Hello people! For those of you who read it, here the final chapter of "The
Summer After"! Hope you enjoyed the ride!
CHAPTER 3
After they had heard of Kikujiro's loss at the Daito-Cho pension home, the poet, the two college students and the boy decided to attend the funeral. However, they would have to wait until the day after tomorrow. "Fatso" had been the one to come up with the idea:
"Why don't we camp at the lake where we were staying last year tonight? I am sure we won't disturb anybody there. And tomorrow, we'll stay on the camping grounds near Kyoto. From there, we can go to Nagoya within two hours."
Yusuke, the poet, had nodded.
"That might be the best course of action. I have a tent in the back – you guys can use that, Masao and I will sleep in the van."
And that had been what had happened. They had spent the two days together, playing with Masao, who had thought that these days were just as good as the time they had spent together the year before. At one point, Uncle Kaoru, the guy Uncle Kikujiro had constantly called "Fatso", had even allowed the boy to ride with him on his motorcycle for a while. Masao had thought this a great adventure – he had been sure afterwards that he wanted a 'cool bike' himself once he was big enough to own one.
Now, they were on the road again, and on their way to Nagoya, where they hoped to find the man they had been searching for – "Baldy" and "Fatso" on their bike, and the poet and Masao in the van. Yusuke and Masao did not talk much; most of the time, both of them seemed to want to be alone with their own thoughts.
Yusuke, for example, had some thoughts about showing up at Mrs. Minekawa's funeral – after all, they weren't invited. He sincerely hoped the already rather rude Kikujiro would not get mad at them – least of all the boy, who had meant well when he had proposed the search for his friend...
Masao, on the other hand, was almost relieved to hear where Uncle Kikujiro truly was. When his wife had not told him anything about his whereabouts, he had feared that his friend was gone for good – just like his mom had been. Of course, it was sad that Uncle Kikujiro's mom had died, but it still seemed to mean that he would return home after the funeral, and that made Masao happy.
Then, the two bikers from Matsue passed the small Mitsubishi van, and both of them waved up to them. Yusuke and Masao returned the wave, their worries evaporating. Not long anymore, then they would be in Nagoya, attending Mrs. Minekawa's funeral... and seeing Kikujiro again.
***
It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Kikujiro Minekawa watched the pall bearers carry his mother toward her last place of rest. The six people carrying the casket right now had been hired by the preacher – and Kikujiro was the only person in attendance. Hitomi Minekawa had been a lonely woman at the end; most of the family had turned their backs on her when she had run off to get married to Kikujiro's father, not knowing that he was a hired gun for the local branch of the Yakuza. So deep was the breach, they would not even show up for the funeral.
Kikujiro sadly shook his head. He had not exactly been a model son, either. After he had heard that she started to have health problems, he had paid a friend of hers to find her a good nursery home. And since she had been there, for a good ten years, last time he checked, he had only visited three times. The first two times, he had tried to talk to her, to be a nice guy and show her that he truly cared – but she had refused to talk to him, and had asked the nurse to be brought back to her room without sparing him a second glance.
He had left the second time feeling angry and hurt. Was it his fault that she had not bothered to find out what his father had been doing for a living? Was it his fault that he had inherited most of his father's features? Surely not!
It had been years until his third visit – and that visit had only consisted of standing in the door of the common room in the pension home, watching her glancing out of the window, her face sad and bitter. He had chosen not to agitate her by getting any closer, and had turned around to go.
Had the nurses known by then that she had been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer? Had she prohibited them to tell him? Or had her sickness gone unnoticed, up until she died? One thing was sure: She had not suffered much. The head nurse had told him that she had been complaining about pain only in the last three weeks before she finally died in her sleep.
His mother had left a clause in her will that stated that she wanted to be buried in her home town of Nagoya and sent on by a christian priest (she had converted to Christianity during her stay at Daito-Cho), and he had decided to heed her last wish. He might not have been a good son, but that was the least he could do for the woman who had given birth to him.
As he stood next to the large hole in the ground, the coffin being slowly lowered into it with the preacher talking about 'Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust', he noticed that he was not alone anymore. Three men and a little boy had joined him as he waited for the funeral to be over, three men and a boy... he recognized from somewhere.
It did not take long to remember when the boy stepped up to him and took his hand.
"Hello Uncle," he said, "we have been looking for you. I'm sorry your mom died."
Masao...
Then, the others stepped closer, and he realized who they were, as well. The travelling poet, "Baldy" and "Fatso". The people he had come to know last year. But why were they here?
He looked into the boy's smiling face, and he understood. The boy had been searching for him, just as he had been searching for his mother the year before – and it obviously had been easier for Masao to find him.
The preacher had finished reading out of his little black book, and waited for him to do something. He took the little shovel, filled it with a symbolical amount of dirt and let it drop into the pit. Then, he threw a single lily down on the coffin. It was over.
He turned around to the three men Masao had brought with him. They all nodded gravely in greeting, and the poet took his hat off when he glanced at the open grave.
"Condolences, my friend. The little one has been very worried about you not being home, so we helped him searching for you. I wish there was more we could do for you, but all I can offer you for now is a ride home."
For a moment, Kikujiro was rendered speechless. He had not been very nice to those men, who had helped Masao to get here – in fact he had been downright rude, as he had been to most people except his wife throughout his life. And yet they had still been willing to search for him, whether for the boy's sake or his own didn't matter. How could he respond to this unexpected kindness?
There was only one way to react.
He bowed to the poet, his lips forming words he had not used in years.
"I will accept the ride home. Thank you."
