THE PASSING WIND
-TheSilentReader-
Sachiko-san,
The last time you saw me, I was cruel to you. It was not the whole truth. I did see after you thought that I'd gone for good. You were sleeping, something of a view that both Touma-san and I knew so well, but it was his to enjoy from now on. It was supposed to be his to enjoy ever since you married him. He didn't feel you belonged to him, and it was obvious on the way he wanted me gone from the room after seeing you lying down with your unborn child. He was very jealous. If you think it was because of some sort of chauvinistic intent, it's more than that. I felt the same way when I others noticing you out when we used to be together. It's not exclusive with men, but you know that. Even though I always knew there's always eyes to adore you everywhere, I couldn't overcome the uneasiness. He should not be proving himself to me, he has no reason to, but when he offered me to visit you, I felt his insecurity. I understand him. Touma-san had plotted out of spite because of your sentiment for me, in effect, to me too. But then I was partly spared by your husband because Kashiwagi would not like it. Who had plotted first, who had conceded to this, I did not ask him anymore. I did not mind anymore. Kashiwagi won't lie to me, but then he won't speak of his issues, unless asked. For me, his honesty is enough.
I told you that I've forgiven you. I know when I saw your hand resting on your belly while you sleep. The courage that came out while I was there was partly for show, that even if I don't want to, I want you to think highly of me. For us to get past all this, one must start the show. I want to get ahead. I want Sei to think highly of me. She may still doubt the friendship that remained between us because of her involvement, for she still is bearing guilt. I want Touko to take care of herself more than me. I've forgiven you because whenever I look at those closest to me, I saw kindness, even if it doesn't come out as pleasant as it's supposed to be. It comes in different forms, so it seems.
I think you have moved on, the moment your body had unconsciously kept that little thing stuck inside you. Might as well wanted not to admit that, that's why you seek me out when the painting was lost. The past makes us remember what we were, for that reason, it is hard to relinquish.
I think I have moved on.
But if not, I won't expect you to, but I advise you to do the same. Remembering what we have is enough, and you should not make men suffer too much. Men are weak, but must we judge?
The painting that reminded of what we had before, your portrait, I don't know where it is now. It was gone when The Passing Wind was found. I have no plans of looking for it. I hope you feel the same.
Your child will be so lucky, if she wouldn't see her mother unsatisfied with her life. It would be bad if your child would feel the same way you did with your parents. If you were not satisfied with Touma, look for one that would cherish you like you want them to. Be happy, for your child. It wouldn't want anything less for you.
You take care,
Yumi
(an unsent letter from Fukuzawa Yumi, 1999)
LAST AFTERMATH
Several years later
There was little to know about Fukuzawa Yumi. She was never vocal with her life, contrary to her expressive outbursts of emotion, grim or happy they might be, but mostly grim. In cases that she visits the gallery (which had been once in every few months), never she was seen looking at the Nihonga Section of the left wing, like she did five years ago. She headed straight to the curator's office, where she spent an hour at most. Then, she would leave. The next thing, the gallery has another painting restored. Most of those paintings were in oil.
Dr. Matsudaira Touko had seen Satou Sei while in duty. As she run along the corridors of her grandfather's hospital, she saw Satou Sei's long hair kissing the air, as if laminar flows of slow wind had been invading the building. She meant to follow her instinct and her theory was true. Shimako's grandfather had been in the hospital, and at times that Shimako was not around, Sei would visit. For a month Touko never told Yuuki of Sei's appearances, but Yuuki suspected since Touko told of Shimako's grandfather being there.
Sei told Touko after Sei locked the doors of Touko's office that Yumi would not like it if Touko would tell. Yuuki, perceptive as ever, deduced that a conversation like that happened. While he reprimanded Touko, she accepted his better judgment.
If it were possible, Sei wanted to take Yumi away. Yet. Sei having two lovers was not a good idea for Shimako. Even though the mere mention was a joke.
A week after the painting was found, Yuuki and Touko visited the Kinomoto compound to look for Yumi and found that she was still there. Their sister had not been answering their calls, even after days of trying. Yuuki wanted to see his sister right after the case was closed, but Touko just said to wait for it. They fought, they cried, Yoshino almost threatened to break up with him, but Yuuki saw something else that she couldn't tell Touko at that time—that Kashiwagi-sempai was dangerous for their sister. That he doesn't like how Kashiwagi-sempai had gone far too much just so he could catch Yumi's attention.
But even if he were like that, Yumi would still have to decide that for herself—if she were to cut ties with the man that duplicated her work in the rudest he could do—or to get on with her contract and still work for him. He was worried, but Touko was too. And after a week on not getting anything, they headed to Kyoto.
"He did fine duplicates," Yumi said when Yuuki and Touko found her working in the room. "He was up all night helping me. I don't know what he does for a living but he has so much time that he's wasting his time here. That's a breach of contract, isn't it?"
They found him at the far end of the room, face away from the slide doors sleeping, and covered with a large haori.
