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OiRanze | Loosen
🕑 Added 2020-05-17 13:04:07 +0000 UTCKatagami. That was the man’s name, as Ranmaru soon learned from the others teasing him over inviting an Oiran along with them. The general consensus of the guards was that they’d leave Katagami in charge of watching Ranmarum once the ‘delicate Oiran’ passed out. Ranmaru rolled his eyes as he stepped out into the pouring rain and hurried with the others down the street and to the bar.
Annoyed, Ranmaru’s first order upon arriving at the bar was to request some baijiu. The guards laughed at first, until they saw how casually Ranmaru drank it. He was actually quite thrilled by the fruity flavour of it, a pleasant change for barley shouchuu’s flat and bitter flavour, but figured it was best not to mention that for the sake of his efforts to impress the others. The more he drank, the more curious the guards and even the employees of the bar watched him. He felt a little self conscious, wondering if he’d dressed too nicely for the establishment, and slipped into drinking a bit faster in his nervousness.
When he finished the bottle given, the guards broke into cheers, thrilled that he’d finished it and was still functional. With that, the musicians burst into playing some songs, the guards singing, and Ranmaru feeling buzzed enough to embrace the energy.
Having proven himself, he ordered some of the Chinese lychee wine next, out of curiosity and sat down with Katagami. Unlike most of the others, the man had actually ordered some dinner, and was eating while drinking his saké, protecting his plate of fish whenever others would bump into the table while dancing about.
“Not really the partying type?” Ranmaru asked, as he sipped some of the fruity goodness from his cup.
“I can party when I want to, but the cook here makes the best grilled mackerel in Edo. I’m not passing it up,” Katagami replied.
Ranmaru nodded. He wasn’t really sure what to say at a party like this. No one was likely to ask his opinions on a famous poem, and the band already had music playing. Quite well too, as he found himself swaying to the songs they played. He was half debating ordering some grilled mackerel of his own, just to see how good it was, when one of the young waitresses skipped over to him from the impromptu dance floor.
“Come on, Mister Beautiful. Join the dancing!” she declared, a genuine smile on her face.
“I don’t really know that sort of dancing,” Ranmaru admitted, which got a pout from the girl. Feeling guilty, he relented. “Let me have one more sip of my drink, then I’ll give it a shot.”
“That’s more like it!” the waitress replied, clapping her hands together.
A swig of lychee wine in him, more for sweetness than alcohol, he tried his best to follow after her. The energetic shamisen led music of the band was being matched by the rapid way the dancers moved about. Everyone was hopping and skipping and wiggle around, dancing like Ranmaru hadn’t since his youth. Ranmaru’s instinct was to move in the choreographed smooth motions that had been drilled into him the past five years, which he knew wouldn’t fit the mood. He ended up mostly just swaying again.
A sudden burst of flute just behind him made Ranmaru hop in surprise.
“There we go, have a little more fun, mister pretty boy,” the wakashu aged flute player said.
“I’m used to dancing for a viewer, not in a crowd,” Ranmaru confessed.
“Well, dance for yourself for once, mister beautiful,” the waitress from before said, hopping backwards on one foot as she danced towards them.
“You can dance for me if you really need an audience,” the flutist countered, causing Ranmaru to turn back his way.
“I’ve never seen someone drink a bottle of baijiu and still seem so stiff,” the waitress added, regaining Ranmaru’s attention.
“With my job, I’ve had to learn to—” Ranmaru began, when he suddenly felt his hair fall loose.
Spinning back around, he saw the flute player holding the thread Ranmaru had used to keep his hair tied up.
“Maybe that will loosen you up,” the young man said, Ranmaru only now noticing just how flush the man was with alcohol. “It’s good to let your hair down sometimes.”
“Your hair looks so beautiful, flowing free. How do you keep it so shiny?” the waitress asked, quite distracted from dancing now.
“A kitsune’s blessing, I suppose,” Ranmaru offered, feeling so very strange to have his hair down around others. Even with clients his hair was usually kept as perfectly in place as possible, only a few strands loose at the end of the night.
“A kitsune’s... oh! The silver hair. The beautiful face. Those clothes... you’re the kitsune oiran!” the waitress gasped.
Ranmaru panicked, worried he’d suddenly have a whole crowd around wanting information, only to realise the room had gotten surprisingly empty. Glancing about in confusion, he saw a few guards sneaking up stairs, the younger one being led by a waitress and the older by one of the other flute playing wakashu. The party had apparently ended a bit faster than Ranmaru had expected.
Knowing that he wasn’t going to get bombarded by questions from a crowd, Ranmaru nodded. “Well, I’m not a full kitsune, but I’ve got some of that magic in my blood.”
The young pair of employees became quite excited, the flutist dragging Ranmaru off to a table while the waitress hurried and got him another bottle of lychee wine. He knew he’d be expected to pay for it, but the taste was so fresh he didn’t mind.
