The Bathhouse

Yuki had slipped out of her over-sized trench coat and placed it neatly inside the locker, along with the heavy winter undergarments she’d wrapped in herself to get to there. The bathhouse was old. But she’d not showered in days. Not since her apartment’s gas supply had been shut off. She’d entered ignoring the subtle aroma of mildew, detectable even at the entrance. She’d tried hard not to notice the bamboo blinds hung on walls to cover its moldy growth. A once hopeful mask that now also had life of its own. Between them a rusty mirror. It reflected her figure, not so long ago it was sporting and robust but now jackal lean from a choice to buy cigarettes over food from the part time wage she’d earned at a late night take-out shop.

She walked hesitantly over the damp tatami, slid open the heavy wooden door and stepped in. The steam inside was thick, almost suffocating, but she made her way though the bathroom. There was little ventilation here. But it would have to do. A few figures lounged causally in small pools used for bathing. But Yuki couldn’t make them out, at least not for a few more steps. Tiles on the floor were roughly chipped and encouraged her to move carefully. The noise of unmasked laughter and crude words echoed in her ears. Not a surprise as, in Osaka, the natives seem to lack even the very basic of manners. She heard another door open. Some steam escaped, the air became clearer and she gained a closer look. Her body stiffened. Her gaze locked solidly on a group of ladies whose deliberately decorated skin informed others to what they belonged.

The girl on the left had a cool aura that intimidated easily. Her pose was casual, weight centered mostly on one leg, but her body remained tall and her head tilted back to accentuate a dominating chin. A somewhat uncaring assertive stance. One hand smoothly caressed the upper curve of her leg. The other, held a cigarette, which she flicked, and a clump of ash fell and drowned on the floor. She slowly brought the cigarette to her lips and drew a deep inhalation. Bathhouses didn't allow smoking. But then again, they didn't allow tattoos. She listened to a girl, who with folded arms and a snarl of a lip, whine hysterically about a man; probably her lover. The tall lady blew out smoke, a long and deliberate exhalation, as if to indicate her own distaste for her friend’s man. The smoke fused with the steam and caused Yuki to choke and splutter. A rush of instincts caused her body to shake and hint that she should leave. She took one step backward, keeping alert, but her gaze was still stuck on the smoking lady. Yuki inspected her eyes. She spotted her and winked. For a moment Yuki lost her balance, but turned quickly to regain footing. They saw her, but didn’t seem to care.
On the left was a line of taps with bamboo wash stools. The feeling of warm water under her toes, the thought of the cold frosty winter outside. She thought about the 300 yen she'd paid to enter, dinner she'd given up to get clean. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind. Who was she anyway? What kind of trouble could she really get into?
‘I’ll just wash, they won’t care about me’ thought Yuki ‘ I’ll be quick’.
The wooden stool located closest to the entrance seemed safest. The feeling of warm water on her face and shoulders confirmed it was worth it. Eyes closed, she reached over and squeezed some shampoo into her hand. Lathering her hair she relaxed and began to forget where she was. It felt good to remove the oil from her hair, the build up of working a late night kitchen selling nothing but fried food and beer.
A slight chill blew through the open door and reminded her of winter outside. The snow she’d walked through to get there and her apartment where she huddled in front of an old oil heater to keep warm. She wondered if they wouldn’t mind her sharing a bath.
In an empty pool she sat. Water stilled just above her shoulders. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and sat submissively in the hope they'd ignore her. The chill began to fade and she was able to now focus on the things that consumed her. She's never been able to stop momentum. When things started happening, it was like the beginning of an avalanche, growing more destructive as it moved, ending only in complete disaster. She'd thought she'd become numb to her lack of luck. That since that's the way things were, it was only up from here, right? Moving to Osaka was like powering down a black run on only one ski. It was as if she'd lost something on the way and it was trying to keep her out. But she couldn't go home, not with the entire town against her. She couldn't go anywhere else. She had no money. No, she had to make things work here. She quietly drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Perhaps she should’ve predicted the last of her weeks wage would be spent trying to get clean and warm in a dirty bathhouse in Osaka with ladies of this kind.