They talked of everything Yumi knew after they went to another room, away from his sleeping employer. She talked of moving away, of staying at Kyoto, to look for work in one of their museums after she finished the Kinomoto gig. She had so many connections in one of the great temples due to her thesis years ago in college, and she had not cut ties with people with such importance, no matter how she neglected or acted with feigned negligence before.
In fear, Yuuki asked for Yumi's opinion about staying with Kashiwagi, knowing what he had done. "Yuuki, money makes sure that Touma Ryu or Kashiwagi Suguru or even Satou Sei isn't in jail for this elaborate joke they'd done. And money is important for me. A contract is a contract. Pride too, because I want it to be the person to restore the Kinomoto. I want my pride be rebuilt, dear brother. Besides, I know what his weakness is. He won't dare harm me."
With that kind of assurance, and a flicker of determination in Yumi's words, Yuuki trusted that she won't leave that promise unfulfilled. When she asked why Yoshino did not come with them, all Yuuki could say was, "She said, there's no reason to. She already got what she came for."
"Tell her to see me. We both owe each other for punching me in the face."
Years passed by, and she was never harmed.
Touma Sachiko, a patron just like most in her social circle, often visits the museum with her husband and her daughter. The new head of the Ogasawara family admitted to Touma Ryu that she somehow wanted to see Yumi for old time's sake. If Ryu still held a grudge, he has never shown it. But, mutual trust was something they had cultivated for five years running, so if Ryu was in his state of passive jealousy, Sachiko would immediately know. In unexpected times though often becoming rarer as time passed by, she would tell him to grow up; sometimes she would ask if he trusted her. Every time, he says yes. Sachiko, who removed her mask so long ago, smiled with that.
She remembered Sei telling her that night at the hospital, that she had so much luck to suffer the least among all people. She was lucky that she had found her family before it shattered.
Now, it was as if Sachiko had been asking herself those things through him. Grow up, she said to herself, with him. Trust me, she said to herself, with him. It was becoming a habit that Ryu understood to be Sachiko's glitch of paranoia. Time heals all wounds, but she needed to make sure.
All the time, while they visit the gallery, Sayoko-chan would point to a naked sculpture and says that she only sees that when she bathes with his father and why doesn't she have that too—to her father's embarrassment.
Sayoko, a child who was born at night, was a very happy, playful child. His father has been too eager when she came along; surprisingly, he was more participative with the girl more than Sachiko remembered with her father. It made her much happier, that Ryu wasn't like what others expect him to be. Ryu was expected to handle the child with the manner of the older generation—it wasn't as if they were not taught that it is the responsibility of the wife—and it used to make Sachiko suspicious, of the person Ryu was. She wonders if he was really like that, or worse, it was just for show. In one of the nights that she was most vulnerable to him, she asked him if he was as what he shows himself to be.
But what father wouldn't love a daughter that came from Sachiko? He said proudly. He's like any other father, he said, and he'd protect his girls.
And in one of those nights where he was most vulnerable to Sachiko, Ryu confessed that he had suspected first that their child's name was based on that grim episode of their marriage and Sachiko made it clear that it was. But then her reasons made him happy.
Sayoko also meant happy, generation, and child.
When Sachiko met Yumi once more after several years, it was in Kyoto.
There was little to discuss, and Yumi appeared as unaffected as before. It ought to be a surprise, something unplanned which led Sachiko to a room where Yumi was painting. Sachiko's presence was announced, and Yumi turned around and formed a smirk as they were left alone.
"How's your child?" That was how Yumi started, as she gestured if Sachiko wanted tea.
"Yes, thank you," Sachiko responded. "Sayoko is growing to be a very active, cheerful one."
"I hope she's not bored with her private tutors at such a young age." Yumi commented, hinting of Sachiko's early training.
Sachiko only smiled, understanding the implications. "One at a time. She seems to like the lessons according to her stories. She particularly wants to learn more about piano."
"Ah."
"She plays it because she sees me playing it."
"She told you that?" Yumi asked.
"Yes."
"I hope that open honesty would stay, Sachiko."
"Yes, I hope so." Sachiko beamed. "Do want to see a picture of her?"
Yumi had not given any indication of agreement but Sachiko was already opening her purse to get that picture. She noticed her enthusiasm and reminded herself that in that regard, Sachiko has been more open now with expressing things that she likes; often it was shown as a sudden smile or twinkles upon her eyes. Yumi smirked as she remarked to herself that motherhood changed Sachiko; there must be something with that child that loosen her up.
Sachiko handed the picture to Yumi with both hands, and Yumi said as she surveyed the well-photographed picture, "Cheerful girl."
Sachiko realized that she'd been too impulsive with her action—when she showed her the picture. She remembered the time when Yumi was in her hospital room, and how baffled she was with that small moment that she pondered months still even after Yumi left for Kyoto.
"You know, the last time I saw you in Musashino, you're right about the sex of the child."
Yumi looked up confused, "I don't know what you mean."
Sachiko started, "You never said it outright back then. You somehow predicted the sex of my child before my doctor could point it out to me. You were saying your goodbyes, told me to take care of my child. It was just like a passing remark. When I was already alone with my thoughts that it came to me.
"You said 'she needed it much'."
