Chapter Six: The Woven Spell

He felt so warm. Thin white sheets tangled around his barely covered legs and he kicked at them slightly to make way for his bare skin to be exposed to the night air. One hand clutched at the sheets that covered the futon underneath him as he turned to lay on his side, curled up slightly so that his knees rested against his chest. He placed his other arm around his knees as he watched absently his guard Toru, resting on his own futon, a few feet away. The guard was sleeping, eyes closed, but senses as aware as always. The man was quite amazing in terms of his instincts. One wayward move on his part and the ninja would soon crack an eye open to check on him.

Turning his head slightly, he looked at how his hand clutched the white sheets, as if such a thing held meaning. His pale fist clenched folds of white cloth. He scrutinized the sight for one more moment before sighing, closing his eyes and trying to relax himself. Although he looked calm, inside his mind was a swirl of dilemma - thoughts that blurred in and out of focus, demanding his attention and time. Too many questions bogged him, trapping him into a never-ending quest to seek for answers. And as a result of that, he had not fallen asleep from the moment he had stepped inside his bedroom.

Because of a recent event...

Hours had passed since it had happened. Invited to a room where he was supposed to serve yet another customer, he went in, resigned to his fate for the evening. But then, something he did not expect had happened. Beyond the panels of the sliding door, what greeted his sight was the smiling visage of a young man - one who had interacted with him earlier in the day. It was none other than Akira who had bought his services for supposedly the entire night. They knelt before each other inside the private room as Akira poured tea for the both of them. They had conversed.

Kaede thought that Akira had been rather odd with his questions, asking personal things that he did not like to think about. What were his hobbies, the young man had asked. Although some men were curious about what he did when he was not consorting with them, there had been a genuine glint of honesty in Akira's gaze. It was rare to see such clarity in a person's eyes. Add the fact that those eyes were blue, similar to his own... The event had brought back painful memories at the least - and also, confusion to his part. The night ended with a small kiss and nothing more. The simplicity of it tore through Kaede's puzzled mind.

It seemed a joke, no matter how he looked at it. Deceit. How could someone of high class such as Akira ever consort with him in terms of a /non-intrusive/ contact? It made no sense at all. The only reason that his mind could come up with was that the young man's actions had been based on a conspiracy, a plot that would try to break him. No one could ever be that nice. He'd learned that from the moment he started his life in this brothel. From the moment the bakufu elders baptized him to a world of sin to the first time he had been forced to kill...

There were even times when men like Akira had come to him, making his then-young heart trust and hope. All those painful deceits ended in even more humiliation and heartbreak for him. As time passed, the smiling five-year-old child died as a stoic young boy emerged from the ashes. His ice blue eyes were instructed day in and day out to be emotionless. He learned to ignore the degrading taunts and jeers that were openly hurled at him. From the tragedy, he stood tall and silent, looking down at corpses that his hands had murdered. From the pain, quiet hope to rise even higher gave him strength to gain the two things he longed for in his life: release and recompense.

"Is something the matter?"

The voice that broke through the silence was low and soft. It belonged to the guard who lay on a futon a few meters away. Kaede opened his eyes into slits and slowly moved his gaze towards the man. Toru was no longer sleeping, but watching him. Pale moonlight fell in a sliver through a crack in the slightly open window at the back of them, bathing the man's form, illuminating brown eyes. It looked a contrast somehow - how the silver light fell on the man's black utilitarian clothing. The guard slowly moved his torso forward, sitting up, eyes looking only at the boy. Kaede looked at the man impassively from where he lay, wondering why the man cared to ask.

"What makes you think that, Toru-san?"

The guard rose from the bed and said nothing. He stood tall in half-shadow and half-light, looking down at Kaede, before he abandoned his futon, moving his legs forward, towards the window located at the back of the boy's futon. Cat-like footsteps were barely heard against the polished floor, proof of his talent as a ninja. He stood before the window and looked through a thin line where two panels of the sliding windows met, the view of the outdoors greeting his sight. Darkness of the night and brightness of the moon looked back at him. He reached out with his arms towards the wooden frames and, using his hands, parted them from each other by sliding them open. Summer night breeze entered the room, ruffling his short black hair. He leaned on the ledge of the wooden frame of the window as he observed the view of the outside. The sight of the liquid lake shimmered black and silver as light like diamond dust from the moon danced on its surface. Fireflies illuminated in the distance, small insects like glowing stars of the earth. In this first floor bedroom, the scent of flora from the garden was very fragrant, the lilies from the garden the most prominent smell. It seemed ironic somehow, how beauty could surround such a place of sin.

