#oiran

Oiran Bruce is soo fucking pretty?? OMG

He's so wifey material, can't blame Clark. I,too am speechless by his beauty.

Versión Riddle Rosehearts

(Masterlist)

[Episode 5] warnings: kisses, romance, questionable thoughts, abandonment, selling a person, abuse and scars.

[Design of: Riddle/ Yuu and aclarations]

You are resting a little after cleaning the floor, you applied great force when waxing it because the cheapskate of the brothel or as he likes to be called "the kind owner of the establishment" insisted and emphasized in every possible way that the clients should see themselves reflected in the floor.

Your back, arms, legs and now your head hurt because Mr. Crowley repeats to you that the floor was not properly cleaned, so you will continue.

You were going to throw the rag in his face when a firm and soft voice reached your ears, your heart transmitted joy or nerves, whatever it was, then you closed your eyes in disappointment.....Of all the people who saw you and laughed, he was the only one you didn't want to run into yet.

You look up slowly and make eye contact with gray eyes staring at you, Riddle Rosehearts in his full splendor looking as adorably terrifying as ever,  looking at you with what you perceive as pride, confusion and something mocking perhaps? You noticed a small, almost imperceptible smile.

—What do you think you're doing?—the Oiran said with a raised eyebrow, clearly confused.

Why was a police officer who was hired to investigate a case of attempted sexual assault cleaning the floor of a brothel?

You also wanted to know why you were doing this when in the corner of the hallway you could see the janitors of the place watching you......

The situation and seeing you cleaning the floor was funny to Tayu, you could notice her effort to purse her lips to not smile.

You frown, it was humiliating to be like this in front of someone who scolded you even for the way you walked. You felt ashamed that he saw you like that, you wished that the earth would swallow you and spit you out on another continent.

Ah....

—I want to know that too...—You look down with exhaustion as you throw the cloth on the floor in an attempt to vent your frustration.

—I am taking his body as payment for the services that have been given to him since he arrived, Rosehearts-Sama—the owner explains with an innocent smile, generating confusion in Riddle and a pout of annoyance in you.

—..services?—the redhead repeats, looking at you out of the corner of his eye, you felt that he judged you more than he normally did.

Wait.....

It won't be that...

Maybe I was thinking of another type of "service"?

—The tea and the sweets I ate!—you quickly clarify to Riddle and Crowley nods.

The redhead already thought of you as someone irresponsible, clumsy and idiotic, you didn't want him to think now that you were someone lustfully unpleasant.

You continued as you came into the world, you continued to have your purity.

You were very aware of how wrong it was to have intimate encounters with people who constantly did the act with different people.

Upon clarifying that point, Tayu's brow softened surprisingly.

The slight sound of understanding that came from him brought you calm.

—that's why? I thought your incompetence made you late for work again—he says indifferently.

Ahh?  You were indignant but that indignation only increased when he motioned for you to get up, you felt like a dog but that was better than cleaning for the bird.

—Prepare a room, since yesterday you wanted to ask me some questions and you couldn't. It will be now.—Riddle turns around walking down the hallway and you think about following him with a smile, you are about to taste the freedom that you had been asking for 30 minutes ago but your smile changed to a grimace of displeasure when the owner of the place objected.

—Rosehearts-Sama and the debt!? He must pay for what he consumed, it's a basic rule for business hehe—Crowley expresses with a nervous smile, nervousness that you deduce is due to Oiran and his character.

Even though he was nervous, he didn't want to have to pay the janitors more, his wallet hurt and your hand hurt because you couldn't hit him.

—That will be later, my investigation is more important or Does he think that this soil deserves more attention than the aggression it suffered?—Oiran expressed irritation, his voice strong that even made you shudder, the owner didn't say anything, what could he answer?

Even he feared the great character of the Oiran in his charge, him and everyone in the place.

The redhead, not receiving another excuse, began to leave with authority, passing through the hallway and among those present who were moving out of his way. He looked like his royal majesty, no one raised their voice or went against what he said.

Beautiful, haughty and proud, a real charmer.

You on the other hand, being the definition of destruction, with bumps and bruises, also with your clothes in chaos from everything that happened, did you look bad? Yes, But with a Smile.

Also charming but in your own way.

In a way you are glad that the redhead has put him in his place and you show it with a victorious smile, you walk in a state of confusion, meeting the Oiran was something that pleased you a lot, not because he made fun of you or saw you in such a humiliating situation but it makes you happy to see his face and serious look.

Why did it make you happy to see him?  Just thinking about seeing it gets you excited on your way here.

They climb some stairs and pass by the balconies of the brothel, the people on the streets who were talking, selling and shouting were hypnotized when they noticed Riddle, they stopped to observe him, as if it were something that just seeing him meant wasting all the luck of their lives.

Or the money in his wallet because you heard Crowley say that if they wanted to watch and drool they had to pay.

You arrive at a room, a courtier opens the door and then closes it behind you, the room was simple but elegant, clean and the flowers were fresh and beautiful with freshly changed water and a table to drink tea.

Tea that you won't drink because you already have a debt that you won't pay......

An open window that gave a view of the night sky, the red streets of the district and the faint smell of rosemary that you deduced was the Oiran's request.

Riddle sits down first elegantly and you also in front of him, you watched how he fixed his kimono when he sat down and how he hid his hands behind the large checkered bow in front of him.

   His wine-colored lips and his beautiful eyes, why does he look more charming than yesterday? Was it your imagination or was it more arranged? Maybe you were just looking at him more closely than usual, you were deep in thought as you watched him when he returned your gaze and spoke without a hint of delicacy.

