Chapter Two
A night chill descended on the mountain, pushing the two inside. Sumi carried Tomoe's gift boxes into the entryway; it was damp with a kind of musty smell. Inside the house was . . . well, it was a very old farmhouse, with ceilings high enough to be lost in the evening gloom. A traditional firepit in the center of the room gave a small glow, smoke ascending to the rafters. Probably high style in Edo period. Four hundred years ago.
"Put away those boxes, then have dinner." OK by Sumi; let's see: boxes of candles, which the place sure could use. No wonder Kazama was haunted. Several large round tins of iodine powder for purifying drinking water, answering her question whether the village had restored running water yet. Grandmother probably forgot one chore: 'and another thing you must do: go to the stream and get water.' No water, no light, no heat: evening baths were gonna be fun.
The pile contained several small boxes of elaborately wrapped gifts, from ultra-expensive Mitsukoshi Depato in Ginza. Was this Tomoe's compensation for leaving Sumi with Grandmother? Think about that later.
She turned back quickly to examining boxes. They had labels - this one apparently contained 'foodstuffs certified radiation free.' The gift business was so competitive, these days. One letter-sized envelope, addressed to her. No idea who wrote it, though the envelope did have a single ginko leaf, gold-embossed, in the upper corner.
How thoughtful: a note from Tomoe. Why couldn't it be something really exciting, like an invitation for a date with Akemi-chan, to go clothes shopping?
"You aren't finished?"
"It's just candles and iodine and gift foods."
"Of course. Get Ushio for dinner." Sure, she could do that. Kazama probably thought she was a ghost or something . . . how do ghosts call you for dinner? Maybe she could appear to Kazama as a giant sushi roll?
She fumbled around the house in the dark, searching for her girlfriend. Two sleeping rooms, toilets and baths apparently outside, no, wait: a connecting door to an addition, must have been a modern add-on. The toilets really were modern, thankfully, but the bath was really old. Place for a wood fire to heat the water, a hand-pump to fill the tub. Woulda been modern in 1915. At least she wouldn't have to fill the bath with a hundred or so buckets of water carried from the stream. Another room, also an add-on: Kazama, sitting there. Small room though it'd be the perfect size for just the two of them why was she thinking about that?
She sat next to Kazama, who was looking though a scrapbook. Umm . . . apparently Noe had given her the kissing pictures too. Or maybe Kazama gave them to Noe? That wasn't right; Kazama wouldn't do those photoshops of them in compromising positions. Would she? Miyako said Kazama 'wanted it' but
"Sumika! Ushio!"
Right: dinner. How was she gonna move Kazama? The obvious thing was to just take her hand, drag her. But . . . well it was like when she first fell in love. She couldn't touch Kazama because then she'd know. Kazama was the one who always took her hand, touched her, kissed her. Miyako had a point about courage, because right now she'd lost it all. Touching Kazama was like forcing her and oh there was Grandmother:
"So. I see. Useless, Sumika. Ushio, come with me, that's right, take my hand." Grandmother glared at Sumi, on the way to dinner. She had a really first-class glare.
Dinner was: well, there was a lot of food anyway. Fresh rice, pickled eggplant, stewed burdock root. A serious lack of meat, fish, or even tofu. But Grandmother was on her own; how would she get those? Sumi could see her list of chores expanding.
"Sumika! Pay attention! Clear the dishes. Tonight I'll bathe Ushio; tomorrow you can gather wood and get the bath working."
Now she was stuck with the dishes, too. Like every good Japanese girl, she'd fantasized about getting married, living together, making a home.
Like every good Japanese girl, she'd forgotten one thing: the mother-in-law, or, in this case, Grandmother. Whose appointed task in life was to retrain her daughter in law, to being a good Japanese wife for her child. Sumi had no idea what she signed up for, when she bowed and said 'please take care of me.'
As it turned out, there wasn't a lot to do at night; if there were, she was pretty sure Grandmother would have her doing it. She was sitting near the firepit, the only actually warm place in the house, reading from her Bashō guidebook, when Grandmother asked,
"I suppose Ushio hasn't told you much about the family, has she?"
Sumi scratched her head, "Um, no, she"
"More interested in kissing, I suppose. You think I don't know. I saw her room; wondered why she had a plastic mask, some cartoon character, on her wall."
"Ultraman" Sumi squeaked out.
"Pink lipstick all over the mouth. I suppose it wasn't Norio-kun's."
"I'm, er, I" Did she have to be doing this? With Kazama's Grandmother?
"So Ushio didn't tell you about your uncle Tōru, then. Thought not.
"Well, it was after the war, a few years. The neighbors over there" she pointed, Sumi figured she was pointing down the hill "the Kitayama's. Sons, nothing but sons. By the fifth one, it was more than Yukia could handle. We only had one of our own, so we adopted the youngest. Just born; he was a squealer, no wonder they wanted us to take him. Yukia was so worn down; couldn't even feed him. So that's him. Still a talker."
"He was in the earthquake?"
"He and his Umeko had an inn, a proper ryokan, right on the coast. Sumika, it was beautiful: the ocean right at your feet. They'd harvest fresh seaweed, the best fish; he was famous for his local fish. A chef; Umeko was the one who ran the inn. Such a pretty girl, when they married.
