by India Millar
I clutched at his words like a drowning man grabbing for a reed. “She taught me the arts of relieving pain, lord,” I said quickly. “But nothing else. I am sorry.”
“Sorry? What for?” Akafumu’s voice was soft, his words slurred. But when I stopped rubbing his tree, he slapped me at the side of my head hard enough to hurt. “You will be sorry if you don’t get on with it. Reiki loved taking me in her mouth. It was a shame she had all her teeth. My favorite concubine was delighted when I had all her teeth taken out so she could give me greater pleasure. I was thinking of offering Reiki the same favor. Pity she had to die.”
I carried on stroking his tree. I remembered Reiki warning me to be careful with Akafumu, and now I understood why. How many times had he insisted that she pleasure him? How dare he? The answer came to me immediately. Of course he dared. He was a daimyo. He had the power of life and death in his hands. I gritted my teeth in helpless fury and then shuddered at the thought of having them pulled out just to satisfy this man’s lust.
“I will do my best, lord.” I hoped he might take the tremor of anger in my voice for fear.
“You had better.” He tapped me on the head sharply. “If you don’t please me enough, I shall get that girl of yours to try. Only before I give her the privilege, I will have her teeth pulled. If her gums are tender, it should make the experience exquisite in the extreme.”
It was obvious that Akafumu found the idea intensely erotic. His tree surged beneath my fingers, pulsing as if it was a living thing. There was no way I could avoid this. I leaned forward without saying another word and took his tree between my lips. I heard him sigh with pleasure; I wanted to get this over with as quickly as I could. I gulped him into my mouth so far that his hood brushed the back of my throat.
I told myself that this was nothing but a bit of flesh. It meant nothing to me at all. Akafumu pushed, and I gagged. He laughed and I bit him. It was instinct; I couldn’t help it. He paused, as if trying to decide whether he liked that or not. I gathered he did, as he arched his hips and tried to push further. I was very grateful his tree was no bigger.
I closed my lips firmly around his flesh and sucked. I heard him exhale heavily and tensed, expecting at any moment that he would spill his seed in my mouth. After a heartbeat, I realized that although his tree was still erect, he had become still and silent. I pulled away a fraction, and when there was no response, a fraction more. I waited for a slap or instructions. When there was only silence, I drew my mouth away completely and his tree withdrew from my mouth with a pop.
He was asleep. His arms had fallen to each side of him, and his mouth was open, showing nasty, yellow teeth. I glanced from his face to his tree and saw that the great daimyo might have succumbed to the embrace of morphine, but his tree was still very much alive. I thought of Reiki as I turned and walked away.
“For you, Reiki,” I said very softly. “I hope he’s still like that when his servants come in to attend to him. And I hope they wake him up so he can understand the state I left him in.”
Nineteen
The sun shines on my
Mountain. Why is it raining
Where you make your home?
“Did you see the man who said he was from the court?”
Niko was very quiet, and I thought she might be worried.
“No. Or at least, I don’t think I did.” She paused, frowning. “It was really odd, but they all looked the same. They all wore their hair in the same way and all dressed the same. They even sounded alike. Is that how they look at us peasants? I mean, do they think we’re all the same?”
“Yes,” I said simply. “I think so.”
That started her off.
“You were rich. You were a samurai. But you don’t think all peasants are like animals and not worth bothering about. Why? Why are you different?”
“I try to live by the samurai code of bushido,” I explained carefully. “And if that is observed properly, it means not just loyalty to your peers and obedience to those of higher rank, but also compassion toward those in need, no matter who they are.”
“But Akafumu’s a daimyo,” Niko protested. “He should live by the code of bushido as well, but look what he did to you. He has no compassion at all. All he thinks about is himself.”
I thought of his idle comment about pulling Niko’s teeth and shuddered. She was far more accurate than she knew.
“I know. A lot of samurai are the same.” I was absurdly frustrated that I couldn’t explain it to Niko and finally fell back on something I guessed she would understand. “Perhaps it’s because I’m a woman. I’m not just samurai, I’m onna-bugeisha. That’s means I consider far more than just obeying the words of the code. I have to live by the spirit of it as well and do what I think is right.”
As I said it, I realized I was speaking no more than the truth. I was astonished by the revelation. Niko put her head on one side, thinking about it, then nodded.
We walked on in perfect understanding.
“Do you have to go back to Lord Akafumu’s court?” she asked finally. “I didn’t like it there. Even the servants looked at me as I was dirt and walked around me, making sure they didn’t touch me. And I liked him even less.”
“I don’t think we’ll need to go back,” I said. “We’ll listen for any rumors that circulate about him and then decide. But I believe it won’t be long before we hear that the great Lord Akafumu is suffering from some strange malady that the doctors can neither diagnose nor cure.”
“Good,” Niko said with great satisfaction. “Is it those pills you gave to him? Were they poison?” Oh, but she was sharp!
“Not poison, no. They’re meant to prevent pain. But if a man takes too many of them, he will find he can’t live without them. When Akafumu has finished the pills I gave him today, he’ll crave more. And when he can’t get them, his body will demand them until he can think of nothing else. He’ll send his men looking for Kamakiri the anma, but she’ll have disappeared, and there’s nowhere else he can get the pills.
