Saiyuki Heikosen
Chapter Two: Journey to the Past
Japan, Mount Ontake: Ten Years Ago
The height of summer on Mount Ontake was a sight to behold. The gorgeous color palate of vegetation was a feast for the eyes. Broad-leaf evergreens, magnificent oaks, red and black pines as well as red cedar and bamboo dominated the mountain flora over hundreds of acres. Other flowers and plants, like dropwort, wasabi, and chrysanthemums accented these tall majesties. There were a host of other natural wonders to entice the senses as well. Dragonflies and butterflies flitted two to and fro while crickets and cicadas competed in concert over the raging falls that cascaded at the foot of the mountain. Other natural inhabitants like the black bear fished for carp at the rivers and streams to stave the coming winter.
Kiso Ontake (1), as it was known to Nagoya natives, was the center of all things magical and spiritual in the prefecture. The only humans who dared venture the wondrous treasure were the Yamabushi. These mountain warriors followed the ways of Shugendo, an eclectic sect of Buddhism which melded Shinto beliefs with Buddhist doctrine and practice. But the Yamabushi were neither Shintoist nor Buddhist. Shugendo, "The Way of the Mountain", was a synthesized belief that worshipped neither Kami nor Buddha. In the mountains, Yamabushi studied Kami's creations of nature and the elements, and practiced Buddha's restraint and discipline to hone their spiritual, supernatural and fighting gifts.
In each of the four seasons, Yamabushi monks ascended the sacred mountain, hoping to arouse a Buddha-like nature with austere practices specifically designed for the time of year chosen to achieve enlightenment. In winter, that could mean standing in snow. In spring, a perilous mountain hike in thawing weather. In summer, standing in the cold falls of Ontake. Ascension in the autumnal season, the most unpredictable, could encompass any or all excursions experienced during the other seasons.
On this particular August morning, one of Ontake's residents descended the mountain in the direction of the falls, but she was no mountain warrior or ascetic. At eight years old, Taki Kohaku was the mountain's youngest human inhabitant. It was her birthday today and she started her morning with the same task she performed every year on this day—picking a fresh bouquet of white chrysanthemums (2) to take to her mother's grave. She had donned her best yukata and had taken great pains with her hair, but the stuff refused to cooperate. The thick black strands slipped from the tie at her neck and cascaded over her face. Papa didn't have any hair, only bushy white brows, so she must have inherited the unruly mane from O-kasan (3).
Papa. Kohaku inwardly winced and hoped he wouldn't be too upset with her for not announcing her departure. It was early yet, and Kohaku wanted some extra special alone time with O-kasan that morning. She had a secret to share with her.
Kohaku stumbled down the final leg of the mountain path, but made it safely on her feet. No scrapes that time. Yuki might actually be impressed, she thought proudly. She dusted off her yukata and fluffed the flowers in her hand before following the narrow path that led to the grave marker at the foot of the falls. As the roaring of the falls grew louder, she fought with a bramble of broad-leafs. Finally breaking through the canopy, she was greeted by the cool spray that misted from the falls. Kohaku breathed deeply of the fresh scent. She loved this mountain, and the falls were one of her favorite places. She hoped her mother's spirit thought the same. It was her resting place after all. Carrying her hopes for the future, Kohaku trotted toward the grave marker. She hadn't gone very far when she halted in mid-step.
Someone was already there.
"Pa—pa…?" No. That wasn't Papa standing over her mother's grave marker. Squinting, Kohaku padded even closer. No, that was definitely not Papa. For one, the man he had to be a man, Kohaku thought was too tall. He also had hair. Lots of it. And it was black. A dark, inky blue-black that reminded Kohaku of ravens wings against winter snow. It fell over his face, shielding his eyes. His clothes were all wrong, too. No suzukake (4) or hakama (5), but a strange white one-piece costume that was a cross between hakama and happi coat 6 over black leggings. And that wasn't a kiseru in his mouth.
Kohaku's nose wrinkled at the malodorous smoke wafting in her direction. "Hey!" shecalled out over the raging falls. "Hey, mister, are you lost or something?"
