by Kafū Nagai
OPENING DAY (II)
IN A SHORT time the splendid figure of Jujiro was transformed by a change of costume into something even more impressive: a medieval warrior in scarlet-threaded mail. There was a beauty about him exactly like that of the relief pictures that decorate the New Year's battledores. At the end of the scene, as he made his way heroically down the hanamichi runway from the stage, everyone in the audience followed his retreating figure with admiring eyes. Among those who watched were three women who sat in a box directly above Komayo's on the east side of the theater. One of these was a slender woman, apparently somewhat past thirty, who wore her hair in the ginkgo-leaf style, ornamenting it with an antique imported clip made of tiny coral beads. Her kimono of thin silk crepe was worn over a fine-patterned underkimono and a pale blue-gray chemisette of kanoko shibori, the tie-dyed silk that takes its name from the dappled hide of a fawn. Her haori was of black crepe de Chine, and her double-faced obi of printed cotton was held in place with a band whose clasp was a plain copper hilt ornament from a sword—evidently a piece that had a history of its own. She wore only one ring: a diamond of modest size set in platinum. Although everything in her costume was unobtrusive, it was of reasonably expensive make. No doubt she was a neisan of some consequence in the geisha world.
The second woman was perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five. In her hair, which was done in the standard marumage style featured by the Sadoya shop, she wore a tie-dyed chignon band of wisteria lavender and a gold-lacquer comb decorated with pearls. As further expression of her florid taste, she had on a double kimono and a matching haori of Oshima weave with a pattern of large hexagons. Her embroidered obi, woven in one piece, had a jeweled clasp, and her rings—one set with an astonishingly large diamond and the other with a pearl—alone must have been worth more than a thousand yen. Her rather long, full face and her extremely fair complexion harmonized with her showy costume, and the extent to which she drew the attention of everyone around her made it safe to call her a beauty. From the make of her clothing and the style of her toilette, it appeared that she was by no means just an ordinary person.
The third member of the trio seemed to be a machiai mistress, a woman of around forty who gave the impression that she had formerly worked somewhere as a maid. Her face had the vulgar look of a woman from the country.
Now the three of them, each putting down her opera glasses and glancing at the other, spoke in unison as though by some previous arrangement, saying with a sigh: "Oh, isn't he handsome!"
A few moments later, about the time when Ichiyama Juzo in his role of Takechi Mitsuhide appeared from behind the gourd trellis, the beauty with the marumage suddenly grasped the hand of the older woman with the ginkgo-leaf coiffure. Speaking in a low voice but with great intensity, she said: "Neisan, I tell you I just can't be satisfied any longer with worshipping at a distance."
"Well then, why don't you invite him to some convenient place?"
"If I really felt that I could invite him, I wouldn't be worried at all. If I were still a geisha, I'd manage to arrange it some way or other, but now that I'm out of the profession, I feel embarrassed at the idea somehow. I really can't bring myself to say a word to him. And besides, neisan, isn't Segawa-san having a serious affair with that person at the Obanaya?"
The woman with the ginkgo-leaf coiffure snorted. "You mean Komayo?" Her tone gave the impression of extreme disdain. "Because people say she's clever and smart? Because a young lady like you can't hope to compete with her? Isn't that so?"
"That's why I'd rather give it up after all. Suppose I am reckless enough to break the ice, and then he turns me down or something like that. It would be twice as sad for me." She spoke in a saccharine tone that almost made her seem tongue-tied.
On the stage just now the aged mother, mortally wounded, had launched into her dying effusions, and since there was more or less of a lag in the action, the two women took advantage of the situation by ignoring the stage and beginning to discuss something intently in lowered voices. Then, when the battle-wounded Jujiro came staggering down the hanamichi, they turned once again to the stage, lifting their opera glasses and looking as though they had just realized where they were. But the instant that Jujiro had collapsed in death there seemed no longer to be any business of importance on the stage, and they resumed their whispered discussion.
