by India Millar
“But as he began to lose his skill, it seemed that Father also began to change. He started to berate Mother, telling her that it was she who had bought bad luck on the family. He beat her as well. He beat us girls, too. I think it was the shouting and taunting that upset Mother more than the beating. After all, wives must expect to be beaten at least occasionally. Eventually, it all became too much for Mother and she committed suicide by jumping into the river. She had bound her legs together first, to make sure she could not try and swim and to keep her body tidy when it was found. She left a note for Father, apologizing for being a bad wife to him and bringing bad luck on the whole family. She urged him to take another wife, saying it was not yet too late for him to have sons.”
Suzume straightened her back and fell silent for a moment. I wanted to urge her to carry on, but then saw she had tears in her eyes, so I waited. Now that she had started, she would tell her tale in her own good time. Besides, if I spoke, she might realize she was speaking to me as to an equal again and stop. I was intensely curious to hear the rest of her story.
“We all thought Father would take another wife or a mistress. But he did not. Talking about it between ourselves, we decided that Mother’s death had been the breaking of the final branch that had supported Father. It was only with her death that he remembered how much he had once loved her. So instead of bringing in a woman from outside, he took my eldest sister to his bed as his wife.
“She was proud to be chosen, of course, and did her best. But she was not Mother, even though she looked very much like her. Father kept on being angry with us all, nothing we did was right. He had taught us all to read and write, and before Mother died he had even said that if I had been a boy, I could have followed him in the family business, my calligraphy was so good. But I was only a girl, so there was no chance of that happening. I tried to help, and for a while it seemed as if everything was going to be all right. Father instructed me on how to write in the same style as him, and he began to pass my efforts off as his own. Some of his old patrons began to come back to him, and we were prosperous again.
“Everything finally went wrong when my sister became pregnant. She lost the child when she was almost eight months pregnant, and died herself of a fever soon after. It was a boy child, and that seemed to be the end for Father. He ranted and raved and screamed. Said it was all us women about the house that had bought bad luck on him. That it was all our fault he could have no sons. Eventually, he said that we had cursed him. We were terrified, frightened for our lives. My sister and I tried to run and hide, but he found us and beat us until we could hardly stand.”
Suzume fell silent again, and it was no good, I had to ask.
“Carpi says you can’t feel pain. Is that true? Did it hurt when your father beat you?”
She looked at me curiously and then shrugged. Her face was bewildered.
“My sister cried when Father beat us.” She frowned. “I asked her why she was crying, and she said she was crying because she hurt. I didn’t understand what she meant. I found it difficult to walk, as my legs seemed not to want to straighten where Father had taken a stick to my knees, but that was all. I asked her again, ‘Why are you crying?’ and she held her arms out to me. They were black and green with bruises, but I had the same colors on my arms and back and legs, so I thought she was upset because her skin had been disfigured. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘they will fade.’ ‘I know!’ she whimpered. ‘But I hurt.’
“I still didn’t understand what she meant. I remembered when I had broken my wrist years before, and the doctor had said what a brave little girl I was when I didn’t cry. But why should I have cried? Why was my sister crying now?”
Suzume looked at me in puzzlement, and I took a deep breath. “It’s true, then. You really don’t feel pain. Carpi was right.”
“I don’t know.” Suzume frowned. “I don’t know what pain is. Is it bad? If it is, why would I want to feel it?”
I blew out my cheeks, bewildered. “You must at least know what it is!” I said firmly. “How did you feel when you broke your wrist?”
Suzume thought for a long time, and then said, “My arm felt very odd. I couldn’t make my hand move like it should, and the bone stuck out of my skin. Is that what pain means?”
I stared at her, lost for words, and shook my head. Seeing my confusion, Suzume leaned forward and inspected my face, sucking at her bottom lip. Finally, she said, “If I had been born blind, how would you describe colors to me?”
