Читать книгу Fish of the Seto Inland Sea - Ruri Pilgrim - Страница 19

Autumn came earlier than usual that year. Haruko was now fourteen years old. The rain which started in September continued without stopping into the middle of October. At first the Kitaka river had roared and foamed, swollen by the heavy rains. The volume of water increased until, for the past few days, the river was lapping at the top of the dyke. The water looked ominously quiet. It was dark and flowing swiftly.

The dyke had contained the river for as long as the villagers could remember. People stood by the water and shook their heads. That day, the river was higher than ever before. It was already overflowing here and there in thin streams, and crabs were crawling around.

The wind got up in the afternoon. People finished work early and secured their shutters and doors. When Masakazu arrived home and put away his bicycle in the old stable, he saw his father washing his feet by the well.

‘Oh, Masa, you crossed the river all right?’ his father asked.

‘I came home over the New Bridge, otohsan. Good job it was finished,’ Masakazu replied. The concrete bridge connecting Kitani village to the town had been finished earlier in the year. Shobei had donated generously to its completion.

‘Ah, the New Bridge will be all right, but it may be only a matter of hours until the dyke bursts. If that happens, several houses in the village will go under water.’ Then Tei-ichi said, ‘Masa, when you go in, ask someone to bring a towel out for me.’

Almost at the same time, Kei appeared with a towel and a pair of dry geta. ‘I am sorry. I didn’t realise you were home.’

‘Have you seen the river?’ Kei asked both of them, as she squatted and dried Tei-ichi’s feet.

‘I was telling Masa that houses of the Miwa tenant farmers might be flooded.’

‘Use this.’ Kei stood up and handed the towel to Masakazu. She asked both of them, ‘Shall I send Mata san to get the women and children from those houses?’

‘That might be an idea. Masa, you go and alert the youth club members. ‘We’ll send Yohei and Mata to the three houses nearest the river.’

‘Yes, otohsan.’ Masakazu went back to the stable and brought out the bicycle he had just put away.

‘Yohei.’ Tei-ichi called Shige’s husband. ‘Go to Kawabata and bring people from those three houses nearest the river. Take Mata with you.’

‘O’Shige san,’ Kei was heard calling. ‘Cook plenty of rice and make rice balls for the people who are coming. We need lots of hot water as well.’

‘Can we help make rice balls?’ The girls came to the kitchen.

‘Yes, yes, we need all the help we can get. Ask your okahsan to find you aprons.’

‘Oji-isama, can I go with Mata san to the river to help people?’ Shuichi asked.

‘Oh, yes, you can go, but stay with Mata and do not go near the river, do you understand?’

Watching the boy running after Matabei, Kei remarked, ‘He is getting clever. He knows I wouldn’t say “yes”.’

‘He is ten. You shouldn’t pamper him.’

Kei was quiet but she still shuddered when she remembered how close he had come to drowning.

As the darkness fell, the rain beat down harder. Masakazu came home and was going out again.

Tei-ichi called him back. ‘How is it? Do the upstream villages seem to be holding all right?’

‘So far we have not seen any sign of disaster, otohsan, but I don’t think some of the bridges are strong enough. I just came back to leave my bicycle. The wind is so strong that it’s difficult to ride.’ He called out. ‘Okahsan, I am going with the others to help the villagers upstream. Don’t worry about me, if I am late,’ but his voice was almost drowned in the torrents of rain.

‘I hope Shu-chan is all right,’ Kei said to Ayako, peering outside.

‘He is not stupid, okahsan, and Mata san will not let him out of sight,’ Ayako replied. ‘Besides, although he wouldn’t go up, the top of the dyke is quite wide. People can’t fall into the river easily. You know very well no one ever has.’

‘No, but he must be soaking wet. You get his dry clothes ready and let him have a hot bath when he comes home.’

Kei peered outside once more before she went back to the kitchen.

