by India Millar
“One day, my old master summoned me to his presence and confronted me with my actions. I denied everything, of course. He didn’t believe me and said that the only way I could prove my loyalty was by the traditional way of cutting off my finger. I obeyed at once. I had no alternative. He was a clever man. He may not have believed me, but he knew that once I had been marked as having demonstrated my loyalty to another leader, I could never go back to Akira. He would have known instantly that I had been disloyal. So that was it. I had to stay with my yakuza, and he made it very clear that I was no more than a foot soldier in his organization.
“In any event, it all turned out for the best in the end. My old master was eventually defeated by Akira, and he was forced to slink back to Osaka. Both sides had taken hefty losses. We were lucky to escape before Akira could take his revenge on those of us who were still alive. I stayed with my master and gradually worked my way back up to be his trusted second in command. When I felt I had a chance, I took those men who were loyal to me and murdered the old man.” He spoke so casually that it took a moment for me to realize what he had said. “I never looked back after that. Soon, I was wealthier than any noble in Osaka. But I never gambled again without thinking carefully first, Kamakiri. In time, I saw that there were men below me who wanted my place. I could have fought them, but why take the chance? I already had more money than I could spend in a lifetime. And by then, I was also owed a debt by many important men.
“One of them was the local magistrate, a samurai who had fallen on hard times and who had had the sense to accept my presence. He told me that the Osaka daimyo had decided that the yakuza grip in the area had become so strong that they perceived us as a threat and were about to clear us out. That was enough for me. I sold all my assets quietly and told my friends I fancied a change of scenery. I was delighted to find that my letters of introduction from my high ranking acquaintances in Osaka opened many doors for me in society here in Edo.” I kept my face fascinated even as I thought how delighted his “acquaintances” must have been to learn he was leaving Osaka. “I liked Edo when I was here as a young man, and I’m very pleased to find that the Floating World still suits me perfectly. I shall stay, I think. Edo society sees me as a rich and respectable man. What more could I want? Particularly now that I have the chance at such a lovely companion to support me in my failing years.”
He leered at me, raising his eyebrows and smiling. I pretended to find his words amusing and giggled behind my fan. At the same time, my brain was flicking like the beads on an abacus, ordering all he had told me. Akira the elder had been denied his revenge. I knew the yakuza had their own twisted code of honor. I guessed shrewdly that Akira’s son would be delighted to find that after all these years his father’s enemy was suddenly within reach.
But first, I had to get away from him. I patted my lips with my finger, pretending to be bewildered.
“I’m honored by your regard for me, Hara-san. But my mind must be failing me this evening. I still don’t understand. Why did you ask if I was a gambling woman?”
He laughed softly, clearly amused that I had chosen to pick on such a small comment.
“I am going to propose a wager, Kamakiri-chan. The odds will be simple. If you win, then you leave my house as soon as the rain stops. I hope we will remain friends, but I will ask no more of you.”
“And if I lose?” I asked.
“If you lose, then I keep you. You become my concubine for however long it takes me to tire of you. Isn’t that generous of me? The odds are very much in your favor. You simply can’t lose. If I win our wager, you will enjoy a life of luxury. Anything you ask for will be yours. And what do I ask in return? Nothing at all except what you already give to any man who takes your fancy. If I lose, you have gained a valuable diamond and we have had a pleasant evening together.”
“That sounds very generous, Hara-san.” I wrinkled my brow as if I was giving serious consideration to his ludicrous offer. “But can I trust you? How do I know you won’t cheat?”
“You have my word, Kamakiri,” Hara said pompously. “But if it reassures you, shall we play first just for fun? Or for something that matters not at all? That way, you can see for yourself that I don’t cheat.”
“That would be good,” I replied. “What shall we play? Mahjong? I’m quite good at that.”
“I’m sure you are. But it would take far too long. I know—what about paper-rock-scissors? It’s impossible to cheat at that, and it’s quick.”
