by T. Cook
I blinked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You are right to affect as much confusion as you do with me, but you shall be eaten alive if you don’t begin to make a study of socio-political stratagy.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Listen to me. As you establish your reputation for weaving fine silk, you will receive many invitations and much recognition. You will become quite rich. Men will seek your society. And then what will you do? Have you ever been alone with a man? How will you know how to evaluate a prospect?”
I admitted I didn’t know.
“Having lost your good father, and your mother being how she is—you know, willing to expose you to all sorts of people for money—I suppose you will be married to the first dominating suitor to come along and make his case. He will work you like a slave at the loom and take all the money for himself.”
“How is stratagy supposed to help me?”
“Darling. We’re women and cannot hope to get our way by force. We must resort to more indirect means. But it takes practice.”
“How do we do that?”
“Fuyuko, dear. I cannot teach you everything. I can introduce you. Get you started. Then we will see if the bird can fly. Tomorrow my father and many of the house servants will be busy visiting the local farms. I can arrange a trip to town with my mother and Madame Sato, leaving you alone here. You can take all the time you need.”
I hesitated. “I don’t think I understand.”
“You need not be afraid.” Kiyo began to offer a few more instructions that I couldn’t bear to hear, and I was sorry I had let the conversation follow to this point. “Let’s say no more about this subject.”
“I meant nothing by it. Only, I am rather surprised your mother hasn’t had this little talk with you herself. But then, she may not be fully aware—”
“Aware of what?” I may as well have asked frankly. I had already ruined my poise by biting my lip.
“There are proposals already on their way, if your mother has not received them already. It is possible she has accepted someone in your behalf. You cannot act too soon in that case.”
“I am sure my mother hasn’t…” But Kiyo had startled me by this suggestion. I had no idea whether Madame had entertained anything of the kind. Would she be so bold toward a fictional daughter? I knew at once she would. And it was too late to veil the fear that had had already so clearly shaken me.
“Let us arrange it this way. Pluck a peony blossom from the garden and thread it through the doors when you are ready. If you cannot summon the courage, then… let your mother dictate your life for you.” Kiyo rose to her feet. “I must go now. And you can return to your napping—I mean, work. What a life it must be!” she said, and sighed.
Then she was gone, and I confronted the implications of what had passed between us. I had not intended to give Kiyo her way—not when I might negotiate Shin’s freedom myself. But Kiyo was shrewd, and I shouldn’t have been surprised she had maneuvered to her own advantage.
Worse to think of was what Kiyo had only implied, and I shuddered. Were intimate liaisons with Shin common practice? I didn’t really believe it possible. Kiyo was subtle, but not imaginative. She thought only of herself and beyond that, her ideas failed. She could never see Shin for who he was. I didn’t believe she would choose him, or he her. He was only useful to her as a device of torture to me.
I debated back and forth as I paced the floor, mentally undressing every peony bush in the garden. On one hand, I urged myself to take my time, and not give Kiyo any more material she might decide to use against me.
And yet, I was tempted to cut ties with everyone and run away with Shin now, ahead of any accusations Kiyo might make. I owed nothing to anyone here—not even, I told myself, to Madame Sato. But my internal debate tended toward nothing but emotional exhaustion, and at last, sleep.
* * *
Upon first awakening, I almost believed I had done it myself.
Not one, but a fat bouquet of full-blown blossoms, decapitated from their bush, embraced within the handle of the shoji doors.
At one time, I would have suspected I had acted in perverse subjugation of my right mind. But in this moment, I knew I hadn’t. Kiyo would deny having done it, but it had been her and no one else. She would watch me—make me a fool and a public spectacle if she could.
Fine. I would beg Shin to run away with me. My nobility was a fraud. I had never cared for social approval and the world may as well know it.
I found a little satchel and filled it with a few of my belongings. I had so little money. Madame had always provided for me, but this would not matter. Shin and I were resourceful. I busied myself as though activity might by itself make a difference to our flight. I could not sit still and think. What little thinking I did stung me to my bones.
Robed in silk, hair combed and coiffed, I prepared to confront Shin, who I still looked on as an immortal. That I should appear to him while pretending aristocracy was irony beyond imagination. I could hardly bear the thought of speaking to him—pretentious in the hummingbird obi he had watched me embroider with my own laboring hands. I trembled with distraction so great I didn’t hear the doors part.
And when I turned, there he stood, lit by the late afternoon sun’s rays. To me, he always withstood the sun well for beauty.
He met my gaze only for an instant and then bowed low. “Lady.”
I shuddered. “Don’t. You know the fraud I have committed in appearing this way—to anyone, but especially to you.” I gripped the obi sash tied around my middle and would have torn it violently along its seam, but more quickly still, Shin seized my hand.
His breath fell rough against my cheek. “There is no fraud. I know you better than you know yourself.” His hand relaxed and I shrank to the floor.
“Can you forgive me?”
He dropped to the floor beside me. “What?”
“You were arrested for my sake.”
