My chest ached.
She turned her view to behind us and looked out the window.
The sea glittered.
“I lived in theokiyawith a strange woman who I was to only callmother. And mother loved power and money more than people. We trained for hours. Danced until our ankles bled. Learned shamisen, tea ceremony, calligraphy, and most of all. . .how to smile even if we were dying inside.” The elegance in her voice didn’t crack, but it shimmered at the edges. “There was one client. . .older. Wealthy. He always wanted me naked when I played because he wanted to touch my collarbone and count each vertebrae down my back over and over with every note. He said it made him feel closer to God.”
Her lips barely moved, but her voice sharpened. “He was one of the nice ones.”
I looked at her, horrified.
“The worst were the ones who pretended they were saving me while they ruined my little body.”
My hand reached out instinctively, resting lightly over hers.
She didn’t flinch when I touched her. Instead a sad smile spread across her face. “When I turned nineteen, I was given a choice: become a fullgeiko—a fully trained entertainer or. . .”
“Or?”
“I could disappear.”
“What did you decide?”
“I disappeared.”
“How?”
“I took the last stipendmothergave me, snuck out in the night with two silk kimono and a dagger tucked into my obi.”
“Where did you get the dagger?”
“I stole it from one of my clients.”
“Smart.”
“I thought so.” Hiroko smirked. “And then. . .I ran until my feet bled and hopped a night train to Tokyo with barely enough to last a month.”
“Holy shit.”
The corners of her lips curled into something soft, sad, and stunning. “In Tokyo, I learned to be free. I learned that power isn’t in beauty—not real power. Real power is healing the mind and knowing that you already hold everything you need inside you.”
The room went still.
Even Zo quietly watched her.
Outside the window, the sea exhaled a long slow breath and the waves licked the base of the cliffs in worship.
“I used to think being beautiful would make me untouchable, but it only made me easier to claim. What made me dangerous. . .wastrulyknowing myself and loving every bit of. . .me.”
She looked down at her hands. “I made my body a currency. But my mind became a weapon. And now, I choose who sees me. Who hears me. Who touches me.”
The weight of her words hung heavily in the space.
“Although I was born in Uji that is not my home. Although I was raised in Kyoto that is not my home either.” Her voice cracked with the next words. “My home is Tokyo and it is presently covered in smoke, ash, and flames.”
Her eyes watered, but no tears fell.
Yet. . .I didn’t even realize a tear had leftmyeye until she reached over and brushed it from my cheek.
