Chapter Text
𖤓
It wasn’t all that long ago you began working as a courtesan in the Red-Light District ─ or rather ─ forced to become one.
This was never the life you envisioned yourself having. Growing up, surrounded by family, life was simple, easy, without any complaints until your mother passed away from an illness that plagued her years before her demise.
It’s because of this tragic part of your history that your father decided to drink his misery away, finding solace in the embrace of courtesans at the very establishment he sold you to. “You’re the spitting image of her,” was about all he could say before handing you off to your new life.
A voice shouts your name from the kitchen, “Come here and help deliver this tray to the VIP room!”
As you’ve come to learn through rather forceful methods, you’re in no position to argue or even think of denying. So, without a moment to breathe, you enter the kitchen and receive the tray containing one of the more intricate dishes the brothel has to offer. No doubt there’s an important guest present, several even given the other low-ranked courtesans gathered alongside you.
You and the other unfortunate souls make haste to the designated room, arriving before a set of hand-painted shoji doors that detail an assortment of vibrant flowers ─ the primary theme for this particular brothel. The leader of the group announces your arrival before sliding the doors open, politely bowing upon entry. You follow suit, taking note to the identity of the clientele.
The Zenin Clan.
One of the three largest clans in this section of Japan, gifted in brute force military talent to enforce the everyday laws of Emperor Tengen. Their appearance here is commonplace, mainly reserved to courtesans higher up the chain. It’s rumored they discuss their plans for war within these walls, and that it’s preferred for them over the sanctuary of their own estate. Something about their “family pride” and other misogynistic values you’re barely able to stomach for appearance’s sake.
This is your first time even being in the room with such highly valued guests, and a heavy reminder to not make any blunders or there will be hell to pay.
You are among the last to enter the room, with only one Zenin still awaiting a tray. A man bearing a loose, dark colored robe and an equally dark head of hair. He has his face turned towards the courtesan at his side, hiding the rest of his features from you. But of everyone in the room, he seems the most out of place. Going as far as to ignore the banters of his family to focus solely on the woman clinging to his arm.
Slowly, you approach, taking notice that it’s not just any woman at his side, but one of the few elite courtesans the brothel has to offer. Botan, a youthful beauty that holds the imagery title of the peony flower to distinguish her from the rest. She’s leaning heavily into the Zenin man, forcing his arm to rest between the valley of her breasts with eyes ignited in playful lust.
While setting the tray of food and sake in front of the man, the peony’s gaze flickers to you, her expression turning to one of disdain. “About time,” she sneers, raising the sleeve of her loosely tied kimono to cover the arrogant smile on her face. “We can’t keep our favorite guests waiting now, can we?”
“My deepest apologies, Master Zenin.” Your voice is meek, bowing until your forehead meets the tatami mat below.
You hear a scoff from the woman. “Leave us,” she spits with added aggression, and you have no choice but to oblige. While making your exit, a brief flash of green hits you that causes you to falter, if only for a moment before the sliding doors come to a complete close.
Your shift for the remainder of the night is as usual. Equal parts cleaning and servicing other customers. It’s a relatively tame night as far as standards go, and in all honesty, not everything about this line of work is the stuff of nightmares.
There are however plenty of times where it is, and those are the nights that truly haunt you. Men who come through the front doors looking only for a pretty enough face they can ruin, going as far as they’d like so long as you’re able to function again the following night. You’ve had the displeasure of being one of those poor souls one too many times. Some courtesans do well to hide the pain or take pleasure in some twisted way over it, but you? It’s become much too hard to ignore the dark thoughts that linger in your mind, pulling you into an abyss the longer you allow yourself to even entertain the idea.
You didn’t want to be here. Not now and not ever.
You miss your mother, your siblings, sometimes even the father that casted you aside for a bottle of sake. And now all that’s left is for you to drown in this horrifying decadence.
☆
While preparing yourself in one of the communal rooms, you hear the proprietor calling your name. “You’re needed in the Peony Room. Now.”
Botan?
“Uhh– right away, Hanami!”
One thing to note about this brothel is that nearly all the courtesans named after flowers also have their own personal room. It’s a given for the higher ranks, and seldomly so for the other flowers. For a low rank like you to be invited to the Peony Room of all places has your stomach twisting into knots.
This can’t end well.
Nevertheless, you make your way over to her room, easily found by the hand-painted peonies across the sliding doors and the carving of one on a sign above the framing. You take a bow, announcing yourself before entering the room.
“Finally, someone shows up,” hisses the courtesan. You’re unable to see anything other than your view of the tatami mat, but Botan most definitely rolled her eyes. “My lovely guests have been waiting too long for some entertainment. Play us some music, would you?” She adds on with a smile that’s anything but genuine.
