Yoshiwara Read online

  YOSHIWARA

  EVE KAAN

  Copyright © 2019 Eve Kaan

  All rights reserved.

  Any part of this book may not be reproduced or used in any manner and form without written permission from the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and happenings is purely coincidental.

  For my beloved future wife.

  Contents

  YOSHIWARA

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER TREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER ONE

  Uta

  D ust raises from the ground once again. Raindrops were lightly punting on a rocky soil lifting the muddy moist on my red yukata. Walking through the narrow streets, I clutched the fabric clumsily, to separate it from puddle splashes.

  'It's not much longer... we almost reached...' I explained to young ladies. - 'this is your first time in our parts?' Was the sentence of intention to remove the anxiety that was spreading through the air faster than the rain.

  Faced with silence treatment, just when I turned to repeat the query - one of them, that stands behind my back confidently answers, 'Is it appropriate to pop such a question to the ladies?

  I felt body heat raising toward my cheeks. As my eyes fell, the woman smiled briefly while turning her focus back to a path with small ponds. My tongue was always faster than my mind. Grandma used to say, 'Uta, first take a deep breath, recollect your thoughts, then bring it to your mouth.'

  I am well aware that we can not ask our clients these sort of questions. That was an intent to help them relax. Nothing's wrong with it, they're all here for pleasure anyway, although I know that Mother would not agree with my thoughts. This is only the second time she sent me to escort the clients. Until now, it was my sister Utanos duty, who has been taking me along the last couple of times. But Mother recently decided that 'Utas time has come', as she likes to pronounce it with a high-level accent. The first contact of association with clients is best to practice in this sort of encounter. I should learn to evaluate the characters by reading their expectations so I would be able to attend to them accordingly. People are different despite the reasons for coming for these sort of services, but each of them comes with their own motive. And that is exactly what we're looking for to explore from the client's gesture, expression, and body language.

  Mother believes that the fastest way to read gestures is presented with a situation like this, in which the client still conceals ones motive of coming to their escort or rather, as they see me now, the side port to a real destination.

  Since their focus is not on me, I have a chance to study everything that is unconsciously happening within them, and this knowledge will be of utmost importance for me later when I actually start the job for which I was educated. Mother also claims that furthermore opportunities, for studying one's nature and reading hidden desires, are presented in the silence between new ladies.

  For now, I'm just confused. Honestly - silence does not speak. I see nothing in Mother's words, as she calls it - nature. My mind keeps repeating everything I've learned so far, but unfortunately, sometimes I slip with something inadequate, like an inappropriate question from a moment ago which almost made me mishandle this situation. Nonetheless, this is a very delicate service, so our clients have to be relaxed. Utano is exquisite in these kinds of situations. Exactly knows how to recognize the moment in which humor suppresses the tension in the air, and can be decent in delicate cases when clients are too distracted for simple chatting about weather forecasts, for example. A very long journey of learning awaits me to that sophisticated understanding of the client's state. At the moment I'm just focused on the shortest route to our home where guests will be welcomed by awaiting Mother.

  However, dirty and wet clothes on the client could probably cause the most discomfort - no one wants to come dirty in a house like ours, what kind of impression would that reflect on their designation for future visitations.

  We reached the massive stone steps leading into a particular part of our settlement. On all the stairs is a piece of dumped mud, left from someone's shoe sole. At the corners, weed grows, stretching at least two stairs above the roots. Each stair arises to a minimum of one elbow at its hight, which is a significant challenge to climb in a tightened kimono made of stiff threads. It took me almost three months of practicing to overcome its difficulty. In any case, I have to act as if I'm doing it with ease, but now I'm not so sure whether this drops on my eyebrows are sweat or just raindrops.

  I turn to them, softly saying - 'Watch your step, the stairs are slippery because of the rain... just a little bit further and we'll be at the top... here... we're almost there...'

  Our guests are lagging behind, so I slowed down to look at them. They quickly lowered their heads to the ground, although I caught hidden looks with the corner of my eye. The last one of them secretly raised her head just enough so we could see each other under the pressure of the dark sky. I immediately returned a subtle smile.

  Instead of the footsteps, they're breaths quickened. I'm not sure if it was because of that staircase or the site of transparent walls in front of them.

  There were small houses all around us. Such a view can only be seen at the beginning of the narrow street, while in the distance real small palaces are arising. Each house has a ground floor with large sliding holes so you could see everything that is going on inside. In fact, under the sunlight, it's not very clear what the walls of each house advertise, but today is ideal weather for observation under these gray clouds. The sky was devoided of the sun's rays, emphasizing light of the lamps which illuminates the interior of every place. According to my modest experience, they are the kind of clients who cherish observational sensibilities. My conclusion came from their pulsating breaths like the heartbeats of a samurai in combat fervour, clothed in dark hakama.

