Yoshiwara Red-Light District.
Lights blazed, illuminating the streets, a gaudy spectacle designed to lure and entice.
People thronged the roads, shoulder to shoulder, a sea of faces seeking pleasure and oblivion.
Before he even entered, Aoki felt the heavy scent of makeup and perfume, the cloying sweetness of a world built on illusion and desire, a suffocating atmosphere that clung to his skin.
Aoki's face was calm, a mask of indifference that hid the predator within. He paused at the entrance, a silent assessment of the territory, then stepped inside, a ghost swallowed by the crowd.
"I remember Daki, disguised as Warabihime, hiding in the Kyogoku House."
Of course, that was the future, a memory from a life he'd left behind.
Daki changed identities every ten years or so, a chameleon adapting to a changing world, a survivor who knew how to blend in.
It was almost four years before that time. Daki might not be at the Kyogoku House.
It didn't matter.
Daki's disguise was always popular in Yoshiwara, a star that drew moths to the flame. Her alias always contained the character "Hime," a subtle signature he could track. Even if she wasn't at the Kyogoku House, he'd find her.
Aoki walked through Yoshiwara, a silent hunter in a gaudy paradise, a predator stalking its prey. He didn't ask questions. He didn't need to.
Information flowed to him, a whisper on the wind, a murmur in the crowd.
Daki was at the Kyogoku House.
Her disguise, Warabihime, was famous in Yoshiwara, a legend whispered in hushed tones, a name that drew desire like a magnet.
"Daki's Blood Demon Art... Does it have spatial properties?"
Aoki thought, a new piece sliding into place, a spark of understanding in the darkness.
Daki's silk sashes were thin, like ordinary fabric. But they could swallow people whole, a gaping maw in the fabric of reality.
The humans she captured didn't die. They were trapped, preserved.
It felt like a spatial power, a manipulation of dimensions, a twisted reflection of his own abilities.
Aoki stopped, his thoughts interrupted by a sudden shift in his senses. He turned, looked at the building on his right, a predator locking onto its prey.
The towering structure blazed with light, a beacon in the night. Beautiful women, dressed in fine silks, their faces painted with elaborate makeup, moved through the halls, a kaleidoscope of color and desire. Lanterns hung at the entrance, each bearing the characters for "Kyogoku," a pronouncement of wealth and power.
The Kyogoku House.
He was here.
Aoki banished his thoughts, focused on the task at hand. He walked inside, a ghost swallowed by the spectacle, a phantom moving through a dream.
A middle-aged woman hurried over, her face a practiced smile, her eyes sharp, assessing. "Welcome to the Kyogoku House, sir. We offer..."
Aoki cut her off, his voice a low murmur that brooked no argument. "Is Warabihime available?"
The woman hesitated, her smile faltering. "Warabihime is unwell today. She can't see guests."
Aoki didn't argue. He didn't plead. He simply acted. He pulled out a stack of bills, a small fortune in his hand, a language that needed no translation. "I came to see Warabihime. Today."
In this place, money spoke louder than words. It was the key to every door, the price of every pleasure.
Aoki's display worked.
The woman swallowed, her eyes widening, a flicker of greed in their depths. She snatched the money, a swift, practiced move. "Very well. I'll try to persuade Warabihime. Please wait in the tea room."
She waved. A young girl walked over, bowed to Aoki, her face a mask of polite deference.
"This way, please."
The tea room was a separate building, a haven of quiet elegance amidst the chaos of the pleasure district. It was decorated with exquisite taste, a delicate balance of beauty and restraint, a world away from the gaudy spectacle of the main house.
Flower arrangements, calligraphy scrolls, antique furniture... It was a stage set for a performance, a carefully crafted illusion of intimacy and refinement.
Aoki understood. This was where the magic happened. This was where the demons played their games.
The young girl left. Aoki looked around the tea room, a predator assessing its hunting ground, a strategist planning his next move. He nodded, satisfied.
This was a good place.
He'd worried about fighting inside the Kyogoku House, the risk of collateral damage, the innocent lives caught in the crossfire.
Here, he could control the situation. He could isolate his prey.
He could hunt without restraint.
At the same time...
Kyogoku House's madam, Mitsu, walked to a room on the second floor, her steps quick, her face a mask of forced calm.