The wind became stronger towards midnight and brought more rain. About fifteen people including children were evacuated from their homes and came to the Shirais’. Kei did not hesitate to open up the rooms reserved for guests and special occasions and the whole household tried to settle down for an uneasy night. Outside the wind was howling.

It was about four o’clock when the rain began to subside. Once the storm had passed, the dawn brought a beautiful day such as people had not seen for a month. Shafts of golden light shone through clouds. The white feathers of pigeons on the still-wet roof were pink in the sunlight. Sparrows chattered. The hills in the distance were the colours of autumn and the leaves left on the trees were washed clean and shining. Masakazu arrived home caked with mud and without shoes. He had a bath and breakfast, and left for work. At every house, people were hanging their clothes out to dry.

A large area of the rice paddies was flooded and the water stretched far, reflecting the white clouds in the serene sky. Big trees had been washed downriver and lay sideways here and there gathering debris. Upstream the damage was considerable but in Kitani village, two houses had gone and there were no human casualties.

In the afternoon, a servant arrived from the Miwas, and Kei and Ayako realised that they had not sent a message of inquiry to Shobei and his wife. The Miwas’ house was on high ground and there was no cause for worry, but it would have been a matter of courtesy to have contacted them.

‘Oh, Zen san,’ Ayako said. ‘How are otohsama and okahsama? We are sorry we haven’t been in touch with you yet. We had so many people last night, and we are still in a muddle.’

‘They are all right, young okusama, although dansama seems to have caught a chill. He says he will come to see you tomorrow. He wanted to know if you need a hand.’

Ayako remembered that whenever there was anything unusual, however insignificant, Shobei would call on the Shirais himself.

‘Is otosahma all right?’

‘He says you should not worry.’

The day before, when the wind had been getting stronger, Rinji had called in to see if his parents needed any help. Seeing that everything had been in order, he had had a cup of tea and left soon afterwards. Shobei had stayed home and, after supper, had gone out without anyone noticing. Later when his wife had realised that he was not in his study, she had not been too concerned. He had a group of friends with whom he played the game of Go and she had thought he might have gone out to meet them, although it had not seemed like a good night to go visiting.

‘Actually, dansama walked upstream to see how his land and farmers were. I don’t think he realised how quickly the dyke would burst there. He was trapped in the flood till the youth club members rescued him early in the morning.’

Ayako frowned. She excused herself and quickly changed her kimono. To Kei she said, ‘I know he would come himself unless he felt really ill. I will just go and see how he is.’

‘Take your overnight things with you and stay there tonight. I don’t want you to come back in the dark.’

After Ayako left, Kei spent the afternoon alone worrying. She had never known Shobei to be ill. He was vigorous and had not shown much sign of ageing, but she realised that he was in his late seventies. Time had passed quickly.

Kei remembered a saying, ‘An old man should not have a cold shower’. It was a warning to old men against rash behaviour. There was a particular reason that the news of his illness disturbed her. She went into the butsuma where the ancestors’ name tablets were kept and prayed.

As she sat in supplication, she could hear in her mind Shuichi’s shrill voice calling, ‘Oji-isama! Oji-isama!’ It had been in the spring. Tei-ichi told the boy off for running around like a puppy. He said, ‘A man should never hurry, Shuichi.’ The boy said, ‘Yes, oji-isama,’ but could not hide his agitation.

‘Now, what is it?’ Tei-ichi asked.

‘There is a gigantic white snake in the butsuma, oji-isama. You should come and see. It’s hanging between the lintels like a bridge. Something bad is going to happen.’

‘In spring all snakes come out of hibernation. It is not at all unusual to see one in the house. A lot of them live among the stones of the wall.’

‘But o’Shige san said that this one is the old spirit of the house. He comes out only when a bad thing is going to happen. Last time it appeared, otohsan died.’

‘Tell Shige we have only one old spirit in this house and that is me, oji-isama.’ Shuichi looked at his grandfather and saw that his eyes were dancing with fun. ‘It is not just in spring that I am around. I am always here to guard the house. Nothing bad will happen in our family.’

