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Chapter Text

Ryo turned over the pages of Jun's letter in his hands once again; during the long journey with the train bound for Tokyo, he had all the time to think back at the boyhood spent in the so-called new capital city.

He was born in Osaka from parents that had later moved to Tokyo seeking fortune: with the country opening up to the western world outside, the industrial revolution and the excitement it brought, both were some undeniable reality already, however more tangible in Tokyo than elsewhere.

Tokyo. There Ryo had grown up with a good education, and that was also where Matsumoto Jun had become his best friend at elementary school first, and then also at junior high and high school.
Alike they were not: shy though stubborn as he was, if compared to the self-confidence and curiosity of Jun's personality, they could not be any more different. They had learnt together, though, how the world was changing at amazing speed, right before their own eyes.

Ryo looked up from Jun's fancy handwriting, and peered out of the window, as the scenery of endless rice fields at the feet of Fuji-san blurred out, over the curtain of his own memories, even.

He had strongly wished to go back home, to Osaka, in order to help out at the nice textile company his father had in the meantime established and expand its business there; but in doing so, he had never got to see Jun again.

They had exchanged contacts, of course; they had promised it to each other, never to lose keeping in touch, somehow. “Nantonaku”.
Life takes always over, though, and as it happens way too frequently, business and frenzy routines had made time spent for friendship fade away; at least until that letter arrived, a few months earlier.

Unexpected as it was, in such epistle his childhood friend courteously asked him to invite him to Tokyo and have him as his guest in his club.
His need of having to temporarily move to Tokyo in order to follow some business that strictly required his presence in the capital city had done the rest.

Ryo smiled between himself.
He wondered whether meeting his friend after so many years would have felt natural and simple. He had never been truly good at showing his emotions but maybe Jun, as the faithful friend he had been, would not have cared that much.

Several lines of his letter let on some pride and some kind of residual modesty in describing his activity, though Ryo could not manage to grasp what exactly Jun meant with his "alternative place being all the rage" definition.
Such letter ended with Jun writing he was sure he would have appreciated the place, and that he looked forward to introducing him to the members of his team.

So he started making a fortune as well, Ryo thought.
Not that he had ever had doubts about it. Jun had been a smart, witty and attractive young man; he must have definitely grown into a rather fine adult man by that time. 

Someone who had some special capability for conducting business, far better than him. For his part, Ryo had been living a pretty well-off life for a few years already, however sure as he was that he had not strived enough to be worth it yet.

The train slowed down its run until it stopped completely at the station, and Ryo started getting ready to get out of it.
He looked up and around himself, quite dazed at the sight of the pavilions on the ceilings, and his bewilderment only grew once he had stepped out of Shimbashi Station: where had the station he remembered when he had left the Capital gone? Where had Tokyo Central Station gone?
Before his astonished eyes there was a modern building made up of blinding red bricks and adorned with exotic pavilions, of probably western nature.

While leading through the long avenue with suspiciously raised brows, Ryo got persuaded that there was something wrong with it: he was not so sure of being in Shimbashi anymore, however equally sure that witnessing so many people going in and out of the station could not be seen in any other place in the whole world, but Tokyo itself.

"I had to expect that from you," a voice behind him suddenly said, a sigh that had him turn abruptly.
Jun was staring bemused at him.

"One cannot even try to do you the kind favour to fetch you at the tracks of the station that no, oh no, you must set off on your own in the meantime!"
Ryo grinned with embarrassment. 

Jun was now a young fine man dressed according to the Taisho western taste; at the same time, he was identical to the guy he had last seen so long ago, with his charming smile and his educated manners. As expected from him, he immediately put a stop to the impatience of pleasantries to welcome him with his typical irony, his own way.

Ryo held out his hand, offering it following the western manner, and Jun narrowed his eyes before returning the gesture and shaking it strongly.
"You're still pretty educated, I see," he told him.
"I didn't want to look any bad to your very eyes especially," Ryo smiled, "even though I was not so sure anymore I could manage to arrive at your place without any delay. This does not seem Shimbashi at all to me, I don't honestly understand where we are..."

"The old Shimbashi Station in Shiodome closed down five years ago," Jun said. "Now all the trains with passengers do arrive here at Marunouchi, right next to the Imperial Palace. Shimbashi is still operating for delivering goods and materials, though. I do also happen to stroll down there every now and then for work, sometimes."

"I guess this might not be the only part about Tokyo having gone through major changes, then," Ryo assumed, looking around.
"Tokyo is running fast," Jun confirmed him, "but I do hope we will have some time to actually talk about it thoroughly, my friend, should you offer me some of your free moments once freed from your business engagements. Now the time has come for us to let you put your luggage down and offer you some rest after your long journey."

"I am not tired at all," Ryo protested. "The hotel can wait."
"Which hotel are you talking about?"

"I have had a room reserved at the Teikoku Hotel, near the Imperial Palace."
"Oh, so you do mean the Imperial Hotel? Awesome taste, but please do consider your reservation canceled starting from now," Jun mumbled, nodding distractely.

"What do you mean?"
"You will be my guest, of course. I reckon the meaning was clear in the letter I had sent you. I cannot grant you as much luxury as the Imperial rooms, but my guest room will be entirely and completely at your disposal for all the time you'll be staying here in Tokyo."

"But-"
"Please don't worry about the reservation, the Baron is a dear client of mine and he will agree that the hospitality granted to a friend is the first rule a gentleman has to abide."

"The Baron... you mean, the owner of the hotel?" Ryo asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Certainly."

"Are you really sure we can arrange things like this? I don't intend to cause you inconvenience in any way."
"No inconvenience at all. You're my guest, Ryo. Please allow me to do this for you, at least."
Ryo opened in a broad smile, and shook his head helplessly.

"Let it be then... I owe you, my friend."
"Excellent! And now please, you ought to take some rest," Jun told him, patting him strongly on one shoulder.
"Oh please, no, not now, Jun! All I did while in the train was merely sitting there, all the time. If you let me, I'd love to become more confident with the neighborhood of the city again, before going to have some rest. I'd love to see Tokyo, honestly. I'd really love to."

"I shall accompany you, then," Jun said.
"You shall not."
"I do."
"But I do not-"
"Ryo, it's decided already," Jun cut him off. "Please just give me some time to inform the girls as soon as we reach my place."

Ryo blinked.
"... girls?"
"Sure, my girls," Jun replied with a half-naughty smile.

Ryo blushed. Jun was undoubtedly a courteous and good-looking gentleman, but what to think about this mention of maidens, Ryo did not know. He was equally sure he did not mean to question his friend about that now, right after having reunited with him after such a long separation; Jun's gaze was piercing straight into him, though.

"You are curious, aren't you?"
"I'm not curious. It's just... well, I don't know how to say... I'm just a bit taken aback, I guess," Ryo said, nodding almost between himself.

"You're dying from curiosity," Jun giggled, "and you're right being so interested, because I cannot wait to introduce them all to you."
"To this extent, you need not..." Ryo mumbled low. Not wishing to be impolite at all, he quickly corrected himself: "I mean, I would be delighted to meet them, but only if you reckon that this could not cause you a nuisance... I mean..."

Jun giggled again.
"You are still the very same adorable shy guy you were back then."

He bent until he could whisper to his friend words he spelled out slowly just for him: "I can promise you my Tokyo will delight you. I am definitely sure about it."

Ryo did not dare remark in any way, and merely nodded with a slightly nervous smile.
There was something he remembered still very well about their common past: no matter what, Jun had always been right.

Chapter Text

Ryo

Tokyo is big indeed. It's huge and unrecognizable, nevertheless magnificent.

This city is increasing its speed to mark the pace of the changing environment; while I am here, I can easily determine how the things that happen in Tokyo reverberate like a giant wave on the whole country of Japan. Maybe the farmers outside the city cannot grasp it yet, but it's happening already.

I left Tokyo to go back to my native Osaka, and I do not wonder whether Jun might have never stopped asking himself the reason why.

Tokyo is a living heart, indeed.
It's rather difficult not coming to love Tokyo, and quite deeply, also.

