A Scandal in Edo

The evening had started out at the castle and went downhill from there. Literally and metaphorically.

The plan of the select group of young noblemen had been to go to Mizuno Kiyoshiro’s party in the Yoshiwara. Together with their retainers, they had set off down the hill to Shitamachi, but it soon became apparent that some of the group members had started drinking even before setting off.

A member of the family of one of the shogun’s chief counselors, the Yamashiro-no-kami, Jino was one of the privileged young men who had left the castle in the company of his retainer and long-time friend.

“It’s lucky no-one suggested going on horseback, isn’t it?” he said to Kururugi Suzaku as they watched another samurai stabilise his tipsy master.

Suzaku could see the potential catastrophe and mentally winced. He did not doubt that the other samurai who guarded the nobles had something to do with the lack of showy horses in this impromptu parade.

“He won’t be the only one who needs help by the end of tonight,” he said stoically.

“Lighten up, Suzaku, we’re supposed to be having fun tonight at Kiyoshiro’s party.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your impending engagement to the daughter of Lord Matsudaira, does it? Matsudaira Benihime from Fukui?”

“Oh, was that her name? I forgot,” Jino said. His carefree manner did not fool Suzaku.

“Overindulge at your own risk,” he said at last. Suzaku knew that he would be the one dragging Jino back if he became inebriated.

“Suzaku, you’re old before your time. A paragon of virtue. No wonder the old guard up in the castle like you.” However flippant he appeared, Jino was aware that he might have gone too far this time, for he tried to mitigate his words somewhat. “Not that you’re one of those old sticks! That’s why you’re here with us!”

“I’m here so that you don’t slip on a stone while drunk and split your skull open before your engagement.” And protect him against footpads, cut-throats and assassins. Which would be difficult inside the Yoshiwara because of the ban on weapons within the walled compound.

There were the usual assortment of performers and entertainers at the gate. The newly popular female geisha, Kabuki actors and various artists who were in fashion at the moment. Suzaku did not understand the trends that swept Edo every year, leading to his reputation as someone who was rather traditional and hidebound.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that he found the rules of the shogunate just as incomprehensible. The rigid mores and social codes were stifling to him. The unchanging world they lived in was becoming more and more like a cage every day. Samurai of his class and standing were not supposed to wonder about the world outside Japan. His uncle Omori Masahiro was a hatamoto and he expected Suzaku to remain in Edo to help him consolidate his own influence. At the moment, it suited his uncle that he was a samurai in service to one of the noble clans that had the Shogun’s favour. If it had been to anyone other than Jino, Suzkau might have chafed at the restrictions on his freedom.

Suzaku had always taken refuge from uncertainty in bushidou. Loyalty, honour and virtue. That was why he was scanning the crowd, analysing it for any possible dangers to his charge.

And that was then he saw her. Standing behind a woman who looked like a dancer.

She was probably an apprentice by the look of her attire and the instrument she carried. Still young--perhaps around his age. The paint and powder could not conceal her delicate features and large eyes.

“See something you like? You’re human after all!” Jino crowed, slapping on the back good-naturedly.

When he looked back, she was gone. Probably following her “elder sister” to an appointment in the Yoshiwara.

“She’s gone? No matter, there’s always plenty of fish in the sea!” Jino said as they moved forward to where weapons were being checked-in. Suzaku did not bother to correct him.

They received receipts for their surrendered swords and proceeded inside the enclosed world of the pleasure district.

The inside of the Yoshiwara was everything that the rest of Edo was not supposed to be. The primary business of the area resided with the brothels, pleasure houses, banquet halls and tea houses. Vendors spilled out on the streets, opening hawking tonics from China, bears’ paws, rhino horn, tigers’ whip and dried bulls’ testicles--all guaranteed to make the user “very strong” in preparation for a night out in the Yoshiwara. As virtually anyone in Edo could spend their coin in the pleasure district, the class system was not particularly enforced and commoners rubbed shoulders with nobles and samurai alike.

The old guard frowned upon samurai and nobility frequenting the pleasure district, which was probably why it was so popular.

The nobles’ party and their retinue arrived at Heaven’s Gate, the banquet hall that Mizuno Kiyoshiro favoured. True to his reputation, he had booked the largest hall available for this night of revelry.

The hall was brightly-illuminated by dozens of lanterns, a literal oasis of wine, song and merriment. Various courtesans had insinuated themselves amongst the guests, plying them with drink and small dishes of accompanying snacks. As the Mizuno were fairly well-off, these were the higher-ranked ladies of the nights and not the sad-eyed whores behind the latticed windows.

“You’re almost late to the party!” The host, in his place of honour, hailed the newcomers loudly.

