Chapter Text
Each passing sunset and each blooming moon rose, the days waded away in an instant.
It was another snowy evening when Sukuna arrived at the brothel, shaking the snow from his cloak hood. Uraume sat in a chair at the entrance per Sukuna’s own request of them, and he raised his eyebrows at the way some of the brothel girls immediately rushed past him to fuss over Uraume yet again. He groaned and rolled his eyes as he stepped forward to the check in counter once more.
The madam of the house didn’t look at him, simply smoked her cigar. Compared to her prior reaction to him, she seemed quite relaxed in his presence. Apathetic. How odd it was. Humans were always afraid of things they could not understand, or something they’d never seen.
She puffed smoke circles out from her lips as she flipped through a ledger, finally glaring up at him and pointing her long, sharp fingernail at him. “I don’t have a problem with you seeing that oiran, but ruin another one of my girl’s beauty, and we will have a problem. I’ve heard talk of you in this town. Wanted by the shogun.”
“Yet, you do not turn me in. Why is that?” He tilts his head, his curiosity piqued as he rummages through his coat pockets for his satchel of coins.
“Eh, bounty ain’t high enough,” She sat back in her chair, squinting her eyes to read something from her ledgers. “Maybe if you do something that makes that reward go up, I might. For now, you pay more in one night than that bounty money could pay in a few days.”
Sukuna huffs an odd breath of gaiety from his nostrils, shaking his head as he believes the madam is nonsensical. He placed the bag of coins on the table and prepared to exit to the lobby to find his oiran, but before he could, the madam stopped him. “Just to warn you, the oiran is… finishing up… With a client at the moment. You might want to wait a few minutes.”
Sukuna grimaced at the thought of whatever that entailed, sliding the door open.
The women no longer dared bat an eye at him, continuing on with their meaningless and idle chatter. The children, however, still looked at him with fear circulating in their eyes.
Children were always more intuitive than adults, though.
The brute of a man strolled right along to the oiran’s room. Although, he opened the door with a bit more hesitation than he usually would. He shuts the door behind him ever so softly, and takes a brief moment to examine the room.
There is a room divider that separates him from the oiran and her client.
But he was still susceptible to the salacious and carnal noises that protruded from the clients mouth.
“ Ah!” The man behind the divider cried out, “Y-Yes… So- so close! Oiran- may I see you again?”
Sukuna struggled to hold back a whinied snort as he took his cloak off and folded it, laying it at the entrance of the room. He sighed deeply, glancing at the pot of tea that still laid warm on the table.
It was the rowdy, heartful laughter from the oiran that pierced his ear again. It was almost prurient, mocking. “ Ha- Ha! D-Do… Do you even have enough- to- to- pay for this again..? ”
Sukuna poured himself a pot of tea and stared out at the snow falling from the open window. From the sound of it, the client got off on the indirect way she called him cheap and pitious.
How degrading and utterly pathetic it must’ve been to sell your body for survival.
Sukuna could not comprehend why women did it, and perhaps he never will. Especially a woman such as yourself, with your cursed energy and technique.
You could get rid of all these problems in the flick of a wrist.
The children could survive, surely.
It was then that Sukuna heard the groans of what the madam could’ve only meant by finishing up , and he scowled as he grew even more ill at ease. He just rolled his eyes with a huff, drinking his tea.
A subtle glance alerted Sukuna that the client was quite quick to leave with his head held down after that, as if it somehow hid his shame. He shuffled out of the room without even noticing Sukuna.
He took in the vision of the oiran as she finally stepped out from behind that divider.
Her hair tousled, the only clothing garment she adorned was a haori with the belt loose around her waist. She had this dazed look in her eyes, like she did not quite understand where she was or what exactly she was just doing. Like she was no longer fully on this plane of existence.
She was entirely gone as she wiped the sweat from her body with a towel, the soft plush soaking up the perspiration that trickled from her neck, all the way down to her navel area.
Sukuna cleared his throat, and the oiran was immediately caught off guard as she turned around with a shriek. Stunned by the man’s presence, she stumbled backwards into one of the dressers, back falling hard against it. The oiran cried out in pain for a brief moment as she hurriedly stood on her feet once again to greet Sukuna.
His eyes crinkled in amusement in their corners at her reaction, the look of them not the least bit tender.
