๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ฅ ๐๐๐ง๐๐๐ญ๐ก ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ง๐ญ๐๐ซ๐ง ๐๐ญ๐๐ ๐
๐๐ฅ๐๐ญ๐จ๐ง๐ข๐ ๐๐ง๐ฎ-๐จ๐ก ๐ฑ ๐๐๐ฆ ๐ซ๐๐๐๐๐ซ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ
) ๐๐๐ฌ๐๐ซ๐ข๐ฉ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง: ๐๐ก๐ข๐ฌ is a ๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฌ๐๐ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ง๐ข๐ฆ๐ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ฏ๐ข๐ ๐๐ง๐ฎ-๐๐ก. ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฑ ๐จ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฎ๐๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฌ๐ญ, and this first part is ๐ฌ๐๐ญ ๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ก๐ข๐ฅ๐๐ก๐จ๐จ๐ ๐ฒ๐๐๐ซ๐ฌ, this is my first time doing a story so I donโt know how to do all the pretty effects.๐๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ง ๐๐ ๐ซ๐๐๐๐๐ซ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ; ๐๐๐ ๐ซ๐๐๐๐๐ซ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ ๐ข๐ฏ๐๐ง ๐ ๐ง๐๐ฆ๐, ๐๐ข๐ง๐ฎ,( ๐ข๐ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐๐จ๐ง๐ญ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ง๐๐ฆ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฅ ๐๐ซ๐๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐ก๐๐ง๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ญ๐)
Authors note: In this story Reader is a Saburuko which in the timeline of Inu-oh is a geisha โThe first geisha-like performers in recorded Japanese history were the saburuko โ or "those who serve" โ who waited tables, made conversation and sometimes sold sexual favors sometime during the 600s. The higher-class saburuko danced and entertained at elite social eventsโ and Readerโs mother was a Shirabyลshi, which is just a higher rank that dances and sings.
๐๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ ๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ ๐ ๐ข๐ซ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ก๐จ๐ฌ๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐ ๐ ๐ฎ๐ข๐๐๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฎ๐ง๐๐จ๐ฅ๐๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ฏ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ ๐ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ง๐๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ญ๐ข๐ฆ๐.
The sun pressed against the back of my neck without mercy.
Sweat gathered beneath the layers of silk wrapped around my body, sticking the fabric to my skin. I tugged at the collar for what mustโve been the hundredth time that morning.
Madam struck the back of my shoulder with her fan as she passed.
I rolled my eyes once her back was turned.
The streets of Kyoto were already loud despite the early hour. Merchants shouted over one another, sandals scraped against dirt roads, and somewhere nearby a dog barked without pause.
Life continued noisily around me.
Even when my mother died.
I never knew my father. Madam says thatโs common for girls like me, though Iโm still unsure what girls like me are supposed to be.
My mother had been a shirabyลshi once. A beautiful one, people said. Men used to throw coins at her feet just to watch her dance.
Then she stopped getting up.
After that, there were debts.
Debts turn children into workers very quickly.
Not because Iโm graceful.
But because rice costs money.
Madam says if I would just learn to smile properly, Iโd earn twice as much.
But I think if Madam fell into the Kamo River, Iโd finally sleep peacefully for the first time in months.
โKinu,โ Madam snapped.
I looked up to see her glaring at the way I stood.
I straightened stiffly, jaw clenched.
Iโll tear these robes off myself.
One day Iโll be free of this place.
Though at the time, I still had no idea freedom would arrive in the form of two strange boys carrying music and chaos behind them like ghostsโฆ
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of perfume smoke, tangled silk, and Madamโs endless complaints.
โThere are fifty red ribbons.โ
โAnd somehow you always choose the ugliest.โ
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to stop myself from saying something that would earn me another smack with the fan.
Around us, the other girls prepared for the evening performance. Powder dusted the air in pale clouds while sleeves rustled like restless birds. Someone laughed too loudly in the corner before immediately going quiet when Madam glanced over.
I sat stiffly before a bronze mirror while one of the older girls pinned my hair into place.
Every pin felt like punishment.
โHold still,โ she muttered.
โMaybe my face simply looks like this.โ
She snorted quietly at that.
A thin layer of white powder was brushed across my skin next. I hated the feeling of it. It settled into every pore, every crease, turning my reflection ghostly beneath the lantern light.
By the time the red color was painted carefully onto my lips, I barely looked like myself anymore.
Maybe that was the point.
Outside, Kyoto slowly shifted from gold to a deep blue evening. Lanterns flickered alive one by one across the streets, glowing like little moons caught in paper cages.
