el.the miko-第69部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


ame。〃
　Ikan　heard；　but　it　was　impossible　to　say　what　was　going　on　in　her　mind。　She　felt　enwrapped　by　her　guilt。　And　now；　face　to　face　with　the　tiny　creature　she　had　borne；　knowing　what　kind　of　a　life　her　unthinking　actions　had　condemned　it　to；　she　felt　sick　at　heart。
　Her　pale　lips　opened　and　she　whispered；　〃Yes；　old　one。　A　name。　I　will　give　you　a　name。〃　There　was　a　sighing　in　the　room　as　if　the　autumn　wind　outside　had　somehow　crept　through　a　crack　in　the　window　sash　and　now　swirled　around　them。
　Dean's　eyes　were　filled　with　tears　so　that　the　tiny　face　blurred　and　became　indistinct。　Her　whisper　could　barely　be　heard。　〃Call　her　Akiko。〃
　She　was　an　exceptionally　healthy　child；　strong　and　fully　as　robust　as　a　boy。　She　was　up　and　walking　early；　as　if　somehow　even　at　that　early　age　she　suspected　she　would　need　to　rely　on　her　own　resources　to　survive。　And　for　all　that　Ikan　grew　to　love　the　child；　she　showed　very　little　overt　emotion。　Rather　she　left　the　supervision　of　the　infant　to　the　old　cook　and　the　other　girls；　all　of　whom　were　enchanted　with　the　new　baby。
　She　hung　back　as　if　she　were　afraid　of　the　child；　especially　during　those　times　when　those　who　ran　Fuyajo　congregated　in　the　infant's　room；　leaving　their　gifts　near　the　sleeping　form。
　Often　Shimada　would　e　to　the　Castle　That　Knew　No　Night　and；　as　before；　he　would　spend　the　long；　languorous　nights　with　Dean。　But　the　one　request　she　continually　denied　him　was　to　look　at　his　daughter；　to　hold　her；　to　speak　his　first　words　to　her　so　that　she　would　know　that　he　was　her　father。
　She　took　exceptional　pleasure　in　keeping　Akiko　from　him。〃　Outwardly　she　would　be　attentive；　responsive　to　his　every　wish；　often　without　his　having　to　utter　a　word　of　direction…that　was　a　courtesan's　greatest　skill；　after　all。　But　all　the　while　she　would　be　gloating　inwardly　at　the　unique　kind　of　pain　she　brought　him；　and　like　sadist　and　masochist；　this　became　a　kind　of　bond　between　them　that　somehow　brought　them　closer　together…or　at　least　afforded　them　a　more　intimate　understanding　of　the　essence　of　one　another。
　Akiko　recalled　meeting　her　father　only　once；　and　that　was　on　an　unseasonably　warm　spring　day　when　she　was　midway　between　her　third　and　fourth　birthdays。　She　had　been　playing　with　Yumi；　the　old　cook；　and　had　returned　to　her　mother's　room　as　she　always　did　at　this　time　of　the　day。　But　instead　of　her　mother　waiting　for　her　to　b　her　hair；　she　found　a　man　in　a　chocolate　brown　suit。　He　had　slightly　stooped　shoulders；　thick　features；　a　grayish　mustache　no　thicker　than　a　pencil；　thick；　tufty　eyebrows　like　clouds。　He　smiled　when　he　saw　her　and　she　saw　his　slightly　yellowed　teeth。
　〃Akiko…chan；〃　he　said；　bowing。
　She　returned　the　gesture。　She　was　close　enough　to　smell　the　halo　of　cigarette　smoke　that　seemed　to　envelop　him。　She　wrinkled　up　her　nose　and　rubbed　it　with　her　finger。
　〃I've　brought　you　a　present；　Akiko…chan。〃　He　bent　toward　her　and　held　out　his　hand。　Nestled　within　his　palm　was　an　exquisitely　carved　netsuke　of　a　horse　with　its　head　down；　its　forelegs　raised　as　if　set　for　flight　or　to　ward　off　some　unseen　advance。　It　was　made　of　tulipwood。
　Akiko　stared　at　it　but　made　no　move　to　take　it。
　〃It's　for　you。　Don't　you　want　it？〃
　〃Yes；〃　she　whispered。
　So　he　reached　out　and；　taking　her　hand；　deposited　the　netsuke　into　her　small　fist；　curling　up　the　fingers　around　its　cool　girth。　〃Now　this　is　just　from　me　to　you。　Our　secret。〃
