Chuuya, a Daitengu, landed silently on the tatami flooring of the balcony, looking around what he can see of the brothel his friends(? Colleagues? Subordinates? Whatever. The Sheep) told him of, singing the place's praises and singing the praises of the beauty of the prostitutes.

The place was swell, warm and pleasant. It was a comfortable place, somewhere he wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable with prostitution, and the peaceful forest outside gave the manor-like brothel gave the place some decent privacy from the small town it was a small walk from. The trees made the area peaceful. Too peaceful.

A woman slinked up behind him, catching him off-guard, “Are none of the girls to your liking?” She purred, the picture-perfect image of a prostitute.

Chuuya whipped around as soon as he felt her presence, setting his hauchiwa against her throat—which she leaned into. A thin trail of semi-viscous crimson dripped down her neck from where the fan sliced against her glassy, pale skin.

She was fox-faced, slender, lanky, shapely, with dark hair, and siren eyes with long lashes. She was dressed in crimsons and black silks that made her skin look pale, almost waxen and sickly. “Well, Tengu-chan?” She asked. She knew what he was, and judging from her sly demeanor and foxy looks, she (though even that was debatable from the reputation of kitsune and their trickster-esque behavior) was a kitsune. A nine-tailed fox youkai, a trickster, a shapeshifter, a demon.

Anyone with their head on straight could tell that a kitsune in a brothel, especially a kitsune in a brothel posing as the madam, spelt trouble; either for the men and women buying the brothel's services or the girls who offer the services. There was no way to tell if the brothel itself was even real. This was not a good situation. Sure, Chuuya was a Daitengu, a youkai comparable to a kami, but this was not his domain. His domain was the sky. This, this potential palace of illusions, was the kitsune's domain. He was at it's mercy, at the end of the day. He was the rabbit.