A flower painted across a heart
[12:03] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) had dreaded this moment like a man awaiting judgment. He had searched for the perfect time, the right words—but they never came. The truth gnawed at him: he had replayed the betrayal in his mind a thousand times, rewriting it, reshaping it, begging it to be undone. But memory is a cruel master, and regret even crueler.
He had been outmatched. The man who deceived him was no ordinary schemer—he was a predator cloaked in charm, armed with knowledge stolen from the shadows. His slave had watched Natsu, learned him, dissected him. Every weakness, every hesitation, had been turned against him like blades.
Now, Natsu stood at the edge of the water, its surface still and merciless, reflecting nothing but his own failure. The silence screamed louder than any storm.
He turned slowly, as if the weight of his guilt had aged him. When he bowed to her, it was not out of custom—it was surrender. His eyes, once fierce, softened like ash in the wind.
“Forgive me,” he said, voice low and raw. “I am not the man I was. And I fear what my unraveling might do to your mind.”
[12:10] Izumi 和泉 (siadellic) bows humbly to first the man and then the lady, her smile gentle and eyes filled with warm sincerity “Konnichiwa and welcome to Edo Lord and Lady”
[12:10] .: SiaDellic Resident performs a respectful bow.
[12:10] Joy (joyspirit) “Konnichiwa Lord and Lady.”Bows gently.It is a honor to met you both.”
[12:11] .: joyspirit Resident performs a deeply respectful bow.
[12:15] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) bowed, the gesture precise, almost ceremonial—etched into him by decades of service and the unforgiving discipline of palace life. The two women had arrived like fate itself, interrupting a conversation that already threatened to unravel him. His spine remained straight, his expression carved from stone, but the tremor in his voice betrayed the storm beneath.
“Thank you for your warm welcome,” he said, each word measured, as if spoken through frost. The coldness clung to him like armor—necessary, but not impenetrable.
He straightened, eyes flicking between them, then settling on the one whose gaze seemed to pierce deeper than the rest. “This is Lady Midori,” he continued, his voice softening just enough to suggest reverence. “I am Kenryoku Natsu.”
[12:15] Midori (suyuan.quan): The rhythm of the days with him were peaceful, tranquil and a stark separation from the business of the palace. Attending to fully-fledged contract women while she had just graduated from the minor ranks. The process was vigorous – days and months of conversational, musical, and dance trainings.
But before the imminent arrival of her mizuage, there was him and his gentle firmness, the quiet tenderness and amusing conversations that they both shared. Being in such close proximity to the Mikado, both must practice vigilance and mindfulness so as not to surrender.
She was still an innocent, but older than most of the graduating maiko into geiko. At times she felt like a minarai or a shikomi, still attempting to find her place.
The apprentice joined him on the docks, Midori immediately noticing the gravity of his expression and where she once found joy in his presence, his heavy words elicited the drumming of her heart and her muscles to tense. Her hands which were concealed beneath her fragrant and billowy sleeves had fingers grasping until knuckles burned white. Her lightly rouged lips pursed slightly in concern, following her brow as she regarded him with confusion.
“Nat-san,” she would follow his bow in a elegant gesture, slowly then standing to her full-height, “How do you mean? What has happened?” He did not greet her with the usual, quiet warmth and strength that he possessed. Something was terribly amiss and it displayed in her features and posture.
[12:20] Joy (joyspirit) smiles gently”Ohayō gozaimasu, Lord Natsu-san and Lady Midori-san
We welcome you both to Edo with deepest reverence. The lanterns have been lit in your honor.”Says softly as she remains close to her sister.
[12:24] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) should have been grateful. Their arrival spared him from the confession clawing at his throat—the admission of how deeply, how irreparably, he had failed. The words had hovered, trembling on the edge of release, but now they retreated like shadows at dawn. The one thing he had vowed never to lose… was already gone.
Natsu stood rigid, the posture of a man forged by palace walls and years of unwavering service. But beneath the surface, he was unraveling. His composure was a mask—cracked, barely holding.
“You grant us too much honor,” he said, voice low, laced with regret that bled through every syllable. “We will not be staying long.”
His gaze flicked toward her—just for a moment. Enough to betray the ache behind his eyes. Enough to show that the message he had buried still burned inside him. But the time for truth had passed. And silence, cruel as it was, had become his only refuge.
