by A. L. Knorr
The soft brush strokes across my eyes and the murmuring sweetness of her voice worked to calm my nerves. The other girls applying makeup and doing their hair around us faded into the background and I could almost convince myself that we were not a bunch of women preparing to entertain criminals, but just young ladies bonding over makeup and hair talk. A stab of longing for my friends passed through me and I wondered what they were up to. Jealousy for the safety of a normal life was the aftertaste.
Chiyoko put the finishing touches on my bottom lip with red paint and leaned back to admire her handiwork. "When your hair is done, you won't look any different than a real Maiko," she said.
I held out my hand for the makeup but she shook her head. "I'll do my own eyes—it’s my favorite part and no one else ever gets it right. No offense."
"None taken," I said with relief. I took my damp hair down and frowned. If Chiyoko expected me to do my own hair in a geisha style, or worse—hers, then she was going to be terribly disappointed.
Chiyoko eyed me. "Go see Madam Kameyo. We get wigs as part of our costumes."
"Oh." I spied the fierce-looking woman by the door speaking to a young woman in glasses. Madam Kameyo had her finger in the girl’s face and the girl was nodding, her eyes downcast. I gulped and steeled my nerves. I wandered over and stood there quietly until the two were done talking and the young woman left the room.
Madam Kameyo spied me. "Come," she said, waving me closer with a sharp hand movement. She grasped my shoulders. "Face," she barked.
I tilted my face up so she could see it. She inspected, making a grunt of approval. "Go to the next room. Miyoko will give you the rest. Tell her I said the chrysanthemum. Go."
I stepped out into the cool hallway and went to the next door. I raised my knuckles to rap but the door opened and a tall woman dressed from head to toe like a geisha came out. She walked by me, gliding like a ghost. I couldn’t help but watch her slide away, silent but for the soft rustle of fabric, her hips swaying under the belt cinching in her waist.
"Well, don't stand there gaping, come in," said a voice.
I stepped into a small space with boxes and bags everywhere. A full length mirror stood in front of a small platform. The woman in the glasses from earlier stood folding up fabric and glanced at me when I came in. Another older woman with enormous glasses tilted her head back to peer at me, her eyes as enormous as an owl’s.
"You must be Miyoko," I said, a tremor in my voice. I cleared my throat. "Madam Kameyo said the chrysanthemum."
"What? Speak up, girl," barked the woman in glasses.
"She said the chrysanthemum," I repeated, louder and more confident this time.
Miyoko snorted and put her hands on her hips. "Did she?" She eyed my form from head to toe. "Well, she has no idea what I have in my inventory." She bent and rifled through a nearby box, muttering to herself. She pulled out a clear plastic bag with blue fabric inside. She pulled it out and tore the bag open. "I say the blue with the cranes will suit you best." She pulled out a robe of bright robin's egg blue and shook it open. She threw it at the other girl and went back to her rummaging.
The other girl waved me over and I stood in front of the mirror. What followed was a lot of turning and lifting my arms as the younger woman swathed me in meters and meters of fabric. My hair was spiraled up and shoved under a tight net cap. An elaborate black wig was placed over the cap and fasted with tiny clips. By the time she was tying the thick belt around my waist, I had begun to sweat.
The last thing to be sorted were the shoes. White socks specially made with a space between my big toe and second toe encased my feet. I stared at the five-inch tall flipflops the young woman shoved in front of my feet. I slipped a foot in, sliding the thong into place. I stepped up onto the first one and then slid my other foot home.
I looked at myself in the mirror and stared for a full minute. Staring back was a geisha who could have stepped out from an ancient tapestry. If I didn't move or blink, I looked like a perfect doll. The red paint on my bottom lip gave me a supernatural pout, and the pink makeup on my eyes reminded me of cherry blossoms. The wig on my head could easily have been mistaken for my own hair. It curved wildly out in upside down cups which covered my ears and arched up high over the crown of my head. A silver clip with dangling blue beads hung down to my cheekbone and swung around as I moved my head.
