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4lphstem · 1 year

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Can a bird with clipped wings ever fly again?

Fandom: Blackstar Theater Starless

Characters: Rindou x Reader

Word count: 3398

Summary: These displays, harimise, were your primary, and sometimes only guide through the unfamiliar streets. That is, until you heard an all too familiar voice.

“You over there”, the moment you looked in the direction of the voice, you knew who he was talking to. “If you don’t mind, would you like to give me some of your time this evening?”

One moment you were frozen in your tracks, the other you flocked to harimise, walking as fast as you can to not appear impatient. It was him. It was Rindou, of that there was no doubt. But, at the same time, it was not him. It was Rindou the hokan.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50690797/chapters/128052910

Chapter: 1/??

Notes: The brainrot was too strong.

It was supposed to be a simple, casual outing with your friends. A walk through the town filled with idle chatting while running errands for your families.

It was supposed to be another ordinary day. Then, how did it turn to this?

“— ah, by the way!” you knew this line all too well. Whenever your friend said it, it could mean only one thing. More gossip. Some people liked it way too much for your liking, and with her, it could not be anything good.

When you heard the rest, you wish you were wrong this time.

“Did you hear?” dramatic pauses always were her trademark, “That green-eyed performer has been spotted in Yoshiwara!”

“Is that so?.. But aren’t performers a common occasion there?”

“Oh no”, you did not like the glint in her eyes, “is may be common for others, but not for him.”

You did not like where this was going. Still, you could not help but ask, cautiousness evident in your voice. She could not possibly mean him, right?

“What do you mean?”

“I’m glad you asked!” and, at this moment, you felt the opposite. “I saw him on display when I went there with my father. Rindou, was it? I must confess, he was certainly pleasing to the eye… ah, wait—!”

I couldn’t be. It simply was not possible. He was a famous, revered performer, right? He had dozens of patrons, including your father. He could not just be there. He could not. It had to be a mistake, right? It could be anyone but him, surely. Your friend did not see his performances, so she wouldn’t know…

You didn’t hear her calling your name. Thoughts rapidly racing in your head, you could only hurry home, errands forgotten, and all noises blocked out.

Your father— he would know for sure.

“… Father”, you opened the shoji quietly, as was taught to you countless times, but your breathless voice betrayed your hurried return, careful as you were to fix your disheveled appearance and stick to every unwritten rule.

Alas, your father knew you all too well.

“I see that something has hastened your return, daughter”, his voice was even, tone and every word measured, but you could see it in his eyes — concern and a hint of disapproval — ladies did not hasten, after all. Never. “What is it?”

You shifted, and immediately sunk into a deep bow. Respect for the head of the family was a given, as was an apology for when he was displeased.

“Forgive me, Father”, you waited, you counted and took deep breaths. One, two, three… on ten you rose back into a sitting position, voice steady and calm, your posture as perfect as it could be. “My friend… Mr. Hokari’s — the painter’s — daughter, mentioned that she happened to see a certain green-eyed performer in…” you took a steadying breath. Mentioning Yoshiwara was not a taboo, per se, but it was not a place that should have been named by the lady easily. And, more than that, you felt a lump in your throat, as if your very body was against accepting the idea of him ending up there.

Your father sat there silently, watching. Waiting. Like he was checking if you dared to say it, and the act did nothing to ease your suspicions.

“Mr. Rindou… is it true that he became a part of Yoshiwara?”

There. You said it. There was a prickling sensation in your eyes, and you quickly blinked it away. You could not. Not now.

Your father hummed, and closed his eyes in a silent contemplation. He pretended to not notice the small gesture, and you were grateful. However, the fact that he did not deny your words outright could only mean one thing. After all, no patron would calmly listen to the word of defamation directed at their beneficiary.

“… you should refrain from mentioning his name freely now”, the father’s voice was low, but even. “He was accused of an affair with an official’s concubine. The mistress fell out of favor, and sought consolation in the arms of a young performer. As a punishment, both were sent to the pleasure district.”

It was ridiculous.

