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homura (DarkMudkip/Jikkah)

He may as well have torn her heart from her ribcage. She fixed her clothes and returned her coverings before leaving the room, limping to find Mitsuri so they could leave. How could she face Mitsuri now, with such a monumental humiliation as that? To be used and thrown out like that, she couldn't bear the thought of even looking at the Love Hashira. She really was a fool.
 
Mitsuri and the others were waiting outside on the estate grounds for Yuko’s return, Mitsuri happy that she got to see the other Hashira once again, especially Iguro.
 
When Yuko limped up to them, she didn't speak, didn't even look at them.
"Yuko-chan...?"
"Daijoubu...?"
"Is your leg hurting again...?" The others asked worriedly. She started to shake as she fought her tears, shaking her head gently.
"J-Just..." She croaked and tried to keep her voice level, "Sanemi-dana...um...wasn't very pleased with...my being here..." The girls frowned heavily, knowing well that as his former Tsuguko, her injury insulted and angered him pretty bad. At least that's what Yuko told them.
"It's ok, Yuko-chan...he's just being a boy!"
"Yeah! Boys are dumb and don't know how to talk to girls properly!" They told her. This only made Yuko sag more before she nodded.
 
Mitsuri looked shocked and sad that things hadn’t gone well, Sanemi hadn’t even given her a dirty glare when she sent him Yuko’s way, so she had assumed all was well. She moved forward, reaching out and taking Yuko’s hand gently in hers. “Yuko-chan.” She said softly. “You did everything you could.” She spoke gently, a smile on her face. “I’m sure if you keep trying, even someone like Shinazugawa-san will understand eventually!”
 
That just broke Yuko's heart more and she collapsed to the ground in tears. He looked so angry, like he would kill her right there and then when she offered running away together. But she didn't release Mitsuri's hand, only held it tighter like she and her words were the only thread of hope she had left. The others clattered around Yuko in alarm, wondering why she broke down like that and if she was ok. Had her interaction with Shinazugawa terrified her that much?
 
Mitsuri knelt on the ground before her kakushi, a soft frown on her face as she pulled her close and held her against her chest. “It’s okay if things don’t go the right way the first time, so long as we don’t give up, we can hold our head high.”
 
She only nodded as she sobbed weakly into her chest, trying hard to stop her crying. She wanted to sink into her despair, she wanted to wish she had just died against that demon. But what good would that do? That would have hurt Sanemi more, wouldn't it? He had already lost so many friends, losing his Tsuguko would have hurt him worse. She just had to keep trying, like Mitsuri said.
 
Mitsuri let Yuko have all the time she needed, or rushing her in the slightest. She shushed her crying and held her close, just like an older sister comforting a younger one.
 
"Mitsuri-sama, you're so kind!"
"Get it out, Yuko-chan!"
"We're all friends here, it's ok to be upset and scared!" The girls said. Yuko coughed and settled down, moving back slightly and drying her eyes.
"I-I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Mitsuri-sama...thank you for your kindness..." She muttered, "I'll be ok..."
 
Mitsuri shook her head and gave a smile. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings, Yuko-chan.” She said softly.
 
In Yoshiwara, Tokyo, where creatures of the night entertained the rich and most prominent men of Japan, Ogimoto house was in a bit of a bind. While they were far from hurting for money, a lot of their girls were turning up missing. All of them losing their footing and disappearing. The madam was rather glad that her oiran, Akatsuru, hadn't strayed. Akatsuru was a testament to her name; she was thin and graceful as a crane with red hair and equally red eyes. She was sold at a young age as an ill omen, but she was anything but. She rose rather quickly to her rank and was valued rather highly. She was reserved and kind and was quite doting on the other girls who came to Ogimoto. She did her best to guide them, and most of all be there for them if they were scared. Your first time is always the worst, she would say, but it gets easier.
 
Ebisu had joined the week prior to the dwindling house at the instructions of her teacher, Tengen Uzui. He told her that his wives would be joining her shortly so she wouldn’t be on the mission alone, but that didn’t make it any easier for her. She wasn’t a kunoichi, she was a slayer. Regardless, she wouldn’t falter, she would do everything she had to to complete her mission.
She was easily accepted into the house despite her boyish looks. Though her hair was cut short, and she looked a bit androgynous, with a bit of styling she looked feminine enough. She was almost finished in her training, and would be required to take clients soon.
 
Akatsuru was rather fond of her, almost a little too fond. She would bring Ebisu to her room to talk and they would talk the night away if Akatsuru wasn't entertaining anyone. It was odd for her, enjoying the presence of another woman, but the men she entertained hardly ever interested her; she didn't even like looking at them when she was on her off hours. But she liked Ebisu.
 
Ebisu surprisingly didn’t mind her company, liked hearing her talk even if she didn’t have much to say. She was glad she had a bit of time left before she had to take any clients, not thrilled at that aspect, but she was the one who agreed to come. She knew what she would have to do- it was work, nothing more, and if she was successful, they would uproot a demon and kill it.
Akatsuru was kind and bright, like the sun, always drawing those around her nearer.
 
She always took such incredible care of herself, both because she had to and she liked to. Her hair was always like silk, soft and shinmering, and her skin always had a lovely glow to it.
"What oil do you think for my hair today, Ebi?" Her voice was so soft and serene, like a cool spring night after a rain. She had so many scented oils gifted to her, lined up neatly on her vanity.
 
Ebisu’s own hair was short and wispy, but it was far from Akatsuru’s silky hair. Ebisu made a soft noise as she looked over all the bottles, stopping on one and reaching to pick it up. “This one… I think that it smells like wisteria, I like it a lot.” She never much was one for talking, but Akatsuru always made her want to talk. She enjoyed sitting with her, finding herself wanting to speak with her, and wanting Akatsuru to speak with her too.
 
She smiled and took it gently, "Wisteria are lovely, aren't they? I wish I could have a tree one day. A nice large wisteria tree in a great big garden." She said before pouring a bit of the oil into a dish and dipping her comb in it. She pulled it through her long red hair slowly, meticulously, "I hear your training ends soon.."
 
Ebisu sat beside Akatsuru as she combed her hair with the oil, watching her comb glide through her fiery hair easily. “Ah, yeah, the Madam thinks that I’m ready to start taking clients.” She said softly, offering a smile even though she didn’t feel like doing so. “I’m not too worried though, it only means I get to start sending money to my family back home.”
 
"That's so kind of you, Ebi.." She said gently, "It's always bad the first time. Men get overzealous. But, after a while, you stop noticing." Her smile became a little sad, "It's easier, I find, if you pretend you're a fish..."
 
“A fish?” She echoed. “Do men like that?” She had never had sex before, and Akatsuru was the one with all the experience- is that really what men liked?
 
"The ones I'm with usually like a little show, like a game of pretend. They like it if they think you're interested at first, but usually they like to do all the work. If you just lay there, they forget you're even there most of the time." She replied, "I wonder if all men are like that...if there's any love in it.."
 
Ebisu had definitely envisioned fish a little differently, but as she was entirely new to such things, she was bound to make mistakes. “How do you usually act toward the clients?” She asked. “What kind of things do they like?”
 
"It usually depends," she answered, "all of my clients are different, they all enjoy different things. I have one that likes to share opium before he takes me. Another likes to share literature."
 
It was all a little different and embarrassing to be speaking so normally about such acts, but she pushed through it despite her flushed cheeks. “A writer then?” She asked. “Or an enthusiast?”
 
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