Chapter Two:
All written works displayed are (C) K.E. Wright.
Ichigo:
"Boy, you have the night off," Mayuri told me off-handedly.
"What?" I asked, pretty sure he finally had gone completely off the deep end
Everyone knew that I was the biggest money maker in the brothel. If the man I worked for really meant what he'd just said, that would mean kissing at least half the profits he could have made tonight goodbye, and that was not my pride talking. And believe you me: Mayuri Kurotsuchi was a man who believed money made the world go 'round.
Forsaking that, taking tonight off would mean kissing a good-sized portion my own income goodbye and being out on the street at the end of the month because I wouldn't have enough to make rent. Needless to say, I was more than a little apprehensive upon hearing such a pronouncement.
"You are not working tonight," he enunciated, as though I were hard of hearing. He paused for a moment before bellowing, "Nemu!"
I was unsure if the fact I wasn't working was connected to him calling for Nemu, so it was best to linger and find out. If I walked out of his office and the two were connected, both Nemu and myself would be beaten so hard we couldn't work the next night, which would just snowball his rage for the rest of the month. If they weren't connected at all, the only one to suffer his normal insults would be me.
Beautiful, timid Nemu Kurotsuchi slipped quietly into the office, tugging at the tails of her short yukata. "Yes, Father?"
"Take the boy. He's to be washed and taken to Yumichika's. Then bring him to Zan." He waved his hand dismissively at both of us.
Nemo reached for my arm and led me out of Mayuri's office.
"What in the hell?" I asked her as soon as the door closed behind us.
She shushed me quickly. "Wait until we're in the bathhouse, Berry-chan."
The walk to the bathhouse was in strained silence. I knew what going to Yumi's and Zan's meant: I needed to be presentable to an important client. Despite my popularity, I had never rated such treatment, though others in the brothel certainly had. I had several simple serviceable yukatas for work and the manners of a commoner, despite the fact I wasn't quite as common as some of the others. Being sent to Yumichika happened by appointment only –he was one of the most sought-after clothing designers in the city and he worked one-on-one with his clients as frequently as possible. Being sent to Zan meant I needed to learn the conduct becoming of a courtesan, as opposed to the manners of a street-whore.
Just who in the hell would I be receiving?
When we reached the bathhouse, Nemu pulled me into the private section –reserved for the best of us, not the most popular. The door had barely closed behind us when she reached for the knot of my obi and nimbly untied it. She made quick work of the rest of my clothes and I wondered if I should be embarrassed. Nemu certainly was lovely, and though she was timid, she had let me know she was interested in me. Reciprocating her affections would mean risking Mayuri's wrath, but that obviously hadn't stopped me from refusing to be used as hard as some of the others allowed themselves to be.
She disrobed herself and I decided to be thoroughly embarrassed over everything else. One would think that being comfortable with your own nudity would be conducive to being comfortable with someone else's, but evidently not. It might have more to do with the fact that most of my clients were male, and Nemu was nothing if not distinctly female.
Things were quiet and awkward as she ushered me into the bath and poured the first bucket of hot water over me.
She began to scrub my back as she leaned to whisper in my ear, "Apparently, one of your regulars has recommended you to someone high-ranked. He's footing the bill, but apparently you're a present. As such, Father wants you to be 'appropriately wrapped and presented' for whatever person you will be receiving."
I swallowed hard and picked up the second sponge, scrubbing at my limbs until the skin was flushed and pink.
A present? I wondered as the fragrance of the perfumed soap filled the room.
I had been merchandise for most of my life, if I were honest. I'd sold myself to it at a young age to keep my younger sisters from being forced to do the same. For a long time, I'd been less than human to anyone who frequented whatever establishment I had been working at. Honestly, though Mayuri was crazy as all hell and could be a little rough with us, this was still the nicest place I'd worked.
This was certainly the first time anyone had thought so highly of me as to make my time with someone a gift. And not just a gift for a commoner –a gift for someone of high rank, like a diplomat or a foreign prince or something. My mind hadn't stopped reeling since Nemu had whispered those words in my ear.
