by India Millar
Like all the rest, this letter protested how my beauty had dazzled the applicant. My lips twisted in a mocking smile. What fools these men were; could they really be deceived so easily by a layer of paint and some gaudy clothes? How strange that in what I still thought of as my “real” life I had been regarded as completely unattractive; the plain, insignificant younger sister who was kept hidden away. I watched Niko fidgeting as she waited impatiently for the water to boil and my thoughts strayed. Yo found me beautiful. The knowledge pleased me greatly, but he was my lover. Of course he found me pleasing. And now, it seemed, other men also found me lovely to look at. I wondered why now? My sister, Emiko, had never worn makeup, and her clothes were drab compared Kamakiri the oiran’s flamboyant kimono and hugely knotted obi. Yet nobody had ever questioned that Emiko was beautiful. When I had been Lady Keiko, just as when I had been Kamakiri the anma, nobody had spared me a glance. Except for Adam, of course. But no doubt his gaijin eyes saw beauty differently from everybody else.
Now, I was Kamakiri the oiran, and men who had never even spoken to me lusted after me. I was bewildered; all three were the same woman. All three were me. Was it possible that the answer lay within me? I turned the thought around in my head. When I had lived my first life, on my father’s estate, Emiko had always told me I was ugly, and I had believed her. Was it because I saw myself as being of no consequence that the rest of my world perceived me in the same way? Just as when I had acted the part of Kamakiri the anma, I had presented myself to the world as a humble blind woman of no consequence and that was how I was accepted.
And now? Now, I walked proudly, as if I expected men to look at me with hunger in their eyes. And strangely, that is what they did. Now, I was Kamakiri the oiran, a special woman who knew she could demand what—or who—she wanted and get it without question. Was the answer to the riddle as simple as that? That others saw me as I chose to be seen?
I put the conundrum aside for the moment. I would think about it later, when I had less urgent calls on my thoughts.
I glanced at the latest letter again and sighed. I threw it down casually. Niko glanced at me but did not speak, clearly deciding it was best not to disturb me. I barely noticed; I was lost in my thoughts.
I had taken my revenge on Lord Akafumu for the wrongs he had inflicted on me and my noble house. And at the same time, I had avenged Reiki for his treatment of her. Akafumu was no longer of interest to me.
But now three other men had taken Akafumu’s place. Just as he had insulted me when he laughed at my attempts to give me what was mine by right, so those three men had treated me with contempt. They had stripped me of my honor without even giving it a thought. I licked my lips, eager for the sight of the names I longed for. Even though my prison in the Hidden House had been dim, and the men who came to see me had been shielded by Hana’s artful shadows, I knew their names. How could I ever forget them?
There had been many men in that dreadful time. Some had come to look at me more than once. But there were only three that interested me now. The final trio, who had decided to bid for me. The three men that Hana knew could afford her price. These she had allowed to touch me as much as they wanted. To squeeze my breasts and slide their fingers into my sex. To sample my delights before they decided that I was worth buying. Hana had called them all “lord.” Even now, I could recollect the gloating note in her voice as she mocked them with her excessive courtesy. And all of them had simply accepted it as their due. What fools they were!
I saw their faces in my mind and matched a name to each.
The youngest was a man probably barely in his twenties. Hana had called him Lord Sato. By the way he slouched and stared around as if he was wondering why he had honored the Hidden House with his presence, I guessed that he was the spoiled son of at least a minor noble family. He had tried to disguise his interest in me. But I had seen it clearly enough in his eyes. He had not only fingered my black moss, but had also fondled my buttocks and scratched his nails cruelly right inside my anus. My lips peeled back from my teeth in a primal snarl as I remembered how he had made me feel soiled by his very touch.
