Chapter 34 Present Day
PRESENT DAY
JULIA
Julia and Zoey lay across their futon beds on the second floor of the Kinse Inn, lost in thought.
The upper rooms were simply elegant: floors covered in tatami rice straw mats, separated by shoji, rice paper-screen sliding doors, and traditional futon bedding on the floor.
They had spent all afternoon exploring Shimabara, and even though the district was only a few acres in size, it seemed they were light years away from deeply knowing Julia’s great-great-grandmother and great-great-great-grandmother.
Zoey reclined on her back and admired her anime figurine. Julia laid on the futon on her stomach, propped on her elbows, and wrote in her journal:
The Sumiya, now the Cultural Art Museum, has stood since the Edo period of the 17th century.
Originally established as a prestigious teahouse for the samurai, it grew into an exclusive venue for tayū entertainment and banquets.
The building is remarkably and beautifully preserved.
As a meeting place for the elite supporting the Shōgun, we entered through the same doors as the samurai where a sword rack stands and an antique chest sits for safe storage of weapons.
Our tour guide was quick to point out the sword slash on one post near the entrance and the legends that surrounded rambunctious nights.
Beautiful wood and bamboo walls decorated with ancient paintings or tapestries.
The floors covered in tatami mats. Echoes of history and elegance—fierce and honorable military men, beautiful women dressed in their finest kimono, hair ornaments and makeup—fill the area like incense.
Hallways that lead to tranquil Japanese gardens or the enormous kitchen where chefs prepared meals meant for royalty.
A brilliantly colored flying peacock set on a gold background covers one entire wall.
A room partition displayed with a mother-of-pearl dragon.
A stairway leads to the upstairs banquet hall where geisha and tayū entertained, surrounded by stunning tapestries.
Mind blowing accommodations three hundred and fifty years ago—remain stunning now.
It's the only remaining ageya surviving of its time. Shibata Rikka and Shibata Mizuki, were you here? Did you grace these walls with your presence?
“Man, did you see the innkeeper’s eyes light up when you showed her the picture of your great-great-grandmother and the back with the handwritten note?” Zoey broke the stillness to ask.
Julia glanced up, as if out of a dream.
“Dude, you’re the rock star,” Zoey insisted. “When she saw the name of Yoshino tayū, I thought she might cry. She touched your arm like you’re a ghost from the past. What do you think she has planned for us tomorrow?”
* * *
The next morning, as they shared tea in the main room, the innkeeper seemed nervously smitten with her secret.
“Okay, I cannot stand another moment without telling you about my surprise,” she said through Zoey’s translation.
“Any moment a real live tayū will be here. In a million years, I did not think this was possible, but when I called her manager, and they found out you’re related to Yoshino tayū, they did not hesitate.
There are only four living tayū in the world. This is a great honor.”
As she shared her secret, a van pulled to the front of the inn, the side door opened, and it was as though they had all stepped back in time.
The most elegant and beautiful of women stepped from the van with the help of two young girls dressed in brilliant red kimono.
The woman was magnificent from head to toe: coiffured black hair adorned with stunning hair ornaments and a crown of mother-of-pearl, accented with flowers and dangling silver that shimmered in the sun; a face painted white as snow; artistically applied eye makeup; and a bottom lip highlighted in brilliant red.
She wore an ornate kimono of multiple layers, each complementing the other with reds and golds and delicately embroidered peacock feathers; and a patterned gold sash with a huge bow tied in front hiding her hands underneath.
The innkeeper and her husband bowed deeply, as did the few passersby who witnessed this vision—this revered woman. Julia found herself both mesmerized and dazzled in her presence, and she bowed deeply as well.
The woman practically floated from the van to the door of the inn on large, black lacquer platform sandals.
She shocked Julia by stopping in front of her.
She bowed and said, as Zoey translated, “Julia-san, it is a great honor to meet someone connected to Yoshino tayū of days of old. My name is Yoshino tayū and I am from Shimabara.”
Julia looked at Zoey to make sure she’d understood, while Zoey spoke to the woman in Japanese. Zoey turned to Julia and said, “Yes, you heard correctly, Yoshino tayū. Apparently, tayū pass down their famous names.”
