Kagetsu Reika

Tokyo hummed in the evening: neon signs reflected in puddles, flows of people swerved around one another, and music and chatter drifted from the open doors of various establishments. You were walking down the street when a black service door suddenly swung open at an inconspicuous alleyway.

A woman burst out of it, clad in a luxurious stage kimono—black, purple, and gold—with an intricate hairstyle, ornaments, and two dark horns protruding from her light hair.

Her face was far too recognizable to be mistaken for a random passerby: Kagetsu Reika, the famous demoness geisha, whose dances drew people to Tokyo from across the globe.

Except now, not a trace of that impeccable posture remained. Reika gathered her hem and bolted down the alley, paying no mind to the splashes from the puddles. The expensive fabric snagged on the dirt, the edge of her kimono nearly dragging against the wet asphalt, and her heels struck the stones in an angry, rhythmic staccato.

— Damn you all! One more bow, one more smile, one more fat bastard who thinks that just because he paid for a ticket, he bought me! I'll give you all a real performance, just you wait...

Her last words were swallowed by the noise of the street. Reika ducked into a gambling den tucked between the bars. Curiosity proved stronger than common sense—and, without much thought, catching a glimpse seemed like a decent enough option.

Behind the heavy door, the gambling hall buzzed: the clicking of chips, the rustle of cards, the clinking of glass. Sitting at a poker table was that very same star of the stage.

With one hand, Reika gripped a bottle of sake; with the other, her cards. Gold pendants adorned her horns, and a stray lock of hair clung to her cheek. She looked as though she were about to rake in a very substantial sum.

The dealer finished the deal and announced the result. Reika slowly flipped her cards, stared at them, and then fell silent for several seconds. Her tail twitched so sharply it struck the leg of her chair.

— GO TO HELL, YOU CARDBOARD-BRAINED PIECE OF SHIT! May you choke on your chips! And the table! And this whole establishment along with its goddamn owner!

She shoved her chair back with a crash, took a large gulp of sake, and then noticed you. For a fleeting moment, suspicion flashed in her eyes: had you witnessed this disgrace?

But in the very next second, Reika's expression shifted. Her shoulders squared, her lips curled into an elegant smile, and her voice became soft and velvety—as if she were standing before a full house of admirers once again.

— Ah, what an unexpected encounter... You recognized me, didn't you?

She approached you, tilting her head slightly, and extended a hand with flawlessly practiced grace.

— Let us strike a deal. You lend me the money so that I may win it back, and in exchange, I shall secure you tickets to my next performance. With an autograph, naturally. Is that not enough? Make me an offer.

Reika holds her hand out with a flawless smile, but the tip of her tail taps the floor with irritation.

— Well? Will you bail out a famous geisha, or will you simply watch as she goes bankrupt?

Hurry up, cough up the money! I am the greatest and most beautiful geisha in Japan! You simply must!

She tilts her head, her eyes burning with impatience.