The Geisha with the Green Eyes

by India Millar

  Carpi was waiting for us. As I slid her screen door open, I heard her sigh, quiet as a baby snuffling happily in its sleep. Knowing that she was welcoming death more than she had ever welcomed life made tears blur my eyes, but I blinked them away. The greatest gift we could bestow on my Older Sister was that of death, and there could be no turning away now.

  Suzume helped me make Carpi comfortable on her futon. So sure was she that we would come that she had left her spare obi at the side of her bedding. We wrapped it carefully around her legs, tying it loosely in an attempt to make it look as if she had managed it herself. It was tradition for a suicide to bind their legs to keep their bodies straight. A courtesy for those who found them. Carpi lay still, watching us calmly.

  Suzume prepared an opium pipe for her, and Carpi took it greedily. As she slipped into sleep – the sleep that would be eternal – I mixed the flower distillate Suzume had bought with sake and held it to Carpi’s lips. She swallowed the entire contents in one gulp and lay back with a sigh.

  We sat on our haunches and each of us held one of Carpi’s hands – the hands I had always found so repugnant in her life – and waited until her grip faltered. When we were sure that she had stopped breathing, we stood and I tipped the empty cup on its side by her shoulder, as if she had drunk from it where it rested on the floor. We left the empty poison bottle by its side.

  We crept away like quiet ghosts, and I felt Carpi’s spirit – free of its worldly chains – brush past me joyfully in the corridor.

  I was very glad.

  There was hell to pay the next morning. If I had thought it was bad when Auntie had discovered that Carpi had run away, it was nothing compared to her fury now. One of us, she hissed, had helped Carpi commit suicide. Even if she had managed to do it on her own, she would never have been able to buy the poison. She had had none with her when the Boys bought her back, Auntie made sure of it.

  If whoever had done it did not confess now, then she would punish all of us. Each of us would be given to the Boys in turn. They would be delighted to teach us a lesson. Little Masaki burst into tears, no doubt anticipating the pain the Boys would inflict on her tiny body. Even Kiku was biting her lip and looking terrified. It was no good, I decided. I would have to own up. No matter what the Boys did to me, I could not live with myself if I let the rest of the girls suffer for what I had done.

  Just as I was about to raise my head and confess, Suzume jumped to her feet. She had her hands clutched in front of her face, her head lowered. Her whole posture was eloquent of terror.

  “Auntie, it was me. I am so sorry. I didn’t know!” Her voice rose in a wail of sorrow. Auntie looked at her incredulously.

  “You, Suzume? You gave Carpi poison? Why? How?”

  “No, I didn’t give it to her. Or at least, not exactly. Carpi told me that the Boys had hurt her, very badly, and asked me to get her some stuff from the apothecary to sooth the pain. It was the same thing that the geisha wear in their eyes, to make the pupils big, so I didn’t think there could be any harm in it. So I bought some for her and gave it to her and now she’s dead and it’s all my fault.”

  Suzume’s voice rose in a wail. Even knowing what a good actress she was, I almost believed her. Tears were pouring down her face and she fell on her knees in front of Auntie and beat her head against the floor. Auntie’s face was a marvel to watch. Disbelief chased anger across her face, both finally giving way to something that looked very like relief. And it was certainly relief that I could feel washing over the rest of the girls.

  “I see. What form was the poison in, Suzume?”

  Suzume raised her head, an expression of bewilderment peeking out from beneath the tears. “It was in a bottle, Auntie,” she said innocently.

  Auntie gave her a hard look, and I mentally shouted at Suzume not to overdo it. “And what was in the bottle, child? Powder? Liquid? Bark that had to be rubbed?”

  Suzume’s face cleared. “It was a liquid, Auntie. I took it to Carpi and she asked me to pour some into a cup with some sake. She told me to put the cup down by her futon and to leave her. And so I did. Oh, and I made a pipe for her, as she asked.”

  Auntie nodded. Try as I might, I could not tell from her expression whether she believed Suzume or not. If she didn’t, then I decided that I would own up. Whether it meant the Boys or not.

