❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞 ❞
Romeo and Juliet. But half the love, double the murder, and make it In...
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━━━━━━━┓ °• ✿ •° ┏━━━━━━━
"Ha! And you think just because your Commissioner has a fancy title, you can just take my most prized Oiran- my precious tayū- away?"
The owner screeches out a laugh, the wrinkles on her face twisting as her frown does. She throws out a crooked finger, pointing the blond to the exit. "Think again, foolish boy!"
The early Inazuma sun peaks out from the tempest veil of an eternally stormy sky, hinting at light from its pedestal against the horizon. Dawn was upon them. With the help of a few ninjas, Thoma dragged Hanamurasaki back to the Ôgiya Teahouse, demanding to meet the owner and fulfill Lord Kamisato's wishes.
It was currently three hours into negotiations and the old lady wouldn't bat an eye.
Hanamurasaki huffs, another violet swirl of smoke curling around her lips and her newly painted nails scratch at the wooden smoking pipe. Fools. They were all fools for thinking they could purchase her- free her- from the teahouse. The Entertainment District is a glorified birdcage of rotting youth where naive girls wish to become women, and where women wish they were naive girls. Or dead.
And they all too quickly realize their only choice is the latter.
Yes, the only escape to freedom was through shinjū- a suicide pact between lovers- or for a wealthy man to buy you out in marriage. But if there is one thing every woman in Yoshiwara knows, it is this, love has no place in a city as wretched as ours. The only real escape was through suicide.
An empty, meaningless death.
Yet, here Hanamurasaki is, standing behind this oddly demanding blond man. Whether his words were his own, desperate to free her, or mere echos of his master's bidding, she may never know.
A gnarled hand grips her wrist, wrenching Hanamurasaki out of her thoughts with a gasp as she is flung beside the owner's possessive arm. Oh, she could practically see the steam rising from her shriveled little ears.
"Dawn is already upon us. I have a business to run, see yourself out before I call the Tenryou Commission!"
But Thoma simply shoots her another grin, reaching down as he plops a burlap sack onto the table with a jingle, Mora spilling out and over onto the jade countertop. "Will this suffice?"
The owner doesn't even bother opening the bag, settling with a scoff as she eyes Thoma up and down with disgust. Her grip on Hanamurasaki tightens, but the tayū knows better than to fight back. If she gains any more bruises, her value will plummet. "Don't play with me, boy! Her debt to me is worth more than your life's earning of Mora. In fact, it's more than thrice you'll ever make, filthy foreigner."