A wry smile touched his lips as he reached inside his black clothing, retrieving a box of expensive imported cigarettes and matches. He retrieved one cigarette stick from the box and placed it on his lips before keeping the box in his hidden pocket once again. Taking one matchstick from the tinderbox, he cracked it across the rough side of the box, producing fire. An almost intoxicating scent of smoke filled the room as puffs of clouds escaped through the point where fire and cigarette edge met. The ninja let the smoke fill his lungs before he took the cigarette off his lips. Lifting the lit matchstick right before his lips, he blew on the fire, snuffing it out. More smoke filled the room, its scent intensifying.

"Toru-san..." Kaede said, still lying down on his futon, the side of his face pressed against the white sheets as his eyes watched the actions of his guard. "If Takato-san smells smoke scent on me before I face any sort of customer, he will be very angry. You never smoked before..."

The ninja shrugged. "It gets popular everyday, this sort of habit. Many people across the world do this now. I bought some boxes from a man who had imported them. It's expensive but somehow worth it. I like the foul taste. It reminds me of reality although it is not reality. A sort of illusion. As for Takato-san, he could not possibly smell it from you. You bathe before everyone else, early in the morning."

Kaede snorted and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the smoke that he breathed in. Tendrils of the polluted air entered him still though, causing something inside himself to cringe - but he tried to break free from the distraction. Dawn was coming soon, he knew. He had to get some rest before the daily ritual of doing his profession had to occur once again. He had to try to find balance to get himself to sleep. Just close your eyes and relax. Think of nothing but silence. Drown out outside interference...

It did not work. His mind was troubled. All he could see was the young man from hours ago, looking at him with clear blue eyes, a friendly smile upon his lips. All he could taste was the honey-sweetened tea that they had drunk while they conversed. All he could feel was the warm blue-patterned ceramic under his fingertips. All he could smell was the scent of lotus from the lake, floral aroma from the garden at the back of the mansion. All he could hear was Akira's deep yet gentle voice, speaking to him in a manner as if they were old friends. These instilled memories shook his mind, barring him from any attempts to forget and just move on. He still felt disturbed by Akira's /lies/ to him, knowing somehow that the young man had conned him through his friendly words and kind actions. It had to be an act. He was used to these fallacies trying to break him.

Kaede fisted his hands and sighed, eyes gently sliding open once again. Through the fall of his bangs, the sight of intense brown eyes stared back at him, only inches away. He did not expect to see the ninja suddenly crouching before his futon, looking intently at him. There was no longer any cigarette on the man's hands or lips. Smoke had cleared, scent of cigarette and flowers mingling in the air inside the room.

"You are like the flower Cereus, Kaede-kun," the man could not help but say. "Its blossoms open only in the night."

***

Dawn came to take away the darkness, sun rising from the east. It peeked first from between the crevices of tall mountains then gradually rose higher until the capital city of Kyoto was bathed in complete daylight. Kaede felt tired when he rose to bathe himself, his guard trailing behind him as always. His awakening was unlike his usual ones as the sun was already up and bustling sounds from the kitchen, which was located west from his room, indicated that another large breakfast was already being prepared. Mixed scents of something sweet like cakes and something rich like meat assaulted his senses, making his stomach growl. He was a growing boy of fourteen years old and his body needed nutrients. But although that was what his body demanded, he could not bring himself to eat much and, as a result, his body frame was slender. Some of the servants even remarked that he might have a condition that prevented him from eating properly. He did not really care.