“I think a very strong man could overcome the spell the pills impose, but even for them, it would be very terrible. And Akafumu is weak. He can’t stand pain, and my guess is that he’ll turn to opium for consolation. When he finds his pipe isn’t as good as the pills, he’ll take more and more in an effort to get the same results. He’ll get to the stage very soon where he can’t make a decision, can’t do anything at all. He has no future. He’ll be enslaved to his drug.”
“But he’ll still be alive,” Niko protested. “After what he’s done to you, shouldn’t you have killed him?”
“Better this way, you blood-thirsty child.” I smiled. “His life will never be the same again. He has many sons. Sons who would be delighted to inherit his wealth and position without waiting for his death. When they see their father is no longer the man he was, they’ll fight amongst themselves to take his place. The family will tear itself to pieces. The shogun will be forced to step in. He may side with one of the sons and put Akafumu aside for him. If he does that, the other sons will be jealous. There will never be any certainty for the new daimyo. But the shogun may not do that. He is a man who loves wealth and power. He may decide to give Akafumu’s estate and title to one of his favorites. Or instead, he might decide to simply take Akafumu’s land and title for himself. If he does either, no man would dare argue with him.
“Whatever happens, Akafumu will spend the rest of his days as a ruined man who must sit in the corner of what was his own courtyard and watch his ancient and noble family being destroyed around him. Now tell me it would have been better to kill him!”
“Probably not,” Niko said cheerfully. “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and wait for your ninja to come back home?”
“Most certainly not. There’s something I have to do before I can move on.” Something Niko had said earlier had made me realize I had left a loose thread. A thread that had to be tied off before I could progress. And now was the time to address it. “You can
stay here in the house for a while. I have to go and see the kannushi at Jokan-Ji Temple.”
“And what brings you to see me so soon?” The kannushi’s voice sounded slightly disappointed. “Our friend will barely have arrived in Kyoto. I doubt he will have had time to attend to any business yet. Has something happened? Do you need to get an urgent message to him?”
“No. I understand it’s too early to expect to hear from him,” I said quickly. “And I haven’t come to you to ask you to contact him for me.”
The kannushi looked exactly like all the other monks. I had been expecting him to be different; he was shinobi by training and presumably inclination. I had anticipated someone who still bore the marks of a warrior. This man was small and slight, his face unremarkable except for its tranquility. I wondered if I had made a mistake and then saw the shrewd look in his eyes and I relaxed. Yo trusted this man; if he did, then so should I.
“I see. Then why have you come to me, daughter? Is something amiss with the house?”
“No, not at all. I’m deeply grateful that you allow me to stay there.” I spoke quickly. “I’ve come to ask you a favor, kannushi.”
“Ask,” he said simply.
His expression did not change as I explained what I needed. When I finished speaking, he was silent for a long time. My hopes sank when he finally spoke.
“I am a Buddhist priest, child. You should know that the fourth precept of Buddhism—the Theravada—instructs that an adherent of the Lord Buddha must abstain from falsehood. Because of that, I cannot do as you ask.”
I bowed deeply. “I apologize, kannushi. I hadn’t thought of my request in that way. Thank you for your time. I will leave you.”
Before I could rise from my knees, the kannushi’s voice stopped me.
“Sit, child. I’m sure our mutual friend told you that in a former life I was shinobi.” I nodded. “I have put all that behind me now. But it does mean that I am perhaps a little more worldly than my fellow priests.” He was smiling, as though something unsaid was amusing him. “As I told you, I cannot commit to a falsehood. But perhaps there may be a way that I can help you.”
I watched him and waited in silence, busy with my own thoughts.
Niko’s innocent words had reminded me that I had left something undone. When she had told me that the rumor in the Floating World was that I—the Lady Keiko—had committed suicide, I was delighted. If I no longer existed, then I was free to do as I liked.
On reflection, I understood that there was one serious problem with my reasoning. The Floating World might believe that I no longer walked the earth, but I doubted that the gossip would have reached Tadatomo-san’s ears. He would think I was still alive, and no doubt he was still expecting to marry me once my grief had abated. But how long would he wait? Eventually, he would try to find me. When it seemed I had disappeared without a trace, the natural thing for him to do would be to turn to the shogun to help him find me. I shuddered at the thought. Nobody would dare to lie to the shogun. Ironically, it was entirely possible that he might hire some of Yo’s shinobi colleagues to track me down. If—or rather, when—the shogun discovered me, all my plans would be dead. I would be forced to marry Tadatomo. Or actually commit suicide. And I had no intention of doing either.
The kannushi’s voice broke my reverie.
“I cannot lie for you, daughter,” he said thoughtfully. “I understand that your cause is a just one. But you are sitting in front of me. How, then, could I send a message to Lord Tadatomo to tell him that I have buried your body in my temple?”
I was deeply ashamed. Of course this good man couldn’t go against his religion for me. I would have to find another way. I bowed my head.
“I am deeply sorry, kannushi. I should have thought of that before I insulted you by asking for the impossible,” I said humbly. Even with my head bent to the tatami, I thought I saw a flicker of interest in his face and I paused, my hopes rising.