"How will they know I'm not a real geisha?" I said, my voice an octave higher than normal.
Miyoko rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I swear, the more beautiful they are the more empty their brains," she muttered. She turned away and folded up a discarded robe.
The woman in the black glasses leaned close and said quietly: "No obi belt. Don't mind her. She forgets sometimes that most of the girls here are untrained."
"Do we get a...a crash course?" I asked.
"Sorry," the young woman shook her head and stood up. "You'll have to ask one of the other girls. If you didn't think you could do a convincing job, you shouldn't have signed the contract." She picked up a bunch of discarded plastic bags and then stopped, eyeing what must have been terror on my face. "You look great though," she said cheerfully.
Chapter 15
As soon as she was finished dressing me, Miyoko told me I was free to go to the castle and join the party already underway. Instead, I went back to the dressing room to find Chiyoko. Only a few girls remained, putting the final touches on their makeup. Chiyoko wasn't there. I thought she must have headed to the party and turned to leave. I opened the door just as she was coming in.
"Wow," she said. "You look amazing." She scanned me from wig to platform shoes. "You clean up well."
"So do you," I smiled.
Chiyoko was dressed in a pink kimono with a dense pattern of bamboo leaves reaching up from the hem. A green belt cinched her in at the waist and a wig similar to mine covered her real hair.
"Ready?" she asked.
"As I'll ever be," I said.
Chiyoko gestured to a couple of other girls in the room. "Toshiko, Yuko, are you ready to come down?"
"A few more minutes," waved the one in the bright green kimono. "You go ahead."
Chiyoko nodded and hooked a hand under my elbow. We made our way across the courtyard together to the castle.
"Any last minute tips?" I said, my hands and feet clammy from nerves.
"Try not to let your head bob up and down when you walk, take smaller steps," she lowered her voice as we passed two men standing on a patch of grass and smoking cigarettes. They nodded to us and Chiyoko lowered her eyes and her chin toward them. I did my best to mimic her.
I shortened up my steps and tried to make my gait smooth. "Like this?"
"Better," she said. "Don't make any fast movements. Everything should be slow and graceful. When you have to open a door, always go to your knees first. Slide the door open, get up, go through, kneel again, and slide the door closed."
I closed my eyes, committing her words to memory. "Okay, what else?"
"Always serve them first. Whatever they're drinking, make sure their glass is always full and don't take a drink of anything until they've had a sip first. Don't be loud, no matter how much they make you drink."
"Right." I hadn't thought about that. Of course there was going to be alcohol here, and of course I was going to have to drink. I had never had more than a few glasses of hot sake in my life. At less than a hundred pounds and with no tolerance whatsoever, having my judgement clouded by alcohol was a very real danger.
"If the conversation stalls, suggest a drinking game," Chiyoko said. "They love drinking games."
"Great." What was a drinking game?
We ascended the stone steps to the fortress and nodded to more men standing outside and chatting under the torches. Chiyoko lowered her voice even more. "Laugh at their jokes, but not too loud. Make them feel like you're falling in love with them. After dinner, I can guarantee you that a beautiful girl like you will be asked to go upstairs."
I swal
lowed hard. I wouldn't let it get that far.
She squeezed my arm. "I do not recommend that you say 'no.' They say you have a choice, obviously, but it’s the nature of this job to be a trap. If you do a good enough job making them feel like big men, they will want to take you to bed. If you say no, you risk insulting them." Her voice went right down to a whisper. "And that is not something I recommend you do in this company."
By the time we glided through the dark, expansive foyer of the castle, I was sweating like I'd just sprinted a mile. My heart was thudding so loudly I could hear it echoing off my wig and back into my eardrums. My hands were clammy and I wanted to scratch all the makeup off my face and cut the restrictive kimono off my body with the biggest pair of shears I could find. Regret soured in my mouth. What had I done? I should have found a way to explore the castle as a bird. Why had I chosen to disguise myself?
