by India Millar
“Ah. You mean he’s nanshuko.” Amongst the samurai classes, it was common for an older man to take a younger male lover. It was called wakashudo—the way of youth. But most samurai, no matter how enamored they were with their wakashu, also took a wife and concubines. For a man to be nanshuko was different. In that case, he was interested only in his own sex. I remembered Sato scrabbling at my buttocks when I was masquerading as Jun, the young girl who could have been taken for a wakashu with her samurai top-knot and slender body. And Hana had known her man all too well. I remembered that she had whispered to Sato that I had fled my noble home to escape to the Floating World with my female lover who had left me for a man. I had no doubt that my ambivalent sexuality had intrigued Sato.
No wonder he had shown no interest in the sumptuous oiran Kamakiri. I frowned, wondering if Niko’s words meant that Sato was out of my reach. Niko was still smiling, and my spirits rose as she passed on the gossip about Sato.
“He is nanshuko, but not always.” She waggled her hand from side to side in an ambivalent gesture. “Everybody in the Floating World knows about Sato and his nasty habits. Generally, he sticks to the kagema.” I nodded. Even I had heard of the male prostitutes of the Floating World. “When he wants a change, his reputation is so bad he has problems. The yujo hate him, and not even the owners of the cheapest lattice brothels will let him in anymore. He’s too fond of hurting the girls. He has to take himself off to the children’s brothels instead and buy young girls. I’ve heard he’s not welcome in most of those places anymore because he doesn’t care how badly he marks the little girls, and if he hurts then too obviously, it destroys their value. Even most of the kagema don’t like him because he enjoys hurting them too much as well.”
I shuddered as I recalled Sato’s talon-like fingernails scrabbling at my anus. He had grinned while he did it, obviously enjoying my pain.
“It’s not just that he’s too rough,” Niko explained cheerfully. “I mean, the kagema are used to that sort of thing. It’s his attitude as well. He thinks if he pays enough, it’s his right to do exactly as he likes. I heard—” She dropped her voice to a confidential whisper. “—that he hurt one poor kagema so badly the poor thing nearly died. This particular kagema was a favorite of his. Sato used to visit him often, and the silly man had actually fallen in love with him. He was so infatuated with Sato that he took anything he wanted to inflict and actually showed off his bruises. He seemed to think they were proof of how much Sato cared for him.”
She was silent and we both shook our heads in disbelief at the powers of deception that love could arouse.
“Anyway, Sato must have gotten bored with just beating this kagema, and one day he used a wakizashi samurai sword instead of his tree and the kagema was cut so badly he nearly bled to death.”
“No!” I exclaimed. Niko nodded.
“I believe it’s true,” she said. “It was the gossip of the Floating World at the time. Mind you, once he recovered, the kagema got his revenge. I heard he went and got an audience with Sato’s father and actually had the courage to whip his kimono aside and show the old man the scars his son had inflicted. The father must have given him a great deal of money to keep him quiet, as he disappeared from the Floating World altogether after that. Of course, Sato’s father wouldn’t have known we all knew about it already.
“After that, Sato stayed away from the Floating World for months and months. When he came back, he went straight back to a kagema. He boasted that he’d convinced his father he’d reformed, and that the old man must have believed him as he was arranging a marriage for him. Sato seemed to think that was really funny. I heard he made a joke of it to the extent of saying he hoped his future wife wasn’t a virgin because if she were, she’d stay that way forever after he married her.”
“Really?” I breathed. “What is Sato, then? I mean, does he come from a noble family?”
“No. His father’s a civil servant.”
“You’re certain he’s not samurai?” I was surprised. Virtually all high-ranking civil servants came from samurai clans.