Shuichi laughed and seemed to have dismissed the white snake from his mind, but Kei had not forgotten. She and Shige shared the same beliefs. Since then, she had felt uneasy whenever something happened to a member of her household. If Ayako had a cold, she had been more worried than before. Every time Shuichi set off on an adventure, she had prayed for his safety. In Shobei’s case, it was unfortunate that Rinji had not offered to undertake the inspection himself or at least accompanied his father. One thought followed after another and Kei sat in the room for a long time. Eventually she got up and told herself that, after all, Shobei would get better. He might have stayed home realising himself that he ought to be more careful.

Ayako’s stay at the Miwas’ was extended from a week to two and then three. Instead of their mother coming home, the children were called to the Miwas’. When Haruko arrived with the other children, she saw by the entrance a broad-brimmed oilskin hat and a coat that had once belonged to Shintaro. Shobei had come home wearing them and soon afterwards had taken to his bed. No one had thought of putting them away.

When Haruko had seen him on her way home from school a few days before the flood, Shobei had been wearing the oilskins.

‘Oji-isama,’ she had called, as he had not noticed her and passed by.

‘Oh, Haruko.’ He had looked surprised, then he smiled. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, oji-isama.’ She had nodded.

‘Good. Good.’ He had looked as though he had wanted to tell her something but large drops of rain had started to hit them.

‘Hurry home. You’ll get wet. I’ll see you soon.’

He had stood and watched her go. He had looked as robust as ever.

While her sisters shied away from their paternal grandfather, Haruko respected him and at the same time felt close to him. Her father had trusted her and she felt the same sympathy from his father as well.

Haruko was surprised to see how Shobei had changed within a few weeks. His face was ashen and gaunt.

‘I am scared,’ Takeko whispered when they came out of the room. Shobei’s wife, Ayako, and a nurse took turns to sit by him.

Tei-ichi had just gone and Rinji arrived.

‘How is he?’ he asked, moving his lips without making a sound.

‘Just the same, but he had a small amount of rice gruel,’ his mother replied in a low voice. ‘Come and have supper with us.’

Shobei lay in his study and away from the main house, but everybody tiptoed and tried not to make a sound. During the meal, however, there was some conversation and an exchange of outside news.

‘I will go and sit by oji-isama,’ Haruko offered, ‘so that the nurse can come and eat. I am not hungry. I will eat later.’

‘Thank you, Haruko san.’

She went into the room quietly. Her grandfather looked asleep but when the nurse closed the sliding screen, he gestured to her by a slight movement of his hand to come near him. He spoke to her in a hoarse faltering whisper.

‘Your speech ... was well-written.’ He stopped and Haruko waited. ‘General Akashi ... was very ... impressed, so was I ... and the headmaster.’

There was a smile on his face.

Shobei was referring to a general who had been invited by Haruko’s school to give a talk to the pupils and, as was often the case with a distinguished visitor to the area, Shobei had invited him after the talk to his house for dinner.

General Akashi was an unusual hero of the Russo-Japanese war, Haruko was told. His achievements were reputed to have made a significant contribution to Japan’s victory, but he had never met the enemy in the battlefield. As a colonel, he had spent the entire war in the capitals of Europe, meeting the leaders of anti-Tsarist underground groups, helping them with funds which had been entrusted to him by the Japanese government.

When it became known that the school was going to invite General Akashi and had selected Shuichi to make a speech of thanks, Shobei called Haruko to give her some advice. Everybody, including the teachers, counted on Haruko to write Shuichi’s speech.

At the school, General Akashi’s talk had been about the courage of other people who were passionate about saving the Russian people from destitution, and the surrounding countries from Russian tyranny.

Shobei impressed on his fourteen-year-old granddaughter that courage was needed to pursue a career with little public recognition.