—What carriage ran over you?That's no way to see the victim of an investigation, there are basic rules you have to follow, you know?—he says with his characteristic bitter face, all the fantasy disappeared and was replaced by irritation, everything was so nice until he opened his mouth.

Does he only criticize? Nobody goes around telling fat people that they are fat or tall people that they are tall because they already know it and you already knew it because all the people's eyes when they arrived at the brothel repeated it to you. You looked really bad.

Was he right? Of course, a bump doesn't disappear overnight, neither does the bump on your nose, and being in dust and somewhat damp clothes from cleaning the floor wasn't your fault, they forced you.

—Good night to you too Rosehearts-Sama, Excuse my appearance but a blow on the nose doesn't disappear overnight—you say indifferently, it was an obvious accusation that caught him off guard, he went from surprise to a slight grimace of guilt and then to anger for blaming him for something like that.

—What are you complaining about? "You were the one who took me by surprise," he says with annoyance, you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, he was right, who comes up behind you and whispers in the ear of an assault victim? Only someone with an intellectual disability.

But you won't admit it, so you'll change the subject.

—by the way! Rosehearts-sama wanted to ask you something of utmost importance, which I couldn't do yesterday, but tell me this is yours?—the redhead hardened his face and was going to scold you for changing the subject until you took out and showed him the worn hairpin that stole all his attention.

I looked at her carefully, with doubt and confusion, was I hesitating to tell you something or wondering how you found her?

—No, it's not mine—he answers after a few seconds of silence.

What is not yours?

But it is a piece of silver, the only one who could afford something so expensive and attractive would be Him.

—Isn't it yours?......—You say while you looked at the hairpin with confusion, what was it doing in the room then? You look askance at the Oiran in front of you, his expression shows that he does know her but he doesn't seem to lie when he says that she is not his.

The hairpin was something expensive, so if it wasn't from the Oiran, it had to be from someone important.........maybe the aggressor? It would make sense if the culprit had long hair but given the experience you had with the attacker during the day, it's not his, he had a hat and short hair.

That man made it clear to you that if he was the culprit then if the hairpin is not his then whose...?

An accomplice...

Someone was able to help the aggressor, give him information about how he could approach him and where he could place the aphrodisiacs. Riddle is not loved by everyone, he has people who hate him in the brothel, it is not impossible that the accomplice is someone from the brothel who hates him enough to help the aggressor achieve such a horrible goal.

—Rosehearts-sama, you mentioned that the sweets that contained the aphrodisiac had been given to you by your kamuro—you ask seriously to the redhead who nodded gently.

—Can you tell me which one it was?—You ask, that Kamuro had to have seen the accomplice or the aggressor.

—I don't know, when he came into the room to give me the candy he left quickly, and I was also reading, so I didn't take any importance to it—what he said discourages you, you lean your head back on your fist, sighing.

It doesn't matter, it was one of the Kamuros who received it so I had to ask both of them anyway.

Thinking or frowning made the blow on your forehead start to hurt a little, an annoying pain, you had already been hurt in previous cases so you knew how to handle it, it was less serious than other times but the redhead did not seem to agree.

He got up and took out a small box from a drawer in the closets in the room. You didn't pay attention to it until he was already approaching you.

Did he intend to cure you?

—Maybe I don't know who it was, but I can call them to help you with the information you need—said the shorter one, approaching you, with the little box, it was a homemade first aid kit it contained; oils, ointments and bandages. The one with ashen eyes looked at you, seeking permission to treat the headbutt and other injuries you had, due to the persecution.

You just smile and thank him, Riddle asks a courtesan who was nearby if he could call his kamuro to which he nods and goes to look for them.

While you waited patiently you observed the redhead, he looked uncomfortable, being alone in a room with someone unknown reminded him of the incident a few days ago. And even more so why you were staring at him while he healed you, but you couldn't help it.

Moving your hair aside to place the ointment carefully, he was really good at what he did, the practice was noticeable, the movements were delicate and soft. Moved like a pro, muscle memory they call it

—How did you end up like this?—It seemed like he wanted to ask that since he saw you in the hallway.

You were hesitant to tell him that the headbutt and scratches were from chasing his attacker, whom you didn't catch. It might make you anxious knowing that you are quite close.

—Long story, don't worry about it—you say, smiling, Riddle just stared at you and lightly pressed the bump on your forehead, making you complain.

—If you don't want to tell me, that's fine—he said with furrowed zeal, the sudden pain subsided quickly, Riddle finished healing you and went for the scratches.

It was funny how quickly the atmosphere changed, until a few minutes ago I was criticizing you, then I was a little uncomfortable healing you But now I was calmer.

You didn't want to be the reason for someone's discomfort but with the little research you had on Riddle, research that gave you a lot of information, you wanted to ask Riddle directly.

Why did your parents choose to leave you here at the brothel?

Was cutting off the arm of the shogun's son out of resentment? Revenge?

—.......Rosehearts-sama—You say with a serene tone, looking at him while he attended to some scratches.

—What's happening?—he asks without looking up.

—Well, I've been watching you and I've heard several things from the local courtesans and clients—you say, the redhead just sighs with a serious look, he seemed to think that they were mostly bad comments.

—I have observed that you have more refined manners than all the Oirans I have been able to meet and knowledge that it is not customary for Oirans to have. The manners and knowledge that you possess seem more like....... someone from a good family—You express and Riddle's hands stop.

