by Kafū Nagai
Until autumn of the year when he was fourteen, Takijiro had lived with his father the storyteller Sounken Gozan and his mother the geisha Jukichi and had gone every day from the geisha house in Shimbashi to the neighborhood elementary school. At length, however, in the fall before the year when he was to move on to middle school, Gozan decided that it was no good for the boy to be kept too long in such an environment, and Jukichi was forced to agree. So, after consultations with a number of their patrons, they finally decided to ask a favor of an attorney, a doctor of laws who had for many years called on Jukichi to accompany him in his singing of Itchu-bushi ballads, and to have Takijiro live with him as a student and houseboy. The attorney maintained a splendid house in Surugadai.
So it came about that Takijiro attended middle school from there, but it was this that originally led to his making a failure of his life. It was only natural that Gozan should at first have considered it inadvisable to continue keeping a young boy in a geisha house—even if it was his own home—just when he had reached the age for serious study. Nevertheless, it probably would have been far better for Takijiro if he had been left at home under the control of his father, who stubbornly adhered to the old traditions of strict behavior. When they later came to realize this, Gozan and Jukichi repented of their decision, but by then it was exactly as the proverb puts it: a matter of arriving after the festival is over.
During the two years after he moved into the students' room at the attorney's house—that is, until he was sixteen—Takijiro was a genuinely diligent and promising student. Toward the end of that year, however, the mistress of the house developed a heart ailment and, in the hope of improving her health, moved with her only daughter to their villa in Omori. As a natural result of this, the attorney went more and more frequently to spend the night there, until at last he came only in the mornings to take care of business at the house in Surugadai, so that it now became only a kind of branch office. When this happened, the maids and the student-houseboys, rejoicing in the absence of the master, all began to take liberties. To make matters worse, it was the usual thing for law students to display a low moral character. Takijiro readily fell prey to this influence. Within a year or so, by the time he became eighteen, he had already succeeded in becoming an ungovernable rake. When evening came, he couldn't bring himself to stay at home. He went out to seduce the daughters and servant girls of the icemen, the butchers, the tobacconists, and other tradesmen in the neighborhood. Late at night he competed with the other student-houseboys in making love to the maids in the house. Even during the day, on the way to and from school, he did his best to tempt the schoolgirls who rode on the streetcar with him. One evening behind the Kanda Myojin Shrine, just when he was about to entice the daughter of the neighborhood tobacconist, he had the bad luck to be surprised in the act by police detectives who were conducting a roundup of juvenile delinquents. Whether he liked it or not, he was taken into custody. This was naturally reported to his school, and at the same time that he was ordered expelled he was politely requested to leave the attorney's house.
His father Gozan flared up in rage, and his mother Jukichi, exclaiming over the shame of it, burst into tears, but there was nothing to be done about it. For the time being, Takijiro was taken in at the geisha house in Shim-bashi. His father, denouncing him as an insolent scoundrel who had thrown mud in the faces of his parents, ordered that he be strictly confined at home, but he was no longer the Takijiro who had once readily obeyed his father's instructions. In any event, every day after lunch, regardless of wind or rain, Gozan departed for his afternoon performance, carrying with him a large holdall containing his rusty-looking haori with its five crests and the fan with which he beat on his reciter's desk to keep his audience awake. He returned at suppertime, but soon after that he had to go out for his evening performance. Sometimes, depending on the location of the hall where he was performing, he went directly from his afternoon to his evening show. And since Jukichi, still occupied with geisha business, had engagements every evening, no matter how strict a confinement had been ordered for Takijiro, there was actually no one in the whole house to supervise him. At that time Ichikawa Raishichi, the elder son who had become an actor, was still in good health and lived at home, but he too, once he had finished breakfast, regardless of whether he had a performance that day or not, went off to work all day, either at the theater or at the home of his teacher, and never returned before ten o'clock at night.
To the outsider, a geisha house probably appears casual and disorderly indeed, but once he has stepped inside, he will discover that everyone there—from the master, the mistress, the house geisha, and the hakoya down to the servants who do the washing and scrubbing —is busy with his own tasks. The proprietress Jukichi, even if she returned dead tired from engagements that kept her out here and there until after midnight, and sometimes until after one o'clock, still had to get up early enough the next morning to be on time for her musical practice sessions. Every morning she went to the rehearsals held by the masters of the various joruri ballad schools like the Tokiwazu, Kiyomoto, Itchu, Kato, Sonohachi, Ogie, and Utazawa. Then, upon returning home, she was obliged to teach the apprentice geisha in her own house. In addition, she must help her geisha with their kimono problems and other matters that required consultation. It was also necessary to make arrangements in advance with geisha from other houses concerning the songs and dances to be performed at various engagements. Besides all this, whenever there was to be a public performance, she must assist the older geisha of the district at rehearsals. Busy as she was with affairs like these, the time for taking a bath and doing her hair came around all too quickly, and then, just when she found a moment to sigh with relief and sit down for a smoke, it was time to prepare for the evening meal. It was almost the same thing with her geisha. As for the hakoya, occupied as she was with keeping the account books, answering the telephone, and helping the geisha get dressed for their engagements, even if she had been two people it would hardly have been enough. And the servant girl, who had to cook for the whole household, do the laundry, and prepare the bath by herself, had no time to rest at all.
