by India Millar
“It isn’t much, but it’s all they gave me.” I washed my face, splashing water in my eyes. Oh, but it was good to be able to see clearly again!
“It went well?” Yo turned the coins over in his hands and smiled.
“As well as I could ever have hoped. He trusted me enough to allow me to massage his back, and he didn’t recognize me at all.” I had decided on the way home that I would not mention the chamberlain’s behavior to Yo. He may have been right about the likelihood of me being searched, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “The man’s a coward when it comes to the slightest pain. And he’s vain, as well. He was eager to accept all the rubbish I told him about how such a great man as he would always find it difficult to relax and that was why his nerves were knotted.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing really wrong with him?” Yo asked.
“The only thing wrong with Lord Akafumu is the fact that he eats too much rich food and drinks too much and sits all day. I could cure him in a day or two by putting him on a diet and making him take some exercise.” Laughter welled in my throat. “Perhaps I should have suggested that! The shock would probably have overturned his mind!”
Yo smiled with me, but I sensed there was something wrong. His body was tense. There was something he was not sharing with me.
“What?” I demanded bluntly. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re going to see Akafumu again?” he asked.
“Yes, in seven days. Do you think there’ll be any change in him by then?”
“I don’t know. And that’s the problem.”
Problem? I stared at my lover in disbelief. This was his plan. He had convinced me that it was going to work. I had taken the first step on the road to ensuring Akafumu’s ruin and now he was talking about problems?
“Why is it a problem? It is going to work, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure it will.” I lifted my hands out, palms up, in a gesture of bewilderment. Yo shrugged and refused to meet my gaze. “If he starts to take very strong opium every day, I have no doubt at all that Lord Akafumu will become a hopeless addict, crying for his pipe like a hungry child demanding his mother’s breast.
“We know that Akafumu is an associate of the shogun. Before long, even the shogun will see that Akafumu is no longer the man he knew and trusted. Akafumu will twist and turn and lie of course, but the shogun will hear the truth from his courtiers, all men who would be delighted to see Akafumu shaken from his place at the shogun’s right hand. That would be the real start of Akafumu’s downfall. Once he’s lost the favor of the shogun, he’ll turn to his habit for comfort. His fate will be sealed with no way back. By that time, his court will have disintegrated around him. His friends will have deserted him. His wives will curse the day they married him. It’s entirely possible that he might even have to sell off his concubines to pay for his habitual pleasure. Everything he once held dear will be gone.”
“So?” I demanded suspiciously. “That’s exactly what we planned. What’s changed?”
“I have,” Yo said quietly. “I think you must have bewitched me, onna-bugeisha. Just like Akafumu is going to be, I’ve forgotten everything that used to be important to me. Except for you.”
I almost made a joke about the power of love, but I realized Yo was deadly serious.
“I don’t understand,” I said instead.
“I’m shinobi,” he said patiently. “I live by my wits, and I am very good at what I do. I didn’t tell you, but I’ve already turned down several commissions that would have taken me away from Edo. I felt I needed to be here, with you. If I turn down any more, my patrons will think I’ve turned away from my trade and they’ll look elsewhere. Once my reputation’s lost, I’m lost. The problem is that I don’t know how long it will take Akafumu to become hopelessly addicted. If it takes many months longer, I will no longer have any value as a shinobi. I don’t know anything else. Will you still want me as your lover when I’m penniless with nothing in my future?”
A well of tenderness made my eyes prickle with unshed tears. Yo had known all this when he put his plan to me. Yet he had been willing to let me go ahead. I wished that he could have brought himself to discuss his worries with me earlier.
“I understand what you’re saying,” I said quickly. “But it doesn’t have to be like that. You could leave me here. I’m sure I’ll be safe. If a commission is offered, then you should take it.”
Even as I said it, I was distracted by his earlier words. It could take many months to enslave Akafumu to his opium? Did I have the patience to wait so long? Deeply frustrated, I pushed the thought aside and concentrated on what Yo was saying.
“I could do that,” he said reluctantly. “But I don’t want to. This is still dangerous for you. I know it’s something you feel you have to do, and I understand that. But if I accept a commission, I will have no idea how long I’ll be away from you. And I have to be able to concentrate on the job in hand. If I’m worried about you, I can’t do that. And that makes it dangerous for me.”
We stared at each other bleakly. Yo was right. I was right. If he stayed, he would throw away everything that had been his life. If I gave up my plans for Akafumu, I would lose my honor. And what was the point of a samurai without honor?
His face was expressionless, but I sensed he was hoping I would give in and agree to forget about Akafumu. Follow his wishes as any good woman surely would. But I could never forget the way Akafumu had treated me when I had kneeled before him as a proud samurai woman. He had humiliated me then. He had used my friend Reiki and not cared if she starved to death for the sake of a few coins. He had sold my servants into slavery. He had executed my villagers without once wondering why they had been driven to take what my father was too mean to give.
And not once when I had humbled myself before him had he spoken one word of sorrow for the deaths of my father and my brother. Men who had been proud to serve him as their lord. In fact, he had wiped away my entire family’s proud samurai tradition as casually as a peasant might swat an annoying fly.