  Women's urge is far too strong to describe in a few lines of intermittent thoughts while walking. Subtitle externally, and fire like on the inside. The unconscious intention must be deliberately restrained, but the breath is always what reveals it. Perhaps, what they see in front of them is quite enough for the first time. That's a good sign. After this kind of overture, you just have to do the job right, and that will make them our permanent guests. Such ladies always return for some new inquiry or to refresh what they already discovered. This certainly is not just curiosity, but a pulsating crave in the chests.

  As we're approaching the small porch with a larmier made of bamboo. Ladies are decreasing in rhythm by following my slowing steps. Before I part with them, I'm saying a trademark of our house. 'I want to welcome you to the Miura House. Any hidden desire in you can be contented now. Relax and open to the experience without conventional limits. Miura House will transform your dreams into reality without prejudice.'

  All three of them trembled slightly, each jerkingly holding a piece of fabric from their own sleeve to cover the squirming. Even with lowered heads, none of their faces were missing a smile full of expectations.

  They quietly replied, 'Thank you.'

  There are large, two-wing doors in front of me. At the top side rounded, down
entirely straight, made of gray wooden boards with the remains of dark green colour in the corners. My wooden okobo are left on the porch at the entrance as I stepped on a gray doormat gently gripping the handle of an ajar left door.

  Everything is quiet, only raindrops could be heard in the silence, punting on the ground as if it were small stones falling down.

  After I guided them inside, we were standing in the lobby large enough to accommodate up to ten clients without making a crowd. Dimmed light of oil lamps is lightening their faces in the form of a chandelier trace. Part of their faces remained in the dark while the other, unconcealed part, uncovered flustered expressions conflated with an anxious fear which could be seen on almost every woman that is not jet acquainted to Yoshiwara.

  I knocked on a sliding bamboo structure decorated with rice paper that swoops all the faces that are drinking tea in the receiving room. Black eyes emerged through it. Silhouette of the woman could be seen through the thick darkness - her rounded face held by tight skin, surrounding the thin lips and emphasized pale cheekbones beneath the tightened hair with celestial shine. Her eyes are so dark that someone could easily be fooled by thinking they were black, even though under the sunlight unmistakenly brown color of its irises could be seen. This face would seem warm and pleasant only if not for that almost dead glare. Of course, her hair is charcoal coloured, and, like any other day, it's neatly combined in Tsubushi Shimada style on top of her head. She is the youngest person who set her own name on the house of Yoshiwara.

  'This is the Mother.' I presented her to our guests, as she widened the bamboo door wings showing hospitality to our ladies, leading them into the room brightened by oil lamps. Sneakily, far from the viewer's eyes, she twisted her lips into a smile, but only on one side of her mouth because the other was occupied holding the smoking pipe kiseru. I cautiously turned to them saying 'I hope you had a good journey here, please help yourselves at the table.'

  They responded in unison, 'Thank you for a warm welcome.'

  The ladies slowly settled into kneeling positions around a low table in the middle of a small room, with hard wooden floorboards. The door we come from is now located on the left side of them, and the other entries are behind their backs, concealing the closets filled with nightshades. In front of them is a small tea-making kitchen with an open bamboo door. And on their right is a large sliding opening that leads to the private porch and garden filled with green plants. Though usually, it offers a beautiful view of the sky, at this time the scene was hazed because of the mighty swoop that's just starting to ruthlessly surmount with the loud banging.

  Mother glared sharply at me. I lowered my eyes, going quietly to the tea kitchen. My role in the job has just ended, and a part I have not yet grown up to, now begun, but I still participate - only as an observer.

  In the room, I could hear their footsteps. I was trying to discern the words, but everything was muffled because of their quiet manner of speaking, as it was expected in situations like this one, at the futon table. The tea making room is very tiny, having just enough space for two people to fit without squeezing. There are only the necessities needed for the preparation of tea or sake. On the upper shelves are serviettes, teapots, and jars filled with different leaves. A small hearth is in front of me, besides which lied a metal container, filled only with emptiness in craving to quench its own thirst.

  The door behind me opened. 'I brought some water for the tea,' Utano said with a jug in her hands. She keeps on quietly, 'Uta, you've made a great job... The atmosphere is good out there, I see my little trick was a success...' she smiled at me and continued in a pleasant mood '... whenever we walk them on the stairway path, they can't help themselves... on that... key part... with houses in which everything can be seen... At the beginning Uta, we always play it safe.' I took a jug pouring water into the kettle for boiling.

  'I almost ruined everything... oh - Utano... I was so nervous... they were silent - and, well... then came out the question that was not to be asked...'

  She interrupted me, 'Uta, don't worry. That's what I'm here for.'

  With relief, I continued. "Fortunately, you were right. When we climbed those stairs they forgot everything...' Our conversation was interrupted by a teapot sound for a moment. She wiped the tray to put the porcelain set on it.

