The story that I'm about to tell you set on Japan in 1830s, by me, the trickster of fate, is one that will unravel the life of Ahn Sora; the damsel of despair who basked in fleeting hope for the second time of her life. 
 
The mansion was adorned with balloons all in silver and black, as the oba-san definitely knew her foster granddaughter's favorite hues. It was ironic to how she knew her favorite colors but not the lightest clue of what Ahn Sora had really wanted on the night of her birthday. Ah, but of course, at that time that child didn't even know what she wanted for herself. Preferring to focus her mind on living through the day - being the favorite e didn't mean luxury. In fact this whole party was to promote her for the highest bids of the night. 
 
Imagine the bids stored for the girl with her immense beauty. Another reason her obasan didn't sell her more than once - well that was what the obasan had claimed to the public anyways. Sora shuddered as men peered their eyes on her skimpy silk kimono - feeling their eyes undressing her in public she hurriedly made her way to the back of the stage where she bumped a man and immediately apologized before the man had a chance to grab her and flirt. Men imploring themselves to her were more revolting than her treacherous foster grandmother. 

Speak of the devil, comes her foster grandmother who grabbed her wrist with inhuman strength - a strength that was too much for a girl who ate once a day to handle "What are you doing here you - " lets leave the rest to your imagination. 

A Slight Note;
- Her grandma had very much mastered the arts of colorful cussing and giving nicknames all the while without a pause for breath  –

Lucky for her, she was a good that wasn't meant to have any single imperfections on her for the night - which meant one less abuse from the old witch. She had always wondered to why the old lady was so set in making her give ual service to the men when in fact they strictly only pleasured the men with their arts. The scolding of the old lady went by unheard as Sora glanced through her. 

Was this it? Being forced into ion, abused day and night by both her grandma and her clients, stepped over by many people because of her kindness that was nearing idiocy – was this life? And to add up was she about to be sold to someone as their ual slave for life under the title of lovely wedded husband and wife. Life was cruel – technically I was cruel to her. 

Fate had a taste for pain you see. As I strive to give people who suffer the most a taste of victory in the end. Whether it was false or true victory was another matter. 

Letting her iron grip off the frail child – she patted the girl’s head, displaying fake attentiveness as people walked by. A man with feathers for hair caught Sora’s eyes; how could anyone pamper their hair to that extent? “You will do well, my child?” That wasn’t a question but an order laced with more faked adoration. She was never a parent nor did sora asked her to be one. 

Sora deemed that most parents were abusive when they were alone with their child anyways. She was just cursed with more than the usual abuse from a parent – abuse from strangers that she was forced to be called a client. Due to the immense power her grandma held over the Geisha houses in Japan one slip of the tongue from any men would mean their end to any visits to any Geisha. The Ichinose Den was known to be refined amongst public after all, what would they do if they found out that the Old Lady had forced her foster child into ual labor? 

Mayhem. 

And Sora – although she was b with loath for the old lady – didn’t want the lady to fall into sudden poverty; it was worse off for her grandma then dying. Blinking her eyes and changing into her performance clothes, she dragged a long breath from her pipe – something else the public wasn’t meant to know. Her flowery essence had overpowered the smell of her smoke and for once she was glad of those morning ice-cold baths. She felt sudden serenity settle in and she took closer steps to the entrance of the stage. 

Sheathing the sword to back to its sheath – sora wondered to why the sword was heavier than when she practiced with it but the cut on her finger had made sense – this was the last hurdle from her grandmother. 

If she were to fail then she would receive not only public humiliation but abuse from her grandmother and probably a night in the – there wasn’t enough time to think as the curtains was pulled and the stage revealed her. Luckily she was thinking just like how her character had to be. 

Sora danced a dance about a Chinese female warrior who became a warrior due to her husband’s death and now had to avenge her husband by joining in the war. The male across the room gasped at her exceptional beauty and her tremendous talent in dancing and portraying the character’s personality. The slight smiles she slipped when she had cut an invisible enemy made one of the viewers’ heart hammer against his chest abnormally. 

This was the start of my plan. 

Opening her eyes and pointing her sword to the audience – she locked her gaze with the feathery-haired guy who looked at her with such ferocity that she felt her stomach lurch in an unknown way. From that point on, she kept her attention on him while she continued her performance ending it while kneeling down delicately and sheathing back her sword. The man had applause a bit later than most of the audience but Sora knew it wasn’t because he wasn’t awed by it but instead because he was star-struck by her. 

She felt his heated gaze on the back of her head all the way till she entered her chambers. Her grandmother had not called for her to go back outside, as they were all contented with just her performance. She had the gift of striking people with her talent – luckily she chose to dance than sing because if she were to sing she would be asked for an encore till dusk. 

Here’s another cruel trick by me. She wasn’t fully human. 
  
She heard the faint sounds of footsteps and hushed conversations on the hallways before she lolled herself to sleep. This was her last night with her futon and she intended to fully hog the night with just sleep. Sadly, it didn’t go according to plan as she woke up early and sleepily walked outside to the Zen garden just across her room. There she heard a hum, the melody ringing across the garden along the wind and Sora cant help but be transfixed with the man who turned to look at her. The sunlight emitting a holy glow to the man whilst making his feathery hair even more chestnut had only made Sora fixated on the sight of him even more. 

“Aren’t I just pretty?” As the words escaped his mouth so did a giggle from hers. That was the first time in a very long time; Sora did not only smile but also giggle. What the man didn’t know was that what he said was worth more than he knew.