The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai

by Barbara Lazar

  Some other Women-for-Play teased and called us ‘stew-pots’, a loathsome word for women who love each other, but we never referred to ourselves in that way. I did ask, after a particularly vigorous time, ‘Are you the male or am I?’ Tashiko lay on top of me, yet I had just pleased her. We laughed, and satisfied each other again.

  One evening I whispered, ‘Not since before I was sold from the fields of my father have I been so happy.’

  Tashiko answered, with her smile of pure summer sun, ‘You are my heart, just as the Buddha is my spirit. You are my reward for good deeds in a past life.’

  It was a bright time, although work grew to be both heaven and hell. I loved my stories, their exotic places, gods and demons, which directed people into good behaviour, the costumes and dances that made my body content. Yet to follow wondrous tales with abuse created a deep, sorrow-filled well in which my spirit had to float or drown.

  In the year I celebrated my thirteenth birth anniversary and Tashiko her sixteenth, we noticed changes in our bodies, the enlarging breasts, the sprouting of hair, the rounding of our hips and legs.

  My cycle began two years after my arrival at the Village. Tashiko taught me to care for my ‘usual defilement’. I was not happy about this for it meant I could not touch Tashiko until after my Purification. She and I had to sleep apart.

  She also taught me to drink the steeped morning herbs each day to avoid a baby. Several Women-for-Play bore children. Infrequently a wealthy patron acquired one and took her away with him. I wanted no such hindrance to my martial-arts practice. I had no desire for a child of mine to be brought up as the child of a fourth or fifth wife or, worse, in this Village. This Village of the Unclean.

  Our monthly defilements soon arrived together. Each month we relished a few days together – alone. We read sutras together, lit incense or a candle. She often read ‘The Medicine King’. I do not think I ever tired of how the Lotus Sutra, like the sun, destroyed all that was not good – in Tashiko’s voice, like the music of low drums.

  When I complained about my work, Tashiko counted my blessings.

  ‘To begin, Madam Hitomi,’ Tashiko murmured, ‘has not caught you and Akio on your daily jaunts.’

  I shivered and thought of the last time I had eaten cooled rice water for three days because I had torn my mouth badly.

  ‘You are blessed by the Goddess of Beauty. Even in misfortune you have risen to a place of honour.’ Tashiko rubbed her lips along my neck, prompting in me tremors of exaltation.

  ‘I feel no honour to be brought high in this place, this Village of Outcasts.’ My fingers traced across her forehead. ‘You, your kindness, the ultimate beauty.’

  ‘Lie down beside me, and I will read to you.’

  We journeyed together from there, every evening a pinnacle of tenderness and devotion, followed by the ruthless plunge into the dark cave of daily work, and next the return to our heaven.

  My duty and my honour meant absolute obedience.

  I performed my duty until I lost my most precious gift.

  II. Additions

  A servant called one day. ‘Madam Hitomi orders you to Main House.’

  A bokken hit me in the stomach. ‘Me? Why?’

  The servant refused to look at me, walked backwards, turned and ran. What trouble could this be?

  I wanted to stay away from Hell Hut, but walking that route was the shortest from my hut to Main House. I did not wish to risk taking longer. Tashiko had named it Hell Hut, that demon’s den I had visited when I had first arrived at the Village. Hitomi’s assistant performed her services in there. Muffled cries and moans hovered in the air along with the snipes, autumn birds. My shoulders shook at the memory of hot pokers. Was I to be next? No. I was not going there again.

  Hitomi sat in the big room of Main House, petting a grey and white cat big enough to be a dog and leaning against pillows as bright as my spirits were dark. Cat odours spread through the heady incense.

  ‘Egret, Egret.’ Hitomi rubbed behind big Egret’s ears. Muffled screams brought a twist to the corner of her mouth.

  Cats rubbed against my legs, mewing, as I made obeisance.

  ‘You are late. What took you so long?’

  ‘I came when I was called, honourable one.’

  ‘Humph. The men say you tell them stories. Is this not so?’

  ‘Yes, Madam Hitomi. Have I offended?’

  ‘What type of stories do you tell them?’

  I told her. ‘Honourable Madam Hitomi, what have I done wrong?’

  ‘Where did you learn these stories?’