After bathing, he dressed himself in one of the kimonos that Maki had given him a few months ago. It was the colour of black, like blindness, with a white dragon embroidered on the front. Before he wore it, he could not help but touch the embroidered dragon. Once, Maki had told him that he was like a white dragon. Tainted purity. A contrast of a sinful creature and the pure child whom they had destroyed. The embroidered dragon felt rich under his fingertips, the white threads that were stitched by human hands fine against the black silk. He lifted the kimono against his nose and inhaled. It smelled of something fresh and clean, just like himself. Like dew, soap and flora.

He dressed in the kimono and tied the sash around his waist, his finely boned pale hands precise as he did an artful knot. He walked out of the bath and headed to the kitchen where some of the other workers were eating breakfast. He ate a bit of plain white rice and Korean chicken barbecue, earning a disapproving stare from one of the chefs. He was used to such a stare. The old foreign chef from India was not used to seeing a boy his age eating so little, even after four years of working in Shidareyanagi witnessing this behaviour of his.

After breakfast, the manager came to him. The man was looking at him with firmness as they concurrently began to walk towards the common dining hall that was for the clients who chose to eat breakfast there instead of their rented bedrooms. Hirohito Koichiro and his guard were already there, eating breakfast.

The manager and the young prostitute's footsteps were silent as they walked towards the dining hall, heavy aroma of cooked meals washing over them. Before they entered the dining hall, the manager held the boy's wrist, a whisper leaving his lips...

"Don't forget your mission towards /him/. You've drawn the swordsman's attention. Now focus on the old man."

Kaede nodded his head wordlessly. And the dining room door opened, sound of informal conversations mingling with scent of delicious breakfast.

Sight of crowded plates and bowls greeted his sight as they walked inside. Above those expensive ceramic wares, international food were placed in a creative, if not a proper way. The theme for that day seemed to be Arabic, Korean and Russian dishes. Large cinnamon breads glazed with butter. Honey-roasted ham gleaming golden brown-pink. Korean chicken barbecue smelling sweet as small dots of sesame seed coated its golden brown outer layer. Naan, a sweet-smelling white-brown plate of bread, with nuts and spices atop it. B'stilla, a fragrant and delicious chicken pie made of puff pastry and chicken breasts pouched on bouillon. Creamy Yogurt Hummus intended for the toasted pitas slices that were stacked on a plate. Meat and wheat stuffed in grape leaves, its name something that Kaede could not recall. Tabbouleh, made of crunchy bulgur, ripe tomatoes, cucumber, green onions, fresh mint and parsley.  Russian Tea Cakes. Large roasted bratwursts. Fried dumplings. Coffee cake. Minced Mutton. Vegetable Rice. Cutlet...

There were so much, as always, since the number of men who came in for rest and recreation in Shidareyanagi were so many. Price to stay in this place with room and food were very high, thus helping to keep this brothel high standard. That was why Shidareyanagi was the best brothel in Japan.

Kaede walked a step behind the manager as glances turned towards his direction, interested gazes assessing his silk-clad body, the way the material clung to his slender form every time he took a graceful step. His mere movements was a tease, an art, an innocent seduction. Dark pairs of eyes watched him, devoured him. He paid no heed to the attention bestowed upon him as he was used to it. And he tried his best to blank his mind, to /not/ turn his eyes to the various men around the low table, in hopes to find a blue-eyed and spiky-haired young man. He had spent most of his hours of non-sleeping wasting his time with thoughts that the young swordsman's words could ever hold true. Although he kept a silent hope inside his heart that one day, he would be free from all of this, he was aware that miracles did not happen just like that. Certainly not in this bloody country of Japan. Certainly not in this corrupt capital called Kyoto. Certainly not to him, the boy-whore of Shidareyanagi.

He suppressed a sigh as he caught sight of the manager pausing in front of him. The old man bowed to some people before looking back at him with meaning. The manager bent a knee and let it touch an unoccupied pillow before the low table then let his other knee follow suit. He knelt then lowered himself, sitting with educated posture. Kaede saw the man look at him one more time then cock his head sideward towards a direction. When Kaede looked towards the direction, he saw none other than the smiling visage of a familiar individual. It was the swordsman Akira.

