Rashomon Gate (15 page)

After some cries of protest, Osada said, "Well, you can eat and drink, but it's not enough for any real fun."

Tora handed over the fifteen coppers with a sigh. "I was hoping to bring my own girl," he said, "but I couldn't find one in time."

"You should make your master pay you more," suggested Danjuro. "I plan to celebrate the festival of blossoms properly, among the local 'blossoms.' But then, they don't work for nothing."

"I prefer to do the work myself," Tora said. "You poor fellows must be so out of practice that you have to pay for the action." Danjuro joined in the general laughter and raised his cup to Tora.

"Well put, Tora," applauded the gray-haired man. "Never mind your empty purse!" he told Tora consolingly. "You just eat and drink your fill, and if you should pass out from too much wine, you'll never know what you missed."

"Thanks, Kunisada," laughed Tora. "That's good advice from a pharmacist. I'm parched and starving at the same time. Where's the food?"

A waitress arrived with more warm rice wine. After cheerful discussion, they ordered a feast which included eggs, fish soup, marinated
kisu
fish and boiled chestnuts among other delicacies.

Tora drank deeply from his cup, refilled it, and looked around at the shining faces of his companions. "Here's to good company," he cried. "May we enjoy each other for many years."

"What?" cried Danjuro, moving away from him in mock horror. "Are you mad? I don't care what you think about my prowess, but you are much too bony for my taste. My appetite's for female flesh. I hope you haven't decided to sleep with one of us."

Tora grinned, shaking his head. "Sleeping is about all I'm doing tonight. It's not been my day. I was looking forward to a pleasant afternoon browsing about the markets and shops, but got an earful from a snooty merchant and a couple of crooked officials."

"What happened?" asked Kunisada.

"Any of you fellows know a silk peddler called Kurata?"

"You mean the big shop in Sameushi Street? Everybody here knows Kurata," said Kunisada.

Danjuro confirmed it. "Kurata! Now there's a lucky fellow with lots of money for women! They say he's had every charmer in the quarter at least once."

The potter burst out laughing. "You haven't heard! Kurata won't be back for a while," he said. "His old woman caught him with one of her maids and beat them both black and blue."

There was general laughter. Danjuro moaned, "Poor bastard! The old hen who lays all the eggs won't let the rooster at the pretty chicks any more."

The porter muttered, "Serves him right! He's a mean bastard! Beats the girls."

"Why doesn't he tell his old woman off?" asked Tora.

"That shop is the biggest in town," cried Ueda, "but it's the wife that owns it."

"How come?"

"He's adopted. Old Kurata's only daughter was so mean and ugly they couldn't find a guy willing to marry her, especially since the old man let it be known that she would keep the property. When she took up with the shop assistant and turned up with child, her father was so pleased he adopted the assistant, giving him his name along with his daughter. Lucky bastard!"

Danjuro sneered, "What's lucky about it? That old hag owns the place and she's at least fifteen years older than him and as ugly as a dried prune."

The waitress arrived with food and served them. Then the door opened again and three elegant female musicians slipped in. The one in front was a little older than the other two, perhaps in her thirties, but still quite handsome in her pale green silk gown with deep red under-robes. She carried a lute. The two girls with her were pretty, one particularly so, thought Tora. They had zithers and wore lilac silk and cream brocade respectively.

The men greeted them with pleasure, and the women bowed. Then they took their seats decorously against one wall and began to play.

Tora was not particularly fond of music, but could not take his eyes off the girl in the lilac gown. When she smiled at him, her cheeks dimpled charmingly. They played a selection of fashionable and popular songs which were well received. Kunisada offered them wine, which the older woman refused politely. Instead she asked for requests, and the company became very jovial. Several more rounds of wine were ordered, and Tora exchanged soulful glances with the pretty zither player. Then Danjuro asked the ladies to dance for them, but they shook their heads, the two girls giggling. Tora looked at his girl and folded his hands in entreaty. She nodded ever so slightly, glancing toward the door. Danjuro was showering all three women with suggestive compliments and, being more than a little drunk, ended up propositioning them. At this point, the older woman rose abruptly and signaled to the girls. All three bowed deeply and were gone.

