Camellia Red


A plume of white smoke rose from the kindled incense, it curled into the air in soft hazy ribbons.

Sitting back on his heels, Jack looked at his humble offering to the kamidana. A bowl of rice, a cup of tea, and a branch of spring's first bloom of cherry blossoms. He took a deep, clarifying breath and, with yuzu beads in hand, began to pray.

He had only just entered a meditative state when he was interrupted.

"Prince Shinjiro."

Jack exhaled sharply as the shoji door opened. A man whose smile blended with his wrinkles entered, shutting the panel as he dropped to his knees. He bowed respectfully.

"Mr. Nakamura." Jack acknowledged the old chamberlain, keeping his voice neutral. All the palace servants knew Jack was not to be disturbed at this time of day. One would have to be either foolish or ignorant to do so. But Nakamura, an esteemed man of service, was neither those things. A special purpose gleamed in the man's wizened eyes.

"Forgive me for the intrusion, your highness," said Nakamura, "but I was instructed by their imperial majesties to introduce a very special guest to you."

Jack narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "A guest?"

Nakamura nodded, his head tilting behind him. Jack's gaze trailed past the man. On the shoji screen, a silhouette of a figure appeared. It shrank as they lowered themselves onto the floor. They sat there, waiting to be let in. Jack's curious indifference flared to irritation when it was obviously a woman's shape. Nakamura reached behind him for the door but Jack stilled his hand with just a word.

"Don't."

"Prince Shinjiro?"

"I do not wish to see anyone right now." Jack said, then in a more unfriendly tone, added. "Tell my parents that I do not appreciate their attempts at matchmaking when I am still in mourning."

Nakamura's face ashened at that, and Jack almost felt sorry for shooting the messenger, but this was for the best. If word of his displeasure got back to his parents, the emperor and empress, perhaps they would reconsider shoving young women in his direction. Jack had denounced all their plans of an omiai, so they thought themselves clever by creating happenstance circumstances, inviting young daughters of noble families for banquets and palace revelry. All done in the hopes of some young chit capturing his attention to speedily aid his transition from mourning.

Jack chafed at their good intentions. He did not expect them to understand why he ritually donned his montsuki and haori or offered incense and prayers at the altar everyday without fail. His unbound hair barely expressed a fraction of his sadness.

It had been a little more than a year since he defeated Aku—at the cost of Ashi, his great love. The moment his blade struck Aku, Jack arrived too late at the conclusion that Ashi was bound to the demon, that without him, her existence would cease. Vividly, he could still remember the anguish of watching her fade before his very eyes, how his fingers reached out to her, only to comb through nothing but air.

"But your highness…" Nakamura boldly protested, stirring Jack from his remembered sorrow. "She's travelled this far to meet you. At least, for an introduction"—

"I will not grant it."

"She's the most sought-after geisha in the country, she came all the way here to Edo just to make your acquaintance. She is Miss"-

"I said I will not grant it."

"Prince Shinjiro. You cannot let yourself be consumed by this…" The chamberlain struggled to find the right word, "…grief. Your parents only wish the best for you. Isolating yourself like this, it is unbecoming of a prince, a beloved hero"- Nakamura abruptly ceased at the pronounced clatter of yuzu beads on the tatami.

"A hero you say," Jack shook his head and gave him an icy glare. "You do not know the weight of those words, the weight I have to carry."

"Prince Shinjiro, if you could just take one moment"-

"I believe this conversation is over," Jack said, rising to his feet, "send your guest my apologies and provide her with compensation."

"But your highness"-

Jack walked over to the amado leading to the private veranda, the room instantly brightened as he opened it. He looked the retainer once more over his shoulder. "Mr. Nakamura. This is the end of this discussion. Now, if you please…"

Nakamura could only gape as Jack closed the panel shut, casting the room once more in soft darkness, as well as ending further pursuit of the matter. Sighing, the old man straightened his back in his seiza and carefully shuffled around towards the shoji doors behind him. He would have to break the news to the young woman...not that she had not heard it for herself.


