by India Millar
“It’s all a matter of being iki, isn’t it?” I said. My hopes were dashed when Isamu shook his head.
“No. It’s not. Iki has nothing to do with it. The geisha in the Hidden House are worth every coin a man spends on them, believe me. Last time I was there, I had a girl who was blind, deaf, and dumb.” I goggled at him in disbelief. Isamu, who was so fastidious about every aspect of his life, had wanted to lie with a girl who was deformed? He was sweating lightly; his tongue snaked out and licked his upper lip. “She was amazing. She was intensely beautiful and refused to kowtow to me at all. If I hadn’t had Hana’s word for it that she could neither hear nor see me, I would never have believed it. She seemed to sense what I wanted before I knew myself. I took her in every way possible, and she taught me things even I had never dreamed of before. And I just knew that she hated every second of it. If she had been able to stick a dagger between my ribs, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She was wonderful.”
I stared at him, wondering if the deformed geisha had perhaps put a potion in his sake to bewitch him. Isamu shook himself as if he was shaking off his memories.
“You would never understand. It’s a man’s fantasy, not a woman’s. Even if I took you there, I doubt you would appreciate it. And by the way, Hana must have taken a great fancy to you, Jun.” He sounded amused as he spoke my name. “It’s unheard of for her to invite a first-time visitor to the Green Teahouse to move on to the Hidden House. I know I’m a favorite of hers, but even for me, if she hadn’t liked you, she would never have mentioned it.”
“Oh, good,” I muttered. I had liked the Green Teahouse well enough, but so far, the Floating World had left me disappointed. I had not expected to take tea with well-trained geisha; there was little excitement in that. Nor did I have any inclination to taste the exotic delights of the Hidden House.
Isamu smiled. “Time for us to move on, Jun.” He sauntered casually back out into the street and was immediately surrounded by people. I was about to thrust my own way into the seething crowd when something made the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I closed my eyes, the better to allow instinct to take over from my senses. I was right. We were being watched. I felt it.
I stood on tiptoe, pretending I was trying to keep Isamu in view. There was no need for it; he—and I, for that matter—were far taller than most of the people who surrounded us. I mimed anxiety, turning my head as if I was worried I had somehow lost sight of him. The sensation of being watched intensified, but nobody appeared to be paying us any attention at all. I hesitated and then darted after Isamu, tugging at his robe to let him know I was there.
All the way down the street, I felt the weight of a gaze between my shoulder blades. It was so intense it made my back itch.
Thirteen
You say I am blind.
How then can you hope to know
What it is I see?
After that, I made sure I was not separated from Isamu again. I walked so closely to him, if the streets hadn’t been so crowded that I couldn’t see it, I would have trodden on his shadow.
By the time we reached the end of the long, straight main street, I had begun to be excited by the Floating World. All my senses were reeling from the impact of the sights, the smells, and above all, the exuberant noise that surrounded us. When I was sure Isamu wasn’t looking at me, I stared around like the rustic I was, increasingly breathless with excitement at the sheer strangeness of my surroundings.
I had never dreamed that anywhere could exist where everybody—regardless of their class or sex—could rub shoulders so comfortably. Many of the men who drifted past us were merchants. Most of them were well dressed, but there was a certain vulgarity to their robes and obi that gave them away. But there were also working men; they had no pretensions to expensive clothes, but wore their work clothes with a kind of defiant pride in the way they held themselves. I even saw a couple of samurai who were unknown to me but exchanged nods of recognition with Isamu. But not just men; the streets were thronged with women as well.
Delighted with my perception, I saw at once that many of them were yujo, no doubt out looking for customers. They were easy to spot from their gaudy kimono and the ostentatious, overelaborate ornaments bristling from their enormous wigs. A few of them gave Isamu languishing glances and then saw me walking close to him and sighed in disappointment. There were also geisha and maiko, as richly dressed as the yujo but with a quiet elegance that the women of pleasure lacked.