He turned then, rising to his full height, and Kohaku took a cautious step back while clutching her mother's offering to her chest as if the fragile flowers could offer protection from the looming presence. He wasn't just tall. He was a giant who enshrouded Kohaku's tiny form in shadow. His broad shoulders blocked the sun and sky entirely. Kohaku could only stare up, mouth agape.
"Gan…kyou (7)," she murmured, enthralled.
His eyes were obscured behind the shadowed lenses, but the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. He pulled out the cigarette and exhaled a thick cloud into Kohaku's face. "Child, you're an unholy mess," he spoke in impeccable Japanese.
Whatever spell that had momentarily enraptured Kohaku was broken as she began to hack, the acrid smoke burning her throat and lungs. "Well, that's just rude," she bristled, waving the air around her with the flowers.
"Forgive me." The man scratched his neck sheepishly. "I'm not from this country."
Kohaku's brows narrowed suspiciously. "But you're speaking in Japanese!" she accused.
The stranger's raven brows knitted in consideration. "Hm, you're right."
Kohaku's scowl deepened and her cheeks tinted. "Don't play dumb. Who are you? What business do you have at O-kasan's grave?"
The man held his palms outward in defense, as if he thought she might attack him with the flowers. He looked anything but contrite, however. "Your mother?" he glanced at the grave marker. "I see." he smiled. "You don't look anything like her."
Kohaku decided she didn't like this man. "And how would you know that?" she demanded.
The smile widened. Kohaku didn't like it either. "I knew your mother a long time ago. In Nara. We were… friends."
The checklists of dislikes continued to grow and Kohaku found herself taking more cautionary steps away from this stranger. "Who are you?" she demanded again.
"As I said, I was a friend of your mother's. It's nice to meet you…"
"Kohaku." The child deliberately left out her last name. This stranger didn't deserve to know such personal information.
"Kohaku." Kohaku swore the man's face would break from his wide smile. "Of course. It…suits you."
"What's your name?" Kohaku asked, unrelenting in her questioning of this man. "It's impolite not introduce yourself to a stranger after they've introduced themselves to you."
"My, you're direct." He chuckled. "Now I see the resemblance."
"Kohaku!" A hoarse but firm voice broke over the rumbling falls.
"Papa!" Kohaku stumbled back, running towards the bald and bushy browed older man who appeared from behind a canopy of broad-leafs. She clutched at the waist of his brown hakama with her free hand and glared at the stranger. Papa would send this man on his way. He was in charge of the mountain after all. He was also the strongest person Kohaku new. Even stronger than Yuki, and he was a kitsune! (8) "Papa, this man says he knew O-kasan!" Kohaku cried out in disbelief, hoping her father would refute this stranger's claim.
The old monk regarded the tall stranger thoughtfully. "I see," he said with a resigned sigh. "Yuki!" the monk called out into the open, his starenever wavering from the stranger's. Moments later a tall, lean figure of a man in his twenties with a riot of red-orange hair and dressed in a black kimono emerged from the foliage. His rich amber-brown eyes looked golden-flecked in the sunlight. He glanced at the raven haired stranger critically but did not speak. "Take Kohaku back," the monk ordered. "See that she eats her breakfast."
The young youkai nodded and plucked Kohaku from the barrier of the Yamabushi's side before tucking her under his arm. Huh? Kohaku blinked. "But Papa! My flowers!" she cried in distress.
"Later, brat." Yuki muttered, walking back towards the narrow path and away from the falls.
The Yamabushi nodded and flashed his daughter a reassuring smile. "We'll come back later," he promised.
Kohaku knew then not to argue and quietly allowed Yuki to carry her back home.
VVV
The Yamabushi waited until Yuki's form disappeared into the foliage before he finally addressed the stranger. "So you're him," he murmured thoughtfully, rummaging through the lapel of his happi coat and removing a black lacquer kiseru. "The sanzo priest. Kohaku's real father."
Ukoku Sanzo's bow was mocking in its depth and he smiled as he spoke. "Thank you for looking afterthe fruit of my loins all these years."
"It was her mother's dying request." The Yamabushi expelled a cloud of smoke.
The sanzo nodded. "She looks in good health, if unsightly." he mused. "Her mother was an exceptionally beautiful woman." He peered down at the grave marker, his eyes unreadable behind the spectacles. "A pity."
