#she told the orphans that they need to value their lives and has scolded them for not doing so multiple times

[andersdotters]

One thing I really dislike when reading posts is when people state something as fact when it's hearsay at best. "Furina was the first person to receive a vision from Neuvillette." "Arlecchino gets rid of orphans that aren't good enough to become child soldiers."

If something is implied, say it's an implication. If something is assumed, say it is an assumption. Even if someone is guilty by association doesn't necessarily mean they do it themselves. Don't pass things as fact unless it's explicitly stated, no matter how much it sounds like it could be true.

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Twenty-Four - Olives and Handkerchiefs

My great-grandfather was nothing if not a man of vision. Having grown up in extreme poverty, he spent his childhood days begging and stealing vegetables and fruit from other peoples’ orchards and farms so he could feed his family. His dream was to own land that would reach as far as the eye could see, and build it up with trees and animals, so food could be grown there, and no one in his family would have to starve ever again. So, when he became a man, he did everything he could to make that dream come true. Because he was too poor to go to school, he couldn’t read--only do some basic math--so he taught himself. A lonely tailor taught him his trade and provided him with enough knowledge to try and make a life for himself. He went to Oporto to work as a tailor for the elite.

My grandmother said he never stopped working for a single day, even when he was married and the father of five children: two girls and three boys. And finally, when my grandmother, the oldest of all the children, turned fifteen, he had finally saved enough to buy the land he had dreamed of. It wasn’t perhaps as grand as his ambition would have had it, but even so, vast enough so that, after it was filled with trees and animals, it could feed an entire village.

Unfortunately, my great grandfather’s dream was short-lived. Fate would have it that, while traveling to the city with his wife to buy provisions, he would lose the control of the wagon, ending his life and his wife’s at the bottom of a cliff. My grandmother was left an orphan, with four other mouths to feed, and a huge piece of land that she had no idea how to capitalize.

That didn’t stop my grandmother, though. She was desperate, and she had a determination that would be very much alive inside of her until the day she dies. Understanding that pretty much everyone in the village was barely scraping by, she offered her land to feed the small village provided she had the help necessary to feed her own family. The neighbor lands struggled to bloom due to the lack of water, so she worked her own land so the spring in her field would water all the other plantations, and, in time, she created the amazing farm she had in the present day, devoted to the production of high-grade olive oil. To that day, one week a year, there would be a large celebration on her farm, and all the villagers would help harvest her olives, thanking her for the cooperation of years ago.

It’s said my mother’s family blood makes strong women, and so far that was true. My grandmother raised an entire village on her own, my mother left the village to become a notorious therapist and researcher, and I… had been abused by a violent prick. Obviously I didn’t get the strong gene. And that made my family worry for me. Although no one ever blamed me for anything, I couldn’t help but feel like the ugly duckling. Even though I knew my family loved me to pieces, they couldn’t help but look at me with sorrow in their eyes, sad I wasn’t strong enough to fight an abusive man.

As I drove with Victor to my grandmother’s farm, I felt like things could be different now. I had finished my doctorate with the highest praise, had a good job as a researcher in a good institution, and was dating a great man. Maybe this time I could prove my worth to my grandmother, show her I was worthy of the Collaço name. The thought was as exciting as it was terrifying.

“So, garfo means fork.” Victor closed his Portuguese for Foreigners book, seeing if he had all those words memorized.

“Yes.”

“ Foca means knife.” He looked at me for approval. I laughed. He glared at me.

“ Foca means seal. The word you want is faca. ” I kept my eyes trained on the road, as I drove us to my grandmother’s farm.

“ Faca. ” He repeated. “Glass is copo.”

“It can be a glass or any kind of cup. It’s the container that is used to drink liquids. It can be paper, glass. My grandma has clay cups.” I explained.

“For the vinho.” Victor offered. “Very rustic.”

Half an hour later, we were arriving at the village my grandma lived in. It was a really small village, with only a dozen houses, a pharmacy, a supermarket, and a small church. And woods all around, luscious green as far as the eye could see.

My grandmother was already waiting for me at her door when I parked the car next to my mother’s. She was her usual self, a serious expression on her face, all dressed in black, golden Viana earrings in her ears.

“My beautiful child!” She spoke in Portuguese, opening her arms to me.

“Hello, Vó. ” I greeted, embracing her. “I brought someone for you to meet.”

“Yes, your mother told me you were bringing your foreigner boyfriend.” She frowned. “Why do you keep dating these snotty boys from the city? Look at him, so polished, he looks like a candlestick! You need a real man, with hair on his chest and some meat in the bones!”

