A/N: Hello one and all! Here it is, I worked all day to get it out today! So, as you have seen, this is a geisha story. I have never seen an Inuyasha geisha story before, so I felt the need to make one, so here you go! I hope I don't disappoint. Now, a few notes, if you please:
This story is rated M for language (I decided to let doggy boy have his potty mouth, for once) and for some sexual situations. NOT for lemons. I will NEVER write a lemon, for reasons I have stated before. But there will be more mention of sex in this story, why I bumped the rating up.
I'll try to explain everything you need to know within the story, if you know absolutely nothing about geisha, but just some little vocabulary words today: zori - the laqured, platform sandals geisha wore. shamisen - the 3 stringed instrument, like a gutair that geisha played, using a large, wooden paddle-like thing to pluck the strongs. okiya - geisha houses run by the most senior geisha, called the mother.
And sadly, Inuyasha doesn't appear in this chapter. If you want to see what he looks like (he looks pretty hot in this getup, in my opinion), then go see my crappy concept work: http // www . deviantart . com / deviation / 57658782 /
One more note: At some points in the story, the characters may seem a little bit OOC, but I believe it is in character, due to the circumstances. I think Inuyasha would have been nicer to Kagome if she had more problems than he did. I think Kagome would have lost the will to love in her heart if she was brought up in the life of a geisha, etc. I'm just interpreting their reactions as I see them reacting in this situation.
And now, to the story! (I love my OC Yuki...she's like me when I go in to a historic place that I know a ton about. :p)
Fallen Sakura
Chapter 1: Mystery Geisha
Tokyo, Modern Day
Cars honked past on the crowded streets of Tokyo, their sound filling the small house that had been empty for years. It was as still as a tomb, practically sealed shut as a time capsule against the tall skyscrapers of the modern world. Its wooden walls and small frame stood out against the sea of sleek, metal buildings, and surely without its historical significance, it would have been torn down years ago. And now, for the first time in decades, the house was being opened once more, to reveal secrets, long forgotten.
"It's a cute house, Akane-chan," her friend, Yuki spoke, as the key slowly turned the lock of the small house until it clicked, before pushing the thick wooden door in until it finally opened. Light was shed on to a floor that hadn't seen the light of day in nearly four decades. "Plus, you should have seen Koshita-san when I told him what house you bought. He was practically jumping in excitement!"
Two women emerged through the low doorway, one slightly taller, with short, brownish hair, while the other had long, black hair put up in a ponytail. They both were about twenty, modern young women with a purpose already set forth in the world. Akane looked around at the small, first room. It was large, but empty and incredibly dusty, with barely seen layouts of tatami mats, since so rotted from age. The dark room looked like one you'd see in someone's cellar, age-showing and conspicuously empty.
"It's certainly a fixer-upper," Akane muttered, walking around. The main room was large enough that it could be a living room eventually, and there were two more rooms on the main floor, with another on a second level. With some work, the perfect living space for a student, conveniently close by the university.
"It is a historic building, however," said Yuki, looking around. "This used to be the photographer Toutousai's studio, back in the 1920's. Over the years, before the last owner bought it and left it this way in the 1960's, there were a lot of things found here. Some old photos, cameras, and upstairs they found one of the greatest discoveries; an expensive jade geisha comb!"
Akane glanced at her as she looked towards the stairs in the back of the room leading to the one bedroom above the old studio. "A geisha comb? Geisha's just didn't just leave their combs lying around, did they? Was this photographer rich enough to have his own geisha?"
Yuki shook her head as she examined the room in the back, to be deemed the new kitchen. "No, his clients probably were, though. Besides, the photographer didn't live here; he had his own apartment halfway across town. This was just his studio. He rented out the room upstairs."
"You certainly know a lot about this place, Yuki-chan," Akane spoke, opening up the side door into the small room. It must have been the dark room, because she couldn't even see her way in unless she slid the door open completely. It would be a good bathroom, once it was finished.