“I’m sure,” she insisted. “His father’s the first assistant to a governor of one of the domains just outside Edo. I think Kamakura. Anyway, I’m certain Sato’s father isn’t noble. I’ve heard his family is wealthy and well connected, but not samurai or daimyo. But that doesn’t stop Sato from taking lovers from influential families. There’s no accounting for taste! Anyway, the latest gossip is that Sato’s father has convinced himself that his only son will settle down once he’s married to a suitable girl and will give him grandchildren. He’s dreaming. All Sato wants to do is enjoy himself amongst the kagema and those children’s brothels that are still willing to take his money.”
Niko made us tea, and I sat and sipped my cup with great enjoyment. After a while, I asked Niko if she would be all right if I left her on her own for a few days.
“I think it might be as well for you to move back into the Jokan-Ji house until I come back,” I added. “You’ll be safe there.”
She looked at me with her head on one side. “If you say so. Planning on going on a trip outside Edo, are you?” I shrugged. Niko sighed theatrically, obviously not at all fooled. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Matsuo to protect me, and Aisha to go to if I have any problems.”
“Good. Before I leave, there’s somebody that I must go and visit,” I added.
Niko gasped in horror when I told her who we were going to see.
Twenty-Six
What matters in life
Is not what you have achieved,
But that which remains
I had decided on my journey back from Hara’s residence that I needed to talk to Akira, Hana’s yakuza. And if I was about to leave Edo, then I should do it now. It fitted in perfectly with my plans. Nobody except Niko would know where I was, and Niko herself would be safe, hidden in the temple house. I couldn’t imagine that anything could go wrong with my scheme, but if the gods turned their faces against me and something were to go wrong, then my enemies could suspect all they liked, but they wouldn’t be able to find me, and Niko would be safe.
Niko walked behind me, but close enough to hiss directions. We caused our usual stir. I had become used to people turning to stare as I passed by, and now I simply ignored them.
“Here.” Niko inclined her head. I had been deep in my thoughts and looked around startled. We had stopped at the head of a short cul-de-sac. There was only one house in it, a large, single-story building almost hidden behind a high, stone wall. The sturdy wooden gate set in the wall reminded me very much of our family estate. I looked at our destination curiously. Of course, I should have anticipated that the head of the most powerful yakuza clan in Edo would take great care of his safety. I supposed that the house hidden behind the wall would be every bit as vulgar as Hara-san’s opulent home.
Niko jangled the bell beside the gate. I had expected to be kept waiting, but we were not. The gate swung open before the noise of the bell ceased. I glanced at Niko and shrugged. Once we were inside, the gate closed behind us immediately. I glanced around, expecting to see a servant, but there was nobody.
“Is it magic, do you think?” Niko asked fearfully.
I shook my head. “Of course not,” I said firmly. “It’s just some sort of clever mechanism. No doubt meant to impress visitors.”
Although I didn’t say it, I was impressed. I was even more impressed by my first sight of Akira’s house. Unlike the immaculate exterior of Hara’s home, the wood here had been allowed to mellow to a natural silver color and the roof tiles were mottled with lichen. The effect was harmonious and very pleasing to the eye.
A garden ran around the front and sides of the house. That also surprised me. Every garden I had ever seen had been planted on Zen principles. They might contain a few carefully pruned shrubs and—if they were large enough—small trees, all set on carefully raked gravel and interspersed with smooth rocks or boulders or possibly interesting driftwood pieces. Akira’s
garden laughed in the face of Zen. It was a mad riot of color. Azaleas entwined with hibiscus. Maple and cherry blossom trees lived next to each other. Camellias nudged dwarf bamboos. It should have looked a mess, but the combination of so many colors and varied scents was a delight to my senses.
I took a deep breath and found that I was remarkably relaxed.
“Should I ring?” Niko was clearly on edge. Her eyes darted around as if she expected us to be surrounded by armed men at any moment.
“Of course.” The bell’s sound seemed very loud in the peace of the garden. It suddenly occurred to me that although we were in the very heart of the Floating World, there was no noise at all, apart from birds singing in the garden. Was Akira so very feared that the people of the Floating World avoided his house?