Victor smiled, oblivious to what was being said about him.

“ Vó , be nice.” I warned her and took Victor’s hand, bring him to my grandmother. “Victor, this is my grandmother, Bia. Vó , this is Victor, my boyfriend.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Victor shook her hand, speaking in Portuguese.

“Same.” She replied, eyeing him up and down. “Come, I’ll take you to your rooms so you can change your clothes. We have work to do.”

Victor looked at me to translate what she said.

“We are taking our stuff to our room, then we’ll go olive picking.”

As we arrived in one of the rooms, with a double bed, my grandmother turned to me.

“Leave your things here. You’ll be sleeping here with Cristina.” She ordered.

“Wait, what about Victor?” I complained.

My grandmother turned to both of us, her expression stern.

“It’s very simple.” She spoke slowly in Portuguese, gesturing so Victor could understand. “Girls in one room.” She made a circle with her right hand. “Boys in the other.” She extended the index finger of her left hand. To our absolute embarrassment, she inserted the index finger in the circle and started pulling it in and out. “No funny business in my house, understood?”

Victor swallowed hard as I watched all the color draining from his face, and then returning in a bright red.

“She said-”

“No need!” Victor interrupted me. “I understood clearly.”

“You, come with me.” She pointed at Victor and raised her voice, speaking slowly. “I’m going to show you your room.”

“Vó, he just doesn’t speak Portuguese, he is not deaf.” I scolded her softly.

“You and your mother and these foreign in-laws you bring.” My grandmother shook her head. “There is nothing wrong with Portuguese men, you know.” She then turned to Victor. “Come, Stretchy. Let’s see if I can fit you in one of my beds.”

It was clear that my grandmother didn’t exactly approve of the CEO in my life, and it would take her time to accept it. Knowing my grandmother, I knew she would test and push him in any way she could, and that made my stomach turn with worry. Victor, on the other hand, looked serene and confident, completely up for the challenge. That somehow eased my mind and allowed me to enjoy my time spent with family a little bit more. Everything would be ok, I told myself. We were not alone. My parents and Josh and Cristina loved Victor, and they would vouch for him. And Victor being his extraordinary self, it was only a matter of time before she would see what a true man of value he was.

We arrived at the field filled with rows of olive trees, ready to work. We geared up with gloves and a small saw to cut some branches, and started working on the tree my parents were.

“I see you arrived safe and sound.” My mother greeted us. “Andy, teach Victor how it’s done.”

“Ok, so you take the branch from its base.” I took a branch and tighten my grip somewhat nearest to the trunk. “Then you slide to you, pulling the leaves and the olives. Just let them fall on the ground. It’s ok if you step on some, but try not too.”

“I take the leaves as well?” He furrowed his brows.

“Yes, will we separate the leaves from the olives later on, with a special sifter.” I explained. “Give it a try.”

Victor pulled the branch somewhat clumsily at first, but soon he got the hang of it. My mom smiled with pride.

“We have ourselves a picker.” She offered. “Your grandmother will be pleased when she sees this.” Insightful as always, she quickly picked the look on our faces, and turned to Victor. “Don’t worry, she’s hard at first, but she’s a softie deep inside. Reminds me of someone I know.”

I stifled a laugh.

“Ok, this one is pretty much done.” My mom took a last look at the now almost completely naked tree. “Andy, you and Victor take the next one, we take the other next to yours. Let’s make this interesting for our entrepreneur.”

“You mean a contest?” Victor smiled, pleased with the suggestion.

“That’s right.” My mother clapped the dust out of her gloves. “The first to clean the tree, wins.”

Suddenly Victor, who seemed completely out of his element before, was now completely engrossed in the olive picking task, cleaning branch after branch with amazing speed. The look on his face was a focused yet relaxed one, and I wondered for a moment if he remembered that across the ocean, miles and miles away, he was a business shark, owner of a company worth millions. Not even his clothes would differentiate him from the rest of the group. He looked like a countryman, working hard on the land, taking pleasure from harvesting its fruits. And I had to say, it suited him well.

Across the field, a group of women chanting the Portuguese well-known tune.

“Ó rama, ó que linda rama,

Ó rama da oliveira,

O meu par é o mais lindo,

Que anda aqui na roda inteira.”

Soon, everybody was singing in unison, all busy disrobing the tree branches, including my family and… me. When I finally noticed, Victor was frozen, staring at me, a loving smile on his lips. I shut up immediately, blushing.