I thought bitterly that I should have killed Akafumu when I had the chance. If I had—assuming I had survived, of course—then both Yo and I could have walked away and lived our lives together without his shadow over us. I sighed; I hadn’t done it. Spilled water cannot be coaxed back into the tray; there was no point in wishing for what might have been.
“All we can do is wait,” I said finally. “Perhaps things will resolve themselves. It may be that Akafumu takes such a liking to his opium that things move quicker than you think. And it might be a while before you get word of a commission and have to leave. But if you’re needed, then go. I would hate myself if I kept you here. I promise you that I can look after myself.”
Of course I could. Had Yo forgotten that I was onna-bugeisha? That in both bodily and mental strength, I was at least the equal of any well-trained soldier? Besides, there were other things I was determined to do, apart from bringing about the downfall of Akafumu. And those things would be a great deal easier to achieve if Yo was not here.
I smiled at him and hoped that this time he could not read my thoughts.
Ten
We are all flesh and
Blood. Why then is each of us
Made so differently?
I knew the gods had finally decided to smile on me when unbelievably one of the despised foreign barbarians solved my problem without even knowing he had done so.
I was following Matsuo home. It had become habit with me to play the part of an anma whenever I was out of the house on my own. Yo agreed that it was an excellent thing to do. If it became instinct, I was less likely to betray myself when it mattered.
“Anma, a word, if you please.”
I stopped, staring straight ahead. Although the words were Japanese, the intonation was odd and the quality of the voice was very strange indeed.
“What do you want?” I was so surprised, I forgot to be polite. No wonder the voice sounded strange. The man who had
spoken to me was a gaijin.
I had to work very hard not to show my surprise. I had never been so close to a gaijin before and was deeply suspicious of him. He was dressed in decent robes, not the strange clothes so many of the gaijin wore. But that wasn’t in the least reassuring; I thought he looked uncomfortable, as though the robes didn’t belong on his back.
“I am in need of your services, anma.”
His Japanese wasn’t bad, apart from the strange rhythm of his voice. He spoke very slowly, as if he had to mentally translate every word before he spoke. At least that made it easier for me to understand him. I found myself speaking slowly in return. He looked relieved, and I almost smiled, forgetting for a moment that I was blind. I reached down and patted Matsuo; I wanted to read his reaction to this foreign barbarian. If there was any danger, Matsuo would be tense, his hackles rising. I was surprised to find he was relaxed. Very well, I would trust both our instincts.
“Do you have pain?”
“I do. My…” He paused and frowned, searching for the word he needed. Finally, he put his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it, reaching as far down his back as he could to demonstrate. “Ah. I am sorry. Of course, you can’t see me. Here.”
He took my hand and placed it on his neck. I was so pleased that he really thought I was blind that I didn’t snatch my hand away. Of course, being a gaijin, he had no idea how insulting it was to touch a stranger in such an intimate way.
“You have pain in your neck?” I asked. He had slackened his grip and I took my hand away as quickly as I could without drawing attention to it. “Pain that goes down your back?” I had spoken too quickly. He looked confused. Rather than repeating it, I turned away from him and ran my hand down my own back, from the neck to the small of my back.
“That’s it!” he said. “Can you help me?”
I was confident I could. I guessed without touching him that the problem lay in the nerves of the neck. I noticed he stood with his shoulders hunched slightly. He probably didn’t realize it himself, but he was tense. This was his body’s way of telling him his posture was all wrong. I could help him, but did I want to? The thought of touching his strange body was distasteful. He was very tall, and looked quite muscular. But the gods alone knew what he was like beneath that robe. He would probably smell, as well.
I was about to refuse when he winced and rubbed his neck again. My conscience pricked; if he was an animal in pain, would I refuse to help him? Of course not. Very well. I would think of him as an animal, not a man at all.
“I will help you. Are you staying near here?”
“Thank you.” He sounded relieved and I was pleased I had not turned him down. My pleasure turned to horror when he took my elbow in his hand and began to walk slowly forward. “Please, allow me to guide you. My lodgings are close.” I gritted my teeth. He was an animal, I told myself. He knew no better. I stared straight ahead, relieved I could ignore the disgusted glances and murmured comments from everybody we passed. Not only was I walking with a foreign barbarian, he was actually touching me! “Here we are.”
He pushed a shoji back and stood aside. I realized after a moment that he was expecting me to enter in front of him. What strange ways these barbarians had! No Japanese man would ever allow a woman to walk in front of him unless she was of far higher rank than him. But an anma? Unthinkable. I shivered as I wondered what other shocks my patron might have in store for me.
“Can I offer you some sake? Or tea, perhaps?” At least he was polite. I would have loved some tea, but I declined. The sooner I was out of here the better.
“Could you lie down, please.” I wondered if he had understood me as he stared around, apparently confused.
“On the floor, you mean?”
I almost laughed. The tatami was scrupulously clean. Why not? “Yes, on the floor. Lie in your stomach.”