Usually the long flights of stairs would make Nakamura tired and winded, but somehow there was a spring in his step and the years seemed to slough off of him, and he suspected it had something to do with the company.

The young geisha certainly lived up to her reputation

She was a beauty to behold with her arched feathery brows that framed her catlike eyes, small perky nose, and pouty red lips. She carried a graceful posture in her descending steps, her white tabi-clad feet producing no sound, while the filtered sunlight from the shoji and ranma made the artful loops of her black hair gleam like silvery catches of moonlight on the water. The neutral propriety of her surroundings seemed to transform into a floating byobu with her as the focus in her spring green kimono and pumpkin-colored obi and scarlet obiage and obi-jime.

Truly, a vision of springtime.

The old retainer shook his head. Had the prince not been stubborn, he would have been enamored at first sight.

"I am sorry that I was not able to meet his highness." She broke through his thoughts as they paused on a landing. "I hope I did not inconvenience him in any way." She gifted Nakamura with a smile, tilting her chin ever so slightly that the silk flowers of her hair ornaments swayed.

"Oh no!" He said, tripping over his own tongue like a young fool. "M-My lady, there is nothing to apologize for. You have been so gracious, given the circumstance, even so far as to redirect blame. It is the prince who should be sorry." After all, she had only acted upon the summons of the palace.

She batted her lashes. "The prince? Surely not. He seems like such a busy man."

"No…" Nakamura sighed. "He's only been keeping to his own company ever since…" He caught himself abruptly. It was not wise to share details of the royal family to outsiders.

"Ever since what?" She asked in piqued curiosity, fanning her fingers to her crimson lips, her sleeves draped to reveal the embroidered flowers that ran along the dyed silk. "Do you perhaps mean from the time he slayed the demon? I have heard the stories." She then gushed, bending her head to him conspiratorially. "Is it true he accomplished such a feat unaided?" Mischief sparkled in her eyes.

Nakamura found her gaiety infectious, reminding him of his own grandchildren. "Yes, he did it all by himself like the hero he was prophesized to be, with the magic blade given by the gods."

"My!"

"His battle lasted mere minutes to us, but if you've heard the stories…"

"He spent fifty years in the future, was it not?"

The old man chuckled. "He is a man of noble worth, the prince. Chosen by the gods. It is not too hard to believe given what this country had to endure." He frowned, recalling the horrors of the last year, a world ravaged by pain and darkness that had lasted almost two decades. Now in this newly ushered peace, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

He shook away those thoughts. The past was the past and his sentimental heart rejoiced with serenity at what this new era could possibly offer-new wonders and glories, similar to the young beauty before him.

"I feel bad for the prince…" She frowned. "He sounded so…" her eyes drooped, "...sad."

Nakamura smiled at her generous concern. "The prince has gone through a lot...he spoke of having to make big sacrifices."

"One can only imagine…" She hummed softly, looking directly into his eyes. She held his gaze for a few long moments, before blinking slowly and speaking in soft drawn-out breathy whispers. "What sort of sacrifice, I wonder?"

"Yes, well…the one that affected him the most was losing his supposed lover in a distant time." He shook his head sorrowfully, "I pity him, but when things are beyond one's control, we have to carry on. He is the prince and one day he will"- Once again, Nakamura stopped himself, beads of cold sweat lining between the creases of his bald head. He had spoken too much. Nobody knew of this time-faded lover. Nobody but the family's trusted members that included himself were to know about it, yet he revealed it to her.

Something about her presence lowered his guards and she had the honeyed voice of a soothsayer. He dismissed those thoughts away. No, it was his fault, not this innocent girl. He was clearly just getting too old.

"Who was this lover? Was she beautiful?"

Nakamura smiled uneasily.

"Nobody knows…." The retainer knew he had to change the topic but her sparkling curious eyes held his mind captive. "Only the prince would know. We only have her name."

She made a fluttery movement with her sleeve, as she touched a hand upon her cheek, beaming at him. "Do you know it?"

Nakamura exhaled slowly.

She was truly a marvel…

"I do…It's hard to forget when you are standing in front of me."

