The rain fell without mercy.
It was the kind of cold, relentless rain that soaked through clothes in minutes and made the entire city feel like it was crying. Haruto Kagami walked with no destination, hands deep in the pockets of his worn-out hoodie, black hair plastered to his forehead. At twenty years old, he was supposed to be in his final year of high school—technically an adult—but right now he felt like a kid who had lost everything.
"Why does it always end up like this?"
His parents were gone. Friends? The few he had drifted away or betrayed him. Yumi, his former best friend had chosen popularity over him two years ago and never looked back. Grades were barely passing. Part-time jobs came and went. The big apartment he lived in alone felt more like a cage than a home.
Tonight, he just walked. Away from the neon lights of the main streets, deeper into narrower alleys he didn't recognize. The rain muffled every sound. Street signs blurred. His phone battery had died hours ago.
He didn't care where he was going. Maybe part of him hoped he'd never find his way back.
After what felt like hours, the buildings changed. Old-style wooden facades appeared between modern ones, as if someone had hidden a piece of ancient Japan in the middle of the city. Paper lanterns glowed softly under eaves, casting warm light on wet cobblestones. The smell of incense mixed with rain.
Haruto stopped under a torii-like gate he definitely hadn't seen before. A discreet wooden sign read in elegant calligraphy: "Hanayagi Quarter"
He blinked. The street ahead was lined with traditional machiya houses, their latticed windows glowing gold. Beautiful women in exquisite kimono stood under the eaves, smiling gently at passing guests. Music of shamisen and soft drums drifted from somewhere deeper in.
This couldn't be real. It felt like he'd stepped into a dream or a historical drama.
A soft voice called from his left.
"Young sir, you'll catch a cold standing there in the rain like that."
Haruto turned.
And forgot how to breathe.
She stood beneath a large oiled-paper umbrella, wearing a breathtaking kimono of deep violet layered with gold and crimson flowers. Her long black hair was styled in the elaborate shimada fashion, decorated with kanzashi ornaments that caught the lantern light like stars. Her skin was porcelain pale, lips painted a soft red, eyes lined with subtle elegance.
But it was her face that stopped his heart—beautiful didn't feel like a strong enough word. Mature, graceful, almost unreal… yet her eyes held a gentle warmth that made her seem approachable.
She looked maybe early twenties, but carried herself with the poise of someone far older.
Haruto realized he was staring. He quickly bowed, awkward and dripping...."I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… I think I got lost."
The woman tilted her umbrella slightly, sharing its shelter with him. Up close, she smelled faintly of violet incense and something sweet.
"Lost, you say?" Her voice was soft, melodic, with a refined Kyoto-like accent. "This quarter doesn't appear to just anyone. Perhaps the rain guided you here for a reason."
Haruto swallowed. "I don't really know how I got here. Everything looks so… different."
She smiled with a small, knowing curve of her lips that made his chest tighten.
"Then allow me to welcome you properly. My name is Sumire Hanayagi. I am the current tayū of this house."...Tayū… the highest rank of oiran.
His eyes widened. He'd read about them in history class, "the legendary courtesans of the Edo period", women of incomparable beauty, art, and refinement. They weren't supposed to exist in modern Japan.
Yet here she was, standing in front of him.
"I'm Haruto. Kagami Haruto." He bowed again, deeper this time. "I don't have much money or anything… I really am just lost."
Sumire studied him quietly. Her violet eyes seemed to see straight through him llppast the wet clothes, past the exhaustion, into the loneliness he carried like a shadow.
"Money is not required for conversation," she said gently. "And you look as though you could use someone to talk to. Will you come inside and warm yourself? I will prepare tea."
Haruto hesitated. Every logical part of his brain screamed that this was strange, impossible, maybe dangerous.
But her smile was kind. And he was so, so tired of being alone...."If it's really okay."
Sumire's smile widened just a fraction... "It is more than okay."
She led him beneath the noren curtain of a grand machiya. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant. Tatami mats, low tables, beautiful scrolls on the walls. Soft shamisen music played from another room.
A maid bowed deeply as they entered, but Sumire waved her away politely..."Tonight, I will serve our guest myself."
The maid looked surprised but obeyed.
Sumire guided Haruto to a cushioned seat near an irori hearth. She gracefully knelt across from him, arranging her heavy kimono with practiced ease, and began preparing matcha with slow, beautiful movements.
