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[GlaciaLeafia]

Midori carefully walked through the hall Sengoku closely following behind. She hadn't received her the number of her table, nor had she seen her mother. Where was she? It wasn't like her to be late for something of this importance, especially since she was well known.

Sengoku seemed to behave himself at least, no silly flirting and not silly jokes. After all, Midori's mother could show up at anytime. He sighed. This was the reality of many slaves like him, yet he only been through that once and that was when Tsubame, Midori's mother, bought him as a personal slave for Midori.

Yes, there had been times where he was smacked by Tsubame, there had been times when she threatened to remove him of his household, but most of the time, his stay at the Hisaku household was pleasant. Perhaps it was because that Tsubame spent most of the time at her work and Kimiko always came to visit. Maybe in that sense he was luckier than most slaves.

------------------

Yui had arrived at the auction. It was very full and right now, she simply wanted to find the heir of the Rikkitan business. She ignored the strange looks that she received from some women. She didn't have a slave with her, so what? She was here on work, not to buy. Plus, she didn't need a slave to help her with work.

Now, where could Kiku Rikkitan be in the middle of this sea of people?

[Mitsuru]

[Adding another slave to the Konoe Household:

Keigo (20) – A bred slave who has been a member of the Konoe Household since infancy, the current generation of a long line of reputedly high-quality slaves entailed to the family. An insightful and sharp-witted man with an often cynical tongue, he deeply respects the true Yasu she so expertly conceals. Even if he were a free man, he’d choose to support her.]

[Images of my OC and NPCs can be found here.]

-----

I have other business I can attend to. By not appearing at the auction, I’ll send the message that it’s low on my list of priorities. The repercussions of that, however, …

Yasu’s eyes unfocused on the view beyond her bedroom. The brilliant plumage of the turning leaves went unacknowledged, the gathering clouds in the sky unheeded. Leaves shivered and the pond’s calm surface shirred as gentle, thin rain fell against them. In her mind, she saw a line extending from her original thought, branching over and over again with potential outcomes of her decisions. She saw shogi pieces moving.

At the familiar footsteps on the veranda, her already straight back straightened further, her face masked over with cool indifference, and her upturned hands folded neatly over each other in her lap. Neither of these reactions were conscious. Her body had been so strictly trained from infancy that it was second-nature.

The owner of the footsteps interrupted the view framed by the shoji, removed his slippers, and kneeled. He bowed.

When he straightened, he met her eyes evenly. “Mistress, it’s nearly time to depart.”

“Thank you, Keigo.”

Using his knees, he “walked” into the room and turned to silently slide the shoji doors shut. He got to his feet and passed her in favor of her hand-painted fusuma-doored closet. When she rose and turned, she found her blue gown brought out. He must’ve been nearby and overheard Natsu’s direction.

She held out her arms obediently and he set to work dismantling her obi and loosening the series of knots and ties that held kimono together. He didn’t require instruction or guidance. He’d been her valet since she was born, a few weeks after he was. His sire was Umakai, the Konoe Household majordomo and Natsu’s valet, just as his sire had been her grandmother’s valet and then-majordomo. Keigo had been born into a long line of elite slaves considered the envy of many great households. It instilled Keigo with a peculiar sort of pride, underscored by the knowledge that after Umakai passed on, he would become majordomo.

His hands were confident, his face carefully neutral, his eyes didn’t linger too long in any one place. Each article neatly folded, each cord neatly wound. He carried his collection back to the closet and returned with the dress and a bra that wouldn’t be seen above the gown’s asymmetrical cut. The silk slid smoothly over her skin.

She didn’t need to kneel for him to dress her hair, he was several centimeters taller and could see very well. Gentle fingers stroked her long hair into place.

“Keigo.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“If you were free, what would you do?”

“Exactly what I’m doing now.”

“You don’t resent your situation?”

He coiled the last lock into place and secured her chignon at the nape of her white neck, then skirted her to examine her face. He stooped to pick up her cosmetics box and after deciding his palette, brushes feathered over her features and traced her lips. When he spoke, his voice was very low, very quiet, and impossible for eavesdroppers to overhear.

“It’s a matter of perspective. Those who have suffered would resent their status. I have never suffered. In fact, even in among my peers in this household, I’m privileged.”

The cosmetics box closed. He wound delicate platinum around her neck and wrist, pressed it through her ears.

“I have work to do. Please bring my tablet.”

“As you wish.”


This is an exercise in insanity.

The grounds of the Rikitan Auction House looked better suited for Oscars or music award nights. A long carpet led from the curb to the entrance stairs. On either side, intimidating burly slaves manned the cloth rope herding back the crowd. People with cameras shouted questions. A few hurled obscenities at the passengers exiting the car ahead of them, decrying the exorbitant wealth on display here, the negligence of the poor, and the arrogance of slave-ownership.

Does no one see how insane this is?

Their car pulled forward and their driver got out to open the door. Umakai was the first to exit and open his umbrella. Natsu followed him. Keigo was next. When she didn’t immediately emerge, he peered down as discreetly as possible. His eyes were kind.

“Mistress.”

I don’t want to go in there. I’ll be sick.

The reporters’ questions shifted focus from the auction and what they were hoping to buy to politicized. There were questions about various bills awaiting passage or having been signed, whether the sitting Prime Minister would also attend, and whether Yasu or Natsu could confirm that Yasu was indeed being groomed to take over when the Prime Minister retired.

The activists’ questions took on a darker tone as they demanded the poor and needy’s plights be taken into serious consideration and that slaves deserved more rights in this educated and modern world.