[12:25] Izumi 和泉 (siadellic) as their guests greeted and introduced themselves her facial expression remained soft, serene as if masked in etched porcelain, even without her ceremonial makeup. It had been a day full of training for the junior apprenticed, filled lessons and disciplined repetition in dance and musical instruction inside Edo’s famed theater halls. It was a welcome reprieve to be out in the crisp Autumnal air. Carefully sidestepping a puddle with a discreet swish of finely brocaded kimono, Izumi echoed her sisters words “Ohayo gazaimasu. I am Izumi and this is my sister Joy, both of the house of sacred flowers here in the District.” she chimed in softly “Please feel welcome here and if there is any way we can ease your day or guide you on your stay or even along your journey, please let us know”
[12:33] Midori (suyuan.quan): The tension of the moment was interrupted by the unanticipated arrival of the two trainees, fragrance and the swishing of elegant korti resutled in the wind like autumnal leaves that were beginning to form, signaling the decay of one of the sweetest summers that she had had ever experienced.
Her heart thrummed rapidly against her breast, the sound mimicking a waterfall in her ears briefly with her breath ceasing for the moment. The terrible news that was to be afforded to her was deterred and Midori didn’t know whether to scold or display gratitude towards the new arrivals. Imstead she followed Natsu’s lead and bowed deeply to the women out of mutual respect, her front teeth seizing upon her bottom to halt the trembling, “Good afternoon, ladies,” she greeted in their mutual languages. They were flowers of the okiya, ones she had not encountered. Natsu’s declaration that they were to leave only furthered her quiet anxiety.
Carefully, she approached her danna, the movements fluid like gently fluttering sakura trees with blossoms dispersing, attempting to maintain her usual stoic expression.
[12:42] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) Natsu smiled to Midori, and in that fleeting curve of his lips lay a thousand unsaid things. She had been the light in his storm, the quiet in his chaos—the apple of his eye from the moment fate had first placed her in his path. But even now, as she stood so near, she felt impossibly distant. Like something precious glimpsed through glass.
He turned to the other lady, the words slow to form, as if each syllable carried the weight of a confession he wasn’t ready to make.
“We will let you know,” he said, voice steady but hollow. A practiced tone, the kind used by men who’ve learned to mask their hearts behind protocol.
But the truth clawed at him. He could not escape it. Not anymore.
His gaze lingered on Midori once more, softer now, almost pleading. The message he had tried to silence stirred again—unspoken, but burning. And though he hadn’t said it yet, the air between them had already begun to shift. Something was coming. Something that would change everything. “Please forgive us.” as
he would wave his hand to Midori for her to follow while he bowed his farewell to both ladies.
[12:44] Joy (joyspirit) stood quietly with her sister obeying their Okassans wishes to greet the visitors to Edo.Which was known for being an entrainment district.Her and her sister had spent almost a year in the scared flower as she watches them both leave.”May the sun guide your path always Lord and Lady.”She bows one last time to them both.
[12:44] .: joyspirit Resident performs a deeply respectful bow.
[12:47] Izumi 和泉 (siadellic): Izumi too hid her surprise at the tension in the air behind a practiced mask of composure, she bowed mirroring her sister’s fluid elegance, together forming a short dance of poetry in motion “may fair winds follow you in a safe journey”
[12:47] .: SiaDellic Resident performs a deeply respectful bow.
[12:55] Midori (suyuan.quan) had not intended to be dismissive or cause doubt to protcol in regards to the two ladies. But the concern which was mounting like water breaking a levee was increasing as the moments progressed. Naturally, she would permit Natsu to seize control of the situation as he was of higher position and standing. Her geta clicked softly over the ground, stepping carefully over fragmented leaves with stiff posture.
This man, this swordsman were like pieces of a song she built in memory. From their first introduction, she had clung to like verdant spring – relishing his company, strength, words and features that she attempted to visualize with ink and parchment. Her writing was better as opposed to her artristry – she was mediore in regards to skills like other contract women but relished the written word. At Natsu’s gesture, she would once more turn to face the two women – each like a peach and plum blossom who were beautiful and distant but present in their duty.
The small distance was closed between her and her danna, another low and respectful bow offered to the beauties, “I wish you both well.” Her movements were fluid but held a stiffness – as if her heart was beginning to shed like each leaf on a branch. She was to leave with Natsu at his command and naturally she would follow him… even to the ends of Gor.
