Shōgun (The Asian Saga Book 1)

‘I am instructed to inquire if Kiku-san would be free this evening,’ Mariko said.

‘Oh, so sorry, Lady Toda, but I’m not sure,’ Gyoko, the Mama-san, said ingratiatingly.  ‘May I ask if the honored client would require Lady Kiku for the evening or part of it, or perhaps until tomorrow, if she’s not already engaged?’

The Mama-san was a tall, elegant woman in her early fifties with a lovely smile.  But she drank too much saké, her heart was an abacus, and she possessed a nose that could smell a single piece of silver from fifty ri.

The two women were in an eight-mat room adjoining Toranaga’s private quarters.  It had been set aside for Mariko, and overlooked, on the other side, a small garden which was enclosed by the first of the inner wall defenses.  It was raining again and the droplets sparkled in the flares.

Mariko said genteelly, ‘That would be a matter for the client to decide.  Perhaps an arrangement could be made now which would cover every eventuality.’

‘So sorry, please excuse me that I don’t know her availability at once.  She’s so sought after, Lady Toda.  I’m sure you understand.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.  We’re really very fortunate to have such a lady of quality here in Anjiro.’  Mariko had accented the ‘Anjiro.’  She had sent for Gyoko instead of visiting her, as she might possibly have done.  And when the woman had arrived, just late enough to make a distinct point, but not enough to be rude, Mariko had been glad of the opportunity to lock horns with so worthy an adversary.

‘Was the Tea House damaged very much?’ she asked.

‘No, fortunately, apart from some valuable pottery and clothes, though it will cost a small fortune to repair the roof and resettle the garden.  It’s always so expensive to get things done quickly, don’t you find?’

‘Yes.  It’s very trying.  In Yedo, Mishima, or even in this village.’

‘It’s so important to have tranquil surroundings, neh?  Would the client perhaps honor us at the Tea House?  Or would he wish Kiku-san to visit him here, if she is available?’

Mariko pursed her lips, thinking.  ‘The Tea House.’

‘Ah, so desu!‘  The Mama-san’s real name was Heiko-ichi—First Daughter of the Wall Maker.  Her father and his before him had been specialists in making garden walls.  For many years she had been a courtesan in Mishima, the capital of Izu, attaining Second Class Rank.  But the gods had smiled upon her and, with gifts from her patron, coupled with an astute business sense, she had made enough money to buy her own contract in good time, and so become a manager of ladies with a Tea House of her own when she was no longer sought after for the fine body and saucy wit with which the gods had endowed her.  Now she called herself Gyoko-san, Lady Luck.  When she was a fledgling courtesan of fourteen, she had been given the name Tsukaiko—Lady Snake Charmer.  Her owner had explained to her that that special part of man could be likened to a snake, that a snake was lucky, and if she could become a snake charmer in that sense, then she would be hugely successful.  Also the name would make clients laugh, and laughter was essential to this business.  Gyoko had never forgotten about laughter.

‘Saké, Gyoko-san?’

‘Thank you, yes, thank you, Lady Toda.’

The maid poured.  Then Mariko dismissed her.

They drank silently for a moment.  Mariko refilled the cups.

‘Such lovely pottery.  So elegant,’ Gyoko said.

‘It’s very poor.  I’m so sorry we have to use it.’

‘If I can make her available, would five koban be acceptable?’  A koban was a gold coin that weighed eighteen grams.  One koban equaled three koku of rice.

‘So sorry, perhaps I didn’t make myself clear.  I didn’t wish to buy all the Tea House in Mishima, only the lady’s services for an evening.’

Gyoko laughed.  ‘Ah, Lady Toda, your reputation is well merited.  But may I point out that Kiku-san is of the First Class Rank.  The Guild gave her that honor last year.’

‘True, and I’m sure that rank is merited.  But that was in Mishima.  Even in Kyoto—but of course you were making a joke, so sorry.’

Gyoko swallowed the vulgarity that was on her tongue and smiled benignly.  ‘Unfortunately I would have to reimburse clients who, I seem to remember, have already booked her.  Poor child, four of her kimonos were ruined when water doused the fires.  Hard times are coming to the land, Lady, I’m sure you understand.  Five would not be unreasonable.’

‘Of course not.  Five would be fair in Kyoto, for a week of carousing, with two ladies of First Rank.  But these are not normal times and one must make allowances.  Half a koban.  Saké, Gyoko-san?’

‘Thank you, thank you.  The saké’s so good—the quality is so good, so very good.  Just one more if you please, then I must be off.  If Kiku-san is not free this evening I’d be delighted to arrange one of the other ladies—Akeko perhaps.  Or perhaps another day would be satisfactory?  The day after tomorrow perhaps?’

Mariko did not answer for a moment.  Five koban was outrageous—as much as you’d pay for a famous courtesan of First Class in Yedo.  Half a koban would be more than reasonable for Kiku.  Mariko knew prices of courtesans because Buntaro used courtesans from time to time and had even bought the contract of one, and she had had to pay the bills, which had, of course, rightly come to her.  Her eyes gauged Gyoko.  The woman was sipping her saké calmly, her hand steady.

‘Perhaps,’ Mariko said.  ‘But I don’t think so, neither another lady nor another night. . . . No, if tonight cannot be arranged I’m afraid that the day after tomorrow would be too late, so sorry.  And as to another of the ladies . . .’  Mariko smiled and shrugged.

Gyoko set her cup down sadly.  ‘I did hear that our glorious samurai would be leaving us.  Such a pity!  The nights are so pleasant here.  In Mishima we do not get the sea breeze as you do here.  I shall be sorry to leave too.’

‘Perhaps one koban.  If this arrangement is satisfactory I would then like to discuss how much her contract would cost.’

‘Her contract!’

‘Yes.  Saké?’

‘Thank you, yes.  Contract—her contract?  Well, that’s another thing.  Five thousand koku.’

‘That’s impossible!’

‘Yes,’ Gyoko agreed, ‘but Kiku-san’s like my own daughter.  She is my own daughter, better than my own daughter.  I’ve trained her since she was six.  She’s the most accomplished Lady of the Willow World in all Izu.  Oh, I know, in Yedo you have greater ladies, more witty, more worldly, but that’s only because Kiku-san hasn’t had the good fortune to mix with the same quality of persons.  But even now, none can match her singing or her samisen playing.  I swear it by all the gods.  Give her a year in Yedo, with the right patron and correct sources of knowledge, and she’ll compete satisfactorily with any courtesan in the Empire.  Five thousand koku is a small sum to pay for such a flower.’  Perspiration beaded the woman’s forehead.  ‘You must excuse me, but I’ve never considered selling her contract before.  She’s barely eighteen, blemishless, the only Lady of First Class Rank that I’ve been privileged to manage.  I really don’t think I could ever sell her contract even at the price mentioned.  No, I think I will have to reconsider, so sorry.  Perhaps we could discuss this tomorrow.  Lose Kiku-san?  My little Kiku-chan?’  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and Mariko thought, if those are real tears, then you, Gyoko, you’ve never spread yourself open to a Princely Pestle.

