The 47 Ronin Story

by John Allyn

  "Araki doesn't make the decisions. He's been polite, possibly helpful, but we can't depend on his optimism. No, from now on we must assume that all is lost and plan accordingly."

  "You mean attack now?" asked Kataoka incredulously.

  Oishi hesitated, then spoke in a low voice, "When in haste it is sometimes best to take a roundabout way. There are certain preliminaries I had postponed till now but I see they can no longer wait. Get your

  house in order, my friend, as quickly as possible, and I shall do likewise."

  They went to bed, Kataoka still puzzled about Oishi's meaning, but the next day revealed that he was indeed in earnest about settling his affairs.

  In the morning Oishi rose early, as usual, to eat the morning meal with his wife and children. When it was finished and he had watched the little ones go off to play, he asked his wife to come out of the kitchen where she was helping the cook prepare the day's menu, and led her into a sitting room in another part of the house. It was late spring and he threw open the paper shoji to the garden, now beginning to warm in the sun. He motioned for her to sit down and she knelt obediently before him, curious and not a little apprehensive about what her husband was going to say.

  "The weather has become much warmer," he said, aware of her uneasiness.

  "Yes," she murmured, keeping her eyes lowered, "the buzzing of the cicadas increases with the approach of summer."

  Without responding he looked at her for a moment in silent admiration. In all the years he had known her she had always behaved in exactly the correct manner for one of her station, and he knew he could depend on her to do so in the future. It was fortunate that at a time like this he could rely on her help, no matter what he asked. What he had to say now would put her training as the wife of a samurai to its severest test, yet he had faith in her ability to meet it.

  "I am sorry if my coming in late has troubled you," he said, postponing the main issue but feeling that this was also something that had to be said.

  "Not at all," she lied, with a quick little look up at

  Chapter Ten

  his face. "The children and 1 sleep undisturbed by anything."

  He knew this was a reference to the fact that he had not been to her bed for many weeks, and cleared his throat in embarrassment.

  "I—what I have to ask is not easy, considering that I have no fault to find with you ..."

  "Anything you desire," she murmured.

  "I have written out this letter," he said, producing it from his long sleeve and handing it to her. "It is a letter of divorce."

  She took it in silence although her face went pale and Oishi realized that her heart must have turned to stone at his words. Without any expression she read it through, then laid it beside her on Lhe straw-matted floor. She turned her head away and Oishi moved to the open shoji to look out into the garden and avoid seeing her tears.

  "You must have known it would come to this," he said gently.

  "I told myself that it would not," she said, controlling her voice so that not the breath of a sob would be heard. "I told myself that the petition would be granted and that we would all go home to Ako someday."

  "I told myself that, too, but now the time for fairytales is over. I must do things in which I have no right to involve you and the children. That is why we must separate."

  For a moment she was at a loss for words. "Involve me? Why should I not be involved in what you do?"

  "Because it would not please me to have you do so," he answered and she obediently bowed her head. She had not meant to argue or oppose him.

  "I want you to take the children and return to your

  parents' home. Whatever I do in the future will therefore not reflect on you, nor will you be held in any way responsible for my deeds. That is the way it must be if I am to feel free to act as I think I must."

  "The children," she said. "Do you mean all the children?"

  "Chikara is sixteen," he replied. "I think we must let him make up his own mind whether he will go or stay."

  She bowed her head in final acquiescence but could not prevent a sob from escaping her.

  "I must lose you both?" she suddenly cried out. For a moment there was no sound but the humming of the insects in the garden, and then she deliberately dried her eyes and composed herself.

  "I am sorry," she said. "I know it is something you must do and I will pray for your success as I always have. But . . . when must this . . . divorce . . . happen?" she asked in a tired, faraway voice.

  "Soon—as soon as possible. . . . Please, send in Chikara so that I can put the matter to him."

  Their conversation was over and she obediently bowed her head to the floor, then stood and went out, her white-stockinged feet rustling over the tatami in a cadence that was distinctively her own and that Oishi knew he would miss more than anything in the days ahead.

  Chikara was troubled by his mother's manner when she summoned him, and went to see his father in some trepidation. He kneeled and bowed respectfully and then waited for whatever rebuke he must hear. The fact that his father's opening words were delivered in a calm, contemplative manner did not lessen his anxiety.

  "Hardship in our present life is an atonement for

  Chapter Ten

  sins committed in our previous existence, or the education necessary to prepare for a higher place in the life to come. That is what your teachers have taught you, haven't they?"

  "Yes, father."

  "Then we have no hesitation about choosing the harder path when it is offered, if that is the direction in which our duty Hes, do we?"

  "No, father."

  "But when there is a conflict of loyalties, decisions are sometimes difficult. I'm not speaking about myself now—the direction in which my duty lies is clear. But in your case you have two paths to choose from. If you go with your mother when she returns with the little ones to her parents, you will be responsible for her welfare and your path will not be an easy one. If you decide to go with me, the path almost certainly leads to death, but hopefully death with honor. This is what you must decide for yourself. I think you have reached the age when you can make up your own mind. It is a choice I cannot make for you."

