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

by India Millar

  “The Japanese lady said her husband was a very good friend of Akira-san. When I said he wasn’t here, she said it didn’t matter. Her gaijin friend wanted to see a Japanese house, and she had promised to show her the very best house in Edo. I was very frightened, mistress. I thought that if Akira-san found out, he would be very angry with me. But the Japanese lady said it didn’t matter. She said Akira-san would be even more angry if I turned them away, so I didn’t know what to do. Anyway, she didn’t give me any choice. She just swept past me and took her shoes off in the entrance, so I knew she was going to stay.”

  “Did she speak to the gaijin in a strange language?”

  The maid’s mouth opened and closed and her face drained of color. “She spoke to her in Japanese,” she whispered. “And the gaijin answered her in Japanese. She was a fox spirit after all, wasn’t she?”

  I thought she was going to faint for a minute. I knew how she felt.

  “No. No, of course she wasn’t,” I managed to say. “Many of the gaijin have learned to speak Japanese. Anyway, fox spirits don’t speak. They just bark. Get on with it. Did you show them around the house?”

  “Yes, mistress. I didn’t have any choice. The Japanese lady was very pleased with the bathhouse. She said she would like one the same for her own house. The gaijin didn’t seem bothered with it though. She just glanced at it and then went outside.”

  That was it, then. That was when the combs had disappeared. The maid was staring at me with huge eyes.

  “Did you show them Midori No Me-san’s rooms?” She shook her head at once. “How much did the rich woman give you? Come on, tell me.”

  “Not much, mistress. I…I’ve spent it already.”

  She was lying. It was obvious. I didn’t care greatly. What use did I have for her money?

  “You did very wrong, letting those women into the house. Akira-san will be furious with you if he finds out.” I gave the words time to sink in. “But if you do as I tell you, he need never know.”

  Hope flickered in those sly eyes. “Anything, mistress. Anything.” And for that moment, at least, she meant it. I chose my words carefully.

  “This is a very beautiful house. And Akira-san gives me anything at all that I want. You must know he is very fond of me.” I nearly choked on the lie, but her face had turned covetous, and it was enough. “But sometimes it is very lonely here. I would like to know what is happening in Edo. Especially here in the Floating World. In the future, you will be my eyes and ears. You will tell me all of the news. Everything. Every scrap of gossip that you maids learn, you will tell me.”

  She stared at me, obviously expecting more. When I stayed silent, she scrambled to her feet, bowing repeatedly.

  “Yes, mistress. Every day. I promise.”

  When she had gone, I went back to the comb drawer. Very carefully, I moved each comb a small way until it was impossible to tell that any were missing unless they were counted. And I doubted that even Akira would bother to do that.

  The mechanical task freed my mind. Kiku yapped to go into the garden, and I let her out absently. Kiku’s namesake had been here. It had to be Kiku. I smiled as I thought of her sweeping past the maid as if she owned the place.

  But why? Why had she come here? And who was the fox-spirit gaijin who came with her? The gaijin who spoke Japanese? Who had stared at me so hard in the street? And above all, why had the gaijin stolen Midori’s combs?

  I shook my head at the mystery of it all, and then something occurred to me that left me reeling.

  The maid had insisted that she had not shown the women Midori’s rooms. I believed her; she would never have dared to do that. But Kiku had distracted the maid so that the gaijin could come here and steal the precious combs. Kiku didn’t know the layout of Akira’s house. Even if she did, she would have had no idea which of the many drawers the kingfisher combs were hidden in.

  Out of everybody who had lived in the Hidden House, only Midori and I knew.

  I have never fainted in my entire life, but at that moment I had to hang on to the closet door to defeat the dizziness that threatened to send me crashing to the floor.

  15

  When the sky weeps, the

  Earth bears fruit. When I cry, why

  Are my tears barren?

  When I had recovered my senses a little, I realized, reluctantly, that the gaijin fox spirit could not have been Midori. No matter how I wished I could convince myself it was, it was not possible. Midori was far away, over the sea in a land I had neither seen nor could even begin to imagine. But, was it possible that she had sent somebody to me?

