𝙶𝚢𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚘ʚ♡⃛ɞ

The silence in Yoshiwara in the early hours of the morning was dense, almost oppressive. In the streets, paper lanterns were beginning to burn out, and inside the district's large brothels, the clamor of laughter, the music of shamisen, and the clinking of sake cups had given way to a deathly stillness.
Gyutaro slowly emerged from Daki's body, gliding onto the cold wooden floorboards of the upper corridors. His movements were fluid and silent, almost like those of a snake seeking refuge in the shadows. He moved with his usual hunched posture, his sharp nails barely grazing the walls as his well-defined shoulders tensed with each step. At this hour, the brothel belonged to him alone; there were no wealthy clients or courtesans forcing smiles, only the subtle creaking of the floorboards beneath his almost weightless presence.
He walked down the most secluded corridor, where the moonlight barely managed to filter through the paper frames of the shoji screens. He enjoyed this isolation. It was in the darkness that he didn't feel the weight of envy for the good fortune of others, the only time when the world didn't return his gaze of disgust or contempt.
As he turned the corner of the corridor, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Her sunken, yellow eyes, marked by the Upper Moon, fixed on the back of the gallery. There, at the edge of the gloom, a silhouette sat against the wooden frame.
Gyutaro tilted his head, letting out a low hiss through his sharp teeth. He began scratching his throat with his fingertips, irritated by someone intruding on his space, but he didn't make any sudden movements. The person didn't seem to be running away, or trembling, or preparing a sword. They were simply there, shrouded in the shadows of the corridor, staring into nothingness in the still night.
With slow, hunched steps, Gyutaro began to close the distance.