Yuki felt the water begin to rise and looked up to see a lady stepping into the pool. An elegant dragon wrapped itself around her left leg, its tail between nestled between her toes. She sunk down and splashed some water onto her face. For a moment Yuki wondered if she should leave, but the woman took no notice of her, closed her eyes and lent her head back on the side of the pool and placed a face cloth over her eyes.
Yuki looked about the bathroom, now there were only six ladies left. She could perhaps stay a while longer. She wondered about the women, how their morality might differ to hers. How what she'd done had turned everyone against her, but looking at these ladies she imagined that their crimes almost drew them together. That somehow karma seemed to avoid repaying them and instead rewarded them with comradery. Yet Yuki was not being rewarded. She’d not even committed a crime. Rather she’d just done wrong and it was leading to an avalanche.
It was just starting. There was always a warning. Yuki felt there was something that looked out for her. Almost like a ghost. Not so much friendly but something that was there when she needed it. It wasn’t so much to help her but just to keep her from drowning. You couldn’t really call it a premonition as she didn’t see or hear things. Only strange things happened and it was always a marker of things to come.
Two nights ago there was a loud bang at her door. It was so loud that the flimsy walls in her apartment began to shake. She’d swung it open and found nothing. Nothing but stillness. It was the warning, something was about to happen. She just didn’t know what.
'I've seen you before' the woman’s lips moved.
Yuki scanned the area. She looked over to the women, thought about responding but
Instead drew her knees closer and lowered her head to her knees deciding against it.
‘You work at the Yoshinoya.’ The woman’s lips moved again, but her body remained in its relaxed pose, one leg stretched out with toes resting on the edge across from her.
It was true. That was where Yuki worked. All kinds of people dropped by there for a quick meal. The fluresent lighing lit up the shop and made it stand out like a Christmas tree in December. It invited any hungry passer by. Not so much because it was an enticing place to eat. Rather, it promised a safe and warm meal on a otherwise darkly lit street. Like walking into daylight after being locked out in the dark. You couldn’t describe a particular kind of customer. It attracted students returning from their study dates, Buisnessmen who were late leaving their offices, drunks wanting to dilute the effects of their alcohol and even the odd housewife would stray in time to time. This was why Yuki liked it. She got to meet all kinds of people and it meant every night was different. Some nights the place would be filled with lively patron’s, all talking to each other as if they’d been part of a family who just happened to all stop by at the same time. Rucous laughter would erupt within and Yuki could imagine that they’d come to visit her. Other nights people would line the stools and it would be completely silent. Nothing could be heard at all. Well nothing except the sound of slurping noodles. There were other nights when the customers all appeared a little odd. They would all have some strange charater quirk like a slight tick or unusual way of talking. These nights were kind of errie. Yuki thought it was funny how all the same kinds of people all would arrive on the same nights. There was never a strange character when the place was full of happy patrons. Never a lively patron on a quiet night and on those strange nights they all came at once. As if slowly revealing something that Yuki had to figure out. Why were they coming here? Did they have something to tell her? One night six different characters came in to talk about the weather. People often talk about the weather. So ordinarily it wouldn’t seem that strange at all. Indeed, Osaka was close to Kyoto and many a tourist would talk about the fine weather in spring, the swealtering days of summer, the frosty snowing nights of winter and the effect the weather had on such a beautiful city. How it changed the colors of the leaves, boosted rice field growth and how the snow delicately rested on the tiles of some of Japan’s most beautiful temples. These patron’s however talked about it in a different way. They were fixated on the atmospheric changes and talked about them in such minute detail. Each of them seemed to possess the specialist knowledge of a meteorolgist. They described the direction the wind blew, tiny changes in temperature, the air pressure and water vapour variations. They listed off each change as if ticking boxes on a list, like they were expecting something would happen when it reached a certain point. In fact it did. The weather completely stopped. The night became still. You could have plucked the hair off a dog and let it drop to the ground and it would find a direct path without any wind to guide it. The temperature dropped to zero and it felt like the world were taking a rest. After that, not a single customer entered the store until close.