“My apologies for the wait, esteemed guests,” you murmur, deepening your bow.
Before Botan has a chance to say anything more, another voice chimes up with a much deeper, more gravely tone, “Lift your head.”
You do, and you’re met once again with a pair of green eyes that tug on something deep in your heart for whatever unknown reason. Only now are you able to see his features in full. Raven hair drapes down over said greenery, a pointed nose with a chiseled jawline, and most interesting to you is the scar brandishing the side of his lip.
He looks to you with a narrow, intimidating gaze, deep in thought but with a hint of softness buried even deeper. At his side is man who is undoubtably not a member of the Zenin Clan, perhaps even a foreigner. The Zenin tonight wears a navy-blue robe, while the other adorns a soft shade of brown similar to his own hair and stubble.
Entertaining guests with the art of music is one of the few parts of this lifestyle you can safely say you enjoy. There’s no need for polite conversations, hard scrubbing, or forced prostitution. Just you and the sounds your fingertips create to ease the atmosphere. Your instrument of choice for the night is the Koto, and you have a feeling the Zenin approves from the way his eyes refuse to leave you.
A few times they meet yours, and you have to be careful lest the nervousness take over and you miss a note. More and more, Botan’s gaze burns into you as even she has trouble holding the attention of the man at her side. He lets her hang off him but does nothing to reciprocate besides idle chatter mostly geared towards the man named Shiu Kong. Much to Botan’s dismay, neither end up staying the night for any sort of romance, and that only adds to the fire burning beneath your feet.
“Thank you for your patronage,” is what you and the other courtesans say to the men, bowing as they exit the room. After a few moments, you’re tugged back harshly by your hair.
“Lowly bitch!” she spits, tugging at your hair as you bring your hands up to her wrists, only for them to be slapped away. “Toji is mine, you hear? Stick to the pigs better off for someone like you!”
“Hanami told me to come here!” you protest, further proving your thoughts from earlier. As if you would want to spend the night with the jealous peony herself over any other courtesan.
A harsh slap comes down upon your face, leaving behind the feeling of fire from her hand. “You don’t get to talk back to me! Don’t you dare forget where you rank here.” She huffs, giving you the most disgusted face riddled with envy despite hownone of this was in your control. “Get out of my sight.” It’s an order you’re more than happy to accept, clutching the burning flesh of your cheek and trailing tears as you rush out.
☆
(cw: implied non-con | skip to next line break to avoid)
Every brothel in the Red-Light District comes with their own set of rules and a hierarchy, so to speak. All about maintaining positions of power or holding sway over the people; it’s a whole other level of depravity that goes beyond sexual favors. At the end of the day, human nature and negativity always comes back to one thing, and one thing only.
Greed.
That’s why despite the fact that Hanami is the owner and proprietor, if one of her best moneymakers comes to her with a proposition that offers zero chance of impacting her funds, she’ll gladly accept. In this situation, Botan’s envious nature stoops to an even lower level.
It wasn’t enough that she needed to reprimand you through physical force, but she felt the need to ─ as she so kindly put it ─ remember your place.
Your workload increased exponentially the following week. If something needed to be done, you were the first (and only) one given the task. Hanami had her own discussion with you, highlighting just how disappointed she is that your presence is bad for Botan’s business. Even though really, how is it any bit your fault?
The cherry on top of this are all the distasteful customers being sent your way to deal with. Drunken, egotistical scum of the Earth who on normal circumstances would be sent away for some other brothel to deal with, but not anymore. “You want to make up for Botan’s business, don’t you?” As if you aren’t the one shouldering a pile of a debt.
This agonizing week grows longer by the minute, and the light at the end of the tunnel seems as distant as the stars above. The awful thoughts in your head have returned tenfold tonight, glued to the forefront of your mind like your soul was thrown into a pit of brambles, thorns wrapped tightly around your body until the water runs red.
“Quit your squirming, whore!” one of the men shouts, following up with a resounding clap to your face when dared to so much as whine. “Fucking bitch.”
The other three in the room chuckle, each of them reaching out to stake claim on your body in an effort to hold you down. Screams and cries were futile attempts.
No one will save you.
These men are infamous to the district, barred from entering the premises of a dozen shops and counting but tonight, their business is a treat for Hanami and the root of your torture. As long as she makes her money and her highest ranked flowers are happy, you’re just discarded meat for the wolves to feast.
