by Kafū Nagai
Komayo said nothing but only showed him a brightly smiling face.
"Komayo, why on earth don't you want to give it up? It's because you don't trust me, isn't it?"
"Of course I trust you, but..."
"There you are. You don't trust me after all, do you?"
"But that's not fair! You've got Rikiji-neisan and that woman at the Murasaki in Hamacho, haven't you? That's why, even if it might work out for a while with me, in no time at all something would surely go wrong."
"Haven't I as good as broken off with Rikiji? Even after I practically told you that last might, can you still say such a thing? As far as Hamacho is concerned, from the very start I had no intention of supporting her for good. But if you're so uneasy about it, we might as well forget the whole business."
Komayo's response to the decisive way in which he said this was to shift suddenly to a whining voice and bury her face against his chest. "You get angry so quickly. If you would only listen..."
Yoshioka was completely surprised at himself. That this woman, whom he had nonchalantly cast aside some years ago when he went abroad, should now have such charm for him was something he had never expected. When he met her by chance that evening last summer at the Imperial Theater and then summoned her to the Hamazaki house in Tsukiji, it had been nothing more than an interest in recalling his old student days. It was, so to speak, a curiosity limited to that evening alone. But this one time had led to another, and as they met again and again he found himself, without actually knowing why, wanting by some means or other to take complete possession of her. It was most decidedly strange. This had never been his intention at all, Yoshioka thought, and every time he looked at Komayo's face he had the strange feeling that his heart was no longer free in the way he had thought it was.
Up to now he had taken his pleasure entirely to his heart's content, and this was actually the first time that Yoshioka had experienced such a curious sensation. From the time when he was a student, people often spoke of him as the kind of man who was not only methodical but also dry and heartless and frequently given to speaking brusquely. Even when he went with his friends to a noodle shop or a steak house, it was distasteful to him either to have them stand a treat or to stand a treat himself, and he always insisted that each person pay precisely his own share of the bill. It was the same thing when, about that time, he began to purchase the pleasures of geisha. He did it, so to speak, with his head fixed firmly on his shoulders. He was convinced that it was far better to buy a woman decently with money than to half-heartedly suppress his sexual urge and then commit the shocking disgrace of letting himself be seduced by some amateur like a servant girl at an inn. If he could buy a trustworthy woman without having to worry about the consequences, then by this means relieve the sexual pressure, and then, in the resulting exhilaration of spirit, pass his term examinations with flying colors—this combination of pleasure and profit was exactly like killing two birds with one stone, Yoshioka thought.
In this so-called modern youth, there was no longer any trace of the Confucian ethics that had governed the minds of people in preceding generations. Because of this, nothing mattered to him except the final victory, the attainment of the goal that he had set for himself, and there was neither necessity nor room to question the means that he took to achieve it. The guilt was not his; it was the inevitable result of the tendency of the times.
Yoshioka kept a budget in which he recorded every month the number of times he went out for entertainment and the exact amount of the bill for each time. If he didn't exceed the budget, he freely gave the surplus to his girl of the moment, but when he ran beyond it, no matter how many letters she sent inviting him to come, he firmly refused to comply.
It was the same after he got out into the world. His having been, up to now, the patron of Rikiji of the Mi-natoya had nothing to do with romance or sexual desire. It was the result of his ambition to be known as a gentleman of the times. There was a rumor in the geisha world that Rikiji had become involved last year with the great statesman Ito Shumpo and that the affair was still going on. Since that time, she had been putting on a haughty air as if she had become a gentlewoman at one bound. All of a sudden she took up the tea ceremony, the koto, and even calligraphy and painting. Yoshioka, as a young businessman who had recently begun to attract attention, knew that no matter by what means he became the patron of a geisha, for better or for worse, it was going to cost money. It all added up to the same thing. Since this was the case, and since he liked the idea of surprising people by having his amour reported in the scandal column of the Miyako Shimbun, he recklessly began to court Rikiji. Contrary to expectations and in spite of Rikiji's reputation for haughtiness, his good looks and his easy way with money won her over quite easily.
But Rikiji was three years older than Yoshioka, and although she was instantly recognized as a geisha of the very first class when she went out in a white-collared kimono decorated with a family crest, when one saw her in everyday clothes without make-up—and noticed the tiny wrinkles and dark shadows around her eyes, the broad forehead, and the large mouth—she looked somehow like a malicious middle-aged woman.
From the beginning, without really knowing why, Yoshioka found himself playing second fiddle to Rikiji. Because of this, no matter how much he had become her patron, it did not mean that he could do everything exactly as he pleased. In particular, there were times when he couldn't avoid the feeling that she was making fun of him—thinking of him, perhaps, as "this youngster." Again, there were times when the thought crossed his mind how it would be if he had a younger, more passionate girl of the sort who give themselves to men completely. As for the former teahouse maid with whom everything had been so easily arranged by setting her up as the mistress of the Murasaki machiai in Hamacho, for one reason or another he found it impossible to break off with her. But with Komayo, whom he had kept during his student days and then had met again quite by chance, he had developed an intimacy that suited him to perfection and gave him a feeling of extreme naturalness. Since he had known her for a long time, there was no need for him to feel diffident about what he did or said when he was with her. Moreover, since she had the good looks of a woman in the full bloom of life, there was no embarrassment for him in being seen with her. So Yoshioka had made up his mind to buy Komayo her freedom, make her his mistress, establish her in the villa that he had always been hoping to build near Kamakura, and then, by way of relaxation, spend the weekends there with her.
