Invite List:

Previous Chapter:

Word seemed to travel fast in the underground; a soldier looking to make some cash on the side doing whatever was asked of him, no questions asked. It was only a few short hours later that he had his first job, escorting what he suspected to be a prostitute on her way to a a client. While Samael was not one to purchase a woman of pleasure himself, he could see the appeal that some people had with them.

Before leaving his home, he checked to be sure he had everything on him; six knives were tucked away on his person, just waiting to be used if the need should arise. His upper body was clothed in dark fatigues covered by a black jacket. His lower half was clothed in fatigues as well, ended with combat boots. It was not his standard uniform, but something he put together himself using connections he'd obtained during his service in Konohagakure no Sato. It served its purpose very well.

He was supposed to pick this woman up by the name of Racquel Star from a brothel in the red light district. While he did not know the area very well, it would not take him long to find the place; it was apparently one of the better known brothels, the Sand Box Strip Club. As he arrived, he could see a woman out front, arguing with someone in a purple suit and feathered cap.

"Don't you fucking back talk me, bitch! I own you! Your last few turn in have been short. Where the frick is my money, Racquel?"

"I am  sorry, daddy! I wont do it again, I swe-" Her sentence was cut off as the male struck her across the face with the back of his hand.

"Of course you not gon to do it again. You gon learn today, Raquel!"

"No, Slick, no please!" It was then Samael decided to announce himself, seeing as this Slick guy was about to hit this woman again. He would cough rather loudly, brown eyes locked on the duo as Slick would stop mid-swing.

"The frick are you looking at? Whatchu want?"

Samael's face remained impassive, calmly watching the scene before him, before he responded. "I'm here for Racquel. Someone here hired a bodyguard." His head nodded to the cowering woman. "This her?"

"Yea, this the bitch. You the guy they call Knight?"

"Mmhmm." A handle; it was not smart to give these kind of people his real name. His father was rather famous for his work in the military; it would be too easy to track him down if he'd given his real name. Plus, he did not need nor want word of what he was doing to get back to Maximillian.

"She knows where the client is; just get her there, make sure she gets paid, and get her back here. I'll have your cut waiting, plus a lap dance from one of the girls for your troubles." Slick spoke fast, shoving Racquel towards Samael. "You better not try to short me again, bitch."

"You are too kind." Sarcasm, slathered thick across every word. Slick did not respond as Samael turned to leave, with Racquel following close behind.

~~~ Several Minutes later ~~~

”Thanks for showing up when you did. He might have hit me again."

"...."

"He is not always like that, you know. He only does it when he's mad at something."

"....."

"But lately, it seems like he's always in a bad mood."

"So then why are you still working for him?"  A legit question. Samael had been listening to Raquel complain about Slick for the past half hour since the had left the brothel. Everything was a repeating cascade of "Slick beat up Tamara" or "Slick is uspset that we are not getting more customers". From the way Raquel was describing him, it seemed that this Slick guy was a pretty shitty person himself. And yet Raquel, and all these other girls working for him, kept coming back to him, begging to do better and shit. And each time, Slick promised not to hit them anymore, and gave them a few days off before he was right back to being on their asses like white on rice.

This was literally the definition of insanity.

"Because.. I have no where else to go." Samael almost groaned. He could almost guess her next words, but it seemed that he would not have to, as she began to launch into her life story, much to his chagrin. It turned out that Raquel was not even her real name, but rather Kida. Young Kida was apparently from the outskirts of Kirigakure no Sato, where she was the daughter of a merchant family. It seemed that her father ran into some financial troubles while she was young, so she had been sold into slavery. Said slaver sold her at some point to Slick, who began to pimp her out as one of his 'Exotic samples'. Given the fact that she was barely 18, she made him quite a bit of money.

Samael didnt reply to her story, but instead kept walking. He was begining to question where they were headed; Raquel was leading them into one of the more upscale parts of Suna, home to an assortment of affluent businessmen and women. The neatly manicured lawns, trimmed hedges and such put him off a bit. He'd been sure that the client was probably some scrub who lived in some shit hole of an appartment in a worse neighborhood, but this.. this was intersting to know. It seemed that ther customers could possibly be highly influentual people, something he'd never considered before. "How much further, Raquel?"