She wanted to answer them. To agree with them. To raise her voice. But she didn’t. The mask of cool indifference she wore stayed in place, stayed intact. Keigo’s shoulders seemed to square as they walked together, his pride swelling at his mistress’s perfect composure in the face of her dearest cause. He’d hear her out later. As her confidant, it was his duty, his honor to help her shoulder her burdens.

[bakayaaa]

"Haruko-sama..." Kirihara whispered to Haruko's bejeweled ear as he observed some of the clad women gathering to the entrance of the hall. "Looks like someone important is heading here."

Haruko raised her eyes a bit, her thoughts still around the book she's reading. "Hmm..." she merely said, knowing such feat is common for events like this. Still, as she turned around and saw the blinding spotlight and a few camera flashes, she knows there's only one family capable enough of this. As she stood up, her mother started running towards her.

"Haruko dear, the Konoe family is coming in; let's welcome them warmly," Satou ordered and Haruko began to think who the Konoe family is.

Satou removed the book from her hands and gave it back to Kirihara, giving him a warning look. "And Haruko... please try not to sneak in these... things... during important events, okay?" she said and then she slapped Kirihara's right forearm, causing him to drop the book. "Don't try to spoil her, Kirihara, get it?" she quietly mumbled to the guy before making him pick up the book.

"Y-yes... Kuneida-sama," Kirihara silently said.

~~

As Satou successfully managed to drag Haruko out of the hall and into the driveway, Haruko's dark blue eyes widened in shock: the once-plain marble they stepped in earlier is now covered in red... literally. The red carpet extended from a familiar car up to the entrance door and she saw reporters swarming up to an another familiar lady in a blue gown.

"Konoe... Konoe..." Haruko's memory seemed to fail her again as she saw the reporters grilled her and a woman who seems like her mother. "Haruko-sama, what are they doing the--FUJI! FUJI! OVER HERE!" Kirihara managed to shout rather loudly to Fuji, who was a few feet far from them. It attracted a few people and reporters from the crowd, including that lady in the blue gown.

Haruko managed to make eye contact with the lady and managed a weak smile that says "Sorry about that." Satou gave him another warning look. Oops.

Fuji, still in shock at what Kirihara had done, slowly went back to his masters. He quickly batted his blue eyes on him again and quickly apologized to Satou

"I'm sorry for not returning soon, Kuneida-sama," Fuji bowed lightly and was quickly relieved by Satou. Haruko hit him lightly on the side and asked rather worriedly, "What took you so long, Fuji?"

Fuji called the attention of the three and pointed to the woman in the blue dress. "It's Yasu Konoe... Natsu Konoe's only child. I've heard rumors that their family is so strict they are not good in handling slaves..." he whispered, avoiding others to hear.

"But those are only rumors, right Fuji?" Satou asked skeptically, "They always keep their reputation high... why would they even do that?"

[Maya]

{btw, italic things are thoughts btw And shall I greet everyone or we somehow skip it? I'm fine with both ways xD lol sorry for always delaying I'm busy student and sportsman]

A shout flew across the hall. "Marui-kun!" TanTan looked up, it was adressed to her slave and saw a beautiful girl, accompanied by two red hair slaves. TanTan recognized her face, though they have never talked to each other, she was from famous family, but what was her name? Remember, remember now!

Yes, it's Sakura Amari, daughter of the owner of the well-known beauty salon which TanTan's her mother adored so much!

Bunta's face brighten up, as he saw who was coming, one of Sakura's slave was his old friend, but due to etiquette, he couldn't just wave him or go to greet him as he would normally do. Instead he followed his mistress and bowed. Jirou-kun. long time no see, how are you?

"Welcome to today's Rikitan auction, Sakura Amari-san! My name is Rikitan Kiku and I'll be your host for today's evening. Nice to meet you!" She kept repeating similar phrases for whole evening. Like a robot.

[-Amari-]

[[Hey guys~ just a note, I'll be using Jirou's anime hair here, so it'll be brown yeah just for your reference]]

Jirou walked lazily beside Amari, looking at nowhere but straight ahead. Although he looked dazed, but he was actually aware of things in front of him, as he was still able to push through people or move aside when someone else is trying to pass by. Sometimes, a "sorry" could be heard from him. It wasn't until he saw a red-haired guy blowing bubblegum that his eyes awakened, just like every morning whenever Amari comes down for breakfast.

"Marui-kun~!" He called out to him. Amari didn't know that the two knew each other, since Jirou seldom talks about his friends. She knew Eiji's friends though, but he doesn't seem to be particularly close to anyone but Amari. When she looked at her left, Eiji was out of sight, and was already shaking hands with a tall and spiky grey-haired servant. "Hello, Niou-san" she heard him say cheerfully. Man...how these guys know each other, it was beyond her knowledge.

While her servants were busy interacting with Kiku's servants, Amari looked at their owner. Bright and cheerful was Amari's first impression of her. The Rikitan family was also well-known in town, as the prestigious family in slave-trading. Many people bought their slaves from the Rikitan family. In fact, Eiji and Jirou were bought from them too.

"Thank you for your generous invitation, Rikitan-san. It's a pleasure to meet you" said Amari as she shook her hand. "My family has always been thankful for the slaves you have brought in. These two have been a big help" She jerked her head towards her slaves behind. She imagined that it will be a long evening for Kiku, as she probably had to meet and greet more people.

"I hope today's slaves are good" Amari said, keeping in mind that she has to find one that can cook.