"Good morning, Kaede." the swordsman greeted, nodding his head slightly, his voice deep. He was sitting near his employer Hirohito, the government lackey that Kaede was destined to kill soon. His bowl was nearly empty, only food stains on it as proof that he had already finished eating. Instead, he was holding on to a cup of green tea, the surface of the beverage emitting tendrils of silver smoke in the morning light.

"Good morning, Akira-san, Lord Hirohito," Kaede said in a respectful tone as he bowed his head in practiced fluid movements. When he looked back up, he saw Akira continuing to smile at him and Hirohito looking at him with unmasked interest. He moved to kneel on a pillow that was located between Hirohito and Akira then lowered his thighs to rest on his legs and heels. He cast his gaze down as was demanded from someone like him during times like these. He was a mere eye candy to them, an aesthetic thing that they would appreciate and touch and taste...

The conversations around him continued, men speaking about their swords, the best women in this brothel, the good food - mostly mundane and hedonistic things that pleased their senses. A brief respite from the bloody world outside the walls of this classy brothel.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

The boy nearly started as his silent reverie was broken by a familiar deep voice. It was Akira. It came from his right where the spiky-haired young man sat, drinking his tea. Kaede slowly turned his head and lifted his gaze, his eyes peering from beneath thick black eyelashes and long silky bangs. The young swordsman was still smiling at him. Akira was very handsome, his smile intensifying his appearance. But Kaede was not one to understand why the swordsman had to smile constantly as he began to suspect if the young man had a facial expression problem. Then again, maybe it was just misplaced optimism. He didn't really care about the reason behind the simple facial gesture.

Kaede shook his head in answer, "No, my lord. I have already done so earlier on."

The young man's smile faded suddenly. The light in his eyes disappeared for one moment as he looked at the boy, trying to decipher him. His eyes were intense, almost penetrating into the boy's soul. Kaede looked back unflinchingly, not at all daunted by the gaze upon him. "Kaede, did I not say that you could just call me Akira? Don't you recall?"

"Did you mean even outside your quarters?"

"Yes, that's what I said, wasn't it?"

Kaede nodded his head at the command, committing it to memory now so that he didn't make the same error later on. He bowed his head again, his sight focussed on his pale hands folded on his silk-clad thighs, when he was spoken to again. It was Akira once more, apparently eager to start a conversation with him.

"So, Kaede, among these food set before us in this fine morning, which is your favourite? As for me, I'd have to say that B'stilla, Korean Chicken Barbecue, Ham and Cinnamon Bread were my favourite today... how about you?"

In honest confusion at having been asked such a simple and inconsequential thing, Kaede could not help but look up and move his gaze towards the table where dishes of Russian, Arabic and Korean origin were crowded near each other. Heavy scent of something sweet, salty, tangy and other flavors that he could not identify began to assault him, rendering him - for one moment - lost. He gathered his wits quickly though, settling down as he took a deep yet silent breath, shifting his mind to the question that had been asked. His favourite among these dishes? He was not really one to care. Though some tasted better than others did, he accepted them with humility, only glad that he was still able to get nourishment. Sometimes, it gave him hope.

He was perfectly aware that he often contradicted himself from his thoughts to his actions. He was thankful for the grace he received and yet, he was not one to consume much. His appetite was very low, perhaps caused by bouts of silent depression now and then, or something else...

Finally, he just answered, picking something random, "Naan, perhaps."

"Naan?" Akira asked, head turning towards the direction of the table, trying to look for the specific dish that Kaede had uttered. His eyes were with honest wonder, curious, as he looked at plates and bowls of cakes, meat, breads, and salads. Although he had been trained intellectually as well as physically so as to become a swordsman worthy enough to guard such a man of high position such as his current master Hirohito Koichiro, he did not know about everything. Like other cultures. He knew about things from Greece, the country where his mother was born. That had been taught to him so that he knew of his heritage. He knew of a few other countries in Europe ranging from England, France, Italy and Germany. He knew about a few countries in Asia like China, neighbour Korea and a country in the west called India. But he did not know everything.