"Right on the ocean. Must have been over in the first minute. Well, you can't help that. But, there it is; he made it. Maybe his Umeko survived; maybe she's in some shelter too.
"I'm telling you this so you'll know: he's had a lot to bear. Lost his house, his business, his wife. I want Ushio back to normal; you two take care of him, Sumika. And don't you two be bothering him with your silliness, do you understand? I'll be the one to tell him what he needs to know."
Sumi took a candle, went to her room. Noe had packed warm night clothes and cool day clothes. And certain photos.
She got out the futon, spread it, raising dust; it'd probably been sitting there in the alcove since last year. Looking around, in the shadows, there was a smaller alcove with a single yellow flower in a green vase. Just above it, a scroll; she couldn't quite make out the calligraphy. Could be as old as the house itself.
Well, maybe Grandmother had some redeeming features. She did raise Kazama, after all.
Alone in the dark . . . apparently her personal train had gotten derailed somewhere, because kissing was no longer her biggest worry. What was wrong with the girl she loved? It was like someone had scooped out all the Kazama and left just the shell.
Ick.
With nothing better to do, she brooded. Noe had packed warm clothes; she knew Sumi would be staying a while, precisely here, in the mountains. How'd she know? In fact – she couldn't have rushed out and got that guidebook in one evening, either; Noe must have known about the trip from the start.
And what was Tomoe up to? Pretending it was a Bashō trip: why the secret?
There was the letter. She took it out: nice ginko leaf. Tomoe was in her house, talked to her father, came upstairs.
Her father. She really was slow: Tomoe and Noe made up a story that would get Sumi north to Kazama. Because Murasami Tenkai of the North Pole Fist would never let her go see Kazama. Miyako got to laugh at her: she said 'slow' and meant 'you really can't figure out we're taking you to see your girlfriend?'
She folded the letter, hid it. From now on, she and Kazama were gonna be together and they'd take care of their own life. Surprisingly, she slept.
Morning came early in the mountains. She wandered the house, looking for Kazama.
"Gone to watch the sunrise. No concern of yours. Here: eat up; you have a lot of work to do and you'll need the energy." Grandmother had made a rice omelet, probably using her last eggs. Sumi also got salted mushrooms, chrysanthemum flowers, and something like celery but stringier. Of course miso soup.
She was just starting when Kazama wandered in, sat next to her. Looking at her own bowl of rice compared to Sumi's tray, she got a sad face. Sumi offered her some rice omelet on her chopsticks, and Kazama ate it.
Kazama wound up eating most of Sumi's meal, fed, one mouthful at a time. Grandmother watched, intently.
Then it was time for Sumi to work, while Kazama wandered. She took up all three futon they had, aired them out. Then, while it was still cool, she started on the firewood. She'd thought it out: small sticks for the cooking stove, large, slow burning chunks for the baths and firepits. She'd show Grandmother who was useless.
The mountainside was beautiful in the morning mist, with the sound of the stream rushing past and a smell of wood smoke. And the quiet. Chopping wood was like a martial art: you had to find the weak spot, then hit it, at just the right angle; the ax an extension of your hand. She couldn't have asked for, well, a more centered workout. She made so much firewood Grandmother had to stop her, again with the weird look on her face.
Fetching water was its own thing too: she got two wooden buckets and a pole from a storage shed, went to the riverbank. The water was very cool, tumbling over rocks, swirling in small side pools. She did feel a bit silly carrying it: put her in blue farmer's clothing and she'd blend into the landscape. Like in one of those shin-hanga prints about daily life in 1750.
The nasty chore was weeding the community vegetable garden. Grandmother had shared the food grown there but couldn't do any hard work, so it was up to Sumi to uphold the family name. She guessed. Sumi looked: row after row of cucumbers, daikon, eggplant, beans, shiso leaves and other stuff she didn't recognize. She got on her knees, started weeding: this was hard. About ninety minutes in, she heard a voice: "You're living with Grandmother Kazama, aren't you? It's so nice to see young people helping out in the gardens. Almost everyone wants to live in the city, these days. Soon there won't be any of us. Now here, I brought you some cold water; you're going to need it."
Sumi stopped, looked up: it was an older woman; she was dressed like a farmer from medieval times, but she had a pink plastic basket and a thermos with cold water. Like Grandmother said: worlds meet up here.
"You're Sumika, aren't you? I'm Mrs. Kitayama."
"Then you're related to us, right? Through Uncle Tōru?"
"Oh, I'm sorry: I thought – I didn't know you were a Kazama too." She looked very confused, then went on. "No, it's almost all Minamiyama's and Kitayama's around here. But we aren't related."
"Then how?" The cold water was just what she needed, and the rest wasn't bad either.
"Oh, you are new here! It's from old times. So far back we didn't have surnames. Then the shogun – that would have been old Tokugawa – wanted to tax the farmers, so he gave us all names. Minamiyama on this side of the road, Kitayama on the other."
"What about the Kazama's?"
"Didn't your parents tell you? Ah! I heard Norio-kun just got married. And here you are, helping out your new grandmother. You're so nice; I wish I had a granddaughter like you. Mine wants to be a tv idol. No one said Norio's wife was so beautiful, either."