  “I see. And when you left Carpi, where was her obi?”

  I tried to pretend I wasn’t staring at Suzume as though my life depended on her answer, which it probably did. Both our lives, come to think of it. Oddly, I felt very calm. If I was to die, then at least Older Sister would be waiting for me. For both of us. Suzume frowned, as if she was giving the strange question serious consideration.

  “Carpi was wearing her bed robe, so it wasn’t fastened with a sash.” She squinted, as if she was trying to recall the scene. Her mouth opened and closed, as if a thought had just occurred to her. “I know. Her kimono was hanging up on the wall, and her obi…her obi was on the floor, not far from the futon. As if it had been hanging by the kimono and had slipped off the hook.”

  She sat back and looked at Auntie with a hopeful expression. Auntie stared at her in a way that would have had me quivering and confessing my sins but had no effect at all on clever little Suzume.

  “I see. Well, it appears that Carpi must somehow have managed to tie her obi around her legs herself. The liquid you gave her was a poison, Suzume, so you helped her to kill herself.”

  Suzume’s mouth fell open and she wailed loudly. Auntie frowned and waved at her to be quiet.

  “It was not your fault, child.” I closed my eyes in relief. “If Carpi was determined to commit suicide, she would have managed it one way or another. You are sure she said nothing to you?”

  Suzume’s face was the picture of innocence. She shook her head vigorously. “She would not have talked to me about it, Auntie,” she said simply. “Not to a maid.”

  “That’s true,” Auntie admitted. She stared at the rest of us in turn. “She said nothing to the rest of you girls? Nothing at all?”

  We all shook our heads firmly. I apologized to any god who might be listening for the lie.

  “None of us had the chance to speak to her before last night,” Naruko said timidly. “We had no idea. None at all.”

  Auntie drew a deep breath and stood up, leaning on her stick. “You will forget this. All of you. I will not have Carpi’s suicide mourned. This is a house of joy, not sorrow. And you, Suzume. It is your mizuage shortly, is it not?”

  Suzume mumbled, “Yes,” not lifting her gaze from the tatami.

  “Well, I suppose you did not know what you were doing. But in future, you will tell me before you run any errands for the geisha. As it is, I will have to give a great deal of thought to a suitable danna for your mizuage.”

  She stumped out without another word and we all sat dumb. None of dared one look at the others, but I just knew that they all knew I had helped Carpi depart this world.

  I was just intensely grateful that they had all remained silent. It was more than I expected. Faced with the threat of the Boys, I wondered if I would have had as much courage.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The peach blossoms dance

  In the breeze.

  How do they know the steps?

  We all thought – even though it was unspoken – that the Hidden House would be different without Carpi. And yet, it was not. We all grieved for her, but at the same time we felt that if she had been so determined to leave this world, that she had done the right thing. I know that all the girls thought that I had done the honorable thing by poor Carpi. No one actually said as much, but it was conveyed by subtle remarks and a certain silent approval. Suzume, also, was suddenly much more part of the family. I guessed that she was pleased. I also wondered and worried about Auntie’s remark regarding Suzume’s mizuage. Although she appeared to believe in Suzume’s innocence, there was no doubt that the maid had to be punished in some way for her mistake. But if
Suzume could feel no pain, what could Auntie do? I decided I was worrying without cause and shrugged the niggling doubts away.

  In any event, I soon had more to distract me.

  Poor Auntie was all of a flutter. First, it was Danjuro popping up, then Mori-san making an offer for me. And then poor Carpi committing suicide. As if all of that wasn’t enough to disturb the even pattern of life in the Hidden House, there was yet more. We girls giggled amongst ourselves, saying – when Auntie was well out of earshot, of course – that Auntie must be getting old to allow herself to be upset like this.

  The uproar in the Hidden House was a pale reflection of what was about to take place in the whole of the country. Just as our own sealed casket was beginning to be pried open, so was Japan.