Kaede looked at the young man before lowering his gaze, intending to explain about Naan bread. The clueless look on the swordsman's face already said that there was a desire to know and learn. It reminded him of himself. Whenever he was taught something - be it historical facts, religion concepts from Buddhism, Shintoism and others, arts like calligraphy, instrument-playing, cooking, ikebana or simply origami - he would make sure to be alert, determined and challenged to become a better person in that respect. He held no hope that he would ever become clean or at least partly unblemished. That was a notion for fools, one he did not like to ponder on. He had accepted his fate a long time ago. But he made sure that he learned and improved himself as a person in some way because there was still a secret hope inside himself to one day flee from his current state. To one day use his gained knowledge and wisdom so that he could be a part of the free world...

As for the food that the swordsman asked of him, 'Naan', he knew of it. When he was younger, a foreign Caucasian chef who had come from the Mediterranean region worked in the kitchen. The man was like the swordsman Akira somehow, always smiling as he did his job with enthusiasm and efficiency. He was still a child when they had known each other. Whenever he had no customers to attend to, he would go to the kitchen. The man would teach him how to cook Arabic and Mediterranean food such as Tabbouleh, Hummus and the like. He'd also learned how Naan was made. Eventually, that chef left for his home country after receiving a letter. Kaede had not seen him ever since.

"Naan is a bread, coloured white-brown," Kaede looked towards the direction of the said bread, making Akira look there too. It was a glazed bread the size of a plate and on top of it was nuts. "In the Middle East, there are a lot of deserts. People mostly use ceramic urns to cook their food. Naan is a type of bread that is baked inside a large ceramic urn. Hot coals are placed inside. Then the bread is cooked inside this ceramic urn."

When his explanation ended, Kaede looked blankly at the bread, as if seeing the chef who had taught him so many recipes. The man was actually half-Japanese and half-Caucasian. His name had been Michael Okita. Sometimes, Kaede thought back to the times when he would just watch the man cook. It had made him forget his problems back then, even for a moment. Now though, there was barely anything that could distract him from his worries. No more Michael Okita existed in the kitchen to teach him any new recipe. Kaede could only wonder where the man was in the wide world outside the brothel's walls...

"Hey."

Kaede's wondering was interrupted by a the touch of a hand to his shoulder. He looked at the mildly tanned hand that had perched on his silk-clad right shoulder. It was Akira's hand, of course. Slowly, he lifted his face so as to look at the swordsman's. When their blue eyes met, Akira smiled, his other hand with a cut square of Naan that almost fitted into his palm. The young man's expression was so friendly, as if they were nothing more than teenage boys in another time and place, free to interact so informally around each other.

"I just thought," Akira said, tilting his head to the side. "That since Naan is your favourite, shouldn't you eat at least one this morning when it is served? Hmm?"

The boy looked at the bread, already smelling its fragrant scent. He was reminded that he did like that bread. It had been quite awhile since he had last tasted it. But then, this was the formal dining room, only intended for the guests. He had also had his breakfast awhile ago. Another time, days or weeks from now, it would be served again. He could wait until then. He was used to waiting.

"It's okay," Kaede answered, not moving his eyes from the sight of the bread. It smelled so sweet, freshly baked mere minutes ago. He could already taste its fibres melting in his mouth, spices and nuts tasting sweet and faintly salty. He could already hear the crunching noise that would be produced once he chewed on the nuts. "Another time perhaps."

But suddenly, the bread moved. Or rather, the swordsman's hands moved.

Akira's hand, which was on his shoulder, moved towards the other hand which held the bread. His fingers circled around the centre of the bread before he broke it into two. Still steaming hot, he held half of it to the boy. "Then we share. If you don't want one, then have half of it. Half for you and half for me. How about that?"

The boy's eyes looked first at the young man's sincere azure eyes before gazing at the bread, which was held by a hand to him. The hands in his lap involuntarily lifted, palms up, before he held them out. Half of the bread was passed on to him and he bowed his head in acceptance, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." the young man said, his eyes softening as he saw the boy lifting the bread towards his lips and taking a small bite of it. He too lifted his half and bit into it. The morsel was tasty, the flavour of glazed sugar, baked bread, spices and nuts mingling. In no time at all, his half was finished. He resisted the urge to reach out for another one, knowing that he had eaten far too much this morning. He could not really help it though. Food here was scrumptious. One could barely resist. He should probably take a walk in the garden and...

