#座卓

[hi-technique]

[takumi-of-kude]

一番楽しい時間の始まり♬ 今日はここまで。 直接お会いした事は多分ないけれど、きっと不思議なご縁で繋がっている方のお通夜へ行ってきます🙏 #帰天 #通夜式 #組み立て #この過程がたまらん #どこでも組手障子 #県知事賞 #受賞 #たてぐ祭 #NHK #ローカル #ニュース #法友 #インタビュー #放送 #それを見た #お母さん #とっても #喜ぶ #座卓 #大切に #使わせていただきます 🙏 (組手幸房「階」 Kude Happy Factory ～Kizahashi～) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpcK69OPk3Y/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[evi-trpg]

《卓報告》

▼十二星座殺人事件

▎作

にほへと

▎KP / SKP

yomu / y_

▎

PL(HO順)

ame

evi

やき

じゃこち

殿

はづきめんだこ

WANWAN

絵葉書

イノセ

Samechi

23

あんよ

(敬称略)

END 両生還_

[utsuroyihon]

(Xユーザーのdelaさん: 「🔷2月18日(日)17:00 「お風呂cafe湯守座」卓球大会🏓のお知らせ 🏓対戦相手／松島七葉(卓球部) 参加料／1回1,000円(原則ループNG) ルール／3ポイント先取、サーブ権は交互 勝利者賞／delaブロマイド1枚 ※ダブルチャンスアタック有 https://t.co/Y06iWDdTQu」 / Xから)

[hiromusicarts-blog]

「スピリットフォリオを操るエリオット（９５年頃）」

今は、マッキーを使っていますが、先代の卓はスピリットフォリオでした。

繊細で、レスポンスも良く、決まると本当にじわっと嬉しくなるようなタクでした。やや力強さに欠くものの領域でどこも損なうことなく音を拾い上げるので、ミキシングが楽しいと思えた名機です。エリオットくんが座っているところが当時の指定席。

（下の写真は、別タイプのやつです）

[leomacgivena]

「円卓で会食。上座がどこかわかっていますか？」ってウェブ広告流れてきたけど、アーサー王の時代から、上座も下座もないように円卓にしてるのにのに、マナー講師の手にかかればこの有様かよって思った

いりじうむ192さんのツイート (via asagaonosakukisetu)

[kennak]

私の両親は、いわゆる、「人権派」、活動家だった。 もっと正確に言うと、人権派と陰謀論者の中間、あるいは地域の名物おじさんみたいなものだった。 父は予備校塾の講師、母はデザイナーだった。 この家に育って何が起きたか。 物理的な虐待とか、経済的困窮とかそういうことは、当然ない。 それは認めるし、親としては感謝している。 だが、私はこの家に育って、世間とまったく感性が通じないというか、後天的なコミュ障のような人間になった。 少し前に、発達障害者の人たちが「健常者エミュレーター」という概念を紹介していたが、それを見た時、私は膝を打った。 また、統一協会やエホバの証人の二世問題について知った時、私はこれに近いんじゃないかと思った。 自分が世間から見て「おかしい」ことはわかっている。だが、私に植え付けられた何かが、「いや世間なんて」と茶々を入れ続ける。 私の両親は、あらゆる凶悪事件がまるで発生していないか、あるいはまるで被疑者が英雄みたいに私に話すのだった。 大きな例を挙げると、神戸の連続殺傷事件（酒鬼薔薇）について、両親は冤罪説、つまり少年Aは犯人ではないということをしきりに唱えてい��、まだ小さかった私にも、「これは嘘なんだよ」「警察はしっかり調べていないんだよ」と吹き込んだ。 池田小の事件も、父親は死刑廃止について盛んに唱えていた。 私の父は予備校の会報か講師たちの同人誌か、そういう冊子に、そのことをずっと書いていた。そしてそれを小学生の私に読ませた。 食卓で悲惨なニュースを見ながら、「〇〇ちゃんは、人の心について考えられる人間になってね」と、両親は笑顔で私に話しかけるのだった。だが、「人の心について考えられる」というのは、イコール、死刑廃止活動やあらゆる有名な事件にまとわりつく陰謀論に近い冤罪説を信じろ、ということだった。 母は、左翼の地方議員の勝手連みたいなことをやっていて、時々家が集会場所となった。学校から帰ると、おばあさんとかおばさんが五人くらい集まっていて、きついコロンの香りを漂わせていた。 別に悪い人たちではない。本当なら、私よりもずっと世間に貢献している人なのだろう。お菓子やお土産とかもいっぱいもらった。だが、結局のところ、ある宗教の座談会の人権版が家で行われているのと変わらない。そしてこの集まりから何か発展的なことが生まれたようにも見えない。 こういう家に育って、私は中学生のころまで、いわゆる純粋培養で育った。親の言うことが全てという世界で。 極端に聞こえるかもしれないが、世間のあらゆる犯罪は、冤罪であるか、犯人の非ではない何かの理由があって発生した者であり、警察と政府は悪。端的にそう言う世界だった。 ネット上には、死刑廃止運動に絡めて、ある左翼の議員が、「殺されてしまった人よりは、生きている犯人の人権の方が大切なのだから」と発言した、という情報がある。実際はその議員はそんな発言をしていないらしいのだが。 しかし私の両親は実際、そういう価値観だったとしか思えない。 私が初めて、ちょっとした疑問を覚えたのは、小学校高学年の時だった。 それまで放課後開けていた小学校の校門や校庭を、これからは明確に管理しようという話が、小学校で出たらしい。 しかし、私の両親、特に母親が待ったをかけた。というより、その現場に居合わせた。 母親はその情報を知るや否や、私もつれて、なんと校長に面談を申し入れた。 私は校長室の革椅子に座って、横で母親が延々と「開かれた学校という理念はどうしているのか」「治安というのはつまり何を基準に申しているのか」と校長にまくし立てていたのを覚えている。 なぜ私がそこに連れていかれる必要があったのか、そして半分笑顔でねちねちと喋り続ける母の姿は、子供ながらに、��安だった。その時はそういう言葉を知らなかったが、今考えると、敬語を使うだけのモンスターペアレントではないか、と思う。 そして自分が世間と徐々に乖離していると気づいたのは、中学校に上がってからだった。 両親。家の食卓で両親がわざわざ解説してくれるニュース。両親が取ってる新聞。送られてくる雑誌。友達。漫画。それだけが全てだった私に、携帯電話が買い与えられた。 そして私は、「世間」がどういう理念で動いているかを知った。 両親は万能ではなかったし、全てではなかった。むしろ、ピエロの様な、少数者だった。 だが私はそれを知っても、どう処理すればよいかわからなかった。 「いい？憲法にはこう書いてある」と両親は時々言っていた。多分、世間一般の人々より、両親は「知的階級」だ。良いことを言っている。正しいことをしている。多分。恐らく。 だが、世間はそう動いていない。そう育てられた私に対しても。 大学生となり家を出て、私は飲み会に行った。 そこで、当時話題になっていた、ある凶悪犯罪を揶揄するネタを余興としてやる男性がいた。 私は、今考えると、自分でもわからないのだが、「そういうのはやめた方が良いよ。まだ犯人だって決まったわけじゃない」と真顔で伝えた。 場はしらけ、そして私は飲み会に呼ばれなくなった。 ＳＮＳなら、これはリベラル的な武勇伝となるのだろう。だが私は、はっきり言って、普通に、なりたかった。 人権は、そしてそれを擁護する存在は重要だろう。犯罪だとか治安だとかに対して、「疑う」ことは重要だろう。だが、それは、宗教と同じく、大人になってから自分で学ぶべきことだったのではないか。

「人権派」の家に育って

[taizooo]

その翌日、中華料理屋で和室に通された。座卓が4つで、老人たちがものすごい大声で剣道の話をしている。コンマ0.02秒までの感覚の世界、そこにパーンと飛び込んでいく、コンマ0.05秒からは論理の世界、それは量子力学でも説明されている！みたいな脈絡のない話を、信じられない大声で展開している。

■ - hitode909の日記

[your-lovely-rose]

“They’re cute” Part 2/2 (Nakime || Request by @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme)

Rating: Explicit

General genre and genre for this part: Romance || Dark fic

Word count and reading time: ±15.8k (1h)

Pairing: (Biwa Demon) Nakime x Human!Reader

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba

⚠ Warnings for this part of the request: Minor death, Dead bodies, Desecration of a human corpse, Larvae and flies, Blood, Falling into madness, Jealousy and possessive behavior, Mental problems, Presented the character's past (from "Kimetsu no Yaiba Official Fanbook: Kisatsutai Kenbunroku 2"), Forbidden Love/Mutual Pining, || NOT EDITED

Autor’s Note: Okay, so before you read this, listen to me, my reader. The reason why this Request is divided into two parts is that with Nakime I immediately filled the limit of 1k text panels. And also the previous part with Daki and Mukago was light, but here it will be very heavy and dark - I don't even know how it happened because it was supposed to be another fluff. All of them were supposed to be fluffy and light, and each of them with a maximum length of 3k words, of which Daki would be the longest (I expected 9k from the start)! I really have no idea what happened here... I swear! All of a sudden, I felt like it was boring, and I panicked a little bit, and then it got wild. After that I felt like it was boring again, and I kind of forgot the exact request that was... And this was created. I hope the characters aren't too OOC here. I will humbly accept any harsh criticism for this.

➵ “They’re cute” Part 1/2 (Daki & Mukago)

> Nakime Masterlist

➻ Little dictionary:

Zataku (座卓) - is the generic term for this kind of low table.

Hadajuban (肌襦袢, はだじゅばん) - are a type of kimono undergarment traditionally worn underneath the nagajuban. Hadajuban are even further removed from resembling a kimono in construction than the nagajuban; the hadajuban comes in two pieces (a wrap-front top and a skirt), features no collar, and either has tube sleeves or is sleeveless.

Kimono (着物, きもの, lit. "thing to wear") - is a traditional Japanese garment. The kimono is a wrapped-front garment with square sleeves and a rectangular body, and is worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased.

Jitō (地頭) - were medieval territory stewards in Japan. Appointed by the shōgun, jitō managed manors, including national holdings governed by the kokushi or provincial governor.

Okyia (置き屋) - residence maiko or geisha and may be inhabited by several of them. The first step of a woman, who wants to become a geisha is to accept in the okiya. The owner of the geisha house, okāsan (Japanese: "mother"), pays for the upkeep and training of their wards. In return, they give part of their earnings to support the house and other non-geisha residents. Okiya isn't a geisha workplace, they work in teahouses called ochaya.

Geisha (芸者) - in Japan, a woman with artistic skills, entertaining guests with conversation, dancing, singing and playing traditional instruments (e.g. shamisen, koto or shakuhachi). She can also conduct a tea ceremony (chadō) and she's as well-read as oiran. They dressed very modestly, but with taste and boasted sugao, i.e. face without makeup. In the opinion of the Japanese, they were considered the ideal of bijin ("beautiful woman"). Before a woman becomes a geisha, she must pass a six-year maiko period. If a geisha has a permanent partner, she must move out of okiya and okāsan can adopt a geisha. She then gains the privilege of a permanent resident of the house. Her debts to okiya are cancelled, but at the same time all of her income goes to upkeep of the house.

Knock, knock, knock.

A loud knocking sounded in Nakime's head. She knew everything that was going on at Infinity Castle.

She could hear the whistling of air as Kokushibo swings his sword when he practiced, the cries of Douma's victims from his Eternal Paradise as he fed and and where its dangerous snares also reached or the hundreds of footsteps of stray, weak demons wandering through her dimension.

It was her domain, her territory, her kingdom. Her world. She was in charge here, and nothing could surprise her.

And yet she didn't expect it.

She knew it was wrong and also that he knew it too. After all, she had His blood in her and could not hide anything from Him.

If he noticed something, he didn't pay attention to it. He was too busy with his tubes and the reactions going on in the glass vessels. For several hours he worked relentlessly mixing his blood with various substances and despite many failures he still managed to remain calm.