  I hoped so. Every day I was captive, I hoped so even more.

  The maid was as good as her word; as if she dared fail me with the threat of Akira hanging over her. She came and whispered to me of great unrest, not just in the Floating World, but throughout Edo, and possibly beyond. It was certain, she said, that some of the gaijin had been attacked in the streets and badly beaten. Nobody had been found to blame for the attacks, although everybody knew it was one of the yakuza gangs who had been responsible.

  There had been trouble at the kabuki, she reported, with a sly glance at my print, once again on a wall. Troublemakers had disrupted so many performances that they had driven the patrons away and there was barely an audience anymore. The gossip was that an attempt had been made to set fire to the theater again, but the fire had been found and put out before it could do any real damage.

  And for sure, there was real trouble brewing between the rival yakuza gangs.

  “Has Akira-san’s name been mentioned?” I demanded.

  She frowned. “Yes, mistress. Not about the beatings—it seems that’s between two or three of his rivals.” She added thoughtfully, “But he has not been seen in Edo since he bought you here. Some say he is finished, that the other yakuza will divide up his men amongst themselves and take on his business. Others say that he is behind the trouble amongst the other yakuza and is just waiting out of the way to step back in when everything has settled.”

  I smiled knowingly, as if I was aware of all this. The maid looked awed.

  “And one other thing, mistress. There has been a strange man close to the house. We have all seen him at different times of the day. He just stands and looks at the door.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “We think he is a yakuza, but we don’t know him. He stands still, like an actor can be so still you would barely notice he is there if you didn’t keep seeing him. Tall and handsome. Young. Looks as if he would be good to have on your side in a fight.”

  She looked at me hopefully. I nodded, somehow keeping my face expressionless. Ken. It had to be Ken. That peculiar quality of stillness he had. I dismissed her and picked up Kiku, hugging her to my face.

  Had Akira sent Ken to keep an eye on me? I doubted it. Akira thought I was safe, imprisoned here in his own house. No, Ken himself had come looking for me, I was sure of it. I wet Kiku’s fur with my tears, and she yapped at me reproachfully.

  I had felt Ken’s absence in my bones. At first, I had hardly dared allowed myself to think about him for fear that Akira would come back and read my mind. But as the solitary days passed by, my lover was there beside me every minute of every hour. At night, I dreamed he was lying next to me. Until the astonishing business with the missing combs had jerked me out of my deep misery, the memory of him was the only thing that had stopped me from going insane.

  And now I found that he really had been here, close by, every day.

  I cried and laughed at the same time.

  The more I thought about things, the more I decided that Kiku—and the gaijin fox spirit—were trying to help me. As was Ken, of course. And if they were all willing to help me, then I must also help myself.

  I began to plot. I watched the maids go in and out and wondered if I could bribe them to let me go. I still had all of Midori’s gold. I was sure she would be pleased if I spent some of it to escape from Akira, just as she had escaped. I wou
ld find Ken, and we would run away together. I looked at the idea from all sides and found it flawless.

  Until I remembered my friends at the Hidden House.

  If I managed to escape, the first thing Akira would do was punish them. He would do it simply because he knew I cared for them. And his vengeance would be very terrible. He would punish them for me every day for the rest of their lives.

  Bitterly, I realized I couldn’t inflict that on them.

  And then Akira came back. I trembled for myself as well as the geisha in the Hidden House.

  He sneaked into his own home like a thief in the night. I was asleep and dreaming that Ken was next to me, curled up at my side. The first I knew it was Akira who was there was when he lay down next to me on my futon, snaking an icy cold hand into my sleeping robe. I gasped with surprise, and he laughed.

  “Ah, Mineko-chan. I awoke you. I am so sorry.”

  But his freezing touch had done me a favor. He had jerked me awake, arousing my wits as well. I knew that it was Akira next to me, not Ken.

