Thousand Face

PART I

Ai was born blind in one eye.

Ai was born with a sense for the ethereal.

Only one of these was a lie.

Her mother fabricated the first tale. She proclaimed that her daughter was unable to see through one eye, in a desperate attempt to fend off spirits that could potentially attack her little girl. Ai was too young to remember any of this in her adult life. A wisp of a memory floated in her mind. She saw her mother's fear and contempt. She saw the complexity of her terror. She saw something that she still didn't understand, even in her old age as a mistress of an okiya.

At least then she could rely on something substantial. She could rely on numbers to tell her how much Noriko owed or how long it would take Miho to pay off her eventual debts. These marks told her everything she believed she needed to know. She needed to know who gave the highest bid for Miho's virginity, Nakano. She knew that this sum would not be anywhere near how much Amaya went for. And the night rain, the girl who could charm men and women alike with her willowy voice alone, still did not go for as much as Ai did.

She knew that Miho would scream. She heard those shrill sounds ringing through three rooms. And she knew she could do nothing against it.

Ai's own story, she thought, was long. She knew no one wanted to listen to it.

She supposed she knew many things.

That is why when she was requested to tell her life's story, she was taken aback.

One evening she drank tea alone in her room. She didn't want any servants to bother her, telling them specifically to leave her alone unless someone came to see her. Chi padded to her door, holding the side shyly. She bowed quickly.

"There is someone here to see you." She said.

"Who is it?"

"It is a Yuriko."

Ai scoffed. "Let him in."

Chi nodded and went away. A few minutes following, the door slid open and Yuriko walked in. She was elegant, in a black and white kimono with her hair done up. A red ornament hung in her hair, contrasting nicely with the stark colors of her dress. She approached Ai with a low bow.

"Hello, mistress." She said.

"What do you want?" Ai asked harshly.

Ai did not look toward the beauty she never expected anyone—let alone a man—could possess. She felt jealous. Now, nearly a year after her outburst, she felt almost bad that she hadn't allowed her entrance into her okiya. Imagine how much money she could have wrung in.

A sly thought crept through her mind. Had she turned into her father? Had monetary gain and materialism consumed her thoughts completely? She scowled at the idea, gesturing for Yuriko to sit before she answered.

Yuriko nodded, poising elegantly on the ground. She had been given the job of a messenger and lived with Kenta, the impressive general. How he ranked so high so quickly was beyond Ai's understanding.

If they had romantic affiliations, they never showed it or spoke of it. If they were business partners, they were too friendly. And, yet, these were only the woes of gossip trailing on empty wind. Ai could ask for herself. She began to but Yuriko cut her off in a low, somewhat deep voice.

"I want you to tell me of the Thousand Face spirit, mistress." She said.

Ai turned to face her. Her face, like warped wood, hardened. She stared at Yuriko for a long time, wondering what her motives were. The woman, fresh in her body like a fruit ripened enough to fall to the earth, appeared invested in the story alone. Could she have malicious intentions to steal the story and sell it? That seemed pointless.

"No." Ai said bluntly.

"You must want to expel the story at some point, mistress." Yuriko pointed out politely. "I am simply a vessel. I will not absorb the stories. I will listen. I will give you a reason to speak so you do not seem mad speaking at a wall when the story begins to take hold of your mind. I am worried for your health, mistress."

What did she want? Ai asked herself again. Her hair, once black as ebony, was streaked with gray and white. Only a few strands remained dark. Ai regarded Yuriko, once Eiji, again. She was surprised to see the transformation from a nervous tangled knot of anxiety of a boy to a cunning, smooth lady.

Since Nakano had been a patron for years, she had seen Eiji. She had seen him wander in the shadows, scared of the men around him and trying in vain to be like them. He listened when his father spoke in distant tones, but nothing sunk into his mind. He had no interest in grasping information.

When he looked at the women in the decorous kimono and their complicated hair styles, he began to show a deep passion. Rather than displaying simple, foolish lust, he displayed that of a philosopher prodding at a flower for its possible medical values, while also enjoying its scent and the smoothness of its petals.

With all this consideration, Ai almost said yes. She stopped herself short. "No." She repeated.

"Then, at least, tell me why you say no." Yuriko asked, offering to pour Ai tea.

Ai gestured for her to fill her cup. Like a true geisha, Yuriko poured it expertly, hiding her wrist from the woman and only out of necessity pulling the sleeve of her kimono away from the ripples of green tea filling the cup. She set the teapot down gently, making hardly a sound. She sat back, her hands on her knees. Her fingernails were trimmed neatly and her hands were smooth. The forefingers were slightly bent, as if she had spent a superfluous amount of time writing.

It occurred to Ai that she did not know why she said no.

"I was being stubborn, child." She said softly. "I will tell you my story, but only if you listen."

"I have come for that purpose alone, mistress." Yuriko said, bowing her head slightly.

"Then, be quiet and I shall tell you."