Slowly, he raised my face to meet his. “Do you think I am bound?”
I flinched in surprise. “You serve Master Nobu.”
“I am only biding my time. He isn’t holding me here.”
The truth of this statement hit me with force. And I knew it was so, but I couldn’t yet understand it.
“Why are you waiting? When will you leave?”
He averted his eyes, and whispered, “I am waiting your readiness.”
I caught my breath. “Then it is now!”
He shook his head.
“Why? I am here, and I don’t trust Master Nobu’s daughter not to expose us—not to cast doubt on my noble status. Every moment is a risk for me.”
“I don’t doubt she will try to expose you someday, but she won’t succeed.”
“How do you know?”
“She won’t move against you until she is in a greater position of influence. Moving too quickly will extend herself beyond her position of power, and she will lose her wedding robe in the process. She is not eager to do that. Finish your work for her. Offer her all of your assistance and be as useful to her as you can. Then wait. You will receive an important invitation. Accept it and never look back!”
“But what good is any of that to us? I could negotiate your freedom—”
He put his finger to my lips. “I will take my freedom when the time is right. You needn’t risk yourself to do it.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon. Will you trust me?”
I felt I must trust him and said so. But he set his jaw grimly and answered, “We will see.”
This expression of doubt so provoked me, the words burst from my mouth unconsidered, “Ask me anything!”
He replied with a crushing, “I have nothing to ask.”
“You mean, nothing you want.”
One rough hand held my resisting face to meet his gaze. “Were you listening to me?”
I shook my head free, but his gaze held mine. “Know this—and never
forget it! You are worthy! Where you are going they will teach you to doubt it. I will prove it to you someday, but even without proof you must believe me. I will come. Promise to be ready.”
I promised.
He assisted me to my feet. I should not have been surprised to find he could manage the kitsuke of the disheveled sash. He could, and beautifully. He worked patiently, his warm breath falling on the nape of my neck, the neck he had once healed. At last he paused. Only then did I feel the tension in his hands, and it traveled swiftly from his fingers to my core. Our breathing fell into a rhythm and just as I thought I might not survive another moment of his nearness… he released me, disappearing through the doors.
I sank, trembling to the tatami.
The moon had risen high in the sky before I released myself again from a tight fetal position. The light softened my tension and relaxed my spine. Gradually, I unfolded and lengthened my limbs, then turned my face to the glowing orb. I stared at its familiar face and let its light pull me to standing.
I would need every fractal of illumination, every glimmer of hope my mother moon could give me before the end would come.
31
Kiyo appeared with a face as self-satisfied as I had ever seen, even behind opaque cosmetic.
“Was I not right? Did I not tell you I could arrange everything? All is well and now you are ready for the next step. However, you must not be too eager. You cannot have my pet. You must find your own.”
“I cannot think of another person as a pet, much less Shin.”
Kiyo affected a hurt countenance. “Such ingratitude. I think I have been as generous to you as anyone could ever be, and now you are coveting my possessions. But I won’t fret.” She sighed, then murmured, “Better get some sleep, Fuyuko. You look as though you need some.”
* * *
I worked, and slept for no more than two hours at a stretch for the succeeding seven days and nights. It was well I didn’t take much rest. The products of my labor seemed to distract Kiyo from her role as tormenter. Temporarily, she was quite overcome with pleasure because of them. I did as Shin had asked and worked hard to be serviceable to her, though at times her talk was almost beyond my endurance, less bearable even than Madame Ozawa’s switch.
“Fuyuko. I will invite you for a visit in my new home and if you will make me another piece as lovely as this, I will introduce you to some very good friends—but you must promise me not to work for them. Or at least only at my say-so. It is too thrilling to think of how I shall look in this! Oh, you really are brilliant. I could lock you up in my attic forever!”
I would have been a fool to doubt it. And I waited for her to lay her plan against me. Sometimes she spoke to me of finding me another person with whom to ‘practice’ my manipulative arts, but she was in no position to execute this plan in her father’s house. Yet, I knew she plotted. No matter how hard I worked, I could not satisfy her. I tried hard to do her bidding, but I could not, and would not, do everything, and she wouldn’t feel secure until she had hooked me fast.
“You have worked so hard. I see you, weaving away day after day. No doubt you work past dark some nights. I want to reward you in some way! I want to give you my knowledge.”
“I had not much literary training,” I admitted without thinking. “There is so much I would like to learn.”
“Practically anyone can teach you basic letters. Don’t you understand I have tools much more valuable than that?”
“Well, to me—”
“Listen to me. I can teach you what no one else can—and what you are most in need of learning.”
I braced myself for a new affront.
“I can teach you how to get the upper hand with a man. Soon you shall know many. Sooner than you realize.”
“I don’t want the upper hand.”
“Oh you will, though. You will need it desperately. And you had better listen closely to me now, for you will need the skill by week’s end. My father’s brother is coming to stay and will bring his son. They will be here for the wedding, but if I know my cousin, he will make the most of his visit here. You may depend upon it.”
