Chapter Text
1949, Gion
Tobio can still remember what the streets of Kyoto looked like before the war: Their roads were smooth, and many a great buildings, like the theatre, stood proud to show everyone that the district of Gion was more than just sin and promiscuity. Nijo castle was built at the highest mountain, overlooking most of everything. The fly market was the greatest place to find fresh catch. It was a long ways away from the okiya, but Tobio never found it a bother, not when he had a mother’s hand to hold the entire time. There was also the great Yasaka temple, just a few minutes south of their okiya, where his family used to visit every Christmas, asking the gods for happiness and luck.
Spending a majority of his time in a geisha house, Tobio had been surrounded by beautiful women who, in the morning, would play with him in the gardens, and in the evening, became geisha, leaving bright, red kiss marks on his forehead when they left for work. The Kageyama okiya was the most well-known back then. They had three very famous geisha— one being Tobio's oldest sister, Miwa, and one maiko growing in popularity— Tobio’s other sister, Kiyoko.
Kiyoko taught him everything she learned in geisha school as she trained. It was because of her Tobio learned how to properly serve tea (much to their Mother’s delight), and how to play the shamisen (which the geisha of the okiya loved to listen him play when they weren’t on the job). Tobio was close to one geisha in particular: Saeko. She would always lounge about in his room when she wasn’t out training and doing errands, sitting like a man and eating her own weight, laughing so loudly it almost seemed she was never trained to hide her grin behind her hand fan. She also taught him a few dances— well, it was more her practicing for upcoming performances, he knew, but being always in the okiya, and never getting the chance to be in a school, everything is learning to him.
Saeko was the opposite of what a geisha should be: A geisha is expected to be petite and shy, or singing softly than in the out of tune way she does shen she’s cooking up a meal. But whenever Mother would get a call asking for Saeko to host a banquet, she was a changed woman, beautiful as she brushes rogue onto her lips and walks out the door with the grace of a full-fledged geisha.
Tobio missed her dearly, ever since she left when he was eight, her bags filled to the brim as were her eyes with tears as she hugged him, Miwa, Kiyoko, and okaa one last time, and held the hand of her danna, never to be seen again.
Tobio was now twenty-three, Kiyoko twenty-five, their mother and father long gone from their lives. Miwa had been assumed dead, body unrecovered, and that was enough closure for both him and Kiyoko to continue living. Tobio managed the okiya until his fingers go numb from writing every yen spent, until every bone in his body ached, and until the memory of his lost family members locked themselves in the confines of his mind. He learned how to dress the girls into their kimonos, how to perfect their make-up, all the while keeping the okiya running and business booming. Kiyoko was now a geisha, the most famous one before and after the World War. The okiya’s former geisha and apprentices had fled to the pleasure districts, being practical when money was scarce, as the streets of these districts were swarmed with American soldiers willing to pay. Geisha was, back when the country was first invaded by the foreigners, overpowered by the yuujo, and Tobio feared the worse for the business, their only source of income. But the gods were good, and as Japanese men and American men settled down and became comrades, the Japanese culture fascinated the foreigners, and geisha were highly of demand.
It had been hard at first, after that, as Kiyoko was the only geisha the okiya had with Miwa gone, but with the increase of demands, and the need of families to get by, some sold their daughters to the still-standing okiyas in the hanamachi. Tobio was meticulous, though, and out of the twenty or so he was offered, he only chose one: A girl named Hitoka from a village way too far away from Gion, who was frightened to death at the prospect of being left behind in a place she had no knowledge of. Kiyoko—bless her, was there to be the source of the girl's comfort, and it didn’t take long for Hitoka to find her bearings. She was now a mizuage away from being a geisha herself, and with Hinata, and other maids to help around the house, Tobio was nothing but absolutely grateful.
“Yamayama-kun.” Hinata whined, plucking childishly at the taut strings of the instrument in his arms, “I can’t get the hang of it! You suck at explaining!”
Teaching Hinata the shamisen was hard, what with the smaller's fingers being unaccustomed to being dexterous. He wasn’t supposed to be teaching in the first place; Hinata barged into the room while Tobio was tuning the instrument and demanded he be taught. Which, obviously wasn’t going really well.
