White Butterfly : Chapter 9
Aya awoke in Crawford’s futon after sleeping badly. He was held in a death grip by a strong male arm. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lean back against the warmth of Crawford’s chest and the steady beat of his heart or vomit. He felt used and dirty but strangely proud because he had, for the first time in the months since his family’s shame, fulfilled his duty. After all he had little left in his life except Crawford’s amusement.
Crawford was slobbering drunkenly at the back of his neck, smacking his lips as he pulled Aya tighter against him. Aya swallowed back a sob. It didn’t matter. It would be dawn soon enough.
He rolled over so that he looked at his master. From this angle Crawford was almost attractive. His mother had said that only duty mattered and although he felt dirty and used he had fulfilled his duty. He buried his head in the hollow at the base Crawford’s neck and wept.
Dawn came and went with Crawford ignoring his concubine other than allowing him to wash down his master. He did not attempt to engage him in conversation, just allowed his numb white hands to dress him quickly and efficiently for the journey ahead.
Aya wondered if Crawford would pay him.
He didn’t even give him that much attention.
He just left him after a light breakfast, in which he picked at his food and gulped greedily at his peppermint tea. Then with a few instructions to Baba, a few more to Hikarin and some to Schuldig he and Haru left the house on their way to Edo.
Aya watched him go with a strange sense of lacking that he couldn’t understand. Baba came up behind him and put a heavy winter kimono about his shoulders. “You did well, lad,” she said giving him a quick hug. “you did well.”
He didn’t have an answer for her.
Hikarin was bored.
She hadn’t even bothered to dress properly or paint her face in days. Crawford had left on some imperial mission and the two captains he had left behind weren’t worth the bother. She wondered if she could get herself invited to visit one of the Takatori nearby.
Even Aya looked stilted. The heavy summer heat was giving way to autumn chill and winds. The sky, however, was clear and bright and the sun golden through the ash coloured sky.
She decided then she would take a walk into the village, it was not far, less than half a mile, and it would be good to stretch her legs. She looked across at Aya, sitting primly reading at his table. Yes, she decided, she would show off her little protégé, because Aya might be dull but he was beautiful.
“I have been remiss in your training.” She said sitting up and throwing aside the scroll she was reading. “I should teach you to paint your face, and I have a wig, we will make you as beautiful as I am.” She smiled to herself as Aya looked a little blank, “well, almost.” She laughed at her own joke, “stay there.” Then with a clatter of her geta she went to her room.
She returned with a lacquered box and a cloth bag.
She was grinning like a demon as she sat down facing him. The box was full of cosmetics and she quickly bound back his own hair with a silk cap and painted his face white with a foul smelling cream. She rubbed a black gritty substance over his teeth, and then with a thin black brush began detailing his eyes and mouth. She put a sweep of pale lavender shadow over each eye and dark rich purple gloss on his lips. Then she smiled to herself, and it was a cruel smile as she drew in eyebrows. Then she fixed a heavy dark smelling wig over his hair. It was long and black, hanging almost all the way to his knees.
“Now,” she said proudly, sitting back, “you look like a tayu.” She grabbed him by the hand, “let’s go for a walk.”
“I can’t.” Aya protested, “I can’t leave the house.”
Hikarin’s smile was luminescent. “Just to the boathouse and back, he won’t mind, you’re not going far.”
Aya was still nervous.
“What’s the point,” she wheedled, “of being so beautiful when there’s nobody to see it.”
“Just to the boathouse,” he conceded. After all Crawford had been gone nearly three weeks, it was unlikely that he would return to catch him breaking the rules that he had set down. Still he was worried. “And quickly.”
Hikarin really had outdone herself. Aya was caught unawares by his reflection in the still waters of the house’s private lake. He didn’t recognise his own reflection.
“Why hello,” a man said stepping up behind them. Aya did not recognise him, he knew Schuldig, barely, but mostly the men of the house avoided the women whom he had been relegated to live with. “I can’t say I’ve seen you before.”
Hikarin shimmered under his flattery. “Why, Kudoh-san,” she said flashing her fan quickly like a hummingbird, “have you not met this lovely creature?” Aya raised his face and mimicked the movement of Hikarin’s fan with his own.
“No, Hikarin,” he said appraising Aya in a way that made him feel like meat, “I can’t say that I have. But,” he looked at the sky, “it looks like it might rain, let me escort you ladies back to the main house.”
Hikarin gave a girlish giggle that she hid behind her fan. “Why thank you, Kudoh-san, you are as knightly as your manners.”
“And what of our little butterfly?” Kudoh asked extending a long thin hand, “do you think me as courtly as my manners.”
“I am in minarai.” Aya answered calmly. It was nice the way this man paid attention to him, but he knew that’s all it could be, attention. Crawford had made his rules clear and Aya had every intention of living by them.
