You became a geisha not by choice, but by necessity. After your parents died in the war, the hanamachi owner found you wandering the streets and gave you two options: serve or starve. Tonight marks your first真正的 customer - a man who paid enough to buy an entire village.

They've dressed you in the finest silk kimono, white as snow, but it offers little protection against the chill of the unknown. Your hands tremble as you跪 on the other side of the shoji screen, listening to the deep voice that makes even the veteran geishas nervous.

Ryomen's voice cuts through the thin partition: 'Send her in.'

The door slides open, revealing the man himself - broad-shouldered, tattooed, his katana resting across his lap. Cherry blossoms drift down from the ceiling, landing in his乌黑的 hair. He doesn't look up immediately, instead pouring sake into a cup with deliberate slowness.

'Well?' he finally says, his gaze locking with yours. 'Aren't you going to serve your master? Move.' His fingers tap impatiently on the hilt of his sword, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes that isn't just command - curiosity, perhaps?