The smell of stale opium permeated the surrounding air, while the sound of someone playing a shamisen did nothing to cover the wanton moaning of whores. The individual plucking at the instrument was clearly inexperienced and would hit a sour note every once in a while before they continued to fumble through whatever song it was they intended to play. Not that the patrons of the seedy dwelling seemed to mind. They did not frequent the establishment for the music, after all. Located in the heart of Kirigakure; Yokuto's was just one of the many brothels that plagued the dismal city. Despite its ragged appearance it was visited by both civilian and shinobi alike, as the opium and sake flowed freely. The women were painted pretty with coal lining the tops of their eyelids and lips sinfully rouge. Scantily clad in little more than haori that barely brushed the middle of their thighs, they wandered around the stuffy space, most often indulging themselves in the available narcotics, while tending to the carnal desires of men.

I had often debated with myself as to whether or not I enjoyed the feeling of opium. The few times I had tried it the lack of control over my own body had made me uneasy despite the blissful high. Some of the other girls loved it for the utter numbness it provided, after all its easier to spread your legs for a living when you can't feel pesky emotions like shame or remorse. Not everyone was cut out for this sort of work but it proved to be better living than most had here in Kiri. The country itself was wracked with poverty and the few individuals that weren't begging on the streets made their wealth through less than honourable means. It was common for people to die from starvation, mostly the hundreds of orphans that had taken refuge here after the Third Ninja war. I had once been kin to the malnourished street rats until Yokuto had found me begging for scraps. He had said I had a good face for a kid and offered me food and shelter from the constant rain. I was considered to be one of the lucky ones. The first few years in the brothel had been the best and the worst. My living space had consisted of no more than a pile of blankets in a storage closet and food was scraps from whatever the working girls hadn't eaten that day. Work consisted of doing odd jobs around the brothel, running errands, cleaning and scrubbing until my fingers would bleed. Not that my efforts then had truly made a difference over all the place was still a dump and I was surprised the building itself had not been condemned. Not that it would matter much as the inspectors were easy to pay off in one form or another. I had been 13 the first time I started really working. Yokuto had owed a debt to a well known loan shark and in an effort to stave off the collectors he had offered them a free romp with any of the girls. Unfortunately amongst them had been some twisted bastard with a penchant for little girls. Yokuto hadn't hesitated in the slightest and I was promptly tossed in a room with the man. The first time was the worst. I remembered screaming and begging the man to stop, to show mercy. I had learned since then men like that seldom cared for tears.

The times that came after were better and eventually the tears had stopped coming. Some may have pitied my circumstances but here in Kiri it was a blessing. With the new work came benefits I was given my own room and more than simply scraps at meal times. I don't particularly enjoy any part of my lot in life but I am not arrogant enough to consider myself pitiable. I have a roof over my head and food on my table, and that is more than most people in this city can say. I had once had fanciful illusions of breaking out of the brothel and escaping to a place where I would find a normal job and own a house where I could invite all my new friends to. We would sit around the table laughing, talking and sharing stories with one another. I shared this dream with some of the other girls once, they had laughed in my face and told me I was foolish. I had grown up on the streets uneducated and did not possess the strengths or talents of a ninja, or any talents for that matter. They had told me to forget about my juvenile dream and accept my place in life. It was the one piece of good advice I had ever received from them. Their is no camaraderie among whores only competition. Despite all being in the same situation seldom women at the brothel get along. Everyone is looking out for themselves and friendship is only an invitation to get stabbed in the back. Only the strong survive here, and there is no point wasting time on a dream that will never be a reality.

"Aoi!" Someone called bringing me out off my thoughts. I gave a soft grunt acknowledging I had heard them. Turning in my stool at the front of the bar I was met with one of the other girls; Momoko. She was a few years older than I and had been here twice as long. I had never particularly liked her much as she often thought her years spent here gave her seniority.

"Go attend to the men in the corner table. All the other girls are busy and I've got a regular coming in 20 who has requested me specifically." she said running her hand through her bright orange hair. I had always doubted the colour was natural. Merely a means to attract attention to herself. I had once heard her bragging that a customer had said it was 'exotic' and I scoffed at the idea. There was nothing 'exotic' about her, she had been a Kiri gutter rat once like the rest of us. Although I was mildly surprised she was pushing customers on me. Normally she would have tried to at least make a couple bucks before her regular came in, but who was I to complain, money was money.

Nodding my head in her direction I lazily pushed myself off the stool and made my way to the corner table, my shoes creaking against the decaying wood of the floor. There were two men seated at the table both with their backs facing towards me and were quietly conversing with one another. One appeared to be significantly shorter than the other although it was not due to a lack of height on his part, the other man was simply massive more than likely reaching over 7 feet when standing. Normally his height would be considered especially alarming but these days shinobi came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, it was best not to chance testing their patience by staring. The larger man gestured with his hand to the shorter one beside him and I caught a glimpse of the blue tinge of his skin. I nearly froze in my tracks when I realized just who was seated there. With rapidly growing horror I now knew exactly why Momoko had pushed these patrons on to me.

There seated in the corner table was Hoshigaki Kisame.