The Geisha Who Could Feel No Pain (Secrets From The Hidden House Book 2)

by India Millar

  “I daresay you’ll find things a bit different here in Edo,” Masaki said condescendingly. “Time for a nap, I think.”

  We all nodded and climbed to our feet. I settled Sute in her room and was pleased to see she looked sufficiently awed by its size and airiness. Masaki and Naruko went off together. The twins, of course, shared a room.

  But once alone, I found myself far from sleepy. I laid down on the futon, but sleep eluded me. Thoughts of Sute crowded my mind. She seemed to have simply accepted everything that had happened to her in her short life without question. Nothing, I supposed, really unusual about that. We women were second class citizens at best. If we were fortunate to marry, then we were the slave of first our husband, and then our sons. If we didn’t marry, then we were nothing at all. A woman without a husband had little choice but to become a common prostitute or a courtesan or—if she was really fortunate and sufficiently talented, as we were—she might train as a geisha. Oh, we had heard tales about rich, aristocratic women who had rejected suitors and who had elected to remain single, but they were few and far between and ranked on a level with children’s fairy tales in terms of belief. Some said there were woman merchants, far up in the north, who ran businesses without a man to support them, but we laughed at the idea. Who would willingly trade with a mere woman?

  No, the only really unusual part of Sute’s tale was that she was here, in the Hidden House. How had Akira heard about her, I wondered? Although I already knew the answer. Akira knew everything about everybody. That was where part of his power lied. That, and in the fact that he was known to be a ruthless killer who thought nothing of murdering not only his enemies, but even anybody he suspected might be a threat. For the longest time after she disappeared, I wondered along with everybody else if Akira had killed Midori. But then Kiku’s whispered message had healed my heart.

  Akira was capable of anything, but it seemed that this time a mere woman had gotten the better of him.

  Thought of Midori made me miserable. I missed her terribly. Even when Akira had taken her off to live with him, she had managed to visit the Hidden House. Normally she came when he was there on business and he had wanted her to translate for him, but sometimes she was allowed to return on her own, and we would manage to grab half an hour to ourselves. I knew she was terrified of Akira, but nothing he could do could make her believe that her lover, Danjuro, was really dead. One day, she insisted, he would come back for her. Take her away with him. And it seemed that the gods had smiled on my lovely Midori, and that her dreams had come true.

  I prayed that she was really happy in her new life. I was happy for her, but oh! I still missed my elder sister.

  I closed my eyes and turned over, trying to get comfortable. There was no sound, but suddenly I was sure that somebody was close. I tensed and listened, keeping my eyes closed the better to focus my senses. Nothing at all, but the sensation of being watched intensified. I breathed deeply, rhythmically, trying to mimic sleep. Still, there was nothing. I had all but decided that it was Auntie, spying on me from one of her many peepholes, when there was the softest of sounds. If I hadn’t been listening so carefully, I would have missed it.

  The screen door to my room was sliding back. Slowly. With infinite care. It didn’t open entirely, just enough to allow somebody to enter.

  My entire body was rigid. I could feel the hairs at the back of my neck prickling with fear. I might not be able to feel pain, but that didn’t make the fear of death any less. I had already upset Bigger. Was this him, come to take his revenge on me? If it was, then I was a dead woman already. Even Auntie would not make a fuss if he killed me. Akira might be mildly annoyed, but he would no doubt forgive Bigger if he explained that I had insulted him.

  A shadow fell across my futon. I had my eyelids open the tiniest crack, and I watched the darkness travel up my body. There was somebody in my room, but somebody who moved as noiselessly as a ghost. Perhaps it was a ghost. The thought terrified me. Vengeful ghosts had been known to be so jealous of living people that they had stolen their bodies. A fate much worse than death could ever be. Imagine living out the rest of your life in a body that was no longer your own, existing as no more than your own shadow! A terrible fate indeed.