“So, there’s one question everyone has that we just have to ask,” the waitress girl said, leaning in as she poured Ranmaru a cup. “Are you a man that turns into a woman or a woman that turns into a man?”
The flutist leaned in from the other side, making Ranmaru feel more than a smidge self conscious about his personal space.
“Both sides of me are so essential now... I just see myself as both?” Ranmaru offered, getting slightly disappointed looks from both listeners. “I, well, if you want to know how I started... I was only a girl for most of my youth.”
The waitress clapped her hands, before pointing at the flute player. “You’re my backup on this! I’ve got bets to call in. I knew old Madame Tsuma would never have hired an oiran born a man. Just like how she tried to hire onna-bugeisha as guards at first.”
“There were bets about me?” Ranmaru asked.
The waitress nodded. “Heck, a good chunk of employees here thought your hair was a wig.”
“Ah, nope. It’s quite genuine,” Ranmaru replied, ruffling a patch to show it stayed attached.
“Can we touch it?” the waitress asked.
“Uh... sure?” Ranmaru replied, feeling a bit self conscious as the pair played with his hair. He generally only let the hairdressers near it.
To his surprise, Katagami appeared and sat down across the table from the trio, clearing his throat.
“No matter how much you two flirt, you’re not getting him upstairs,” the young guard said.
“We’re just curious,” the flutist muttered, pouting as he did so.
“It is quite against my contract to provide my services for free,” Ranmaru added, eyeing the waitress as she started making a braid with some free strands. “I also... I also value the nights I can get some decent sleep.”
“Do you ever have women as customers, Mister Oiran?” the waitress asked, looking up at him with innocent eyes.
“Uh, n-no,” Ranmaru stammered, not sure where she was going with her line of thought, and feeling very nervous about letting slip any hints of his heart being held by a woman. “We don’t serve women.”
“Then you wouldn’t really be offering your services if you went up with me,” the young woman said, her tone somehow still innocent. “You’re beautiful enough, I’d not even ask for payment.”
“I’m flattered, but I already told you I like my peaceful nights,” Ranmaru replied.
“I suppose that’s understandable...” The waitress said, letting out a sigh before erasing her disappointment with a smile. “Well, if you ever decide you want to find out what being the man with a woman is like, do let me know.”
With that, she helped the flutist back to his feet and headed off, the flute player slurring together some jabbing insults about her infatuated blush.
Ranmaru could only watch confused for a moment, before turning back to Katagami. “I... well, thank you. But, what was that about?”
The young guard shrugged. “Delicate androgyny in men is popular. Why else do both men and women go so mad for wakashu?”
“I suppose... I’m just not used to women giving me so much attention. I guess I’ve just usually had men around to scare them off?” Ranmaru muttered, before something struck him. “Why aren’t you upstairs?”
“That’s easy. I’ve got a wife, and I married for love,” Katagami replied.
“Oh... wait, then why was it, when we first met, you were complaining you had barely any Shinzou girls watching you spar?”
Katagami’s eyes fell and he let out a sigh. “My wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I struggle to feel worthy of her. So having so few women look my way, even though I’m surrounded by them at work... it’s not good for my confidence. Even if my wife is the only woman I love, it would be nice to feel more certain I’m good enough for her.”
“I’m not sure I should be glad for you being so in love, or slightly disappointed you make it sound like my beauty as a woman doesn’t even compare,” Ranmaru said, pouring out a bit of lychee wine for the other man.
“You oirans have an ethereal perfection going on, even now with you being a man. My wife is a working woman, with a grounded beauty. Much more my type,” Katagami explained.
Feeling he’d defended his femininity enough, Ranmaru decided to ask Katagami a bit more about his wife. The young guard was happy to gush about how she was a soba maker’s daughter, and had kept up the trade here in Edo. Neither of their families had much approved of the marriage, and the pair had been all but forced out of their village, but they both quite liked the bustle and chaos of the new city. They were saving for a proper home at the moment, which led to a slightly rambling complaint about housing prices with Edo’s constant growth.
Rattling from the door drew Ranmaru’s attention, and he gestured for Katagami to pause his story a bit. As the pair sat listening, they realised the sound of the wind had gotten worse. Heading over to the door, Katagami slid it open, so they could check the weather outside, though the creaking sound in the building already told them it had reached a serious level. The open door revealed rain flying sideways, the wind too strong for it to properly be counted as falling. The gust wasn’t constant, but another hit again after a few moments.
“I... I have to go home. I can’t leave her alone on a night like this,” Katagami said, eyes growing wide with panic.
“You’re not seriously going to go out in this alone are you?” Ranmaru asked.
“It’s only about a ten minute walk east of here,” Katagami replied, his cheeks visibly flush from the alcohol.
