20. Feminine Strategy
Chapter twenty
Feminine Strategy
Nyomi
“I was born in a small town called Uji. My father was a powerful businessman with several textile factories. He supplied high-end silk to kimono makers across Japan.” Hiroko smoothed her kimono across her lap.
“He had a beautiful wife who graced the pages of society magazines. . .and a maid that was his mistress. I was the daughter of that mistress.”
I parted my lips in shock.
“My birth made me an inconvenience.”
I watched her fingers as she spoke. Perfectly shaped, polished with a pale pink gloss. Elegant hands. But there was something in the way she rolled her jade ring slowly, twisting it back and forth.
“He paid for my birth but never came to see me. Not once. He kept me hidden. I was sent away to live with an old aunt in the western district. She wasn’t cruel, but she wasn’t loving either. I was. . .tolerated. Fed. Dressed. But never kissed goodnight.”
Her gaze drifted to the floor, lingering on a knot in the tatami mat like it had meaning. “I was not a beautiful child. I was too tall. Too skinny. My teeth were crooked. My eyes drawn downward, which my aunt said made me look ‘sad in the wrong way.’ The girls at school called me tengu. ”
“What does that mean?”
“ Tengu is a creature from folklore. A demon-bird. Sometimes a thief. Sometimes a god. But always something that doesn’t belong.
” She slowly lifted her gaze back to me.
“It has a long, sharp nose. Angry red face. Wild eyes. They live in the mountains, wearing torn robes and wielding fans that can summon storms. In some stories, they steal children. In others, they protect the forest. Either way, they are always feared.”
She raised one hand and touched the slope of her nose. “Kids can be cruel.”
“They can.” I swallowed.
“But adults can be even crueler. I would hear my family whisper about my. . .ugliness. . .There I learned within the shadows that. . .beauty was power. It was. . .cultural capital and could be used to accumulate social and economic power. And that made me sad. . .”
“Because you felt like you had no beauty?”
“Yes. I was just a little girl thinking she was ugly and already a failure.” She lowered her hand and placed it back on her lap.
“However, around thirteen, everything changed. I began to develop breasts, hips. . .My aunt sent me to Kyoto to train with the geisha. Not because I was graceful or pretty. But because she believed that at least my body could be valuable for the family.”
What the fuck?
She turned to me. “So I became a maiko .”
“What is that?”
“An apprentice geisha. I painted my face white. Bit my lips red. Walked with okobo that made me sound like bells in the snow. My body became my art. My silence, a performance.”
I could almost see her as a nervous teen, powdered and obedient, hair pulled into an elaborate style. Lips painted.
“It wasn’t about talent back then, it was about how well you could survive being seen and. . .touched.”
My chest ached.
She turned her view to behind us and looked out the window.
The sea glittered.
“I lived in the okiya with a strange woman who I was to only call mother . And mother loved power and money more than people. We trained for hours. Danced until our ankles bled. Learned shamisen, tea ceremony, calligraphy, and most of all. . .how to smile even if we were dying inside.” The elegance in her voice didn’t crack, but it shimmered at the edges.
“There was one client. . .older. Wealthy. He always wanted me naked when I played because he wanted to touch my collarbone and count each vertebrae down my back over and over with every note. He said it made him feel closer to God.”
Her lips barely moved, but her voice sharpened. “He was one of the nice ones.”
I looked at her, horrified.
“The worst were the ones who pretended they were saving me while they ruined my little body.”
My hand reached out instinctively, resting lightly over hers.
She didn’t flinch when I touched her. Instead a sad smile spread across her face. “When I turned nineteen, I was given a choice: become a full geiko —a fully trained entertainer or. . .”
“Or?”
“I could disappear.”
“What did you decide?”
“I disappeared.”
“How?”
“I took the last stipend mother gave me, snuck out in the night with two silk kimono and a dagger tucked into my obi.”
“Where did you get the dagger?”
“I stole it from one of my clients.”
“Smart.”
“I thought so.” Hiroko smirked. “And then. . .I ran until my feet bled and hopped a night train to Tokyo with barely enough to last a month.”
“Holy shit.”
The corners of her lips curled into something soft, sad, and stunning. “In Tokyo, I learned to be free. I learned that power isn’t in beauty—not real power. Real power is healing the mind and knowing that you already hold everything you need inside you.”
The room went still.
Even Zo quietly watched her.
Outside the window, the sea exhaled a long slow breath and the waves licked the base of the cliffs in worship.
“I used to think being beautiful would make me untouchable, but it only made me easier to claim. What made me dangerous. . .was truly knowing myself and loving every bit of. . .me.”
She looked down at her hands. “I made my body a currency. But my mind became a weapon. And now, I choose who sees me. Who hears me. Who touches me.”
The weight of her words hung heavily in the space.
“Although I was born in Uji that is not my home. Although I was raised in Kyoto that is not my home either.” Her voice cracked with the next words. “My home is Tokyo and it is presently covered in smoke, ash, and flames.”
Her eyes watered, but no tears fell.
Yet. . .I didn’t even realize a tear had left my eye until she reached over and brushed it from my cheek.
“Nyomi, I know the Dragon, and I know his father, the Fox. Neither will give a cease fire. They will not stop this war until the other is dead.”
My nerves flared.
“And they will fight. . .even if that means that my beautiful city is destroyed.” She sadly shrugged. “For them it will just be. . .so be it.”
A cold shiver ran through me.