“Oi. Is this the thanks I get for giving you a roof under you and your sister’s head?”
“I never asked for your help!”
This…this complete stranger had a death grip on his forearm, Natsu hanging on his back like she’d known him for years.
“You almost got killed.” The raven-haired man spoke, finally, voice distant. "You almost died."
“I didn’t need your help!” Hinata argued, trying to pry of this man’s grip, “I could’ve saved myself back there!”
“Would you have saved your sister, too?! One, or…or the both of you!” The taller shouted, stopping dead in his tracks to turn and look at Hinata in the eye, “If you died how would your sister live? If she died, could you live with yourself? Those foreigners were going to shoot you, no hesitation. If I hadn’t intervened—”
He doesn’t finish, opting to hike Natsu higher up his back. He released Hinata’s forearm, and with a solemn voice, said, “I live in an okiya. I manage it. It’s big enough for two other heads to shelter. If you’re worrying I’m going to take your sister in to train her, you’re dead wrong. The offer does stand, if you want to.”
He turned his back to Hinata and moved forward, knowing Hinata would follow anyway.
“How did you know? How did you know they’d actually pull the trigger?”
The kind stranger raised a hand to soothe Natsu’s unruly bed of hair, the little one dozing off on his shoulder. “Because they did the same thing to my mother.”
“Yeah, right.” Tobio scoffed, playing a song on the instrument without even looking, “I am glad I did anyway.”
“Yeah. I’m glad you did, too.” Hinata replied, a soft smile on his lips.
“Stop that, you’re creeping me out.”
“We were having a moment there!”
The telephone started to ring then, together with their laughter. Footsteps echoed into the small practice room, until Michimiya, a relatively new housemaid slid the door open. “Sorry for interrupting, but someone from Tachibana Teahouse just called, asking for Aika-san.”
Aika-san. Kiyoko’s geisha name, the Ai from their mother, and the Ka from their father. They both found it clever, especially since it fit her. Kiyoko was discovered for bringing the Great Baron of Kyoto to tears after she sang solo, after all.
“Tachibana, you say? It is most likely Nishinoya-san.” Tobio brought himself up to stand, placing the shamisen in its lacquer casing, “Is Kiyoko home?”
“Not yet, sir. She is still with Sugawara-san. I believe they said they’d be out looking for silk. They will be back soon.”
“Ah, please! Tell Sugawara-san to stay when he drops her off. It’s about Hitoka’s mizuage ceremony. He’d be delighted.”
Michimiya nods in understanding, bowing when Tobio walked past her. He fetched a kimono in the inventory, and went up to Kiyoko’s room. He laid the kimono down on the tatami mats as some elder maids helped with getting the obi and a pair of geta. Hinata brought up a pot of tea as Tobio focused on the right colors to match everything together.
“You’re good at this.” Hinata whistled, amazed at the intricate pattern sewn onto the kimono, “Like, really good. It would look great on Kiyoko-san for sure.”
“I’ve watched a great plenty of geisha come and go from this house. If I wasn’t good at this, Mother would rise from her grave to give me a few smacks on the head.”
When Kiyoko arrived later with the dresser, Sugawara Koushi, Tobio informed her immediately of Nishinoya’s request. Kiyoko is happy to hear this as Nishinoya really was her favorite patron. He was the only one who, she once said, "was decent enough to ask for my service and never once joke about wanting to take my kimono off."
Geisha were used to the crude comments from the people they host with, usually very belittling things about women and sex. Tobio is very proud Kiyoko has never used her mean left hook on any of them, because he would have, had he been there to hear any of them.
He led her up to her room, removing her obi and stripping her down to her under-robe. He then folded the layers of clothing Kiyoko had used, leaving them just outside the door for the maids to wash later. He gestured to the kimono set he laid out, "I picked that one out for you. The gathering is at Tachibana teahouse. Do you need help with your make-up, or do I let the maids do it instead?"
"I can do my own make-up, thank you." She giggled, kneeling down in front of her vanity mirror to check if her make-up was still intact, "Though, I'd love for you to put that gorgeous kimono on for me. Hitoka has been more than pleased to tell me how good you are at tucking and folding her robes like a pro."