Number two was Lord Hara. Out of all of the men, he had puzzled me. He had said little, merely listening to Hana extol my virtues. He, too, had walked around me, inspecting me with eyes and fingers. His hands had been icy, the palms oddly rough. I couldn’t pin a class on him. Not noble. Nor did he strike me as being a merchant. He had money, a great deal of money, or he would not have been there, bidding for me. There was something cold about him, something ruthless. Before he left me, he licked my neck, watching me all the time for a response. When I stayed still as stone, he smiled and told Hana I would do very well. I tried not to think about what he had in mind.
The third and last was Ikeda. Not a daimyo, nor a samurai. If he had been, I would have placed him instantly. But possibly he might have been the son of some noble’s favorite concubine. He had the air about him of somebody who expected to be obeyed instantly. He had loitered in the shadows just inside the screen door and had simply stared at me, with Hana hovering at his side. Out of all of them, he had been the one who asked Hana the most about me. Because he hadn’t wanted to probe me, at first, I had thought him kinder than the others, and I had even felt a little pity for his dreadful appearance. Until Hana told me spitefully after he had gone that he was riddled with baidoku, or “plum poison.” The disease takes its name from the appearance of the cankers that appear on a man’s tree of flesh in the early stages of the incurable illness; they are thought to resemble plum blossom clusters. Such an innocent name for a truly dreadful disease.
“He’s undergone treatment with mercury several times, but it had no lasting effect. Now, he’s convinced that the only true cure for his disease is intercourse with a virgin. He’s fool enough to take my word that you are still whole and that’s why he’s here.” Even Hana seemed a little uncomfortable about the terrible death she was condemning me to if Ikeda won. She shrugged and added, “He’s not the wealthiest of all of them. He may well not win you.”
Out of the three, Ikeda was the one I would recognize instantly. Once he was seen, it would have been impossible to forget him. Although he lurked in the shadows as he watched me, I had seen that his face was the stuff of nightmares. His terrible disease had progressed to the extent that his nose was almost rotted away. He constantly sniffed, wiping his face with a piece of silk. At first, I had thought the marks on his face and neck were smallpox pits. When Hana told me about the baidoku, I guessed that they were yet another aspect of his vile condition. His voice was odd as well. He spoke thickly, as though his words were fighting their way through a mouthful of food. I guessed he smoked heavily; even from a distance, the odor of his pipe hung about his clothes and hair. As he watched me, he fumbled at his obi and drew a pipe from an ornate ivory kiseruzutsu pipe holder. Hana lit it for him from a candle, and when I saw his face more clearly in the wavering light, I shuddered.
It was with minimal regret that I decided I would have to exclude Ikeda from my plans at the moment. He had wanted a virgin. Kamakiri the oiran would have no allure for him. The most sought after oiran combined the talents of a geisha with the attractions of a yujo, but at the end of the day, they were still top-flight women of pleasure. Ikeda would hardly be lured by me. I would return to him later, when I was satisfied that the other two men had received their just reprisal.
I felt instinctively that the remaining two would be interested in Kamakiri the oiran. Something told me that that they had wanted Hana’s offering at least in part because I was both rare and sought after. Both men had been interested in beating the competition, in obtaining the unobtainable. Kamakiri the oiran was a similar proposition. A brilliant new oiran who had set the Floating World on fire with gossip. An oiran who was said to be waiting for the single patron who she would choose because she felt he was the very best.
Hana had told me that all the other men who had been to see me had dropped out of the competition when my price went beyond
their purses, leaving these three to bid up my final price between them. Yo had helped me escape before the victor could triumph, and I had been intensely grateful for that. But now, the time had come when I would seek out those three remaining men who had wanted to buy me and turn me into their slave. Find them and destroy them, just as I had already destroyed Akafumu.
Niko passed me my tea, and I turned my thoughts away from my prey. “We will go out for our walk again tonight, Niko.” I smiled at her. “Just as last night, you will not answer any questions.”
“How long do we do this for? What’s the point?” Niko asked. I wished I could tell her, but caution held me silent. I wanted to keep Niko away from any possible danger. I knew that the three men I was seeking were not only rich, but well connected and important men, as were all Hana’s patrons. I was playing with fire, and I had to tread very carefully if I was to triumph and walk away safely.