"Now see what you've done, Danjuro!" grumbled Kunisada. "You have the manners of a pig. Don't you know a respectable musician from a streetwalker? You have insulted the famous Madame Sakaki."

But Danjuro only laughed and shouted for women. Immediately the auntie shoved in a gaggle of brightly robed and heavily made-up girls. In the confusion of shouting men and squealing females, Tora slipped from the room.

He caught up with the musicians as they were preparing to leave. "Wait, little sisters!" he called.

They stopped at the door, and the older woman said sharply, "I beg to be excused, sir. We have another party to play for."

Tora bowed to her. "Madame Sakaki," he said imploringly. "Please forgive the rude behavior of my friend. He was quite drunk with wine and your beauty. It is too bad he has no ear for music. As for me," he lied, "I only came to hear you play. Please allow me to invite you all to a nice dinner after your work is done. I want to make up for the unpleasantness."

Madame Sakaki smiled a little, but shook her head. "It is kind of you, sir, but quite impossible."

Tora hung his head. "I understand," he said. "It was a pleasure to hear a true artist. I have heard of a lute player who takes lessons from a professor at the university. Could it be you?"

Madame Sakaki flushed and drew herself up sharply. "No," she snapped. "That is Omaki. Now you must excuse us." She bowed and hurried off. The two younger women followed, the pretty one with a wink.

Tora looked after them disappointedly. Now what was he to do?

"Well?" The auntie had come up behind him. "Did you like the little zither player? I told her you admired her."

"Oh. I didn't know." Tora was crestfallen.

"You mean you let her go?" The auntie threw up her hands. "You must be stupid."

"Never mind, Auntie," sighed Tora. "Tell me about this girl Omaki. Is she here?"

"That one? You can forget her! She's taken. And I've washed my hands of her. Took her on because the professor asked me to, but she's unreliable. Always looking to catch a man."

"What do you mean, she's taken?"

"Never you mind! She's not here and I'm busy and don't have time for silly fools. Go away!"

Outside the lanterns glimmered in the scented darkness like fireflies among the trailing willows. Revellers crowded the streets in holiday garb and lovers embraced in the shadow of the trees. Tora spent an hour strolling about, smiling at the few unaccompanied girls. None proved free and easy company. His spirits low, he finally leaned against one of the willow trees and pondered what he should do. It was too early to go home. He had bragged about his plans, and the other servants would tease him unmercifully. On the other hand, he had not enough money left to go to a cheap brothel.

"Tora-san," whispered a voice at his shoulder. He turned, and there stood the pretty zither player, clutching her instrument to her chest and smiling at him. She said shyly, "I am finished for the night."

Tora's eyes widened in joyous surprise. "Sweetheart," he cried, "I was just making a wish and here it is already come true! I was wishing for you."

"Oh, go on!" She blushed and giggled. "We only met tonight."

"That's the way it hits some men! Like lightning! Nothing we can do about it, but suffer. Unless . . ." He looked at her beseechingly.

"You shouldn't say such things to a girl, Tora."

"You know my name, but I don't know yours. How can such a thing be?"

"I'm Michiko. And I know your name because the auntie at the Willow told me."

Bless the auntie, thought Tora. He liked Michiko and her artless manner. "Let's walk a little, Michiko," he said, "and if we see a good place to eat, let me buy you supper. You must be hungry and tired by now."

She smiled up at him. "Yes, thank you, Tora."

But all the restaurants and wine houses were too crowded by now and the private rooms were taken. Since Tora had designs beyond dinner, he began to feel frustrated.

"Why don't we buy some food at one of the stalls and take it back to my place?" Michiko suggested when she saw his glum face. "I live close by."