'Still' is the keyword here.

Because even he, after millennia of unsuccessful attempts, could finally lose his patience.

Before the knocking could irritate him, she tugged the strings of biwa and moved to another place, the old washitsu room, where her domain merged with the outside world.

So where?

Here, where the smell of blood and stale liquor still hovered. Here, where everything is familiar, though strangely different from what she has created herself with her art and sound.

And where she didn't like to be. This place confused her - filled her with many emotions that she thought she had buried deep and long time ago in her forgotten past, when she was still human.

Sitting straight on tatami mats, she looked around the traditional Japanese room as if it was her first time. There was not much in it: only a low table, at which still stood a clay glass for sake, and a pitcher lying next to it, the contents of which had spilled on the floor long ago.

The zabuton pillow, which she used to use while sitting and practicing on her beloved instrument, began to rot from spilled rice wine and large blood stains staining the floor around her.

The mats were completely ruined by it and had to be replaced, but this was no longer her problem. It belonged to her old life. Just like this house and the emotions it aroused in her.

Anger, grief and sadness all combine into one, giving her both headache and a tightening of abdomen. The smells irritated her nostrils and burning her esophagus.

She wanted to raze this house to the ground to cut herself off from her pathetic, weak, human self once and for all.

It was not her place now.

That woman was dead. She died in an alley by getting carried away in a sea of endorphins, blinded by pride and overestimated her abilities.

Did she really think she could hurt Him? Stupid, pathetic thinking of a weak human.

She lifted up her slender hand holding the wooden batchi pick tighter, ready to give a full show of her power until another knock pulled her out of trance again.

A quick "knock, knock, knock" sounded in the room this time, and it wasn't so loud when it was not only thundering in her head and had to overcome the distance to her in the air. Through the thin shōji door, she could see the shadow of the figure standing behind them in the rays of the rising sun.

She was about to pull the strings again to snagged the person standing at her door, but she heard how familiar voice called her by a name she no longer recognised, adding the honorary title '-sama'.

This voice... evoked a pleasant feeling in her chest, and before the eye of her mind appeared the image of a human. She could not remember the face, because it was shrouded in a thick mist of forgotten like so many elements of her past, but she knew where she remembered this person from.

This human used to come to her shows. Before she was transformed by Him, she made a living entertaining people with her music.

Although many people (traders, craftsmen) came to relax with the sounds of her instrument, she could not afford much at home. Most of her paycheck was taken by her husband...

He was a gambling addict.

And he lost. Time after time. One loss after another. Until finally he finally went too far, took something precious from her and lost it. That was the last straw.

A black-haired woman grabbed her head trying to interrupt the flow of memories. She plunged her sharp, blue nails into her long hair and unconsciously began pulling on them to distract her from them. Wanting to turn the bitter pain of past wrongs into physical.

She couldn't stand it and... What did she do?

Ah, yes.

She killed him.

Now she remembers it exactly. She used a hammer and smashed his head for losing her only kimono in which she could perform, and then she went on stage as usual.

In her head were the voices of people who began to mock her, and their howl hurt her ears. She felt their malicious, unfavorable gazes judging her poor, useless, holey clothes.

The only other kimono she found in the closet that could replace her previous one.

Although she was frightened and humiliated, she tried not to show it and humbly looked down to somehow escape, to separate herself from them, when her legs were heavy as lead, her feet were planted in the ground.

Then her eyes met the only friendly look. Its owner sat the closest to the wooden stage and did not show her the pity, that you feel for a pathetic dying animal. It would only humiliate her even more. He really felt sorry for her. Those eyes were so sweet and gentle. Looking at them from behind her dark bangs, she began to play.

The slender fingers, on which, despite the long friction and washing, she still felt warm blood, moved themselves along the long neck of the instrument, pressing the appropriate chords and getting out of it as much as she could.

The other hand was not left behind, pulling the strings and creating together an unusual composition, although inside her body she was trembling.

She was afraid they would know. That they might already figure out what she did. The tension in her rose and could be felt in her music. Her hands were shaking and sweat was all over her body, but she never stopped playing.

The sounds were as clear as a calm surface of water in a lake and spread throughout the room hypnotizing everyone.

Despite the loud tones of her biwe, she could hear the audience holding their breath at more tense moments or whispering quietly to each other, covering their mouths with their hands or paper fans.

She had nothing left - no kimono, no means of subsistence, no talent...

When she finished playing the first tune, she felt mentally exhausted. She waited for the first signs of discontent among the crowd, but they remained silent. Uncertainly, she looked up from the floor and saw everyone staring at her like enchanted.

A moment later, someone from the end of the room called for an encore, and the rest of the gathered people follow up him, and then everyone chanted for more and more.

Before anyone had time to notice, the night passed them all like a dream. It was... Her best performance so far.

Tired, but drunk with many applause and praise, panting heavily, she returned to her house. Where the smell of alcohol and blood still hovered.

Her hands were all numb and aching from squeezing strings, when the customers was still called for more. Even the owner asked her after the show if she would come the next night and paid her handsomely for her work. She's never made this much money for one show before.

She was planning on buying herself a new, better kimono tomorrow. Maybe even two.

However, when she got home, all her good mood with blush disappear, when she remembered her problems. Actually, the one that was still lying there like she left him all night.

She had no idea how to dispose of the body. Where would she possibly hide them? How long would it take to find them?

Without more thought, she undressed her last kimono and dragged the inert corpse to the other room, which had previously been her bedroom. There she covered them with a sheet and left them.

She was aware of the stench they were about to emit and what might happen to her in return, but she didn't think about it then.

She resisted them and tried to live as before. With an old rag she tried to wipe away the already dried dark stains of blood with tatami, but no matter how much and how hard she rubbed, they remained.

After bathing in the bowl - wiping herself with a damp piece of fabric, she pulled out another futon and lay down in the living room so she not to have to lie next to the corpse and as soon as her head touched the pillow she fell asleep. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon.

She had no dreams that night.

Still hoping for a better day, she got up late in the afternoon and, as she had planned, went out to buy a new outfit.

However, already on the threshold of the house she saw a parcel left at her door. The paper, in which the package was wrapped, rustled when she took it in her hands and after tearing a hole in it she saw inside a beautiful dark material.

It was kimono with silver thread embroidered patterns and multicolored flowers. Among them, she recognized red tsubaki, light pink sakura, purple sakurasou and white ume.

It was beautiful and certainly expensive. She thought it might have cost even more than her paycheck yesterday.

Who could have given it to her?

She'd been offered a patron or danna-san, but she wasn't a geisha. She never went to special schools and was never a maiko. And she's already married, which is unacceptable to a geisha.

Nor was she weak or pathetic enough to accept alms. She could take care of herself and earn money.

But unfortunately, when she returned to the venue in the evening full of energy, her performances were not as unusual as before...

Even though the place was full of people, even though she was wearing a new kimono - a simple, dark brown kimono that she bought the same day from an older woman who ran her own store - and she was calmer than last time, she didn't do so well.

No matter how hard she tried and how much her fingers hurt from the strings after all, she couldn't repeat the success of the night before.

When she finished the first song she looked at the crowd and saw people whispering to each other with disgruntled faces, and the owner looked at her with doubt. Among those closest to her, she even saw a few looking at her with worry written on their faces.

Hoping to improve the situation, she tried again and again, but it was... mediocre. And that was until she started getting nervous and making amateur mistakes.

Anxiety and cold sweat overwhelmed her more and more as she confused the chords or made unclean sounds by improperly pressing the strings. She didn't know what was going on.

Feeling like she was fooling herself, she finished her show earlier than the night before and left. Or rather, she ran away.

She had to get out, she just had to get as far away from them as she could. She felt small under the weight of their eyes and that she was suffocating from the tension.

On the way home, she heard someone calling her. She pretended not to hear the voice, but the pushy person stopped suddenly in front of her, consciously or not, blocking her way back home.

She recognized the person as a client from the place closest to the stage. This was the same customer, who was the only one who looked at her with compassion during her performance last night and today looked worried about her condition.

"May I have a moment?" You asked kindly, bowing and introducing yourself. You was still breathing heavily from running after her.

She think that you have to even fall in the mud, which could be indicated by your dirty clothes on the right side and your wet sleeve.

She didn't want to talk to stranger, but out of courtesy she decided to see what do you wanted from her.

"I saw your performance, and I'd like to ask... Is everything all right?"

"In what sense?"

"During the first performance, you came in a ruined clothes, and today..." You stopped, not knowing how to define today's fiasco.

"Everything is fine, please do not make any more insinuations."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to offend you," you said, trying to defend and not upset the woman even more. It wasn't your intention at all.

"So leave me alone now."

Nakime walked around you and was about to left you behind her back, but you showed up right next to her.

"Could I at least walk you home? It's dangerous to walk alone at night," you said, fall into step with her.

She only answered you with a short, sharp "no" and sped up her step even more. You did the same thing, getting on her nerves.

"Then may I at least ask why you did not wear that kimono?"

"Excuse me?" She asked, but she didn't slow down. She frowned in anger. "So it was you. I do not need anyone's pity or charity."

She said through clenched teeth and her fists until her fingernails left crescent moon prints inside her hand.

"Oh, no! No, that was never my intention! I would never dare!" You defended yourself by raising your hands to your chest as a gesture of submission.

"I do not need this. I can take care of myself."

"I just wanted to help..."

"It is not necessary."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was worried to see you like that. You've never performed like this before..."

Sweating from nerves and feeling the anger of a dark-haired woman, you slowed down until you finally came to a complete stop. She didn't do the same and didn't even notice your confusion. Your last words were echoing in her head.

Does that mean you've been coming to her shows for a long time? How much could you know about her?

After a moment of hesitation, you followed her a few steps after her. The night could be dangerous even for a single man, let alone a woman.

She heard rustling of your shoes on the ground, but she didn't stop to look at you again. She didn't want to pay attention to you, hoping you'd get bored soon.

In the end, you escorted her all the way home.

- - -

On the third night, when she again failed to reach the previous level with her performance, she started lost her mind again.

Everyone seemed to look at her with contempt or regret or as if they knew what she had done. In a hurry, she fled to her home, wanting to hide in the safe four walls as soon as possible, but even they did not give her comfort.

You walked her home quietly again. You haven't said a word to each other, and that's fine. Otherwise, she felt like she'd scratch your eyes out or pull your tongue.

She didn't understand what she had done wrong, why she couldn't play like she did then. Is there something wrong with her instrument? Or is it with her?

In desperation and to get rid of the excess of overwhelming emotions, she began throwing clay, decorative jugs and screaming. She did not know how much time she had spent demolishing the room, but when she finished, she was kneeling sweaty on the mats, breathless and on the verge of collapse.

She's been so busy she hasn't heard your quiet knock. She only noticed you after you asked her through the door if she was okay.

She told you to leave, and despite the silence, she wasn't sure if you'd listened to her.

- - -

The next day, she didn't go on stage. Nor the next one, or even the day after that.

She lay apathetic in the middle of the room among broken glass, her long hair looked like a big pool of black blood and listening to the sound of flies buzzing behind a thin wall. The body must have started to rot and give off that characteristic insipid sweet smell that had not yet reached her.

She didn't feel up to anything, even to eat or drink water. When she heard the silent knock, she thought it was just a dream.

Sleep was no longer her salvation and escape from reality. She felt threatened all the time during it and was even more tired after waking up, until she stopped sleeping. Time slipped her slowly as she saw changes in the light coming through the window under the very roof.

Soon after, she was no longer sure she was still trapped in her sleep. An endless nightmare she can't escape from.

Only after long hours, when finally the thirst began to overwhelm her, she get up to drink from the nearby well.

With a slight trembling on her limp and weak legs, she moved to the door and almost fell over the pitcher standing next to it. The vessel tipped over pouring water around. There was also a bowl with a clay lid on it.

Nakime barely sit on the ground. She got dizzy and feel foggy for a while, but she managed to come to her senses.