"We're almost there. Just a few more streets."

"Aight. Lets pick it up some. I got things I need to do later."

It would not take long for them to reach the house of the customer. Judging by his house, this dude had some serious paper. Fountains adorned the place, along with what Samael suspected were marble statues. As the duo strolled up to the front door, Samael paused for a moment, before stopping Raquel.

"Hold up one sec. How does this work, exactly?"

"What do you mean, Knight?"

"Like... as far as the money goes. Do they pay you? Do they pay me? Is the cash up front, or is it done afterward?"

"Uhm... its either or, really. Depending on the customer, I tend to get my cash afterwards."

"Bet. We're gonna take the cash up front, just to be safe." Samael would nod then, confirming his decision, and then knock on the door to the home. The door would open to reveal a big muscle bound dude. "The frick do you want? Mr Yen does not hand out to pan handlers."

Samael tensed, unsure of how to proceed with this. Before he could say something, Raquel stepped forward, offering the man a coy smile and a wink. "I'm just a lady looking for a good time." The guy nodded, stepping aside to let Raquel in, but lifted his hand to prevent Samael from entering. "Relax, He is with me."

"Boss said only one person."

"I"m not going in without him. You can tell THAT to your boss."

"Listen here, bit--"

"Mac, let them in. Its fine."

Mac would step aside, revealing a portly, balding middle-aged man. "Donald Yen. Pleasure to meet you both." He would extend his hand to Samael who simply shook his head.

"Knight. And this here is Raquel."

"What a lovely specimen she is.." Mr Yen would step closer to Raquel, attempting to reach out and touch her before Samael held out his hand to block him off.

"Sorry man. No touching the girl until the price is right."

Mr Yen would frown some; it seemed as if he was not someone who was used to being told 'No'. Samael did not care in the least, and expressed that feeling through a cold stare.

"Fine. Two thousand ryo was the agreed upon price. Mac? Could you retrieve Mr. Knight's payment?" The bodyguard would step out the room for a moment, before stepping back in carrying a briefcase that he would hand to Samael. Two thousand ryo? Samael was only being paid 100 ryo for his time. As Samael took the briefcase and opened it for a look, Mr. Yen spoke again. "Its all there."

"Don't worry, I will make sure." His voice was low as he went through the money, quickly counting out the cash. Once he was satisfied everything was in order, he turned to Raquel. "Say.. off the top of your head... How much do you make of these  little visits...?"

"About..two hundred Ryo. Why?"

"Just curious. Have a seat." As Raquel moved and sat on the couch, Mr. Yen would begin to protest; Mac would start flexing muscule about this time, attempting to look threatening. Samael could not care less. Holding up his hands in a non-threatening manner, he would smile at them both before speaking. "Gentlemen, relax. Before you start to get upset over nothing, let me inform you of something: Thank you for your generous contribution. This girl will not be offering her services to you today. Good day."

Fury would cover Mr. Yen's face at that moment. Who the frick was this 'Knight' guy to say some shit like this to him? Did he knew who the frick Donald Yen was!? “The frick do you mean, she's not 'offering her services' today? I paid good fucking money for this ****, and I want my money's worth. You either give me back my money before I have Mac here rip you a new asshole while I frick this bitch, or Mac here rips you a new asshole while I frick this bitch, then I bury you both in cement.”

Samael would turn his eyes to Donald, a small smile crossing his face while remaining unfazed by the threats. “Exactly what it sounds like, Mr. Yen. You are not getting laid today by Racquel, and I am keeping the money. Lets go, Raq”

"Get him, Mac!" Oh dear, it seemed that someone was upset. Mac would then advance on him, arms swinging in an attempt to hit him. Samael would duck the first swing, and retaliate with a sharp punch into the bigger male's abdomen to double him over. As the big man kneeled down, his head was seized and smashed into Samael's rising knee, causing blood to spurt from his nose into the air.

"AAAAAAH!" Someone was screaming, and it was not Raquel. Was that Mr.Yen? Samael didn't stop to look; Mac was still moving, holding the front of his face as blood poured from between  his fingers. As the man reeled back, Samael would waste no time slipping behind Mac, arms wrapping around his waist before he suplexed the larger man through a glass table. Mac would impact the table and the floor neck first, filling the air with a sickening crack. As Samael with drew himself from the crumpled body that was Mac, he looked up in time to see Mr. Yen stop screaming and go white with fear.

