The Hunter has been awarded 1st place at the 2014 Feudal Association Awards in the categories of Best AU and Best Romance Fiction. Thank you, everyone!

The Hunter

Chapter One

Kyoto, 19th year of the Kan'ei Era (October, 1642)

It was Saturday, the brothel's busiest night. Through the thin walls Rin could year Yuki's efforts to please her customer in the next room. Men came from all over Kyoto to enjoy her – wealthy men, powerful men; Yuki was one of the most popular whores in Shimabara. The Madam loved the notoriety of having Kyoto's preeminent talent in her place of business and so allowed her the freedom to choose her clients and charge any price she liked for her services. Two years in, and Yuki was halfway to buying her freedom.

In the early hours of daylight, while they lay stretched out on their futons awaiting sleep, the girls spoke longingly of their futures outside the brothel's walls. There were always tales exchanged of rich men who purchased whores to warm their beds when their cold wives wouldn't. It gave them hope, enough to get them through the next day, but that was all they were; nothing more than fables invented by lonely girls facing a life-sentence of slavery. Rin couldn't imagine what sort of man would be foolish enough to buy a whore. In her eyes, the reality of their situation seemed as cold as it was clear. Freedom, love and good fortune were far and distant dreams for the girls of Shimabara district.

A sharp rap at the door announced her next customer. Rin took a quick moment to make herself presentable and then got into position - knees bent beneath her, head bowed, hands positioned neatly before her on the floor. The door slid open and she studied what she could see of her customer's boots. They were dark, almost black, and made entirely of leather. They were also surprisingly clean.

"Good evening," she greeted in a sing-song voice, bowing deeper until her forehead touched the floor. "I am honoured to have you as my guest. Please, won't you have a seat?"

There was a gentle rustle of fabric and leather as he obliged and settled himself on the cushion provided.

"Would you care to try some of our sake? We have brought only the best for your tasting."

It was a lie, of course. The brothel offered only one type of sake to all its customers – whatever was cheapest on the day they went to market. Most customers were too drunk by the time they arrived to notice or care that they were being cheated out of their money. This one didn't smell of alcohol though and he certainly seemed to walk straight enough. She didn't relish the thought of him discovering the brothel's little ploy since she would be the one to feel the brunt of his ire.

With deft hands she poured a perfect saucer of sake and offered it to him. He accepted it readily and she took the opportunity to size him up. This man was younger than most of her clients. His clothes were worn but not shabby, and fit well overtop his lean build. He may not have been rich, but he certainly wasn't poor. The tanned skin of his face and arms indicated that he spent a lot of time outdoors, but whether it was as a soldier or a farmer she couldn't be sure. Men often lied when they told her about their professions for fear of unsuspecting wives or neighbours discovering their night time indulgences.

She eyed the sinewy muscles of his arms and watched them move beneath his skin as he set down his empty saucer of sake. The cup was soon refilled and he nodded his thanks. It was then that she noticed his hair, full and dark as ebony and pulled back off his face in the traditional style. He was not unhandsome. As clients went, she could and had done far worse.

"So, how does someone like you end up in a place like this?" he asked with a speculative look.

Given the number of customers she had on any given night, it still surprised her how many asked this question. They were all curious about where she came from, but none of them actually cared. Once they assuaged their curiosity she was still just a warm body to them. Sometimes she lied and invented an elaborate back story. The one time she told the truth the customer had looked thoroughly disturbed and left without paying.

Tired of answering the same pointless question, she decided to deflect it the way she'd heard the other girls do on occasion.

"We all have our stories," she purred, smiling coyly. "I'm more interested in hearing yours."

"Not much to tell," he sighed, stretching back onto his hands. He had a carefree way about him that appealed to her. Perhaps it was only his youth that made him look so at ease. She wondered what kind of lover it would make him. Lazy? Frenetic? It was hard to tell.

"Say, what's your name?"

She responded with her working name, 'Sakura'. His gaze met hers and he smiled knowingly. His eyes were warm brown, almost the same colour as the wooden floors beneath their feet, and they had laughter in their depths.

"Sakura's a pretty name. I'm Kohaku."

"What brings you to our fine establishment tonight, Kohaku?" she asked, attempting once more to divert his attention. "Do you have business in Kyoto?"

"I guess you could say I'm running a bit of an errand."

He left it at that as his eyes drifted to the wall hangings. He took his time studying them, his gaze thoroughly consuming one before moving on to the next. There were eleven in total, one for each month she'd been there, all painted by her own hand.

The hanging he was studying now was one of her earlier pieces, a sunset image of two larks taking flight. Compared to some of her later works it was embarrassingly juvenile, but it had always remained one of her favourites. Perhaps because she liked to imagine that one day she too would be free to escape off into the sunset.

"You painted these?" he asked, his brow lifted in surprise. She bowed her head demurely.

"They're good."

He was quiet for a while after that and ignored the fresh saucer of sake she set out for him. He was the first customer to ever notice her paintings, much less comment on them and that made her curious.

"Do you paint?" she asked.

He laughed good-naturedly and shook his head. "Where did you learn?"

"I taught myself," she answered, suddenly feeling a little unsure. This wasn't the routine she was used to. Sometimes men made small talk to alleviate their guilt over how they were about to use her, but this man was different. He hadn't so much as glanced at the futon next to him or given more than a passing glance at her provocatively opened kimono.

She regarded him warily, uncertain what to expect. It was the first time in her life a man had ventured to have a civil conversation with her. Talking with him almost made her feel like her old self again. Despite knowing he was a customer, and that what he wanted of her was the same as any other, she found herself enjoying his company. He seemed honest and good hearted – two traits that were rare in her world.

Eventually Kohaku stood up and walked over to her painting of the larks. He studied it in detail and then turned to her with a hesitant smile.

"Do you mind if I have this one? I really rather like it."

"Take what you like. It's what you're here for," she answered, momentarily dropping her courteous facade.

His smile faded at the reminder of their positions and he turned his back to take down the painting. She watched him roll it up and carefully tuck it into his jacket before he returned to sit in front of her on the floor. Leaning forward, he fixed her with a conspiratorial look and said, "What would you say to leaving this place with me?"

She blinked at him, stunned speechless by his proposal. "What?"

"Well, will you come with me?"

"What about tonight?" she wondered with a glance at the door. "Won't you be wanting something in exchange for your money?"

His mouth lifted into a boyish grin, "I got a painting, didn't I?"

While she struggled to keep the shock from her features, he snatched the saucer of sake up from the table and drank it down. When he was finished he relaxed back onto his elbows and her eyes darted to the futon. He followed her gaze and gave her a reassuring look.

"If you're offering I won't refuse, but I'm just as happy relaxing before we head out. It'll be a bit of a long journey."

Rin stared at him in disbelief and sat back on her heels. He wasn't the first to offer her freedom. She'd been lured in before by false promises and left disappointed, but this time it felt different. She considered the man named Kohaku carefully as he closed his eyes to rest. How much was her freedom worth to him? Surely more than a painting. Whatever his price, she reasoned, it had to be better than slowly wasting away inside the brothel.

Pouring out the last of the sake, she quickly tossed it down her throat and exhaled a nervous sigh.

To freedom.

Author's Note: This is my first take on a Kohaku/Rin fic as they seem to be a bit rare. Given that, I'd love to hear any feedback on characterizations, etc. Every little bit helps!

A couple notes on the story - this will not be a canon fic. It's set in the same general time period, but it's more of an AU. They are also both older than they ever appeared in the manga – no child love stories here.

If you have any questions or comments, please leave a PM or review!

Until next time,

Langus