‘You ... should have been a ... boy,’ Haruko’s grandfather repeated from his bed in a voice which was barely audible. Haruko nearly replied, ‘So that I could be a spy, oji-isama?’, but she noticed that his breathing had become more laboured. His windpipe began to make a whistling noise.

‘Are you all right? I will call someone.’ As she was going to stand up, his eyes gleamed for a second. He was clearly impatient and agitated. He seemed to try to draw Haruko’s attention to the shelf above his head on which she could see a wooden box.

‘The box, oji-isama?’

He looked satisfied and relieved. He breathed, ‘Your Shi’ ... oji-isama ... okahsan.’ His eyes were closed. His head rolled a little sideways.

‘Someone, come quick.’ Haruko ran out of the room, shouting. The first person who came running out was her uncle Rinji. He collided with Haruko and nearly knocked her off her feet. As she reached the main house, she looked back and saw her uncle coming out of the room. He was carrying the wooden box under one arm. As he ran, he looked like a picture of a devil with wide open eyes and flowing hair. His free arm was moving from front to back as though he was swimming in the air, staggering with the size and the weight of the box.

On a clear autumn day, a long cortege went through the village. Shuichi was again the chief mourner and walked behind the coffin, but this time he was no longer an infant, and was wearing a black kimono and hakama. Haruko in a white kimono walked behind with Ayako and her sisters.

From Shobei’s village and also from the surrounding villages, a lot of people came to see the last of their landowner.

They whispered and shed tears as Shuichi walked by. ‘Poor child! He was born into such an excellent family, but he has had to attend two funerals and he is only ten years old.’

After the funeral, the Miwas’ big house was in turmoil with a crowd of relatives and friends milling about losing each other and finding unexpected acquaintances. Everybody had thought that Shobei would live for a long time.

Tei-ichi followed the priest to the entrance and thanked him. As he was walking back to the living room, he saw Haruko waiting for him in a corridor.

Oji-isama,’ she said. ‘Have you found out what happened to the box Rinji ojisan took with him?’

‘What box?’ Tei-ichi had totally forgotten about it, although Haruko had told him everything that had happened.

‘Oji-isama, I have told you already. The wooden box that Miwa oji-isama always kept in his study. He had it by his bed after he had been taken ill. He has told me many times that it has important documents.’

‘Why, isn’t it in his study?’ The question was just a reflex. He did not mean it. He knew very well that the box was not in the study. He reflected on his carelessness and as the implications dawned on him, he was belatedly alarmed. He had not fully realised the importance of the contents of the box. He saw impatience and concern in his granddaughter’s face, even a little reproach.

‘Oh, I know. I am sorry. I have been so busy. I’ll talk to Rinji ojisan. He must be keeping it in a safe place. Don’t worry. Leave it to me.’

Having told Haruko to leave the matter with him, he wondered what he could do. Shuichi was Shobei’s heir and no one could dispute his legal position, but his material inheritance was a different matter. Tei-ichi needed documentation to act on his grandson’s legal status. He would approach Rinji but if Rinji’s intention was to seize the family fortune by force, recovering it in any civilised way did not seem possible.

Soon after the funeral, Rinji moved back into the main house. Rumour had it that he began vigorously collecting repayment of the loans that Shobei had made.

‘There is no one more dangerous than a fool,’ Tei-ichi muttered. He was worried.

Shobei’s brother intervened and suggested that they should take the financial situation and the issue of the missing will to court. Tei-ichi opposed this strongly on the grounds that a family dispute right after Shobei’s funeral would disgrace the honourable man and his family.

‘If the worst comes, I am able to look after my daughter and her children,’ he insisted in front of the relatives.

Eventually Rinji agreed that some property and the rent from it should be given over to Shuichi for his education on condition that Rinji would manage the money till Shuichi was twenty-five. That was all that Shuichi was to receive out of everything that Shobei, one of the largest landowners and the richest man in the area, had carefully guarded to pass on to his grandson and his future descendants. As for Ayako and the three granddaughters, there was a piece of land already notified under their names with Tei-ichi as their guardian.