I pressed the lacquered comb into the twist of her hair, gently slid the stick into it, fingered the shining gold as it dangled onto the glossy black. "This kimono won me so many hearts." Brush of ebony over her eyes, accenting, mocking. I pressed my fingertips to her lips to stain them red, a blush that would not shame her like the one I had given her.
"Perfect." I lifted her chin to gaze at her, while her eyes smiled back at me and she mimicked the empty emotion on my face. "Don't look innocent." I told her. "Your audience wants you to tease them."
I took her hands to lead her to rise, stood behind her and reached around to offer her two fans. I placed them in both her hands, tangled our fingers and flipped them open. I pushed her with the gentle force of my body to tell her the ways to move, and guided her with the grip I had on her hands. She moved like she was my shadow, melting together with me at my feet, becoming so careless to the beat of my heart. There were times I could feel our breath draw the same, our hearts chime together, and every curve was filled with another, every thought was matched with the one before. When I halted her, she reached to me, placed her hands on the top of my head and drew them forward, raking my hair over her shoulder to rest upon her. I was again left helpless to her, both of my hands occupied with the fans, though I knew I could so easily overpower her. I let myself go to her, letting my eyes fall closed so softly, letting my mind slip away. The sounds of Edo came back to me, pouring into my mind, flooding my ears. The shamisen, the taiko beats, and the colours of the stage lights bore into the blackness of my closed eyes. I was surrounded, and I lost myself in it, as if I was drowning in a sea that I begged to take me.
"Perfect." She said, jarring me back to her.
I turned from her quickly, taking from her the chance to stop me, placing distance between us. "I was perfect." I could feel the warmth drain from my eyes until all that was left was ice blue. "In Edo, I was perfect, and they all wanted me." They all wanted me, and I had let them have me, but after, they left me, and it was such a sacrifice. The glimpse into my life was all it took before they realized, the fantasy was just a fantasy, and under all the glamour slapped onto my skin, I was pale and I was twisted, and that wasn't what they paid to see.
She turned her gaze to me with a smile, but it fell, touched with my cold. "Seishin-sama?"
"Sayaka, if you knew what perfect was, my dear, you would hate yourself." As I transferred the fans to one hand, I used the other to take hold of the collar of her kimono. I pressed myself tall and straight against her. "If you knew what perfect took from you, you'd perish over it."
I let her go and stepped back away from her, just a few paces, just enough to intimidate her. I remained lengthened, tilting my head and peering down my nose at her. How dare she? How dare she challenge what I had suffered for? If she had known what I had given, if she had known what had been taken from me, her respect for me would have been fear. She should have bowed down before me, in awe of me. In awe of my ability to endure. This is what they wanted, perfection. But then once I had achieved what they wanted me to be, I was above them. I was too good for them. They were merely slaves to my honor and beauty.
"Never compare yourself to me."
I threw one fan down as I left the room, pausing in the doorway. She watched me, holding herself timidly, confused at my seemingly sudden outburst. I reached to gather my hair in my hand, and what I held, I brought to my lips to place a kiss upon it. But I didn't leave. I retreated.
Late afternoon, Mori and I had dressed the Geisha and Maiko with Hiroyuki-san, and they pushed forward into the early evening to various teahouses across the small city. I sat alone to watch the sun fade and the darkness of night enter, only my teacup long since drained at my side. My mind was an ever changing maze of twisted thoughts. I had regret, but I had happiness. I had hate, but I had pride. I had everything I wanted, and yet those things contradicted each other, turned into turmoil somewhere in the middle. Maybe, I thought, I should have wanted less.
Hiroyuki-san sat heavily beside me, using his cane to ease his uncooperative body onto the step. He carried a small pot by the handle, and the smell of the tea inside began to overtake my air. Expertly, the old man filled my cup once again, a metaphor for his entire existence in my life, I thought.
"You're better at pouring tea than the Geisha."
"I should hope so. I've been pouring tea longer than they have been alive."
We sat in silence together, sipping tea, looking forward into the street at the front of the Okiya, watching people pass, hurrying to the teahouses. I felt there was a barrier between us and the street, and the chaos of the outside world at that hour could not penetrate the peace we had created. In the Okiya, I felt myself ancient energy compared to the liveliness created by the Geisha and Maiko. As I considered it though, it was only their youth spilling such purity into the halls like the smoke if incense. Truthfully, they were carrying souls that had half rotted away. They were jaded, and their egos lead them, one step ahead at all times. I was not evil, compared to them. Somehow I had the power to reflect and realize that the time I had spent in the mountains had humbled me, and drained from me the desire to be everything. Beauty, perfection, skill, talent, desire, they were no longer as important to me as they had been. Words like love had replaced them. But I could recall in an instant that there lay something dormant in me that begged to be awakened and show its ugly face. Beside Hiroyuki-san, I was tainted and stained in the wake of the purity he exuded, but my youthfulness in comparison was bright. Was that all it had come to? Comparisons.