She lifted a warm lid, and the strong smell of spices and hot steam from her shoulder struck her face. Then she felt a pain in her stomach, reminding her that she hadn't had anything in her mouth for a long time.

The bowl had ordinary ramen in it. The black-haired woman swallowed the saliva that flowed into her mouth and lifted the overturned jug with some water left in it. Unlike food, it was pleasantly cool moisturizing her dry throat.

She was about to start crying while she was eating. Food has never tasted so good.

Feeling better, she went home leaving empty dishes on the doorstep. She knew who brought it, and she expected you to come back.

The food was warm, which would indicate you were here recently. Did you come earlier to check on her, too? Were there any more meals? How did it feel to see that she didn't touch the food you brought?

She went to sleep again when she was full. She felt tired, but this time her sleep was peaceful. When she woke up, she felt better, so she decided to do something (although she was still weak).

She carefully collected the glass from the tatami mat and ate the scraps of food she found at home. With the money from the show a few days ago, she bought a big bag of rice and some meat in addition to a kimono, so she still had something to eat.

She hasn't touched any more of the dishes you left her. She was grateful for the meal earlier, but when she didn't need it, she wasn't planning on taking any help from you.

But she didn't spend the day just cleaning room and herself up. All this time, she was thinking too.

Why?

Why aren't her performances so good anymore? Why can't he play like that a second time? How was that show different from the others?

And when someone knocked on the door again, she came to the most frightening conclusions.

- - -

Fuku Ogawa stood at the shōji door of one of the houses. He picked up the dishes earlier that day, before it started to get dark. He was a butcher by profession and a friend of yours privately, so after you asked him to deliver the food here, how could he refuse?

Exceptionally, you couldn't do it in person right now. Well, these things happen sometimes - you have plans, but something came up, something happened, and you have to get out of the routine once or twice.

Fuku knocked on the door again. He heard a murmur behind them and the sound of silent footsteps. For a moment he felt a cramp in the abdomen - the discomfort that occurs when something is wrong. A slight anxiety gently fills our mind and body like poison.

Before he could do anything, the door opened and he saw in it a young, beautiful, but also tired woman. She had long, black, damp hair and pale skin. He saw a slight bruise under her eyes pointing to heavy nights and a black kimono with floral embroidery on it - he recognized them because you bought them a few days ago.

She looks surprised. It was certainly not him she expected to see outside the door, but there was nothing he could do about it. He introduced himself briefly and drew a bowl of food and jug of water towards her.

"Who are you?" she asked, ignoring the dishes in front of her. Instead, she grabbed the kimono with one hand and covered herself tightly. The other hand hung loosely, completely tucked into the sleeve.

"A friend," he said again short, hoping to get out of here as soon as possible. There was a slight, insipid smell coming out of the house, which he did not like and this woman make his hair stand on end.

"Could you take this inside?"

She asked and took a step back to let him come in. He didn't want to do it, he was uncomfortable with that woman, but he also didn't want her to accuse him of being rude.

He carefully entered without taking off his shoes and looked around the dark room. He didn't like the fact that there were no candles burning here and the only light that brightened a few meters in came from the full moon behind him.

"Put the dishes on the table."

He heard next to him. In the dim light on the other side of the room, he saw the outline of a low table and moved towards it, still holding the dishes in front of him.

But with every step he smelled a stronger scent in the house and heard the quiet buzz of insects. He knew it from somewhere, but couldn't tell from where.

Tap, tap, tap - her bare feet made on mats until she stood behind him. He could almost feel her heavier breathing on his neck and the smell of the perfume oils she used for her bath.

He was about to turn around and ask whether to bring some candles for her, if she didn’t have any (he just really wanted to get away from here as soon as possible, he wouldn’t come back here again for all the world) when a heavy object fell on his head.

In contrast, all turned white in front of his eyes from pain and he fell with a bang on a wooden piece of furniture, almost breaking it. The wood crackled silently in protest under his weight. The impact was so strong that he passed out almost immediately, but he was still barely conscious.

Then there was another and another. All he knew was what he got before he lost feeling and awareness of what was happening to him. With the remnants of consciousness, he finally knew what was the odor he smelled at home.

It was the smell of rotting meat.

- - -

Nakime kept hitting the man's head with a hammer until she got tired and left a bloody pulp. The remains of the man's hair and gray brain clung to her murder weapon, hand and also splashed on the zataku underneath.

She was trembling. Her breathing became heavier. She did it. Again.

She looked at the biwa standing on the other side of the room, illuminated by the light coming through the folded door. The strings in the cold light looked like silver thread of a spider. They lured her and summoned with their mute voices.

Now she has to go.

She must be in a hurry.

- - -

At night, you couldn't force yourself to show up at any place to have fun and relax a little. You didn't feel like it, even though some of your friends asked you to come.

They wanted to celebrate with you another big order to some remote place in the mountains. The locals were practically cut off from everyone else, which was perfect for you. Every month you were to send them three wagons with basic food and items - vegetables, flour, rice, spices, pasta, meat, materials and much more. You didn't ask where they got the money, it wasn't your part. What mattered was that they paid.

You liked to talk with them about a lot of things and eat with good music, but... you didn't want to. Why? You had your suspicions, even though you weren't entirely sure.

You've been up all night lying in your futon and flipping from side to side. Your head was still playing the tune of the biwa from a few days ago.

You felt thirsty in the desert. Like a drug addict in rehab. Like a believer who's starting to miss the presence of his God.

But what could you do when your only cure was gone?

Hours went by and you couldn't sleep. You couldn't think either, because your thoughts were filled with one person and their music.

You could've tried to run away until those feelings died off. Stop showing up in pubs, but how could you escape your own thoughts?

How could you hide from the part of you that loves her?

Loves her?

Yes, you could admit you admired her, but loves?

Surprised, you sat on the mattress and ran your hand over your face. You felt stupid. How old were you to fall in love like a naive teenager?

And yet the pleasant warmth inside you and the butterflies in your belly spoke for themselves. Even your friends noticed that you were different after that woman's performance. They teasing you for it, and you couldn't hide your red face or look them in the eye when you denied it.

Everyone thought she was new in town, but that wasn't true. You've noticed her long time before, because you liked her music, even if it wasn't outstanding.

You liked how she kept calm on stage and was always very restrained and elegant. If it weren't for her modest kimono, you'd think she belonged to the aristocracy.

You suppose that's when the feeling began to sprout inside you like a cherry blossom.

But when she showed up that night - terrified, haggard and wearing an old, torn kimono - all you wanted to do was go up to her and comfort her. Take her away from those eyes that surround her.

But then your eyes met and she started playing. She tugged the strings and as if at the touch of a magic wand all the stress and anxiety went away from her.

Then everyone else ceased to exist for you. You thought you and her were the only one in the room... No, in the whole Empire of Japan, or even in the whole world. It's just you and her.

Time stopped, and you could feel your heart beating with hers heavily breathe. Nothing else existed at that time - just you and her, and her music.

When she was done, the spell burst like a soap bubble. Suddenly other people appeared around you again and time went on its normal course.

Yes, it was then that the seed sown in your heart fully blossomed during that one song and gave birth to ripe fruit.

You listened to the rest of her performance breathless and with red cheeks, like she was playing just for you.

It was stupid to think so - she probably had no idea you existed, but there was nothing you could do about it. Everyone likes to dream and think they are special to someone.

So why should you be the exception? Besides, no one will know, it's just your thoughts anyway. Your own private place where you can hide when reality is too hard.

You opened the wooden shutters on a dark night. The moon was hidden far behind the clouds, and you couldn't even see the stars from here. In the background you could hear the quiet life of the insects and the sound of the wind running through the tall grasses.

She doesn't show up for some reason and she doesn't accept your presents.

When you gave her a kimono, you didn't mean to be rude or make it look like you felt pity for her. Same as when you brought her food. You really wanted to help her, but she was too proud.

You were worried about her.

You went out on the wooden engawa at the back of the house and sat down looking out over the meadows and the dark forest towers over the town.

If you wanted to, you could move to a bigger city. Maybe Osaka or Kobe? You could try your luck there. Open a new business of your own. Then maybe you could even afford an apartment in Tokyo? Or not, you don't think downtown would be a good place, it would be crowded. Maybe in one of its neighborhoods? Asakusa? Or Yoshiwara? You could meet a real Geisha or Oiran–...

"No, that's stupid." You scolded yourself in your thoughts. You'll act like a coward, and running away won't bring you anything, but a stain of pride and honor.

You'll keep thinking back here to her. Even if you leave, your heart will stay with her bleeding, because she won't even look at you.

The night was peaceful and quiet. The noise and singing of the wind dancing among tall grasses and branches of trees suppressed other sounds.

Your night passed slowly, looking at the full silver moon as it came out from behind the thick clouds.

Smelled like before the rain. Fuku would say, looking at a scene like this, it's going to be a tragedy. He's always been very superstitious.

But you were here alone.

The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

You thought you heard her music from afar, but it was too quiet to be considered real.

- - -

The next morning, your friend find you in front of the house. Initially, you expected to see drunk Fuku, who liked to visit you at any time and was sometimes in a state of intoxication before noon.

Did he have some work today? He was a hedonist, but he was also responsible enough not to drink before job.

But no, it was Kiyoshi Hirano. A clerk. You invited him in and offered to make some tea.

"I just came to tell you that your friend with the biwa is back. You've been a little sad because of her lately..."

"What?" you turned to him with a clay jug. The movement was so fast that the right water poured out of the spout of the dish.

"Last night," he began slowly watching your face. "I was waiting for Fuku, where we used to meet to have a drink when she appeared on stage and started her performance again. She was... good. Looks like her lucky streak's back."

"Really? Do you think she will play tonight?"

You put the teapot in the cupboard where it was before, completely forgetting about the tea, and walked up to Kiyoshi again. You didn't notice his serious look and how closely he watched your brightened face.

"I don't know, I guess so. After all, it's what she does for a living." He interrupted your next question with a hand gesture. "I'm not going there today."

"Why?"

You were surprised by his cold reaction. He seemed angry or concerned about something.

"I'm going to check on Ogawa-san. I didn't see him yesterday and he still didn't show up today. From what I see, he's not here either."

"No, he's not here," you repeated deafly. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Did he say something? What he was planning or where he was going?"

"No, I don't remember anything like that."

"Yhm. So nothing here for me. If you remember anything or see him, let me know."

"Something happened?"

"No, nothing. It's just my stupid hunch. But if I don't find him, I'll go to jitō."

Jitō was the deputy owner of the land on which your town was located. He was supposed to watch over his goods and peace, if a problem arose he had to solve it.

You just nodded at that. You didn't understand his concern about Fuku, you saw him yesterday, and he was fine.

"Okay, so be it. I hope to see you both at the show tonight."

"I hope so too."

He said grimly unconvinced and turned his back on you.

- - -

The orange sun had not yet hidden behind the horizon and you were already sitting in a local restaurant, at one of the tables closer to the stage.

People were elegantly dressed, some even more than was required stepping inside and taking their seats. It wasn’t a real okiya, so you didn’t quite understand their efforts to pretend to be better than they were, but you had no intention of pointing it out to them.

It was quiet. Conversations were conducted in a whisper. Glasses were not brought in toast. You could feel the tension in the air. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone.

Finally, after a time that seemed to last an eternity. After the sun and its last rays resembling the hands of a drowning man reaching out for help disappeared from the sky, covered by the deep black of the great scape filled with millions of stars, she appeared.

She wasn't looking at anyone. She did not wander around the room with her eyes like a frightened doe. She just took her seat and started playing.

And the music itself was flowing from under her fingers. The sharp notes flooded their all minds.They could not think of anything else, everything outside was in the background. It was just her and them. Her audience.

After the performance was over, there was thunderous applause. Everyone wanted more and more. As we can see, she returned in grand style.

You also listened enchanted. You didn't care that Kiyoshi didn't join you all night. You didn't even notice it. The world outside this room no longer existed.

- - -

"I'm going to the jitō," Kiyoshi told you when you met him buying rice and asked him why he was dressed solemnly.

