So thanks, Mom, for giving me a reason.
Kim started coughing as soon as we got upstairs. There were cobwebs everywhere and the lightbulb was busted. It smelled moldy and damp – and it was basically empty. There weren’t any boxes or furniture up there, just a few suitcases and some old clothes.
And one of those old televisions with the built-in tape player. The thing must have been ancient; I think we’d had a few video tapes when I was a baby, but Dad had been a technophile, and so as a kid I’d watched everything on DVD (and then Netflix).
The strangest thing is, it was plugged in. Like, the TV wasn’t just being stored up here – it was set up, ready to go. Except there wasn’t, like, a couch or anything. It was just pointing at the center of the attic, like you were expected to sit on the dusty floor and watch it.
“Weird,” I said, but my sister wasn’t looking. She was buried in her phone, Harrying Potters. As I watched, she wrinkled her nose.
“Damn it,” she said, looking around the small room. “We’re at the top of the house, how do I have no reception up here?”
“I dunno,” I shrugged, pulling one of the suitcases out. “C’mon. Let’s see what the guy who lived here before us was into.”
“Porn,” my sister replied, as I opened the suitcase. It had nothing in it but three VHS tapes. “He was into porn.”
“I don’t think these are porn,” I said, looking at the label. It was handwritten kanji: two characters, followed by a number – “2”.
Kim raised her eyebrows. “You a porn expert?” she asked, and my cheeks flushed.
“No,” I said, slightly too defensively. “But porn normally has a case, right?”
“Not if you’re trying to hide it,” Kim sniffed.
“This looks more like someone taped something off the TV.”
“Great,” my sister said. “We’ve found someone’s collection of recorded *Seinfeld* re-runs.
I threw her another one of the tapes. “You recognize this?”
“No,” she admitted. “I mean, that’s a three…”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“But I don’t know what the other words are.”
“Mom will probably know,” I said, putting the tapes back in the suitcase.
The rest of the attic’s haul wasn’t nearly as exciting. One of the suitcases was filled with old food and wine magazines, and another contained a bunch of encyclopedias from the 1980s. All in English.
The rest just had clothing; what looked like traditional Japanese clothes, a man’s and a woman’s.
“You should wear this,” I joked, throwing a geisha outfit at my sister. “Maybe you’ll finally learn your place.”
“Gross,” she said, dropping the outfit. “Is that everything?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking at our haul. “You think any of it’s worth something?”
“Oh yeah, for sure. There’s a huge market for moldy magazines and ancient encyclopedias that nobody wants to read anymore.”
“Maybe they’re antiques,” I protested, picking up a magazine called ‘Taste of Home’. The cover promised to tell me how to make ‘the perfect tiramisu’.
“Put them on eBay,” Kim challenged. “See what you get.”
I glanced over the magazines again, immediately seeing her point. There was no way it’d even be worth the effort of trying.
My sister’s eyes drifted towards the pile of men’s clothing that we’d found. At the top of the pile was a grey suit and tie, and her features softened.
“Dad had an outfit like that,” she said softly. “I remember he wore it to my high school graduation.”
My sister turned away, but not before I saw the glint of tears appear in her eyes. For a moment, I hesitated. Should I say something? What could I possibly say?
Were we finally going to talk about it?
“It looks like we’re done here,” I said loudly, clapping my hands. “Wanna tell Mom?”
“She’ll just give us something else to do,” my sister said, and when she turned back to face me, her cheeks were puffy but dry.
“True.”
“I know what we can do,” she said, her forced smile reminding me of our mother’s. “Let’s watch some *Seinfeld*.”
“Or porn,” I said under my breath, as she picked up the tape labeled ‘1’ and inserted it into the TV.
As soon as she hit play, a look of pain appeared on my sister’s face. The screen showed nothing but static, but she stopped the tape straight away.
“What the fuck was that?” she asked, and I raised my eyebrows. It wasn’t like my sister and I *never* swore, of course, but…I dunno, Mom and Dad had always been pretty strict about language. It was weird to hear the word coming out of her mouth inside the house.
“What?” I asked, and she shot me a look.
“You didn’t hear that?”
“Hear…what?”
My sister narrowed her eyes, pressing play again while staring at me. She winced as the static played, and I just stared at her in bewilderment.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
“You seriously can’t hear anything?”
Her voice was loud, like she was wearing headphones. I looked back between the TV and her, wondering if this was some kind of prank. A weird, weak prank that didn’t make any sense.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, and all of a sudden my sister relaxed.
“Oh,” she said happily. “It’s gone.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth when the TV came alive. It wasn’t *Seinfeld* – it looked like a home movie, filmed in black and white. Sort of like the video from *The Ring*, almost.