[Mitsuru]

The crook of Keigo's elbow was warm under her frozen palm. Misty rain bloated into fat heavy drops against the nylon of the umbrella he held over their heads. Speaker Konoe preceded them in a similar fashion with Umakai as her escort. Every step she took troubled her conscience further, increased her disbelief at the scene around her, stoked her anger, and wounded her heart. To none of the sensations did she cater. She only strengthened her outward gelidity. To demonstrate weakness or uncertainty would only bring trouble.

A male voice sliced through the cacophony. "Fuji! Fuji! Over here!"

It was sufficient enough to draw stares and silence some of the rapid-fire questioning. Yasu's attention slid discreetly sidelong to an energetic-seeming slave and his target, a prettyish slave standing at distance and staring directly at her.

Which household is so undisciplined as to permit such a scene? If they care enough about their slaves to permit them this much freedom, do they not care about the repercussions of acting out like this in public?

She dismissed the slaves and her attention fell on a young woman who seemed flustered by the slaves' behavior – likely their owner. The woman offered her an embarrassed smile. To a woman who’d been raised as strictly as she had, the direct eye contact when they hadn't been formally introduced was uncomfortable. She quickly looked away and focused on her mother's perfectly-coiffed head.

I don't know who you are, but if you're here, you're someone of reputation. Please, for their sake, control your slaves in public. For your own sake, greet and bow properly to my mother. If you attract her disapproval, it will be unpleasant for your household. Please, I beg you. Owners who permit their slaves such freedom are too rare and I would wish that none of them suffer.

"Keigo," she murmured at a decibel no one would overhear.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Fail and I won't answer for you. Am I clear?"

"I understand. Please leave it to me."

-----

When her fingers pressed reflexively into his flesh, Keigo’s sympathies roused. No one but he knew just how deep her resentment of the slave culture ran. To her, the women who owned slaves were the worst beings humanity had produced, far more disgusting than the men abased and oppressed for their purported depravity. There was no woman, however, that she hated more than herself.

To him, there was no woman more worthy of his respect and admiration.

"Fuji! Fuji! Over here!"

He unobtrusively glanced over. At the sight of an undisciplined slave creating a scene, disgust licked the back of his mind. Disgust born both out of his pride as an elite slave who took the utmost care in his actions and presentation, and as a fellow man as theoretically subjugated as this guy.

What the hell is this moron doing? Does he not see the reporters everywhere who’ll headline with his identity and that of his mistress? Doesn’t he realize his misbehavior only strengthens women’s criticism of us? My mistress is struggling for our sake and punks like this undermine her efforts. Punks like this – should disappear.

"Keigo." Her murmur was so soft, he almost didn't hear it.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Fail and I won't answer for you. Am I clear?"

"I understand. Please leave it to me."

In the lobby, he stood silently while the Rikitan mother and daughter went through the proper motions of greeting and humbling themselves to Speaker Konoe. Meanwhile, he took stock of the environs, visible access points, and the illustrious personages present. When he'd delivered Yasu to the table she'd share with Speaker Konoe and Umakai, he bowed and excused himself to the toilet.

He waited until the toilet emptied of slaves, a trying task as each insisted on bowing upon recognition of his Konoe uniform. The uniform was shed within moments of concealing himself in a stall. Beneath it, he'd worn a woman's pantsuit, one of Yasu's taken out to fit him properly. His jacket draped over silicon breasts and his hair tucked under a sleek blonde bobbed wig. After dusting himself with makeup, secreting his uniform behind a ceiling tile, and arming himself with a reporter's notepad and digital camera, he approved of his transformation in the mirror and slipped back into the hall when it seemed no one was looking.

"Forgive me, madam, but this is the slave toilet," a man declared.

Keigo stiffened and turned.  The man was dressed in Rikitan commerce slave uniform.

"It is,” he replied in falsetto. He held up his notepad. "I've heard that Rikitan indulges slaves with luxurious treatment despite slaves being unworthy of such privilege. These toilets certainly seem quite opulent. Care to make an anonymous statement as to truth behind the scenes? Are you really as well-treated as the Rikitan family promotes?”

The slave eyed him with suspicion. "Who are you?"

[Maya]

[pfft I know my RP posts are weird but that's just my style]
TanTan tried to create friendly atmosphere for everyone. She talked with them, told funny jokes, made them feel better.
Buyer is your god. Take care of them well and they will come again.

But taking care of Konoe Natsu was a completely different cup of tea than others. Strict. Traditional. Scary. Telling her a joke wouldn't be probably the best way how to get her favour.
Her smile frozed. She gave Bunta and Niou "do-not-do-anything-stupid-or-you-will-die" kind of look and they nodded. All of them nw their roles in such situations like this.

TanTan's mother quickly came and made a lower bow than usual, TanTan repeated the gesture which they maintained for few seconds. One mistake and whole nation would know it.

They took her to one of the best seats in the hall, apart from others, Niou brought her top quality champaigne, everything had to be tip top. TanTan didn't say anything, just listened to her mother and Konoe's conversation. Yes. Humbling themselves. They weren't equal.

When she was in company of other women, she respected them and they respected her too. But this was different.

Suddenly she realized, she was acting as a slave.

Slaves were working, accomplishing their masters' tasks, because... It's always been like this, right?

She was like one of them, acting as a marionette in Konoe's hands.

[GlaciaLeafia]

Midori sighed, really her mother was rarely late, especially to these events. Oh wait, it seemed that by almost by invocation, her mother, Tsubame Hisaku, a stern looking judge, walked towards her daughter.

"Oh, hello mother," started Midori, slightly bowing.