[13:00] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) moved along the waterline, each step deliberate, as if the rhythm of the waves might steady the storm within. The moonlight traced his silhouette, casting long shadows that whispered of the past he could not outrun.
“I always prided myself,” he began, voice low and taut, “on being too clever to be tricked. Too guarded to be led into anything I did not choose.”
He turned to her then, and the sight of her—so achingly familiar, so devastatingly beautiful—struck him like a blade to the chest. Every inch of his desire stirred, but he held firm. Control was his last defense.
“I am a good judge of character,” he continued, the words trembling with the weight of truth. “And as one entrusted by the Emperor himself, I should remain vigilant. Impenetrable.”
His voice faltered, drifting into silence. The next words came softer, almost broken.
“I would never dare to jeopardize what we have.”
He turned fully to her now, eyes searching hers—not for forgiveness, but for understanding. For
the flicker of emotion that might tell him he hadn’t already lost her.
[13:12] Midori (suyuan.quan) followed him with soft footfalls, the heavy and resplendent robes shifting along the impeccably clean ground. Pani towns and cities were often more immaculate in cleaniness as opposed to typical Gorean cities. Her manicured hands were concealed in her sleeves, the nervous grip upon her arms decreasing as the peaceful stroll seemed to be distracting… or perhaps she was preparing herself for what was to occur.
She was almost shoulder to shoulder with him and yet they did not touch – they had not done so. They were like separate entities, intertwined and but achingly distant. There were nights she craved him against her, to feel his warmth against her own. But the Emperor had seemingly commanded otherwise.
Her eyes were lowered, cast down out of propriety but listening to the soft baritone of his voice, the stillness between his statements was sobering. She remained silent, listening intently to his words – and instictively she knew, the dread that was forming in her belly that her world and all she knew was about to be eradicated.
When he pausing, she boldly lifted her gaze towards his, her soft brown eyes with flickering of gold were moistened, but she held her tears and the verbal demands she wished to assail him with.
Instead, she replied to him, momentarily seizing a boldness – but rather a preference. She wanted to memorize his features – the way his eyes softened when he saw, the quiet passion that hovered in his handsome features.
“But something has changed and our season… has finished,” she stated, low and soft. Her voice nearly breaking its composure.
[13:19] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) wanted to cup her face, to press his lips to hers and let the world fall away. To hold her close, cheek to heart, until the ache inside him stilled. She looked radiant in yellow—like sunlight made flesh—and the sight of her stirred every corner of his soul. But he held back. He always held back.
She was no fool. Keen-eyed, sharp-minded—she could read the truth in the spaces between his words. And so he gave her the one thing he hadn’t dared to speak aloud.
“I fear so, my flower,” he whispered, the name trembling with affection and regret.
His voice cracked as he continued, the shame bleeding through. “I knew the man was smart. Razor sharp. I should have known. I should have seen it coming.”
He turned from her, as if the confession might sting less if he didn’t have to see her face. “I fear I must bring you to Ar,” he said, the words heavy with consequence.
He tried to mask the emotion, to wear the stoic mask of a palace man. But it was slipping. The tears burned behind his eyes, hot and merciless. He paused, breath catching.
“I lost the contract.”
And with that, the silence roared. The weight of failure, of betrayal, of love unspoken—hung between them like a blade suspended in air.
[13:32] Midori (suyuan.quan) had predicted with astounding accuracy of what she had suspected. She was no fool, having listened to the rumors abounding. A mission, a man in black… a gaijin. Nothing was silent within the confines of the Willow World. She was a minor attendant, a sub-par contract woman in regards to entertainment. Natsu had appreciated as she was… for who she was.
But now the halting of her supposed mizuage and the potential for him to be her contract holder now made sense.
Often when they were in close proximity, her body and sense sang. She ached for his touch beyond the nearness of his physical presence. Yearned to feel him hold her – she had even fantasized of a life beyond her silken cage. A castle, a garden she tended where she taught their daughters embroidery and song and he would teach their sons how to wield a sword and carry honor. And at night they would dine together; a family which she had lacked.
And now she must experience this grief, her heart a half-open window that allowed cold to enter. Snow was beautful visually, but its temperature was unbearable at times.
And now she must shiver alone.
