The man’s hand slowed when his attention was mostly stolen by the younger girls’ turn to show themselves, much to Stacia’s relief. He didn’t want to feel grateful for it, not when it meant the patron’s attention was on the even younger ones because of it, but he couldn’t help himself. And did it truly hurt anyone? The patron had already chosen them for his company; even if he showed interest in any of the younger ones, it was unlikely he’d change his mind at this point.
“Unlikely” wasn’t the same as “impossible”, though, and Stacia found himself worrying with conflicted thoughts. The man seemed to be one of the nicer ones, which was better than the too rough locals or the hard, careless foreigners who clearly weren’t new to any of this. But he couldn’t know for certain, not when the patron was an entirely new one, and that meant there was a risk he was wrong and that the man would prove to be unexpectedly unpleasant upstairs. He couldn’t have been able to decide if it was a chance worth taking or not to guarantee the little girls wouldn’t get a patron they knew to be too unkind, but he didn’t have to decide - it wasn’t his choice. What a bittersweet feeling that was.
The younger girls’ dance definitely had an effect on their patron, and it wasn’t even halfway through when his wandering hand grasped Stacia’s and he stood up, the light tug clearly telling him to do the same. Even as his insides clenched in the familiar nervousness and desperation - could it even be called horror, even after all this time? - Stacia followed him up from his seat and allowed himself to be lead towards the open doorway at the back of the room and the stairs he knew were in the gloomy hallway beyond. From the corner of his eye he saw the woman at the bar leaving, hurriedly, but that barely registered - it wasn’t as if someone leaving so soon would be returning. There was no point in trying to remember their face.
The next afternoon found the twins on the alleyway next to the brothel disguised as a bar some time before it was to open. Dirty as the alley was, it provided a tad greater peace and privacy compared to what would have been available indoors, and with its ample shade it was preferable to the sun scorched roof. As usual, Stacia remained standing next to the creates stacked against the wall behind him, overseeing his sister’s play and observing the people walking by in the sunny street beyond their shadowed nook. He always did his best to not think about the kind of lives they had, did his best not to speculate - that only ever made him want to join them on the street, walking to… Wherever they wanted to go.
It was useless thinking, “never going to happen” thinking, and that was why he tried not to let his mind wander onto those tracks. But today there was something out of the ordinary among all the people who went by without a glance their way. At first he frowned at the figure on the other side of the street, doubting that he could have seen right, but no, shortly as Stacia had been able to view him the night before, the woman had to be the same one that had left in such a hurry. He straightened and uncrossed his arms, a step towards Andrea bringing him close enough to nudge him for attention. “That woman was at the bar yesterday,” he whispered, rushed and suspicious. Things that went out of the ordinary never bode well and always brought trouble, and for someone who had stayed for such a short time to appear again so soon was definitely out of the ordinary. It spelled bad news and consequences he didn’t want, everything worth avoiding if at all possible.
A few more words were exchanged with him by their current client during the younger ones’ dance. Andrea tried to keep his awkwardness out of response when the man commented on how delightful the show was and how cute the girls were. Was it so hard to guess he didn’t want to hear things like that?
More likely the patron just didn’t care. Why would he have cared? He was here for them. If he cared about things like these, he would have been somewhere else.
But he couldn’t have been so naive that he would have thought Andrea wanted to be here, or that the little ones wanted to be here. He knew there were some out there, girls their age and younger, that had chosen their profession. He tried not to judge. Poverty was a recurring theme whenever any of the native girls shared anything of their past, and this paid well. If you were struggling to feed yourself and your family had nothing, it could be a temptation, he guessed. He tried to not judge.
No one here wanted to be here though, the man had to be aware of that, right? Which just took him back to how he didn’t care, how none of the patrons cared.
He wasn’t upset about that, not really. How else was it supposed to be? How were the men and women above them supposed to care? That just didn’t happen, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was only something to endure.
Not everyone managed that though, or wanted to manage, and he wasn’t going to lie and say he had never entertained those thoughts himself. It would’ve been a way out. The only way out. But he couldn’t do that to Stacia. He couldn’t ask it of him- even if he knew his sister had to have thought of it too- and he especially couldn’t leave him behind, alone. He could never do that.