This was actually working better than Sumi expected; the conversation kept her from thinking how boring it all was.
"Well, the Kazama's were rich, even then. Look at the house, all those outbuildings: they were storage sheds, for the rice. Your family used to own most of the fields in this valley, back then."
"So what happened? It doesn't look rich now."
"Wars, taxes, taxes and wars. But they still were well-off, until – well, it would have been your great-great grandfather, I mean on your Kazama side, decided he wanted to be a gentleman, move to the big city. Taishō period, it was: he sold all the fields. Every single one, but he kept the house. And it was the summer house, from that day to this, it still is.
"Now, you've done enough; you go tell your grandmother Mrs. Kitayama said so. And here, I picked some cucumber and eggplant for her."
Sumi took the basket, bowed, left for the farmhouse. 'The Kazama side of your family.' Wow. There was a certain . . . illicit thrill, there. Nothing like weeding to put a smile on a girl's face.
When she returned, Grandmother gave her a nice cup of steaming hot tea. Her brows furrowed when Sumi passed on Mrs. Kitayama's comments, but she brought a plate of rice crackers and they sat quietly in the shade of the porch. Then it was back to work.
"I need you to go down to Mrs. Urusai; she's five houses down the road so I can't go myself. And don't get her all confused about whose family you're from. Bring her these pickles and here's some persimmon I picked this morning. And this box of sweets your friend brought us from Tokyo; she's a thoughtful one. And don't let that old lady talk your ear off; you have more work here."
Five houses down the mountain was a long way, and it was like visiting the poorer side of town: no stream running by, no terraces. They did have a small koi pond: it made sense, they'd always have fresh fish. Grandmother could use one of those; maybe she and Uncle could build one.
What was she thinking? She'd be gone in a month. Less, if she was lucky.
Mrs. Urusai was thrilled to get her visit; she set Sumi down, brought tea and a plate of – grasshoppers?
"It's the rain, this year is so wet, they're all over the fields. Oh, you're from the city, I bet you don't get treats like this in Tokyo! You pull the legs off like this, then pop 'em in your mouth!" And to Sumi's horror, she found one in her mouth. Too late to get out of this gracefully: she bit down and it crunched.
"Ha! Good, isn't it? The secret is, you put some grated ginger in the soy, marinate it just a little, then saute it. I made these today but they last. Now let's see what old Grandmother Kazama brought me."
While she looked through the basket, Sumi quietly munched grasshoppers. They were good, and unlike rice crackers had real protein. Also Kazama had eaten most of her breakfast, and Sumi was hungry enough to eat pretty much anything.
"Pickled eggplant! Hers is always the best in the whole valley; some day she'll tell us how she does it. Well, she's one who had a lot to bear in her life. Her husband dying, then her son in that accident!
"I made a little tofu this morning; you bring that back up to her. She must have a hard time taking care of herself; I heard that granddaughter of hers isn't quite right in the head, either." She looked at the expensive wrapping from Tomoe's gift: "Here. You better take these eggs too."
Sumi walked back up the hill. Whether Mrs. Urusai meant Kazama's recent problems or just liking girls wasn't clear. Both, probably. Interesting though: a barter economy; she learned about it in school. Was it the earthquake, or was this what villages all did? Weird, though: everyone seemed to be worried about taking care of Grandmother. You didn't see something like that in Tokyo.
She took the food to Grandmother, started noticing things. Like the entryway: it was just hard-packed dirt, and had mosses growing in patches. It was the same inside: now that she could see the rafters, they were all black with smoke from the firepit. What was that word? Meaning 'rustic beauty?' This place was stuffed with it.
Other than that, it was hot inside. Grandmother did her best, opening all the doors to let air through. But she was right: they needed to trade out the solid winter doors, get the summer ones that let air pass through. Only one problem: the first one she tried, she couldn't lift off its track. Probably the humidity made the wood swell and made the door stick. After about a half-hour, she was sweating and exhausted. Grandmother came over to evaluate the situation.
"I can't move it. Now's time to tell me I'm useless." She'd tried, but it looked like nothing was gonna be good enough for Grandmother.
"Sumika!" She spoke sharply, again. Here it came . .
"This is work for two, we'll just have to wait until your uncle gets here. Now, what I really need are the futon. Look at that sky: it'll be raining soon. Usually rains around four.
"So, take the futon in; they've got a good airing, first time in a year. I'm looking forward to sleeping on mine tonight! Then when you're done, you can fetch Kazama. I'm afraid she won't come in from the rain."
Was Grandmother trying to be nice? Well, maybe she could open up a little, too. Like she said, they were stuck with each other.
"I'll try, but I don't know if she'll listen to me, Grandmother. Sometimes it's like I'm not even there. Then other times she acts like she's about four years old. I don't know what to do."
Flash bulb, going off over Grandmother's head: "Sumika! Of course, I should have remembered. When Ushio lost her mother, she was four. Or was it five? She was just like this, wouldn't speak. Took months, then it was still a long road for her."
"How does that help? Excuse me; I was rude. How can that help us to bring her back?"
