The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai (20 page)

Tashiko returned to a full day’s work. I took a few of her clients to lighten her burden. At the end of the day she was rubbing her back.

‘May I practise on you to strengthen my fingers?’ I mimed a massage.

She answered by lying face down on her
futon
. I sat beside her, found the knots in her lower back and worked them on them until they smoothed. After kneading her upper and lower back, my hands cupped her buttocks and lazily traced their perfect outline. The twilight, through the curtain of our hut, drew shadow patterns on Tashiko’s slightly reddened skin. My breath stilled. Had Otafukure taught me enough? I sighed.

She turned over and, with both hands, lowered my face to hers. Footsteps crossed outside and stopped me, head up, for a moment. I realised my thick hair had fallen over her body and blocked my sight of her. I pulled it away.

My hands found her breasts, firmer than Otafukure’s. A little breeze fluttered my door cloth. My fingertips kneaded her nipples, which contracted into small buds. My own nipples tightened. Tashiko showed crinkled skin over her shoulders and chest as if she were cold.

My hands advanced downwards to the places we had studied. Down to the sources of ecstasy. I noticed a small scar on her hip as I smoothed my hands over her glossy skin. Where had that come from? My fingers continued through her light brown hair. I pushed my face closer and inhaled her bush-clover woody fragrance. Tasted her salty sweetness. I lapped her substance. Tashiko did not sing, like Otafukure. She hummed the songs our mothers had sung. I heard the harbinger of spring, the brush warbler, its beautiful music. I thought of my father and how happy he would be to know I had found a new family.

Others chopped wood, gathered charcoal, cooked our food and even cleaned our costumes because of our status. Girls did all of that, as I had when I had first here come to at the Village of Outcasts. Tashiko and I enjoyed the bathhouse after the day’s assignment of men, my lessons and lessons to others, and my practice with Akio, whenever we could find time. Tashiko and I ate the evening meal alone in our hut, unless Hitomi or Rin demanded we go to the communal dining room. The quiet brought comfort.

The true joy began. Tashiko and I rubbed each other’s sore backs, feet, necks, hands and faces. Next came light licking and caresses until we both breathed short and heavy. The memories of the day’s monotonous offensives faded into a forgotten dream and our tender fantasies flowered. We joked to ourselves, named ourselves royal clothiers who worked embroideries. Tashiko liked arm and shoulder designs, while I preferred neck and feet. We stroked lightly and petted, wove brocades of gentleness with fervour.

Some other Women-for-Play teased and called us ‘stew-pots’, a loathsome word for women who love each other, but we never referred to ourselves in that way. I did ask, after a particularly vigorous time, ‘Are you the male or am I?’ Tashiko lay on top of me, yet I had just pleased her. We laughed, and satisfied each other again.

One evening I whispered, ‘Not since before I was sold from the fields of my father have I been so happy.’

Tashiko answered, with her smile of pure summer sun, ‘You are my heart, just as the Buddha is my spirit. You are my reward for good deeds in a past life.’

It was a bright time, although work grew to be both heaven and hell. I loved my stories, their exotic places, gods and demons, which directed people into good behaviour, the costumes and dances that made my body content. Yet to follow wondrous tales with abuse created a deep, sorrow-filled well in which my spirit had to float or drown.

In the year I celebrated my thirteenth birth anniversary and Tashiko her sixteenth, we noticed changes in our bodies, the enlarging breasts, the sprouting of hair, the rounding of our hips and legs.

My cycle began two years after my arrival at the Village. Tashiko taught me to care for my ‘usual defilement’. I was not happy about this for it meant I could not touch Tashiko until after my Purification. She and I had to sleep apart.

She also taught me to drink the steeped morning herbs each day to avoid a baby. Several Women-for-Play bore children. Infrequently a wealthy patron acquired one and took her away with him. I wanted no such hindrance to my martial-arts practice. I had no desire for a child of mine to be brought up as the child of a fourth or fifth wife or, worse, in this Village. This Village of the Unclean.

Our monthly defilements soon arrived together. Each month we relished a few days together – alone. We read
sutra
s together, lit incense or a candle. She often read ‘The Medicine King’. I do not think I ever tired of how the Lotus Sutra, like the sun, destroyed all that was not good – in Tashiko’s voice, like the music of low drums.

When I complained about my work, Tashiko counted my blessings.

‘To begin, Madam Hitomi,’ Tashiko murmured, ‘has not caught you and Akio on your daily jaunts.’

I shivered and thought of the last time I had eaten cooled rice water for three days because I had torn my mouth badly.

‘You are blessed by the Goddess of Beauty. Even in misfortune you have risen to a place of honour.’ Tashiko rubbed her lips along my neck, prompting in me tremors of exaltation.

‘I feel no honour to be brought high in this place, this Village of Outcasts.’ My fingers traced across her forehead. ‘You, your kindness, the ultimate beauty.’

‘Lie down beside me, and I will read to you.’

We journeyed together from there, every evening a pinnacle of tenderness and devotion, followed by the ruthless plunge into the dark cave of daily work, and next the return to our heaven.

My duty and my honour meant absolute obedience.

I performed my duty until I lost my most precious gift.

II. Additions

A servant called one day. ‘Madam Hitomi orders you to Main House.’

A
bokken
hit me in the stomach. ‘Me? Why?’

The servant refused to look at me, walked backwards, turned and ran. What trouble could this be?

I wanted to stay away from Hell Hut, but walking that route was the shortest from my hut to Main House. I did not wish to risk taking longer. Tashiko had named it Hell Hut, that demon’s den I had visited when I had first arrived at the Village. Hitomi’s assistant performed her services in there. Muffled cries and moans hovered in the air along with the snipes, autumn birds. My shoulders shook at the memory of hot pokers. Was I to be next? No. I was not going there again.