Another tilt of her head. "And why is that?"

"You both bear the same name. This lover and you. Miss Ashi."


Ashi's Oka-san (as what was expected of all the okiya girls to call her) was beyond annoyed. This was the first time someone rejected Ashi, her darling of girls, and it had to be the prince! As they walked out into the imperial palace gardens, nothing could cool down the proprietess' temper, not even the gentle fragrant breeze.

"How could he not even look at you?! Does he look down on us because we are not from the capital? Well! Kyoto used to be capital before Aku!" She huffed under her breath, the large gray mass of her hairdo wobbling from her wake. "I heard the hero prince was noble with a kind soul, but perhaps these rumors give him more for little credence." Thankfully, no guard or staff was in proximity to her rant. "All that fame must have gone to his head!"

Ashi tried to soothe her with words, gently reminding her of what made the prince a hero in the first place. When that did not work, she reminded the older woman of her health, that it was not good for her nerves to get so worked up over such a silly matter.

Oka-san's eyes snapped incredulously at Ashi.

"Silly? My girl, there is nothing silly about this! You are not called the golden blossom for nothing! I do not care if he is the prince! Such rudeness!"

The golden blossom was a title given to Ashi on her debut by the women who ran the most prominent teahouse in Gion. Ashi only had less than a year of formal training after she joined her Oka-san's fold. She had entered shortly after the okiya's doors reopened that desperately sought a new generation of artisans. Most of the girls were those wanting to start a better life after Aku's regime. It had not been easy, as it always was in the beginning; there were hardly any entertainers in demand, especially during the great reconstruction.

But when Ashi walked through the doors, the flower and the willow world was not only reawakened but revitalized.

It took years to become a full-fledged geisha, but after the liberation, rules had to be bent, and if anyone was more deserving of such an exception, it was Ashi. All the lessons and training seemed like child's play to her, mastering them in one try despite her claim of having had no prior experience. She was a prodigy and a beauty with her attractive features. Though she did not possess the lily-white skin of the standard, the healthy glow of her sun-kissed skin radiated with as much warmth as the sunrise that daring to bleach it was blasphemous.

The matriarchs of the hanamichi district agreed that if anyone should lead them to a brighter, prospering future, it would be Ashi. Her debut marked the blossoming of a new golden age of entertainment, ushering in a new stream of revenues not just for okiyas and teahouses, but also for rakugo theaters and kabuki performers, and much more.

Ashi smiled at Oka-san, producing a fan from her obi. The vexed woman took it, not to refresh her heated state but more to occupy her fidgety hands, helping her calm down somewhat.

"We were well-received, Oka-san." reminded Ashi. "The stewards were very pleased and mentioned having us again in the future."

An invitation to the palace was nothing to sneeze at, even Oka-san had to grunt out her admittance. "Yes, it is a big honor. One I had never even dared to dream." With her free hand, she reached out for Ashi's hand, her face finally softening. "And it's all because of you, dear. You've been such a blessing. I'm fortunate you chose my okiya."

"I'm glad you accepted me," was Ashi's touched reply.

The moment of peace quickly faded when Oka-san once again snorted angrily. "And I'm insulted that prince did not. The nerve! Who does he think he is?!"

"Um," Ashi blinked. "The prince?"

"Yes, but still!"

Oka-san continued her tirade as she ambled on to the direction of the outer gates, where they were preparing the rickshaw. Ashi lingered behind, stopping in front the large rectangular pool that hosted a plethora of floating petals. She bent ever slightly, catching her own reflection...that wore a furious scowl.

Her thoughts mirrored that of Oka-san's, only darker.

How dare that wretched fool spurn her? When he had callously dismissed her earlier, Ashi wanted to barge right in and give the cretin a piece of her mind. She recalled how her hands balled up in her lap, knuckles whitening. She had imagined a hundred, delightful ways she could show him exactly what she was capable of, but with the grace of her training, she managed restraint, willing herself to sit outside prim and proper.

She straightened back, pursing her lips. This was not how she envisioned the first meeting to happen. Not that there had been a meeting. The prince certainly made sure of that.