The tranquility was broken abruptly by a loud, high pitched scream. Niko wailed in fear, and I grabbed her arm to stop her from turning and running. The howl was repeated as the shoji door slid back.
The interior of the house was too dark for me to see a great deal. I assumed a servant had opened the door, but before I could speak, a man’s voice came out of the shade. A deep, very attractive voice that carried a clear undertone of amusement.
“Kamakiri-san, I am honored by your visit. Welcome to my home.”
The high-pitched howl was repeated. It sounded like a woman being tortured. I felt Niko shaking with terror and I touched her arm reassuringly. I had heard that unearthly screech before, and I knew there was no danger in it for us. Dreadful as the sound was, it came from no human throat. It was a dog, a shiba inu. Soji, my sister’s future husband, had kept two shiba inu bitches, both loyal and intelligent dogs. And they had always greeted guests with this unearthly howl. It had delighted me when Soji had commented that I was the only person—apart from him, of course—that his dogs would allow to pet them.
“My girls may be small, but they are fierce,” he had said complacently. “They are terribly aggressive toward strangers, and fussy about who they like. You’re honored,” he had complimented me.
Remembering my old friends, I spoke calmly. “Good day, Akira-san. As you can see, my dog has accompanied us. Will he be safe with your shiba inu?”
“Undoubtedly. My bitch is always delighted to be in the company of large dogs. I think it amuses her to bully them. Will you come inside?” he replied courteously.
“It will be my pleasure,” I replied. And I meant it.
Niko followed so closely behind me that she nearly trod on my kimono. She flinched back as Akira’s dog barreled into the room. The creature stopped dead at the sight of us and then advanced cautiously and sniffed at Matsuo with interest. I bent and offered my hand to her for inspection.
“What’s she called?” I asked as the dog abandoned Matsuo and licked my hand.
“Marika.” Akira sounded surprised. I stroked the dog’s head and she pushed her muzzle into my hand.
“Jasmine. A good name for her. She’s as white as jasmine and just as beautiful,” I said approvingly.
“I’m astonished,” Akira commented. “Shiba inu are the most loyal of dogs and always intolerant of strangers. Yet you have her at your feet.”
“I like animals.” I smiled. “And fortunately, they like me.”
“So I see,” he said approvingly. “You will take tea with me, Kamakiri-san.”
It was a statement rather than a question. My usual reaction to such high-handedness would have been to refuse, simply to teach him a lesson. But there was something about Akira that intrigued me and instead I smiled.
“That would be lovely.”
Akira clapped his hands without taking his gaze away from my face. A young servant girl appeared immediately. I was very pleased that he was courteous to her.
“Ami, prepare tea for us, please. Niko, will you go with Ami? I’ll call you when your mistress is ready to go.”
Niko bowed and scurried after Ami without a second look. I got the distinct impression that she was deeply relieved to have been dismissed from his presence.
Akira stood aside and held his arm out in a gesture that invited me to pass into the next room.
As I walked past him, I said casually, “How did you know who we were?”
“I’ve been expecting you,” he said simply. “In fact, I’m surprised it’s taken you so long to come see me.”
Twenty-Seven
Should I be content
With touching no more than the
Moon’s pale reflection?
Akira no doubt expected his words to amaze me. Thanks to Niko, they did not.
She had commented several times that she had expected a visit from one or other of the Floating World yakuza eager to offer us their protection.
“By which you mean they want tea money from me,” I said wryly. “Not much point in them asking for that. I haven’t taken any patrons.”
“Yes, but they don’t know that,” Niko pointed out shrewdly. “All they’ll see is a beautiful new oiran who’s creating a tremendous stir. They’ll expect you to be earning lots of money, and they’ll want their share.”
As not one of the yakuza had come forward to offer to safeguard me, I had shrugged off Niko’s warnings. Now, I understood.
“I’ve been expecting a visit from one of your…colleagues,” I said carefully. “Do I have you to thank for their neglect?”
