The Samurai's Daughter (15 page)

“Why not?” Hugh squeezed my hand. “It doesn't have to be anything big, since you say he's comfortably off. But there's got to be some kind of good luck gift for the New Year that would be appreciated.”

“It would seem like a bribe. Or, at the very least, he'd have to return the favor.”

“I see,” Hugh said. “Oi, there's a cab stopping. Can you believe our luck?”

It had only been twenty minutes, so we were lucky indeed. As we got in and settled ourselves, I thought more about how we could approach Ramon Espinosa again. He had said he'd take me as an acupuncture client. I explained my idea to Hugh.

“He seemed most excited to work on my knee. He said my problems there are a manifestation of my wood liver.”

“You're right, it's a good excuse to go back. But you'd better tell me what a wood liver is—I don't want you missing out on hospital treatment if you're seriously ill—”

“I don't think it's that extreme. All he said is a wood liver can cause me trouble in my relationships—”

“Our relationship is perfect.”

But not the one I have with my father,
I thought. “I'm glad you're happy with me. And I'm willing to take you back there with me. But let me make all the introductions. I think I'd be better in a dominant role—”

“I so agree,” Hugh said, and from the look in his eyes, I knew he wasn't thinking about the plaintiff anymore.

When I woke up New Year's morning, I was naked, yet so much warmer than usual that I thought I was back in America. Then I recognized the lumpy futon under me, and Hugh's shoulders and head a few inches away. There is no better thing in the world than waking up with someone you love—someone who's already done the thankless job of creeping out into the cold to turn on the space heater and brew tea.

Hugh was on his side, facing away from me, reading something; I ran my fingers down his bare back to let him know I was awake—and appreciated his presence.

“Good morning, darling.” Hugh rolled around to kiss me. “Finally. I've been up since five.”

“A few days ago, I was waking at four. But it does go away. Spending the day in sunlight helps.”

“I know,” Hugh said. “And even though it's gray out, I'm racing to go. Even though you said Ramon Espinosa doesn't want to take part in the lawsuit, I want to talk to him. How early do you think we can appear at his flat?”

“Um, we're expected at my aunt's today for New Year's lunch. Since we missed last night's noodles, this is really crucial. Could I take you to Ramon Espinosa's afterward, when we're coming back
into town? Mid-afternoon's a proper time for a New Year's visit, I think.”

“You probably think I'm a piranha,” Hugh said, sighing.

“I used to think that, sometimes,” I said. “But now that I'm in love with you, I tolerate it. However, I really think you're not going to get what you need from Ramon. You'll see when you meet him. He's quite content with his life. He doesn't want to dredge up old memories.”

Hugh was silent for a minute. “So, I won't ask him about that. Maybe, though, he'll have names for me of others who might want to do it.”

I nodded, but I didn't really agree. I didn't want to think about it. The first thing on the agenda was getting Hugh in the right frame of mind to talk to my relatives, who hadn't seen him in almost two years. I insisted that he wear a suit, and I did as well.

“It's not a bloody wedding,” Hugh grumbled as he rummaged about in his suitcase for a fresh shirt.

“No, it's not. But it is the most important holiday of the year. You'll see.”

 

It was a glorious New Year's lunch. Aunt Norie had outdone herself, preparing in advance twenty-five perfect dishes, arranged with precision in the three antique lacquered boxes that had been used for New Year's foods by the Shimuras since the turn of the century, when my great-grandfather's mother had bought the set from a famed lacquer artist in Kamakura. I took some notes on their history and used Tom's fancy new digital camera to snap some pictures of the boxes, so beautifully filled up with food.

While Hugh and Tom caught up on old times, Aunt Norie fussed over Chika, who appeared unusually sleepy, with her head flopping down and her eyes closing. Chika was a far cry from the glamour-puss of New Year's Eve; this morning she merely looked like a kid who'd stayed out too late, had had too much to drink, and was living with the consequences. I wondered how she'd gotten home from her party; had she caught a ride or waited until New Year's morning, when the trains ran again?

