by India Millar
I felt sure Ren thought it was my fault that Aki had disappeared. She drank her tea in sulky silence and refused to speak to me. When I persisted, wondering out loud where Aki could possibly have gone, she turned her back on me. Deeply unhappy, I wandered out into the garden. I sat on a stone bench in the farthest corner, huddled into the wall. It had turned cold, and I shivered in my thin kimono. I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not notice the storm clouds that were gathering. When I did, it was far too late. Before I could think about moving, the rain was coming down so fast that I could not even see the door of the Green Tea House. A slash of lightning cut the garden in two, leaving my eyes almost blind with the dazzle. Thunder followed, so close on the heels of the lighting that I knew the storm was right overhead. I whimpered. I have always been terrified of thunder and lightning. But there was nobody to hear my distress.
Between the vicious crackle of lightning and the boom of the thunder, I lost all sense of direction. In any event, the rain cut off anything more than a hand space in front of me. I stood and darted back and forward, perhaps half a body length in each direction. For a brief moment, a gust of wind parted the torrent and I saw a wooden door set in the far end of the wall I had been leaning against. It was weathered almost to the color of the stone that surrounded it and it had only darkened enough to be seen by means of the drenching rain that beat against it. I had no idea where it led. I was so terrified, I didn’t care.
My kimono was sodden, plastered to my body. In the moment it took me to reach the doorway, I was blind as well—the rain battered into my eyes and left me sightless. I hammered on the door, whimpering. I thought nobody was going to answer. In a moment of clarity, I realized I was probably trying to get through a door that led to the street, a door that would always be locked, unless Auntie had decided to use the garden for a party. Irrelevantly, I had a sudden memory of Tamayu talking about just such a party, where all the greatest men in Edo had been moved almost to tears by her singing and dancing one warm summer evening.
“I was superb,” she said. Aki and Ren and I all nodded in agreement. Of course she had been. Who would dare doubt it? Not us!
I rested my head on the door in despair. I was about to turn, to grope my way back across the garden, find the tea house entrance somehow, when the door was flung open. Unbalanced, I literally fell across the threshold.
“Hora! What’s this that the gods have thrown at us?”
The woman’s voice was amused. I scrabbled to get to my feet, but my geta slid from under me and I fell back to the floor.
“Sumimasen deshita,” I babbled. “I am so sorry. I have brought the rain onto your floor.”
“It doesn’t matter, little one. Not at all. One of the maids will see to it. But what does matter is that you are soaking wet. You’re from the Green Tea House, I suppose. We heard that Auntie had taken a new maiko. Is that you?”
Her hands were under my arms as she spoke, supporting me gently. I kept my gaze humbly on the floor, as politeness dictated, and used it to hide my puzzlement. Where was I? How did this woman know about me?
“What’s your name, child?”
“Junko, sama.”
“Ah. You are the one we heard about, then.”
As she spoke, she tugged my obi undone and pried my soaking kimono away from me. She shouted over her shoulder, and a moment later a plump maid was at her side, carrying a warm robe.
“Now, I wonder what’s happened that’s lured you out into this terrible weather, Junko-chan? Here, put this on. I was on my way to the bath when I heard you hammering. Would you like to bathe with us? It will warm you through, and we can all have a nice chat.”
I was shaking so hard with cold that no words could escape through my lips. She didn’t seem to mind. My savior took me by the hand, at the same time calling over her shoulder to the maid to ensure that my kimono and obi were dried.
I trotted at her side and with every step, I became more bewildered. I had thought the Green Tea House must be the most beautiful house in the whole of Edo. Every wall—even the roof beams—were richly gilded, and each wall was hung with exquisite scrolls. Even the tatami matting on the floor was of the highest quality. There was little furniture—except in Tamayu’s room, which was crammed with chests and boxes all bearing precious ornaments that she told us smugly had been presents from her many admirers—but what was there was the very best. I had seen nothing like it in my village, had never imagined that such luxury could exist outside of the fabled riches of the shogun’s palace.
Every time my eyes darted right or left, it seemed to me that this place was even richer, even more beautiful than the Green Tea House. The floor that was not covered by tatami was glowing wood block, each piece fitted so tightly to its neighbor that a sheet of rice paper could not have been coaxed between them. The walls were largely bare and seemed to my dazzled gaze to consist mainly of windows, each one screened with silk shades so very sheer that they barely stopped the grey daylight from entering. Fat, scented candles were strewn artfully about, almost works of art themselves in their beautifully wrought bronze holders. And it smelled delicious. Incense mingled with the scent of food cooking. I had taken nothing but tea since rising and realized I was hungry as my belly rolled, loud as the thunder. I bit my lip in distress, but my companion seemed not to notice.
“A bath first, little Junko,” she said cheerfully. “And then I really think I am quite hungry. Would you care for some tea and daifuku cakes?”
My mouth watered at the thought. I had never even tasted daifuku cakes until Auntie brought me to the tea house. Now I loved them. Not that we maiko tasted them often, but occasionally Tamayu was given them as a present, and if she had too many to eat herself it amused her to scatter them to us maiko, rather as another woman might have scattered crumbs to the birds.