My stomach rumbled, distracting me. Isamu must have heard it as well as he stopped.
“I suppose you’re hungry?” I nodded. “I’m taking you to the kabuki theater. If we buy something to eat as we walk, will that do?”
“Oh, yes.” I was so excited I forgot again that I was temporarily dumb. Isamu sighed and raised his hand, waggling his fingers. In a moment, we were surrounded by food sellers.
“Take your pick.” Isamu grinned.
I peered around the ring of men who surrounded us, all with trays strung from their necks. A man who was selling rice dumplings held out his tray to me temptingly, calling, “Dango, dango!” He was elbowed aside by another man selling boiled red beans, who in his turn was pushed out of the way by a vendor of sliced tofu. Yet another tempted me with noodles. Isamu made my mind up for me. He beckoned to a man who was peddling sushi and made a rapid selection of the seafood and rice delicacies. The man wrapped our purchases in paper, and in return, Isamu handed over what seemed to me to be ridiculously few coins. The other food sellers, disappointed, followed us for a few steps until Isamu turned and pretended to draw his sword to threaten them.
“Does everybody in the Floating World have something to sell?” I asked through a delicious mouthful of raw sea urchin and rice.
“One word out of you when we get to the kabuki and I take you home!” Isamu threatened. “What do you mean, anyway?”
“Well, look at them all.” I waved my hand at the crowded street. The yujo, of course, were looking for customers, as were the food vendors. But at every step, there seemed to be somebody offering something. Fortune tellers squatted with their backs to buildings, calling out to everybody who passed that theirs was the only true forecast. Every now and then, somebody stood in a ring of spectators, obviously hoping for coins in return for their rendition of bawdy comic songs. I felt my ears go red as I heard the lyrics of one of them. Flute players competed with them for attention, as did dancers. Beggars threaded amongst them, their hands outstretched as they whined their woes. An obviously blind woman, her hands planted on the shoulders of a small boy, ambled past us. I felt sorry for her, trying to make her way in this place of constant noise and movement.
“Can you not give the poor blind woman some money, Isamu?” I asked.
“Why? She already makes a good living.” He sounded amused, and I looked at him reproachfully. “She’s a masseuse. In the Floating World, masseuses are always female and always blind. That way, they can’t be distracted by their customers’ bodies, and their sense of touch is intensified by their lack of sight. Look.” He nodded toward the blind woman as a man tapped her on her shoulder. He spoke briefly, and then the oddly-assorted trio turned down a side alley. “Some say the best yujo of all are blind.” Isamu finished his sushi and crumpled the paper wrapping up, throwing it to the ground. One of the beggars immediately picked it up and began to search it for scraps. “They make up for the lack of one sense by the use of others, if you get my meaning, Jun.”
“And have you tried to find out, brother?” I asked cheekily.
Isamu pretended to cuff me around my head, but I ducked the blow easily.
“Onward!” he said cheerfully.
I followed him, but my thoughts stayed with the blind masseuse. Isamu’s words had made perfect sense to me. He had soon become bored with watching Riku-san teach me the art of unarmed combat and had stopped coming to see us practice. When we had been left alone for perhaps a month, Riku-san had amazed me.
“Today will be differe
nt, Keiko-chan,” he said. I waited, anticipating some new move. Instead, he delved into his obi and produced a blindfold. “Turn around and I will tie this for you.”
Riku tightened my blindfold securely and moved away from me silently.
“I cannot fight when I cannot see!” I protested. A hand touched my shoulder and I jumped. I spun around, and a second later, the hand touched my face. Both touches were gentle, but I did not like this new game at all. Not because I thought Riku-san might hurt me; I had long ago come to understand that he tempered his punches when he fought with me. I might emerge from a training bout bruised, but never any worse. But a moment ago, I had had perfect vision. Now, I was blind.
“Where am I?” Riku-san said softly.
I put my hand out in the direction of his voice and felt his robe.
“And now?”
I had not heard him move, but still I turned in the direction of his voice. Again, my seeking hand found cloth.
