An interesting theory.
After another failure, he decided that it must be his familiarity with Shigeko’s body and with her responses to his lovemaking that had deflated his lust. He closed his eyes and resorted to imagining the soft flesh beneath him to be Toshiko’s virginal body. This worked astonishingly well, but at the moment of penetration, reality prevailed and he failed again.
It was a disaster and an embarrassment.
He disentangled himself from the covers, murmured an apology, and left his wife’s bed. Throwing on his robe and scooping up his slippers, he retreated to his own room.
The Doctor’s Orphans
The day after Sadamu’s mother was cremated at Toribeno — a trip that had taken them past the cloister palace and filled Doctor Yamada with intense longing — he decided that he must put the past from his mind and begin his life anew.
His first step was to inform Otori when she brought him his morning gruel.
“Otori,” he said without preamble, “I have decided to adopt the boys.”
She gaped at him. “What? What boys? There’s only the one.”
“No, there are two. You have forgotten Boy.”
For a moment she looked confused. Then she cried, “You are mad, Doctor. That one? That useless scum? The one that bites the hand that feeds him? The one whose face is as crooked as a demon’s because he has a demon’s soul?”
“He is a boy like any other,” insisted the doctor, “and like Sadamu he needs a family. I have no family myself but the means to support one. It is good fortune that has brought us together.”
She forgot all about her position in the house and plopped down on the mat across from him. “Listen to me,” she said fiercely, shaking a finger in his face. “I have looked after you since you were no higher than Sadamu. And what a handful you’ve been to me! You say you have no family? Well, you’re the son I never had. As a mother, I say to you now: do not shame yourself and your family by associating with low scum. You are a Yamada. You were born to be a lord and have many servants and many children by fine ladies. But you go and become a doctor, and being a doctor, you go to live among the poor. And now you want to be like them. Have you gone mad? What of your own children? Will you have them take second best after those two guttersnipes?” She burst into tears.
Yamada saw that she was truly upset. What she had said about having raised him was true enough. The care of the youngest children in a noble household fell to a reliable maid, and she had raised him as if he were her own. She was entitled to her reaction. Servants took enormous pride in the status of their masters, and he had sadly disappointed her.
“Otori,” he tried to explain, “I have no children of my own and I shall never marry. I’m lonely and shall be lonelier still when I grow old. Let me do this for the boys and for myself. You will see, it will be good to have children’s laughter in this house.”
She wiped away her tears and stared at him. “Why won’t you take a wife?” she asked suspiciously.
“I . . . there is no one I want to live with,” he said lamely. Oh, dear heaven, the lie almost strangled him.
Otori’s eyes narrowed. “You prefer boys to women maybe?” she asked, pursing her lips in disapproval.
He did not understand immediately, then he laughed. “No, Otori.”
“But then why not take a wife? You’ll see how nice a woman can be. Your trouble is just that you haven’t tried it. You’re a good-looking man. Your wife will think herself lucky to warm your bed and bear your children.”
“No, Otori. I will never marry. Now bring the boys in.”
But Otori burst into fresh floods of tears. “I don’t understand,” she wailed. “Please make me understand. What is wrong?”
Her grief shamed him, and he decided to tell her the truth. “Hush,” he said. “It is a secret. You must never speak of it to anyone. Promise me?”
Her tear-drenched face filled with half-fearful curiosity. She paused her sobbing and nodded.
“I met someone, but I cannot ask her to be my wife. And I will not live with any other woman. It would not be fair to this other woman, for I should always think less of her because she was not the one I want. Do you understand now?”
Otori sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Then she nodded. “Who is she? Does she already have a husband?”
“I cannot tell you. Now go bring the boys.”
When Otori returned with his “sons,” Yamada had a moment’s misgivings. Sadamu was all very well. He was only five and showed some promise of growing into a man who was at least ordinary looking. Otori’s ministrations had made enough of a change to hint even at handsomeness. But Boy was discouraging. As Otori had pointed out, his appearance matched his reputation for thievery and untrustworthiness. He was lean rather than skinny these days because he got enough to eat, but he had never lost his furtive look and manner. Boy was tall, with narrow shoulders, a long neck, a broken nose which gave his face its lopsided appearance, a long chin and a crooked grin. His eyes were deep-set and wild, and his hands and feet overly large. At the moment, his arms dangled at his sides, and he was casting quick appraising glances around the room and at Yamada’s face, as if he were gauging his chances of grabbing some item of value and making a run for it.
Yamada sighed. “Boy,” he said, “have you been happy here?”
Boy’s eyes sharpened. His head bobbed up and down eagerly. “Yes, Master. Very happy. Thank you, Master.” Boy’s voice had changed. This emphasized the unpleasant tone.
“How old are you now? About sixteen?”
A lifting of the shoulders.
“I cannot go on calling you ‘Boy.’ You’ll be a man soon. What name do you want to be called?”
That astonished the youth. His sharp eyes scanned Yamada’s face. Then he grinned more widely. The effect was that of a trickster trying to ingratiate himself, but he answered readily enough, “Sadahira, Master. Like you.”
Yamada was taken aback. He glanced at the smaller boy, who looked mildly puzzled. “That name is taken,” the doctor said stiffly. “Pick another one.”
A stubborn look came into the older boy’s face. “Why can’t I have that name? If he’s Sadamu, I want to be Sadahira.”
Here were already the first signs of jealousy between the boys. Yamada’s sudden decision appeared fraught with difficulties. Otori thought so, too. She grunted and snapped, “I told you he was worthless and ungrateful. You’re a fool if you go through with it.”
Her words had an interesting effect on Boy. He glanced quickly from Otori to Yamada. A calculating expression replaced the stubborn look. He said, “Sorry, Master. You must pick my name. I shall be proud to bear it.”
“Very well. Then you shall be Hachiro. It is an honorable name in my family, and I shall expect you not to bring shame to it.”
The newly named Hachiro bowed again. “Thank you, Master. It is a fine name.”
“The reason I have called you both,” Yamada continued, impatient now to get it over with before he lost his nerve at the older boy’s manner, “is that I have decided to adopt both of you. It means that this is now your home. You will receive an education suitable for sons of mine, and after my death you will inherit my property in the way I see fit to bestow it. In return, I expect obedience, filial behavior, earnest effort at the chores I set you, and honesty. Do you accept?”
Hachiro flushed, then said fervently, “Yes, Master, I will. Thank you.”