"No, no. None of that. I hired Sugawara-san for a reason. He is a dresser for a reason. I can never live up to that."
"You're a close second, then." His sister smiled, looking at him through the mirror. Tobio can only bow his head to hide his smile.
Tobio was writing down the needed amount of money to pay for the monthly bills when the telephone rang. With a heavy sigh, slightly mad at the disturbance, he set aside his ink and answered with a grumpy "Good evening".
"Kageyama-san! It's Nishinoya."
Tobio was glad the ink was away from his flailing arms or else he would have had to re-write everything... and clean up quite a mess.
"Y-yes! Nishinoya-san, Aika is almost ready. Do you need her now? I could send her right away if—"
"Kami, calm down!" Nishinoya laughed, "I was just going to say that I won't be in the teahouse as something important came up. Please do tell Aika my apologies to have left her expecting. But I do have a good friend who would be Aika's client tonight. He's a quiet one, they'd hit it off perfectly. He just came back from America so his face is new to everyone. I'd like to show him a few things he's missed back here in Nippon, you know?"
Tobio didn't know, but he made a sound of agreement anyway.
"I told him he can wait in the teahouse for her, but he insisted on picking Aika up himself. Either an American custom he got, or he wants to explore."
Tobio had the phone inches away from his ear, as Nishinoya-san spoke with a voice that seemed to be wired to always sound like a shout. He was just like Hinata, and, Tobio thought with amusement, is almost the same size as his orange-haired friend.
"Alright Nishinoya-san. We'll wait for him. Thank you for telling us. Hinata would have punched him if he came over unannounced."
"I think Aika would do that for him, really." Nishinoya said with exuberance, "I must go now. You'll hear from me again soon, for sure!"
Tobio doesn't doubt it. Nishinoya was one of their most loyal patrons. The okiya owed a lot to him.
Natsu slid the door open to tell him someone was at the door, looking for Aika. He stood up and straightened his yukata, instructing Natsu to get Kiyoko as her client was waiting. The girl clambered up the stairs, feet loud against the wood, and Tobio reminded himself to ask about her training later.
He rolled the door open, the standard greeting dying on his tongue the moment his eyes met gold.
Standing in front of him was a man, clad in pressed, black trousers and a plain, light-grey long-sleeved button up. His suit jacket was folded and draped around his forearm, held close to his body. He was tall, maybe taller than Tobio himself. He had blonde hair that reminded Tobio of sand at the beach, reminded him of texture other than the silk his hands have grown used to. His eyes were honey, almost gold, beautifully so it almost seemed unnatural. The type of eyes that would kill you ten times over, burn marks into your skin, and melt with every emotion. This man did not belong here, in the dirty road under his leather shoes, and the dimly-lit streets not giving his handsome features justice. He looked like the people he saw painted onto canvas, up inside mansions; He can see that mouth curve to talk fluently in a language Tobio himself has yet to perfect. It took him a while to realize they'd been staring at each other far too long to be considered polite, and he squeaked in horror, bowing quickly to hide his growing blush.
"Good evening, sir. Aika will be down shortly." he greeted, in an English he hoped sounded alright. He straightened up to find the man smirking at him.
"Tsukishima Kei." he said with a voice dripping in amusement, and eyes twinkling with something Tobio can't put a finger on, "I'm Japanese."
Tobio doesn't fight the blush that spread to his cheeks, down to what he thinks is his neck. He bowed in apology, stepping aside to check if Kiyoko was on her way down. Fortunately, she was, and Tsukishima's attention was on her.
"Sir." She smiled, red lips and white face prominent even under the dim light, "Good evening."
Tobio felt a tinge of pride when he saw how beautifully the orange of the kimono clashed with Kiyoko's navy blue eyes, more so how it almost glowed out in the night. Kiyoko stood momentarily by the genkan as Tobio held the kiribi in his hands, striking them to create the tell-tale spark, and watched her move forward. He watched as Tsukishima offered her his other elbow, guiding her carefully to the rickshaw waiting outside. Once Kiyoko was seated, he shrugged the suit jacket on, and took his position next to the geisha. The rickshaw moves north, and, with Tsukishima's final, lingering glance at Tobio, they were gone.