　She　nodded。　〃Domo　arigato。〃
　He　smiled　down　at　her　and　took　her　other　hand。　〃Now　we　have　the　entire　afternoon　to　ourselves。〃
　It　was　the　time　of　hanami　and　he　took　her　by　train　to　a　small　park　on　the　outskirts　of　the　city　with　gently　sloping　contours　dressed　with　lines　of　old　cherry　trees。
　She　remembered　the　smell　of　the　train；　an　agglomeration　of　luncheon　foods；　and　could　still　feel　after　all　those　years　the　tightly　packed　claustrophobic　sensation　of　being　pressed　in　with　so　many　people。　Shimada　held　her　hand　tightly　but　still　she　was　unfortable　and　began　to　weep　silent　tears　until　he　picked　her　up　in　his　arms　and　held　her　rocking　gently　with　the　motion　of　the　train　against　his　chest。
　In　the　park　they　stopped　in　front　of　a　cart　selling　sweet　jellied　tofu　and　he　purchased　small　paper　cones　filled　with　the　confection　for　both　of　them。
　The　sky　was　clear　and　sparkling；　so　hard　seeming　that　it　reminded　Akiko　of　a　piece　of　green　glass　she　had　found　by　the　seashore；　its　edges　rounded　and　smoothed　by　the　constant　immersion　at　the　verge　of　the　tidal　pull。
　Shimada　pointed　upward；　showing　her　the　orange　and　green　box　kite　with　a　fierce　tiger's　head。　Akiko　laughed　as　it　dipped　and　swooped　in　the　wind。
　She　ate　her　tofu　hungrily　and　Shimada　wiped　her　cheeks　with　his　snow…white　handkerchief。　It　felt　very　soft　against　her　skin。
　But　most　of　all　she　remembered　the　cherry　blossoms。　It　was　so　quiet　here　that　Akiko　thought　she　could　hear　the　drift　of　the　light　pink　petals　through　the　clear　air　and　they　seemed　suspended　in　time；　ail　motion　attenuated；　all　the　world　attuned　to　their　drift。
　Lifting　up　her　head；　she　laughed　out　loud　with　delight；　skipping　away　from　Shimada　and　back　again；　grabbing　onto　his　trousers'　leg；　pulling　him　forward；　wanting　in　her　own　inarticulate　way　for　him　to　dance　too。
　She　never　saw　Shimada　again；　and　it　was　a　long　time　before　she　understood　why。　During　her　time　with　him　she　had　no　inkling　that　he　was　her　father。　Certainly　he　had　never　even　broached　the　subject。　But　yet　when　she　thought　back　on　it　through　the　prism　of　time；　she　saw　that　she　had　known　immediately　that　he　was　unlike　all　the　other　men　she　had　met　in　her　short　life　and　would　meet　in　the　passing　years。　Shimada　was　special；　just　as　that　memory；　piercing　the　veil　of　time　with　such　pristine　clarity；　was　special。
　What　she　had　not　been　able　to　understand　was　why　he　had　taken　his　life　not　more　than　twenty…four　hours　after　he　had　watched　her；　smiling；　as　she　capered　through　the　last　hours　of　the　cherry　blossoms。　She　thought　she　could　never　forgive　him　for　that　and　then；　upon　learning　the　terrible　truth；　thought　she　could　never　forgive　herself。
　As　for　Ikan；　she　was　never　the　same　after　Shimada's　death。　Like　a　blossom　at　hanami　she　had　reached　her　peak　of　beauty　and；　having　slid　past　it；　could　never　go　back。　An　intense　form　of　melancholia　stole　over　her　like　a　shroud；　etching　lines　into　a　face　that　had　been　filled　with　perfection。　She　drank　copious　quantities　of　sake；　often　passing　out　insensate　in　the　middle　of　an　assignation　as　if　the　mere　state　of　consciousness　was　too　much　for　her。
　Those　who　ran　Fuyajo　were　understandably　perturbed　and　then；　as　Ikan's　state　declined　rapidly；　filled　with　anger。　She　had　many　more　years　left　in　her　and；　they　felt；　after　she　had　passed　beyond　the　barriers　where　sexual　union　was　paramount；　she　could　still　fulfill　her　potential　as　the　house's　finest　sensei；　training　the　younger　women。
