Chapter 34 Present Day #2
Yoshino smile and bowed. “Hai, there is always much confusion here. I am happy to answer this as many Japanese to this day don’t understand.
Tayū are the very highest rank of art entertainers.
Their rank was based on the social status of their guest. For tayū, we served nobility.
The orian, the prostitutes, began dressing like the tayū to get more customers. ”
Yoshino said something directly to Zoey, and they both laughed.
“The orian wore lighter kimono that could come off easier,” Zoey whispered to Julia.
“For me, as a modern day tayū, it is much different. You see, I am married.”
She stood with the help of her kamuro. “Now, if you would permit me, may I perform a special dance for you? It is one that your great-great-grandmother would have known as well.”
* * *
As Julia, Zoey, and the innkeeper walked to the nursing home, they seemed buoyed by their meeting with Yoshino tayū.
The traditional Japanese dance call Inishie, passed on through the generations for hundreds of years, translated to “a long time ago and far away” and was performed only by a tayū.
Even the innkeeper had never seen the dance and wiped away a tear, explaining the importance and privilege of witnessing it.
Watching her dance was like watching a delicate flower sway in a gentle summer breeze.
Performed with a folded letter, it had the aura of love lost, filled with symbolic movements and grace as the letter ended up over her heart.
Afterward, Yoshino explained that tayū represents the romantic idea of love.
Since physical satisfaction was not the guest’s primary goal to meet with them, the tayū were considered artists and entertainers, not courtesans.
Yoshino then sang and played the biwa, a short-necked lute for storytelling. Yoshino had finished their time with a traditional tea ceremony that flowed with elegance—truly living art.
It took only minutes to walk to the entrance of the nursing home where Julia, Zoey, and the innkeeper entered and bowed to the staff.
The receptionist recognized the innkeeper when she handed her the introductory note that Yoshino had written.
The receptionist was receptive to a meeting with the elderly tayū but warned them that the woman was very old and may not receive them.
Julia told Zoey to tell the receptionist that they sought information on Shibata Rikka tayū, although they did not know what name her great-great-grandmother had used.
After the receptionist left to inquire, they waited for what seemed like an eternity.
The nursing home had the familiar smell of strong antiseptic and urine that burned at Julia’s nostrils.
A sadness fell over her, watching the handful of both the elderly and the disabled confined to wheelchairs in various states of cognitive vegetation.
The receptionist finally returned and told the innkeeper, “Hai, she will see you, but she is in very poor health, so we ask that you keep the visit short and please wear masks. We just celebrated her one-hundred-and-thirteenth birthday last month.”
They donned masks and were escorted down a long corridor. With Japan known for its population of centenarians, Julia hoped this longevity was also part of her genetic makeup.
The receptionist entered first to the semi-private room and closed the curtain between the clients.
Once Julia saw the super-centenarian, she regretted coming.
The poor woman did not need disturbing. With very little hair, no teeth, and cloudy eyes, rheumatoid arthritis had badly deformed her body.
The nurses had bolstered her with pillows, carefully protecting every bony protrusion that tried poking through her paper-thin skin.
It was a cruel reminder of how the body finally gives way to organic decomposition.
The receptionist went to the head of the bed and spoke loudly to the woman. She introduced the guests while the woman chewed her gums. The information did not seem to register, but she moaned something, and the receptionist repeated, “Shibata Rikka” and pointed to Julia.
Julia reflexively bowed and was just about to tell everyone that they should not bother the poor woman, when the super-centenarian focused on Julia and asked her to remove her mask. Julia did what she was told and bowed again.
The elderly woman stared long and hard and finally said as clear as a bell, “Rikka tayū.”
Like a shot of adrenaline, the woman’s eyes cleared, and she asked that they readjust her pillows so she could sit up. She waved Julia to the bedside and patted her arm with her deformed hand, talking excitedly in Japanese and bowing.
Then she pointed to a handful of photographs lined up on the windowsill. She asked for one in particular.
After the nurse handed it to her, she hugged the framed picture to her chest. Then she held it out for Julia to see.
The worn and faded black-and-white photo showed a tayū in full regalia—an ornate headpiece, an elaborate kimono with the collar turned, a large obi tied in front with a bow, and bare feet balanced on tall black lacquer platform sandals.
An older, female attendant stood next to her.
Also at her side were two young kamuro dressed like the girls Julia had seen earlier.
A man stood behind the tayū holding a large umbrella.
With a bony finger, the elderly woman pointed at the youngest child in the photo and said, with Zoey translating, “This is me…four years old as a kamuro to Rikka tayū.” She handed the framed photo to Julia who stared at it in disbelief.
Just like when she’d looked at the picture bride photo, Julia stared back at herself.
“This is Shibata Rikka,” Julia declared, “my great-great-grandmother.”
“Hai, hai,” the old woman cheered and flashed a toothless smile. “You look just like I remember her.” She touched Julia’s arm again.
She took the picture back and pointed to the middle-aged woman standing next to Shibata Rikka. “This is her mother Shibata Mizuki. Mizuki means water lily. She is geisha. People called her Water Lily.”
Julia covered her mouth and gasped, “My great-great-great-grandmother. Is the man holding the umbrella my great-great-great-grandfather?”
A discussion ensued between the innkeeper and the old woman. Julia looked at Zoey to translate, but Zoey held up her hand as she tried to understand.
“The man is simply a worker at the okiya, the home where they lived,” Zoey finally said.
“It sounds like your great-great-great-grandfather died young, perhaps shortly after Rikka was born, and that is why your relative became geisha. That is how she supported them. She worked very hard to help her daughter succeed as a tayū.”
Zoey stopped talking to continue to listen. She kept glancing back and forth at Julia, increasing Julia’s anxiety. Once the elderly women stopped talking, Zoey asked the innkeeper several questions.
Zoey turned back to Julia and said, “Well, this is getting pretty interesting. Your great-great-great-grandfather was hatamoto…a guardian of the banner…a high-ranking samurai in direct service to the Shōgun.” Zoey made a wide-eyed face to Julia.
“And…your great-great-great-grandmother was a daughter of the Shōgun himself. It seems like you are some kind of royalty.”
Both the innkeeper and the elderly lady bowed to Julia.
Julia’s mind swirled and her knees weakened.
“Rikka tayū was most beautiful and talented,” the old woman said. “When Rikka left us, I continued my training with Yoshino tayū, another woman in our home.”
“Why did Rikka tayū leave?” Julia asked.
“It was simply her time to retire. I still remember the celebration for her.” She smiled another toothless grin and spoke to the innkeeper, who turned and opened the bottom drawer of the dresser at the end of the bed. The smell of antiquity and mothballs filled the room.
The innkeeper pulled a bundle of fabric from the drawer and handed it to the super-centenarian.
The woman gently smoothed down the cloth, grinned and held it out to Julia. “This is the obi, the belt she is wearing in the photograph. I want you to have it.”
Julia’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, my…I am so honored. Thank you.” She bowed to the woman.
“Have you come to learn to be a tayū?” the woman asked.
“I am becoming a doctor,” Julia said proudly.
“That is such a shame. You would make such a beautiful Rikka tayū.”