The Tokaido Road (1991)(528p) (58 page)

ONE DAY IN THIS WORLD

Cat and Hanshiro and Kasane stopped only to visit the wayside privies, change hostlers in Ishiyakushi and Kameyama, and buy food to eat as they rode. High in her rocking pannier, Kasane read her new manual of love.

Cat and Hanshiro rode in silence. They had no need for words. They were experiencing
yoin,
resonance. Pulses from their love-making still reverberated through them like the aftertones of a temple bell. A glance, a sigh, a wisp of a smile, began the sweet throbbing again.

A cold rain began to fall after they passed the government checkpoint in Seki early in the afternoon. The postboy put on his straw raincoat and hat. Kasane made a tent of her oiled-paper cloak and a straw mat and went on reading under it. She had progressed to the “Instruments” section, and only a typhoon could have distracted her. Cat and Hanshiro rode with their thighs touching so they could share Hanshiro’s big red umbrella.

The road wound upward into steep green mountains. At Sakanoshita they had to turn in the horses and proceed on foot. Beyond there, an avalanche had covered a section of the TMkaidM, and travelers had to take a detour. The new route included a bridge suspended over the deepest gorge. It was a swaying, precarious affair of bamboo poles and hawsers. Horses could not cross it.

While Hanshiro returned the mounts, Kasane read under the wide eaves of Sakanoshita’s transport office. She had come to the part of the manual that described types of vaginas. She was wondering if hers was one of those “moist and snug and lined with bumps like herring roe.”

When Hanshiro returned she reluctantly wrapped the book in paper treated with persimmon juice. She put the package in a bag and looped the long cord around her neck. Then she stuck the bag and its contents into her jacket. She shouldered the carrying pole and travel box and set out behind Hanshiro and Cat.

By midafternoon they were well into the highest of the mountains, the upper fringes of the wild Kinki region to the south. Far below, muddy rivers, pale as liquid plaster, filled the sharp clefts of the gorges. Mist from them snaked among the trees and undergrowth. Silver waterfalls plunged into the layers of mist, only to reappear farther down the slopes. Hanshiro took the travel box to ease Kasane’s burden.

By the time they were nearing Suzuka Pass, the day was as dark as late twilight and the rain was still falling. The gloominess was heightened by the overhanging cedars. The road went from precipitous to perilous. Torrents of water and slick gray mud cascaded down the slope.

At a narrow defile Kasane strayed too near the edge of the road, and the saturated ground gave way under her feet. She screamed and plummeted straight down.

 “Kasane!” Cat flung herself onto her stomach at the rim of the gaping hole. “Kasane!” She was oblivious to the water rushing past her and into the funnel formed by the cave-in. Kasane clawed at the rocky slope as she slid down it. Cat could see the terror on her receding face. She came to a stop with a jolt, her feet hitting a small outcropping of rock. She grabbed the stem of a stunted bush and barely saved herself from falling over backward and onto the boulders in the river below. Her face looked small and pale and indistinct in the mist.

Hanshiro always carried a hempen rope. In his profession ropes and the tying of specialized knots often came in handy. But when he threw one end to Kasane, it fell far short. He retrieved it and knotted both his and Cat’s sashes and then their loincloths. It still dangled just above Kasane’s outstretched hand. She tried to scramble to it and almost fell again.

Cat and Hanshiro looked around for another traveler who might have a rope. The road was empty, the rain relentless.

Hanshiro was in a quandary. He could reach Kasane if he were lowered down, but Cat couldn’t pull both of them back up.

“I’ll go.” Cat tried to take the rope from Hanshiro’s hand, but he held it tightly. She stared up at him as the rain pelted her face.  “If she dies while we argue”—she had to shout to be heard over the roar of a sudden gust of wind—”I shall throw myself after her.”

Hanshiro had no doubt she meant it. Cat could see the flash of despair in his eyes.

“Sleeve touches sleeve,” she said. She did not have to finish the saying:
Because it was fated in a former life.
If they were meant to be together, nothing would part them.

Hanshiro tied the rope around her chest above her breasts and under her arms. He tugged on it to check the knot. “Wrap it around your arm and hold it like this.” He pulled on it again to test her grip, then he helped her coil the trailing end. “I’ll hold your ankles.”

Even if fate meant for them to be together, he couldn’t bear to test it by lowering her over a cliff on the end of a rope. He had to keep her in his grasp. He lay on his stomach and gripped her ankles as she inched over the precipice. She braced herself with her elbows to keep from scraping her face on the rocks. Gravel and larger stones hit her on their way to the bottom of the gorge. The water rushing over the edge flowed into her eyes, making it impossible to see. Perhaps that was just as well.

