn’t ever approve of the fact that I had thrown my hard work away for people that tried to eliminate competition the easy way.
It was then that one fateful night, when I was set to work with a few of the other girls, was when things had spiraled too far. It turned out they had plotted yet another scheme to humiliate me. But unlike the other little pranks, this ended up with me, standing in the middle of the ochaya in my undergarments. With the help of several girls teaming up around me, my kimono was ripped off my body, and one of the drunken guests had somehow grabbed and pulled at the lower half of my undergarment without me noticing.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so humiliated in my life. I was surprised when I found that instead of being disgusted, they were quite surprised and amazed. I however, was too miserable and enraged to take notice at that time. The girls that plotted against me were obviously shocked, but I’ll bet they were most angry, at the fact that their competition wasn’t a female at all. That night, the temptation of going on a rampage was strong, but instead, I slammed the head of the man into the table - positively knocking him out cold. I watched menacingly as the sharp broken edges of the ceramics slice into his cheeks and forehead with great distaste. I’m sure everyone was surprised at my actions because I had never gone as far as to hurting a fly. Ever since then, nobody ever spoke of the matter or stepped a foot in my path again. Surprisingly, my mother wasn’t angry at me for injuring the man, but she was indeed disappointed with how everyone had to find out of the truth of my identity. Nobody dared complained to her since she was the head of the house. But even then, everyone in the okiya and my guests continued to call me Junko. I suppose it was out of habit.
My debut and experiences as a geiko was…quite unforgettable.
Along the years of my progression and perseverance, my mother gradually started to treat me more like her child. But she was still a hard woman, and with her, I knew there were always going to be boundaries. I of course knew when not to cross them. There were times and moments when I loved my career, because I always had the opportunities to meet so many different people. Naturally, there were the guests that I absolutely could not stand, but we’ve always been taught and strictly trained to be courteous, and maintain our composure when dealing with guests no matter how they drove us to the brink of insanity. My father was always…always a patient man and I’ve always looked up to him as a child, even now.
I’ve always looked forward to talking with the celebrities - especially if the customers were older than me. I believed that the older they were, the wiser they were. The wiser they were, the more I would learn. Even though we were supposed to study beforehand on the background of the guests and research about their occupations, there were always going to be new things to be taught and learned. I liked to see the opportunity as a give and take process. They would often ask me questions about me and my experiences as a geiko and in return they would educate and share their use of knowledge with me. I looked forward to every moment of it. But the bottom line was, that whomever our guest was going to be, we always had to do research and study. That way, we would be able to strike up a conversation with them, thus, keeping them entertained.
I’ve had my share of favorite customers…
and I may have favored one particular man the most.
It was in the ochaya, and Yuri had informed me of the information I was going to have to study up on. His name was Jung Yunho; he was a 27 year old Korean man, interested in expanding his businesses in Japan. Both his parents had passed on early, and he had rightfully taken the custody of the company from his greedy uncle, and was one of the youngest business men, taking the business realm in Korea by storm. I wasn’t fond of several of his colleagues, automatically assuming that we didn’t understand a word of Korean as they spoke with lecherous grins smeared over their faces. Just how did Korean men see their women? I wanted to cringe in disgust but I knew better that a geiko’s facial expression shouldn’t ever be tainted with such ugliness.
Obviously, there was never the time to master a language so quickly, but we studied hard with the basics. Even then, we still didn’t speak much - just barely - enough to get by. We’ve been receiving a good handful of Korean guests lately, so we were told that it was best that we started learning.
The first meeting between us had been awkward for me, for he was one of the best looking guests I’d to entertain. His company was pleasurable, and I had to say, he behaved like the perfect gentleman. He was kind to me even when several of the girls had tried to make a fool out of me yet again - but I was long used to that. He asked me what my name was, and almost out of interest in him, I almost blurted out my real name. I introduced myself to him in Korean, because it was a standard that we do so in the customer’s mother tongue before engaging into any sort of conversation. I was still determined on mastering the language, but it was most certainly not an easy task, for the language was incredibly complex and difficult to me.