In fact, because its master, old man Gozan, was so adept at faultfinding—even to the extent that everyone called him by the nickname of Kobei the Complainer— there was probably no other house in the whole of Shim-bashi that surpassed the Obanaya in the tidiness and exactness with which it kept every single aspect of its business in order. And because of its unrelenting strictness in training its geisha in the arts of their profession—a training as severe as that required in the study of fencing —the house had long been famous. This, too, had its origin in Gozan's violent temperament and headstrong character, which made it impossible for him to handle any affair at all with moderation. Although he was now perhaps the oldest among the professional storytellers, he had not even one disciple, and the reason why no pupils studied under him, people said, was that his training was too severe. So it was with the training of the geisha in his own house. If they were to be trained at all, he could not be satisfied unless they were trained in earnest in the same style as true professionals. For this reason, when he heard the sounds of samisen practice coming from the upper stories of neighboring houses, he was often likely to raise his eyebrows in critical disdain and ask: "What on earth is that?"
To Gozan, geisha and actors were the flowers of society, and his family precepts regarding the geisha in his own house were based upon this belief. "If you go out and are by any chance involved in an accident," he always told them, "it would be an undying shame for the rest of your life to have people discover any personal uncleanliness about you. When you open the door to step out into the street, be sure you have put on fresh undergarments. And don't go in for luxurious kimono and accessories." But his wife Jukichi, since she was a woman of extremely easy and gentle disposition, judiciously modified the preachments of her eccentric husband and adroitly harmonized his relations not only with the geisha but with everyone else in the ho
use.
In this house, where everybody was kept busy in this way with a multitude of occupations, Takijiro alone had nothing to do at all except to sit yawning every day as he read the newspapers and magazines that lay scattered about. It was Gozan's idea that if he severely admonished the boy now and made him reform—since he was still too slight in physique to pass the examination for military conscription—he might somehow arrive at an aim for his future. Since it was no longer of any use to think about continuing his education, now that he had been forced to quit school in midcourse, it would be better to put him to work for a respectable merchant or perhaps in public service. With this object in mind, Gozan requested the good offices of a number of his friends here and there. But when it became known that he was the son of geisha-house owners and that he had been expelled from school, all these efforts ended in failure. Jukichi, citing the old saying that the offspring of frogs always turn out to be frogs, suggested that it would probably be best to train the boy in some kind of entertainment art, even though he was already rather old to begin. But it was not enough merely to think of making an entertainment artist of him. The problem was what sort of performer he should become. Even from Takijiro's point of view, this was something that could not be decided immediately. Since his older brother had already made a considerable reputation for himself as an actor, it would be mortifying, at this late date, to join him as an underling and play subordinate roles. And if he were to become a student under Gozan, it would be even worse, for he would be forced to undergo all the more scathing treatment from his exacting parent. Besides, he was too grown up now to undertake the fundamentals of becoming a samisen player. At the same time he had no inclination to become an actor of the new school or to apprentice himself to a first-class comedian with some group like the Soga no Ya. As he lay around day after day reading whatever magazines and newspapers happened to be at hand, he casually hit upon the idea that it might be interesting to become a novelist or a literary man of some sort. But since he had no concrete idea at all of what one must do to get started in such a profession, this plan also vanished like smoke. Finally, now that even Takijiro was utterly at a loss over what to do with himself, someone, by some means or other, put in a good word for him at a brokerage house. There was nothing else to do, and Takijiro, in the hope that he would meanwhile change his thinking, was sent there to work and to live in.
He had worked there obediently for hardly six months when he embezzled a small amount of the firm's money to pay for the favors of a prostitute in nearby Kaki-garacho. This was quickly discovered, and Takijiro was fired. For the second time, he was taken in at the house in Shimbashi, but now, having gradually become desperate, he could not endure to be under the control of his strait-laced parents for more than three days. One evening, taking advantage of everyone's absence at the time, he gathered up a number of kimono, hair ornaments, and other valuables belonging to his mother and the other geisha and fled from the house.
AT THE GISHUN
AS yamai went on endlessly with his untiring recital of Takijiro's story, the streetcar arrived at the Ginza. When Segawa abruptly rose to get off, Yamai followed him. Then, as Segawa stopped and stood in front of the Hattori watch store to wait for the streetcar to Tsukiji, Yamai came up and stood at the same corner. This caused Segawa to ask: "Where do you live?"
"My place is in Shiba Shirogane."
"Then you transfer here?"
"No, I always change at Kanasugibashi in Shiba." As he said this, Yamai came a step closer. "What time is it, anyway? It seems a little early yet to go home."
"It's still not ten o'clock." Segawa looked at the gold watch on his wrist and then at the watches arranged in Hattori's window.
"How are things in Shimbashi nowadays? I haven't been there at all lately...." Yamai had already let two streetcars go by without showing the slightest intention of boarding either of them. He simply continued to stand there.