Yuki followed her into the old dark room, shrugging. "With my work at the Tokyo Historical Society, I hear a lot. Besides, Koshita-san's new research project has led him here; he's been up and down this place and old teahouses from 1925 as much as he can. He's practically obsessed, but he hasn't told me quite what—"
Akane took one step towards the back of the room, when, the board beneath her foot gave way. She barely had time to gasp as her left foot fell to her ankle down into the floor, the jolt of the stop twisting it.
"Akane-chan!" Yuki rushed to her side. "Are you all right?"
Grunting, Akane pulled her now muddy foot and ruined designer shoe from the hole in the floorboards. "Yeah…I think I might have twisted it, though."
While Akane inspected the damage to her foot, Yuki glanced at the hole in the floor. A rain gutter or something must have leaked down, causing the wood to rot. Looks like even more fixing up was required here too. But just as Yuki was about to pull away, she glanced at something, hidden underneath the floorboards, yet it was too dark to make out. "Do you have a flashlight, Akane-chan?"
Akane handed over the small one she kept in her purse, and both women glanced over the hole as Yuki shined the light down into it. There, off to the side, she saw it; stuck between two planks of wood, something like a piece of paper lay there. Careful not to get any splinters, Yuki gently pulled the paper from where it had been trapped. It didn't feel like paper…And when she shined the light on it, it wasn't at all.
It was a photograph; an old, age and water spotted black and white photo, showing two people; a man and a woman. The woman looked just like every other woman in an old Japanese picture—she wore a richly embroidered kimono, lacquered zori, the works, and carried with her an open umbrella, something women were seen with frequently back then, though it wasn't positioned in any way artistic in this photo. Her expression was not modest, like most women used at the time, but she was in profile, looking up towards the man, her eyes meeting his in an expression that could only be called longing.
In fact, nothing at all about this photo looked posed at all.
The man was even stranger. He didn't dress up, but merely wore what working men wore at the time; dark pants, held up by suspenders, over a striped, button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to above his elbow. And while his expression seemed to match hers, his eyes were a light color, the same with his hair, and…were those dog ears on top of his head?
"Who was this?" Yuki wondered out loud, suddenly filled with curiosity that would never cease.
"You found this in that old studio?" Mr. Koshita gasped, when Yuki and Akane brought the picture to the Tokyo Historical Society office the next day. Mr. Koshita was only in his thirties, and with his large glasses and a love for anything over half a century old, he was a bit of an eccentric. But finally, after searching through dozens of old records, there was another lead on his latest project.
"You know who it is, Koshita-san?" Yuki asked, while her boss walked over to a table strewn with old photographs and records, comparing the picture. "Does it have anything to do with your latest project?"
"It is my latest project," he confirmed, pulling another picture up from the table. It again was black and white, and to Yuki and Akane's surprise, the same woman appeared, in the same kimono she wore in the first photo. The umbrella made an appearance there as well.
Akane spoke up, "Then, who is she?"
Mr. Koshita didn't respond, but turned to his computer, clicking on a few files. "How much do you know about geisha, Akane-san?"
"Not much," she admitted. "I know they flourished in Japan until World War II, but—"
"Geisha are still some of the most mysterious people in the history of the world," Koshita began, turning his monitor to show them both an image. "Yet they are some of the most accurate record keepers ever known. We have the name of every geisha in Tokyo up to about the 1890's." The image was of an old page of a geisha registry in the Shinbashi district, which, even Akane knew, was so large at the time that it was compared to the great Gion in Kyoto. The page supposedly listed all existing geisha in the district by okiya in the fall of 1925. There were so many names, on the page; yet, it appeared one name had been scratched out, right underneath the names Hanagwa Kikyou and Taijiya Sango, both from the Tsubaki Okiya.
"Like I said, we have the name of every geisha in Tokyo; except hers." While both Akane and Yuki stared at the screen in wonder, Koshita turned back to the table, picking up a few more photos. "Geisha also tried to take credit for any amount of publicity they could—it helped their career. Yet, there is no name at all for this woman ever given in any book, or record."