Given the strange visitors it was not unlikely that lady would have visted there. Though Yuki never remembered a customer’s face. Even if they were as delicately decorated as this lady.
'I never eat there, the food is rotten, and all that grease goes straight onto your hips.' The women said, still without moving.
Yuki let a small smile cross her face, but still did not respond.
'so, where are you from then?'
Yuki thought for a minute then decided there was no way she could’ve avoided a bit of light conversation. She nervously replied 'Tokyo, Shibuya do you know it?'
The women turned her eyes towards Yuki and gave her a look as if to say, who hasn't bloody heard of Shibuya, then resumed her position, eyes closed, head rested.
Yuki said nothing.
'You don't speak like someone from Tokyo' she seemed a little suspicious of Yuki's lie. She paused for a moment, then added ' but whatever, you wanna keep it secret, it's fine by me princess'
'My fathers from Aomori' another lie, but an area so remote, she'd not likely heard that accent before.
'Whatever you say hun' she seemed to be growing bored.
'Were you born here, I mean Osaka? Yuki felt the need to be polite.
'nah, I grew up in Okinawa, you know, sunny beaches, delicious food, my mum was a nurse and my dad was a doctor' the woman smiled, she'd managed to entertain herself.
Yuki annoyed decided it was time to leave, it seemed fine that this woman ask her these questions, but this woman couldn't even pretend to make up something at least a little conceivable. She just about had the courage to leave when the woman spun her head and froze Yuki with a stern look.
'But I do know you, how is it I know you?' the woman’s voice had grown deep and serious. Yuki was unable to answer, her lips quivered, her brain ticked, a heavy feeling on her chest. She tried to locate an answer. She didn't know, she hadn't met anyone since moving to Osaka. Well no one but the customers she sold ramen and fried chicken to late at night. But a feeling of recognition began to swell in her stomach. This woman did know her.
I don't know, umm maybe I sold you something at Yoshinoya, I work there at night, 7 to 3.'
The women remained unmoved, her stare piercing Yuki. Panic started to erupt in her. She was now wishing she'd left after the shower.
A smile broadened across the woman’s lips, and she relaxed back into her previous pose. Yuki's been tricked, perhaps she'd wanted to find out information so she could rob her. Not that she had anything to steal, but the woman didn't know that. Perhaps she'd just wanted to frighten her a little. Whatever the case it was now time for Yuki to leave. She quietly stepped out of the bath. And made her way back carefully over the tiled floor. The woman said nothing until she reached the end of the bathroom.
'There’s something that connects us. I don’t know what it is but you’ll see, very soon Yuki.’ The woman called from under her washcloth.
Yuki didn't reply she slid open the heavy door and stepped out onto the rotten tatami. Upon seeing the empty charge room, Yuki rushed to her locker, flung open the door and threw on her clothes. Had she not been in such a rush, she would have been bothered by the stain left on her shirt by the dirty locker. She left via the side entrance. The wind carried a gust of snow that smacked her in the face. A shock that bought with it a realization. ‘How did she know my name?’

Through the door with broken glass and up the steep stairway she returned. Thumbling with her keys, she struggled to slip them back into the lock. She turned her wrist. The key stuck. She moved it from side to side, it wouldn’t budge, finally it turned and she lead herself back into her cold apartment where her cat was sitting impatiently for Yuki to fire up the heater. Miruku kept her warm at night, a stray Yuki found out in the cold pining for someone to take in. Though graced with luscious long fur, it was no match for the low Osaka temperatures at night. How she survived until Yuki found her is a mystery. Not only was it cold but also hunting for food was a genetic impossibility. One leg had stunted growth, and made it difficult for her to mouse. She might've had a chance if the leg had been cut off, she'd have learned to walk without it. But instead she hobbled on probably scavenging from dustbins outside sushi shops, hoping not to meet a stronger, more mobile opponent.