She catches her breath and finally greets him, “Ah! I- My deepest apologies! I must’ve forgotten what day it was… I did not intend to keep you waiting.” The oiran bows her head as an apology as she prances over to the tea table with her fists clenched at her side, her face flushed a bright scarlet from her flustered state.
The woman finally seats herself at the table, pouring herself a cup of tea. She blinks slowly as the steam rolls off of it. Her fingernail circled the rim of the cup as she stared into it quite longingly. “To be entirely truthful… I thought you might forget about a simple brothel girl such as myself.”
Sukuna squints his eyes at her awkward, self-deprecating chuckle.
“You are not simple. You have the capacity to be greatly powerful.” He reminded her with an odd puzzlement.
The oiran gulped silently, not dignifying him with a response.
Instead, she tilted her head up and met him with a polite smile. She had a voice of honey as she inquired, “Nevermind that. How has your day been?”
Her cheeks are rosy and sweet like a red bean bao , he thought.
…But why did he think that?
Whatever her cheeks resembled had no meaning to him.
He didn’t even know why he was staring at her for so long.
Why he hadn’t yet answered her question.
“Quite tedious, and rather dull.” Sukuna yawned, droplets gathering around the corner of his eyes as he did so. “There has been nothing much to do but huddle around the fire and read literature.” He craned his neck, wincing a little as he popped a bone, straightening his posture out.
Something sparked in the oiran’s eyes as he spoke. “Literature? What genre of book do you fancy?”
The sorcerer tilted his head inquisitively as he noticed that new found twinkle in her pupils. He was interested. That fire of hers was so quickly lit, perhaps even quicker to snuff out. “I read of Kukai. He is a Buddhist monk.”
“Truly?” She remarked, her intrigue growing parasitically. “I’d been reading Kukai’s latest works just a few days ago. His ideas of enlightenment and body-mind are truly brilliant, it is an incredibly interesting read!”
“There have been many Buddhist schools emerging around the country lately. The country has been thoroughly taken by Kuya. Have you read of him?” Sukuna questions with a strange delight in his gut. This conversation was pleasant to him. He’d never had someone intellectual enough to speak with.
Kenjaku was only well-read to find new ways to incite his cruelties, and Uraume… Could barely read.
The oiran shook her head, waiting for him to explain it to her. Sukuna’s voice was oddly kind as he spoke to her, “He believes that all people can reach paradise, even if they are not monks themselves.”
The two had continued lecturing on and on to one another about new philosophies, and even some of the concepts introduced from China overseas. Sukuna had considered that perhaps he was wrong when he thought the oiran dumb. She held intellectual conversation easily, perhaps from her rich education as an oiran.
Finally, Sukuna asked her another question. “Are you fond of writing…?”
The oiran chuckles to herself awkwardly, scratching her neck as a light blush fell over her face. “I do enjoy writing in my free time, although I do not believe it is anywhere near exceptional,” She pauses to sip her tea, “I only write haiku in season. I feel I get better inspiration from the atmosphere directly in front of me.”
Sukuna had never considered it, and noted that it was actually quite inventive. “I believe it is quite an innovative way to write.” The man peers his head around the room, examining each item strewn about as his face sat in a neutral expression. “Write a haiku for me.” He remarks, finally looking back down to her.
The woman giggles again, believing him sarcastic, but Sukuna’s face remains stoic and his features as hard set as ever. He was quite serious. She attempts to stutter in protest, but shakes her head with a deep sigh and gets up to retrieve her supplies anyway.
She places parchment, ink, and a brush before her now. The oiran’s entire face was burning a crimson red as she dipped the brush in the ink pot, simply staring down at the parchment for a fleeting moment. Her head tilted up to stare at the snow outside and envision the sun setting in the evening.
The oiran takes a brief glance at Sukuna, staring at his four eyes as she grins and snickers to herself, shoulders shaking with her faint mirth. Sukuna scowls and clicks his tongue as he focuses all of his eyes purely on her, eyebrow ticking as he speaks. “ Tch , what has made you so giggly?”
She snorts even harder now as she bites her bottom lip, shaking her head. “It is nothing… Truly.” Her words were not very reassuring to his doubts, but she began writing anyway.
Her brush strokes were neat and concise, which only proved her years of experience in writing. The oiran’s hair had cupped her cheeks as it sat loose and free, her lips parted as she lost herself in thought. He examined the deep v-cut that her robe had formed, diving down to her navel and sparing the sight of her cleavage.
