Matching the music of the samisen the geisha played, the two young apprentices danced with fans, their long sleeves swaying.
The girls were under Seno’o, taking advantage of the absence of their older sister to introduce themselves through this dance. Katsuragi sat before the stage lazily smoking a pipe, one leg propped up. Sitting diagonally across from him, Misao watched the girls dance too, but there was only one thing on his mind. His heart was somewhere else.
He distractedly served Katsuragi wine when the man held his cup out to him. Katsuragi drained the cup in a single gulp, then smirked at how unhappy Misao looked.
“Late night?” he asked sarcastically.
Misao poured him more wine and fixed his eyes on the bottle before responding dully, “I lost someone.”
Seemingly bored with Misao’s unusual lassitude, Katsuragi set his fresh cup of wine on the butterfly table unconsumed. Instead, he packed tobacco into his pipe and blew a cloud of purple smoke into Misao’s face.
“I heard you left the brothel to spend time with a man, you saucy boy. Your boss was awfully nice to let you do that.”
Katsuragi’s mouth was bent in a smile, but he spoke so quickly that there was no chance to respond. Misao turned his face away, pretending to find the smoke irritating. His eyes rested on the new girls, their fans twirling in the air.
He was jealous of the way the dancers seemed to have forgotten the world.
He wanted to dance like that. He didn’t want to think.
The purple smoke filled his eyes and made them burn.
“I heard the man went up to a girl’s room not five minutes after bringing you back here. And today is their third meeting, isn’t it?”
Katsuragi sounded more surprised than happy, and he gave a wry smile. Misao balled his hands up tightly on his knees.
He had to know how hurt Misao was.
The third meeting...
The first time that the customer was allowed into the courtesan’s inner circle and she would become willing to loosen her belt for him.
Tonight, Masaomi would sleep with Ukigumo.
“You tried to get one over on him, but he got you instead,” Katsuragi said quietly, as if reciting a poem. The smoke had stopped billowing from his pipe, and he tapped it lightly on the edge of his ashtray to loosen the tobacco.
He was implying that Misao had pursued this affair as some sort of game, and that he had come out the loser. But Misao had never thought of it like that.
His face hard and vacant, Misao cast a silent, apathetic glance at him, but Katsuragi only puffed at his pipe. The tiny pile of ashes fluttered on its tray.
“Master Katsuragi?”
Kazushi appeared in the hallway.
“Could I borrow Misao for a few minutes?”
“Who wants him?”
Katsuragi twirled the pipe in his fingers.
“I really couldn’t say,” Kazushi answered reluctantly, stealing a glance at Misao before returning his eyes to Katsuragi. “The customer isn’t interested in any substitutes, though.”
Kazushi’s explanation sent sparks flying across Misao’s vision. His expression changed instantly and he rose. It was a reflexive response to the knowledge that Masaomi was asking for him.
Katsuragi’s eyes narrowed at the change in Misao’s behavior, then he jerked his head at Kazushi. “Fine. Take him.”
“Thank you.” Kazushi dipped his head. “I believe Seno’o will be back soon.”
Katsuragi snorted at Kazushi’s attempt to placate him.
“I don’t need any empty promises. Take the lovesick puppy and go.”
He spoke imperiously, leaning on his folded knees. Kazushi called Misao over.
Misao bowed a hasty goodbye and hurried from the room. He followed Kazushi, who looked positively dumbfounded, down the hall. This was the third night, so Misao knew Masaomi had been shown to Ukigumo’s room. It was the finest bedroom in the brothel, and connected to a tea room.
Misao stopped at the end of the hallway.
He stood outside a corner room whose door frame was decorated with bamboo carvings. The room commanded a view over the railing of the tiled roofs of the district, but its doors were firmly shut.
Misao heard Masaomi’s muffled voice coming from inside. Ukigumo’s voice mingled coldly with his. The spring breeze played through Misao’s fine hair as he stood outside the door.
There was a surprisingly large gap in the door’s frame, but it was hard to hear through.
“What’s wrong?” Kazushi asked as he came down the hall, looking disappointed. “You were falling all over yourself to get here. Why are you still standing there?”
He sounded surprised and stood next to Misao, then dropped to his knees in a practiced motion. Misao looked down at him, then, drooping his eyelashes heavily, he sat down formally as well. He let out a long, slow breath and sat up straight.
“Excuse me.”
Kazushi spoke loudly, so they would hear him inside the room, then pulled the door open without the slightest hesitation.
“Ukigumo, we need you.”
After he heard Kazushi call Ukigumo out, Misao slid into view past the doorframe. Ukigumo whispered something into Masaomi’s ear, then stood up gracefully.
Masaomi nodded slightly and watched her go. His face was filled with the pain of imagining Ukigumo going off to see another customer.
It assaulted Misao’s heart mercilessly.
Kazushi moved behind the doorframe, becoming invisible to those inside the room, then murmured Ukigumo’s next destination to her as she emerged with her maid. He started to lead her away.
Ukigumo looked back, only barely turning her head.
Misao continued sitting outside the tea room, and Ukigumo stared at him without saying a word.
How many customers had Ukigumo’s face taken prisoner, with its faint but real stability? Her eyes could see through any lie, Katsuragi had once said, scowling. Katsuragi was the only customer to have had a second meeting with Oumi Tea House’s premier courtesan.
Misao wondered what he must look like to her now.
Just a simple paramour, no doubt.
“Misao?”
A voice called to him from the room, and Ukigumo’s slender white neck shifted as she retreated silkily down the hall.
“What’s the matter? Come in.”
As if pulled in by Masaomi’s command, Misao turned to face him.
He sat with his back to a folding screen, sitting at ease in camel-colored trousers. He looked concerned at Misao’s reluctance to come in.
He had removed his flocked coat, but otherwise he was dressed exactly as he had been when he’d brought Misao back for the start of business that evening. But in a few short hours, he would change into a robe to prepare for bed. And soon after that, the robe would fall from his broad shoulders.