Looking up, he saw that the boy had just finished his own half. Akira smiled when Kaede looked up at him.

"Both of you," a sudden voice interrupted the moment. "are like children."

Both of them looked towards their left, seeing the sight of a middle-aged man. It was Hirohito Koichiro who had spoken, the man whom Akira guarded. The man was looking at them with unveiled amusement, a smile upon his lips. He was like a father, looking at his sons. There was a mysterious light in his eyes, as if he was thinking of something that consisted of the future. Of dreams when children were free to roam the capital's streets, without fear of being massacred because of who their parents were. Of fantasies when life could be so simple, just like the display of human interaction by Akira and Kaede. There was a bitter pang in watching moments like what had transpired. Because in this time and age, moments like it were just brief, like a passing summer breeze in a hot and humid day. Soon, the reality of a bloody era would once again descend with its cruel claws and slash the better things that life could offer. It was a sad reality that they all must endure each day that they were still alive.

In response, Akira tilted his head to the side and looked curiously at his master. Faint honesty drenched those words and the eyes of the old man was, for once, filled with genuine sincerity. He felt himself amazed, not at the casually said sentence but at the depth of what his master truly wanted to convey. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled very faintly, "Is that so? In what way?"

Hirohito laughed softly before looking towards the empty plate before him, the last of his meal already consumed. His chopsticks lay together, crosswise, on the plate to signify that he was done with breakfast. Soon, a servant would collect his used utensils. "Young people today... Most believe themselves to be so high and mighty. In any other place, I would never have seen a high-class swordsman and a common whore interact like this. There is distinction between the both of you. Man and boy. The highest class and the lowest class. Swordsman and whore. Like Yin and Yang. Or perhaps, more specifically, like heaven and hell. But right now, it's as if one descended from heaven and one rose from hell. As if the two of you had found a common playground between the high heavens and the hells beneath the earth. Both of you had just acted in a moment of innocence as if there was no barrier existing. Like innocent children at play. The most pure of children do not care about who they are playing with. The important thing for them is that they are enjoying themselves in the company of their playmates."

"Hirohito-san..." Akira muttered lowly, his gaze blurring slightly as he thought of those words. Heaven and Hell. So much distance was supposed to separate him from the boy but since yesterday, not even a day of knowing the young prostitute, he found himself entranced, interested. There was no other person like the young prostitute he had conversed intimately with last night. Kaede was so different, his character so profound, shaped even more so by the tragedies that he had had to endure from so early on. The boy was like a soldier, though not in a physical way. He was a soldier more in the emotional and mental level, a veteran who understood what life was all about. Here was a boy who came face to face with the devil so many times and, until now, was still standing, head held high. He was a survivor of this era. He would go the extra mile because of his determination and inner strength, uncommon to those who easily gave up their souls to lust, greed and pride. Kaede would one day be free and, because of his experiences, would become one of those who would understand what humanity needed. Akira truly felt in his heart that Kaede would try to make a difference and, even this early on, he could feel his heart swelling in pride for the boy. Kaede would be one of those that would make it out of this era alive, scathed and scarred, but stronger than ever in spirit. Wounds, after all, and pain made an individual stronger. And in Kaede, Akira could see such a beautiful and admirable soul. So profound amidst the tragedy.

The government official hid a smile as he turned his gaze towards his guard then to the young prostitute. Akira, he saw, was pondering his words. The familiar azure gaze was looking forward, blankly, into nothingness. Akira was thinking about the words that he had just said, analyzing them like the intelligent young man that he was, a proof of his potential to one day be a politician.

Kaede, meanwhile...