Dusting himself off, Samael turned to Raquel, nodding to her. "Take the cash outside and wait for me. I'll be out in a few minutes."

There was no argument -- the chick knew how to take an order. Snatching up the briefcase, she did not even stop to look at Mr. Yen before bolting out the door. Making his way over to Yen, he smiled, producing a knife from one of the hidden pockets of his wardrobe.

"Please! Please. Don't do this! You dont have to kill me, Knight."

"Sorry Donald. This is not what I wanted; this is what it has to be."

A few minutes later, Samael stepped out the house, yawning and scratching his head. Down on the walk, Raquel would look up at him, questioningly. "Come on, Raquel. I got work to do."

"What about Do-"

"Don't worry about him. He's been taken care of." Samael reached out, and took the case from Raquel, and began walking. They would be long gone before the house fully caught  aflame, just as Samael timed it. As the walked, Samael began to talk, much more than he had on thier way to Yen's. It was a long walk, and he had plenty to say.

"Alright, Raquel. Here's the deal; as of right now, you work for me, ya dig? Whatever you take in, you give me forty percent."

"Thats all? What if I refuse?"

Samael snorted and rolled his eyes. "Then you can explain to Slick what happened to his money. I'm pretty sure he would love to hear that story. Judging by what you've been telling me about him all day, it probably will not go over well with him."

"Oh."

"Yea, OH. Now listen, because I'm only going to say this once: When we get back, you round up all the other workers in the brothel, and bail out. I'll give you my phone number and frequency in a second; you don't come back until I call you, got it?"

"What about Slick?"

"You let me worry about him."

WC = 2208

He personally hated places like this, he really did. He found them to be vile, terrifying places much of the time; even the kindest madame was still a pimp, still selling her girls for coin. That alone was a terrible thing, but he also understood that where there was a want, there was a need, and a need gave rise to a service industry to fill that need, and this was the oldest serivce humanity had. Sad, but it would go on until humans either died out, evolved, or grew past the need to sate the greedy demons of the flesh that they gave into. He was no chaste monk, he had no vows of celibacy and the like; but he was still young, and he had his ideals; and it horrified him to be in a place like this.

Even worse so because he was undercover. He was pretending to be one of the girls the madame was 'screening' to hire. A geisha on paper. A whore in reality. He hated that this was his best cover story; that his lithe frame and ghostly pale appearence lent perfectly to the life of a bonded woman more than anything else. It was a curse, and a gift; in equal measures. Places like this were hot beds for supernatural activity; everything from rage spirits to demons to corrupted kodama; he'd heard tales of everything and anything and more, and had seen plenty of it himself. This particular establishment was infamous in the community for housing many spirits of aborted children and spirits of fear and rage and anger and hatred and suffering. One or more of his clansmen came through here every few years, sometimes maybe even twice a year; cleansing the sorrow and darkness of the house of ill repute before anyone could be harmed; but they did so under cover as patrons and girls to be bought and sold like cattle; it was the only way; the madames never believed what they didn't understand, and they where bound to keep a tight lip over what really went on in the backrooms of this club cum brothel. So very few knew the truth, that the massively popular strip club on the main road was connected to the red light district brothels, and that this tiny little window front tea house-style brothel was owned and run by the club. Keeping that secret was tantamount to both sides success; the brothel was... barely legal, and had a rather terrifying reputation for what was allowed by the madame and the things that happened within. It would destroy the club if any of the rich patrons really knew how they got the 'special' girls that waited on them hand and foot.

Or hell, they could be all over it, for all he knew. Haruka had a hard time understanding the mindset of anyone with 'money' or 'nobility' or whatever they called it in whatever country he was in at the moment. They did stupid, awful
things for seemingly no reason other than to collect more coin, and keep the less well off stuck with nothing. It was disgusting, and stupid, and a million other things that all added up to inhumane. He understood spirits and spirit
creatures far better than he ever had humanity; spirits had simple wants and needs and purposes, and the 'gods' had a direct, easily discerned purpose, and they didn't play the games humans did. Even spirits of mischief and such where
straightforward by comparison. Sad.

