Reality had soon cured her of this notion.”Girls don’t become magistrates when they grow up,” scoffed her teachers and friends.”They marry, raise children, and serve their husbands.”
And Reiko had overheard her grandmother telling Magistrate Ueda, “It isn’t right to treat Reiko like a boy. If you don’t stop these ridiculous lessons, she’ll never learn her place in the world. She must be taught some feminine accomplishments, or she’ll never get a husband.”
Magistrate Ueda had compromised, continuing the lessons but also engaging teachers to instruct Reiko in sewing, flower arranging, music, and the tea ceremony. And still she had clung to her dreams. Her life would be different from other women’s: She would have adventures; she would achieve glory.
Then, when Reiko was fifteen, her grandmother had persuaded the magistrate that it was time for her to marry. Her first miai-the formal meeting between a prospective bride and groom and their families- had taken place at Zōjō Temple. Reiko, who had observed the lives of her aunts and cousins, didn’t want to marry at all. She knew that wives must obey every command and cater to every whim of their husbands, passively enduring insults or abuse. Even the most respected man could be a tyrant in his own home, forbidding his wife to speak, forcing physical attentions upon her, begetting one child after another until her health failed, then neglecting her to dally with concubines or prostitutes. While men came and went as they pleased, a wife of Reiko’s social class stayed home unless given her husband’s permission to attend religious ceremonies or family functions. Servants relieved her of household chores, but kept her idle, useless. To Reiko, marriage seemed like a trap to be avoided at all cost. And her first suitor did nothing to change her mind.
He was a rich, high-ranking Tokugawa bureaucrat. He was also fat, forty, and stupid; during a picnic under the blossoming cherry trees, he got extremely drunk, making lewd remarks about his patronage of the Yoshiwara courtesans. To Reiko’s horror, she saw that her grandmother and the go-between didn’t share her revulsion; the social and financial advantages of the match blinded them to the man’s flaws. Magistrate Ueda would not meet Reiko’s gaze, and she sensed that he wanted to break off the negotiations but couldn’t find an acceptable reason for doing so. Reiko decided to take matters into her own hands.
“Do you think there was any way Japan could have conquered Korea ninety-eight years ago, instead of having to give up and withdraw the troops?” she asked the bureaucrat.
“Why, I-I’m sure I don’t know,” he blustered, eyeing her with surprise.”I never thought about it.”
But Reiko had. While her grandmother and the go-between stared in dismay and her father tried to hide a smile, she stated her opinion- that Japanese victory over Korea could have been achieved-giving explanations at great length. The next day, the bureaucrat ended the marriage negotiations with a letter that read, “Miss Reiko is too forward, impertinent, and disrespectful to make a good wife. Good luck finding someone else to marry her.”
Subsequent miai with other unattractive men had ended similarly. Reiko’s family protested, scolded, and finally gave up in despair. She rejoiced. Then, on her nineteenth birthday, Magistrate Ueda summoned her to his office and said sadly, “Daughter, I understand your reluctance to marry; it’s my own fault for encouraging your interest in unfeminine pursuits. But I won’t be able to take care of you forever. You need a husband to protect you when I am dead and gone.”
“Father, I’m educated, I can fight, I can take care of myself,” Reiko protested, though she knew he spoke the truth. Women did not hold government posts, run businesses, or work as anything other than servants, farm laborers, nuns, or prostitutes. These options repelled Reiko, as did the prospect of living on the charity of relatives. She bowed her head, acknowledging defeat.
“We’ve received a new marriage proposal,” Magistrate Ueda said, “and please don’t ruin the negotiations, because we may never get another. It’s from Sano Ichirō, the shogun’s most honorable investigator.”
Reiko’s head snapped up. She knew of Sōsakan Sano, as did everyone in Edo. She had heard rumors of Sano’s courage, and a great but secret service he’d performed for the shogun. Her interest stirred. Wanting to see this famous wonder, she consented to the miai.
And Sano didn’t disappoint her. As she and Magistrate Ueda strolled the grounds of Kannei Temple with the go-between, Sano, and his mother, Reiko eyed Sano covertly. Tall and strong, with a proud, noble bearing, he was younger than any of her other suitors, and by far the handsomest. As formal custom dictated, they didn’t speak directly to each other, but intelligence shone in his eyes, echoed in his voice. Best of all, Reiko knew he was leading the hunt for the Bundori Killer, whose grisly murders had plunged Edo into terror. He wasn’t a lazy drunk who neglected duty for the revels of Yoshiwara. He delivered dangerous killers to justice. To Reiko, he seemed the embodiment of the warrior heroes she’d worshipped since childhood. She had a chance to share his exciting life. And when she looked at Sano, an unfamiliar, pleasurable warmth spread through her body. Marriage suddenly didn’t look so bad. As soon as they got home, Reiko told Magistrate Ueda to accept the proposal.
When the wedding date was set, however, Reiko’s doubts about marriage resurfaced. Her female relatives counseled her to obey and serve her husband; the gifts-kitchen utensils, sewing supplies, home furnishings-symbolized the domestic role she must assume. Her books and swords remained at the Ueda mansion. Hope had flared briefly at the wedding, inspired by the sight of Sano, as handsome as she remembered; but now Reiko feared that her life would be no different from any other married woman’s. Her husband was out on an important adventure; she was home. She had no reason to believe that his treatment of her would be different from any other man’s. Panic squeezed her lungs.
What had she done? Was it too late to escape?
O-sugi fetched a tray, which she set upon Reiko’s dressing table. Reiko saw the short bamboo brush, mirror, and ceramic basin; the two matching bowls, one containing water, the other a dark liquid. Her heart contracted.
“No!”
O-sugi sighed.”Reiko-chan, you know you must dye your teeth black. It’s the custom for a married woman, proof of her fidelity to her husband. Now come.” Gently but firmly she seated Reiko before the table.”The sooner over with, the better.”
With leaden reluctance, Reiko dipped the brush in the bowl and opened her mouth in an exaggerated grimace. When she painted the first stroke across her upper teeth, some of the black dye dripped onto her tongue. Her throat spasmed; saliva gushed into her mouth. The dye, composed of ink, iron filings, and plant extracts, was terribly bitter.
“Ugh!” Reiko spat into the basin.”How can anyone stand this?”
“They all do, and so will you. Twice a month, to maintain the color. Now continue, and be careful not to stain your lips or your kimono.”
Wincing and gagging, Reiko applied layer after layer of dye to her teeth. Finally she rinsed, spat, then held the mirror before her face. She viewed her reflection with dismay. The dead, black teeth contrasted sharply with the white face powder and red lip rouge, highlighting her skin’s every imperfection. With the tip of her tongue, Reiko touched her chipped incisor, a habit in times of strong emotion. At age twenty, she looked ancient-and ugly. Her days of study and martial arts practice were over; hope of romance withered. How could her husband want her for anything besides obedient servitude now?
Reiko choked down a sob, and saw O-sugi regarding her with sympathy. O-sugi had been married at fourteen to a middle-aged Nihonbashi shopkeeper who’d beaten her daily, until the neighbors complained that her cries disturbed them. The case had come before Magistrate Ueda, who sentenced the shopkeeper to a beating, granted O-sugi a divorce, and hired her as nurse to his infant daughter. O-sugi was the only mother Reiko had ever known. Now the bond between them strengthened with the poignant similarity in their situations: one rich, one poor, yet both prisoners of society, their fate dependent upon men.