Her lips pursed, her breath hitched and a subtle tear or two crested her cheeks. There were a thousand things she wished to say. “To whom, my Lord? If I may ask.” She wished to collapse against him, to hold him and console him despite her heartache, “How am I supposed to go on–” Her lips trembled and her nostrils flared, faltering as her voice quivered.
[13:44] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) could almost see it still—the life they had imagined. The garden blooming under their care, the quiet intimacy of morning tea shared in soft light. A future painted in delicate strokes, now shattered by a single act of deception. One man’s trickery had unraveled everything.
“Forgive me, my flower,” he murmured, the words trembling with sorrow. “I was not permitted even a single misstep… and yet I made one.”
His gaze darkened, haunted. “I believed him to be honorable. A man of codes, like myself. But he is not bound by law or loyalty. He speaks of order, yet sows chaos with the same breath.”
When she asked the name, he hesitated. The syllables felt like poison on his tongue.
“Silas,” he said at last. “But in truth… I believe he is the one the Emperor knows as Crow.”
The name hung in the air like a curse.
Breaking protocol, breaking decorum, Natsu reached for her hands. His fingers trembled as they closed around hers—an act of defiance, of longing, of need.
“I am to bring you to a man named Portus Stromberg,” he said, voice low. “I do not know him. I do not know what awaits.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm—a gesture so intimate it felt like a vow. His eyes shimmered, though no tears fell.
“I have thought of every path. Spoken to every counsel. But I cannot undo what has been done. And I cannot bring more disgrace upon the palace.”
The silence that followed was heavy with everything unsaid—love, regret, and the fragile hope that somehow, she might still choose to stand beside him.
[14:01] Midori (suyuan.quan) ceased her anguished statement, her breath halting in the air. The weather was not so cold as to witness oxygen like white smoke but it was cool. Withering blossoms of a nearby tree fluttered in the delicate breeze and a few strands of her impeccable, lacquered hair were loosened – a mimicry of what was crumbling between them that very moment.
Her tears were evident, but there were also subtle changes in her slender frame – the shaking of her lips, the heaviness of her straight, polished brows depressing over her brown eyes. In other situations she would have hastily wiped away the signs of weakness upon her cheeks. Her concealed fingers clenched into her palms, her breathing even. But her legs were buckling and she prayed to the gods that they wouldn’t falter beneath her. She breathes shallowly as he spoke reverently to her, his voice quavering her like body.
His speech of failure, his apologies only served as as buffer. She wanted to be angry with him, to chastise him for his mistake. For his foolishness.
Her eyes which she had averted, attempting to shield her own weakness then lifted again to regard his and whatever resentment she held for him softened in the waking of her gasp as he grasped her hands. They were small, smooth but clung to him like a sailor to a sinking ship or a life ring upon a vast ocean.
The name seemed familiar, a legend was attached to it she had heard distantly but could not find the details. They were inconsequential in this vacuum.
As he kissed her hands, her heart hammered against her ribs and she tightened her grip upon his palms – calloused from use of a katana.
Most unexpectedly, she would lean into him and further break protocol, proceeding to bury her tear-strained face into the crook of his neck, her body pressing into his. She could smell him and the oils that were used. She was dismantling before him and he was a rock, anchoring herself to him while the sound of a muffled sob resonated through his flesh.
[14:12] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry): had imagined himself breaking—shouting, raging, collapsing beneath the weight of his failure. But men like him were trained to wear grief like armor, to bleed inwardly and never let the world see. And so he stood, composed in form, shattered in spirit.
Her tears fell like quiet thunder, each one a wound he could not heal. He longed to kiss them away, to whisper that it was all a cruel jest, a dream from which they would soon awaken. But truth had no mercy. And this truth—his truth—was irreversible.
When she pressed herself against him, he wrapped his arms around her with a protectiveness that bordered on desperation. Her scent—soft, familiar, intoxicating—rose from her skin like a memory he refused to let fade. He inhaled deeply, as if to etch her into his very being. But he knew: she was already there.
“I will not stop, my flower,” he said, voice thick with conviction and sorrow. “I will not stop searching for a way to undo this wrong. Even if the path is hidden, even if it costs me everything.”
He pulled her closer, his heartbeat steady but heavy. “Until that day comes… I will guard your life with mine. And I will honor you—not just for what you are, but for what you mean to me.”
TRAVEL TO AR – ARRIVING IN AR
[12:12] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) noted the sigil and it glared back at him, etched in stone like a promise long buried. It was not just a mark—it was a memory, a reckoning. The others had stalled, cloaked their fear in silence and delay, but he had always been the one to carry the weight of duty, even when it threatened to crush him.