I wondered what he was up to. The childish game was pure chance, and I couldn’t see how he could cheat. I was nodding my agreement before I remembered we had not agreed on the forfeit.
“And what are the stakes for this nonsense game?” I asked cautiously.
“When you were a child, did you play at statues?” I blinked, wary at Hara’s apparent change of tack.
“Of course.” I smiled.
“The yujo in the teahouses in the Floating World play a similar game with their patrons. They dance to music, which stops abruptly. Should one of the yujo be caught out and still move when the music stops, she is forced to pay a forfeit. She must take one item of clothing off. The patrons gamble on which girl will be naked first. I am proposing something very similar. Whichever of us loses a game will remove an item of clothing.” He smirked. “Who knows? If we are equally skilled, we may both be almost naked before the end.”
Kamakiri the oiran laughed with him. Keiko the onna-bugeisha searched for the meaning behind his words and decided he was simply a vain, rather stupid man.
“Oh, that would be fun!” I clapped my hands in pretended amusement. The rain was falling yet more heavily. I could hear it drumming on the roof. Hara’s silly game would pass the time until it stopped.
We faced each other. Both of us had our palms pressed together. Hara counted one, two, three and we both made our shape. I had chosen scissors at random. Hara had gone for paper. He laughed at my triumph.
“Ah. You win. Scissors cut paper.” Without any comment, he unfastened his obi and let it drop to the tatami. “Fortune is obviously with you.”
Next time, Hara went for scissors, and I chose rock. I won again. He promptly took off his kimono, leaving him sitting in nothing but a silk loincloth and his zori.
I stared at his body in surprise. As I thought, he was running to fat. But there was still plenty of muscle there. But it was his skin that astonished me. From the wrists to just below his neck he was thickly tattooed. The tattoos ran down below his loincloth and ran out again below it on to his legs.
“I see you’re admiring my needlework.” Hara turned so I could see his back. I said nothing but stared silently. He chose to take my repulsion for admiration and smoothed both hands across his chest. “They are irezumi tattoos. A very old yakuza tradition.” He pointed to his chest. “These are koi carp. The red one on the left represents my loyalty to my yakuza clan.” He paused, and I wondered cynically which of his two masters he was referring to. “And this blue one is a symbol of masculinity.”
He smiled at me. I widened my eyes in what I hoped he would interpret as admiration.
“They must have been very painful when they were done,” I said dutifully.
“Oh, they were. This one in particular.” He hunched his shoulders and half turned to show me the oni mask that covered most of his back. “That took a day and night to complete. But it was worth it. To have a demon whose favorite food is human flesh guarding my back is truly priceless. I rather like my snakes as well.” He parted his legs to show me the thick serpents that coiled up each leg.
Partially hidden by the colorful tattoos were thick scars, whitened and made shiny by the passage of time. One ran across his left shoulder, bisecting his chest and dividing his nipple and appearing to cut his red koi neatly in half. Several more ran horizontally across his belly, creasing it. Three smaller ones had been slashed across his ribs on the right. My gaze followed their lines, interpreting the rhythm of the vicious knife fights that
had caused them. They were ancient scars, yet still looked inflamed and painful. How much agony must they have caused when they were inflicted.
I tore my gaze away and managed to smile at him. He was preening, obviously proud of both his tattoos and the trophies of war he had collected. I managed to look suitably awed and bowed my head. Hara inclined his own head regally and held out his hands to signify he was ready to play again.
Next time, he went for paper against my rock.
“Ah! Luck is back with me.” He wagged his finger at me playfully. I took off one of my zori and held it out, allowing it to drop deliberately. After that, I watched him very closely from beneath lowered eyes. He won the next time, and the other zori followed the first. I laughed, pretending an amusement I was far from feeling. Hara laughed with me, leaning toward me. His forehead was prickled with sweat and his mouth was open. He was obviously excited by our game. I tossed my head and glanced at his loincloth. As I had guessed, he was aroused. The front of his loincloth was poking out from the pressure of his tree. I felt the atmosphere tighten and I tensed with it.