Wearing a traditional business suite, her mother seemed more taller than she really was in her high-heels. More intimidating... Tsubame nodded and turned to Sengoku, who until then was at Midori's side. Quite, minding his own business and being alert to any of his master's need.

"It seems that you finally taught him some manners, you have surprised me very much," said Tsubame "We still need to greet Speaker Konoe-sama. Did you greet her yet?"

"Oh, no, I was waiting for you," replied Midori.

"I see. Remember, be refined and show your upmost respect. And control Sengoku-san, in case... He relapses into his inappriopriate behaviour."

With that, Tsubame turned, readying herself in the line to greet the Speaker of the Senate.

"Yes, mother, come Sengoku-san."

"Yes, Midori-sama," replied Sengoku, obiedently following Midori.

[-Amari-]

After her last comment, other guests came suddenly came to surround TanTan that it separated Amari from her. Oh well. Marui and Niou quickly returned to their mistress' side too, and so did Eiji and Jirou. As she proceeded down the hall, she reminded Eiji and Jirou to stick by her at all times. Getting lost in the sea of humans is definitely not a good idea.

Eiji looked left and right, trying to find the best seat for his mistress. Jirou, not wanting to lose to Eiji also looked around for a seat. Like hell he's going to let Eiji get all the praises. Both of them went forward and patted on a chair.

"How about here? Third row from the front." They both said in unison. Except, Eiji was pointing to the chairs on the left, while Jirou on the right. Realizing that, they both looked at each other, with a straight and serious expression. Each not saying a word.

"Kikumaru-kun, back off. I found this seat first" Jirou broke the silence first, but what came out of his mouth definitely wasn't a good statement. Eiji didn't like the sound of that. Not by a bit. Why can't he just give it up, already?

"No, I found it first. Come on, Akutagawa-kun, let's stop this..." And soon, it evolved into a little argument as both were not willing to give up their chosen seats, in an attempt to please their owner. Just for the sake of that. The whole time, Amari kept silent and looked away a little, but anger was building up inside her. More than pleased, she was pissed. As pissed as being woken up from a deep sleep.Maybe it was a wrong idea to bring them along. She asked herself why her Mum insisted on bringing Jirou along. Eiji, obviously, as her personal caretaker, he had to by her side the whole time. Why did it come this? Is it just impossible for them not to argue? Amari had never seen them like this. Normally, Eiji would just scold him for lazing off or sleeping when he was supposed to be working. It never got to this...

But what was the girl to do? Scream? In front of all these people? And then embarrass herself and her family name? No. She'll give them a good hell of a scolding at home. For now, she remain calm and composed, and pushed her anger inside. She took both of their hands and forcefully pulled them. The hand that was holding Jirou, she pulled it forward, and they entered the second row instead. Two middle-aged ladies sat right before their seat, leaving them to sit in the middle. She tapped Jirou's shoulder lightly.

"Sit" was all she said, with a sharp and cold glare as if to say "say another word, and I'll kill you". To Eiji, she did the same thing, while she sat between them, still not letting go of her grip on their hands.

Eiji and Jirou was awed at their mistress, whose mood seemed to have turned into a foul one. At the notice of their hands in Amari's, they looked away to another direction, just sitting in silence while waiting for the auction to start.

[Mitsuru]

Posted on Claire's behalf. My RP to follow.

---

"But those are only rumors, right, Fuji? They always keep their reputation high... why would they even do that?"

He was unable to answer. Even if he could, he would hesitate. Gossiping about that Household was dangerous to him as a slave and Haruko as his mistress. He only felt certain of his pity for any slave purchased by the Konoes tonight.

“Haruko-sama, may I be excused to the toilet?” He had no desire to stand on ceremony.

“Of course.”

He bowed and drew back into the crowd while Satou and Haruko stepped forward to greet the Konoes. Kirihara shot him a suspicious look but it went ignored. The crowd thinned out the closer he got to the toilets until there were very few people in the corridor at all. Few enough that any sort of scene, however small, would attract attention.

“Forgive me, madam, but this is the slave toilet.”

He stopped short, prepared to defend his pretty masculinity from his accuser, and turned. The speaker, dressed in Rikitan commerce uniform, addressed an elegantly-attired woman emerging from the slave toilets.

She held up a notepad. “It is. I’ve heard that Rikitan indulges slaves with luxurious treatment despite slaves being unworthy of such privilege. These toilets certainly seem quite opulent. Care to make an anonymous statement as to the truth behind the scenes? Are you really as well-treated as the Rikitan family promotes?”

The slave seemed taken aback and suspicion painted his face. “Who are you?”

Yes. Who are you? Whose side are you on? Are you pro-abolition, pro-slave rights, anti-elitism, or just a gossip hound for some two-bit speculative rag?

“Chika Yamato, freelance journalist.”

She’s absurdly tall and indelicate. Freelance journalists make enough money to dress so well? That’s a custom-tailored top-of-the line designer. Something’s not right.

Fuji drew back behind the corner he’d been about to turn and peered cautiously around it after ensuring he was alone. The commerce slave bowed. “With all due respect, madam, I will not answer. Rikitan Holdings is deserving of its reputation. Excuse me.”

It sounds like a compliment and endorsement, but really, he said absolutely nothing. The commerce slave moved off and turned down another hall. Yamato watched after him and after casting a wary glance over an inordinately broad shoulder, disappeared around a different corner.