And now, as the air thickened with the scent of old oaths and the chill of what might come, his thoughts strayed—not to battle, but to her. His flower. The one whose laughter once softened the edges of his world. Would he falter if he saw her hand in another’s? Would the honor he clung to be enough to hold back the storm rising in his chest?
Perhaps the question was not whether he could endure it, but whether he should. What is duty without heart? What is strength if it cannot protect what matters most?
[12:14] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “i thought i heard voices…what brings you to my door”?….looks at both as they stood there
[12:18] Midori (suyuan.quan): The pair had traveled the long voyage, seizing months with almost the span of a year progressing. The journey was arduous and to bide her time, she delved into scrolls to study mainlander customs and language. But each attempt at learning something new, something to store into her memory, heartache eclipsed her.
She observed the manner of how her danna stared at the sigil and her own throat tightened as they journeyed through Ar and to the slaver’s home. The contract woman’s head hung heavy as she did not have a moment to admire her new surroundings – her new home.
And upon the doorstep they arrived at, stood a curious, blonde man with a black bird resting upon his shoulder. Midori held her tongue, waiting for Natsu to speak first.
[12:20] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) snapped his attention to the man that opened the door. “Greetings, Sir.” he offered while his shoulder bowed only a tad bit. It was still hard to give a man such as him the respect of a true bow. Even if the man had no knowledge as to what had happened. “I see this house bares the sigil of the Black Compass Trading Company. And its owner Silas Drake?” he asks.
For once he would take Midori’s hand in his – protective for as long as it lasted.
[12:24] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): looks at the pair and listens well, considering the words thoughtfully….”you are correct in one aspect…this is Black Compass Trading but I am the owner Portus Stromberg….Silas Drake is presumed dead…lost at see”
[12:28] Midori (suyuan.quan): Her danna’s immediate greeting towards the mainlander was followed with a subtle, deep bow as she bent stiffly at her waist, arms shifted to her sides. It was custom to afford new contract holders and men of higher position. She could feel the shock register across her delicate features with the announcement of Silas’ death.
And as Natsu gently seized her hand, the contact causing her heart rate to increase, a combined a sense of relief and dread filled her. Briefly, she glimpsed to Natsu – would she be free? To be with him? The clouds began to roll away – she would remain with the man she loved she hoped.
[12:29] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) narrowed his eyes as in focus as the words drfited to him. Wondering what they meant and how things might change all of it. Yet he knew that if the man he now faced owned the company – he was the one owning the contract.
For a moment his hand hand squeezed hers forceful. Perhaps even painfully. The seasoned samurai was still strong in his body even if his work was more political and in the palace. “Can we speak inside of this matter. It is delicate.” he asks. His voice was void of any emotion. As if his tears had already been spent – and the warmth had been taken from them.
“I am Kenryoku Natsuand this is my … ” he paused “This is Midori.”
[12:30] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) noted the collar girl and would step back as to have her pass. Assuming this was where she belonged.
[12:31] Alivia Kanya had been out getting fresh air and poking around. She had returned hooping to slip back in her absence unnoticed but nearly walked right into a gaggle of free instead. She lingered quietly near the pillars hoping she was going to be over looked with whatever pressing business this was.
[12:32] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): stepped aside as his Northern roots took over and invited the pair inside…crooking my finger to the slave attempting to hide…”come and serve girl”….beckons the others to follow
[12:34] Alivia Kanya dipped her head slipping out of the shadows ” Of course Master.” she followed the group inside taking to her knees lowering her gaze ” What can I get you Masters”
[12:39] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) ’s gaze swept the room like a blade through silk—sharp, deliberate, unyielding. The kneeling girl did not unsettle him; her posture was familiar, a reflection of a world where submission was currency and identity often bartered. He did not flinch. He did not pity. He simply accepted.
The Northern man led him deeper into the chamber, where wealth whispered from every polished surface and the scent of flowers—soft, mocking—hung in the air like a cruel jest. Flowers. Of all things.
Natsu’s voice broke the silence, low and edged with restrained fire. “I have to ask, Sir. Did Silas speak of an agreement concerning a contract woman called Midori?”
[12:41] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “i will take a warm spiced mead girl”…..indicates the man should sit….”you sir will you take some refreshment?”