Once we have left my luggage at Jun's place, we take a stroll until we reach the Nihonbashi bridge, unchanged from when I had left it in 1911, brand new and freshly built back then. We do take our time at Tsukiji fish market and we talk for long, walking through the amazing gardens in Hama-Rikyu first, and those surrounding the Imperial Palace next. We go further down, visiting the Zojoji temple, and then up in Jimbocho neighborhood, before coming back to explore a little bit of Asakusa.

I am not tired, not even when our tour is over, but Jun decides it's right the time for me to get introduced to his place, the Okiyama; he doesn't want to explain it to me in any other way. He wants me to see with my very eyes.

It's a spacious building, with a sign, -he explains to me- having been penned in elaborated western fonts; to one side outside there is private access to the ambiances when Jun lives, and my friend does send me upstairs, in the room he wishes me to appropriate for myself.

"Welcome to Tokyo, Ryo," I tell myself once I've been left alone.

I look outside the window and realize once more how it's so much different from Osaka, here: boulevards in Asakusa do lean towards infinity already. Jun merely started giggling when I told him how vibrant I had now found the capital city.

He has confirmed me that the streets are swarming with people starting from the very first hours in the morning, and the buzz does not cease until very late in the night. I cannot wait to see that with my very own eyes, to tell the truth.

When Jun accompanies me inside his club, I am bewildered and left with my mouth open.
It is an incredible mélange of elements taken from the Japanese traditional culture with some other bizarre details taken from a culture that did not belong to our world until maybe a decade ago. There are several paintings hanging from the walls, and Jun explains me they all come from Europe.

"They're not worth that much money, their authors are not famous," he tells me shrugging. "At the beginning I had put them there and I meant to replace them soon with more valuable ones as soon as the business would have started being nice enough; but then our clients got particularly fond of them, and so I didn't feel like replacing them anymore."

I do notice there are also several pieces of stained glass here and there, and huge mirrors that makes the main hall overflow with interesting sparkles and reflections; the lights do look soft, however, and the whole atmosphere is quiet and calm.
When I do ask him for which purpose the whole stage opposite the entrance has been placed, Jun bursts out laughing.

"That's where the girls perform, of course. It's the true big heart of this place," he goes on, grinning merrily when he notices my furrow. He then disappears in the corridor, and when he's back he's being preceded by a group of maidens wearing elaborate kimonos, bowing in front of me.

"I have the honour today of introducing you all to a very special person, besides being also a talented cloth merchant. Nishikido-san is a dearest friend coming straight from Osaka, and he will stop by our place for a while. Please do treat him nicely, okay?" he concludes, winking at me.

When the women do raise up from a second curtsy and I meet their faces, I do understand the flick of amusement flashed on my friend's face.
They're no girls at all. It's a group of men of extraordinary beauty I have before my eyes, dressed up to resemble some elegant geisha or, more probably, onnagata.

I blink, vaguely perplexed, because I do still not understand. We are not at the Kabuki Theatre now; then why are these people here?

Jun intercepts my bewilderment and does probably also read into my silence, as I try to avoid any awkward question; he beckons to them to move and go on stage, where they take position and then stop, waiting for further instructions.

Jun courteously takes my arm and invites me to sit down in the first row of seats, before the stage. Then, a dance begins.
A dance that has me completely astounded.

I was at a loss for words before this already; now, I do honestly not know where to get hold on some.
I turn to face Jun, seeking for help.

"I had this performance prepared especially for you," he explains me with a seraphic smile. "I knew you needn't that many words, and that you would have immediately grasped why I do utterly love what I do here in Tokyo."
"It was... incredible," I babble slightly confused, turning towards the group. "It has been... whoah."

One of the -so-called- maidens smiles enthusiastically at me, only to receive a severe reprimand look from one of her colleagues, the one with porcelain white skin. It's an almost fleeting motion; enough to have me smile, though. I reckon Jun will have a lot to tell me about, because there's so much more than onnagata, here. And I'm very curious, now.

"Can I introduce them to you? Under their stage name, of course."
I stand up from my seat and bow profusely at them.

"Ai-chan plays the shamisen," Jun begins, while a young man with a sweet smile and a beautiful light green robe bows in returns.
He's wearing a light brown hair wig with a modern shoulder length hairstyle. I notice no-one of them wears Japanese style make-up. They have blushed eyes instead, and wear lipstick and long hair wigs set in different Twenties-style. The contrast with their geisha kimonos is huge and yet appealing.

"Nina and Satoko do often dance together, they're inseparable," Jun goes on while walking towards the couple of dancers before the group. I do not know whether I should think at them as men or women, but they do all seem rather at ease while Jun refers to them as girls.

"Yoko is our porcelain white skin beauty," he explains further, "while I guess Chibichan might have a crush on you already, my dear friend."
"Matsumoto-san, this, I cannot-"
"Chibichan's smile is an incredible one indeed," I intervene, bowing again. She's petite and pretty in her robe, whose shades go from the faintest indigo to the darkest palettes of blue. I can see her blush under the heavy pink make-up.

"Lastly, but no less important, I suggest you not to get enchanted by Yuuchan. Should that happen, you might risk not wishing to go back to Osaka anymore," Jun concludes giggling softly, while the last unknown maiden looks at me with piercing eyes. She's undoubtedly very attractive, with long blond ringlets that suit particularly her doll-like face.

"Diva is not here right now, of course. She's getting ready for the show expected for tonight," Jun tells me then, "where there's already a reserved seat for you, in the front row. Of course."

"Diva?" I foolishly repeat.
"Sure, Diva, you heard right. She's the reason why this club gained such fame through the time," Jun explains me, with dreamy eyes.

When we do take leave of the maidens and we dwell on talking for long in private in Jun's adjacent bureau, he mentions something more; how the idea struck him after re-uniting with university fellow friend Ninomiya, sometime after finishing his studies. He also tells me how he deeply wished to help him and put to good use his own passion for art and modern shows at the same time. He promises telling me further about this cabaret club in the next few days, as soon as my business will allow me to.

I do leave the Okiyama before the night falls, and that is when a person I do not recognize appears on the threshold, dressed in particularly sumptuous clothes. Long dark brown curls do frame a face with irregular yet very fine features. I guess it's another guy, the one I'm having before my eyes. What's more, a quite tall one.

Jun swiftly ensures taking some cumbersome furoshiki and a magnificent, folded brocade from the hands of such young man; there's a moment, then, when our eyes do meet.
Deep within such unbreakable gaze, it's as if myriads of twinkles are flickering there; a thousand sparkles I cannot seem to apprehend thoroughly. I quickly look away, quite shaken by those mysterious irises.

"Diva, he's my good friend Ryo, the cloth merchant Nishikido-san. Ryo, you're being introduced to Diva. Our stupendous star."
He -or, in other words, she- bows courteously at me, without a word. She gets past me then, and Jun accompanies her inside, greeting me bye once again.

I leave the Okiyama right next, not before having promised Jun I will be back soon. I had thought about going to the Senso-ji temple for a brief visit, to pray for my business here, but the truth is I now need to walk on my own for a little while.
I need to shake off myself the sensation that those eyes left upon me.

Chapter Text

Jun

I grin at seeing my open-mouthed friend, again.

I've always adored his way of being simply unable to conceal his emotions, and to be honest I feared that this side of Ryo's personality would make it hard for him sooner or later, especially as for what business is concerned. He's also a man gifted with undeniable talent, though, and that is why I have been sincerely pleased to see him in such good shape, after such long time.

I'd love him to decide to stay in Tokyo, of course; I'd like him to become, other than a unique friend, a trustworthy supplier for the clothes of my girls' kimonos as well, should he find the whole thing endearing for him also.
I would not even dare propose such thing to him, to tell the truth, given the deep friendship existing between us; but I am also quite aware of the fact that it would be pretty difficult to find a person more fair than him, both in the whole world and in the trade area.

Everyone thinks more at flaunting each other's wealth, rather than think thoroughly at one's education.

That is why I do believe in a place like the Okiyama.

That is why I am also slightly debated at the idea of talking to Ryo about business; I don't want him to think I invited him over for this reason. If I wanted him here, it's to enjoy his quiet company and his silent approval about the people I gathered in here.

That is why I'm bemused at the enthusiasm he reveals in the vaguely embarrassed smile he addresses me with, when the girls on stage do manoeuvre a particularly quick and fast dance; he's bewildered when he hears them singing.

