Freedom
Noriko plucked at her shamisen. She allowed the slow, sad melody to trickle out. She played it as though each note was a snow flake twirling in a gust of wind. She closed her eyes, breathing out as she plucked the strings. When she finished with a low sigh, she looked up with hard, exhausted eyes.
Nakano Yuu watched her, sitting on her bed. He knew his son, Eiji, often appeared in this room and it made him feel sick. He stared at Noriko, giving her his best smile. "Ah, Nori-chan," he said, playfully chopping her name up, "why do you play such a sad song tonight?"
"It is my final nigh with Nakano-san." She said wistfully.
Had it been her choice, she would have played a song of celebration at Nakano's departure. The cuts and bruises on her skin screamed for this to be the case. However, she did not want another beating. Yuu had been growing bored with her lately. He had found her pudendum unsurprising and her breasts lackluster. At least, that was what he said to his business partners.
She knew his company was slipping and soon he would lose money to fund such luxuries as geisha. She knew his pride was dwindling too. He could only wear a mask of jollity for so long.
He stood and began to unbutton his western shirt. He nodded to the armoire. On it sat the crystal bird he had purchased her from France. She moved over to it, slipping out of her kimono already. She couldn't afford to have another one stitched back together.
Nakano approached from behind.
She shut her eyes and mouth, so not to scream.
When she didn't after he squeezed her buttocks and scratched her back, he slapped her thighs. She yelped. In the mirror she spotted the leer breaking open on his face. He bent forwards, curling his fingers lightly around Noriko's neck.
"You know my secret." He whispered.
She nodded, moaning in pain.
"But before I lose everything, I plan on taking that little sister of yours, Miho."
He must have seen the shock and fear in her eyes because he grunted in pleasure. He slammed into her and she bent forwards, knocking the glass bird over and sending it flying towards the floor. She watched it soar, and then land, and then shatter like an erupted star on the hard ground.
The pounding stopped. Yuu stepped away from her and bent over the broken shards. Noriko placed her head on the armoire. The beatings were bound to come. They were late in coming. She almost looked up when a full minute passed. But she stopped just in time. A fine leather belt, presumably faux and guaranteed from Italy, struck her bare skin. It struck and struck and struck. She screamed in pain.
Her mistress heard her. Miho heard her. The other geisha, one from Kyoto named Akira, also heard. They could not fight a nasty patron. He brought in money. He paid for their food. There was no way but to suffer and bow one's head.
Miho began to weep in her room, juxtaposition to the riotous bellowing. She curled up, her forehead resting on her knees. The screams, mixed with the grunts of pleasure, filled the night air.
. . .
Eiji avoided his father as much as possible.
He hid in the garden behind the okiya. He heard muffled screams, inevitably from Noriko, and jammed himself behind the pillars. Once his father left, he would slip in.
He knew Noriko's feelings well. Although he had not felt his father's touch to such an extremity, he had experienced the lashings of the overtaxed man. He had felt the raw blows and had, as a child, stayed away from the other children so to hide his black eye or broken nose.
And yet, he loved his father. The familiar bond, the knowledge that this man who often neglected him knew him from birth, was enough to draw the feeling from him. The feeling of love was not the same as any true love, Eiji deduced. He knew that well enough. He knew that love was meant to be warm and blindingly passionate.
This love was like a contract. He was bound to it despite anything he said or did. He could not escape the clamps on his wrists and ankles that forced him to stare the fatherly nurturing love in the face. He had to confront it at some point, he knew, and Noriko's explanation a few months prior had soothed his oncoming madness.
"Love," she said, "It's a strange thing…"
Eiji listened to her scream in the real world, and to her whisper in his head. These words brought him comfort while the animal sounds brought him terror.
"You do not decide you are in love."
This was Noriko's final night with Yuu.
"You do not simply tell someone you are in love with them."
Eiji could have had his father killed easily.
"You admit it."
But Eiji couldn't do that.
"It blinds your perception of right and wrong."
He wasn't afraid.
"It robs you of your free will."
He was out of choices.
"It's terribly painful."
The screaming stopped.
"And yet it is wonderful. It's like faith or a belief."
Eiji couldn't tell what Noriko was saying or what his father was muttering.
"You look to it when there is nothing else."
A shuffling came and the window slid open. He saw Noriko's silhouette pull on a shadow kimono. He saw his father's portly figure begin to draw away. He thought he saw him place something on the table.
"Even if this love, this belief, this faith, is incorrect or painful."
