“Really?” Tanjirō said, pretending not to know. “Konoito must have been very angry at her. And she had every right to be. By the way, the smoke from downstairs is getting pretty bad, isn’t it? They must be cooking a lot of delivery orders. I hate the smell of broiled fish. The place where we used to go in San’ya was a lot better, wasn’t it.”
“Yeah, I agree. The first floor’s bigger, so you don’t need to go upstairs. And you can sit in the back where there’s no smoke.”
“I’ll open another window,” Tanjirō said and pushed open a rice-paper sliding screen in the front window of the room. Resting his hands on the railing, he gazed down for a moment at people passing in the street. Suddenly he saw Yonehachi coming by with her friend Umeji. They were on their way back from a party and were walking behind their customers, seeing them off.
Yonehachi saw Tanjirō almost immediately. “Hey, Tan!” she called up. “You still haven’t gone home yet? I’ll be back in just a minute with Umeji, so wait for me, will you?” She smiled and then turned her attention toward a drunk customer.
Tanjirō, amazed, could only stand there watching Yonehachi’s back as she walked on past the restaurant toward Takabashi.
Ochō rushed to the window. “Hey, isn’t that Yonehachi?”
“Are you kidding? That’s not Yonehachi.” Words came out of Tanjirō’s mouth, but inside he was in a state of shock. He knew Yonehachi would be back soon from wherever she was going, and he began to feel nervous.
“If you’ve had enough,” he said, “why don’t we go?”
“All right, let’s go. But I’m sure that was Yonehachi. You shouldn’t hide it from me, you know.” Ochō looked down as she spoke, and tears fell on her lap. She put her sleeve in her mouth and bit on it as hard as she could, trying not to let out any sound, and her body began to shake. Her silence was sadder than any words she could have said.
To Tanjirō, the stray hairs that fell across her cheek were very attractive. “Hey now,” he said. “There’s no need to cry.”
“I’m not crying.”
“But something’s wrong. I can see it. Here, wipe your face.” He gave her a small hand towel.
Ochō wiped her eyes and looked at Tanjirō resentfully, but there was still something of the young woman about the way she glared at him. They’d been engaged for several years but hadn’t slept together, and Ochō worried that if she spoke too strongly, Tanjirō might stop loving her. So she suffered silently.
“Well, it’s getting pretty late,” Tanjirō said. “You ought to be getting back home. Remember what happened the last time you were out late.”
“I don’t need to go yet. But if I’m in the way, I guess I’d better leave.”
“It’s been a long time since we saw each other,” Tanjirō said. “It would be a shame spend the time sulking.”
“I know. I’m not sulking. I’ll go to your place for sure tomorrow.”
“Well, all right, but if you’re going to come, please come in the afternoon. I’ll be out all morning.” The next day was the fifteenth, and Tanjirō was afraid Yonehachi might drop by on her way back from her early-morning prayer to the bodhisattva Myōken at a nearby temple. It was natural for him to worry, since Yonehachi was supporting him, and it was thanks to her help that he’d recovered from his illness and now had enough money for the things he needed.
“Bring the bill,” Tanjirō shouted, clapping his hands loudly. There was no one else in the small restaurant, so the waitress came right up, and he paid the bill. Just as he and Ochō started downstairs, Yonehachi came into the restaurant. She’d rushed right back after seeing off her customers. A geisha musician like Yonehachi, in the prime of her career, didn’t even look at the rare, expensive food that was served at the parties at which she performed. She’d wait until later and buy exactly the food she liked with her own money and talk about love affairs with her friends.
“Well, even if Tan’s gone already,” Yonehachi was saying, “we can just sit back and have a good old time by ourselves. After you, Umeji.”
“Please,” Umeji said, “you go first.”
“Why not, do you want to go to the bathroom? Maybe I should go, too.” Tanjirō is coming down the stairs with Ochō right behind him. What will they feel when they run into Yonehachi? Even the author doesn’t know. At a time like this, an attractive man suffers more than others realize. How should the story continue? If readers have any good ideas, the author begs them to contact him as soon as they can.