So here he still was, trying to muster an encouraging smile for the younger girls without the client or any of the other patrons noticing. He schooled his expression in an instant when the man between him and his sister stood, his intentions clear. Andrea stood easily a beat after his twin, not fighting the hand holding his. Past the tables and to the door they went, up the stairs, to the door to one of the bedrooms… He didn’t remember much after that, only the helpless despair that never really left and that he always did his best to ignore.
His legs were aching from lengthy crouching in high heel sandals that didn’t fit him properly, but the ground littered with sharp gravel and glass shards from broken bottles didn’t invite him to sit down properly. He made sure to keep his legs closed and his short skirt pinned to his thighs all the while. The passersby hardly paid attention to one unremarkable, shadowed alleyway, but it was better safe than sorry. He didn’t want to invite the wrong kind of attention during what was supposed to be their free time, even if the bar was close enough to opening that they had their night clothes on already.
But it wasn’t open yet, and Andrea tried to make the most of the last moments before the evening. The mistresses wouldn’t mind their absence as long as they were back inside before the brothel opened, they were busy having a talk with one of the other older girls.
He didn’t want to think about that though, not yet. Instead he resolutely focused on building furniture from the debris for the little rock people calling the alleyway home. Someone had always knocked it all down by the time he got back the next day, it was annoying.
His construction was interrupted when Stacia prodded for his attention. Andrea first glanced up at his sister before he followed the line of his eyes to the other side of the street. He didn’t remember seeing the woman, but then Stacia always paid more attention to things like that than he did. He didn’t doubt his twin was right.
“Why are they here now?” he whispered back. It was a rhetoric question, mostly, he wasn’t really expecting his twin to know a stranger’s machinations. Stacia’s anxiousness over the strange situation rubbed onto him right away, and Andrea leaned imperceptibly closer to his sister. They could’ve headed indoors, but maybe it was just a coincidence the woman was here. He didn’t want to go indoors unless they had to, so for now Andrea remained crouched by his sister’s feet and even went back to playing, though he paid much closer attention to the street now.
A restless night full of phone calls, paperwork, and the slowest network connection he’d ever experienced left Shiori exhausted. He’d lost track of how many people he’d contacted, how many arguments he’d had in a hushed voice. He was feeling triumphant as the sun rose up to shine through his hotel room window, and the success of his efforts left him too eager to sleep. Yes, he was tired, his head was pounding, and he wasn’t sure if that ache was Mother Nature’s poor timing on his body, or if he was just hungry.
He leaned back, resting his eyes for a moment and letting his thoughts race. His first calls had been to various connections in law enforcement, and that had been immediately followed by lawyers. He needed to know his options before making a solid plan, and more importantly he needed to know the options for the girls.
It was most likely that they’d all be taken into Japanese custody until they could be returned to their rightful homes, or adopted if that wasn’t possible.
It was a matter of minutes to prepare himself for the day, making himself presentable and even putting in a little extra effort to look appealing. It made him shudder to think of trying to appeal to the brothel owner in any way, but he imagined the girls and knew he had no place worrying about it. Instead, he decided that making himself look his best was for them instead, and it made it easier.
Once he was ready, he grabbed his bag and left the hotel room, ready to attack the day and get some information.
Shiori felt that he’d been watching the two girls for hours before they noticed him, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Even that short of time told him that he wouldn’t have the patience to wait.
With a frustrated, but resigned sigh, he took off his sunglasses and folded them, tucking one side into the V of his blouse. No, he definitely couldn’t wait. He didn’t know what it was, but some small part of him was all but screaming at him to help the girls - all of them yes, but especially these two. His father would call it instinct. His mother would likely call it maternal. Whatever it was, he’d felt it when he rescued Hakai and Kami Sori.
He pulled out his phone as he started walking, sent a quick text to his lawyer, and another to his police contact. Going in. He turned the phone off before either could respond, and crossed the street, approaching the girls slowly. He didn’t want to spook them before he had a chance to talk to them.
Just inside the alley, out of the way of passing foot traffic, but far enough from the girls that they hopefully wouldn’t feel threatened, Shiori crouched, careful of the debris littering the ground. “Hello,” he greeted softly. “Please don’t be afraid.”