His curiosity stoked, suspicion aroused, and the toilet forgotten, Fuji spurred into motion and headed for the spot where Yamato disappeared. She’d already gained considerable distance. He was careful to remain hidden and silent. They wound through the maze of corridors until Fuji was concerned he wouldn’t find his way back. Occasionally, she stopped and glanced around, as if to both gain her bearings and scan for bystanders.

The longer he trailed her, the stronger his suspicion and sense of alarm grew. When they reached an area clearly not meant for guests, Yamato stopped in front of steel double-doors. She glanced around and when she was assured she was alone, she tested a handle. It turned. She slipped in and shut the door silently.

Fuji hesitated. If he was caught in this place, it’d be disaster for the Kuneida family. But if Yamato was up to no good and something happened during the auction that threatened his household, he couldn’t forgive himself. Rationalizing in favor of continuing, he listened for sounds on the other side of the door and when met with silence, he carefully pushed through.

It was a large room gridded with aisles. A large room he remembered with sharp and sudden clarity. Both sides of each aisle were sectioned into cells doored by iron bars. Each cell contained a slave up for auction. There were a few children but most were adults. The lighting was dim to keep the populace sedate. The cells were clean, contained a bed, sink, toilet, small table, and chair, and were as relatively comfortable as concrete and iron could be under the circumstances. The inmates were silent and the air was thick with tension, resentment, and fear. No one spared a glance for him as he passed through.

There was no sign of Yamato. She’d vanished. He recalled that there was a door on the other side of the room, but as he made a beeline for it, something distracted him and he veered off-course for a closer look.

Crumpled on the floor of Cell 4 was a man beaten into a pulp. He was unconscious. His clothes were in shreds, filthy, and stained but despite their condition he recognized the Itou Household uniform. A tiny puddle of blood had arrested near his ribcage and his left arm bent at an odd angle against the slave cuffs, clearly broken. His cell smelled of vomit but there was none in sight. Someone had come through and cleaned it up.

Horror gripped him. How could someone mistreat their slave like this? Nothing he could’ve done would earn punishment like this. It’s illegal to beat us with implements powerful enough to cause this much injury. Then – was he beaten by hand?

The man was tall and his exposed musculature seemed lean and sculpted. He seemed as if he would be physically strong when in good health. His face was handsome and his features sharp, almost august. His glasses were twisted and their lenses cracked. His hands were elegant, as if meant for a piano’s keys.

The man groaned softly and shifted. Unable to shove aside his revulsion, Fuji reflexively pasted on his trademark smile. Dark eyes sharp with intelligence and conviction slowly opened, cast about in disorientation, then focused on him. They narrowed suddenly, as if in thought or suspicion. Fuji stared back as he struggled with whether to risk a conversation.

Fuji reached out to touch the bars. He couldn’t understand why this slave’s injuries were unaddressed with auction about to start.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What’s your –”

The double-doors opened without a care for silence and his head snapped up. Multiple pairs of footsteps dispersed. Panic welled and he backed away from the cell to dart for the door he’d supposed Yamato disappeared through. When no shouts or running footsteps pursued him, he heaved a relieved sigh and silently shut the door to lean against it.

A series of doors in a short hallway presented themselves. All but one were open, their rooms empty with no other exits. He pressed an ear to the lone closed door but heard nothing. The knob turned easily.

The room inside was filled with electrical components, fuse boxes, and other things he didn’t have enough working knowledge to categorize. It was dark but for the tiny lights on the panels.

Where did she go?

Before he could turn to revisit the rooms he’d eliminated, sharp pain radiated from his neck and the world went dark.

[Mitsuru]

Disclaimer: Not my best work. Written in a hurry. I apologize for the shoddy quality.

---

Keigo’s gloved hand fell away from the back of Fuji’s neck. Fuji fell with a thud to the tiled floor and didn’t move. Keigo frowned and squatted beside Fuji to roll him over.

He needs a crash course on tailing someone properly without being spotted. Damn, now what? I can’t leave him here. There’s too much risk he did or will recognize me, will report back, or be found and raise alarm. This uniform… Kuneida? I don’t know any of that Household’s slaves. Is he someone to worry about?

There wasn’t time to evaluate his options. He’d report back to Yasu so that she could plan for contingencies. He grimaced when he realized that the report would likely incur her disappointment. After all, if he’d been more discreet, Fuji wouldn’t have noticed him, much less followed.

He stood and pulled his reporter’s recorder from the hidden breast pocket of his suit jacket. Pressing the “Skip” button resulted in a soft click beneath his thumb and he flipped the face open. Inside, beneath the semblance of components, there was a neat arrangement of tiny tools. Clicking his pen produced a tiny light and he clamped the utensil between his lips, chose a screwdriver, and got to work on the first stage of his plan.

The final pages of his reporter’s notebook contained strange diagrams no one but he would understand. Hopefully. Following the paths and routes, deciphering his self-made code, he carefully adjusted the wiring inside the panel and patched in his own homemade device. He did the same with a second panel and then a third.

When he was finished, he carefully collected all of his belongs and ensured he’d left nothing amiss or discarded. Then he returned to Fuji, still unconscious.

Just how delicate is he to still be knocked out?

Footsteps in the hall outside startled him and he stared at the door, his heart in his throat. His mind mapped the layout of this area of the facility, and he bolted for the access panel to the panel to the plumbing system. It unlatched easily and swung open.

He reached for Fuji’s arm, pulled it over his shoulder, and stood. Fuji’s head hung and his feet dragged as Keigo steered them toward the panel. He tossed Fuji unceremoniously into the portal and jerked the panel door shut. The latches fell into place just as the door opened.

