For the next two years, Rie and Jihei called an uneasy truce. One evening, when Kinzaemon had retired early and the children were all in bed, Rie and Jihei sat at the dining table together, something that seldom happened. Rie was pouring sake for Jihei, thinking instead of Saburo Kato and his new wife. Their marriage had sent her into a spiraling depression that had lasted days, but Fumi, their love child, had soon pulled her out of it. The marriage had only tightened her bond with her child, whom she loved with a fierceness she’d never thought possible, even more so since it was her one link to Saburo, a reminder of the love they had shared. Whenever she looked at her precious Fumi she was reminded of her love for Saburo. She knew her feeling for Fumi outweighed what she felt for any of the other children, but she should take care not to make her preference too obvious. It would not be fair to the others, who had not chosen their parents.
Jihei disrupted her musing. “Why don’t you drink some of our
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sake? How can you make decisions about White Tiger when you refuse to enjoy it? Are you unable to drink our own product?”
“No, of course not. Yes, I can drink.” Annoyed at his challenge, she held out her cup, and Jihei filled it. She drank the cup down and held it out again.
“Good.” Jihei smiled. “That’s more like it. You’ll soon become a judge of our cellar, the grades of our brew.”
Rie held out her cup again. How presumptous of Jihei to assume he was a better judge of White Tiger sake. She lost count after a few cups, unaccustomed as she was to drinking more than a single cup of three sips. It was not really expected of a woman, unless she worked in the water world.
At length Jihei held up a flask and said, “One more? A nightcap?”
Rie felt dizzy. “Oh . . . maybe not,” she managed to say. She rose to stand, but stumbled against the table for support.
Jihei smiled. “I’ll help you upstairs.” He took her arm and assisted her as they wove unsteadily toward the stairs and made their way up, one labored step at a time.
Rie fumbled for a futon and collapsed on it, unable to dress for bed.
Jihei disrobed and moved over Rie without hesitation. “No!” Rie moaned, struggling to prevent him from going further, but Jihei persisted. She had not slept with him since it was necessary after becoming pregnant with Fumi, and she was not at her normal strength. “No!” she grunted again. Feeling angry and violated, she panted and pushed but then collapsed under his weight as he spread her kimono and her legs roughly apart. As she flailed against him, he thrust himself on her, into her, moving vigorously until he abruptly slackened, and lay inert.
Rie was unable to move, not fully aware what had happened, and unable to go downstairs for her ablution ritual. She slept fit-fy.
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When she awoke in the morning she found herself still in her work kimono, her clothing disarrayed and her body feeling soiled, unclean. She remembered little of the previous night. Then she felt her clothing and realized what had happened. She sat up and rubbed her aching head. Jihei was not in the room. For a few minutes she sat breathing rapidly in anger. Jihei had found a way to exact revenge for her bringing the children into the house. Furious, she got up, dressed, and walked down the stairs toward the bath, not speaking to any of the maids. She went into the bathroom and washed vigorously with the tepid water left from the previous night’s baths, trying to remove the disgusting evidence of Jihei’s violation.
She went into breakfast alone, wishing there were some way she could erase what had happened from her thoughts, her body.
O-Natsu came in with miso soup and rice. “Are you all right?” “Yes, O-Natsu.” Rie had no desire for conversation. “Please
see that the children are doing their lessons.”
O-Natsu bowed and left the room, guessing Rie’s mood.
Rie drank more than her usual two cups of tea, trying to heal the pain in her head. When she finished, she walked down the corridor to the door to the courtyard, put on geta, and went to the empty barrels. She picked up a bucket, filled it at the well, set it down, and reached for a brush. She scrubbed at a barrel with all her strength, her anger adding to her energy, until she finally put down the brush and sighed, wiping tears from her eyes. How many times in one lifetime must one kill the self?
O-Natsu, concerned about Rie, had gone along the corridor to the door to the courtyard and stood there watching. O-Yuki came up behind her and looked out.
“You can tell how angry she is when she goes out to scrub the barrels, especially if she’s not talking,” O-Natsu said.
“I wonder why she’s so angry?” O-Yuki asked.
“Who knows? Maybe we’ll find out later, maybe we won’t.
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Just watch and wait.” They walked back to the kitchen and their day’s chores.
By afternoon Rie had recovered enough to go to the nursery, where she found O-Natsu and O-Yuki playing with the three girls. Rie entered and joined them on the tatami. O-Yuki was tossing a red ball to the three children in turn. She was younger than O-Natsu, hardly more than a child herself, and was especially fond of playing with them.
O-Natsu and O-Yuki nodded and bowed as Rie sat down. “The house has become a lively nursery.” O-Natsu laughed,
hoping to improve Rie’s mood.
