Gaining Skills

The evening of Rei’s next shift, she sought out a Senior hostess, Ayane, a woman with a reputation for boldness and knowing exactly how to push even the drunkest clients without being burned. Ayane’s make-up table was lit with a muted, flattering glow. She patted the empty chair across from her, “Sit down doll,” she said, voice smooth, “How can I help our sweet rookie”. Rei perched on the edge of the chair, hands folded neatly in her lap, “I… want to practice boundaries. Touch. Being… confident.”

Ayane’s grin was sharp, “Okay. Then let’s play.” She leaned closer, deliberately brushing a hand along Rei’s forearm, guiding it toward hers, “Touch is language, Rei. Speak to me.” Rei felt her heartbeat jolt, but unlike with the clients, her blush didn’t rise. She held steady, matching Ayane’s touch with deliberate movements, experimenting with pressure, angle, and timing. They sat that way for a while, getting to know each other’s tells and ticks. Ayane leaned in further, pressing a quick, practiced kiss to the side of Rei’s neck. Rei froze briefly, then relaxed almost immediately. Nothing. No blush. No heat. She realized, slowly, with a flash of insight: she really wasn’t nervous around women. She could control herself because there was no intimidation, no fear, just observation and mimicry.

Ayane pulled back, eyes glinting, “Interesting. You don’t react the way most girls do.” Rei chewed the inside of her cheek, “I think… I need to practice with men.” Ayane raised an eyebrow, smirking knowingly, “Then you’ll need to practice with someone who is both a challenge and not so dangerous you’ll get hurt. How about Aoto? He’s always looking your way cutie”.

Rei’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. She hadn’t even though of him as other than her martial arts instructor and protector. “Oh yeah, Aoto, maybe…”, she mused, thinking instead about how she wanted Karasu to help her again. Aoto was sweet, but what if training seduction on him might make him like her for real. Karasu was intense, but professional and seemingly untouchable. Like he could never get hurt. Despite his commanding authority and occasional ruthlessness, somehow, Rei felt safe around him. She felt confident he could teach her a lot and wouldn’t hurt her.

Ayane gave her a side eye, “Take your time and be careful, Rei. Some men are dangerous in ways you don’t feel until it’s too late. But to learn how to command, how to survive, touch and charm at the same time – you will need experience. And you’ll learn quickly. I’ve seen it on the floor. You have the instincts.” Rei sat back, letting that sink in. The realization made her pulse quicken, but in a controlled way; focused, determined. She had survived, she had learned, and she had a plan.

Training with Aoto

The training room of the dojo smelled faintly of tatami mats and sweat. Fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting long shadows where Rei and Aoto faced one another. She had asked for a lesson, even though they were on hold due to her double shifts selling beads and working the hostess floor. He had obliged instantly and now he stood with his hands loose at his sides, calm, collected. Rei shifted her weight just slightly, her black eyes locking on him with a new kind of focus.

“Ready?” Aoto asked, rolling his shoulders, his voice carrying the same patient tone he always used. Rei nodded, “Always.” They circled once, twice, before Aoto lunged, his hand reaching to catch her wrist. She twisted, countering, her body moving smoother than when she had first started. But when he locked her arm behind her back in a controlled hold, Rei did something unexpected; her fingers grazed his forearm, lingering. Aoto posture and grasp hardened and then his grip faltered just a fraction. “What was that?” he asked, a flush creeping up his neck.

“Nothing,” Rei said lightly, smiling in a way that was almost innocent. She shifted, breaking free from his hold, only to spin and catch his shoulders, her hands pressing firmly, then brushing down just a little too slowly. Aoto’s ears turned red. He stepped back quickly, holding her at arm’s length, “Rei… what are you doing?” Rei froze, suddenly aware of how obvious she had been.

She lowered her gaze, biting her lip, a furious blush starting, “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”, she hesitated, then forced herself to meet his eyes, her cheeks hot pink, “The nights on the hostess floor… I hate how I blush. How obvious I am. I thought maybe… that maybe I could train with you. How to keep my cool. Around guys.” Silence stretched. Aoto looked at her as if trying to untangle a knot. Finally, he exhaled, running a hand over his hair, “So you thought I’d be your… what? Practice dummy? For seduction?” Rei flinched, guilt flashing across her face, “No Aoto, not like that. I wasn’t trying to use you. I just—”, she shook her head, fists clenching at her sides, “I wasn’t asking you to date me. I just thought… you’re safe. And I could… learn.”

Aoto’s jaw tightened. For a moment he looked ready to step away entirely, but then he spoke, low and steady, “Rei… the truth is – I’d like to date you. I have since the beginning”, his eyes burned with conflicted honesty, “But not like this. Not as some training puppet. If you want something real, if you ever feel like choosing me for me…”, his words hung heavy in the air, “…then you can come see me.”