  ‘From the honourable Chiba no Tashiyori. Also from the samurai at the shōen. And the Lotus Sutra’s stories.’

  ‘Kozaishō, the men find your stories . . .’ she looked at her cat, then turned her face to me ‘. . . alluring. You will have a tutor. You must learn more stories.’

  Tutor? I worked to keep my eyebrows in the same place. Not only did I need to look like the aristocrats, the fancies, I was supposed to read and write like them. What did she expect of me?

  ‘No, Madam Hitomi. You do me too much honour.’ I made the token refusal.

  ‘Why do you tell the stories?’

  ‘Why, honourable one?’ I explained about Aya and the clothes, and attending to the Women-for-Play. Perhaps she wanted to see if I would tell her the truth.

  ‘It is settled.’ The grey and white cat clawed, making holes in her dark kimono, then jumped off her lap. She picked up another cat and stroked it.

  ‘No, Madam Hitomi. I am too stupid,’ I said, firmness in my voice. ‘Tashiko learns faster, and her brushwork outdoes mine.’

  She held the cat under its jaw and scratched behind its ears. She lifted it off the ground by its jaw. The cat squirmed and tried to scratch her. ‘When you study with a tutor, Kozaishō, you will gain in honour here.’

  She knew my mission. She held me like the cat, but I did not give up. ‘Honourable one, I humbly request Tashiko learn also.’

  ‘It would cost too much. Just you.’ Her lips remained straight, but were not pressed together. She was still scratching the cat, now back on her lap and held there.

  ‘Madam Hitomi, you know Tashiko.’ I used my submissive voice. ‘She will be much better than this humble servant. She will teach the other Women-for-Play.’

  Her hands stroked the cat along his back. It purred.

  ‘Madam Hitomi, all your Women-for-Play could learn from just the two of us.’

  ‘Yes, Kozaishō, all for only two. You and Tashiko do learn well.’

  ‘Thank you, honourable one.’

  ‘I have two servants who will help with your duties while you are learning and teaching . . .’ She stood, and her eyes crinkled.

  I waited. I used what Chiba had taught me.

  She clapped three times.

  Two girls stepped into the big room.

  Each girl was dressed in a plain style, from the country, yet the clothes were well made, of excellent-quality silk and design. The black kimono of the smaller one showed pink streaks. Red flowers brightened the blue of the other’s. I knew those fabrics from the shōen. My eyes widened as each girl bowed low to Hitomi without lifting their heads. A single clap from Hitomi, and they raised their faces. My lips went upwards – I was unable to stop them.

  Family again

  Surrounded three times again:

  Giggling sisterly

  Gossip, in sunlight – away

  From my dark forests’ travail

  There stood Emi, with her round face. From Chiba’s. Warmth spread inside my chest. Someone I knew and could trust. So much taller! Still pretty, her teeth had grown in and her eyes crossed less.

  The other girl was younger than Emi. I did not yet know her. Her look was different from that of the rest of us – oval face and golden brown eyes. Both were budding into womanhood, as I had been when I came to the village. One sister. Possibly two new sisters. Sisters. A family.

  My own sisters.

  At least fo
r a while.

  Unfamiliar footsteps stopped on the watadono outside our hut late that first night. I nodded to Tashiko and slipped my fingers around my bokken. I recognised the shadow cast through the thin cloth fluttering across our door. The new girl. Misuki.

  ‘Come in, Misuki,’ I said softly.

  She bowed before and after entering.

  Tashiko pointed to her chest. ‘I am Tashiko. Speak.’

  Misuki pulled her head out and down, like a turtle, and whispered, ‘I bring a message from Master Isamu, at Proprietor Chiba’s shōen. Master Isamu says he misses assisting Kozaishō at practice. He sends a message of greeting to Akio and his family also. He says prayers for you. He says you and Akio must be vigilant. You are in more . . .’ she put her index finger in her mouth ‘. . . jeopardy, yes, more jeopardy . . . and danger.’

  ‘Danger?’ Tashiko’s relaxed body shifted to arrow straight. ‘What danger?’

  ‘I do not know, honourable Tashiko.’

  ‘What else did Master Isamu say?’

  Misuki lowered her head and shook it.