Yuki swept her up and allowed a few of her tears to land in miruku's fur. She felt the uncertainty of loosing control yet once more. As if the snow below her feet were just about to take off and leave her tumbling towards her doom at the mountains end. That woman in the bathhouse, she was connected and the feeling was swelling. Though with her warnings there is no choice all she can do is impatiently wait.
She lets miruku down, sniffs up her tears and kneels down on her futon to light the heater which lay close by. She wraps herself in blankets waiting for the heat to erupt in her abominable apartment. At least at night, she can’t see yellow walls painted probably by festering cigar smoke. Even the stains on the brown and gray rugs are invisible. Rugs laid to cover torn lino, and a small hole that allows one to peak into the apartment below. This might tempt her should someone live there. She did look once, but the old empty apartment seemed haunted. So she leaves it covered. It's late at night so her walls are splashed with letters red and green letters irls ight a neon light that flickers and keeps her awake. Months ago, she thought it was French, but upon further investigation, she realised it's just that the owner is too cheap to replace the blown out letters.

Osaka was unkind. Three months ago, when she arrived she'd known it would be difficult for a single girl to find an apartment to rent. But she'd managed to flee her town with enough cash to pay 6 months rent up front and came across a small agency advertising the right price in the local paper. It was a little out of town but not too far. It was small, but had a modern kitchen, heated floorboards and if she stood on her toes, she could see the river from her living room. It seemed perfect for a single woman.
On the day she was to pick up the keys, she received a call saying the water pipes had burst, and she was unable to move in. They offered her another apartment for the time being, and considering her cash was low and could no longer afford to pay for a hotel, she accepted her now, unhumble abode.
They expected it would take 3 days to repair, but they never called. She rang their phone, they never answered. She left dozens of messages, but they never replied. After nearly two weeks had passed she went to their office but found it had moved. There was a message on the door advising their clients offering their sincere apologies. They had to urgently relocate but would be contacting everyone soon. She guessed then she wouldn’t hear from them. The message was written on a post it note, and even that was now hanging by one corner. It was in fact the last she heard of them. At first she wondered about the apartment she was now occupying, to whom it belonged. But it was in such a state of disrepair, she'd thought even junkie squatters would turn their nose up at it.
The heater began to glow, it painted a warming red across her face, and began to lull her to sleep. She was tired, too exhausted to feel any more sadness or fear. She had no more energy to spend waiting; sleep would make it all go away. Miruku licked her paws and broke bread on the futon next to where she lay. She too was now warm and began to let out a gentle purr and Yuki started to loose consciousness.
But just before falling asleep she heard the wind wrench the entrance door shut. It was enough to wake her, but not a sound she was unaccustomed to. She heard the familiar sound of shuffling feet. Another drunk. It was almost nightly that some man drank much at the hostess bar across the road and went in search of somewhere to rest. It was a cheap bar and the girls knew when clients got too drunk, they forget. The girls took them outside and sat them on the curb, slipping the wallet out from within jacket pockets while the men vomited in the street.
Yuki's entrance had no lock and they stumbled in once they sobered up enough to feel the cold. Shuffle shuffle, she heard the feet climbing the stairs. She shortened her breath; she wanted to hear where he went. Normally they'd curl up in the entrance. But not this one. She heard the movement up the stairs. It was slow. On each step she could picture him regaining balance and then sliding onto the next.
Reaching the top she heard the shuffle once again, slow. It seemed quieter this time as if trying to mask the sound, but she could tell this gentleman was in no form to be secretive. The sound moved closer to her door. Closer and closer until he reached it. Then the shuffling stopped. Silence. As if there'd never been any sound. She waited and listened intently. She began to feel cold, heavy, her eyelids droop. She struggled to stay awake. Miruki jumped away from her, as if she'd accidently leant on a lit stove, or rather a block of ice. She's had to know, if this was where it all started. Finally she the sound of a body leaning against the wall and sliding down to rest on the floor. She managed to look over to the door and checked it. It was securely locked. It took all her strength and then she was out cold.