As you read on
and find the first plum blossoms,
telling of spring’s coming,
may their fragrance drift far
on the breeze of your kind opinion.
Kiyomoto Nobutsuga19
Book 2
PREFACE
People now, as in the past, value gentleness of mind far above thousands of gold coins. Women, especially, should be gentle in every sort of situation. With enough money and no need to worry, everyone has a pure, noble mind and never looks resentful or uses words in rough ways. But in hard times, when each day brings only deeper poverty, a person’s true mind shows itself.
This is especially true of the love between married couples. When they first sleep together in their beautiful new bedroom, they vow to grow old together and share the same grave. They are so intimate that they pledge to marry in the next life as well and are drawn to each other with feelings of great love. After the couple has exchanged such deep promises, it is too sad for words and very wrong when, if the man’s fortunes decline, the woman’s love changes color like the fall leaves and becomes as sparse as withered plants by the wayside.
In ancient China there lived a woman named Mengguang. Her father was rich, but her husband, Ling Baichun, gradually lost his wealth and finally had to leave the world behind and go away to a place called Baling. Although they were now extremely poor, Mengguang cheerfully left together with her husband, tilling the soil and cutting wild grasses. She also wove cloth herself and did menial jobs for people nearby. She always remembered what marriage was and remained devoted to her husband without ever envying the wealth of others.
Unfortunately, modern young women are incapable of even half of what Mengguang did. And some, without any sense or feeling, forget about all obligations and the Way and think they’re a great success if they can show off in pretty clothes. Yet their beauty will pass, as it does for all things, and surely they will end up very unhappy. But if your mind is pure, you will be esteemed and respected even if you wear rags. Recall the poem by Fujiwara no Naoko:
Like the tiny shrimp
living on seaweed strands
cut by fisherfolk,
I will cry, “It is my own fault”
and not blame my lover.20
Young women readers may feel that the author of this book, Kinryū Sanjin,21 writes like an overly kind old woman and has the tiresome habit of offering unnecessary opinions. I beg these readers to please persevere and read closely.
Kyōkuntei,22 Tamenaga Shunsui
CHAPTER 7
Tanjirō was coming down the stairs from the second floor. Umeji and Yonehachi, at the bottom, were climbing up. Startled, Tanjirō turned around and looked at Ochō. Her attractive face was flushed red with anger, and her eyes filled with jealousy. The tears were tears of resentment toward Tanjirō. Yonehachi stared coldly at Ochō and finally calmed herself.
“Tan,” she said, “I asked you to wait for me, but you seem to be going already.” Then she turned to Ochō. “Well now, if it isn’t Ochō. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it! My, you’ve gotten quite pretty. And you’re a lot taller, too. How nice! It looks like you’re almost ready to go off and get married.” As Yonehachi spoke, she glanced sharply toward Tanjirō.
“She really has grown while we weren’t looking, hasn’t she,” Tanjirō said without changing his expression. “Just now we ran into each other outside in the street, and I almost didn’t recognize her.”
“Really?” Yonehachi said.
“How could you possibly not recognize her? Ochō, you have to be very careful about men. They seem to be dependable, but they’re actually unreliable. Don’t you agree, Umeji?”
“You know, you’re right about that,” Umeji said. “It all depends on how strong a woman’s mind is. If a man’s attractive enough to fall in love with, then other women are also going to fall in love with him, too, so you can never relax and stop being careful.”
Ochō had not yet learned how to ignore her emotions and act graciously on the surface. Her feelings showed directly on her face. She said nothing until she had finally calmed herself.
“Yonehachi,” she said, smiling, “please excuse me for just standing here like this. Whenever I meet someone I haven’t seen for a while, I suddenly feel very emotional and don’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything.” Ochō didn’t know how to flatter and pretend, and this was the politest thing she could think of to say.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Ochō,” Yonehachi said. “And how are things at the Karakotoya?”
“Yes, well,” Tanjirō said, cutting in. “I’ll tell you all about it later. You’d better pour some sake for Umeji pretty soon. She’s waiting.”