—So if it's not too much trouble, could you tell me how I ended up working here?—you ask a little nervously but seriously, since it was a delicate topic.

You didn't want to bother the Oiran and have him tell you how bad you were going to die from for asking about his private life.

But the one with gray eyes only watches you in silence for a few minutes before lowering his gaze, sighing slowly, capturing all your attention.

—You're asking something you already know about—he said seriously, with the intention of "why are you asking that? Why would you care?"

—I want to know more about you, Riddle-sama—was what you answered, that was the reason.

You wanted to know about him, it was no longer so much because of work, nor out of personal curiosity, you wanted to know more about him, everything if possible, it was a wish that you needed to fulfill, a wish that was deeper than you thought.

The redhead just looked at you with a somewhat tired and serious expression.

—My parents were very well-known doctors, they worked for the Shogun, you probably already know who I'm talking about—the youngest said, rubbing some alcohol with a cotton ball on a scratch on your arms.

It seems that from the short time that you have known each other, he knows a lot about you, after all you did a little research about him, he belonged to the Rosehearts family that was dedicated to medicine and apothecary, they were in charge of healing the shogun's armies, his mother was the Leyoshing, main doctor and head of the medical unit, his father was a counselor and Riddle was also a doctor like his mother, as an assistant.

Through the investigation you learned many things, different parts of the story, that gave you an idea of what happened. But even though it sounds bad, you wanted to know the story as it had happened and the only one who could tell you was him.

—Since I was little I was always pressured to study, I went through very difficult lessons, my mother wanted me to replace her in her occupation when she retired—the redhead stopped healing you and raised the sleeves of his kimono a little, revealing several horrible marks on his arms, you frown in surprise, you look at Riddle who did not want to look back at you.

—I endured the hard classes, hours of study without rest, the weight that was imposed on me every day, I wanted her to be proud of me, that's why I didn't care about the pain in my wrists and back from all the time I spent sitting surrounded by books—her eyes took on a tired aura, as if she had returned to those times.

—When I started helping her as her assistant, it was even more difficult, more pressure and expectations, until the battle occurred in which the shogun's son ended up seriously injured, it required a complicated operation, but possible if you knew what you had to do—she frowned slightly and then continued.

—My mother.....thought it was an excellent opportunity to promote, so she gave me the order to attend to it, for all the time I studied, to prepare myself, I should have achieved it......—you perceive pain and frustration in her voice as well as on her face.

He tried to control himself with all his might, to hold on, both because of his pride and because he didn't want to be vulnerable in front of anyone again.

You look at his pained expression, it doesn't seem to have been out of resentment.

—but the pressure, exhaustion and stress had to affect me at that moment......I was wrong—the frustration of the first thing calmed down until it ended in a broken whisper.

—.....tiredness disoriented me, due to exhaustion I forgot a large part of the process, I became clumsy.....it almost took his life....—his trembling voice and hands revealed a look of regret and on the verge of crying—he lost one of his limbs.....—

—The shogun almost cut off the heads of my entire family for it, but somehow he spared our lives...—

—However, he fired my mother from her life's work and my father had his manhood removed because of me.....they looked at me with so much hatred, my mother did not want to speak to me and when she did she only yelled at me—the lowest attempt to heal again, but his hands were shaking a lot.

—I begged him to forgive me, but it was my fault that we ended up like this—you watch how he tried to control himself. You took him by the hands, to calm the trembling and to stop him from continuing to heal.

He looked up, his gaze caused you pain, you didn't like seeing him like that.

—One day he came up and said he wanted to take me somewhere, there I could pay for my mistake and help my family, I'm very happy about that, I thought that if I accepted everything I would go back to how it was before, I had the silly hope that maybe it would be better—he explained, looking into your eyes with a sad smile.

—He brought me here, I still didn't understand. I looked at my mother for an answer. But she just looked away. The owner examined me and said I had great potential. When he gave him a bag of koban coins I understood...—he looked down again, he didn't want you to see him break more.

I tried to go after her But the courtesans and Mr. Crowley did not let me go, no matter how much I screamed, I never turned around, I could only watch how she left and did not return.

.

.

.

—I guess he thought I would only be good for this job.......—he said with a sad smile.

His now reddened gray eyes weighed on your chest, how could you comfort him? Give him the warmth that he didn't have from his parents, much less in a place like this?

You approached your hand carefully to his arm, an act that took him by surprise, bringing it closer you had a better view of the scars he had, you couldn't help but caress them carefully, even after having healed a long time ago you felt that they still hurt.

—I'm very sorry for what you went through, tell me, which life was more difficult? Life before the brothel or now in the brothel?—the question made him think a little more than he would like.

—I wouldn't know how to answer that—you smile.

—I couldn't either, your family life was not happy But isn't it better than living surrounded by unknown people who only want to possess you, a difficult life from the beginning, right?—the redhead didn't respond but something told you that he agreed.

—You couldn't experience something so important after that—Riddle looks at you with a question that didn't leave his lips.

—consolation—you bring his arm to your lips and gently kiss his scars, the redhead jumps in surprise, his red face full of confusion made you laugh. You preferred that expression on his face.

—Nothing that happened was your fault— you say, staring at him, resting your cheek on his painful marks.

Your other hand caressed his entire arm, gently, it surprised you how far the marks went. You expected him to push you away and correct you like he has done before. But to your surprise, Riddle didn't push you away—you know these caresses are expensive, right?—he stares at you, the red on his cheeks calming down to a beautiful deep peach color.

—Let the owner of the Brothel get out of your body!—you express with complaint, that man would even charge you to breathe the same air as the Oiran.

