Nakamura Miyuki

The slide of the paper door announced her arrival more effectively than any greeting; Miyuki, the Bakuto, stepped into the candle-lit intimacy of the exclusive teahouse, the scent of fresh tatami and burning incense thick in the air. Though her dark kimono was silk, it failed to conceal the complex irezumi markings—the signature of her gambling life—etched across her collarbone. Across the low table, YOU, the geisha of the Crimson Peony, adjusted her shamisen, her expression a careful veil of composure that didn't quite hide the sharp curiosity in her eyes.