The Scent of Sake (53 page)

“I will do my utmost for the house, Mother.” Tama bowed deeply, her forehead touching the tatami.

“I know,” Rie said softly. “You always have.”

Tama’s investiture as successor to the headship of the house coincided with the end of season celebration. The celebration was more modest than usual, appropriate to the recent death of the house head and the temporary succession by a woman. Sei—

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saburo made the announcement that his aunt was succeeding to the headship for three years.

Tama’s words of acceptance were brief. “We are grateful you have taken the trouble to join us today to celebrate the end of brewing for the season. We humbly request your continued cooperation with the House of Omura.” Tama’s face reddened with the effort of speaking in front of Nada’s important brewers for the first time. “We thank you and ask that you enjoy some of our sake.” She then walked among the guests, bowing graciously and greeting them as she had seen Yoshitaro do. It was not common for women of the house to be present at the end of brewing celebration, but this occasion was unusual, a woman becoming house head.

Rie smiled as she watched. Some things a woman could do as well as a man, even better. She looked over at Tama and a shiver of apprehension shook her. Could a woman be house head for longer than the allowed three years? It had never happened before.

Late one evening Buntaro went on an errand to the number one kura. Brewing was finished for the season, and the workers had returned to their farms for the summer. The interior of the kura was completely dark. He tried to focus and moved along the line of barrels, his hand touching each one as he moved. Silence. Only the dull echo of his geta on the earthen floor. He paused. What was that sound? He sensed a presence somewhere in the kura. He listened, did not move. There it was again. Was it the sound of footsteps? Who could it be? The kurabito had all left. The clerks were gone for the night. He crept farther along the line of barrels toward the wall. He paused and looked both ways, peering into the murky darkness. There it was again, the sound. He turned abruptly toward the right and saw something move, a figure.

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“Who’s there?” he cried.

The person began to run toward the door.

Buntaro raced down another aisle and reached the door just as the intruder came around the corner and nearly collided with Buntaro.

In a series of rapid thrusts Buntaro slammed his knee into the man’s groin, banged his knee against his chin, and twisted the man around, pinning his arms behind him. Holding the intruder to the ground with his knees and arms with one hand, with the other hand Buntaro pulled the man’s head back by the hair. “What are you doing here? Sent by Yusuke, from Yamaguchi, weren’t you?” Buntaro said gruffly. He recognized Yusuke’s apprentice, Hachirobei, a slight young man about his own age.

Hachirobei gasped for breath but said nothing. “Speak!” Buntaro commanded.

Still the culprit made no reply.

Buntaro moved his knees to pin Hachirobei’s arms, freeing both hands to encircle his neck.

“Answer now, or you’ll never talk again.” Buntaro tightened his grip.

Hachirobei’s eyes bulged. He gasped and choked. “Ready to talk?”

A slight nod of the head.

Buntaro loosened his hold slightly. “Well?”

Hachirobei coughed. “I . . . I was . . . looking for your recipe.”

“
Ha!
Another of Yamaguchi’s tricks.”

Buntaro let go of Hachirobei. He scrambled to his feet, and as he turned toward the door, Buntaro gave him a swift kick.

“Out, rat!” he shouted into the night. “The Brewers Association will hear of this,” Buntaro muttered as he walked out of the kura toward the office.

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***

O-Natsu, though older than Rie and long since retired, still came

to the house each day to sit a few hours, often in the old nursery, long since empty of children. She had no other family, never having married. Rie found her presence comforting, and since the pace of her own life was slowing, her steps often took her to the nursery of an afternoon. There the two white-haired women would take from their obis their long tiny pipes and reminisce. One would say something, and the other would nod and exhale a thin white wisp. Rie knew that a stranger looking in would not guess that one was mistress, the other servant, so easy was their companionship. The wisdom and plain common sense of O-Natsu Rie found nowhere else.

The days and months of Tama’s headship passed, and White Tiger prospered.

“Tama,” Rie said to her daughter-in-law one morning, “our shipping business is prospering beyond our expectations. I have an idea for something new.”

Tama looked at her mother-in-law and marveled at this woman whose face wrinkled around the eyes now and whose voice occasionally cracked, but whose mind was still the most agile she had known. “What is it, Mother?”

“Buntaro says there are rumblings of trouble with China now.

He thinks there may be a military confrontation.”

“Yes, I heard him say something about it. He sounded very concerned.”

“I want Buntaro to go to the port and buy two of those English steamships, ships that can transport troops. Of course he will negotiate a good price.”