"Get those futon in. Go see her, and think of her as a little girl. Maybe that will help; nothing else has."
She was supposed to go up the mountain, past the fox shrine and there'd be a marker and she was supposed to turn right, into the forest. Bashō described something like this, a forest so dense he could barely walk through it. Lots of grasshoppers, too. She was still hungry and they were looking very crunchy.
The forest opened to a large clearing, sloping down and at the low point there was a pond and lotus flowers and dragonflies, circling. And there was Kazama, sitting right next to a bunch of stones, regularly spaced, in a large rectangular pattern. There must have been a building here, long ago, so far in the past only the foundation stones remained. Bashō wrote about the mountain monks; maybe a temple, here, in his time.
But you'd have to wander a lot, to find this place. Was it like Grandmother said yesterday: the shrines were calling Kazama? Little Kazama sure had a weakness for them. But that wasn't going to help. Probably.
She was prepared: all she had to do was try and sound like Grandmother. "Ushio-chan!" she said in a feminine, lilting voice completely unlike herself. That got little Kazama's attention. "It's time to come home and take your nap." The kid shook her head, vigorously: no. "Look, Ushio! I brought you a candy bar. You can eat it when we get home."
That worked; little Kazama walked beside her, skipping a little. Sumi didn't know how much longer she could take this.
Kazama stopped at the fox shrine, to pray. That: well, after what Grandmother said, maybe that wasn't a good idea. "We can't stop here" but of course Kazama ignored her. Sumi touched her shoulder, to no effect. Then Sumi took her hand, tried dragging her away. She was too rough; she knew it instantly: you don't do that to a little kid.
Kazama slapped her.
It hurt. Not physically; she'd been slapped professionally, by her father. This was a baby slap, from that small child inside Kazama, and suddenly it hurt so much: it was every nightmare she'd ever had, Kazama rejecting her. She felt tears starting. Kazama looked at her, concerned, and brushed away the tears.
That was it, the breaking point: no-one could be expected . . . she held Kazama's head and kissed her. She was waiting for an even bigger slap but Kazama didn't even move. The kiss went on, as gentle as she could make it. Kazama only blinked.
She shouldn't have done it, none of it. They walked, almost to the house; Sumi bright red with shame, ashamed of taking advantage of a little kid. Then Kazama said "Sumi? When did you get here?"
"Just now. Tomoe drove me up. But she had to go on, up North."
Kazama, the real one, snuggled up, grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry I missed her, but I'm glad you're here. Hey! Look over there." A flower by the side of the road; Kazama went over, picked it.
A red flower. Of course: the mountain spirits had it in for her.
She smiled up, sunnily, at Sumi, "I'll give it to Granma" then she ran into the house, stopped in the entryway: "Granma! Here's a flower for you! I just found it and I wanted to give you something pretty."
Sumi got a certain kick, watching Grandmother's confusion. The look she gave Sumi was worth a week of weeding.
"How nice. It is pretty, let's get a vase. Thank you, child."
Kazama didn't have time for that:
"And guess what else? My girlfriend Sumi is here! She's gonna visit."
"Then we'll have to make her welcome. We'll cook her a special dinner tonight." OK, now it was getting weird. Kazama turned to her, said "Sumi-chan, you have to see my room; it's so cute. C'mon!" She grabbed Sumi's hand, dragged her along. "Hurry up!"
Her room, right: when they got inside, Kazama slid the door shut, threw Sumi against a wall and kissed her. Hard; no subtlety: she pressed her body into Sumi, grabbed her waist and kissed.
"Sumi." She drew a deep breath. "We have got to get time alone, Sumi" then buried herself in another kiss.
Suddenly, marriage wasn't looking so bad.
"Ushio-chan! Can you come help in the kitchen?" Kazama wrinkled her nose, stuck her tongue out. "I'm coming." Then quietly, to Sumi, "Can you sneak back here tonight?" Sumi doubted it; she'd bet Grandmother could hear a pin drop. "It's old style, Kazama. Thin walls." Now she stuck her tongue out at Sumi. Kazama was back.
While Kazama chopped vegetables, Grandmother took Sumi to the bathing room. "Here's the pump; you have to prime it with this jar of water. Fill the tub, then start a slow fire to warm it. We'll keep appearances for Ushio: since this is your first night here, you're our guest and you can bathe first. After that"
"I'm the youngest daughter-in-law so I bathe last and clean out the tub." Of course.
"You're learning, Sumika. You're learning."
It wasn't clear what made dinner special, though the cucumber was cooling and the eggplant more plentiful. Inevitably, Kazama asked 'how did you find me.'
"Tomoe was pretty good at hiding it, but does the name 'Hachisuki Ichiro' mean anything to you?"
Grandmother looked startled, Kazama curious. "He's one of the biggest industrialists in the country. Tomoe is his grand-daughter. She's rich. They probably have a private investigation unit. I bet she used that, because she was always checking her navigation and GPS."
"I know! I think." Now Kazama was excited. "Remember granma just after we got here a woman came here she said she was American from Operation Tomodachi but she spoke real Japanese? And she asked us our names and put them in her little computer an she showed us where we were on the map?"