“They are both beasts, Nyomi, but there are big differences. I do not want the Fox to win. I prefer the Dragon.” She let out a long sigh. “He is the safer monster.”
I tilted my head slightly. "Why do you think Kenji is safer?"
"He’s more like his mother’s side. There’s a sweetness she placed within his heart that his father could never stomp away. That tenderness is still there, Nyomi. It’s buried under steel and fire, but it breathes."
Hiroko rose from the bed in one fluid movement. Something in her posture changed—subtle but undeniable. Her back straightened too while her chin lifted, and her eyes sharpened with purpose.
The soft-spoken survivor was gone.
In her place stood the woman from last night.
The dominatrix.
The tactician.
The teacher.
Her kimono whispered with each step as she turned to face me fully. "Tell me something, Nyomi."
"Yes?"
"Last night, did you make the Dragon kneel?"
My throat tightened. "Yes."
Zo, who had been quiet for too long, shot up in his chair like he’d been hit by lightning. "WHAT?!"
Hiroko didn’t even blink. "Good. Because that means you already have what no one else in this war possesses."
"What do you mean?"
"You have his heart. His mind. His ear. His cock. Meanwhile, the Fox only has a hospital bed. That makes you one of the most powerful people in this war."
I sucked in a shaky breath.
"You cannot sit back and be silent and you cannot sleep through this war. I won’t let you."
I bit my lip.
Hiroko continued, stepping toward me with intensity humming in every line of her body.
"You are not just some woman he keeps close for pleasure.
You are the leverage. The stability. The softness that reminds him what peace feels like.
You are the queen on his chessboard of enemies.
You are the Dragon tamer. Do you understand that? "
“Yes. Okay. . .” I stood slowly. "Then. . .what do I do? I’m not a gangster, but I want to help him and most of all I want to keep tragedies like this morning from happening again."
Hiroko pointed to the bed. "He didn’t sleep?”
“If he did, it wasn’t in here.”
“Then, he is not focused on himself or you. His mind is drowning in war and vengeance.”
“What do I do?”
“Love him. You will be his ability to release. His pressure valve. He hasn’t even gone to sleep.
He’s probably in some room right now, standing in a circle of testosterone-drunk men all flexing and shouting.
” She wagged her finger. “Too many powerful men in one space always leads to stupidity, destruction, and unnecessary death.
You must start being in that room when war is discussed. "
I widened my eyes. “Okay but. . .”
“Yes?”
“Honestly, I would feel like that wasn’t my place.”
“Of course you would. You didn’t give the oath with your blood like everyone else in that room, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
She stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"Because a woman should be in that room. Softening things. Layering femininity into the air. Reminding those men what they’re actually fighting for—not just bloodlust and pride.
And because I will teach you how to take up the space in that room so perfectly.
. .no one will ever complain. . .in fact.
. .they’ll beg for you to be there. . .some may even demand it. "
My voice was quiet but sure. "So you’re going to teach me how to keep Kenji calm and remind him of the things that are important in life?"
"No, Nyomi. I’m going to show you how to help Kenji win this war."
My pulse beat harder in my throat. "How do I do that?"
"Go to him right now. Check on him."
"I want to." I nodded. "I’ve been wondering if he’s even eaten. Or when he plans to sleep, because he clearly needs both."
Hiroko’s lips curved into a knowing smile. "That right there. That concern. That’s what will win this war."
"You think so?"
"I know so. Kenji thinks killing his father will be the end. But war doesn’t end with death. Peace ends war. And love births peace. But how could Kenji even begin to understand that when he’s never known real love?"
Against my will, I thought of my mother again and how she would have never considered anything like this. She might have even told Hiroko to shut up and leave. In her mind, a woman’s true place was on the sidelines, quiet, and looking pretty.
But. . .I had to break that legacy.
I had to stop being the little girl in the hallway, scared to speak.
I let out a long breath. "Okay. Teach me everything.”
Hiroko grinned. “It will be day by day. I can’t do it all today, but there are clear moves you should make right now.”
“Alright. After you tell me, I’m going to wash my face, brush my teeth, and check on him."
Hiroko frowned. “Are you forgetting other steps?”
“No.”
“You are.”
"What steps am I forgetting?"
She glanced at my pajamas like they were an insult to her bloodline. "What will you be wearing?"
I blinked. "Well. . .he’s probably in his war room. I could throw on a robe—"
"Absolutely not!" Zo shrieked like I’d just slapped him.
“Alright.” I shook my head. “I can throw on some clothes.”
“Throw on some clothes? Is that how a dragon tamer sounds when they prepare for work?” Hiroko looked at me like I’d offered to wear a trash bag to a coronation.
"You are with the Dragon. And this is the morning after you made him kneel. You will walk into that war room looking like a queen. You will command the attention of every man in that space. And you will absolutely make every last one of their cocks hard and remind Kenji why he should never go one night without coming to your bed. Do you understand me?”
I blinked. “Yes.”
“Taming a dragon is not done with pajamas.
" She checked her watch. "Zo. I need you in that closet. Find something that says. . .dominatrix meets business casual. And don’t get too outrageous. We don’t want her entire body on display and Kenji killing his men, but we do want the pressure in the space to shift when she enters.
Everyone in this house must know who she is today and why they must bow to her. "
“Got it.” Zo jumped to his feet and gave a perfect salute. "I already know what she needs."
“Perfect.” Hiroko put her view on me. “Now we will go over what you will do and you will follow it to a T.”
“Alright. Give it to me.”