A Scandal in Edo

In his relatively short life, Suzaku had never actually prayed before. But he stopped by the small shrine outside the Nishinomaru that week and offered up some incense in the hope that the offer would be refused.

But the gods must have been in a sadistic mood, or he had offended them greatly in some way or other, for Jino’s intermediary returned with the news that the deal had been sealed.

The worst thing was, his uncle actually seemed to approve of it. Uncle Masahiro was glad that he was taking an interest in something other than sword drills, archery and reading everything he could get his hands on.

“Just as long as she’s not an Untouchable, you can have her as a mistress. About bloody time too . . .”

But fate had decreed that the girl was not of the wrong social class and “pure as driven snow”, if that awful intermediary was to be believed. If Suzaku had been less responsible, he would have left all dealings with that particular character to Jino.

The man had even arranged for the first assignation at “a very discreet establishment”.

Feeling somewhat sleazy by association, Suzaku made a detour to his former mentor’s place in the city after meeting up with the procurer.

Toudou-sensei had a residence-cum-doujou in a quiet street west of the castle. He apparently meant to spend his twilight years in meditation upon the tenets of his particular school of kenpou and write a treatise on it in between the odd student he felt like taking on.

Yet Suzaku was not surprised to find his former mentor absent from his austere quarters and outside practicing battoujutsu in full armour. The old warhorse was still active. The housekeeper, a lady called Nagisa, showed him in and Suzaku waited for his teacher to put away his armour and weapons.

"So are you going about your uncle's business now?" Toudou-sensei asked after the usual greetings and inquires about his health.

"Not exactly, Sensei . . ." It was difficult to tell his mentor what was bothering him. The way of the warrior advocated stoicism in the face of adversity. But he was barely eighteen and without a family other than his uncle to go to for advice.

"So this is about a woman?" Toudou-sensei frowned after he tried to explain. "You have grown up, Suzaku, but some things you may not have learned yet."

"I--"

"A woman appreciates being noticed, yet shies away from overt attention," his teacher continued. "A man has to tread a narrow path between two extremes--he cannot be fawning over her, but he cannot ignore her completely."

Having seen the looks that the housekeeper shot his way, Suzaku wondered if Toudou-sensei was the right person to be speaking about such matters.

"Sensei, it's not like that," Suzaku said.

"Oh?"

Suzaku tried to clarify his problem. He told his former teacher about the girl, Jino's well-meaning but botched attempt at setting him up with said girl, then the whole thing with his uncle, who just wanted him to be another Edo-based bureaucrat and was happy that Suzaku was finally doing something he approved of.

Toudou-sensei was silent for a moment and Suzaku wondered if he had been clear enough.

"Suzaku, there are times when a man has to be like water--gentle as a stream, yet strong like the tide," he began.

It took a few seconds for Suzaku to realise what his mentor was talking about. Toudou-sensei was, in his own indirect and somewhat awkward way, trying to tell him about sex.

"Um, Sensei--"

"Like when you wield the blade, there are times when you have to time your draw and temper your thrusts in order to--"

That metaphor had gone on long enough. Suzaku was not sure he would be able to watch a bout of sparring with a straight face if this went on.

"It's not about the sex, Sensei!"

Taken aback by his outburst, Toudou-sensei stared at his former student.

The torrent of words inside him was threatening to spill out. Suzaku just wished that someone would see it his way for once. That he did not want to be another bureaucrat of the shogunate like his uncle wanted him to be. That he did not have to do things the way everyone else did, whether it involved his love-life or lack of one. And how in the world had everything got so complicated that he was suddenly buying some poor girl's virginity like one of those antiquated lords whose hypocritical rules he was honour-bound to uphold?

But it did not have to be so complicated, did it? He could just tell the girl to keep the damned money and go on with his life while she got on with hers. He could even ask leave from Jino--who was technically the one whom he owed loyalty to--and leave for Nagasaki in a week. If his uncle refused, there was always that--

Suzaku hoped that his uncle would see reason. He did not want to resort to blackmail.