She inhaled, a deep breath to steady her nerves. She knocked on the door, a hesitant rap against the polished wood.
A moment passed. The door opened.
A woman stood there, a vision of beauty that stole Mitsu's breath. Her face was exquisite, her eyes cold, assessing. She was Warabihime, the jewel of the Kyogoku House, a creature of power and allure.
"What is it, Madam?" Warabihime's voice was sharp, a silken blade that cut through the air, a subtle reminder of her dominance.
Mitsu swallowed, her heart pounding, a rabbit caught in a wolf's gaze. She forced a smile, a practiced gesture of subservience. "Warabihime, a guest wants to see you."
She hesitated, a flicker of fear in her eyes.
She didn't want to disturb Warabihime. She knew her temper.
But the money... It was too much to ignore.
She swallowed again, her voice a desperate plea. "He's very handsome. You won't be disappointed."
She had to say it. She had to try.
She knew Warabihime's tastes. She craved beauty. She craved power.
The guest fit the bill.
Otherwise, she wouldn't have dared to knock.
Warabihime's lips curved, a hint of a smile that didn't reach her eyes, a predator scenting its prey. "Handsome?"
Her gaze sharpened, a flicker of interest in the void.
Her food supply was dwindling.
She needed to feed.
She knew Mitsu. She was old, ugly. But she had a good eye for beauty.
"Very well. I'll see him."
The door slammed shut, a final pronouncement that brooked no argument. Warabihime's voice echoed through the wood, a promise of pain and pleasure intertwined. "I need to prepare."
Mitsu waited, her body tense, her breath held captive in her chest.
It wasn't just fear. She was in awe of Warabihime, a creature of power she couldn't comprehend.
Warabihime was the Kyogoku House.
Before her, it had been just another brothel. Warabihime had made it famous, a legend whispered throughout Yoshiwara, a beacon that drew the wealthy and the desperate.
She was their star. She was their power. She was their curse.
More than half an hour passed.
Warabihime stepped out of the room, a vision of otherworldly beauty, a goddess descending from the heavens.
Her face was perfect, flawless. Her eyes burned, a crimson fire that promised both pleasure and pain. She radiated power, an aura of arrogance and untouchable grace.
She walked through the halls.
Men and women stopped, stared, their breath caught in their throats.
A young man stumbled through the door, his eyes fixed on Warabihime, his mind lost in a dream. He crashed into the wall, a sharp crack that broke the spell. He winced, rubbed his head, but his gaze remained fixed on the vision before him. "Who was that? She's beautiful! Can we choose her?"
His companion scoffed, wiping drool from his chin. "You don't know Warabihime?
Choose her? You're dreaming!
We couldn't pay a tenth of her fee! Besides, Warabihime doesn't see just anyone. You have to impress her."
"Damn it! Who's the lucky bastard?" The young man muttered, a flicker of envy in his eyes.
His companion shook his head, his face a mixture of awe and resentment. "Not lucky. Rich and lucky."
The man they called rich and lucky, Aoki, sat in the tea room, a growing impatience stirring within him.
It had been almost an hour. Why was she taking so long?
He wasn't afraid of waiting.
He was afraid of what that wait might bring.
He worried Daki had sensed him, a predator recognizing another.
What if she'd contacted Muzan?
That would be a disaster.
It would mean this hunt had failed.
It would mean Daki and Gyutaro knew they were exposed.
They'd vanish, slip back into the shadows.
He'd lose them.
He'd lose a chance at a feast of power, a chance to complete his task, a chance to grow stronger.
He'd lose everything.
Click, click, click.
Footsteps sounded, a delicate tread that broke the silence.
Aoki's senses sharpened. He turned, his eyes fixed on the door.
Outside the tea room...
"Madam, wait here."
Daki waved her hand, a dismissive gesture that brooked no argument. She walked to the door, her steps graceful, her power a palpable weight in the air. She reached for the handle, her fingers brushing the polished wood.
Then, she stopped.
She paused, a predator scenting its prey, a goddess about to descend from the heavens.
She inhaled, a slow, deliberate breath.
She smiled, a cruel curve of her lips.
She turned the handle.
She opened the door.
Their eyes met.
---
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