  ‘Tashiko, who have you told about Akio and me?’ I asked, after Misuki left.

  Her eyes stretched wider. ‘No one. I would not risk your safety for my life.’

  I touched her hand. ‘I know. But someone has betrayed me.’

  III. Emi Laughs

  The next day I told Akio about Master Isamu’s message.

  Akio’s one eyebrow pointed up in the middle. ‘Little one, we must stop. Harm may come to you.’

  ‘No, Akio. I must do this.’

  ‘Must? Are you sure, Kozaishō?’ I observed the squinting concern in his eyes. He grasped my shoulder with his thick fingers, as if he could lift me up with that one hand and cradle me in his arms.

  ‘Not only because of the omens at Proprietor Chiba’s. The Goddess of Mercy came in a dream. She said I am to be a samurai.’

  ‘She did?’

  I related the details of the dream to him.

  ‘The Goddess of Mercy brought you all those samurai implements in your dream? Naturally we must go on.’ Akio leaned over and put his hands on his knees. ‘We will vary our meeting times. Do not come here by the same route every day.’

  ‘Hitomi will not beat me because I bring in more profit than any other Woman-for-Play. Beating me loses her revenue.’

  Akio straightened. ‘Little one, if you trample on Madam Hitomi’s pride, or Rin’s, you may find Hitomi’s pride is stronger than yours. And contempt is not part of the Way.’

  My neck warmed with his rebuke. ‘Yes, honourable Akio. I will take precautions.’

  ‘The laws of karma are perfect.’ He sighed with a morning-quail sound and adjusted the position of my wrist nearer the bow. ‘I am eager for karma to visit Proprietor Chiba.’

  I glanced up at Akio and saw his grin. I smiled too. With a thought of swift inago, an image of Chiba stood in front of my target, his big belly almost blocking it. My arrows struck him in the heart. Each time. By now I had graduated from the novice target, makiwara, to the smaller and much further away mato, which all samurai used.

  Time passed like the snap of a fan. Summer again, and my two younger sisters had worked through the Village of Outcasts’ hierarchy.

  Over our dinner Tashiko mumbled, ‘Misuki and Emi are going to be Women-for-Play. I am anxious for Emi.’

  ‘We have to stop it. Emi is still a little girl in her mind.’

  ‘Kozaishō, if the master orders me to do something, I do it. That is the only honourable way.’

  I put down my bowl and chopsticks. ‘Is it not honourable to save someone from the daily defilements of our life?’

  ‘Not if that is their karma.’

  ‘Karma! Inago!’ I clenched my fists. ‘You would allow harm to come to an innocent? That is honourable?’ I pointed my finger at Tashiko. ‘Are we not to use the strengths given us?’

  ‘Yes – I suppose so.’ She turned to me.

  ‘Are we not to use these gifts with compassion and mercy?’ I stood, fists to my sides.

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  I crossed my arms and leaned my face lower. ‘What is the “but”?’

  ‘Well . . .’ She lowered her eyes down.

  ‘Is it honourable to allow someone to suffer if we can use our gifts to avoid that suffering?’

  ‘Perhaps—’

  ‘In the Lotus Sutra? The monk interfered.’ I told the story:

  ‘A man vowed to build a temple if he came home safely from combat. When he escaped harm, he went to the capital to exchange his belongings for gold and paints and reached the port of Naniwa. A seaman was selling four big turtles, and the man advised people to buy them and set them free. Then he rented a boat to cross the sea. Late at night the sailors, filled with greed, said, “Into the sea with you!” The man tried to reason with them, but they would not listen. Finally, after making a vow, he sank into the black waters. When the water came up to his waist, he felt stones under his feet. In the morning he found he was carried by the turtles. They left him on the beach after nodding to him three times. The turtles, which had been set free, came back to repay his kindness. Eventually the thieving sailors visited his temple to sell the gold and paints they had stolen from him. They were petrified with terror when they saw him. He did not punish them, but told them to make a Buddha image to be consecrated in the pagoda.

  ‘Even an animal does not forget gratitude, and repays an act of kindness. How, then, could a righteous man fail to be grateful?’

  Tashiko merely nodded.

