Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Exotic streets. Exotic clothing. People of different color.

The evening sun was no longer scorching as the bustling crowds passed by her. She could smell the fresh air laced with a scent of wood, which was new to the Frenchman accustomed to salty sea breeze and rain. At this moment, it was the time when businesses on both sides of the street were preparing to close the market. However, the crowds have yet to dissipate, and the lively blonde was taking her opportunity to constantly look around with her curious magenta eyes.

The Tokugawa Shogunate, which had originally implemented a lockdown policy, was forced to open its ports since the arrival of the Black Ships in 1853. With the collapse of the monolithic political system under the Shogunate, Japan finally came to the Meiji era in which Western culture was widely accepted.

Walking in the middle of the road, it was not uncommon to see "foreigners" coming to trade in this mixed market. Actually, Saijo ’s father started trading around as a businessman just after Sakoku (a foreign policy of Japan). He later met his future wife in the romantic country of France and then settled in this foreign country. As for the Japanese-French mixed daughter, Claudine Saijo—now known as "Claude Saijo"—her appearance is actually quite similar to that of ordinary Westerners, with her facial features being a little more delicate at most.

Born in a wealthy merchant family, Claudine received an elite education from her tutors at an early age. However, women are not allowed to enter institutions of higher education and hardly have the freedom to be independent in this male-dominated society. Recognizing such reality early on but unwilling to succumb to such social rules, their only daughter Claudine took off her doll-like dress at the age of ten with the support of her enlightened parents.

Then, she put on a pair of trousers and has since established herself as a male among her peers.

Born with an excellent sensitivity to mathematics and logic, the smart and hard-working girl entered one of the most prestigious university at a young age. After graduation, she then followed her father around to gain experience in business.

Based on the solid foundation laid by her father, the twenty-five-year-old "Claude Saijo" is now a well-known businessman in her field. And this time, she had come to Japan to trade in order to fulfill her childhood dream—to see her father's hometown one day.

As a well-educated Parisian, Claudine grew up with a good amount of interest in fashion. Not to mention the fact that one’s clothing tastes not only affect the perception of others, but can also be used to show your social status and financial power especially when doing business. Therefore, although she must dress as a man to hide her true identity now, this hadn’t much influenced her pursuit of fashion.

A navy three-piece suit looked extremely sharp on her, with a wide Ascot tie tied around the collar of the shirt and a black high-top hat on the head. The double-breasted vest under Claudine’s overcoat was adorned with a gold pocket chain, and under the set of blazers lie a pair of black leather shoes.

Claudine tied her milk blonde hair into a ponytail low behind her head. She even had the habit of carrying a dress cane, on which carved a silver lion's head contrasting the dark wooden body of it. But the pragmatic girl didn’t let her cane become purely decorative, instead opting for a hidden sword style that might come in handy if necessary.

Even though she was not the only heterogeneous race here, her noble-like appearance still made her stood out in the crowd.

"Saijo-sama, are there any other places that you would like to visit before returning to the inn? I'm pretty sure you've come a long way and you should be tired. If you want to take a break I can also show you back, and you can take a nap before dinner.”

The low voice pulled back her scattered attention.

The blonde merchant raised her eyebrows and looked down at her trading partner walking beside. Even as a male, the average height in this country seemed to be much shorter than that of her country, with herself alone being ten centimeters taller than the Japanese guy. However, this also made her cross-dressing even more difficult to see through—which is a good news.

Claudine lowered her tone before answering, “Hmm…since I finally arrived in my father's hometown, I sort of feel like taking a look around tonight. I wonder if Hirakawa-sama can recommend any suitable places to have some fun in? I mean, the kind of place which is exciting and allows you to experience the local atmosphere.”

"Oh, you mentioned a place to ‘have fun’?” The man's dark eyes, which were originally calm and steady, started showing a hint of playfulness. Claudine could feel that his attitude was much more relaxed than when they had talked about business a little earlier.

He laughed, "Of course, we have the number one ‘Hanamachi’ in this country, so I'm pretty sure even the well-experienced Saijo-sama can enjoy it.”

"Hana...machi? (literally ‘flower town’, or geisha district)” She repeated this strange phrase inexplicably.

Although Claudine can speak Japanese under her father's guidance, she really had no clue what this overly-uncommon word meant. Is that a street where you can dine at night and enjoy the flowers? Claudine mused.

I wonder how the flowers in Japan are different from those in Paris.

"Yes, sir. And now it’s actually the best time of day to visit. Come on, let’s go. I would like to introduce you to my favorite kashi-zashiki (brothel). Since I'm their frequent customer and you're my important guest, I'll make all the arrangements for you. No worries.”

Ka...kashi-zashiki?

One unfamiliar word came after another, and the Frenchman couldn't help but became puzzled by all these new stuff. Yet she was touched by the glowing look and passion under the man’s black eyes. As a person who likes to make friends, she is not going to turn down such kind invitation from him.

Not to mention, she actually DOES like flowers.

"I see. Thank you, Hirakawa-sama.” Claudine smiled.

"Oh, please don't be so polite. To celebrate the start of our friendship, just relax and leave the rest to me.”

***

The birds could not be seen flying in the sky tonight.

A fine drizzle of night rain stained the stone-paved ground, and a roadside gas lamp was lit, flickering a faint yellow candle light in the warm spring breeze. Claudine sat in the carriage, the shed overhead making a dripping, muffled noise as it blocked out the wet, cold rain for her. She held her chin as she stared at the people holding umbrellas and carrying lamps, trying to find a shelter to hide from this rain.