High noon, exact and unforgiving. Punctuation was a hallmark of a geisha, if he was even a moment later he would dismissed summarily, but too early and he risked breaking his cover. Perfection was the name of the game, perfection in all things and everything. He was well trained in the arts and skills of the geisha, so he knew exactly what to do.

After his little... trip, to the market, he was well stocked and ready to spend days undercover if needed; he had his way out once his task was completed, so now he merely needed to play his role and not be found out before he was finished.

He'd raced back to his room at the inn when he'd finished with the market; all but diving into the communal showers and for once not caring about the stares and glares he received over his strange appearence. He needed to work quickly, cleansing the sand and dirt and smell of the market from his body before starting the transformation. He'd brought with him a small vial, a carefully measured number of drops into the gently scented tea shampoo would erase his natural musk while enhancing the smell of the tea and later the scent of the perfume he would apply. Strategically placed bags full of crushed spices and flowers would further work to conceal the hint of 'male' that he carried, and complete the transition to a more delicate, feminine, persuasion. A simple trick, and even if the bags were discovered, they would be perfectly normal and expected; it was a well known and utilized trick, and one that came in extremely handy in some cases. By using bags with tea and tea spices, you had a ready supply to brew a cup when there was no time to send off for the brothel's supply; a rare, but possible, complication. When combined with an
appropriate bit of sleight of hand, it made for an excellent cover, and one that was simple and supremely useful.

The moment he was done washing and cleaning himself in the showers he was racing dripping wet and barely covered by a ratty old towel up to his room; he could give two flying fucks if anyone saw him naked, he wasn't modest in that
sense, his modest dress style (but not color!) was due to his need to cover his skin for protection, and he penchant to crossdress for safety sake, not out of some issues with his body in general. Racing up the stairs helped to dry him off; the warm air was like a towel itself, sucking the moisture off his skin more effectively than the old towel ever could, so that by the time he'd made it into his room he was nearly totally dry. However, there was just enough moisture left in his hair to allow him to style it properly, and his skin was still soft enough from the warm water to work the special creams and such into it that would allow him to hide his scars and such from the eyes of the madame should she do.... visual inspections. It was going to be taxing enough to hold a transformation jutsu long enough to convince anyone that he had breasts; he was too skin to have any sort of extra body fat, let alone on his chest; but a simple transformation jutsu focused in the areas that needed to be 'natural' would cover him long enough to get in.

Once he was 'working' he would be able to use the folds of his robes and some simple tricks of placement to simulate a set of small breasts, until he needed to disrobe for a client or something, at which point another transformation jutsu would cover his needs.

Thankfully, the chances of someone 'purchasing' him for a night were extremely low; it was rare that madame ever allow freshly bought girls to work the floor, most often they where servants and decorations until the madame was satisfied
with their trainings and skills. He never stayed that long. At most, he'd get deep enough to serve tea or booze as a secondary or maybe run food to the private booths and rooms. Simple things, barely above the cleaning stage. He just needed into the building; it was extremely rare for the off limits areas to have seals or specialty locks that were beyond his ability to pick; and if they were, he'd remove himself and send in a specialist for the job. It was considered a mission success so long as he returned with information, so he didn't mind it when that happened.

He had his little bag splayed open across the small table that sat just below a mirror, a rickety chair sat in while he worked through his fresh supplies of creams and such. He was naked as the day he was born, and gently, but quickly, working an oddly 'clean' smelling, almost oily cream contained in a black glass tub roughly the size of pocket watch; it was so tiny, yet the cream seemed to run from his hands for far too long; he was taking barely raindrop sized amounts with each swipe of three fingers through the cream yet that was enough to cover an entire arm from tip of fingers to shoulder joints, tips of toes to mid-thigh, etc. It took so very little of the cream to cover his body entirely, and that was a very, very good thing, as the cream was extraordinarily expensive; if not for it being required for his job and therefore provided for him by his clan, he could never begin to afford it at all. This tiny amount would last him for at least a week now that it was worked into his flesh and settled; it gave his skin a healthy tint, without changing the color at all; and acted to smooth and hide the various scars, marks, and damaged bits that peppered his flesh. He was albino, yes; but he still freckled, and he had some dark spots that would need removal next time he saw a clan medic; or a medic in general. This cream made it impossible to detect these defects, so as long as he was able to reapply it as needed (rarely, thankfully), he was safe from dealing with that.

