It was year twenty-two of the Showa era (1947 AD). Two years had passed since the defeat in the war, and poverty was still rampant in Japan.
During the war, Tokyo endured repeated firebombings, and many buildings and people perished. It was the end of winter when the parents of a certain thirteen-year-old girl passed as well. Unable to survive on her own, she was entrusted to relatives.
She did not have an easy life in her new home, though. Goods were in short supply after the war; every household barely got by. Her relatives forced many chores on her, claiming they had no food to spare for hands that didn’t work, and they rewarded her exhausting efforts with meager amounts to eat. The children of her new home bullied her and called her parentless. She could not defy any of her relatives, having no choice but to depend on them, and she spent most of her time crying.
It was a tough life, but most of all, it was suffocating. She hated how she was only treated like a waste of space. She didn’t want to feel so useless and pathetic. The days continued to pass, but she still felt like she couldn’t breathe. She thought she might actually suffocate to death if this went on.
But those days didn’t last long. She wasn’t freed from her hardship, however, but kicked out by her relatives after a few months. She was passed over to other relatives but received basically the same treatment there. She was unwanted. A burden. She came to think that it must have been a mistake for her to survive, that she would’ve been better off dying with her parents.
In time, she grew accustomed to her new life, and, as a result, she lost all expectations for anything to change. But two years later, when she turned fifteen, a change finally occurred.
“…-chan. I’m sorry I took so long.”
A man named Kajii Takumi came along. Their parents were friends, so she had known him as a family friend who was eight years older than her. He had moved to Tokyo from Yamagata and lived alone. Out of worry for her, he came by her relatives’ place several times to meet her. His visits came to an end when she left Tokyo, but he had somehow found the new home she had been passed off to.
“It’s been a while. You’ve gotten a little thin, huh?” He sadly patted her head with his soft hands. It had been a long time since she’d felt the warmth of another.
The two talked at length as though to make up for lost time. He had graduated from medical school and passed his medical license exam, and he was set to move back to Yamagata. He wanted to take her with him.
“Was that a bit confusing? I’m saying I love you. I want you to be my other half.” His awkward smile made him seem a little childish.
He planned to introduce her to others as his fiancée and claimed he wanted to repay her parents for the kindness they had shown his family before.
Happy to be wanted as a wife, she felt her face heat up, but her mind was in disbelief. She believed an adult like him couldn’t possibly want her—much less love her. Having been treated as unwanted for so long, she thought it was too good to be true.
She turned him down, but he came back the next day and the next, asking the same thing every time. No matter how much she refused him, he wouldn’t give up. She knew he was just being kind. Making her his wife had to just be an excuse to save her poor pitiful self from being tossed around between her relatives. She felt stupid for getting her hopes up, even if it was just for a moment, and she felt guilty for all the trouble she was causing him.
He visited over and over, asking her to marry him, but his words no longer moved her heart because she knew his true intentions. “I want to make you happy,” he would say. Those words proved he only saw her as an object of pity. His undeterred kindness was enough to eventually break down her walls, though. In time, she took his hand with a smile. However, she didn’t smile out of joy but out of an obligation to reward him for trying to save her worthless self.
The feelings in her heart were likely not those of love, but there were feelings of some sort in there, ones meant for him. That alone, she could not deny.
Despite that, she became Hotaru anyway.
A few days had passed since her conversation with the young man, but discomfort still lingered in her heart. But she still had work to do, so she forgot what he said for the moment and entered the milk hall as a waitress.
“Huh? Somebody is looking for me?”
In a spare moment with no customers around, the manager had called her over. His words made her tense up. “That’s right, sweetie. A man’s been visiting other brothels looking for a girl of your exact description. You wouldn’t happen to be involved in something, would you?”
She knew who the man was right away. Though it had been formed out of pity, her relationship with Takumi had been a good one. He’d probably come because he didn’t want it to end.
“It’s fine.” She inadvertently reached for the small bottle in her blouse’s chest pocket, placing her hand over her clothes. Just pressing against it gave her warmth. To tell the truth, she didn’t want things between them to end either. Even so, it was too late for her to return to his side. “You taught me yourself, remember? The Dove District is what it is because it accepts all: lust and greed; man and woman. I’m Hotaru now, anyway.”
If he came to meet her, then she would face him—but not as the girl she once was. She would be Hotaru.
“If you say so,” the manager said. “But come to me if something happens. I’m here for you.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Out of respect for her wishes, the manager didn’t pursue the matter further, and she appreciated that. She’d been in his care ever since she drifted to the Dove District. Her memories of the parents she lost when she was young had already faded to the point where she couldn’t recall her father’s face. That was why the kind manager felt like something of father to her.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “A client has requested you.”
…On second thought, a father would never readily pair her up with a client like this.
She was told that the client came in while she was away and had already been led to her room, which was unusual. The manager didn’t like it when the proper procedure wasn’t followed. Even if it meant making the client wait, he usually kept them downstairs so the waitress could start by greeting them.
Thinking that something felt off, she climbed the stairs and made for her room. The floorboards of the hallway creaked. She turned the cold metal doorknob of her room, opened the door, and froze.
The only light in the room was that of the lamp. The man’s shadow swayed as the flame oscillated, and the air of the room smelled stagnant. She recognized him.
“I hope you don’t mind me waiting for you here,” he said. It was the young man who came to this milk hall to drink almost every night. He sat on the bed, a cold look on his face. It was unexpected of him to seek the services of a sex worker and to appear in front of her so brazenly after their previous exchange.
She was shaken, but not enough for it to show on her face. She did not mind. The young man was the sensible sort. He would be a fine client.
“Of course not. In fact, I should be the one to apologize for making you wait… I am Hotaru.” She introduced herself, as was customary, but did not ask for his name. If he wanted her to use it, he would tell it to her of his own volition.
“Right,” he replied. That was it for pleasantries, then.
She sat down next to him on the bed, leaned against him, and reached out to touch his chest. He stopped her before she could, though.
“Is something the matter?” she asked.
“Not at all.” He took some money out of his pocket and put it on the bedside table, then turned to face her. His eyes were calm, absent of the feverous desire she had seen in so many of her customers. “I must start with an apology, however.”
“For buying a woman you don’t intend to sleep with?” she interjected without missing a beat, putting him at a loss for words.