Tora brightened instantly. He purchased fried shrimp and a large pitcher of wine, and they left the pleasure quarter. Michiko rented a room behind a bamboo blind-maker's shop. The family was already asleep. So they tiptoed down the long hall and entered a small room which was no more than a flimsy wooden shack added to the back of the house. It was perfectly clean and tidy.

Michiko took a rolled-up reed mat from a shelf and spread it across the bare wooden floor. Then she set out dishes and cups which had been stored in a simple chest. They sat down. She placed the food in bowls and Tora poured the wine.

The girl was starved. Tora, who was full, watched her eat, passing her his own portion when she had finished hers. He liked a girl with a healthy appetite. Close up she was even prettier; her eyes began to sparkle as her hunger and tiredness vanished, and her moist lips looked full and inviting. Finally she stopped eating, burped in a ladylike fashion, and gave him a big smile. "Thank you, Tora," she said with feeling. "That was very good."

Touched, Tora reached into his sleeve and handed her the sash with the crane pattern. "Here," he said. "It's not much, but it's for you if you like it."

She spread it out on her lap. "Oh Tora!" she whispered, touching the fabric reverently. "It is so beautiful. I had no idea you bought me a present. Did you know I'd come back to you?"

Tora had the grace to blush, but thought that, on the whole, it would be kinder not to confess the truth. "I told you I had made a wish," he said.

Michiko flung her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his. "I'm so glad," she cried. Then she jumped up and started putting away the dishes. Tora got up to help.

"Do you happen to know a girl called Omaki?" he asked, handing her one of the shrimp bowls.

"Oh, yes. She used to be my friend."

"Used to?"

Michiko knelt, poured some water into a large bowl and rinsed the dishes. "She got snooty. Taking lessons from a professor who comes to the Willow a lot. He made her think she was better than the rest of us. Then she got sick to her stomach a lot, and when I asked her if there was something wrong, she snapped at me to mind my own business." She pointed to a neatly folded length of cheap cotton. "Do you mind drying?"

Tora obliged. "That wasn't very nice of her."

"No, and of course it made me think. She must be pregnant. And I bet that's why she wasn't working today. The auntie probably told her nobody wants to look at a pregnant musician."

"Any idea who the father is?" asked Tora, stacking the clean dishes on the chest.

"My guess is it's the professor's," said Michiko, pouring the dirty water out the window, and putting away the bowl. Then she turned, giving Tora a thoughtful look. "Why are you asking? Don't tell me you've fallen for
her
?"

"Never, my sweet!" Tora said fervently, stepping closer to stroke her cheek with his finger. "I don't even know the girl. Someone said she was a good lute player, and I thought Madame Sakaki was her. What a charming neck you have."

Michiko giggled and caught his hand in hers. "Omaki can't touch Madame's playing. She's the best. And she hates Omaki." She nuzzled Tora's hand, and said wistfully, "I'm sorry I can't play the lute, Tora, but I know lots of other games."

"Really?" Tora pretended ignorance. "Like what?"

"Like 'bamboo bridge to the pavilion,'" she whispered, tracing Tora's jaw with her finger and fluttering her eyes at him, "or 'cicadas clinging to a tree,' or 'monkey swinging from a branch' or 'bouncing the infant.'"

Tora's eyebrows shot up. " 'Monkey swinging from a branch'?" he asked, astonished. "What sort of game might that be?"

She moved quite close to him. "Silly! Don't you know anything? Haven't you ever visited the ladies of the Willow Quarter?"

Tora made a grab for her and pulled her down onto the mat. "No, you hussy," he muttered, fumbling for her sash. "And you shouldn't know such things either."

She giggled, twisting in his arms. "The girls tell us all about their work. They make good money, but I prefer to take my pick of the handsome fellows."

"Do you now?" asked Tora with a broad smile, tossing aside the sash and pushing her gown off her shoulders.

"Wait," she cried. "Let me make up a bed first!"