by India Millar
“They hurt you?”
“That they did. I had forgotten that the monks’ reason for learning to fight was to protect themselves, not to inflict hurt on their opponent. The master at the martial arts school was different. He grinned at me when I asked if I could fight in his dojo. He assured me that he would be delighted to have a new opponent. Perhaps I might like to put a little wager on my own skills? I agreed, of course. And in return, he spilled my blood all over the dojo.”
“No!” I put my hand in front of my mouth to muffle the gasp. Part shock, part indignation that somebody should dare to hurt my man. “Did he hurt you badly?”
“Not as badly as my father had done, frequently. But this time, it was different. When father had beaten me, I had learned to remove myself from the pain. Make my mind go somewhere else. Do you understand?”
I almost laughed at Ken’s seriousness. How did he think we geisha in the Hidden House managed to get off our futon every day, knowing that today—just like yesterday and tomorrow—would bring more men, all wanting nothing more than to buy our bodies. To own us body and soul for an hour or two. We all learned, very quickly, that the only way to live with ourselves was to separate mind and body to allow us to endure whatever was inflicted on us.
“I understand,” I said simply.
“When the master hurt me, I felt the pain. I felt every punch. Every kick. And it terrified me. When he had decided I had had enough, I crawled off the matt. I would have done anything just to stop him from hitting me again.”
“Did you stop, then?” I asked curiously. “Go back home? I mean, there was no need for you to carry on, was there?”
“You think so? I couldn’t go back. If I had, then I would have been admitting defeat. All day and every day my father would have haunted me, laughing at me. Telling me he had always known I hadn’t been good enough. That I was truly a coward. And he would have been right. I couldn’t have lived with that. No, I didn’t go back. I carried on. But now, I avoided the monasteries, and sought out the martial arts schools. The worse the area I found them in, the harder it was to beat the master. Some of them nearly killed me. And gradually, with each punishment, the harder I found it to make myself go on. I was nearly sick with fear before every match. I had to bite my own tongue hard enough to draw blood to stop myself from whimpering every time a blow struck. Every night after a match, I lay on my futon and cried with the pain.”
I stared at him. This I found difficult to understand. Although I could feel no pain, I had seen the pain my fellow geisha suffered at the hands of our patrons. I had hated Akira for the pain he had inflicted on my dear Midori when he had tattooed his dragon on her back. Marked her as his creature. But none of the girls had cried. Ever. We shared a common code—no matter what the world threw at us, we would survive. Tears were a sign of weakness. No man would see us cry. Ever.
“But you carried on?” I asked curiously.
“I carried on,” Ken said grimly. “I flinched every time a blow nearly landed on my body. It got so bad that I was anticipating pain, shaking with fear before it even happened. And that was my salvation. I was so afraid of being hurt that my body began to think for itself. I avoided blows. Hit my opponent before they could get near me. And eventually I became the best. Not because I was brave, but because I was a coward.”
“Many men are cowards. It’s brave of you to admit it.”
“Is it? You don’t understand, Mineko. That first night, when I rescued you from Fuwe-san. If he had threatened to have me beaten instead of running away in fear, how would I have reacted?”
I stared at him and felt a cold finger tickle my spine. I understood Ken’s secret now. I, who could feel no pain, understood that he might turn and run if he was likely to be hurt. That he was likely to do it even if it meant leaving me—the woman he said he loved—to be tortured, even killed.
“Would you have left me?” I breathed.
“I don’t know,” he moaned. “That’s the thing, Mineko. I just don’t know. If I can’t bear to have pain inflicted on me, would I run away and leave you if Akira threatened to hurt me? I just don’t know.”
We were both silent. I lay with my head on his chest, wondering. No man was perfect. No woman would expect it. But could I live with this? Could I truly love Ken, knowing that he himself was unsure if he could protect me if it came to it? I felt sick. Not just with knowing his secret, but because he had shattered my dream. I had found something I had never believed could be mine. I had found a man who loved me and who I knew I was beginning to love in my turn. And now, Ken had spoiled the joy of it all.
In my mind, I saw a pool. A thing of great beauty, overhung with trees, showing their reflection in its unmarred surface. And then a careless tree allowed a stray fruit to fall into the water, causing ripples to fan out and the perfection of the scene to be made ugly. In time, those ripples would die away, leaving the surface as apparently unmarred as it was before. But the fruit that had fallen would lie beneath the surface, rotting and corrupting the water with its presence. Would that be how it was with us, with Ken and me? Would there always be something rotten at the center of us? Ah, I prayed not. Then I felt him shaking and realized he was crying. I wiped his face with a corner of his robe as if he were a child.
“Finish your story,” I commanded. I needed time to think. And in spite of everything, I was still curious as to how Ken had found his way to the Hidden House. To Akira.
He took a deep breath.
“I went from school to school. My reputation was beginning to grow. More often than not, I found myself welcomed by name and a match already arranged for me. And each time, I dreaded it more. And the more frightened I was, the better I fought. When there were no more schools to fight in on my island, I crossed over to Honshu.”
“You didn’t think about going back home, then?”