“Yes, please, sama,” I said politely. My new friend laughed.
“Oh, how very formal! I see Auntie is teaching you well, Junko. But my name is Nami. Will it please you to call me by it?”
Such exquisite courtesy to an insignificant young girl! I nearly choked in my eagerness to agree.
“Yes, please, Nami.”
She laughed as she pushed open a door. Instantly, a maid was at our side, helping us out of our robes and then pouring hot water over us. To me, this was perhaps the most miraculous part of my new life. In my village, we had bathed in the river, no matter what the weather. When the river ran dry, I had drawn water from the well and poured it from a huge pottery jug over first my parents, and then my brothers. Nobody had bothered to do it for me, and so I had struggled with the heavy pot myself. It slipped once and I gave myself a black eye. My brothers had howled with laughter at me. In the tea house, I bathed every day—in hot water!—with a maid to pour the water for me and then soap and rinse me before I climbed into the steaming bath with the other girls. Yes, the bath was the best thing—better even than daifuku cakes and not having to herd the ducks.
I followed Nami so closely into the steaming water that I might have been her shadow.
“Look, girls. This is Junko, the new maiko we have heard so much about. Isn’t she precious?”
There were two women already in the steaming water. The steam was thick and I had tucked my head so politely far down, I could barely make them out. I slid into the hot water quickly, murmuring greetings.
“So, Junko. It’s taken you long enough to find us.”
The voice was kind and I dared to glance up. The woman who had spoken to me had no more substance than the steam that was curling around her. Her hair was tucked up out of the way of the water, but it seemed to me that it was as white as her skin, and her skin in its turn had no more color than the snow that fell in our village every winter. I stared rudely, unable to take my glance from her face. Could she see me, I wondered? Her eyes were beautiful, the perfect almond shape that Tamayu piled makeup on to achieve, but such a pale grey that the pupils seemed shockingly there, like a single brushstroke painted on a
blank sheet of paper.
She was as beautiful as water spirits were said to be, the spirits that my mother warned me haunted the river, ready to snatch away any child that took their fancy. And she was smiling at me. For a moment, I was utterly confused. Had I somehow wandered well away from the tea house’s garden? Perhaps missed my way in the sound and fury of the storm and fetched up by the river?
“Don’t be afraid of me, Junko,” she said kindly. “My name is Gin. I am a geisha, like you will be soon. My friends here are also geisha, so we are all sisters together. This is the Hidden House. No doubt you’ve heard it spoken of?”
Gin. The name meant “Silver,” and it described this beautiful spirit perfectly. It was the rest of her words that reassured me. I knew where I was. I was in the house that Aki and Ren called “the other place.” The place that Bigger had said I would have suited if only I were uglier. I frowned at the thought and Gin’s lips trembled with amusement.
“Go on, child. Ask. There should be no secrets between us.”
“Bigger said I would do well here if I were a little bit uglier. But none of you are ugly at all. I don’t understand.”
There was a moment’s silence, and then all three women erupted into laughter. I stared from one to the other, wondering what I had said that had amused them so. Finally, the one who had not yet spoken took a deep breath and tapped me on the arm to claim my attention.
“Dear Junko. You must remember that Bigger does not like any of us geisha. He is not a man that likes women very much.” She paused and I nodded seriously. I understood that. He and my friend Big were very close. Bigger was a serious sort of man. He obviously did not have time for a woman’s idle chatter.
“I know,” I said proudly. “He is a very good friend of my friend Big. My brother back in the village had a best friend he would not share with anybody. I understand that.”
The laughter died abruptly. All three women sucked in their breath sharply. Gin glanced from Nami to the woman whose name I did not know and then back at me.
“Big is your friend?”
“Oh yes,” I said firmly, pleased to be able to own to at least one friend in my new world. “He caught Ren and Aki and me looking at Tamayu’s pillow book. He was angry with them and sent them away, but when I asked him, he said that he would like to be my friend.”
“Truly, Junko?”
“Yes. And I understand perfectly that Bigger doesn’t like me because Big does.” I beamed happily, delighted that I was appearing to be more than a foolish child.
“And what else did Bigger say about this place?”
“Nothing at all. Aki and Ren called it ‘the other place,’ and that is all I know. But I don’t understand why he said that I would have to be ugly to belong here. You geisha are all very beautiful.”
Nami smiled.
“You think Gin is beautiful? Even though she looks more like a spirit than a woman?”
I nodded. Of course she was beautiful.
“And me? In spite of this?”
Nami held her hands up in front of me and spread her fingers. I stared in fascination. Each finger was webbed from nail to base, exactly like a frog’s foot. “My toes are just the same. Doesn’t that make me ugly and strange?”
“No. Of course not. Everybody thinks Tamayu is beautiful, but I have seen her in the bath and she has bandy legs. But that doesn’t make her any less lovely.”
Nami’s lips twitched.
“Auntie tells the patrons that I am a diving girl from Uminchu, and that my hands and feet are webbed because my mother mated with a water spirit. It’s all nonsense of course. I can’t even swim. But the patrons love to think it’s so.”
“And me, Junko?” The last of the women stood slowly, the water falling off her shoulders like silver rain. “Am I also beautiful in your eyes?”
