Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Unexpected ❯ Chapter 1
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: deadlydiva 
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.19.2005 | Updated On: 08.06.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 576 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.19.2005 | Updated On: 08.06.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 576 | Status: Work In Progress
Darkness enveloped her petite frame. She twirled her raven hair around her fingers. Sighing, Misao looked at the book again. Disbelief marred her cherubic face as she crossed her legs Indian style. She groaned as the initial tingles of a numb bottom made themselves know. The twin mattress on the floor, which she was quite grateful to have, did not provide much cushioning. A familiar whistling sound could be heard as a blast of cold air assaulted Misao’s body. She kept telling her landlord that the windows were letting in a draft. That slumlord wouldn’t do anything about it. Misao cursed the cheap bastard as another gust of frigid air hit her.
What kind of life was this for a young woman? Misao has left her home in Kyoto to pursue an acting career. When she left, she knew it would be tough, but she did not expect this. Most of what she saved went to securing the raggedy apartment she called home. It was a far cry from the Aoi-ya. The peeling paint and drafty windows fueled the occasional bout of homesickness.
Back in Kyoto, Misao was one of the most well liked people. She never lacked for company. Between her cousins, Omasu and Okon, and her brothers, Shiro and Kuro, lived a pretty active life. She was known in every social circle. Guys wanted her. Girls wanted to be like her. Misao had the type of personality that drew people in. Now, she had scant few friends. Between her two waitressing jobs and the infrequent auditions, Misao didn’t have much time to socialize.
Misao pushed herself off the floor. She looked around the bare apartment; it wasn’t too hard to find her boots. The lack of furnishings assured that. Misao pulled on her boots. Her coat was draped over the milk crates that served as her bureau, chairs and table. It was one of the few things that she had that still smelled like home. As she picked up the outer garment, Misao heard something fall to the floor. Upon examination, Misao realized it was her work schedule.
“Oh shit! I was supposed to be there five minutes ago.” Misao grabbed her make-up bag and threw it into her purse. Throwing her coat over her shoulders, she blew out her candles and dashed out of the door.
As Misao ran down the street, she realized that living in the low rent district had its advantages. The most obvious at this point was that her job at the Blu Flayme was only a few blocks away. Her neighbors, if one could call them that, knew the routine and gave the tiny woman all the room she needed. As the populace parted like the Red Sea, Misao sprinted to the less than respectable club.
“Misao, you’re late… again.” Kamatari looked at his watch as the late waitress barreled through the door.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’d be late too if your apartment had no electricity.” Misao and Kamatari did this dance every time Misao was late. He’d pretend to be pissed and she’d pretend to care. It was quite the amicable working relationship.
Kamatari shook his head. “Misao, if you needed help with the bill, you should have let me know.”
Honjou Kamatari knew Misao back from his days as a trans-gendered geisha in Kyoto. He had quite the following until the son of an influential businessman fell in love. The young man’s father could not have his son involved with a geisha, much less a male geisha. It was unheard of. Fearing the political fallout, Sugiyama Tetsuo forced Kamatari out of town. Sugiyama Soshi was told that Kamatari left for a more profitable area. With the money he was given, Honjou Kamatari opened the Blu Flayme.
“Kamatari, you know I couldn’t take money from you. Besides, it’s not like the lights were ever in the first place.” Misao walked up to the bar and waved down the bartender.
Kamatari’s blue colored lids disappeared as his eyes widened. The young woman who lit up a room with her smile lived in an apartment with no lights. How ironic was that? Misao saw Kamatari’s mouth about to open. She shook her head.
“This is not the time or place for such talk.” She looked at the empty section of bar in front of her. There was something missing, something important. “Chou!!! Where the hell is my drink?”
Misao pounded her fist against the bar. That broom head always took too long with her drinks. Misao was sure he did it on purpose. Chou slowly made his way to the irritated sprite.
“Now, now. When have I ever left you high and dry?” With a roguish smile, he placed the vodka and cranberry juice in front of Misao. “When have I ever left you?”