"So it was. And the young woman asked about our needs. I told her we could rely on ourselves if we had light and pure water. Then what did Tomoe bring? Candles and iodine.
"You children should also know: I went to school with Ichiro. Our families even wanted us to marry. But there was something cold about him. Always giving orders, trying to arrange people's lives. Well, I'm not a bunch of flowers; I wasn't about to be arranged! But Ichiro ran off and . . . well you wouldn't understand about arranged marriages."
Sumi and Kazama looked at each other, then Kazama spoke for both: "Sumi's father wants her to marry a man, a karate instructor. Then he can pass his business to his son-in-law."
"Well, well: so nothing changes."
The rain started during dinner, killing Sumi's plan to take a walk alone with Kazama. After the two of them finished cleaning up, Grandmother announced bath time. Sumi didn't expect to get to bathe with Kazama, and she didn't. Still, it was nice to get some quiet. Also, her whole body ached.
So far, it was a very Bashō trip: she was seeing a new way of living. She did understand why all the 'youngsters' left for the city, but she was content to spend time here. She felt good, the work meant something. And, any day ending in Kazama's kiss had to be good.
She thought about Tomoe: so things didn't change, the coldness in the family. Bashō , huh? Well, her guidebook said nothing about the part of your inner journey where your best friend gets drunk and tries to have sex with you. Like Grandmother, she was in no hurry to see any Hachisuki again.
"Sumi!" Insistent. "It's my turn. Hurry up." Mmmm now should she wait, make Kazama come to her? Or . . . maybe Kazama didn't want that . . . Sumi hurried.
Baths finished, it was getting cold again; Sumi and Kazama migrated to the firepit. Grandmother had put a few large pieces of wood there, set a table over it, a heavy cloth and a box of Tomoe's gift-food on top. Sumi and Kazama sat warming their feet in the pit, the blanket over them. "This is for you girls, especially Sumika. I'm going to bed. Have a nice snack, and then get some sleep. We have a lot of work to do, before your uncle comes tomorrow."
They looked at each other, Kazama giggled. "She thinks we're having a pajama party."
"Don't remind me."
"Oh? Like when I told you I love you and wanted to be with you forever?"
"You said 'friends.'"
"You're against it? Being friends?"
"Aaargh!"
"Sumi, don't explode. You're so much fun to tease; you get all cute." Kazama got up from her side of the table, climbed in next to Sumi, pushed her over, half lay ontop of her. "Is this better?"
"When granma and I came I pretended you were here and we were living together. I started dreaming that you really were here."
"Now I am here." Sumi stopped. Should she say it? "It's like we are living together. It would be almost like . . . I mean."
"Like we're married? Kazama took off Sumi's glasses, looked into her eyes. Oh, gods and spirits of the mountains, she'd said she could live within the depths of those eyes. How little she understood, back then.
"Are you getting shy on me, again, Sumi?" Kazama laid her head on Sumi's chest, started singing, "Watching the sky, with you; walking the path, with you. The world is for us; the world is for us."
"That was my . . . my mother used to sing it to me, when I was real little."
"Mine too; I just remembered it now, cuddling with you."
Sumi felt . . . something, she didn't know what. She put an arm around Kazama. It wasn't the thrill you got from kissing. Kazama's body was warm, and it was soft and she smelled like a mountain meadow, lying there, quietly, on her. No thrill, just feeling happy. Feeling complete. She fell asleep. Tomoe's expensive chocolates sat on the table, gathering dust.
She found them, still sleeping, in the morning. She still didn't think it was right. But they were very cute. Like little kids.
"Sumika! Ushio!" They jumped up, looking guilty. Just like children, caught stealing snacks.
"Get up; both of you. There's a lot to do." Well, maybe not all that much. "Ushio, would you like to take your friend to see the sunrise, from the mountain top? While I get breakfast?"
By the time they were dressed and washed, Grandmother had tea in a thermos. They walked, quickly, up the mountain: it was cold. When they reached the top, there were a few tiny rays creeping up, over the next mountain. Sumi sat, and Kazama sat in front of her, leaned back into her arms. There it was, that feeling again, touching Kazama like this, not trying to kiss her, or stroke her: just holding her. It was complete and perfect in itself. The sun rose, slowly, warming them.
Walking back: "I'm guessing Grandmother has chores for us. How are you at gardening?"
"I can hold my own against a weed. OK, my guess, now: I guess you'll be chopping extra firewood: four baths."
"Oh, right: your uncle is coming today. I mean, Uncle. My uncle too."
"Sumi?" Kazama looked at her . . . this could be fun.
"Ummm . . . Kazama? I have a confession to make. No, not that kind; about Grandmother. Your grandmother. This isn't working."
"What's wrong, Sumi-chan?" She tried her most helpful voice; Ushio knew Sumi well enough to tell she was gonna work herself up.
"I talked with her. She thinks . . . she asked me if I wanted to be part of the family. I said yes. I'm sorry, Kazama, she already thinks we're married and I know I should have asked you. I mean I don't want . . if you don't want. We don't have to . . ."
"Sumi! Stop!" She turned to Sumi, kissed her. Would that calm her down? Knowing Sumi, she'd have to do it a lot. "Welcome to the family. OK?"