[12:41] Midori (suyuan.quan): The hope in her eyes was brief – she was being too obvious in her eagerness to return to where she once was, to continue the life with him.
She had assumed it was this elusive Silas that was the owner of the contract, that the mainlander before them was simply to transfer her. Instinctively that is what she desired, what she hoped for.
But it was never that simple.
The grip upon her hand tightened, from loving to cruel in that moment and her breath ceased, followed by a gasp and her gaze averted once more, battling the tears and whimper that threatened as she was introduced but not permitted to speak as of yet. The pair would follow inside with the collar-girl in tow. Another time, she would have relished the girl’s company and beauty but today she was solemn, her inner turmoil almost written on her face.
[12:43] Alivia Kanya gave a nod as she lifted to her feet ” Warm spiced mead, Master. Of course. ” She lingered a bit to see if the others required anything before heading out to the kitchen to prepare the drink.
[12:43] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) did not dare to turn down the offer. In hope on a good conversation and as to see the possibilites. “I wish some spiced water.” he bowed now in gratitude.
[12:43] Alivia Kanya: ” of course Master, warm spiced water”
[12:46] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “now sir i have not fully gone through the papers he left behind so maybe you should explain and i can check my records”
[12:49] Midori (suyuan.quan) both passed the threshold into the grand, she only briefly lifting her head to study the foreign architecture. The contract woman remained silent, head and eyes averted once more while both he and Portus began to converse. Meanwhile, her heart was pounding like a drum against her breast as each moment ticked by.
[12:50] Alivia Kanya slipped from the kitchen with the horns held carefully in her hands, golden hair veiling her lowered gaze as she carefully moved to her knees before the guest, lifting the steaming cup of spiced water with one hand and offering it humbly. ” Master, spiced water I hope you find it refreshing”
[12:51] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) released Midori’s hand with the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. The warmth of her fingers lingered like a ghost against his palm as he moved past her, each step deliberate, each breath a silent negotiation with fate. He lowered himself into the chair beside the Northern man, posture composed, but the storm behind his eyes betrayed him.
Was this man a gatekeeper or a pawn? Did he truly not know the value of what he held—or was ignorance merely a mask worn to measure Natsu’s resolve? The room, rich with quiet opulence, offered no answers. Only the mocking scent of flowers, blooming in cruel contrast to the tension that coiled in his chest.
“Well, if it is not an urgent matter,” he said, voice calm, almost casual, “we can stay at the Inn or return home.”
As the girl offered his water he would take it from her. His eyes only briefly to hers. “thank you, collar girl.”
[12:56] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): raises my eyebrows at the apparent back tracking of the man….”I think you are best telling me what you came to tell me….it seems you have travelled from afar to find this place….I would hate to be misled over any piece of business….you must talk to me as if you were speaking with Silas”
[12:57] Alivia Kanya offered a slight nod and smile ” my pleasure Master” she lifted slowly to her feet again to make her way around the room and kneel once more offering the second horn this one with mead to Portus. Her head low and arms high “Master, spiced mead, warmed. I hope you find it to your liking.”
[13:02] Midori (suyuan.quan)’s hand was released and her hitching of her breath then ceased, her heart still playing a rapid rhythm against her ribcage. It was like a taiko drum, circulating and the flowing sticks rapid. That brief moment of harsh intimacy, the valley between pleasure and pain astounded her… and she yearned for it again. But now there was stillness as Natsu casually conducted his business, unyielding but calm in his demeanor as most Pani were were
She remained standing at his side, dutifully silent with a neutral expression. As if she wasn’t being discussed like possible chattel.
There was only the slight flickering of her facial expressions which were subdued, shielding the multitude of questions she wished to pose. It was not her place – instead she would continue to regard the trio silently, despairingly with glimpses of hope – that theu could return home and once more be within her danna’s arms.
[13:03] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) ’s jaw clenched, his skin taut with restrained fury. The name Silas was venom on his tongue, and though the room remained still, the air around Natsu seemed to hum with the threat of violence barely contained. He had no intention of parley. No desire for diplomacy. If steel could speak, it would have already sung.
The thought of Silas—his smirk, his signature, his claim—was enough to stir something primal. Not lust. Not desire. But a twisted surge of power, born from hatred so deep it blurred the lines between vengeance and need.
