Chapter Text
I loathe the moon.
With nightfall, it brings you to me, but it also takes you away when the sun breaks through the horizon.
I wish for it to never leave—for the moonlight to favor all the lovers chained by secrecy and deceit.
If the moon shines forever in the land of eternal night, then surely you, too, would remain by my side.
“There she is!”
“Move over, move over! I can't see her!”
“Ah, she's as gorgeous as always. If only I could scrape enough money to meet her up close...”
“As if Yoshiwara's top oiran would pay mind to commoners like you.”
“Hah?! Are you try'na pick a fight with me?”
The awed gasps and murmurs all around you faded in your ears like white noise. It was engraved into your consciousness to always look straight, never sparing any lesser man so much as a single glance. Each subtle movement you made amounted to thousands in yen, and someone who could not afford to pay the fees had no right to be gazed at by your eyes for even half a moment.
Well, at least that was what you were told.
“Taiyou-sama,” whispered your fellow oiran, Yachi, who was holding up an umbrella over your head despite it being deep into the night. “Which sake would you like for later? The sweet kind or the ones brewed in—”
“Yachi,” Kiyoko, one of your older juniors, reprimanded from where she tailed you from behind. “Do not speak so casually to Taiyou-sama. Saeko-san will be furious if she finds out, you know.”
You breathed out a long sigh through your nose, hiding your bubbling laughter behind the sleeves of your silken kimono. “Kiyoko, no need to be so uptight. It's just me, after all.”
“But—”
“We have returned!” shouted one of the newly appointed guards, Yamaguchi. The young samurai stood in front of the tall gates of Yoshiwara's most sought-after brothel, assuming a stance befitting of a boy filled with promise. But you didn't miss the way his fingers trembled when he grasped the hilt of the katana strapped to his side. Maybe, after a year or-so of training under Ukai, he would be rid of that agitation of his.
The wooden gates groaned on their hinges once they were pushed open by none other than Asahi and Nishinoya. Their faces were contorted with effort as they revealed the entryway to the brothel that was Karasuno. You could still feel the gazes of the visitors of Yoshiwara lingering on your form, and for a moment, you thought about how repulsed the you of the past would have been with their lascivious stares.
But now, the you that was given the title, “The Sun of Yoshiwara” could only lift her head high as those on the ground craned their necks upward for a glimpse at her splendor.
“Good evening, Taiyou-sama,” the two samurai stationed at the entrance greeted, heads bowed in respect. It was strange seeing Nishinoya, who struck you as a free spirit that obeyed no laws, ducking his head in formal greeting. As the rest of the samurai that escorted your little group of oirans closed the gates, you tutted at them to raise their heads.
“Your patron for the night awaits upstairs,” Asahi informed you, offering his hand as you stepped onto the elevated foyer. “He seems rather...attached to you, Taiyou-sama. He couldn't be any more impatient while Ukai-san entertained him until you returned.“
Nishinoya scoffed. “He reeks of nobleman privilege. How did someone like him end up getting crowned a warlord?”
“N-Noya-san, I don't think you should speak ill of our p-patrons,” Yamaguchi uttered hesitantly.
“Yamaguchi's right,” drawled Hinata, another one of the new recruits. “When he went here the other day, Taiyou-sama was already entertaining another patron. He threatened Ukai-san that he'll run the place into bankruptcy if he didn't get a night with her within the week!”
Kageyama, the most talented of the fledgling samurais, spitefully muttered, “Hinata, you dumbass. You don't speak of those matters in front of Taiyou-sama.”
“Eep! S-Sorry!”
“About time you louts arrived!”
Despite the razor sharp edge of her voice, you found your shoulders easing with relief when your eyes caught sight of Saeko. She pressed her cherry-red lips to a kiseru pipe before puffing out a breath of smoke—grinning mischievously as she shut the screen door from where she emerged.
“Saeko,” you greeted her warmly. “I take it that you'd just finished humoring your patron?”
With nothing but her lips balancing the pipe in her mouth, Saeko patted down her hair and straightened out her disheveled kimono. A faint redness dusted the oiran's cheeks, and it struck you with a vague sense of curiosity. Saeko was far from the typical courtesan that appealed to her patrons' egos by playing a helpless woman. You'd daresay she could be more ferocious than most of the samurai hired by Ukai, even. So seeing her lose composure definitely warranted your surprise.