“But Mr. Rindou—”

“The Heavens have spoken, child”, the father’s voice became louder, cutting yours mid-sentence. “He has been found guilty, and Heavens do not lie. A man can become weak in front of the prettiest of flowers. He was not an exception, and the price was paid for it.”

It was, of course, right. Father was not wrong about the last part. However, Rindou— the performer Rindou that you knew was gentle and polite, but distant. He would not sacrifice his career for a night of pleasure, of that you were sure.

There had to be more than what was said. And for that, you had to meet him.

“The Heavens may have spoken, Father”, your voice was quiet, but composed. It was not easy to win against the head of the house, and to do so, you have to utilize every bit of your wit and knowledge, “but I would rather see a wilted plant than a pretty flower*.”

“Not seeing is a flower, huh?” your father looked at you, measuring your form with his steady, hardened gaze. You could not dare look him in the eye, but you met his silent judgement with grace and poise. You believed in your words, and you showed it in the only way that was possible.

Calm, but unwavering, like a strong tree that stands still against the strongest winds.

One minute turned into two, two into three… you’ve kept your posture, slightly bowing in a silent request as the wordless standoff with the father continued. His gaze was just as hard as it was moments ago, and you could only hope you were clever enough to avoid direct confrontation and nudge his thoughts in the right direction.

Hope you were loved just a bit too much by him to allow what you wished to accomplish.

“… very well”, he sighed, turning his head to one of the smaller doors. “Eijiro, you will accompany her to visit the performer. Watch them both so they don’t do anything… unbecoming.”

As if on cue, a young boy appeared, bowing to your father first, and then you.

“Yes, Master”, with quiet footsteps the boy reached your side, and waited for your audience to be finished to complete his Master’s orders.

The judging, steely gaze has now softened, and you felt that you could rise now that the pressure lessened.

“Seeing as you are willing to listen to the voice of reason, I will allow you to visit him and see the truth for yourself”, your father paused, and took a moment to write a note he then gave to a servant along with a money pouch. “You will be free to go in and out of the district with this. However—”

You waited with a bated breath.

“You are to take no longer than ten bu** at most.”

“I understand, Father”. It was a fair and just condition, you thought. And, perhaps, you would not even need ten bu. After all, you just needed to confirm. To know the truth.

“Then, you are free to go.”

“Thank you, Father”, bowing one more time, you rose and opened the door. Thankfully, the evening was near, and you did not have to wait for long.

As you walked out, the servant boy followed suit.

The imposing gates of Yoshiwara felt imposing to the newcomers. To men and women alike, it often felt like they were separating two different worlds.

To you, it was no different.

Where the regular patrons came flocking towards the bright-lit streets not unlike butterflies flew towards the flames, you stood still, frozen by the view in front of you — you’ve heard of Yoshiwara from your friend, sure, but hearing and seeing were two different things: you’ve never seen other women — and girls — dress this daringly, never seen this many performers gathered in one place. Although, you’ve noticed, most people outside were men — patrons, surely — so the main activity had to be done on particular streets and inside the… establishments.

“Miss”, the servant boy called calmly, talking just loud enough to be heard amidst all the noise.

You turned to him, broken out of your reverie, and nodded, stepping toward the entrance. You waited patiently as the boy gave the father’s note as proof of your identity, and had you both written into the registry — yours was a fake name, you assumed, as Father would not want to risk tarnishing both his and your honor.

The boy returned with two tablets, giving one to you — proof that you were a client and not a rightless courtesan.

“Do you know where to go, Miss?” he asked in the same levelled voice, filled with just enough respect to you as the daughter of his Master.

“Yes,” your friend was kind enough to provide you with directions when you found her later with both a purpose to apologise for running off and ask for the whereabout of the performer.

“Curious, are we?” she asked in a teasing tone back then, but said nothing more except brushing off the apology and giving what she was asked for.

For that, you were grateful, even though you knew she always had more than enough to say, so very unlike most of the girls you knew.

The streets looked similar, tall buildings lining up and facing Yoshiwara’s guests with a display of courtesans: male, female and some in between, younger and older than you, dressed in all manners of colorful clothing, some looking solemn and others inviting customers with elegantly lazy gestures, which must have had a meaning you were unaware of. These displays, harimise, were your primary, and sometimes only guide through the unfamiliar streets. You looked and averted your gaze, taking care not to see too much or stare for too long.