Even with Hanshiro’s fingers digging painfully hard into her ankles, she felt as though she were falling already. She concentrated on Kasane and not on the dizziness that swept over her. She didn’t see the young man, hidden under a sodden straw hood and cape, who kneeled to help Hanshiro. Hanshiro saw that the man was Traveler, but he was too preoccupied to acknowledge it.

“Drop the rope directly beneath you,” Hanshiro called.

“I have it,” Kasane shouted. She tied it around one wrist and held on with the other.

Cat braced the rope against the palm of her hand as Hanshiro and Traveler began pulling her back. Even though Kasane tried to help, pushing off with her feet where she could, her weight made Cat’s arms feel as though they were being wrenched from the sockets. The rough hemp and the rocks of the slope bloodied her hands.

As soon as they had Cat safely back on the road, Hanshiro and Traveler grabbed the rope and heaved while Cat tried to wipe the mud and water from her eyes. When Kasane was close to the edge, her young suitor backed away and trotted off without waiting for thanks or recognition. He was too embarrassed about missing his meeting with her that morning to face her now.

Cat and Hanshiro each took one of Kasane’s hands and hauled her up. Hanshiro didn’t know how things stood between Kasane and Traveler and decided not to mention him. Panting and laughing, he and Cat and Kasane sat in the mud and the rain. Then, on trembling legs, they walked the half a
ri
to the dank hamlet of Tsuchiyama and stopped to warm themselves at the thatched hovel that served as its only tea house. Kasane’s blue fingers shook as she sipped the hot cup of pale mushroom tea and watched the rain pour off the eaves.

Cat wiggled her bare toes, tingling with cold, even after the maid had washed them in scalding water. The owner of the tea house claimed to have a room where they could sleep, but Cat could see it would be tiny and roach-infested. “We can spend the night here.”

“Please don’t stop on my account, young master.” Kasane had long since made Cat’s mission her own. “I can walk all night.”

“Just don’t try to fly again, Hachibei.” Hanshiro grinned at Kasane through the steam rising from his teacup. “The rest of us can’t keep up with you.”

“Yes, master.” Kasane smiled shyly into her own cup. She had to agree with the old saying. Truly, one day in this world was more pleasurable than a thousand in the next.

Minakuchi’s night market was noisy and reckless as a country fair. Groups of town lads strolled among the booths. They flirted with the young peasant women selling produce and loudly discussed the best ways to win favor with courtesans.

A gang of them brushed by Cat, who had stopped to look over the display of dildos. The itinerant peddler was the same one she had seen in the yard of Yokkaichi’s transport office. Now he had turned his big wooden traveling case into a makeshift kiosk by spreading a square of black silk over the top of it. He had arranged his wood and lacquered papier-mâché phalluses on the cloth.

“Something for your wife, governor?” The man caught Cat’s eye. “I have a wide assortment of finely crafted instruments to console her when business compels you to be absent from her bed.”

“Fate has not plagued me with a wife.” Cat had paused here to see if the man following her would pass on by. He didn’t. Instead, he pretended to inspect the bunches of straw horseshoes, hanging like shaggy fruit from the pole of a vendor nearby.

He had been behaving suspiciously. He wore a towel tied to cover most of his face, and he kept his head down except for furtive glances at her.

Hanshiro had wandered off mysteriously, and Cat suspected he was looking for a present for her. She considered setting out to find him. Hanshiro’s strength and skill tempted her to let him do everything for her. But this, she decided, was something she could do for herself.

The man seemed to be alone and inept at knavery. He was probably some small-time hireling who hadn’t read or heard of Hanshiro’s letter, signed with Kira’s crest, countermanding the order for Cat’s capture. His hands were empty. His only likely weapon would be a knife or truncheon hidden in his sleeve or legging or jacket.

From the corner of her eye Cat watched him sneak up on her. When he reached out to grab her sleeve, she picked up the biggest dildo from those on display. She had been hefting them on the pretext of shopping, and she knew this one was of dense, hard ebony.

Cat whirled with it and hit the man just above his ear. His eyes flew open in surprise, then closed as he pitched forward. Cat knelt and pulled back the towel covering his face. “Traveler!”

LEAVING THE MOON AS A KEEPSAKE

The inn in Minakuchi was full of travelers, so Hanshiro and Cat couldn’t linger in the bath. Still, the hot water and the steam washed off the cares of the road along with the mud. The easy intimacy made them feel as though they had been lovers a long time. They crouched on the wooden grid across the floor and scrubbed each other with bags of rice bran. They laughed and splashed basins of water over each other, as carefree as children.

When they finished washing they took the wooden cover off the tall, round cedar tub and climbed in. They lowered themselves through the cloud of steam and into the scalding water. The tub was just big enough for the two of them. The water came almost to Cat’s chin.