She crossed her arms beneath her silk sleeves, her eyes following the butterfly scatterings of falling flowers from the trees that bordered the water as she reviewed the information she gleaned from the old chamberlain. Most of what the old fool had said confirmed what was public knowledge - except for one interesting tidbit.

The prince had had a lover. Not surprising. Men of esteem and power always did, it was almost always expected. How serendipitous though for this mystery woman, irrelevant of her status or origin, to have the same name as hers! If that old fool had only finished announcing her name, perhaps the prince would have changed his tune about meeting her. Maybe he would have been a sentimental clod and called it kismet.

Ashi sighed, scolding herself for focusing on what-might-have-beens. There was nothing she could do to alter recent events to her favor. But she could, however, count on herself to make the most out of the next invitation that she had personally guaranteed with her wit and smile.

The prince was still a man. A hero, but not infallible.

She dropped her hands to the side as she allowed herself to take in the gardens. The beauty that surrounded her, from the striking bark color of the lofty keiyaki to the maidenly blush of cherry blossoms, filled her with a sense of calm and renewed conviction. She appreciated these moments where she felt put together yet undone.

After savoring one more lungful of peace, she carefully turned around, the imperial palace looming before her. All delight wiped clear of her face as she tilted her head back and stonily eyed the plastered walls and pillars of the multi-storied pagoda and red curved rooftops.

I will be back, she assured herself, and I will have an audience with the prince.

As she was brimming with resolve, a fluttering movement caught her eye. There, high up in one of the middle balconies was a dark-clad figure - a man, by the clothes he wore, his hair and sleeves flapping to the wind. She could tell he was watching her, regarding her from above with fascination. She could feel it - and she stared right back at him. Normally, people would avert their gaze when she caught them. This person, however, did not. If anything, he leaned over the balustrade more, practically climbing over it. One false move and he could have easily toppled over. Even with her trained eye, it was difficult to pick up the exact details of his face, especially from her low angle.

Yet-

"Ashi!" Oka-san's voice from a distance snapped her away. "Let's go back."

Ashi obeyed, not bothering to look back up. On the ride home, as they passed through the myriad of local businesses and townsfolk, she could not help but muse about the stranger in the balcony.

If she had to describe the expression on his face...

He had looked shaken.


They returned to their rented townhouse near Edo's hanamichi district, owned by one of Oka-san's friend in the capital. Ashi was the only geisha in the okiya, the three other girls, all maiko, looked up to her as their older sister with unwavering admiration. They were a loud, boisterous bunch, always enthusiastic about everything. Ashi found all three at the genkan wearing komon kimonos, their eager faces lighting up when she opened the door.

"Big sister! Did you get us something good?"

Ashi playfully slapped away their outstretched begging hands. "It's 'Welcome home!' you greedy weasels." She could not suppress her smile though as she slipped her zori off of her feet. Oka-san appeared behind Ashi, bringing with her a dark cloud that instantly quieted the excited chattering. Her wounded pride still had not recovered and the whole rickshaw ride home, she had continued badmouthing the prince, working herself up to an even worse mood than before, and if Oka-san was not happy, nobody was.

Dinner that night was an awkward affair, everyone ate silently and avoided eye contact with one another, despite the close arrangement of their tray tables. They made as little noise as possible, worried they could set off Oka-san in some way, who was still muttering under her breath about vain princes and their high and mighty attitude. Fortunately, she did not bother finishing her meal, complaining of a headache.

Everyone waited in bated breath, as they listened to Oka-san's receding footsteps. When they were sure that she was truly out of the vicinity, the three maiko girls all erupted at once.

"Big sister! Tell us what happened!"

"What was the palace like?!"

"Did you get to see the prince?!"

Ashi described the imperial palace in great detail, painting a vivid image of the sprawling gardens and high keeps, enthralling the girls, their eyes sparkling in wonder that then widened with their mouths hanging open as Ashi revealed she was not able to meet the prince.

"Didn't want to see you?!" Chiyo, the eldest maiko at seventeen, exclaimed after Ashi finished. "Why wouldn't he? You're great!"