“Don’t stop on my account. You have a beautiful voice.” He glanced at me, still smiling smugly, as he took another branch to strip it clean.

I eventually overcame my shyness and resumed my singing with the crowd. After a while, Victor was joining us too, humming the tune.

“Stretchy, I have a job for you.” I heard my grandmother talk to Victor behind me. “Are you strong?” She unceremoniously pinched his arm. Victor seemed to understand, and he nodded promptly. “Tell him to help me take the olive bags to the truck.” She asked me.

“She needs you to carry some of those bags to the truck.” I translated. “Do you mind?”

“Absolutely not.” Victor turned to my grandmother with such a ceremony I almost expected him to salute her and yell ‘Sir, yes Sir!’. Instead, he stretched his arm, motioning her to lead the way. My grandmother eyed him up and down and scoffed, walking away.

A lot of men would be deterred by this. My grandmother went out of her way to show him that despite him being a successful and rich man, she was not impressed. Part of me believed that she was making him carry those bags only to break his back and prove her point. What she didn’t know was that the man I loved was as strong-minded as she was, and wouldn’t shy away easily from a challenge. Besides, the guy worked out on a daily basis, and carried me in his arms as if I was made of air. A bag of olives was nothing to him.

I watched them go with a cocky smile on my face, when I heard someone talk to me in Portuguese.

“Is that your boyfriend?” The old woman from the village asked. “He’s very handsome!”

“Yes, he is.” I quipped, unwilling to keep that conversation going.

“He is very successful too.” My mother chimed in. “A millionaire.”

“Andrea! You won the lottery! Gorgeous, polite, rich… Oh, just look at that…” She sighed.

And I did. The heat must have had the best of him, because he took off his grey sweater, and was now wearing a white t-shirt with his dark blue chinos, his sweaty muscles visible with the strain of carrying the heavy bag on his shoulder, the t-shirt rising slightly, allowing his well-defined abs to come to view. Seeing him like that made me feel suddenly very hot… And it wasn’t the sun.

He looked my way and smiled seductively, noticing I was all flustered on his account. I smiled back, letting him know I was enjoying what I was seeing. A second later, his face fell and he looked away, his cheeks turning bright red. I looked behind me to see what he had seen, surprised with his reaction. I then noticed the group of old women behind me, all of them also flushed and sighing as they watched my boyfriend go by. I took a fallen olive branch and waved it in front of her eyes.

“Let’s get back to work, ladies! Shame on you! You are all married!” I scolded. I heard my parents cackle in the tree behind me.

“Well, we are married, not gelded!” One of them complained, walking away.

“We can’t help it if he’s so easy on the eyes! If you have it, flaunt it!” Another chimed in.

“Oh, he was flaunting it, alright…” Another sighed, waving her handkerchief to cool herself.

I felt slightly guilty for being such a hypocrite, as I turned his way again and enjoyed the wonderful view of his cute butt moving as he picked one of those heavy bags from the ground. Easy on the eyes was an understatement. That man was hot as sin, and I was looking forward to getting burned.

I was startled with the sound of my grandmother clearing her throat, a look of disapproval on her face.

“We need you in the kitchen.” She said with a grumpy voice.

“What?” I stupidly asked, still dazed with the view.

“Is the sun cooking your brain? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the girls these days! Get going!” She scolded impatiently, and I practically ran to the kitchen.

An hour later, someone rang the bell, letting the workers know it was time to place the tables outside for lunch. I smiled as I secretly watched Victor carrying some chairs, his bangs matted to his forehead with sweat. My grandmother must’ve done a number with him, but he looked happy. Point for Victor.

I started serving lunch to the people outside, lamb stew in clay bowls with a piece of cornbread on the side, and all the wine one could wish for. I watched Victor struggle with the lack of utensils, since the only thing he was given was a fork. I came to his rescue as I served the rest of the people.

“The meat is tender enough to cut with the fork, and you push the food into the fork with the bread.” I whispered behind him.

“Aren’t you coming to eat?” He turned to me.

“In a second. I need to make sure everyone is served first.” I patted his back.

“I’ll save you a seat next to me.” I heard him behind me, as I moved quickly to distribute bowls of food to everyone.

After everybody had a bowl of food, we placed the big clay pots in another table nearby, in case anyone wanted a second serving. I took some food for myself and went to sit next to Victor… Only to find my grandmother was sitting right there. Victor saw me coming and got up, so I could sit on his chair.