　But　such　was　not　to　be。　In　the　spring　of　1958；　when　Akiko　was　thirteen；　Ikan　could　not　be　roused　from　her　futon。　Fright　flew　through　Fuyajo　like　an　evil　kami；　turning　the　girls　nervous　and　short…tempered。　All　conversation　dropped　to　a　whisper　as　the　doctor　arrived　and　took　the　long；　slow　climb　up　to　her　room。　Akiko　was　kept　with　a　group　of　the　girls　and　they　forcibly　restrained　her　from　ascending。
　There　was　no　life　left　within　Ikan's　glorious　husk。　The　old　physician　shook　his　head　from　side　to　side　and　clucked　his　tongue　against　the　roof　of　his　mouth。　He　sat　on　the　edge　of　her　futon　and　stared　down　upon　the　pale　face　and　thought　that　he　had　never　seen　such　magnificent　human　beauty　in　his　life。
　By　her　side　he　found　an　empty　bottle　of　sake　and　a　small　vial。　This；　too；　was　empty；　save　for　a　light　dusting　of　white　powder　along　its　curved　inside。　The　doctor　dipped　his　little　finger　and　touched　the　white　tip　to　his　tongue。　His　head　nodded　again；　his　tongue　continued　its　clucking。
　He　heard　movement　behind　him　and　he　quickly　pocketed　the　vial。　Perhaps　there　was　something　for　him　to　do　here；　he　thought。　For　when　those　who　ran　Fuyajo　asked　him　the　cause　of　death；　he　lifted　his　shoulders；　let　them　fall　resignedly；　and　told　them　she　had　died　of　heart　failure；　which　in　a　sense　was　true。
　He　felt　no　punction　about　lying　to　them　or　even　falsifying　the　death　certificate。　In　fact　he　felt　ennobled　by　the　deed。　He　had　read　the　papers　concerning　Vice…Minister　Shimada's　shocking　suicide　and　in　its　aftermath　the　unraveling　of　the　evidence　against　him。　This　woman　had　endured　enough；　he　thought。　Let　her　death　be　a　peaceful；　natural　one；　a　death　that　will　cause　no　further　ripples　of　evil　talk。
　Those　who　ran　Fuyajo　wasted　no　time　in　explaining　to　Akiko　what　had　happened。　And　at　last　it　dawned　on　her　what　the　position　of　her　life　would　be　from　this　moment　on　until　the　day　she　died；　perhaps　in　precisely　the　same　manner　that　her　mother　had　expired。　And　that　knowledge　was　totally　unacceptable　to　her。
　That　night　she　gathered　up　her　belongings；　much　as　Ikan　had　done　the　night　before　her　departure　from　her　family's　farm　deep　in　the　countryside；　and　several　items　of　her　mother's　that　she　loved　and　did　not　want　to　leave　to　the　scavengers　at　Fuyajo。　Stuffing　these；　too；　into　a　small；　battered　bamboo　suitcase；　she　stole　out　of　the　building　in　the　dead　of　night。　The　height　of　the　varied　activities　served　to　shield　her　from　discovery。
　Soon　she　was　crossing　the　narrow　street　and；　turning　a　corner；　hurried　down　a　dark　alley；　moving　quickly　and　surely　until　she　had　left　the　Yoshiwara　far　behind　her。　She　never　once　looked　back；　and　she　never　returned。
　They　came　after　her；　of　course。　They　had　every　right　to。　She　was　an　enormously　valuable　modity　and　they　had　a　great　many　years　invested　in　her。　There　were　no　Yakuza　involved　in　running　Fuyajo　and　the　Boryokudan　held　no　piece　of　it。　Still；　those　who　had　founded　the　Castle　That　Knows　No　Night　were　hard　businessmen　and　their　descendants　to　whom　the　running　of　the　brothel　now　devolved　were　much　like　their　ancestors。　And　though　the　Occupation　Forces　had　begun　to　disband　the　Yoshiwara；　and　Fuyajo　was　thus　forced　to　move；　they　did　not　take　kindly　to　Akiko's　defection。　In　fact；　they　wished　to　put　an　end　to　it　as　swiftly　as　possible。　To　that　end　they　dispatched　two　thugs　to　return　her　to　her　proper　home　and；　if　that　were　not　practical；