That is, until you heard an all too familiar voice.

“You over there”, the moment you looked in the direction of the voice, you knew who he was talking to. “If you don’t mind, would you like to give me some of your time this evening?”

One moment you were frozen in your tracks, the other you flocked to harimise, walking as fast as you can to not appear impatient.

And, again, there was a lump in your throat as you took in his form: the back of his neck bared, patterns on kimono dyed in brazen colors, with nothing in his hands but a folded fan to cover his smile, to appear alluring.

It was him. It was Rindou, of that there was no doubt.

But, at the same time, it was not him. It was Rindou the hokan.

“… yes,” you breathed out quietly, voice slightly trembling. “I would,” it was louder, more resolute.

No. You had to do this. You had to see and to ask.

“Then”, his smile didn’t change a bit, but his eyes… his gaze seemed to change, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly, “let us meet in a parlor.”

With a simple gesture, he signalled the the person outside, to get your payment and to guide you.

Moving through the corridors, you heard laughter and flirting, giggle and stifled sounds of surprise… and perhaps something else, that you would rather not stay oblivious to.

You did not need to be privy to all the matters of such an establishment. You had another goal, and that was the only thing that mattered.

"Ri—", the name got stuck in your throat as soon as you stepped into the doorway, your servant deciding to wait just outside of it.

Rindou was still every bit himself: gentle eyes, polite smile, elegant movements. He seemed unchanged, but you could not pretend to now have seen him at the harimise, to not have noticed the change in the demeanor that was meant to invite customers. Nor did you know if you could still call him the same name he chose for himself as a performer.

He seemed to notice your hesitation, and his smile softened as the man invited you to sit, mindful of the distance between you both.

"I was allowed to keep my stage name, so there is no need for you to worry, young lady", he sat in front of you, unmoving until you accepted his invitation. Then, and only then, he went ahead with preparing tea — a proper drink for a conversation that promised to be just as bitter.

"Rindou…" this time, his name rolled off your tongue with ease, honorifics forgotten, followed by all the words and questions you might have had, dying as soon as you tried to voice them.

‘Why were you here? What really happened to you? Why… why did you sell yourself? Was it also “the Heaven’s will”?’ your questions were plenty, but all fell apart just as quickly as they were formed in your head, and you could only watch him prepare tea in silence, every sound inside the room amplified by it tenfold.

It would be silly to ask how he was doing — falling from grace was not a pretty thing, and you have rarely heard good things about the life of those who found themselves to be the residents of Yoshiwara.

… it seemed the truth was too hard to try and learn it, at times.

And so, you just sat and watched Rindou perform the steps of ceremony, unbothered and humming a quiet tune, more to himself than to you, but loud enough for you to hear if you wished to listen.

He gave you time, but once the tea was finished and served, it was inevitable that someone would have to break the silence.

"If the young lady came because you were worried about me", he knew, you understood. Rindou knew of your inner turmoil and the purpose of your visit, but chose to ignore it for the time being before, "please, do not be concerned. I simply do what I have to, and I still can sing just fine, as you heard."

Rindou's smile was ever present, but when you found the courage to look the man in the eyes, there was none. His gaze was still soft, but instead of subtle joy and airiness, there seemed to be tiredness and resignation — feelings you thought you would never see him have. And this gaze squeezed your heart and your throat, as if aiming to squeeze out the words that were stuck inside.

"... why?" you finally managed to ask, "The money from the patronage should have been enough to live a humble life in the countryside, surely… you might not be able to perform in the capital, but…" you trailed off again. There was no immediate answer, and you could not speculate about another’s situation without substance.

You hoped that he would tell you, as the daughter of his once-patron, but among the words he had uttered, there was none that would serve as an answer.

“Allow me to to sing you a song,” he took move further away and took a shamisen in his hands.

‘Ah’, you saw it now. He would not give you the truth. Not so easily, and not today.