“No. It wasn’t just that I didn’t feel that I was ready, it was more as if something was telling me to carry on. To come to Edo. I had heard so much about it, it was more like a legend to me than an actual city.”
Many men felt the same way. We had patrons from the far islands who came to the Floating World once a year on what they described as “a pleasure pilgrimage.” Edo wasn’t known for just the Floating World, but it was the Floating World these men came to experience. Ken was looking at me hopefully, and I nodded my understanding.
“As soon as I stepped off the ferry that bought me to Edo, I had the strangest feeling. I knew nothing of the island. Knew nobody. And yet I felt as if I belonged here. A little of the guilt that was destroying me began to slip away at once. I found lodgings in a good, plain ryokan. It was my intention to stay at the inn for a few days, until I could decide how I was going to find my way to Edo. But fate had other plans for me. The first evening, I went to bed early. But I had little sleep. In the early hours, there was a racket outside the inn that would have woken the dead. Moments later, the owner shook me fully awake, mumbling apologies. There was somebody to see me, he said.
“‘Can’t they wait until morning?’ I grumbled. Yet at the same time, I wasn’t surprised. Whatever had drawn me to Honshu couldn’t be bothered to wait for me, it appeared. It had come looking for me instead. Was this going to be the day I died, I wondered? It was the strangest thing, but now that I was looking at death, I was not afraid. As I rose and dressed, I remember I was smiling. This was it then. The day of my atonement had arrived. I was pleased.
There was a gang of men lounging in the main room of the ryokan. The men stepped aside as I entered, and I saw one man was seated. It was a cold night, and the man was sitting on the edge of the fire pit. He jerked his head and the innkeeper dashed forward and lit the charcoal burner at the bottom of the pit, bowing as though he had the palsy all the time.
“‘Out,’ the seated man said curtly. As soon as the innkeeper had bowed himself out of the room, the man smiled at me. He patted the seat at his side, and I took it as an invitation to sit down.
“‘Ken
-san.’ He inclined his head graciously. ‘You do not know me, but your reputation has traveled before you. I understand that you are a fighting man, and a good one. I have need of a talented fighter. Will you join me?’
“He was grinning at me. The lamplight distorted his face, so it looked as if his skin was lit from within. I took my time, inspecting him carefully. He was richly dressed, and was obviously used to being obeyed. I was puzzled by him, until I noticed the little finger on his left hand was missing, and then everything fell into place. Yakuza. I stared at him, half amused, half contemptuous. This petty gangster dared to say he wanted to employ me, a samurai from one of the oldest families in Japan! And yet, there was something about him that told me to be cautious.
“‘You have the advantage over me,’ I said politely. ‘You know me, but I don’t know who you are.’
“I heard every one of his men take a deep breath, and it seemed to me as if they all drew away from me. An important yakuza then. Akira was still grinning. In fact, if anything, he seemed even more amused. He bowed his head insolently, without bothering to stand.
“‘I am Akira-san.’ The name meant nothing to me. What did I know of Edo’s yakuza? ‘Clearly, my fame hasn’t reached as far as Kyushu, but I assure you that it will. And very soon. But for now, I would like you to work for me. Very light work, and probably very pleasurable for a man such as yourself. You may not have noticed it in your remote corner of the country, but times have changed greatly in recent years.’ His henchmen snickered politely. Akira-san raised his eyebrows at them and they were immediately quiet.
“‘You mean the gaijin, I suppose? We have a few of them in Kyushu, but they are not too much trouble.’ I caught his expression, and in spite of myself added reluctantly, ‘Akira-san.’
“‘You may find things different here in Edo. But yes, I mean the gaijin. And other things as well. Enough.’ He got to his feet with a fluid grace that surprised me. He leaned forward and poked me in the chest. I regretted, deeply, that I wasn’t wearing my sword. If I had been, I would have taught this impudent peasant a lesson. He held no fear of me, you see. ‘I will make you an offer, Ken-san. The rumor is that you are the best fighter in all the bujutsu techniques in the whole of Japan.’
“He paused, staring at me, and I shrugged. Let him annoy me a little more, and he would soon find out!
“‘A modest man,’ he scoffed. ‘Well then, I too am a modest sort of man. Let us have a little wager, shall we? You and I will fight. Now. It is a pleasant night, if rather cold. The exercise will warm us up.’
“Fight this insolent yakuza? Nothing would give me greater pleasure!
“‘And the terms?’ I demanded coolly. Akira tapped his lips, pretending to think about it.
“‘Ah, let me see. I know! If I win, then you will become my man. You will work for me for as long as I have use for you. It would not be unpleasant, I promise you. I reward those who are faithful to me very well. And if I lose, why then I guarantee you the freedom of Edo. All of it, at your feet. As much sake as you can drink and as many beautiful women as you can bed. No gambling den would accept your money. No man would dare to lay a finger on you. All of it, until you got bored and decided to go home, no doubt a wiser and much wealthier man. What do you say, Ken-san?’
“It took all my willpower not to laugh in his face. Still, it was an offer I could hardly refuse, and I told him so.
“And the weapons?” I asked.
“‘Swords, of course.’
