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Ever since Kyouka was little, she always knew she was a girl.
She told her parents very proudly at age six that she couldn’t wait to grow up and be pretty just like mommy.
They were stunned, but soon it turned into acceptance, then pride. They changed her name and listed her as their only daughter under their family registry. They bought her a soft white sleep yukata, pretty kimono to wear during their outings, and two cute white flower hairclips she wore every day. Her favorite kimono was a pink one with purple hydrangea and a dark pink obi.
In fact, Kyouka was wearing her favorite pink kimono that day when the ghost woman appeared and murdered her parents. She wore it when scary men took her away, and she never saw her parents or their house again.
She still wore it when they saw her history and tried to make her wear boy clothes.
The last time Kyouka wore it was when a beautiful woman with red hair walked through the backdoor of the police station she was being held in.
The woman was regal and poised, dressed in a black-and-pink kimono with red spider lilies and a maroon obi, in a way that reminded her so much of her mom.
“Who the hell are you?”
“How the hell did she get in here?!”
The woman hid a laugh behind her red kimono sleeve. “No need to worry about that. Actually, there will be no need to worry about anything anymore.”
Before any of the men could act, a woman pale as a ghost appeared before them. A woman who looked like the ghostly vision who took her parents from her.
Her sword drawn, and they were all cut down. Fountains of blood spattered, some of it staining Kyouka’s precious pink kimono.
Kyouka trembled like a leaf before her, waiting to be cut down like everyone else. Just as her parents were cut down.
“Hello there, young lady.”
Kyouka gasped. She was the first person to call her that since her parents died.
She reached out a delicate hand, and Kyouka, despite her trembling, reached out and grasped it.
“What is your name? I am Kouyou.”
Through her fear, she answers with a stuttering “Kyouka…”
“That’s a lovely name. Would you like to come with me, Kyouka?”
This woman was powerful.
This woman was dangerous.
This woman was feminine and beautiful, just like Kyouka always wanted.
Kyouka nodded her head, and together they left behind the police station filled with corpses.
Kouyou treated her well. She gave her a large room in her multi-floor flat in Yokohama and an entire section in her massive estate in Gion. She gave her the finest kinomo made of expensive silks, expensive products to grow her hair long and keep it silky. Etiquette training to make her more refined and noble.
She even gave her special medicine one day.
“This will ensure that you’ll grow into the lovely young woman I know you can be.” And as Kyouka took her dose, Kouyou did the same with a wink and smile.
Her heart fluttered, and happiness swelled up. Kouyou is just like me, Kyouka thought. And she’s so beautiful. She wanted to be like that so badly.
She would be willing to do anything for it.
The place they spent the most time together in was the base of operations of an organization called the Port Mafia. Kouyou was a high-ranking member called an Executive. Kyouka could see just how much power she wielded as they walked through the massive halls filled with beautiful tapestries and dark hardwood floors polished to a fine sheen.
The other people, dressed in dark suits, parted like water, as if terrified to so much as touch even a thread of Kouyou’s ornate kimono. However, there was one man who was quite friendly with Kouyou and often had tea with them. He gave Kyouka candy and smiled at her; his brilliant red hair and clear blue eyes stood out to her the most.
With all the good things, there was an undercurrent of murkiness enveloping each well-maintained corner of the headquarters. Something inescapable about it curdled in her stomach and trapped her heart in an iron grip.
One day, Kyouka was finally introduced to that murkiness.
“It is time for you to blossom into a beautiful flower of the darkness,” Kouyou said with her normal, beautiful smile, her ruby lips stretched pleasantly over milky skin. How much Kyouka loved her skin, and she diligently bathed and used her special lotions in hopes of having it someday.
Kouyou took Kyouka to a private training area deep in the headquarters. Waiting there was a man with black hair, and a little blonde girl by his side. The girl interrupted her ranting at the man to wave at her, and Kyouka gave her a small wave in return.
“Ah Kouyou-kun, thank you for making time,” he said, and gave Kyouka a smile that didn’t reach his dark eyes. “This must be Kyouka?”
Kyouka froze and Kouyou answered for her. “Yes, the girl I told you about. She has a Gift just like my own.”
Kyouka’s blood froze in her veins. Because there was only one other ghost woman who looked like Kouyou’s. I…I have that power? But how? Why? She struggled to speak, to tell Kouyou that she can’t summon what murdered her parents.
Kouyou pulled out a cellphone and dialed a number.
A phone rung.
Her Mother’s phone, hanging off Kyouka’s neck, was ringing.
Kouyou faced her. “Kyouka dear, please answer that.” She wore a smile, that same gentle, sweet, lovely smile. It spoke of cruelty, of severe consequences if she disobeyed.
So she answered.
“Demon Snow, please cut down that training dummy in front of Kyouka.” Kouyou’s voice through the phone was blunt and direct, nothing like the honeyed tone she always used with her.
There was a rippling through Kyouka’s core, and a ghostly phantom was summoned. It cut the dummy in two, and the man whistled at the sight as Kyouka’s beating heart was trapped in her throat.
“Her Ability truly is like yours. She shall serve us well.”