Natsu’s gaze flicked to Midori, soft for a heartbeat, then hardened as it returned to Portus. His voice, when it came, was the sound of a blade being drawn.
“He won a contract… a contract of this lady. Midori.” The words were not a question. They were a verdict. “If you have that contract, then she is yours. If you do not, she goes home with me—and we pretend never to have met.”
[13:10] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): pauses for a moment to take the proffered horn from the girl on her knees….taking time to caress her bare breast and then starts sipping his drink…..”relax and enjoy the hospitality we offer and i will then check my records…if Silas made a contract then I will feel obligated to see it through”
[13:14] Alivia Kanya felt the instant flush this his unexpected caress left in its path. She offered a smile but would dip her head back down as she moved her hands behind her back assuming her Masters preferred position. She would remain silent but listened as the conversation seemed to be filled with intrigue and might take an entertaining turn. Information was the most valuable thing a slave held and she had no idea if any of this was worth a thing outside those doors but she would pay attention just in case.
[13:17] Midori (suyuan.quan) noticed the subtle change in Natsu’s demeanor – his facial expression and the silence of violent reaction towards this Silas – this Crow’s name. She had not been told of what he was fully. Only brief snippets. That he was a trickster, a man without Pani sense of honor. A stranger who would control her destiny.
Natsu’s gaze met with hers and her painted brows raised towards her hairline – a glimpse of encouragement from her but also an imperceptible nod – one of encouragement with her eyes hinting at the profoundity of her feelings for him. She had never seen him be so… emotional beyond closed quarters. But like any Pani he was stilling himself. Yet his words reminded her of the current reality.
A brief glance was offered to Portus as she studied him and his demeanor, how relaxed he was in the midst of the situation. She found his behavior curious, certainly he would not call honor being questioned? She lingered closer to Natsu, tentatively raising her hand from beneath her billowy sleeve to allow it to rest upon his shoulder and squeeze reflexively.
[13:18] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) ’s hand hovered near the hilt, not in threat but in readiness—a gesture born of a life where honor and steel were often the same thing. His gaze, once shielded, now burned through the room with the fury of a man who had tasted betrayal and found it bitter beyond words.
The sight of the man indulging in flesh while Midori stood nearby—trained, refined, and far more than a beast of pleasure—was a mockery. Midori, who had mastered the arts not to be consumed but to be revered, deserved more than this careless display.
His voice cut through the air like a drawn blade. “You feel obligated?” It was not a question. It was an accusation. A condemnation. “Relax?” he echoed, the word tasting of ash. “I bring you the end of my life, and you speak of ease?”
He rose, slow and deliberate, like a storm gathering form. “You do not have to feel obligated,” he said, each syllable laced with ice. “I can release you from your burden very easily.”
[13:24] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): senses the tension that exists in the man and remains in his seat….”calm yourself….you seem to pride yourself on honour and i get the feeling that this may be a painful subject for you….do not dishonour me in my own home by threatening bloodshed”
[13:29] Alivia Kanya tensed chewing her lip as the air got thick, she looked up briefly too gage the demeanor of the man she was next to and remained calm as he did not seem to flinch as the other stood. She did keep her awareness up though so that she would move faster than she might find a flying blade swing her way.
[13:37] Midori (suyuan.quan)’s brows flickered with concern over the mounting tensions of the room and the bruised hand that was perched upon her danna’s shoulder was soft at first. Her finger tips splayed then, digits firmly pressing into his kimono while the sleeve of her own brushed against his chest – fragrance of hinoki and cedar oil lingered.
She knew Natsu to be a passionate and intense man like most Pani people were but his calmness was faltering beneath the flicker of confusion and frustration. And while the mainlander was casual in his response, if not eerily so, she realized she would have to break tradition in that moment even if the words were like offal upon her tongue.
“Natsu-sama,” she pleaded with her heavily accented voice, speaking regular Gorean with some difficulty. She did not wish for the man she adored, who would fight to death for her honor to be arrested or worse. She cooed to him like a nightingale, her voice melodic despite her suffering, “Please… Ken-chan,” she spoke to him of the affectionate term, “Allow him to explain,” she muttered the next in Pani, “I do not wish for you to get arrested or come to harm.”
[13:38] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) rose with the quiet finality of a man who had already made peace with the storm inside him. His words were not a threat—they were a reckoning. “The threat is not of bloodshed,” he said, voice low and carved from stone, “it is of taking Midori with me, as the contract seems a burden to you.”