As she rose, her breasts jutted out before her like boulders. I wondered if she would even be able to balance herself out of the water, they were so huge. Her nipples were dark brown, and stuck out like Tamayu’s fingernails. Still she rose out of the water. Her waist was narrow, much more narrow than mine and I had always been proud of my slim waist. On either side, her hips swelled dramatically, balancing out her huge breasts. She turned, and her bottom stuck out so far it almost appeared as a mirror image of her huge breasts. I stared at her with interest. She wasn’t fat, the slender waist saw to that, but she was certainly built like no Japanese woman I had ever seen before. But her skin was like silk and her face was lovely. I said so.
There was a long pause and I wondered if I had said something wrong. Tamayu was forever telling me I was a country bumpkin with no manners and less wit. Had she been here, she would no doubt have taken pleasure in telling me exactly what I had done wrong. I bit my lip anxiously. I would have done anything not to upset these kind, lovely geisha, these women who had told me they were my sisters.
“Her standing figure looks like a Chinese peony, her sitting figure looks like a tree peony, and her walking figure looks like a lily.” Nami spoke softly, and the other geisha nodded their approval. “Not only are you very beautiful, Junko, but you are a bright and shining spirit. We are glad you have found us.”
After the upsets of the day, the kindness of these lovely creatures was too much and my tears brimmed over.
“Please, can I come and live here with you?” I begged. “I hate the Green Tea House and don’t want to go back there. I’ll be good. I’ll do anything that you ask of me. Please, if you are my sisters, can I stay here?”
Gin shook her head, her expression serious.
“No, Junko-chan. You cannot stay with us. We would love to have you here. There are only the three of us at the moment in the house, and we would love to have a maiko like you to train. But it cannot be. You don’t know about the Hidden House?”
I choked back my tears and was about to shake my head when a memory came to me. Tamayu and her fellow geisha Saki had been entertaining patrons. For some reason, Auntie had said that I was to be allowed to attend. Tamayu had decided that she was not in the mood for playing the samisen and had handed it to me with a smirk.
“Make yourself useful, Junko. The moon hides himself and makes us melancholy. Play us some music to suit our mood.”
I took the lovely instrument carefully and began to pluck out a tune. It was one that I had heard one of the other geisha play and I had liked it, and it didn’t seem at all odd to me that I should be able to play it from memory. Tamayu listened to me for a short time and then poked me hard with her foot.
“Enough! You pluck the strings as if they had done you some injury. Be quiet in case you offend these gentlemen’s ears.” She glanced around at the patrons, inviting them to applaud her wit. But they did not.
“Perhaps the sake has dulled your senses, Tamayu.” One of the older men smiled at me. I smiled back shyly and he blinked. “The maiko plays beautifully. Finish your song, child.”
I felt the hatred smoldering off Tamayu, but carried on playing anyway. I loved the sound of the samisen and could barely believe that it was my fingers that were summoning this lovely music into existence.
“Auntie found her in the provinces somewhere,” Tamayu said sulkily when I finally finished. “If you ask me, she would be more suited to the Hidden House than here.”
She leaned forward and filled the sake cup of the man who had praised my playing. She had to nudge him to get his attention, and I knew I would be in trouble next day.
But as I thought about her words, I was bewildered. Tamayu and Bigger both obviously considered the Hidden House to be far inferior to the Green Tea House, yet to me it seemed a place of enchantment. And these three exceptionally beautiful geisha who were my new friends were even lovelier than Tamayu and Saki.
“Tamayu mentioned it once. She made it sound as if being sent here was some sort of punishment, but I would love to be able to stay here. With you all.”
Gin smiled.
“We thank you for your kind words, Junko. B
ut the Hidden House is not for you. You are perfect; we are not. And besides, we geisha here are special in ways that you could not be expected to understand.” She glanced at the other women and they nodded encouragingly. “But for all that, we are truly geisha, and you must never let the likes of Tamayu tell you that we are not. Are you hungry, child?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
“Good. Hiromi, will you call the maids to dry us?”
Wrapped in a warm robe and sitting next to a charcoal burner, I nibbled my daifuku cakes slowly. I would have loved to have gulped them down, but even more did I want my new sisters to think I had some manners.
As I ate, the geisha questioned me. Where was I from? How long had I been at the Green Tea House? The maids had said there was some sort of commotion in the tea house earlier. What had happened? I answered quickly, explaining about Aki running away. Gin shook her head.
“Stupid child. Does she really think Auntie will let her go, after she has already spent a fortune buying her? Not to mention what she will have spent on her clothes and feeding her.”
The question that had been lurking in my own mind popped up and I spoke carefully.
“Auntie gave my mother money for me as well. And I already have two kimonos. I don’t eat a great deal, but I suppose it has to be paid for. But I don’t understand why Auntie does it. I’m not kin to her, and she has no obligation to my family.”
I peered hopefully at the faces surrounding me, and I was puzzled to see that each of the geisha was frowning. Finally, Hiromi spoke.
“Auntie owes you nothing, Junko. But with every meal you eat, with every kimono she buys for you, your debt to her becomes greater.”