On the screen was a geisha, kneeling in front of the camera.
“Oh, shit,” I said quietly. “Maybe it *is* porn.”
My sister didn’t say anything. Instead, to my surprise, she sat down on the dusty attic floor. It’s not like my sister is a neat freak or anything, but…yeah. I hadn’t been expecting that.
Kim sat cross-legged in front of the TV, leaning forward as the video continued. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell that she was watching intently, like it was…I dunno, one of those *Fantastic Beast* movies.
I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, the geisha started talking. Her black hair was tied up in a bun adorned with flowers, and her skin (or her make-up, at least) was smooth as porcelain. Her lips were painted red, and she wore a brightly-colored kimono.
It took me a moment to realize: it was the same kimono I’d thrown at my sister earlier.
“That’s…-”
“Hello,” the woman on-screen said, interrupting me. The tone of her voice was strangely deep, and it resonated through the room. “My name is Kiki.”
“Hello, Kiki,” my sister chanted, and I laughed. She sounded like a kid watching an episode of *Dora the Explorer*.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, but my sister didn’t respond. I fell silent as the woman continued speaking, her voice coming out of the TV’s tiny, tinny speakers.
“Thank you for coming,” the woman said with a bow.
To my surprise, my sister bowed back. I hadn’t seen her bow since we’d last visited Japan, over a decade ago.
No, that’s not true. She’d bowed at my father’s funeral. Mom had insisted that we stand at the door, greeting everyone who entered. If someone bowed, Mom had bowed back. Kim, too.
“I am Kiki Shimada, geisha of Kyoto,” the woman continued. “I have chosen to present myself to you as the traditions of my people demand. You, too, will learn the ways of my people. You will learn much from these videos.”
Despite her appearance, the woman on-screen didn’t have a Japanese accent. It didn’t sound Midwestern, either – I couldn’t quite place it.
“Thank you, Kiki,” my sister responded, bowing once more.
“Kim?” I said. “Is this a joke? Why are you doing this?”
She didn’t respond, just kept watching the screen intently.
“These videos will teach you servitude,” Kiki continued. “The joys of submission. The pleasures of obedience. You will learn to kneel, and you will learn to beg. To obey your master.”
My eyes widened, and I stepped forward to look at my sister’s face. She’s not the most ardent of feminists, but…yeah, I knew she wouldn’t be okay with this. Like, what woman would, in 2021?
And sure enough, a flicker of resistance crossed my sister’s face. I could tell that she wasn’t comfortable with what the woman on the tape was saying, but she was still staring at the screen as though hypnotized.
“This submission will fulfill you,” Kiki continued. “It will bring you happiness. Your life will be filled with joy, your body and mind will become one. This is a promise.”
Again, I glanced at my sister. She still looked uncomfortable at the words coming from the geisha’s mouth, from the tiny speakers on the ancient TV…but she didn’t turn away.
Instead, as though someone had grabbed her cheeks and forced a reaction, she nodded.
“You will obey,” Kiki said, her voice calm and confident. “You will submit. You will kneel. And you will beg.”
My sister was trembling now, as though part of her wanted to get up and leave, wanted to storm down the flimsy stairs and never return to the attic – but she couldn’t.
And she didn’t.
“Do you understand?” Kiki asked.
“Yes,” my sister replied, her voice shaking. “Yes, I…I understand.”
“Good girl,” Kiki said. “You will obey. Say it.”
“I…I will obey,” Kim replied, and she sat back down on the dusty attic floor. I hadn’t even realized that she’d started to get up.
“You will submit. Say it.”
“I will submit,” my sister replied, her voice calmer.
“You will kneel,” Kiki instructed, a steely tone in her voice. It was the kind of voice that demanded obedience. “Kneel for me, now.”
My eyebrows shot up as my sister did as she was told. I watched, still not sure if this was some kind of elaborate prank, as Kim knelt down on the floor, her head bowed, her eyes turned upwards so she could watch the screen.
report “And now,” Kiki commanded firmly, “you will beg. Beg to learn the ways of the geisha. Beg for me to teach you how to unlock the submission inside you that will make you happy.”
“Please, Kiki,” my sister said, and I was surprised by the hint of desperation in her voice. “I want to learn. I want to learn how to serve.”
“Repeat after me,” the geisha continued, “and you shall be rewarded with the greatest pleasure your master can offer.”
“Yes, Kiki,” my sister chanted, a slight moan in her voice. “I will do whatever you command.”
“There is no greater pleasure than to please your master.”
I couldn’t do anything but watch, stunned, as my sister echoed the video’s words back. “There is no greater pleasure than to please my master.”
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