A soft, wistful melody filled the room, the sounds of shamisen fighting to drown out your thoughts. The voice so sweet and familiar battling the conflicting waves in your heart.

Autumn season has come, and all the birds that could

Still… what were you hoping to achieve, even? After all, Rindou the performer was a gentle, but a distant figure. To him, you were but a young lady, a daughter of his patron in love with his music.

In search of a new home, little birds flied away

Perhaps, you were asking for too much, blinded by your naïveté. After all, not seeing *was* a flower. And yet, you needed to know. You thought you knew the performer in front you, but, if that was not the case… his fall was all the more reason to learn.

But what of those, whose wings were clipped?

If he was indeed that black of heart, then how could his lyrics be so… heartfelt? So honest?

And then, it clicked. Rindou would not give you an answer, certainly not today. But his song… did it have another meaning besides the one that was on the surface? You’ve heard that courtesans could not leave until they finished their contract, but… was there another reason that he could not leave?..

‘Who clipped his wings?’

When he finished his song, you could not find it in yourself to applaud. Instead, you wanted to offer him some comfort — but you knew there was none, because your father cut his ties and support to the performer, as did everyone else. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here, would he?..

As no words of comfort, and no words of compliments came, the only thing you could utter was “I’m sorry”.

The worst kind of comment to anyone’s performance, really. Rindou did not deserve this. The song was beautiful, but how could she call it as such when the meaning behind the lyrics was anything but?

And, just as before, all you could do was sit and enjoy the tea in silence, your heart filled with bitterness and his feeling shut behind the door no one could see through.

“… I do not think young lady is supposed to be here", he finally said, tone gentle as ever, as you finished the last of your tea. "You are far too good for this place. Too pure. You should live your life as you did. Young lady of your status should not concern yourself with a mere geisha."

At this, your heart was squeezed again, and all the bitterness came flowing out. You saw him once. You saw Rindou perform and talk with his patrons, and he was never “mere”. He stood proud, like a hardy flower, captivating everyone with his bright colors. Even a geisha, he was not someone to be called “mere”. Hearing him refer to himself as such made you want to cry. And cry you did, letting all of the squeezed feelings out.

Unsightly, unladylike, but, you heard, in Yoshiwara all feelings could be bared and kept secret behind the locked doors. And used this as a chance, perhaps for once in your life, to show how you truly feel.

“You are not a “mere”,” you muttered through the quiet, stifled sobs. “Rindou, you are not—”

You could not think of what to say at the moment, and Rindou did not seem to know what to do — like he did not expect you to cry. Not on his behalf, and not for him.

Still, he could not allow young miss to shed tears in a place that was meant for pleasure and, with a heavy sight, she shuffled closer.

“Excuse me, miss”, was all he said before embracing you, careful as if he was handling a vase. He enveloped you in his light embrace, and he sang some more, this time of the beauty of seasons and simpler joy of the world.

And then he stepped away as soon as you calmed down, like nothing ever happened there. For some reason, it hurt even more.

“… I will take my live for today”, you said after a while, rising slowly to leave the room.

Rindou, the hokan Rindou followed suit to escort you to the door. But, before he could open it for you, you turned around and met his startled gaze with yours.

He did not deserve this. And Rindou should not have been the one to apologize. At least, not until it was proven to be otherwise.

“But I will come back. And I will know the truth,” you did not wait for his answer as you left the room and went down the hall with measured, composed steps. Like you were taught to do.

What you saw today told that there had to be more to the story. If there was not, the man who sat with would surely have taken an advantage.

So, you definitely would get your answers. Not today, and not immediately. But you had to.

The birds with clipped wings are still birds, and they also deserve to find a new home. A better home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

* This is a reference to the proverbs the father says: “Not seeing is a flower”, which basically means that reality is never is good as your imagination. So MC kinda says that she would prefer to see how low Rindou has fallen for herself than blindly believe in his innocence due to how she has been picturing him in her mind. ** 1 bu = 1/10th of an hour

#wait-#wait wow-#guys srsly read this #its damn good #not to sound pathetic but i gotta blink back my tears for a hot sec wow

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