"Sakura will not heal well. She will not return to the Okiya." I turned my gaze to the profile of the old man. He looked steadfast into the street, his shoulders relaxed. He was unconcerned with the things he could do nothing to change. "Does your Kitsune have the power of possession?"
"No. The demon is me and me alone." Somehow, I was proud of it. I was always something. Something to be desired, something to be occupied with, something to take advantage of, something to make the best of. What I had always wanted to be was something to fear.
"Sakura said that your Kitsune injured her. But I don't believe her. That injury was meant to be a warning, should she recover from it." The stoicism of his demeanour was out of character for him, normally entirely at peace, content, but he looked at me with a sideways glance that was accusatory.
I considered taking a moment to ponder a story as I took a breath and sip of the tea. It was useless though, and I was proud. I wanted ownership. "She threatened my Kitsune. Mori is a gentle creature, she is innocent of all things, except those things which I have done to her." It was a confession, but it did not satisfy me. It was not enough to imply. "I was the one who injured her."
"You will be responsible for Sayaka's training. But I suspect that is just what you wanted."
A laugh felt so foreign to my face. I was not built to contain happiness or any expression of it, but it spilled out of me none the less. It was not pure happiness in that moment, but it was disbelief and impossibility. "I wish to erase the habits that Sakura taught her. She has potential, and I think that she was being sabotaged."
"I brought you here to end the suffering inside this Okiya, Seishin. I think you have already begun without even knowing the task." Suffering was simply drawn to me. If it existed in the world, I would find it. "There is evil here worse than you."
"Worse than me? No, in the end, I will always be the worst."
We sat simply together as the darkness of the night thickened. Silence settled over us once more. The night enticed Mori out of hiding, draping herself lazily against my chest, my fingers idly combing her hair. Her eyes like the blue of the afternoon sky shone against the night. Hours has begun to pass. I barely noticed that when Sugai's presence was absent, I transformed into something gentle. I wondered how long it had taken me. In the first moments that I had met Mori, I hated her. I hated myself, who I was, where I had come from, and what I had done. Mori reminded me instantly of those pieces of myself. An effortless femininity, an otherworldly attraction, a lust without thought or question. It had made me rage, but it had made me understand. She had changed me, but even she could not extract the devil from me, as much as I thought I loved her. I never believed that it was so easy to let go of hatred.
Hiroyuki-san had long since bid us good night and removed himself from the steps. The streets were called to life once more as the parties came to a close, the patrons stumbled on their travels, and the Geisha returned to the Okiya.
Sayaka was the first to arrive at the door, out of breath, hurried in her every move. "Seishin-sama, I was hoping to make it back before everyone else. Might I speak with you privately?"
I obliged her request, walking so swiftly behind her to her room that the hem of my kimono stirred the dust that had settled on the floor. I had laced my fingers with Mori's and refused to let her go, guiding her with me through the halls. As I slid the door shut, Mori placed herself behind me, and I felt her fingers like vices curling into the back of my kimono.
"Seishin-sama, I mean no disrespect, but I requested to speak with you only." Sayaka's eyes were fixed on Mori as she peered at the Maiko from over my shoulder. Her grip travelled across me, holding me as if I was a possession.
"She is afraid of me." Mori's whisper slipped into my ear, but she was not subtle with her accusation.
"Mori is simply an extension of me."
"I'm afraid of everything, Seishin-sama. Will you do to me what you did to Sakura?"
It struck me, the fear in her eyes as they began to fill with tears. She had been taught to hold back, and while I could feel the strength she used to prevent the tears from falling, I wanted to see them. But I wanted more to be in control of them. "Your skills have been wasted. I will be hard on you. I will be rough with you. I will show you how much potential you have. But no harm will come to you from my hands."
I turned into Mori's hold, meeting her with my hand against her back. I turned my gaze to look back at the Maiko, hoping for her strength to run out. Nothing. I guided Mori to exit the room, closing the door. Her hand on my shoulder with firm pressure turned me, pressed my back against the wall just outside the door.
"You know the thorn is not you."