  'Utano... did you - uh... find out who the ladies are?' Curiosity took the better of me.

  'Uta!' She quietly scolded me, but continued anyway, '... that's confidential information...' She drew even closer to me in the compact kitchen, and whispered in my ear, 'This is their first time...'

  I interrupted with a retort, 'I know.'

  'Hmm - then... I think they are wealthy... and certainly came through a recommendation from the Great House... that means a good voice is following us.' She added with a smile.

  'Oh... Utano, if they were directed here from the Great House, then we're on the list as one of the best houses in Yoshiwara.' I frantically exclaimed.

  'Uta, hash... they'll hear you.' Turning discreetly toward the door she went on. 'You've placed this teaspoon the wrong way, it has to be by the cup. Let's go now. It's time.'

  Utano picked up the tray afterward, putting up a slight smile, straightening her shoulders, and lifting her head. She began pacing toward the door. 'Utano... keep me safe today.' I added in a bit sad manner.

  She turned her head toward me - 'Uta, I'm your sister... I always keep you safe. Open the door for me now, let's go.'

  That's true, Utano is always here for me, but I'm just not entirely comfortable with situations like this one yet.

  Two more girls from our home, Kaoru and Hana, joined us in the room. I've heard their footsteps from the kitchen previously.

  Utano was utterly the most experienced intended during the serving. She was doing it with such ease while I still lacked in simple tea preparation. With the arrival of clients, Utano would turn from frisky to an elegant young lady who knows exactly what to say and when to say it. I think it's a long-time experience. It truly is the supreme perfection of the arts. And then there’s me.

  According to my present assignment, I should just sit, keep silent, and absorb everything. These clients that became the guests by coming into our house are having a delightful time. Before the tea was served, Mother gave them some sake with a couple of shunga sheets on the tray. Tea's just a formality anyway. It would be drunk as a part of a tradition, but in reality, sake is always flowing through their veins. Afterward, Utano started to recite the humorous stories from some old historical scriptures that had been given to her by Mother when she came of age. Each time, it sounded like the words had just been uttered for the first time and not like she told this story countless times. Ladies were laughing. Their faces flushed every time, more and more apparent, as they would turn a new sheet of carefully selected shungas, which is regularly refilled with new additions by our Mother.

  Kaoru stood up in sensual dancing moves, following Hana's instrument melody of notes soft like a whisper. With her sensual wriggle, the evolve of an event was more closely followed by the curious eyes of our guests. One of them leaned forward, capturing Mother’s attention with the excepted words spoken. Subtle smirk arose from the black glare, nodding her head towards Kaorus dance with Hanas note-producing skills.

  The music started to decrease. Kaoru moved slowly, in small steps, toward the table.

  Mother stood up.

  Her gesture instantly accompanied by the ladies on the futons. Kaoru hurried around the table to open the doors that are leading to a lobby. Utano looked at me. I waited for the last guest to arise before I stood to leave the table as well. Everyone except for Mother was led throughout the hallway by Kaoru.

  We were heading up the stairs to a large room where the culmination of such an evening would take place in a house like ours. The atmosphere is slowly calming down, laughter decreasing, intensifying the sounds of cracking floor under our steps. Shallow breathing could be heard just like it was when we were at the sto
ne steps.

  At the top of the staircase, there was a long six-story corridor. Three doors are located on each side of the wall, similar to ones that were separating the lobby from the reception room. Dark has fallen outside before some time now. The corridor is ominous like a dense forest. Lumines lamps are hanging from the ceiling, in front of each entrance, giving a faint indication where the particular room is located.

  Soft light is coming from the last room on the left side of the corridor, scattering through the rice paper like the whole room is a lantern. Kaoru reached to open the illuminated door when one of the ladies suddenly froze.

  While walking in front of me, Utano slowed down her pace. She approached the guest from behind, putting one hand on her waist and gently moving her lips to women's head so she could reach the stiffened ear. She uttered a few words and then circled around so she could be in front of the lady. Utano now stood facing me. She stared at me, leaning over her ear, whispering so silent as if the thick walls were separating us. As much as I tried to hear, it was impossible. I was watched by Utano as if I should remember everything she is saying now. At the end she lifted her head, giving Kaoru a sign that everything is fine now so the door could be spread open.

  We entered a large room lit by candles. The whole floor is filled with spacious futons. Two large windows are standing opposite the door through which a dark landscape could be seen, as the rain fell tirelessly, while even the smallest star did not brighten the sky. If someone would pay slightly better attention to the semi-illuminated walls, there could be recognized the scenes of young girls on expensive shungas. It was suggesting what Kaoru, Hana, and Utano will imitate tonight.

  I settled in the corner of the room so I wouldn't disturb anything. The ladies accommodated themselves on soft futons at all sides impatiently waiting for the first move of my housemates who were in the middle of this crescent. Each of them turned to one of the guests and started.