“Well, it seems to me as if we’re quite evenly matched.” Hara’s voice was throaty. “One more game for fun, and then shall we get down to it? The next game will be for real. If I win, you agree to become my concubine. If I lose, you walk away and that will be the end of it.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, a grotesque expression from a fat man wearing nothing but a loincloth.
I laughed flirtatiously, but behind the amusement, my mind was ice. He was cheating. But how, I had no idea. I watched as he held his palms out, clasped together. I noticed he held them rather low, and an idea came to me. This time, I watched his hands, not his face.
And there the answer was. Hara might not be young, but his reactions were pin-sharp. There was a hesitation so slight that if I had not been trained to look for the unexpected I would never have seen it. He waited for my hands to begin to make my chosen shape before he responded. It was absurdly simple, but completely effective.
This time he made sure he lost, of course. I swallowed nausea as he laughed delightedly and rose to his knees to tug off his loincloth. His tree wagged at me in apparent delight at finding freedom. He put his finger on the end of it and bounced it at me, grinning happily.
“Ready, Kamakiri? As you can see, I certainly am!”
I said nothing and held my hands out. I hesitated, frowning thoughtfully as if I was doing my best to second guess Hara’s reaction. He waited, watching my hands rather than my face. I made my mind up and started to form scissors. As I expected, Hara immediately reacted with a bunched fist for a rock. But his own eagerness was his downfall. He was quick, but I was quicker. Instead of forming scissors, I clasped my fingers together and held my palm out flat. Paper. Paper wraps rock.
I had won.
I put my fingers to my lips as if in amazement at my victory. I watched his expression move from baffled surprise to absolute fury. I tensed. I would allow him to make the first move and then catch him off balance. It was an excellent thing that he was naked. A naked woman is a distraction to a man. A naked man loses too much of his dignity to be anything but a target for a warrior woman.
My every sense was tuned and alert for him to make his move, and I was quite disappointed when I heard the sound of the door being opened behind me.
“I am so sorry, master.” The servant who had let me in earlier stood in the doorway. His smug expression faded to amazed disbelief as he regarded the naked Hara. “I…I barred the door by mistake,” he muttered. “I was waiting for the rain to stop to come back…” He trailed off miserably. Hara’s face was creased with fury. I felt almost sorry for the servant.
I stood and hooked my feet into my zori. “Thank you for a most entertaining evening, Hara-san,” I said smoothly. “I found our little games most amusing, but I believe that now it’s time I took my leave of you.”
The servant jumped aside as I passed him. The palanquin was still outside. The rain had penetrated the curtains and the cushions inside were damp, but I made myself as comfortable as I could. I heard Hara’s voice barking an order, and a moment later the palanquin was lifted and we moved off. I guessed his dignity had been so affronted by both his failure and the unexpected entry of his servant that—for tonight at least—he wanted me to go, and quickly.
I also guessed it wouldn’t last. As soon as his anger was forgotten, he would be back, more eager than ever. That was the nature of the man; he wanted what he could not ever attain. All the treasures in his house, all his ostentatious display of wealth, and—most especially—his talk of having samurai and daimyo at his beck and call explained everything to me. This yakuza trash wanted nothing more than to be the equal of his betters, even as he knew it would never happen. That was why he had been willing to bid what was no doubt an outrageous amount to buy me from Hana. By possessing a samurai lady, he would have gloated in getting his revenge on the whole class of those who sneered at his ambition to be one of them. And his interest in Kamakiri the oiran? That was obvious. He perceived me as the very best of my type. Just as his works of art were both priceless and beautiful, so he thought of Kamakiri. To add spice to the dish, he would no doubt know that I was also pursued by men who were nobles.