“Sit here, I already ate.” He offered, looking a little sad for not being able to sit with me.

“Where do you think you are going? You aren’t finished yet!” My grandmother pulled him down by his arm, speaking in Portuguese. “Marília, get another serving for Stretchy here!” She called another woman that she saw was getting up. “Got to put some meat on those bones, you are too thin!” She pinched one of Victor’s fingers, showing him how skinny it was. Victor paused, seemingly trying to understand the situation.

“Andy, sit here.” Josh, who was sitting in front of Victor, scooted to make room for me. “You don’t need to eat more if you don’t want to, Victor. Portuguese moms want to feed you until you burst.”

“It’s not much of a sacrifice.” Victor confessed. “The food is delicious.”

I sat down and started eating, observing Dona Bia and Victor. She still wore her stern expression, while Victor seemed to be in a good mood and perfectly relaxed. While she was going out of her way to show him she didn’t like him, he was dead set on winning her over. They were both stubborn mules, so I suspected we were in for quite a treat with these two.

After eating, I helped the other women clear the table and the men went to finish harvesting from the last trees. The next step would be the next day, separating the olives from the leaves, and taking them to the mill, where they would be pressed to produce olive oil.

It was already late in the afternoon when we finished washing the vast amount of dishes. My mother was already busy peeling cloves of garlic.

“Where’s Victor?” My mother asked me as I returned from the other room.

“I don’t know. Probably on some task grandma gave him.” I sighed.

“You know, we could really use him in the kitchen. He’d do this in a blink of an eye.” She showed me the garlic cloves she had yet to peel, a bored look on her face.

“He would.” I smiled, sitting close to her. “Let me help you, you’ll finish faster.”

“What are you girls talking about?” My grandmother entered the room. “You need to hurry with that, we have to season the meat with that.”

“We were saying Victor would be a great help in the kitchen.” My mother answered. “Where is he anyway?”

“Would he?” My grandmother frowned. “That would be a first. A man in the kitchen with the women.” She laughed.

“Mother, times have changed.” My mother scolded lightly. “Men can cook. And Victor is great at it. Got training with a known chef.”

“Men these days…” Grandma shook her head. “He’s with Josh cutting dead tree branches. Where he should be. Men don’t belong in the kitchen.”

I felt sorry for Victor, knowing he would be under the afternoon sun, working those sweaty muscular arms, bringing the saw back and forth. At least he wouldn’t mind the sleeping arrangements that much, he would pass out the moment his head would touch the pillow. And fortunately, dinner was coming soon. Provided we worked a bit faster.

After a while dinner was served. A vast selection of dishes, including Cozido à Portuguesa, Rojões à Minhota and Caldo Verde. As it seemed to be the rule, my grandmother was adamant in keeping Victor and I apart, so she put me on dessert duty, making the rice pudding and Aletria while they ate.

After my long journey in the kitchen, manning the stove, I was finally able to sit down and eat, chatting with the women washing the dishes. I wondered where Victor was, hopefully Josh was with him, helping him cope with all the new he was being immersed in. I was slightly worried he was hating it all, just enduring it to humor me.

“What are you still doing there?” Cristina interrupted me. “Where’s your skirt and handkerchief?”

“Crap, is it today?” I almost jumped from my chair. “Oh, nevermind, Victor is probably tired and not in the mood to dance.”

Every year, on the last Saturday of the olive harvest, the village would have a dance to celebrate the community’s spirit of mutual help and cooperation. My grandmother gladly hosted the dance, providing her huge barn for the festivities, as well as food and drink. But this dance had something special though: the men of the village would get together and pick flowers in the fields, and they would go to each house and offer those flowers to their women, who were waiting by the window, as an invitation to the dance, while they offered them perfumed Viana handkerchiefs, that they embroidered themselves. My grandmother insisted I did one myself, years ago, so I could give it to my future husband.

The tradition asked that the men wore a red waistband, and the women a skirt. I was rummaging my grandmother’s closet to see if I could find a traditional that fit me when she entered the room.

“Well, I guess it’s time I give you this.” She handed me the handkerchief I had embroidered years ago, full of flowers and a dove, and the words O nosso amor só vai acabar quando esta pomba daqui voar (Our love will only end when this dove flies away from here.).

I looked at the old woman in front of me, the stern look on her face gone. Only love in her eyes.

“You approve of him?” I smiled.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?.” She begrudgingly admitted. “Just don’t let him hurt you like the other one, do you hear me?” Her voice quivered.

I held her tight, tears spilling from my eyes.