—He's not there and he doesn't have to know, besides I'm not caressing you for pleasure, I do it because you need them—you look at the marks again, following them with your finger.

—I......—tries to refute the one with gray red and hurt look.

—It wasn't your fault, it was your mother's fault—you firmly express to the shorter one.

The redhead pursed his lips and leaned his head on his arm with his gaze downcast.

—I didn't receive much warmth from my parents either, they left when I was very young—You confess with a serene expression looking at the red cord that hung on your chest.

Your statement caught his attention to look at you again.

—Did you decide to be a detective because of what happened to them?—the shorter one asked curiously.

—nahh, my father disappeared when I was born, probably escaping from debt and my mother loved me but she left me in an orphanage because she couldn't give me a good life, I'm a detective because I've always been curious to know what people are hiding, it's my hobby, I'm one of the first people to find out when something happens hehe—you respond with a mockingly innocent smile.

The redhead makes a disapproving face, you just laugh at that.

—They both left me, He because he didn't love me and She because she loved me too much—you confess, sighing calmly.

—Then a weird old man adopted me, I caught his attention one day when he went to the orphanage out of curiosity and well, he liked me, he's a detective, he's a good thing, I was lucky—you tilt your head towards Riddle, smiling.

—But the truth is...you would be surprised to know how people can really be...the more harmless and normal they are, the more they hide—you confess with a soft smile and a distant expression.

You had been part of many investigations and cases, there were many that were so horrible and macabre that they shock you to this day.

Your job taught you that people were dangerous and not to be trusted. The more you investigated, the more the curiosity grew to know how far they could go.

—Why did you decide to investigate my case?—the redhead questions—I don't think the pay is that good and no one pays attention to any incident where the victim is a courtesan—.

—Yes, a case where they try to rape a high-ranking courtier, whose job is to give pleasure, draws attention, and no matter how you look at it, this case is more than it seems—certainly with what you have found so far, it makes it clear to you that it really is more than it seems.

The redhead feels a little disappointed by that answer and Yuu reads his expression.

<Just why am I calling your attention?>

Rapes of prostitutes were not strange, there were clients who were pleased that the courtesans acted that way or they just took them and did what they wanted without caring about anything, being prostitutes they could not sue, precisely for that reason, their job was to give them pleasure in any way the client wanted.

—The suffering of others makes me sad, the first thing I thought when I saw the case was of the victim, of you. I knew that no one would give it the importance it should have, so I took it—you stroke a lock of his hair, catching his attention.

—For me the most important thing has always been to catch that bastard who tried to hurt you—your gaze falls on Riddle who observed the annoyance in your eyes when mentioning the aggressor.

—But yes, let's say that my work attracts a lot of my attention, don't worry, when I catch it I'm going to castrate it—you declare with a smile and a frown, returning to your calm and casual personality.

—This was from my mother, nice, right? It's the color of your hair—you show a red cord with three ears like a clover that hung from your chest to the redhead, moving closer to place it next to his face.

Riddle simply looked at you deep in thought.

You are a strange person, being with you he felt safe, you didn't look at him lasciviously, nor did you make him feel like an object.

All the moments he had with you, no matter how slight, made him feel... well, he couldn't help but remember the sweet little romances that some courtesans read and talked about in their free time.

Reading sweet and romantic novels with this job... how ironic.

They wanted something that they didn't have in their daily lives.

—Detective.....me—

—Yuu, you can call me by my name, we are no longer strangers—you interrupt the redhead.

The redhead looked up, his eyes meeting your soft and warm gaze.

—Okay, Yuu-Sama—you smile as you hear your name leave his lips.

He was saying other things, things that didn't reach you, you weren't paying attention, rude of you certainly, but you couldn't help it, your attention was directed only at him.

You couldn't take your eyes off him, you immersed yourself in his ash-colored eyes, in his intense gaze, you wanted to drown in his eyes, in his long eyelashes and his lips adorned with the same color as his hair only increased that desire.

That wanting made you get closer than you were without realizing how inappropriate it was, you wanted to be closer, you could feel the heat of his breath, you wanted to feel more of that sweet breath.

Your body involuntarily gets closer and closer to the redhead, unconsciously, it was similar to what happened with the aggressor but this time for a different reason...... longing.

When Riddle realized your proximity it was already quite late.

Your lips meet his, something small and soft, to calm that desire you had, to give a kiss to the man who looked at you as if he wanted to cut off your head for not knowing how to hold a cup.

To try to calm that fervent longing But appeasing something so big with something so tiny only caused the opposite.... it increased that desire.

He quickly covers his lips reflexively with his face completely red, you laugh out of nervousness but also not knowing where his face ends and his hair begins.

—How dare you! You must pay if you want to touch the merchandise—

—I'm very sorry, it was a sudden need, I don't think it was that big of a deal—you say, feigning innocence.

—well it is, you are not allowed to touch, much less kiss, the establishment's most valuable merchandise without proper payment, those are the rules—

—I can't? Not even with the tips of your fingers—you make a sign with two fingers, smiling innocently—No—Tayu responded, still red and with a frown that was more out of shame than anger.

Although also out of anger that was his way of expressing himself.

—But I kissed your arms a moment ago—you say, tilting your head, the redhead only blushed more when he remembered it—That was different, I allowed you, but this is going further—he said with a frown.

You raise your hands in redemption—then allow me to apologize—you say barking your head with a smile as you asked for her hand, Riddle just looks at you with a frown, he shouldn't have but he would be lying if he said he didn't want to accept. Riddle just looks away.