Sumi was so worked up, she could only nod. This time, though, Sumi actually took her hand, first. Well! Ushio thought: Sumi really was coming along. She hoped Sumi would never stop being so unbearably cute, though.
As expected, Sumi got chopping duty and Kazama got to go see the neighbors, pick vegetables in the community garden. Grandmother sat in the sun, stringing up persimmons, to hang, to dry for later. Like ornaments, they made a pretty orange pattern against the dark bamboo screens of the house. Sumi was just starting on a new pile of wood when a strange man came up in front of their house. He looked like a wild mountain man, in his mid-forties, with a scraggly beard, holding a walking stick, and with a heavy pack on his back.
"So, you're my new niece."
"Um . . I'm sorry!" Sumi bowed. "This is the first time we've met! So please take care of me!"
"You don't have to be so formal, young one. Mother!" he called over to Grandmother. "Tell this child she can relax around family."
"Hmmph! Sumika has good manners; she knows to treat people with respect. Unlike someone I can name."
Then something completely unexpected and wild happened: Uncle hugged Grandmother. What? Was this some kind of America soap opera?
"Son. You're safe.
"Now tell me, how did you know about Sumika?"
"Well, Mrs. Kitayama, the one with the grand-daughter in Tokyo, told me. And Mrs. Minamiyama, who has her husband's father living with them, she told me. Also Mrs. Urusai." He got a mischevious look on his face. "She gave me some grasshoppers for Sumika. Make a nice snack."
"Anyway, I heard how Norio finally got married. Welcome to the family, Sumika! Now where is that rascal of a husband of yours? I haven't seen him in ages."
Sumi looked at Grandmother. Grandmother looked at Sumi. They both looked at Tōru-oji.
"Uh . . "
"Quiet, Sumika." Grandmother drew a deep breath, then came out with:
"Tōru: Ushio has also chosen her . . . wife. Sumika is . . . Ushio and her are . . . "
"I see! So that's the way things are. I see!" He was clearly shaken, but 'did his best.' He took a few seconds to recover.
"So where's that cute little . . . wife, of yours? She was so small when I last saw her; I bet she's a real beauty now, though." He turned to Sumika, "You are one lucky . . . girl. I mean, being in the Kazama family is always lucky, right, mother?"
He did try, a little too hard, but Sumi had to give him credit. Grandmother 'did her best' too: "Sumika, why don't you take your uncle to the garden? Ushio is probably still there. Tōru: you go there and pick some good vegetables for dinner."
When in doubt, give orders. She'd have to remember, if she ever got to be a mother-in-law. Which was a disturbing thought all by itself.
Uncle left his backpack, but took the grasshoppers: they alternated munching. "Your grandmother didn't grow up here, so she never learned to make 'em. Now, Mrs. Urusai's family has been here over a hundred years so she's an expert. But I like Mrs. Minamiyama's best. She deep fries 'em, then rolls 'em in sesame seeds. That's a treat.
"Stop here for a minute." they were in a patch of sunlight. "Let me look at you. Sumika, is it? You know who you look like? That Murasami Sumika, the national champion"
"If you listen to Grandmother, it's 'Kazama Sumika' now."
"So you are the national junior champion! Ushio-chan is really marrying up, isn't she?"
This time Sumi heard the laughter in his voice. Then . . .
"You know, your aunt's parents were against my marriage. Folks were still poor, for a long time, after the war. Well, she was a teacher: educated. Upper class. I was just a boy, working at the docks. A fish-porter; that's where I learned about fish. Remember that, Sumika: whatever you work at, you can learn something, use it later."
Sumi guessed he wasn't thinking about chopping wood, but you never knew with older people.
"So where did kids like us meet? At the movies! We saw all the classics: Tokyo Story, Floating Weeds. Godzilla! They got that one right, the great ocean beast, destroying the nuclear plants. They got that right."
"Uncle? Which was your favorite?"
"Totoro, of course. Mountain spirits still live, you know? You can feel them here, that's what I like. You"
"Sumiii-chan!" Kazama's sing-song happy voice. She skipped up, then: "And Uncle!" She ran up, threw herself on the man, hugged him. What was with all the hugging?
"Look at you. All grown up and beautiful."
"She's also the student council president." Sumi couldn't help herself.
"Proud of her, are you? Well, I am too: Ushio-chan, you grew up to be a very fine woman.
"You know, I feel a special meal coming on. A banquet, that's what we all need. Something to celebrate."
They walked back, Kazama holding her hand. Uncle glanced over, decided to join in and hold Kazama's hand. Sumi was beginning to get the hang of this guy; more important, Kazama seemed to like him.
"Uh, Uncle? There isn't a lot of food. I don't think there's enough for anything more than vegetables."
"No food, is it?" Uncle got that look on his face. Like she was going to be teased again. Probably gave Kazama teasing lessons, when she was little.
"Sumika: I kind of remember an old, old clearing in the mountains. Is it still there?"
"Mmm. Kazama and I were there yesterday."
Uncle Tōru and Kazama both gave her a weird look.
"Right. There's a pond at the lowest point; I bet that's pretty big, with all the rain. Were there any lotus flowers? Because, you know, where there's flowers there's roots."