We would take our evening walk, night after night, until I caught the attention of those I was seeking. If I failed, then I would be forced to find my quarry in some other way. I hoped that would not be necessary; it was too much like setting a trap and walking into it myself.
“We will do it for as long as it takes,” I said simply. Niko puffed out her cheeks and then shrugged her shoulders, smiling. The movement said more clearly than words could that I was her elder sister, and as far as she was concerned, anything I said or did was correct. I was touched.
There was already a crowd waiting for us when we left the house. Niko’s impatience was contagious. I held my head high and walked with apparent indifference to the throng that flowed behind us, but inwardly I was exasperated. Surely, at least one of the trio I wanted must have heard the gossip about the amazing new oiran? Heard and been intrigued enough to take a look. We were almost at the teahouse where we had stopped yesterday when I heard somebody whispering to Niko. My heart missed a beat as I caught a name. Hara-san. I glanced around lazily, as if I was simply bored, and saw a man who looked like a well-dressed servant close to Niko. I cursed my own stupidity. Of course my victims would not show themselves. They would expect me to allow myself to be summoned to their presence.
The servant pressed a piece of paper into Niko’s hand and then turned abruptly and thrust his way through the crowd that hemmed us in. He was gone in a moment. I took the note from her and read it casually, my expression betraying nothing of my inner joy. Hara-san hoped that I would honor him by visiting his home. I crumpled the paper between my fingers and tossed it aside as if it bored me. I had him! I was so pleased that my plan was beginning to move forward that we were inside the teahouse before I remembered the shadow that had followed us home yesterday and waited outside the house. I concentrated my mind on feeling if he was nearby. I was puzzled when I sensed nobody.
When we finished with our tea and cakes, two of my followers competed loudly and at length to pay our reckoning. I allowed the victor—who was grossly overcharged by the teahouse owner—the smallest of smiles. I almost laughed aloud at the obvious delight in his face. What fools these men were.
I allowed myself the hope that Hara-san would be just as easily deceived.
Twenty-Two
I watch you smile in
Your sleep, and I wonder, is
It me you dream of?
“You will be safe on your own? What if somebody comes with a message? Who’s going to answer the bell?”
Niko fussed like a hen with wandering chicks. I shook my head at her. Now that the time for her first lesson at the temple had come, she was intensely nervous.
“Go,” I said firmly. “I shall manage without you for a day. Take Matsuo with you. There’s far more danger for a young girl walking alone than there is for me in my own house. Listen to the monk and do as he tells you.”
She went, finally, slouching and with many a backward glance. Matsuo walked obediently at her heels. I felt very alone without either of them, but I knew it was necessary.
As soon as Niko was out of sight, I drew water from the well and heated it. I washed as carefully as I could from a bowl and then put my makeup on. Not as thickly as I had worn it for our walks, but still enough to disguise my real face. I untied my hair and brushed it until it hung thick and lustrous. It was as far from Kamakiri the anma’s scraped back hair as it could possibly be. Finally, I changed my plain house robe for a beautiful kimono and then simply sat and waited.
He would come. I could feel it.
I had awoken in the darkest hours of the night, bewildered as I wondered why I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. I lifted my head and listened. There was nothing except for the murmur of the Floating World in the distance. The city that never slept, Isamu had called it. Rightly so. I closed my eyes and concentrated on letting all thoughts slip away from me. When my mind was empty, I listened with my essential being, but there was still nothing. I was confused. Something had startled me into wakefulness. A dream, perhaps? I could remember nothing. But I trusted my instincts. I waited quietly, staring into the darkness.
Complete relaxation had me trembling on the verge of sleep again when the answer I was seeking slid into my mind. I knew who had waited outside yesterday. No shinobi, this. Not even one of the admiring throng who had crowded closely around us during the evening walk. I smiled as a face formed itself out of the shadows.