“He won’t hurt me, Vó. ” I assured her. “He is a good man.”

My grandmother wiped a few tears from her eyes, clearing her throat. She had more in common in Victor than she would ever care to admit.

“Now go.” Her stern face was back in place. “Stretchy is waiting for you outside.”

I put on the skirt in a haste, not believing my own ears. But sure enough, as I left the room, I started hearing the guitars playing outside, and male voices singing the known song “Menina que estás à janela” (Lady by the window).

“Andrea!” My mother called, excited. “Look who’s here!”

There he was, in all his glory, and my heart stopped. Victor had changed clothes in the meantime, wearing a white shirt with black pants and the typical red band around his waist. Without a second look, he was a villager. He smiled widely at me, as I stood by the open window, stretching his arm to offer me the makeshift bouquet of wildflowers he had collected.

I ran to my room to spray my handkerchief with my perfume, the one I knew he liked best. I bolted downstairs to meet him, and without a second thought, I threw myself in his arms, my heart bursting with joy. He held me tight, a warm chuckle vibrating in his chest.

“Will you give me the honor of coming with me to the dance?” He presented the bouquet ceremoniously.

“How could I say no to such a thoughtful invitation?” I put the handkerchief in his hand, closing his fingers around it. His smile widened and he presented his arm for me to take.

As he led us to the dance, he looked at the embroidered piece of cloth I gave him, bringing it to his nose.

“It’s scented. Did you make it yourself?” He gave me a tender smile.

“A long time ago. Carefully kept to be given to someone very special.” I looked back, and saw my grandmother at the window, looking at us and smiling.

Victor pulled me to him as we walked, hugging me tight with his arm. A huge wave of happiness and affection hit me and almost made me lose my senses, drunken with his smile, and his scent, and his warmth. I didn’t know where the future would lead us, life could be so complicated sometimes, but I was certain I would never love any other man like I loved Victor. And now that he was finally letting me in, trusting me with the darkest corners of his mind, I felt that love so much more real and possible.

The name fitted him just right. He was a victor, alright. He had won my heart, and my family’s, and even managed to melt the hardest one of all. Not because he was ambitious, or cunning, or insistent. Because he had this immense light inside of him, and whenever he let it show, one couldn’t help but fall in love.

[hsj-scenarios]

HSJ as Courtesans (AU)

( Note: May seem a little random, I know. But, I LOVE otome games and I remembered this mobile game I sometimes play; D3 Publisher’s Gyakuten Yoshiwara. It’s a game where the player visits one of several male courtesans nearly every night and she ends up falling in love with the one she picks -- now, she has to buy his freedom or the courtesan must pay off his own debt in order for them to get married. Anyway, enjoy the headcanons! -- Mod L )

Ryosuke:

The number one ranking courtesan the red light district has to offer. Due to his extreme popularity, he’s a terribly hard courtesan to schedule and his price is the highest they come for just one night. He takes it all in stride, however, never complaining even once about his line of work or the clients. In first impressions, he’s more than cordial, respectful, and even somewhat shy -- although, to the people that he’s comfortable with, he’s known to have a sailor’s mouth and be bullishly dominating. Even to his close friends.

Voluntarily became a courtesan in order to support his large family, and many speak of the wonders that Ryosuke has bought for them. A house in the mainland, comfortable living, all on top of the debt that many believe he’s close to paying off any day now. As a result, the district manager has him training new hires to someday pick his successor.

Yuto:

The second most popular courtesan in the district, although that popularity noticeably wained after a recent scandal; in which others thought he planned to run away with a married, much older, woman. He adamantly denies the accusations, although admits that he did see the woman outside of the district. Still, he hopes to gain back double what he lost and once again become a suitable rival for Ryosuke. Ever happy and smiling, that smile won’t be wiped off with false rumors.

His family sold him off to the district in order to become debt free -- placing a new debt on Yuto’s shoulders instead. He came in the same time as Ryosuke and has become what many would call a jack of all trades. Word has it that his always smiling face hides someone completely opposite of what he shows himself to be.

Chinen:

The favored protege of Ryosuke, always somewhere near the man and not yet debuted in the district. Though he’s already a young man in his early twenties, twenty the normal age of debut, the district is in awe at his quick ability to learn and believe he should take on clients soon. Some believe he is a courtesan from another district, sold away to make ends meet in hard times, but the district manager swears that Chinen is simply a natural. Two years into his stay, he has grown to be loved by the customers and other courtesans alike; spoiled rotten by the gifts many give him in exchange for not being able to rent him for a night. He certainly doesn’t complain. In fact, he doesn’t talk much at all if there’s no money or gifts involved.