Ashi took a sip of her tea to hide her amused smirk. The three girls truly were her staunchest and most biased admirers. "It seems they had arranged this meeting without his knowledge, so he was understandably vexed."

"Ehhh….is that so?" Fumiko, the youngest at fourteen, chimed in, taking intermittent bites of her pickled cabbage as she did. "Don't you think it's still a little rude to just send you away like that?"

"They did invite you after all." sixteen-year-old Satomi concurred, chewing at the same time. When it was just them, all manner and formality were thrown out the window.

Ashi shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Believe me, I had to hear Oka-san gripe about it the whole time."

"I bet!" They giggled.

"But you know," Chiyo said when all laughter faded, "I bet if the prince had caught a glimpse of you, he would have changed his mind immediately."

"Don't be silly." Ashi picked at her grilled fish, dipping it in the soy sauce. "He's a prince, I'm sure he's used to the refined court ladies in the palace."

"But Big sister, you're different!" Chiyo insisted, "The prince would have fallen madly in love with you!"

"The prince is handsome too, it'd be perfect!" Fumiko crooned, lacing her fingers together with a dreamy-eyed expression.

Satomi snorted at that. "Ehh...Fumiko, you sound as though you've seen him in the flesh. When really, you've only seen a commissioned portrait."

"So? It was made to his likeness?"

"Are you serious?" Satomi snickered, poking her chopsticks in Fumiko's direction. "Besides, I doubt the palace would approve any of his public portraits if he looked less than perfect. It's called publicity."

Fumiko's brows furrowed, her cheeks reddening. "Satomi you don't know what you're talking about! Everyone who's met him say he's every bit as handsome!"

"Yeah sure."

"Geez! Not once have I heard you doubt stories of him travelling to the future but it's different if it's his physical appearance?"

Ashi had to intervene, knowing fully well how quickly things escalated between the two girls. "Give it up Fumi, you know how critical Satomi is when it comes to looks."

"It's not that I don't care about those time-travelling rumors," Satomi uttered with her nose in the air. "I just choose to ignore it out of gratitude. After all, defeating Aku must have knocked him on the head and some."

"Are you implying he's not all there?" Chiyo laughed, tapping a finger to her temple for effect.

"Who knows?" Satomi's mouth tightened in a straight line, which lasted only a few seconds when she grinned impishly. "Though I'll admit if he really is as handsome as we're led to believe, I wouldn't mind!"

As the girls joked and laughed, Ashi watched them in fascination. It never ceased to amaze her, this carefree camaraderie among these girls, who had no blood ties to one another. She could not help but think of her own sisters, her real ones.

Maybe if things had been different, perhaps they could have been…

Ashi frowned.

There was no use thinking about it. She picked up her bowl of fuki-miso and lifted it to her lips.

She tasted nothing.


Ashi was a light sleeper, and was instantly awake when she heard movement.

She sat up in the silvery darkness of her surroundings, carefully lifting her head from the takamakura that preserved her shimada hairstyle in sleep. She turned to the window and strained her ears, listening closely.

It was a rider, confirmed by the soft whinnying and hoofbeats against the cobblestone path. It was drawing closer, enough for the rest of the occupants to soon pick up on the noise and complain about what sort of madman would go riding at this hour.

She continued listening, waiting for it to pass.

It didn't.

The galloping halted right in front of their townhouse.

A few minutes later, she heard loud banging below and the rousing commotion of house attendants.

Ashi pulled the covers away and padded on her knees to one of her dressers. Her fingers pushed the false bottom in the last drawer, hidden beneath the folded silks and brocades, which opened a small compartment to her secret cache. She was contemplating what to use when hurried footfalls echoed outside her hallway.

Cursing inwardly, Ashi pushed the drawer shut and returned to her futon, just in time for Satomi to slide open her bedroom screen.

"Big sister!" She panted, leaning against the wooden frame to catch her breath from climbing the stairs, strands of hair plastered on her forehead. "You need to go downstairs now!"

"What? Why? What's going on?"