It was only now that Segawa guessed what was in Yamai's mind. Beyond a doubt, he wanted to be taken somewhere for a gay evening. "What a nuisance!" he thought. At the same time he had the feeling that it would somehow be cruel to pretend not to understand and to go off and leave Yamai there alone. "After all," he thought, "charity benefits the giver as well as the receiver." If he treated Yamai to a drink or two tonight, perhaps it would bring him some advantage later on. So he said casually: "It's tiring to ride so far on the streetcar. Let's go somewhere and relax for a while." With this, Segawa started across the streectar tracks to the other side of the street.
Yamai, beaming with pleasure and looking like a man chasing a bird that he would hate to see escape, started after him. It was admirable to see how he shouted his warning of "Look out!" when he saw an automobile approaching. As Segawa walked briskly past the Lion Beer Hall, he looked around and said: "Yamai-san, don't you have a favorite teahouse somewhere?"
"Well, I do, but the ones I know are all awfully shabby. It wouldn't do your reputation any good to be seen there. Instead, I wish you'd introduce me to your own special place tonight. I swear I'll keep your secret." Yamai laughed.
Seeming somewhat at a loss as to where to go, Segawa tilted his head to one side and slowed his pace. Meanwhile, they had suddenly arrived at Miharabashi. So, apparently having decided that there was no other way out, he said to Yamai: "The place I know isn't too elegant either. Still, for real enjoyment, I feel much more at home in a small cozy place than in a big fancy one."
It was his own familiar machiai, the Gishun, to which Segawa took Yamai. Having guided them to the front room upstairs, the maid Omaki bowed to greet them. A few seconds later she said intimately to Segawa: "Danna, there was a telephone call for you just a few minutes ago."
"Where from?"
"As if you didn't know! I'll tell her to come. All right?" Omaki was already on the point of leaving.
"Wait a minute, Omaki-san. It's all right to call Komayo, but please call someone else too."
"Which one would you like?" The maid squatted down again and looked at Segawa and Yamai.
"Yamai-san, who would be good?"
"As far as another geisha goes, why don't we wait till after Komayo-san gets here? Instead, let's order some sake."
"I'll bring it right away." The maid left the room.
"Geisha are strange people. If you get two of them together who belong to different cliques, it can spoil the whole evening." Yamai, apparently having decided to relax completely, sat cross-legged with both his knees against the low sandalwood table.
"You can't tell from their looks, but all women are headstrong, aren't they?"
"That's what you call a woman's nature, I suppose." Yamai helped himself to some confections from the bowl on the table. "Segawa-san, there's a rumor going around that you're definitely going to get married very shortly. Is it true?" "To Komayo?"
"Yes. That's the rumor that I've been hearing here and there."
"Really? Is there that much gossip about it? That's embarrassing."
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, is it? Isn't it a good thing?"
"Well, I haven't had any experience so far, but this thing called marriage doesn't look so interesting. Somehow I have the feeling that I'd like to enjoy my single life a little longer. It isn't that I have anything against the girl herself. It's a different story entirely...." Segawa seemed to add this by way of apology.
For no particular reason at all, Yamai had always felt that marriage was a strange and oppressive condition and that it would mean the end of the gay and carefree life he had enjoyed before. In his own experience it was after all the same as with Segawa. So he said: "If you're thinking of getting married, you can do it any time. It doesn't do any good at all to rush into things. But in any case it's part of a man's experience to do it once, don't you think?"
Omaki came in carrying the sake and some appetizers. "Komayo-neisan will be here in half an hour," she announced. "There was a telephone call just now."
"If they say half an hour a
t that place, it means about an hour and a half, doesn't it? Well then, Omaki-san, until she gets here, we'd like to call someone who can come right away. There isn't a geisha in Shimbashi that doesn't make people wait."
"And if she does come at last, after keeping you waiting, she immediately gets a telephone call that takes her off to another engagement." Yamai laughed, expert that he was in going the rounds and cheating the entertainment houses.
"It's the truth, isn't it?" said Omaki, sighing as though she were honestly of the same opinion. Then something suddenly occurred to her. "There's one that's making her debut today. Shall I try calling her as a stopgap? She's rather plump and has a fair skin. Somehow she gives the impression of a nice respectable girl." Omaki laughed. "At any rate, they say she was the wife of a respectable doctor."
"That's strange. Why do you suppose she became a geisha?"
"Well, it's only what people say, so I don't know if it's true or not, but they say that she did it by choice because she was crazy to see what it would be like— becoming a geisha."
"You don't say! That's something I'd like to see. Yamai-san, is this what they call the 'new woman,' do you suppose?" Segawa asked the question seriously.
"I suppose it is. Among the women who come to have me correct their poems, there are plenty who wouldn't find it hard at all to become a geisha."
"No matter how you take it, you writers have an enviable business. In the first place, you don't have anything to chain you down to a schedule. For another thing, if you go out to have a good time you can do what you please in secret. But on that point we actors are immediately recognized wherever we go.... So we can't let ourselves go and have a real spree. It's dull."