“Not really,” Umeji said. “I’m just fine.”
“You already ordered another plate, didn’t you?” Yonehachi said. “Even before we started up the stairs.”
“Oh yes,” Tanjirō said, “yes, I guess I did.”
Just then the waitress brought up another plate of grilled eels and some saké. The four went upstairs after her, and soon the saké was passing back and forth.
“So,” Yonehachi was saying, “how is it Ochō was having dinner with you just now?”
“It’s all quite amazing,” Tanjirō said, and he went on to relate in detail everything that Ochō had told him.
Yonehachi had a big heart, and she sympathized with Ochō. “You’ve really suffered and gone through a lot, haven’t you,” she said. “But look at it on the good side. At least you’re out of that house, so you don’t have to watch Kihei lording it up all the time.” As Yonehachi talked, she analyzed the situation and realized that Tanjirō and Ochō were, after all, engaged and that it was natural for Ochō to be with her fiancé. If she wasn’t careful, Ochō might take Tanjirō completely away from her. And Tanjirō liked Ochō, so Yonehachi knew she had to be very careful. Her only option, she decided, was to talk very frankly and make Tanjirō and Ochō feel indebted to her. She could keep Ochō from outmaneuvering her if she didn’t hide anything, no matter what Ochō thought. Balancing defensiveness with calculation, she offered Ochō a cup of sake.
“If I may,” she said. “Please have a few sips, won’t you?”
“Well, all right,” Ochō said. “Pour me a little.”
“Umeji,” Yonehachi said, “Would you?”
“All right.”
“Ochō, I hope you’ll pardon me for speaking so freely when we’ve just met again after so long. Somehow or other I’ve managed to become an independent geisha, and I perform at the restaurants in Futagawa. I guess it sounds conceited and ridiculous of me to say this, but actually I wouldn’t have been able to do it without all the friendly help I’ve gotten from Umeji and the other musicians there. I can live as I want now, and don’t need to depend on anyone. But Tanjirō, he’s had all kinds of bad luck. And I . . . well . . . this is really hard for me to say.” Yonehachi stopped for a moment and then made up her mind to go on. “Well, you know, Tanjirō and I started talking one day when we were in the Karakotoya, and after that we became very intimate. And after I set up on my own, and now, too, of course, we do everything but live together. I never stop thinking of him, even while I’m giving a performance. In my mind we’re married already.” Yonehachi spoke aggressively in the hope that she could force Ochō to give up her love for Tanjirō, which had yet to develop into something deep. “I’m sorry to speak so bluntly like this,” she continued, “but I intend to help Tanjirō out as far as I’m able. I can’t really say I’m supporting him, but I help him make ends meet, you might say. And after hearing about you, Ochō, it sounds like you’re also having a harder time now than you admit. But please don’t hold back in front of me. I’ll come up with something for you, too, although I’m sure it won’t be enough.”
“I’m very moved by your kindness,” Ochō said, cutting Yonehachi off. She was still young, but her love made her very determined. “Both the musicians in my parents’ house used to help me out quite a bit. I was quite a burden on them for a while. But I’m on my own now. And I also intend to find a way to help out Tanjirō a little from now on.”
Yonehachi laughed sarcastically. “Oh really?” she said. “Then Tanjiro’s very lucky, isn’t he!” She turned to Tanjirō and said, “Ah, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I keep forgetting. I found a cozy little house for you in Wakaura.23 So please move in as soon as you can. It takes a long time for me to go all the way out to Nakanogō and then come back again, you know. And anyway, it’s not safe out there,24 so I always have to worry. You really ought to move. When I go home today, I’ll buy some furnishings for you and a cabinet and things.”
Umeji could see that Yonehachi had suddenly lost her temper, and she felt she’d better smooth things over. “Yonehachi,” she said, “your words are getting a bit sharp, aren’t they? I know you’re not just being unprofessional and jealous, but don’t you think the air in here’s getting a bit thick? Tanjirō, why don’t you make a nice exit now with this young woman?”