"Business?"

The man looked at you in surprise, tilting his head as if he wanted to ask if you were kidding.

"I told you I'd go there if I didn't find Ogawa-san anywhere. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Oh, no. Maybe a little. I'm sorry."

"Yes, I can see it," he squinted, looking at you critically.

"Have you been at his place to see him?"

"It was the first place I visited. I asked his neighbors if they had seen him, but no one has seen him since he left for work two days ago."

"Then I guess he's not at the slaughterhouse either."

"Exactly."

"Listen, why don't you wait one more day? We'll go to the jitō together if he's still gone. Perhaps he's lost his way back, because he is drunk again."

Although improbable, such situations have happened. One time he took the wrong directions and tried to get into someone's house. The landlord of the house beat him hard, and for a week he walked around with a swollen face and purple bruises all over his body. Another time, he fell asleep in a truck loaded with bags of rice and was driven kilometers from here.

Although Hirano was unconvinced, he accepted your offer and you spent the rest of the day together.

In the evening, you went to your favorite place to eat with music. You only managed to get in because you came earlier - soon after sunset there was such a crowd that no one else could enter.

You saw Kiyoshi looking for your friend, but he didn't even see anyone even remotely resembling him.

When your food were served, she went out on stage. As always, she moved gracefully and without unnecessary movements, as if she knew that part by heart.

The long black hair fell before her face like a funeral veil. She was still wearing a simple brown kimono, and you were a little disappointed that she dismissed your present with contempt.

She raised a pale hand with well-groomed nails holding a wooden bachi pick. The sleeve of the kimono slid down her arm, revealing more of her slender body and silky skin.

You almost fell back into that stunning trance hypnotized by her music when something discreetly pinched your thigh. It was Kiyoshi. He seemed worried.

Surprised at his behaviour, you raised your eyebrows didn't understand.

"Blood," he whispered. His mouth tightened into a line after he repeated it. "She's got blood on her clothes."

And when you looked at the musician you could see how under the kimono, where the collar around her neck covered part of the white hadajuban was a small red spot. If you had sat further away you would never have seen it.

"It could be anything. Maybe she got dirty?"

"Maybe," he admitted grinding his teeth and not taking his eyes off her. Focusing on a small, meaningless speck. "Or maybe not. It will be revealed. Remember, we still haven't found Fuku."

For the rest of the evening, he didn't speak to you, looking for your friend. You too could no longer focus on the music and let yourself be carried away by the pleasant atmosphere - the stain on her collar was bothering you.

What if someone attacked her? What if there's a dangerous animal in the area? Or a madman? What if something could happen to her?

Your restless thoughts rushed more and more as wild mounts were let loose into the increasingly unpleasant, dark recesses of your mind where irrational fear and unlikely scenarios ruled.

But you still haven't found Ogawa-san, have you?

True, but maybe he just got lost again. Maybe he's tired and sleeping at home now. Maybe it's all one big misunderstanding. Maybe the stain on her collar isn't blood.

Maybe.

- - -

The next day, as soon as the sun rose, you set off with Kiyoshi to Fuku's house. You wanted to be absolutely certain, and according to your comrade's supposition, he wasn't there.

Everything looked as usual. There was a bit of a mess inside, but it was nothing disturbing or new. Ogawa was not one of those who paid attention to where he lived.

The futon, instead of being tucked into a closet, lay on the side of the large room with a blanket rolled up into a ball, as if it had just wake up. Around the room stood many pots of sake, which he did not want to throw away, and other things that he probably used lately.

Yeah, it was a mess, but it wasn't unusual.

"Let's go ask the neighbors," you said quickly leaving the house and not looking at Kioshi.

He managed to stop you by grabbing you tightly by the shoulder.

"I already told you, I did it."

"So what now?"

"We can only go to the jitō and he will hire samurai to guard the security. I think that's all we can do."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, for now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I want to know what happened to Fuku. They won't be looking for the missing." He paused for a moment, feeling his anger rising. "They'll just try to prevent more disappearances. They don't care abo–"

Suddenly he stopped before his voice broke completely and then you noticed how tightly he clenched his fists. As he tries to stop the tears in his eyes and not let them flow down his cheeks.

You... You didn't know he was in such pain. That he feels that way.

You felt guilty that you didn't care more about your friend's disappearance, that you didn't start looking for him right away. That the first person you were worried about when you heard about his disappearance wasn't him, but was someone else.

"Listen Kiyoshi," you started insecure. "I want to hel–"

"No." He cut you of. "You would only be in my way, I prefer to work alone."

"Oh... okey."

You agreed, but you were hurt that your friend wouldn't let you join his investigation and also didn't want to argue with him. He was smart, so you knew he could handle it.

"Ah, and one more thing."

He added before you left the house. That was the last time you saw him, but none of you knew it yet.

"Stay away from that woman. Please."

• • •

The man decided not to involve you knowing how distracted you've been lately. Because of that musician, you couldn't concentrate, and you missed a lot of obvious things.

He was no longer just talking about a bloodstain or a lack of concern about Ogawa.

Yesterday, following the woman from a safe distance (so she could not hear you), he noticed that she was not afraid to travel alone through a dark town or wooded area.

It turned out that she did not live in even on the outskirts of the city, but in a village about an hour away on foot.

She never turned around to see if anyone was following her, and that should be a natural reaction for anyone traveling alone in areas where disappearances occur. Especially women, who are inherently weaker than men.

Almost everyone is talking about the disappearance of Fuku - together with a local vet, he had to help assess whether the animal is suitable for curing or going for slaughter.

Local traders and meat farmers ask about him because he was the cheapest specialist in his trade.

If there were any rivers nearby they could be turned to fish, but within a radius of many kilometers there was none and the delivery could cost them a lot.

Sometimes local doctors needed his help when the only way to save their patients was to amputate a limb.

Did Fuku practice on dead animals for fun, or is the profession of butcher and doctor so similar? He didn't know, and he never wanted to ask.

So what could have happened before he disappeared? And how could a musician you love have anything to do with this?

Unlike Ogawa-san, he was not superstitious or relying on mere hunch, but when he looked at the dark-haired woman he saw cold sophistication in her eyes.

Why a woman traveling alone in the dark didn't fear an attack?

Did she have any weapons on her? Or did she know something that others don't? Maybe she knew she had nothing to fear.

Another thing that caught Kiyoshi's attention was the strange smell around her house.

After "walking" her home safely, he ordered to come closer. Kiyoshi wanted to investigate the source of the scent. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he was already determined to solve the mystery.

He knew that the more days passed, the chance of finding a friend alive dropped drastically. His mind said he was probably dead, but deep down he still hoped of finding him alive.

It's silly how emotions can affect a person's logical thinking and behavior, but there's nothing he can do about it.

After all, he was only human.

Standing in front of her door, he listened to all kinds of sounds from inside, but there was complete silence. The only thing disturbing it was the sound of buzzing wings of flying insects.

Something sat on his hand and automatically killed the bug. He couldn't see what it was, it was too dark for that, but the next one sat on his forehead and another flew past his ear.

Flies?

You tried, slightly confused by his prying behavior, to pull him away, but he just went to the back of the building where the smell intensified.

"Kiyoshi, please sto–"

"Shhhh, be quiet and help me."

"Wha–?"

"Don't talk, just stand against the wall."

He cut off the conversation quickly so the woman couldn't hear you two and showed you where to stand.

In the dim moonlight, he saw a triangular window under the roof. Because the houses in the village were not tall, he could look through them, but he still needed help to reach it.

"Look, I don't think–"

"Shhhh."

You stood straddle and folded your hands, so he could put his foot on it. Then, with a slight swaying, he jumped on your shoulders.

"But listen, I don't–"

"Shhh, ladders don't talk!"

Holding on to the old boards, he tried to find something he could hold on to. Any holes or roughness.

"Stop fidgeting!"

He rebuked you in a whisper almost falling.

"Then don't stand on my head!"

When he stopped wobbling, you grabbed his ankles harder and at his signal, you slowly began to straighten up. Unfortunately, he still didn't reach the window.

He couldn't even pull himself up because he was still missing quite a bit with his hands stretched forth.

"And what? Do you see anything?"

You asked, in disbelief. Did you just help your friend 'peep at' spy on a woman?

"I really don't like what we're doing. Are you listening?"

But Kiyoshi didn't listen. He was mentally preparing for what he was about to do.

He took a deep breath. Then another one, and curled his knees trying not to fall. If he fails, he'll break his leg or arm.

The moment he jumped up, you walked away from the building. He grabbed the edge of the window and the old wood under his weight crackled in protest - they sounded like they were about to break.

At first he wanted to curse you for it, but suddenly he heard footsteps coming from the other side.

You were too loud.

"Is anyone there?"

A harsh female voice spoke up and he froze. He heard you burst through the bushes surrounding the house, rushing to the nearby trees and she stopped just below him.

Time stopped for a man then. Seconds turned into centuries. Flies flying around him sat on his hands and face, tickling him by thier little legs as they walked on him and bit his bare skin.

To keep them from getting up to his nose, he hid his face in a long sleeve, praying that the wood would stand up and that she would not look up.

The black-haired, looking like a yokai in front of her house, stood there for a moment watching the backyard. Long grass could reach her hips - her husband didn't care much about anything but gambling and alcohol, and none of her neighbors ever had the idea of trying to cut down the plants before they became miniature version of the wilderness for rodents and other small animals.

She was sure she heard the conversation, and the tread in the grass clearly indicated someone was here.

Or was it just her imagination? Maybe she's going crazy? Is it possible the smell of carcass lured the predators?

Still, she should be more careful and dispose of the bodies.

When she finally got back inside, Kiyoshi's arms couldn't hold him longer and he let go. He managed to land on his feet, but he leaned back and fell out of the engava into the sticky mud, which with the thick and long grass cushioned the impact like a pillow.

Scared, that she might come back, he quickly hid under wooden porch to wouldn't get caught, but this time he probably didn't make so much noise, because she never showed up again that night.

Unfortunately, he couldn't pull himself up to look inside nad he wasn't even sure if the moonlight allowed him to see anything.

He liked to think of himself as a rational person and more intelligent than the common man based on his intuition, but the smell was too suspicious.

Maybe it's feelings, but he believed that if anyone could know anything about Ogawa's disappearance, it would be her.

He couldn't ask her directly. He'd just freak her out and she'd do something unpredictable. After all, a trapped animal is ready to do anything to survive.

• • •

The next afternoon, Kiyoshi left the house and instead of going to work, he went straight to the jitō that controlled the surrounding area.

He was a clerk, so his request might have meant more to him than to an ordinary farmer.

Personally, he didn't like Hiroto Sasaki.

He got this job only by acquaintance with the landowner and did the necessary minimum of his work - all the money from taxes (which he did not pay to the landowner) was spent on alcohol and courtesans. He often hosted parties for friends in his home and did not care about the problems of the inhabitants.

People often asked him to stand up for them because otherwise he wouldn't even let them in or send them back home.

Kioshi did not have time to take three steps from the gate when an older, stooped woman approached him (as fast as her rheumatism allowed).

She had grey hair tucked into a low bun and a face full of wrinkles showing how her life was filled with both, happiness and worry. Her hands were resting on a long stick that must have helped her on her way here.

"Hirano-sama?" She asked in a quiet voice full of sadness and her half-blind eyes were even sadder. She bowed slightly to him. The man bowed and asked what she had to do with him.

"You see... My son, Kai, went missing yesterday. I can't find him and he's my only support after my husband's death."

"I see, so what can I do?"

Although he asked, he already knew the answer and with even greater determination went to the jitō headquarters to solve the problem.

One of the servants, whom he had managed to meet during his few visits, led him to the back of the mansion.

There, a fat man dressed in gold and surrounded by comfort women, was eating sweets and fruits.

In the background on biwa played them a geisha, sitting under a cherry tree - delicate petals of flowers swirling around her added her femininity and grace.