After a moment, Nakano parted through the front doors. Eiji rose to his feet and approached the okiya through the backdoors. A servant, nicknamed Chi—a thousand—opened the door and let him in with a whisper.
"But it is love. It's its own unique, undeniable emotion. I have met many men, Eiji-chan, and plenty of them have hurt me. Some I loved, some I loathed. But I had no choice out of it regardless. Love is a freedom, I have come to believe. Though sometimes I don't know how much of that is true."
. . .
Noriko left her room and stood in the hallway. Her hair was a mess, falling from its bun. Her make-up had smeared and blood trickled down her lip and nose. Her kimono hung on her shoulders, her obi was somewhere far away and forgotten. Her bare feet trembled, blood trickling down them slowly.
And she was grinning.
Her grin was like a crescent moon. Miho looked towards her from the doorway and approached her, eyes wide as saucers.
"I am free." Noriko whispered.
Miho embraced her suddenly, pulling her older sister close. Noriko enveloped small Miho in her arms, petting her hair gently. She rested her chin on the girl's head. Warm tears spilled down her cheeks. A servant rushed towards her with a warm towel. She waited just out of eyesight, knowing she should allow Noriko this moment of bliss.
"Miho-chan, why are you crying?" Noriko said somewhat hysterically.
"I will have to see these patrons soon, won't I?" she said into Noriko's chest.
Noriko became rigid with sadness. She knew she would get this same exact patron, but she didn't want to hurt her anymore. She smiled, still happy to be free. "But you will be strong, Miho."
Miho nodded and let go of Noriko, feeling numb. Noriko retreated to her room with the servant at her feet. She sat down and disrobed, allowing the servant to dab at her wounds and apply the medicine. Meanwhile, she sipped at the tea prepared to prevent pregnancy. She closed her eyes, allowing the warm fluid to trickle down her throat.
Two pairs of feet padded down the hallway. Noriko looked up, seeing Chi. Chi said politely, "Eiji is here to see you."
"Allow him in." Noriko said.
Eiji, dressed in a peasant's garb, approached her and sat across from her. His hair was loose and trailing down his shoulders. Noriko looked him over, setting the empty cup before her.
Eiji didn't look at her nudity. He didn't see a reason why. He saw her breasts and her smooth skin, but felt nothing. The promises of a stomach-turning, brilliant sensation his father gave seemed irrelevant. Eiji was simply not interested.
"Was this your final night with him?" Eiji asked.
Noriko nodded. She dismissed the servant and went to find something more comfortable to dress in. There would be no parties to attend to that night, not with her brutalized face. That face was once the greatest in not just the village but the entire region of Japan.
"I apologize." Eiji said to the floor.
"Why?" She asked her back to him. She dabbed at her make-up.
"I apologize for my father's behavior."
"But you are not your father."
"I am his kin. I hold his blood."
Noriko turned, her eyes resting on him for a long time. "Eiji?"
He perked up, his hands on his knees.
"How would you like to become a geisha?"
. . .
Kenta bowed before Kiku's altar, mourning his death. The gravesite wasn't large or decorative. Kiku had not won any battles or vanquished any enemies. He died of poisoning from an outside source. Kenta began to stand.
He decided, then, what he had to do.
. . .
"You are art."
Eiji opened his eyes and looked at Noriko. She took a bottle of crème and applied it to her skin before a mirror. He sat behind her. His hair was pulled back. They would not attempt to make his hair up for some time yet.
Noriko looked at him, a streak of white on her cheek. She began to spread it, creating the pallor mask on her smooth face. She hid her scars well. Morning sunshine trickled into the room. Eiji watched her patiently.
"But before a human being does anything, he is given a name. Eiji is a male's name, meaning 'second son' or 'great peace'. Let us use the latter to form your female name. Do you have a preference?"
Eiji thought about it for a moment. His face darkened.
"I have an idea, but I do not want to disrespect her."
Noriko stared at his reflection patiently.
"My father… You must wonder why he's so bitter and violent."
Noriko's eyes widened.
. . .
Kenta approached Masa who knelt over several letters and sheets. Kenta had already applied to the village's small troop. He was no hero, but he could lead an army easily. He had been trained as a samurai, as Kiku had, and never found that cache of talent within him.
Masa did not look up when he approached. Another man wandered just outside the doors. Masa set aside his brush and waited for Kenta to speak.
"Do you know who might have poisoned Kiku?"
"We don't have any substantial evidence yet, but there is a small clue."
