It took a month of calligraphy and tutoring in the arts of Kemuri for the Mother to allow me to attend the 'stage' where the courtesans would put on a show.

      The room was bright, with colorful paintings, hand drawn on folded partitions. Near the partition of paper and wooden doors was a tatami mat that rested more comfortably than I did in my restricting kimono caused by the obi that suctioned my breath in my ribcage. The ceiling was a brightly colored red that went well with the hard wood floor.

       My eyes stayed lowered as I discreetly tried to view the extravagant room without disrespecting the three men sitting with their legs folded underneath the low table.

      "You get to choose who you want?" I had asked Ohashi earlier that morning as I watched her apply the white paint onto her cheeks. "So I could choose not to-"

      "Don't expect much. You have the looks of a peasant. You could never get where I am," Ohashi hissed at me, and it ended my questioning.

      People have told me I was beautiful since the moment I weaned from my mother's breast, but I had never felt more plain than in that moment where I stood by Ohashi's side as she nearly glided her feet over the room. Her kimono rubbed against the ground like a cloud moving against the backdrop of the sky. The layers of silk looked heavy against her shoulders, but they held up the weight stacked like stones on her body. I felt as if I was waddling and grew self-conscious as the stares from the men rested in our direction.

      I still wasn't the best when it came to the art of flirting with men. Back in Nichijou, I only had one order: Don't cry your protest when they pick one of us from the cage.

      After all, what was a man to do with a crying girl? Surely it would ruin their night.

      I knew nothing of the art of making men want me by my actions...perhaps that was why the Mother had me watch this woman so closely. Ohashi gave me a sideways glance and I nodded, rushing over to pour the clients some sake. I could feel their stares brush over the visible skin around my neck.

      "Quite beautiful, aren't you? How much for a night?" asked one of them with a lusty grin and Ohashi's words ran through my head.

      "Giggle and nod, but do not directly answer. These men don't care what you have to say until you earn their affection, and even then, they still don't actually care," she had told me and the words still felt foreign to me.

      Was affection even possible from a man? I hardly cared to find out.

      It was only the sound of a harmonious tune that broke me from my stupor. I felt my shoulders relax when Ohashi stoked the cords of the koto in such a beautiful melody that I forgot what a sadistic woman she really was beneath the surface. I suppose, like an onion, she didn't make you cry until you began peeling apart the layers.

      "A glance from her eyes, a moment of lies...tucked in her gaze set this country ablaze....," her voice was a sad melody and when she sang her voice resonated with my ears. "Another smile turns this nation to ash, no city can stand the lash. A doubt a beauty like her will ever be seen again." Her fingers dance over the strings in a harmonious muse, every stroke matching with every syllable.

      Many at Nichijou didn't know how to hold a koto, let alone play one, but she played it as if it were an extension of her fingers. I suppose this is the difference between a common yuujyo in a brothel, and a highly respected Tayū.

      The men were in a daze, their eyes wide open and glossy. It was almost as if their life was funneling out of them right before my eyes. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me but in the span of five minutes their faces decayed a generation as if Ohashi's song was the only lament that brushed through their ears in dance for the last ten years. Lust and love only cause a man to wither like that of a dandelion. Pieces of them were already beginning to scatter into the wind—Ohashi blew it all away with one breath until there was nothing left.

      If not for the stagnant and plain color of their eyes, I likely would not have recognized them at all.

      Watching them walk out later on felt like seeing a twig fall down a waterfall. Their eyes were glazed and their descent was rocky and disorganized. I knew that much upon watching them. As they left I was able to see the slight hunch of their backs. More decades passed before their hunched over backs shattered before my eyes as Ohashi's melody stopped. I didn't dare meet her stare but I could feel her gaze on mine.

      "What is it you would like to ask?" she questioned and I glanced her way through narrowed lashes. I had more than a few and likely I would never receive those answers. There was far too much ice in her personality to give me a sliver of what I wanted.

      I knew that she would not answer a thousand questions and that I had to pick only one. My tongue burned as much as my eyes. "I want to know why nothing happened."

      "You mean why I didn't sell my body like some whore for peasants?" She smiled, and her voice was like that of a lullaby instead of that of a woman openly berating me. "I am a Tayū. We are the highest caliber of courtesan. I am not some backwards slut in the back of a cheap brothel being forced onto a ripped tatami mat.

      "If they wanted mindless and passionless sex from a forced yuujyo, then they might as well have you for the night," she let out a soft giggle as she dusted her hands against the koto. I took a step backwards; the small slices that decorated my fingertips throbbed.

      Lately, I had been practicing day and night to achieve a sound as whimsical as Ohashi's melody, but my attempts had left me with nothing but callouses. Briefly, I wondered if some girls weren't made for achieving such a beautiful song. My life was like a koto with only a single string. It was lonely and nearly toneless.

      But I would climb to the top of this pecking order, even if I had to rip Ohashi's strings out from under her. I would do so one by one.