When he said to her: "I'll build you a villa and buy you your freedom, and we'll celebrate with a big farewell party for you," it had never entered his mind that she would be equivocal about accepting his offer. And when she failed to give him a clear answer, he felt insulted to the point of anger. At the same time he felt dejected—as if he had let a treasure slip through his fingers. What the devil was her reason for not listening to him? If he could get to the bottom of her mind, and if the whole idea turned out to be useless, then for the sake of his own manly pride he would break off relations with her for good, Yoshioka decided. At the same time, looking at her as she was now—the charming disorder of her marumage coiffure and her carelessly tied narrow obi, suggesting a young wife rather than a geisha—he thought how it would be if things had gone as he wished: if she had become his and were now living in the newly built villa. And he was overcome with a feeling of regret.
Yoshioka had, in fact, become more and more enchanted with Komayo's "marumage" style. The fourth or fifth time he called for her, she had come in with her hair done in this fashion and her kimono tucked up, since she had been to visit a geisha friend who was in the hospital and had dressed this way for the purpose. Her appearance was quite different from that of her usual geisha style with its tsubushi or its ginkgo-leaf coiffure and its long, trailing kimono. It was something entirely new to him, and for some reason or other he thought he saw a resemblance to the actress Kawai, who appeared in the plays of the new-style theater. It was a new and special sensation
that he had discovered —something that, up to now, he had felt neither with Rikiji, who was all too much a geisha, nor with the mistress of the Murasaki, who was overweight and at times disgustingly sluttish. From that moment he had the idea that he wanted to keep her exactly as she was then, and every time he met her the desire increased, until finally it became irrepressible.
In compensation for having worked all through the summer, Yoshioka took a week's vacation at the beginning of autumn. He was intensely eager to win Komayo over during this time. For this purpose the San-shun'en was better than such hot-spring resorts as Hakone and Shuzenji, since it was a place where the two of them could be together without any distractions or disturbances. Yoshioka had recognized a good opportunity and taken advantage of it. But on the morning of the third day a telephone call came from Eda in Tokyo—something about a deal in stocks—and it was necessary for him to go back to town for a short time. He promised to return by evening at the latest, and in order that Komayo might have several friends with her while she was waiting for him, he called Hanasuke from Jukichi's house and Chiyomatsu from another place and asked them to come out. Then he left.
When Komayo came back alone to their room after seeing him off, she sat down heavily as if she were about to collapse, at the same time bowing her head toward the floor mats and bursting into tears. Her mind was in such confusion that she hardly understood what was happening. These two days and nights she would have liked to run away, but there was no place for her to escape to. She had been cornered and pressed for an answer—so importunately pursued that she could no longer bring herself to flatter him or cater to his moods. She was desperately tired, and she had a violent headache. On top of this, the thought of what might happen if she had to stay here two or three more days made the Sanshun'en seem nothing less than a prison to her, even though it was she who had first urged that they stay there.
Somewhere a cock crowed. To Komayo's ear the sound was so distinct and rural that there suddenly came up in her mind all the bitterness, all the tragedy, all the loneliness of the days in faraway Akita. Now, after the cock had crowed, she heard the voices of crows, and from the edge of the veranda the incessant chirping of insects. Komayo couldn't stand it any more. If she loitered in this place any longer, she might never be able to return to Shimbashi at all. Why did she think of Shimbashi with such fondness, with such a feeling of assurance?... Then, dressed as she was and with nothing but the unreasonable thought that she must make a headlong escape from this house, Komayo rushed into the corridor where, except for the way to the lavatory, she had no idea of which direction to go.
At this moment she collided with someone who was even more surprised than she: a handsome young man in yukata, fan in hand, who had apparently been strolling about the place with the idea that nobody else was there. He was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, and his shaved and penciled eyebrows, his close-cropped hair, and his medium build clearly showed him to be an actor. In fact, he was Segawa Isshi, who impersonated women on the stage.
"Why, niisan!" Komayo called him "elder brother" in respect for his position.
"Is it you, Komayo? So it is. What do you mean, surprising people this way?" As he said this, Isshi purposely put his hand to his chest as if to ease the palpitation there. Then he drew a long breath.
Komayo had been acquainted with Isshi since the days when she first came out as a geisha in Shimbashi. She had met him at the studio of the dancing teacher Hana-yagi. At that time, Isshi was a very young man still in the midst of his professional training. Then, when she met him again in his dressing room at the Kabukiza during a performance by Shimbashi entertainers—it was the spring after she had become a geisha for the second time—he was already a splendid and famous actor who was called "niisan" by a great number of geisha.