His soft laugh sent shivers down my spine and greeted me back. Afterwards, he complimented on how well my Korean was, in Japanese, and I ended up blushing and insisting that it was only a line that any non-Korean speaker could master.
I was most impressed by how fluent his Japanese was. It seemed to flow out of his bow shaped lips so freely. It turned out that he had happened to study through middle school and high school for six years before he moved back to Korea to continue his training in the industry. Almost every time, my ears tingled when he spoke to his colleagues in Korean, and though I couldn’t understand 90% of it, it still excited me - sent a wave of happiness down my spine. I had a true passion for foreign languages. If I could learn all of them at once, I really really would.
I was most shocked that as time passed, he would keep on requesting for my services every time he booked a night at the ochaya, and almost automatically I would accept. There were so many things that he taught me about the business world, and I realized that I wanted to take part in it. I told myself that when my debts were paid off as a geiko, I was going to leave. I’ve often thought about how my mother would react, but at that point, I’ve realized that Yunho had opened so many doors for me. I wanted to confide in him so badly, but it was undoubtedly impossible to tell him that I was a man. He was one of our best customers and my mother would raise hell if he ever stopped coming here because of me.
Then I found myself anticipating every chance I’ve gotten to meet him. It was almost automatic when I was informed of Jung-san’s booking of the ochaya because I would automatically assume that he would ask for me. And every time, he always would. He would always lean over, not particularly touching me, and whisper that I was his favorite. He never failed to raise that tingling feeling in my body. Butterflies always fluttered in frenzy in my stomach whenever I was around him. Months and months have gone by and it wasn’t until then had I discovered that I might have had a little puppy love crush on the man. I still wasn’t sure if it was from me idolizing him or if it was a possibility of the chance that I could actually see myself falling in love with him.
He confirmed my suspicions the night he asked me to take a stroll along the garden with him, and of course, it was automatic for me to agree. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice, considering the fact that he was a customer, who was paying for my services. I gracefully make my way towards the entrance, making sure my tabi socks were in place before shifting them into my okobos.
Yunho moved to help me but I bring up a hand in refusal, telling him it was alright. I was long used to walking in these. I must admit that it was absolutely frustrating at first, but there were times that I thanked them for granting my desired height. I was only 170cm (5 foot 7) and remained 54kg (120 lbs.) while Yunho was at least 191cm (6 foot 3). So I guess the okobos did do a good job in boosting my self confidence in terms of height. I’ve often wondered had I not lived in the okiya and trained under women’s standards, would I have been taller? I’ve always wished to be at least 178cm (5 foot 10) but I suppose with all these diets and restrictions that was never going to happen.
We gradually made our way towards the back of the ochaya where the garden was located. He gestures his arm out to me and I stare at him in confusion and more hesitation before he tells me that it was okay. We were never allowed to touch our guests without their approval, and even though none of my customers had a problem with it, I found myself cautious with my actions around this man. My hand moves up slowly to touch at his arm hesitantly, and I swallow with difficulty, as I tried not to apply pressure into his toned biceps. How would he think of me then? My heart twisted in jealousy. I wished I had half the body this man had.
We spent the night walking around the garden, mostly him leading me, while he asked me to tell him more about myself. I thought I had told him everything there was already (especially during those parties he had held at the ochaya). But surprisingly enough, I couldn’t seem to run out of stories, I of course, kept the male experiences out. We’ve made a circle around the beautiful garden, and I always kept my gaze trained onto the ground or up at his face when he wasn’t looking at me. I could never seem to look him straight into the eyes.
He led me up the little bridge, and we stayed there, watching the water softly running up and down into the pond. It was until he asked me the question that had thrown me off guard - completely.
“So how long is it, exactly, that you’re going to keep playing this charade before you finally tell me?” He suddenly asks, his hand now gripping at mine just a little tighter. I stare at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion, I open my mouth to say something - but I didn’t really know what to say besides
“…What do you mean?”
“I think you know very well as to where I’m getting at.”