Hitomi sat in the big room of Main House, petting a grey and white cat big enough to be a dog and leaning against pillows as bright as my spirits were dark. Cat odours spread through the heady incense.

‘Egret, Egret.’ Hitomi rubbed behind big Egret’s ears. Muffled screams brought a twist to the corner of her mouth.

Cats rubbed against my legs, mewing, as I made obeisance.

‘You are late. What took you so long?’

‘I came when I was called, honourable one.’

‘Humph. The men say you tell them stories. Is this not so?’

‘Yes, Madam Hitomi. Have I offended?’

‘What type of stories do you tell them?’

I told her. ‘Honourable Madam Hitomi, what have I done wrong?’

‘Where did you learn these stories?’

‘From the honourable Chiba no Tashiyori. Also from the samurai at the
sh
ō
en
. And the Lotus Sutra’s stories.’

‘Kozaishō, the men find your stories . . .’ she looked at her cat, then turned her face to me ‘. . . alluring. You will have a tutor. You must learn more stories.’

Tutor? I worked to keep my eyebrows in the same place. Not only did I need to look like the aristocrats, the fancies, I was supposed to read and write like them. What did she expect of me?

‘No, Madam Hitomi. You do me too much honour.’ I made the token refusal.

‘Why do you tell the stories?’

‘Why, honourable one?’ I explained about Aya and the clothes, and attending to the Women-for-Play. Perhaps she wanted to see if I would tell her the truth.

‘It is settled.’ The grey and white cat clawed, making holes in her dark kimono, then jumped off her lap. She picked up another cat and stroked it.

‘No, Madam Hitomi. I am too stupid,’ I said, firmness in my voice. ‘Tashiko learns faster, and her brushwork outdoes mine.’

She held the cat under its jaw and scratched behind its ears. She lifted it off the ground by its jaw. The cat squirmed and tried to scratch her. ‘When you study with a tutor, Kozaishō, you will gain in honour here.’

She knew my mission. She held me like the cat, but I did not give up. ‘Honourable one, I humbly request Tashiko learn also.’

‘It would cost too much. Just you.’ Her lips remained straight, but were not pressed together. She was still scratching the cat, now back on her lap and held there.

‘Madam Hitomi, you know Tashiko.’ I used my submissive voice. ‘She will be much better than this humble servant. She will teach the other Women-for-Play.’

Her hands stroked the cat along his back. It purred.

‘Madam Hitomi, all your Women-for-Play could learn from just the two of us.’

‘Yes, Kozaishō, all for only two. You and Tashiko do learn well.’

‘Thank you, honourable one.’

‘I have two servants who will help with your duties while you are learning and teaching . . .’ She stood, and her eyes crinkled.

I waited. I used what Chiba had taught me.

She clapped three times.

Two girls stepped into the big room.

Each girl was dressed in a plain style, from the country, yet the clothes were well made, of excellent-quality silk and design. The black kimono of the smaller one showed pink streaks. Red flowers brightened the blue of the other’s. I knew those fabrics from the
sh
ō
en
. My eyes widened as each girl bowed low to Hitomi without lifting their heads. A single clap from Hitomi, and they raised their faces. My lips went upwards – I was unable to stop them.

Family again

Surrounded three times again:

Giggling sisterly

Gossip, in sunlight – away

From my dark forests’ travail

There stood Emi, with her round face. From Chiba’s. Warmth spread inside my chest. Someone I knew and could trust. So much taller! Still pretty, her teeth had grown in and her eyes crossed less.

The other girl was younger than Emi. I did not yet know her. Her look was different from that of the rest of us – oval face and golden brown eyes. Both were budding into womanhood, as I had been when I came to the village. One sister. Possibly two new sisters. Sisters. A family.

My own sisters.

At least for a while.

Unfamiliar footsteps stopped on the
watadono
outside our hut late that first night. I nodded to Tashiko and slipped my fingers around my
bokken
. I recognised the shadow cast through the thin cloth fluttering across our door. The new girl. Misuki.

‘Come in, Misuki,’ I said softly.

She bowed before and after entering.

Tashiko pointed to her chest. ‘I am Tashiko. Speak.’

Misuki pulled her head out and down, like a turtle, and whispered, ‘I bring a message from Master Isamu, at Proprietor Chiba’s
sh
ō
en
. Master Isamu says he misses assisting Kozaishō at practice. He sends a message of greeting to Akio and his family also. He says prayers for you. He says you and Akio must be vigilant. You are in more . . .’ she put her index finger in her mouth ‘. . . jeopardy, yes, more jeopardy . . . and danger.’

‘Danger?’ Tashiko’s relaxed body shifted to arrow straight. ‘What danger?’

‘I do not know, honourable Tashiko.’

‘What else did Master Isamu say?’

Misuki lowered her head and shook it.

‘Tashiko, who have you told about Akio and me?’ I asked, after Misuki left.

Her eyes stretched wider. ‘No one. I would not risk your safety for my life.’

I touched her hand. ‘I know. But someone has betrayed me.’

III. Emi Laughs

The next day I told Akio about Master Isamu’s message.

Akio’s one eyebrow pointed up in the middle. ‘Little one, we must stop. Harm may come to you.’

‘No, Akio. I must do this.’

‘Must? Are you sure, Kozaishō?’ I observed the squinting concern in his eyes. He grasped my shoulder with his thick fingers, as if he could lift me up with that one hand and cradle me in his arms.