Read Online The Pillow Book of the Flower Samurai by Barbara Lazar - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Lazar
Ads: Link
mother. Two months since I had seen her. I pushed thoughts of my family far away. With no idea of what would happen next, I needed to keep my thoughts directed.
The Hats formed a line along the stream, starting with Dark Violet Hat, Goro and Chiba. Tashiko led me forward, between the stream and the Hats. With her arm wrapped around mine, I strolled by each Hat. Tashiko’s body did not tremble. Perhaps they would not beat or hit us.
Tashiko stopped at Dark Violet Hat, who took a breath and exhaled – on her – and then on me. His breath reeked.
I waited.
Nothing else.
Tashiko squeezed my arm. Perhaps there would be no punishment. She pulled me on to the next Hat. Was this the culmination of the entire festival, being puffed with their breath?
I had to work to keep my expression neutral and not cough, despite the mouth-stench mixed with their heavy perfumes. The smells made my stomach clench. I imitated Tashiko and maintained my posture. I wanted to hold my nose.
When we arrived at Goro, Tashiko shuddered. His hand stroked her face, and he panted in and out on her. He did the same with me. His hand was cool and smooth, like snake skin. How fitting, since this was the First Day of the Snake in this Third Month.
Last . . . Chiba. I stood still and faced him. I glanced, but he did not have the switch. He made blustery sounds and wheezed. He put one hand on my chest and the other on Tashiko’s. I turned my head to Tashiko.
He pushed me!
Tashiko and I plopped backwards into the shallow stream. The cool water shocked me. My costume was wet! Ruined?
All the men whooped again.
No one was upset.
Tashiko inspected me, opened her mouth and howled in glee. Her hair had changed to long wet grass, decorating her clothes and especially her face. Charcoal streaked black from her forehead and eyes through the dripping white rice paste. The red on her mouth smudged her chin and dribbled off. The more she hooted, the faster the streaking and dripping, smudging and dribbling.
She shrieked. I laughed. She and I sat in the stream, gazing at each other melting – giggling, chortling and chuckling. I had hardly ever seen her laugh.
That night after I had bathed, she and I each ate a big bowl of white rice with fish slices on top. The meal included special flattened square rice cakes, coloured red on top, white in the middle and green on the bottom.
‘Once a year, hishi-mochi ,’ Tashiko explained. ‘Red chases away evil spirits. White for purity and green for health.’
Tashiko ate the red first, next the white and last the green. I did the same. Delicious. I also munched sakura-mochi . When I asked, she showed me that the inside was filled with bean paste and wrapped with cherry leaves.
I feasted and chatted with Tashiko, listening to Proprietor Chiba and the Hats celebrating with their banquet by the stream.
When Proprietor Chiba came the following morning, he brought gifts: for me, a doll dressed in the beautiful colours of our kimonos, and for Tashiko, a section of the Lotus Sutra, her favourite, silver and gold squiggles on dark blue paper. Tashiko told me the squiggles were words. I asked her to teach me to read.
She began my reading lessons the next day, the beginning of that first spring. To my other questions she said, ‘The dolls protect them from sorrows. By blowing on the dolls or on us, the fancies think they rid themselves of their their sins, their bad luck. When they throw the dolls or us,’ she giggled, ‘into running water, the water carries away their impurities.’
That night Tashiko and I cuddled and chuckled ourselves to sleep. She whispered to me, ‘Chiba’s sh ō en is the only one with living dolls.’
‘I suppose Goro and Chiba have not yet earned their Hats.’
Tashiko giggled again. A beautiful sound.
V. Six More Weapons
For a long time my job was to maintain the equipment. Then Akio made me practise with the glove and the arrow. With them, I practised readying the bow, then the draw
The Hats formed a line along the stream, starting with Dark Violet Hat, Goro and Chiba. Tashiko led me forward, between the stream and the Hats. With her arm wrapped around mine, I strolled by each Hat. Tashiko’s body did not tremble. Perhaps they would not beat or hit us.
Tashiko stopped at Dark Violet Hat, who took a breath and exhaled – on her – and then on me. His breath reeked.
I waited.
Nothing else.
Tashiko squeezed my arm. Perhaps there would be no punishment. She pulled me on to the next Hat. Was this the culmination of the entire festival, being puffed with their breath?
I had to work to keep my expression neutral and not cough, despite the mouth-stench mixed with their heavy perfumes. The smells made my stomach clench. I imitated Tashiko and maintained my posture. I wanted to hold my nose.
When we arrived at Goro, Tashiko shuddered. His hand stroked her face, and he panted in and out on her. He did the same with me. His hand was cool and smooth, like snake skin. How fitting, since this was the First Day of the Snake in this Third Month.
Last . . . Chiba. I stood still and faced him. I glanced, but he did not have the switch. He made blustery sounds and wheezed. He put one hand on my chest and the other on Tashiko’s. I turned my head to Tashiko.
He pushed me!
Tashiko and I plopped backwards into the shallow stream. The cool water shocked me. My costume was wet! Ruined?
All the men whooped again.
No one was upset.
Tashiko inspected me, opened her mouth and howled in glee. Her hair had changed to long wet grass, decorating her clothes and especially her face. Charcoal streaked black from her forehead and eyes through the dripping white rice paste. The red on her mouth smudged her chin and dribbled off. The more she hooted, the faster the streaking and dripping, smudging and dribbling.
She shrieked. I laughed. She and I sat in the stream, gazing at each other melting – giggling, chortling and chuckling. I had hardly ever seen her laugh.
That night after I had bathed, she and I each ate a big bowl of white rice with fish slices on top. The meal included special flattened square rice cakes, coloured red on top, white in the middle and green on the bottom.
‘Once a year, hishi-mochi ,’ Tashiko explained. ‘Red chases away evil spirits. White for purity and green for health.’
Tashiko ate the red first, next the white and last the green. I did the same. Delicious. I also munched sakura-mochi . When I asked, she showed me that the inside was filled with bean paste and wrapped with cherry leaves.
I feasted and chatted with Tashiko, listening to Proprietor Chiba and the Hats celebrating with their banquet by the stream.
When Proprietor Chiba came the following morning, he brought gifts: for me, a doll dressed in the beautiful colours of our kimonos, and for Tashiko, a section of the Lotus Sutra, her favourite, silver and gold squiggles on dark blue paper. Tashiko told me the squiggles were words. I asked her to teach me to read.
She began my reading lessons the next day, the beginning of that first spring. To my other questions she said, ‘The dolls protect them from sorrows. By blowing on the dolls or on us, the fancies think they rid themselves of their their sins, their bad luck. When they throw the dolls or us,’ she giggled, ‘into running water, the water carries away their impurities.’
That night Tashiko and I cuddled and chuckled ourselves to sleep. She whispered to me, ‘Chiba’s sh ō en is the only one with living dolls.’
‘I suppose Goro and Chiba have not yet earned their Hats.’
Tashiko giggled again. A beautiful sound.
V. Six More Weapons
For a long time my job was to maintain the equipment. Then Akio made me practise with the glove and the arrow. With them, I practised readying the bow, then the draw
Similar Books
