The 47 Ronin Story (14 page)

Oishi turned directly to his own tray when it was placed before him and did not realize that it was now a different geisha kneeling at his side. It was the unaccustomed silence from her direction that finally caused him to turn to her. When he did so, he quickly caught his breath. Close beside him, with a tranquil smile that put him at ease at once, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. This was Okaru, the number one geisha in the geisha capital of the world.

Her age was impossible to guess, although she was certainly no child. Her kimono was exquisite, but no more so than that of the other girls. Her face was distinguished mainly by a high-bridged and aristocratic nose, but it was her eyes that captured Oishi's attention most of all. They were large and clear, with a depth to their expression that immediately set her apart from the other bland-faced girls of the quarter.

In a low musical voice she explained what the various dishes on his tray were and showed him the right way to eat them. Later, as the other geisha danced and sang, she explained the words and movements so that he could fully appreciate them.

Then she rose to dance herself and Oishi was captivated by her grace. To the solo plunking of a sensual samisen she posed and gestured in a simple story of flirtation and unrequited love that required no translation.

Later the other girls danced again and finally

Shindo and Koyama, both quite tipsy, did a comic dance together that was a burlesque of the girls' movements. Oishi laughed aloud for the first time and the atmosphere of the party became much more relaxed.

When the time came to leave, they were escorted outside to the gate by the geisha and by Hoshino himself. Here, in exaggerated sorrow at parting, the girls bowed low and begged the men to come again. Assurances were freely given, but Oishi, who had not taken his eyes off Okaru all evening, was undoubtedly the most sincere. It had been a night he would never forget.

From every standpoint, Oishi's first visit to Gion was a success. People began to talk about his surprising turn to dissipation, which was exactly what he wanted them to do. The more talk, the more his reputation would be slandered and the less menacing he would be considered as a threat to Kira. The geisha houses became his constant habitat, as he labored to ruin what had always been most precious to him.

Additional spies were soon required to keep up with his frenetic activities and he was pleased to see the trouble he was causing in the enemy camp. He was aware that he was also risking some confusion in his own ranks, but that was a chance he felt he had to take.

On a typical day he would rise late, eat a hasty meal, and immediately be off to town. Those who were unable or unwilling to rise when he did would join the party later, locating it by the presence outside of a spy disguised as a komuso. These spies soon

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became so familiar to them that Kataoka began calhng them his "guides to the pleasure spots" to their hidden faces, and then laughing at their obvious embarrassment.

After an afternoon of drinking and the games which Oishi finally came to tolerate, they would usually move on to another establishment for dinner and sometimes to a third teahouse for after-dinner entertainment. It was in moving from one place to another, and particularly on the way home late at night, that they made the most of their situation. Oishi would drunkenly accost the passers-by and otherwise make an unruly spectacle of himself. When the weather was fine he would even take a group of geisha and hangers-on to a public place like Gion Park and carry on a riotous picnic in full view of the respectable strata of society. The people of Kyoto were accustomed to fun-loving visitors, but Oishi went much too far in their eyes.

Disregarding the cost to his reputation, however, the plan seemed to be working. Week after week the reports went back to Edo that he was spending money like a fool and holding no meetings with his men that were not out-and-out drinking bouts. Kataoka was characterized as a court jester and Shindo and Koyama could certainly not be labeled mighty warriors in anybody's book. Naturally, along with such reports went additional bills for the extra spies required and the distraught Chisaka was finally driven to make an economy move. The spy force was arbitrarily cut back to Fujii and one helper, not to mention the cook who was still on duty at Yamashina. It was an impossible assignment for two men and they were rapidly driven to distraction by lack of sleep and Oishi's playful attempts to confuse them. The Ako

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group took to leaving by rear entrances, going and coming separately, and otherwise making the spies' assignment as difficult as possible. Fujii still wore the basket over his head so there was no direct confrontation, but it was obvious that the shoe was on the other foot and Oishi laughed to think that he had at last scored against his formidable enemy.