“Good idea. Ochō’s out alone, so they’ll be worried about her if she doesn’t come back soon. I’ll see her off right away. Well, Yonehachi, pardon me for leaving first. Please enjoy yourself with Umeji.”
“Yes, well, good-bye,” Yonehachi said. “You’d better get going. Ochō, I’ll see you again, too.” She spoke amicably, but in her heart she wondered whether the man she loved had been grabbed away from her right in front of her eyes. It may seem to be an unsophisticated worry, but she was in love, and it was quite understandable.
“Good-bye then,” Ochō said to both Yonehachi and Umeji, and then she went downstairs. Tanjirō followed after her, and when he reached the top of the stairs, Yonehachi gave him a hard lover’s pinch on the back. Arching her eyebrows in anger, she kept glaring at him as she walked back into the room and sat down again. “Hurry up and leave, will you?” she said. “You’re disgusting.”
“Stop it,” Umeji said. “You’re talking like a child now.”
“I can’t deal with you at all,” Tanjirō said, forcing a smile. “You’re crazy.”
“Ah, yes, I’m crazy,” Yonehachi said, throwing away the toothpick in her teeth. Then lowering her voice, she said, “Hold Ochō’s hand very tight so she won’t get lost.”
“Stop talking like an idiot, will you?” Tanjirō said. He walked over and whispered something to Umeji and then went downstairs.
“Damn him,” Yonehachi said.
Yonehachi and Tanjirō stare at each other on the second floor of the Yanagawa eel restaurant.
Stop being so dumb,” Umeji said. “Who in the world would feel jealous about an immature little twit like that? Yonehachi, you’re really not yourself. When you talk about Tanjirō, you really do sound like an idiot. Stop it, will you?”
“I know, but, well, you know.”
“That’s just stupid. Tanjirō’s not going to do anything to humiliate you or hurt your reputation. You know he won’t.”
“No, of course not. But Ochō’s smart. I have to be very careful.”
“You’re hopeless.” Umeji gave a saké cup to Yonehachi. “Here, let me pour the rest of this for you. Then let’s go. You’re not letting me have any fun at all today.”
“Nope, none at all. But try to forgive me, will you? I really am shameless. How could I let myself get so involved?”
“Listen,” Umeji said. “I refuse to talk about love with you any longer. Understand? I’ve had it!” She was smiling. “I don’t sell mys
elf any more than you do, but I’ve known a lot of different men, you know. I understand just about every kind of love there is, and I take it in stride. Still, if I really do fall in love with a man, I act just as foolish as anyone else. We all do.”
“I used to laugh at other people for letting themselves fall in love,” Yonehachi said with deep feeling. “But now I . . . I can’t control myself at all.” Umeji spread a hand towel on Yonehachi’s lap. “Hey, what are you doing?” Yonehachi asked.
“You keep going on and on about this man,” Umeji said. “I’m afraid you’ll start drooling.”
“Oh, what a wicked woman you are! I didn’t even realize you were making fun of me.”
“If you realize it now, then let’s go, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” said Yonehachi. “No more saké for me!” A man from the teahouse where they’d been performing was waiting to escort them home, and they had him pay the bill. As they walked down the street, they whispered to each other. Who could have known that one of them was deeply worried? She was so attractive that people called out as she went by, comparing her with a kabuki star who played beautiful women.25 Looking at her, no one could have guessed she was being torn by her emotions, suffering more than most people ever do.
Once, at a party, the author wrote the following poem about geisha musicians:
The women singers
look easy to pluck,
yet their strong hearts,
always true to their lovers,
bend without breaking.
Meanwhile, after Ochō left the grilled-eel restaurant, she had been thinking so deeply she could hardly move her feet forward along the street. Yonehachi and Tanjirō had a much closer relationship than she’d imagined, and Yonehachi had all but come out and said that Tanjirō belonged to her because she was supporting him. And Tanjirō. Ochō analyzed the situation and realized he would probably never be able to separate himself from Yonehachi now.
Tanjirō walked slowly beside Ochō. As he watched her lost in thought, she looked very attractive, with a beauty that was just beginning to show itself.
Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600–1900 Page 111