The Iris Fan

41

A noise like fireworks roused Taeko from a drugged sleep. Her body was stiff from lying in bed too long, her head ached, and the pillow under it was wet. Her eyes were sore, swollen, and crusted, and her mouth tasted sour. She smelled gunpowder and heard shouting and booms outside as she remembered her quarrel with Masahiro.

It was over between them. He was with his wife.

Taeko began to cry again. More firecrackers exploded. She didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was Masahiro. He’d betrayed her, and she’d said terrible things to him, and he’d left her even though he knew about the baby. She hated him! And yet she still loved him so much.

She wished Kikuko would die. Maybe then Masahiro would come back to Taeko. Kikuko was young and healthy, but she might catch a disease or have an accident. But that seemed impossible. So did having the baby. Taeko remembered a pregnant servant girl who’d jumped off the Ryōgoku Bridge and drowned. The idea appealed to Taeko. If she were dead, she wouldn’t feel this pain anymore, and when Masahiro saw her drowned body, he would be sorry about how he’d treated her. He would realize how much he loved her and he would hurt the way she was hurting now.

But even as she imagined walking to the bridge and climbing over the rail, she knew she couldn’t do it. She could kill herself but not the baby she loved so much. Taeko curled up and wept in helpless despair. What was she going to do?

* * *

“Mama, I’m scared,” Kikuko said.

She and Lady Yanagisawa sat in their chamber in the Mori estate, listening to the gunfire outside. “Don’t worry, darling.” Lady Yanagisawa stroked Kikuko’s long hair. “Everything will be all right.”

She kept her voice calm; she mustn’t let Kikuko know how afraid she was. Half her fear was for herself and Kikuko. Any moment the enemy could break into the estate. Half was for Yanagisawa. He could be killed during his attack on Edo Castle. Her lips moved in silent prayer. Please let him be safe! And under that prayer, like the second voice in a duet, came the usual one: Please make him love me!

A cannon boomed. The black smear of blood from the hemorrhage in her eye jittered across her vision as Lady Yanagisawa started. Kikuko wailed. Lady Yanagisawa said, “It’s just noise. It can’t hurt you.”

But her husband’s chief retainer had warned her, The enemy soldiers could rape and torture you and your daughter. You should be prepared. Lady Yanagisawa glanced at the long, flat black lacquer box on the floor beside her. It contained a knife. Should the enemy come, she must kill Kikuko and herself, to spare them the pain and indignity, to preserve their honor.

“I’ll tell you your favorite story,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “In a land far away, there was a magic garden. The sky was always blue. The sun shone every day. The trees never lost their leaves because it was always summer.”

“And the flowers were all the colors of the rainbow,” Kikuko said. She knew the story by heart. Her tense body relaxed.

“And all the animals could talk.”

“All the deer, and the birds, and the squirrels, and the rabbits, and the butterflies.”

“In the garden, in a little cottage, lived a father, a mother…”

“And their beautiful daughter who looked just like me.” Kikuko smiled.

“The father was very handsome. The mother was very plain, but he loved her very much. And they loved their little girl.” Lady Yanagisawa smiled, too, caught up in the fantasy she’d invented years ago. “The father played the samisen. The mother sang happy songs.”

“And the little girl played with her friends, the animals who could talk.”

“There were no other people, but they were never lonely, because they had each other.”

The sound of someone shrieking and running interrupted the story. Lady Yanagisawa and Kikuko looked up in fright. Lady Yanagisawa felt a cold sensation in her chest, like icicles dripping.

“Wait here.” She disentangled herself from Kikuko.

Kikuko clutched at her skirts as she rose. “Mama, don’t leave me alone.”

“I have to see what’s wrong. I’ll be right back.” Lady Yanagisawa ran down the corridor and stopped at the threshold of the room where Lady Someko knelt with her arms clasped around her stomach, rocking back and forth as she shrieked. Her face was ugly with pain and tear-blotched makeup.

Lady Yanagisawa disliked Lady Someko and rarely spoke to her, but she had to ask. “What’s wrong?”

Lady Someko looked up with eyes as glazed as a blind woman’s. “Yanagisawa is dead! He’s been killed in the war!”

A thump in her chest struck Lady Yanagisawa, as if her heart were wood split by an axe. Her voice burst from her in a whispered plea. “No!”

“It’s true,” Lady Someko said, hoarse and breathless. “Sano did it. Yanagisawa is gone! I’m free of him!” She laughed exultantly as she wept.

Lady Yanagisawa felt an internal shattering, as if her bones were fracturing, organs rupturing. Yanagisawa was dead. He would never love her. The destruction within her released emotions like gases from decaying meat. Anguish and fury spewed. Reiko’s husband had killed her husband. Reiko, whom she envied and hated, must have been involved somehow. Lady Yanagisawa wanted to find Reiko, claw her beautiful face, and strangle her. She wanted to lie down and mourn for Yanagisawa and never get up.