Yunho seemed serious, and I scolded myself forcefully not to note of how fantastic and breathtakingly handsome he looked under the moonlight. This obviously wasn’t the right time but there were moments when my mind couldn’t help but drift and wander. I’ve figured out long ago that looking anywhere but his face actually helped a bundle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“Is lying one of the services geikos provide for their customers?” He asks, his voice dripping venomously with sarcasm that struck painfully at my chest. Why did he suddenly want to inspect me like this? Why couldn’t people just believe what they saw with their two eyes and just leave it be?
“…” I wanted to say something, anything, that would break the cold tension but there was nothing I could say. Well, there was nothing to say that would make it any less awkward anyway.
“What is your real name?”
“My name is Kinomoto Junko, Jung Yunho-san. That is all there is to it.”
“Your real name.”
“I don’t know what it is that you speak of.”
An audible gasp slipped past my lips as he suddenly reached up to jerk my chin back and up towards his. He was never rough, it wasn’t painful at all, but I’ll bet he could see the fear and borderline anxiety in my eyes.
“You may be beautiful enough to pull off the exterior of a woman,” He started, looking straight into my glossy orbs. “But your aura is one that is a man’s. Don’t tell me you thought you could fool someone that is of your kind. A man knows when he’s being played with, especially when the person is that of the same sex.”
I wanted to throw half of my body over the bridge and hurl. Either that or toss my whole body into the pond and hide under the arch and wished for the pond to swallow me whole. I couldn’t help but feel hurt by the context of his words. What exactly did he mean? What was he trying to say?
That he felt insulted that I had tried to fool him into thinking I was a woman?
Did he no longer wish for my company because of the fact that I wasn’t a woman?
Who was I kidding…?
Men weren’t meant to become Geikos.
Geikos were women of the arts.
I obviously didn’t belong.
My fingers were clenching tightly together and my fingernails were digging insistently into the palm of my hands. Whatever pain I was supposed to feel from the pinching didn’t help, for I was too pained, with the fact that he had figured out the truth. I felt like I was torn between pleasing my mother and throwing everything away from possibly being rejected by the one man I cared about.
“It seemed to be working quite well these past few years,” I retorted, shakily, knowing that I’ve pretty much given myself away with that statement.
“What fools they must’ve been then.”
My chest tightened at his amused chuckle as he dropped my chin and turned away. My hand automatically reaches out to him, and the words of pleading almost slipped past his lips. I didn’t want to throw my pride away by throwing myself onto my knees and tugging at his slacks for forgiveness. Then again, I didn’t have much of that left anyway - nor if I even had that at all.
I stood there like a fool, staring at his broad back, and I thought to myself that I had lost him for sure. Holding the waterworks back, I kept my gaze trained onto his back and occasionally towards the landscape of the pond. I was positive that he wanted anything to do with me anymore. He wouldn’t request for me for his upcoming ochaya occasions and it was quite possible that he wasn’t going to ever request for anyone from the Kinomotos. My heart pounded fiercely against my chest and instead of feeling worry of what my mother was going to do with me…I felt a pang of sorrow and regret.
I’ve never been rejected in my life.
Everything that I did, I always tried my best at, and I was given credit for my efforts and perseverance. But with love, I had never given love a chance. Perhaps this could be considered one of those times that I’d experience rejection. Yunho hadn’t said a word. I knew at that moment there was no chance for me. Yuri had undergone a series of rejections and reciprocating of the feelings and she had fallen in and out of love too many times to count on my fingers. How could people possibly, willingly, go through this kind of torment?
“I…” I managed to let out a mumble, staring at Yunho’s back, urging myself to swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll inform the head mother of the okiya that I will no longer be of service to your upcoming bookings. Rest assured, Jung Yunho-san,” I said stiffly, trying to remain polite and as professional as I possibly could. “I sincerely apologize for all the trouble I may have caused you.” I bowed, even though his back was still turned towards me.
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that,” He suddenly spoke, after a few moments of silence, which startled me.
“Eh?” I looked up.
He didn’t seem angry, but he didn’t seem thrilled either. I wasn’t sure what to think, let alone act.