The other pictures were certainly of the same woman, done in the same studio. She must have been a model for the photographer often, since she appeared in several different kimono, her face pale white with the lips painted red, as a geisha was expected. Sometimes she appeared with fans, or was in a pose like a dance, or with her shamisen.. "The old photographer Toutousai sold her pictures to various tourist organizations, trying to improve tourism to Japan," Koshita explained, showing them a 1926 brochure written all in English, featuring a similar picture of hers on the inside.
"When I first found these, I just assumed it was an unnamed geisha, but I didn't become fascinated with Tokyo's "Mystery Geisha" until I saw this." A shocking picture indeed, so different from all the others, featured the geisha in something most geisha found offensive—western clothing. The woman lay on the couch previously used in other pictures, in a pose that reflected that of American movie stars of the time. She wore no geisha make up, yet with her sly smile and sparkling eyes, she looked more beautiful like that than all the "proper" photographs she posed in.
Something was still bugging Yuki about all this. "Koshita-san, the woman who's name is scratched out—how do you know this is her?"
Always a thorough researcher, Koshita had it figured out. "A passage from the memoirs of Taijiya Sango, who married and was later known as Houshi Sango."
The book, a little bit old and reread several times, was on his desk, bookmarked to the passage. He picked it up and read out loud, "'Up until now, I have not been entirely truthful about my life. There was another geisha in our okiya, who was my age, and at one time, heading towards being the most famous geisha of all in Shinbashi. Yet, something happened, which led to her leaving my life forever. Now, as I have learned, her name is erased from history, yet she will live on in pictures for eternity.'"
"And she never mentions her name?" Akane asked, glancing at the book which said it was written in 1976.
Mr. Koshita shook his head. "Geisha were taught to keep secrets, so no doubt she wanted to respect her friend's privacy."
"That still doesn't answer the main question, though," Yuki spoke, feeling frustrated by this puzzle. "Why was that geisha's name erased? Why is she the only one forgotten from records?"
Holding up the photograph the girls had found the day before, he smiled. "I think you two may have finally found the answer."
"The man?" Akane asked. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Look at him," Yuki explained, pointing out his simple clothes. "Geisha associated with rich men. He doesn't look rich to me—he definitely isn't her patron. And look at her…" She didn't need to explain. The look the woman had on her face was the look every schoolgirl once had around a certain boy.
"So…she fell in love with him? Is that it?"
Mr. Koshita shook his head. "That is the problem. Other geisha had affairs and left in disgrace, but were never erased from the record. This geisha must have done something so appalling to the geisha profession that she would never be spoken of again."
"I see…" Akane's eyes drifted back to that picture, the obvious attraction between the two people clear as day. "So, we'll never know…"
"At this point, we don't know," Mr. Koshita spoke, sinking down in a chair at the end of his cluttered, dim office. "But perhaps, with this discovery, things are beginning to become clear…clearer than before. Maybe one day, they will be clear enough to tell her story."
A life erased from history. A tale never to be told again. Now, the 'Sakura Blossom of Tokyo' is lost forever, buried deep in the forgotten secrets of geisha lore. She was a geisha who was headed on being the most famous of all, yet one day, it all vanished—her reputation, her memory, and even herself. But, her story is one like no other, a tale of love, scandal, and a choice between throwing it all away for a heart's deepest desire, or becoming the most famous geisha ever to grace Shinbashi.
Her story began eighty years ago, in Tokyo...
Tokyo, Shinbashi district, 1925
The music of the flute and shamisen was like a river, carrying the geisha along with the song as she stepped forward, her face hidden behind her fan. The fan was tilted to reveal only her brown eyes; a color as deep as chocolate, holding many secrets within. The music had begun slowly, and so, the woman dipped, her eyes never leaving the man seated across from her, a trick she had learned over the years.
Graciously, she stepped forward, the song reminding her of being swept along by a river current, much like she had been swept along with her life these ten long years. As the music began to speed up, do did she; her pale blue fan moving away from her face to reveal a painted one; white, with red lips, always without an expression.
Her blue kimono swished like water around her as she danced, the music imitating fast, rushing water, for the song was about a woman who had fallen in and drowned in the current. With no emotions shown, the dancing geisha used her movements to imitate the woman's suffering, letting herself remember all the years she had struggled, and tried to keep on top of the ever changing, terrifying current of her training years as a geisha.