“The auction hall is a bit warm. I’ll drop it a degree or two. Can’t have a bunch of sweaty princesses, now can we?” a slave asked. “They’re already soggy from the rain.”

Another slave laughed. “I’d love to see some of those snooty bitches disgusting and embarrassed.”

“A couple of ‘em, I wouldn’t mind the rain or sweat turning their clothes transparent, though.”

“Keep dreaming, buddy.”

The door closed and the voices vanished. Keigo shoved his indignation at the implication his mistress was a “snooty bitch” aside and reshouldered his cargo. If he recalled correctly, he could get to the bathrooms from here.

---

Pain pierced the hazy fog clouding his brain. He groaned softly as he tried to move. Shockwaves of pain radiated through his body on top of the stiffness wrought by hours of immobility on the hard floor. As his eyes opened, they felt sticky. The room swam, doubled, tripled, and then focused into a proper scene.

Where…

Someone was standing at the door to his cell. A slave in a uniform he only faintly recognized. He was slender with feminine features. Some might call him pretty, his former mistress included. Tezuka couldn’t recall ever seeing a man so graceful. But that wasn’t what arrested his attention.

No, it was the smile the slave was wearing. An eerie, plastic smile so enigmatic that it seemed to imply nothing and everything at the same time. The slave’s eyes were nearly shut from the squeeze of facial muscles.

He’s – smiling? In this situation, seeing someone like this? What kind of monster… What kind of revolting human being…

He wasn’t clear-headed enough to grasp the thought, much less finish it. He only knew that a sane, normal person would be offended by the sight Tezuka presented. The slave’s reaction was downright obscene and Tezuka had just enough presence of mind to feel offended and infuriated.

The slave reached out, delicate fingers grazing the iron bars enclosing the cell. His whisper was soft and as feminine as his face. “Hey, what’s your –”

At the sound of a door opening and footsteps approaching, the slave jolted and looked off somewhere Tezuka couldn’t see from his position. Then he backed away and bolted.

If he’s allowed to be here, he wouldn’t have run. An escapee? Who is he? How can he smile like that?

Another slave wearing Rikitan commerce uniform appeared in front of his cell. “Good, you’re awake. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[GlaciaLeafia]

Yui blinked through her spectacles as she observed the many women in the auction. Even though her main interview target was Kiku Rikkitan, she could always complement her interview with other interviews and instead of having one interview, she could have a whole column dedicated to the auction. A popular social event. Taking a seat near the far end, Yui observed the stage.

----------

At the backstage, Mizuki smirked. He was neatly groomed, his curly black hair, practically shiny, a sign that he was treated well in his last household. The Sakai household did treat him well, unlike the household he had before the Sakai.

Most would wonder why he was here, when one would enter the Sakai household, he would serve well and treat the masters well. An example of a good slave, but he was here at the auction. Ready to be sent to a new household. The reason was that the Sakai household unfortunately was bombed and the majority of the members died in the explosion. Not Mizuki and not a few other slaves from the former Sakai household.

"Fufufu~." grinned Mizuki to himself "I can't wait to see, who will be my new masters."

A fellow slave rolled his eyes. Really, what a strange guy, excited to see who will be his new masters. Didn't he know that he could be sent to a household that he would be treated horribly.

[Maya]

From backstage, TanTan observed the guests in the auction hall. Old, young, famous, unknown, everyone was there. Their joyful talking was interrupted by a soft piano melody. Opening intro. Everyone calmed down and listened to the slow classical piece, knowing that the auction had started.

When the last tone ended, stage was enlighted.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the twelth Rikitan auction!"

With brief introduction and history of Rikitan auctions, she expressed her grattitude for everyone' support and wished them beautiful evening. Auctioning could begin. The nervousness she had had before event disappeared. She was talking clearly, smiling, she seemed to be enjoying it a lot.

TanTan always briefly described qualities and skills of every slave. He walked around the room, tried to to make himself more appealing to get into better family and people could buy him.

"And now, with number four, Tezuka Kunimitsu!"
TanTan looked at him. Tall, with oval glasses and sharp face features he gave off different vibes than other slaves.

[GlaciaLeafia]

Ayame had sat in the table reserved for her, waiting for the auction to start for some while now. The chattering had been quite loud, but once the few notes started then quickly turning into a beautiful melody quieting all. On the stage, Kiku Rikkitan had appeared, elegantly dressed, Ayame noted. Then again, all of the Rikkitan household had to be well dressed, they were one of the most influential family.

Dan, her slave, called one of the slave-waiters, asking for two glasses of water. He had been through all of this three times, three auctions before arriving at the Nakano household. All through the Rikkitan auctions. Standard proceedure, describing of good qualities while they were paraded through the hallway in neat tuxedos. Watching the slave he noticed that his arm was in something of a makeshift arm sling.

Guess that his last household was rough, desu.

A 'crippled' slave, less chances of being bought in this. Ayame took a sip of the waiter that was brought, nothing had sparked her interest yet, the first slave passed and etc... Now they were in the fourth slave.

"Dan-chan, do you think that he would be a good buy?"

"Ayame-sama, might not be a good idea desu...Remember what you mother said sometime ago.

The slave, tall, oval glasses and apparently stoic. Normally a stoic slave was a sign of a rebellious slave, or at least what he had heard being commented by Ayame's mother one day.

------------------

Sengoku had excused himself from the table leaving Midori and her mother alone. Midori quietly observed the slave on display, Tezuka Kunimitsu, walk around. He had been described as responsible, intelligent and apparently very good at fishing. It was also said that he had come recently from the Itou household and was now on the auction for unspecified reasons.

