(D2 Entry) Butterflies of the Night, ch. 4

[Fallen Angel]

Title: Butterflies of the Night
Author: Fallen Angel, fallen_angel_2012@hotmail.com
Categories: Alternate Universe, Series, Romance
Rating: PG-13 for now, but contains LEMON in ch. 13
Disclaimer: don't own+not making money=don't sue

Chapter 4: The Ichikoko Teahouse

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“Relena, you look absolutely beautiful,” said Noin.

Relena examined herself in the mirror and found it hard to disagree. Her reflection wore a yellow kimono with green grass and a river design around the bottom and a sky-blue obi that set off her eyes - the entire outfit being reminiscent of the colours of a summer’s day. Her hair was pulled up tightly on her head and her skin was white like a porcelain doll’s. Not that she really needed the makeup: even under normal circumstances, Relena’s face had been compared to a delicate artwork’s - perfect, immaculate, innocent.

Which was, in a way, how she was meant to look. It didn’t do anything, though, to change how she felt. Angry, betrayed, confused.

“The general will surely fall for you,” said Sally happily from the hallway.

“Thank you, Sally,” murmured Relena, trying to ignore Noin’s half-joyful, half-sympathetic look in the mirror. With a final nod to herself in the mirror, she followed Sally down the stairs and - with Hilde’s help - put on her zori and left. She had only made it a few steps down the street when the sound of running footsteps caught up with her and Noin grabbed her arm.

“Relena, wait.”

“Noin?”

“Please, I know it’s hard for you. But I just…” she faltered for words. “I miss him so much and every day I’m afraid there’s a letter waiting for me somewhere telling me he’s dead. And that he’s been dead for years and I haven’t been able to find out about it because we’re here and not at home.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m just tired of not knowing, Relena, and I know you feel the same. Please…”

Relena waved a hand. “Don’t say anymore, Noin. You shouldn’t have to apologise: I’ve been acting like a spoilt brat. You’re right, this isn’t about me - this is about my brother. I once swore to myself I would do anything for my family and now I have the chance I’m not living up to the promise. But I will from now on. I promise.”

“Oh, Relena,” said Noin happily, then gave a soft gasp. “Oh, don’t cry, Relena, you’ll ruin your makeup.” She quickly pulled a tissue from her obi and wiped the younger woman’s eyes gently. “And now you’ll be late, too. Now go, and good luck.”

Relena nodded, smiling, then went on her way.

When she arrived at the Ichikoko, though, it seemed her absence was barely noticed in the buzz of activity. Maids were rushing this way and that, trays of food and bottles of sake in their hands.

“Busy tonight, eh?” asked Relena to the maid who took her shoes at the entrance.

“You have no idea,” replied the maid. “I can’t believe how many people booked for tonight. You’re with the Winner party, aren’t you? Last room down the hall.”

The Winner party was bustling with activity. As she entered, Relena quickly counted half-a-dozen or so geisha and at least seven men. A few of them she recognised from previous parties, but they weren’t her main interest. The General, as guest of honour, would be at the head of the room, but he was currently hidden from her view by the maid serving him some dinner.

‘Oh well,’ Relena thought, taking up a position next to one of the men. ‘There’s heaps of time still. I’ll reach him later.’

The thing was, as much as she would’ve liked to just go over and sit next to the general, another geisha was already there. That didn’t matter so much, though, since the geisha rotated from guest to guest during the course of the night so that everyone had the benefit of their company at least once and they didn’t seem to be monopolizing any particular guest.

“Good evening, Relena,” said the man beside her and for the first time, Relena noticed who she’d taken a seat next to.

“Quatre!” she smiled at one of her few very close friends, Quatre Raberba Winner. Otherwise known as the president of one of the biggest electrical companies in Japan. “I knew your company was hosting the party, but I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“Of course,” he replied, blue eyes sparkling. “I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to meet with the General, especially with the peace treaty approaching.”

“Peace treaty?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? The General has organised a peace treaty with China and Russia, to be signed in Tokyo in a few weeks. Hopefully, it will bring an end to these wars.”

Relena couldn’t believe her ears. “And this was the General’s idea?”

“Yes. He is a bit of a revolutionary, actually, which was why I was so interested in meeting him.”

Sensing she’d hit the jackpot, Relena innocently kept the conversation going. Through Quatre she learnt much about General Yuy. It turned out he’d been a soldier since he was very young; an orphan, he’d had little choice but to join the army to survive. He was skilled, though, and a fast learner. Soon he was working his way up the ranks and, when his commander died two years ago in the wars, Heero took his place. Not long after that, his courageous efforts in battle and dedication to bringing his men back alive brought him to the Emperor’s attention. Then the rest went from there.

After that, Relena made a bit more small talk with Quatre before it was time for her to move on. The party was in full swing now and - besides Quatre, who never drank - everyone was drinking heartily and the mood was merry. Relena was still unable to reach the General, though, and was forced to take a seat beside a man who only wanted her to pour him more sake. It was tiring talking away when he barely responded and she was quite glad when it came time for her to move to another part of the table. This time, she was lucky again in sitting beside someone she knew.

