A Dark Night's Passing Page 7

  And so, unwilling though he was to crush the new emotion he had come to feel toward Tokiko, he could not bring himself to nurture it, not even when he had come to enjoy a certain sense of comfort in his relationship with her. That the new emotion, thus untended, should immediately begin to wither was inevitable.

  6

  The third day after Kensaku’s second meeting with Tokiko was the anniversary of the death of a boyhood friend of his. This friend had died fourteen, fifteen years before. With others who had also known him well Kensaku went out that day to visit his grave in Somei.

  It was evening when they got back to Sugamo Station from the graveyard. The understanding had been that the group would, after visiting the grave, all go to some cheerful part of the town and have dinner together. Now opinion was divided as to where in the city they should go: one half of the group wanted to catch the train there and go to Ueno, and the other half wanted to catch a streetcar outside and go straight to Ginza. Kensaku, for reasons not entirely clear to himself, was strongly in favor of going to Ueno. That it would be easier to visit Tokiko from there was not exactly his motive. Ueno seemed more attractive to him at the time, that was all.

  In the end those who preferred Ginza prevailed. But once there, there was again disagreement: this time, it was over choice of cuisine. They had all been boyhood friends, and now they felt free to act like willful boys again. There was an innocence about the argument, a pleasant sense of the irresponsibility of youth recaptured. Some wanted to go to a European restaurant recently opened by a Frenchman, and some wanted to go to a Japanese restaurant known for its tasty beef. Neither side would give in. One of them, a fellow by the name of Ogata, went so far as to say, “Don’t go to that French place. You’ll find bits of glass in their hors d’oeuvres, I know.”

  They finally agreed to split up for dinner. The group favoring Japanese-style beef would later join the others at the French restaurant for a cup of tea.

  It was about nine when the entire party, now together again, came out of the French restaurant. They ambled past the night stalls that were lined up along one side of the street. It was time they went home, some started saying.

  It was then that Kensaku decided to pay Tokiko a visit. “Come with me,” he said to Ogata.

  “No, I can’t. My elder brother and his wife are in town, and I should see them tonight.”

  But Kensaku, once having decided to see Tokiko that night, was not about to change his mind.

  “How can you be sure she’ll be available?” Ogata said. “It’s rather late, you know.”

  “But if she is free, will you come with me?”

  “You are anxious, I must say. All right, let’s at least find out if she can join us.”

  They walked into a nearby cafe and from there Kensaku telephoned Nishimidori. It was Otsuta who answered. “Tokiko has gone to the theatre,” she said, sounding quite sorry. “And Koine is away on a trip. She left yesterday and hasn’t come back yet.”

  “But I take it Tokiko will be coming back as soon as the theatre closes?”

  “I think so, but let me make sure. Give me your number, and I’ll call you back.”

  A few minutes later she telephoned. “Apparently Tokiko and the customer left before the end of the performance. She’s having dinner with him now at a restaurant, but thinks she’ll be free afterward.”

  “All right, we’ll come.”

  Ogata liked to drink. “I might as well get started here and now,” he said, and immediately ordered a whiskey and soda. By the time they left the cafe, he had had two more.

  “It’s a funny thing,” Otsuta said as she greeted them, “but right after I spoke to you I found out that Koine had just returned from her trip.” She had another maid show the men to their room upstairs while she herself went to the telephone to call the two geisha.

  Koine soon appeared on the scene, then a little while later, Tokiko.

  Tokiko seemed a little stiff. This Kensaku attributed to the presence of Ogata, whom she had never met. She must also have been tired, for she showed little gaiety that evening. From time to time she would look nervously at Koine, then fuss with the collar of her kimono. Kensaku realized with amusement that she felt disheveled in comparison, having come directly from an outing.

  That night again they played childish games. Kensaku could not help wondering if indeed this was quite what was expected of him as a patron. He himself would have liked nothing better than to pack up and go home after a few games, but at four in the morning going home was easier said than done. And he wasn’t sure if asking the establishment to put out a bed for him was quite the right thing to do.