“Maa, I’ve taken care of business in Japan. I won’t be back - well, for quite a while anyway.”
“I-I see…” I tried to fight the shakiness in my response as I let out a short, nervous laugh. “I’m glad you’ve accomplished whatever it is that you needed to do. I extend my congratulations.”
Yunho laughed.
“You’re an odd one, Junko-ssi.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I believe I still have your performance to prepare for,” I replied, lightly, keeping the atmosphere alive. I suppose that was also my terrible attempt at ridding the air of misery on my part.
“Tell me your real name, Junko-ssi.” Yunho murmured, finally turning around to meet my eyes once more. “Please.”
I stare at him in a daze. What more could he possibly want? I’ve already told him the truth and he was going to leave anyway. I found it utterly useless if I were to tell him of my real name. It would make things more painful for me as well, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t change much of anything.
Instead, I offered him a weak smile and shook my head.
“I’m sorry, Yunho-san. It isn’t my obligation to tell.”
My knees were already beginning to feel weak, so I turned, sparing him one last pitiful glance before walking back towards the ochaya. As saddened I am with how things came to be, I was determined to give Jung Yunho one last, memorable, and breathtaking performance.
That night, I never did get the chance to offer him a proper bidding - not even an informal farewell. I had left earlier, right after my performance was over and Yuri had come over to hand me a box, telling me that the box was from Jung Yunho himself.
I remember taking it hesitantly and a bit eagerly at the same time, jerking it open to see a beautiful long stemmed rose with a lace and a note that was written entirely in Korean.
To my favorite person:
It was a pleasure, Junko-ssi.
Though it’s a shame we’ve not the opportunity for a formal goodbye.
Why you left so quickly in an attempt to avoid me…
I can’t even begin to fathom…
You’ve always been one full of mystery, so I guess I’m not too surprised.
Odd ball Junko-ssi, I thank you for these past two years of your honesty, your loyal services
and the one person I could confide in.
Let us meet again in the future.
Your favorite customer,
Yunho
It was one of my most memorable nights yet. I still can’t ever forget it - even to this day. The long stemmed rose he had given me as a present had long withered and passed, but I still kept the stem and its dry and very dead petal companions with it in its long wooden box, placed snuggly in one of my shelves at home.
There were plenty of fresh faced customers that were plenty handsome. But as handsome and charming as they were, I never felt that same spark that I had when I was with Yunho. Many day and nights had passed and there was never one day that I’ve never thought about him. I’ve thought about what he was doing at that very moment. I’ve thought about how his business was booming in Korea as well as Japan. I was always quite informed about his businesses here. I remember always tripping my way towards the front door for the morning paper. Just seeing his face and name alone on the headlines of the Business section always had my heart in great excitement.
I’ve recently resigned from my place as a gekio by the time my contract had expired and I had officially paid off the expenses that my mother had put me through for training. By the age of 27, I had informed my mother of my withdrawal, and as surprised as she was, she eventually decided to respect my wishes, finally handing the key to my freedom. I couldn’t ever forget the look on her face. It was as if she was regretful in pushing me towards a path I did not wish to walk.
I couldn’t forget of the way she apologized for putting me through such trials, and I ended up crumbling into tears, curling myself into the warmth that was my mother. She had called me her son, how proud she was of me for enduring such torment, and I told her with my whole being that I didn’t care. My mother saw through my efforts. I cried out of happiness that she had seen what I had sought out to do. And even though in the end, when I finally decided to set my own path, open my own doors and set my own destiny, the fact that I loved my mother would never change. And knowing that my mother loved me in return took me on an emotional ride down memory lane.
I couldn’t ever stop crying that day.
The first thing I did when I resigned from my occupation as a geiko was get my first male haircut. I haven’t had an actual boy cut since I was 7 years old. I’ve often seen several teenagers with their hair a tad longer with fringes swiped across their foreheads. I’ve longed to try the look of bangs since I’d entered the okiya. But of course a geiko’s hair was always either tied up or hair split to one side or the other. I loved walking out of the hair shop, basking in the glory of actually feeling like a man. I wasn’t wearing anything remotely feminine and it felt amazingly different when several women casted glance of interest as they walked past me.