The rest of the tubs and containers on the table were far more common; rouge and concealer and all those make up things that females used to make themselves look pretty. He had a LOT of it, he needed layer after layer that would settle into his skin and blend and give him the appearence of a geisha. This he applied thickly; the point was to cake it on; although he was lucky enough to not have to cake it that thick, as he was already extremely pale to start. There was no need to cover a working girl tan, or skin color in general; he was the 'perfect' geisha base. Layer after layer of white paints and creams over his face and hands, powders and matte finishes and all of those things; brilliant red paint on his lips in lieu of lipstick; the solid colored wax wasn't bright enough, only the old style of paint would work here. Shadow around the eyes, thickly laid on the lashes; which had been plucked and trimmed and sculpted to perfection. Hair, brushed clean after being died a raven black; to the point that it held the iridescent shine that was so highly sought after in many geisha; his hair would only hold it for a week or two before it would fade, and that was right about when his roots would begin to show. He wasn't worried about that; as he wouldn't be there anywhere near long enough. His hair was pulled up and braided, then rolled into a tight, high bun, with highly decorative sticks crossed through it and a decorative coral comb set just right; he was the picture of geisha beauty, and if you didn't know better you would never believe he was male. Or, rather, after he triggered a transformation jutsu, you wouldn't.

Which he was doing now.

And not leaving via the main entrance. He'd realized that there was a back exit that put him on another major road, so that was how he was leaving the inn this time. He couldn't get that door open from the outside for some reason, but it did open from the inside, so it worked for what he needed. He slipped down the hall and down the stairs, out the back door and into the shadows of the alley. He could use them, and the moving crowds, to blend into the populace and not be noticed. He waited for a large group to pass by, and used them to ghost into the public eye in a way that wouldn't be noticed as strange or odd; taking his time to work slowly toward the 'face' of the brothel he was infiltrating. He was perfectly comfortable wearing the strange, high heeled, wooden clogs that geisha walked in, so there was no noticeable limping or awkwardness to his gait as he moved across town. So long as nothing went wrong, he'd make it to the building right in the middle of the window he needed; the window where he was perfectly on time, not too early, and definitely not late at all. Punctuality was an artform among the geisha, and he was very good at being a geisha.

The trip across town took exactly thirty minutes; just enough time to finish rying his makeup and hair, and the exact amount of time he'd allotted himself so that he'd appear right when he wanted to. He was approaching the main entrance of the 'teahouse'; as if anyone really believed a teahouse existed within the red light district of any village; moving toward the guard that watched over the doorless entry. He moved to a respectable distance away from the massive male and bowed deeply, waiting for him to gesture before rising and silently offering the token that he'd received from the messenger the previous day. It was the token that would allow him entrance to one of the special private areas that the customers never saw, where the girls that 'worked' there spent their time when off duty. The guard did not respond to him directly, merely pressing a button hidden in the wall beside the door.

Almost instantly a girl appeared, so very young but with eyes that screamed of the horrors of the world to anyone that knew what to look for; one of the brothel girls, experienced and knowing and broken into this world of servitude,
prostitution, and pain. The girl bowed to him, which he returned in kind, and  turned to move inside once more. He followed silently; there were codes and gestures and such that all geisha knew and understood; in the course of a few
moments an entire conversation had passed between them; and that was how they were able to wordlessly communicate.  

Haruka followed until they reached what appeared to be a solid, empty wall; until the geisha pressed a specific bit of paneling at roughly waist level which caused a large panel door to slide open, allowing access to the hidden areas for
both of them. He followed her silently, head bowed and keeping his eyes on the back of the feet of the geisha ahead of him; it was common practice to do so, and any other behavior would mark him as an outsider to the culture and rules of this world. He couldn't afford to risk that; not this soon, not before he had useful intel and such to report back.

His chest was already burning like someone had pressed hot coals into his scar, if it was this strong in the public areas... there was definitely a story to be told in this place, at this time; spirits and creatures and dark things hiding in the shadows, screaming for release from this world, calling for blood and retribution and all those nasty things that spirits born of pain and anger and sadness brought. He was almost afraid of how badly it would burn once he reached the areas he was aiming to cleanse. It was going to be a hard enough to not clutch at his chest and writhe in agony as it was; so this was just... torture. He had to endure. He had to get this done.