Rei’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Aoto gave a small shake of his head, stepping back and bowing stiffly, his voice clipped, “Lesson’s over.” He turned, his back rigid as he walked toward the door. Rei stood frozen on the mat, her hair falling across her face, shame and confusion warring in her chest. She had wanted control. Instead, she had lost it. The door slid shut with a quiet click, leaving her alone with the echo of her own heartbeat.

Preparing for an Advanced Lesson

The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, illuminating steam rising from two bowls of miso soup. The table was set with a simple, traditional Japanese breakfast: fluffy white rice, grilled salmon with crispy skin, a small dish of tangy pickled vegetables, and perfectly rolled tamagoyaki. Rei moved between the stove and the table, her movements quieter than usual, the ghost of the other night’s humiliation still clinging to her.

Karasu ate in his typical silence, his attention seemingly on a data-slate propped next to his bowl. But Rei could feel the weight of her idea. She waited until he had set his chopsticks down and taken a sip of green tea before she spoke, her voice smaller than she intended, “Karasu-sama?” He didn’t look up from the slate, “What?”

“I want something”, she took a steadying breath, her fingers tightening around her own teacup, “An advanced lesson. On… on being close to the clients. The targets. I need to learn how not to get nervous.” Now he looked up. His sky tinted eyes were calm, but intensely focused. He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, “Are you sure? I might teach you some things that will require tougher skin than you have shown so far.”

A hot blush instantly flooded Rei’s cheeks, the shame of her failures rising like a tide. But she forced her eyes to remain steady on his, her jaw setting with a familiar, stubborn iron, “Yes, I’m sure. You said I need to toughen up. I can’t do that without experience. And…”, she swallowed, the next words feeling both dangerous and utterly logical, “…since you told me not to let assholes use me, using you for this feels a lot safer.”

A flicker of something, amusement, surprise, crossed Karasu’s face. His lips twitched, as if he were about to laugh, but he suppressed it. He leaned back in his chair, the morning light catching his hair. “Experience,” he said, his voice a low murmur. He watched her for another heartbeat, then gave a casual, almost dismissive shrug, “Alright. Meet me in my office after your shift tonight. Try to dress to impress.” A wave of relief and exhilaration washed over Rei. She couldn’t stop a radiant, genuine beam from spreading across her face, “Thank you, Karasu-sama. I will.”

He simply picked up his data-slate again, the conversation clearly over. Rei stood quickly, her movements suddenly energized. She gathered the empty bowls, her motions no longer heavy-handed. The clatter of ceramic was purposeful now. As she carried them to the sink, the steam from the hot water misting her face, she felt a new kind of focus. The humiliation was still there, but it was being forged into something else: persistence. She had asked for the fire, and he had agreed to hold her over it. It was terrifying and empowering all at once.

That night, standing before the mirror in her small room, Rei felt a nervous energy that was entirely different from the fear of the hostess floor. This was a calculated risk, a performance for an audience of one. She held up two dresses, her mind racing through the details she had collected. Her thoughts went to the women Karasu sometimes brought back to the apartment.

They were never the garish, neon-clad party girls. They were something else entirely. Elegant with evident confidence. She pictured them: their eyes, always dramatically smoky and lined, making their gazes seem deeper, more knowing. Their lips were always bold, often a matte red statement of unapologetic sensuality. Their bodies were curves, not angles. Wide hips that swayed with a natural rhythm. They wore tight dresses, hugging the curve of their rumps and the sweep of their waists, the fabrics were rich, silk, heavy jersey, velvet. The necklines were low, promising a glimpse, but never a vulgar display, and they often wore long dresses with a strategic high slit that revealed a long line of leg with every step. It was the art of suggestion, not desperation.

She put the simpler black dress away. The one she chose was a deep burnt orange, a color that made her red hair seem inevitable. It was sleeveless, with a neckline that curved just low enough to be intriguing. The fabric clung to her torso and hips before falling straight, but it had a long, decisive slit up the side. At her small makeup table, the one Yuri had helped her stock, she didn’t go for the sweet look she used for Takumi Junior. She sharpened her features. Dark liner to elongate her already black eyes, shadow to add depth and smoke. For her lips, she chose an orange tinted red. Not a bright, girlish pink, but a warm shade. She looked at her reflection.

The girl from the streets was still there, in the unflinching set of her jaw. But she was layered now in velvet and smoke, her edges honed, her colors deepened. Though she wasn’t trying to be one of Karasu’s women, she was trying to prove she understood the language they spoke and show him she had been paying attention; demonstrating that she could play the game, could be of real value, not just an investment. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed the dress over her hips and walked out, the slit in her dress revealing a flash of leg with every step, an intentional challenge.

Before heading out, Rei studied her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She felt charged with determination, ready for the next lesson with Karasu; ready to learn touching, charming, dominating the rhythm of proximity; and maybe, just maybe, to feel powerful rather than vulnerable.