Shinobi Isekai: Round Four

Chapter 1

I fed the dog today.

That was all the comfort Akira could give their sister as she was shoved into the closet, her terrified sobs drowned out by the wicked beast's growls. The sliding door was slammed shut by a long fingered hand, a single red jewel set in an ornate golden ring catching the light filtering in through an open window. Pale eyes peered through long brown hair and pierced Akira's soul. For a single, terrifying moment, they were certain their words had been heard and the secret they and their sister had been keeping since before their birth was now exposed.

The eyes lost their intensity. Brows painstakingly plucked to match the latest fashion unfurrowed and a charming smile spread across a beautiful face.

"Akira," the woman's voice was unusually low in pitch and unique in timbre. Many a man lay awake beside their wives, chasing the memory of that voice. "Come. Do my hair."

They did as they were told, mindful not to react to the sound of the dog tearing into their sister's clothing. If they reacted, the torture would only get worse. Even she knew to smother her voice. Still, they couldn't help but foster the hatred in their heart as they pulled hair into an intricate updo. The ornate hair pins in their hands would make an excellent weapon. A single downward thrust into the neck is all it would take. Their hands shook with the oppressive need to put an end to the source of their sister's pain and suffering, but they refrained. If the woman brought them into this strange new world died by their hands, their fates would be much, much worse. She was a monster, but she was a territorial one. No matter how badly she treated them, no one else was allowed to lay hands on their children. A small blessing, but the best they could ask for.

Children born in brothels rarely stayed children for long.

Akira remained kneeling as their mother stood, hands clenched in their lap. The growling in the closet had died down, letting small sniffles fill the small room. The mother of the crying child did not react. Instead, she pulled on layer upon layer of kimonos, fastening a large, ostentatious obi just beneath her famously large bosom. She stood in front of a floor length mirror, admiring her reflection. Akira had to admit she was beautiful. Unlike many of the other oiran in the brothel, she didn't cover her face with white makeup. Her golden skin glowed with health and set off her large pale eyes. Their color was trapped somewhere between gold and green and she enhanced them by wearing exclusively those colors. She was like a woodland fairy trapped in the mortal realm, bewitching men and women alike as she climbed the ranks to become one of the capital's most expensive courtesans.

She knew she was beautiful. Expected her children to be beautiful. Hated that one of them was not.

Someone knocked on the door before sliding it open. Kneeling in the hallway was another beautiful woman, her black hair pulled into a simple, but elegant bun secured by a single hairpin. Her kimono had only two layers of black and red silk, setting her starkly apart from the woman in the room.

"Onee-sama," she said demurely, bowing lowly over extended hands. "You have a customer."

Akira watched as their mother turned and walked out the door with measured, graceful steps. She didn't even look over her shoulder as she left her child behind.

That was fine. They didn't want her acknowledgement, anyway.

As soon as she disappeared down the hall, the messenger lost all pretense of humility. She sat back on her heels, back straight as a rod. No longer downcast, her red eyes glittered like rubies.

"Get your sister out," she ordered. "We'll go to my room."

Akira didn't hesitate to obey. They ran across the tatami floor and threw open the closet door.