A second bucket of hot water cascading down on my head and my body brought my mind back to reality. I hadn't even felt Nemu wash my hair, but she clearly had, since it smelled like something oceanic.
I blinked at her and she just smiled.
"Dress in this," she directed, pointing at a faded red kimono that was neatly folded on a stool. Draped overtop it was a jet-black obi. "Then we'll go see Yumichika."
I decided not to point out her nudity, since she'd had the forethought to bring clean clothes for me. Despite her father's constant verbal abuse and chastisements, she was incredibly competent.
We dressed in silence and I took a deep breath. I'd heard some strange things about the man I was going to see, but I chose to discard them. Let the first impression be important all the way around.
"Boy, you have the night off," Mayuri told me off-handedly.
"What?" I asked, pretty sure he finally had gone completely off the deep end
Everyone knew that I was the biggest money maker in the brothel. If the man I worked for really meant what he'd just said, that would mean kissing at least half the profits he could have made tonight goodbye, and that was not my pride talking. And believe you me: Mayuri Kurotsuchi was a man who believed money made the world go 'round.
Forsaking that, taking tonight off would mean kissing a good-sized portion my own income goodbye and being out on the street at the end of the month because I wouldn't have enough to make rent. Needless to say, I was more than a little apprehensive upon hearing such a pronouncement.
"You are not working tonight," he enunciated, as though I were hard of hearing. He paused for a moment before bellowing, "Nemu!"
I was unsure if the fact I wasn't working was connected to him calling for Nemu, so it was best to linger and find out. If I walked out of his office and the two were connected, both Nemu and myself would be beaten so hard we couldn't work the next night, which would just snowball his rage for the rest of the month. If they weren't connected at all, the only one to suffer his normal insults would be me.
Beautiful, timid Nemu Kurotsuchi slipped quietly into the office, tugging at the tails of her short yukata. "Yes, Father?"
"Take the boy. He's to be washed and taken to Yumichika's. Then bring him to Zan." He waved his hand dismissively at both of us.
Nemo reached for my arm and led me out of Mayuri's office.
"What in the hell?" I asked her as soon as the door closed behind us.
She shushed me quickly. "Wait until we're in the bathhouse, Berry-chan."
The walk to the bathhouse was in strained silence. I knew what going to Yumi's and Zan's meant: I needed to be presentable to an important client. Despite my popularity, I had never rated such treatment, though others in the brothel certainly had. I had several simple serviceable yukatas for work and the manners of a commoner, despite the fact I wasn't quite as common as some of the others. Being sent to Yumichika happened by appointment only –he was one of the most sought-after clothing designers in the city and he worked one-on-one with his clients as frequently as possible. Being sent to Zan meant I needed to learn the conduct becoming of a courtesan, as opposed to the manners of a street-whore.
Just who in the hell would I be receiving?
When we reached the bathhouse, Nemu pulled me into the private section –reserved for the best of us, not the most popular. The door had barely closed behind us when she reached for the knot of my obi and nimbly untied it. She made quick work of the rest of my clothes and I wondered if I should be embarrassed. Nemu certainly was lovely, and though she was timid, she had let me know she was interested in me. Reciprocating her affections would mean risking Mayuri's wrath, but that obviously hadn't stopped me from refusing to be used as hard as some of the others allowed themselves to be.
She disrobed herself and I decided to be thoroughly embarrassed over everything else. One would think that being comfortable with your own nudity would be conducive to being comfortable with someone else's, but evidently not. It might have more to do with the fact that most of my clients were male, and Nemu was nothing if not distinctly female.
Things were quiet and awkward as she ushered me into the bath and poured the first bucket of hot water over me.
She began to scrub my back as she leaned to whisper in my ear, "Apparently, one of your regulars has recommended you to someone high-ranked. He's footing the bill, but apparently you're a present. As such, Father wants you to be 'appropriately wrapped and presented' for whatever person you will be receiving."
I swallowed hard and picked up the second sponge, scrubbing at my limbs until the skin was flushed and pink.
A present? I wondered as the fragrance of the perfumed soap filled the room.