My mother helped me get settled into a new home, and contacted my father for me, telling him of the news that was sure to make him happy. I soon enrolled into school and decided to follow Yunho’s footsteps into the business world and major in Business Management. The classes were enjoyable and I felt overjoyed with the information I’d learned within the days.
I realized that tonight was the same night that I had first met Yunho back in the ochaya. Amazingly, I haven’t thought about him for the past week - due to the overflowing assignments and reports I had to write and finish over the course of a two week deadline. The thought however, suddenly made me feel a bit melancholy. I’ve never realized the possibility of really never seeing him again. It had been 4 years since I’d last seen him. I haven’t heard of any of his trips ever coming back to Japan. He had plenty of people hired to take care of his branch here. I didn’t see the purpose of him coming back at all.
I stared off into the sauces and little menu beside me, and before I could start tearing up, the waiter had approached me and brought me my dinner. Looking up at him and thanking him lowly, he soon left and I found myself sitting alone again. It was at least 10 in the evening into the night. It was a Saturday, so I suppose everyone had either work or school the next day. I picked up my chopsticks gingerly, and mumbled a quiet, “Itadakimasu,” before I snapped my chopsticks open and started picking at my food.
My habits of eating like a lady still didn’t seem to wear off, and I guess it was nothing to be surprised about, seeing as to how I’ve been raised like this the majority of my life. I was thankful not to be getting any stares from any of the few customers or waiters. The food was delicious, but it still didn’t help in lifting my spirits. I don’t know what it was about today that had me constantly thinking about him, but I didn’t like it one bit. Maybe it was the curse of that rose he had given me. Seeing it everyday was just a reminder of how I had let him go so easily.
…and how he had done just the same.
I let the tip of my chopsticks rest against my lower lip as I still pondered in thought, then shut my eyes and shook my head.
No. I really shouldn’t think about him anymore.
Thinking my tonkatsu needed some soy sauce; I reached over without looking, and knocked the soy sauce over. I let out a quick shoot before scrambling for the napkin and wiping the little puddle of sauce down.
“Still as clumsy as ever I see.”
My hands froze in place, and I stared forward, the sight of a man’s long legs leading up to a crotch I’d know anywhere. It really couldn’t…possibly…
“You haven’t changed much, odd ball Junko-ssi.”
My ears weren’t foreign to his voice and my body wasn’t foreign to his presence. I think I was too scared to believe it. I felt that this might have been another one of my disappointing dreams.
“Yah, what’s the matter, Junko-ssi? I should get a complimentary for being able to recognize you without your face caked in make up,” Yunho laughed, now crouching down to his knees so that he was at eye level with me.
God…
DAMN…
He was most likely at least 31 years old by now and it looked as if he had hardly aged! I couldn’t tell if I was overjoyed with happiness or if I was scared of what he would think of seeing me without my geiko exterior.
“H-Yunho-san…” I managed to smile weakly, feeling my fingers tremble slightly as I set down my chopsticks. “It’s…been a while.”
“So it has,” Yunho let out a soft laugh, seating himself in front of me.
It was awkward at first; the waiter came along and asked him if he wanted to order something, and after he did, it had become awkward again. Yunho insisted that I not mind him and continue eating but I only shook my head and said that I’d wait for his food to arrive. Besides, I was still too used on the mannerisms of Geiko ways. Even if I wasn’t a geiko anymore, it was still strange and impolite of me to eat in front of someone without food, especially if they were an ex-customer.
“You cut your hair…” He murmured, reaching out to caress one of the tails resting against my cheeks. I fought a blush and nodded, every nerve in my body so tempted to lean into his touch.
I've really missed him...
“I like it.”
We ended up catching up all throughout dinner and I couldn’t help but somehow lose the nervousness that was bottled up inside of me earlier. Yunho turned up back in Japan because the last person he left in charge of this branch had apparently screwed up and how he had to come back and set things right - and knowing Yunho, I knew he was going to get this problem resolved soon enough. A part of me was thankful that such unfortunate news had to happen, but I got to see him again, didn’t I?