  “Akira-san,” I murmured, feigning sleepiness. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Ah, but you are pleased to see me, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  He chuckled at what we both knew was a lie. “I am tired, Mineko-chan. But not so tired that I will be pleased to find that you greet your master with pleasure.”

  He lay on his back. He had thrown the covers back and was naked.

  For the first time, I saw the work of art that was his body and I gasped. Gasped at the artistry of the intricate tattoos and with fear as I remembered Midori telling me that she was the only woman he had ever been honored with the sight of his body. And that he had done that not through love, but to let her know she was his property, body and soul.

  As was I now.

  All my hopes and dreams of escaping from this terrible man shriveled and died at that moment.

  His body gleamed in the yellow moonlight. The colors of the tattoos were muted by the lack of light, but it was bright enough for me to see the many huge eyes that were tattooed on his ribs. He moved slightly, and I was sure one of them winked at me. My flesh crawled with fear. My glance ran down his body, and the fear turned to pure terror.

  Akira had been my danna for my mizuage. He was the first man who had ever taken me. At the time, I had thought him gentle and kind. How was I to know that he was only using me to spite Midori? But because he was my first lover, if it could ever be appropriate to use the word for an act so devoid of affection, I remembered his tree of flesh very well. A rearing monster it had seemed to me in my innocence, with a life force that could take anything I could give, and more.

  Now, it lay before me a flaccid knot of flesh. An old man’s tree, with no vitality in it at all.

  “I am tired, Mineko,” Akira whispered mockingly. “Surely, you will be able to awaken my desires?”

  The unspoken threat was like a cobweb in the air between us.

  I licked my lips. My mouth was so dry I swear I heard my tongue rasp. Akira lay still as death.

  “What would please you, master?”

  “I shall leave that to you, Mineko-chan.”

  No help there then. Very well. I would show Akira what my years in the Hidden House had taught me. And if his tree defied my efforts, then it would not be for want of trying.

  I took his flaccid tree between my finger and thumb, rubbing and nipping gently, alternating the softness with sharper tugs. When that had no effect, I slid my fingers down to his kintama, molding and cupping them in the palm of my hand until they felt hot beneath my touch. I thought Akira’s breathing had deepened slightly, and then wondered with horror if he was actually starting to fall asleep.

  That did it. I shrugged aside my sleeping robe and slid my leg over his waist, pinning him down to the futon with my body. He gave a grunt of surprise, and I grinned savagely to myself. Neither asleep nor dead then! Suddenly, a spirit of mischief took control of my body. I could feel no pain, but Akira could. Let him feel the pain he had inflicted on others now. No matter what might happen to me afterward, Akira was going to understand what he had done to Midori and no doubt many, many others. It would be worth it.

  At least it seemed so at that moment.

  I squeezed my legs tightly around his ribs. He could have shaken me off if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

  “What game are you playing, Mineko?” He sounded indulgent, as if he was talking to a little girl. For answer, I leaned forward and bit his lips closed. I bit harder, until I tasted his blood on my tongue, heard him hiss with either anger or pain. Then his hands were on my waist, forcing me down toward his tree. But I was having none of that. Not yet, at least.

  I washed his face with my dry tongue, like a cat grooming its fur, leaving a streak of his own blood on his cheek. When he tried to speak, I nipped his flesh, hard. I took his ear in my mouth and bit the lobe. I sat back and felt behind me for his tree. I grinned with satisfaction as I found it erect and alert.

  “Now,” Akira snapped. I shook my head, running my tongue over my lips. He barred his teeth. I had no idea if he was smiling or snarling. No matter. The madness had taken possession of me, and I was going to teach this horrible man a lesson he would never forget. Tonight, I knew instinctively, would be my one chance.

  Reaching up, I loosed my hair. It was years since I had had it cut, and it tumbled down thick and straight well past my waist. I took a hank of it in my hand, stretching it like rope. I slid off Akira and crouched at the side of him, watching his face every second. I leaned over and captured his tree with my hair, tightening my grip until I felt it cut into him. I heard him groan with pain and pleasure mingled.

