• CHAPTER 1 | the scarlet queen

    1647



    “Remember, you are not running away.
    You’re surely not starting from scratch.
    You are rebuilding yourself…
    … from your own Ruins.”


    Kyoto, 01.03 a.m.

    The first autumn deluge hammered the solid schist roofs from the Mistress’ luxury house. An open window in the end of the vermillion corridor invited the chilly breeze in, negotiating with the stuffy air from the exotic dining room. The large chamber, bastion of the oriental bourgeois ostentation, exhibited flamboyant sculptures lurking around the luxurious golden pillars. In the painted walls, lifeless peacocks seemed to yearn to fly away from their filigree prison and the smoke from incense and cigarettes melted in a single cloud around the delighted feasters. The best wine was served and the sweetest concubines swung around the lustful gentlemen sat around the ellipse floor table, where a young nyotaimori lied nude and silent, covered with sushi. The banqueteers were thirteen, as always.

    As the obvious core of attention, sat on the triumph position, Lady Nobunaga rejoiced. Drinking her fine wine with voluptuous pleasure, exchanging insinuating glances with her male audience, the middle aged woman in lustrous red kimono was the boss and her will, imperative. Her hair glowed in fake black, adorned with scarlet strings and obfuscating jewels. Alike Lady Nobunaga's glared, her perfume was threatening, powerful as well. It soared through the air, phasing the stench mixture of incense and smoke; sweet, just like a good poison.

    In Lady Nobunaga's house there were too simple rules; her way or the sharp way. To subtly remind her guests about this ironclad rule, the red katana was leaned lazily besides her ornamented seat. The gentlemen were well aware of her ways and, to keep their heads tied to their expensive necks, they paid subservient reverence.

    “Lady Nobunaga, by obsequy, tell us. Which is your verdict about our soul business?” a white haired senior questioned, with a sticky mellifluous tone. The wrinkles around his baggy eyes contorted in avid greed. “I avidly believe this is the reason Your Grace gathered us here tonight, in this memorable evening…”

    “Oh, please Hanzo-dono…”, the red Mistress amusingly replied with affected manners, while slipping her right hand into the lap of the handsome young man sat on her left. “Like I would have something to do with such abomination…”

    A cacophony of false laughter assaulted the room in artificial manifestation of amusement. In his strategic place, the young man, harassed by Lady Nobunaga’s invasive impetus, devoted his mistress a suggestive smirk. His heart pumped hard on his chest as the woman’s hand, suffocated in heavy jewellery lurked over his leg. This was indeed a rather odd picture in that surreal evening. The rest of the guests – hardcore mobsters - powerful in their pompous palaces, were now reduced to despicable dogs, barking at their owner’s leftovers. By his turn, the youngster was the centre of her attention and object of her desire.

    Pathetic geezers… Suck that up!

    “Joujin, my dear, would you please give me a massage?”, the Mistress sensually asked to the young man, and, in front of the male audience, ignoring any sense of bashfulness, she let her kimono slip through her shoulders, revealing her back and part of her breasts. “Your Mayuko is kinda stressed today… and your hands are heavenly sent…”

    “Of course, my sweet,” Joujin nimbly replied with a hot breathed whisper, an inch from “his” Mayuko’s nude neck. “Everything you desire.”

    The vision of a body where the beauty was clearly fading wasn’t a sight for sore eyes. However, Joujin was barely able to hide the victorious smirk furiously fighting his way through his mouth. The other guests glared amongst each other, probably having to swallow the jagged pill. Returning their silent threat with cynical complacency, Joujin landed on his knees as close as he could to Lady Nobunaga’s back. With youthful vigour, his wide hands grasped the tender flesh of her shoulders, squeezing pleasure sighs from the dangerous hag. His tanned skin travelled through the Mistress’ rather cold body, giving the disgusting impression of touching a lizard. In her place, ignoring the scenario around her, the vermillion queen submerged in her private nirvana, leaving the other guests in an embarrassing situation.

    Ha ha… She’s already falling for me and it was soooo damn easy. Well… I would have done the same if I were in her place...

    Rejoicing in a silent moment of victory, Joujin kept providing the, doubtlessly, most pleasant moment that woman ever had. Truly excited by his own mojo, the young feaster exhibited his power over The Power. Seduction over the bark of eleven dreadful hound dogs and the clear conviction that he could make the Mistress exchange her sword and house, only for his charms. It felt good to shove it in that depicable audience’s face.

    This is unbelievable… The entire Red Eye watching me driving the Scarlet Queen all aroused. I love this job.