Sukuna hummed to himself as he raised his neck up to stare out of the window now, continuing to sip his tea.
He felt strange.
Comfortable.
As if this was exactly where he wanted to be.
A few minutes flicker past without his recognition, and it seemed the oiran had finished her piece. She stood and flipped the still slightly wet parchment carefully enough so that it was displayed directly in front of Sukuna. The oiran leaned over his shoulder to peer down at him as he examined her work.
“Rosey pink trusses
That kiss the frozen moonlight
His deceptive gaze”
Sukuna crossed his arms as he read it, his eyebrows curling upwards in a brilliant amusement. He glanced over his shoulder only to find the oiran’s patient gaze as she silently awaits his judgment. He shakes his head, chuckling slowly, “It is a little on the nose, no? You wound me. A stab of my character.”
His lips tug with a sly grin in their corners as he twists his neck to look at her, “Just what makes me so untrustworthy? I thought we were getting along swimmingly…” Sukuna’s face contorts with a faux sorrow at the poem, his lip pouting sarcastically. Her eyes only soften at his face, her eyelids lowering as her soft eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.
He stares as her smooth and glossy lips form a light-hearted smile that does not quite meet her eyes. Her voice is a dulcet tone when she speaks to him, as if she was exchanging a secret just meant for the two of them. “What exactly do you want from me? From my understanding, you want to utilize my limited ability. Why you covet this, I do not know. I would rather appreciate it if you explained this to me… Ryomen Sukuna .”
There was something about the way she pronounced every syllable of his name so slowly, so patiently.
Like she was never uncertain or hesitant of it.
It rolled off her tongue like it was made for her to speak specifically.
And perhaps in this brief moment, it was. No one in this house of filth dare utter that name for the next sixty minutes. Not the madam, the courtesans, Uraume. Hell, not even himself.
His name was all hers for this next fleeting hour.
Sukuna’s smile grew all the more sinister at her choice of words. He brought his head closer to her to whisper to her in the same secretive way as she had done to him, “I’d quite like to have your friendship. Your allegiance. ”
The flame that swirled in her eyes did not seem to believe him, and he could tell. She furrows her bashful brow briefly, glancing away as she purses her lips and eventually stares back at him. “Am I to be your toy, or your friend?”
Sukuna remarks lowly, “ Why not both? ”
The oiran ruminates on his question carefully, then decides to pose another one to the man. “Are you a man who disposes of his toys when he is tired of them?”
He must admit, the oiran was intuitive in her ways. Sukuna only replied with a hearty chuckle, his chest rising and falling with the motion. Before he could answer though, shouting from the streets caught the two off guard, followed by screams.
The oiran’s face paled as she sprinted towards the window to peek out of it. There was an army marching in, the shogun’s. One of the soldiers could be seen impaling a man in the street with his naginata. She gulped as her face turned queasy from watching it, slamming the window shut as briskly as she could muster.
She spins on her heel to look at Sukuna, her eyes wide and perspiration developing on her forehead. “The shogun’s army is half way through town. We must hide, now!” The oiran is in a frantic, manic state as she races around the room and hides various items, snuffing out candles and lamps on the way.
Sukuna remains seated, his eyebrow cocked. “What is there to worry about? It is just some measly soldiers.”
The oiran’s lip quivers ever so slightly as she explains, “The army has been searching for me since the death of my brother. According to the gossip I’ve heard from the girls downstairs, he ratted me out as an oiran before he died. That was all he told the generals, so they’ve been searching every house and district day and night.”
Some brother he was , he pondered.
“Why not just kill the soldiers? That would eliminate the problem quite easily.” He asked, pressing the tea cup to his lips.
“It is not so simple. I would have to flee from this house and never return,” The oiran is down to the final candle that kept the room lit, but she does not yet snuff it out. She stands beside a closet, her arm sliding the door open. “Besides, I have no combat experience.”
“Get in the closet.” She states plainly, standing and waiting for him with an almost pleading look in her eyes.
He furrows his brows, scoffing as he glared at her like it was something beneath him. She stands there with that same puppy dog face, and he cannot help but give in. With a deep and mournful sigh, he places his tea down and stands. Sukuna strolls past her into the tight fitting closet, all the way towards the back of it.
The oiran snuffs out the final candle with her fingers.
And with that, it all went black.