Kiyoshi, however, shuddered when he saw her resemblance to Nakime from afar. He probably would never have thought that she looked like her up close, but he still hadn't snap out of after yesterday's close encounter with her.

He did not want to look at her, but the sounds constantly emitted by the instrument remind him, that she is there, not allowing to gather thoughts and relax tense muscles ready to fight or escape.

"What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Sasaki hated Hirano. He thought the clerk always poked his nose into his business and added jobs to him. He hated his visits, but his uncle (and the owner of the land he managed) ordered him to let him in because he had already met Kiyoshi by himself.

He said his remarks were accurate and he was able to listen to people. He thought he'd be a good right-hand man for Hiroto, but he knew he was doing better on his own.

The clerk refrained from roll his eyes hearing him and immediately told about the disappearances and pointed out, if the situation doesn't change, they could suspect either a wild dog attack or a serial killer in the area.

"And what do you think I can do about it?"

"Bring the samurai."

He answered without hesitation, instantly enraging the jitō. The fat man blushed so much with anger, he looked like a tomato.

The glass of saki he threw at Hirano luckily passed above his head and crashed somewhere on the rocks behind his back. All he felt was a few drops of alcohol drenching his clothes.

"What do you think you're proposing? Whose money?! Do you think I have no expenses?!"

"Maybe from the taxes we pay you?"

Only the quiet sound of the wind in the branches of the old trees answered him in their own language and the birds singing in them.

The geisha stopped playing as soon as the clay vessel was broken, but even the man, sitting on a chair resembling the emperor’s throne, fell silent.

The clerk, bent all the time, raised his head slightly to see how Hiroto calmed down and turned pale.

As he suspected - all the money went to his and his friends debauchery.

"If you don't think it's appropriate or unnecessary, I can always write a letter to–"

He couldn't finish because Sasaki came to his senses.

"No. There is no need for that. Starting tomorrow, I'll bring in someone to keep an eye on things."

Several times in the past, Kiyoshi threatened to write to his uncle, but it had to be a complete last resort, because he knew Hiroto would be willing to hire an assassin for him.

Not feeling completely satisfied, he had to agree and let go.

He would rather Sasaki did it today (since many samurai looking for new masters to serve recently), but he also knew that after spending all the money that idiot had to somehow get them now.

He could only hope that by tomorrow there would be some samurai in the area.

• • •

As the sun went down, Hirano was already watching the musician's house from afar. He waited for her to come out, so he could sneak in.

She went out to the perform practically every night, so Kiyoshi knew he should soon see her leaving the building and walking along the sandy road.

And an hour after sunset, a woman appears at the door and stands on a wooden engave looking around the neighborhood. Her eyes were scouring the yard like she was looking for something or waiting for someone.

With loose hair and a black kimono, she looked like a yokai demon.

But he didn't understand why she hadn't left yet. Did she know she was there?

No, it's not possible. He made sure he couldn't be seen by her.

So why?

Suddenly, incredibly brisk for a woman of her small stature, she took a large package wrapped in fabric and ran to the back of the house.

What could be in the package, which she was secretly trying to get rid of? She hid letters from her admirers from her jealous husband? She gave birth to an unwanted baby? Or maybe the murder weapon?

The clerk planned to approach there, but also preferred to wait until she went to work. He didn't want to get caught again, and he was afraid it might be a trap.

That she could watch the backyard from the window, and when she saw him, she'd attack him with something. Although Nakime was a woman, he preferred not to underestimate her, especially since their last meeting had completely frightened him.

So he waited.

And he waited all night.

However, she did not go out again and after sunrise - when farmers began to go out to look after animals and crops - he left.

• • •

During the day, Kiyoshi could no longer watch her - as an clerk he had his duties and had to be careful not to fall asleep.

But it wasn't an easy day for him.

Once he poured black ink from the inkpot, staining the sleeve of a silk kimono, and flooded the papers lying next to it. Or he also had to re-read documents a few times because he couldn't concentrate.

He felt completely exhausted, although he didn't feel that way coming here. Tiredness began to catch up with him.

He looked forward to the sunset indicates the end of his work. The steady sound of rain hitting wooden walls or ceramic tiles made him even more sleepy, and he hoped it would clear up by then.

And as soon as it changed from a sad, grey sky to a blood-red color, he immediately went out. There were large puddles everywhere and it still smelled of rain after a few hours, so he took one of the umbrellas with him.

He hoped that someone hired by the jitō would show up during the day to get a map of the area, but no one showed up.

Neither samurai nor any local villagers he would hire to save money.

As he walked, he could hear Fuku's disapproving voice in his head, who, looking at the sky, would say, "Someone good will die today, the sky and the gods are in mourning."

Many times then he looked at him with a sly smile trying not to taunt him after by quoting his grandmother, but now he misses his superstitions.

How much he would give to be able to sit with him and you on an engava and look up at the sky, drinking sake after work and celebrating the start of the day off.

He came to his home first. He wanted to change into darker clothes, so she couldn't see him.

He was hoping she'd leave the house tonight to perform. If not, he's gonna try to look around the back of the building to see what she's hiding.

Kiyosji looked at the unfolded futon, which he didn't hide. It looked so appealing that he lay down on it for a while - after all, she didn't come out with the sunset anyway. He still had time.

And with that thought - he fell asleep.

- - -

He woke up when it was completely dark. Afraid he was running late, he ran towards her house. If he showed up too late, he wouldn't know if she left.

The run didn't last long, he didn't like to practice. If it weren't for his limp stature, you probably never would have been able to hold him on your shoulders.

Intermittently, he switched once from running to marching and his wooden shoes loudly let the surrounding residents know that he was in a hurry. He was panting heavily, like a wounded animal and he could feel that he had fire in his lungs, but he would not stop.

At least until a black-dressed figure stood in his way.

Nakime walked slowly, holding her precious instrument in her hands. One of the sleeves completely concealed her hand, which surrounded the body of the instrument like a mother hugging a child.

Unbelieving (and feeling goose bumps on his sweaty body) he stopped to catch his breath.

The woman passing him did not even look at him.

He looked at her for a moment - she, as if feeling it, stopped and turned completely to face him. A distance of 20 meters separated them, but for him it was still too small.

They stood in silence waiting for any movement of the other person until they were interrupted by a man in armor.

Samurai.

"So this useless pig did something useful at least once." Thought kiyoshi

The man approached the musician and asked if everything was all right, looking suspiciously at Kiyoshi. He was not surprised, but he was still outraged.

She was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

She calmly replied him. Her voice was serious, but pleasing to the ear.

There was also an aversion to the samurai, who had to put on heavy armor just for the show - it was impractical if he came to chase someone lighter and would only slow him down.

After a while, each of them went their way - Nakime to the restaurant, he headed towards her house, and the man watched them.

He was probably making sure Kiyoshi didn't hurt her.

But that's good, because now he's sure he won't get attacked from behind and the house is empty.

Suddenly he realized he was more and more convinced of her guilt, although he had never approved of hasty judgments. He believed everyone was innocent until proven guilty in a court of law or evidence was found to point to the culprit.

Meanwhile, what did he have? Terrible smell coming out of her house and strange behavior. In the past, it wouldn't have been enough for him to pass judgment, but since Fuku's disappearance, his thinking has changed completely.

Standing in front of her house, Hirano stopped and began to listen. The only thing that could be heard from inside was the noise of a flock of flying flies on which the sound he trembled. He hated all kinds of insects, but he forced himself not to vomit or run away.

The odor's gotten worse since the last time he was here, and he had to put a long sleeve on his nose and mouth. He must have blocked it somehow.

It didn't help much.

He planned to get in and out quickly. The building wasn't big, so it couldn't have taken him long.

The door was not locked - probably the smell itself discouraged entering.

Inside, he left them open so the faint moonlight would illuminate this room. He saw the outline of a low table and two seat cushions. In the corner of the wall with the door, there was something white that he thought was bedding.

But in the current light, he couldn't recognize the huge stains on the tatami mats. He needed a candle.

Holding his breath from time to time, he searched the few cabinets inside and found some hidden next to a bag of rice along with a flint.

Satisfied that he managed so well, he started hitting stones against against each other and watched as the sparks light up the room for a moment until he managed to ignite the wick.

What he saw next made his heart stop and all the color drained from his face, making him look like a ghost. At the moment, although he was alone, he felt threatened and wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. He felt like a deer on a hunt.

Blood was everywhere. Dark stains covered the floor at the table, one pillow and led into the other room behind the shōji door.

On the table he saw overturned white sake glass, also stained with blood, and nearby there was a jug in which there was still some alcohol.

Feeling his body getting heavy he moved into the other room and when he reached out to open the door, he saw that he was trembling. There, the smell and the sound intensified like a warning not to go in.

He was afraid of what he'd see, but he had to...

With one quick move, he opened the door. It slammed and the smell hit him in the face with double force, pinching his eyes. Flies immediately sat on him, looking for something to eat, biting his exposed skin and drinking sweat.

There, in the middle of a small room, were two bodies. He saw the white larvae moving in what used to be the heads of the wretchs, and how far the rotten process had gone.

He couldn't hold out and threw up. It was too much for him. He had to get out. Now. Immediately.

But he didn't even have time to take a step because as soon as he turned around, the hammer hit him in the face, smashing his completely nose and knocking out his teeth.

Through the black spots appeared before his eyes, Kiyoshi saw a figure in front of him and then fell, when she hit him a second time, falling into the death chamber. He managed to block the blow with his hand and heard a loud crack of a broken branch.

He didn't think about it then, but that was the sound of his broken fingers. Because of the adrenaline, he couldn't feel it now.

Unfortunately, he didn't see anything else. The candle fell out of his hand and went out.

He felt a weight on his stomach as the woman sat on him and tried to hit him on the head again. He was still covering himself by his wounded arm and trying to get it off her somehow, but she was too heavy for him.

He hoped that someone would hear his scream and come to help him, because at every moment he weaken.

But no one came, and another body was found in Nakime's room. Now she's done her ritual and she is ready to perform.

- - -

The venue was buzzing of impatient voices. All the gathered people were looking forward to the arrival of their favorite musician, who rarely made herself time off. The long-haired woman hypnotized with her music, causing clients to come back for more.

Her fame quickly spread around the area and it became harder and harder to find a place inside. You had to come a few hours earlier to listen to her melody.

Because of this, some (those who never heard it and just wanted to eat) thought it was stupid. They didn't understand and called her audience fools.

And you were one of those fools. You're in front of the stage again, waiting for her to perform like a dog for a treat. Despite your most sincere attempts to stop or listen to your friend, you could not stop coming. She was like a drug.

Every time you've seen her, you've felt the butterflies in your belly start to dance inside and your mind becomes incredibly light, like when you're drunk with alcohol. But you didn't drink sake so you wouldn't be distracted and fully enjoy the performance.

But today she still hasn't shown up. People began to get impatient and the owner of the premises upset - thanks to her his income increased significantly and if she decided to change workplace meant problems for him.

Some of the guests left mad, and some started wondering out loud where she was. At some point, they started chanting her name, thinking it would make her suddenly show up.

You'd probably be the last person to leave this place and still wait a few more hours for her.

You missed her and her music during the day, waiting for the night to see her again.

But you didn't have to because she finally showed up.

She was wearing a black kimono that you once gave her, but something that caught your eye and prevented you from fully enjoying the performance was the numerous tearing of the material that you seemed to be the only one to see.

• • •

Nakime came home in the morning at her regular time. She was fine, both physically and emotionally, despite the scratches on her forearms and the bruises on her abdomen caused by that burglar. Even a not-so-pleasant meeting with a neighbor did not dampen her spirits.

An old woman called her attention to yesterday's noise and said she already thought her husband was dead. Until recently, quarrels and shouts in their home were standard fare.

It was supposed to be a joke, but she didn't even know how much of it was true. She also told musician to take care of the horrible smell coming out of her house.

She didn't care much about her as she was about yesterday's guest.

She did the right thing coming home. Meeting the samurai made her feel a little insecure and afraid of detection - killing someone outside meant more risk.

