Kaneko
The too-familiar sounds of a harbor filtered through the cabin walls—shouts in a dozen dialects, the creak of ropes and pulleys, the thunder of cargo being rolled across gangplanks.
After weeks at sea, we’d finally reached Bara.
I sat on the narrow bunk and tried to steady my breathing.
This was it.
Whatever fate Kichi had planned for me, it was about to unfold.
The door opened without warning, and the young sailor—the one who’d brought my meals with barely concealed hatred—stepped inside, his arms laden with fabric.
“Put these on,” he said, dumping the bundle onto the table.
I stared at the silk—rich, expensive silk in deep blue and gray, embroidered with silver thread, the kind of clothing I’d only ever seen worn by visiting nobles or wealthy merchants.
“What—”
“Just put them on.” He turned toward the door. “You have ten minutes.”
“Wait. What’s happening?”
He paused, glancing back. For a moment, something almost like pity flickered in his eyes, then it hardened. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
The door slammed shut.
I approached the table slowly, as if the fabric might bite. Instead, the silk only whispered as I lifted it, cool and impossibly smooth against my callused fingers. It slid through my hands like water, like nothing I’d ever touched before.
Indeed, it was beautifulandexpensive.
For buyers to see.
My stomach turned.
After so many nights to ponder my fate, I thought I understood what was coming, but holding that silk, feeling its weight and quality, made everything real in a way my imagination couldn’t manage. Someone would look at me wearing this and decide I was worth purchasing. They would pay their bill and take me home like some garden tool or a sack of rice.
My hands shook as I undressed. The rough sailor’s clothes fell away, and I stood there naked, staring at the blue and gray silk. Putting it on felt like betrayal. Like I was helping them. As though by making myself more attractive for the market also made me complicit in my own sale.
But what choice did I have?
Thekimonofit perfectly—clearly tailored to my frame despite not being measured.
Someone had planned this carefully, had known my size, had prepared everything in advance. I was inventory that had been ordered weeks ago.
I was tying theobiwhen the door opened again.
KichiTaichou, the captain, stood in the doorway, immaculate as always, his expression pleasant and terrifying in equal measure.
“Much better,” he said, looking me over with something akin to hunger or desire tinged with contempt. “You clean up nicely, Little Fox, just as I knew you would. If you weren’t worth so much gold, I might keep you, make you my own little ship to board whenever the urge arose. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
I said nothing. My throat had gone too tight for words.
“It matters not. You will be sold.” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “We must speak before we part . . . about expectations.”
“I’m being sold. What’s there to expect?” The words came out flat.
“Yes.” He didn’t bother denying it. “To the highest bidder in one of Bara’s finest markets. You should be honored—not everyone warrants such prestigious attention.”