“Never. That’s the flippin’ problem.” Misao snatched her drink off the counter and took a sip. Chou was nice enough, but he had a habit of making the drinks too strong. Misao puckered her lips; he was nothing if not consistent. There was enough vodka in the eight-ounce glass to kill an ox. She shook her head. If he spent as much time learning the drink recipes as he did on that ridiculous hairstyle, Chou would be a killer bartender.
Instead of bemoaning the mediocre bartender, Misao took it as a sign that she should not be drinking. She picked her purse up off the floor and headed to the dressing room.
“Misao!”
The petite young woman looked over her shoulder to see who had called out her name.
“Come on Kamatari. If you are going to insist on wearing kimonos, you could at least train the elephant to stay in the tent.”
Kamatari laughed as he put his pet away. He scampered over Misao. Kamatari ran his fingers threw Misao’s wind-swept hair. “Have I ever told you how I adore your silky raven locks? Such luster, it makes me jealous. How could I ever dream of competing with a knock out like you?”
Misao slapped Kamatari’s hand away. Whenever compliments flowed like water, there was favor coming. “What is it this time? I won’t stay late another night. I told you to fire that chick a long time ago.”
Kamatari held a paper fan over his face in an act of feigned innocence. Misao glared at the sexually confused man. She knew that look too well. This one was going to be a doozy. Misao raised one eyebrow. Kamatari took it as his cue to continue.
“Well you see, Megumi--”
“Oh no…oh no you don’t! We had an agreement. When I started here you promised me that I would not have to do that.” Misao cheeks had turned a sinful shade of red. She was well aware that the Blu Flayme was an establishment for the mature, open-mended crowd; that was never an issue for her. She just did not want to be on that stage.
“Misao, what could be more natural than you on the stage? You choreographed all the routines. Let’s not forget that I have seen you naked, so I know you have the goods.”
Misao was not swayed by his arguments. She continued her journey to the changing room. There wasn’t anything that Kamatari could say that would change Misao’s mind. Or at least that was what she thought.
“I’ll give you two thousand off the top and you keep all the tips.” Kamatari was desperate. Takani Megumi was his biggest draw. Without a comparable replacement, he would lose a lot of money.
Misao froze in her tracks. The cash would come in handy. It would only be this time. Megumi would be back at work tomorrow and that would be the end of it.
Kamatari noticed the momentary pause. Misao was seriously considering the offer. He offered up a silent prayer to the gods of nudity. The tiny woman took three steps toward the dressing room before stopping again.
“You owe me for this Kamatari, and I’m not just talking money.” Misao looked over her shoulder and winked at the very grateful transsexual.
What kind of life was this for a young woman? Misao has left her home in Kyoto to pursue an acting career. When she left, she knew it would be tough, but she did not expect this. Most of what she saved went to securing the raggedy apartment she called home. It was a far cry from the Aoi-ya. The peeling paint and drafty windows fueled the occasional bout of homesickness.
Back in Kyoto, Misao was one of the most well liked people. She never lacked for company. Between her cousins, Omasu and Okon, and her brothers, Shiro and Kuro, lived a pretty active life. She was known in every social circle. Guys wanted her. Girls wanted to be like her. Misao had the type of personality that drew people in. Now, she had scant few friends. Between her two waitressing jobs and the infrequent auditions, Misao didn’t have much time to socialize.
Misao pushed herself off the floor. She looked around the bare apartment; it wasn’t too hard to find her boots. The lack of furnishings assured that. Misao pulled on her boots. Her coat was draped over the milk crates that served as her bureau, chairs and table. It was one of the few things that she had that still smelled like home. As she picked up the outer garment, Misao heard something fall to the floor. Upon examination, Misao realized it was her work schedule.
“Oh shit! I was supposed to be there five minutes ago.” Misao grabbed her make-up bag and threw it into her purse. Throwing her coat over her shoulders, she blew out her candles and dashed out of the door.
As Misao ran down the street, she realized that living in the low rent district had its advantages. The most obvious at this point was that her job at the Blu Flayme was only a few blocks away. Her neighbors, if one could call them that, knew the routine and gave the tiny woman all the room she needed. As the populace parted like the Red Sea, Misao sprinted to the less than respectable club.