Hirohito watched the fall of silky jet-black bangs covering the cool blue gaze of the boy. From where he sat right beside him, he could not see the expressions of the eyes. The pale pink lips were drawn in a small line, not really an indication of anything significant. Mystery. As usual, the boy was mysterious in his silence and in the way that his mind seemed so complex. In his one-day stay here in Shidareyanagi, he'd heard so many men speak about Kaede, especially last night when the boy had been hired by his guard. They talked about his prowess as a pleasure-giver, his intellect when they spoke to him, the magnetism of the mystery of his persona. Men were drawn to him like moths to a flame because there was something about him that was truly special. His strength perhaps. No common creature could live through a life of misery and still be living today. Besides his celestial-like beauty, there was the strength of the soul. The next man who tried to conquer him always wanted to become the one who was powerful enough to break the boy. It was like a game. As no one had succeeded yet, men tried again and again until the boy would finally break. When the boy was finally completely broken, the game would finally stop.

The man snorted softly, wondering why he had listened to those men so intently as if he too was part of the mob who craved the services of the boy-whore of this estate. Why indeed? Surely, it was not because of the physical appearance? There were many women here. He could pick one any time he wished. No, it was not because of physical traits, although Hirohito could admit that the boy was truly an extraordinary one. It was because of the soul. The one thing no one had ever seen. The one thing that he would be very interested to expose. There was a hunger, a thirst to achieve something so unattainable. To let the caged bird free and watch it soar or, in the boy's case, plummet mercilessly towards the ground. On his level. That was one conquest he was prepared to undertake...

"So... Akira," Hirohito spoke, trying to move on from his thoughts. His mind suddenly drifted to something that intrigued him. He wanted to know of the shared night of the two youths. He wanted to know more about this Kaede as if the boy was slowly enchanting him with a spell. With each breath that spoke the boy's name, his curiosity rose. And now, he wanted to know more as he uttered his guard's name. When his guard snapped the direction of his face towards him, he asked, "So, how was the boy like? Was he good? Why not tell me about it?"

Suddenly, the entire table hushed up upon his words. The other men's eyes now turned towards Akira, all of them interested about how the mysterious flute-player from last night was like. Most of them had argued amongst themselves about who would be buying Kaede's services for that night. It was a night when Kaede had woven a spell on a lot of them, making them want to touch only him. But, when one finally approached the manager, they found out in horror that a certain Akira had already reserved the boy's services. They were all too late in trying to acquire the blue-eyed male whore. Now, on the morning after, they were truly interested in what had occurred the night before.

And sitting on the tatami floor while ignoring the cushion that was supposed to be for his usage, Akira only looked back at them for awhile, not being able to prevent himself from thinking that the men were such fools. But then, looking sideward for one moment, he saw that Kaede had lifted his gaze slightly and was now looking at him as well. Everyone in this room was expectant to hear what had transpired. And he knew, that from what he had silently promised Kaede last night...

<"...I will be calling on you often for the rest of the days that I am here, if you don't mind, and I will let Takato-san know, too, how much you impressed me...">

He knew that he had to protect Kaede from punishment from the manager, if ever that sort of thing occurred in this place. He had to lavish the boy with praises. He had to speak of how erotic the night had been. He had to say that Kaede's body, mouth and hands had pleased him so much. He had to...

But in the end, he spoke the truth, "He was incredible. There was no experience in my life that could ever compare to the moments that I had spent with Kaede last night."

And looking at his side where the boy was still looking at him, the corners of his lips tugged upward in a kind smile. A smile of hope amidst this rotting world. A smile of friendship. A smile that said that someone out there could still care no matter who the boy was. A smile that showed the boy once again that he was not alone; not anymore...

Seeing the boy look back at him, seeing the silent gratitude there, he knew in his heart that this was right.

And now, "Now, Hirohito-san, if there is nothing that you ask of me, may I please take my leave from your presence? And Takato-san, I hope it would not be a bother if I take Kaede with me to the garden for a brief stroll? The sun is shining again. A new day had come. A walk after breakfast seems a good idea to me. But only if you both allow it, Hirohito-san, Takato-san."

Akira turned his eyes towards both men and, seeing their amused gazes and their nods of affirmation, his heart almost leaped in his chest at the opportunity to be alone once again with the boy. Around them, amazed whispers littered the air, speaking about his admirable capacity to ask and be granted permission for such a request. Akira barely heard them as his eyes focussed instead on his newfound friend. He grinned as he moved to push himself from the tatami, legs stretching out so that he could stand on his feet. He reached out a hand to the younger boy, friendly countenance on his handsome features, "Kaede?"