He's undecipherable when Diva appears on stage, in her gold and green brocade, and starts out with her performance.

I admit being particularly proud of her, who incidentally comes from the Kansai region; just like Ryo is, though I have yet to tell him.
Her singing makes people tremble inside; her graceful, stunning, sensual movements make people unable to simply dare looking away from the stage.

She is the very same one mentioning some rather bizarre happening, right after the last show, when I do compliment all the girls for the excellent outcome of their new dance.

"Matsumoto-san, I did fail being up to the expectations," Diva tells me in my bureau, where she motions for us to move to share a couple words in private. "I do feel terribly distressed about such matter."

"You must be joking, I swear," I reply, flashing her a huge smile. "Applause have never been as unceasing as tonight. Nobody has been able to tear the gaze away from you all for the slightest moment!"

I do see her trying to bite a lip, and give up right afterwards. She does look hesitant.

"Why are you so afraid of telling me what is troubling you?"

"Because I... I do not wish to seem pretentious at all. I do understand the matter is about someone who is of great, when not of the greatest, value for you. I do not wish to put such person in a bad light at all."

I frown.
"You know that would never happen, anyway."
"And still-"
"Tadayoshi, please," I retort in my lowest voice, pleading her. I know she does not stand hearing such a name; but I do also know it's the only psychological leverage I can exert on her to shake her.

"The matter is... about Nishikido-san," she eventually confesses me, lowering her voice to a mere whisper.
"When my eyes did meet his own ones, during my performance, he did... turn them away from me."

Oh. Was I was sitting beside him and I failed even noticing such an event? That is what happens when you do think about mere business and you should not, Jun... Serves you just right.

"Did such thing hurt you? Do you wish for me to ask him to offer you his apologies?"
"Certainly not, I do not wish for such... it's just that... if someone like Nishikido-san did look away, it does mean I did not do well enough."

"Or maybe you did even more than enough. Maybe your dance was such absolutely sublime performance that it managed striking even the incredible inner sensibility of a man of his stature," I do suggest her. She does flutter the long eyelashes looking perplexed, but she can tell from my frank gaze that what I told her is what I do think for real.

"In this instance I... I do beg your pardon. I might have been quite inappropriate."
"I wouldn't say so. If you reckon this leaves you unsatisfied and does drive you on improving even more, I couldn't help but being so proud of you," I add then.

She stares at me again; it's true, her pretty dark eyes can destabilize you, if only you get to realize, however vaguely, the complexity there is just beyond them. It's not for everyone, of course, and I am not surprised my friend already guessed that right.
It's just such a shame that Diva cannot belong to anyone, and not even to herself.

**

Days and weeks do pass quickly by, and if it's true that Ryo is very busy handling his business relationships during the day, he never misses paying me homage by joining me at the Okiyama during the evening.

It is a fact that such thing does flatter me.

His proverbial discretion does not allow him to be one of those fashionable talkers this era is so proud of, especially in places like mine, but Ryo does manage to get himself noticed and appreciated without realizing it himself at all. After each of the performances my girls have on stage, it's a distinct pleasure seeing him being lavish with our regular clients through long and courteous disquisitions. They're all intrigued by his place of origin, whereabouts, his work, his good looks and his extremely polite manners.

All the girls do have taken a liking to him, and he never denies them any compliment about the quality of their singing and dance, or the chromatic approach of their clothes. It's as if he's already become part of this family.
I do adore, to say the least, that he's able to see so much, within all of them: that they are wonderful people, capable and talented ones, rather than mere seducers or even transvestites. Let alone people who failed at life, like each of them thought they had to be.

Late in the evening, in the privacy of my office, I do compel Ryo to keep me company and have our tongues loosened through some perfect Yamazaki Single Malt Whiskey, before allowing myself to tell him some anecdote about my girls.

"Why do they work here?" He asks me during one of his very first evenings spent in Tokyo. "Please don't let me get misunderstood. Your classy style in handling this business is as impeccable as always. This place is awesome and they are all so cute, if I may dare saying so. But... well, it's some rather atypical job indeed. It's no Kabuki, however resembling such art a little. And I cannot even define them geishas despite being definitely no less fascinating."

"Indeed," I nod slowly. "They do draw something from each of those arts, and that's something I also wanted to convey through the name of this place. Okiya, the cradle of geishas. Oyama, the onna-gatas. Fused in a single name, in a newborn identity. My dear Ryo, if only you knew how much I do love Kabuki..." I do confess him sighing, and he smiles at me.  "I am crazy in love with that, and whenever I see my girls on the Okiyama stage recalling such art, however just briefly, I..." I shake my head, caught in a sudden emotion.

"I think I can understand," Ryo murmurs, "one can definitely fall head over heels for it..."

"Exactly. I do adore all the performance we're having here, and I do love that my girls can make more than one man definitely crazy for them. But into these private chambers at Okiyama, no carnal desire is permitted," I do tell him. "With maybe only a very few private exceptions I do prefer skimming over."

"What do you mean?"
"I have never dared asking Kazu-chan for the details, but it's no mystery that those two are bound to each other for life, and since forever."

"Kazu-chan?" Ryo asks, quite curious.

"Kazunari Ninomiya, that is to say Nino. We could say that everything started out of him; I met him during my last year at University, we attended some lessons together.

He never had good grades, though. Once he was done with his education, he did not accept the job his father had recommended him for. He ran away from home and had Satoshi with him; Satoshi, that is to say our Satoko, has been his longtime inseparable childhood friend. They are unable to live far from each other. They both soon realized, though, that they were equally unable to survive through ordinary heavy jobs suited for men, the only ones they had found employment at. They have no physical strength, sadly.

That was when they both ended up as prostitutes, dressing up as women in order not to risk being ever found out by relatives or such. It's outside a brothel in Yoshiwara I randomly stumbled upon them one day; I happened to be there for a delivery nearby, as I was asked by my father.

When I spotted and recognized them... well, you can tell I was not exactly happy, at first. But the whole thing kept bugging me for long; I kept thinking how Nino that day had improvised some dancing before my eyes, in order to not have me grieved. He had Satoshi, he had told me, and just by having him by his side, he could overcome everything and be happy whenever the place, he had said.
But I did firmly believe he deserved way better than such world."

I take a deep sip of my Whiskey, allowing Ryo the time to ponder my words.

"By helping out my father with his job, by supervising his busboys delivering goods in whatever the mostly oddly assorted corners in Tokyo, I have had the chance of getting to see many things; I made up my mind, asked my father a loan and went seeking Nino. I basically asked him to dance for me. Dance for me seriously. My father did not support my project, of course, but I asked him to bet on me instead. And in the end, I was proved quite right."

Ryo smiles fondly at me, and I can glimpse complicity in his eyes. He pours me some more Whiskey, before making our glasses clink.

"Starting from that day on, other girls joined the Okiyama, mostly out of sheer chance.
Yokoyama-kun, or Yoko as you know her, has been left by his wife because he was unable to make her a mother.
Nino and Satoko brought him after finding him pretty drunk. He was just about to willingly trying to drown himself into the Arakawa river.

Ai-chan is Aiba-kun. He's been one of the first clients here, and I've always wondered how did he even make it for the tickets, judging by his modest clothes. Until the day he came and begged me to let him dance on stage together with Nino and Satoko, given that he had run out of money and that he wanted to start out a new life.

Yuuko's real name is Yuuya. She loves playing with her own identity: as  petite, sensual and alluring as she is. Staying at the Okiyama to entertain the male guests seems to make her bloom one day after another. To her it's a matter of a thin balance between the game of seduction and the fact of being part of a world she did not belong to, after being born in very poor family of fishermen.

Chibichan is Shota; he's an orphan guy that had been victim of diverse and horrible abuses by several boys ever since he left the childcare premise that had welcomed him until then. So much hatred... with everything starting out of him being genuinely unable to deny the sincere attraction he feels towards men; you know, the samurai era has gone and forever, and if such things were common norm back then, they're rather not anymore."

"Each of the girls can however freely spend the night at your guests' private residences, should both of them feel like to, isn't that so?" Ryo asks me.

"That's it," I do confirm him, "I wouldn't have expected less sagacity from you, my dear friend. Each of them has a room here upstairs. What we do collect through the performances on stage and what the clients do eat and drink at their tables -and believe me, it's no little amount-, it does allow me to provide them board and lodging, not to mention education.