I had been merchandise for most of my life, if I were honest. I'd sold myself to it at a young age to keep my younger sisters from being forced to do the same. For a long time, I'd been less than human to anyone who frequented whatever establishment I had been working at. Honestly, though Mayuri was crazy as all hell and could be a little rough with us, this was still the nicest place I'd worked.
This was certainly the first time anyone had thought so highly of me as to make my time with someone a gift. And not just a gift for a commoner –a gift for someone of high rank, like a diplomat or a foreign prince or something. My mind hadn't stopped reeling since Nemu had whispered those words in my ear.
A second bucket of hot water cascading down on my head and my body brought my mind back to reality. I hadn't even felt Nemu wash my hair, but she clearly had, since it smelled like something oceanic.
I blinked at her and she just smiled.
"Dress in this," she directed, pointing at a faded red kimono that was neatly folded on a stool. Draped overtop it was a jet-black obi. "Then we'll go see Yumichika."
I decided not to point out her nudity, since she'd had the forethought to bring clean clothes for me. Despite her father's constant verbal abuse and chastisements, she was incredibly competent.
We dressed in silence and I took a deep breath. I'd heard some strange things about the man I was going to see, but I chose to discard them. Let the first impression be important all the way around.
Ichigo:
"Mayuri really should have given me more notice for something like this," complained one Ayasegawa Yumichika as he looked me over. "He knows I always need more time for the first fitting, yet there he goes again, expecting me to cram it all into a smaller time-slot! Honestly, if I had any sense, I'd just kill the man: then I wouldn't have to deal with any more of his people."
I kind of liked his complaints, mostly because he didn't seem the type of man to be pushed around. The complaints would have stung a little, had he been more focused on the statements than on my body.
"Ikkaku!" he called as he approached me.
"Yeah, Yumi?" replied an annoyed looking man with a shaved head who was propping up one of the walls.
"Fetch my kit, please," Yumichika directed. "Nemu, wait in the parlor, will you please?"
Nemu simply nodded and I found myself alone with the strange, oddly beautiful man.
His dark hair was straight and cut beneath his chin, which flattered his facial structure. Every single hair was perfectly in place and for a moment, I wondered what his secret was. Then I noticed what had to be feather extensions to his eyelashes and his eyebrow. The bright red and yellow feathers would have looked utterly ridiculous on someone else, but on him, they seemed to emphasize the subtle beauties of his face.
Great. I'm waxing poetic over a man who is now in charge of my body for the next… three hours?
"Did you fall in love, handsome, or shall I walk by once more?" he inquired sweetly, batting his lashes at me.
"I… I apologize for staring. I'd heard rumors about you, but I never expected you to be so gorgeous." I gave him a small smile, wondering how he'd receive the compliment.
He preened for a moment, absolutely giddy about the compliment. After that, he took a deep steadying breath and looked to me. "Disrobe, silly boy. If I'm to create something for you, I need to see the charms of what I'm working with." His tone was light, like he was afraid he might say the wrong thing.
Bowing my head forward, I looked at the floor and slowly reached for the knot I'd tied in the obi. I'd grown very good at tying them so that they were easy to undo when needed, because it was something frequently required in my line of work. When the obi was untied, I released it and let it flutter to the floor. I parted the red kimono easily, then slipped out of one sleeve, then the other. Standing before him in nothing more than the under garment, I shrugged out of it slowly and met his eyes as it dropped to the floor.
"Who taught you to undress that way?" he asked, his tone a bit sharp.
"Uh, I don't think anyone did," I replied cautiously.
He raised his right brow. "Really? I would have guessed a woman taught you. This is the first time I have ever seen a man undress as sensually as you do."
I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not, but I felt the heat in my cheeks. Turning under the guise of picking up and folding my clothes, I waiting until the heat faded a little before turning back around.
"Don't take this the wrong way, handsome, but I'm going to familiarize myself with your body a little," he told me with a cheeky smile. "I need a good understanding of your body to showcase it."
I said nothing but nodded my consent because he seemed to need it.