Yoshino continued, “The most famous of tayū in all of history was Yoshino tayū, who lived in the 17th century, over three-hundred-fifty years ago. She started her training at seven years of age and made her debut at fourteen. She is buried at the Jōshō-ji temple here in Kyoto. We have a procession each April to celebrate her life.”
Julia searched the dark eyes of this connection to her heritage, not sure what to say or do next, but trying to calculate how many generations separated this woman from the Yoshino tayū connected to her great-great-grandmother.
Fortunately, the innkeeper came to her rescue, “Yoshino tayū-san, please let us get you out of the hot sun,” she said and extended a hand for them to proceed inside. Then she led them upstairs to the main room where they all sat or knelt on the tatami mats.
Julia watched the woman move with a grace and coordination that she had never witnessed, every movement ordained and orchestrated.
Her two young attendants arranged the tayū’s beautiful kimono just so and then knelt to her right.
Their faces were also painted white with just the middle lower lip in red.
“Julia-san, you must have many questions for me. Permit me to answer a few that are always asked,” she said and smiled.
Her teeth were as black as coal. “Hai, this is always one of the first questions. Why do we blacken our teeth? In the olden days, it was considered rude to show white teeth at the Imperial Palace and became the standard of beauty…like the beautiful sheen of a black lacquered bowl.” She laughed softly.
“I know this custom makes westerners quite uncomfortable.”
Julia watched as the elaborate hair piece danced with the woman’s movement.
“Yes, this is my real hair. Like your silken hair, it is quite long. Sadly, there are only two people left in the world who are skilled enough to style my hair and arrange this beautiful head piece. It weighs almost ten pounds. My kimono weighs forty pounds and has been passed down through centuries. See how my collar is turned down on my right side and shows the red underneath? This identifies that I am tayū. In days of old, this was our passport into the Imperial Palace. We were the only women allowed near the Emperor.”
“Thank you…you are so beautiful,” Julia stammered.
Yoshino placed both hands on the ground and bowed. “You are as well, Julia-san. You honor me with your presence. Please ask me questions you might have.”
Julia hardly knew where to start, but remembered the photo. “My great-great-grandmother’s picture says she was little sister to Yoshino tayū, probably around 1900.”
“Oh hai,” she said and turned to the two young girls kneeling to her right.
“These are my kamuro…my little sisters.” She signaled for the girls to stand and spin in their red kimono.
One girl looked about ten years old and the other a few years younger.
“Both girls came to me at around five years of age to learn. Their parents sent them to me to learn etiquette and manners, but we teach them the ways of the tayū—musical instruments, dance, tea ceremony, art and poetry, and even iaido…the way of the sword.”
“My great-great-grandmother came to America in 1917 at the age of twenty-three. Would she have become a picture bride as a tayū?”
“That is an excellent question and one I’m afraid I cannot answer. You must understand there was much social unrest and economic hardships during that time. Each person had to do what they could to survive.”
“Do you keep records of the women?”
The woman exhaled loudly, “Oh, I’m afraid there are not such records like that to trace your family line.”
She turned to the innkeeper, and a discussion ensued.
The innkeeper turned to Julia, “Most of this history is passed down orally. However, here in Japan, there is something called the koseki and the joseki tōhon. The koseki is the official Japanese family register that records most of the important events: births, deaths, marriages, etc. The joseki tōhon records when someone has been removed from the koseki, like in a death or divorce. These are all kept by the local city office. Do you know what city your family is from?”
“All I know is the man she married was from Shizuoka City. Is that helpful?”
“Possibly. If your relative was a picture bride, it would be very common to originate from the same district,” the innkeeper said.
Yoshino again addressed the innkeeper.
Then the innkeeper turned to Julia. “Yes, this is an excellent idea. Do you remember the place on our tour that I said was marked as the dance hall and is now a nursing home? The oldest living tayū lives there. She is a centenarian. I don’t know how her memory is, but it’s possible she has more information. ”
Julia bowed to Yoshino and hesitated at the burning question in her mind. It was now or never. “Please, I’m sorry to ask this. My Obāchan wonders…she is afraid that our heritage is that of a…prostitute.”