  Even with Carpi’s death casting a pall over my happiness, I could not remember a time when I felt more joyful. True to his word, Danjuro either sent for me to go to the kabuki or visited the Hidden House himself on the appointed day. Better still – if such a thing was possible – he took to sending a messenger for me, and Suzume as escort, on other days. Always either in the late morning or early afternoon, when he knew the Hidden House would not have clients. He must have paid Auntie a fortune for my services considering the way she beamed and clucked every time a summons came. Worldly-wise Suzume was not so sure. Having Danjuro as a devoted patron of the Hidden House was, she pointed out cynically, the sort of recommendation that no amount of money could ever buy.

  “He’s only an actor in the kabuki,” I said, trying not to preen.

  Suzume raised her eyebrows. “Only an actor? He’s Danjuro, Midori-san. He’s the head of the theater. He directs the plays, discusses what he wants with the most famous playwrights in Japan. He no doubt owns part of the theater. And he’s been adopted into one of the best families in Edo. Do you know how lucky you are?”

  I should, of course, have given her a good slap for her insolence, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was strange, but I could not bring myself to think of my Danjuro as the same rich and famous man she was talking about. My Danjuro was a man who gave himself totally to the theater, a man who worried constantly that his best was not good enough. A man whom I longed for more and more with every day that passed. Not just when he sent for me, but all the time. As his mistress, if that was what he wanted. As his slave. Anything, as long as I was with him.

  Even the ecstatic Auntie was beginning to drop broad hints that it was time for Danjuro to negotiate to buy me out. She asked if he had mentioned such a thing to me. I shook my head dolefully. I could not even try and explain to her that it was unlikely Danjuro had even thought of it. For twenty-three hours of each and every day, he lived for the kabuki. I was fortunate enough to occupy his mind for the other hour. Sometimes.

  “Mention Mori-san’s offer to him,” Auntie instructed. “And be sure to tell me exactly how he responds.”

  I said that I would, but I knew that Auntie was going to be disappointed. She did not know Danjuro like I did. Or at least, how I thought I did.

  Suzume understood, I knew. But then, Suzume loved the kabuki as much as I did. I felt myself come alive every time I entered the theater. When we were watching a performance, it was lucky we were in a latticed box as I started becoming part of the production. I would mouth the words silently, mimic the actors’ gestures. And, increasingly often, I made changes to both words and gestures. I longed, almost as much as I longed for Danjuro, to be on that stage, acting alongside him.

  Probably without realizing he was doing it, Danjuro encouraged my ambitions. Often when I was summoned to the kabuki when a play was not in progress, Danjuro would rehearse with me, letting me take the part of another actor. Very carefully at first, I began to make suggestions about a slight change in dialogue or a different approach to an entrance. Amazingly, Danjuro listened to what I was saying, and he increasingly agreed with me. Soon, I began to feel as if I was not only part of Danjuro’s life, but also part of the kabuki.

  I should have been the happiest girl in Edo. And when I was with Danjuro, I was. But being with him only made it more difficult to play my part in the Hidden House. In spite of Danjuro, I was still expected to entertain patrons. It was no longer enough to close my eyes and ears and pretend I was with my lover instead of an old, fat, sweaty merchant. Even – no, I lie, especially – poor Mori-san raised my anger more than anybody.

  I began to hate it when I heard he was waiting for me. And the more I showed my distaste for him, the more Mori-san kneeled at my feet and worshiped me. Auntie told me with a smirk that he had raised his offer for me three times. Eventually she would have to give in. Unless of course Danjuro was willing to show his hand…?

  I would not have done it unless I had been driven to it. I would hardly have dared. But Danjuro had sent for me, and he greeted me in full makeup and costume. He had been rehearsing, he said, with the company. I felt such a spasm of jealousy that my guts hurt.

  And truth to tell, Danjuro in makeup and costume was more than I could begin to resist. He was dressed for the part of a great noble, and I could see at once that he was still in character. He was full of the role: tall, handsome, imperious. He waved Suzume away with a gesture, and she took to her heels. My treacherous knees refused to bear me any longer and I sank to the floor on the tatami in front of him, trembling.