This night went on for several hours until the light of dawn came and faded away those very twinkling lights you’ve come to memorize, round after round of pleasing each of the four. By the end of it, you’re bloodied and bruised, unmoving from your spot on the floor. To say your appearance is disheveled is an understatement for the horrors you had to bear head on.
A few other courtesans near your rank in blue came to check on you afterwards. Enough to set you upright and help clean you off, but not enough to stick around and become the next target for Botan’s fury.
So much for the love, honor, and happiness a peony flower offers.
☆
Not even the suffering of the previous night is enough to spare you another night of pleasuring clients.
Hanami’s cursed soul reigns supreme, making sure your skin is peppered in fair-colored powders to hide any hideous marks and tainting your worth. It’s one thing to let you be on the receiving end, but another let it get in the way of making her money.
You’ve had enough, you decided. After tonight, one way or another, you will find a way out of this hellhole.
For now, you were instructed to head over to where you’ll service your client for the night, someone who ensured they’d have you all to themselves that entire time to come. The feeling of dread is endless in your body as you make your approach, and every bang and cry along the way sends panic to your heart and the need to take a breather.
To you, it felt like an eternity kneeling outside the plainly patterned doors to whatever demon is awaiting you inside. Just one more night, becomes a mantra through hushed whispers, inspiring the confidence to finally present yourself to the maw of man.
“Lift your head.”
You comply, and faster than you normally ever would to meet the green eyes of Toji Zenin for the third time in only a week. You fearfully glance around to discern who else is in the room, but you come to find that it’s just the two of you.
His expression is unreadable as ever, but he pats the tatami at his side to beckon you closer. “Come here,” he says, with your name punctuating his command.
Like a trained puppy, you approach, sitting neatly and folded ─ albeit tense and riddled with stress. Within that moment, his hand reaches out and causes you to flinch, shutting your eyes tightly to avoid what you feel is coming.
You fully expect pain to follow, but the soft grace of his fingers under your jaw begs to differ. You feel the heat of his breath as he draws himself closer, but to your surprise, there is no clash of lips to signal any erotic advances.
Slowly, you open your eyes, tensing when they meet with his own. It sends a strange feeling similar to electricity through your body, like old nerves reigniting from a familiar sense. He turns your head with his hand, as if analyzing your features. Jade homing in on areas makeup fails to cover given the damage inflicted upon you.
He doesn’t say anything when he releases the feather-light grip on your face, nor when he leans back into his seat to give you some space. You’re unsure what to say, but given what anyone else who comes here desires, you can all but guess as you begin undoing your robes with eager to get this night done and over with.
However, the same hand used to hold your face return over your own, stopping you from further undressing. He shakes his head. “I didn’t call you here for this.”
“I-I’m sorry, Sir…”
You lean back, attempting to fix your robes in a fit of embarrassment and even panic. Did you do something wrong? Are you not performing your duties properly?
“Close your eyes and open your mouth for me.”
Huh?
You obey with cautiousness evident in your features, trying not to let your body shake in fear of the shuffling noises you hear. You don’t know who Toji is, what he’s like, and especially how he treats women. From what you can see beneath another set of loosely fitted robes, he’s the definition of muscular strength. The type of guy who’s able to snap you like a twig if he so desired.
What lands on your tongue actually ends up being the savory taste of your brothel’s very own meal from the singular tray he had placed in front of him from your arrival.
“Eat up,” he says, placing said tray in front of you instead of himself. “You need it more than me, sweetheart, I can see your bones.”
In a way, he’s right. Meals were already selectively given to lower ranking courtesans depending on your earnings, and more so when Botan began heavily restricting your servings if you were even granted anything more than what’s needed to stay alive.
You lower your head. “Master, I… I can’t, it’s my duty to serve you first and foremost.”
“Your master is telling you to eat,” he huffs. “And I want ya to call me Toji.”
He lifts another mouthful of food up and you know saying no isn’t an option. Deep down, you’re grateful to finally have a real meal instead of the bottom of the bowl scraps you’ve been having. It’s reminiscent to Toji, seeing you polish off every bit of food like a starved animal.
“So how’d you end up in a place like this?” he asks, resting a fist against his cheek.
“The same reason as others, I suppose… I was sold by my father to pay his debt,” you tell him with a sullen look on your face.
Divulging this information to clients is frowned upon, but you don’t see the harm in it or the need to lie. Few courtesans willingly sell themselves to the business. It all comes back to money at the end of the day. With wealth, comes power and the control others desire.
“That so?” Toji leans into your space once more and the look he gives you makes you feel oh so small when compared to him. He reaches out, his fingers grazing a violent bruise around your neck hiding away under powders. “Who did this to you?”