  Outside a quiet, autumn rain was falling. Half-listening to the lulling sound, Kensaku and Ogata dozed off, and the women got up and left.

  The two men slept until ten in the morning. It was only after they had had a hot bath that they began to feel more or less awake. They asked for the same two geisha, but only Koine came. Tokiko had already been engaged for the day by another customer of Nishimidori, who had reserved the front room, across the corridor from theirs.

  Ogata fought off sobriety by continuing to drink at regular intervals. They played no more games; and no one seemed to have anything to say. Koine had given in to the pervasive languor; she sat still and gazed with empty, sad eyes at Ogata who was stretched out on the floor, seemingly asleep for the moment.

  He suddenly opened his eyes, and became aware of Koine’s gaze. He must have felt awkward, for he said, though without much conviction, “Haven’t you any interesting stories to tell?”

  “Let me see,” said Koine, the sadness still in her smile. “Did you hear about the geisha from the Shitaya quarter? She was being taken somewhere in a car, and she happened to turn around and what do you think she saw through the rear window? A white fox pushing the car!”

  “No, I can’t say I’ve heard the story. Where did this happen?”

  “I think it was in Omiya. On the way there, maybe. Anyway, it happened recently.” Koine looked quite solemn as she continued. “You can imagine how frightened she was. Of course she could have told the man she was with, but you know how vindictive foxes are.” Kensaku was appalled by the banality of the story. If Koine had really believed it, he wouldn’t have minded so much. But she clearly didn’t. Why then tell it with such solemnity? “I don’t find the story at all interesting,” he said.

  Koine readily agreed. “It isn’t very good, you’re quite right.”

  “You know very well it never happened.”

  Koine was agreeable. “When you think about it, it is a bit fishy,” she said, and laughed.

  She was in fact being accused of disingenuousness. But she was quite cheerful about it, only too ready to agree with Kensaku. Such malleability toward her customers he found both irritating and touching. He said, “It sounds like some third-rate comedian’s story that didn’t quite come off.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Koine said happily, and laughed. Her laugh was as usual high-pitched. “An apprentice geisha from our house heard it in some restaurant or other. I really did think it was meant to be a true story. But of course you’re right!”

  “Tell us another one,” Ogata said wearily, his eyes still closed.

  “But I can’t think of one,” Koine said uncomfortably. “There simply aren’t that many interesting stories.”

  There was silence for a while. Then suddenly, to the surprise of the two men whose minds had wandered elsewhere, she started giggling to herself. “All right, I’ll tell you a true story!”

  It was about a man who had survived an attempt at love suicide with a geisha from the Yoshiwara quarter. In the course of being examined by the magistrate he had used some slang word current in Yoshiwara, which referred to closing time in the quarter but which sounded like “discount.” The magistrate, by no means a connoisseur, had angrily shouted, “Discount? Discount? What do you mean you got her at a discount!”

  Koine seemed greatly amused by her ow
n story. Alas, Ogata, like the magistrate, had never heard the slang word (though Kensaku had), so that the point of the story was somewhat lost on him.

  Very soon Ogata was snoring gently. Despite his fatigue Kensaku felt wide awake. For lack of a better idea he had a go board brought in, and started playing a simple game with Koine.

  He could occasionally hear Tokiko talking in the room opposite. He had by now ceased to have illusions about his relationship with her. Nevertheless it gave him a forlorn feeling not to have her in the room with him when she was so near, to hear her talking to some other man in another room. He was constantly aware of her presence in the same house; he would surely have felt better if she had not been there at all.

  Tokiko always looked in whenever she had occasion to pass their room, and once or twice even came in for a short chat. It was surprising how much more lively he would feel when she came in.