Unfortunately for Oishi, most of the conversation in the geisha houses centered around their own floating world of pleasure, including the theater and the popular actors and artists of the day. Of these matters he was completely ignorant, pleading that he was just a simple samurai from the country and had no experience in such things. It was late one afternoon at the Flying Crane, which Oishi seemed to visit more than any other geisha house, when yet another lively discussion arose about the relative merits of certain actors. Oishi excused himself to get some air when Okaru suggested brightly that he go see the Kabuki himself so that he would know what they were talking about. The other geisha present gasped at her impudence, but Oishi pretended not to notice.

He turned to Okaru and politely thanked her for the suggestion. He felt she might be making fun of him but he decided to play along and agreed to go to the theater the very next day. It had never occurred to him to visit a public theater, he said, and he might find it amusing. Behind his back Shindo and Koyama winked at each other to hear this; they were sure it was only the sake Oishi had drunk that was talking. He was not the sort of man to frequent public places willingly.

The party continued until quite late that night and when they were finally ready to leave Kataoka found only one basket-headed spy waiting at the entrance.

Chapter Eleven

He reported this to Oishi and they agreed that a Httle game was in order. After they said their farewells to the geisha and the proprietor, the men from Ako exchanged hats and outer clothing with Shindo and Koyama, who then walked silently out the gate. The spy dutifully followed them, and Oishi and Kataoka, watching from a balcony, exploded in a fit of laughter. Then, in their companions' clothes, they slipped quietly out the back way. Although Oishi was not aware of it and would have been quite concerned if he had known, there was an unseen observer of their antics. The geisha Okaru watched from an upstairs window with an expression of more than passing curiosity.

The next day, to everyone's surprise, Oishi announced that he was indeed going to the Kabuki theater. Shindo and Koyama, already fans of this new kind of theatrical, so much livelier than the stately Noh of the court, accepted his invitation with alacrity. Kataoka was not as enthusiastic; he had no more knowledge of such things than his leader, but he had no intention of letting him jostle with the common people unattended and went along to act as bodyguard.

The first performance of the day began at noon, but Oishi insisted on stopping off at a teahouse for sake on the way and they missed it. As the afternoon went on, Shindo warned that they had better get there in time for the second performance or all the seats would be gone, but Oishi ignored him and poured another drink. For the scheme he had in mind he needed some fortification, and when he was finally ready to go it was quite late in the afternoon.

As Shindo had feared, the theater was sold out by the time they got there. As they arrived at the theater

they could see would-be customers being turned away. Oishi, however, in a tipsy and not very happy frame of mind, decided that they were going to get in anyway and called for the manager. When that apprehensive gentleman appeared Oishi threatened to throw him into the adjoining Kamo River if he did not make a place for them immediately. The manager mopped his bald head and promised to see what he could do and after a short wait they were escorted inside by an usher.

As they went down the narrow aisle in the semi-darkened theater, Oishi could see that the mat-covered floor was divided by low railings into boxes which were jammed with customers of all ages and social standings. In order to seat Oishi, the manager had to evict four merchants from a choice box in the center of the hall who were now eyeing the newcomers with ill-concealed annoyance as they retrieved their lunch boxes and started up the aisle. Oishi noisily directed his companions to their places and peered around the theater, pointing to the side boxes in the balconies and wondering aloud if they were better seats. He could see that the merchant and geisha class were well represented and there were even a few samurai, or ronin, including one huge fellow with some cohorts in the adjoining box. In spite of the fact that the play was in progress Oishi now turned to opening the sake they had brought with them and caused additional confusion as he called for the manager to bring hot water to heat it in. No one, of course, was bold enough to remonstrate with him, although the big samurai in the next box was plainly annoyed. He was far from sober himself, but he was trying to follow the play and he grumbled at Oishi's lack of manners.