The air on rainy days always smells of mud and grass. The magenta gaze fell silently in the distance, the water on the ground reflecting the light of the lamp, pulling out trails of yellow light that would move one after another. She saw a few cherry blossoms that had just begun to bloom and withered away, unable to withstand the rain beads, and those pinkish-white petals were left to be trampled and ravaged on the ground.

Even if it is the most beautiful flower on the branch, it loses its pure ornamental value once it falls to the ground and stained with dirty dirt – how ironic. She thought.

"We've arrived at our destination, Saijo-sama.”

The sound of the wagon's wooden wheels rubbing against the ground finally came to an end. They stopped in front of the iron archway which was said to be the entrance to the "Yoshihara Red-light District," yet the rain seemed to have done nothing to dampen the throngs of people on the other side of the gate.

Considering the rainy weather, the French businessman chose to hold up a handmade oil-paper umbrella that somewhat looks odd with her Westerner’s appearance. In fact, she had always admired the traditional art of Japan. Under the lead of Hirakawa-san, they finally crossed the border between the "city" and "Hanamachi"—

At that moment, the sight that came into her eyes immediately took her breath.

"Th-this place…”

"How is it, Saijo-sama? Isn't this scenery spectacular?”

As if there was nothing strange at all, the corner of his lips turned up, forming a slightly weird look in Claudine’s eyes.

...Spectacular?

Never having seen such a place before, Claudine looked around, and she only got more and more confused as to what this so-called "Hanamachi" was all about. It's like entering a city that never sleeps and the night is so bright under the prosperity of lights.

A damp, cold wind cut across her face, and the paper-made umbrella continued to make the ticking sound of raindrops. The white thread-like drizzle had not blurred the world, instead added a hint of atmosphere. Perhaps it was indeed the most "Japanese " place she had seen so far.

Dangling lanterns. Wooden houses. Bustling Streets. The cherry blossom that had just begun to bloom under the blue light of moon.

Ahhh, how nice it could be if these are the "only" things to see.

Claudine’s eyebrows tangled more and more as the sounds of different musical instruments filled her ears along the way. Though they were very different from the music she was used to listening, most of them she could recognize as a "Shamisen", which is a traditional Japanese instrument.

Yet in this street which you can barely see through the end, inside the "cages"... Yes, the absurdity in front of her just seemed like that. Some of the cages were missing the top right corner or even the upper half, but she didn't quite understand the purpose of this.

Even though women in the same “cage” were all playing the same piece at the same pace, the women next door were playing a completely different piece. Fortunately, there was some distance away. And the footsteps and conversations covered up most of the volume, with the sound of the rain falling on the ground bringing a glimmer of peace to her mind - otherwise, Claudine couldn't imagine how disjointed the harsh noise would be.

W-Wait a minute, so does the so-called "flower" mean…

“Now it is the time for 'Yomise', so it's going to be especially lively. But don't worry, I've asked someone to inform the Yūkaku ( brothel ) I was talking about beforehand and reserved the best ‘doll’ for Saijo-sama. I'm sure she can satisfy you.”

Hirakawa-san stopped in front of one of the wooden huts, and Claudine noticed that the cage of this building was the kind with fully-covered fence.

The man smiled to her and said, "We’re finally here. Someone will come and greet you soon. As for the money it's all settled, so just lay back and have some fun! I really hope that Saijo-sama would enjoy our culture here and visit us more often in the future.”

"W-wait!”

Although Claudine had never been to “this type of place” before, there was no way for her not to figure out what kind of place this is after seeing all that. However, as a woman, Claudine Saijo only wanted to escape from all these mess.

Gee…why is all these happening?

She thought desperately. And then, after recalling her male identity and the conversation that was definitely misunderstood earlier... Are all men in Japan that light-minded? I just wanted to experience the local culture!

"Hmm, are there any other things I can help you with?”

"Ah, no... Thank you very much, Hirakawa-sama.”

Damn the reflexive answer, this time there is really no way to get away. Not to mention that refusing someone’s goodwill is like embarrassing the other. For the sake of future cooperation, there is no choice other than saying “yes”.

"Great. Then I will bid you farewell and wish you a pleasant evening.”

What? He even wanted to leave me alone?!

"Um, aren't you coming with me?”

"What…? Oh…I'm sorry, I didn’t know that Saijo-sama have such kind of preference. Maybe the others are fine with it, but 'that woman' is definitely not. If necessary, perhaps I can make another arrangement for you tomorrow...”

H-huh? So what’s my “preference” now then? What the hell are Japanese men thinking?!

"Wait, t-that's not true, I didn't mean it like that!”

Desperately thinking that the gap between their thoughts were only enlarging after all these conversations, the French merchant finally decided not to increase the strange impression of herself and surrendered.

Anyways...I’ll just avoid “doing anything” tonight. Staying there one night can’t do any harm. Well, hopefully not.

She calmed down and answered, "I’ll see you tomorrow then, Hirakawa-sama. Have a good night.”

“See you tomorrow.”

***

After entering the building, it seemed that she had been introduced by an important customer, and the people in Yūkaku all greeted her warmly. They sent a young girl of about 14 or 15 years old to guide her up to the second floor. Unlike what was originally expected, not only were there adult women in the building, but also teenage girls and even girls under the age of ten. Some men were also working as managers or handymen here.

And at this moment, shortly after the opening tonight, the ensuing guests were taken away by women with heavily-waxed hairstyle wearing large hairpins made of gemstone. Claudine only felt that her presence was extremely abrupt. If it was her who was still adrift at sea a week ago, it would absolutely be impossible for her to imagine that one day she will visit a brothel just like a man.