  When at sundown the rain finally stopped, Ogata and Kensaku left the house. Tokiko’s customer was still there. They stopped at a European restaurant just outside the quarter, and there Ogata drank more whiskey. His capacity for alcohol was apparently limitless. Though Kensaku was still very tired, it had been a great relief for him to come out of the oppressive atmosphere and be touched by the air outside, so clean and fresh after the rain; and very quickly his spirits had lifted.

  Having decided to go in the direction of Nihonbashi, the two walked to Minowa and there boarded a streetcar bound for Ningyōchō.

  Ogata immediately leaned his head back against the window without bothering to take off his hat, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. The hat was dark green felt, uncannily resembling thick leather.

  Many of the passengers got off at Kurumazaka Junction and equally many came on. One of the new passengers was a pretty young woman with her eyebrows shaved off, holding a baby hardly a year old. She was followed by a docile-seeming teenage maid carrying something in a cloth wrapper. They sat down opposite Kensaku.

  The baby was fat and active. He was prettily got up in a fine muslin kimono and a padded waistcoat. But he was perhaps too small for the kimono, for the collar hung rather loosely around his neck, and his plump, soft shoulders, shining pink, were visible. He bubbled and gurgled without cease, his head, hands and feet jerking all the time. The young woman was perhaps in her early twenties. But Kensaku, to whom all married women somehow seemed older than himself, wasn’t sure. With light, friendly familiarity she was talking to the maid.

  Two seats away from this young mother sat another woman carrying a girl, perhaps four years old, on her back. The woman was clearly a maid, and the girl presumably her mistress’s daughter. The girl had for some time been staring silently at the active baby, her big eyes filled with curiosity. The baby, now seeing her for the first time and sensing her interest, began to struggle, making little screechy noises and reaching his tiny hands out toward her. The girl made no response, and continued to stare—almost angrily, Kensaku thought.

  The young mother, who had been engrossed in conversation with the maid, at last became aware of the fuss her baby was making. She turned toward the girl. How lightly her head moved, Kensaku thought, and how lively her eyes were. She smiled and said, “He wants very much to come to you, doesn’t he.” The girl remained silent, as solemn as ever. The maid who was carrying her said something in reply, with obvious reluctance.

  The young mother, suddenly oblivious of her surroundings, began kissing—it was more like pecking—her baby all over his face. It was as though momentarily she had lost all control of herself. The baby jerked about happily, loving the ticklish sensation. The woman bent her head lower, showing the back of her pretty neck, and started kissing the baby’s throat. It was too much of a display for Kensaku; it was like having something sickly sweet in one’s mouth, and instinctively he turned away and looked out of the window. What a coquette she is, he thought; ah well, when the baby gets a bit older he will have his own little tricks.

  Somehow the whole scene looked to him like an unconscious reenactment of the love play that went on between her and her young husband. The suggestion of such intimacy made him uncomfortable; yet the woman was so full of life, so assured, there was such a feeling of harmony about her, that he could not but think her very beautiful.

  Tentatively, almost fearfully, he began to imagine himself having a wife like her. No doubt about it, it was a happy thought; indeed, for a moment, he wondered if with such a wife he would want anything else.

  As the streetcar approached the next stop the young woman put the baby gently on the maid’s back. “Off we go,” she said to the baby, “Kimiya is going to give you a nice ride now.”

  Kensaku watched the three get off, feeling strangely happy. And later, whenever he remembered the woman, he would remember his own happiness at the time.

  The two men got off at Kodenmacho and proceeded on foot toward Nihonbashi. The city lights shone prettily on the pavement still wet from the rain. They crossed the temporary bridge at Nihonbashi, walked on a little farther until they came to a small side street, and there they went into a neat, unpretentious restaurant.

  “They give you good saké here,” said Ogata, and started drinking again. Drinking seemed to clear his mind and make him more communicative. He began by comparing geisha of the Nakanochō district, whom he had never seen until the day before, with geisha that worked around Shinbashi and Akasaka, then went on to tell Kensaku about an affair he was having with an Akasaka geisha. It had become a rather messy business, he said. Her employer was doing everything he could to prevent the two from seeing each other.