“Doesn't matter,” she spoke dismissively, tapping her pipe on a nearby ashtray stuck to the walls. “Kiyoko, you're being requested specifically by a man from the Johzenji Plains for tomorrow night. Terushima Yuuji-san. Do you know who he might be?”
She shook her head, the tassels of the accessories intricately placed in her waxed hair swishing with the movement. “I believe I haven't met him.”
“Ah, I guess it can't be helped,” Saeko considered before turning to Yachi. “You replenished our sake supply this morning, right? Some of the regulars really like the homemade brew, Yachi. Good work!”
“Y-Yes! I made just enough to last a week as told,” the younger woman stammered, obviously flattered by Saeko's praise.
“Now, for the samurai...”
You couldn't help the small smile that tugged on your lips the following moment as Saeko gave the men their orders for tonight. Though you were this brothel's in-demand courtesan, you were centuries away from becoming a leader that kept everything and everyone in order. In hindsight, Ukai was supposed to manage all the staff—oiran and samurai alike—as the owner. But Saeko's overtly strong personality did produce better results with the completion of daily tasks. Perhaps, it had something to do with her being the sister of—
“Nee-san! Some important people have arrived!”
Saeko's mouth pulled into a grimace at the sound of her brother, Tanaka's voice. (Despite them sharing the same surname, somehow Tanaka had always just been...Tanaka, and not Ryuunosuke.) With one eyebrow raised, she laid the pipe across the ashtray before padding barefoot across the tatami to meet him by the entrance.
“Ryuu, what did I tell you about yelling in the—oh.”
The stunted oh that resounded from Karasuno's pseudo-owner prompted you to crane your neck to glance at what all the fuss was about. Outside, Tanaka along with yet another recruit, Tsukishima, looked as pale as ghosts, while Saeko forcibly snapped herself out of her prior shock. When you followed her line of sight, however, you realized what had startled the three of them so badly.
“Coming through!”
“Excuse us.”
Accommodating patrons was the most basic function of any brothel you could find in Yoshiwara. You grew up in this very building, so you were used to seeing men from all sorts of places dropping by for a night of sensual delights and carnal pleasure without having to know the purpose of their visit. But seeing two powerful and well-known warlords visiting the same place on the same night? That was something unheard of.
“Oho? Kuroo really wasn't kidding when he said this place was the real deal,” spoke the Owl Commander, Bokuto Koutarou—his golden eyes darting around the space where you stood with everyone else.
“Hm. I did not expect it to be this...sanitary,” the Eagle Commander, Ushijima Wakatoshi observed, looking rather indifferent to his surroundings. “Lord Bokuto, I'm afraid I do not understand why you wished to pay this place a visit.“
Bokuto chortled out loud, tipping his head back with glee. “Aw, Wakatoshi, you're so uptight. I told you, I...”
“Oi, Ryuu, what the hell are they doing here?” Nishinoya whispered hoarsely to Tanaka once they retreated back inside. “The entirety of Karasuno has already been booked by that prick of a warlord upstairs for the night, hasn't it? I don't think he'll appreciate the divide in attention.”
“I am as clueless as you are, Noya-san,” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Lord Bokuto recognized the ravens carved onto our sword hilts and demanded that we take them here.”
“Ah, may we speak to the owner of this fine establishment?” Bokuto suddenly quipped aloud, childlike curiosity brimming in his gaze. “We'd like to ask about the famous Taiyou-sama—”
“Yes? What business do you have with me?”
Your fellow oirans and the samurai alike all whipped their heads back at you, mouths agape with surprise. While you understood that they might've been disgruntled by the entrance of such...revered figures in the higher echelon of the Bakufu, you still had a patron waiting in the upper floors. From what Asahi and the rest have told you, he wasn't someone you'd like to keep waiting.
The commander stared at you with an amazement devoid of impure intentions—a gaze you were unused to receiving. “I see, I see. So you're the one that's been bringing men to their knees with just a single night of companionship. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance! ...Oi, Wakatoshi, say something, too.”
“I would rather not.”
“Come on!”
Their little banter was disrupted by the sound of a screen door sliding open. Puzzled, you glanced behind you, only to come face-to-face with a man with wild, ebony hair. He was still in the middle of pushing a lean arm into the sleeve of his haori when he emerged from the room Saeko had come from earlier, stifling a yawn as he walked outside. But the drowsiness in his slanted eyes disappeared in the snap of a finger once his gaze landed on the pair of peculiar visitors.