Rie caught hold of Fumi, stopping her irrepressible motion, and held her. “Even at this age you can tell how bright Fumi is, can’t you?” Rie smiled at Fumi’s obsidian eyes, so reminiscent of Saburo’s. Fumi helped to erase memories of the painful night. And of Saburo’s marriage.
“Well, I have to admit, she does seem more precocious than Kazu or Teru,” O-Natsu said. “But I try to treat them all alike.” “I want to give Fumi special training,” Rie remarked when she
knew Kazu and Teru would not understand.
“Of course all the girls will marry into brewing families, won’t they?” O-Natsu asked. “But I guess it’s far too early to ask.”
“Yes, Kazu and Teru will go as brides to brewing families, but . . .” Rie took out a tortoiseshell comb from her hair, paused, and replaced it.
“How about Fumi?” O-Yuki asked.
“Let’s wait and see about her,” Rie responded, still arranging her hair with one hand, the other holding Fumi.
O-Natsu leaned forward, both hands on the tatami. “Won’t she marry a brewer too?”
“Oh, yes. I have an idea, but we need to wait. It’s too early to talk about it.” Rie put Fumi down, rose, and left the room.
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When she was out of earshot, O-Yuki turned to O-Natsu. “I never know what she’s thinking,” she said.
“I don’t either,” O-Natsu admitted. “But you can be sure she’s planning something. Always.”
Several evenings later Rie, carrying Fumi on her back, paused outside the shoji to her father’s room.
“Father, may I come in?”
“Yes, Rie, please do. I’m sitting here alone.”
Was there a slightly different, almost purposeful, note in her father’s hoarse voice?
“Have you had your sake yet, Father?” Rie asked and put Fumi down. Rie sat opposite her father. She felt his attitude toward her soften, especially at this hour of the evening.
Her father cleared his throat. “Yes, I still have some here. Will you join me?”
“Just one sip, to keep you company.” She held the three-sip cup out, and her father filled it. Rie smiled as Fumi walked toward her grandfather with her arms out, and he reached and took her on his lap.
“Father, I have an idea . . . for the house.” She refrained from using the term
business,
though of course they were connected, identical.
“What now, Ri-chan?”
“Well, I know it’s way too soon to speak of this, but you’ve noticed, haven’t you, how bright Fumi is? Brighter than Yoshi, really.”
“She is your child. Of course she’s bright.” He looked at Rie inquisitively.
Rie felt warmed, embraced by her father’s affection. “When she’s old enough to marry, I want her to have a mukoyoshi, a very good one. I want to set her and her husband up as a
bunke
rather than have her marry out as a bride to another family.”
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Kinzaemon ran his hands through his hair twice. Rie noticed that though still thick, his hair had gone completely silver since her mother died.
I wish I could talk to you about Mother,
she thought, Hana’s sweet face coming to mind.
“Oh? And then?”
“Well,” Rie said carefully, “in a bunke, her child could come back to the main house either as heir or his bride, depending on Yoshitaro’s eldest child. It would be an ideal combination for the house, Father, don’t you think?”
“Thinking so far ahead, Ri-chan. And Yoshi is not a stupid child.” He pulled at his ear.
“I know, and I’m glad he enjoys the work, even at his age. But I think with a child of Fumi’s . . . a daughter. . . . And of course I’d want to find the best person in Kobe as her husband.” Rie took out her comb and turned it over in her hands.
“It would cause a few raised eyebrows, wouldn’t it, if you adopted a husband for her when we already have an heir?”
She reinserted her comb. “Raised eyebrows are not my main concern, Father.”
“I’m aware of that, Rie. It’s only that we need to consider the opinions and feelings of others in Kobe if we are to do business with them successfully. You know what they always say about the peg that sticks up. It gets pounded down. But it’s possible what you suggest may work to our advantage. Let’s wait a few years though, quite a few years.” He chuckled. “Of course we need to plan in business. And I can see that you are a planner.” He smiled, his eyes wrinkling to slits.
Rie reached for her father’s hand and gave a gentle squeeze. Sometimes she felt that her father did understand her. Fumi squirmed back to Rie and began to cry.
“She’s tired, aren’t you?” Rie said, picking her up and kissing her. “I’ll take her to bed. Sleep well, Father.”
I love you,
she added silently as she carried her daughter to her room.
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One morning several weeks later, Rie arose with a sinking feeling. She recognized the signs: the lack of appetite, the slight nausea, and missing a month already. She put her hands to her face, aghast. She knew she was pregnant again, with Jihei’s child, the child of the agonizing night when she had drunk so much sake and Jihei had violated her. She would have to bear a child of Jihei’s, bring his blood into the family again. This was no happy occasion. She sat alone, tears streaming down her face.