It wasn't a no, so it was a yes.

You carefully take his hand, Riddle doesn't seem to object, the closer you bring his hand to your face, the redder his gets. You kiss his wrist carefully, looking at him, who turned to see you little by little with his eyes raised.

Were you able to capture the meaning of the place of the kiss?

It really was beautiful, a porcelain doll that you were dying to have, to take care of, you wanted to touch it, was that what the other customers thought when they saw it?

Riddle didn't say anything, he just watched you firmly, with his cheeks like strawberry mochis that you wanted to try and his lips more striking every time you saw them.

You approach again, kissing him again, longer lasting just as soft But with more longing.

You were hoping that he would push you away, that he would push you like the aggressor. But that blow, the push didn't come, it didn't push you away. It corresponded to you.

Did you squeeze your haori out of fear? Nerves? perhaps with the intention of not leaving you.

Could you feel the heat of his face, the touch of his nose against yours, the rapid beat of his heart or was it yours?

This wasn't right, you couldn't do this and you knew it But you didn't want to back away, you take his face with both hands, his lips with yours, finally what you wanted before But you didn't want to accept, a feeling you couldn't keep hiding.

You wanted to kiss him, caress him, hug him, love him, do something you had never wanted to do with anyone before, people caught your attention but nothing more, they didn't arouse your interest enough to approach you in this way.

You pulled away for a second only to return with another kiss, sweet taste, warm breath, lips wet with lipstick. Everything fascinated you.

You want to keep it for yourself, make it yours alone.

But you couldn't...

How could you do it?...

You were just a police detective, you were not enough of a prodigy to afford it, even if you wanted it with all your soul, to buy it... it was out of your reach.

You were tormented by the thought that someone else would take him away, you caressed his warm, pink cheeks.

If its price just went down, you could do it, you could take it from this place, keep it just for yourself, but how?

Your dilated eyes run over the redhead's face, cheeks, lips, jaw, neck, your hand ran over every part to his blushing neck.

Purity is what makes Oiran so coveted, if I lost it... wouldn't its price go down? You could buy it.

If you will take it......if you will take its purity now, if they did the deed now.....you could take it.

You were planning to attract him closer to you, with that idea in mind, but three knocks froze the entire room.

Knock Knock Knock!

They are both surprised at the same time, observing the closeness in which they were, the heartbeats, the body heat of both along with small gasps and clashing breaths.

They separated quickly with nerves on edge, mainly Riddle who was having a crisis due to the terribleness of that action.

But surprising you by quickly recomposing yourself. At least on the outside, to appear in front of the courtesan.

You were blank, you didn't know whether to be on cloud nine about what happened or to feel guilty for what you thought of doing but it was a fact that both of you were still blushing and breathing erratic.

They saw the courtesan that Riddle had previously assigned to bring the kamuro enter, who observed them for a relatively short time and lowered her head in reverence, presenting two little girls.

—Sorry for the interruption, Rosehearts-Sama, I brought your kamuro as you requested, I'm leaving—he said and then left the place, with a small playful smile that you noticed very well.

The courtesan walked down the hall, laughing silently, of course she saw the reddened faces of both of them and the tension in the room, she was not stupid.

Somehow he was glad to have seen the Oiran's blushing face, really cute, but he was worried about this "little romance" ending like other times.

The courtesans being deceived with false promises and "true loves" that greatly harmed many in all the brothels of the district

Remembering an Oiran from several years ago.

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Hellooooo

The truth is that I had problems with this chapter, precisely because it contains romance and kissing scenes, which is the first time I have written it, while I was writing it I was embarrassed XD.

You probably really like this chapter, because of the suffering (ojito) and the passionate kiss (Majo), they turned out nice, I'm reading a story in English, which has illustrations too But in color, very pretty, seriously beautiful, I like the effeminate male protagonist, my guilty taste.

How a recent publication that I put in conversations, that I planned to do the illustrations in color, would have been very beautiful and striking, but the caps would have taken more time and the gray scales give them a mysterious touch, so I think it will stay that way.

Regarding the illustrations, I could have made the illustrations show strong moments, such as the marks on the wrists and the back, why yes, Riddle was whipped and they left quite ugly marks on him, which I will show later perhaps, but for now I will leave it as it is.

Maybe I will sketch some things and Other things will be in color But they must wait:

By the way, if you like history and my art, you can support me through ko-fi or Paypal.

Don't forget to comment and correct any errors I have and if you have any advice from writer to writer, I'm happy to receive it.

God bless you ✨

Making my debut on Tumblr with some headcanons for my favorite rainbow-eyed chaos junkie, Douma with an Oiran-!

❄ First off, how you met is most likely no mystery. He probably just woke up one day, and it clicked to him "Entertainment district=Beautiful women=food", lol.

❄ So, our blonde cult leader decided to visit the Entertainment district for a shot at publicity for his cult (and maybe a snack or two...) when he met you.

Yujo (Courtesan) - Ito Shinsui, 1912

The Art Of Refusing Patrons

Conversation, music, spiritualism, aesthetics, the Tayuu had a wealth of talents and gifts. They were considered supernatural beauties, bewitching castle-topplers, superstars across the land. But all these things are relative, are they not? Some Tayuu would cater to very niche interests, some others would be more universally prolific, and then we know of some who went down in history for their magic sex appeal or dainty feet. There is no barometer, there is no standard. All that ever mattered was her appeal to the men around her.