Adam. The gaijin who had been kind to Kamakiri the anma. The man whose trust I had repaid by stealing his morphine pills. Did he know that Kamakiri the oiran was also Kamakiri the anma? I had no way of knowing for sure, but I felt instinctively that he had not made the connection. But clearly he had seen Kamakiri the oiran and had been so entranced that he had hovered outside my house for hours, silent and—or so he thought—unseen. I smiled as the thought came to me that it was also highly unlikely that he would recognize me for another reason entirely. I had no doubt that to him all Japanese women looked much the same.
He would be back. If he had found his plain anma attractive, how was he supposed to resist the lure of the sumptuous oiran who bore the same name?
I felt his presence when he drew close to the house. I felt good fortune was smiling on me. If he had chosen to arrive at my door when Niko was there, I knew she would have disapproved of him deeply. And she would, no doubt, have made her dislike known very vocally. I felt his hesitation as he hovered outside, unsure whether to call out or ring the bell. I was tempted to call and tell him to come in, but I held my words patiently. I was an oiran now. I had neither the special skills of an onna-bugeisha nor the acute senses of a blind anma. I had to remember that. It would be easy to make a mistake.
The bell jangled finally. I waited until I guessed he was about to ring again, and then called out for him to enter.
“Good day, sir.” I stood and bowed, pretending to cover amazement that it was a gaijin who had entered my house.
“Good day.”
He hesitated, clearly at a loss for how to continue. I watched him and hid a smile. I could see his discomfort; it was quite touching. And also obvious was the fact that he didn’t recognize me.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I think I must have made a mistake. I saw you walking and I thought I knew you. But I was wrong. I apologize for intruding on you.”
He bowed deeply and turned as if he was about to leave but still hesitated. One word from me would be enough. But did I want him to stay? Thoughts flew through my mind so rapidly that they felt like lightning striking inside my head. The way Yo’s slightest touch could arouse me to ecstasy; the memory of Adam’s tree rearing at me like a river monster; the many hours in the night when I had awoken alone and lonely.
“Please, do not go.” I spoke without conscious thought, but I was not at all surprised at myself. I understood that this moment had been inevitable since I first realized he had followed me home. “I do not believe we have met before, but as you can see, I am all alone. I would welcome a little company. Would you care to take some tea? Or perhaps sake?”
�
�Tea would be wonderful. Thank you.”
I gestured for him to sit, and he folded his height quite gracefully. He watched as I prepared the tea things. I guessed he had seen the tea ceremony performed before, in high-class teahouses where the performers had been well-trained geisha, but I was determined that never would he have seen it done so elegantly as today. I made sure that each movement was as fluid as a butterfly stretching its wings before flight. When I finally handed him the cup of green tea, I was satisfied.
“That was quite beautiful. As is your home. I’m beginning to think that all Japanese homes are decorated in exquisite taste.”
Adam sounded surprised. I lowered my head and murmured my pleasure at his words. At the same time, I was slightly annoyed. Did he think me a mere yujo? A woman of pleasure who knew—and needed to know—nothing more than how to give pleasure with her body? Oiran were more akin to geisha than yujo. Just like geisha, an oiran must be able to pleasure all of a man’s senses. She must be able to sing and dance, play the samisen with exquisite skill, and make her patron feel as if he was a god come down to earth. And, of course, she must make the mere act of serving tea into a piece of superb theater. Everything flowed through my thoughts in the time it took me to smile politely, and then I recollected what he had actually said. How many Japanese homes had he visited? It was unheard of for a gaijin to be invited to a Japanese house; had I misunderstood? I would find out, but not for a moment. First, the formalities had to be gone through.
“I am delighted to make you happy, sir. I must apologize,” I added smoothly. “But I do not know the honorable gentleman’s name.”
“Adam.” He bowed his head politely. “And you are Kamakiri-san.”
I allowed my face to express astonishment that he knew my name.
“I am called Kamakiri, yes. But how did you know me?” I bit my lip, pretending confusion. “Forgive me, Adam-san. Have we met before? I cannot believe that we have, for surely I would have remembered you.”