His hands settled on my shoulders briefly, then traced down both arms as though to memorize the musculature beneath the skin. Soft fingers traced my skin from my pectorals to my thighs. Then a gentle hand traced the slope of my spine and the curve of my butt, where it rested for a moment. Taking a moment to sit on a stool before me, he resumed his thorough examination by caressing the front and outer side of each of my legs, one at a time. He nudged my knee and I parted my legs further. Nodding as he went, he touched the inside of my thigh with a pair of fingers.
Rising quickly, he looked at me quizzically. "How long is your hair?"
Sheepishly, I reached back and released the pony-tail that kept my hair out of my way. I knew the lengths were ragged –the last time they'd been cut, it had been with a knife– and it hadn't received the attention it deserved if I persisted in keeping a mane.
He walked behind me and finger combed the length before tutting at me. "This is awful, Berry-san. Your mother would be ashamed to see your hair in this condition!"
My mother would be ashamed to see me in this condition, I thought wryly.
"I shall have to cut it to make you presentable. Any preferences?" he asked.
"I place myself into your hands," I returned rather formally before remembering that a commoner wouldn't use such language.
Fucking hell. I'm an idiot! Why not just announce it?
Luckily, Yumichika didn't think anything of it. "That's an astute decision, Berry-san. I do usually know best in these matters." He paused and perused my body once more with his dark eyes.
The way that Yumichika looked at me wasn't the same as when anyone else looked at me. When Mayuri looked me over, all he saw was a profit. In contrast, when my clients looked at me, all they saw was a pleasure-object. It was strange: when Yumichika looked at me, it was as though he saw a work of art that should be marveled over and caressed and memorized.
I wasn't just an object to Yumichika, and that fact made me like the man all the more.
"Hmm," he murmured to himself. "With that complexion and that hair color… something dark, I think… maybe something in black? Do I have something majestic enough in the back, then?" He continued to mutter to himself for a few more moments before looking at me. "Oh! Do put your clothes back on, handsome. I can't cut your hair if you're naked."
Shaking my head, I couldn't help but smile at the strange man. Such a strange set of rules, yet they definitely worked for him.
I'd barely slipped back into my clothes and tied the obi once more when the man I'd seen earlier came in. He looked a great deal less annoyed than before, perhaps because he'd likely spent a good portion of time alone in the parlor with Nemu to allow Yumichika time to… examine me.
"Ah, there you are, Ikkaku. Do you have the good shears, as well? I shall have to cut his hair," Yumichika informed him.
"They're in the case," he replied, handing Yumichika a large box.
"Thank you. Can you please check what fabrics we have in dark gray to black?" he returned with more politeness than I'd seen him use with his assistant in the past.
Ikkaku looked shocked for an instant, but recovered quickly. "It shall be done, though I do warn you we probably don't have much in that color group. As you'll recall, you rarely work with it."
"Let me know what we have. I only have at most twenty-four hours to put this together," he replied absently, his mind already elsewhere. When he pulled a brush and a pair of scissors out of the case, he gave me a smile. "Lucky for you, handsome, I do my best work under pressure."
"Mayuri really should have given me more notice for something like this," complained one Ayasegawa Yumichika as he looked me over. "He knows I always need more time for the first fitting, yet there he goes again, expecting me to cram it all into a smaller time-slot! Honestly, if I had any sense, I'd just kill the man: then I wouldn't have to deal with any more of his people."
I kind of liked his complaints, mostly because he didn't seem the type of man to be pushed around. The complaints would have stung a little, had he been more focused on the statements than on my body.
"Ikkaku!" he called as he approached me.
"Yeah, Yumi?" replied an annoyed looking man with a shaved head who was propping up one of the walls.
"Fetch my kit, please," Yumichika directed. "Nemu, wait in the parlor, will you please?"
Nemu simply nodded and I found myself alone with the strange, oddly beautiful man.
His dark hair was straight and cut beneath his chin, which flattered his facial structure. Every single hair was perfectly in place and for a moment, I wondered what his secret was. Then I noticed what had to be feather extensions to his eyelashes and his eyebrow. The bright red and yellow feathers would have looked utterly ridiculous on someone else, but on him, they seemed to emphasize the subtle beauties of his face.