N-no…! I’m only here to take a look. I'm not doing anything. No way!

Wouldn't it be nice to simply enjoy the flowers and a decent meal? Why on earth did it evolve like this...Claudine sighed.

"This is the room.”

The teenage girl's graceful voice called the merchant's consciousness back. Magenta blinked and looked towards the thin layer of paper door in front of her. Being innocent and inexperienced, she couldn't imagine what a space would be behind it. Somewhat nervous, Saijo replied, "Well, thank you.”

The girl then pulled the door open and said politely, "Please enjoy.”

At the moment the door was pulled open, there was actually no reaction from the French.

Until she stepped into the room and the door behind her was completely shut again, she couldn’t but face the situation in front of her—

Only then was her gaze immediately caught by the scenery in front of her, so overwhelming that she almost forgot to breathe.

It was a dusky yellow space colored with bright hues. The tatami mats were reminiscent of gold, and together with the scarlet-painted walls, they created an opulent atmosphere. On the innermost side stood a glittering gold accordion screen with several unrecognized flowers on it, and at the lower end was a white swan with wings spread, expecting to fly.

However, before she was able to study the decorations in the room, she noticed the brunette who was sitting by the window.

Hum, is she the famous “Oiran (highest-ranking courtesan)” that Hirakawa-san kept on talking about? The French businessman pondered as her magenta-red gaze fell on the woman—

Then she was completely out of breath again, not knowing how to describe this beauty who seemed to come from some artwork or fairy tale.

The high, clean moonlight was like a thin veil over the woman, and she felt as if the brunette didn't belong here, with a sense of translucency that would dissipate at any moment. Her long hair was pinned up in blonde hairpins with elaborate decorations, and the loose collar of the dress was deliberately draped back to reveal the smooth ceramic skin of the neck and back. A sumptuous kimono shimmered softly under the dim light, and the colorful floral patterns above are cleverly matched, highlighting her outstanding beauty.

As a professional merchant, Claudine could tell that the silk was precious and even had gold threads mixed into the stitching. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her that she would look at a woman in such way and even zoned out for a few seconds.

Time seemed to be paused in this space.

As if she was still unaware of Claudine’s existence, the Oiran continued to stare calmly out of the window holding her cheeks. Claudine couldn't read the woman's expression and didn’t understand what’s so interesting outside, yet she didn't make a sound to break the ice between them.

The Frenchman watched as the Kiseru (Japanese smoking pipe) faintly burned at the tips of her slender fingers. The woman brought it to her lips and took a sip, the miserable white smoke suddenly filled the air and then gradually dissipated.

Well, the light scent of it was actually pretty good, Claudine thought. She usually likes to smoke a pipe when she's relaxing, but it doesn't seem like a bad idea to buy a Kiseru and give it a try. Perhaps it can even be a nice merchandise afterwards.

The silence that didn't seem to end just spread between the two. Claudine almost forgot when she randomly found an empty seat and sat down, freeing her mind to focus on admiring the woman in front of her.

As a French she actually enjoys art, too. When she was in Paris, she used to visit the Louvre by the Seine to enjoy the cleansing and peace of mind. She never was in a hurry while visiting an art gallery, and it didn’t matter how many works she saw or didn’t see in a day. After leaving, she would stroll along the riverbank, letting the warm sun and the light breeze that smells of grass softly brush on her face. Next, she might go for a walk in a bustling bazaar, or even pick a concert to enjoy her night in.

In order to stay on the top in a highly-competitive environment, she understands that it is always necessary to adjust her mood and remain at her best state.

Such wordlessness between them continued until the sliding door opened once again.

A man brought inside a square-shaped low table with meal on it. It smelled delicious; however, he seemed to look at the blonde sitting far away by the door with some confusion, and politely asked, "May I leave this inside, Saijo-sama?" before setting the table a little closer to the Oiran.

“This is the best of our dishes.” The man said so, and told Claudine that if the Sake (rice wine) was not enough she could always order more.

“Enjoy.” He said right before leaving.

After the man left, Claudine finally got up and sat down on a cushion in front of the low table. The closer she got to the inside of the room, the more she could smell a light floral scent, and she liked it.

Faced with a table full of food, the French, who had forgotten hunger a while ago immediately became hungry, especially with the exotic cuisine which she had always been looking forward to. However, as a “gentleman” who always pays attention to table manners, she found it strange to just start eating like this.

After hesitating for a while, she asked politely, “Would you like to eat with me?”

No response.

"I (Ore) am Claude Saijo. May I know your name, please?”

Chapter Text

The bleak night rain. Shady evening breeze. Petals on the ground.

…And crowds walking all around.

The sound of rain was sprinkling outside, and air was damp and stuffy. The brunette sat by window overlooking the street beneath. Despite being tired of these same old sights, she still managed to continue this meaningless habit day by day. She lit her kiseru and let her thoughts rise and dissipate as she exhaled the clouds, hoping that such a time would last forever -- a time that belonged to "herself".

But the world was ruthless.

At the end of the day, when the opening of business was announced with Misesugagaki and the whole street started playing that unsynchronized Shamisen, she was forced back into the reality.

How nice it would be to rise freely like smoke in the hand, even if it couldn’t but vanish in the end? The Oiran thought.

-Therefore, she likes to smoke.

Click.

The paper door was pulled open. It was said that there’s going to be an important guest tonight. But so what?

The high-minded Oiran never bothered to please her guest, and despite not doing so, countless men were still flattering her anyways. But ironically, this pride wouldn’t last for long. As the night darkened and the gorgeous kimono that wrapped around her body was removed - she couldn’t but succumb to the reality.