She was right, of course. I wouldn’t be able to. So it was true. Little Suzume could not feel pain. I felt a sudden spasm of compassion for her. It might appear that she would do very well in the Hidden House, but knowing what some of our patrons were capable of, I feared for her. Sometimes a very loud scream was the only thing that could stop them. How would Suzume ever know when the time to scream had come?
We both fell silent for a moment, lost in our thoughts. Then I realized I still did not know how Suzume had known the Floating World so well, so I asked her to continue. “What happened to you, Suzume? How did you end up here?”
“We both – my remaining sister and I – thought that Father would take her next, in place of our mother and dead sister. But it didn’t happen that way. Father began to drink, very heavily, and he was rude to the customers we had left. Well, nobody was going to stand for that, so it wasn’t long before he had used up all the money I had made and nearly all his savings as well. I remember the day he sold my sister very well.
“He had been sober for a couple of days, and then one afternoon he disappeared and came back with an old woman. She inspected both of us – me and my sister – and then went off and talked to Father for some time. When he came back in, he told my sister that she was to go with the old woman. I found out later – when I saw my sister behind the lattice of one of the brothels on the main street of the Floating World – that he had sold her for a whore.
“After my sister went, Father was drunk for a week solid. When he sobered up a bit, he started looking at me in a strange way, and I realized he intended for me to take Mother’s place. I suppose I should have stayed and did my duty by him, but some demon got into me and the more I thought about it the more I decided I didn’t want to end up like my poor eldest sister. So I ran away.”
I gasped. Suzume, little more than a child, and a girl child at that, had run away? Questions boiled in my mouth. Where did she go? How did she survive? Why didn’t she starve to death or end up in a brothel herself? Guessing my questions, Suzume continued.
“You have to remember, I was born and brought up in the Floating World. I had run errands for Father ever since I could walk. I knew my way about well enough. I had no money, but I found a place to shelter near the kabuki. For the first few days, I begged. That gave me enough to buy noodles and water. Then somebody left the door open at the back of the kabuki, and I slipped in. At first, I just wanted to get warm. But then I saw the actors rehearsing, and I fell in love with it. The color, the sound, just the whole life of the thing. It was wonderful.”
I nodded vigorously, understanding perfectly. I had felt just the same.
“Well, there were plenty of places for a small child to hide in the kabuki. I hid there for days, pilfering from the kitchens when I could, begging outside when I couldn’t. Of course, somebody caught me in the end, but I burst into tears and sank to my knees, imploring them to let me stay. I could help, I said. I could wash and clean. Repair the costumes. Cook. Help write the playbills. The man who had found me – I later discovered that he was an official of the theater, an assistant to the manager – laughed when I said that I could read and write. But I insisted that I could, and as a joke he gave me a playbill advertising the latest production and told me to copy it out. I can remember the play clearly; it was Kanadehon Chushingura – The Revenge of the Forty-Seven Ronin. I copied it in my very best calligraphy, and the man was astonished. He dragged me off to see his boss, and he in his turn told me to copy a playbil
l out. I did so, and the two men looked at each other. ‘Well, Mineko,’ he said. Mineko was my name then, you understand. ‘It seems you are not telling lies.’ Both men looked at me for so long that I became uncomfortable. ‘Where is your family?’ I took a deep breath and lied. ‘My mother is dead, lords,’ I said. ‘She committed suicide last year. My father died of a fever not long ago, along with my sister. I am all alone in the world.’ The manager had very long earlobes, which he was in the habit of stroking when he was thoughtful. He did so then. ‘Well, if you have nowhere else to go to, it seems to me that you could be useful to us here.’ He raised his eyebrows at the under-manager, who nodded vigorously. ‘In return for as much calligraphy as we need from you, I will allow you to live here, and be fed from the theater kitchens. What do you say to that?’