‘So sorry.  Shigata ga nai, neh?‘  Mariko said courteously and let the woman moan and weep and refilled her cup every so often and then again.  How much is the contract really worth, she was asking herself.  Five hundred koku would be fantastically more than fair.  It depends on the anxiety of the man, who’s not anxious in this case.  Certainly Lord Toranaga isn’t.  Who’s he buying for?  Omi?  Probably.  But why did Toranaga order the Anjin-san here?

‘You agree, Anjin-san?’ she had asked him earlier with a nervous laugh, over the boisterousness of the drunken officers.

‘You’re saying that Lord Toranaga’s arranged a lady for me?  Part of my reward?’

‘Yes. Kiku-san.  You can hardly refuse.  I—I am ordered to interpret.

‘Ordered?’

‘Oh, I’ll be happy to interpret for you.  But, Anjin-san, you really can’t refuse.  It would be terribly impolite after so many honors, neh?‘  She had smiled up at him, daring him, so proud and delighted with Toranaga’s incredible generosity.  ‘Please. I’ve never seen the inside of a Tea House before—I’d adore to look myself and talk with a real Lady of the Willow World.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, they’re called that because the ladies are supposed to be as graceful as willows.  Sometimes it’s the Floating World, because they’re likened to lilies floating in a lake.  Go on, Anjin-san, please agree.’

‘What about Buntaro-sama?’

‘Oh, he knows I’m to arrange it for you.  Lord Toranaga told him.  It’s all very official of course.  I’m ordered.  So are you!  Please!’  Then she had said in Latin, so glad that no one else in Anjiro spoke the language, ‘There is another reason that I will tell thee later.’

‘Ah—tell it to me now.’

‘Later.  But agree, with amusement.  Because I ask thee.’

‘Thou—how can I refuse thee?’

‘But with amusement.  It must be with amusement.  Thy promise!’

‘With laughter.  I promise.  I will attempt it.  I promise thee nothing other than I will attempt the crest.’

Then she had left him to make the arrangements.

‘Oh, I’m distraught at the very thought of selling my beauty’s contract,’ Gyoko was groaning.  ‘Yes, thank you, just a little more saké, then I really must go.’  She drained the cup and held it out wearily for an immediate refill.  ‘Shall we say two koban for this evening—a measure of my desire to please a Lady of such merit?’

‘One.  If this is agreed, perhaps we could talk more about the contract this evening, at the Tea House.  So sorry to be precipitous, but time, you understand . . .’  Mariko waved a hand vaguely toward the conference room.  ‘Affairs of state—Lord Toranaga—the future of the realm—you understand, Gyoko-san.’

‘Oh, yes, Lady Toda, of course.’  Gyoko began to get up.  ‘Shall we agree to one and a half for the evening?  Good, then that’s set—’

‘One.

‘Oh ko, Lady, the half is a mere token and hardly merits discussion,’ Gyoko wailed, thanking the gods for her acumen and keeping feigned anguish on her face.  One and a half koban would be a triple fee.  But, more than the money, this was, at long last, the first invitation from one of the real nobility of all Japan for which she had been angling, for which she would gladly have advised Kiku-san to do everything for nothing, twice.  ‘By all the gods, Lady Toda, I throw myself on your mercy, one and a half koban.  Please, think of my other children who have to be clothed and trained and fed for years, who do not become as priceless as Kiku-san but have to be cherished as much as she.’

‘One koban, in gold, tomorrow.  Neh?‘

Gyoko lifted the porcelain flask and poured two cups.  She offered one to Mariko, drained the other, and refilled her own immediately.  ‘One,’ she said, almost gagging.

‘Thank you, you’re so kind and thoughtful.  Yes, times are hard.’  Mariko sipped her wine demurely.  ‘The Anjin-san and I will be at the Tea House shortly.’

‘Eh?  Whatwasthatyousaid?’

‘That the Anjin-san and I will be at the Tea House shortly.  I am to interpret for him.’

‘The barbarian?’ Kiku gasped.

‘The barbarian.  And he’ll be here any moment unless we stop him—with her, the cruelest, most grasping harpy I’ve ever met, may she be reborn a back-passage whore of the Fifteenth Rank.’

In spite of her fear, Kiku laughed outright.  ‘Oh, Mama-san, please don’t fret so!  She seemed such a lovely lady and one whole koban—you really made a marvelous arrangement!  There, there, we’ve lots of time.  First some saké will take away all your heartburn.  Ako, quick as a hummingbird!’

Ako vanished.

‘Yes, the client’s the Anjin-san.’  Gyoko almost choked again.

Kiku fanned her and Hana, the little apprentice, fanned her and held sweet-smelling herbs near her nose.  ‘I thought she was negotiating for Lord Buntaro—or Lord Toranaga himself.  Of course when she said the Anjin-san I asked her at once why didn’t his own consort, Lady Fujiko, negotiate as correct manners insisted, but all she said was that his Lady was badly sick with burns and she herself had been ordered to talk to me by Lord Toranaga himself.’

‘Oh!  Oh, that I should be so fortunate to serve the great Lord!’

‘You will, child, you will if we scheme.  But the barbarian!  What will all your other customers think?  What will they say?  Of course I left it undecided, telling Lady Toda that I didn’t know if you were free, so you can still refuse if you wish, without offense.’

‘What can other customers say?  Lord Toranaga ordered this.  There’s nothing to be done, neh?‘  Kiku concealed her apprehension.

‘Oh, you can easily refuse.  But you must be quick, Kiku-chan.  Oh ko, I should have been more clever—I should have.’

‘Don’t worry, Gyoko-sama.  Everything will be all right.  But we must think clearly.  It’s a big risk, neh?‘

‘Yes.  Very.’

‘We can never turn back if we accept.’

‘Yes.  I know.’

‘Advise me.’

‘I cannot, Kiku-chan.  I feel I was trapped by kami.  This must be your decision.’