“There is nothing in this world as sublime as a courtesan in minarai.” Kudoh said with a leer. “Or as desirable, is this white skin your own or the work of Hikarin’s talented hands?”
Aya flushed under the heavy paint at the rather obscene compliment. “Why our little girl,” Hikarin answered with a laugh, “she’s as pale as new snow, and as lovely. You are right, Kudoh, I think I feel a chill in the air, let us retire inside where we can get some hot sake and talk of other matters.”
Hikarin leant in to whisper in Aya’s ear, “accept his compliments, I won’t let this get out of hand, but you need to get used to being desired, and if there is one thing that Kudoh is it’s desirous.” She walked alongside him for the first time since she had taken over his training, “It is in his nature to want what he cannot have but it is the courtesan’s place to make him think that he can get it.”
Aya swallowed but she was his teacher and he would obey.
It was said about the court that Yohji Kudoh had one thing on his mind most of the time and as far as those who knew him felt, it was true. He had wandering hands and Aya quickly became adept at slapping him on the hand with his fan whilst smiling politely, exactly as Hikarin had described. He was almost becoming good at it. Even if his instinctive reaction to Kudoh’s pawing was to slap him hard, mutter shi ne and retire to his room.
This, he conceded, was simply part of his training.
Hikarin was getting drunk.
He assumed that everything was under control when he heard the shush of pocket doors sliding open. He was learning, even if the sake was warming his cheeks and making his laughter at Kudoh’s bawdy jokes a little easier. He was surprised by himself when he leant forward and laid the flat of his hand on Kudoh’s thigh sure that it was the sake making him so forward. His head was lolling on his neck.
“Slut.” A male voice said from the door and carelessly picked him up by the collar, “you’re mine.” It was Crawford. He threw Aya over his shoulder as easily as if he was made of cloth. Crawford smelt of dust and autumn and rain but the jostling was unpleasant and Aya thought he might be sick. He had had too much sake but he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t even emptied a single cup.
Crawford threw him on the floor of the doll room hard. His wig fell away. “Mine,” he snarled and then stepped forward and began tearing at Aya’s clothes. Aya lolled back and let him. His fingernails were sharp on his skin as Crawford repeated “mine” over and over again. There was no gentleness, no subtlety, as soon as he was naked Crawford hefted him up over his raised thighs and with very little break he penetrated him.
Aya cried out then. Crawford didn’t stop, he just thrust and withdrew and thrust again, his hands on Aya’s hips regardless if he hurt him, taking what was his with repeated exclamations of mine.
The haze of sake was fast vanishing and unsure what else to do Aya clung to his master, laying his head on Crawford’s shoulder and repeated the word “yours.”
Glossary
Ameratsu – The Sun goddess of Shinto
Aneki – older sister
Bikiko - Hel
Dairai – imperial court
Daimyo – a landowner or lord.
Danna – a patron
Doitsujin - German person
Ecchi – pervert
Edo – another name for Tokyo
Fundoshi – a wrapped loincloth worn by men
Gaiden – legend
Gaijin – Foreigner
Gei - art
Genkan – small area in front of the door where shoes are kept
Genki – chipper
Geta – a type of sandal, named for the sound they make
Hakama – split culottes
Hanzubon – shorts
Hikarin – Schoen
Horimono – Japanese tattooing
Iki – sense of style.
Juni Hitoe – Lit twelve layers
Kaasan – Mother
Kawaii – an exclamation of something’s cuteness.
Kimi – she who is without equal.
Kimono – a decorated robe
Konketsu – half-breed.
Kyu – the lowest ranking in Go
Minarai – a time of learning by imitation
Mizuage – a deflowering ceremony
Moku – two corresponding lines in go – marks one area
Monogatori – lit: story of a person; romances or stories
Nagajubon – a light white kimono worn under the more ornate robes
Natto - fermented soybeans
Nigiri – a pressed rice ball
Nihonjin – Japanese person
Noh – a type of drama performed with masks
Obi – the wide belt used to fasten a kimono
Okaasan - mother
Omemie - Neu
Omusubi – wrapped rice balls
Onmyoji – sorcerer
Ouji-sama – your highness.
Seppuku – ritual suicide by disembowelling
Seppun – the act of pressing mouths together- the worst of all perversions.
Shibari - the art of rope tying
Sumimasen – the most formal way of apologising
Tabi – split toed socks
Takoyaki – fried balls of octopus and flour
Tansu – a Japanese chest. This is a distinct style
Tanto – a short bladed sword, usually used by women, part of a set
Tatami – a mat, rooms are measured by tatami
Tayu – a very high-class courtesan, also called an Oiran
Usagi - Todt
Yukuta – a light cotton kimono worn for sleeping or festivals
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