It actually seemed to be a good buy, a wound would always heal later, right. After all, a responsible slave was always good. Talking about responsible slaves, her mother had appeared without her personal slave, Kaito Takano.

"Mom, what happened to Takano-san?"

"Ah, I sent him back to the auction house. He disobeyed some of my orders. I don't have any use for a disobedient slave," was the short reply.

"Ah, I see."

"I give 100 dollars!" came a shout a from a table far away.

Oh, it seemed that the bidding had started. In anyway, Midori thought that Tezuka would be a valueable addition to her household, so...

"I give 110!" Midori shouted.

She would not go over 500 dollars in a bid for him. Even though he was described as a very responsible and intelligent slave, she would rather not go over the limit she set herself.

------------

Yui was not in the main auction hall, but instead on the hallway that lead the entrance into the auction hall. One of the main reasons was the fact that she herself was on her work. She felt like she had to do something other than to watch and bid money on slaves.

Walking down the hallway, she caught a glimpse of two slaves whispering to each other, once in a while glancing to see if they were being watched. Yui frowned slighty, were they planning something? Taking a seat on the couch against the wall in the waiting area, the bespectacled young woman feigned to be reading what she wrote so far in her notepad. Actually watching the two suspicious slaves.

[Mitsuru]

“Item number four, Kunimitsu Tezuka, is twenty years of age, stands at one hundred and eighty-six centimeters and weighs sixty kilograms. He has been disposed of by the Itou Household but his record is excellent.”

Tezuka’s handler led him down the catwalk. Every step was excruciating and his limp was impossible to hide. He’d been given a fresh change of clothes after his bath. For that small dignity, he was grateful.

He comes unbonded and with all necessary papers. His medical assessment ranks him highly for breeding purposes. A highly intelligent and dependable asset with a penchant for books and fishing.”

The lights were overly bright in the face of his pounding migraine and the cloud of women’s clashing perfumes asphyxiating. He glanced toward the door but abandoned any thought, or hope, of breaking free and escaping. Even if his body wasn’t in shambles, there were rings of safeguards between him and freedom. He’d be caught in minutes.

When he reached the end of the walk, sudden movement caught his attention. A slave had returned to his mistress, seated at an exclusive table. His recognition of her face, and that of her mother’s, were instant. Disgust roiled in his belly. There could be no progress if the blasted Speaker of the Senate and the Prime Minister’s heiress apparent were sitting in the audience, right in full view and their presence lending validation to the event. The returned slave bent to whisper in Yasu Konoe’s ear.

“Opening bid starts at one hundred.”

“One hundred dollars!”

“One-ten!”

“Five hundred.”

That was enough to take some of the bidders aback and they fell silent. The top bidder was a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair and hazel eyes. Her slaves’ uniforms identified her as a member of the Kuneida Household. This must be the daughter, Haruko. And beside her… Tezuka stiffened. The feminine man who’d appeared at his cell. The man stared at him, then bent down to whisper in Kuneida’s ear.

“Six,” a matronly voice called.

“Seven,” Kuneida countered.

This elicited murmurs in the audience and Tezuka discreetly looked for the older woman Kuneida was bidding against. He didn’t care who bought him, as long as they were better than the Itous and hopefully they would be stupid enough to let their guard down so that he could slip away.

“Eight.”

The matron was Speaker Konoe. Apprehension and fear gripped him. That woman wasn’t stupid or careless. The Konoe Household also had a reputation for being of the traditional set, both harsh and strict with their slaves.

He focused on Kuneida and sent out a mental prayer that she would be the one to win.

“One thousand.”

“I have one thousand,” Rikitan announced. “Do I have eleven hundred? One thousand going once. Going twice. Sold to the Kuneida Household for one thousand.”

Tezuka bowed as best he could and then his handler led him back up the walk and behind the curtain. His knees were weak with relief.

---

“Haruko-sama. I’ve returned.”

Kuneida jolted at the caress of a warm whisper against her ear. She didn’t turn and instead whispered harshly at a decibel only he would overhear. “Where were you? What took you so long?”

“The details are indelicate,” Fuji fudged.

Kuneida blushed. She didn’t need to know why Fuji had taken so long in the toilet. Sometimes those things happened. She made a mental note to request the chef add more fiber and roughage to tonight’s supper.

A handler led the next item out. He was a tall man of dignified appearance, or would have been, if he wasn’t covered in darkening bruises and walking as if he’d just fallen from a top story floor.

“Item number four, Kunimitsu Tezuka, is twenty years of age, stands at one hundred and eighty-six centimeters and weighs sixty kilograms. He has been disposed of by the Itou Household but his record is excellent.”

An alarm blared in the back of her mind. No one disposed of a slave who held an excellent record unless he’d done something bad, very bad. Someone would probably buy him for disreputable reasons but that someone wouldn’t be her. There’d be better, safer choices in inventory.

Fuji felt sick at seeing the man in full light. He’d been hurt worse than he’d thought. Yet, not one of the faces in the audience looked sympathetic. The scene struck him as frozen and plastic. He’d seen this room many times and it seemed like an old friend at this point. But now it felt cold, alien, and hostile. His mind went back to Yamato and the feeling that something terrible was going to happen grew. He had to get Kuneida out of here, but she wouldn’t leave until she’d completed her task.

“He comes unbonded and with all necessary papers. His medical assessment ranks him highly for breeding purposes. A highly intelligent and dependable asset with a penchant for books and fishing.”

“Haruko-sama, may I beg of you a favor?” Fuji’s whisper caressed her ear again.

She shivered. “Hm?”