The music became faster, and, looking back, she saw his blue eyes upon her again, watching her every move. She turned, her fan rising higher and higher as the music struck high notes; the water closing in, while the bare nape of her neck and low white collar of her grey kimono was revealed to the eyes of the man, unable to look away.
Finally, as the music hit a trill, she turned once more, and sunk to her knees, fan covering her face once more. The woman had drowned; but the geisha had survived, fortunate enough to be in this room with the man sitting across from her, entranced by her dance.
Claps were heard all around as she stood to her full height, allowing a little smile to show through. The other two geisha who were playing instruments stood up, and the men clapped for them as well. They, however, didn't appreciate it as much as the dancing geisha had—she was always nervous when she danced, because she was no natural at it like her older sister Kikyou, nor able to block everything out and automatically remember the steps like her "sister" Sango, every second she was nervous she would trip, and break the illusion; the tightly woven illusion that geisha spun every second of their lives.
"Wonderful, Kagome," the blue eyed man, who also had fangs and pointed ears—he was from one of the last youkai families left in Japan—said as she sat down to serve him more sake. "Every time I see you dance, you are better than ever."
Kagome bowed her head in thanks, so much that one of her dangling hair ornaments in the hair elegantly piled on her head clinked the hanging metal strips. "Thank you, Kouga-san, but perhaps you should see me dance more often; I might even become as great a dancer as Kikyou-onee-san one day!"
Kikyou, who had been playing the flute, turned to glance at her, her bright red kimono nearly blazing in the pale, white room. "If you had listened when I tried to teach you, then perhaps you would have become a good dancer. You only wanted to sing, as I recall." Kikyou had been named both Kagome and Sango's older sister years ago, to teach them the art of being a geisha. Her dancing skills earned her fame as a maiko, but it appeared her talent would pass on to neither of her younger sisters.
"But she has such a beautiful voice, so who could deny her that?" Kouga grinned, making Kagome glance down and smile once more, looking as if she had blushed under the praise like a nervous young girl, not the calm, cold twenty year old woman that she was.
"I've never heard her sing," Another man in the room, served by Sango, asked. "Is she really that good?"
"Better," Sango glanced over at her sister with a smile. "I once heard her described by the Chinese Ambassador as 'a voice sweeter than a nightingale'."
The man being poured sake by Kikyou glanced towards her and raised his glass. "Then let's hear her sing!" The other man agreed whole heartedly.
Before Kagome could protest, Sango waved her hand, causing her short violet sleeve to brush against the large man's knee. "No, we can't have that. Only one song played a night, remember? That was our little rule. You requested that she dance, so she will have to sing tomorrow."
Both men grumbled while Kikyou and Sango shook their heads, and Kagome was thankful Sango had spared her of it. She liked to sing, but if she was talked into singing at parties, she was also talked in to singing bawdy songs that a common fisherman would sing down by the docks at night.
"Trust me, gentlemen, when you hear her sing, it will be worth it," Kouga, her patron, flashed her a handsome smile. "She is already a little famous for her singing; I believe a few have started calling her the 'Sakura Blossom of Tokyo' even, for her blossoming little career."
Kagome gave him a small, secret smile back, while he stared at her, his eyes reflecting his love. But her eyes never gave him such a hint; only her words and expressions told this lie. Everyone hidden behind the white mask knew geisha did not love, and even for all his kindness, she would never love Kouga.
But as for her blossoming career, that was something different. She knew, that with a rich man as her patron, she could do it. Within years, she could become the most famous geisha in all of Shinbashi district, using her talent at singing, followed by her well practiced charm and wit.
And Higurashi Kagome, Sakura Blossom of Tokyo would be a name to remembered. Her only goal, and deepest desire was to have her name spoken years after her death, and that would happen. Behind her smiles, that was all that lay; constant calculating thoughts of how to achieve this goal, so far away and yet so attainable. Her heart was cold, never to be warmed again, lest she forget her mission. She knew, in a hundred years, they would still remember her name in awe.
If only she knew how things were to change…