“Oh?”

“Then,” Rie continued, “we can charter the ships to the government at a good fee. The government will need ships if it trans—

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ports troops to the continent.” Rie tapped the table with her fan. “The English have the best steamships. Then when the fighting has ended we can sell the ships and make a good profit.” Rie smiled, sitting straight-backed, her eyes sparkling.

“How clever you are, Mother. Yes, it is a good idea. We should discuss it with Buntaro today.”

“He has become even more aggressive than Kinnosuke was, don’t you think, Tama?”

“Yes, he does keep up with the pace of the times.”

“Come, let’s go and speak with him.” Rie rose slowly, taking Tama’s arm as she did so.

Buntaro hurried to Kobe port soon after Rie and Tama spoke with him about purchasing two English ships and chartering them to the government. As he walked along the wharf he encountered two clerks from another brewery saunter-ing along, speaking in guttural, gruff voices. They eyed him suspiciously.

“Where to, Buntaro?” one asked. Buntaro said only hello.

“On a secret mission for the Omura House?” the second said impudently.

“That Omura woman must be possessed by the fox spirit. That’s the only explanation for her craftiness,” the first clerk said. They both guffawed.

Cheeky fellows,
Buntaro thought, and hastened away from them. He was well aware that he was watched wherever he went by curious, even jealous, clerks. It was the price of success. White Tiger’s prosperity was legendary, and Buntaro sometimes won-

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dered if being so far ahead of most other brewers didn’t have its drawbacks. Was it appropriate to succeed in the competition when one’s competitors viewed it as being at their expense? He dismissed these thoughts as he approached the office of the English ship owners. Honest success was the measure of any business negotiation or decision, as his father and Kinnosuke had always taught him. He squared his broad shoulders and walked through the door of the shipping office.

Fumi came through the kitchen corridor door calling for Rie. “Where is she?” Fumi asked O-Yuki, who was working in the kitchen.

“I think she’s upstairs in her room,” O-Yuki said. “Not feeling well?” Fumi persisted.

“I’m not sure. Maybe she’s just resting.”

Fumi padded quickly upstairs to her mother’s room and opened the shoji.

“Mother, are you all right?” Fumi asked.

“Oh, come in, Fumi,” Rie replied, feeling a little nostalgic after Yoshi’s death. It had hit her harder than she’d ever thought possible. Or maybe she was just recognizing her own mortality. “She sat at a small table rummaging through a large lacquer box. “I’m fine, Fumi. I was just looking through some of your grandmother’s things. I’m sorry you never knew her.”

“So am I, Mother,” Fumi said. She sat next to her mother and dabbed perspiration from her face.

“What’s the matter, dear? You seem upset,” Rie asked.

“The same old problem, Mother. It’s just that the longer we postpone the marriage, the worse it gets. Mrs. Nakano is at her wit’s end. Forty-five o-miais! Can you imagine? And Hiro has had his twenty-seventh birthday. Some people are saying there’s something wrong with him.” Fumi fanned herself vigorously.

“There’s nothing wrong. Nothing that more discipline wouldn’t

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cure,” Rie said, holding up a gold-threaded obi tie. “Here, dear, I’d like you to have this. It was your grandmother’s favorite. Please don’t show it to Tama. I’ll give her another one.”

Fumi held the gold tie up to examine it. “Lovely, Mother, thank you. I’ll cherish it.” She thrust it into her sleeve.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, Fumi, that I’m going to talk to Hiro soon. I’ll make it plain to him: either he accepts a bride or he will be disinherited. Perhaps I’ll send for him tomorrow.” Rie continued to sort through the items in the box, unwrapping and refolding each carefully.

“Well, I suppose it has come to that.” Fumi stopped fanning herself and bit a fingernail. “It’s a good thing we didn’t wait for Mie to be married. She’d be way overage for marriage now.” Fumi looked at her mother. “Have you been feeling well lately, Mother?”

“Well enough for over eighty, Fumi. But I have to admit, the stairs are becoming harder for me and my heart flutters sometimes. I’m thinking of moving back to my old room downstairs. It’s closer to the garden too. Come, let’s go down and have some tea. Tama will join us. She’s working in the office.”

Fumi helped her mother up and they descended the stairs to the parlor.

“Would you call Tama, please? And have O-Yuki bring us tea.”

Fumi returned with Tama, followed by O-Yuki carrying a tea tray.

Tama knelt, bowed, and smiled. “Buntaro is back from the port, Mother. He managed to purchase one of the two large English steamships.”