Every now and then I do call here a longtime friend of my father's, one of the most popular geishas that Yoshiwara had seen in the last decades; it's the very same woman that helped me revise and improve Nino's skills at singing and dancing.

And should then any of my clients feel drawn by their performances to the point of asking them to share the night, why not? Sex itself is no part of this place, though, so they are completely free to adhere to the client's wish or not, to ask him a fee or nothing at all. They're free, independent people, and what they do get as income for their nights is just theirs; I do only ask them to report me quickly, should anyone behave rudely. And should that ever happen, such person would not be welcome nor allowed here ever again."

Ryo nods slowly. I do wonder the nature of his thoughts right now. More than once I caught it out of the corner of my eye, how Yuuchan e Chibichan take their time to carefully watch him more than due. Ryo is undoubtedly a very eligible young man. I am not sure whether he might concretely get to love them to such extent, though.

"You did not mention her," he tells me then, after a quite long silence.

"Who?"
"Diva."

A smug smile escapes my lips.

"Diva. Obviously," I murmur, nodding.

"What do you mean with 'obviously'?" Ryo asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Obviously... nothing," I do mock him, as cunning as I can.

"Jun...," he sighs, furrowing in that particular way of his that makes him utterly adorable.
"Yes?"
"I am not... interested," my dear friend grumbles low, vaguely embarrassed.

"I noticed the way you do look at her," I do provoke him. That is not true, of course. Everyone look at Diva in such way, which is why she spends several nights with our clients, and why there's a very long waiting list for those who wish to have the privilege of getting admitted into more private time with her, for longer than the mere cabaret time.

Ryo might have been so far, however, the only one looking at her for real, without the impudence and the shallowness that many others have.

"I am not interested, in such way," he repeats. "True, she does have a rather peculiar great charm. Her manners and movements are... different from your other girls. Please do not get me wrong, Jun, I am not to say they are different, for they are no less fascinating. But Diva is..." I can see Ryo cock his head to one side, as if searching for words. "It is as if she were to come from a completely different world, somehow."

"And that is exactly so, my friend, that's so. Should you ever get tired of selling cloth fabrics, please do remember me to introduce you to my dear policeman friend, deal?" I mock him, "you do have for sure some nice talent for noticing what everybody else doesn't."

"Please don't be silly Jun, please," Ryo chirps, while rubbing one cheek with the palm of his hand. For all the gods in Heaven, I should have him drunk more often. Or letting it not-so-accidentally slip with the girls. He's even more attractive, when he’s like this.

"Diva does actually come from a very wealthy family with a noble heritage, it's different for her," I do finally tell him, reverting back to some serious mood.

Ryo blinks rather perplexed, as if the alcohol did suddenly stop making him numb.

"Then... why is she here?"

"I cannot tell you to such extent," I murmur. "I promised her never to tell anyone. Not even my very best friend."

Some vague delusion drains some colour from Ryo's cheeks.

"Diva does also have a room here, but she rarely uses it, apart from using it as dressing room. She's the only one of the group living outside the Okiyama, in a small apartment belonging to her, not far from here," I do reveal him, as if to make amends for what I told him before.
"I am nearly sure she gets requested by clients almost every night," I go on. Ryo looks up, his eyes meet mine, and then he quickly looks away again.

"Some of them simply wish for her to keep them company at the Okiyama tables, after the show, as it frequently happens with the other girls. Maybe you wouldn't tell, but Diva loves the alcohol and can hold it pretty well," I do confess with a naughty smile. "She might be the one busy the most here, but she's also the only one coming first for rehearsals, not to mention handling certain delicate commissions with my customers on my behalf. They do love seeing her outside the stage, of course.

You could maybe walk her until there sometimes, what do you reckon? This would also help you further broaden your acquaintances in the city," I do suggest in a velvety voice. "And maybe, in exchange, I could intercede for you for having a night with her."

"Jun, please do stop it. I do beg you," Ryo insists, in a firm voice.

"Not to mention, you could directly avoid the waiting list."

Ryo stands suddenly up, turning on his heels and giving me the shoulders.
Oh oh. Did I dare too much?

"Should you get to wish for it, Ryo, there is seriously nothing to be ashamed about..." I do assure him, sweeter than before. "My girls are likeable ones. A lot, and I cannot help but being very happy about it. It would be just normal, should you-"

"How would it exactly be normal, being attracted to a guy?" he stammers in a voice louder than usual, avoiding to look at me. "... I do apologize," he quickly adds, sighing. "Please do accept my apologies, Jun, I never dared sounding offensive at all. It's just that... " Ryo looks up at me straight, finally. He does look rather torn.

"They are really, really fascinating. But I... I do not think I may..."
"You may offer them your wonderful company?" I do complete for him. Ryo sometimes does not realize about his own charm, seriously.

"I have no intention of imposing them my company, let alone get them hurt in any way," Ryo insists, with a rather torn expression.

"Should you ever venture doing such thing, I will certainly beat you up with these very hands, you are being warned," I reassure him vehemently, addressing him with a rather unusual scowl. "No one can dare hurt them, for they all have suffered way too much during their life so far, I dare say."
"I do agree with you."

"That would never happen with you being involved, anyway," I do sweetly insist. "For you are an extremely gentleman one, my friend."
"That is not true."

"Honestly, Ryo, I cannot see where the problem lies. Are you already betrothed to someone, in Osaka?"
"That is not, yet I-"
"Good Heavens, you are not asked to get engaged here, Ryo! Let alone fall in love with them!" I try to have him persuaded, vaguely exasperated, trying to find the way to his embarrassed candour. "You just have to let yourself enjoy some pleasurable time when in their company, if you wish so. For all the time you will be spending here in Tokyo. Please do not feel ashamed of anything because -believe me- seeing you all get along so nicely can do nothing but make me feel extremely happy. Would you not do that for me, Ryo?"

"Do... what?" he grumbles, embarrassed and confused.

I roll my eyes.

"Please tell me, Jun, but as far as you're concerned, have you ever... with them..."
"Never," I do confirm him, anticipating a question he is unable to ask, due to the excessive respect he grants to the one I am. I do stand on my feet as well, facing him straight. "No, I have never seen any of them privately. And that is not because I would not fancy them.
By knowing that there are beautiful guys under those garments, I am not bothered at all. And yet, given the kind of relationship that has been established between us, I do believe it would be rather disrespectful going further than that."

"Indeed," Ryo murmurs while keeping his eyes into mine. "Of course."

"That is why you can do that in my place, my dear friend," I conclude, winking at him while patting vigorously his shoulder.

"What the heck, Jun!" He growls louder, embarrassed once again. "You were talking very seriously up until a mere instants ago, while now-"

"Goodnight, Ryo," I do silence him, laughing. He seems wishful to retort, but then he gives up and retrieves his hat from the table.

"Goodnight, Jun," he murmurs, leaving me with a fleeting smile, and some vague blush still fathomable on his cheeks.

Chapter Text

Diva

Whenever the month of October opens up, most mornings do become rather humid, fresh and silent.
It is precisely during this time of the year that one of the most extraordinary changing in Tokyo takes place, and these are among the best days to admire such magic.

Whilst the city still lying dormant, I do frequently take a stroll to the park in Ueno: it is here that the foliage does change colour, and it is here where the trees do cease wearing their brilliant emerald clothes to put on their golden, ochre and crimson features, the most suitable ones for the autumn. They do not lose in beauty; they do rather become more and more fascinating, instead.

I wish I could resemble them. Mutate appearance, without losing in identity. I am devoid of such, though.

There is no-one walking throughout the alleys of the park, this early: after the dances, the music and the lively chattering permeating the Okiyama until late in the night, this silence is providing me great wellness.

And nevertheless, it takes my mind to that person, and there is nothing I can do to prevent this from happening.

I do not understand why his eyes do avoid mine with a frequency I could dare define disrespectful.

I do assume he might be insisting accompanying Matsumoto-san every evening because forced to, despite my persona putting him into such awkwardness.

I do wish he could leave the Okiyame before me having to perform, then. I do wish he could somehow excuse himself from such duty, rather than persisting disrespecting me to that extent.