First and foremost to the owners of her contract, who would predict a shiny future from her babyface. Then from the aging patrons of her older sisters in the ageya, who would invest in the child's education, forming her path in a passive way. And when she started budding into adolescence, she would be deemed desirable after years of grooming. Legends and accounts have it, that the Tayuu would have acquired a catalog of talents and attributes unique to her or representative of her house, her name-line or current trends. She wore them like her expensive garments and over the top accessories. It set her apart from the noble wife, dutifully working towards her husbands financial success. From the obedient daughter, a pawn in bigger game. From the saintly mother, sacrificing her years to her sons, for the sake of the tribe. The Tayuu was not expected to sacrifice, work or go without, quite on the contrary, she was simply expected to be.

This made her the ideal woman. She was equal to the privileged man as he too was only expected to be and then to die in honor. And honor and pride are the main catalysts in the particular artform, which we will explore here.

A Long Tradition

In my posts about Tayuu, I tend to describe their existence as something like a cultural lighting in a bottle. A cumulation of societal circumstances that made this very small ripple in culture, big and yet tiny in historical context. But the phenomenon of Tayuu culture has been a long time in the making and gone through some incarnations over the centuries: From Asobi over the Shirabyoshi to the Tayuu, all were performers of the nobles in Kyoto. We will be only touching briefly on how there is a direct line to be drawn from the Shirabyoshi specifically to Tayuu traditions.

Shirabyoshi usually came of prestigious backgrounds, sometimes of noble or samurai lineages, persuaded into (or sometimes very willingly pursuing the trend of) training in dance, poetry and social games. They didn't operate from an okiya but led a transient life, called upon to entertain at events, which were usually spiritual or religious in nature. Their stay was dependent on how much entertainment value they provided for the lord and his large court. Even though Shirabyoshi were all the rage for a while, eagerly anticipated by ladies and lords alike, as their popularity grew, so did their numbers. Too many of these girls were trying to get into the palaces, some more talented than others. At one point the biggest houses had something akin to what we would call a "casting couch" today, where rigorous vetting excluded undereducated Shirabyoshi and sent them away.

But once inside the palaces, their ambition was to stay as long as possible, as they usually had no place to call home outside of the walls. So naturally two strategies emerged for the savvy Shirabyoshi: Cultivate her art and capture the attention of her audience that way, or become a Courtesan to a noble. Better yet, have his child and nestle in somehow, hoping that the prestige of the child's father would rub off on her. The most successful girls ticked all boxes. As history does, some rare Shirabyoshi managed to become highly demanded artists and they actually refused patrons. But let's face it, this was not the norm and as time passed, became even more rare.

One can see some parallels to Tayuu in that these artistic entertainers blurred the lines between business and pleasure as a way to bind themselves to men of influence. Also in that both Shirabyoshi and Tayuu travelled to the imperial palaces as specialists of their craft. But where they differ greatly is that the Tayuu's ability to refuse her patrons added to her prestige, while the Shirabyoshi would never have turned down a liaison when advantageous. She was her own boss and somewhat liberated, but also needed to fend for herself. During the romantic Heian era, this lifestyle had blossomed but in the following Muromachi era, the status of women particularly within the elite warrior class changed, due to emerging primogeniture and patriarchal, Confucian, and Buddhist influences that deemed women "impure". This would ingrain itself in Japanese culture for good.

Some centuries passed and with the advent of the pleasure quarters, the Tayuu got webbed into a finely tuned machine that upheld a whole industry. So the question is: How much say did a Tayuu really have to refuse?

Examples in Media And Real Life

Sano Jirozaemon Murdering A Courtesan - Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, 1886

Yatsuhashi

Yatsuhashi Oiran was a real person who was brutally murdered by a jealous patron in 1683 in the Yoshiwara. The Kabuki play “Kagotsurube Sato no Eizame” (The Bewitched Sword) is based on her life. But it is framed from the murderers perspective of course. Jirozaemon, a country merchant that had come to some wealth, falls in love at first sight with Yatsuhashi, during her parade in the Yoshiwara. His open mouthed, smallpox scarred face elicits a mocking smile from the majestic Oiran but later in the play, we see that Jirozaemon has managed to buy himself into her regular company at the Tachibanaya and was in talks of redeeming her contract for her to become his mistress. She rejects his offer, as her lover Einojo pressures her to do so, fearing her feelings for Jirozaemon were growing. Some months later, Jirozaemon returns to Edo, having left after the rejection, and he visits the Tachibanaya once more. An apologetic Yatsuhashi begs him for forgiveness once they are alone. He softly hands her a cup of sake to make amends. As she hesitates to accept, he states it will be her last drink and thrusts his sword into her, killing her in one blow.

The public ist meant to sympathize with Jirozaemon, as he was of their shared merchant class while the Oiran was known to not give them the time of day. And even though the murderer is framed as a wronged, well meaning country merchant, manipulated by gangsters of the seedy pleasure quarters, I find Yatsuhashi's story to be exceptionally tragic. One can see that the fate of an Oiran was to cultivate relationships with people she might have rejected at face value but then talked into entertaining by her boss. Then the man she loved, Einojo, who was certainly not going to buy her out of her contract, clearly put his needs before hers, as losing her to Jirozaemon would have granted her a secure life outside of debt to a brothel. And finally, as Yatsuhashi played her only card, openly rejecting someone without even giving any explanation or derogating him, she is punished with burning rage. She was let down by every man in this story and she had no escape.