Uncle was just warming up. He stopped walking, looked around, plunged into the forest by the side of the road. "See this? Rain means the bamboo will grow. We'll get the baby bamboo shoots, and grill 'em. Oh, yes: I built the kitchen at our summer cottage. It isn't ryokan standards, but we'll cook a pretty good meal.
"Now, what else do you see around you?"
Trees? OK, not bamboo; already covered that. No tofu plants. "Uh, trees? A stream?"
"This is a great stream; the water is pure. You usually get trout, maybe some eels. I like ocean eel myself, but freshwater eel isn't bad. We might get lucky and get some mountain shrimp, too."
It could have been embarrassing, but somehow with Uncle it wasn't. He looked up at the trees. Were they edible too?
"Just thinking: you should get a good harvest of acorns. I bet the wild pigs are nice and fat. They reproduce fast, too.
"But, I think we won't hunt today. I'll do a little fishing; you girls go help your grandmother."
Today was 'clean house' – mop floors, wipe down screens between rooms, and do a little light laundry. She didn't have to talk with lonely old mountain ladies, and she got to work with her girl. Not a bad deal, in all. Uncle returned with trout, no eels, and an entire basket of what looked like weeds. "Mountain vegetables. 'Course, some of 'em are poisonous. You have to grow up here, to know."
"Anyway, Sumika: I need your help. Come into the kitchen with me." She followed, while Kazama mouthed a silent "No, no, no." Hmm . . . Kazama didn't know she'd been practicing. If she could impress Kazama . . . !
"I always like to have apprentices in my kitchen. So, what do you think you should do first?"
"Wash the vegetables?"
"Right. Now I'll get a little fire going – no, stay here and watch. You need just the right amount of heat; you have to get some tiny branches. Everything in life is to teach us a lesson. If there wasn't an earthquake, I wouldn't have met you. Who knows! You could be my assistant chef. You know" he looked around "this is a fine old house. I bet city folk would pay to stay here. Well, not in the summer, but can you imagine this place in the winter? Just a little fixing up and we'd have ourselves a ryokan!"
Uncle actually got several fires going. "We'll have to grill the baby bamboo shoots, the fish too– you can never tell, there might be parasites, so let's be safe. We'll boil some of the vegetables. Rice. I think – Sumika, why don't you get the firepit going too; we can use it. Hot in here, isn't it. Let's eat on the porch. Ushio-chan! Ask your grandmother to set up a table on the porch.
"It's all about the rhythm. I bet you know that! I still can't believe you're Murasame Sumika. I used to do some karate, myself. What do you say? Are you up for a little match with an old man? No? Well, for now, how about a rice match?"
This, at least, Noe had taught her:
"At first it bubbles, Then it hisses, Even if the baby is crying, Don't touch the lid."
"Just like my mother taught me. So, Sumika, you'll be the rice chef tonight. Rice is the foundation of the meal, so I rely on you. Another night we'll talk about sushi rice."
Sumi did fine with the rice, then watched. She learned how to clean a trout and prepare it for grilling. "Any idiot can fry a fish, but this is where we Japanese excel: grilling. You can spend all your life learning to grill different fish. Now this trout isn't very fatty, so what do you think we'll have to do?"
After the meal, Tōru sat back. It was exhausting, and he'd been walking all day, for a week. He was very glad to have an apprentice, even Sumi. It did turn out to be the feast he'd hoped; it seemed that neither Sumika nor Ushio had tasted much real cooking. But even better, they understood what they were tasting. He knew that now they'd tasted real food, it would be hard for them to go back. Who knew? Maybe Sumika would even learn to cook. Maybe he could start a real ryokan, again.
Let the kids clean up. With eight courses, there was a lot to clean.
"They're good kids. They worked all afternoon, and not one complaint."
"Sumika might do. Ushio is still Ushio. You never know."
"I never really understood Ushio, all her problems in school. I wanted to be a good uncle, tell her to stick with it, be strong, work harder.
"But, you know? Before today I never saw Ushio happy."
"Hmmph. Maybe that's so; I still don't like it."
"Well, unless things have changed, there's still only three futon in the house."
"You take Sumi's room; Sumi will move into Kazama's, and Kazama will sleep with me."
"I think it's even easier that that: Sumika moves in with Kazama. There. One less move."
Then he got serious. "They're young, and yet there's so little time in the world. Their lives can change, in just one day, or even in one hour. Keiko: let them have their time together."
She was shocked: no-one called her by her given name. But, how could she contradict her son, on this? He lost his love and his whole life, in one hour.
"Very well. But bathing together would just give them a chance for their foolishness.
"Ushio! Sumika! Come here, I need to talk with you two. Now, Sumika, I want you to start heating the bath water. After you're done with that, I want you to clean out your room and move your things in with Ushio. There are only three futon in the house, and you will just have to share. It can't be helped, so please don't argue.
"After the baths, we can all come back and have some of that chocolate you were too busy to eat last night."
That would keep them on their toes. Teach them to argue with her.
When they did get together for desert, Uncle asked Sumi what she thought of the chocolate. She was puzzled, took her time answering.
"I like chocolate. But something is wrong with it. It doesn't go with the whole meal."