“Trowa Barton,” she exclaimed, upon seeing the Kabuki actor and dancer. “I see Quatre invited you again.”

“He knows I’m not big on these things,” said the lanky Trowa in his typical monotone. “But he also knows I’d feel left out if not invited once in a while. He’s a good friend that way, kinder than I.”

“Oh, Trowa, you’re kind too. And a good friend,” Relena reassured him. “I’m looking forward to our performance in the Kamogawa dances this year. I especially enjoyed reading the piece your sister has prepared. It seems quite dramatic.”

“Where Catherine is concerned, it’s always something dramatic,” said Trowa, mock-annoyed. Both he and Relena knew, though, that Cathy was an excellent dance coordinator and had done a brilliant job organising and choreographing the dances each spring, only a few weeks away. Trowa and Relena, along with many other geisha and actors, performed each year for the tourists and connoisseurs.

They then spoke for a long time about the dances and various other aspects of the arts. Relena was glad to be talking with someone who not only appreciated how difficult the dances could be, but how much work went into it.

Time passed, and Relena glanced about the party carefully. Most people were drinking quite a bit now, even the geisha, and Relena couldn’t help biting her bottom lip with worry. If the General became too drunk, it might make it harder for her to attract his attention. But he seemed to be holding his liquor well, downing just as many glasses as everyone else but remaining sober.

Still, when time came for some of the geisha to move around the table - albeit, some with a bit of help needed - Relena quickly slid into the gap beside the General and held her breath in anticipation. She hadn’t even had a good chance to see him before now and though she could tell he was young - about the same age as Quatre and Trowa - she hadn’t seen his face before, only occasional glances of strong features beneath messy brown hair.

“More sake, General?” she asked as a way of greeting, sure that if she didn’t say something he would never look her way. He seemed so lost in though, his eyes on the party-goers, but his thoughts somewhere else. A battlefield? Relena wondered. It was highly possible.

When she spoke, though, he turned to her and all thoughts of battlefields and sake and anything else for that matter were banished from her mind. And all at the sight of his eyes. Midnight blue, they seemed truly bottomless, like a deep sea or the vastness of the night sky. Despite her many layers of clothing, Relena felt naked under his stare.

“Fine,” was all he answered and it took a moment for Relena to remember her question. Then she pulled herself together and did as he asked, watching him as she did. She watched as he lifted the small glass to his lips - lips that seemed so soft, but were perpetually pressed together in a tight line of worry - and swallowed. Even the simple motions of his throat as he consumed the warm liquid was enough to make her gasp silently: it was so hypnotic…

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Relena’ she admonished herself. ‘You’re acting like you’re fifteen again. You’re meant to be the seducer here, not the other way around. And you certainly can’t do it if you can’t even manage to talk to the guy without passing out.’

“Are you enjoying Kyoto, General?” she asked. ‘Good work,’ she told herself. ‘Start with something simple.’

“I am,” he answered finally. “It’s smaller than most cities - quaint in a way.”

Relena smiled. “That’s an unusual compliment, but I’ll take it anyway…” her voice trailed off as she noticed the General watching her very intently, his blue eyes seeming to examine her soul as well as her face. Under his stare, Relena couldn’t help but blush and turn away.

“I’m sorry,” said Heero when he noticed her sudden awkwardness. It wasn’t exactly what he’d expected from a geisha, but somehow he found it more enticing than flirting would have been. “It’s just…you seem very familiar to me. Where do you come from…I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Relena. And I was born here in Kyoto,” she lied. Every geisha would give that answer though. It was part of the job. A man who travels to France and goes to a French gallery to admire a painting of French countryside doesn’t want to hear that the artist was born in New York. It was the same rule with geisha: keep up the stereotype, since no one wants to hear otherwise.

“Oh,” said Heero, a little disappointed. He was so sure she was the girl. But was that just wishful thinking? “Never mind, then. You can’t be who I thought you were.”

“I hope you don’t want someone else now, instead?” asked Relena playfully, as her confidence was growing.

“No,” Heero said quickly, surprising both of them. “I mean, I enjoy your company anyway.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “I’m enjoying your company too.”

Heero nodded and was silent for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was thoughtful. “You’re not like the others, you know.”

“The others?”

“The other geishas. They’ve spent most of tonight trying to make me laugh more or talk more. You’re the first person to be content with me as I am.”

Relena was so surprised by his confession her next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I like you as you are.”

There was silence while Heero stared at her again. This time, Relena couldn’t help but stare back, wondering what he was thinking. He intrigued her so much, this young General. There was something about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He dressed and carried himself like any other soldier, but deep beneath the surface, he seemed like a wild animal. Tense, alert…waiting. What it was he was waiting for, Relena couldn’t be sure, but she knew that each time he stared into her eyes it was like he was searching for this thing inside her. Almost as if he were challenging her to prove herself worthy…

‘Worthy of what, Heero Yuy? What is it you’re looking for?’ she mused.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Heero asked suddenly and Relena was broken out of her reverie. The party did seem to be dying down, with a few tipsy men already making their way out, propped up by slightly-less tipsy geisha. Trowa and Quatre - the last of the sober ones - were deep in conversation. No one would notice if they left.