“Mama, Mama!” Kikuko called.

Blind maternal instinct propelled Lady Yanagisawa toward her child. The invisible tie that had bound her to Yanagisawa was severed. Her body was like a Bunraku puppet whose sticks were animated by a one-handed puppeteer. She fell to her knees beside Kikuko. As she sobbed, her eyes gushed tears as thick and salty as blood.

“Mama, why are you crying?” Kikuko anxiously patted her face.

Lady Yanagisawa tried to take comfort from the fact that she still had her daughter, but half a reason for existing wasn’t enough. She couldn’t bear to live without Yanagisawa. But if she didn’t go on living, Kikuko would be alone in a cruel world with nobody to love her. A thought ripened in Lady Yanagisawa’s mind, as seductively sweet as a poisonous fruit. Even as it filled her with horror, she knew what she had to do.

“Lie down,” she said, “and we’ll finish the story.” Kikuko obediently laid her head in Lady Yanagisawa’s lap. “Let’s close our eyes and go on a trip to the magic garden.”

Kikuko smiled; her long-lashed eyelids closed. She loved make-believe. “Can I play with the talking rabbits?”

Lady Yanagisawa wept as she said, “Yes.” She opened the lacquer box and removed the black-handled knife. Gunfire boomed, distant and sporadic. Lady Yanagisawa gazed through her tears at her daughter’s innocent face. Before her resolve could waver, she slashed the knife across Kikuko’s smooth white throat.

Blood spurted from the gash, drenching their robes, the floor. Kikuko jerked and stiffened. Her eyes snapped open. She stared up in pain, fright, and confusion at Lady Yanagisawa. Her lips parted. Blood oozed from them as they shaped the silent word, Mama!

Horrified by what she’d done, Lady Yanagisawa sobbed and moaned. “You’re going to the magic garden, my love.” Kikuko choked; she went limp as the life faded from her eyes. “Your father is there waiting for you. I’m coming soon. We’ll all be happy together.”

Lady Yanagisawa raised the red, dripping knife and slashed her own throat.

* * *

Alone in her bed, Taeko came to a reckoning with reality. The baby would be born in a few months, and she had to plan for its future even though she didn’t want to face her own. The knowledge strengthened a will she hadn’t known she possessed. She sat up and dried her tears on the sleeve of her robe, surprised to learn that this was what it meant to be grown up-putting her child’s needs first.

Taeko dragged herself out of bed, shivering in the cold, and trudged down the corridor. The fireworks sounded far away. Somewhere in the house a woman was shrieking. Taeko wasn’t curious enough to find out who or why. She had to apologize to Masahiro and ask him to take her back. She would be his concubine so that she and the baby would have a place to live and he would support them. She would put aside her pride for the baby’s sake … and because she was still in love with Masahiro and wanted to be with him no matter what the conditions were.

What if Masahiro and Kikuko were making love? She would wait patiently until they were finished, and she would pretend not to care. She would throw herself on his mercy.

She reached the section of the guest quarters where the Yanagisawa family lived. Through an open door she saw the shrieking woman. It was Lady Someko, kneeling and rocking back and forth. Midori and Magistrate Ueda stood outside a nearby room. Midori was leaning over, her hand to her head, as if fainting, while Magistrate Ueda supported her. They saw Taeko.

Midori cried, “Don’t look in there!” Magistrate Ueda put out his hand to stop Taeko, but she was determined to go through with her decision. She pushed past him and her mother into the room.

Masahiro wasn’t there. Kikuko lay on her back; her eyes gazed up at the ceiling; her mouth was open in an expression of frightened surprise. Her complexion was as white as ice, a shocking contrast to the bright red and pink kimono she wore and the bright red ribbon around her neck. Her head rested on a long, thick, gray and dark red pillow. Taeko frowned, puzzled by the strange sight. Then she saw the ribbon around Kikuko’s neck drip thick red droplets into a red puddle that covered the tatami. She smelled the sweet, salty, iron smell, and her stomach flipped. The puddle was blood. So was the red pattern on Kikuko’s clothes. The ribbon was a gash across Kikuko’s throat. The pillow was a woman wearing a bloodstained gray kimono-Lady Yanagisawa. Her face was white, too, her throat also cut, her eyes blank and filmy. The blood puddle framed her head. Beside her hand lay a knife covered with her blood and her daughter’s.

Masahiro’s wife is dead.

Taeko couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t really wanted Masahiro’s wife to die. But she had wished it, and her wish had come horribly true. Taeko screamed and screamed and screamed.