“Apologies, apologies--would you believe that Hirano started drinking before us and almost fell into a ditch on the way here?”

“Good man! Bring them more wine!” This declaration was greeted with applause.

“You’re just in time for the next performance,” another samurai said as they settled down.

A woman in a striking black and red kimono appeared on the low stage at the front of the banquet hall carrying a shamisen. She bowed to her audience.

“Honoured patrons, I present to you the Ballad of Moto-Yoshiwara,” she announced and settled down to play.

As the first notes rang out, Suzaku saw a familiar face at the side of the stage who winked at him and slipped away from the banquet hall proper. Deciding that Jino would be safe where he was at the moment, Suzaku made some excuse to visit the lavatory and left in pursuit of a diminutive figure dressed in the garb of a story-teller or musician.

There was a small garden between the banquet hall Mizuno had rented and the next one. It was there that he found her, standing by the ornamental fish pond.

“Suzaku! Long time no see!” An impish face beamed at him before its owner tried to embrace him. “I’m performing for the party next door.”

“Kaguya! It’s not a good idea to do that here,” Suzaku cautioned. “People will get the wrong idea.”

“Cousin, so formal still?” Kaguya of the Sumeragi cocked her head at him questioningly. “Do they still have a ban on my name in your uncle’s household?”

“I am afraid so.” His family had been a lot more outraged about the daughter of the Sumeragi clan pursuing a career in folklore, historical records and story-telling than her actual parents. Suzaku could personally understand why a girl who could not inherit her family title would strike out on her own, but was forbidden to do so by the social code.

As Kaguya’s parents had passed on and her brother was firmly ensconced as the head of the Sumeragi clan, she had very little holding her to her home town of Kyoto. She had came to Edo to seek new audiences and Suzaku had wondered if he would ever bump into her on the busy streets. He had not seen her since he was ten years old, but that was before--

“Your side of the family was always so stiff,” she said, but there was pity in her eyes when she looked at him. “So what are you doing here? Babysitting one of the young lordlings in there?”

“Jino. He’s partying hard before getting engaged.” Suzaku was well aware that men, especially the nobility who could afford the services of courtesans, did not stay faithful to their wives after marriage. Half the patrons in this place were probably married with children.

“I see the cynicism in your eyes, cousin,” Kaguya said in a sing-song voice. “A man who looks like that is not going to getting married.”

“It’ll be arranged for me when my uncle thinks he’s found an opportunity to exploit.”

“So bitter.” Kaguya shook her head, but she knew as well as he that a samurai’s marriage would be decided upon and planned by a senior, higher ranking samurai--his Uncle Masahiro. “And what about your plans to go to Nagasaki for Rangaku?”

Suzaku had written to her--secretly--of his plan to visit the only port that admitted foreigners and take advantage of the window it opened to the rest of the world. Other samurai had gone for the so-called “Dutch studies” so it was nothing particularly radical.

“Uncle keeps saying next year or maybe two years later,” Suzaku replied, knowing full well that Uncle Masahiro was reluctant to let him go.

“Such a shame. Nagasaki’s rather interesting,” Kaguya mused aloud.

“Don’t rub it in. And how are you able to get around so easily anyway?” As a member of the nobility, Kaguya’s movements were restricted, but after disinheriting herself, she was not subjected to the travel permits and red tape that someone of her former status would be. But it was still perilous for minstrels and entertainers to travel--they were not only subjected to bandits and highwaymen but occasional harassment from samurai.

“I have my ways, cousin, I have my ways,” Kaguya said, winking at him. Suzaku knew that she had connections in a world that was unseen and unsupervised by the shogunate. It was why he had known about her disinheritance before his uncle did. A minstrel had slipped him a letter when he had been running an errand in the city. Now he usually passed his letters to a musician who lived in Asakusa and somehow or other, it would pass through unseen channels to reach Kaguya.

“And what ways would those be?” Suzaku knew that she would be loath to give up her secrets to a samurai so closely related to a hatamoto of the shogunate.

“Trade secrets! I see some colleagues of mine. See you when destiny decides that we meet again!” Kaguya gave a dramatic bow and swept away. At least she had an outlet for all that energy.

On the way back to the banquet hall, he passed a young woman in the corridor in a plum-coloured kimono. The apprentice dancer at the gate. She was tall for a woman--almost the same height as he was. Up-close, he noticed that her eyes were dark with a tinge of violet in them.

She bowed briefly to him before hurrying away. Suzaku wondered why he was still staring down the corridor when she was no longer there.

Suzaku returned to the banquet hall, slightly distracted. The performer on stage was now dancing, her fans making intricate patterns in the air. But all he could think about was that girl.

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