Yumi bend her neck and looked out the door, her face showing clearly that, "I've never noticed it at the time. Maybe it was just an assumed note. It's easy to imagine you with a daughter, you know."
They talked with acknowledgement that both understood and knew each other intimately once. Yumi would comment based on how she perceived Sachiko when they used to be young, and Sachiko would do the same based on how she knew Yumi after five years ago.
They were different points of time.
Yumi was still a brooding little woman, but her eyes were not filled with hatred. There was a tinge of darkness still, but it looked calmer, more stable. Meanwhile, Sachiko did not have the same point-blank apathy and coldness in her dark blue eyes. Given the years, maybe people around her had time to adjust with the different aura that Sachiko had developed, but Yumi was still keeping up with the change. She'd seen her so happy so many times, but this was different. Sachiko seems complete, without the lingering worry that happiness comes with a price.
That's what they felt back then when they were still together. That ominous feeling at the back of their minds. Maybe it's what lead them to change the way they saw their future; maybe it catalyzed their doubt for each other. Who knows. But as if Yumi wanted the past back.
Yumi rolled her eyes. As if.
Yumi commented on their conversation in that room that the child must have changed Sachiko. She did, and still guilty about it. At first, the child was the sole reason, she said, but many reasons came about as the years passed by.
Yumi walked with her from her workroom until they reached outside the compound for Sachiko's ride. Yumi opened the door of the car for Sachiko, but somehow the latter had beaten her to it. Then, Sachiko heard Yumi said in crisp syllables, "My regards to Touma-san. If you like, you can come to my exhibition next month. Or visit me when you and your family happen to be in Kyoto again."
"Yes, we will." Sachiko bowed.
"Those are not empty invitations, Sachiko-san. I mean them."
It was a re-culmination of friendship, Sachiko said to herself but not doubting that possibility of coming true. But happy she was back then that she felt a weight lift off her shoulder. And Yumi had beaten her to it, just like always. Years passed, yet it was Yumi who opened gates for hope to seep through.
Sachiko felt, however, that the next visit would not be farfetched. But Yumi would sure tell if she want them around.
"Sure." Sachiko repeated, but in a lighter manner. "Give my regards to Kinomoto-san too."
An hour after midnight, Yumi opened an envelope containing the letter that she failed to send so many years ago. She picked a box of matches lying around her room, and went outside the black night. She lit a matchstick and set the edge of the envelope on fire, and slowly placed it on the ground.
The wind was slowly blowing, whispering the fire to ignite more. Yumi watched until the gray ash was blown by the passing wind.
She didn't need that letter to let her feelings known. Everything was answered already, and being redundant about it is annoying.
Yumi would stay true to her words. She was sure Kashiwagi would not grill her with obscure questions for he and she left those things for a long time now. He was fond of bringing up terrible moments of her brooding phase in the past and she enjoyed embarrassing him of his fanatic confession. Yet, as years passed by these embarrassing moments turned from downright infuriating into just a fleeting memory that would just make them smile slightly, thinking of how stupid they were with the pretense, the pride, the indiscretion. Reminiscing was no longer an issue. Kashiwagi let her do what she wanted, and she allowed the same for him.
Both of them finished the remaining Kinomoto many years ago. Kashiwagi had enormous talent with his hands, and Yumi never doubted that he deserves to restore the products of his lineage.
As far as their relationship went, she still calls him "Kashiwagi" even though he had abandoned that name years ago. Kinomoto, he became. There was stability from the way she called him by that; "endearment" was his word for it. He still calls her by her first name all the time, without an honorific.
"Yumi."
"Yeah?"
"Why did you not leave my side since then?"
"Why didn't you?" She threw the question back at him, knowing that they had the same answer.
Perhaps, Kashiwagi Suguru had a lot to do with Fukuzawa Yumi. Perhaps, Fukuzawa Yumi had a lot to do with Kashiwagi Suguru. Perhaps their bond was the shallowest of all the relationships Yumi had been. Kashiwagi must have thought that Yumi was one fickle woman, as most women were. Surely, both of them has something to gain from this: convenience, familiarity, or even just because both know their boundaries. Yet for them, boundaries have been breached:
For she had stopped dreaming of ochre-yellow wind and ex-acto knives thrashing through a canvass for years; for he had not been seeing endless shades of green on a single leaf sheath in his nights anymore.
"Because you asked me not to."
In dark, late evenings, there would always be the sweet aroma of tea mingling with the pungency of fresh paint.
The Passing Wind
THE END
A/N: I stand by the vagueness. So, whatever you're thinking, it's probably true. At one point, I thought this won't happen. I want to thank all those who read and reviewed and PMed me about The Passing Wind. I enjoyed every correspondence, theories and help from you readers and reviewers. I hope I'll hear from you soon. I don't think I've solved all of the lose plot points so, if given the opportunity, I might give one-shots if the opportunity arises. Or if someone requests it from me, though I doubt that. Yeah in the end, I did not tie Ryu or Sachiko on a railway and let them be crushed by trains. But believe it or not, Sei was right.
This was two and a half years in the making, and I am happy to fulfill my promise, though terribly late and irresponsible I was.
Until the next story,
TSR