I cannot manage to understand. With every other man it is way too easy to guess what they do not say. Nishikido-san, on the other hand, does resemble Matsumoto-san also for what this aspect is concerned: someone having a complex personality, whose facets can bring one to mislead and make people falter.

A delicate smile fading into such serious expression on his face, right before his gaze leaves mine. I do not understand. He induces me a discomfort I do not appreciate and that is no suitable at all for the one I should be.

Let your rapidity be that of wind, your gentleness that of the forest; be fierce like fire, be immovable like a mountain.
Immovable like a mountain.

That is how I wish so much to be, to let the Furinkazan precept become solely mine, like nanny kept repeating me day by day; it happened every time my father felt ashamed of me, and yet before he were to ever see me dressed up in my mother's clothes. The mother I have never met. I do wonder whether she might have ever loved me, if only she did not die in childbirth when I was born.
I do wonder if she alone could have ever accepted me.

That is why the Okiyama to me is the only place where I am allowed to live without shame. When creating it, Matsumoto-san donated me a future that did not even exist.

I am aware of the fact I will be never able to do enough to repay him, to prove the gratitude I do have for him.

I do already have him keep all the generous amounts of money my clients offer me for the night, but that is not enough for me. I owe him such money ever since I paid off all the debts I had towards my family, yet it is not enough.
I usually ask him to use it for the education of the girls, and maybe to have them pampered a little bit, provided that he won't ever tell anyone a word about it.

Matsumoto-san saved me. And this the only thing that matters.
Matsumoto-san would honestly not make a bad impression even among these beautiful and proud trees.

When I do turn towards the alley lining beside the Shinobazu pond, I notice someone coming in that moment, right from the opposite direction, and I cannot help but freeze when recognizing him.

"Is that you... here?" Nishikido-san babbles.

I courteously bow to him. This place belongs to me way more than to him. How is he entitled to consider me unworthy of even strolling freely around Ueno?

I am certainly someone with a dubious identity, hair imbued with perfume and lacquered lips for seduction purpose. And yet, I am a free and independent person.

"You are a continuous surprise," he confesses me smiling, stepping closer to walk beside me. "I would have never dared imagining to be able to walk together with you in such a beautiful place, which is not so crowded right now. It is incredibly magnificent, in here."

The inexplicable annoyance I do feel towards his persona makes me unable to keep going with the conversation as it would be advisable to do. I do not find the words. though.

I owe it to Matsumoto-san, at the very least. Furthermore, several people have by now gathered alongside the bank, in order to admire the autumn colours reflecting upon the surface of the mirror of water. It would be unseemly to have him talk merely on his own.

Then, I do feel something hitting my back, and I instinctively turn; something heavy brushes my cheek, thrown from far away.

"YOU HARLOT!" a stranger man I do not recognize cries out aloud; he picks up some other pebbles to throw at me. I am right about to shelter myself with the sleeve of my kimono, when Nishikido-san puts himself between us.
I had already noticed how he is a lot shorter than me as for what height is concerned, yet this difference does not seem as much obvious right now.

"I do not think it is appropriate of you to talk about her in such way," Nishikido-san tells him, in a voice as hoarse as I had yet to hear.

"She is just a prostitute! She should not stroll around as if it's nothing! She should not appear on all those playbills!"

"Have you ever been at one of the performances run by the Okiyama, Sir?" Nishikido-san goes on.

"Farm hands are no filthy rich like you are, Sir! This does not mean we-"

"Then please have this, please," Nishikido-san insists, offering the man some banknotes. "Please come and see yourself Diva's talent at the Okiyama, to make sure with your very eyes that she is nothing like you reckon she is."

"Nishikido-san, please, do not-"

"Please," he cuts me off.

The man narrows his eyes, looking rather perplexed yet accepting the banknotes.

"You can easily use such money for some other purpose, if you wish so; to buy foodstuff or waste them gambling. Or, again, to come and
see her. It is entirely up to you only, Sir."
The man spits on the ground, quelling indecorous words and then running away.

Nishikido-san immediately turns his attention towards me; his eyes become worried ones, and he lends me a handkerchief.

"Are you by any chance hurt? Did he harm you?"

"It's nothing, please do not worry about me."

"Your cheekbone," he insists, bringing the handkerchief nearer my face, however not daring to brush it.

The cotton fabric gets slightly stained by blood, when I do run it over my cheek. I had not even noticed such thing.

"It's nothing," I repeat.

"Did he already cause you any trouble?"

I shake slightly my head.

"And yet such thing did already happen to you, isn't that so?"

I do look up, meeting his eyes and challenging them.

"Very seldomly."

"Is that why you never reported anything to Jun?"

I cannot reply. I cannot lie, but I do hate that he got to understand such thing about me.

"You were not required to do it," I murmur then, looking away.

"Quite the contrary. I cannot approve of people talking that way about you."

"That is what I am, though. I do seduce our clients, then I do entertain their nights in exchange for a lot of money. That makes me a prostitute, despite non even being a real woman."

"I do reckon instead you should be treated just like an incredibly sophisticated courtesan."

"Is there any difference?" I insist, almost comptemptuous.

His eyes do become sad.
He merely wishes being kind to me, I do understand; there is no reason to, anyway.
He would like to deny this reality, when there's no other one, though.

That is when I do realize where the basis of his discomfort lies, and such revelation irritates me.
At the Okiyama, we are not enough for him.

His education forces him to accompany us, but he is one of those men who like getting hurt; those man like him do not spend their times with people like me, people lying about who they are.

Nishikido-san should surround himself with pretty girls, instead, for he cannot understand.
Matsumoto-san did create for me a future where there was none; that is way more than I could ever imagine for myself in this world. But Nishikido-san, he does not understand.
He keeps staring at my face and he suddenly, tenderly smiles again:

"I had never noticed it so far," he confesses to me.

I bat my eyelashes, perplexed. What is he saying?

"The stars are showing on your face," he murmurs sounding rather bemused, and goes further on to explain, noticing my bewilderment.
"These small moles on your left cheek... they do look like the Ursa Major constellation. Do you happen to know about it? It's an incredible resemblance..."

One of my hands reaches instinctively up for my cheek, but it is only later that evening, before a mirror in my room at the Okiyama, that I can make sure about what he has said.

I do look at my reflection.
I have borrowed from Matsumoto-san one of those journals he keeps in his bureau; it mentions the sky and the shapes it takes. It seems like admiring the "constellations" is currently a fashionable thing in the Western countries.

I can easily find out the Ursa Major shape, the one that Nishikido-san first noticed on my face.

I do take off the hair clips holding still my wig and I remove it, and then I further proceed with my make-up and the lipstick; I once again take a look at myself in the mirror, finding a face that no-one can recognize nor ever see. It is a face with no identity and nevertheless, even after removing all its artificialities, on such a face the stars are still there. They do belong to it. They are part of it.

Nobody has looked at me with such intensity ever before. As if he could see right through me.
Nishikido-san is nonetheless a mere hypocrite, and my eyes burn with anger. There is no need for those black eyes to remind me about my nature.

There's suddenly a soft knock on my door and I jolt, waking me up from my own thoughts. I put the wig on again and I open, only to find Chibichan on the threshold, apparently too embarrassed to look up at me.

"Chibichan... did something happen?" I do ask her, letting her in. She does seem even more petite, this bent; I have been the one nicknaming her so, besides. I have been the one taking her under my wing, teaching her the principles of the seduction through the dancing, and how to allow her constantly smiling face through a proper make-up.

In exchange, she does often ask me the permission to get my hair done; she is the only one among us finding it pleasurable to enter my room and spend the time chatting with me.

"Maruyama-san... he did... earlier on, after our show, he said he would be delighted to ask me out for a stroll outside this neighborhood, in Ueno."
I instinctively pull her into an embrace.

This is also something that those men like Nishikido-san cannot understand. He does not know that Matsumoto-san saved our lives in a way that not even Matsumoto-san realize all the way.

Some of the people attending our shows at the Okiyama have taken some interest in us for real, despite none of us being women at all.
There was a man that was a regular at the Okiyama; he loved sipping his sake and courteously applauding us. He bore keen black eyes that lingered on Chibichan. She told me that his name was Shibutani-san.

They have spent together nights filled with passion, for several months. And then, Shibutani-san simply disappeared; he has never been spotted at Okiyama anymore, and not even Matsumoto-san managed to know anything more about him. He did not leave a message nor other thing behind.