Haruto watched, mesmerized. He'd never seen anyone move so elegantly.
"You're… really a tayū?" he asked quietly.
Sumire didn't look up from whisking the tea. "I am. The Hanayagi house has served this two years for generations. I succeeded the title at sixteen."
Sixteen? Then she's only...he got shocked.
"You're eighteen?" The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Sumire paused, then laughed softly—a sound like silver bells.
"Most people assume I'm older. The makeup and attire create that illusion." She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Yes, I am eighteen. Though sometimes I feel much older."
Haruto felt his face heat. "S-Sorry, that was rude."
"Not at all." She placed a beautiful bowl of vibrant green tea in front of him. "Drink. It will warm you."
He wrapped cold fingers around the bowl gratefully. The first sip was bitter, then sweet. Perfect.
Silence settled comfortably between them.
Sumire watched him with gentle curiosity. "You carry a heavy heart, Haruto-san."
He nearly choked on his tea. "W-What makes you say that?"
"Your eyes," she said simply. "They look like someone who has forgotten how to hope."
Haruto stared into his bowl. The reflection staring back looked broken.
"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I guess that's true."
Sumire folded her hands in her lap. "Would you like to tell me about it? Guests usually come here for pleasure or entertainment… but sometimes, they only need someone to listen."
Haruto laughed bitterly. "I don't even know where to start. My life just sucks. No family. No real friends. I'm twenty and still dragging myself through high school. I wander around at night because going home to an empty apartment feels worse than being out in the rain."
He stopped, horrified. "Why am I telling a complete stranger all this?"
But Sumire didn't laugh or look uncomfortable. She simply listened, head slightly tilted, expression soft.
"When I was younger," she said after a moment, "I used to dream of running away from this world. The training is strict. The expectations are heavy. We smile for everyone, but sometimes we wonder if anyone sees the person behind the makeup."
Haruto looked up, surprised. "You feel lonely too?"
"Very much so." Her smile turned a little sad. "People admire the tayū. They desire her. But they do not love Sumire, the girl beneath the title."
Something in Haruto's chest ached at her words..." That's really sad."
"Isn't it?" She laughed lightly, but her eyes were serious. "Yet tonight, a lost boy wandered in from the rain, and for the first time in a long while, I find myself wanting to talk not as a tayū, but just as Sumire."
Haruto's heart pounded. "Then can I call you Sumire? Not Hanayagi-sama or anything formal?"
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened. A genuine smile bloomed on her face brighter than any performative one.
"I would like that very much, Haruto-kun."
They talked for hours about everything and nothing.
'Haruto told her about his parents' accident when he was fifteen and about 'how Yumi abandoned him when he needed her most.' About failing in exams and hating mirrors because he didn't recognize the person looking back.
Sumire shared stories of her training, learning dance, music, poetry, tea ceremony from dawn until midnight. How she became tayū at sixteen because she was the most skilled, not because she wanted the title. How sometimes she looked at the moon and wondered what ordinary life felt like.
The rain outside softened to a whisper.
At some point, the maids had quietly left them alone. The hearth crackled softly.
Haruto realized it was probably very late.
"I should go," he said reluctantly. "You must be tired."
Sumire shook her head. "I am not tired at all. This has been the most enjoyable night I've had in years."
He stared at her. "Really?"
"Truly." She rose gracefully and fetched something from a box. It was a small folding fan painted with violets. She pressed it gently into his hand..."A gift. So you can find your way back, if you wish."
Haruto's fingers closed around it. "I don't know if I can afford to come here again."
Sumire smiled mysteriously. "The Hanayagi Quarter finds those it wishes to see again. Do not worry about money tonight."
She walked him to the entrance. The rain had stopped. The air smelled clean.
At the gate, Haruto turned back.
"Sumire?"....he called out.
"Yes, Haruto-kun?"
"Thank you,for listening and for seeing me."
Her expression softened impossibly.."And thank you for letting me be seen."
He stepped out into the cool night, fan clutched tightly in his hand.
Behind him, Sumire watched until he disappeared around the corner.
Then she touched her lips lightly, a faint blush rising beneath her white makeup.
"What a strange, wonderful boy"...she mummered.
Haruto walked home in a daze. The city looked normal again.There were no hidden quarter, no lanterns.
But the fan in his pocket was real.
And for the first time in years, he felt something dangerously close to hope.