    Nobunaga Mayuko, also known as the Scarlet Queen. Under that name, the mistress was the reigning mastermind over a loathsome part of the criminal activity all over Kyoto. She ruled over countless cartels of human traffic, sponsored the soul black market for he own benefit and was the vicious whisperer of the violent murders all over Japan, which she called "The Harvest".

    Gradually, the crimson filth from the Queen’s activity started to scratch the pristine walls of Those Who Observe. Soon, they sent their answer…

    You won't see another sunrise, you hag…

    Assigned by his division, in a bittersweet mix of enthusiasm and adrenaline, Joujin embraced the subtle, yet crucial, mission of drift in the red fiend's nest. The mission was clear; kill the Queen, but silently.

    You know, inside a wasps' nest, better not awaken the hive's fury…

    Joujin was not alone; allies were near, deep within the Crusade. Still, the young charmer was not aware of their identities. His allies could be anyone; from the bold fat jug smoking a stinky cigar to the sweet concubine offering her beauty to a gross pervert geezer. Why not the sushi lady?

    Well, she is too pretty to not have been noticed before...

    Despite all the folklore and terror around the Scarlet Queen’s existence, Joujin was the living proof that she wasn’t a myth or a legend or even some kind of supernatural fiend. The Queen was just a woman, slaved to her flaming desires. Tortured by her own demons.

    I just hope they don't show up tonight…

    His breath lingered over her ears and the sturdy facial hair scratched the lady’s neck, obviously sending shivers down her spine. With a kiss on the shoulder, the youthful Casanova delivered the mercy blow towards a clearly furious audience. The Scarlet checkpoint was guaranteed or at least he assumed so.

    “Lady Nobunaga… I.. er… I understand Your Grace prefer to embrace the delightful company of your handsome escort…” This time, a bold fat man, resembling to a perverted Buddha with a tattoo on his skull and heavy jewelery, interrupted the Mistress’s sensual trance, with his irritating voice. “But we have business to discuss!”

    The exasperated foot hammered a punch in the lacquered wooden table, spilling the sake and food all over it.

    Uh oh…

    For the first time in that evening, the silence slashed throughout the room. The almost naked geisha sat in the bald man’s lap, swiftly slipped away from him, as she knew what was about to come next. The smoke seemed to get denser, as an ominous storm was about to break loose. Sensing the Queen’s aura inflating harsh and painful like a wasp’s nest, Joujin took his hands away from her, waiting for the imminent burst.

    “Aya…” the scarlet mistress called with indifference, stabbing the fat inconvenience with an arctic glare.

    From beyond the smoke that soared above the feasters' heads, making the ceiling impossible to be seen, a jagged chain resembling a whip blade wrapped around the insubordinate guest's neck, dragging him to the unseen. Trying to not puke his stomach content, Joujin heard the man’s hysterical squeal the sound of an electric buzz made a flutter of ashes rained from above. A heavy golden necklace plunged loudly over the table.

    What the hell did just happen?!

    For the first time, the young drifter was assaulted with horror. Not knowing what to do, he decided to stay still as he cursed the unexpected twist of his plans. Now he understood why that woman took the name of Scarlet Queen; her name was written with copious rivers of blood. Her expression reflected complacent delight and indifference towards the recent violence...

    “Well, I guess the dinner is over… Gentlemen, you must leave,” the Queen announced with a polite voice along with her aristocratic manners. “Unless any of you gentlemen have anything else to say, of course…”

    As scared dogs, the emasculated guests lowered their heads in a reverent bow and, one by one, left silently the dining room to quickly disappear through the already dark corridor. In his intimate, Joujin wanted to leave too. Being left alone with that psycho and a pile of ashes, while her God-Knows-What lurked on the ceiling wouldn’t be a pretty situation. Not at all…

    Slightly shaking while the Queen rose from her seat, Joujin did his best to not give in to a nervous breakdown and spoil the chemistry. Instinctively, he rose along, leaving his mouth very close to her neck, for stood up they ascended to similar heights.

    “So, my precious…” Joujin muttered timidly through a completely dry mouth, reaching to Nobunaga’s hair, not being able to see her face. “Shall we go to a private place… huh?”

    “The next private place you will go is the one hundred boxes where I will spread the leftovers of your dead body,” the Queen replied in a serpentine strike, “… or will you rather do it with one thousand? Tell me, Kuroyama Sanjiro, most worthless maggot from the AEGIS, who, along other vermins, came all the way here to try to kill me...”

    Oh, dang…

    “Aya…"

    [continues…]