When he entered the quarter’s warden’s office, he found it busy with the affairs of drunks and customer complaints, ranging from theft to being overcharged, but his silk robe and hat got him quick attention, and he asked about Ohiya.
The warden himself consulted a ledger and informed him that Ohiya had moved to the southern quarter on Inokuma Street in the ninth ward. Akitada thanked him and left.
It was a long way to the southernmost part of the city, and Akitada had not yet recovered from his ride into the mountains. He had also not eaten since breakfast, having been too distracted with all that had happened. But he plodded southward through the city, pulling his robe up around his neck against the sharp wind.
Inokuma was a dirt road. The area was not far from where Tora used to have a small house where he and Hanae had lived because they were afraid to tell him of their marriage. The area was still as rustic as ever. It had also started to rain, and Akitada had to watch where he placed his feet. The road was used by farm animals and deeply cut by wheels.
Ohiya shared a house with a widow who kept chickens and sold their eggs. It was a shocking environment for the elegant dancing master, but Ohiya himself answered the door to Akitada’s knock. He did not recognize Akitada but regarded him with astonishment.
“Your honor has come to see me? And in this weather?” he asked in the familiar fluting voice. He gave a slight, nervous laugh. “I doubt a gentleman like you would be here to buy eggs. What can I do?” he performed a perfect bow, deep and elaborate.
Akitada shivered. “Can we go inside? I’ve come to you for help again. We met some years ago when Hanae was abducted.”
Recognition dawned and Ohiya stepped aside. “Lord Sugawara? Can it be?” He glanced down at his creased and stained robe and the tattered slippers on his feet. “I’m sadly changed, my lord,” he said. “Nobody comes to Ohiya anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” Akitada said, feeling some pity though Ohiya was a product of the flesh trade and a lover of boys on top of that. He had never approved of either way of life, but Ohiya had eventually revealed some empathy for poor Hanae and helped to find her.
Ohiya led him to a room cluttered with the remnants of the dance master former life. Colorful robes, now faded and wrinkled, hung from a clothes stand, and trunks, utensils, mats, and bedding looked dusty and worn. On a finely lacquered trunk that had lost chunks of its finish rested some earthenware dishes and a rusty cooking pot.
“Please forgive this poor abode,” Ohiya said, placing the better of two old cushions for him. “May I offer you some wine, my lord?” he asked.
Akitada was very thirsty after his long walk here. He nodded. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” It was good to be out of the wind and rain and to sit down, resting his weak leg.
Ohiya produced a large pitcher and poured two cups. One of them he emptied quickly, refilling it before joining Akitada.
Akitada reached for his wine, but noting that the cup was dirty, he put it back down. “I am sorry to see you in such surroundings,” he said politely.
Ohiya looked at him bleakly. “Alas, old age has caught up with me. That and the changes in this world. They say, the sky in autumn changes seven times. I’ve lived too long.” He sighed dramatically and drank, filling his cup for the third time. It dawned on Akitada that the man had become a drunkard. It was not clear whether this had led to his loss of work or whether the loss of work had driven him to drink. He hoped it hadn’t muddled his brain.
“You are not teaching the young women to dance any longer? Hanae always said you were her best teacher.”
Ohiya became sentimental. “Ah, Hanae! Such grace and quickness. Her feet did not touch the ground. She was exquisite. My best student. What a loss!”
“Well, she married Tora, my senior retainer. They are very happy and have a sturdy son.”
Downing another cup of wine, Ohiya said magnanimously, “Yes, I don’t blame her. Tora is incredibly good-looking. Even I … alas, he did not care for me. The best ones never do.” This sad comment on his love life required another draft. “But what pains me is the decline of my art. All used to be elegance and respect for the classical movements. Now it is fads and seduction merely.”
This conversation reminded Akitada of Lady Ogata. “By any chance, are you familiar with gosechi dances?”
Ohiya’s face lit up. “Of course. I used to teach the dancers.” He shook his head. “That was in the days of my glory. Oh, those little ladies were so charming. You can always tell quality. Mind you, they had their own minds, and their nursemaids—ugly old things—would encourage their little darlings. But I knew how to manage. I flatter myself that we put on stunning performances during the years I had the honor to work at the palace.”
Akitada glanced around the shabby room again. It was indeed a comedown from the imperial halls. Ohiya drank again and belched.
“I heard there was something called ‘the dance of the cranes,’” Akitada said. “Are you familiar with it?”
“Oh, that? We only performed it once. We had a tall girl that year. Perfect for that long-legged bird. She did very well, as I recall.” Ohiya smiled. “Her father sent me two pieces of gold when it was over. He wanted her to catch the crown prince’s eye. It didn’t happen, but she caught plenty of other eyes. Did you know that cranes dance when they are mating?”
Akitada nodded. “Who was the girl?”
Ohiya thought, fueled his effort with another cup of wine, and shook his head. “Forgot. I’m getting old.”
He was also getting drunk. Akitada was becoming worried and returned to his original purpose to get his answers as quickly as possible. He said, “Better slow down on the wine a little.”
Ohiya flushed and said apologetically, “I have been practicing my craft. It’s thirsty work. Please ask me anything.”
“I need some information about two people who are well-known in the willow quarter. Do you keep in touch with your former friends?”
Ohiya grimaced. “Friends? I have no friends,” he said bitterly. “But it is my life. A few still care about true elegance. The clientele has changed since quite common people have come into money. Such people want to see low entertainment. Girls dress up in men’s clothing and dance with swords these days. It’s shocking. No properly trained asobi would have done such a thing in my day. They’ve picked up the abominable and depraved behavior of the kugutsu vagrants.” He sighed deeply and reached for his wine.
“Do you know the man they call Kanemoto?”
Ohiya almost dropped his cup. “No,” he cried. “Not really. Please don’t ask.”
He knew enough, apparently, to be panicked by the mere name. “I thought you might. He seems to be mostly involved with gambling and prostitution. My interest is in his personal life.”
Ohiya relaxed a little. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that. He prefers women,” he said.
“Any particular one?”
Ohiya drank and belched again. He put his hand to his mouth and gave Akitada a comical look. “Oops! Your pardon, sir. My stomach isn’t what it used to be. I’m getting old.” The thought made him teary-eyed. “You should’ve seen me in my youth. Oh, they all thought I was so handsome. I got love letters even from the most highly-placed gentlemen. Very highly-placed! And from some of the ladies, too.” He giggled. “And more than letters. But I mustn’t tell. No, no. I mustn’t. But it was such fun.” And now he wept openly, brushing the tears away with his hands. “Oh, what I have come to!” He swung an arm about, gesturing at his shabby abode and knocking over his wine cup. “Oops! Lucky it was empty.” He laughed and poured himself more wine.
“You were about to tell me who Kanemoto’s girlfriend is.”