Tonightโs performance was being held near one of the larger temple estates, where traveling musicians and blind biwa priests had come through the city.
Madam had been insufferably excited about it all day.
โImportant people will be attending,โ she warned us as we walked. โDo not embarrass me.โ
I quietly hoped somebody would.
The temple grounds were already crowded by the time we arrived. Monks moved through the lantern-lit halls while nobles and wealthy merchants settled themselves comfortably near the front.
The air smelled like incense, damp wood, and approaching rain.
I adjusted the collar of my robes for what had to be the thousandth time.
The room softened almost immediately.
Like water being poured into an empty bowl.
The biwaโs sound drifted through the hall, low and aching in a way I didnโt know music could be. Conversation faded little by little until even the drunk men finally stopped talking.
I found myself looking toward the musicians before I could stop myself.
Among them sat a boy around my age.
Thin fingers gliding carefully across the strings.
His face remained calm while he played, though something about the music felt far too heavy for someone so young.
The stories sung by the priests spoke of battles, ghosts, and drowned warriors beneath dark water. I only caught pieces of it between performances, but the sorrow in the music pressed strangely against my chest.
And for the first time that night, I forgot to think about leaving.
Much later, after the guests had begun drowning themselves in sake and laughter again, I slipped quietly out onto the temple veranda.
Cold night air hit my face instantly.
Temporary freedom, but still.
Somewhere nearby, I could still hear the faint sound of biwa strings.
Curious despite myself, I followed the sound through the dim temple corridors until I spotted him sitting alone beneath a hanging lantern near the outer gate.
The blind boy from earlier.
He wasnโt performing anymore.
Just playing softly to himself.
For a moment, I simply stood there listening to the strings hum through the night air.
Then my sandal scraped lightly against the wood.
โโฆSorry,โ I said automatically, though I wasnโt entirely sure why.
The boy tilted his head slightly toward my voice.
โI thought everyone had gone back inside.โ
โYou can tell whoโs around you that easily?โ
I folded my arms loosely instead.
โYou play differently than the other biwa players.โ
His fingers rested lightly against the strings.
โNot badly,โ I corrected quickly. โJustโฆ different.โ
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
Most people smiled with happiness.
He smiled like he rarely had reason to.
โIโve been told that before.โ
I sat down across from him before really thinking about it, ignoring the way my robes pulled tightly around my legs.
The lantern above us swayed softly in the wind.
โYouโre one of the blind priests?โ I asked.
A small silence settled between us, though strangely, it wasnโt uncomfortable.
Inside the temple hall, laughter erupted loudly before fading again.
โThey werenโt listening properly.โ
โNo,โ he agreed quietly. โMost people donโt.โ
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten unexpectedly.
Like he was already used to being unheard.
โWhat was the story about?โ I asked.
I leaned back carefully against one of the wooden pillars.
โโฆYou talk like an old man.โ
This earned the faintest trace of amusement from him.
โAnd you speak very freely.โ
โThatโs what Madam says before threatening my life.โ
This time he let out a quiet laugh.
For some reason, that felt strangely important.
Then somewhere deeper in the temple grounds:
I shut my eyes immediately.
โYou should probably go,โ the boy said gently.
I pushed myself back onto my feet, brushing dust from my robes before glancing toward him again.
โโฆWhatโs your name?โ
For the first time since Iโd sat down beside him, the calm expression on his face shifted slightly.
His fingers tightened faintly against the strings of the biwa.
What I didnโt realize at the time was that Tomona had not, in fact, forgotten his own name.
He was simply being scolded by the ghost of his father.
โ TOMONA, TELL HER YOUโRE NAME IS TOMONA OF DAN-NO URA!โ
โ TOMONA of Dan-no-ura!โ
โDonโt mumble it like some ashamed monk!โ
the tiny ghost of his father squeaked beside him with the volume of a war drum.
โโฆDid I say something strange?โ
A beat of silence passed before he seemed to realize I was still standing there.
โNo,โ he said quickly.
Then, after the smallest pause:
The strange tension disappeared from his face almost immediately after saying it, though he still looked vaguely irritated by something I couldnโt see.
โKinu,โ I replied instead.
This time he nodded once, as if carefully storing the name away somewhere unseen.
Then I turned to leave before Madam came storming through the halls herself with her fan and the fury of an angry god.
But just before disappearing back into the lantern-lit corridors, I glanced back one last time.
Tomona had already begun playing again.
Like the night itself had stopped to listen.
Sorry I know this was short but Iโve had this in my drafts for awhile so I just wanted to post it to see how itโll do๐ฅฒ ( if it does well and people want me to make a part 2 Iโll gladly make one)