Nishigiki

In 1810, one Nishigiki dared to refuse a customer so vehemently that it sealed her fate according to the book "Edo Culture: Daily Life and Diversions in Urban Japan, 1600-1868" where we get some insight into methods of torture of Yuujo. It's widely known, that some inhabitants of the Yoshiwara served their terms as convicted prostitutes so we do get a wide variety of women, from refined to rough and ready. Torture and murder were very much a part of village life and no one would bat an eye at the news of another girl getting her comeuppance in one way or another. Refusing a patron was certainly up there in the top reasons for punishment, along with stealing and fleeing through the gates.

I can't seem to find more on the martered Nishigiki, safe to say from the timeline, she was not a Tayuu but rather an Oiran. We can deduct that her case wasn't a big deal and simply got lost in the records. Just another girl that didn't make it.

I did manage to find a lineage of the myouseki in the Yoshiwara though. One very famous Nishigiki Oiran was immortalized by Isoda Koryuusai in 1776, which might or might not be the one we're looking for. It's not very likely though, as by the 1810s this Kishigiki would be in her 50ies and long past her prime to be able to refuse any Danna. Harunobu had not one but two Nishigiki as muses during the 1770ies. Then there is the 1830ies Nishigiki in full Oiran mode. So it's safe to say that the name was rather popular even after one of them faced a gruesome end. There is even a Nishigiki in kabuki and bunraku, whose contract is being negotiated over in the play. The protagonist is forced to come up with 200 ryo (something along 20–80 million modern Japanese yen), an unheard of amount, keeping in mind that a low-ranking samurai might earn only 3 ryo annually. It's so jarring to see one Nishigiki getting murdered for refusing a patron, while another Nishigiki is worth a lifetime's earnings.

From what we know of the rapid decline of Tayuu culture in the early 1800s, the battered Nishigiki was probably one of the very last women who dared to refuse a patron. The retribution was swift and brutal. Tayuu and certainly Oiran were not irreplaceable superstars any longer.

Takao II

When discussing superstars, we cannot go without mentioning the famous Takao II of the Yoshiwara. Date Tsunamune, the young daimyo of Mutsu, decided to buy her contract, which was immensely costly due to her unprecedented popularity as a Tayuu in the pleasure quarters. Her boss ludicrously asked for her weight in gold. As the patron obliged, Takao's sleeves were secretly weighted down with lead, causing her weight to increase to some 70kg. Nevertheless, the contract was bought and a devastated Takao was sent on her way to become the daimyo's mistress in his estates. Poor Takao tried to drown herself in her despair, leaping from the boat she was being shipped in, this being one story. Another version cites that when she refused her new master, her fingers were broken one by one, a day at a time. After the 10th day of rejection, Tsunamune murdered her with his blade.

So, exactly where was her right to refuse a patron? If not THE great Takao, who else might have had the pull to reject an undesirable suitor? Where does this idea come from that these girls, teenagers essentially groomed into sexual servitude, would have had the wherewithal to say: "no, i don't wanna".

Reading Between The Lines Of Tayuu Propaganda

These examples are obviously very extreme, hence all the legends and media around tragic heroines. Oftentimes kabuki and bunraku playwriters used the Courtesan to demonstrate that there is virtue to be found in the most rotten milieu, be it in the form of a stoic and devoted whore, or a lowly John saving up a year's wages to get a hug from a famous Oiran. Among all these tales of love suicides and murders, there were many, many rituals and steps that went beforehand. Lest we forget that the pleasure quarters was built upon rules and laws designed to control the money flow. The art of refusing patrons was very much a tool to get interests up and make or break a popular Courtesan. But we also try and view these rules and regulations in a different light.

In the early years of the pleasure quarters, visitors were of the samurai class, visiting with retainers and associates. Even feudal lords would grace the district and bring with them their retinue. As we know, the merchant class found unprecedented social mobility around this time, replacing the samurai as the purchasing powerhouse. The growing masses found that even though they had the funds, there were degrees of accessibility to more successful ranks of women. They got blocked from mixing with higher class women. Noble Patrons profited from a more luxurious experience that made them feel superior to the lower classes, the brothels gained reputation and prestige through association with the ruling classes. But we are still talking about a tiny pool of people affected in this, as even during its golden age, Tayuu were counted in double digits among the two thousand working girls in the Yoshiwara. So here and there, some admissions for very rich merchants were made to see Tayuu and Oiran. But the culture clash was inevitable.

Just as often as Oiran and Tayuu tradition gets blurred into one another, there is one main factor that separates them: Location.

About Mawashi And That Pesky Contract

There used to be Tayuu in the Yoshiwara, and those were the top rank of Oiran, or the top rank of any given ranking system. At some point, the last Tayuu of the Yoshiwara extinguished and there were only Oiran left. Tayuu in the Shimabara and the Yoshiwara were groomed and educated from childhood to fit the mold. BUT in the Yoshiwara, there were cases of Courtesans rising up to Tayuu rank out of the blue. In Kyoto though, they stuck to the tradition of growing a Tayuu. There is no chance in hell, that a merchant of any kind would have had access to a Tayuu in Kyoto in all earnestness. Just because she was already "promised" to some patron that had invested in her education via her Onesan. So the concept of "refusing a patron" would have been inevitable, as she was ideally already locked into a patronage from the very start of her career, the patron only chomping at the bit for the girl to come of age. Raising a Tayuu was a big deal, a big investment and a big part of high culture in Kyoto.