She wanted to go back and keep trying to dispose of the bodies. Although they made her nauseous, she found the willpower to cut them into pieces and wrapped in her previous kimono.

She finally appreciated the clothes you gave her because you can't see the blood stains on them. But she felt that if she came out on stage all covered in blood, no one would even notice - everyone was mesmerized by her music.

Sighing, she undressed and went to bed. Then maybe she'll try to get rid of the body parts again.

It was a tedious and difficult task. She had to do it in such a way that the origin of the meat could not be determined immediately.

But she was glad she took care of it because otherwise she wouldn't have found the footprints and other tracks behind her house suggesting an unwanted presence.

She was sure it was her night visitor, but who was the other person? Why didn't they come together?

A normal person would feel scared in a situation like this, but after tonight, Nakime felt invincible. The power she had and the impunity with each subsequent murder made her as drunk as alcohol. She became more and more confident and less cautious.

But she now fell asleep without fear.

- - -

Her work was interrupted by a knock on the door. Her fingers and wrist hurt from cutting hardened cartilage, and her knees from long kneeling.

She got up unstably and washed her hands in a bucket of cold water before she opened the door.

Is it that crazy old lady again? Anybody else in the neighborhood who's bothered by the smell? Maybe it's a samurai?

But it wasn't any of them.

That was you.

You stood insecurely, holding a package wrapped in brown paper in your hands. You didn't look her in the eye. Instead, you focused on the floor.

You took small, short breaths to somehow bear the stench from inside, but you did not make a face. You asked if you could come in and talk.

Nakime moved away from the door to let you in. She tried not to show it, but she was glad you came - she was shaking all over her body at the thought of smashing your head and going to perform again in the evening.

You stood in the middle of the room, and the setting sun lit the room for a moment until she quickly closed the door and darkness set in. She didn't have any open windows here.

"I know everything," you started before she had a chance to come up to you. She quietly took the hammer lying on the cabinet near the door.

"And on the one hand, I didn't want to believe it, I've been denying it all the time... But I can't do this anymore. It rips my heart between what I should do and..."

"What do you mean?" She asked, but she wasn't interested in your answer. She just want you to didn't turn around for a second.

Nakime was standing right behind you with a hammer ready to strike.

"You are the murderer, aren't you? You killed Fuku and Kiyoshi..."

Suddenly you turned around when she had her tool raised and made her hesitate. It gave you the precious second to grab her wrist and lowered it, asking her to talk for one more minute longer.

"I should turn you in, but I can't," you confessed. "I'm hurt by what you did and it will never stop, but for some reason I can't do anything against you."

Your voice broke. She was so close now, she saw you were on the verge of mental breakdowns.

"Please tell me what I should do. If you think it's best to kill me, do it and put an end to my torment."

For a moment she didn't know what to say. She felt she should end it with one punch, but instead she told you to leave.

She didn't like the new kind of arousal caused by your confession, the fluttering of her heart or how the blood came up to her cheeks. She felt she was getting a fever because of you. Her legs are even weaker than they were before.

"Then you'd better kill me," you said firmly, surprising her. "Because I can't live without you–your music."

You were too embarrassed by what you said, so you quickly added the first thing that came to your mind. You were hoping it was too dark to see your blush.

But she couldn't bring herself to lift the hammer anymore. When was the last time she felt that way? If ever it must have been a long time ago.

"Get as far away from here as you can," she began in an imperiously tone. "And come back exactly ten years from now, if you still feel the way you feel, you will come back here and I will play only for you."

And you left her with a bleeding heart after an indescribable loss. Nakime thought she was merciful to you, she condemned you to an even worse fate than if she had killed you - from now on you will carry her sins on your back, the betrayal of your friends and miss her for each of the 3 652 days.

Awareness of all this will not allow you to sleep peacefully. Her absence prevents you from eating and function normally. Losing your friends isolated you.

You never stayed anywhere longer after that, looking for your place and running away from that house at the same time.

She was both, your cure and curse.

- - -

You went to her show last one time and left the next morning with the first rays of sunshine.

Nakime put on another kimono, that you brought her - simple, black, because you noticed she doesn't like glamour and extravagance.

In the full light of the room, she could see how the events of the last few days had affected you. You were pale, lost weight and had big bags of sleeplessness under your eyes.

You looked like a shell of your former self.

It gave her the thought that now you belong to her - she will never leave your mind or heart and will be your only one. For the rest of your days, even though you're not together, she will haunt you in your life as a ghost of the past, when you awake and in your dream.

For some reason, she liked the power she had over you.

The melody of that day was very sentimental and passionate. The performance was definitely different and even better than usual. Some felt goosebumps and coldness during climax moments, and wiped away tears at the slower ones.

It wasn't just music meant to show her talent and entertain the audience - it had a message behind it. And everyone felt it.

It was her goodbye to you.

People talked about it for a long time after you left, hoping she'd do it again, but she never did. Her fame came as far as you ran away, haunting you and never letting you forget your sin of silence.

You pretended not to hear and didn't speak up when the subject of a genius musician was raised. All the venues, where the music played you avoided like the plague.

After you left, she felt like she lost something, looking at the table you used to always occupy. She also became even more ruthless in her actions, which led to her demise.

This one time she chose the wrong person, because he could not be called a human, and gave her a new life as a demon.

You, looking for relief after a few years, ended up with one of your clients. A platinum blonde with rainbow eyes greeted you with open arms after seeing your condition.

His closed community was located in a remote area in the mountains. People there like you were broken and destroyed by life or loved ones.

And what it meant to you, they've never heard of her or her music.

Honestly, it didn't surprise you that most of them were women, inherently weaker physically than men. They couldn't defend themselves, so they always had to run away and hope they'd be better off somewhere else.

Every time the Founder called you a "poor thing", you felt like you were getting goosebumps and when he looked at you with those sad eyes, you thought something was wrong. Like he's faking it.

But it used to be, because with your current state, you didn't care.

You felt a slight discomfort associated with the honor of eating in his private chamber, but he did not seem to care.

You didn't notice when you were talking that he doesn't eat anything from a table full of food prepared by his followers. All he did was push plates towards you to make sure you tried everything. And with his elbows on the table, he listened to you like you were telling a fairy tale. You didn't want to talk about her or your problems, so you told him where you were and what you saw.

With his chin resting on his hand with blue long claws nails and sleepy eyes, he listened to everything like enchanted and curious about you.

He, in order for you to stay, persuaded you to hand over your business to someone else and join the cult.

He argued that by your constant fatigue and lack of strength to handle it. He promised to improve your condition after you moved here - he praised the brisk mountain air, pure waters full of minerals and his connection with the gods, giving comfort to his followers.

You weren't convinced by the idea of being one of his followers, who loved his every move, so you got the role of his guest.

You lived with the rest of them in a big common room - the men and women (with children) had their own separate wings in the large building.

You had there your own responsibilities that weren't too heavy, because the Founder of the cult told you to focus on recovery.

And just like anyone else, you could leave whenever you wanted (in theory).

Many times during the talks he offered you the attainment of your own eternal paradise - explaining that it means a state of eternal peace and happiness, without any worry and pain. His ultimate mercy toward broken people.

The offer sound tempting, you had to admit it, but you had a promise to keep, and sinners like you have no place in paradise.

And now, you found yourself again in front of the same door as ten years ago.

Douma was slightly opposed to your departure, saying you were still unhealed and tried to convince you to stay, but you were adamant about it. He gave up after you promised you'd come back and maybe you'd finally accept his offer.

You had to find out if the last ten years of your life were in vain.

To meet her, you left Douma's cult five days earlier and spent the night at the inn, because you arrived a day too early (than you assumed) and you sold your house a long time ago.

The wood on the door started to splinter, but it was strong enough to withstand your knock.

For a moment you wondered if she was still there or had not been caught, until the door with the loud squeak of the old hinges opened itself.

Inside, you thought nothing had changed - only the smell had left. Where there used to be a second room (with the bodies) she was sitting with her biwa. Behind her was an impenetrable darkness as if there were no walls behind her.

After called her by her old surname (which you didn't even notice slipping out of your mouth) you didn't speak to each other anymore.

You were surprised she still had the same kimono you gave her. You know this, it was made especially for your order, because you could not find anything in her type.

As soon as you took your seat on the only pillow (like it's specially set up in front of her for you), she started playing, and you thought the last decade was just a bad dream.

You've both fallen into a trance by hypnotizing each other. So much has happened that she's forgotten your promise, and if you hadn't come, you'd be a relic of her past.

In the morning, before the sun had time to rise, you left with the feeling that you belonged to each other. She was the musician, and you were her audience.

But before you left for the next 29 days, she spoke to you only once to telling you to call her Nakime.

And with every full moon, you'd come back for more. She didn't invite you but you knew she'd be waiting for you and she knew you'd be back.

She never spoke to you, but you didn't mind. You both understood each other without words and your roles in the relationship.

Sometimes after her performance you felt happy, sometimes more depressed than usual which Douma noticed and always asked about. He seemed to care very much about his followers, so you believed it was a real concern.

As history has shown, you are sometimes very naive and blind.

After a long and tiring series of questions from him, you finally revealed the reason for your sudden departures and current changes in mood.

Once Nakime was ordered to bring in all 12 moons, but she had a problem. Douma, as always, had company in his audience chamber and could not move him, when people were close.

She waited patiently to bring him, when she heard you come in to inform him of your another trip. You wanted to do it when he had an audience so you could get out sooner, but unfortunately he was willing to discuss it with you.

"Oh, you're leaving so soon again? Ahh, I was about to call you. I'm soooo bored here alone. Are you sure I couldn't go with you? Please, I'm begging you."

The blonde asked you with a smile and folding his hands as his followers do in prayer, excited as if you'd already agreed. For some reason, you felt like he was putting more and more pressure on you as this time of the month came.

"Douma-sama, you have responsibilities, and I'll see you in a few days."

Sitting cross-legged on a big pillow, a man puffed up his cheeks like a baby. Sometimes you wonder how old he really is.

You refrained from sighing and running your hand over your face. To stop him from pleading further, you drew your last card against him.

"Besides, I thought you couldn't leave the building during the day. And I couldn't just travel at night, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but it'll take so long and you'll be sad again because of that woman."

He closed his eyes and leaning slightly forward started whining in the tone of a child stating the sad obvious.

Untli he suddenly straightened up as if a new energy had entered him and, clapping his hands, said pleased with his new idea.

"I know! It will be better if you stay here this month! Then you will not take a step backward in your treatment."

But you instantly frowned and clenched your fists. His insistence was slowly starting to get on your nerves.

The blonde, feeling as if he were on thin ice, became sad again and rested his chin on his hand. In the second, he was holding a golden fan.

You once had a chance to get a close look at it, during the affiliation of new members in his this same chamber. He covered half of his face with it after hearing another sad story.

After several times spent with him during this meetings (at his request) you noticed that although all the stories were always tragic, they also sound very similar.

You're surprised they didn't affect his psyche after all these years of listening to other people's problems and expecting them to solve them.

Although perhaps that was the reason for his sometimes childish behavior? When he needed to, he was able to remain serious, although most of the time he acted like an actor on stage - sometimes all too exaggeratedly.

Normally, he'd keep pushing you to stay until you escaped into the sunlight, but he's noticed you've become distant and inaccessible to him lately. This prompted him to rethink and change his tactics.

"I'd better go."

"Will you come back?"

"As always," you said, turning your back to him.

You were getting more and more tired of his personality. And it wasn't just you, Nakime listening to it was also running out of patience.

"My, my. You're really quickly trying to get away from me. Wait a minute longer. I have one more question."

You sighed.

After Nakime performances, you discovered that you are finally managed to sleep peacefully all night without the corpses of your friends blaming you for their deaths, and you waited impatiently for her. On the one hand, it gave you relief, and on the other, a sense of guilt.

You wish you were on your way already, but as a courtesy, you always came to let him know you were leaving and then you had to regret it.

"Yes, Douma-sama? What do you want to ask?"