I approached him cautiously and sniffed carefully. He didn’t smell too badly. I was deeply relieved. Everybody said the gaijin stank of butter and milk and undercooked red meat and that the smell came from their insides through their pores and no amount of washing could cure it. I relaxed slightly and felt the back of his neck.
His skin texture was different from a Japanese person. His hair was bristly and seemed to grow very far down into his neck. I fingered his skin curiously, finding it rather coarse. Perhaps I hadn’t been so very far wrong when I thought of him as an animal. He grunted, and I wondered if I had hurt him.
“Your nerves are very tight,” I explained. “I will soothe them for you, but it will hurt.”
“Go right ahead. It will be worth it.”
I worked on his neck until I was satisfied. I ran my fingers down his spine, pausing to prod occasionally. He shifted beneath me, and I apologized.
“Oh, you’re not hurting me. Not at all.” His voice sounded odd.
“Please take off your robe. I need to massage your back.”
“With pleasure.” What a strange thing to say! I averted my head politely as he shrugged the robe off. Of course, I was supposed to be blind, but it was the courteous thing to do.
His back was hairy. I hesitated to touch it, in case it felt as unpleasant as it looked. Like a pig’s back, I thought. I shrugged. I was here to relieve pain. I had come so far, I would not flinch away now. I put my palms on each side of his spine, and leaned forward, pressing hard. Gradually, I worked my way down his back. The hair was far softer than I had expected, and his back was very muscular. I admitted to myself reluctantly that he obviously took far greater care of his body than Lord Akafumu. After a while, I almost forgot he was a gaijin as I concentrated on doing my work.
“You have an excellent technique.” His voice was rather husky, and it took me a while to interpret his words. “This is far more interesting than just taking one of Doctor Serturner’s pills.”
I paused, wondering if I had heard him correctly.
“There is a pill in your country that works like an anma?” I asked incredulously.
He laughed and wriggled beneath my hands. “No. Not quite. But we do have pills that take away pain completely.”
I was astonished. I had spoken truly when I told Akafumu that potent opium helped to relieve pain, but not for long. Some herbs could also help soothe pain, as could lettuce sap. But as far as I was aware, there was nothing that could take pain away completely. Even the most skilled anma could not do that.
“Is it magic?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, no. Not at all. I don’t know a great deal about medicine, but I believe this pill is a form of what you know as opium.”
I carried on massaging his back, trying to hide my shock. A pill made of opium that could cure pain completely? But opium had been used in Japan for hundreds of years! Surely, if this were possible, someone would have discovered this miracle?
“And this pill works for all pain?” I probed.
“Oh, yes. It’s called morphine, and it’s very clever.” I mouthed the strange word silently, trying to remember it. “But you have to be careful with it. I’ve only taken it a couple of times, when my pain was unbearable. A friend of mine started to take the pills to ease the pain when he broke his leg. They worked very well. He said that not only did they take the pain away, but they made him feel very relaxed, as though all his problems in life had gone.”
This sounded like a very special gift from the gods. I couldn’t believe it. Why would the gods give such a precious secret to the gaijin and not to us? This could not be so!
“Then these pills are far wiser than I am. I can only help reduce pain, not cure it entirely.” I hid my cynicism behind polite words.
“Ah, but you do that very well, anma.” I smiled, pleased. “And unlike morphine, you are not addictive.”
I carried on massaging as a worm of excitement began to coil in my stomach. “Men come to depend on this pill?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. After a short time, my friend found he had to take more and more of the drug. Not just to ease his pain
, but because without it he felt ill in a different way. He began to have headaches and to be deeply depressed. His food made him vomit and he became a changed man. The more morphine he took, the more he found he needed. The last time I saw him, I found it hard to recognize him. He had lost much weight, and it seemed as if he could not understand anything I said. He had lost his job, he told me, because he could not concentrate on anything. I told him he had to stop taking morphine, and he said he could not. He told me he would die without it. I think it would kill him if he carried on taking it.”
I said nothing, simply rubbing his back as if he had said nothing of any interest.
“Ah, that’s better. Thank you.”
I took his polite words to mean he’d had enough of my hands on his body and I sat back on my heels. I was so distracted by thoughts of the morphine—I repeated it again to myself, to make sure I had it right—that the sight of my gaijin when he turned over made my vision swim.
If it had not been for the training of mind, as well as body, that I had undertaken to become onna-bugeisha, I would have gasped out loud and probably scrambled away from him.
Everybody had heard the tales about gaijin. Some said they were truly foreign devils. The parts that were visible—their heads, hands, and feet—were strange enough. The ones that had hairy faces were generally thought to be very high-ranking devils, those that were arrogant enough not to bother to disguise themselves greatly. Even the clean-shaven ones were ugly beyond belief, with their pallid skin and prominent noses. But rumors abounded about what the gaijin were like beneath their clothes. Some people insisted they had tails. It was widely known their bodies were covered in hair like a bear; now that, I could vouch for. Some said they had no toes, that their feet were cleft like a pig’s. As they never wore sandals, one could not tell. My gaijin did have toes, but they were long, knobby things and—yes!—they were also covered in hair. I had been almost disappointed to find he did not have a tail.
Or at least, not until he turned and faced me.