They always gave me nice clothes when the customers came to visit. The clothes hid the bruises on my arms and legs. And when a customer bought me for the night, there really wasn’t any interest in my arms or legs, only in the holes in my body.

I never hated my parents. They did what they had to do. My older brothers and sisters would get married sooner and be able to provide for themselves, but for me, marriage was further off. So I was the one they sold, knowing they could get the most money for me because I was untouched, because I had not even reached ten years of age.

I see this now in his blue eyes, the reflection of my past, the pain that he understands but won’t let himself feel.

I was only ten when I first met him. My master had taken me outside, his strong fingers roughly gripping my arm. I remember so clearly that I would be brave and not cry. I would be strong. I would be strong.

And I have been since.

He had tossed me against a tree, but I was very careful to make sure that my clothes did not rip. If they did, he would take them out of my pay and my skin. Or just use me himself that night. I hated it when he touched me.

He was saying something and raised his hand to slap me, but then he suddenly fell. My eyes were wide as I looked up at the beautiful blond stranger, the one who had attacked him, that had saved me from pain.

Of course, I was punished severely for it afterwards, spending many nights in his room. But that didn’t matter.

I realized after I had met him again that he had only been sixteen at the time.

“Hurry up, Nakago!”

Nakago…

“Nakago…” my lips uttered without my command.

As they do now, as I fall. “Nakago…”

I can’t remember all of the men in my life who touched me, seeking, desiring something greater than themselves. And I gave them that. I was the highest priced whore, the costliest slut, the one who could make men melt with a glance and do wonders too amazing to describe under blankets. Or on top, of course, whichever the customer preferred. I only ever had three women, for which I was grateful. They were harder to manipulate than men.

And there was only one man that I could never manipulate.

I’m falling toward him, so it’s all right. Whatever he wants will be fine with me.

When the blue symbol lit on my thigh, that distracting light that swarmed with power and a faint feeling of heat, he had already gone, but because of the symbol, I knew I would see him again. But I never imagined him to be like this, so old with eyes so young.

They say women always know how to read men, at least in the brothels. But I can never tell what he wants. I’m sure it’s not me, because I give him- gave him- everything that I am. That I was.

It almost seems as if he is looking to recapture his life, as if he is whirling away from what he wants, as if he could be happy living with someone and having children if he could just be free of his demons…

But that’s just my fancy. Most likely because I love him so much.

I remember the first beautiful outfit I wore. I was so excited that my parents had let me be adopted by this rich man who dressed all his daughters in such beautiful clothes. I was too young to see the pain in the eyes of the other girls as I was introduced to them.

And I hear the man who first had me at the age of ten paid a rather large sum to force himself into me, who was crying in pain at the time.

But I did not break from the pain, as many did. I used my hurt to make myself stronger, to increase my power. I learned things no one else ever did, about men, about ki, about myself. When I came into my seishi powers, I had the strength to wield them.

And I had to the strength to love one who would never love me back.

And so I fall into his arms, trying to tell him what he means to me. But I know he knows, and he likewise knows that I know that he will never love me back…

Not as long as I live…