From "Lyra's Magnum Opus":
A spotlight came on, and I forgot to breathe.
The delicate painted face of a lady peered at us from the far wall as she made her way down the aisle to my left. She slid forward, elevated above two men who walked beside her as if she would break. As I watched, I realized she was on very tall shoes, black and bell shaped. Many other people were in front of her and behind her, carrying lanterns. One by one, they started to glow. The moon on the stage started to glow. A man dressed as a ceremonial priest lead the procession and rang the bell in his hand, and they all walked forward.
I admired her clothes as she slowly made her way down the aisle. Her elaborate obi tied in the front, draped so far to the floor. The beautiful layered robes, the patterns elevating her beauty above all. Her hair was inky black and done in a high, upside down half moon shape, split in the middle. She wore almost a crown of golden rods in front of this elaborate hairstyle, and the front was done in a traditional shape.
I realized what I was watching after a few minutes. All around me, everyone else was watching with rapt awe, hands over mouths and frozen in place. We were watching an oiran procession. As I admired the oiran in the middle. As she slid forward ever so slowly, she broke character. And when she did, giving a small smile that was quickly hidden behind her sleeve, I realized just who I was watching and my mouth dropped open.
My new friend Tetsu lowered his demure sleeve, smiling at everyone. He couldn't contain himself. How many times had I seen that smile over the past months? Teaching him new things. That smile had come every time I sang and played the piano for him. It had come when we shared food, and I showed him new places in Tokyo. That uncontained joy, childish and free. An unbridled smile.
Now here it was impossibly, on someone else. It could not be the same person. My friend, who was so awkward in high heels that he fell down often. My friend, who could not hide his masculinity when wearing a dress. My friend, who thought I was so smart and worldly.
This same person was gliding down the aisle as a goddess. He was special, alright. He didn't see it? He was the essence of what an oiran should be. All the pictures of them I'd seen. The way they must move and carry themselves, the elegant way they posed in paintings and prints.