Now if a new Tayuu had one or two (or even more) interested Danna waiting for her to "open shop", she was essentially already refusing patrons by default. The okiya would see to it, that the girl got to officially meet her patron through the three-meeting rituals we keep reading about everywhere, the one the Oiran hijacked as a means to bleed the patron dry. This is where the myth of "refusing first timers" comes from. And it made sense in Kyoto, where even the most money minded okiya would protect their assets by introducing them to trusted clients before sending them off to far away estates.

Just like the Shirabyoshi before her, the Tayuu would make her way to her Danna's place but she had a whole circus of attendants in tow: Kamuro, Shinzo, her secretary, her lantern bearer, sitting in a palanquin or carriage etc. This was pricey and the costs needed to be negotiated in advance, naturally this was not an impulse buy for a first timer. Same with the Oiran Dochu later on. This was too high a risk to simply offer on credit and the bosses of ageya and okiya knew this very well. They wanted the big fish.

When a deal was negotiated for a Tayuu's exclusive or semi-exclusive patronage with a client, it was not to buy her out quite yet. The girl was kept in the okiya and worked by hosting her patrons, educating herself and educating the new generation of Kamuro, paying off her investment and debt. Her life was paid at least once or many times over if she had a few insanely rich patrons but it was never enough. So even a kept Tayuu might have had days where she might have refused her Danna right?

Again we need to look into the dynamics of noble culture in Kyoto and how different it was from Yoshiwara.

If an Oiran was booked many days or even weeks in advance, may it be by loyal patrons or persistent and rich first-timers, would that be considered a refusal if she simply had no time? When a popular girl was double or triple booked, she would simply not attend her meeting with one patron in favor of another and send a sick note. Or she would meet that one rich guy and slip out to write letters for the other dude waiting. One very common trick was to send the ugliest Shinzo in to keep him entertained. While the rules stated that the Shinzo was off limits, it usually was her initiation into entertaining a patron one on one. And it would have been considered bad manners to complain about the Oiran being AWOL just as much as not paying for that Shinzo's unrequested services. By the way, this trick with sending in the Shinzo was called Mawashi and the Shinzo was then the Mawashikata. The custom had been established among lower ranked whores, who needed to work many Johns simultaneously, jumping from futon to futon. Sure, this angered the clients, but it was just the game of booking a popular girl. Even if she just showed up for a short while, you had the bragging rights. This custom made its way up the ranks to the Oiran over time as efficiency grew more important for them too.

Let's imagine how Kyoto's fine elite would have dealt with rejection. The type of Tayuu you mingled with was representative of your own refinement. If you were important and wealthy enough, she would not let you jump through unnecessary hoops. But just as well, she would meet her patrons at eye level to some degree, as was expected. A good Tayuu would never be as rude as to leave her patron waiting and if she did, an elegant daimyo would never make a scene. He would never let any hint of unsophistication slip, as this grave faux-pas would lead to refusal of services. He would handle her with more care than most women would have dared to dream of experiencing at that time because she was not his belonging, like a wife or a daughter, but rather a service provided by an okiya.

Since we're discussing real people and real emotions though, it's not as black and white of course. Nonetheless, the Tayuu's experience was unlike anything any other woman in Japanese society would have known and made for a rather comfortable and desirable lifestyle.

Honor and Dignity Of The Samurai

So if everything was so cozy and comfy, how did we get all these stories of patrons harming the Courtesans after experiencing rejection? For this we touch on the subject of the importance of honor as a cornerstone of samurai life. Among the vital values imbedded into their identity were dignity and self-restraint just as much as saving face through honor. Just as much as a Courtesan hurling herself from a boat into the river seems a bit excessive, it was representative of her samurai ideal. Just as much would the samurai rather kill her by his own blade for insulting him. As she was a woman, there was no duel to preface this settling of scores. She was already considered beneath him by Confucian teachings, what difference would it had made if she was dead or alive. Certainly there was no coming back or reconciliation. It was simply not how things worked. A Courtesan mingling in these circles already knew what was in store for her, it was part of daily life.

Whose Right Is It Anyway?

Essentially, the art of refusing a patron was privy to the brothel owners only. It was never the right or the privilege of the Tayuu nor the Oiran. She was only an instrument, a toy, she was merchandise. The irony of attributing the "right to refuse customers" to a Tayuu that never got to choose her patrons in the first place is cruel. A girl working in a brothel or okiya would be either disciplined or tortured into meeting the man that brought the most profit for her house. If she was bought out, she was now her new husband's doll to destroy at will. Her death would not have caused a scandal big enough to warrant more than a slap on the wrist for her samurai murderer. And the story of Jirozaemon, who got so welcomed into the teahouse just to kill the girl he had fallen in lust with, is a great example of how money did the vetting.

For the girl's owners, refusing a client was about the coin, for the girls it was a matter of life and death. I often think about how we trust our guts when meeting new people, but the Courtesans didn't have that privilege. They had already grown up desensitized to the leering gaze, to the screams of pain in the walls, to the blood on the tatami. In this sense Tayuu would be considered the epitome of the perfect woman because she was majestic yet submissive. And the submission started with the owner of her contract, who did all the thinking for her. She might have had the forum to interject as opposed to the working girls next door that couldn't catch a break, running from one mattress to another while wiping on the way with their tucked in paper rolls. But what difference would her word have made?

One can see how it might have been a point of contention for the affected men in the story. Of course from their point of view, this was an alien concept, something to make a huge fuss about because it was a rejection of men. Through the lens of Confucian ideals, this was a hard pill to swallow. But it's also very interesting that the art of rejecting patrons was attributed to the girls and not their bosses ultimately. This game was for men to suppress other men while suppressing women