I hated to ask, but could not help doing so. “What do you mean?”
“Fuyuko. You are a lovely girl. More importantly, your talents with silk will be much on display. All will wish to see my trousseau. We will all be talking of the cost involved. You will certainly have an offer. Or your mother will. But I do not think he would make you very happy. He is of a good family, certainly. But he has very rigid ideas about women and their place. I think you would find him quite suffocating.”
“I will not marry him, or anyone.”
“You will if you must. Every girl says she will not marry at some time or other. But you will.”
These were, perhaps, the truest words she would ever speak to me.
* * *
Over the succeeding days, Kiyo tutored me in the art of escaping, or at least manipulating, a fate of matrimony. She lectured as she paced the tatami. “Men are sensitive to rejection. Give my cousin a way to save face and you will spare him and yourself so much trouble. But remember, you must be subtle, but clear enough for him to recognize you are not a suitable wife for him. This is simple enough, you disqualified yourself the other afternoon in the garden.”
My jaw fell. “I should tell him that?”
Her eyes flew wide. “Admit nothing! Don’t be a fool. I told you to be subtle.”
I stammered, “I’m not subtle.”
She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Do I have to do everything for you? Laugh at his vulgar jokes; let him lead you off alone; don’t let him get too far with you, but give him a taste. He will know.”
“Suppose he became angry and aggressive.”
“Put him off. Mollify his disappointment with promises of future intimacy to keep him cooperative, but never follow through.”
I wanted to speak, but I held my tongue. She was annoyed with me—and with my failure to properly value her ‘knowledge,’ as she chose to term it. And perhaps it was very valuable advice she had dispensed to me. I had never been to court or had many associations with society. And so I said nothing, and she went away passably convinced I actually meant to lead her cousin into a seduction.
* * *
I summoned Madame.
“Have you received any proposals from men in my behalf?”
She stood silent, not answering for several seconds. “Yes,” she finally admitted.
I fought to keep my composure. “What have you answered them?”
“I have said nothing.”
“Very well. You must decline them.”
Madame raised her chin. “I don’t believe that is in your best interest.”
“You cannot force me into an unwanted marriage!”
Now Madame fought to keep composure. “Dear. You don’t know what you want. You have never been a wife or a mother. You don’t know the happiness of holding your own child.”
“I forbid you to accept any marriage proposal!”
“You may say that, but I don’t believe you will keep your resolve.”
“Should I change my mind, I will tell you.”
“And by then it may be too late. Daughters are never permitted to make these decisions. And for good reason!”
“I will run away before I will marry,” I said, betraying my desperation.
But Madame had determination I had underestimated. “I promise nothing.”
“Then we’ll both live to regret it.” My voice was even, but shoulders trembled in anger.
But Madame’s eyes only hardened. “We will see.”
It was the last we could say on the subject. And so, I was forced to confront the situation using what tools I had—some of them provided by Kiyo, but the most deadly mine alone.
32
The family guests arrived three nights in advance of the wedding date. Guests filled and then overwhelmed the house and its extensive verandas. I thought we might excuse ourselves
and return to the inn, but Madame argued our hosts would take insult. Madame always had her own objectives. We stayed, joining a queue of futon beds, lining most of the great room. I took refuge in numbers.
Master Nobu introduced Madame and myself to his younger brother Ishiro and his wife, but not directly to his children. I noticed Madame repeatedly paired off with him in quiet conversation on the very first day of their arrival. His wife, Rina, seemed to take no interest in the discussion. She wore her years more noticeably than her husband, and wandered about the house as quiet as the shadows she retreated to.
The Nobu heir was young, short, and possibly as thin as myself. We were never in conversation, but I sensed him to be as passive as his mother and took courage. Madame showed no indication of having come to any agreement with Master Nobu’s brother, and eager though she may have been to choose a husband for me, I hoped she would wait. I did not like to think of the rift that would inevitably follow. For now, there seemed little risk of danger, and for the first time in many weeks, I began to relax.
Music and feasting filled every corner of the great Nobu estate. By mid-morning a few already staggered around drunken with rice wine. Wives huddled together to admire the bride’s trousseau or gossip about the expense of the wedding. Children chased heedlessly through the peonies in the garden. Musicians clashed about on the veranda. Through all this, I felt little call for vigilance and watching became tedious.
I would not have gone off alone, day or night, had I felt any risk of danger, but I was slowly suffocating within doors, and the risk seemed so slight.
* * *
Even a hundred jou from the house, the clash of cymbals jarred my nerves. The sun had long set, but the earth still retained much of the day’s heat. Guests would be unable to sleep well for hours yet, and so I lingered on the edge of the grounds, well out of sight of the house.
The wedding procession would begin the following day and I was eager to have it behind me. As Shin had bid me, I had volunteered to perform Kiyo’s kitsuke and she had consented. It would be the last service I would ever give her. Though she talked of inviting me to her new home, I would never go there.