  In spite of the fact that Akira had been my danna, this was the first time I had ever seen his tree. During my mizuage, he had kept his robe on all night. Now, I saw it was truly a thing of wonder. Although it would not have hurt me, I could only wonder at the courage it must have taken Akira to have had this most intimate part of him tattooed like this. Not one scrap of his private parts was naked. From the base where his tree rose from his kintama to the very tip of his hood. The most beautiful trailing vines with just-opening white blossoms covered the length while the hood itself bore a tattoo of a pair of a woman’s hands cupping the flesh. The work was so well executed that it actually looked as if the fingernails were denting slightly, nipping his skin.

  And I knew at that moment that this terrible man would fear nothing. It was not possible for him to care about pain after the weeks and months of agony the tattoos inflicted on his own skin must have caused. Each line, each scrap of color had been pricked under his skin with a needle. I knew some men chose to use acupuncture to dull the pain of a tattoo. I knew just as well that Akira would never have done so. If it cost him his life, he would take what he wanted and be satisfied with the bargain. Nothing I could do, no matter how much pain I caused him, would bother him at all.

  I almost cried with disappointment at the knowledge.

  But at least I had aroused him. His tree could not ignore my attention.

  I leaned back, sawing at his flesh with my hair. It seemed to me that the tattooed hands on his tree tightened their grasp to help with my efforts, and I laughed hysterically at the illusion. Perhaps Akira thought I was laughing at him. In any event, his reaction was immediate.

  He dragged my hair from around his tree, breaking a hank of it off with the violence. His grip transferred itself to my scalp and he dragged me back, leaving me dangling in midair. He shook me like another man might chastise a naughty pet dog and I gasped with shock at his strength. His lips were drawn back. There was a thread of saliva joining his teeth. He looked so like a wolf that I screamed out loud. Apparently satisfied with my terror, he began to lower my body until the entrance to my sex was poised over the very tip of his tree. Only then did he let go.

  I braced myself with my legs gripping tightly on his hips. For a long moment, we stared at each other, and then I did what I h
ad to do, and acknowledged that Akira was the stronger. I slid down—as slowly as I could—until the tattooed hands were swallowed by my black moss. And even then, I was sure I could feel those exquisite fingers scratching gently at my flesh.

  Akira threw his head back and laughed. I stayed still, unsure if he wanted to take charge of me or wanted me to pretend to control him. Get it over with, I thought. I was suddenly bone weary, both terror and defiance gone.

  But Akira surprised me. He took my face in his hands and pulled my head down to his lips, kissing me tenderly. He ran his tongue over my lips, kissed the hollow above my shoulder bones, nipped my ear lobe. I didn’t want to respond. I had no intention of enjoying him. But my body had its own ideas.

  Since Ken had first aroused me, I had missed him. Missed the man and his touch, his love making. I had found a pair of elegant love globes waiting for me when I arrived at Akira’s house. At first, I had simply left them in their place, remembering they had done nothing for me when I had tried them at the Hidden House. But that had been before Ken aroused me. Before I understood what my body was capable of. Eventually, driven frantic by need, I had resorted to using the globes. They were better than nothing, but reminded me so much of what it had been like when Ken made love to me that the pleasure they gave was mingled with sorrow.

  Now, Akira was forcing me to remember what I had found with Ken. I tensed, willing myself to hate what he was doing. I tried, but it was no good. His tree filled me, even as his hands roamed over my body, touching, stroking, caressing. He was relentless. I felt my pleasure begin to build, and as my fruit was about to burst, I was filled with the dreadful knowledge that somehow it was happening in spite of my intense hatred for this man.

  I screamed out loud. Beat my fists on his chest. Lashed him with my hair. Wanted desperately to hurt him, even as I knew that the harder I tried, the more he would love it. And all the time, my traitorous body refused to obey me. The muscles in my sex gripped him hard, tugging him into me as far as he would go. My orgasm swelled and surged and I threw my head back and shouted wordlessly. He laughed at me, his mouth open wide, and I felt him erupt deep inside me.