"Thank you for your advice, Toudou-sensei!" Suzaku said, bowing low.

"Erm . . ." His mentor looked confused by his sudden declaration.

"You were a great help!"

"Ah the impetuousness of youth . . ." Toudou muttered as he saw his former student out and returned to his contemplation of his Ryuu.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Every day that week before the set date, Aunt Kaede slathered her hands with oils to smooth over the rough patches. A well-to-do man would not consider a rough-handed servant girl for a mistress. But Luluko was pleased to see that there were some calluses that all the scented oils in the world could not erase in such a short time.

This one was from cutting vegetables practically every day for five years. These two were from pushing the cart with Nanari in it--

She was no fine lady even with the rich, violet silk kimono with the embroidered cranes that had been selected for her use. The hair pins that held her hair up in its elaborate coils and loops were not her mother’s lacquer and gold ones. Looking at her own image in the mirror, she felt a child playing at dressing-up.

Even Aunt Kaede had hesitantly said that she looked especially pretty. Which was strange because she had never been so miserable in her life since the time her mother died.

Nanari did not know what she was about to do. She assumed that Luluko was going to help Oshiitsu again. Luluko did not contradict this assumption--nor did she lie to her sister. She could not bring herself to do that.

Oshiitsu and the other two had let their silence signal their disapproval. Though it had probably taken a near miracle to get Kallen to remain silent on the subject. They would be going about their engagements as usual, even on this night.

Luluko had brought her mother’s kaiken, secreted under her obi in its usual place. She wondered why she had brought it along. There would be no honour to defend after this night.

But she stiffened her spine and forced herself to remain ramrod straight as she exited the house in her finery. She would have to survive this and come back to Nanari. That alone would have to sustain her.

The intermediary--Yoshida--was there in person to see the final stage of the deal go through. She did not like him on sight--this man who looked like he was selling snake-oil and tired old promises out of the side of his mouth.

He had arranged for a palanquin. Discretion was apparently his middle name. The geisha came out after she had mounted the conveyance, standing at the entrance like a trio of dolls in their paint as they looked out. They were there for her, Luluko understood that much. Touched as she was, there was nothing she could do as the bearers shouldered their poles and set off.

The dancers followed the palanquin to the end of the street before parting ways. Like a wedding procession, only not. They went north to the Yoshiwara while the palanquin was borne west and south.

Hidden behind the wood and paper walls of the palanquin, she still felt strangely exposed. The rocking motion was making her nauseous--although that could be attributed to the raw fear in her belly curdling her guts from the inside out.

Her indignation at being sold like chattel was supplanted by a more basic terror of the unknown. All the odd bits and pieces she had picked up through hearsay and the shunga Kaguya had shown her had formed an incomplete picture of the act itself. Aunt Kaede had not been of much help and Oshiitsu had only said, in her ambivalent way, that it was up to her entirely from this point on.

Too soon, much too soon, the palanquin came to a halt and a businesslike tap on the side walls reminded her that cowering in fear was not going to do anything for her situation.

They had come to a small courtyard surrounded by wooden buildings. Yoshida motioned her towards one doorway briskly. Time was a-wasting. He had a deal to seal after all.

The sun had set and the dim lanterns in the entryway prevented any missteps but kept patrons’ faces in the shadows. A very discreet place indeed.

Luluko followed the intermediary, heart pounding in her throat and a cold sweat breaking out on her brow despite the cool spring night. This was not what she would have wanted even if she had been inclined to give herself to a man.

Yoshida was oiling his way forwards, making the introductions. But she was no longer listening as she saw the man who had bought her maidenhead.

It was that samurai with the intense and somewhat gloomy stare from that night when she had gone to the Heaven’s Gate with Oshiitsu.

* * * * * * * * * * * *