Over time, the broken heart had long been cold. She quietly locked herself deep in the highest place, feeling nothing and reluctant to think.

But strangely enough, this guest came in today and didn't say a word. Judging by the noise, he only seemed to sit down from a distance, with no intention of approaching her at all. The Oiran, who had always spoken only when others took the initiative to talk, raised her eyebrows, but she wasn't that interested either. It wouldn't be long before the man crawl into her bed and ravage her broken dignity beneath his body again.

Humph.

The woman brought the pipe close to her lips and took a drag then slowly exhaled. She looked into the sky, with her purple eyes staring at the penetrating moonlight through those obscure cloud. At least for now, she still wanted to pretend that this moment belonged to her.

But the world remained ruthless.

After the man delivering the meal left, she heard her guest stood up and walked with gentle footsteps towards the low table not far from her. Then he finally spoke, the voice was not that masculine, but slightly elegant and refined.

"Would you like to eat with me?””

After a short pause, he added, "I'm Claude Saijo. May I know your name, please?”

Her time of freedom had now ended.

As the chief Oiran of "Tsuruhaya", she still took pride in the fact that she is a professional regarding her “work”. Lifting the pipe away from her mouth, the woman slowly turned around, every movement with such grace and ease.

However, when she met the magenta gaze which looked just like a pair of peonies in full bloom, she believed she had widened her eyes for a second.

A foreigner...?

Indeed, even though "Saijo" sounded like a Japanese last name, "Claude" is nowhere close to a Japanese name. Coupled with that conspicuous milk blonde hair, westerner’s facial features, and the three-piece suit...although uncommon, it wasn’t like she hadn’t met any foreign guests before.

But surprisingly, the foreigner's Japanese barely had any accent.

"My name is Maya, Saijo-sama.”

She said in a nonchalant manner. Then she got up and slowly sat in front of the Frenchman.

"Ma…ya? Umm, may I also know your last name, please?”

"...”

"Yes?” He asked.

"Every person living here had already abandoned their past. Therefore, we do not have a family name.”

The woman said calmly, unable to hide the bitter smile that rose from the corners of her mouth. She was born in a privileged family, but so what? Even if she was that “Tendo” Maya, isn't she still confined to this “cage” on Hanamachi, playing the role of an entertainer today?

"Well...I don't quite understand the rules here. So I apologize if what I said was rude.” Saijo bowed humbly.

Facing the polite blond youth, Maya must admit that her first impression on him wasn’t too bad. She put on a business smile and said softly, "Please don't worry about it. By the way, it shall be difficult to dine with your coat on. Mind if I hang it for you?”

"Oh, sure! And my hat and cane, too.”

"No problem.”

Back at the seat, Maya finally started to observe this evening's guest.

Although she was never really interested in her guest, some basic knowledge of this guy is essential since they have to spend a night together. Otherwise, it would be troublesome if she forgets him the next time he visits. Based on her experience, she could tell that this man should be somewhere in his mid-20s, making him slightly older than herself.

She saw the blond rolled up the cuffs of his shirt to elbow height after relieving from his formal suit. It seemed that he couldn’t wait to start eating, but he was staring at the table with a slight look of confusion.

"Umm…aren’t you joining me, Maya-san? This looks like a lot, but how come there's only one pair of chopsticks...?”

"Well...” Maya thought the answer was obvious. People rarely asked about this, but she still dutifully replied, "I've already had my meal a little while ago, so please don’t worry about me, Saijo-sama. Or, do you prefer to be served by me?”

With a smile, Maya laughed at herself for being used to doing so in her mind, "Maybe you can sit by my side.”

She understood that no man would turn down an invitation from an Oiran – there “shouldn’t” be any.

"Eh? Oh, no, I-I’m alright. It's not convenient to dine on the same side with such a small table, right? Not to mention I can use chopsticks too, so no worries!”

It's only then that Claudine finally recalled "where" she is. There hadn't been such an atmosphere since her arrival so she almost forgot about it. The only thing that grabbed her attention earlier was the brunette’s stunning beauty and nothing else.

Maya, being rejected unexpectedly, was totally stunned. She never thought that a foreigner who came to a brothel could be so conservative, "I see. Then, may I pour you some wine?”

"Ah, I'm on it. But do you mind drinking with me, Maya-san? Wine is more delicious when you drink it together.” Claudine remembered that whether it was a meal with family, a gathering with friends, or a celebration with her crew, a bottle of red wine was never missing from the table.

"Of course.” The Oiran had seen a lot of guests who like to drink and flirt before going to bed. Sometimes, it’s actually not a bad idea to numb herself with some alcohol.

"Great!”

The French merchant poured some sake into Maya's sakazuki. While it wasn’t her first time seeing these flat, wide-mouth cups, she had never used them before.

Just as she was about to pour some sake into her own sakazuki, the brunette quietly took the bottle, "Let me pour it for you, Saijo-sama. It's an etiquette in Japan.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for telling me.” The Frenchman raised the sakazuki with a smile, "Cheers!”

And then drank everything in one gulp.

On the other hand, the elegant Oiran lifted her cup close to her lips, holding the bottom with one hand and the rim with the other. She took a sip, savoring the taste of fine Japanese sake.

During the meal, the weird guest enthusiastically talked about his stories. She learned that the blond came from a merchant family, used to live in Paris, and is a half-French half-Japanese. This trip to Japan was for business, and he would be staying around for a while.