“You see?” Riku-san said. “You think you are blind, but you are not. You have five worldly senses, and a sixth that is a gift from the gods, given only to a few. I know that you have been blessed, and that you possess that extra sense. Your vision is not only unnecessary when you fight, it is a hindrance to you. I have taught you to fight well as a woman. Now, you will learn all over again as a creature of instinct.”
With that, he pulled my hair. I darted around, trying to catch the slightest noise from him. Useless; he was as silent as a moth. He touched me again, from another direction. I turned quickly, pushing my hand out to grab him. Nothing. Again, the quick touch. And again.
The next time, I stood still. I felt his touch, but did not move. I waited until I felt contact again, and that time grabbed his hand before he could withdraw it.
“Good. You are fast. But you will learn to be much better than that. Where am I now?”
I listened. There was no sound. I held my breath and—ridiculous as it was beneath the blindfold—closed my eyes. My ears told me nothing. Nor could I smell Riku-san. I stayed still. He remained silent. Suddenly, I felt his presence. I darted forward, my hand outstretched. He was not there, but I felt the displaced air where he had been only a moment before.
“Very good. You are learning.” I listened and understood at once that I had made a mistake. Riku-san had hold of my robe before I could gather my thoughts and threw me to the floor effortlessly. “I told you. Do not rely on your ears or your nose. Not even your sense of touch. If you do not learn, I will plug up your ears and nose so that you are senseless.”
I shuddered at the thought. I felt defenseless blindfolded; how much more terrifying would it be if I couldn’t hear either?
“I do not hear you, Riku-san,” I said softly. “Nor I do I see you. But I know you are there.”
As I finished speaking, I lunged. My fingers slipped on his robes, and I heard him laugh.
“Did you smell me?” he asked.
I nodded and sighed. The blindfold had made my sense of hearing and smell a hundred times more efficient than they usually were. Riku-san had been so still, I could not hear him. He smelled of nothing more than clean flesh, but I had located him by that smell.
“Come here.”
I shuffled forward, my arms outstretched to find him. He waited until my fingers found his robes, then he grabbed me. I panicked at once, forgetting everything I had ever learned and struggling in his grip. I felt his fingers poking at my ears, and the world was silent. I wanted to scream and drew on every reserve of willpower I possessed to stay still and quiet. Worse was to follow; Riku-san was as good as his word, he plugged my nostrils with soft, wax pads.
I stood completely still. My world had ceased to exist. There was nothing outside my own body. I had become senseless. I waited for Riku-san to touch me again. Waited until my legs ached from the lack of movement. Had he gone away? Left me like this as a test, to see how long it would be before I gave in and removed the blindfold? I felt as if I had been thrust into a deep, dark prison, so far removed from all that was human that I might as well have been dead. I wanted to shriek with fear. Instead, I thought of Tomoe Gozen. Isamu had told me that Riku-san was the last of a line of fighting monks whose lineage went back centuries. Was it possible that one of his forebears had taught her in this way?
If Tomoe Gozen had learned to fight in this way, then so must I. I relaxed, concentrating on the pattern of my breath, in and out. Panic drained out, leaving in its place the sweetest sensation of nothingness. I was no longer tied to the earth. I was elemental. My soul was free of bodily ties.
I caught Riku-san’s hand before it touched me. Caught it and used his own strength against him to throw him to the ground. I felt the displacement of the air as he jumped silently to his feet and circled me. I did not move. When I sensed he was behind me, I waited, anticipating that he would try and rush me from there, as that would be my weakest point. I was right. I feinted to one side, but this time he was too quick for me and his arm snaked around my throat. No matter. I relaxed my body until it was as fluid as water and I felt, rather than heard, his grunt of surprise as I freed myself from his grip.
And so it went. That first time, Riku-san had the advantage of me perhaps half the time. But I got better. Soon, I was able to fight far more efficiently when I was deprived of my senses than when I could see and hear. I began to love the sensation of being one with the wind and the sun and the earth. I was elemental, my body no more than a vehicle for my instincts.
