Honome wound her way through the street of the Susukino District. Normally people would walk through the thoroughfare, looking at the shops on either side, but Honome was a little different in that regard. She enjoyed the sides that the merchants usually saw, behind the hustle and bustle of the street. It was quite loud enough as it was with traveling behind their shouts rather than having them aimed right in her ear.
She had promised to meet Midori for some fun in the entertainment district, but truth be told, she had little to no idea what they would be doing there. Honome had been working on perceiving the world with only her ears, but tonight with the ruckus to her right and the wall to her left, she relied heavily on the signals she was receiving from the walking stick. A quick swipe and a loose pebble was out of her way, a reassuring tap to see how wide a gap in the pavement that was underused by the public during the evening and night hours, and so was unaccustomed to seeing repair, and she was across the intersection. Luckily there were no fast-moving carts or anything so she could cross confidently without breaking her stride.
The sounds of the nightlife to her right muddled her senses of where she was, and her bearing on the world, much like someone who had a veil in front of their eyes would be impaired in their periphery and sight-lines. Merchants called for people to come and sample their wares and take a shot at games that were meant to take your money from you without giving you an equal return. Everyone had to make a living, after all. Some of them shouted for people to take their best shot, and assured the customers that they didn't allow ninjutsu or any of that funny chakra business in their games and that they would know whether or not their game had been tampered with. A woman running a stall of 'pull the string for a prize' was sitting confidently, having children pull strings and receive stuffed animals, water balloon yoyos and bags of candy for an exorbitant price, but her wares also included fine dining sets and even an end-table which she claimed had belonged to a noble family and she had purchased from an estate sale.
The cool air of the evening bourgeoning on night lapped at her face, making her cheeks color and her ears prickle with the drop in temperature from the day. The brisk air was enough to keep her going, and she loved it. The silk kimono she wore had layers, after all, meant to keep her warm throughout the night, even if her companion chose to eat outside. Speaking of, where was Midori?
From what she could tell the people moved through the crowds like a slow moving molasses, except a couple, or maybe three, people who had been tailing her for the better part of three blocks. They hadn’t aroused suspicions because they were moving through the herd of people on the main street, and it wasn’t nearly congested enough to warrant them overtly tailing her, but she had managed to pick up a tail anyhow.
Wondering what to do in this sort of situation, she continued on, her geta making a hollow tapping noise as she passed near an archway to someone’s home. She could hear the din of someone getting ready for bed through an open window, assuming that the shades were drawn she wondered how anyone could sleep with the racket outside. A quick snapping shut of the window answered the question and she continued on.
Geisha were calling from the streets ahead. Perhaps she could find solace within the silk folds of the kimonos of the other girls. They were fiercely protective of other women. But wearing what she was, she might be mistaken for one of their ranks. True, her snug kimono was made of silk, and true, she had no idea what the pattern was, but she wasn’t wearing the traditional make-up that befitted them. She had no skill in applying it since she couldn’t tell what the contours of her face were without touching them, and that just horribly smudged the whole effect. She had tried, with a girlfriend in her youth, to apply make-up to herself, and it had gone horribly wrong.
A half hour later, both girls had emerged with, apparently, faces like the kabuki warrior theater and her friend’s mother laughed so hard she almost wet herself. From that day forward, she hadn’t worn a spot of make-up, but had been told that she needn’t bother. Still, among the geisha, she would stick out like a sore thumb.
Hesitating, she heard the three that were tailing her step onto the pavement behind her. She had to make a choice, continue into the red-light district, confront these three, or try to lose them and look for Midori.
[WC: 822]
She had promised to meet Midori for some fun in the entertainment district, but truth be told, she had little to no idea what they would be doing there. Honome had been working on perceiving the world with only her ears, but tonight with the ruckus to her right and the wall to her left, she relied heavily on the signals she was receiving from the walking stick. A quick swipe and a loose pebble was out of her way, a reassuring tap to see how wide a gap in the pavement that was underused by the public during the evening and night hours, and so was unaccustomed to seeing repair, and she was across the intersection. Luckily there were no fast-moving carts or anything so she could cross confidently without breaking her stride.
The sounds of the nightlife to her right muddled her senses of where she was, and her bearing on the world, much like someone who had a veil in front of their eyes would be impaired in their periphery and sight-lines. Merchants called for people to come and sample their wares and take a shot at games that were meant to take your money from you without giving you an equal return. Everyone had to make a living, after all. Some of them shouted for people to take their best shot, and assured the customers that they didn't allow ninjutsu or any of that funny chakra business in their games and that they would know whether or not their game had been tampered with. A woman running a stall of 'pull the string for a prize' was sitting confidently, having children pull strings and receive stuffed animals, water balloon yoyos and bags of candy for an exorbitant price, but her wares also included fine dining sets and even an end-table which she claimed had belonged to a noble family and she had purchased from an estate sale.
The cool air of the evening bourgeoning on night lapped at her face, making her cheeks color and her ears prickle with the drop in temperature from the day. The brisk air was enough to keep her going, and she loved it. The silk kimono she wore had layers, after all, meant to keep her warm throughout the night, even if her companion chose to eat outside. Speaking of, where was Midori?
From what she could tell the people moved through the crowds like a slow moving molasses, except a couple, or maybe three, people who had been tailing her for the better part of three blocks. They hadn’t aroused suspicions because they were moving through the herd of people on the main street, and it wasn’t nearly congested enough to warrant them overtly tailing her, but she had managed to pick up a tail anyhow.
Wondering what to do in this sort of situation, she continued on, her geta making a hollow tapping noise as she passed near an archway to someone’s home. She could hear the din of someone getting ready for bed through an open window, assuming that the shades were drawn she wondered how anyone could sleep with the racket outside. A quick snapping shut of the window answered the question and she continued on.
Geisha were calling from the streets ahead. Perhaps she could find solace within the silk folds of the kimonos of the other girls. They were fiercely protective of other women. But wearing what she was, she might be mistaken for one of their ranks. True, her snug kimono was made of silk, and true, she had no idea what the pattern was, but she wasn’t wearing the traditional make-up that befitted them. She had no skill in applying it since she couldn’t tell what the contours of her face were without touching them, and that just horribly smudged the whole effect. She had tried, with a girlfriend in her youth, to apply make-up to herself, and it had gone horribly wrong.
A half hour later, both girls had emerged with, apparently, faces like the kabuki warrior theater and her friend’s mother laughed so hard she almost wet herself. From that day forward, she hadn’t worn a spot of make-up, but had been told that she needn’t bother. Still, among the geisha, she would stick out like a sore thumb.
Hesitating, she heard the three that were tailing her step onto the pavement behind her. She had to make a choice, continue into the red-light district, confront these three, or try to lose them and look for Midori.
[WC: 822]
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