Most of the time, Maya would only listen to her guest quietly and comment once in a while. She had no interest in those boring daily chores, life complaints, flirting, or self-bragging. However, perhaps it was the young Frenchman's witty and humorous talk, which sounded just like a story, that had aroused her interest.

From those stories, she could imagine the days at sea, what he saw and heard while traveling around the countries, and the romantic riverbank of the Seine in France. Unknowingly, they finished two bottles of sake. It was not until the handy man came in with a third bottle on a sakazukidai and helped them remove the short table that Maya finally felt a little tipsy.

Now it's time to return to the "reality".

She stared coldly as the handy man made the bed in a vacated spot and bowed respectfully, wishing them a good night before shutting the paper door again. The Oiran understood that until next morning, no one else would come into this room unless the customer requested it.

After all, she could only look up and search for the clear magenta of the Frenchman. However...

Um...Maya wondered if it was just an illusion, or if the blond was really sitting a little further away than he used to be.

"Excuse me..Saijo-sama?” She asked puzzled.

"Ah, w-well, it's still early..." Magenta wandered around the room but refused to look into her eyes. A few seconds later his eyes suddenly lit up with excitement and asked, "I suppose Maya-san can play some instruments? Do you mind playing a few pieces for me?”

The Frenchman was pointing at the place where her Koto and Nagauta Shamisen were placed.

Despite the confusion, occasionally there would be guests who were not so anxious and appreciate art. Perhaps these instruments may seem unique to the exotic merchant who just came here for the first time?

At least, she got to do something she likes, even if she understood that her performances were just another way of flirting to her guests, "I would love to. Which piece do you prefer? Saijo-sama.”

"Well…I'm not too familiar with your instruments, to be honest. So maybe you could pick a piece for me? I like Shamisen’s unique tone, even though it was my first time listening to it during today's 'Yomise'.”

"Oh. Sure, please allow me a few minutes.”

Maya stood up and took her shamisen and plectrum, kneeling in front of the Frenchman. As the headliner of Tsuruhaya, her shamisen was made of prime mahogany and the plectrum was made of top-notch ivory.

Before starting her performance, the Oiran slowly closed her amethyst eyes and took a deep breath. When she re-opened her eyes, not even the slightest hint of tenderness could be seen in her gaze. Instead, she was surrounded by that aura and pride which only belongs to a king.

She spoke in an extremely calm voice.

"Please enjoy.”

Chapter Text

The Oiran's gaze had changed.

Claudine quickly noticed this after the brunette had picked up the instrument.

Honestly, she was quite fond of those beautiful purple eyes, as they reminded her of the lavender fields she had seen with her family in Provence. However, the initial impression of those eyes was too cold for someone of her age. Despite her career as a merchant taught her how to read people's emotions, Claudine still find the Oiran’s thoughts inscrutable.

The second impression emerged during the meal when Claudine noticed that whenever she spoke about her adventures on the sea, a faint glint will appear in the dim amethyst eyes. She continued to gauge the reaction, sharing tales she thought the Oiran might enjoy, hoping to glimpse more warmth in those eyes. However, as the meal concluded, the brief light that had finally appeared in the purple pupils abruptly faded.

Then came the third impression, at this moment—

Claudine could read the pride and dignity of an "Oiran" in the woman's eyes.

The performance began.

Finally, there was a moment to lay back and savor the music. The French merchant crossed her legs, poured some sake into her sakazuki and relished it. She observed the Oiran cradling a somewhat unusual instrument, with her right hand holding a sizable ivory plectrum. The instrument – “Shamisen” - had a notably long neck with only three strings at the top, and its white soundbox was an uncommon square shape.

Although the ambient sounds of Yomise continued outside the window just before the performance began, Claudine felt as though she was transported into another realm, enveloped by a unique Oriental atmosphere the very moment Oiran strummed with her ivory bachi. It was an unusual experience; closing her eyes, she felt as though she was traversing the fantastical world of "dreams."

On a starless night, blue and white moonlight suddenly illuminated the surroundings, revealing a huge pine tree beside her. Claudine couldn't recall when the surrounding cherry blossoms had bloomed. A breeze stirred, lifting pink petals into the air like falling snow. The light-hearted melody was like a love song. As the emotions intensified, the shamisen’s rhythm also became more vigorous, as if inviting her to dance and sing freely under the cherry blossoms at the festival that belonged only to them.

— However, the joy came to an abrupt halt at its climax.

The music's tempo transitioned, first from fast to slow, then to a standstill. The rhythm then picked up again. By the time Claudine realized, she was no longer amidst the cherry blossoms. The scene shifted to a long, dimly lit street where she saw one cold cage lined up after another. The anxious tones of the Nagauta Shamisen, seemingly desperate to escape, became more urgent yet found no way out.

Finally, a cold pine breeze ( Matsukaze ) mercilessly swept away the remaining petals from the withering cherry blossom tree. As she came back to her senses, the dream had awakened, and the world returned to the lonely darkness of the night - marking the end of the Oiran's performance.

It was so impressive that Claudine even forgot to savor her sake throughout.

Aware that applause was customary at the end of a performance, she found herself immobilized by the overwhelming experience. As a connoisseur of music, she had attended countless performances in prestigious concert halls, churches, restaurants, and even on exotic streets. While many showcased remarkable talent, this was the first time she had been profoundly moved.

It was as if the performer was pouring her own life into the story she told through her music.

"Was the performance just now to your satisfaction, Saijo-sama?"

With no immediate response from her, the Oiran inquired with a gentle smile, moving on from the music's lingering echo.

Despite having a multitude of thoughts she wished to express, Claudine found herself speechless, unable to formulate her emotions into words. After several failed attempts to speak, she managed only to say, "It was beautiful, perhaps the most moving performance I’ve ever witnessed."