Forlorn, dazed, dressed only in a lounging kimono, Komayo had dashed recklessly out, unable to think of anything but getting away from this place. Unexpectedly seeing Isshi at this very moment, she suddenly experienced, without understanding why, exactly the same uprush of kindly feeling that one does upon accidentally meeting in a foreign country a person from one's own home town. All at once the loneliness of her surroundings seemed to diminish, and she had a spontaneous sensation of reassurance. Her happiness was so great that, without thinking, she was about to throw herself into his arms.
"Niisan, forgive me for frightening you."
"Don't you hear how my heart is still pounding? It's true. Put your hand here." As he spoke, Isshi casually took Komayo's hand a pressed it against his chest.
Komayo suddenly blushed. "I really beg your pardon," she said.
"Oh, that's all right. I'll soon pay you back."
"Why, niisan! Haven't I begged your pardon? It was your fault anyway. Standing in a place like this without making a sound."
Still grasping her hand, "niisan" looked Komayo up and down, taking in her disheveled hair and her disarranged kimono. Since his engagement at the Meijiza had ended yesterday, he explained, he and two or three of his friends had agreed to come here to play cards, but for some reason—he didn't know why—the others still hadn't shown up.
"How pleasant for you!" Komayo said.
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? Who came here with you? When we get back to Tokyo, I expect a treat from you if you don't want me to tell."
"Well, what about yourself? I'm afraid I've embarrassed you, walking in on your secret rendezvous like this."
Komayo suddenly felt miserable. Seeing that Isshi was about to leave her with this remark, she grasped his sleeve and said: "I'm in trouble. Niisan, please have a little sympathy for me."
"Anyway, I suppose you're going to spend the night here. Let's meet again later on."
"But there is really nobody here. I've been left behind all by myself."
"Is that true? Well then, you and I are the only ones in the house, aren't we? The mistress has gone to the beach on some sort of business."
"Really? So the mistress is away too."
At the thought that no one else was there, the interior of the spacious house seemed to them remarkably silent. The inner garden, which could be seen through the windows of the corridor, lay under the glare of a sun that still shone with summer heat. Neither inside the villa nor outside was there a sound, not even of comings and goings beyond the fence—nothing except the droning of cicadas and the chirping of other insects.
The two of them stood there as they were and for a time looked silently into each other's eyes.
ENCHANTMENT
WHILE the sun was still high, Yoshioka returned to the Sanshun'en, bringing fat, sake-loving Eda-san along with him. That evening, Eda was to return to Tokyo by the last electric train, but Komayo overruled this plan by proposing that they all sleep in the same room without undressing, so he found himself forcibly detained. Then, until past midnight, she drank so much whisky that even Eda was disconcerted, now offering a glass, now holding it back for herself, until at last she tumbled to the floor and shortly after that began to vomit. Having caused all this embarrassment, she spent the next day cooling her head with ice. Yoshioka, dumbfounded at her behavior, decided for the present to beat a retreat from the Sanshun'en.
From the beginning, Komayo's illness was more than half a deliberate theatrical performance, for she had decided on a plan of her own. As soon as she got back to her geisha house, she would hurry off to the Inari shrine in Shinjuku, where she was a faithful patron. There she would consult the oracle as to whether she wouldn't be taking a great risk by accepting Yoshioka's offer and immediately quitting her profession. Even if things went well for a time, wasn't it possible that this chance meeting with him would turn out to be just as unfortunate as the earlier one had been? After she had had her fortune thoroughly told, she would discuss the problem with Jukichi-neisan of her own house and with the mistress of the Hamazaki machiai. And after that she would give her danna her answer.
She had just returned from the public bath and sat
down before the dressing table to do up her hair when the apprentice geisha Hanako came running up the stairs, calling excitedly: "Komayo-neisan, you have an engagement!"
"Oh, bother. Is it the Hamazakiya again?" Komayo took it for granted that Yoshioka, who had left the Sanshun'en by car only a short time ago, had not gone home but had gone directly to Tsukiji and called her from there.
"No, it's the Gishun house."
"The Gishun? That's a strange place for a call to come from. I hope you haven't made a mistake." As she said this, Komayo tilted her head to one side and breathed something like a sigh of relief. But since the house was one that she had never been to before, she told Hanako to decline the invitation, using the excuse that she hadn't yet done her hair and that she was resting because she didn't feel quite well. Hardly was this done, however, before a second telephone call came. She should come as she was, even if only for a little while, but she should by all means come.
When she asked who the guest at the Gishun was, she received the reply, "a good friend." Not having the slightest idea of who it might be, and thinking that it would have been better to give a flat refusal, she reluctantly took a jinrikisha. Vaguely nervous and half in doubt, she rode through the street behind the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce where the machiai, great and small, were ranged eave to eave. At the wicker gate of one of these, which bore the name Gishun written in Saga-style characters, the jinrikisha drew up.
When she was asked to go immediately to the second floor, she ascended the stairs cautiously. It was still daylight, and the sliding reed doors of the upstairs front had been left open. From the corridor she could see the single guest, who was sitting with his back against the post of the tokonoma and plucking a samisen with his fingers. Who was it? But she already knew. It was Se-gawa-niisan, with whom she had unexpectedly had a stolen interview at the Sanshun'en.