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Oishi disregarded him completely and only when he finally got his warm sake did he give his attention to what was happening on the stage. When he was able to focus, he saw that the setting represented an ordinary peasant's cottage and that the performers, all men, were dressed in ordinary peasants' clothes. This he found most dull; after all, the fields were full of peasants and you did not have to come to the theater to look at them. What he found strange was that they were not talking like any peasants he had ever heard, but were delivering their lines in a highly stylized manner that seemed to him anything but lifelike. The noble sentiments they expressed seemed out of place for such rude characters and he found it hard to believe that the audience would actually accept such stuff. As he listened more closely he was amazed to find that the characters were discussing such things as Confucian ethics and the choice between duty to one's superior or humanity toward those one loved. To Oishi it was absurd that they should appreciate such weighty matters and he dug Kataoka in the ribs and made a slighting remark about the exalted peasants they were having the pleasure of meeting.

Kataoka laughed loudly and the others with Oishi joined in. The samurai in the next box glowered more deeply and muttered to his companions. He was beginning to get a little tired of these interruptions.

Now the heroine of the play appeared. She was a "lady" of noble birth and Oishi was immediately incensed that the players would have the temerity to portray someone of higher rank than themselves. Furthermore, it appeared that she had been badly treated by her husband and taken a lover among the

merchant class. She had fled her home and was waiting to meet him at the peasant's hut, but Oishi never let the meeting take place.

Angrily he rose and shouted that the actor was a fake, that he had no concept of how to play a noble woman who would never behave in such a disgusting manner in" the first place, and demanded that the show be stopped. There was a shocked silence for a moment, on stage and off, and then the samurai in the next box jumped up, exasperated beyond all endurance.

"Shut up, you ignorant son of a beast!" he shouted at Oishi. "You show less good manners than the townspeople—and this is not the first time you've made a fool of yourself in Kyoto from what I hear!"

Oishi was startled for a moment, then with a curse he quickly grabbed for his sword. It seemed to be stuck in its scabbard, and the other samurai stopped his glowering to laugh loudly and derisively.

"The sword once worn is now for kitchen use, eh?" He laughed again and turned to his companions. "Look, he calls himself a samurai, better than those on the stage or in the audience, and he carries a rusty sword!" He laughed again and this time Oishi made a vicious cut at his legs with the sword still in its scabbard. The big man tried to leap out of the way and fell over one of the low partitions between the boxes. He landed on top of another paying customer, an old woman who cursed at him like a laborer, and he got up to face the laughter of Oishi's drunken companions. The hands of the big man's own followers went to their swords but he motioned them back. He stared for a moment at the ludicrous spectacle of Oishi, sword at the ready but still in its scabbard,

Chapter Eleven

and then threw back his head and laughed. He grabbed his own sword and raised it high, and it was seen that it, too, was safely sheathed in its scabbard. With a mock cry of attack he lunged fiercely at Oishi and missed him to crash into another partition. The spectators around them quickly gave way as they saw that it was turning into a full-scale battle and both Oishi's men and those of his opponent formed semicircles behind their leaders to keep anyone from interfering.

The circling and slashing of the swordsmanship contest continued, never so strangely out of place as on the floor of a darkened theater with the partitions between the boxes serving as obstacles. Both men were apparently in poor physical condition, besides being drunk, and the townspeople found it a noisy, odious performance. Many of them began to leave the theater, in d eep resentment that men of this station should come into a theater and break up the show. As busy as he was, Oishi sensed this and felt greatly embarrassed, even though his predicament was all of his own making.

He endeavored to bring the fight to a quick close but his opponent was just as handy as he, and the silly circling and slashing went on. Never in his life had Oishi felt or looked so foolish, and he cursed himself for getting involved in such a scrape. Realizing that he could not look any worse if he tried, he dehberately tripped himself and fell flat on his face before his opponent. The big man whooped in victory and tapped him not too lightly on the head with his sheathed sword in a gesture of victory. Oishi drew himself to his knees and made a mock bow of surrender, and the big man laughed and withdrew to his own box.