“You do,” he said simply. “I was beginning to wonder when you would find it curious that you had been ignored. In fact, if you hadn’t come to see me, I was beginning to think I would have to go to you.”
“I see.” I smiled, ordering my thoughts. This wasn’t about tea money; Akira was too rich and powerful to concern himself with the earnings from a single oiran. I was puzzled. He appeared to be totally unlike the gangster I had expected to find, but even so, he could have no idea why I had really come to see him. So, what did he think I was here for?
We were both silent as we waited for the tea. It was a comfortable sort of silence. The quiet that exists between very old friends who have no need to speak just for the sake of it. I stared around the room with interest. At the same time, I noticed Akira was staring at me with equal interest.
My inspection finally complete, I brought my attention back to my host. After my experience with Hara, I had expected Akira’s home to be similarly vulgar. I could not have been more wrong. Certainly, everything I could see was the very best of its kind. But the furniture was sparse, and there was no decoration at all apart from an obviously very old and equally very beautiful scroll in the tokonoma alcove. The room was elegant in its simplicity, and at the same time extremely comfortable. This was a room meant not for show, but for living in.
“You approve of my humble home?” Akira asked. I felt he really wanted to know my answer, and I nodded quickly.
“Yes,” I said simply. “It’s beautiful.”
Akira was looking at me intently. Even if I had not known of his reputation, I would have understood instinctively that he was a dangerous man. He had the air of a man who was used to being obeyed—instantly. And something more. I stared straight into his eyes, and the word “power” sang in my mind. That was it, exactly. Akira had power. And I didn’t doubt for a moment that he was completely ruthless in the way he used that power. And, I admitted, he was also a remarkably attractive man.
His eyes were the unusual, very light grey color that is held to show when a spirit has much water in its being. Others might find him intimidating, probably terrifying if that was how he chose to present himself, but to me, he was courteous and friendly. Almost gentle. His character was obviously as fluid as the water that composed his inner spirit. His nose was long and straight, his cheekbones as high as my own. His lips were rather full; I was suddenly sure that Akira would know how to kiss a woman properly. Kiss and give her other pleasures even greater.
I wondered cynically how many women had looked at Akira and thought exactly the same thing. Just as well that I had no intention of standing in line to await h
is attention. Besides, I was here purely on business. I reminded myself briskly that my thoughts were entirely inappropriate. I was a samurai; he was nothing but a low-life yakuza. Under normal circumstances, we would never even have spoken.
Ami came in with our tea, and I took my cup from her with a murmur of thanks.
“I am very glad you are here, Kamakiri-chan.” The endearment fell so naturally from his lips that it took me a moment to notice it. If any other man had been so familiar after so slight an acquaintance, they would have felt the cutting edge of my tongue. I was annoyed with myself for accepting it and would have corrected Akira firmly if his next words hadn’t surprised me into silence. “I owe you a very great apology.”
I was startled. This was not what I had expected. I inclined my head and raised my eyebrows in surprise.
“How can that be so, Akira-san?” I was too polite; my response sounded artificial. “I don’t believe we have met before, so how could you have offended me?”
“No, we haven’t met. If we had, I would surely have remembered you.” Was the yakuza flirting with me? I watched the small muscles of his face and saw none of the tell-tale tightness I would have expected if he was trying very hard to impress me. I was wary. Even more so when he went on. “But I know of you. From Hana.”
He paused, looking to see my reaction. I kept a stone face, counting my racing heartbeats until they began to slow. When I was ready, I spoke carefully.
“Hana,” I said softly. “Yes. It is partly because of her that I came to see you today. But you said you owed me an apology. Tell me why.”
“I have been out of Edo for some time,” he said, apparently irrelevantly. “I had business elsewhere that detained me for longer than I expected. When I got back, I found that Hana had been attracting even more attention than usual. The Floating World loves gossip, particularly when it involves any sort of scandal about the noble classes.”