Kenta nodded.
Masa frowned. He appeared considerably older. "Why?"
"I want to kill them. They have murdered my best friend."
Masa appeared like he wanted to object, but stopped short. He considered briefly. "You will vanquish a powerful enemy if you truly desire to undertake this task."
Kenta nodded again. "I believe it is what I must do. No one could match Kiku in purity or goodness or humaneness."
. . .
Eiji sighed, staring at the ground directly in front of him. "Shortly after I was born, my mother became pregnant with another child. I was born weak. My father hoped for a strong man. Even though I was the first male, he must have known that I would never live up to such a title. So he hoped and he, in a sense, prayed for that to happen. He had called me 'second son' for a reason.
"I don't know if he planned to kill me. I think he might have intended to drawn me. I saw him look at the river in such a way.
"But then mother had complications. She was sick and lay in bed often. She rarely spoke and soon she bled. I remember seeing her on the bed, legs apart, and blood gushing from her. She moaned in pain and pulled me towards her. She whispered something, something I can't remember…
"Then she said she wanted to name the child Yuriko. A perfect child, she had assumed. And she was certain she would have a girl. When the dead infant came out, she was a girl, and father wept. He lost his mind, his wife, his daughter, and even his son then."
Noriko felt pounding soreness and confusion. She set the brush aside and looked at her face in a half-mask.
"But he wanted to kill you. He must have been corrupt before then." She noted.
"The same thing happened to his mother. He assumes it's a curse. I only heard the story of his corruption once." Eiji said, looking anywhere but at her. "They say he was born a rotten child and that's what killed his mother. Otherwise, I don't know why evil can plague a man so thoroughly."
Noriko looked down at her bodice, hurting from the previous night's beatings. The pain only intensified, as if it had been carried down from Yuu to her by blow of fist and hand.
. . .
"It's interesting," Kenta noted, grabbing Masa's attention.
Masa looked up reluctantly.
Ever since Kiku's poisoning, Kenta had acted strange and off. He smiled less and joked seldom. It was as if his life force had been dampened. His humor had been smothered in a wet rag and dumped into a barrel. His joy had been weighted down to the bottom of the sea, drowning, air bubble by bubble floating to the surface.
"Before he was poisoned, that day, he was so peaceful. It seemed almost like he knew he would die, like it had been planned. But that sounds odd. Perhaps the dead know they are dying sometimes. Kiku was an old spirit. I wouldn't be surprised if that turns out to be true."
"Same day…" Masa squinted at the papers before him. The gears began to click, one by one. Then a thundering of clockwork erupted in his mind.
Kenta noticed his mouth parting and the breath escaping him. "What? Did you discover something?"
Masa hobbled to his feet, limping to the doorway. He peered into the brightly lit garden. "Masumi! Get over here! Masumi!" He cried out.
. . .
"Is Yuriko the name you want, then?" Noriko asked. Eiji quietly assented. "It is similar to mind. But you cannot be my younger sister, not until Miho has received her geisha name and has gone on. I think she might go on to a better okiya, perhaps in Kyoto if it works in her favor." She smiled warmly.
Eiji, reborn as Yuriko, nodded.
Noriko noticed the transformation instantly. Yuriko's features brightened. She seemed at peace. It was as if Noriko had torn off the doors of a cage and let the bird with the clipped wings free. As if she had mended the broken wings. Yuriko's old body, Eiji, was shed off like old skin. Yuriko ignored her genitals, not coinciding with her identity. She was Yuriko. She was a geisha.
"Now, we cannot let men have you, Yuriko," Noriko said. "Lest they discover your secret, you must be art. We will say you came from another city and had suffered wounds. You can only flirt and entertain. However, if we find a patron who is willing or desiring to do such things with a male body, then you can earn some money. But it will be done in secret."
Yuriko nodded.
"But being off-bounds does not shut the world from you. In fact, it will make men even more lustful. They'll desire you far more than if you had simply been a geisha." She paused, turning to pinch Yuriko's cheek and twist her head from side to side. The angular geometry of a boy's face was greatly subdued. "That being said, geisha are not courtesans. When you forget that you become a prostitute. We are moving, breathing art. We are art before we entertain men. That is a way we make money. Danna choose us because they enjoy our art and perhaps our bodies."
She signaled for Chi to come closer. "Get the mistress," she said quietly. Chi nodded and padded down the hallways.
"Noriko-san," Yuriko said calmly, her voice light as song, "Do you think—?"