“I’d love to.”


{ { {


It was a cool night as Sally stepped out of the okiya and into the tiny street which was Pontocho. The air was fresh and the whole area was lit by the light of the moon so Sally was almost grateful that she’d woken up with a craving for ramen and hadn’t had the energy to make up a batch herself. And why bother, when the best ramen in the world could be found at a small booth not far from her house?

She noted, as she left, that Relena wasn’t home yet and pondered how the young girl’s night was going. At first she’d hesitated at even considering a danna for Relena, much less the General. After all, Relena had to hold some resentment towards soldiers and even though - from her inquiries - the General was honourable and in his own way, kind, he should be no exception.

But when Sally thought back on her own life as a geisha she knew she was doing the right thing. Like Relena, Sally had become a geisha because she had no other choice. Her family in China was dead, killed in the wars when she was only 7. She was then taken to Kyoto by a Japanese soldier who found her and - knowing she would die without care - smuggled her to his home country, teaching her his language and culture and becoming the next best thing to a father. When he died prematurely, though, she was again on her own and again on the streets. Luck, or possibly fate, had her stumbling into a geisha house and finding an Okaasan who would take a chance on a homeless 10 year old girl.

Unfortunately, she knew in her heart she was destined for more than the shamisen and teahouse parties. With this hope for a greater life, maybe a chance to return to her homeland, she had worked harder than ever as a geisha not only to attract a danna, but to pay off her debts and earn her freedom.

So, at the amazingly young age of 19, Sally found herself free of her obligations to her Okaasan and with enough money to return to China. It was then, though, that she discovered that Kyoto was all she’d ever known, and China was just dim memories she could barely recall, except in dreams. With a sense of resignation, she bought a small okiya and attempted to carve out a new dream.

Relena was so like herself in many ways. Pre-destined for something better than being a rich man’s plaything. But unlike Sally, Relena had a home to go to somewhere. She had family she could be with - if her brother was still alive - if she and Noin and Hilde left. If she could earn her freedom, and Sally knew she could, she would have a good chance of living a normal life. Meeting a man in the normal way and even getting married someday.

Sally wiped a stray tear from her eye as she walked. Surprised, she held the glimmering drop up to the light. She had thought that she was all cried out over her family and her homeland and all the opportunities she would never have. She had thought herself convinced that growing old and dying in Kyoto - even alone - was not necessarily a fate worse than death. And maybe she was.

Until she remembered her dream.

Suddenly, a noise from beside one of the houses caught her attention.

“Hello?” called Sally, but there was no reply.

‘A cat,’ she thought to herself. After all, she’d never been given reason to think anything sinister lurked in Pontocho. Not yet, anyway.

Curious, but a little nervous, Sally lifted up the hem of her kimono slightly and slipped down the alleyway beside the house. She had only made it a few steps when she heard the noise again, a type of half-moan, half-gasp. This time there was no doubt about it - it was a person.

“Hello?” she called again. This time she caught a glimpse of eyes staring at her from the darkness up ahead. They looked so desperate, so in pain, Sally couldn’t help but move forward. “Hello? Is someone there? You can come out. I won’t hurt you.”

Suddenly, there was another moan, and a figure stumbled out from the darkness, into the tiny band of light from the windows of the house. Sally held back a cry as she saw what it was.

It was a young man - Chinese, if she was any guess - with ink black hair pulled into a ponytail and coal black eyes. He was staring at her like some kind of wild animal cornered. More surprising than this, though, was his posture and build. While he seemed like he was usually a strong man, he now looked weak from any number of things - lack of food, exhaustion. He still had enough strength to prop himself up against the wall, keeping a tight grip on his weapon. It reminded Sally of a katana, only not quite.

Despite his threatening stare and the weapon, though, Sally reached out a hand. “I won’t hurt you. But you need help.”

The young man scowled at her. “Trust…” he managed to mumble in accented Japanese.

“Trust…? You mean, how do you know you can trust me?” asked Sally. “You don’t, I guess. I suppose the fact that I’m Chinese means nothing to you.”

He frowned, and Sally frantically searched her memory for words of her native language. Finally, all she could come up with was, “Wan shang hao.”

The man’s eyes widened with disbelief and the trace of amusement. A split second before they closed and he collapsed at her feet.


Translations:

Kabuki: a type of Japanese theatre

Kamogawa dances: actually dances that are held in Autumn and Spring in Kyoto.

Ramen: a type of Japanese dish made with noodles, etc.

Obi: the large band of silk that goes around the middle of the kimono and is tied elaborately at the back

Zori: the wooden shoes Geisha wear (again, wear with care)

Wan shang hao: good evening in Mandarin (I’m not sure if Wufei/Sally would speak Mandarin or Cantonese, so I took a guess. If anyone does know, could you tell me? I couldn't find it anywhere.)


A/N: This war between China, Russia and Japan is made up by me and no offence is meant to anyone. I mean, it’s not like I’ve made right and wrong sides anyway. It is only partly based on the fact that world war 2 was started in Asia under similar circumstances.