He didn’t seem bothered at all that I was a male and he even told me that he liked my appearance of the way I was now compared to when I was what he called ‘dolled up’ and confined. I ended up laughing it off and told him of how free I finally felt. I told him of how free I felt to finally be able to tell him everything. Yunho smiled at me and placed one hand on top of mine, holding it in his grasp, and saying of how glad he was for me. It turns out that a half year, into the year of my services, he had figured me out. He didn’t know of my situation with my mother that time, but I guess I’d also ended slipping up on a few of the details I considered minor. I should’ve known Yunho would’ve caught on sooner or later - seeing as to how he was an intelligent man.
Speaking of intelligent, not to mention incredibly sneaky, he let me insist on paying for the both of us. I cursed in my mind, realizing that I didn’t have enough cash on me. I didn’t think anything through though, when I handed my credit card over to the waiter and he had given my receipt back to sign. I knew I was doomed the moment Yunho said my real name.
“So, Jejung now, is it?”
…Oh
poo.
I pouted, quickly signing the receipt and writing the tip down as I handed the waiter the check back.
“I don’t get why you’d even bother continuing to let me call you by your geiko name,” He said, amused, with also an expression of utter perplex. “You shouldn’t hide it from me. I like your name, Jejung-ssi.” Yunho grinned, testing my name on his tongue. “I rather fancy calling you that than Junko.”
“It’s quite a shame because I’m too used to the Junko ne,” I sigh, finding it too embarrassing to look him in the eye. I liked the way my name rolled off his tongue. It most definitely bothered me even more because I was suddenly feeling a little hot and bothered.
My feelings for him never changed and I don’t think they ever would. But I knew very well that he was only here on business. He was not here for me. I knew better than that. It was nice see him again, it was so great to finally catch up and talk to him, feel his presence around me again. But I knew if we were to be close again, it would only make letting him go even harder. Plus, his stare never left me and I was starting to feel nervous.
I cleared my throat and stood up slowly, giving him a slight bow out of habit.
“It was nice to see you tonight, Yunho-san. I hope to see you again sometime, when you visit Japan again.” I purposely added a light tone to the end, at my usual attempt to make things less awkward. I turn away from the table a little too quick for my liking and my body immediately tensed at Yunho calling out my name.
“Jejung-ah!”
“W-What is it?” I managed to stutter out, turning around just in time for him to step too close for comfort. He still stood as tall as ever. Where were those okobos when you needed them?!
“Let me take you home.”
I let out a nervous laugh, and the gush of air pushing out of my lips sounded too forced for my taste.
“It’s…quite alright, Yunho-san. Really,” I insisted, now immediately walking towards the exit and out into the open sidewalk.
“Jejung, are you trying to pull another abort mission on me?” Yunho asks immediately, reaching out and grabbing at my arm. “Please.”
“Yun-” I really didn’t want to end up lashing out at him, drown him in my venting and frustrations. Even if we were to be best friends, it just wouldn’t do with me. I wanted to be more than friends, and besides, his home is in Korea and I belonged here.
“I was foolish enough to let you go the first time. Please don’t let me regret it a second time. Let me take you home.”
I hated the feelings that were rushing in frenzy within me. I wanted to beat at him and abuse him until he felt the same way I did. Yes, we had let go of each other, but he was the one that could’ve come here to see me, couldn’t he? Then why didn’t he?
“No, please. Yunho lets just cut our ties here. We’ll meet whenever we meet,” I said, automatically regretting at how cold I sounded.
“What are you saying?” He demanded, still not letting go of my arm.
“I…! I’m saying it’s pointless, alright?! Even if we were to become good friends we’re just too far apart! And - !” I stop myself before I could spill the beans. Oh God, what would he think of me if he found out? “Just - forget it. The answer is no, alright?” I jerked my arm free and turned around quickly, heading towards the wrong direction, but I knew I’d have the take the long detour home.