“Misao, you’re late… again.” Kamatari looked at his watch as the late waitress barreled through the door.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’d be late too if your apartment had no electricity.” Misao and Kamatari did this dance every time Misao was late. He’d pretend to be pissed and she’d pretend to care. It was quite the amicable working relationship.
Kamatari shook his head. “Misao, if you needed help with the bill, you should have let me know.”
Honjou Kamatari knew Misao back from his days as a trans-gendered geisha in Kyoto. He had quite the following until the son of an influential businessman fell in love. The young man’s father could not have his son involved with a geisha, much less a male geisha. It was unheard of. Fearing the political fallout, Sugiyama Tetsuo forced Kamatari out of town. Sugiyama Soshi was told that Kamatari left for a more profitable area. With the money he was given, Honjou Kamatari opened the Blu Flayme.
“Kamatari, you know I couldn’t take money from you. Besides, it’s not like the lights were ever in the first place.” Misao walked up to the bar and waved down the bartender.
Kamatari’s blue colored lids disappeared as his eyes widened. The young woman who lit up a room with her smile lived in an apartment with no lights. How ironic was that? Misao saw Kamatari’s mouth about to open. She shook her head.
“This is not the time or place for such talk.” She looked at the empty section of bar in front of her. There was something missing, something important. “Chou!!! Where the hell is my drink?”
Misao pounded her fist against the bar. That broom head always took too long with her drinks. Misao was sure he did it on purpose. Chou slowly made his way to the irritated sprite.
“Now, now. When have I ever left you high and dry?” With a roguish smile, he placed the vodka and cranberry juice in front of Misao. “When have I ever left you?”
“Never. That’s the flippin’ problem.” Misao snatched her drink off the counter and took a sip. Chou was nice enough, but he had a habit of making the drinks too strong. Misao puckered her lips; he was nothing if not consistent. There was enough vodka in the eight-ounce glass to kill an ox. She shook her head. If he spent as much time learning the drink recipes as he did on that ridiculous hairstyle, Chou would be a killer bartender.
Instead of bemoaning the mediocre bartender, Misao took it as a sign that she should not be drinking. She picked her purse up off the floor and headed to the dressing room.
“Misao!”
The petite young woman looked over her shoulder to see who had called out her name.
“Come on Kamatari. If you are going to insist on wearing kimonos, you could at least train the elephant to stay in the tent.”
Kamatari laughed as he put his pet away. He scampered over Misao. Kamatari ran his fingers threw Misao’s wind-swept hair. “Have I ever told you how I adore your silky raven locks? Such luster, it makes me jealous. How could I ever dream of competing with a knock out like you?”
Misao slapped Kamatari’s hand away. Whenever compliments flowed like water, there was favor coming. “What is it this time? I won’t stay late another night. I told you to fire that chick a long time ago.”
Kamatari held a paper fan over his face in an act of feigned innocence. Misao glared at the sexually confused man. She knew that look too well. This one was going to be a doozy. Misao raised one eyebrow. Kamatari took it as his cue to continue.
“Well you see, Megumi--”
“Oh no…oh no you don’t! We had an agreement. When I started here you promised me that I would not have to do that.” Misao cheeks had turned a sinful shade of red. She was well aware that the Blu Flayme was an establishment for the mature, open-mended crowd; that was never an issue for her. She just did not want to be on that stage.
“Misao, what could be more natural than you on the stage? You choreographed all the routines. Let’s not forget that I have seen you naked, so I know you have the goods.”
Misao was not swayed by his arguments. She continued her journey to the changing room. There wasn’t anything that Kamatari could say that would change Misao’s mind. Or at least that was what she thought.
“I’ll give you two thousand off the top and you keep all the tips.” Kamatari was desperate. Takani Megumi was his biggest draw. Without a comparable replacement, he would lose a lot of money.
Misao froze in her tracks. The cash would come in handy. It would only be this time. Megumi would be back at work tomorrow and that would be the end of it.
Kamatari noticed the momentary pause. Misao was seriously considering the offer. He offered up a silent prayer to the gods of nudity. The tiny woman took three steps toward the dressing room before stopping again.
“You owe me for this Kamatari, and I’m not just talking money.” Misao looked over her shoulder and winked at the very grateful transsexual.