  For Chikara, this was a moment he had been waiting for and he had prepared his answer long ago. Without hesitation he replied, "I will go with you father. I know why you are sending mother away—to protect her. If I went with her I would only be protecting myself and that is not the act of a man—of a samurai."

  Oishi was pleased at his son's response and felt pride in his heritage. It was true that the blossoms of today draw strength from the roots of a thousand years ago. Still he did not want to rush the boy into any hasty decision and urged him to consider carefully what he was doing.

  "I already have," the boy assured him. "I am a

  . 727.

  man and must go with the men. Any other path would be cowardly."

  Oishi smiled and took the boy by the hand. "Welcome to our band," he said. "From now on your responsibilities will be equal to those of any of us."

  Chikara smiled back at him. He had finally gotten what he wanted more than anything else in the world, and as he left his father his eyes were shining and his chest was puffed out with pride.

  Within a day the rest of the family was packed and ready to leave and Oishi saw them off with a stern expression to hide his true feelings. The small children's wide eyes were red from crying but in their father's presence they stifled their sobs. Mimura accompanied them, leading the pack horse that carried their belongings, but he would return as soon as they were located in their home. As they went out the gate, Oishi's wife turned for one last look at her husband, wavered for a moment, and then hurried on. Both of them knew they would never meet again.

  rrvrvrrrrrrrrrvrvrvwrrrrrvvrvrrvvvvrv

  9 XI ®

  AAAAAAAIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

  Of the three large pleasure quarters in Kyoto, Gion was by far the most popular. And of all the gei
sha houses in Gion, the one that enjoyed the most enviable reputation for the quality of its services was the Flying Crane. The proprietor, a shrewd, perspiring hulk of a man named Hoshino, had worked hard to make his place the best in Kyoto, and he meant to keep it that way. Good service paid off in profits and Hoshino would do anything to make money.

  At the moment he was worried about the party in one of the rooms overlooking the river. Two of the guests he knew by sight, a couple of local fellows named Shindo and Koyama. But the other two samurai were obviously inside a geisha house for the first time and did not seem to know how to relax and enjoy themselves. The one with the high forehead was especially ill at ease, and Hoshino feared he might be a man of influence who would carry away the impression that the Flying Crane was a dull place.

  Hoshino stood in the hallway outside and perspired in recurrent gushes as the conversation beyond the

  • 729.

  paper door lagged to the point where he could stand no more. This called for drastic measures and he raised a damp arm to summon a passing waitress.

  "Get Okaru," he said, and the girl bowed quickly and went to do as she was told.

  In the room within, Oishi was indeed bored.

  The teahouse was picturesque, and he was sure this room overlooking the sunny Kamo River was the best in the house, but the endless chatter of the geisha at his side was more than he had bargained for.

  There were four of them, one for each of the guests, and all had brought in lacquered trays holding sake bottles and cups. They were dressed in bright kimono of the richest imaginable materials, with wide contrasting obi tied in huge bows. Their faces were painted white and lip rouge was applied to their lower lips. Over it all their hair was done in an elaborate piled-up style and decorated with hair ornaments.

  The girls had introduced themselves with an engaging informality and laughingly applied nicknames to all four. Oishi was simply called "Uncle," Shindo was "Mr. Fox," Koyama was "Mr. Mouse," and Kataoka, of course, became "Mr. Monkey." Drinks were poured, toasts were made, the cups were drained and filled again, but while Shindo and Koyama, and even to some extent Kataoka, began to enjoy themselves, Oishi found it impossible to join in. The girl by his side was young enough to be his daughter and he felt foolish drinking with her. He had almost made up his mind to leave when there was an unexpected development.

  He had turned aside to mutter some comment to

  Chapter Eleven

  Kataoka when the girl between them got up to go for a food tray. He was dimly aware that the other girls left at the same time but seemingly all returned together with colorful and appetizing dishes that were plainly concocted with no regard for the Shogun's edict prohibiting the eating of meat or fish.

  Oishi turned directly to his own tray when it was placed before him and did not realize that it was now a different geisha kneeling at his side. It was the unaccustomed silence from her direction that finally caused him to turn to her. When he did so, he quickly caught his breath. Close beside him, with a tranquil smile that put him at ease at once, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. This was Okaru, the number one geisha in the geisha capital of the world.

  Her age was impossible to guess, although she was certainly no child. Her kimono was exquisite, but no more so than that of the other girls. Her face was distinguished mainly by a high-bridged and aristocratic nose, but it was her eyes that captured Oishi's attention most of all. They were large and clear, with a depth to their expression that immediately set her apart from the other bland-faced girls of the quarter.

  In a low musical voice she explained what the various dishes on his tray were and showed him the right way to eat them. Later, as the other geisha danced and sang, she explained the words and movements so that he could fully appreciate them.

  Then she rose to dance herself and Oishi was captivated by her grace. To the solo plunking of a sensual samisen she posed and gestured in a simple story of flirtation and unrequited love that required no translation.

  Later the other girls danced again and finally

  Shindo and Koyama, both quite tipsy, did a comic dance together that was a burlesque of the girls' movements. Oishi laughed aloud for the first time and the atmosphere of the party became much more relaxed.