You asked dryly, wanting just to get out. For some time, Douma seemed too interested in your travels and invited you to spend time together much more often. Even when you were too mentally exhausted and didn't accept the offer, he would come to you. He was literally like a little kid, who didn't understand the word "no."

The black-haired woman clenched her fingernails on the instrument until the wood crumbled a little. If she'd used a little more force, she'd have broken her biwa like a stick. The blue fingernails pierced the neck of the instrument, creating holes, but she didn't care about it now.

"What is she like? You never told me much about her."

"Is that all you want to know? After that, can I leave?"

"Of course," Douma said straightening up and putting his hand on his massive chest dressed in a red turtleneck with a black top. "I always keep my promises."

A man was looking at you with those peculiar rainbow eyes waiting for an answer. They were simultaneously alluring and dreadful. Everyone said they were his gift from the gods.

But like you, he also had his curse and it was those beautiful eyes. Maybe that's why blonde demon thought he was the only one, who understood you and what it was like, in his own twisted way, remembering his beginnings from time when he was human.

Knowing that it would be better to answer him (because you may later regret it by his insistence upon your return), you pondered for a moment.

What is Nakime like?

She was elegant, cold and cruel. Merciless. Yes, but you can't deny that you've noticed the silent acts of courtesy she made to you during your meetings. She was too proud to admit them out loud.

The interior of the house has somehow changed, the blood has disappeared and it is definitely warmer for you on cold nights.

Sometimes you seemed to sense a delicate scent of flowers, completely different from Douma - a strong, suffocating smell of lilies. And sometimes you seemed to sense something else underneath it on him.

She was above it all, but she was also...

"She's cute."

You said with such confidence, that the woman's face instantly turned red. Her heart beat faster and in her belly the long-sleeping butterflies woke up.

What did you do to her?

Douma unexpectedly laughed behind his hand. The joyful, spontaneous sound echoes through the walls of the spacious room making it even louder.

When he finished and did nothing more, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

"Hm? Did something happen? You decided to stay?"

"No, I'm just wondering if that's it."

Douma smiled at you as if you were telling a joke.

"Just like I promised, you're free now." But before you disappearing completely from his sight, he added:

"And remember I can always give you eternal paradise if you ever decide. Then you'll never have to suffer again."

As soon as the shōji door with the painted lily on canvas closed behind you, he was moved to Infinite Castle.

Muzan asked them about their progress in the search for the Blue Spider Lily and their success in eliminating the Ubuyashiki clan, at the same time strongly criticizing and calling them useless. Sometimes he had to relieved his anger on them and somehow get them to work so they wouldn't get too lazy.

Some of the blood of the lower moons was spilled and some of the upper moons were reminded of their place in the hierarchy. Nothing new.

And when the meeting was over in a few strokes of the strings, she sent everyone back where they were. Except for one person.

Douma looked around in surprise wondering why he was not yet in Eternal Paradise in his chamber. As soon as he saw Nakime sitting in the distance, he stood up and waved to her.

"Oh, Biwa Lady, what's wrong? Are you bored too?"

Nakime ignored him and, squeezing the plectra tighter, said imperatively.

"Stay away from that human."

"Hmm?" He muttered, putting his finger to his cheek and tilting his head slightly, thinking for a moment. After that, the man asked carelessly.

"Which one? I have a bit too many of them to guess which one exactly you mean, hahaha."

Douma laughed innocently, pretending not to know what she meant, irritating her even more. If the bangs hadn't covered her face, he could have seen her veins pulsing furiously across her forehead.

As a final warning to him, she repeated this to him through clenched teeth.

"Leave. That. Human. Alone. And. Never. Bother. Again."

"Oh, you mean my friend?"

He tilted his head slightly and with a satisfied smile added.

"But your chosen one lives with me, how could I ever leave my dear friend alone in need?"

Blonde bowed his head slightly, wrinkled in fake worry thick eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Oh, my, my. You're putting me in a difficult position. Friends should help each other and besides..."

He looked at her half-closed, with a predatory smile, and said in a lowered voice. "I don't usually share with my food."

Suddenly Douma was crushed by a wall falling on him from above. When she released him, he looked like a moving mass of flesh and meat.

He recovered quickly as a upper second moon befits, laughing at the woman's reaction. If he wanted to, he could easily avoid it with his speed.

"Oh, my, my, hahaha, you really need it, you're a quite strong, but still too weak and little too slow, my dear."

Seeing that he raised his hand again, he added quickly.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I just bait you. I didn't know you cared so much about this one. If you'd explained it before, I'd understand."

"There is nothing to understand here. Don't elaborate. You're just supposed to stop."

The cult leader giggled again and with a friendly smile refused.

"You see, this is my friend, who came to me for help. Who would I be if I didn't help him get rid of the pain? After all, it's my job."

Before Nakime could pull the strings and hurt him again, he said:

"You're cute."

Imitating your voice and tone. He wasn't the best at it, but it worked well enough that she hesitated for a moment and almost dropped the instrument. Grasping the neck of the biwa again, she changed the acrod, and instead of cutting him vertically with a shōji door, she sent him back to his audience chamber.

It took less than a second, but Douma noticed it, and he was complacent. Although he did not consider himself a master of deduction, as demonstrated by his least fruitful search for the Blue Spider Lily of all the moons.

Who would have expected Biwa Lady to have feelings for human?

But she must have forgotten one thing, when she was ordering and trying to intimidate him, is that demons are very territorial and jealous of their food - especially the upper moons.

Nakime still had over 72 hours left until you arrived, and she started wondered during that time whether it would be better to just lock you up at Infinity Castle after all.

[jurgen-lehl-for-babaghuri-jp]

松屋銀座店 Babaghuri Table 12/11(Wed)〜12/22(Sun)

少し特別な気分で食卓を囲むのも愉しい季節。冬の食卓にまつわる、四人の作り手の道具の数々はご自分や誰かのための贈り物としても。ぜひご覧ください。

大桃沙織 　長田佳子 　富山孝一 　ヒウラユカ

松屋銀座7階　ババグーリ TEL 03(5524)2530 ＜直通＞

Photograph by Shoji Onuma

[ari0921]

「宮崎正弘の国際情勢解題」　

　　　　　令和六年（２０２４年）１０月６日（日曜日）

　　　　　　　　通巻第８４４６号　　

～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～～

　　犯罪集団、地下銀行は暗号通信、違法両替商、ダミー預金

　　　マネーロンダリングの実態解明、依然として道半ば

＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

　ＦＢＩが中国人スパイやロシア・マフィアに対する捜査で、主眼としているのは表向き、麻薬密輸である。しかし真の狙いはマネロンである。

　地下銀行を通じて、流れ込み、流れ出る巨額はアメリカ経済をゆすがしかねないほどの規模であり、それも年々歳々拡大し、手口は巧妙となってネットでは暗号が使われ、しかも暗号ソフトはロシア製が卓越しており、ハッカー技術は中国の軍の部隊が実績を誇る。

　この稿を書きながら筆者が連想したのは、最近のハリウッドのスパイ・アクション映画の印象的な場面だった。たとえばデンゼル・ワシントンの『エクタリアン』シリーズでは、マネロンのアジトはぶどう園である。必ず登場が、おきまりの怪しげなバアだ。

マギーＱ主演の『マーベラス』では、連絡網に使われたアジトは古書店、クリーニング店、食肉加工場だった。マーク・ウォールバーグ主演の三重スパイを描いた『マイル２２』ではフードセンターなどだった。

まさしくＮＹホークル州知事の元秘書だった中国人女スパイ、孫文の夫君は食肉加工の経営者だった。台湾代表が申し込んだＮＹ知事との面会を、かってに断って中国の外交に貢献したなどは『微罪』でしかない。それくらいのことで豪邸を購入し、ハワイに別荘が建てられるほどの報酬はない。夫君はダミー口座など８３の銀行通帳を保有していたという。ＦＢＩの狙いはマネロンの隠れ蓑が食肉工場ではないかと踏んでいるようだ。

　ロシア・マフィアがマネロンの舞台としていたのはキプロス、マルタ、ドバイである。ロシア人富豪たちの在欧資産、３０００億ドル強が凍結された。これらは口座の存在がばれたからで、ほかに相当額が地下銀行を通じて隠匿されていると推測できる。

　２０２４年１０月になって、ロシアの法執行機関は、「ユニバーサル匿名決済システム」（UAPS）と暗号通貨取引所「ＣＲＹＰＴＥＸ」を提訴した（『モスクワ・タイムズ』、１０月２日）

　中国人経営のバイナンスも手入れを受けたし、ロシア実業家デュロスの暗号通信アプリ「テレグラム」もマフィア、ギャング、テロリストが利用していたが、それを放置したとしてフランス官憲はデュロスを拘束している。

　暗号通信によるマネーロンダリングは世界で猖獗している。

　こうした匿名決済システムは、サイバー犯罪者に送金やマネーロンダリングのサービスを提供していた。「ＣＲＹＰＴＥＸ」 は、顧客確��のコンプライアンス要件を満たす個人情報を提供しなくても口座が開設できるほどに杜撰だった。犯罪集団にはコンピューとのプロが雇用されており、銀行業務に関する豊富な知識を利用し、2013年にUAPS、ＣＲＹＰＴＥＸなど33の関連サービスを創設した（ＣＲＹＰＴは暗号の略）。

　表向き、通貨両替、ビットコイン等の暗号通貨取引、送金と現金の授受。うらでは偽造口座の銀行カードや個人口座の転売など違法行為を行っていた。犯罪収入を合法化するためマネロンの巧妙化であり、そうしたイノベーションを実現したのが、サイバー犯罪者やハッカーだった。

ロシアでは、これまでに判明した不法行為で1120億ルーブル（11億8000万ドル）の取引がなされ、ギャング団の収入は米ドル換算で3890万ドルと計算された。

　さきの中国人スパイ夫妻のマネロン捜査は、これからが本番である。

[blr-blue]

　わたしには今どうしても、ふかふかのソファーに座ってゆっくりと日記をしたためる時間が必要だ、なので今から、ふかふかのソファーを探しにいきます

　お店選びに失敗して、ふかふかのソファーではなくアンティーク調の硬い椅子に座ってしまったが、まあいいとする。

　わたしは、大学院で学位プログラムに参加している。学位プログラムというのは、「優秀な学生たちを集めて、お給料を出してあげよう！　学費もタダにしてあげる！　そのかわり、あなたたちには一般的な院生よりもたくさんお勉強・研究をしてもらいますよ〜〜」というものだ。実を言うと、わたしはお金目当てで学位プログラムに参加した打算的な人間なのである。優秀なふりをして、優秀な学生の中に紛れ込んだただの凡人だ。

　そして今日、悲劇が起こった。きょうはとある授業の最終試験として、とあるテーマについてのグループディスカッションを行わなければならなかった。もちろん使用言語は英語である。

　かなり事前準備が必要な内容だったのだが、なんと2日前までだれもディスカッションについての話をしなかった。仕方ないのでわたしが全員をslackのグループに招待し、誰も何も話し始めないから、わたしがコーディネーターになり、段取りを組んだ。みんなに頑張ってもらって、ある程度発言内容も考えてもらったりして、どきどきと冷や汗を抱えて本番に臨んだ。

　さてそんな感じで迎えた今日のPM 1:00。制限時間は2時間と言われた（長すぎ）。用意していた内容は1時間で終わり、先生が苦笑いをした。あと少し話して、じょうずに結論を出せ、と言われて、英語の話せないコーディネーターことわたしは、かなりあたふたした。わたしがなぜコーディネーターになったかというと、わたしが一番英語を話せないからだ。「thank you so much」「do you have any questions ?」「ok please share your idea」しか話さないコーディネーターが一番楽だと思っていた。だけど咄嗟に振られた脳みそは無事にパンクして、カタコトの英語を披露し、みんなに助けてもらいながら、地獄みたいな残り1時間を乗り切った。疲弊したところで先生が「うーん、なんか、後半は議論が発展しすぎて、もとのテーマを忘れちゃってたんじゃない？」なんて言われる始末だ。助けてくれ、わたしはどうしたらよかったの。