Cat sat with her knees pulled up and her toes pressed against the far side. The sleek curve of her back and hips nestled against Hanshiro’s chest and groin. She put her arms around his muscular thighs, which were drawn up at her sides, and draped her palms over his knees. She leaned her head against his chest.

He crossed his arms over her breasts and laid his head back until his neck rested on the rim of the tub. They both sighed, then took long, slow breaths, their chests rising and falling in unison. They closed their eyes and sat motionless and absolutely, completely happy.

Finally they could no longer ignore the loud coughing of the maids outside, reminding them that others were waiting to bathe. Hanshiro helped Cat out of the tub. They wiped each other off with their small towels, then put on the blue-and-white-striped wadded cotton robes supplied by the inn.

When they returned to their room, it had been prepared for them. Coals glowed in the firewell, and a small brass brazier gave off additional heat. A long-handled box of smoking utensils sat on the floor. A pair of pillow stands had been set side by side at the head of the pile of mattresses. The servants had put two low tables next to it. Tea and sweet bean cakes were laid out on one. Writing materials sat on the other. Words meant only for one other pair of ears were better written than spoken in a crowded inn.

“I’ll return as soon as I can.” Cat started to rise to leave, but Hanshiro held her tight against him while their hearts beat together.

“I’ll be waiting,” he whispered.

Cat pulled away reluctantly. She opened the sliding panel and stepped into the passageway. She turned and knelt facing Hanshiro, who sat in the glow from the firewell. Cat laid one hand on top of the other, palm down on the floor, and bowed, then she closed the door, stood, and walked to the room next to hers.

Inside, Kasane was sitting back on her haunches next to a low, freestanding shelf littered with cosmetics. She was naked from the waist up, and her cotton robe hung down around her sash. Her rented silk robes were draped over a rack in the corner. Cat breathed in the incense that was burning there to perfume the clothes. She had picked it out and was reassured that it was just the right combination of scents for the occasion.

Cat supervised the shampooer’s work. Because Kasane’s hair had been cut to shoulder length, the woman added switches of long black hair and rats of bear fur to fill it out. When she finished, the shampooer used a bag of rice powder to whiten Kasane’s body as far down as the nipples. For her face she rubbed on a base of sticky camellia oil. Then she moistened white powdered lead with perfumed water and brushed it into a smooth mask.

After the shampooer had put on the foundation, Cat dismissed her so she could do the rest herself. She used a thin brush dipped in black dye to emphasize Kasane’s hairline. She outlined her eyes in red, then black. As she worked she gave some final advice.

“Remember, elder sister, don’t crack your knuckles or adjust the floor lantern while you’re standing up. Above all, don’t scratch your head with the dumpling skewer.”

“I won’t.” Kasane’s whitened hands trembled so badly, she had to hide them in her sleeves. She had studied the forty-eight positions illustrated in her manual, but much as she yearned to pillow with her lover, the thought of actually doing it terrified her.

 “Remember to move slowly,” Cat said. “Moving slowly lends dignity and grace and minimizes blunders.” She chose another brush from the low shelf and dipped it into a clamshell of rouge. She frowned with concentration as she painted a tiny bow of a mouth over Kasane’s natural lip line. “Untie your sash to let him know you’re ready to accept him, but do not practice the artifice of foolish whores who pretend their sashes came undone by accident. Do remember to stick in some cries. They’ll give him confidence.” With both hands Cat extended a stiffened silk case with a packet of folded paper handkerchiefs and bowed slightly over it. “For the pledging liquid.”

Kasane knew that. Her manual emphasized that the success of a pillowing was marked by the number of paper napkins required afterward.

Still on her knees, Cat moved around Kasane, arranging the folds of the silk robes she had rented for the occasion. She tugged at the back of the collar to expose more of the seductive line of Kasane’s nape and back. She had Kasane sit at just the right angle to the door. She gently but firmly adjusted her upper body and shoulders, her neck and chin, into the most alluring curve. Then she placed the night lantern to take full advantage of the lights and shadows on Kasane’s tranquil form.

When she was satisfied that Kasane looked her best, she knelt in front of her.

“I spoke sternly to the young man.” Cat didn’t mention that Traveler had been sprawled and groaning in the dust and debris of the marketplace when she had interviewed him. Because he thought Cat was Kasane’s brother, he had been gathering the nerve to speak to her. Before he approached Hanshiro, he had intended to ask Cat’s permission to accompany them on their journey.

“I wanted to be sure he would be kind to you,” Cat said. “He answered me candidly. He began his pilgrimage with a friend, but the friend wandered into the pleasure district of the first post town they came to and refused to leave it. He seems sincere, and he has good prospects. He swears he wants to marry you.”

Kasane blushed, but she was too worried about disturbing her hair and robe to even hide her face behind her sleeve. She had to resist the urge to pull her collar forward to hide the indecent display of the nape of her neck.