"Are you okay?" Chiyoko faced me just outside of a closed sliding door. The room on the other side of the door was filled with the sound of voices, traditional Japanese music, and cutlery and clinking glasses. The smells of fried fish, rice, and cooked vegetables filled the foyer.
"Yes," I said through numb lips.
"You'll be fine," she said, her white face seeming expressionless and ghostly in the gloom of the foyer.
She knelt at the door and I knelt behind her. She slid the door open and the noise of the party hit me in the chest. There was no turning back now. Chiyoko got up gracefully and passed through the open door. I followed her and mimicked her every move as she turned to face the door, knelt, and closed it.
Inside the door were four steps leading down to a large space filled with clusters of low tables. Women dressed like maiko glided about carrying trays of food and drinks, and they were distinguishable by the red paint on only their bottom lips. Both geisha, and Caucasian women in gorgeous dresses and high heels, mingled with men dressed in beautifully tailored suits. Chains glinted at the men’s necks, and thick rings brought attention to meaty fingers with portions missing from the knuckles.
At the end of the room, opposite the bar, three geisha danced gracefully to the music of the junanagen and koto, traditional Japanese instruments which were played by two more geisha. Each woman was resplendent in a brightly colored costume and obi-belt.
A few eyes assessed us from the din, but most people didn't notice the two new girls who had entered. I was painfully self-aware of the awkwardness of entering a party where I knew no one. Saxony would be able to navigate something like this like a pro, but I was a textbook introvert.
I followed Chiyoko to the bar at the back of the room, trying to look like I belonged there. A couple of men stood leaning against the bar and drinking beer. They straightened as we approached.
"Hideo," said Chiyoko, smiling and inclining her head. I almost gaped at her. Her voice had transformed. It dripped honey. "How lovely to see you again."
"The fragrant lily returns," said the taller man in the navy suit jacket. A long chain with thick links disappeared under his purple button-down shirt. He took Chiyoko's hand and kissed it. His eyes fell on me. "Who is your beautiful friend?"
"This is Yokana." Chiyoko put a hand on my shoulder. "This is her first year at Tai Island."
I smiled and dipped my chin. "A pleasure to meet you, Hideo."
Hideo introduced his friend as Ryota. Ryota was older, shorter, and broader than his friend. He didn't say anything when introduced, just dropped his chin with a jerk. His calculating eyes examined my face and hair.
"Have you eaten?" Chiyoko asked.
"No, in fact. A table has just come free. Would you like to join us?" Hideo asked.
"We would like nothing more," Chiyoko said.
The men led the way to a small square table near an open window.
I followed Chiyoko's lead in everything, seating myself the same way she did, and holding my hands in my lap.
Ryota had still said nothing and when Chiyoko fell into conversation with Hideo, I leaned forward and said the only thing that came to my mind. "Have you been here before, Ryota?"
"Many times." His voice was rough, like he had a sore throat. "This is our biggest yearly event, but there are many smaller meetings throughout the year..."
I listened politely as Ryota talked, but my mind was racing for a way to bring the conversation around to the fortress and where I might find the swords. Once he got talking, he didn't shut up, and I was grateful for not having to say much aside from polite expressions of interest.
Steaming food appeared before us, as well as drinks, and the four of us could have looked like old friends from the outside. I was too riddled with anxiety to have any appetite, but at urging from Ryota I took small bites. Everything smelled delicious, but it tasted like sawdust in my mouth. My sake cup was never empty and I followed Chiyoko's lead by taking very small but frequent sips. Every movement she made was feminine and delicate. I doubted I looked so natural playing the part of a geisha, but after a few cups of hot sake, I didn't care. My thinking grew a little fuzzy around the edges and as another cup was filled in front of me, I frowned. I was letting too much time go by. I had to get out of here.
Emboldened by the alcohol, I put a palm on Ryota's hand. "I have heard there are some wonderful samurai artifacts here in the fortress. Have you seen them?"
Ryota's cheeks were tinged with pink, but his eyes were clear as he smiled at me. "There are, and I have. Would you like to see them?"
I didn't have to fake the delight on my face. I put my palms together. "I would love to. Would you show me?"