“I fell to my knees and kissed the hem of his robe. I felt as if all my dreams had come true. I was given a cubby-hole to sleep in and allowed to eat and drink in the kitchen whenever I wanted to. I was happy to copy playbills for them, and after a while I was even allowed to make alterations to the scripts for new plays, as the actors often wanted changes made after the first rehearsals. And whenever I had a moment to spare, I would watch the kabuki. I loved every moment of the plays, no matter whether it was a tragedy or a comedy. I had a very good memory, and often when I was on my own I would act out one of the plays in my little private space.”
For the first time, Suzume – or, as I supposed I should now call her, Mineko – looked uncomfortable. I realized that she thought I would laugh at her for doing something as silly as that, but I understood perfectly. I had run through the words of the play I had seen a hundred times in my own mind, but each time, it was me who was on the stage, me who was taking the bows and pleasing the crowd. I nodded.
“Yes,” I said. “I know. I understand how you feel. Oh, Mineko. If only we had been born men. What could we have done!”
We both sighed at the thought.
“You must have seen Danjuro perform?” I asked.
Mineko nodded. “Many times. He didn’t notice me, of course. In fact, I always doubted that Danjuro saw anything at all beyond the theater. The other actors often spoke of him. They said he was so dedicated, if somebody didn’t make sure that he ate, he would have starved to death because he would forget anything that didn’t concern the kabuki.”
I glowed with pride. This wonderful actor, this dedicated man, had noticed me, the ugly half-barbarian Midori No Me! He had been interested enough to send for me to watch him perform. I sighed happily.
“I saw Big, as well,” Mineko said quietly. I stared at her and put my finger to my lips in warning. She nodded and spoke very softly. “He would often watch the performances and then go backstage to see Danjuro. Sometimes, he would persuade Danjuro to go out to a tea house with him or somewhere to drink sake. Big always pretended he was mad about the kabuki, but I think he lied. He was only interested in Danjuro. I think he was in love with Danjuro from the start.”
“And Danjuro?” I whispered urgently. “How did he feel about Big?”
Mineko shrugged. “I think he was vaguely flattered that this handsome man was so besotted by him. But I also think that as soon as Big walked out the door, he forgot he even existed. Did you know that it was Big who introduced Danjuro to the Hidden House?”
I stared at her in astonishment, shaking my head.
“It was. I was nearby when Big tried to be friendly with Danjuro after a new performance. Danjuro had been playing both of the main female roles, and he felt his performances were not as realistic as he would like, which upset him. Big tried to coax him out of his mood, but nothing worked. Eventually, I heard Big say to him that he needed to mingle with some real women, women who had known true sorrow in their lives, to get inspiration, and that he would take him somewhere that would interest him. I heard the name of the Hidden House spoken, but then I was chased out.”
She frowned and I was nearly frantic with curiosity. “Go on,” I urged. “Finish your tale. How did you go from the kabuki to here?”
“It was my father.” Mineko’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I heard that he was very ill, on the verge of death, and was calling for me. So, like a fool, I felt I had to go home, to see him before he died. There was nothing wrong with him, apart from the fact that he had no money to buy sake and was in a foul mood. As soon as I got home, he grabbed me and locked me in a cupboard. Next thing I knew, Auntie was opening the door and Father was urging her to pinch me, hard as she liked. She did, and then followed it up with a hefty whack from her cane. I just stared at her, and she laughed. She turned to my father, looking pleased. ‘It seems that you are right,’ she said. ‘She does not feel pain. How old is she?’ ‘Twelve, mistress. She can read and write, as well.’ ‘No good to me. Can she play an instrument?’ Father shook his head reluctantly, but then brightened. ‘She has a good voice, though. And she can dance. Show the lady, Mineko.’
“I crawled out of the cupboard and did as I was told. I danced a few steps and sang the chorus from one of the kabuki plays. Auntie grinned and said I would do. She asked if I was whole, and Father said that I was.
“And that was that. She took me by the arm and bought me here to the Hidden House. She said I would work as a maid at first, and then – when I had learned a little of the ways of the House – I could become a geisha, like the rest of the girls.”