"I don't really know myself," the maiko replied, leaving the door open as she stepped inside, "just that there's a guest. I'm just following Oka-san's orders. Now come on, hurry!" She grabbed Ashi's hands and pulled her up.

"A guest?" Ashi refused to budge. "This late at night? Why is she letting them in?"

"Who am I to question the woman?" Satomi hissed through her teeth, tugging at Ashi's arms once more.

"Big sister, please!" She whined. "I'll get scolded if you don't!"

Ashi yanked free from her grip. "Calm down! At least let me get dressed," she said, gesturing to her sleeping attire, "you don't expect me to go down in my nemaki."

Satomi threw her hands up in exasperation. "I don't think Oka-san cares right now. Please!" The maiko scanned the room and immediately rushed to the pile of neatly folded laundry in a corner. "Here," she flapped open one of Ashi's uppawari that was patterned with sakurasou blossoms and butterflies, "just put on your house jacket!" She practically forced Ashi into it.

"Can I wash my face?"

"Doesn't matter, you're still pretty! Now let's go!"

Ashi allowed Satomi to drag her downstairs, to where a pacing Oka-san waited. The two other maiko and some of the house staff were also there.

"Ashi! What took you so long?" She seethed, startling Ashi as this was the first time Oka-san ever spoke to her in such a brusque manner.

"Oka-san, what's going on? Who is it?"

Oka-san grabbed her wrist and jerked her away from Satomi as though she were a baton.

"Come on!"

Ashi was led to one of the receiving areas for guests, stopping right in front of the room. Oka-san released her and gave the geisha a quick lookover. She nodded approvingly despite the glaring informality of Ashi's clothes.

"This will have to do. Now go on," Oka-san urged, as she opened the shoji door, "you've kept him waiting long enough."

"Who?" Ashi whispered, keeping the trepidation from her voice as she mentally steeled herself for the worst-case scenario.

The older woman came behind Ashi, putting her hands on her shoulders. She then pushed the young woman into the room, but not before finally breathing the answer into her ear. One that Ashi did not expect to hear and almost made her lose footing.

There was only one floor lamp lit in the room, in the far corner by the tokonoma that showcased the shodo piece of a famous calligrapher. Whatever was written on it was obstructed by the room's other occupant. There, stood a man wearing a white gi, the top half open, exposing most of his chest. His long black hair came down to his shoulders, windswept and disarrayed.

He looked like the aftermath of a man found in the taverns and pleasure quarters, all dishevelled and dazed. He stared at her, barely blinking, his mouth parting slightly.

Ashi almost forgot to breathe under his scrutiny until she remembered herself. She slowly kneeled onto the floor in a seiza. She was about to bow deeply and show her respect when he came flying at her with such a speed that Ashi barely registered her own shock. His arms wrapped around her tightly as his face nuzzled the pulse behind her ear. He reeked of horse and sweat.

"Ashi…" He whispered ardently, his hand caressing her nape. "Oh, Ashi…"

The intimacy of his embrace and tone rattled Ashi as she considered the facts.

The man holding her and whispering sweet nothings was the prince.

The man she was sworn to kill.


This fic is based on an AU that was largely inspired by sally's Memories. I also adopted her headcanon of Shinjiro being Jack's real name because it's awesome.
Basically here, Ashi is an assassin masquerading as a geisha for nefarious reasons. This intro chapter took forever to write because setting the setting is gaaah. Chapter 2 is where the fun begins, at least for me.

I ultimately decided to title the story, Camellia Red, for the dual meaning.

Because in Japan, "Samurai used to detest these (camellia/tsubaki) flowers. Why? Because when they die the entire flower falls at once, its head separated from its stem, symbolising beheading. They are considered bad luck for warriors. But amongst regular people, tsubaki aren't considered bad luck at all. In fact, red tsubaki represent love."

Thank you for reading. Please don't forget to leave a comment if you enjoyed this and would like to see more. It makes my day and encourages me to continue.

/Any errors, I'll rectify at a later time.

Edit: Rewatching the episode with Jack in that haunted house, it is implied that Kyoto was the capital in Jack's time.