When the act from Ehon Taikoki had ended, the customary opening-day omission was made, and instead of the Lake Biwa intermezzo the program proceeded with the scene from Nijushiko. As this concluded, with Segawa Isshi in the role of Princess Yaegaki floating magically among the fox fires in the inner garden, the curtain closed to tremendous applause.
Since it was now just the right time for supper, the theater restaurant was overflowing with customers. The three women seated themselves at a table near the entrance. As they looked on at the crush of people moving in and out, the marumage suddenly tugged at the sleeve of the ginkgo leaf. "Rikiji-neisan, there she is!"
Looking in the direction indicated by the younger woman's eyes, they saw Komayo and Hanasuke. Behind them, implacably on their trail, came Yamai-sensei. Komayo, spotting an empty table and apparently fixing her attention in that direction only, stopped for a moment near Rikiji without noticing her at all. Then the three of them, laughing about something or other, moved on toward the empty table.
While this was going on, Rikiji of the ginkgo-leaf coiffure, staring at their retreating backs and smiling sardonically, said in a spiteful voice: "Just look at her. A fine figure of a woman indeed! It's really unbearable, isn't it?" She spoke so loudly that she could hardly miss being overheard.
To Rikiji, who was not only an older but also a great deal more important geisha, Komayo's conduct was indescribably rude. To sweep past an acknowledged neisan of the district like her, laughing and not offering a single word of greeting! There was no doubt at all that Komayo knew she was there. In spite of this, she had taken advantage of the throng of people to pretend not to notice her and to walk right past her because she didn't like the idea of speaking. There was absolutely no doubt of it. As these thoughts ran through her mind, Rikiji was almost blinded with rage. Moreover, there was the grudge she held against Komayo for having stolen her danna Yoshioka-san some time ago. If she ever found a suitable opportunity to pay her back for that, she would see to it that Komayo was forced to weep for her sins. She had, of course, been making such plans, but she could on no account fly at Komayo in the midst of a party and declare her own shame in front of all the assembled geisha and their guests. Although she had been hoping to find an opening for revenge at one of the seasonal dance performances or some similar occasion, unfortunately no such chance had presented itself so far. Consequently, she had left things as they were. But today, this very day, her designs for retaliation had finally taken shape.
She had formerly had in her house a geisha named Kimiryu. This girl had become the mistress of an important businessman who had recently died, leaving her something over a square rod of choice property in Hamacho with an elegant house on it and, in addition, ten thousand yen in cash. Having inherited this, she found herself a woman of leisure. At this point she pondered over what she should do. Set up a geisha house? Open an inn? Or a machiai? Or perhaps start a special poultry restaurant? Or would it be better not to touch her precious ten thousand yen, keeping it instead as a dowry, so that if the right man and the right time arrived (he would have to be a faithful man who would reserve his affection for her alone and who would allow her to do as she pleased in his house) she could have a try at marriage? That would undoubtedly be better than recklessly starting a business and having a hard time making a go of it. Besides, it would probably assure her a comfortable future free from worry. In thinking about all this, she considered only the things that were advantageous to herself.
She often went to Rikiji-neisan's Minatoya to discuss these matters, and it was on one of these occasions that she had been invited to attend today's performance at the Shintomiza. Duri
ng the three years after her freedom had been purchased, she had really been most forbearing in looking after her gray-haired danna and being faithful to him alone, even if she said so herself. She had not touched a samisen and had almost never gone to the theater. And it had not been in vain, for her danna's favor had extended even to his will, in which, thank heaven, Kimiryu and her situation were properly noted down and taken care of. To be sure, from Kimiryu's point of view she had exerted herself to the best of her ability, and certainly she had received no more than was due her. But now, as the saying goes, it was a case of "opportunity makes the thief." Having suddenly become free both in body and in mind, she was for some reason or other fidgety and incapable of settling down. It was just at this point that she had come to the theater after such a long time, and no sooner had she seen Segawa Isshi in his first performance of the role of Jujiro than she was carried away by infatuation. If possible, this evening immediately after the theater... This was the willful request that she made of Rikiji-neisan.