You recoil in response, as does he. Flashbacks run in your mind of the men and all the ways they beat you. You don’t even notice how your own fingers softly sit over your throat or the stray tears descending from your eyes.
Toji sighs, “What were you up to before all this?”
You’re grateful for the change in conversation, swallowing the lump in your throat as your breathing steadies itself. “My father was away for work often, so I always helped my mom around the house and with my siblings.” A look of longing fills your eyes with a glossy coating. “I loved my life, but then my mother fell ill and w-when she passed… everything just fell apart.”
He hums in acknowledgement, grasping the hand shaking on your lap and offers soft circles of comfort.
“It was just me and my younger sibling, Koichi. My father became a drunk a-and–“
You snap back into reality, realizing how comfortable you’re letting yourself be when this is work. “I’m sorry– it’s not right for me to go on like this after you paid for my services.”
The hand you pulled back to your chest is retrieved by his own, pulling you into chest. “Shh, it’s okay.” His arms coil tightly around you, offering you a vague familiar sense of comfort.
Teardrops cascade down your face between muffled apologies. His rough palm runs smooth down your back hoping to settle you back down. Toji doesn’t offer you any words of comfort, but you’re okay with that. The embrace he holds you in is warm, inviting. It’s something you haven’t felt for many moons now and never thought you’d experience again. After tonight, you were ready to greet death and the cold embrace they offer, but now confliction is at an all-time high.
Eventually the tears run dry, and you lift your head from his chest. There’s a noticeable wet spot left behind that has you grimacing. “I’m sorry for messing up your robe…” Your voice is hoarse from the relentless sobs, and it makes you hope no one outside these four walls heard enough to care.
“Don’t be, this is nothin’,” he grins with a hint of something more hidden in the forest of his eyes.
Toji is by far the biggest mystery you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. An enigma. For that, you hope to find a way to repay him.
You shimmy back into a proper position, drying your face off before flashing him a smile of your own. “May I play for you?” you ask, directing his attention to a Koto setup in the room. He nods, and you move to the wooden spectacle.
Brothels typically train you in the art of music, but when it comes to the Koto, that was all your mother’s doing. For the kindness Toji has given you tonight, you return the favor with various melodies all from your childhood. Reminders of the better days when you yourself were once happy.
He remains focused like the time before, maybe even more so. His eyes are unwavering, admiring every pluck of string and harmonic tune. This goes on for a time until your fingers tire and you’ve run out of all those memorable pieces. At the end, you’re much calmer than you were before, finally being able to relax in full.
“You play as beautifully as you look,” he tells you, sending a flood of goosebumps down your neck.
You shrug, “It must be pretty terrible then…”
“Come here.”
“Huh?”
He taps the tatami surface in front of him until you move yourself back over. There, he reaches up with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding your head up.
“Those bruises don’t make you anything less than you are.” He says your name right after with a cold expression but his voice betraying that. “You are beautiful, and I’ll kill the fuckers that did this to you.”
Who knew such brutal words could spark such opposite feelings in your heart?
“Toji…” you drawl, flashing him a look of concern rather than the fear he might’ve been expecting.
His lips stretch further apart like the maw of a hungry wolf. “You think I’m joking?”
“N-no, but–“
“I’m not going to watch you get hurt again, not anymore,” he says, and you can’t help but feel there’s a certain undertone you’re not understanding. For whatever odd universal feeling, you believe him.
Toji stands, walking over to a closet in the room before pulling out a spare futon. You look to him with confusion written all over your face, watching as he sets it up adjacent to his own as he settles down onto the available space of the one.
“You coming?”
“W-what would you like me to do, Mas– Toji?”
His chest rumbles a low husky laugh as he pats the second bedroll. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s late and I’m sure you could use the extra beauty sleep.”
“I thought I was already beautiful,” you half mumble under your breath in a teasing manner, making your approach to his side.
He huffs with amusement, surprising you with how he managed to even hear your softspoken voice. “You are, don’t worry.”
You plop down onto your side facing the samurai, your heart beating a mile a minute. You understand that he’s giving you space, thankful he hasn’t once forced himself upon you like he so easily could.
“Thank you, Toji.”
He doesn’t respond just yet with anything more but a calm yet reassuring face, not while you’re visibly awake at least. Over time, you find yourself inching closer and closer to the warmth that radiates from his body, lulling you into the most restful night you’ve had in years.
Toji’s gaze falls to all the marks over your skin, evidence of the trauma you’ve suffered. Regret fills him deeper than you could ever imagine, and in time he hopes to restore you to what once was.
“I will save you from this.”
☽