Natsu did not deal in warnings. When death was warranted, it came swift, silent, and without ceremony. But Silas had chosen a different weapon—one far crueler. He had stolen not a life, but a soul. Not with steel, but with ink and paper. And now, Midori stood at the edge of that theft, her presence both balm and blade.
He looked to Portus, wondering if he was merely prey in a game already lost. A mouse, trembling beneath the paw of a cat who toyed with him for sport. And Midori—placed like a trophy, a symbol of conquest—was the cruelest part of it all.
His gaze turned to her, searching. Not for answers, but for something far more fragile. Forgiveness. Understanding. A trace of the bond that once tethered them in warmth.
“Perhaps this was a mistake,” he said, the words falling like ash. “Perhaps I should not have taken you here myself.”
It was not weakness. It was truth. And in that truth, Natsu revealed the wound beneath the armor—the man behind the samurai. “I must leave you here.” he admitted to her finally.
[13:43] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): Stands to meet the man on his level….”i mean no offence I merely wish to understand…I see that you and this woman seem attached yet as i understand it Silas contracted her and in his demise she now passes to me”…looks him directly in the eye….”that is the matter is it not”?
[13:44] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) nods once “Hai.”
[13:45] Portus Stromberg (brett.pennent): “then you have fulfilled your duty and honoured the contract….leave the girl here and go your way…I will allow you a brief moment to say your farewells”
[13:46] Alivia Kanya slipped back over the tiles glancing to charo offering her a weak smile still not sure how things would turn out.
[13:49] ρąŋɖą (esma.heartsong) watches her Master work her head down eyes on the ground for the most part back and forth listening to the men
[13:56] Midori (suyuan.quan) had hoped, prayed to the gods, the Priest-Kings, Amaterasu… but the deities were silent, only intervening when they wished to in human matters. The finality of the moment weighed upon her then as her hand stayed at his shoulder. The thrumming of her heart resonating in her ears as the final declarations of what was to be done with her were announced.
And now her world of leaves and dreams, the willow world which they both flourished in was shattered.
Another collar-girl approached, bidding them a greeting but Midori was distracted with the ache that was blooming in her chest and the dread that developed in the pit of her stomach.
She may as well have asked for permission to end her own life, but Natsu wouldn’t grant that.
And her hope was replaced by a paralyzing fear as she realized the mainlander was a slaver and her fate was undetermined in that moment.
Midori did not have to plead with words, her eyes and demeanor stated it all and as Natsu slowly rose, she would purposely inhale his scent, collecting it for memory and to savor her tears upon her pillow.
The announcement was a thunderclap and her future was bleak.
But she remained in her delicate, straightened posture, nostrils flaring as she attempted to bear this weight – the weight of Natsu’s absence was a katana that would begin slicing through her throat.
As he stood before her, she extended her soft hands and reached for his callused ones, never breaking eye contact. Her expression was of love, of disappointment, of despair and admiration.
“Shikata ga nai (it can’t be helped),” she stated a usual saying. Acceptance of adversity, even as she was crumbling inside and she leaned in on the edge of her slippers, speaking reverently towards the swordsman
“Watashi wa ai towa nanika o shitteiru node areba, sore wa anata no okage desu (If I know what love is, it is because of you).”
[13:58] Natsu 夏 (vulcantry) eyes, still locked on Midori, held the weight of a thousand battles, none so devastating as the one he now lost without a blade drawn.
She was his flower. Not in possession, but in truth. The only woman who had ever reached past the armor, past the duty, past the silence. Her smile had once softened the edges of his world, and now, in this cruel moment, it was the only thing keeping him from shattering.
He took her hands again, an act so intimate, so rare for a Pani man, it was as if he had laid his soul bare. The touch ignited memory: nights wrapped in quiet laughter, whispered promises, the warmth of her breath against his skin. His throat tightened, words clawing for release.
“I do not know what the meaning of this is, my flower,” he said, voice frayed with emotion. “But if there is a way I can undo it… I will find it. I will come back to undo what wrong this man has done.”
He kissed each finger, reverently, as if sealing sacred vows into her very skin. Then he turned—swift, final, unable to linger. For in that moment, his fury was no longer a flame. It was a tempest. And Natsu, the man of honor, had become something far more dangerous: a man with nothing left to lose.
Crows Murder 
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