The thudding of feet cut her off. She turned around, fear rising. She saw the mistress in the doorway. Her face, warped with age, twisted in anger. She approached the two.
"Noriko, what is the meaning of this?" She asked. Her tone scalded.
"I am doing an old friend a favor. She will bring us popularity. Gossip will rise and our okiya will earn money." Noriko explained calmly, gesturing smoothly with her hands. "Our okiya so far is only Akira and I. Miho will soon advance but she won't stay for long."
She caught a fleeting glance of Miho in the hall.
. . .
"Masumi, a few days before Kiku's poisoning you spotted a woman riding into town? A foreign woman?" Masa asked. His voice sounded oddly forceful.
Masumi nodded nervously, not sure what the man wanted from him.
"And what did she say?"
Masumi grimaced. He could barely remember. "She said that I should not attack her and that she was simply visiting someone here, if I recall correctly."
Masa turned vigorously, frowning.
Kenta and Masumi exchanged worried looks.
"Masa," Masumi said, "What does this have to do with Kiku? She was a foreign woman and Kiku was a training samurai here. I see a huge difference. Unless of course he had a dalliance with her—but with Kiku's condition…"
Chuckling, Kenta waved his hand. "Just say it. Kiku wasn't ashamed of it by the time of his rather untimely death."
"I was only marking off one of the possibilities. I doubt Kiku had any connection with that woman regardless."
Masa interposed with a hysteric shake of his arms. "No! There is a connection. I can see the threads between the events… I know for sure something had correlated. Why? I don't know. How? I don't know…" he continued muttering to himself, shuffling through papers as if the answer was hiding between them.
"Did she poison him?" Kenta asked.
"No." Masumi answered, "I did not see her in the village during that time, and I was relatively close to Kiku."
"She could have sent someone to do it." Kenta said. He felt as if he was swatted air with a stick. He hit nothing and would continue to do so. That is, unless a fly by chance leapt into the space before the stick arrived. And perhaps that miracle was on its way.
. . .
Yuriko's cheek burned. She was crumpled against the wall, thrown that way by the mistress' powerful slap. She stood there, cradling her wound. For a moment Eiji appeared again, his form bleeding through her terror and wounds.
"This… This thing will not infiltrate my okiya." The mistress spat. "I do not want transvestites here. I do not want my name soiled by a dirty trick my over-caring geisha played up. If you had no more debt owed to me, I would have thrown you on the streets. Now I'm considering selling you to a whorehouse."
She rounded on Yuriko, who cowed further into her corner. "And you can go to the whorehouse. They accept your kind there. They accept thieves all the time. In fact, Noriko, it might be the perfect place for you!"
Noriko had never been yelled at by the mistress. Something must have tipped her off. Her heart began to sink. When things had begun to look well for Yuriko at last, everything had to take a turn, didn't it? She looked at Yuriko apologetically.
Even the sky seemed to darken with the sudden terror.
. . .
Masa sat, pondering. He told Masumi and Kenta to leave the room, so he could think. They obliged, stepping outside.
Kenta looked up at the sky. Clouds began to gather. "I think I'll take a walk." He said, turning away. He picked up an umbrella as he went, sensing the oncoming storm.
. . .
The shouting continued. Dangerous words slipped out of the crazed mistress' mouth. Miho huddled in her room, tears running down her cheeks. She had caused all this. She had said something to the mistress, something about thieves and about how Eiji's father had said something wrong.
Something about money. Something about greed.
But at the time Miho felt she had every right to ruin Yuriko's life and that she should enjoy it. Eiji or Yuriko, she thought, confused. Either way, it had not effaced the sudden torturous pain that had bled into her heart.
She had wanted to approach Noriko and ask for advice but stopped short. She heard her talking and peered in, recognizing Eiji's back. She moved away at once, but curiosity bound her to the door. She sat there, listening.
Jealousy welled.
How could Noriko pay attention to this man more than to her? This man wasn't even a patron. He was simply a… what had mistress called him? She had said something about a transvestite or so. Miho didn't know. The mistress was getting on in age and had become loopy and easily to influence. She fell ill often. Miho didn't feel too much resentment towards her, even though her father had given Miho to this foul lady years ago. She started as a maid mopping the floors after patrons left. At that time Noriko had a wealthy old man who paid for her expenses. He died shortly later after heart failure. The memory of Noriko's sudden sadness haunted Miho.
But, the mistress had given Miho a home and an older sister.
