Heart of a Flower
1
PART FOUR: NANAO, DAUGHTER OF MAGATSUME
HOTARU WAS GRATEFUL to the young man, but she also felt a bit bad that he’d done so much for her. He had helped resolve the rift between her and her old boyfriend, and paid a sizable amount of money in the process. Sure, he did it all of his own volition, but she wasn’t so shameless as to do nothing in return. That was why she insisted on at least giving him his money’s worth in companionship. Understanding she would feel indebted otherwise, he accepted her offer. Maybe there were some other emotions involved, but neither could identify what those might have been.
“I assumed your skin would feel cold,” the young man said as he quenched his thirst with the water left on the side table. They were on the second floor of Sakuraba Milk Hall, in the room with the balcony—Hotaru’s work room that doubled as her personal bedroom. She had spent several nights here in the arms of other men for her job. The room was dim, lit only by the shaky flame of a lamp.
Hotaru didn’t grasp what he meant at first, but she quickly put two and two together. He more or less knew what she was. The dead had no warmth, so it was strange that she did.
“Oh. Perhaps that was rude to say?” he added.
“No, I don’t mind. I felt warm to you, did I?” she mused.
“You did.”
“Mm. Good.” With the sheets wrapped around her body, she smiled. She knew he meant no offense. A mean-spirited man wouldn’t have anything to do with a strange woman like her in the first place. He was simply making a passing remark and trusting she wouldn’t take it to mean anything more than that. His trust was mainly in Hotaru the sex worker, though. The fact that that bothered her proved her heart was changing somewhat.
“I thought you were warm too,” she murmured, hanging her head with a soft sigh. He felt warm, unlike her other clients, not because he was particularly different but because she had changed. The lingering regrets in her heart had faded, and she could now allow herself to freely indulge in the warmth of others. She said, “Any warmth you felt in me must have been your own.”
The young man smiled faintly. She spoke more familiarly with him, foregoing the stuffy formalisms as a show of affection. She was just a companion bought with money. No matter how you dressed it up, her sweet nothings would all end as a mere dream; her affection would disappear once night gave way to day. But there was nothing wrong with that. Some things were beautiful precisely because they were ephemeral.
“I’m flattered.” The young man, knowing fully well her love wasn’t real, allowed himself to fall for her anyway.
The two held no special feelings for one another, but for these brief moments, they were in love.
“I think I’ll take my leave here.” He started to dress himself. The sun still hadn’t risen, and the sky was the color of twilight. He could sleep in until morning if he wanted, but he showed no tiredness even though he’d just risen and got ready to leave.
“So soon?”
“Yeah. Thanks for tonight, though. I enjoyed myself.” He smiled, and she could tell it was genuine. She was reluctant to part with him, but it would be unrefined of her to try and make him stay.
She quickly dressed herself as well in her Western clothes, then held his arm and led him back down to the entrance. After she let his arm go, they went back to being strangers.
“Thank you for your patronage,” she said as she saw him off.
But after a few steps, he stopped.
“Is something the matter?” she asked. She knew nothing of his past but could see how he tensed.
“Just recalled a bit of the past; that’s all.” Elaborating no further, he left.