The boy nodded his head and placed his own hand on the young man's, their fingers closing around each other as he was pulled up to his own feet. "Thank you."

"Let's go." Letting their fingers break apart from each other slowly, Akira instead opted to wrap an arm around the boy's waist, leading them outside. "For another beautiful morning in this modern world awaits to be appreciated. And we will be there to greet the sun."

***

Two middle-aged men looked from the sight of the departing youths towards each other. Both pairs of their eyes held recognition for something that had just occurred. Old eyes seeing what most youths could not. A connection between the two teenagers, like a fragile thread of a spider's web spawned slowly and carefully for strength to become an attribute. The politician Hirohito and the manager Takato felt amused that in this place of lust and forbidden sin, something such as friendship could occur. It was rather obvious that the young swordsman Akira was vying for friendship, if not more.

"That was interesting," Hirohito said in a low voice, picking up a cup of steaming green tea and letting the warm-hot liquid in his mouth. Its strong flavour washed over him, drowning the taste of the recent dishes he had just consumed.

"Forgive me, my lord, but if I may be so bold to assume that your guard has high interest for Kaede?" the manager could not help but ask, his gaze turning back to the sight of the politician. The answer to his question was low laughter, amusement evident in the reaction. The manager hid a smile as he further tried to advertise the boy, "And... Is the boy deserving of such interest? Perhaps he is, don't you think? Someone like Lord Akira, one who had opposed the idea of hiring a pleasure-giver, had changed his mind. Men talk about him with such high regards. I wonder if you had heard their intense hunger for him last night. I wonder if you yourself, my lord, was interested in him... even just a tiny bit..."

"Yes, I think I was... I suppose you're right." the politician muttered, realizing for the first time that even he, lover of women and not boys, had been seduced by the young male prostitute, as if there had been a spell woven around him. All he could think of was the boy who had sat next to him, quiet, undemanding of attention, but with strong presence nonetheless. Hirohito wondered if the boy's chi was strong, that spiritual aspect that worked to charm those around him. Or perhaps it was the boy's silence and mystery that had been the factors that lead men to want to see beneath the mask, and to know that they were the first one to witness such splendour. His eyes were unfocussed now as it was directed to the sight of his steaming cup of green tea, which he held in the circle of his right palm. All noise around him from the other clients of this brothel had faded as he recalled vividly how the boy's pale pink lips had moved in slight movements, near-quiet voice saying 'Thank you' or something else.

His thoughts were only interrupted when the manager, who had seen his reaction, and had analyzed it easily because of experience, said something to him. "Might I suggest, my lord, that you reserve the boy for the morning? Or at least find out why men rave about him by being in the company of him? Since you are such a special guest to our humble estate, I could cancel all the reservations that other men had made so that you may be the one to be with him."

"That... easily?" The man's eyes slowly began to focus, his face turning towards the manager who sat beside him.

"The boy interests you, does he not?"

"Yes... I suppose I could admit that he does. The way he was like a sorcerer last night, as if creating magic to seduce men who would otherwise not give him attention because of his gender. Because of his skill in creating that haunting child's song that wrenched men's heart because it had been created when they were still in their ages of innocence. I knew somehow that the boy was aware of the song and its history. He knew the age range of most of the men in the crowd. He knew that the song was connected to the more fragile parts of their lives. He was a like a mother, humming a tune to a large group of boys who had grown to become men that their own mothers would not be proud of. He reminded them of their weakness and their past. It was such a moment of mastery, as if he was stronger than all of them... And I could not help but listen. Listen to them whilst they spoke of how truly valuable it was to taste the boy - even once. He had become like an addiction. I myself could not help but want to break his mask and see who he truly is without his barriers. Or if not that, perhaps just to see his expressionless features twist in the throes of ecstasy or torture. Either way, I think I'd want to be with him later on."

The manager's smile broadened as he bowed his head, "You will not be disappointed, my lord."

E-Mail Crystal