"I am honored to receive such generous praise from you," the Oiran replied. Her tone was measured, possibly perceiving the exaggerated compliment as mere courtesy.

"I'm sincere in my words. To lie about art would be sacrilege. However, I'm intrigued by the story behind the piece you just played."

"If I were to tell you, it's nothing more than a naive story that plays out every day in Yoshiwara." the Oiran said, her cold amethyst eyes devoid of emotion. Yet she added, chuckling, "But if Saijo-sama has the opportunity to visit a Kabuki theater during your stay in our country, you might see the full story."

"And the name of this play would be?"

"Sometimes, don't you find it more interesting to stumble upon things by chance rather than searching for them?" the Oiran suggested with a smile.

Seeing that she has no intention of answering, Claudine decided to shift the conversation: "By the way, I was wondering if Maya-san has ever listened to Western music?"

"Hmm...? Only a few times in my early years, not at all since coming here."

"I see. From your performance, I noticed that the shamisen doesn't confine itself to the fixed twelve scales we're accustomed to in the West, instead offering endless possibilities. It's just like the sounds of nature, which is fascinating."

The French, nurtured in music from a young age, shared her thoughts straightforwardly, but unexpectedly sparked a hint of interest in the Oiran: "Indeed. Do you play an instrument yourself, Saijo-sama?"

"Of course! Unfortunately, I haven’t brought any with me today. Maybe I can play something for you next time?"

"Ah..." Next time? Was another visit already being considered?

The Oiran smiled bitterly, but didn't deny her genuine interest as a music lover. After all, she seldom had the chance to enjoy foreign music since trapped in Yoshiwara: "Then, I shall look forward to it."

"Perfect! By the way, could you possibly play a few more pieces? I'm eager to hear more, Maya-san." The French's interest in traditional Japanese music drove her desire to make the most of this precious opportunity.

"Huh?"

Anticipating it was time to “go to bed” for the night, the radiant magenta eyes however showed no sign of it. Despite her confusion, the Oiran professionally responded, "Certainly, what would you like to hear next?"

"The choice is yours."

***

The intimate concert with only one audience lasted till midnight.

During this time, they occasionally talked, most of the time she was just focused on playing her shamisen. It had been a long time since she encountered someone who appreciated her music so genuinely. Even though they would soon share a more intimate encounter, she hoped that at least for now, those clear magenta eyes would continue to watch her perform without any ulterior motives.

Since when had the simple act of being appreciated become such a luxury for her?

However, as the night wore on and time slipped away, the performance had to come to an end. The earlier vibrancy outside had quieted, and the music within the vivid red room also ceased. Once all distractions faded away - those lascivious sounds and pleasured moans from the other side of the thin walls became unmistakable.

Ah, right, this was her "reality."

After storing the instrument, Maya turned off all the lights, allowing the cold moonlight to seep through the window, casting a faint glow. When she sat back down in front of the blond young man, she had adopted her professional, seductive smile.

As the "Oiran" of Tsuruhaya, professionalism in her work was her remaining source of pride. The brunette sat silently , the room's atmosphere charged by the sounds from surrounding quarters. She smiled bitterly to herself but still leaned forward, quietly reaching out to touch his face. Close up, his delicately handsome features had a touch of androgyny.

"—'Claude'-sama."

She whispered, her voice barely above a breath. The room was filled with the sound of their quiet breathing as the oiran quietly awaited his touch in return.

Yet, before her fingertips could even brush against the Frenchman's face, he recoiled, eyes wide in alarm, retreating across the tatami as if spooked.

Confused by the turn of events, the Oiran couldn't help but frown and stare at the distant blond guest.

"Um, may I ask..."

"I-It's getting quite late, Maya-san, and you must be tired from playing the instrument all night. You should rest early!" He said, peony-colored eyes filled with wary, as if bracing for an ambush.

This was the first time for Maya, in her years of service, to face such a rejection. She was utterly perplexed: "Aren't you, Saijo-sama, weary from your travels and in need of rest in bed?"

"In bed... N-no, just a pillow for me, please." He persisted in his refusal.

Maya had never encountered a client who maintained their pretense to this extent. Ah, could it be...

After a moment's thought, she decided to ask directly: "Um… are you really aware of what kind of place this is, Saijo-sama?"

"Eh?"

"To put it plainly, even if you wanted to 'embrace' me, I wouldn't refuse." The Oiran spoke without emotion, as if merely stating a fact unrelated to herself.

"I...I can somewhat tell, but I don't have such intentions..."

"Then why..."

"Having heard your performance tonight, Maya-san, I am content. So let's rest now, shall we? "

The sincerity in the Frenchman's tone led Maya to ponder if this was truly his genuine feeling. In the illusory world of Yoshiwara's Hanamachi, could someone trustworthy really exist? She wasn't certain.

Despite her confusion, her obligation was fulfilled, and there was no longer a need to linger on the matter. Maya felt a sense of pity for herself, for being so deeply ingrained in the ways of the Hanamachi.

Even if she tried to isolate herself, fantasizing about being the free white smoke rising from her kiseru - she was still like those cherry blossoms fallen in the drizzle, covered in mud.

With a sigh, Maya spoke softly, "I understand. But as a valued guest, it wouldn't be right for you to sleep on the floor..."

"Oh, it's fine, really..."

"Please, get into the bed?" Maya insisted, moving towards the bed to adjust one of the pillows to the side. Then, she curled up at the edge of the bed, covering herself with only a small part of the blanket, and reassured, "I won't touch you."

