Boris Akunin - All the World's a Stage

‘Japanese sword-fighting differs substantially from the Western v-variety,’ Fandorin remarked, beginning to stammer again. ‘Some d-degree of training will be required.’

‘Yes. The problem that concerns me is all the Japanese realia. All those gestures, musical instruments, songs, facial expressions, rhythms of movement, and so on. We shall have to find a live Japanese from somewhere and take him on as a consultant. I cannot allow myself to put on a hotchpotch like the production of Madam Butterfly at Milan.’ Stern frowned anxiously, but the author of the play reassured him.

‘I have thought about that, naturally. Firstly, I myself have a good grasp of Japanese matters. And secondly, I have brought you a Japanese. He is waiting in the foyer.’

Everyone simply gasped, and Eliza thought: this man is a magician, all he needs is a cloak spangled with stars and a magic wand. Just imagine it – he takes a real live Japanese around with him!

‘Then call him quickly!’ Noah Noaevich exclaimed. ‘Truly, you were sent to us by the god of the theatre! No, no, stay here! Gentlemen, call an usher, let him bring our Japanese guest here. And in the meantime, Erast Petrovich, I would like to ask, since you are so prudent, whether you might perhaps have any thoughts concerning who should play the part of this… what is his name…’ He glanced into the play. ‘…this Si-no-bi with the alias of the Inaudible One? As far as I understand it, the Sinobi are a clan of professional killers, like the Arab assassins. In your play he juggles, walks a tightrope and dodges a knife blade.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Sensiblin. ‘We don’t have a hero. If only Emeraldov were alive…’

‘I find it hard to imagine Hippolyte strolling along a tightrope,’ Reginina remarked.

‘Yes, that is a problem,’ Nonarikin put in. ‘An insoluble one, I’m afraid.’

The director disagreed with him.

‘Insoluble, my hat. We can find some acrobat from a circus. Circus performers can sometimes be quite artistic.’

‘Perhaps we don’t necessarily need a professional actor,’ the miraculous Erast Petrovich suggested commonsensically. ‘The part of the Inaudible One has no words, and his face remains concealed by a mask right to the very end.’

‘Tell me,’ said Stern, peering hopefully at Fandorin, ‘when you were living in Japan, did you engage in all these various oriental tricks? No, no, don’t refuse me. With your figure and appearance you could make an excellent partner for Eliza!’

The handsome man hesitated and looked in her direction for the first time.

‘Yes, I can do all of that, even walk a tightrope, but… I wouldn’t dare to go out on stage… No, no, please spare me that.’

‘You ask him, Eliza! Implore him! Go down on your knees!’ Noah Noaevich shouted out excitedly. ‘Just look at those features. There is so much elegance in them! So much strength! When the Inaudible One takes off his mask at the end and his face is picked out by a beam of light, the audience will go wild!’

Eliza extended her arm towards the author in the gesture of Desdemona begging for mercy and sent him her absolutely most radiant smile – no man had ever been able to stand against that.

But the conversation was interrupted, because an usher glanced in at the door.

‘Noah Noaevich, I’ve brought him. Come in, my good gentleman.’

This remark was addressed to a short, stocky oriental individual in a two-piece check suit. He took several steps forward and bowed to everyone from the waist, without bending his back, at the same time removing his straw boater. His ideally round, shaven head gleamed as if it had been polished.

‘Mikhair Erastovit Fandorin,’ he proclaimed loudly, introducing himself, and bowed again.

‘Is he your son?’ Stern asked the author in amazement.

‘He’s not a relative,’ Fandorin replied drily. ‘His real name is Masahiro Sibata.’

‘Phenomenal,’ said Noah Noaevich, drawling his favourite word as he avidly examined the man from the East. ‘Tell me, Mikhail Erastovich, do you happen to know how to juggle?’

‘Dzugger?’ the Japanese asked. ‘Ah. I can do a rittur.’

He took a watch out of his breast pocket, a penknife out of his trouser pocket, half of a round cracknel out of a side pocket and started deftly tossing all these things up in the air.

‘Magnificent!’ A predatory expression with which Eliza was very familiar appeared on the director’s face. That was how Noah Noaevich looked when some especially daring creative idea was gestating in his head. ‘And have you ever walked on a tightrope?’ He clasped his hands prayerfully. ‘Even just a little bit! I have read that your nation is exceptionally nimble in physical gymnastics.’

‘I can do a rittur,’ Fandorin junior replied, and after a moment’s thought added cautiously: ‘If it is not too high.’

‘Phenomenal! Simply phenomenal!’ Stern exclaimed, almost with tears in his eyes. ‘We won’t harass you, Erast Petrovich. I understand that at your age it is strange to go out on to the stage. I have a more grandiose idea. Ladies and gentlemen, we shall have a genuine Japanese acting in our play! That will add authenticity and novelty to the production. Just cast a glance at this face! Do you see that Asiatic modelling, that visceral strength? A statue of the Buddha!’ Under the director’s outstretched hand, the Japanese thrust out his chest, knitted his brows and narrowed his already narrow eyes. ‘We shall keep it a secret until the opening night that the leading male role is being played by a Japanese. But when he removes his mask at the moment of revelation, there will be a furore. There has never been a leading man of this kind on the European stage! And tell me, my friend, could you portray the passion of love?’

‘I can do a rittur,’ Mikhail-Masahiro replied imperturbably.

He looked round, selected Aphrodisina as his object and fixed her with a glance that was suddenly aflame. The wings of his small nose distended voraciously, the veins stood out on his forehead and his lips trembled slightly, as if he were struggling to hold back a groan.

‘ Mamma mia! ’ Simochka babbled in a feeble voice, blushing bright red.

‘Phenomenal!’ Stern boomed ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. But I still haven’t asked the most important question; will you agree to act in your foster father’s play? We all ask you to do it, everyone here. Ask him!’

‘Please do it, please!’ the actors roared.

‘The success of the play and the new playwright will depend on this,’ Stern proclaimed solemnly. ‘You wish to help your foster father, don’t you?’

‘Very much.’

The Japanese looked at Fandorin, who was standing there with a completely stiff face, as if he found everything that was happening extremely unpleasant.

Mikhail Erastovich said something rather long in a strange-sounding language, addressing Fandorin senior.

‘ Sore va tasikani soo da kedo …’ Fandorin senior replied, as if admitting something reluctantly.

‘I agree,’ said the Japanese, bowing first to Stern and then to all the others.

The company burst into applause and joyful exclamations.

‘I’ll order the set design today from Sudeikin or Bakst, whichever one is free,’ said Noah Noaevich, switching to a businesslike tone. ‘The costumes are not a problem. There is something left over from our production of The Mikado , there’s something in stock in the storerooms here, and our predecessors staged Jones’s Geisha . We’ll make the rest. And we’ll rustle up plenty of props from the Theatrical and Cinematographic Company. We’ll restructure the stage. Nonarikin: typewritten texts by roles, in the folders as usual. Absolute secrecy! Until the announcement no one must know what we are putting on. We’ll simply inform the press that The Cherry Orchard is cancelled. And we’ll make sure to announce that we have found a stronger play!’