Kiku weighed all the horrors.  Then weighed the good.  ‘Let us gamble.  Let us accept him.  After all he is samurai, and hatamoto, and Lord Toranaga’s favored vassal.  Don’t forget what the fortune teller said:  that I would help you to become rich and famous forever.  I pray I may be allowed to do that to repay all your kindnesses.’

Gyoko stroked Kiku’s lovely hair.  ‘Oh, child, you’re so good, thank you, thank you.  Yes, I think you’re wise.  I agree.  Let him visit us.’  She pinched her cheek affectionately.  ‘You always were my favorite!  But I would have demanded double for the barbarian admiral if I’d known.’

‘But we got double, Mama-san.’

‘We should have had triple!’

Kiku patted Gyoko’s hand.  ‘Don’t worry—this is the beginning of your good fortune.’

‘Yes, and it’s true the Anjin-san is no ordinary barbarian but a samurai and hatamoto barbarian.  Lady Toda told me he’s been given a fief of two thousand koku and made Admiral of all Toranaga’s ships and he bathes like a civilized person and no longer stinks. . . .’

Ako arrived breathlessly and poured the wine without spilling a drop.  Four cups disappeared in quick succession.  Gyoko began to feel better.  ‘Tonight must be perfect.  Yes.  If Lord Toranaga ordered it, of course it has to be.  He wouldn’t order it personally unless it was important to him personally, neh?  And the Anjin-san’s really like a daimyo.  Two thousand koku yearly—by all kami, we should have so much good fortune!  Kiku-san, listen!’  She leaned closer and Ako leaned closer, all eyes.  ‘I asked the Lady Toda, seeing that she spoke their vile language, if she knew of any strange customs or ways, stories or dances or positions or songs or instruments or potents that the Anjin-san would prefer.’

‘Ah, that would be very helpful, very,’ Kiku said, frightened that she had agreed, wishing that she had had the wisdom to refuse.

‘She told me nothing!  She speaks their language but knows nothing about their pillow habits.  I asked her if she’d ever asked him about that and she said yes, but with disastrous results.’  Gyoko related the occurrence in Osaka Castle.  ‘Can you imagine how embarrassing that must have been!’

‘At least, we know not to suggest boys to him—that’s something.’

‘Apart from that, there’s only the maid in his household to go by!’

‘Do we have time to send for the maid?’

‘I went there myself.  Straight from the fortress.  Not even a month’s salary opened the girl’s mouth, stupid little weevil!’

‘Was she presentable?’

‘Oh yes, for an untrained servant amateur.  All she would add was that the Master was virile and not heavy, that he pillowed most abundantly in the most ordinary position.  And that he was generously endowed.’

‘That doesn’t help much, Mama-san.’

‘I know.  Perhaps the best thing to do is to have everything ready, just in case, neh?  Everything.’

‘Yes.  I’ll just have to be most cautious.  It’s very important that everything should be perfect.  It will be very difficult—if not impossible—to entertain him correctly if I can’t talk to him.’

‘Lady Toda said she’d interpret for you and for him.’

‘Ah, how kind of her.  That will help greatly, though it’s certainly not the same.’

‘True, true.  More saké, Ako—gracefully, child, pour it gracefully.  But Kiku-san, you’re a courtesan of the First Rank.  Improvise.  The barbarian admiral saved Lord Toranaga’s life today, and sits in his shadow.  Our future depends on you!  I know you will succeed beautifully.  Ako!’

‘Yes, Mistress!’

‘Make sure that the futons are perfect, that everything’s perfect.  See that the flowers—no.  I’ll do the flowers myself!  And Cook, where’s Cook?’  She patted Kiku on the knee.  ‘Wear the golden kimono, with the green one under it.  We must impress the Lady Toda tonight very much.’  She rushed off to begin to get the house in order, all the Ladies and maids and apprentices and servants happily bustling, cleaning and helping, so proud of the good fortune that had come to their house.

When all was settled, the schedule of the other girls rearranged, Gyoko went to her own room and lay down for a moment to gather her strength.  She had not told Kiku yet about the offer of the contract.

I will wait and see, she thought.  If I can make the arrangement I require, then perhaps I will let my lovely Kiku go.  But never before I know to whom.  I’m glad I had the foresight to make that clear to Lady Toda before I left.  Why are you crying, you silly old woman?  Are you drunk again?  Get your wits about you!  What’s the value of unhappiness to you?

‘Hana-chan!’

‘Yes, Mother-sama?’  The child came running to her.  Just turned six, with big brown eyes and long, lovely hair, she wore a new scarlet silk kimono.  Gyoko had bought her two days ago through the local child broker and Mura.

‘How do you like your new name, child?’

‘Oh, very much, very much.  I’m honored, Mother-sama!’

The name meant ‘Little Blossom’—as Kiku meant ‘Chrysanthemum’—and Gyoko had given it to her on the first day.  ‘I’m your mother now,’ Gyoko had told her kindly but firmly when she paid the price and took possession, marveling that such a potential beauty could come out of such crude fisherfolk as the rotund Tamasaki woman.  After four days of intense bargaining, she had paid a koban for the child’s services until the age of twenty, enough to feed the Tamasaki family for two years.  ‘Fetch me some cha, then my comb and some fragrant tea leaves to take the saké off my breath.’

‘Yes, Mother-sama.’  She rushed off blindly, breathlessly, anxious to please, and collided into Kiku’s gossamer skirts at the doorway.

‘Oh, oh, oh, so sorryyyy . . .’

‘You must be careful, Hana-chan.’

‘So sorry, so sorry, Elder Sister . . .’  Hana-chan was almost in tears.

‘Why are you sad, Little Blossom?  There, there,’ Kiku said, brushing away the tears tenderly.  ‘We put away sadness in this house.  Remember, we of the Willow World, we never need sadness, child, for what good would that do?  Sadness never pleases.  Our duty is to please and to be gay.  Run along, child, but gently, gently, be graceful.’  Kiku turned and showed herself to the older woman, her smile radiant.  ‘Does this please you, Mistress-san?’

Blackthorne looked at her and muttered, ‘Hallelujah!’

‘This is Kiku-san,’ Mariko said formally, elated by Blackthorne’s reaction.

The girl came into the room with a swish of silk and knelt and bowed and said something Blackthorne did not catch.

‘She says that you are welcome, that you honor this house.’

‘Domo,‘ he said.

‘Do itashemasite.  Saké, Anjin-san?’ Kiku said.