  And then something else occurred to me. Was it possible that this was Carpi’s spirit, come back to the place she had known best in life? What if she had changed her mind about wanting to die at the last possible second and had returned to seek another body to live out her life in? As Midori wasn’t here, she had found me. If I had had any breath, I would have screamed out loud.

  The shadow hovered over my head, and then moved across me. I breathed again as I realized this was no spirit, but a living person. And not Bigger.

  It was Ken, Bigger’s new friend, leaning over me and watching me almost hungrily. I could feel his presence, his interest. I shivered, but still did not move. What was he doing here? What did he want from me? Had Bigger sent him to frighten me? If he had, then he had certainly succeeded! I watched him watching me, hardly daring to move.

  He had the gift of silence, this new man. For all he was a big man, and very muscular, he moved like a shadow. His steps across my room had been entirely without sound.

  He stared at me. Did he want me to cry out, to move? To try and get away from him? Even if I had wanted to, my muscles were frozen with terror. I might be unable to feel physical pain, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fear death. I had faced death already, many times, from the patrons who thought it might be fun to see just how much I could bear before I cried out. One or two had got to the stage of trying to smother me, probably out of curiosity to see if I could actually be killed. But on each occasion, Bigger had intervened smoothly. Quite courteously, of course. After all, the patrons had paid to see if they really could inflict pain on me.

  And where was Bigger now, when I needed him? Or had he set his creature on me himself, to get revenge for his loss of face in the bath? I hadn’t thought it possible, but my fear increased. I was on the verge of losing control of my bladder when Ken turned his head as if he had heard a noise and turned abruptly. He was gone as silently as he had arrived. I had barely time to whisper a prayer of thankfulness when there was a tap on my door and Sute entered, complaining that she wasn’t tired and wanted to chat.

  She was barefoot apart from her tabi, and I hadn’t heard her moving down the corridor.

  But Ken had. And it seemed that he had no wish to be found in my room.

  Stranger and stranger.

  7

  I see the shape of

  A dragon in the sky. Does

  It bring me good luck?

  Akira was taking an enormous interest in Sute’s mizuage.

  None of us dared ask him about it. So powerful was Akira’s presence in the Hidden House that we didn’t even gossip about it amongst ourselves. Even though the twins were no longer a threat, we knew word would get back to him somehow, either via one of the maids—and even they were all new since Midori had gone; the gods only knew what had happened to the old ones—or simply by Auntie or Akira himself listening at one of their numerous spy holes. We thought we knew where most of them were, but who could tell when a new one could be opened? Not us, and none of us were going to take the chance.

  Akira obviously sensed our curiosity. He grinned at us when he visited, taking Sute on his lap and calling her his little blonde delight. We all smiled and smiled until our faces set. Silly little Sute simply grinned with pleasure at his attention. None of us bothered to disillusion her. It was safer for all of us if she really thought Akira was just a nice man who was taken with her.

  Eventually, the joke wore thin, even for Akira. Too full of his own plans to contain them any longer, he decided to confide in me.

  “Well, Mineko-chan? Is our dear little Sute ready for her mizuage, do you think? Have you taught her some manners? Managed to dig out a talent or two from that pretty little head?”

  I pretended to take his comment seriously, ti
lting my own head to one side in thought. He knew exactly what we had been teaching Sute, of course. And he knew that I knew. But it didn’t hurt to practice a little double bluff from time to time, providing I was careful not to take too many chances with this terrible man.

  “She can dance, Akira-san. Quite well.” Well enough for the patrons of the Hidden House at any rate. Any other geisha house would have turned their eyes to the sky at her efforts. “And we have taught her how to perform the tea ceremony.” That was true enough. After many attempts, we now received our tea respectably hot, and with more in the cup than on the tatami. “But she has no singing voice and can’t play the samisen.”

  I waited quietly, eyes cast down. If Akira were of a mind to be annoyed with our—with my—efforts with Sute, then I would soon find out. There was nothing I could do about it, in any event.