"Ah..."

"Or perhaps, you think someone who works in this kind of place isn't 'clean' enough to share a bed with?" She asked coldly.

"What? No!"

Hearing this, the Frenchman reacted strongly, almost immediately approached the bed and spoke in a displeased tone to refute her assumption: "Please don't demean yourself or my personality like this, Maya-san. I’ve never viewed you in such a way, and I sincerely admire you for your talent."

He paused before adding, “I don’t know how you see yourself or how others view you. But for me, I could never consider someone who works earnestly as 'unclean'. I respect your dedication and professionalism... honestly, I admire you. So, please, never belittle yourself in front of me again - I don’t like that."

A heavy silence followed his words, the Frenchman then burrowed himself into the blanket. He curled up on the far side, back turned to her, and fell silent.

"Bonne nuit."

It took a while before the young man said something in a language Maya couldn't understand.

And Maya Tendo couldn't hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes.

Chapter Text

The chill of pre-dawn still hung sharply in the air.

In the dim hours before daylight, even a room steeped in sensuality and longing was tempered by the soft blue wash of moonlight that spilled through the windows. As Tsuruhaya lay enveloped in sleep's embrace, there was little noise around, the rain had ceased, and all was silent. The only sound was the soft snoring of the blond youth beside her, his back turned, the rhythm of his breath indicating deep sleep. Awakening from the edges of sleep, Maya's thoughts drifed over the evening's events, her sense of reality slightly skewed.

A light sleeper by nature, Maya had seldom found rest easy when accompanied, her nights beside clients far from restful. It was yūjo’s unwritten rule to not fall asleep before a client or linger in bed after their awakening, leading her to moments like these - awake prematurely, gazing listlessly at the ceiling with half-open eyes.

In these early hours, she preferred not to dwell on deep thoughts or to cast a glance at the person sleeping beside her. To Maya, every 'client' blended into a singular category, distinguished only by subtle feelings of disgust or indifference. Typically, she would leave the bed before their awakening, attending to the remnants of last night’s fervor alone, wanting to erase any imprint of 'another'. Typically, she would redress in her clothes tidied from the night before, maintaining the facade that nothing had happened, that she remained the unattainable and beautiful oiran. Typically —

But today, something felt different.

Amethyst hues settled quietly upon the softly shimmering golden strands in darkness. Maya brushed her eyelids with her fingertips, releasing a sigh of relief upon finding them unswollen. Her pride wouldn't allow tears, the memory of her last now distant and faded. Yet, confronted with those forthright, torch-bright eyes, she found her composure wavering.

Moving cautiously, Maya slipped from the covers, ensuring not to disturb the youth beside her. She made her way to the window and sat quietly on the sill. Unwilling to let the early morning air be tainted with tobacco for the other, she made the rare choice of refraining from lighting a kiseru. She gazed out in silence, allowing her mind to drift into a void. In these endless days, the oiran had long learned how to while away time in such a manner. In fact, she cherished such peacefulness — awake alone in the hanamachi lent her a fleeting sense of ownership over the moment.

Time blurred until she saw the night outside the window finally tinged with a faint light, a grey mist covering the earth, softening the familiar streets and houses. She heard the birds start to chirp, the air filled with the scent of damp earth after the rain. Then the sky’s canvas brightened, a strip of the distant horizon faintly glowing red-orange, spreading a changing, splendid color across the navy sky.

Maya, for the first time in what felt like ages, observed the breaking dawn and thought of 'beauty,' not the end of one nightmare and the start of another.

― All the while knowing such beauty was but a fleeting whisper.

Soon, the world was once again shrouded in the misty morning fog.

***

In the pre-dawn hours, Yoshiwara bustled with travelers who had yet returned and a few yūjos seeing off their guests.

Claudine, after bidding farewell to the oiran, chose not to request an escort. Instead, she casually chose a teahouse for breakfast before leaving. Bathed in the soft embrace of morning sun, she enjoyed the warmth of spring breeze against her skin, finding the early "hanamachi" far more comfortable than at night. Gone were the peculiar cages confining women, the jarring twangs of shamisen, and most importantly, the lurid noises that seeped through the thin paper doors and nearly kept her from sleeping.

Upon reflection, the events of the previous night felt like a dream. She had ended up in a place she never thought to visit, yet it was there she experienced a performance that deeply resonated with her. The piece, simple in composition and devoid of any ostentation by the oiran, was executed with a raw talent and an unmistakable passion for music. Recalling those beautiful lavender eyes, Claudine found herself lost in thought again.

I wonder how long it will be until cherry blossoms reach full bloom?

She gazed upwards at the budding branches and pondered.

The salty breeze was familiar to her. This morning, Claudine initially planned to return to her inn for a bath and change before her next appointment. However, on a whim, she found herself aboard her docked ship, sifting through her extensive cargo for a specific item.

"Aha, here it is!"

She pulled a finely crafted wooden box from a crate, verified its contents, and securely closed it with a peace of mind.

"Good morning, Saijo-sama. May I ask what you were looking for so early?"

"Hirakawa-sama, what brings you here?"

"My apologies if I'm intruding. I visited your inn earlier to check on you, given it was your first night in our country. I became worried when they said you hadn't returned, then I happened to meet members of your crew who mentioned you were here, so I thought I'd come see how you were doing. "

"I see, sorry to have worried you. I just came to pick something up and was about to return."

"No rush, there’s still time before your meeting with Mitsui-sama. Take it easy. But speaking of which…"

The man's initial formality eased a bit as he sported a playful grin and inquired, "I wonder if you had a 'pleasant' evening, Saijo-sama?"