Thankfully, he wouldn't have to spend much time back here. He was entirely ready to go to work, and the closer to the public areas he was, the easier this would be for the moment; until he was able to adjust and the paid faded into memory a bit. He could handle this for now, he could make it through the interviews and such. If it even went that far. More often than not; there would only be one or two girls being brought in, already decided on by the madame and put directly to work.

The hallway ended quickly enough, he could sense the walls opening up into a large room, however the focus of his gaze meant that he saw no details. He merely followed the geisha that led him until a particular hitch in her step told him to freeze and wait. He picked a spot on the floor, a knot in the wood that gave him something to fixate on perfectly, and waited until a sign was given. The waiting was killer with his chest burning as it was, but in reality he was only waiting for a total of three minutes.

The sign was clear, and very simple. A hand on his chin, the clearing of a throat that sounded froggy and rough; gravel and sand and the smell of tobacco smoke. The madame, it would seem; or else her second in command. No active geisha would smoke enough to sound like that.

"Lift."

Haruka's gaze lifted, eyes focused perfectly ahead and without even a hint of movement. He would not fail now, not with the madame working over him.

"Strong gaze. No movement. Good bone structure. Hmmm... Red eyes. Speak, explain."

"Hereditary. Unknown. Orphan."

"Sight."

"Perfect. No effects."

"Health."

"Excellent. No illness. No damage."

"We shall see. Training."

"Fully. Tea, sake. Cleaning. Massage training."

"Specialty training."

"Yes."

"Eyes down."

His eyes were on the floor before she'd even finished speaking, fixated on the knot once more and waiting patiently; not even so much as a twitch to his body. He was perfect at this disguise, and he was going to maintain it.

"Dismissed."

That... wasn't him. Thank the gods he didn't even pray too. He hadn't seen anyone else in the room, but his gaze was so tunnel focused fixated that he couldn't have if he wanted to. He was almost willing to risk expending his non-visual perception out into the room, but he was almost afraid of what he would sense. Too much anger and pain here, he could taste it just by breathing in the air.

"Up."

That was him. He looked up, gaze level and focused on the far wall.

"Name."

"Haruko."

"Excellent. Aki, take her to the window. Let us see if she can bring in some clients. We shall test her."

"Yes, Mother."

Haruka bowed deeply, nearly foldning himself until he could kiss his knees without bending his back in the least. It was the only response he gave, until the female moved beside him and tapped his wrist gently, at which point he straightened up and turned to follow her; now allowing himself to raise his eyes enough to see around, without risking meeting the gaze of anyone around him. Once they were in the hallway, the female began speaking softly, with a voice that would not carry beyond the small zone in which they both inhabited. "You will sit in the window. Bring in customers, and the Mother may allow you to stay."

"Understood. Am I allowed tools?"

"Only a hand fan, or a pot of tea and cups."

"Understood. I will use my fan, if permitted."

"Wooden or silk?"

"Both."

"Acceptable. The window boxes are glassed, you will be visible, but they cannot touch you."

"Excellent. The Honorable Mother is wise and generous to allow such a luxury."

The hallway ended in the wall, and the female touched the door, which responded and slid into the wall, allowing them into the public area. The window boxes where obvious, the majority of the front of wall was nothing but a bay style window set up, with large areas for the girls to sit and dance and move, safely separated from the street and passerby by the thick glass windows. There was a single empty box, and he was pointed to it. "Enter. Work as you see fit. You will be give three hours. If your work is acceptable, you will be judged by Mother."

"Understood." Haruka did not wait for any other instructions, as he had given given the verbal instruction to get to work. He moved toward the window he'd been assigned to and climbed inside, taking several moments to rearrange the small cushions and such into a configuration that allowed him to be comfortable and move around, he would be able to dance and use his fan without bumping into things and such; and there was room for a pot of tea and serving tray to be brought if he requested. Perfect.