“Mind telling me why you idiots followed me here?” The dark-haired patron, which you now recognized as the commander of the Shinsengumi, Kuroo Tetsurou, clicked his tongue with annoyance. “Seriously, what could you want from a lowly policeman like me that you just had to—”
“I see we've incurred quite the audience tonight, haven't we, Sawamura?”
The familiar voice of a certain Ukai Keishin resounded from the staircase that led to the upper floors, revealing the owner of Karasuno along with the head of the samurai corps, Sawamura. Following closely was Takeda—a diplomat of sorts that handled all necessary communication between potential patrons and the brothel itself. Apart from Ukai, the newly joined party was just as taken aback by the presence of not one, not two, but three high ranking officials inside the brothel.
“Saeko, you're done doing business with Lord Kuroo, aren't you?” Ukai asked, but his eyes were trained on the two warlords standing by the door. When Saeko hummed in affirmation, he continued with, “Draw a bath for Taiyou-sama. I will not have her presented to our patron with the dust outside still lingering on her skin.”
“Understood,” she responded in a manner so unlike her usual, domineering self. Saeko ushered you and the rest of the oirans present upstairs, leaving Ukai and the samurai to deal with the strange combination of visitors without another word.
“There,” Kiyoko breathed once she'd finished applying the final touches to your makeup. In the mirror, you observed that your skin was powdered white evenly and the redness of your lips brought out your eyes even more. While you were most certainly capable of doing your own makeup, there was another dimension to Kiyoko's extra touches to the colors she picked for your eyelids that you just couldn't achieve.
You flashed her a kind smile before marveling at the way Yachi styled your hair with a cherry blossom hairpin as well. “Life wouldn't be the same without the two of you.
“T-Taiyou-sama, you're too kind,” Yachi squeaked as she gently patted down a lock of stray hair in place.
You pouted at her. “You know, I miss the time when you two called me by my real name quite a lot.”
Kiyoko heaved a long sigh, flicking a bit of powder that had gotten on your kimono. “Taiyou-sama, don't be preposterous. You were given that name for good reason.”
“I still wish I hadn't been,” you murmured under your breath as your two friends made their exit—leaving you alone in the room where you were to accompany tonight's patron.
You stood by the barred window that granted but a minimal glimpse of the colorful lights outside, heaving a wistful breath as you rested your head against the wooden grills.
In the silence, you trained your gaze on the small table right next to the wide futon Kiyoko had spread out. A metal tray with a ceramic flask and matching cups sat on the surface, each piece painted with black cranes on the side. There was something...sad about the sight of that sake set that you couldn't quite wrap your head around. You've been doing this for years—accommodating men you didn't even know, letting them find temporary solace in your body only for them to leave come morning. As Yoshiwara's highest paid courtesan, it should be easy for you to ease yourself back into routine.
This was your destiny, after all.
A few minutes later, you heard the sound of Saeko's voice. She was engaged in idle conversation with a man that had a playful curl in his tone. One brow quirking upward, you wondered how someone who talked like that could be as bad as Nishinoya had described him.
“I do hope you enjoy what the night has in store for you,” imparted Saeko as she slid the screen door open, revealing one of the most beautiful men you'd ever laid your eyes on.
The loose, aquamarine fabric of his hakama contrasted perfectly with his stark white haori, but his exquisite choice in clothing was just the beginning. The mop of tousled, almond hair on his head was the same color as his mesmerizing, brown irises. A frivolous smirk played on his pink lips, and that alone was clue enough that this man could be quite interesting.
“Taiyou-sama,” he spoke your name—no, your alias—with a flirtatious drawl in each syllable while Saeko quietly shut the door behind him. “My name is Oikawa Tooru, and I'm honored to be in your company.”
As he drew closer, you felt your heart stuttering in your chest, leaving you out of breath before he could even touch you. When was the last time you felt this...flustered around a man?
You expected him to manhandle you with the rough treatment you usually received from overeager patrons, but the weight of his hand when he rested it on your hip was oddly light, like he was waiting for you to come to him instead. Brows furrowed, you careened into the warmth of his body to appease him, watching the way his mouth curved into a lopsided smile. While not all of your previous patrons were complete savages, the gentleness in his actions was foreign to you—and you couldn't tell if that was good or bad.
A warlord's hands were meant to be rough and callous, yet Oikawa cradled your face like you were hewn from spun glass. You could only part your lips in muted surprise at the way the moonlight glinted in his deep, brown eyes. As he leaned down to ghost his breath across your powdered face, he let out a soft chuckle that made spots of gooseflesh dance across your skin.
“I'll be in your care.”