“She will certainly become a powerful ally, Mori-dono.”
Kyouka recalled Kouyou’s words to her earlier. That she would bloom into a flower of the darkness?
She clasped her hands and looked over at the two adults, as well as the strange little girl running between them.
Then there was the phantom hovering near her. The monster that destroyed her life is now with her. She’ll never be rid of this, never be able to move from that horrible moment in time...
She thought over the time she’s spent with Kouyou, admiring her beauty, strength, and grace. Her effortless femininity. Wanting it for herself.
Maybe this was okay. No, this was definitely fine. Kouyou had given her everything and ensured that she could grow up to be a woman like her. Like her Mother. So maybe…this was how she could repay her.
She was already trapped in the darkness. There was no escape for someone like her. But, at least she could be beautiful, just like Kouyou.
(Her Mother flashed in her mind. Her warm eyes and smile, her soft hand combing through her hair, her soft kimono with the scent of sunlight as they embraced.)
She’ll be fine.
Through the days spent together, the lessons on flower arrangements, tea ceremonies, and literature. She celebrated Tanabata (but never Obon, she wasn’t permitted to grieve), New Year's, and Hinamatsuri. In between, she was forced to train her Gift.
As in, it would be summoned against her will through her Mother’s own phone and attack whatever targets Kouyou directed it towards. Each time, she was pleased with the results, and Kyouka shoved her guilt and sorrow into the deep parts of her and returned her smile.
Kouyou began lessons on how to use her feminine wiles to charm men and make them easy targets. “The art of seduction,” Kouyou explained, “is a vital part of any Mafia member’s kit. And even, or especially at your age, is one that you must master.”
She learned how to move her hips, how to sit just right to allow a sliver of skin to show from her legs, how to bat her eyelashes, and use her large, guileless eyes to enthrall.
This, too, must have been part of being a woman.
Right?
Her fourteenth birthday dragged her down into the pits of despair and darkness.
She was sent to an Executive named Verlaine, who lived in the bleak, dungeon-like corridors of the Port Mafia basement for some curious reason. His lessons weren’t like the ones Kouyou gave to her, on femininity and refinement.
These were lessons on human anatomy, on weapon types, how to mask her presence in the shadows, how to walk silently, how to hide weapons on her body.
How to slit someone’s throat. Which arteries and blood vessels should be cut to cause massive hemorrhaging. How to lacerate the renal artery of a target while moving through a crowd.
Kouyou’s words echoed in her mind. It is time for you to blossom into a beautiful flower of the darkness.
Didn’t she want to be a beautiful flower?
In between lessons with Verlaine, Kyouka trained with Kouyou in the art of combat. Her blade, drawn from her umbrella, slashes with precision and cuts through the air with grace. Kyouka barely blocked her blows, and her arms trembled with the effort of holding back a grown woman’s strength. Despite how much affection Kouyou doled out to her, any one of her attacks would end her life in an instant if they connected.
But, this too, must be part of her journey to be a woman.
After a mere six months, Kyouka’s sent on her first mission. It ended successfully, which meant she watched the life fade from a man’s eyes. A pool of blood slowly expanded from his perfectly slit neck. The heavy scent of iron and rust filled the room.
Kouyou retrieved her from the safe point. She covered her with her kimono, her expression glowing with pride and joy. “You’ve done exceptionally, Kyouka. You are truly growing into a fine woman indeed.”
A fine woman.
There was a time when Kouyou’s praise was like the full moon shining upon her in the night sky. But all she could think about was the life she took that day. The man laid motionless on the ground, in a puddle of his blood he choked on in his last moments. Her dead eyes reflected in the pool of blood.
Blood.
Red like Kouyou’s painted lips and nails, like the red spider lilies on her kimono.
Didn’t Kyouka always want to be a beautiful, fine woman like Kouyou? Wasn’t this everything she ever wanted?
She couldn’t remember her Mother’s face anymore.
Her days were filled with death and killing and killing and death. Of disarming her victims, then ending their lives.
She had nothing left to give. Even her desire to become a beautiful woman had been drenched in blood and entrails.
She thought she could handle anything, as long as Kouyou, the epitome of womanhood, guided her.
But what good is lipstick stained with blood?
Meeting Atsushi is like breathing in the crisp, clean air of a forest after being trapped in a suffocating underground tunnel.
Atsushi is nothing like Kouyou, nothing like what Kyouka was taught a woman should be. She’s clumsy and skinny. Her clothes are baggy and boyish and made of cheap materials, her face doesn’t have a hint of makeup, her hair is unkempt, her voice lacks the silkiness and pitch of a proper lady, and she doesn’t understand what seduction is, let alone how to seduce others.
But Atsushi is the finest example of a woman Kyouka has ever met.
She’s kind and brave, strong and just. They watch K-dramas and read novels, and learn to cook together. Atsushi brushes her hair and compliments it with a tinge of wistfulness. They play and tickle fight each other.
Her smile is a bit crooked, and it lights up her sunset eyes and makes her complexion glow brighter than the most luxurious foundation.
When Atsushi tells Kyouka she’s a woman, there’s not a single part of her that questions it.