  “Fair enough.” He shrugged, and I sighed deeply in relief. “You can’t make something out of nothing. You girls have done well, Mineko. I’m pleased. In any event, the patrons will be far more interested in her looks than in her singing or playing.”

  He snickered, and my fear grew. An angry Akira was bad, but at least you knew what to expect. A happy, mellow Akira was worrying.

  “Tell me, Mineko. Have you made a friend of little Sute? Does she remind you of Midori to the extent that she has perhaps taken the place of Midori in your heart?”

  I was startled, to say the least. In fact, I was so surprised that I spoke before I thought.

  “No, Akira-san. Nobody could take Midori’s place.”

  I had expected a sarcastic comment, perhaps even a blow. But neither came. The smile faded from Akira’s face, and for a single second I saw the misery behind his mask.

  “You are right, Mineko. Nobody in the whole world is like Midori-chan. Will she come back to us, do you think?”

  “I don’t know, Akira-san.” I spoke truthfully, well aware how close to hell I was treading. “If she is happy wherever she is, perhaps she has forgotten the Hidden House and us who are still here in it.”

  “Do you really think so? I doubt it, Mineko. Midori would never forget her friends. Nor those who loved her.”

  And then he was laughing again, leaning toward me with an amused expression on his face.

  “Well, ready or no, I have arranged Sute’s mizuage for her. As her elder sister, I am relying on you to make sure she brings honor to the Hidden House.”

  I bowed deeply, murmuring that I would do my best.

  Amazingly, Sute was quite excited when I told her.

  “Ah. Will I be a geisha, like the rest of you, afterward?”

  I thought back to my own mizuage. Insensible to pain as I was, I had worried about it. What would it feel like, to be taken by a man? To have my most intimate spaces invaded by him? To be used for his pleasure, whether I liked it or not? Akira had arranged to take me himself, and he had been amazingly patient and gentle. At the time, I had no idea that it was all part of his plan to bring Midori to heel, but even had I known I would still have been grateful. It was often the case that maiko had their mizuage with old, ugly men. Men who could afford to pay the ridiculous amount of money demanded to deflower us virgins. At least Akira was young—and even now I had to admit it—attractive.

  I thought I had explained what would happen at her mizuage, but now I wondered. Did Sute really understand what was going to happen to her?

  I stared at her, shocked by her indifference to such a life changing event. Of course, she had been used by men for years. Perhaps she looked at such things from a different point of view than the rest of us. But still I was surprised by her complete lack of fear at the ceremony. I glanced at her eager face and gave in and answered her question.

  “You will be a geisha afterward, if everything goes well. If you’re not extremely nice to your danna, then Akira might decide you have no place here and sell you to one of the lattice houses.”

  It was the worst thing anybody could threaten any of us girls with, the fate that the twins had only just avoided. But Sute seemed unconcerned.

  “Akira-san wouldn’t do that to me,” she insisted. “He likes me.”

  I felt like slapping her. How on earth could she be so innocent and so knowing, both at the same time?

  “But if I do please my danna, I’ll stay here?” she persisted. “Be like the rest of you? Will I, elder sister?”

  She was leaning forward, those ridiculous round eyes huge, her full lips slightly parted as she waited for my reply. Suddenly, I understood and felt a wave of pity.

  All Sute wanted was to belong. To have friends. To be the same as everybody else around her. Even if those friends and companions were freaks in everybody else’s eyes. She was desperate to be allowed to stay with us.

  I could have cried for her. For myself and the rest of us geisha in the Hidden House as well. Since we were children, all of us had known we were different. All of us carried the burden of our difference all day, every day. Even Naruko—who was perfectly normal in her native China—had been bought to Japan when she was still a little girl and had been branded as a curiosity from that day.

  And Sute wanted to be like us.

  I sniffed and cleared my throat and patted her hand gently. “You’ll be fine, Sute,” I assured her. “I’ll make sure of that. And once you are a geisha, you’ll be just like the rest of us. I promise.”