Isamu continued to instruct me in the art of sword fighting and the use of the naginata. I knew that the pupil had exceeded the master in at least one area when he announced loftily that he would not work on my skills with the naginata any further. It was a woman’s weapon, he sneered, and of no use to a man.
I exulted in the knowledge that now I was the superior warrior, even though Isamu would never admit it. At the same time, I was reluctant to share my new self-knowledge with my brother. Hesitatingly, I asked Riku-san’s opinion on the matter.
“You can tell him.” He shrugged. “He won’t believe you. But at the same time, it will make him uneasy, and he will laugh at you because of that. Your brother is an excellent samurai, and a very great warrior. But he has no instinct. He knows only what he has been taught, not what he can really achieve.”
I agreed with Riku-san and was grateful for his understanding. But when I was practicing with Isamu, I never relied on my sixth sense. It seemed unfair.
Isamu’s voice recalled me to the present and I nodded quickly, pretending I had heard every word.
“Of course, it’s all right for an old woman like her.” He was talking about the masseuse again. I nodded. “She’s old and ugly. Some of the younger women are quite pretty, and it’s often the case that their customers think they’re entitled to a happy ending after the massage is finished.”
He chuckled happily and I wondered how he knew that.
The kabuki performance was already well underway when we arrived. Isamu handed money to an attendant, and we were led to a box near the stage, which stuck out into the audience like a tongue protruding from a giant mouth.
“What play are we to see?” he asked.
The attendant nodded at the stage. “You’re in for a treat, master. At the moment it’s the famous drama, Shunkan. It’s barely started. May I send for some sake for you, sir?”
Isamu nodded, and very quickly, another attendant was at the side of our box with sake and cups. I drank cautiously, afraid I would get drunk and disgrace myself. Isamu tossed his first cup off as if it were water and held out his cup for a refill.
I watched the action on the stage avidly. The rest of the audience were obviously regulars at the kabuki; they hissed and booed loudly at appropriate places, and I noticed the man in the next box to us weeping unashamedly at a particularly poignant moment. He shared his box with a geisha, who mopped his tears solicitously.
As the play finished, Isamu sat back with a sigh of content. “Nothing like the kabuki t
o drive away the worries of the world. There are several theaters in Edo, but this one is by far the best.”
I had been so entranced by the kabuki, I almost felt that some of the worldly glamor of the Floating World had rubbed off on me. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged nonchalantly.
“Come, Jun.” Isamu climbed to his feet. We had been sitting for hours, and I heard his knees crack as he stood. “It’s getting dark. That will be the last performance today. Now the Floating World will come alive. I have something interesting I want to show you.”
I followed him eagerly. The kabuki had thrown its dream dust at me and I was sorry the performance had finished. I wanted to see more. Much more. I would persuade Isamu to bring me back to the Floating World as soon as possible.
We moved out, carried along in the surge of the crowd. I had been so entranced by the drama that I had all but forgotten about the feeling that we were being watched. As the crowd thinned, I was sure somebody was looking at us intently again. I leaned close to Isamu, pretending that I was worried the press of bodies would separate us, and under the cover of his body, I stared around carefully.
There were so many people. It could be any one of them who was following us. In spite of that, my eyes were drawn to a single figure. He was neither tall nor short. Medium height, medium build. Not a youth, but neither was he middle-aged. He was even dressed in very simple robes. There was just a certain something that I could not quite identify that made me sure he was the man who had been following us.
I tugged on Isamu’s sleeve. “I’m sure somebody has been staring at us ever since we came through the gates. Do you have enemies here in the Floating World, brother?”
“None that I know of. Possibly the odd jealous husband, I suppose. Can you point him out to me?”
I was grateful he was taking me seriously. I turned my head to nod at the stranger, but he was no longer there.
“He’s gone!” I spoke louder than I had intended in my surprise.