The hint was clear in his words. The blonde merchant could understand the implication easily.

She responded evasively, "Well... it was quite enjoyable, thanks to your recommendation. Actually, this is meant as a gift for her tonight."

"Planning to visit two nights in a row? You truly are full of life, Saijo-sama. I wasn't mistaken about you from the appearance."

"W-what..."

Ah…perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say. Claudine had never intended to project an image of herself as a frequent visitor to brothels.

And what's with "from the appearance"? Is it wrong to be born with a foreign face? Even presenting as a male, being commended by another man for her vitality didn't sit well with Claudine, a young lady at heart.

Nevertheless, she maintained her composure and replied with a smile, "Not at all. She's simply someone I can't stop thinking about."

She wants to listen to Maya-san’s shamisen again — that is her true desire.

“I've heard from other frequents that 'that lady,' despite appearing distant, is unmatched once you embrace her. She might look refined and demure, but she's passionate in bed, her skills surpassing everyone else’s. No wonder she rose to the rank of oiran faster than anyone else in the past decade, she must have had her share of experiences," the man commented.

"..." Claudine's golden brows furrowed at these words.

"The more a woman seems beyond reach, the more satisfying it is to 'conquer' her, right? Though truth be told, if one wishes to share her bed, it's usually just a matter of money. Saijo-sama, isn’t it —"

"Ahem." Unable to bear the conversation any longer, Claudine interrupted the man.

Living in a patriarchal society, she had grown accustomed to these people treating women as 'objects' or 'trophies' to brag about. Whether it's about how many women they've been with, how virile they were at night, or even detailed descriptions of their women spreading their legs in bed, begging for entry, they would blurt it out without hesitation.

Perhaps for them, the privacy of women wasn't a matter worth considering or respecting. What mattered more was how they built an admirable image among their peers. This wasn't entirely on them, though; such has been the societal norm. Claudine, too, had her share of fabricating stories to engage in such conversations.

However, for some reason, Claudine found the memory of the woman's icy gaze and her self-deprecating remarks before sleep made it impossible for her to listen further. Despite knowing it was part of the life of an 'oiran,' she found it unbearable.

It was then the French merchant realized — not everyone looked at Maya-san's talents with the same appreciation she did.

What does Maya-san herself think about all this?

Claudine's hold on the box firmed, her voice light, "Oh, Hirakawa-sama, that's not very thoughtful of you. Discussing the intimacies of a woman I admire with other men... well, that seems a bit..."

"Ah, my sincerest apologies! I got carried away." It dawned on Hirakawa that his comment was out of line, quickly offering an earnest apology. "I've long heard about her but never experienced it myself, so I got curious. I meant no offense! I hope for your understanding."

"Don't mention it. Without your introduction, I wouldn't have had the chance to meet her, for which I'm grateful." She paused, then added, "But last night, you mentioned you were a regular there..."

"Ha, worry not, my interest lies elsewhere! Would I really introduce my own lady to you?" he laughed.

"Indeed, that's reassuring."

"You seem rather possessive, Saijo-sama, and I respect that! But she's a tough one to pursue, I've heard she's turned down multiple offers to buy out her contract. I can't understand why she'd prefer that life over being a carefree lady of high status."

"Huh? Is that so..." Claudine pondered.

Her mind wandered back to their initial meeting, the oiran’s elegant silhouette smoking by the window. What kind of world did those violet eyes reflect?

Was it a choice to stay because she had given up on hope?

Or was it holding onto hope that made her choose to stay?

***

Red lanterns swung in the fading twilight, pushed by the breeze.

The earlier deserted streets gradually filled with people, their shadows stretching long behind them, nearly eclipsing the last bits of light on the ground. Atop second floor, the woman leaned towards the window, drawing a breath from her kiseru, holding it in before slowly exhaling. Through the haze, she watched nonchalantly at the distant sunset ablaze in reds, somehow reminding her of the passionate gaze that met hers the previous night.

...Hmph. For a flicker of hope that surfaced in her heart, Maya couldn't help but let out a bitter smile.

Truth be told, she remained puzzled over the French merchant's visit the previous evening. Meeting her came at a significant cost, yet he sought nothing else beyond a request to hear the shamisen. She had seen all sorts of clients over the years, but Claude Saijo was perhaps the most baffling.

Could it be... that he just happened to stumble in, or was referred by locals? Maya pondered.

If that was the case, a reunion seemed unlikely. Despite his hints at returning, everyone knew that 'promises' meant little in the hanamachi. People come and go all the time - Maya understood this all too well.

Taking another drag of her kiseru, she let the tobacco scent wrap around her. It wasn't a big deal for her; life had always been this way, and she was merely returning to such ‘routines’.

As the Yomise recommenced and the last ray of sun was erased by the night, her dim violet gaze swept over the teeming streets below with a cool detachment, almost as if dismissing the chaotic world beneath her. But this didn't elevate her; she was, after all, just another part of the hanamachi.

Whose bed would she find herself in come morning?

Creak.

The paper door behind her slid open again. The proud oiran arched an eyebrow and looked up silently into the mingling smoke. The kiseru continued to burn in her hand, nearly spent, yet the expected conversation didn't ensue. She heard the visitor settle by the door without a hint of breaking the silence.

This eerily familiar sensation... could it really be...

She drew the paper blind at the window, driven by a faint glimmer of hope to turn around. Her breath hitched as her amethyst gaze met those of peony in bloom. Then she quickly averted her gaze, softly calling out with a voice tinged with bewilderment:

"Saijo... sama?"