‘Hai, domo.‘

He watched her perfect hands find the flask unerringly, make sure the temperature was correct, then pour into the cup that he lifted toward her, as Mariko had shown him, with more grace than he thought possible.

‘You promise you will behave like a Japanese, truly?’ Mariko had asked as they set out from the fortress, she riding the palanquin, he walking beside, down the track that curled to the village and to the square that fronted the sea.  Torchbearers strode ahead and behind.  Ten samurai accompanied them as an honor guard.

‘I’ll try, yes,’ Blackthorne said.  ‘What do I have to do?’

‘The first thing you must do is to forget what you have to do and merely remember that this night is only for your pleasure.’

Today has been the best day of my life, he was thinking.  And tonight—what about tonight?  He was excited by the challenge and determined to try to be Japanese and enjoy everything and not be embarrassed.

‘What—what does the evening—well—cost?’ he had asked.

‘That’s very un-Japanese, Anjin-san,’ she had chided him.  ‘What has that to do with anything?  Fujiko-san agreed that the arrangement was satisfactory.’

He had seen Fujiko before he left.  The doctor had visited her and had changed the bandages and given her herb medicines.  She was proud of the honors and new fief and had rattled on nicely, showing no pain, glad that he was going to the Tea Houses—of course, Mariko-san had consulted her and everything had been arranged, how good Mariko-san was!  How sorry she was to have the burns so that she couldn’t make the arrangements for him herself.  He had touched Fujiko’s hand before he left, liking her.  She had thanked him and apologized again, and sent him on his way hoping that he would have a wonderful evening.

Gyoko and maids had been waiting ceremoniously at the gate of the Tea House to greet them.

‘This is Gyoko-san, she’s the Mama-san here.’

‘So honored, Anjin-san, so honored.’

‘Mama-san?  You mean mama?  Mother?  That’s the same in English, Mariko-san.  Mama—mommy—mother.’

‘Oh!  It’s almost the same, but, so sorry, ‘mama-san’ just means ‘stepmother’ or ‘foster parent,’ Anjin-san.  Mother is ‘haha-san‘ or ‘oba-san.”

In a moment Gyoko excused herself and hurried away.  Blackthorne smiled at Mariko.  She had been like a child, gazing at everything.  ‘Oh, Anjin-san, I’ve always wanted to see the inside of one of these places.  Men are so very lucky!  Isn’t it beautiful?  Isn’t it marvelous, even in a tiny village?  Gyoko-san must have had it refurbished completely by master craftsmen!  Look at the quality of the woods and—oh, you’re so kind to allow me to be with you.  I’ll never have another opportunity . . . look at the flowers . . . what an exquisite arrangement . . . and oh, look out into the garden. . . .’

Blackthorne was very glad and very sorry that a maid was in the room and the shoji door open, for even here in a tea house it would be unthinkable and lethal for Mariko to be alone with him in a room.

‘Thou art beautiful,’ he said in Latin.

‘And thou.’  Her face was dancing.  ‘I am very proud of thee, Admiral of Ships.  And Fujiko—oh, she was so proud she could hardly lie still!’

‘Her burns seemed bad.’

‘Have no fear.  The doctors are well practiced and she is young and strong and confident.  Tonight put everything from thy mind.  No more questions about Ishido or Ikawa Jikkyu, or battles or codewords or fiefs or ships.  Tonight no cares—tonight only magic things for thee.’

‘Thou art magic for me.’

She fluttered her fan and poured the wine and said nothing.  He watched her, then they smiled together.  ‘Because others are here and tongues wag, we must still be cautious.  But oh, I am so happy for thee,’ she said.

‘Thou.  What was the other reason?  You said there was another reason you wanted me to be here tonight?’

 ‘Ah yes, the other reason.’  The same heavy perfume drifted around him.  ‘It is an ancient custom we have, Anjin-san.  When a lady who belongs to someone else cares for another man, and wishes to give him something of consequence that it is forbidden to give, then she will arrange for another to take her place—a gift the most perfect courtesan that she can afford.’

‘You said ‘when a lady cares for someone else.’  Do you mean ‘love’?’

‘Yes.  But only for tonight.’

‘Thou.’

‘Thou, Anjin-san.’

‘Why tonight, Mariko-san, why not before?’

‘Tonight is a magic night and kami walk with us.  I desire thee.’

Then Kiku was at the doorway.  ‘Hallelujah!’  And he was welcomed and served saké.

‘How do I say that the Lady’s especially pretty?’

Mariko told him and he repeated the words.  The girl laughed gaily, accepted the compliment, and returned it.

‘Kiku-san asks if you would like her to sing or dance for you.’

‘What is thy preference?’

‘This Lady is here for thy pleasure, samurai, not mine.’

‘And thou?  Thou art here also for my pleasure?’

‘Yes, in a way—in a very private way.’

‘Then please ask her to sing.’

Kiku clapped her hands gently and Ako brought the samisen.  It was long, shaped something like a guitar, and three-stringed.  Ako set it in position on the floor and gave the ivory plectrum to Kiku.

Kiku said, ‘Lady Toda, please tell our honored guest that first I will sing ‘The Song of the Dragonfly.”

‘Kiku-san, I would be honored if tonight, here, you would call me Mariko-san.’

‘You are too kind to me, Madam.  Please excuse me.  I could not possibly be so impolite.’

‘Please.’

‘I will if it pleases you, though. . . .’  Her smile was lovely.  ‘Thank you, Mariko-sama.’

She strummed a chord.  From the moment that the guests had walked through the gateway into her world, all her senses had been tuned.  She had secretly watched them while they were with Gyoko-san and when they were alone, searching for any clue how to pleasure him or to impress the Lady Toda.

She had not been prepared for what soon became obvious:  clearly the Anjin-san desired the Lady Toda, though he hid it as well as any civilized person could hide it.  This in itself was not surprising, for the Lady Toda was most beautiful and accomplished and, most important, she alone could talk with him.  What astounded her was that she was certain the Lady Toda desired him equally, if not more.

The barbarian samurai and the Lady samurai, patrician daughter of the assassin Akechi Jinsai, wife of Lord Buntaro!  Eeeee!  Poor man, poor woman.  So sad.  Surely this must end in tragedy.

Kiku felt near to tears as she thought of the sadness of life, the unfairness.  Oh, how I wish I were born samurai and not a peasant so that I could become even a consort to Omi-sama, not just a temporary toy.  I would gladly give my hope of rebirth in return for that.

Put away sadness.  Give pleasure, that is your duty.