He pulled the silken cord that hung just inside the edge of the window, out of sight but always within reach. It caused the silken shade to retract into the ceiling, signalling to the outside world that he was available.

Time to geisha.

WC: 3600

With Raquel sent on ahead, he would give it a minute. No use in rushing this whole situation; he had plenty of time to get this idea underway. Samael, or Knight as he had taken to calling himself while around those of the criminal underground, would make his way down the street approaching the club, taking his sweet time. Slick did mention something about letting him have one of the girls for a bit of time when he got back – perhaps Samael should take him up on his offer? Normally, he wasn't one to purchase a woman of pleasurable company, but this was being offered free – Samael had been raised to never turn down a free opportunity. Besides, if the girls seated and dancing in the window of the Club were anything to go by, then the Sand Box had good taste in selecting their gir-- wait, what.

There was something wrong with this picture. In the window, there was a girl settling herself down and closing the shutter behind her. This would not have caught Samael's attention normally, if it were not for her face; it held a very familiar shape and appearance.

An appearance that Sam remembered belonging to someone who was very much male.

Haruka? I swear to god, that better not be that damn exorcist!

Silently cursing, Samael would step into the Strip club, and was immediately greeted by the sight of Slick removing the taste from some woman's mouth via the back of his hand, as well as screaming at her for not getting customers. Even as Samael stepped closer to the duo and coughed to announced his presence, Slick carried on, screaming at this woman for a minute longer before he turned to face him.

"Yo ass is back already, biatch? That was kinda quick. What, Donald bust quick or something?"

Sam chuckled, nodded his head; it was best to play the part for the moment until he made his move. “Yea man. Dude was a 'one minute man'. Swear, I could have taken a piss longer than that guy lasted.”

Slick laughed, nodding his head in return.”Yen be a piece of shiznit yo, but he pays phat scrilla, n' thats all I care about. Raquel already handed mah crazy ass tha scrilla from Yen; go ahead n' pick up one of tha hoes fo' yo ass, Knight. Keep her as long as you want, bruh. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass did phat work todizzle, n' I might have another thang fo' you later. Just tell tha Madame whoz ass you want to get freak wit, n' she'll take care of you, biatch. Bitch is over there, behind tha bar poppin' off ta Raquel.”

Sam nodded to this, his face returning to a neutral expression. “Good looking out, Slick.” Turning away and making his way to the bar, he offered Raquel and the Madame a small nod. “So, Slick told me to pick out one of the girls for myself. I want the one in the window... the far window.”

The madam would nod to Samael, blushing and smiling the whole way to the compartment....

526 + 2208 = 2734 WC

Spoiler:

Training was in full force when he saw the on thing that nearly made him break character; in all the years he'd done this job, he'd never once come close to breaking character, never for fear, or concern, or need; but when the demon walked past his window and came inside of the brothel, he nearly exploded out of the window and made a break for it. He was thanking all the deities that he didn't even believe in that he was using his fans, it was a common tactic for geisha to wave hand fans in intricate dancing maneuvers across their face and body, even when seated in a window box or the like; so he was able to bring one up to cover the expression and hint of tightening of his lips when he realized what was going on. He had to believe that Samael hadn't recognized him; he had too; it was possible that he hadn't, with all the makeup and hair dye and clothing change and such... he didn't look much like himself anymore. A healthier skin tone alone was enough to make him unrecognizable to most, but he had gotten fairly close and personal, recently at that, to the exorcist. Even in a totally platonic manner, they'd spent hours talking and staring at each other; it wouldn't surprise him if Samael had memorized his face just from sheer exposure.

“So, Slick told me to pick out one of the girls for myself. I want the one in the window... the far window.”

**No... no... nononononofuuuuuuuuuuuck!

"The new girl? You have a good eye, but she is untested. I take no responsibility if she fails in her duties; you are free to... dispose of her, if you must." The madame merely waved off her blase attitude over the idea of having one of her 'girls' killed; she hadn't sunk a dime into this one, and there where no records of Haruka anywhere. It wouldn't be much to dump a body in the desert for the vultures to pick clean, after all. Her conscious was cleared by the half assed warning.

