Azalea

((Point of notice, it's pronounced 'Az-ah-lee' ))

Western influence was at a minimal in this small tavern, she’d heard stories of men giving themselves to ale till come the next morning their knuckles were skinned and their hands stank with the blood of their closest friends. Here, the drink was refined, talk was soft and low and it was only now and then that a rosy cheeked man let his hand slip out of place onto the firm behind of a young waitress. Should that be the case, he had one person to answer to, a woman Azalea herself would never have wished to be at the brunt of.

Akemi was once a thin woman, in her youth she had been lovely and sweet, now her face was wrinkled, her hands were calloused from day upon day of tireless work, her figure grown curvaceous from child birth, her once lean stature, shortened and her silken black hair, salted with strands of grey, vainly attempted to be hidden in a tight bun and distracted from with colourful clothes and jewelled clips. There was still beauty about her, a different stage of beauty that it seemed only Azalea was able to see. She sat on her knees at a low table, a small ceramic bowl of sake held between her thumb and index finger, resting between the pressed digits, she lifted it to her lips and sipped, a wry smile curling about the edges of her lips as Akemi was forced to throw out a man.

He giggled inanely, even after he was shoved from the bar and into the warm night outside. The samurai, old and young men alike laughed heartily and went back to their discussions, paying the woman no mind as they ordered more food and drink.

Azalea was content to eat very little, some rice and a small plate of sashimi. She had the look of a common woman, dressed up for a festival perhaps, but common none the less, her hair hung perfectly straight to her waist, silken and as black as twilight itself, a traditional color, a natural color to compliment her pale skin. She had the eyes of the river people, bright blue, as a child she’d wished they’d been brown but as an adult she had come to accept them, even compliment them with a bright blue kimono, painted elegantly with white koi and stars. Her hair was loose, the strands fell into her face as she bowed her head to eat her rice, holding a piece of sashimi between cheap, polished chopsticks, she waited to catch Akemi’s eye and once that was done, the woman dismissed her other duties onto a waitress and moved over to her table.

“Goza sends his regards,” she kept her voice low and ate casually as ever, making no eye contact as she slipped a note from within her sleeves, onto the table. Akemi swept it up and tucked it away.

“Tonight, when we are closed, I’ll have it for you then.”

That was all she said as she stood and turned back to her work. Azalea just smiled, a wry curl at the corner of her soft lips, she raised her thin hand with her empty rice bowl, it was swept away and seconds later replaced with another. She’d be needing another bottle of sake too, if she were to wait so long.

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