Did Mineko know exactly what that meant? She stared at me scornfully. Of course she did.
“I will learn to sing and dance like a geisha should. I will flirt behind my fan and make the patrons feel witty and handsome. And when I have had my mizuage, I will learn to pant and moan when they put their tree of flesh into me as though they are breaking me in two with their wilting sapling.”
I was torn between amusement and annoyance. No matter what Mineko had gone through, she had no right to talk to me like this, as though we were equals. But suddenly, Mineko was Suzume again, her gaze on the floor.
“When it is time for my mizuage, will you be my Older Sister, Midori-chan?” She spoke humbly. I smiled, knowing then that I would never be able to stay angry with Mineko for long.
“Of course I will,” I said. “Of course I will.”
Chapter Ten
Clouds blow across the sky.
Stars smile at them.
But what of me?
It had been six weeks since Danjuro had sent for me. I was beside myself with anxiety. From one minute to the next, I veered from being sure that he had forgotten all about me to being equally sure that something terrible had happened to him. Perhaps he had moved to another kabuki theater far away. It didn’t help at all that Bigger kept up his visits and was beginning to drop strong hints that I hadn’t done enough to entice Danjuro, to keep him by my side and away from Big. Between my own worries about Danjuro and Bigger’s implicit threats, I began to get headaches and stop eating.
Mineko was only somewhat reassuring. In all the time she had spent at the kabuki, she said, she had never known Danjuro take more than a passing interest in a woman. He was always too devoted to the theater to really notice them. And he had never – and she would certainly have heard should it have been so, for there was nothing worse than the kabuki for gossip – sent for a woman to come to the theater. I shouldn’t worry, she said. He would be back. Once he could drag his attention away from the play, he would send for me.
Oh, how I hoped she was right!
As it was, I had no option but to carry on as if nothing was wrong in my life. I knew the other girls were snickering and nudging each other behind my back. There were even some barbed comments made to my face about Danjuro’s absence, but I just smiled and shrugged, as if it was nothing. “Well,” I said, “Spilled water cannot return to the tray, as the saying has it.” I even managed to laugh. The girls laughed with me, and no more was said.
We all had our dreams, after all, even if we knew they were never going to come true.
I had spent the evening w
ith one of my favorite patrons. That was outstanding in itself, as truly I had very few favorites. But this patron was very nice, causing the other girls to be envious. He was a middle-aged goldsmith who had come to the Hidden House a few months before. He was not handsome exactly, but he had a very pleasant face and his body had not run to fat like most of the patrons. His sponsor was a loud braggart, a nobleman who spent a lot of money but was not liked by any of us. If we did not please him completely to his liking, this man was very handy with his fists and had once given poor Naruko a black eye. Auntie had, of course, charged him extra, but it didn’t alter his behavior at all.
Mori-san took a shine to me on his first visit. I was very wary of him, as I assumed that he would be like his sponsor, but I need not have worried. He turned out to be the gentlest of men, one who genuinely enjoyed my playing on the samisen and was very complimentary about my singing. In fact, on that first visit he did nothing at all except listen to me play and sing. Oh, he chatted to me, and actually listened to what I said, but nothing else. He left around midnight and that was that. I was convinced that he had simply not fancied me and would no doubt complain to Auntie and demand that my fee be drastically reduced, but no such thing. He came back the next week and Auntie said he asked for me, and that if I was not available, he didn’t want another girl.
On that occasion, he seemed to me to be nervous. He drank his sake and nibbled at some sweet rice cakes, and after half an hour I was at my wits end to know what to do to entertain this strangest of patrons. Surely, he would not be happy to just talk to me again! After a flask of sake, he became quite frisky and asked me – very shyly – if I would undress in front of him. Nothing unusual there. I took my clothes off as enticingly as I could and was deeply relieved when I saw that his tree of flesh was very much in evidence beneath his loose robe.