“Your first joining might be awkward and even painful, but with time you’ll learn to give each other joy.” Cat reached out to smooth Kasane’s already sleek hair. Her voice was hoarse from holding back tears of joy for Kasane’s good fortune and her own. “You have been a brave and true comrade, elder sister. Now if it’s fated to be, you will have the greatest of gifts, a heart’s companion on life’s road.”

“Thank you, mistress. You have been very kind to one of small merit.”

As the white space of a painting intimated mountains and mists, oceans and infinite possibilities, so the words Kasane did not say spoke volumes. Her lips, which Cat had painted with a false line, red and round as a peony bud, trembled.

Cat turned in the doorway to look once more at her. She smiled reassurance before she knelt and slid the panel closed. She went to find a servant and slip him thanks money. She instructed him to lead Traveler discreetly in through a rear entrance after the thin, perforated wooden shades had been lowered over the night lanterns. She was sure Kasane would sit without twitching an eyelid until he arrived.

Cat returned to her room to find Hanshiro reading by the light of the night lantern. He put down the book and sat cross-legged with eyes closed as Cat knelt behind him and kneaded and rubbed his shoulders and back. She had moved down to his hands and was gently tugging his fingers, one by one, when she heard the creak of footsteps on the
tatami
in Kasane’s room. A man spoke, his voice too low to be distinguished.

Cat moved to the writing table and sat so that her sleeping robes fell into graceful folds around her. She took up the brush, dipped it into the well of the ink stone, and wrote, “He must have a terrible headache.” She was feeling remorse for the blow she’d given Traveler.

She passed the paper to Hanshiro, who wrote, “If you gave him a headache, you also gave him a cure.”

Hanshiro had given the lad a pinch of powdered ginseng from his stock of medicines, but he was certain Cat’s medicine would be much more effective.

Cat and Hanshiro could hear the chime of a porcelain
sake
jar against a cup, the rustle of clothing, and a riffle of laughter. Cat wrote, then held the paper out on her fan for Hanshiro to read.

A pair of noisy sparrows

Bamboo thicket, moon rising.

For the first time Cat saw him smile without the enigmatic sadness that had always veiled his eyes. She saw the pale flecks in them shift and brighten as yellow silk would shimmer gold in sunlight.

He linked his verse to hers in an admission of love’s effect on him.

A rising lark, lost

In the mist of winter hills,

As baffled as I.

Watching him write, Cat thought her passion too great to be contained. Surely it would burst from her heart and scatter as wantonly as silk floss on the wind.

Cat and Hanshiro dared not provoke fate by discussing the future, but hungrily they questioned each other about the past. In a few hours they tried to recover the lifetime they had spent apart. Long into the night, while the storm of passion rose and swirled in Kasane’s room, they wrote. They filled the thick, pliant sheets of lavender-tinted paper with graceful characters and with the secrets of their hearts.

“Lotus-eyed one, sweet of touch,” Hanshiro wrote. “Hair iridescent as a wet crow’s wing.”

It was a form of communication as sensual as a whisper in the ear. Cat felt as though each stroke of Hanshiro’s brush, lingering and supple on the paper, were inscribing his love on her skin. They discreetly ignored the muted laughter next door, but it added to the witchery.

“Oh, when you do that,” they heard Kasane murmur. The rhythmic whisper of bedclothes grew more urgent until finally Kasane’s impassioned cry sounded through the inn. She must have thrown a pillow because something crashed into a screen. The usual late-night music and laughter and talk ceased for several beats, then took up again.

Cat and Hanshiro knew their time of love would be brief and they must live in the moment. The future was uncertain at best, and in their case they would have to devote themselves to the vengeance to which Cat was sworn. They could have written all night, but they knew they must try to sleep. The days ahead would be arduous.

They burned their love letters one at a time in the brazier. Then they untied each other’s sashes, and as Cat’s robe fell away Hanshiro kissed each of the bruises left by the rocks of the mountain. He held Cat to him, and when he trailed his fingers down her spine he drew out any fatigue or tension that might have remained there.

They both knew that they could not enjoy the usual lovers’ courtship. They might never view the cherry blossoms at Asukayama or walk along the seaside at Shinagawa or go into the mountains to hear the first lark in the springtime.

Knowing that this might be the last time they would hold each other gave their passion a tender urgency. Silently, languorously, they traveled the silken road. They caressed and entered into the caressing until the lantern they carried became the brilliance of the moon. Then they lay with their arms around each other and their legs entwined until the dawn bells rang.

“ ‘Coming to an end,’ ” Hanshiro whispered. ” ‘And leaving the moon as a keepsake.’ ”

“Tonight.” Cat looked up at him and smiled sadly. If fate willed it, that night they would enter the Western Capital. Perhaps then they would find Oishi Kuranosuke. They would end their quest and begin their vengeance.