Chibichan has spent just as many months suffocating the tears in her futon, in her room just beside my own one, despite never letting the grief tearing her smile away from the stage.

During that period I stayed her longer in the evening, before dedicating myself to our clients. Locked up in my room, I did stroke gently her hair, letting her cry on my lap until she would have run out of every other tear.

I remember then when one day on the Okiyama threshold a new client timidly appeared, a merchant recently establishing himself in Tokyo from Kyoto. It's a man bearing a sweet smile, whose cheeks redden everytime Nino does wink at him or whenever Yuuko dances in a way too provoking way before his eyes. Maruyama-san is a good, kind man.

I do believe he must have appealed to his every audacity, the day he had asked Chibichan to have the honour of taking a stroll with her around Tokyo. And yet, she turned him down.

Maruyama-san has not given up. I have been told that he does not live a wealthy life like most of the customers here, but he nonetheless comes to the Okiyama thrice a week and every time his gentle face does gaze at Chibichan, as long as she has accepted to offer him her body, however not her soul.

They have never gone for a walk, though, because she does not wish to go outside and retrace those streets towards Nihonbashi that do still cause her so much pain.

Sometimes she does still burst into tears at the thought of her lost love. That is when Maruyama-san takes her in his arms, caressing patiently her hair and murmuring softly that he will not ever leave. That he has chosen living in Tokyo for work, and in Tokyo he has had the sheer luck of finding the other half of his heart.

"I have told him I will go, this time," Chibichan softly confesses to me, her voice thick with emotion. "Maruyama-san is..."

"A very fortunate man indeed," I do complete for her. She looked up and her smiling eyes do find mine, and I smile as well.

This young man, Shota, is filled with newfound happiness again.
That is no mask.

"He has actually been very patient," she murmurs, slightly hesitant.

"Patience is the virtue of the strong ones, they say." She bursts into a delightful chuckle and I do hug her slightly tighter.

I am truly fond of her, and I am extremely happy for her heart. For both of them, of course.

As for me, though, I do not belong to such blessed world.

Chapter Text

Diva

Nishikido-san has come to visit us today as well, during our rehearsals in the afternoon; no-one but Matsumoto-san is usually admitted here during such span of time, but his dear friend has been coming on daily basis for a few time already.

Nishikido-san is a fortunate man, if he is truly this able to divert his attention from his business just in order to waste it fully here, to admire us while we do correct our postures or the little flaws of our choreographies.

I have seen him frowning in a serious way when looking at us, taking notes several times on a notebook, and studying the way we move around the stage. Today he is bearing no notebook with him, though.

"What if I were to seize the chance and ask him if I may pay a visit to his room tonight, after the show?" Yuuko-san mellowly murmurs right behind me. "If he keeps coming here, it means he has seriously taken some interest in us, hasn't he?"

"That would be brazen of you," I quietly reply. "Moreover, I do not reckon Nishikido-san would appreciate to enjoy our company in such a way."

"You're saying so just because he has yet to ask you for the night, isn't it true?"

Yuuko-san does not wait for my answer; she is not even interested in hearing it, since she has already descended the steps of the stage and she lifts up the kimono layers in order to run to him, at the bottom of the hall.

As soon as she takes him by the arm, making him jolt from surprise and turn, I flinch as well.

I think I do not wish to look any further, while she tries to seduce him her usual way, that I honestly find so vulgar; I have alreay told Yuuko way too many times that I reckon it is no appropriate of us to behave in such an undignified way.

She retorted that women belonging to this era are becoming more and more free of taking the initiative on their own. I had replied that she is probably right, but that we are no women anyway, at the same time. Yuuko argued that it makes no difference to her, that her soul is unchanged. 

Given the fact that the only vulgar one among the group is indeed me, I should not dare judging her at all, I reflect while she flirts and comes so close to Nishikido-san's body to have him blush right on the spot. Then, Yuuko suddenly lights up and comes back rushing to the stage, thus nearly tripping on her heavy clothes.

"Nishikido-san says he's got a surprise for us!" she twitters happily, while the other girls stop singing and start murmuring, surprised. I gaze at Nishikido-san seeking for some explanation, but he has turned and is about to walk out from the hall.

I am perplexed. Does this mean that Yuuko is once again right in her statements?

"What will this be about?" Chibichan curiously wonders when approaching me.

"Nishikido-san is a gentleman. It will be some very welcome surprise indeed," Yoko-san asserts, without letting any emotion leaking, as usual.

When Nishikido-san comes back, there is also Matsumoto-san together with him, and both men are holding some elegant packages. 

"You are crazy!," I do hear Matsumoto-san muttering. "Insanely mad, for Heaven's sake. What the heck are you even planning?!"

"It's entirely your fault, to tell the truth," Nishikido-san replies with a smile. He looks up at us; he meets my gaze for a fleeting moment, before he starts talking. 

"I wish you could allow me to have you receive a present," he starts in a quiet voice, that gives eventually away some emotion anyway.

"When Jun... when Matsumoto-san invited me to join him here in Tokyo, I would have never believed he would have made my every single day into an exceedingly lively one."

"Ryo, please-" Matsumoto-san objects, furrowing slightly. Nishikido-san offers him a vague smile and makes a gesture, silently asking him the permission to keep going on with his talk.

"He is a rather stubborn one, though, thus not allowing me to return his hospitality in any way; I wondered then whether I could thank you all instead, brightening up all the evenings I spend here."

It is of a certain interest noticing how the growing frown that Matsumoto-san carries matches the growing amused and slightly embarrassed smile on Nishikido-san's face.

He almost looks like he's shining. 

"I know he does care deeply for you all," he goes on," that is why I reckon that should you appreciate my gift, I could this way make you all happy, and maybe indirectly happy even my dear friend. That is my real hope," he concludes, bowing slightly.

The whole hall has fallen into a silence fraught with anticipation.

"I will say it again, you are completely crazy," Matsumoto-san growls, trying to hide a certain flush on his cheeks, "and should I have known it would have been for this reason, I would have never allowed you to attend their rehearsals like you asked me to!" he snaps, waving one hand in the air while Nishikido-san giggles. 

I think I have never seen Matsumoto-san this sincerely upset before. The other girls do start cooing again while Nishikido-san opens the first package and takes some fabric out of it; the folds of the material do open and fall down to the pavement, revealing their every other details. 

"I have thought for long about what you might have appreciated receiving," Nishikido-san murmurs while keeping lifted off the ground a gorgeous canary yellow kimono in his arms.

"Jun does actually already provide you with the best clothes ever, but I did wish anyway to offer my contribution through my own work. Here in Tokyo, I saw extraordinary textiles and met people very skilled in sewing them; this does benefit my job greatly and I am this happy that, well... I thought I could have you receive a new kimono, one for each of you."

The girls cannot hold back tiny squeaks of joy, while Nishikido-san and Matsumoto-san hand them out a package to each of them. I keep staring at Nishikido-san, upset by a sensation I do not arrive to understand thoroughly.

Having him do this to such extent, for us only... what does it mean?

Maybe he is unable to love unconditionally like Maruyama-san does, but maybe the affection he talks about is some kind of a deep and sincere one anyway. 

And if he loves these girls to this extent, then he is no hypocrite, and I have been wrong judging him. If he is doing some good to this place that means everything for us, then...

"This is for you, Diva. Please have it," Nishikido-san announces me, distracting me from my own thoughts. I meet his black eyes and I can see them glistening with true emotion.

"Each of these clothes has been embroidered with patterns that celebrate the effigies of the city of Tokyo," Nishikido-san explains us.

"Yoko-san. On your dark kimono, dark like the night, I wanted to show the harbour lights during winter time while on yours, Satoko-san, I had the Imperial Palace portrayed. Nino-san, on yours you will find the Imperial gardens in its autumn colours, and so you will, Ai-chan, in the luscious green of the summer instead.
For Chibichan I thought about the Senso-ji on a bright day with a terse sky and to you, Yuuko-san, I meant to entrust the magnificent new Tokyo Station, as I can imagine it with cherry trees in full bloom. I hope you will appreciate it."

