“Mister Sakai is asking for you,” she said and nodded, and Misao climbed up to the room with Ukigumo.
Where the old gentleman was, there was always singing and drinking, and a general commotion.
Besides Ukigumo, to whom he was engaged for the night, girls streamed in and out all night to entertain him. When someone mentioned that they wanted some noodles, someone else suggested ordering sushi, and the servants delivered enough for ten people. One of the servants called Ukigumo away in the midst of all this and she withdrew with her maid. But Sakai didn’t let such a little thing upset him and the celebration showed no signs of dying down.
When Ukigumo came back to the room, they had already emptied several bottles of wine.
“I see you’re busy as usual!” Sakai teased Ukigumo as she sat down beside him.
The Oumi Tea House was unique in the western pleasure quarters because its courtesans traveled. That meant that they visited as many different rooms in one night as the lower-ranking girls.
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you,” Ukigumo laughed, her eyes cast modestly down. She reached out casually with one hand and Misao handed her a bottle of wine, reading her wishes. Their fingers brushed briefly, her delicate fingers like slender white fish dancing around the bottle.
Of all the girls at the Oumi Tea House, Ukigumo was the only one Misao would say had inner beauty. No matter how unmatched the physical beauty, if the girls couldn’t hide the storms in their hearts the influence of such ghastly emotions would show on their faces. Women in the pleasure quarters were, each and every one, slowly corrupted by this festering environment. Some couldn’t bear the strain and left reality behind; many of those who overcame adversity were warped forever after.
But Ukigumo was just as she had been the day she was sold to the brothel: a core of beauty ran through her. At first glance she seemed like a supple spring flower in bloom. But she had a hardiness inside her. She was beautiful, inside and out.
Out of the corner of his eye, Misao watched Ukigumo gracefully serve Sakai another cup of wine, and he thought of Masaomi. In fact, Masaomi was never far from Misao’s thoughts, always clamoring for his attention, but Misao tried hard not to think about him.
There were many things in Misao’s heart that he could not confront directly. Among those things were his despair and his hopes. Anything that might upset the delicate balance inside him, he shut away behind a poorly-fitted door. It was only when he’d discovered that technique as a child that Misao had been able to stop crying.
“Hey, is that Kazushi? You’ve grown up!”
Sakai looked surprised and Misao turned to look.
Kazushi was kneeling in the hallway just outside the tea room, his hands resting on his thighs as he bowed to Sakai.
Sakai picked up a new cup of wine and held it up to Kazushi, waving it up and down.
“I shouldn’t.”
Kazushi inched into the room and sat across from Sakai. He accepted the cup with both hands and let Sakai serve him, then drained the contents in one shot and set the cup down again. He jerked his chin, asking for another. He glanced at Misao, then turned back to look at Sakai.
“I came to borrow Misao, actually.”
“That kid Katsuragi, is it?” the old gentleman asked with a knowing grin, but Kazushi denied it, laughing.
“Nope. Guess again.”
Who could it be? Misao searched his memory for several moments, but quickly cut off his conjecturing. The experience would be the same no matter who it was, so there was no point in speculating.
“You’ve become pretty popular,” Sakai teased Misao, but then his eyes went wide. “Oh, oh, oh! Wait a minute, I forgot. It must be my age—I forget everything lately. Here, here. I wanted to give you this.”
Sakai pulled a folded fan from his jacket pocket.
Kazushi moved politely to one side so that Misao could sit down across from Sakai.
He accepted the fan that Sakai offered him. He pulled it open, revealing a pure white field with a watermarked painting of cherry blossoms. It was elegant and of magnificent quality.
Sakai raised both his index fingers and drew twirling circles on either side of his merry face.
Following his wishes, Misao fluttered the fan elegantly by his face as he sat, sliding his index finger across each slat of wood in the frame every time he flicked his wrist, spinning the fan in a circle. Finally, he tossed the fan up and caught it in three fingers, all the while watching Sakai’s smiling face.
Sakai grinned toothily and clapped appreciatively.
“Beautiful.”
“Thank you. And thank you for this.”
Misao gave Sakai a quick bow, then stood up. Kazushi apologized for interrupting as well, then led Misao into the hallway. As Misao left the room, Sakai called out to him kindly. “I hope you come back.”
Out in the hall now, Misao bowed once more to Sakai.
Misao felt like his heart had been dashed with cold water, but he held his feelings in check and hurried over to fall in behind Kazushi, who stood slightly apart from him in the hall.
“Who is it?” Misao asked without pretext.
Kazushi drew so close he tilted his head.
“The Towa boy.”
When Misao heard the name whispered at his ear, he lost all sense of reality.
“What—?”
By the time Misao had collected himself enough to respond, Kazushi was already at the end of the hall.
“He’s in the Holly Room. I’ll leave the rest to you.”
Kazushi turned back and summed the situation up simply, then headed down another hallway. Misao hurried after him.
“Hold on—”
He grabbed Kazushi’s arm and pulled him back.
Kazushi arched an eyebrow and looked at Misao. He had a strange look on his face. No, maybe Misao was the one acting strangely. Thrills were running through his entire body and he couldn’t stand still.
“But why me? If he wanted Ukigumo, she had two of her apprentices there with Mister Sakai, too. Don’t we usually make one of them fill in?”
“Well, that’s true.”
Kazushi scratched behind an ear, looking like he was at a total loss. He clearly didn’t want to be involved.
“I wish the guys would just say if they didn’t want an apprentice.”
Misao’s riotous senses calmed for an instant, and he gave a clumsy smile and a quick sigh. “He’s probably going to end up saying that, anyway. ‘Oh, no, I only wanted Ukigumo.’ I’m not even a girl,” he argued sulkily. He felt something nagging at him unpleasantly.
“Maybe so, but he’s a customer. You can’t just ignore him.”
Kazushi’s lips twisted into a rueful smile and he snorted.
“I thought you’d be happy, your dream is coming true.”
“Didn’t I tell you, it wasn’t like that?” Misao snapped in annoyance.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Kazushi patted Misao on the shoulder, almost reassuringly.
“Well, anyway, he’s all yours now.”
When they stopped in front of a tea room, its sliding doors firmly shut, they heard the sound of a zither coming from inside. It was truly accomplished playing.
Misao took a breath, then knelt beside the door.
“Sir?” he called, as he pulled the door open.
The delicate melody stopped.