I longed for a moment alone with my younger cousin, but Norie wanted to immediately open the fine bottle of Fukushima sake that I'd brought to toast the holiday. As my aunt offered the carefully warmed spirits in tiny, dark blue lacquered glasses, everyone said
Kampai
except for Chika, who had a big glass of water next to her untouched cup of green tea. She'd taken no food. I could understand why a hungover person might not want to chew a grilled giant prawn with its head and whiskers still attached—or the tiny squid that had been cooked to the point that they curled into the shape of pinecones. Hugh was eyeing these things a bit nervously himself. Below the din of voices, I encouraged him to try the safe bets: sweet, sake-simmered root vegetables, the fancy hard boiled eggs, the grilled salmon, and the daikon root and carrot that had been knotted together to look like a New Year's rope. Everything Norie had prepared was symbolic of different elements of nature, which in turn were symbolic of the New Year and good wishes for the future. This was the kind of Japanese cooking that I admired most and had already spent many pages chronicling for my family history.

“Have you decided on the shrine?” Norie asked me in English so Hugh would understand. “Or do you want a wedding hall? Some wedding halls can do Shinto, Buddhist, or Christian ceremonies—all three if you like! And of course, they can rent you all three gowns.”

“What's this about three wedding gowns for Rei? Isn't that rather…fancy?” Hugh asked Norie.

Chika coughed in her napkin as if she were dying. Norie shot her a reproving glare, then explained, “Oh, no, three is normal, Hugh-san. At a Japanese wedding, the bride wears a kimono for the Shinto ceremony, a white wedding dress for the reception, and a short, colorful formal gown when she and the groom lead off the dancing.”

“Um, that is more than I would need,” I interjected. “I was thinking of finding a vintage wedding kimono somewhere.”

Uncle Hiroshi chuckled. “If your grandparents were alive, they would be upset at your wearing old clothes for a wedding.”

And even more upset at my choice of a foreign groom,
I thought. The
whole topic was making me uncomfortable, so I decided to steer the conversation away from nuptials.

“I finally went to the library and read the letter that Hirohito sent us,” I said. I waited a beat for everyone to quiet. “You won't believe how well he knew Great-Grandfather!”

“You mean, Showa Tenno,” my aunt corrected with a smile, so I knew she wasn't trying to embarrass me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I forgot, we do it differently in the West. But did you know that Great-Grandfather was his teacher? Actually, he taught the emperor Japanese history back in the thirties.”

“
Ah so desu ka,
” Norie said, shaking her head gently. “I knew Shimura-sensei was a famous professor, but not that he'd taught the emperor himself!”

“He wasn't a teacher, but a private tutor,” Uncle Hiroshi said.

“So, that's it! I couldn't understand how the past emperor could have studied with Great-Grandfather. But if it was a tutoring situation, that's more befitting royalty,” I said.

“The emperor had a number of tutors—all leading scholars carefully chosen,” Hiroshi said. “Our ancestor discussed the importance of Japanese history with him.”

“Why didn't you tell me this before?” I asked.

“I thought you knew it already. You know more about our family than anyone,
neh
?” Hiroshi said.

I paused, wondering if that was a slight jab. But I pressed Uncle Hiroshi to tell me more. He told us that Kazuo Shimura—during the time he was a star professor at Tokyo University—was invited by the Imperial Household Agency to teach the fifteen-year-old crown prince history. He had been a natural choice because he had written a popular textbook on the history of the Meiji Period.

I hadn't known about the textbook, but from my own brief studies in the political history of Japan, I knew that the military government officials who controlled Hirohito's education hoped that the crown prince would want to become an emperor who would finally fulfill expansionist dreams.

“Did you ever read Great-Grandfather's textbook?” I asked Hiroshi as Norie went into the kitchen to warm up the chestnut and bean soup she'd prepared for dessert.

“Yes, years ago. We have a copy. I think it's with some old papers and photographs, but I'm not sure.”

“After we've finished eating, may I look around for it?” I asked. “Just tell me where the family history materials are, and I'll be very careful.”

“But you can't read Japanese. How will you find it?” Uncle Hiroshi asked.

“I'll help her with that,” Tom volunteered.

“Good plan,” Hugh said. “While you do that, I'll have a chance to sit down with Aunt Norie and look at the Japanese bridal magazines she's bought to help us with our wedding preparations. But can we still try to get back to Tokyo around three?”

“What do you have to do in Tokyo? Do you need me to help with directions again?” Chika asked.

It was the first thing she'd said during lunch. I sensed she was angling for a way to go back to the city. What was wrong with Chika? Was she going through a normal rebellion, or was there some deep unhappiness between her and her family?

“Rei knows how to get there. It's a place I need to see for my work. Too boring to explain,” Hugh said. Obviously, he didn't want to bring up the class action with them. But it would have to surface, sooner or later.