  When the time came to leave, they were escorted outside to the gate by the geisha and by Hoshino himself. Here, in exaggerated sorrow at parting, the girls bowed low and begged the men to come again. Assurances were freely given, but Oishi, who had not taken his eyes off Okaru all evening, was undoubtedly the most sincere. It had been a night he would never forget.

  From every standpoint, Oishi's first visit to Gion was a success. People began to talk about his surprising turn to dissipation, which was exactly what he wanted them to do. The more talk, the more his reputation would be slandered and the less menacing he would be considered as a threat to Kira. The geisha houses became his constant habitat, as he labored to ruin what had always been most precious to him.

  Additional spies were soon required to keep up with his frenetic activities and he was pleased to see the trouble he was causing in the enemy camp. He was aware that he was also risking some confusion in his own ranks, but that was a chance he felt he had to take.

  On a typical day he would rise late, eat a hasty meal, and immediately be off to town. Those who were unable or unwilling to rise when he did would join the party later, locating it by the presence outside of a spy disguised as a komuso. These spies soon

  Chapter Eleven

  became so familiar to them that Kataoka began calhng them his "guides to the pleasure spots" to their hidden faces, and then laughing at their obvious embarrassment.

  After an afternoon of drinking and the games which Oishi finally came to tolerate, they would usually move on to another establishment for dinner and sometimes to a third teahouse for after-dinner entertainment. It was in moving from one place to another, and particularly on the way home late at night, that they made the most of their situation. Oishi would drunkenly accost the passers-by and otherwise make an unruly spectacle of himself. When the weather was fine he would even take a group of geisha and hangers-on to a public place like Gion Park and carry on a riotous picnic in full view of the respectable strata of society. The people of Kyoto were accustomed to fun-loving visitors, but Oishi went much too far in their eyes.

  Disregarding the cost to his reputation, however, the plan seemed to be working. Week after week the reports went back to Edo that he was spending money like a fool and holding no meetings with his men that were not out-and-out drinking bouts. Kataoka was characterized as a court jester and Shindo and Koyama could certainly not be labeled mighty warriors in anybody's book. Naturally, along with such reports went additional bills for the extra spies required and the distraught Chisaka was finally driven to make an economy move. The spy force was arbitrarily cut back to Fujii and one helper, not to mention the cook who was still on duty at Yamashina. It was an impossible assignment for two men and they were rapidly driven to distraction by lack of sleep and Oishi's playful attempts to confuse them. The Ako

  . 7ii .

  group took to leaving by rear entrances, going and coming separately, and otherwise making the spies' assignment as difficult as possible. Fujii still wore the basket over his head so there was no direct confrontation, but it was obvious that the shoe was on the other foot and Oishi laughed to think that he had at last scored against his formidable enemy.

  Unfortunately for Oishi, most of the conversation in the geisha houses centered around their own floating world of pleasure, including the theater and the popular actors and artists of the day. Of these matters he was completely ignorant, pleading that he was just a simple samurai from the country and had no experience in such things. It was late one afternoon at the Flying Crane, which Oishi seemed to visit more than any other geisha house, when yet another lively discussion arose about the relative merits of certain actors. Oishi excused himself to get some air when Okaru suggested brightly
that he go see the Kabuki himself so that he would know what they were talking about. The other geisha present gasped at her impudence, but Oishi pretended not to notice.

  He turned to Okaru and politely thanked her for the suggestion. He felt she might be making fun of him but he decided to play along and agreed to go to the theater the very next day. It had never occurred to him to visit a public theater, he said, and he might find it amusing. Behind his back Shindo and Koyama winked at each other to hear this; they were sure it was only the sake Oishi had drunk that was talking. He was not the sort of man to frequent public places willingly.

  The party continued until quite late that night and when they were finally ready to leave Kataoka found only one basket-headed spy waiting at the entrance.

  Chapter Eleven

  He reported this to Oishi and they agreed that a Httle game was in order. After they said their farewells to the geisha and the proprietor, the men from Ako exchanged hats and outer clothing with Shindo and Koyama, who then walked silently out the gate. The spy dutifully followed them, and Oishi and Kataoka, watching from a balcony, exploded in a fit of laughter. Then, in their companions' clothes, they slipped quietly out the back way. Although Oishi was not aware of it and would have been quite concerned if he had known, there was an unseen observer of their antics. The geisha Okaru watched from an upstairs window with an expression of more than passing curiosity.

  The next day, to everyone's surprise, Oishi announced that he was indeed going to the Kabuki theater. Shindo and Koyama, already fans of this new kind of theatrical, so much livelier than the stately Noh of the court, accepted his invitation with alacrity. Kataoka was not as enthusiastic; he had no more knowledge of such things than his leader, but he had no intention of letting him jostle with the common people unattended and went along to act as bodyguard.

  The first performance of the day began at noon, but Oishi insisted on stopping off at a teahouse for sake on the way and they missed it. As the afternoon went on, Shindo warned that they had better get there in time for the second performance or all the seats would be gone, but Oishi ignored him and poured another drink. For the scheme he had in mind he needed some fortification, and when he was finally ready to go it was quite late in the afternoon.