Her fingers strummed a second chord, a chord filled with melancholy.  Then she noticed that though Mariko was beguiled by her music the Anjin-san was not.

Why?  Kiku knew that it was not her playing, for she was sure that it was almost perfect.  Such mastery as hers was given to few.

A third, more beautiful chord, experimentally.  There’s no doubt, she told herself hastily, it doesn’t please him.  She allowed the chord to die away and began to sing unaccompanied, her voice soaring with the sudden changes of tempo that took years to perfect.  Again Mariko was entranced, he was not, so at once Kiku stopped.  ‘Tonight is not for music or singing,’ she announced.  ‘Tonight is for happiness.  Mariko-san, how do I say, ‘please excuse me’ in his language?’

‘Per favor.‘

‘Per favor, Anjin-san, tonight we must laugh only, neh?‘

‘Domo, Kiku-san.  Hai.‘

‘It’s difficult to entertain without words, but not impossible, neh?  Ah, I know!’ She jumped up and began to do comic pantomimes—daimyo, kaga-man, fisherman, hawker, pompous samurai, even an old farmer collecting a full pail—and she did them all so well and so humorously that soon Mariko and Blackthorne were laughing and clapping.  Then she held up her hand.  Mischievously she began to mimic a man peeing, holding himself or missing, grabbing, searching for the insignificant or weighed down by the incredible, through all the stages of his life, beginning first as a child just wetting the bed and howling, to a young man in a hurry, to another having to hold back, another with size, another with smallness to the point of ‘where has it gone,’ and at length to a very old man groaning in ecstasy at being able to pee at all.

Kiku bowed to their applause and sipped cha, patting the sheen from her forehead.  She noticed that he was easing his shoulders and back.  ‘Oh, per favor, senhor!‘ and she knelt behind him and began to massage his neck.

Her knowing fingers instantly found the pleasure points.  ‘Oh God, that’s . . . hai . . . just there!’

She did as he asked.  ‘Your neck will be better soon.  Too much sitting, Anjin-san!’

‘That very good, Kiku-san.  Make Suwo almost bad!’

‘Ah, thank you. Mariko-san, the Anjin-san’s shoulders are so vast, would you help me?  Just do his left shoulder while I do his right?  So sorry, but hands are not strong enough.’

Mariko allowed herself to be persuaded and did as she was asked.  Kiku hid her smile as she felt him tighten under Mariko’s fingers and she was very pleased with her improvisations.  Now the client was being pleasured through her artistry and knowledge, and being maneuvered as he should be maneuvered.

‘Is that better, Anjin-san?’

‘Good, very good, thank you.’

‘Oh, you’re very welcome.  It’s my pleasure.  But the Lady Toda is so much more deft than I.’  Kiku could feel the attraction between them though they tried to conceal it.  ‘Now a little food perhaps?’  It came at once.

‘For you, Anjin-san,’ she said proudly.  The dish contained a small pheasant, cut into tiny pieces, barbecued over charcoal with a sweet soya sauce.  She helped him.

‘It delicious, delicious,’ he said.  And it was.

‘Mariko-san?’

‘Thank you.’  Mariko took a token piece but did not eat it.

Kiku took a fragment in her chopsticks and chewed it with relish.  ‘It’s good, neh?‘

‘No, Kiku-san, it very good!  Very good.’

‘Please, Anjin-san, have some more.’  She took a second morsel.  ‘There’s plenty.’

‘Thank you.  Please.  How did—how this?’  He pointed to the thick brown sauce.

Mariko interpreted for her.  ‘Kiku says it’s sugar and soya with a little ginger.  She asks do you have sugar and soya in your country?’

‘Sugar in beet, yes, soya no, Kiku-san.’

‘Oh!  How can one live without soya?’  Kiku became solemn.  ‘Please tell the Anjin-san that we have had sugar here since one thousand years.  The Buddhist monk Ganjin brought it to us from China.  All our best things have come from China, Anjin-san.  Cha came to us about five hundred years ago.  The Buddhist monk Eisai brought some seeds and planted them in Chikuzen Province, where I was born.  He also brought us Zen Buddhism.’

Mariko translated with equal formality, then Kiku let out a peal of laughter.  ‘Oh so sorry, Mariko-sama, but you both looked so grave.  I was just pretending to be solemn about cha—as if it mattered!  It was only to amuse you.’

They watched Blackthorne finish the pheasant.  ‘Good,’ he said.  ‘Very good.  Please thank Gyoko-san.’

‘She will be honored.’  Kiku poured more saké for both of them.  Then, knowing it was time, she said innocently, ‘May I ask what happened today at the earthquake?  I hear the Anjin-san saved the life of Lord Toranaga?  I would consider it an honor to know firsthand.’

She settled back patiently, letting Blackthorne and Mariko enjoy the telling, adding an ‘oh,’ or ‘what happened then?’ or pouring saké, never interrupting, being the perfect listener.

And, when they finished, Kiku marveled at their bravery and at Lord Toranaga’s good fortune.  They talked for a while, then Blackthorne got up and the maid was told to show him the way.

Mariko broke a silence.  ‘You’ve never eaten meat before, Kiku-san, have you?’

‘It is my duty to do whatever I can to please him, for just a little while, neh?‘

‘I never knew how perfect a lady could be.  I understand now why there must always be a Floating World, a Willow World, and how lucky men are, how inadequate I am.’

‘Oh, that was never my purpose, never, Mariko-sama.  And not our purpose.  We are here only to please, for a fleeting moment.’

‘Yes. I just meant I admire you so much.  I would like you for my sister.’

Kiku bowed.  ‘I would not be worthy of that honor.’  There was warmth between them.  Then she said, ‘This is a very secret place and everyone is to be trusted, there are no prying eyes.  The pleasure room in the garden is very dark if one wants it dark.  And darkness keeps all secrets.’

‘The only way to keep a secret is to be alone and whisper it down an empty well at high noon, neh?‘ Mariko said lightly, needing time to decide.

‘Between sisters there’s no need for wells.  I have dismissed my maid until the dawn.  Our pleasure room is a very private place.’

‘There you must be alone with him.’

‘I can always be alone, always.’

‘You’re so kind to me, Kiku-chan, so very thoughtful.’

‘It is a magic night, neh?  And very special.’

‘Magic nights end too soon, Little Sister.  Magic nights are for children, neh?  I am not a child.’

‘Who knows what happens on a magic night?  Darkness contains everything.’

Mariko shook her head sadly and touched her tenderly.  ‘Yes.  But for him, if it contained you that would be everything.’