"Of course. Why don’t we go now?" Ryota said, putting down his glass of beer. He leaned in conspiratorially. "That way we'll have them to ourselves."
My smile wavered at the idea of being alone with Ryota, but I wasn't about to pass up the chance. "All right."
Ryota excused us and Chiyoko's eyes found mine as I stood. I gave her a smile to reassure her that I was okay.
"See you later," she said.
"Enjoy," I responded. Ryota tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and led me from the great room and into the foyer. We crossed the foyer and went up wide wooden stairs to a second level. The temperature was cooler up here, and the only source of light came from a few dim sconces on the wooden walls.
"Raiden is quite a collector," Ryota said as we walked down a narrow hallway, our footsteps echoing. He gripped my cold hand in his warm one.
"So I've heard," I said.
He looked down at me. "Are you cold?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you," I said.
Ryota paused outside a sliding door and glanced around as though he wasn't sure if we were supposed to be here. He slid the door back and stood aside to let me enter first.
The room was an office. A large wooden desk dominated the space, with library shelves including cubby-holes filled with scrolls behind it. Two windows allowed moonlight into the room, but Ryota reached for a switch and an overhead chandelier dusted everything in a dim yellow glow.
"Wow," I said, stepping into the space, my eyes immediately flying around the room in search of my sword.
Two full suits of samurai armor on dummies stood in the corners behind the desk, and a rack on the desk carried two katanas and one wakizashi. Aside from these there were no other weapons in the room that I could see. My heart dropped when I stepped closer and realized that the short sword was not the one Daichi wanted. It was sheathed in dark brown leather.
"Aren't they beautiful," Ryota said, staring at one of the samurai helmets.
"They are," I agreed, but inside my mind was racing. There were no cupboards or closets in the small room, and while it was filled with other artifacts, maps, and artwork, strange metal devices I couldn't identify—my wakizashi was not here.
Ryota and I turned when a deep voice said, "I see we are not the first to have this idea."
We turned to see another yakuza man with a drop-dead gorgeous blond woman in a spectacular sparkling dress. A deep neckline showed off enormo
us pale breasts and the yellow light made the woman's hair look like spun gold. In sparkly black stilettos, she towered over her partner. The hem of her dress ended at mid-thigh and her long slender legs glimmered with shimmery moisturizer. She looked like she'd just walked off the Miss Universe stage.
"Oh, excuse us," she said in near-perfect Japanese. She hooked an arm under her partner's arm and turning toward the door as though to leave us alone. "I was just curious about the armor. We'll come back later."
The moment I saw the look on Ryota's face, that said he was in the presence of a goddess, my heart felt full of gratitude for her. "No, please," I said. "Come in, come in. We would be happy for your company." My voice radiated warmth and welcome, and even I had to admit, it sounded nothing like me.
"Yes, indeed," said Ryota, his eyes glued to the blonde’s bountiful chest. "Join us."
The couple hesitated, shared a look, and then came back inside the office.
"Isn't the armor spectacular," I said. "You must see the leather work; it’s breathtaking."
"Oh yes?" the woman said, brightening. She and her partner came to join Ryota and me standing near the dummy.
"Oh, you are right," she breathed. "Look at this detail," she said to the man with her, who made a sound of admiration.
I caught a look at Ryota's face and was satisfied to see that he was still staring at the statuesque woman, his jaw slightly slack.
The blonde and I chatted for a few minutes about the armor until even Ryota relaxed and the four of us began to feel like friends.
As Ryota was laughing at something she'd said, I leaned in and touched his elbow. "Excuse me, I just need to visit the washroom."
He patted my hand without sparing me a glance. "Of course, of course."
I backed away silently and slipped out into the hallway. I grinned to myself. Saved by a beauty contestant.
I continued down the empty hall, trying every door and finding most of them locked. The unlocked rooms consisted of a cleaning closet, a powder room, and an empty room with a chalkboard fastened to the wall. There were three rooms stacked with suspicious looking wooden crates, but no more artifacts to be found.