Rikiji, to say the least, was embarrassed at the suddenness of it, but when she realized that nothing could better serve her purpose of getting revenge against Komayo, she ended up by making a firm promise to do as she had been asked. "All right," she said, "just leave everything to me."
It happened that Rikiji was on good terms with the mistress of the Kikyo, a teahouse connected with the theater. This woman was a person of influence in such circles, and Rikiji, making good use of her friendship with the old lady, sought her out during intermission and promptly gave her a frank account of the situation. What she wanted, she explained, was to have a discreet message sent to Segawa asking him if he could please come this evening to the Kutsuwa machiai, even if it was only for a little while.
The mistress of the Kikyo was an old hand at things like this, and through her intervention the arrangement was quickly made. Things are not always so difficult as they seem in anticipation, and by the time the first act of Kamiji was about to end, the delightful answer had arrived to flutter the hearts of Kimiryu of the marumage and Rikiji of-the ginkgo leaf. The mistress of the Kutsuwa (it was she who was their companion in the box) had hardly heard this reply but that she was on her feet. She would leave now, she announced, in order to go home and make preparations. She would wait for them there. It made no difference whether the famous "foot-warmer" scene had begun or not; she must go immediately. Giving Kimiryu a gay slap on the back, she left the box.
Now that everything had been decided, Kimiryu was no longer the bold-talking woman that she had been a little while ago. As if from worry, she had suddenly shrunk into herself. Even being teased by the mistress of the Kutsuwa had only made her turn scarlet and sit there without being able to say a word. Then, when the curtain opened and Segawa appeared on the stage in the role of the girl Koharu, Kimiryu involuntarily shrank back, using Rikiji's body as a shield and half concealing her face with the handkerchief that she held. Nevertheless, she had her eyes secretly fixed on Segawa, whose Koharu she gazed at with breathless concentration. During this interval Rikiji suddenly tugged at her sleeve, and once again she blushed and breathed hard. Speaking as though she herself were attracting the attention, Rikiji whispered: "There! He's looking this way again. Kimi-chan, show your face a little more."
Kimiryu herself had already noticed that Segawa, while performing his role, was stealing glances at their box, at the same time pretending to be looking at a box on the opposite side. Now that Rikiji had drawn her attention to it, she became all the more embarrassed. Her face turned a brilliant red, and she could do nothing but sit there with downcast eyes.
YESTERDAY AND TODAY
THEY were at the Gishun, in the little four-and-a-half mat room that they had always made the scene of their delightful meetings. Segawa wore a fine-patterned double kimono on which his family crest appeared in three places —on the back and on each sleeve—inconspicuously dyed in small-dot shibori, black for white, so that it resembled a negative of the actual crest. The garment displayed a taste that marked it as almost unmistakably a product of the famous Daihiko dyeing house. As he sat negligently with his knees spread apart, he unconsciously revealed a part of his greenish-brown under-kimono with its shibori-dyed pattern of incomplete carriage wheels—most likely a made-to-order product of the equally famous Erien. His obi, made in the old-fashioned narrow style, was of silk satin with a single stripe woven into it and the characters of the maker's name embroidered in red at one of the ends. This was most probably from the Hiranoya in Hamacho. While such a costume would look decidedly gaudy and offensive on the average man, it appeared by contrast to be nothing less than an inspiration for a female impersonator.
Now, reaching behind him with both hands to tie the obi more securely, he sat up straight. As he did so, he picked up his pipe case and tobacco pouch. These too were works of art: the case of woven paper with a design of autumn leaves floating on water—the work of the artist Taishin—and the pouch of gilded leather with a tiny allover pattern in vermilion. They were joined together by a cord ornamented with a coral bead. The long clasp of the pouch was exquisitely done in imitation of a gabion, the bamboo basket itself in silver and the miniature stones in gold. Segawa nonchalantly thrust both case and pouch inside the folds of his kimono above the obi.
