Winter hushed Honshu’s rice fields. I stepped into Japan, a Lyon professor obsessed with Kamakura and Bushido. Kyoto’s Gion alleys, Nara’s deer, Kamakura’s samurai whispers, Matsue’s misty legends. A Shinto priest friend whispered of Kōmyō-ji no Onnayu, Hakone’s unmapped temple. No guides. Only for pure souls.
Trained to Hakone. Hiked two days, bamboo staff, cold nights under twisted pines. Third evening, crimson torii guarded a misty valley. Cypress wood temple, steaming pool carved in rock, bamboo encircled. Barefoot on warm stones, I stripped. Slipped into milky onsen. Heat invaded muscles, neck, groin. Eyes closed. Silence.
The Privilege
Presence stirred. Vibration. Green glow under lids. Opened eyes. Steam glowed golden. She stood at the edge. Hisui Onnayu. Nacre skin, slender, hypnotic. Ink-haven-red hair cascading. Small firm breasts peaked. Narrow hips, high round ass begging taste. Delicate face: straight nose, high cheeks, full lips parted. Almond eyes, ancient joy. But hollow at solar plexus, pale light emanating.
She entered water silently. ‘You are Shirube,’ her voice caressed my mind. ‘Help reclaim my heart from yokai in Tsubaki’s darkness. I’ll teach love’s art.’ Bent close, lips brushing ear. World dissolved. Fell into void.
Dark forest materialized. Yukata on, pulsing katana at waist. Demon loomed: hulking, horned, red eyes, black tongue, heart in glass orb. Fought. Dodged claws. Slashed. Hisui’s memory gave jade light. Severed heart free. Returned clutching it.
Emerged in stars. She sat, eyes alive. Placed heart in hollow. Light fused. Whole. ‘Tea first.’ Led to pavilion. Ivory kimono, grenat obi. Precise ceremony: chasen whisk, chawan steam. Bitter matcha, like her.
The Excess
Kimono fell. ‘Nyotaimori.’ Table low, black lacquer. She lay nude on white linen. Geishas in red-gold kimonos placed sushi: maki on belly, sashimi on thighs, ginger on breasts, oyster inner thigh. Drank hot sake. Ate from her skin. Lips grazed clavicle, daurade slice. Rice from hip. Tuna low belly. Oyster tongue-tip, her heat pulsing near.
Eyes half-open. ‘Taste inside.’ Geishas brought silk ropes.
Stood back to me. ‘Exchange, no dominance.’ Bound my torso, arms open. Lips on shoulders. Rope bit sweet. Then I bound her: wrists crossed, frame breasts, diamond on belly, thighs laced. Whispered unsaid words per knot.
Candle wax. Droplets on chest, belly, thigh. She gasped, arched. ‘More.’ Marked her opaline.
‘De-lie me. Take me.’