  Kensaku, who normally disliked being told such things, listened to Ogata’s story with sympathy and interest. For in the way his friend talked about his affair and his determination to continue to see the girl despite the complication, there was not a trace of exhibitionism or pomposity.

  The two left the restaurant at about nine o’clock. Not yet ready to part ways, they strolled aimlessly down the main street.

  “I have a bottle of whiskey at Seihintei,” Ogata said. “Shall we go there?”

  “Do you still want to drink?”

  “Yes, I do.” Ogata had inherited his fondness and extraordinary capacity for alcohol from his father, and could drink endlessly without ever behaving like a drunk. “They have a girl there who used to be a geisha in Yokohama.”

  “Does this bar specialize in ex-geisha, then?”

  “Oh, no. She’s the only one. I suppose she finds it easier than being a geisha. A bar girl’s life is much more informal, after all. Besides, she doesn’t have to spend so much on clothes.”

  At Seihintei they went up the stairs to the second floor, then down a step on the other side of the landing to a mirrored door. This door opened into a gaudily decorated room that looked to Kensaku like the inside of a cinema. Waitresses rushed past, carrying bottles and glasses. Several stopped as Ogata entered and greeted him enthusiastically: “Good evening, O-san!”

  “Good to see you, O-san!” The two found a small private room and sat down. Now and then a burst of loud laughter reached them from another room nearby.

  Kensaku had bought some eye lotion on the way, and now he put a few drops of it into his eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep and too much smoking. He put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. He kept his smarting eyes closed for a while, thinking how tired he was. Finally he sat up and said to Ogata who seemed equally exhausted, “They’re a lively lot here, I must say. Of course, anyone would seem so compared to us.”

  A woman in a waitress’s kimono walked in carrying a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two bottles of soda water in the other. There was something like a tease in her smile as she said to Ogata, “This is yours, isn’t it?” She walked up to the table and bowed politely to Kensaku. “How do you do.” Then she bowed to Ogata silently, as though words of formal greeting were unnecessary between such friends.

  “Did you write this?” said Ogata, pointing to the thick
, black “O” drawn uncertainly on the whiskey label. “What a clumsy hand.”

  “Who cares, so long as one can read it,” she said, reaching for the bottle opener stuck in her sash. She poured the whiskey and soda into the glasses, then rushed out with the empty soda bottles.

  “That wasn’t the ex-geisha, was it?” asked Kensaku.

  “No. She’ll be here soon, I expect.”

  A moment later another waitress came in quietly, her manner made tentative by the presence of a new customer. She was a big woman, quite beautiful. Kensaku was sure this was the ex-geisha. She went to Ogata’s side and said, “Nice to see you again so soon.”

  Her eyes, with lids that looked a little swollen, suggested a kind of sleepy seductivity. Her lips were a brilliant color, with a touch of befitting cruelty about them.

  Ogata gulped down his drink, then poured more whiskey and soda into the glass and pushed it toward her. “Here, you drink this.”

  She sat down, picked up the glass and looked at it thoughtfully. “It’s too strong,” she said, and put it back in front of Ogata.

  “No, you’ve got to drink it.” As he was about to pick it up again she put out her hand to stop him. “I don’t like it that strong, I tell you.”

  “All right, then, we’ll share it fifty-fifty.” In the ensuing struggle some of the yellow liquid spilled over onto the thick tablecloth.

  “All right,” she said, picking up the glass resignedly, “but you’ve got to drink first,” and put it down in front of Ogata as though it were something dirty.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, yes, I promise.”

  Ogata sat up straight, then gulped down about a half, perhaps a little less, of the drink. The woman, now quite docile, picked up the glass and brought it gingerly to her red lips. With an exaggerated grimace she took a few sips, saying, “It’s terribly strong.”

  The waitress who had come in first now returned with more bottles of soda. She stood over her companion and said seriously, “What do you think you’re doing, Okayo? You know you shouldn’t be drinking that strong stuff.”