  She beamed at me with pleasure, and I had to turn my head away to hide my expression. Poor, poor child that could look forward to finding happiness with us!

  Auntie provided her with a lovely new kimono and obi for the event. The kimono was made of very fine silk, dark blue with white embroidery. It was stunning against her pale skin and yellow hair, and the traditional dress seemed to emphasize Sute’s foreign looks. She fingered it cautiously, and I laughed at her.

  “Don’t you like it?” I teased. “It must have cost Auntie a fortune!”

  “It’s beautiful,” Sute said seriously. “But I can’t afford it.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said briskly. “Auntie will make sure you pay her back for it. Every time you entertain a patron from now on, Auntie will take the money you make to pay for your clothes and food and for the home she provides for you. If your patron is generous and gives you a present as well as your fee, then you keep that. But nothing else. You understand?” I might as well let her know the worst, I thought. Sute simply nodded.

  “My old Auntie was the same. Only I didn’t get many presents at all.”

  Stingy as well as gluttonous, the men from Osaka!

  I had prepared Sute’s makeup for her mizuage carefully. Everything was laid out in a neat row. The camellia oil moisturizer that would ensure that her thick makeup slid on easily. The white base coat that would hide her pink cheeks completely. The red pigment for her eyebrows, and the black color that would go on top. And, of course, the bright red coloring for her lips.

  It was like trying to put makeup on a puppy. Sute squirmed and turned this way and that, persisting in trying to talk even when I told her to be quiet. Still, I got there in the end and sat back on my heels to admire my efforts.

  She looked like a painted doll. The geisha makeup looked ridiculous on her. No matter how I had tried to transform Sute, she was still clearly a foreign barbarian, without a trace of Japanese evident at all. I sighed and wondered about wiping the whole lot off.

  “Well done, Mineko.”

  Akira’s voice startled me. Had he been watching our preparations through a spy hole so he knew when I was finished? I guessed he had. I frowned and waved my hands at Sute helplessly.

  “I’ve done my best, Akira-san. But she looks completely wrong. She looks like a gaijin no matter how I’ve painted her. In fact, I think the makeup makes her look even more foreign, if that’s possible. Is she to wear a wig? That might help a bit.”

  “No. Pile her hair up in a traditional style and fasten it with these.”

  He handed six combs to me, and I caught my breath. They were brig
ht red, and I knew they were made from kingfisher beaks. Fabulously expensive, they were jewels in their own right. I remembered Midori telling me that Akira had bought some for her, a set for each day of the week, and that she hated wearing them.

  “They would look a lot better on the kingfisher,” she had said sadly. “I hate even touching them, but Akira insists I wear them whenever we go outside the house. If he knew how much I really loathed them, he would make me sleep in them, so I try to pretend to love them.”

  I held the combs in my hand and wondered what Akira was up to. Were the combs meant to show Sute’s danna what a valuable jewel he had purchased, or was the message far more subtle? Was Akira trying to remind me of Midori, remind me that he had once owned her body and soul? That he could do the same with poor, little Sute? With all of us, for that matter? I had no idea, but I put the combs down as soon as I could. I shared Midori’s distaste for the expensive trinkets, and felt intensely sad that dozens of beautiful birds had been slaughtered just to provide an ornament.

  I made sure that my face showed nothing but awed pleasure at Akira’s magnificent gift to our newest maiko. But after all, perhaps a flicker of expression had crossed my face, or—more likely!—Akira had read my mind. He leaned far closer to me than was polite, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek as he spoke to me.

  “They are very valuable, but I didn’t buy them for little Sute here. They belonged to Midori-chan. She was wearing a set when she left us, but she had plenty more. I gave her a set for each day of the week. I thought they would be appropriate for our newest acquisition. After all, she shares so much with Midori, doesn’t she? After all, Midori was half gaijin, and Sute looks entirely like a gaijin.”

  “Midori was far more beautiful,” I answered quickly, without thinking. Akira appeared satisfied as he simply grinned at me.

  Sute loved the combs, of course.