"Ha! You are so right. If we were at my ryokan, we would have finished with some fresh fruit, just in a light sauce. Let the real flavors stand out. This is western-style food and artificial; what's needed here is something authentic.
"So, Sumika, tell me: do you really want to be part of this family? Can you be a good wife to Ushio-chan?"
Sitting beside her, Kazama was nodding, mouthing silently 'sayyessayyessayyes.'
"I want to stand by Kazama's side and" . . . what? They were all looking at her. Kazama was giggling; Uncle Tōru laughed openly, and even Grandmother had a smile. Uncle answered:
"Sumika, we're all Kazama here. Don't you think you want to call your wife by a more . . . a nicer name?" Kazama had a very satisfied look on her face. Oh, well,
"We still have college and a job ahead and there's a lot we don't know. If you and Grandmother could take care of Ushio and myself, I think we could learn.
"But I will protect her and be by her side as long as she lets me."
Uncle and Grandmother exchanged glances. Again, he spoke.
"And you, my dearest little Ushio-chan? Are you ready for this? With Sumika?"
Kazama didn't take any time at all; she stood, exclaimed "Yes!" and bowed. Defiantly.
"Well. Sumika, that's a half-decent reply. You're more ready than you think. But shouldn't we have a ceremony?" Uncle got up, returned with a bottle of osake and an old, old box.
"This is for the 'san-san-kudo' ceremony. Do you know why we do this, to celebrate when two people become a couple?"
Sumika first: "No. But I can't drink osake, Uncle. It makes me feel bad."
"Oh! Tried it, then? Then don't drink it, just let it touch your tongue. You should be fine.
"Now, to answer my own question: I don't know either. But it's an old ceremony, maybe as old as this house, because check this out."
He opened the box, took out three cups, each smaller than the next. They were glazed green, each with a deep red streak running through it.
"I found this here in a shed, maybe twenty five years ago, got it appraised. Definitely late 1600's, they said. Probably a lot of things hidden away in this old place.
"Now, before we start, I want the two of you to think, how many ceremonies this old set has seen. It's not just you, but our family, our village, stretching all the way back. Ready?"
Sumi poured for Ushio, then she for her. They couldn't keep their hands from trembling, but maybe that was because the cups were so small. Three sips each, from three cups, nine in all. A perfect number, indivisible, as they would become.
They left for bed, but Uncle stopped Sumi, so Ushio went ahead. He pulled Sumi aside, whispered, "Be gentle, Sumika. And take it slow." Wow did Uncle not understand who was who in the couple.
'The couple.' Wow.
Kazama had already changed into her pajamas: a soft white cotton, but with so many cherry blossoms on 'em, they looked pink. As expected, it was very, very cute on her. Kazama (did we really think Sumi would jump right into calling her Ushio?) blew out the candle, and Sumi changed by the light of a half-moon. She wished she had something nicer than a tee and sweatpants.
It was crowded on the single futon, especially because Kazshio rolled over ontop her almost immediately. "Sumi-chan?" she said quietly. "A big day, huh? Did you like Uncle? He's my favorite. Usually he brings presents but I guess not this time. How'd you like the food? He's"
"Ow!" This, from Sumi.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, I think I'm just sore. Chopping wood is harder than I thought."
"I can massage you!" Ushio jumped right in (even if Sumi can't quite wrap her head around the U-word, we'll do our best). She stuck her hand right down Sumi's pants, "Ahh!"
OK, after Sumi shrieked with surprise, Ushio rubbed her tummy. "Wow, Sumi, you're hard. It's all that muscle, isn't it? Here, feel my tummy, see? It's all soft." And Ushio grabbed Sumika's hand, stuck it in her own pants.
Or tried to, anyway. As soon as Sumi touched her, she became rigid as bamboo, and Ushio almost lept out of bed.
"Sumi! I'm sorry! I didn't mean. I didn't want to do . . . I mean you're a normal girl and I just."
We all probably noticed that thinking quickly in romantic matters isn't Sumi's strongest point. But even Sumi knew she had to say something quickly.
"Heh. No, it was, I mean I thought my hand was too cold. I didn't want to . . . " Was that as fake as it sounded? No-fake! Hurry, no-fake: "Kazama, I was scared."
At least Ushio knelt back down, next to Sumi. "That I would do something – I mean something weird?"
"No. I mean, when two girls love each other, it isn't weird. Is it? I mean, I don't think it is but if you do, then."
"No." Ushio said it very quietly. "It doesn't feel weird, Sumi." She put her own hand back – there, very tentatively. "Not if it's with you."
"I'm scared of seh. Seh. Sex. What if I do something wrong?"
Ushio got the biggest smile on her face. "Contestant One: can you pick out the real Sumika? On the left, the one who's gonna protect me against everything. On the right, the one who's scared."
"Ushio? Please?" In a very small voice.
"Sorry. You're just so much fun to tease." I bet you're the shyest lover, ever." She laid back down ontop of Sumi. "It's just like kissing, right? I mean, if we practice? Here. I'll start."
Ushio probably had already thought a lot about how to do this, because a bit later that night, a very loud "Kazama!" rang through the house.
End of Chapter Two
Chapter 3 will be posted early January, 2012