Voluntarily sold himself in order to help pay for his older sister’s medical bills. He attempted working odd jobs around the island, but many just told him he would bring in more finance working for a brothel. So, he did.

Keito:

Often the subject of teasing from other courtesans, as this man is prone to his awkward moments. Also known to be quite clueless in some areas, despite his years of being part of the district. It’s a running joke that Keito has the most stamina of the bunch, though one would have to put up with all of the previously stated. Despite his shortcomings, the young man still manages to carry in his fair share of customers and most -- if not all -- come out happy in some way or the other. He’s also seen around Ryosuke often, though not for tips but because the two are close friends.

Has little recollection of what exactly brought him to the district, but he knows that he came there alone, deathly ill, and was nursed back to health. The doctor told him that he was orphaned and that the district manager would take him in, in return for becoming a courtesan. Although, Keito has a few memories of his father left and he knows the man didn’t just abandon him. Hopes to find and reunite with him once his debt is paid.

Daiki:

The delight of the whole district. There’s no moodmaker quite like Daiki and his high popularity is a testament to that. Many don’t truly take the man seriously, due to his playful features and youthful attitude. How can one believe such a man is going to seduce them by the end of the night when he has them laughing all the while? Still, the numbers don’t lie and Daiki ranks just under Yuto in the top three courtesans of the district. He swears that he’ll show clients his manly side in the end. Just have fun during the ride, alright?

He is yet another courtesan who was sold in order to pay off a family debt, although rumor has it that he has an older brother who was supposed to be sold but ended up falling in love. People speculate that, in order for his brother not to suffer, Daiki offered himself instead.

Inoo:

Renown for his ‘cuteness’, Inoo recently rose to being a top seller in the district -- though, not quite as high as the top three. Upon first coming in, no one thought Inoo would last long in such a life; as he valued love and someday beginning his own family far too much for the average prostitute. Such dreams were far and often considered stupid, since no one would want ‘used goods’ to start a family with. Let alone marry. Scold him they may, Inoo still holds those same values today and patiently waits to pay off his debt and start a whole new life with a chance at love.

Sold off by his unmarried mother purely for extra money. Such was and is the life for many bastard children, like Inoo was, and his story isn’t uncommon in the red light district.

Hikaru:

Not the biggest money maker, but with a comfortable and steady clientele, Hikaru is another moodmaker among the bunch. He’s like a wake up call, a vitamin to take for needed energy. A night with him is never a night wasted and there’s always a smile on his clients’ faces. He’s healing, many would say. It is often that the courtesan gets those who are in rough places of their lives and seek to be cheered up, which Hikaru is good at doing. In his spare time, however, he’s often noted for being withdrawn and reserved. Such a flamboyant life for an honestly timid soul can be draining.

Initially sold to pay off his father’s gambling debt, though sends money to his newly widowed sister and her children in order for them to live comfortably. Recently, she’s stopped taking the money in order for him to finally pay off his debt.

Yuya:

Known for his womanly tendencies, but don’t get get mistaken; any courtesan will tell you that Yuya is truly masculine and carnivorous. He knows his way around a woman and the years that he’s spent in the red light district haven’t gone over his head. He’s experienced and has one of the best rates of clients who come back for more. Some don’t know why. To them, he seems aloof and uncaring. Certainly a courtesan for the masochists out there. But, that’s simply his persona. A rouse. To everyone else, he’s kind and that shows with time. Recurring clients know the truth, and people who actually know Yuya know even more.

Born to a female courtesan and taken from her arms at birth. He was raised in an orphanage until it came time for his training. This life is all that he knows.

Yabu:

The man who serves as the second in command to the district manager. Yabu is being groomed for the very position once his predecessor decides to retire and, because of that, had long ago decided to stay, even when his debt is paid off. He watches over everyone and makes sure that everything is running smoothly. Honestly, he doesn’t even take clients anymore and, if he does, it’s for mutual pleasure. Many envy him, wondering how he can bring himself to stay in such a lifestyle and also of his debt free obligations. Although, none can hate him, as Yabu is reliable and always quick to turn a soft gaze where the manager turns a hard glare.

Used to be no more than an urchin, running with a small gang and living off whatever they could find. One day, he stole from a high ranking courtesan and ended up caught, faced with either being placed in an orphanage or put in the courtesan’s debt as a servant. Eventually, he became their protege.