Ride on Time

Chapter 40

Misao made her way to work again, praying to every god she knew so that Genjuro doesn't come in again. He's been showing up a lot more now and she can't help getting sick of seeing his sly grin in front of her.
There were only a few days more before Christmas and she was looking forward to going home, back to Tokyo, for the holidays. Misao was thinking about taking the train since it was more convenient than taking a bus all the way.
She went through the customers, and there were no signs of Hitohira Genjuro, much to her relief. Everything went smoothly and soon, it was break.
This time, Misao had tonkatsu, which she sliced into smaller pieces for easy eating, holding Mystical Mist between her fingers to read the last few chapters.
At least, she thought there were a few chapters left, but all that was left were two pages, much to her dismay. Misao sighed and put the book away, returning to work.
A few more customers appeared and they were all easy to handle.
Except the last one.
"Hello, there, Sakura," Misao groaned when she saw Genjuro appear yet again. "Been waiting for me?"
Misao smiled and bowed at him. "Wasn't expecting you at all, Hitohira-san. But it's a pleasure nonetheless."
"I'm sure it is," Genjuro sat down, a big grin on his face as he looked at the menu. "Let's see, what shall I order?"
Misao tuned her shamisen a bit and began playing a traditional melody while waiting for Genjuro to finish. All she wanted now was for him to clear out so that she could just get home and rest.
"Let's see, how about some unagi uramaki and kani mentai maki?" Genjuro said, looking up. "Then some Mizu Yokan and mochi for dessert, some matcha to wash it down."
Misao got up and bowed before taking the order to a waitress. Right after, she returned to Genjuro and started playing her shamisen.
"Lady Misao, you're an excellent musician," Genjuro grinned. "Did anyone tell you that?"
Misao stopped short, staring at him in disbelief. "What did you just call me?"
Genjuro smirked. "Lady Misao. That's your name, is it not?"
Misao lost her cool and got up from the tatami flooring. "How did you know my name?" She even forgot to use her well-practiced Kansai dialect, speaking in standard Tokyo Japanese.
"I see, I almost forgot you're from Tokyo," Genjuro chuckled as if everything was normal. "Nice place, I've been there a few times before."
Misao gulped. "I'm sorry, but I'm at work now. You... you have to address me as Sakura here."
Genjuro frowned. "Why on earth do you geishas always use false names when you've got real ones? It's like you guys are trying to conceal your identities or something!"
"As a geisha, we have to change our names as a sign of our new lives," Misao tried to keep the venom from showing in her voice. "And so that our personal lives don't mix with our artistic ones."
"I see, but that's still... false advertising if you ask me."
"There's no advertising involved in this in the first place!" Misao snapped.
She calmed down a little when the waitresses came in with whatever Genjuro had ordered, laying them down on the low table before hurrying away.
Misao silently started playing the shakuhachi, creating a beautiful melody that bounced off the thin shoji walls. Misao closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the music, getting lost in the rhythm.
She finally opened her eyes when she was done and gasped, dropping her flute in shock. Genjuro's face was inches away from hers.
Misao pushed him off with a yelp and backed away, the reed mats grazing against her soft hands and sending a sudden surge of heat through them.
"What are you doing?!" Misao gasped, looking at him in disgust.
"You looked so beautiful, playing the flute like that," Genjuro smiled. "I wish I can have you with me, for just a night at least."
Misao retrieved her flute and got up. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I cannot provide such services."
"I'll give you whatever you want," Genjuro persuaded. "Money, jewellery, anything you want. Just ask me, and I'll give it to you." He smirked. "But you have to be with me."
Misao shook her head, her red lips forming a fierce snarl. "That will never happen. Not in a million years no matter how lavish your gift is."
"How about a ticket to Malaysia?" Genjuro wiggled his brows, his lips curling upwards. "You have a little boyfriend there, don't you?"
Misao gasped. "You wouldn't!"
"Oh, I would," Genjuro smirked sinisterly. "What was his name again?"
"Don't even think about laying even a finger on him," Misao screamed.
"Oh?" Genjuro neared her, his gaze towering above her. "That Malay confidant of his will only be too happy to end him. All I have to do is give him a call. How's that sound?"
Misao frowned, rubbing a hand across her tear-streaked face. Her red eyeshadow smeared past her brows making her look menacing with a snarl contorting her face. "Don't you dare touch even a hair on his perfectly arched eyebrows. I'll mess you up so bad until your own mother can't recognise that pathetic face of yours! Do you understand that?!"
Genjuro looked taken aback for a few moments before bursting into laughter. "You." Genjuro pointed a teasing finger at her. "Mess up my face." He pointed at himself. "Till even my mom can't recognise me. You're gonna do that? You?"
Misao suddenly roared and brought her long bamboo flute to his face, bashing it against his head with all her might. Genjuro fell onto the tatami with a loud thud and Misao never stopped hitting him.
She suddenly felt a pair of hands pull her backwards, making her scream and flail her arms in anger. Someone crouched beside Genjuro and pulled him onto his feet.
"Sakura, what are you doing?!" It was her okaasan. "Hitohira-san, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Genjuro said, rubbing a hand onto his sore face. He gasped and backed away from Misao when she growled, pointing the shakuhachi at him. "Your geisha... something's wrong with her. She's acting like a madwoman!"
"I'll show you madwoman in a second, you psycho!" Misao screamed, struggling to free herself from the okaasan's grasp. "Let me go!"
"Hitohira-san, you should go," the okaasan quickly said. "The food's on the house, we're very sorry about this."
Genjuro bowed slightly and ran out of the Ryōtei at top speed.
"Come back, you creep!" Misao shouted after him. "And don't you dare touch Shri!"
"Sakura!" Okaasan finally let her go, turning her shoulders to face her. "What is wrong with you?!"
"Okaasan, he is a bad person!" Misao exclaimed. "He asked me for a service that I cannot provide!"
Okaasan gasped. "Hitohira-san's son? But his wife is pregnant."
"Exactly!" Misao gestured her hands forward. "How could he do this to her?!"
Okaasan sighed. "Sakura... I know this isn't your fault, and he is a bad man. But you shouldn't have acted the way you have, that was really out of character."
"Okaasan, he threatened to kill my boyfriend in Malaysia!" Misao cried. "How could I let him?!"
The older woman frowned, regarding her silently before speaking. "Sakura, I'm sorry. I don't think I can allow you to work here after all that happened today. We might lose some really important customers. You know how much the Hitohiras mean to us, right?"
Misao stared at her in disbelief. "You're firing me?!"
"I'm very sorry for this, Sakura, but it's our only way. You can go ahead and find yourself a way into an Okiya, but it isn't like that for us. I'm truly sorry for this, but we have to. I'll pay your salary for this month in advance, full amount, and then you can leave."
Misao just stood there, unable to say anything else as tears freely flowed down her blotchy white cheeks. Sobs escape her lips as she fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands. She eventually caught sight of her stained fingers and saw how they were smeared in white, realising how horrible she looked with her smudged red and white makeup coating her face.
Misao grabbed her shakuhachi and got up. Her fingers caressed the long crack that ran through the bamboo surface, realising how hard she had hit Genjuro's face with it. He was going to have a hard time nursing the nasty bruises she put on his face.
She sighed and picked up her instruments before going over to the back room to retrieve her things before leaving.