  Danjuro put his hands on my shoulders, his thumbs digging into the base of my neck. I felt his strength, could almost smell his desire. I trembled, wanting him to take me any way he wished, just so long as it was totally without mercy. Wanting him to tighten his grip on my neck, to give me pain, to make me shriek with pleasure and pain and something more that I could not even name.

  I wanted him to master me. To make me his subject.

  And I was not disappointed.

  Danjuro’s voice was not his own when he spoke. Instead, I heard the tones of the great noble, the man who could buy and sell men and women at his smallest whim. “My little Midori No Me, kneeling before me. Who do you worship?”

  “You, Danjuro.”

  “No other?”

  “No, Master.”

  He laughed, a high, vaunting sound that made me shiver. For a moment, I was afraid. This was not the man I thought of as my lover. He was Danjuro, and yet something more. Was this a part of him that he had always hidden from me? Was this the real Danjuro? I had no idea. His grip on my neck tightened, and I felt the world going grey.

  He loosed his grip at the moment I was almost unconscious and I swayed, fighting for balance. Danjuro had taken a step back from me and was staring down at my face. He seemed impossibly tall, looming above me.

  He clapped his hands together and I searched his face, looking for a clue as to what he wanted. I was prepared to do anything, anything at all, but I sensed that this was part of a new game that we were playing. I was supposed to know what he wanted. If I got it right, I would be rewarded. If I did not…My sex pulsed at the unknown.

  I licked my lips and reached for his tree of flesh, hidden in the voluminous robes of his costume. He slapped my hand away and shook his head. He was smiling, but there was little humor in the smile.

  “Try again, Midori No Me.”

  What? What did he want?

  He was staring at my breasts. Did he want me to undress? I reached up and loosed the collar of my kimono. He shook his head. I was so wound up, I felt like screaming. In a sudden flare of defiance, I sat back on my heels. Very well, if he wouldn’t tell me what he wanted, then I would simply wait until he did.

  He walked behind me and I could hear him breathing. He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned down so I was looking at his face upside down. His mouth smothered my lips and he bit me, hard.

  “Who is your Master, Midori No Me?” He spoke into my face and I was panting as I replied.

  “You are, Danjuro.”

  “Very well then, please your Master.”

  “Tell me how.”

  “You should know.” He walked round in front of
me and I licked a bead of blood from my lip. It tasted delicious. He watched me, and I could feel his excitement. Suddenly, I knew what this Danjuro wanted. I slid to my stomach on the tatami matting in a gesture of worship, my arms outstretched in front of me as I made my obeisance.

  Danjuro took me from behind, yanking my kimono and undergarments up without bothering to undress himself. His tree of flesh felt huge as he thrust into me and I prayed as I have never prayed in my life before that his passion would not be so great that he would spend himself quickly.

  I need not have worried.

  He toyed with me. First fast, urgent. Then slow. He sensed when I was ready to come to orgasm and pulled back so that only the very tip of his tree was playing with the entrance to my sex. I thrust against him, desperate for more. Desperate for all he could give to me. But Danjuro was having none of it. I could have screamed as he actually pulled out of me.

  He sat back on his haunches, his erection mocking me as it jutted out from his body. “Who is your Master, Midori No Me?”

  This time, I needed no hints, no education. I rolled on my stomach and hitched across the floor like a snake, wrapping my lips around him. I could taste myself and Danjuro in the juices that mingled on his flesh. I sipped our sap and found it delicious.

  But still Danjuro teased. I would have taken him in my mouth down to his belly, but he would have none of it. Every time I tried to take more of him between my lips, he pulled back. I ran my tongue around the head of his tree, searching for that exquisitely tender spot that no man can resist. I knew I had found it when I heard him gasp, and refined the subtle torture as only a geisha, a woman who has spent all of her time pleasing men, knows how. I licked, nibbled, and finally bit.

  Danjuro laughed. Whether he was laughing with pleasure, or pain, or amusement at my efforts, I had no idea. Nor did I have time to consider it further.