To all of this, Haruka didn't react. There where no signals, nor calls, for him to move, or deviate from what he was doing. Not until one of the other girls came to the door of the box and summoned him. His only thought as he turned to exit, taking a long moment to organize and return the box to the condition he found it it (exactly what any geisha would have done, unless given a special cue that signaled them to appear without attending to normal protocols), was that of a  ** building internal scream that pushed any and all other thoughts and emotions away; and actually helped him to maintain his cover. He was able to keep his expression entirely blank; at least on a level that anyone would normally notice, his eyes screamed that he was losing it internally, but the color and lack of outward expression would hide that from anyone but possible Samael. He might just notice the pure panic there, if he got a good look; which he likely wouldn't, as the moment he was out of the box he was once more focused entirely on the floor. No geisha met the eye of a client until they began serving tea or sake, or told to directly by the madame or client.

"You have a customer, child. I expect you to make him happy."

Haruka barely nodded, only the slightest twitch of the single lock of loose hair trailing down over his forehead all that would be noticed by anyone that wasn't a trained geisha himself.

"Introduce yourself, child."

"As the Honorable Mother desires." He finally glanced up, eyes fixating on a point just to the right of Samael's right ear; eyes tastefully diverted so that eye contact was not made, but with his head up and posture perfect. "My name is Haruka. It is my honor to attend to you on this day."

Not likely what he would have been told to say, had he started training for this particular brothel; but it was ambiguous enough, and well within proper high protocol for a geisha, so it wouldn't be out of place, no cause a problem with the madame. "If my honored guest desires, we may begin now." He was waiting for a specific signal that would happen beyond and around the small group with his he stood; one of his 'sisters' would be showing him which room to use, as he didn't know where anything was just yet. Sure enough, one appeared to open the door to a hidden alcove room and gestured to him, at which point he bowed so deeply that his body formed a perfect right angle with itself and gestured in the direction of the available room. "If the Honorable Master is willing, I will service in a private room." He only worded his speech as such because he was given a private room to work, the semi-private booths and open tea floor where in the opposite direction, so he was taking a justified leap in assuming it was a private room. What services it was set up for, he would have to asses in the first moments he entered it, without missing a beat in his rhythm and signalling to anyone that he was lost or unfamiliar with the establishment.

He waited several moments, allowing Samael to begin moving first; it was very much NOT protocol for a geisha to lead their client in a situation such as this. The room they would be using was clearly visible, with another girl waiting just outside to help mark which was being given to them. Fairly typical, really; geisha often worked in pairs, with the girl that was focused on the client giving orders to an attendant outside that would bring the tea and sake sets, hot water, food, etc; so that the geisha inside could focus on making the client happy and working out the largest sum of money possible. Painlessly separating a client from their hard earned coin was the specialty of all geisha; beyond a dedication to their art, that is. The moment that Samael took a step, he began to move too; following him as he entered the room and tapping gently on the frame of the hidden door to signal that it should be closed. Not reaally necessary, but it was all for the show.

In those few instants that he had, he memorized the room at large. It was a fairly typical private room; thick bamboo mats covering the floor and a low table with several large, comfortable cushion surrounding it to allow the client to sit and be comfortable while he was being served. The table itself was set in a depressed area, giving a half wall for the client to lean against when using the table, and a small wet bar was set into the far corner wall where it was easily accessible, but out of the way. He could tell without looking which panels of the wall where actually storage and service windows; they stuck out clearly to his eyes, but to Samael they would be classical rice paper panel style cover walls. He moved toward the center of the room, resuming the deeply bowed posture from before, allowing himself to speak in a tone that was highly respectful and not the least bit terrified, "If Master desires, I will serve refreshments at the table. Does Master desire sake or tea?"

At no point in his speaking did he make an assumption, nor leave the impression that Samael couldn't instantly stop him with so much as the twitch of a finger. His spacial perception was so finely attuned that he could sense the gentle pulsing of the skin above the demonic male's arteries, so any movement to cut him off would be sensed and reacted to accordingly. He merely waited for the male to speak, or move, or do whatever he was going to do; he couldn't start or continue to play at geisha until he was given a signal to react.

WC: 1411

3600 + 1411 = 5011

Bukijutsu A-S 5011/4000
Ninjutsu S-SS 1011/9000

Okay, so since Kensei has no interest in finishing this thread due to reasons, I'm going to exit so I can turn in for training.

-EXIT-