While I helped my aunt clean up, Chika lay down on the couch with a compress on her forehead, too tired to participate. Then I joined Tom in the search of Uncle Hiroshi's file cabinet. We found the family documents amidst other things—old gas and electric bills, the deed to the house, and countless bank statements.

“Ah, here's something.” Tom pulled out a thick brown envelope and began rummaging through it. “It looks as if these are all newspaper clippings, university programs, and so on about Great-Grandfather. Have you seen his picture?”

“No, and please be careful! That material is so delicate,” I said as Tom held out a fragile old piece of newspaper for me to see. It was an article printed in tiny kanji, and next to it was a photo of an unsmiling middle-aged man. He wore a coat and a skinny tie, and his hair was parted sharply to the side.

“The article below announces that Professor Kazuo Shimura has
become the tutor of Crown Prince Hirohito. So—I guess it's really true what my father said.”

“Did you doubt him?” I asked.

“Not exactly. But I found the story so surprising that I thought it might have been exaggerated—perhaps by his father to him. You know how stories change as they pass from person to person.”

I nodded. “Will you read the article to me?”

Tom read aloud in Japanese as I scribbled at a breakneck pace. Kazuo Shimura, professor of history at Tokyo University, had been appointed to tutor His Royal Highness in Japanese history on the recommendation of the Imperial Household Agency. He was one of the crown prince's five tutors, all of whom were respected names in Japanese academics. The author of the article opined that Dr. Shimura's great scholarly knowledge of the Meiji Period would be of value given Japan's new role as leader of all nations.

“Why do they say that?” Tom asked. “Emperor Meiji ended the Shogun system. I think the Shogun culture is what made Japan special. Why didn't they talk about studying Tokugawa and all the others?”

“Ah, your samurai roots are showing,” I said. “Samurai and shoguns weren't the model by the early twentieth century—Kaiser Wilhelm was. And I would think that the government officials grooming Hirohito thought Emperor Meiji was a perfect example since he beat the Russians in a war at sea and had hoped to conquer Korea, though he had to defer that dream because of a number of complications relating to lack of capital.”

“I'm impressed that you knew all this, Rei. I haven't read Japanese history since I was doing entrance exams for university. And then I was just learning dates and names, so it's all a haze to me.”

I tried to hide my pleasure that my Japanese cousin thought I had a good sense of his nation's history. “Well, I had to take history as part of my master's degree, and that was fairly recent.”

“It's clear that Father knows a lot, but he apparently didn't think the stories were worth telling until you began asking questions. I'm glad for what you're doing, Rei. I wouldn't be surprised if you uncover enough past glory that we could call someone up at the Palace to give us a private tour.”

“Why would you even want to visit the Palace? From what I see on TV, the royals don't have that much to offer in the way of fun. In the past, though, it was different—Prince and Princess Chichibu were known to roller-skate through the hallways.”

“If Princess Masako left the crown prince for me, I guess I could take her Rollerblading,” Tom said, his eyes twinkling.

“Do you really think she's cute?”

“Oh, I'm not serious. But I think it's a shame that such a formerly lively and smart person has changed her life so dramatically after marriage. Fortunately for her, she gave birth to the baby princess.”

“Yes, if the imperial line had ended, it would have been a national tragedy,” I agreed. The loss of a continuously ruling dynasty said to have begun with the Sun God would have made even a cynic like me weep.

Tom was saying something. It took me a second to click back and hear him. “Do you really want to do it?”

“The translation? Sure. If it's not too much trouble for you to do it, I would love to have it, verbatim, for the family history.”

“That's not what I was asking,” Tom said softly. “I wanted to know if—if you really felt ready to be married. I like him, but…well, I'm so used to being your being
you
. Free-spoken and active.”

I smiled at Tom. “Hey, I'm not becoming some sort of princess. Nobody's going to tell me to stop working or start procreating. It's just—formalizing a commitment we made a long time ago to each other.”

Talking about commitment reminded me that I'd promised Hugh the chance of an afternoon visit to Ramon Espinosa. It was already three. “Thanks so much for showing me the article, Tom. We have to go now.”

“All right. But now that I've gotten into this file, I'll look through a bit longer. Who knows, maybe the actual textbook is buried at the bottom of this mess. That would be interesting to read, wouldn't it?”

“It would.” I hugged Tom; the movement felt awkward, because I hadn't done it much. Because I grew up in a different country from him, and perhaps because of the slight age gap, I'd
always found my cousin a little bit alluring. It wasn't that I'd wanted to date Tom—but there'd always been something between us that was close and special.