Great. I'm waxing poetic over a man who is now in charge of my body for the next… three hours?
"Did you fall in love, handsome, or shall I walk by once more?" he inquired sweetly, batting his lashes at me.
"I… I apologize for staring. I'd heard rumors about you, but I never expected you to be so gorgeous." I gave him a small smile, wondering how he'd receive the compliment.
He preened for a moment, absolutely giddy about the compliment. After that, he took a deep steadying breath and looked to me. "Disrobe, silly boy. If I'm to create something for you, I need to see the charms of what I'm working with." His tone was light, like he was afraid he might say the wrong thing.
Bowing my head forward, I looked at the floor and slowly reached for the knot I'd tied in the obi. I'd grown very good at tying them so that they were easy to undo when needed, because it was something frequently required in my line of work. When the obi was untied, I released it and let it flutter to the floor. I parted the red kimono easily, then slipped out of one sleeve, then the other. Standing before him in nothing more than the under garment, I shrugged out of it slowly and met his eyes as it dropped to the floor.
"Who taught you to undress that way?" he asked, his tone a bit sharp.
"Uh, I don't think anyone did," I replied cautiously.
He raised his right brow. "Really? I would have guessed a woman taught you. This is the first time I have ever seen a man undress as sensually as you do."
I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not, but I felt the heat in my cheeks. Turning under the guise of picking up and folding my clothes, I waiting until the heat faded a little before turning back around.
"Don't take this the wrong way, handsome, but I'm going to familiarize myself with your body a little," he told me with a cheeky smile. "I need a good understanding of your body to showcase it."
I said nothing but nodded my consent because he seemed to need it.
His hands settled on my shoulders briefly, then traced down both arms as though to memorize the musculature beneath the skin. Soft fingers traced my skin from my pectorals to my thighs. Then a gentle hand traced the slope of my spine and the curve of my butt, where it rested for a moment. Taking a moment to sit on a stool before me, he resumed his thorough examination by caressing the front and outer side of each of my legs, one at a time. He nudged my knee and I parted my legs further. Nodding as he went, he touched the inside of my thigh with a pair of fingers.
Rising quickly, he looked at me quizzically. "How long is your hair?"
Sheepishly, I reached back and released the pony-tail that kept my hair out of my way. I knew the lengths were ragged –the last time they'd been cut, it had been with a knife– and it hadn't received the attention it deserved if I persisted in keeping a mane.
He walked behind me and finger combed the length before tutting at me. "This is awful, Berry-san. Your mother would be ashamed to see your hair in this condition!"
My mother would be ashamed to see me in this condition, I thought wryly.
"I shall have to cut it to make you presentable. Any preferences?" he asked.
"I place myself into your hands," I returned rather formally before remembering that a commoner wouldn't use such language.
Fucking hell. I'm an idiot! Why not just announce it?
Luckily, Yumichika didn't think anything of it. "That's an astute decision, Berry-san. I do usually know best in these matters." He paused and perused my body once more with his dark eyes.
The way that Yumichika looked at me wasn't the same as when anyone else looked at me. When Mayuri looked me over, all he saw was a profit. In contrast, when my clients looked at me, all they saw was a pleasure-object. It was strange: when Yumichika looked at me, it was as though he saw a work of art that should be marveled over and caressed and memorized.
I wasn't just an object to Yumichika, and that fact made me like the man all the more.
"Hmm," he murmured to himself. "With that complexion and that hair color… something dark, I think… maybe something in black? Do I have something majestic enough in the back, then?" He continued to mutter to himself for a few more moments before looking at me. "Oh! Do put your clothes back on, handsome. I can't cut your hair if you're naked."
Shaking my head, I couldn't help but smile at the strange man. Such a strange set of rules, yet they definitely worked for him.
I'd barely slipped back into my clothes and tied the obi once more when the man I'd seen earlier came in. He looked a great deal less annoyed than before, perhaps because he'd likely spent a good portion of time alone in the parlor with Nemu to allow Yumichika time to… examine me.
"Ah, there you are, Ikkaku. Do you have the good shears, as well? I shall have to cut his hair," Yumichika informed him.