- THE END -
*****************************
Please review!
CHAPTER 3
After they had heard of Kikujiro's loss at the Daito-Cho pension home, the poet, the two college students and the boy decided to attend the funeral. However, they would have to wait until the day after tomorrow. "Fatso" had been the one to come up with the idea:
"Why don't we camp at the lake where we were staying last year tonight? I am sure we won't disturb anybody there. And tomorrow, we'll stay on the camping grounds near Kyoto. From there, we can go to Nagoya within two hours."
Yusuke, the poet, had nodded.
"That might be the best course of action. I have a tent in the back – you guys can use that, Masao and I will sleep in the van."
And that had been what had happened. They had spent the two days together, playing with Masao, who had thought that these days were just as good as the time they had spent together the year before. At one point, Uncle Kaoru, the guy Uncle Kikujiro had constantly called "Fatso", had even allowed the boy to ride with him on his motorcycle for a while. Masao had thought this a great adventure – he had been sure afterwards that he wanted a 'cool bike' himself once he was big enough to own one.
Now, they were on the road again, and on their way to Nagoya, where they hoped to find the man they had been searching for – "Baldy" and "Fatso" on their bike, and the poet and Masao in the van. Yusuke and Masao did not talk much; most of the time, both of them seemed to want to be alone with their own thoughts.
Yusuke, for example, had some thoughts about showing up at Mrs. Minekawa's funeral – after all, they weren't invited. He sincerely hoped the already rather rude Kikujiro would not get mad at them – least of all the boy, who had meant well when he had proposed the search for his friend...
Masao, on the other hand, was almost relieved to hear where Uncle Kikujiro truly was. When his wife had not told him anything about his whereabouts, he had feared that his friend was gone for good – just like his mom had been. Of course, it was sad that Uncle Kikujiro's mom had died, but it still seemed to mean that he would return home after the funeral, and that made Masao happy.
Then, the two bikers from Matsue passed the small Mitsubishi van, and both of them waved up to them. Yusuke and Masao returned the wave, their worries evaporating. Not long anymore, then they would be in Nagoya, attending Mrs. Minekawa's funeral... and seeing Kikujiro again.
***
It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Kikujiro Minekawa watched the pall bearers carry his mother toward her last place of rest. The six people carrying the casket right now had been hired by the preacher – and Kikujiro was the only person in attendance. Hitomi Minekawa had been a lonely woman at the end; most of the family had turned their backs on her when she had run off to get married to Kikujiro's father, not knowing that he was a hired gun for the local branch of the Yakuza. So deep was the breach, they would not even show up for the funeral.
Kikujiro sadly shook his head. He had not exactly been a model son, either. After he had heard that she started to have health problems, he had paid a friend of hers to find her a good nursery home. And since she had been there, for a good ten years, last time he checked, he had only visited three times. The first two times, he had tried to talk to her, to be a nice guy and show her that he truly cared – but she had refused to talk to him, and had asked the nurse to be brought back to her room without sparing him a second glance.
He had left the second time feeling angry and hurt. Was it his fault that she had not bothered to find out what his father had been doing for a living? Was it his fault that he had inherited most of his father's features? Surely not!
It had been years until his third visit – and that visit had only consisted of standing in the door of the common room in the pension home, watching her glancing out of the window, her face sad and bitter. He had chosen not to agitate her by getting any closer, and had turned around to go.
Had the nurses known by then that she had been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer? Had she prohibited them to tell him? Or had her sickness gone unnoticed, up until she died? One thing was sure: She had not suffered much. The head nurse had told him that she had been complaining about pain only in the last three weeks before she finally died in her sleep.
His mother had left a clause in her will that stated that she wanted to be buried in her home town of Nagoya and sent on by a christian priest (she had converted to Christianity during her stay at Daito-Cho), and he had decided to heed her last wish. He might not have been a good son, but that was the least he could do for the woman who had given birth to him.
As he stood next to the large hole in the ground, the coffin being slowly lowered into it with the preacher talking about 'Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust', he noticed that he was not alone anymore. Three men and a little boy had joined him as he waited for the funeral to be over, three men and a boy... he recognized from somewhere.
It did not take long to remember when the boy stepped up to him and took his hand.
"Hello Uncle," he said, "we have been looking for you. I'm sorry your mom died."
Masao...
Then, the others stepped closer, and he realized who they were, as well. The travelling poet, "Baldy" and "Fatso". The people he had come to know last year. But why were they here?
He looked into the boy's smiling face, and he understood. The boy had been searching for him, just as he had been searching for his mother the year before – and it obviously had been easier for Masao to find him.
The preacher had finished reading out of his little black book, and waited for him to do something. He took the little shovel, filled it with a symbolical amount of dirt and let it drop into the pit. Then, he threw a single lily down on the coffin. It was over.
He turned around to the three men Masao had brought with him. They all nodded gravely in greeting, and the poet took his hat off when he glanced at the open grave.
"Condolences, my friend. The little one has been very worried about you not being home, so we helped him searching for you. I wish there was more we could do for you, but all I can offer you for now is a ride home."
For a moment, Kikujiro was rendered speechless. He had not been very nice to those men, who had helped Masao to get here – in fact he had been downright rude, as he had been to most people except his wife throughout his life. And yet they had still been willing to search for him, whether for the boy's sake or his own didn't matter. How could he respond to this unexpected kindness?
There was only one way to react.
He bowed to the poet, his lips forming words he had not used in years.
"I will accept the ride home. Thank you."
- THE END -
*****************************
Please review!