“No…No, I won’t allow it. I refuse to believe so!” I heard Yunho exclaim, and within a flash, I felt myself being pulled back, my back meeting his chest. My body automatically shuddered at his proximity and I had to fight back a moan of frustration and a tinge of pleasure. I’d honestly never been held so intimately like this before - it was thrilling - and frightful at the same time. But I really couldn’t give in.
I just couldn’t…
Perhaps telling him of my feelings would get him to leave.
It was for my own good as well as his.
Jerking myself free from his grasp was no easy task. As a matter of fact, it was still impossible. He had me cocooned in his arms around my body, not helping me at all with my getaway.
“O-Oi! Stop it! Let go! Why are you being so persistent?!”
“I can’t,” Yunho let out a grunt as I elbowed him particularly hard in the stomach. “I’m sorry; Jejung, but I can’t make the same mistake.”
“Let me go, baka!”
After much struggling, we were finally at a standstill, and my shoulders shuddered at the feel of his warm breath hitting my neck. I wanted to so badly give in and tell him how I felt. My mind was split in two and I just didn’t know what to do anymore. So I let Yunho have his way - anything for him to leave me alone.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” There was a pause, and I hear Yunho intake a quick breath as his arms move down to tighten them around my waist, making sure that I couldn’t go anywhere else. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
“You’ve done so already. I don’t see the problem in letting me go this time around.” I caught myself mumbling bitterly, turning my head to look at him, but Yunho held me tighter, preventing me from doing so.
“I know. Besides you, I had no reason in coming to Japan after we’ve set up our branch here. I-My advisors were keeping me from coming to Japan, especially when there was no real emergency. T-They insisted that it was a waste of time. I knew it was stupid of me to have listened to them. I’m sorry, Jejung…”
“You’re an idiot.” I scoffed, shaking my head as I looked away.
“I know.”
“And…the only reason you’re back is because of the issue with your branch here,” I sigh at the saddened truth, turning around to face him. “You just so happened to meet me here by coincidence.”
“Wh-No!”
“And if you hadn’t met me again, you would’ve finished your business here and taken the next flight out of Japan.” I shook my head. “What future could we possibly have together, Yunho? Honestly!”
“So you do care for me.” I could hear the relief laced in his voice.
“Yes.” I nodded, figuring that it didn’t make a difference. He was going to go back whether he liked it or not. “I do. But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Yes, it does!” Yunho exclaimed, looking down at my hands as he grabbed them into his. “And you’re wrong. I dropped by the okiya to see you, but Mother Kinomoto said that you had withdrawn, and moved out. She informed me of where you might be and I’d decided to take that chance. Who would’ve known I'd been so lucky?” He whispered, hands moving up to hold my cheeks, his thumb smoothing out a drop of moisture that had slipped past my eye. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you since I left. You’ve robbed the breath out of me the moment I saw you the first night I booked at the ochaya. I’ve never stopped thinking about you and if I let you go again I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”
Yunho then shook his head in realization to his words and I winced as his fingers dug harder into my waist.
“No. I know I won’t. Jejung…I-I think…”
My heart raced in anticipation as my ears grew sensitive and I didn’t think I would ever hear those words. Oh God, please, don’t toy with me Jung Yunho. If you really say it, you really have to mean it, because I don’t think I’ll be able to think straight when you do.
“Jejung. Jejung I’m in love with you.”
At that moment
At that moment I was really lost for words. I had no words to offer him nor did I have any for myself.
But I knew how I felt.
I knew for a fact that I loved him too.
I gazed searchingly into his eyes and I knew his intentions were sincere. It was almost instinctive when my arms moved around his waist to hold him still,
before I leant up and stood on my toes,
barely enough to catch his lips in a soft kiss.
I’ve often wondered how I ended up here.
If I hadn’t gone through the trouble of throwing everything I was just to earn the love and trust from my mother, one way or another, would I still have found love? I’ve realized that the path I dreaded walking led me to the both of them anyway. Sometimes I wonder what God really had planned for me. But I know one thing is for sure.
My story does not end here.
A/N: Actually, it does, but your imagination can run wild about what happens after, lol. Comments and opinions are adored ^^