Kiku let the matter rest.  Then she said, ‘I am a gift to the Anjin-san?  He did not ask for me himself?’

‘If he had seen you, how could he not ask for you?  Truthfully, it’s his honor that you welcome him.  I understand that now.’

‘But he did see me once, Mariko-san.  I was with Omi-san when he passed on his way to the ship to go to Osaka the first time.’

‘Oh, but the Anjin-san said that he saw Midori-san with Omi-san.  It was you?  Beside the palanquin?’

‘Yes, in the square.  Oh yes, it was me, Mariko-san, not the Lady, the wife of Omi-sama.  He said ‘konnichi wa‘ to me.  But of course, he would not remember.  How could he remember?  That was during a previous life, neh?‘

‘Oh, he remembered her—the beautiful girl with the green parasol.  He said the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  He told me about her many times.’  Mariko studied her even more closely.  ‘Yes, Kiku-san, you could easily be mistaken for her on such a day, under a parasol.’

Kiku poured saké and Mariko was entranced by her unconscious elegance.  ‘My parasol was sea green,’ she said, very pleased that he had remembered.

‘How did the Anjin-san look then?  Very different?  The Night of the Screams must have been terrible.’

‘Yes, yes it was.  And he was older then, the skin of his face stretched. . . . But we become too serious, Elder Sister.  Ah, you don’t know how honored I am to be allowed to call you that.  Tonight is a night of pleasure only.  No more seriousness, neh?‘

‘Yes.  I agree.  Please forgive me.’

‘Now, to more practical matters, would you please give me some advice?’

‘Anything,’ Mariko said, as friendly.

‘In this matter of the pillow, do people of his nation prefer any instruments or positions that you are aware of?  So sorry to ask, but perhaps you might be able to guide me.’

It took all of Mariko’s training to remain unabashed.  ‘No, not that I know.  The Anjin-san is very sensitive about anything to do with pillowing.’

‘Could he be asked in an oblique way?’

‘I don’t think you can ask a foreign person like that.  Certainly not the Anjin-san.  And—so sorry, I don’t know what the, er, instruments are—except, of course, a harigata.‘

‘Ah!’  Again Kiku’s intuition guided her and she asked artlessly, ‘Would you care to see them?  I could show them all to you, perhaps with him there, then he need not be asked.  We can see from his reaction.’

Mariko hesitated, her own curiosity swamping her judgment.  ‘If it could be done with humor.’

They heard Blackthorne approaching.  Kiku welcomed him back and poured wine.  Mariko quaffed hers, glad that she was no longer alone, uneasily sure that Kiku could read her thoughts.

They chatted and played silly games and then, when Kiku judged that the time was correct, she asked them if they would like to see the garden and the pleasure rooms.

They walked out into the night.  The garden sparkled in the torchlights where the raindrops still lingered.  The path meandered beside a tiny pool and gurgling waterfall.  At the end of the path was the small isolated house in the center of the bamboo grove.  It was raised off manicured ground and had four steps up to the encircling veranda.  Everything about the two-roomed dwelling was tasteful and expensive.  The best woods, best carpentry, best tatami, best silk cushions, most elegant hangings in the takonama.

‘It’s so lovely, Kiku-san,’ Mariko said.

‘The Tea House in Mishima is much nicer, Mariko-san.  Please be comfortable, Anjin-san!  Per favor, does this please you, Anjin-san?’

‘Yes, very much.’

Kiku saw that he was still bemused with the night and the saké but totally conscious of Mariko.  She was very tempted to get up and go into the inner room where the futons were turned back and step out onto the veranda again and leave.  But if she did, she knew that she would be in violation of the law.  More than that, she felt that such an action would be irresponsible, for she knew in her heart Mariko was ready and almost beyond caring.

No, she thought, I mustn’t push her into such a tragic indiscretion, much as it might be valuable to my future.  I offered but Mariko-san willed herself to refuse.  Wisely.  Are they lovers?  I do not know.  That is their karma.

She leaned forward and laughed conspiratorially.  ‘Listen, Elder Sister, please tell the Anjin-san that there are some pillow instruments here.  Does he have them in his country?’

‘He says, no, Kiku-san.  So sorry, he’s never heard of any.’

‘Oh!  Would it amuse him to see them?  They’re in the next room, I can fetch them—they’re really very exciting.’

‘Would you like to see them, Anjin-san?  She says they’re really very funny.’  Mariko deliberately changed the word.

‘Why not,’ Blackthorne said, his throat constricted, his whole being charged with an awareness of their perfume and their femininity.  ‘You—you use instruments to pillow with?’ he asked.

‘Kiku-san says sometimes, Anjin-san.  She says—and this is true—it’s our custom always to try to prolong the moment of the ‘Clouds and the Rain’ because we believe for that brief instant we mortals are one with the gods.’  Mariko watched him.  ‘So it’s very important to make it last as long as possible, neh?  Almost a duty, neh?‘

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.  She says to be one with the gods is very essential.  It’s a good belief and very possible, don’t you think, to believe that?  The Cloudburst feeling is so unearthly and godlike.  Isn’t it?  So any means to stay one with the gods for as long as possible is our duty, neh?‘

‘Very.  Oh, yes.’

‘Would you like saké, Anjin-san?’

‘Thank you.’

She fanned herself.  ‘This about the Cloudburst and the Clouds and the Rain or the Fire and the Torrent, as we sometimes call it, is very Japanese, Anjin-san.  Very important to be Japanese in pillow things, neh?‘

To her relief, he grinned and bowed to her like a courtier.  ‘Yes.  Very.  I’m Japanese, Mariko-san.  Honto!‘

Kiku returned with the silk-lined case.  She opened it and took out a substantial life-size penis made of ivory, and another made of softer material, elastic, that Blackthorne had never seen before.  Carelessly she set them aside.

‘These of course, are ordinary harigata, Anjin-san,’ Mariko said unconcernedly, her eyes glued on the other objects.

‘Is that a fact?’ Blackthorne said, not knowing what else to say.  ‘Mother of God!’

‘But it’s just an ordinary harigata, Anjin-san.  Surely your women have them!’

‘Certainly not!  No, they don’t,’ he added, trying to remember about the humor.

Mariko couldn’t believe it.  She explained to Kiku, who was equally surprised.  Kiku spoke at length, Mariko agreeing.

‘Kiku-san says that’s very strange.  I must agree, Anjin-san.  Here almost every girl uses one for ordinary relief without a second thought.  How else can a girl stay healthy when she’s restricted where a man is not?  Are you sure, Anjin-san?  You’re not teasing?’