“I shrugged. That was fine for me. I thought if I could kill my own father with a sword, then downing this cocky yakuza would hardly be difficult. Not that I intended to kill him. One death on my conscience was enough.
“We squared up to each other in the moonlight, in the road immediately in front of the ryokan. Akira’s men made a circle around us. I was wary of that at first, but Akira gestured at them to move back, and they obeyed immediately. We bowed to each other, and began to fight.
“For the first minute or two, I thought it was going to be easy. Akira kept his distance, not pressing for an advantage, just parrying everything I tried. Then I realized that he was learning. He was watching what I did, how I did it. And gradually, he began to fight in earnest. I was surprised beyond measure. I was used to the samurai code of sword fighting. Certain moves could be expected, there was a traditional style to the thing. But Akira was having none of that. He simply treated his sword as an extension of his own body, and I was soon panting with the effort of keeping him at bay. But I was still convinced that I could win. And then Akira ducked under my guard and his sword slashed my ribs. It was a long cut, but—as I found out afterward when I looked—not deep. But his sword was very sharp, and the night very cold, and the wound was very painful. And shocking. The last person who had managed to cut me with a blade was my father. The combination of surprise and pain took me off my guard. Akira saw his chance and took it. He hit me hard with his sword. Not with the edge of the blade—if he had used that, I would have been cut through to my backbone—but with the flat. Even so, the impact of it sent me to the ground. In the next second, Akira had his foot on my chest and the point of his sword at my throat.
“‘Ah, my dear Ken-san.’ His grin nearly split his face as he spoke. “’I am so sorry. It looks as if I have got the better bargain after all. Now, do you accept my offer, or do you want to take the honorable course and I kill you now?’
“I had no breath left to answer him. No words to answer him with for that matter. I knew I was disgraced, that I should follow the code of my ancestors and beg him to finish me there and then. Knocking me down like that, using the flat of his sword as if he didn’t consider it worthwhile to clean my blood off his blade was a deadly insult. The loss of face was as bad as if he had had his men hold me down and he had pissed on my face. In any event, wasn’t he offering exactly what I had been praying for from the moment I murdered my father? Here was my chance, at last. But suddenly, I knew I wanted to live. Even if the life Akira was offering me meant I might never go back home, I wanted to live.”
“So you came here, to the Floating World,” I said.
Ken nodded. “Akira treated me as a comrade from the start. I think he probably did it to rub in the message that he had spared my life, but I didn’t care. I was amazed by the new world he was showing me. But I was more shocked by myself. I not only wanted to live all at once, I wanted above all else to live in this strange world. And then I saw you, and I knew that the gods no longer wanted to punish me. That I had found myself. I had come home.”
I had to smile at his anxious face. There was so much to think about in what he had told me. Already, I was beginning to believe that there might be a future for us somehow. Midori had escaped from the Hidden House. Perhaps I could do the same. His confession that he was a coward, that he was afraid of pain, suddenly seemed ironic to me. A fine pair we were, to be sure! The dream might be flawed, but had my life ever been perfect? And Ken had rescued me from Fuwe-san. He had taken the risk of following me to Kiku’s house.
I was about to thank him for that when the peace was torn by the most terrible scream.
11
The light shines in the
Darkness, and the dark cannot
Overcome the light
The scream was as piercing as a whistle. Auntie. Auntie, who had never needed to so much as raise her voice to keep us all in line.
Ken and I scrambled to our feet. I shrugged myself into my chemise and kimono, tying my obi roughly. Ken had only to tug on his robe and fasten his sash, so he was dressed before I was. He was at the hidden door leading to the kitchen corridor before I had pulled on my kimono.
“Wait a moment,” I said urgently. “It’s Auntie. I know it is. Something terrible must have happened to her. You stay here until I’m gone. You can follow in a minute. Whatever’s happening, it’s not going to help if Bigger finds us together.”
I waited until he nodded and then I was out the door.
The disc
ipline of years made me hesitate at Auntie’s room, my hand poised to knock. Then she moaned loudly, and I pushed open the door and dashed in. Behind me, I could hear the buzz of the girls’ voices as they came out of their bedrooms, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. For a second, I was amazed. Had Ken and I only been together for less than the length of an afternoon nap? Had my whole world been picked up and shaken apart and put back together again in the space of an hour or so? Auntie screamed again, and my wandering thoughts focused quickly.
I ran to the bed. My toe caught on the tatami and I nearly fell, but I barely noticed.
Auntie had gotten herself a western style bed as soon as she could find one. Nothing to do with pleasing the gaijin in her case. Her knees were so knotted and stiff, she found climbing on and off a low futon excruciatingly painful, and she hated ordering the maids to help her to get up and down. She had pillows as well on the bed, and I guessed she must have fallen asleep sitting up, propped against them. Now, she was slewed sideways, her whole upper body dangling off the side of the bed as if she was boneless. Her hands almost touched the floor.
I reached the side of the bed and tried to lift her up. Frail as she had become in recent months, she was still a dead weight, and I struggled to move her. Behind me, I could hear the other geisha twittering like caged birds. Above the rest of them, Sute’s voice rang out clearly.