Then I remembered Hara’s casual remark that he had murdered his old master for his own gain and decided not to waste my pity on him. The wheel of Hara’s karma had begun to turn, and now I knew exactly the direction it was going to go in.
Twenty-Five
If I choose to walk
On ice, then first I must make
Sure how thick it is
I decided we would stop our nightly walks, at least for a while. My assignation with Hara had been more successful than I could have hoped. If it looked as if I had disappeared, I guessed gleefully that it would drive him mad, wondering if I had accepted an offer from another man.
I was not short of offers. The notes—each one passionate and laden with promises of lavish presents in exchange for my favor—continued to pour in. Niko used them for practicing her reading, and we snickered together over them.
“Do they know how stupid they are?” she asked. “They all promise you heaven on earth and seem to think they’re the only one you might even consider. Are all men so silly?”
“No, just the ones who are so foolish they think they’re the answer to a woman’s prayers,” I said cheerfully.
“That seems to be the last of them.” Niko shredded the mound of paper into small pieces and added it to the pile already laid at the bottom of the charcoal-burner, ready to help light it. “Best place for that lot.”
I nodded absently. My head was full of plans for the way forward. Hara’s future was already decided. I had gotten the better of him once—or rather twice, even if he did not know it. I knew his failure this time would only whet his appetite. He was safe for the moment, but I thought that he would be a dangerous man to have as an enemy. He would be…removed. And soon.
One man down, two to go.
I had heard no word of Ikeda—the man who had wanted to use Hana’s virgin offering to cure his hideous disease—in the Floating World. That surprised me, as I thought his grotesque appearance would make him well known. Niko made inquiries for me, but also came up empty-handed. Very well. I would put him aside for the moment.
The louche youth Sato was far easier to track down. I had guessed that a man who so obviously thought himself deeply iki—that unique Floating World word for a man who combined all the virtues of sophistication, wit, and originality—would be well-known and well-connected in the Floating World.
My brother, Isamu, unusually for a samurai, had been accepted by the Floating World—especially the yujo and geisha—as supremely iki. My heart contracted as I remembered him. The irony of the fact that I could avenge the wrongs done to me but never the murder of my brother and father made me feel sick.
Suddenly, a storm of contradictory thoughts had me clutching my head as if I could force them to be
silent. Our own peasants had risen up and murdered my menfolk. But they had been driven to it by desperation when their crops had failed. Father had more than enough rice stored to enable all the villagers to eat and sow for next year’s harvest, but he was too mean to part with a single grain at a price they could afford. Had he, then, invited his own death? And what of Lord Akafumu, who had happily told me that he had ensured revenge for my father and brother’s deaths by having every one of the remaining men in the village rounded up and executed and their women sold into slavery. Should I have been grateful to him for that instead of destroying him? I closed my eyes in despair. Niko’s voice offered an unexpected kindness.
“Kamakiri-san,” she said timidly, “don’t be so distressed. Whatever happens is the will of the gods. We can only hope to carry out their wishes.”
I took a deep breath and smiled shakily. “And how do you know what I am thinking about?” I asked.
Niko touched my face with a single finger. “You’re crying,” she said simply. “I’ve never seen you cry before.”
I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and found to my astonishment that she was right. Niko was staring at me with such a worried expression that I managed to laugh.
“Memories,” I said briefly. “Now, tell me if you know anything about a young man called Sato-san.”
Niko knew everything that went on in the Floating World. She would surely know Sato. He had to be wealthy; he had been interested enough in me to want to spend a great deal of money to purchase me. I was surprised he had shown no interest at all in the new and very popular oiran Kamakiri. Surely a man who considered himself to be supremely iki would want to be linked with me. Niko giggled when she heard his name.
“Oh, him. The boy with no kintama.” She made an obscene gesture with her hand, as if she was cupping a man’s testicles. I should have reprimanded her rudeness, but I was too interested to bother. “I wouldn’t think he’d be interested in an oiran. He’s not that way inclined.”