While Nishikido-san illustrates the clothes that the girls have already fully opened and drawn close on their bodies, to stare at the incredible reflections of those splendid shimmering clothes, Matsumoto-san does seem too emotional to utter a word.

I could be mistaken, but I believe I can get a glimpse of his eyes bright with tears. 

"Your kimono, Diva, illustrates the Toshogu shrine in Ueno, and the dazzling colours of the trees of the park during the foliage season," Nishikido-san explains to me, gesturing for me to open the box. I do set my eyes on a kimono golden and bright orange in colour. It is of some astounding beauty and it appears incredibly precious, even through a mere touch.

"They must have cost you a fortune," Matsumoto-san murmurs then with indescrivable affection, walking towards his friend.

"That is of no importance," Nishikido-san retorts, shrugging. "It is a real honour for me to entrust these clothes to you, and I do hope you will be able to wear them at some future show of yours. I noticed you are recently taking rehearsals on a popular song," he eagerly goes on, in a clear voice. "Maybe one day you will get to chant a song about Tokyo, and you will be able to inaugurate it with these kimonos?"

"I think it shall be obligatory," Matsumoto-san echoes sighing, with a smile he addresses us with.

"Could I have yours?" Yuuko suddenly asks me, looking with envy at the golden textile in my hands.

"Eh?"

"Could I have your kimono?" she repeats, as if I had not heard properly.

"Oh, please stop with these petty whims, Yuuchan!" Nino scolds her. Among us, she is the one that never backs off when it is right the time to look frank. "Why should you receive two of these?"

"We would make an exchange, of course," Yuuko tweets, taking the item from my fingers. "Can't you all see how these golden textiles do match faboulously my blond curls?"

"Your wig, you mean," Yoko-san retorts, raising an eyebrow. Yuuko glares at her, but does resumes her flirting with Nishikido-san anyway. Just like Matsumoto-san, the latter seems not to know how to best read the awkwardness of the moment.

"I am certain Nishikido-san agrees with me. Don't you reckon this kimono would suit me perfectly? Maybe you did even create it for me especially, but you did not manage to confess it to me due to your extremely polite manners, isn't that so?"

"Yuuko, now please quit all of this," Matsumoto-san sternly intervenes. "This does not-"

"She can have it," I interrupt him. Everybody turns to look at me. "If Yuuko-san likes it to this extent, then she can have it."

"Please don't start being silly as well, Diva," Nino insists. "Yuuchan's kimono, you cannot wear it anyway, because of your height!"

"I am equally certain this kimono will suit her tremendously. Furthermore, my clothes are often more luxurious than yours, and that is I believe it is right that, this time, it has to be all of you to receive something that I do not own." No one argues back, and yet everybody keep staring at me. Nishikido-san's eyes turn sad.

"I beg you to please accept my apologies, Nishikido-san, if I am to cause you any inconvenience with this. Please believe that your gesture honours us more than we could even explain through our words," I do tell him while bowing deeply. With the back of my eyes I notice that my fellow colleagues do imitate me, one after another.

"Diva, I-"

"I do dare to further ask you, moreover, if there is some chance we could rearrange the kimono with the cherry blossoms to make Chibichan able to wear it one day," I firmly declare, looking straight at his eyes. "She is so petite in height that sometimes we are to readapt our clothes for her, the one we cannot manage to wear anymore. Should then she be able to receive two of your magnificent creations, I am certain you would make her extremely delighted."

Nishikido-san bites his lip. His eyes look dark, deep and obscure.

"Divachan, you must not ask to this extent for me, I-"

"Certainly I will, if this is your wish," Nishikido-san replies, bowing as well. "It will be a honour to let Chibichan wear the kimono with the flower blossoms and the red bricks of Tokyo."

"Shouldn't it be time for us to chant a song, then?" Chibichan murmurs, looking pretty emotional with her eyes clouded with tears. She turns towards me, and I smile at her. I close my lids as the melody from Bara no Uta pours out crystal clear from my lips. Chibichan's voice quickly echoes mine, together with Nino and Satoko's. Then I can hear Yoko and Ai-chan's echo and, in the end, I can finally hear Yuuko joining our singing.

However splendid, a kimono is not this important.

I do not want the beautiful smile to leave Nishikido-san's lips, and I do not wish for Matsumoto-san to misplace the pride he feels for us.

What I do honestly wish is that we could all be happy in this world; each of us becoming happy, our own way.

**

Some days after that episode, when the lights turn on at the end of our performances at the Okiyama, amidst our clients I notice the face of a man I have already

seen somewhere, even though I do not recall where exactly. He is no regular customer here.

I get to peek from behind the stage, while the other girls quickly disappear to reach their rooms; I see an astounded Nishikido-san walk to reach such man, and the latter throws literally himself at his feet, begging him about something I do not get to understand.

As embarrassed as he might be, Nishikido-san helps him to get back to his feet, and that is when I do remember: it is the very same man who had thrown me those pebbles and lashed out against me that day back then, in Ueno. The very same man Nishikido-san had offered his money to invite him to see our shows at the Okiyama.

While I do observe the two of them be profuse in excuses, I find myself reflecting upon how much Nishikido-san's placid presence is doing so much good to this place. A rude farm asking for forgiveness from a gentleman. An elegant, highly-educated and well-mannered person who amiably discusses with a labourer, as if social classes were to count nothing anymore.

At the same time, my memories bring me back to remember a moment I found myself to assist to, however unseen back then, between Matsumoto-san and Yoko-san and about another farm hand, Murakami-san.

I had no intention of witnessing such scene; I was just about to walk to Matsumoto-san's office, and he was standing on the threshold, when I suddenly saw Yoko-san coming breathless from the other end of the corridor. She had thrown herself at Matsumoto-san's feet and started weeping, murmuring how she felt being totally unworthy of his faith.

I was so astonished by her behaviour that I was right about to intervene, when Matsumoto-san told her something that I am still unable to forget.

"I am the one unworthy of your trust, Yoko, if you do believe I can accept to see you prostrated before me like this."

He had helped her to her feet and Yoko-san started explaining, between the tears, how long before the client Higashiyama-san had come to the Okiyama together with some of his trusty labourers, to have them receive a prize for their hard work. Among these man, Murakami-san had been charmed by Yoko-san, to the point that the very same evening he had asked her to spend the night together.

Murakami-san did not seem like a prudent man, so Yoko-san explained him she was no real woman and rather a transvestite man wearing thick make-up.

Murakami-san told her it did not matter in any way to him. He told her he liked Yoko-san and could afford her price. But then, they had not seen each other for long anymore, for at work he had been found guilty of something he had not even done in the first place, and he got fired.

He had started working on his own and suffering from starvation; all he wished for, it was to be able to save money in order to see Yoko-san dancing one more time.

When he was finally back at the Okiyama and had told her so, definitely happy of being able to be back, Yoko-san had given herself to him again, without asking for anything in exchange, safe for Murakami-san to stop coming to the Okiyama. She wished for him to take care of himself, if anything.

Yoko-san had started spending every night with him, but Murakami-san had insisted saying he wished with all his heart to see her dance and sing, and he had kept using his money for the tickets. That is why Yoko-san had started lending him the money required for the tickets at the Okiyama, asking him to take care of his health in exchange. They had fought quite frequently due to this issue, and as they were both pretty stubborn ones, they had not managed to find a solution.

And that is why Yoko-san wished for Matsumoto-san to forgive her.

"I have been already kicked out of my family, because I was of no utility to them... I cannot allow this to happen again."

"Why should I kick you out, Yoko?"

"Because all the money I can earn through the work here, I do offer it to Murakami-san."

"I do not see where the problem lies, actually."

"That is your money, Matsumoto-san."

"That is definitely not. You earned it, Yoko. Thus, you can use it as you please."

"But with me doing so, I let a man become vicious, and-"

"Now please tell me, Yoko: does he treat you nicely? With the utmost respect? Does he make you happy?"

"Sometimes... sometimes we get into discussions, to tell the truth. But he is a gentle, kind and caring man. He looks at me as no one has ever done before."

"Can't you see, then? Can't you see the extraordinary change he operated in you, not to mention the one you transmitted to him?" Matsumoto-san had replied. "A man that did not attend any place of culture, now he cannot live without them. He already owns your heart and yet, he does wish to attend the Okiyama performances anyway. He does wish to love its art and to become a better person, much probably in order to feel more worth your person."