“If you get hit by something flying around, you could get knocked out and then catch your death in this rain,” Ranmaru countered.
‘I’m not leaving my wife home alone in this weather!” Katagami shouted, running into the street, in the straightest line he could manage as another gust hit.
Ranmaru hurried out after him, closing the door behind them. “I’m going with you then! To make sure you actually make it home.”
“If you get hurt the Yarite will have my neck!”
“Then we’ll just both have to play it safe, won’t we? Like you should be doing anyway.”
Katagami looked ready to argue, but must have seen focus in Ranmaru’s eyes, as he relented. The pair made their way to the exit of Yoshiwara, the guard not even bothering to check their papers as he shouted at them for being crazy from within his small shelter. Ranmaru couldn’t argue, and he wasn’t sure Katagami had noticed.
Dodging paper, birds, and various small bits of debris blown about, the two men were forced to duck for cover a number of times. Overall, the trip took at least twice as long as Katagami had estimated, and the pair were thoroughly drenched when they reached their destination. Ranmaru’s hair was also an absolute disaster, having been loose in the wind.
That their destination was a shaky looking nagaya rowhouse was a less than comforting revelation. Ranmaru supposed, as he saw the building creak, that it being only one floor meant only the roof could fall on him if the building collapsed.
The state of the building also led him to believe it had to be a few years old. He hoped that meant it was stronger than it looked, having lived through previous typhoons. Praying to any being that was listening that he’d survive the night, he followed Katagami to the door.
Katagami slipped in first, Ranmaru sliding in after, and surprised to see Katagami being lifted off his feet by a woman who, while short, seemed nearly as wide as she was tall, well muscled and well fed.
“I can’t believe you went out in this weather,” Mrs. Katagami said, putting her husband back on the ground. “I appreciate the romance behind it, but you’re a bit mad all the same.”
“Mei here said the same thing,” the young guard replied. “Refused to let me go alone.”
Mrs. Katagami turned to Ranmaru, who hovered near the door, only now realising the plan had left him imposing upon the couple. He was sure Katagami wouldn’t let him out alone, and it was unlikely there was an inn overly nearby.
“Thanks for looking after my dear reckless husband,” Mrs. Katagami said, a warm smile on her square face. “Even if agreeing to his plan shows you’re a bit reckless yourself... I think it was just sane enough to count as bravery in your case.”
“Oh, just insult me while I stand here,” Katagami protested, though in a soft and loving manner.
“Whatever the case, stop hovering in the door Mr... Mei, right?” Mrs. Katagami said, pulling Ranmaru into the small home with surprising force. “You two should go sit by the hearth, dry yourselves off.”
“I really must apologise for intruding like I have,” Ranmaru said, as he headed to the back of the small home, sorting out his hair, that was still a mess from the wind.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of sending you back into that storm, and keeping my husband safe is worth at least a night under our roof,” the solid woman replied.
Ranmaru glanced up involuntarily at the creaking wood above them, which, thankfully, got a laugh from Mrs. Katagami.
“Oh, it groans and complains, but it’s stood up to everything that’s been thrown at it so far. Don’t worry.”
Ranmaru bowed, getting another laugh for his formality from Mrs. Katagami, before sitting down beside Katagami near the small hearth. It wasn’t that it was particularly cold, the typhoon had brought warm winds up from the south after all, but the heat helping to dry them off was pleasant.
“Quite the strong willed woman,” Ranmaru whispered, as he watched Mrs. Katagami hunt around, probably for a spare futon.
“Nothing fills me with confidence like knowing I have her support,” Katagami said dreamily.
Ranmaru nodded. Katagami hadn’t struck him as a particularly meek man, but... having a woman who seemed both ready and able to fight off a bear or an oni on your side was surely a confidence booster for any man. Or, at least, any man who saw women as worthy of respect. Ranmaru had to admit, reluctantly, that that was a smaller category that he usually liked to think.
“Alright, that should be everything set up. And here’s some fresh clo—your hair,” Mrs. Katagami said, standing nearby with a pair of loose linen clothes in her arms as she stared at Ranmaru. “You’re that Oiran?”
“Mhm, that he is,” Katagami replied.
“Now I feel even more self conscious about how lacking our spare futon is...”
“I am the one who arrived unannounced. That you’re letting me stay in your home at all more kindness than I could have asked for,” Ranmaru replied.
“Oh my, quite the charmer, aren’t you?” the young woman asked, laughing a bit. “Well, I still feel bad. I’ll have to send you some soba noodles from work to make up for this.”
Ranmaru debated telling her there was no need, but decided it would be easier on her conscience to accept the gift. He and Katagami changed into dry clothes, leaving their previous ones hanging to dry.
Trying to sleep, with the wind howling and the building creaking, was a bit difficult, but a mix of the length of the day and the alcohol remaining in his system let Ranmaru drift off before too long.