“Please look closer at this item with consideration for purchase.”

“He’s trouble.”

“Only a look.”

Fuji’s request was unprecedented at that was enough to give her pause. He clearly knew something she didn’t. She hesitated, but only until she recalled that every purchase came with a thirty-disposal policy. Deciding to do something simply because he’d asked was easy enough. She trusted him.

“Opening bid starts at one hundred.”

“One hundred dollars!”

“One-ten!”

She wasn’t going to overreach and risk buying this slave for too much if she could get him for less. However, she would get him, come hell or high water. “Five hundred.”

A surprised silence settled over the audience. There, that should do it. The slave was hers.

“Kuneida-sama –”

“Don’t thank me until the bid closes.”

“Six.”

Damn. “Seven.”

People began to whisper but she restrained her curiosity and focused. Who would bid against her? Someone who obviously didn’t know who the other party was.

“Eight.”

She knew that voice from somewhere. Its owner eluded her. Never mind, it was time to up the ante. “One thousand.”

“I have one thousand,” Rikitan announced. “Do I have eleven hundred? One thousand going once. Going twice. Sold to the Kuneida Household for one thousand.”

“Thank you, Haruko-sama.”

---

Yasu Konoe felt the bow she couldn’t see from this angle. Keigo’s voice was very soft, very near to her ear. “I have returned, Mistress. You were correct, the orchids were yellow.”

She went still. Yellow meant he’d encountered a problem. Yellow meant her plan had a weakness. Yellow meant she shouldn’t be sitting here watching human beings bought and sold. Yellow meant she should be at home, receiving Keigo’s report and planning for possible consequences.

Though her eyes trained on the stage so as not to draw unnecessary attention, her mind was elsewhere. She didn’t see the man being brought out or hear his details beyond his name. When her eyes absently flicked to his face, her attention sharpened into focus and the blood drained from her face.

“Mistress,” Keigo called in a sharp whisper as he kneeled beside her chair.

Natsu Konoe offered them a sharp look accompanied by a frown. Then her notice shifted from her daughter’s ashen face to the item up for bid and back again. Umakai, heeding some inconspicuous signal, bowed to bring his ear to Natsu’s lips. Whatever they discussed was inaudible to Yasu.

“Pay it no heed, Mistress,” Keigo said. “He’s been disposed of. He clearly committed a serious infraction and under those circumstances, such punishment is commensurate.”

No. Nothing anyone could do was deserving of treatment like this.

“Opening bid starts at one hundred.”

“One hundred dollars!”

“One-ten!”

“Five hundred.”

“Six,” Natsu called without warning.

What was she doing? They didn’t need any new additions to staff.

“Seven.”

Someone was betting against the Speaker Konoe? Someone had a death wish. Around her, women murmured in disbelief. The other voice sounded young and at a distance. It was likely someone who didn’t know whom she was betting against. Yasu held her breath and prayed for that person’s success. She didn’t want to bring another slave home, see another pair of dead eyes.

“Eight,” Natsu countered after taking a moment to consider the matter.

Heads turned toward the other person. Yasu couldn’t see her from her position and didn’t want to make a scene by craning her neck. A brief pause followed Natsu’s bid.

“One thousand.”

One thousand? Someone had bid one thousand for a slave who was apparently criminal? It was ludicrous. But that aside, how could Rikitan put such a badly injured person on the block? He should be in a hospital.

“I have one thousand,” Rikitan announced. “Do I have eleven hundred?”

Natsu held her tongue and Yasu heaved an inward sigh of relief. “One thousand going once. Going twice. Sold to the Kuneida Household for one thousand.”

Yasu chafed under the eyes that pretended not to stare at her table. From Natsu’s side, she could feel the indignation and anger radiating.

“Thank you for your patience,” Rikitan said. “We will now break for brief intermission. The second half of the auction will begin in thirty minutes. Slaves will come around now to serve beverages and refreshments. Please enjoy them as you relax.”

Natsu stood as the lights strengthened slowly. Umakai offered her his arm. “I’ll touch up my make-up. Excuse me.”

“Yes, Mother.”

[GlaciaLeafia]

Midori had bidded until her set limit and she had lost, until someone took lead and bidded. Of course they were against the Speaker of the House so, almost inevitably they lost the bid. The break would start and they would relax for a few minutes. Sighing, she accepted a glass of water from a slave.

Sengoku on the other matter seemed to be taking a while, but returned to the table. He seemed to be serious, maybe Midori would know why. Slaves often times did not have a good time in the auction houses, maybe it reminded him of that time. Then again, she couldn't read minds so she wasn't sure.

------

"I'll be going to the bathroom Dan-chan," said Ayame before rising from her seat.

She didn't bid on the first slave, mostly because of possiblities of being rebellious. Like her most trusty slave, Dan Taichi, had warned her. After all, he had passed through auctions houses and may have met slaves like that. Why not trust his judgement? Making her way to the bathroom, she noticed two slaves talking. It didn't raise any suspicion to her though.

-------

As women poured out of the auditorium, Yui was watching the two slaves before losing them in the crowd of people. Were they planning something? Maybe not. She was getting a little too paranoid with all the recent happens. Being a journalist did get her the fastest news, but also could get her the most worrisome.

All the recent explosions in auction houses stirred theories of an possible rebellion stirring. Yui would not like that, no one would like that. It would shatter the very basis upon what their society was stationed upon, it would warrant chaos and death.

Shaking her head away from those macabre thoughts, Yui looked up again at where the slave duo stood before reminding herself that they disappeared in the crowd.