  ‘The monk interfered. We could interfere.’ I sat beside her. ‘We should interfere.’ I stabbed my chopsticks into my rice, knowing it was not good luck.

  Tashiko lifted her hand to me and took my chopsticks out of the rice. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘A story. A story might make Emi unsuitable to be a Woman-for-Play.’

  ‘A story?’ She pulled her hair away from her neck and twisted it with her fingers. ‘Change Emi’s karma? Go against Madam Hitomi? That is too great a risk.’

  ‘Do you want Emi servicing men? What if Aya had to do it too?’

  ‘No.’ She grimaced. ‘But a story? Something so simple could not change Emi’s karma.’

  ‘No. A story cannot change karma, but a story can change what people do and how they react.’

  ‘True. Your stories have soothed arguments.’ Tashiko rubbed my cheek with the back of her hand.

  ‘I checked through my stories and consulted with our tutor. The oni is perfect. This story will do for Emi. First, let us share our plan with those we trust.’

  ‘No, Kozaishō.’ Her hand flattened against my arm. ‘The fewer people who know the better,’

  ‘What about Misuki?’

  Tashiko nodded.

  ‘Let you and me and Misuki be less productive. Slow down. Have more trouble with clothes and hair. Only a little. Not enough to arouse suspicion. When I tell Hitomi we need Emi for clothes and hair, our argument will be more convincing.’

  ‘We can do that.’ Tashiko’s full lips twitched up.

  ‘No. I can do it. This is too dangerous. I will tell the story. You should not be involved.’

  ‘Emi is one of us. Chiba and Goro’s cast-offs.’ Tashiko gathered my hands in hers. ‘We are in this together, Kozaishō.’

  ‘Alright, but Hitomi’s wrath will be immense. She will not appreciate losing someone she has purchased.’

  Tashiko dipped her head to one side, committing to the plan.

  Beyond the bathhouse, away from everyone else, I told the story to Emi with Tashiko and Misuki.

  There once was an oni who captured a daughter, but her mother rescued her. The mother and daughter spotted a boat and escaped from the oni by travelling in the river. The oni came and drank all the water in the river in one gulp. The boat stuck in the mud and mire. As the oni approached, the horrified women prayed to the Goddess of Mercy.

  The Goddess called on the mother and daughter to put their kimonos
over their heads. At the sight of the women’s nakedness, the oni roared with laughter. All the water spouted out of his mouth. The oni did not stop laughing until the boat had carried the women to safety. Since that moment on the river, every time they undressed, they remembered the oni’s roar and their miraculous escape, and laughed and laughed and laughed.

  I hurled my kimonos over my head. Tashiko did the same. She laughed. I heard her fall down, and continue her hawk-like guffaws.

  Emi did not laugh. Tashiko gave me an I-did-not-think-this would-work look, but I persisted.

  I repeated the story, encouraging Emi to her pull her kimonos over her head. Tashiko and I pretended to laugh. The third time, Emi giggled. By the fifth time, she giggled more. I told her the story until Tashiko grew weary, and I was glad that it was short.

  I needed to ensure that my plan worked. Tashiko and I located the adjoining room where Emi was going. It contained only the required watching-hole, a few pillows and a small basket for wiping cloths. I checked to see no clients hid already, as some desired, and posted myself.

  Emi and her first customer walked in, a portly man. I eased my legs on to the pillows.

  ‘So, Emi, this is your first time.’ He patted her on the shoulder and smiled. ‘Come here. We shall go slowly.’

  Emi turned her pretty face and crossed eyes up to him and smiled back. My shoulder and arm stung, prickling all over. I adjusted my position on the pillows.

  The man slipped off his outer robe, threw it on to the clothing-tree, and plopped on to the futon. His awkwardness reminded me of Chiba.

  ‘Sit beside me, here.’ He patted the spot next to him with one hand and, with the other, made beckoning gestures.

  She did so. The man placed a wide wobbly arm around Emi’s shoulders. ‘Let us take off your kimono.’

  With that, he loosened her sash.

  I held my breath.

  ‘Pull it off, Emi.’

  Emi tugged at her sash. She looked up questioningly, the sash hanging across her hands like a dead snake.

  ‘Good, Emi. Now remove your kimono.’

  My fingernails almost cut through the pillow’s fabric.