‘No—I’m, er, sure our women don’t have them.  That would be—Jesus, that—well, no, we—they—don’t have them.’

‘Without them life must be very difficult.  We have a saying that a harigata’s like a man but better because it’s exactly like his best part but without his worst parts.  Neh?  And it’s also better because all men aren’t—don’t have a sufficiency, as harigatas do.  Also they’re devoted, Anjin-san, and they’ll never tire of you, like a man does.  And too, they can be as rough or smooth—Anjin-san, you promised, remember?  With humor!’

‘You’re right!’ Blackthorne grinned.  ‘By God, you’re right.  Please excuse me.’  He picked up the harigata and studied it closely, whistling tonelessly.  Then he held it up.  ‘You were saying, Teacher-san?  It can be rough?’

‘Yes,’ she said cheerfully.  ‘It can be as rough or as smooth as you desire, and harigatas very particularly have far more endurance than any man and they never wear out!’

‘Oh, that’s a point!’

‘Yes.  Don’t forget, not every woman is fortunate enough to belong to a virile man.  Without one of these to help release ordinary passions and normal needs, an ordinary woman soon becomes poisoned in body, and that will certainly very soon destroy her harmony, thus hurt her and those around her.  Women don’t have the freedom men have—to a greater or lesser degree, and rightly, neh?  The world belongs to men, and rightly, neh?‘

‘Yes.’  He smiled.  ‘And no.’

‘I pity your women, so sorry.  They must be the same as ours.  When you go home you must instruct them, Anjin-san.  Ah, yes, tell your Queen, she will understand.  We are very sensible in matters of the pillow.’

‘I’ll mention it to Her Majesty.’  Blackthorne put the harigata aside with feigned reluctance.  ‘What’s next?’

Kiku produced a string of four large round beads of white jade that were spaced along a strong silken thread.  Mariko listened intently to Kiku’s explanation, her eyes getting wider than ever before, her fan fluttering, and looked down at the beads in wonder as Kiku came to an end.  ‘Ah so desu!  Well, Anjin-san,’ she began firmly, ‘these are called konomi-shinju, Pleasure Pearls, and the senhor or senhora may use them.  Saké, Anjin-san?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Yes.  Either the lady or the man may use them and the beads are carefully placed in the back passage and then, at the moment of the Clouds and the Rain, the beads are pulled out slowly, one by one.’

‘What?’

‘Yes.’  Mariko laid the beads on the cushion in front of him.  ‘The Lady Kiku says the timing’s very important, and that always a . . . I don’t know what you would call it, ah yes, always an oily salve should be used . . . for comfort, Anjin-san.’  She looked up at him and added, ‘She says also that Pleasure Pearls can be found in many sizes and that, if used correctly, they can precipitate a very considerable result indeed.’

He laughed uproariously and spluttered in English, ‘I’ll bet a barrel of doubloons against a piece of pig shit you can believe that!’

‘So sorry, I didn’t understand, Anjin-san.’

When he could talk, he said in Portuguese, ‘I’ll bet a mountain of gold to a blade of grass, Mariko-san, the result is very considerable indeed.’  He picked up the beads and examined them, whistling without noticing it.  ‘Pleasure Pearls, eh?’  After a moment he put them down.  ‘What else is there?’

Kiku was pleased that her experiment was succeeding.  Next she showed them a hemitsu-kawa, the Secret Skin.  ‘It’s a pleasure ring, Anjin-san, that the man wears to keep himself erect when he’s depleted.  With this, Kiku-san says, the man can gratify the woman after he’s passed his pinnacle, or his desire has flagged.’  Mariko watched him.  ‘Neh?‘

‘Absolutely.’  Blackthorne beamed.  ‘The Good Lord protect me from either, and from not giving gratification.  Please ask Kiku-san to buy me three—just in case!’

Next he was shown the hiro-gumbi, Weary Armaments, thin dried stalks of a plant that, when soaked and wrapped around the Peerless Part, swell up and make it appear strong.  Then there were all kinds of potents—potents to excite or increase excitement—and all kinds of salves—salves to moisten, to swell, to strengthen.

‘Never to weaken?’ he asked, to more hilarity.

‘Oh no, Anjin-san, that would be unearthly!’

Then Kiku laid out other rings for the man to wear, ivory or elastic or silken rings with nodules or bristles or ribbons or attachments and appendages of every kind, made of ivory or horsehair or seeds or even tiny bells.

‘Kiku-san says almost any of these will turn the shyest lady wanton.’

Oh God, how would I like thee wanton, he thought.  ‘But these’re only for the man to wear, neh?‘ he asked.

‘The more excited the lady is, the more the man’s enjoyment, neh?‘  Mariko was saying.  ‘Of course, giving pleasure to the woman is equally the man’s duty, isn’t it, and with one of these, if, unhappily, he’s small or weak or old or tired, he can still pleasure her with honor.’

‘You’ve used them, Mariko-san?’

‘No, Anjin-san, I’ve never seen them before.  These are . . . wives are not for pleasure but for childbearing and for looking after the house and the home.’

‘Wives don’t expect to be pleasured?’

‘No.  It would not be usual.  That is for the Ladies of the Willow World.’  Mariko fanned herself and explained to Kiku what had been said.  ‘She says, surely it’s the same in your world?  That the man’s duty is to pleasure the lady as it is her duty to pleasure him?’

‘Please tell her, so sorry, but it’s not the same, just about the opposite.’

‘She says that is very bad.  Saké?’

‘Please tell her we’re taught to be ashamed of our bodies and pillowing and nakedness and . . . and all sorts of stupidities.  It’s only being here that’s made me realize it.  Now that I’m a little civilized I know better.’

Mariko translated.  He drained his cup.  It was refilled immediately by Kiku, who leaned over and held her long sleeve with her left hand so that it would not touch the low lacquered table as she poured with her right.

‘Domo.‘

‘Do itashimashite, Anjin-san.’

‘Kiku-san says we should all be honored that you say such things.  I agree, Anjin-san.  You make me feel very proud.  I was very proud of you today.  But surely it’s not as bad as you say.’

