"There has never been another like me," he briefly realized the arrogance in his statement, but didn't take it back.

      "Ah, is that so? The only thing different about you in comparison to those under your command is the golden embroidering around your armor and a medal from your cruel and malicious Emperor," she said with a gentle bounce of her fingers as they strummed along the basket and the folded fan still clutched in her palm.

      "You are truly pushing your boundaries. Are you asking to be put down like a dog?" Jun asked and the woman merely batted her lashes with another sly smile.

      "General, your men speak so highly of your patience and your skill," she replied simply. "Will you prove the rumors false by sharpening your blade on a young courtesan's neck in front of our temple?"

      Jun had no doubts that this girl knew exactly what sharp tip that she grazed across. He couldn't say with confidence that he had ever met such an intelligent prostitute. In the Shin empire, most of them were meek and illiterate and diseased. Their teeth were crooked and yellow and the only part of them that was even remotely appealing rested in between their legs in the dark.

      If it wasn't for that branding on the back of her neck, Jun might have mistaken her for any other woman. It was by law to make the branding known at all times and it was embedded in their skin like stitches. The branding itself was a simple one of a hairpin surrounded by two pronged daggers. Many thought it was a sad mark, as most girls who received them long before womanhood had even began. Courtesans here were apparently handpicked and chosen with care.

      If the entire city was swarming with girls that were as beautiful as her, then he could understand why Ming had fallen for one.

      "Have I rendered you without speech?" she asked with a wry grin and he slightly wondered if she really found this banter amusing. It was hard to tell. Jun had always learned to read people based on their body language. It was the foundations of his training.

      Her arms were loose at her sides and the sash that wound around her waist was so tight that it was a wonder she could even breathe. It succeeded in making her waist thin and her chest nearly pop from the opening of her dress. He could tell by her direct eye contact (how preposterous it was to be stared so firmly by a whore) that she wasn't intimidated by his obvious threats. In fact, it looked to amuse her.

      "What is your name?" He finally gave in to ask and she slowly lifted the paper fan to her face with swift grace and the flowers didn't so much as sway in the basket. She covered her lips and that seemed like a scripted move. Her giggle seemed well rehearsed. Plays were scripted as well, but they still drew in crowds to watch and fawn.

      "General, have I interested you?" she asked, but he could tell her question was rhetorical. She had the sense to not push her mocking tone and farther cause unnecessary embarrassment. "I go by Shiragiku."

      How fitting a name, he realized that now for in the language of flowers, a Shiragiku was a sign of grief due to a passing.

      "Jun...son of Fong Meilin and ranked twelve in command of the Shin empire," he announced as if it were second nature. He noticed the tilt of her head as she fanned herself so lightly that he wondered if she did it get away from the heat or to have something to do with her hands.

      "General Jun, your title is a mouthful," she mused with three brushes of her fan against her skin. "I have to wonder if, in all your titles, you ever forget your born name."

      "I have to wonder, in all the men you've slept with, if you ever forget whom you belong to," he retorted with a quick lash and once more she was stone.

      "I belong to the coin and the country," she said, and she lifted a coin from her basket, dropping the fan onto the flowers and just as quickly grabbing his hand. His body was tense when she opened his palm and placed the coin flat in his hand. "But for just one night, I could belong to you if you like."

      He had never been so drawn to a woman before. Even when he was younger and at his physical best, he had been more interested in training than he had girls. Perhaps it had to do with his mother being raped in front of him by some warrior on the open road. Perhaps it had to do with his father beating his pregnant mother to death so she wouldn't give birth to some other man's bastard.

      He had idolized his parents once, when they were happy and in love. Now the only thing his father was in love with was the bottom of a bottle. Now all of it felt like a waste of time.

      His fingers closed around the coin and he noticed her fox like eyes slightly dilate onto his face like a cat ready to pounce. He would have let her if she did.

      "Don't lose it," she said, and his fist tightened at her words. "Without the the coin, you won't see my face again."

      He knew a man had to either be rich or hold onto the coin that held their sigil to see a Shin whore. Courtesans had to give them out, and not many ever did. He knew Ming had won it in some card game at a tavern, and since then he has kept it on his person at all times. Jun hadn't understood why until he felt the smooth gold in contact with his skin.

      "Don't hold your breath. I haven't the time for entertainment," Jun finally said, breaking the hold she had over his eyes.

      Shiragiku didn't look bothered, "Is that so?" She picked one of the red flowers from her basket and held it to her nose. "Then I suppose the term goodbye is suitable in this instance." She said the term in the Qui dialect, and it came out so perfectly and so native that it was a wonder she switched her speech at all. She bowed her head and turned to walk away.

      It was a wonder he let her walk away at all when all he wanted was to take her right then and there, for the entire world to see and know that she was his and belonged to no one else.

      That was something he had never thought he could feel, and for the first time, he understood the desire of the man who took his mother. However, he was a better man than that, and he let her walk away even if it did take every ounce of strength he had.