Misao walked home, her makeup ruined and her wig smothered with snow. Her bag sagged heavily down one shoulder, carrying three instruments that she never dreamed of putting in one bag at the same time. She hoped that her shamisen and tsuzumi weren't getting ruined, unlike her already broken shakuhachi. She pulled the haori tighter around her shoulders and wiped more tears with the back of her hand, especially since the snow was freezing every bit of moisture it could find.
Her cell phone suddenly rang at the bottom of her bag. Misao stopped short and rummaged in the tote for her phone to see who was calling her. She inwardly hoped that it would be Shri but turns out it was her mother, Emiko.
Misao rubbed her cold fingers around her eyes and put on a smile before answering the phone. "Mom?"
"Miso-chan!" Emiko's smiling voice was heard. "How are you, sweetie?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Misao answered with false joy. "How's Dad?"
"Asleep," Emiko sighed. "Conked out as soon as he got home. You know how he is, right?"
Misao couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Yeah, I know."
"Also, when are you coming home, honey?" Emiko asked. "Christmas is in a few days and I want you to be here during the eve."
Misao almost forgot about it. "I'll be there tomorrow, Mom. I'll take the train and come straight there."
"Train? Honey, that's gonna be tiring. Why don't you just take the flight?"
"I'm not sure if I can make it to Itami in time, Mom."
Emiko paused for a moment. "You sure you gonna be okay?"
Misao shook her head, as if her mother was right in front of her. "It's fine, Mom. I can manage it." A tear escaped her eye, rolling onto her icy cheek and down her chin. Misao tried as best as she could to hold back a sniffle. "Mom, is it okay if I crash in your place for a few weeks? I need a break from life."
"My place? What do you mean my place, Miso-chan? Honey, this is our place. Of course you can stay here for as long as you want."
More tears streamed down her face. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best."
"Miso-chan? Is something wrong?" Emiko asked, alarmed by her quivering voice. "Miso-chan, are you crying?" She was replied with sobs. "Miso-chan! Are you okay? What happened?"
Misao stopped in her tracks despite the roaring blizzard. "Mom, I'm not sure if I can stay being a geisha after what happened today."
"Misao, I can't hear you very well, are you outside?"
"I'm on my way home and it's snowing like crazy. I can barely see my way through the blizzard."
"Miso, go home right now. Call me back once you're safely indoors, okay?"
"Mom, no! Don't hang up!" Misao desperately pleaded, starting to walk again. "Please. I need to talk to someone. My roommate's definitely gonna come in drunk, I need to tell someone."
"What happened?" Emiko asked again.
Misao shivered. "A creep has been purposely booking reservations with me. He's Hitohira's son, the regular customer."
"That man you said always comes there for business meetings and sometimes bring his family?"
"Yes, that's the one. This one's the son. He came directly to me today and... and..." Misao trailed off, sobbing.
"Misao, what did he do?"
"He tried to ask me to become his for a night or he would kill the Malaysian guy I told you about."
"Oh my gosh!" Emiko gasped. "Honey, are you okay?"
"I bashed his face with my shakuhachi. I hit him so hard that it cracked in the middle."
"Oh Miso-chan..."
"My Okaasan fired me because she might lose important customers if not," Misao cried. "It was like a slap in the face. She gave me my stipend, yes, but she... she just fired me."
"Miso-chan, I'm so sorry this happened. Tell you what. When you get here tomorrow, I'm making you your favourite nabemono, okay? I'll also try speaking with your Okaasan. What happened was not your fault, Miso-chan. This Hitohira is the one to blame."
"It's no use, Mom," Misao sighed. "She knows the full story but she prioritises her customer more. I don't know what I'm gonna do in Kyoto anymore, Mom. What should I do?"
"Misao-chan you should—" she was cut short by an interference with the line.
"Mom, what did you say?" Misao asked. "I can't hear you, Mom."
Misao spotted the Shirakawa bridge and suddenly had the urge to get home as soon as possible, her phone still in hand. She still tried to speak to Emiko but no words went through.Emiko tried to speak to Misao, not understanding a word she was saying.
"Misao? Miso-chan, can you hear me?" Emiko shouted to her phone. "Misao!"
She heard a few unintelligible words, followed by a loud scream.
"Misao!" Emiko cried.
And then the disconnected tone came. Emiko panicked and tried calling Misao over and over again.
When her battery died, she tried with the landline.
Her husband suddenly came in groggily and wondered what she was doing.
"What are you doing, Emi?" Tetsuo asked, puzzled.
Emiko turned to him, an anxious look in her eyes. "It's Miso-chan. Something happened to her during work and she was telling me on the way back in a blizzard. The line suddenly got cut off and now she won't pick up."
Tetsuo scratched his eyes and sighed. "Emi, come on. It's really late. Let's just go to sleep first. I'm sure Misao is okay. Maybe the line's busted and she's trying to call you too? After all, you said it's practically a blizzard there, right?"
Emiko sighed and got up, turning the lights out before following him to their bedroom to retire for the day.***
Kumiko groaned and got out of bed, a splitting headache taking over her mind. The last thing she remembered was drinking at a bar and she had no idea how she even managed to get home.
She just sighed and pulled her bathrobe on before making her way to the bathroom.
It seemed like Misao had already left, considering how she was nowhere to be seen. Kumiko's work would only begin in the afternoon and there was no need for her to go out till then.
But there was something. Something pleading her to change into outdoor clothes and get out the door, snowy winter or not.
Kumiko refused to move at first, her hangover unbearably hurting her head. A sudden rush of bile rose in her throat and she quickly rushed to the toilet, after having turned on the bath water.
Remnants of whatever she ate the night before appeared before her eyes again, in the form of fowl-smelling liquid that was anything but appetising. Kumiko flushed the toilet and made her way back to the bathroom, draining the bath water and stepping into the shower.
For some reason, whatever that wanted her out and about also wanted her to hurry up.
YOU ARE READING
Ride on Time
RomanceShri, a writer from Malaysia who had always dreamed of visiting Japan and Misao, a Geisha from Kyoto with a kind heart and an interest for Indian movies. A love between two people from two different worlds who meet but are forced to part because of...