“Your penitence does you great credit, daughter,” he said gravely. “I think you must know that this temple is unique in that we care for the bodies of those poor unfortunates who die serving the Floating World.” I nodded my understanding. “We take care of them all. Sometimes, the sad creatures come to the temple and die here, of hunger or cold or both. I often think that it is not their hurts that finish them, but the knowledge that they are fated to reach the end of their earthly existence here. They know we will treat their body with a respect that was never shown to them elsewhere in the world, and so they come here and die with the dignity that was denied to them in life.”
I heard the bitterness in his words. This was truly a good man. I felt ashamed of my own trivial desires.
“I have money,” I said quickly. “Could I give a donation to help your work?”
“You can. We have patrons who are sure that their donations will bring good fortune on them, or persuade the Lord Buddha to grant them what they desire. They’re wrong, of course. Buddha does not care about money. Still, I take it of course. Otherwise we couldn’t go on.” I flinched, and he smiled kindly. “I understand that your motives are different, daughter. And because of that, I also think that there is perhaps a way Jokan-Ji Temple can help you.”
He paused and I spoke into the silence.
“If it can be done without going against the Fourth Precept…” I shrugged, deeply uncomfortable. My family had been Buddhists for generations, but in name only. We resorted to the religion when it suited us; we observed the main festivals, but more as an excuse for amusement than anything. A Buddhist priest would never be turned away empty-handed, but what was a bowl full of food to us? I found myself wondering if it was possible that the Lord Buddha was using this as an opportunity to reprimand me for my neglect. I was sure the kannushi had read my thoughts when he spoke.
“The Lord Buddha forgives much, daughter. How could it be otherwise when he has seen fit to allow me to serve his temple? A man who has spent the whole of his life lying and cheating—yes, and killing—with no motive except for my own gain.”
I thought of Yo and grimaced. “But you were shinobi,” I protested. “That was the way of your life.”
“And now my life is here,” he said simply. “The way to enlightenment is different for all of us, daughter. I understand that you seek revenge. In the past, I would have done just as you are doing. That is the nature of mankind. Each man—and woman—must do what they think is right at the time. As a priest, I cannot condone your actions. As a man—and a man who was once shinobi—I understand and sympathize with you.”
I felt both comforted and relieved by his words.
“Can you help me, then? As the shinobi you once were?”
“I cannot.” I closed my eyes in disappointment. “But it may be that circumstances allow you to be helped with no assistance at all from me. And if that is so, then who can say it isn’t karma?”
I chose my words very carefully. “Can you tell me how this is to happen?”
“A poor unfortunate was brought to us only this morning.” I was deeply disappointed. The kannushi was an old man. Clearly his thoughts were wandering. “She was left in front of the main door to the temple, as so many are. It was impossible to see how she met her death. She seemed to be well-nourished and there were no marks of violence on her body. But she was most certainly dead. Oddly, she looked very much like you.”
I was nodding automatically when I realized what he had said. A small flame of hope made me catch my breath.
“She was dressed in rags, of course. No ornaments, not even a pair of sandals on her feet. When somebody is left with us like this, we always wait for a few days, just in case somebody comes forward to tell us who she was. It happens very rarely, but who knows?”
“Indeed.” I spoke into the silence. “I believe my adopted younger sister, Niko, knows many people in the Floating World. Perhaps she might be able to recognize the unfortunate woman? And no doubt her soul is still close by. Do you think it would give her satisfaction to have
something nice at the very end?”
I put my hand up to my hair and tugged out the clasp from the back. It was a pretty thing, gold set with pearls. I held it out to the kannushi reluctantly. It had belonged to my mother and had initially been given to my elder sister, Emiko. But Emiko had never liked it and had passed it on to me without a second thought. And now I was passing it on, but this time, I hoped for a good purpose.
“That is most generous of you, Kamakiri-san.” It was the first time the kannushi had used my name, and I hoped it signified approval. “I’m sure you’re right. In life, no doubt the girl was very fond of ornaments. I will have it placed in her hair. And it would be very good if your younger sister could visit the poor creature. Even better if she could put a name to the unfortunate.”
We smiled at each other in perfect understanding. I would speak to Niko as soon as I got home. She would, I felt sure, be delighted to be involved in my scheme. She would identify the body that looked so much like me as the missing Lady Keiko with appropriate grief.
“And if it turns out that the gossip of the Flower and Willow World is confirmed, and that the Lady Keiko is indeed no longer with us?” I asked. “In that case, surely it would only be right that Lord Tadatomo be told that his bride is dead?”
“One step at a time, daughter,” the kannushi reprimanded me. “If karma says these things should be so, then no man should stand in the way.” I nodded seriously and hid a smile as I saw the gleam in his eyes. Kannushi he might be now, but I was confident that in his dreams, he was still shinobi. “Your Niko will view her. If she is certain that she is the Lady Keiko, then word will most certainly be sent to Lord Tadatomo. May I ask if he knows his betrothed very well?”
I understood his meaning and spoke seriously. “No. In fact, I believe that he met Lady Keiko only once, when she was much younger.”