"Well, Okoma," he said, addressing her with a pet name, "I'll be going now for a little while. I'll be back in an hour or two. Is that all right? Don't just sit there saying nothing. Why don't you take off your haori?"
Komayo, still in her black crepe haori, sat poking with the charcoal tongs at the ashes in the brazier. She was apparently irritated, and she did not look up as she answered icily: "All right. I'll wait." Abruptly taking up the bottle from the table, she was on the verge of pouring sake into a teacup that was all but ready to overflow.
Isshi quickly seized her hand. "What's the matter with you?" he asked. "Haven't I explained everything already? This isn't like you at all. It's only a guest from Osaka, an old friend of the family since my father's time. Sodezaki-san hasn't been to Tokyo for a long while, and he came here purposely to appear with me."
"If that's the case, niisan, you must have known about tonight's engagement for some time. Isn't that true? And still you talked about inviting Yamai-sensei this evening if the performance ended early enough. You told him so yourself in the dressing room. If you say that you suddenly have another engagement... well, I would never doubt your word or anything like that. But really, niisan, I think this is too much...." Komayo seemed to be very angry, and before she could finish the sentence her voice was lost in tears.
"I see. Then you just won't agree, no matter what, will you? All right. If you object, then you object. I just won't go." Segawa was trying to intimidate her, but as he watched her face for some sign of assent, she failed to come up with the expected "Please go ahead if you must." Instead, she merely sat there dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.
With the apparent intention of showing her that he was in no hurry at all, he again took out the pipe case and tobacco pouch that he had thrust into his kimono. Having lit his pipe, he continued as if speaking to himself: "If you tell me not to go, then I won't go, and that's that. If the gentleman withdraws his favors from me, that's all right too." As he said this, he beat his pipe against the ash tray. "Because you got the sack from your precious Yoshioka-san too, didn't you? So if I lose my patron too, we won't have anything to reproach each other with—no obligations and no grudges." As though telling her to do exactly as she pleased, Segawa stretched himself out on the floor.
In this predicament, weak as she was with love for him, there was nothing for her to do but earnestly beg him to go. Segawa Isshi, well experienced in the complications of love affairs, had been anticipating this result from the beginning. Even if she obstinately insisted on not letting him go at any cost, he too could display the same selfish stubbornness, even to forcibly shaking her off and walking out on her. In cases like this, he knew, no matter how spitefully she
might speak or how spitefully she might be spoken to, a woman had no backbone at all when it came to a showdown. If he left things as they were for half a year or perhaps a year and timed his action properly, he could begin gently to detach himself from her and soon make a complete break. He hardly needed to look up the passage in the old ballad-drama of Umegoyomi no Yonehachi Adakichi to confirm this, for he knew quite well how such affairs turned out. Besides, it was true that in his secret heart he had already begun to grow a bit tired of her. As soon as he found something in the nature of a good substitute, he intended to break off with her. And even if things weren't clearly settled between them, he wanted to make sure that their relations from now on would not be too intimate. At present Komayo was most likely up to her neck in debt, and if he continued to be closely involved with her for another six months or a year, he would probably be forced to saddle himself with her as a wife, whether he liked it or not. To have things come to such a sorry pass and then to brace up and submit to his fate—he was absolutely no match for anything of the sort.
As for Komayo, she too had been thinking, and she now found herself vaguely fearful. Although she had intended that she would on no account let him leave her this evening, if she selfishly detained Segawa against his will there was no telling how furious he would be with her later on. This was Segawa she was dealing with—Segawa who, unlike the average artist, was always single-minded, self-centered, and incapable of flattery. In fact, it was these very qualities that had caused her to fall in love with him. Besides, since he had explained himself to her so creditably, perhaps it was just as he said: perhaps there really was this difficult guest from Osaka. As she considered this, she gradually weakened into an attitude that did not resemble her previous one at all.