"They're in the case," he replied, handing Yumichika a large box.
"Thank you. Can you please check what fabrics we have in dark gray to black?" he returned with more politeness than I'd seen him use with his assistant in the past.
Ikkaku looked shocked for an instant, but recovered quickly. "It shall be done, though I do warn you we probably don't have much in that color group. As you'll recall, you rarely work with it."
"Let me know what we have. I only have at most twenty-four hours to put this together," he replied absently, his mind already elsewhere. When he pulled a brush and a pair of scissors out of the case, he gave me a smile. "Lucky for you, handsome, I do my best work under pressure."
Ichigo:
An hour and a half later, my hair had be cut and styled before Yumi –he insisted I call him that– had carefully shown me how I was to wear my hair the following evening before pinning it all up with a pair of hair sticks. I had been wrapped in the most exquisite silks in existence, pinned within an inch of my life, teased and otherwise treated like a human being that had been confused for a mannequin.
When it was time to leave, Yumi kissed my cheek lightly, and reminded me, "Take care of your hair, or the next time I see you, I'll strangle you with it."
I'd thrown back my head and laughed. "I'll take care of it," I told him fondly. "Such a lovely creature as yourself should never have to resort to murder."
The streets were quiet as Nemu escorted me to my next location.
"You enjoyed being Yumichika's human pin-cushion," she observed softly as we walked.
I smiled at her. "Yumi didn't just treat me as a human pin-cushion and a dress-up doll, Nemu. And yes, I did enjoy it."
She frowned at me. "Explain."
"He treated me like I was a piece of art. No, more than that, he treated me like I was a person. I've spent so long being a product to be sold that I guess I'd sort of forgotten how nice it feels to be appreciated and liked for myself rather than for what I can do. I mean, I know I have a few friends who definitely see me that way," I added quickly before she could protest, "but a complete stranger looked at my naked body and thought it was a work of art to showcase. It's a bit of a high. Does that make any sense?"
We halted before a large house and she looked at me for a moment before she stood on her tip-toes and kissed my cheek. "I think I understand, Berry-chan."
I looked at the large house for a few moments and felt a prickle of familiarity. "What is this place?"
"This is where Zan lives," she told me softly.
Hot damn, this is going to suck, I thought, swallowing hard as I eyed the familiar building. Especially if "Zan" is who I think he is…
An hour and a half later, my hair had be cut and styled before Yumi –he insisted I call him that– had carefully shown me how I was to wear my hair the following evening before pinning it all up with a pair of hair sticks. I had been wrapped in the most exquisite silks in existence, pinned within an inch of my life, teased and otherwise treated like a human being that had been confused for a mannequin.
When it was time to leave, Yumi kissed my cheek lightly, and reminded me, "Take care of your hair, or the next time I see you, I'll strangle you with it."
I'd thrown back my head and laughed. "I'll take care of it," I told him fondly. "Such a lovely creature as yourself should never have to resort to murder."
The streets were quiet as Nemu escorted me to my next location.
"You enjoyed being Yumichika's human pin-cushion," she observed softly as we walked.
I smiled at her. "Yumi didn't just treat me as a human pin-cushion and a dress-up doll, Nemu. And yes, I did enjoy it."
She frowned at me. "Explain."
"He treated me like I was a piece of art. No, more than that, he treated me like I was a person. I've spent so long being a product to be sold that I guess I'd sort of forgotten how nice it feels to be appreciated and liked for myself rather than for what I can do. I mean, I know I have a few friends who definitely see me that way," I added quickly before she could protest, "but a complete stranger looked at my naked body and thought it was a work of art to showcase. It's a bit of a high. Does that make any sense?"
We halted before a large house and she looked at me for a moment before she stood on her tip-toes and kissed my cheek. "I think I understand, Berry-chan."
I looked at the large house for a few moments and felt a prickle of familiarity. "What is this place?"
"This is where Zan lives," she told me softly.
Hot damn, this is going to suck, I thought, swallowing hard as I eyed the familiar building. Especially if "Zan" is who I think he is…