　当たり前だけど、「先生」っていう人間は、優秀なひとが好きだ。そして学位プログラムに参加していると、先生の思う「卓越した人材」としてのふるまいを過度に求められる。それがどうにも苦痛だ。プログラムの要項に示されている、「これからの将来を担う人材」になれる気がしない。そんな、周りからの見え方や期待と、自分が思う自己像との間の乖離が大きすぎて、たまに身体が左右に裂けてちぎれていくような感覚がしてしまう。わたしは目の前のグループディスカッションで時間を潰すことに精一杯だし、アドリブでも積極的に発言してわたしを助けてくれた人をありがたがって、後半まったく話してくれなかった人を恨むような、そんな単純な人間なのにね。

　英語が話せるとか話せないとか、そんな簡単な問題じゃないの。どれもこれも、自分で選んで、自分で進んできた道のはずなのに、なぜだか空回りして、その度に自分の能力と、求められている期待値との間にある大きな溝を乗り越えることができずに、ただ溝のこっち側でしくしくしている。自分のことをこれ以上嫌いになりたくないから、とりあえず論文を書き進めて、あとは英語の勉強をもっとしなきゃと思う。そんな気持ちをたまにこうやって発散しながら、なんとか前に進みたいな、進みたいだけで、進めるかどうかはまた別のお話だけどね。ながいからここで終わりにする

[eco115]

君の解像度だけ低く、低くなっていく。デジタル写真を合わせて一つの絵を作るアレ、名前はなんだっけ？存在だけは認識できるのに、一つ一つはぼやけてしまって自分の容量の小ささに心底辟易する。人が忘れていくのは声からなんだって、なんていう失恋とかいうタイミングでよく耳にするようなインターネットなのか偉人の言葉なのかよくわからない受け入りのセリフをまんまと思い出した。恋人には花の名前を教えるといい、花は一年に一度必ず咲きますとかいう、これまたよく耳にするセリフも思い出した。握った手の感触も温度も、その握った手を持ち上げて眺めたときの血管の色も爪の形や大きさも、手のひらの湿度も、その時交わした言葉も場所も。隣を歩く時は僕が右だったっけ、隣で寝る時は？食卓を囲む時は？ソファに座る時は？あの映画館の座席の色、君の家の玄関のタイル、あの動物園にいたのはパンダだった？あの時みたスカイツリーは何色だった？君に教えてもらったバンド、僕が教えた本、あのゲームで君が使っていたキャラクター、一緒に行った美術館の個展、そこで買ったポストカードの絵画の名前は？誕生日のケーキの味とろうそくの色、冬のボーナスで君が買ったのはなにで、僕がクリスマスにプレゼントしたのはなんだった？あの時なにが流行ってた？公開していた映画は？放送していたアニメは？あの有名な女優が亡くなったんだっけ？そんな思い出せるはずもない、夢なのか妄想なのか、現実だったのかすらわからないような君や君との思い出がずっとあの時から止まっていて、僕だけ押されて流されて忘れられて忘れて、僕だけ歳をとってこんなところまできてしまった。『何か大切なことを忘れてしまっている気がする』の、『何か』 も大切だったのすら思い出せないまま。僕はずっと忘れたまま。

[moko1590m]

職業としての売春は、古くから存在する。職業とは、ヒトのみが行う社会的かつ文化的営為であり、富・付加価値の交換により形作られる経済活動の手段としては、売春は人類最古の職業の一つでもある。 現代の売春とは取引契約に基づくものであり、売春の歴史とは売春仲介の歴史でもある[5]。また、売春という職業が成り立つ為には、貨幣経済の浸透と、家父長制や嫁取り婚が成立していないといけない[要出典]。ヨーロッパでは古代ギリシャ以降になる。 古代 →「公娼」を参照 史上初めて管理売春すなわち売春を国家の登録制度のもとに管理し、公認したのはギリシャのソロンといわれ、国家によって女性の奴隷を「購入」し、「ディクテリオン」という売春施設へといれた[6]。ローマ帝国でも売春仲介業者は法的な認可をうけ、届出をするだけでなることができたため、売春は広く行われていた。しかしローマがキリスト教徒の迫害をやめ、それを国教としたことをうけて、売春を禁ずる法が登場する。ユスティニアヌス法典は、売春仲介業者の責任を問い、売春婦たちを「不幸な運命から救いだす」ことをうたう画期的なものであった[7]。 キリスト教が普及するにつれて、売春を含めた性の問題はすべて宗教の領域で扱われるようになる。キ��スト教は売春はおろか婚姻生活以外での性交渉を禁止した。一方で国家は売春の禁止と公認を繰り返してきた。公序良俗を保つためであり、税収を確保するためであった。中世に入ってキリスト教の影響はさらに強まり、例えば、シャルルマーニュの勅令は売春の完全な禁止を謳っている。こちらは業者へは少量の罰金刑を課し、売春婦を「みだらな女」として広場で鞭打ちに処すなど重い罰を規定している。 近代 このように近代まで、国家は売春を両義的なものとして扱っていた。登録制度という公認であっても女性を監視し縛り付けるものだとする「廃娼論」が出現するのは20世紀以降のことである[8]。そして「醜業ヲ行ハシムル爲ノ婦女賣買取締二關スル國際協定」が1904年に採択され、「醜業ヲ行ハシムル爲ノ婦女賣買禁止二關スル國際條約」が1910年に制定され、1921年に国際連盟によって「婦人及児童ノ売買禁止ニ関スル国際条約」、1933年に「成年婦女子ノ売買ノ禁止ニ関スル国際条約」がそれぞれ採択された。さらにそれらの協定や条約を統合する形で「人身売買及び他人の売春からの搾取の禁止に関する条約」が1949年に国際連合によって採択され、1951年に発効した。 現在、フランスの社会史学派、アナール学派の研究によれば、売春は逆にキリスト教によって誕生したと論じている。本来、男女は対等であったが、キリスト教の「弱者である女性は、保護を行う男性の支配を受けなければならない」という教義から家父長制が強力になり、支配される性としての女性が誕生した、という考えである。[要出典] 日本 →詳細は「遊女」を参照 阿部定が最後に勤めた遊廓大正楼（兵庫県丹波篠山市） 万葉集に掲載されている歌の解釈から、この時代から日本でも売春は行われていたと考えられる。ただし、古代の記録に見られる売春は、都周辺に限られており、地方における実態は不明である。日本において職業としての売春が成立するのは、中世後期の室町期以降である。平安時代に至っても、さらには鎌倉期においても、妻問婚がメインであり、貨幣経済と男性優位の家父長制や嫁取婚はいまだ浸透していなかった。平安時代と同じく母方の父が優位という執権政治の形態が続いていたことからも明らかである。座や町衆などによる市の支配の確立と、惣領制や嫁取婚が成立するまでは、職業としての売春は広がりを見せなかった。 売春は神道において、巫女によって行われたこともあった[9]。鎌倉時代には巫女を養っていた多くの神社や寺院が破綻し、生活の糧を求めて旅に出る巫女が現れ「歩き巫女」と呼ばれるようになった。巫女は主に宗教的なサービスを提供していたが、売春とも広く関係していた[9]。 安土桃山時代に豊臣秀吉が大坂道頓堀において、遊女を一箇所に集めた遊廓を作って以後、江戸時代でもこうした遊廓を設置した。特に吉原遊廓、島原遊廓、新町遊廓は三大遊廓と呼ばれるほどの隆盛を誇った。ただし、遊廓などではいまだ女性の「神」性視が行われ[独自研究?]、遊廓は非日常の空間であり、世俗の法律が通用しなかった。吉原の監督官としての武士も、武家出身者ではなく忍者出身者が行い、公儀とは距離を置いた[要出典]。江戸幕府は、江戸および関東八州については、公的に売春を認めつつ[注釈 3]、散在する遊女屋を特定地域に集合させ、1617年（元和3年）、日本橋葺屋町界隈に遊郭の設置を許可し、吉原遊廓とし、この他の地での売春を禁じた。この禁を破って売春がなされる場所を岡場所といい、その遊女らは、後任の吉原におけるものと異なり、私娼であって取り締まりの対象とされた。私娼は発覚・奉行所などに捕縛されると、新吉原で女郎として3ヵ年の年季奉公が科せられ（公事方御定書[11]）、そのような女郎は「奴女郎」と呼ばれ最下級の扱いを受けた。このように、建前上は、吉原以外での売春は禁じられていたが、岡場所は江戸時代を通してところを変えながら存続し続けたし、特に、近郊の品川宿、内藤新宿、板橋宿、千住宿など、近郊の宿場町の宿屋では、泊り客に飯盛女と称した私娼の斡旋を行っていた。 1958年（昭和33年）4月1日に売春防止法が施行され、赤線も廃止されソープランドとして残る（神戸福原） 明治維新以後もこのような遊廓は存在していたが、転換点となったのは1872年（明治5年）である。この年、マリア・ルーズ号事件が発生し、大日本帝国政府はペルー船籍の汽船船内における中国人（清国人）苦力に対する扱いを「虐待私刑事件」として日本の外務省管下で裁判を行ったが、この裁判において被告側より「日本が奴隷契約が無効であるというなら、日本においてもっとも酷い奴隷契約が有効に認められて、悲惨な生活をなしつつあるではないか。それは遊女の約定である」との主張が為された。 この主張に対して、特命裁判長を務めた神奈川県権令大江卓は「日本政府は近々公娼解放の準備中である」と公娼廃止の声明を発し、1872年10月2日、芸娼妓解放令が出された[12]。これにより、女衒による遊女の人身売買は規制されることになったが、娼婦が自由意思で営業しているという建前になっただけで、前借金に縛られた境遇という実態は変わらなかった。 また、この時期に数多くの女性が女衒の斡旋により、日本の農山漁村から東アジア・東南アジアに渡航し、遊廓で働いた。こうした海外渡航した女性たちは「からゆきさん」と呼ばれた。このように世界への渡航を手配した、女衒として有名な人物に村岡伊平治がいる。 第二次世界大戦後の1946年（昭和21年）、日本の統治を担当していたGHQは公娼廃止指令を出し、女給による売春を行う赤線を除いて遊廓は廃止されることになった[注釈 4]。 また、1955年（昭和32年）最高裁判所は、売春を前提とした前借金について『公序良俗に反するものであるとして無効』とする判例を確定させた[13]。さらに、上記「人身売買及び他人の売春からの搾取の禁止に関する条約」を批准するための国内法である売春防止法が1956年（昭和31年）5月に公布、1958年（昭和33年）4月1日に施行され、これによって赤線も廃止されることになった。 これら赤線地帯にあった店は、その後も小料理屋やトルコ風呂（現：ソープランド）などと名称を変え、管理売春や勧誘・斡旋などの売春助長行為ではなく、個人の自由意志での性行為の場所を提供する、という法令に抵触しない範囲で営業を行っている。なお、トルコ風呂の名称については、トルコ人留学生・ヌスレット・サンジャクリが厚生省（現：厚生労働省）に名称変更の訴えを起こし、名称がソープランドに変わった経緯がある[注釈 5]。 →詳細は「ソープランド § 改名問題」を参照 各国の概況

売春 - Wikipedia

[seibai]

若武者・アクションスターから

演技派俳優への転換期となった

作品。

モノクロ映画でしたが逆に新鮮！

主演真田広之さんとは名前がありますが、彼を囲む俳優陣はベテラン揃いの演技派・個性派揃い

座卓を囲む皆が主演級でした。

学生上がりの若き彼にはピッタリの役！

大人への第一歩でした❣️

[leomacgivena]

Xユーザーのka0_0tsu@ハシビロコウ㌠さん：「ちょいと仕事で『円卓の騎士』を調べる必要があったので中二病を患う者としてはワクワクが止まらなかったのですが、その流れで日本の円卓には上座と下座があると知って、さぞやアーサー王もお嘆きのことであろうと思った次第。」