Yoko-san had widened her eyes.

"But this... this is not possible..."

"That has already happened, I would rather say. And all merit goes to you. Do you honestly reckon you are of no utility? I do believe the contrary, actually. Starting from this day onward, I will deliver them to you directly, the tickets for him. So maybe you will manage to quarrell less and appreciate each other's more. How does that sound?"

"But I cannot... I cannot accept such..."

"I will reduce your pay a little, then," Matsumoto-san had offered. "So that you will necessarily have to accept. Does it sound better like this?"

That day I had disappeared from the corridor hearing Yoko-san's sobs behind my shoulders.

People like Matsumoto-san are not of this world. Nishikido-san does resemble him.

Matsumoto-san once asks me to accompany his friend to a mutual client.

We do walk through a cart track in Marunouchi, and yet Nishikido-san does not mention the visit of that man at the Okiyama.

He could boast openly about it, and yet he does not.

I am not even that surprised anymore.

"I am sure you would have rather preferred Matsumoto-san not asking you to come along with me," he confesses to me at some point. "I do fairly understand my company is not that welcome to you and so, please do accept my most sincere apologies for the discomfort I am causing you, Diva."

My pace falters a bit and he stops walking as well, staring at the hem of my kimono.

"Please, Nishikido-san, this does not... nobody could ever say such thing about you," I murmur, fair. "I should be the one asking for your forgiveness. You should be left free to stroll around the city and allow all those curious maidens to come to you. Since you are walking with me, though, they do not come near."

He attracts people's attention. Any contrary would not be possible, besides. An elegant, educated, well-mannered man gifted with good looks. People in Tokyo has started knowing and admiring him.

"I could say the same about you," he quietly replies, looking straight into my eyes with a sweet and melancholic smile. "As you are walking by my side, men do not come to confess the open admiration they carry for you."

"To tell the truth, it is alright like this," I do confess to him. "However, it is not fine for your own sake though, Nishikido-san. I can take some other way to go back, so that you would be free to dedicate yourself to your business and to some female company without having to care about me anymore."

He keeps staring deeply at me, with those black eyes. So intense eyes, he has. It seems like he's keeping some thoughts.

"As for what happened the other day, about your kimono... I am terribly sorry. I would love to express my apologies again," he tells me out of the blue, bowing deeply.

I blink, rather perplexed.

"Nishikido-san, you... please, you do not carry any fault for that. It is not you the one who have to say sorry, and besides-"

"I came to understand the reason behind your gesture and please rest assured that I do admire you for what you did," he wholeheartedly refers to me. I cannot look at him anymore.

I do not want him to hold me in high regards. I do not want him to feel anything at all for me.

"I deeply wished to offer a present to you, as well," he goes on, "but now I do not know how to anymore," he murmurs, sad.

"That is not necessary. You are already honouring us with your presence on daily basis," I do insist.

"That is not enough."

"It certainly is. Matsumoto-san does reckon the same."

Nishikido-san sighs openly, shaking his head. He never mentions such thing anymore until the following week. I am about to leave my apartment, right after dawn, when I happen to see him right in front of the threshold.

"I... please do forgive me for my impudence," he stammers. He looks almost embarrassed, maybe because of my astounded reaction when I saw him this early in the morning, right before the place where I do live.

"I asked Jun about your address because I wished... I mean, I honestly hoped I could... I could give you this thing."

He hands me a package; it is not a really bulky one, and it carries the same style of the ones he had given to the girls at the Okiyama.

"Please open it. I strongly wish for this to be yours. Yours only. Please do also refrain from saying a word about it with your colleagues, if possible. I do hope you can understand the reason why."

His words nearly slip off me as I take out a kimono weaved in a fabric as shimmering as I have never seen before. It's deep green in colour, as dark as the forest, carrying blue and hazelnut flecks and golden amber embroideries.

"This does not show any place of Tokyo, of course. I do not wish to cause any more ill feelings, let alone make somebody envious; and yet, I do sincerely hope you may appreciate it anyway."

I cannot find the words.

He is asking whether I may appreciate the most beautiful clothes I have ever seen in my life.

He is asking whether I may appreciate a kimono realized in my very favourite colour.

He is not aware of such thing, of course. There is no way he can realize it is carrying the very same shade of the colour of the eyes my mother had, according to what our housekeeper always said. That very same colour I have been endlessly seeking for, and that I am unable to find in any human being, because she is not in this world anymore.

"I thought about your irises," Nishikido-san tells me, a bit unsure. "I am aware they are not green in colour, but... your eyes do carry some reflections that I strongly wished to reproduce through the best textures I've come across here in Tokyo, and-"

I am sobbing. I am sobbing in such an audible way, despite me hiding my face against the shoulder, against the green fabric he has given me, that he has stopped talking at all. For the second time since our first meeting, he offers me a tissue, that I firmly refuse.

"It would seem that I... again, I committed a mistake, while trying to-" he trails off, in a broken voice.

"Please do leave me alone," I murmur, shaking my head, overcoming with feelings. "Please do..." my chest does hurt, while I can hear him walking away without any more words. How does he manage to hurt me so much?

I despise men. I hate their hypocrisy.

But I cannot despise his persona. I definitely cannot.

For the very same reason, that very same day I go to Matsumoto-san's office and ask him to kindly tell me if there is a date that might be dear to Nishikido-san. A date of the calendar that could be propitious for the sake of his business.

Matsumoto-san stares at me for long, furrowing. Then, he reveals to me that next week, during the third day of November, he would like to organize a special show to entertain Nishikido-san for his birthday.

I agree with Matsumoto-san that on such day I will do my best.

I do want to honour him. That is the least I can do for him.

That his why on that day, during the final show, I appear on our stage wrapped in his kimono and in the Okiyama hall everyone is silent, enchanted by the sumptuousness and opulence of my clothes and the fierceness showing on my face.

Everything and everyone is silent, but when he looks at me in shock, rather astounded, he's seeing me only, and I'm seeing him only.

I dance for him. I sing for him only, and Nishikido-san stares at no one else but me all the time, and never looks away. He never tears his gaze away, like it never happened before.

I am proud of myself.

**

That very same night, when the client laying upon my body is done with me and leaves my place, bowing and saying thanks, I get rid of the half-undone clothes and I take a long bath. I wash myself for long, removing every trace of the men that do take possession of my body. Men that do find their pleasure in taking a man who lives hiding his own identity.

I am good at pretending to feel the same pleasure they seek. I am good at keeping a small voice whenever it happens, a voice that does not belong to me. I am good at denying the pain within my insides in order to go back to dance on stage a few hours later.

The movements of our dances are slow, and more often than not, when I sing I do not have to dance at the same time.

And yet, today I feel exhausted; mortified, even. When I close my eyes, I see what I should not.

His eyes.

Ever since Nishikido-san's arrival in Tokyo, I feel restless.

Those pitch-black eyes are awakening in me sensations that end up ensnaring and upsetting me. He is unaware of such a thing, I believe, and still this merely contributes enhancing my open discomfort.

I thought he would have liked to ask and have my attentions, tonight.

I would have offered my apologies to the client at the Okiyama that had patiently waited for me for months.

I would have accompanied Nishikido-san until my place. Because he was in my gaze, and I was in his, tonight.

I would have undressed him and have him scream aloud.

I was the only one wishing for such a thing, apparently.

I wanted him to find out that the one he constantly addresses his gentleness to, is only a despicable guy. Someone who shares the bed with men in order to rape his own heart and waste it away.

Nishikido-san does know nothing of me.

I stand up to retrieve the tokkuri** I have received as a gift yesterday. I pour the sake in my masu*** and ironically and repeatedly drink to my health.

When I find myself laying half unconsciously on my futon, my hands slip down my body, loosening the night gown.

Those eyes are painfully goading my mind. Those eyes that were in mine. That light sweet smile... so deceitful.

I do stroke myself until humiliation, until I can obtain shameful pleasure from it. The one I deny myself on daily basis with each of my clients. I am naked and shivering when nausea assaults me.

This is not what Matsumoto-san wishes for me, I think. And yet, he cannot do anything to set me free from this condition of mine. This condition of being a high rank prostitute that no one ever forced me to be. No one but me.

He cannot save me. And nobody can.