With Yuriko, she felt as though she had lost everything she had suffered for. Yuriko could never have become a decent geisha, of course, unable to bring in a danna. But she hadn't been sold to the okiya. She had no debts to pay off. She had no classes to take. All she wanted was to be at home.
Couldn't she do that somewhere else? Miho thought in horrible rage.
I've ruined someone's life.
Miho combated the intruding thought.
My life had been ruined. Why can't I do the same to others?
Miho clutched her knees.
Because it would make me no better than the rest of the world, and I had been prided on goodness and charity.
The world felt like it was collapsing.
Rain spattered against the house. Needles of water threw their shadows into the hall, as if the ground had been scarred. Miho looked at it through the crack in the doorway. She had hurt Noriko. Hadn't Noriko been hurt enough?
The light was fading and gray. She felt as though that color suited the time perfectly.
. . .
Yuriko stumbled through the rain, clutching her tattered clothing to her chest. She was barefoot and the lipstick Noriko had applied was smeared. Her cheek still burned from the slap. With a heavy gait she moved through the streets. Carriages clattered past. People with large, lacquered umbrellas ignored her.
She wondered if they saw Eiji or the woman Yuriko. Perhaps her clothing, given the previous night by Noriko, would have led them to see the almost-geisha Yuriko.
She smiled at the thought, but her lips grew heavy as her eyes clouded over with tears. She pushed on, not knowing where she was going.
The safe-house, her okiya, no longer welcomed her. Noriko could not sneak her in. She knew Miho somehow betrayed her. She could not go home. And, worst of all, Kiku wasn't there to help.
A new wave of tears splashed down Yuriko's cheeks. She felt as if she was sinking back into the fidgety Eiji. For a moment her life had gained clarity. For a moment, she felt like she belonged. She felt as though the world accepted her.
Now that clarity was gone. With that slap her new self had been shaken and cracked.
And still, no Kiku.
The death had come as such a surprise that Eiji had stopped eating and nearly stopped living for a few days. Kenta hadn't spoken to him, sunk in his own grief. Yuriko felt utterly lost and helpless. She was sinking into the bottom of a deep well.
She approached a curb and stood next to it, crying freely. Her hair was running over her face, dangling like a curtain torn of its rungs. She clutched something to her chest. She looked down, hiccupping from her sobs, and saw a broken shard of glass. Her fingertip bled light. She examined it and stared at the top. Two black dots seemed to indicate eyes.
Yuriko remembered what it was: it was the glass bird her father had given Noriko. It was smashed and it hurt her hands. She didn't remember when she grabbed it. Perhaps when she had been thrown to the ground her fingers had curled around it, looking for security.
The rain poured down her bag. Her nose was freezing and she began to shake with the frigid wind riding up her bare legs.
She clutched the broken swan to her chest and a small, strange, and ironic glimmer of hope appeared inside of her.
And, the rain stopped.
She began to smile lightly. Perhaps things would go well.
It continued to rain before her, but right on her it had stopped and grown darker. She looked up and found the creeping bones of a lacquered umbrella greeting her. The rain echoed on the fabric, bouncing off and keeping her warm and dry. She looked at the kind stranger, ready to thank him.
He recognized the stocky figure and the thick eyebrows.
It was Kenta.
Her eyes widened and tears welled up anew.
"Kenta…?" She asked.
"Hello, Eiji." He said. He held the umbrella so both of them hid under its shelter. The populace in the area decreased, leaving them alone.
"Eiji…" She said, tasting her old name.
"Did your name change?" Kenta asked, eyebrows rising.
"In a way…" Yuriko said, flushing.
"Tell me what it is. I don't want to call you the wrong name. That would be embarrassing."
"Noriko called me Yuriko."
"Yuriko… That's a nice name." Kenta said.
Yuriko trembled. Kenta sighed. "Look at you, wandering in the rain. Come with me." He said, gently placing his arm around her and leading her away, towards his home.
As they walked, Yuriko grew nervous. Why the sudden kindness?
Another question arose along with it.
Why couldn't she trust like Kiku did?
Kiku had been hurt and betrayed worse than Yuriko, but he still trusted relentlessly.
"Thank you." She said at last.
"Don't thank me. I should thank you." Kenta said.
"Why?" Yuriko rolled the swan's head in her fingers.
"I apologize for leaving you."
"I forgive you." Yuriko said, still baffled.
"That's why I should thank you." Kenta smiled.
And Yuriko smiled too.