But then, that attack also meant the loss of the contracts. Genba had sworn to himself he would pay his master back for buying out Ohiro.
In spite of such drawbacks, Genba reached Ohiro’s tenement with a spring in his step.
He had heard the music and laughter from some distance away and wondered at it. When he turned the corner, he saw a crowd in festive clothes, singing and dancing among paper lanterns as if this were a fair at one of the great temples celebrating a holiday. The colored lanterns competed with the fading rosy light in the sky, and men and women wore costumes almost as colorful as the lanterns. There was much laughter and perhaps happy drunkenness.
It could not be a holiday. No, he would not have missed that. So why have a fair here among the tenements of the poor?
Vaguely uneasy, he sped up a little. Most of the lanterns and people were in front of Ohiro’s place. Someone was playing a flute, and a woman’s voice was raised in song. Raucous laughter and shouts accompanied it.
A dirty ditty. Sung by one of the girls from the Sasaya.
Genba was a good deal more straight-laced than Tora and frowned at the blunt language. Still, this was where many of the prostitutes kept rooms, and such things must be expected. But it shamed him again to bring a woman from this life into his master’s house. He had seen the expression of distaste on Akitada’s face, heard the hesitation before he had assured Genba that Ohiro would be welcome.
Ohiro was not like these women who flaunted themselves in gaudy costumes before men they would not accept as customers because they were too poor but who often kept them as lovers when they were not working.
That was really all he was: Ohiro’s man.
Shame washed over him. He pushed through the merrymakers without looking at them and made for Ohiro’s door. He had almost reached it when he heard a woman shout his name. He did not turn, but she caught him just as he laid his hand on the latch.
Shokichi.
Red-faced with drink and smiling broadly.
“Genba, have you heard? The most wonderful thing has happened. Ohiro was dancing with happiness. And so was I. Look!” Shokichi wheeled about, tattered silk gown and sleeves all aflutter and her hands waving in the air.
Genba looked at her, dazed. What wonderful thing? She must mean Tokuzo’s death. It was not proper to celebrate a man’s death even if he had mistreated them. Maybe the new owner would be a better man. “What wonderful thing?” he asked.
“Oh, go in. Let Ohiro tell you herself.” She gave him a push, laughing.
Ohiro must have heard, because she opened the door. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw Genba, and then she flung herself at him, babbling with joy.
He held her and lifted her over the threshold, closing the door firmly behind them.
“Oh, Genba,” she breathed, still clutching him.
Her embrace stirred his lust. “So eager?” he asked with a smile, setting her down.
“I got the contract! It’s mine. Someone returned all the contracts of Tokuzo’s girls. See!” She swept up a crumpled sheet with writing on it and waved it happily in the air.
The news dumfounded Genba. He snatched the paper from her hand and smoothed it out. Frowning with concentration, he deciphered the writing, the signatures, Ohiro’s name, the money owed.
She giggled. “I danced on it when I saw what it was.”
The document looked authentic. It must be part of the haul taken from Saburo last night. But stealing the contracts to return them to the women who had worked for Tokuzo made no sense. The contracts were valuable. Did such a document become illegal if acquired by theft?
On the other hand, who could prove the contracts hadn’t been sold legitimately? Or that the women had not bought themselves out? Improbable though that was.
Genba sat down abruptly and looked at Ohiro. She’d never been prettier, he thought. Her happiness made her face glow. He swore to himself he would try to put that look on her face as often as he could. “How did you get this?” he asked, half afraid.
“Shokichi got it, along with her own, from one of the begging monks. He told her it was a gift from the Buddha and to thank him. Isn’t it wonderful? Isn’t it a miracle?” She came to kneel beside him and hugged him. “Oh, Genba, you look worried. Say you’re happy, too. Say you’ll marry me now. Say we can finally be happy together.”
“A begging monk?” Had Saburo’s attacker returned the papers to the women? And what did it mean for Ohiro and himself?
He put one arm around her, held her, and said, “I love you, Ohiro. I’ll marry you with or without this contract. We will be happy together somehow and sometime, but I don’t know if this is legal. The contract was stolen. All of them were stolen. What if Tokuzo’s heirs claim you back because they were stolen?”
“Stolen? How could that be? Maybe Tokuzo made a will. That’s why a monk brought them back. Maybe he was trying to make up for his bad life. Or his heirs are trying to make up for his sins. Can they really force me to work for them again?”
“Ohiro, there’s no will. At least not one leaving the contracts to you and the others. The heirs own your contract, and they’ll either keep you or sell you to someone else.”
Tears rose to her eyes. “How do you know they were stolen? The others outside are celebrating with the silver they’d saved up to buy themselves out. I gave them some of our money for my share.” She wailed, “Oh, Genba, you must be wrong.”
“Never mind, Love. You did right to pay your share.”
They sat close together, arms around each other’s waists, and grieved the unreliability of good fortune.
After a while, Genba said, “I forgot. I came to tell you that the master will help us. So you see, all will be well after all.” He smiled down at her.
“How very good he is! But Genba, if only we didn’t need to borrow the money from him. Do you know that most of the girls are going to sell themselves again? To a better master, they think. They want the money. And they like the life. They say while they’re young and pretty and men will pay to lie with them, they’ll make as much money as they can. They think there’s time enough to settle down with a husband when they’re no longer young. By then they’ll have a good dowry, and a husband will be found easily, even if they’re no longer pretty.”
Genba frowned. “That’s foolishness.” He paused, then asked, “That’s not what you would do, is it?”
Ohiro’s eyes grew round. “Of course not. I love you. I could never do such a thing.”
He held her close and kissed her, but he thought he might not be able to pay back what he owed. It was such a very large amount of money. And he also worried about bringing Ohiro into the Sugawara house. Even if the master and mistress made her welcome, the others would surely remind her where she had come from. He pictured her tears to himself and sighed deeply.
“Oh, stop it.” Ohiro jumped up and stamped her foot. She waved the contract in front of his face. “I don’t care what you say, Genba. We don’t need your master’s money. I’m free. See?” And before his eyes, she tore the document into a lot of small pieces.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said weakly.
She fetched the oil lamp and fed the pieces, one by one into the flame until nothing but ashes remained. “Now who is going to prove Tokuzo owned me?” she demanded triumphantly.
Genba just shook his head. But he could see she had a point. The contract was gone. His spirits lifted. Surely it was fair she should be free. She had paid for her freedom many times over and been beaten black and blue for her efforts. A smile broke out on his face.