“It is you, Tora, my fierce animal!” she cried. “At last, after all this time. It’s been six years almost, hasn’t it? Come in, come in. Let me look at you.”
Tora stepped up onto the wooden floor of the hallway. It was highly polished and, like everything else in the small house, very plain and very clean. He looked down at her from his height. “You look well, little flower,” he said, and bowed. “It gives me great pleasure to find you as charming as ever.”
She laughed at his formality, brushing at her hair, which she wore gathered into a heavy bun. It was still glossy and the sound of her laughter was pleasant, like that of very small smooth pebbles being poured into a ceramic bowl. It rippled melodiously, and used to make men feel quite weak with pleasure. “You’re such a handsome liar,” she said, reaching up and pulling Tora’s nose. “I have some decent wine. Shall we share a cup while you tell me your adventures and help a poor lonely old woman pass an afternoon?”
“Never an old woman, but”—he looked at her anxiously— “have you been lonely, Mitsuko?”
She patted his arm. “No more than usual. Since you have rid me of that horrible man, I can go anywhere and my friends can visit me again.”
The “horrible man” was a hunchbacked fishmonger who had attempted to force Mitsuko to become his personal property by paying a debt for her and then claiming that she had sold herself to him. Like many women of her class, Mitsuko was unable to read the documents she signed with her mark. Tora had made certain that the fishmonger not only relinquished the documents, but never approached her again.
“I was hoping the bastard had died.” Tora seated himself in a tiny reception room hardly large enough to hold two people. Mitsuko produced the wine and cups with the conscious grace of the professional companion and served him with slender, beautiful hands. “Welcome home, my tiger,” she said with a smile.
Tora raised his cup to her and drank. The wine was good, but he drank sparingly, knowing she had little money. Putting his cup down, he asked, “Did a young woman come here last night, asking for me?”
Mitsuko raised her brows. “You have made new friends before visiting your old ones?”
“I’m sorry, Mitsuko. I met her on an assignment for my master. I haven’t had time off until today.”
“Ah. I forgive you. No. Nobody came. Perhaps you are not as irresistible as you think?”
Tora was disappointed. “I guess not, though I would’ve bet she liked me. Maybe you know her? She’s an actress. Her professional name’s Gold. She and her twin Silver work for a guy called Uemon.”
Mitsuko thought. “No. I’ve seen Uemon’s shows. They’re very good. Is she pretty?”
“Pretty, yes. Not beautiful like you.”
She smiled a little sadly. “You are always kind, Tora. Sometimes I need to hear that. After the smallpox, people stopped looking at me. Just the one glance, you know, and then they turn their eyes elsewhere as they talk to me.”
Tora looked at her. “Not all of them. I like looking at you. Your eyes are as large and handsome as ever and you still smile like a goddess. It’s just the skin that’s a bit marred. Nothing to get upset about. I’ve seen much worse, and not so long ago.”
She laughed bitterly and reached up to touch a pitted, discolored cheek. “Not worse. None of the other women lost their looks like I have.”
“You had more to lose. Most people die from smallpox.”
“I usually wish I had.”
Tora never knew how to respond when she said things like that. “The girl I saw looked really horrible. Some man carved her a new face. Took off the nose and part of her upper lip. Then he cut a couple of extra mouths on her face.”
Mitsuko’s eyes widened. “So she’s still alive. We thought she drowned herself. She worked here in the quarter for a while. Seemed a better-class girl, but couldn’t find good customers.” Mitsuko earned a very meager income arranging appointments between men and certain women of the quarter. Some of her own former clients had taken pity on her and sent a little business her way. “She was very pretty and promising, I heard, and I was going to talk to her when she disappeared.”
“What happened?”
“Some of the common people blame it on demons, but it must have been a client. Lately there have been rumors of someone … strange.” She sighed, looking down at her hands.
“You mean one of her customers did that to her?”
“Sometimes men can only enjoy the rain and clouds if they hurt the woman.”
Tora was appalled. “That’s disgusting! Why would a girl let a man do such things to her?”
“I don’t suppose she expected it.”
“The bastard’s got to be stopped before he does it again. Did she tell anyone who he was?”
“I don’t think so. You’ll have to ask her yourself. I wish someone could find out. The girls are worried.”
“Hmm.” Tora stared at her. He had often regretted that his master seemed to do most of the investigating himself—as if he did not trust Tora to have enough sense for the trickier bits. The recent reprimand still rankled. What if he could solve a case all by himself? Perhaps this slasher was his chance to prove himself. “Suppose I caught the bastard?” he asked Mitsuko.
She looked at him with a smile. “You might. Nobody else seems to bother. The police have better things to do than protect poor women.”
“Well, then, wish me luck!” He hurriedly finished his wine and rose.
“But you just got here.”
“And I’ll be back, sweetheart.” Mitsuko shook her head and looked at him quizzically. He was not sure whether she was hurt or amused by his short visit, but he put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze before heading out the door.
In his new role as hunter of criminals, Tora was no longer hampered by the fact that Gold might not want him to pursue her too openly. A madman who preyed on the women of the pleasure quarter was loose. What if she had run into that animal on the way to meet him? Tora asked the way to the Golden Phoenix.
It was near the river and Miss Plumblossom’s training hall, a backstreet business offering cheap accommodations to poor travelers and those who needed a place to sleep for a few weeks. When Tora ducked under the torn and faded curtain separating the inn’s interior from the narrow street outside, he found himself face-to-face with two small boys. They sat on the wooden platform, their feet dangling, engaged in a game of dice.
The smaller of the two snapped, “Yes? What do you want?” in an irascible tone and a gravelly voice which seemed to have broken prematurely.
Tora peered at him, adjusting his eyes to the dimness after the outdoors. The little one could not be more than five or six. He had tiny hands and feet. But that voice! “Your mother needs to teach you manners, boy,” he growled. “Where is she? Who’s in charge here?” He looked at the older boy, who merely grinned foolishly. Probably an idiot, Tora thought. What were these children doing, gambling for money? The pile of coppers in front of the little one was impressive.
The small boy hopped up. He used his arms to do this, much like a little monkey. When he was standing, his head seemed too large for his compact short body. Tora thought him the ugliest child he had ever seen. Ratlike eyes peered over a bulbous nose, and large protruding ears looked like handles stuck onto a melon; besides, he was glowering up at Tora with a thoroughly malevolent expression. “Look who’s talking about manners!” he croaked. “What mangy cat dragged you in by that moth-eaten mustache?”
The insult to Tora’s trim and dapper facial ornament was too much. He took a large step forward. “Let me save your parents the trouble and blister your sorry behind, you little lout!” He seized the boy by the scruff of his jacket, intending to put him over his knee, but a closer look stopped him. The “child” had gray hair and the wrinkled face of an elderly man. Shocked, Tora let him drop back on the platform.