‘It’s worse.  It’s difficult to understand, let alone explain, if you’ve never been there or weren’t brought up there.  You see—in truth . . .’  Blackthorne saw them watching him, waiting patiently, multihued, so lovely and clean, the room so stark and uncluttered and tranquil.  All at once his mind began to contrast it with the warm, friendly stench of his English home, rushes on the earth floor, smoke from the open brick fire rising to the roof hole—only three of the new fireplaces with chimneys in his whole village, and those only for the very wealthy.  Two small bedrooms and then the one large untidy room of the cottage for eating, living, cooking, and talking.  You walked into the cottage in your seaboots, summer or winter, mud unnoticed, dung unnoticed, and sat on a chair or bench, the oak table cluttered like the room, three or four dogs and the two children—his son and his dead brother Arthur’s girl—climbing and falling and playing higgledy piggledy, Felicity cooking, her long dress trailing in the rushes and dirt, the skivvy maid sniffing and getting in the way and Mary, Arthur’s widow, coughing in the next room he’d built for her, near death as always, but never dying.

Felicity.  Dear Felicity.  A bath once a month perhaps, and then in summer, very private, in the copper tub, but washing her face and hands and feet every day, always hidden to the neck and wrists, swathed in layers of heavy woolens all year long that were unwashed for months or years, reeking like everyone, lice-infested like everyone, scratching like everyone.

And all the other stupid beliefs and superstitions, that cleanliness could kill, open windows could kill, water could kill and encourage flux or bring in the plague, that lice and fleas and flies and dirt and disease were God’s punishments for sins on earth.

Fleas, flies, and fresh rushes every spring, but every day to church and twice on Sundays to hear the Word pounded into you:  Nothing matters, only God and salvation.

Born in sin, living in shame, Devil’s brood, condemned to Hell, praying for salvation and forgiveness, Felicity so devout and filled with fear of the Lord and terror of the Devil, desperate for Heaven.  Then going home to food.  A haunch of meat from the spit and if a piece fell on the floor you’d pick it up and brush the dirt off and eat it if the dogs didn’t get it first, but you’d throw them the bones anyway.  Castings on the floor.  Leavings pushed onto the floor to be swept up perhaps and thrown into the road perhaps.  Sleeping most of the time in your dayclothes and scratching like a contented dog, always scratching.  Old so young and ugly so young and dying so young.  Felicity.  Now twenty-nine, gray, few teeth left, old, lined, and dried up.

‘Before her time, poor bloody woman.  My God, how unnecessary!’ he cried out in rage.  ‘What a stinking bloody waste!’

‘Nan desu ka, Anjin-san?’ both women said in the same breath, their contentment vanishing.

‘So sorry . . . it was just . . . you’re all so clean and we’re filthy and it’s all such a waste, countless millions, me too, all my life . . . and only because we don’t know any better!  Christ Jesus, what a waste!  It’s the priests—they’re the educated and the educators, priests own all the schools, do all the teaching, always in the name of God, filth in the name of God . . . . It’s the truth!’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Mariko said soothingly, touched by his pain.  ‘Please don’t concern yourself now, Anjin-san.  That’s for tomorrow. . . .

Kiku wore a smile but she was furious with herself.  You should have been more careful, she told herself.  Stupid stupid stupid!  Mariko-san warned you!  Now you’ve allowed the evening to be ruined, and the magic’s gone gone gone!

In truth, the heavy, almost tangible sexuality that had touched all of them had disappeared.  Perhaps that’s just as well, she thought.  At least Mariko and the Anjin-san are protected for one more night.

Poor man, poor lady.  So sad.  She watched them talking, then sensed a change in tone between them.

‘Now I must leave thee,’ Mariko was saying in Latin.

‘Let us leave together.’

‘I beg thee stay.  For thy honor and hers.  And mine, Anjin-san.’

‘I do not want this thy gift,’ he said.  ‘I want thee.’

‘I am thine, believe it, Anjin-san.  Please stay, I beg thee, and know that tonight I am thine.’

He did not insist that she stay.

After she had gone he lay back and put his arms under his head and stared out of the window at the night.  Rain splattered the tiles, the wind gusted caressingly from the sea.

Kiku was kneeling motionless in front of him.  Her legs were stiff.  She would have liked to lie down herself but she did not wish to break his mood by the slightest movement.  You are not tired.  Your legs do not ache, she told herself.  Listen to the rain and think of lovely things.  Think of Omi-san and the Tea House in Mishima, and that you’re alive and that yesterday’s earthquake was just another earthquake.  Think of Toranaga-sama and the incredibly extravagant price that Gyoko-san had dared to ask initially for your contract.  The soothsayer was right, it is your good fortune to make her rich beyond dreams.  And if that part is true, why not all the rest?  That one day you will marry a samurai you honor and have a son by him, that you will live and die in old age, part of his household, wealthy and honored, and that, miracle of miracles, your son will grow to equal estate—samurai—as will his sons.

Kiku began to glow at her incredible, wonderful future.

After a time Blackthorne stretched luxuriously, a pleasing weariness upon him.  He saw her and smiled.

‘Nan desu ka, Anjin-san?’

He shook his head kindly, got up and opened the shoji to the next room.  There was no maid kneeling beside the netted futons.  He and Kiku were alone in the exquisite little house.

He went into the sleeping room and began to take off his kimono.  She hurried to help.  He undressed completely, then put on the light silk sleeping kimono she held out for him.  She opened the mosquito netting and he lay down.

Then Kiku changed also.  He saw her take off the obi and the outer kimono and the scarlet-edged lesser kimono of palest green, and finally the underskirt.  She put on her peach-colored sleeping kimono, then removed the elaborate formal wig and loosed her hair.  It was blue-black and fine and very long.

She knelt outside the net.  ‘Dozo, Anjin-san?’

‘Domo,‘ he said.

‘Domo arigato goziemashita,‘ she whispered.

She slipped under the net and lay beside him.  The candles and oil lamps burned brightly.  He was glad of the light because she was so beautiful.

His desperate need had vanished, though the ache remained.  I don’t desire you, Kiku-chan, he thought.  Even if you were Mariko it would be the same.  Even though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, more beautiful even than Midori-san, who I thought was more beautiful than any goddess.  I don’t desire you.  Later perhaps but not now, so sorry.

Her hand reached out and touched him.  ‘Dozo?’

‘Iyé,’ he said gently, shaking his head.  He held her hand, then slipped an arm under her shoulders.  Obediently she nestled against him, understanding at once.  Her perfume mingled with the fragrance of the sheets and futons.  So clean, he thought, everything’s so incredibly clean.

What was it Rodrigues had said?  ‘The Japans’re heaven on earth, Ingeles, if you know where to look,’ or ‘This is paradise, Ingeles.’  I don’t remember.  I only know it’s not there, across the sea, where I thought it was.  It’s not there.

Heaven on earth is here.