"I suspected she took after her father in that regard," the Yamabushi chewed on his pipe.
Ukoku laughed and lit a fresh cigarette. "The fallen blossom never returns to the branch (9)."
"You're taking her back with you."
"Yes."
VVV
"Hey, Yuki. Who is that man?" Kohaku murmured against his neck, now sprawled piggy back across the youkai's back. Yuki had carried Kohaku like a sack of rice only a few yards before she began to squirm to be let down. He grudgingly set her down, keeping a firm hold on her hand to ensure she didn't go running back to the grave site. They'd only gotten a few feet before Kohaku stumbled to the ground, crushing her flowers, tearing her yukata and making a mess of her knees. The kitsune muttered irritable curses and insults all the while picking up his charge and placing her gingerly on his back. Yuki didn't answer but his ears twitched suspiciously. Kohaku pulled at a sensitive ear. "Yuki!"
"Goddamnit!" the youkai growled. "Stop that before I bite your ear off!
"Yuki's so funny!" Kohaku laughed, unafraid. "I saw your ears twitch, Yuki! What are they talking about, Papa and that strange man…?" Kohaku scowled. "He said he knew O-kasan. You think he and Papa know each other, too?"
The youkai shrugged, shifting the small bundle on his back. "I don't know," he said evasively. "It's none of my business anyways. Nor is it any of yours," he added before she could pester further. "What the hell were you doing down there by yourself in the first place?" he ragged. "You know you're not allowed to walk the mountain alone. You're such a klutz you would've landed in a ditch or a bog and then that'd be the end of you. No more annoying, hideous Kohaku. Not that I'd care, but Yama-Jii (10) wouldn't shut up about it."
Kohaku looked properly chastised. "I know. I'm sorry," she blushed, pressing her face against the collar of his kimono. "There was something I wanted to tell O-kasan, alone."
"Tch."
Kohaku stuck out her tongue.
"I'll bite that off, too."
"Yuki's so mean!" Kohaku cried before settling on his back again. "Hey, Yuki…"
"What?" The youkai rasped impatiently.
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Hideous," he replied in a heartbeat.
Kohaku smiled and closed her eyes, lulled by the steady motion of Yuki's gate up the mountain. O-kasan, I like Yuki.
VVV
China, Chang-An, Temple of the Setting Sun: The Present
"Shit!" Kohaku muttered in Japanese.
"Excuse me?" monk number one stammered.
Kohaku ignored him. "Do you know when he'll be back?" Damn her rotten luck!
"No shit," Kyoaku snorted.
"SHUT UP, KYOAKU!"
Both clerics jumped back, startled by the odd woman's undecipherable outburst.
"Heretic!" monk number two whispered to his companion, gripping the sleeve of his robe. Monk number one nodded in agreement. Both wondered what kind of unholy mess their master had gotten himself into now. First that dirty stray and now—
"What did you say?" Kohaku snarled.
"N-Nothing!"
"Do you know when he'll be back?" she tried again. She could wait a couple of days. Perhaps—
"We're s-sorry m-miss," the clerics stuttered, shrinking back defensively. "We're not at liberty to say."
"I can wait," she threatened.
This earned her more frightful stares. "Please, m-miss, it could be weeks, months even—"
"Months?" Kohaku cried out, lapsing into full Japanese now. "Where the hell did he go? A pilgrimage to India?" What the hell kind of priest couldn't be found at his goddamned post when you needed to ask him questions?
"And cut off an appendage or two or three," Kyoaku added gleefully.
This was beyond unbelievable. Kohaku palmed her face, beyond irritated with her situation. She had been inland for over a year when someone finally tipped her off with information of a sanzo priest in Kinzan Temple. She had gotten there only to find the temple void of human life. A massacre, an old woman at the laundry where Kohaku had found temporary work, had told her. The old woman had also mentioned a temple in Chang-An, but it was weeks before Kohaku could travel due to severe weather. And now, here she was, nearly two years later and she wasn't any further along then when she set out all that time ago.
"What did that asshole the other night say? Something about daddy dearest being in touch?"
"Don't try to comfort me, Kyoaku," Kohaku muttered darkly fed up with the sword-spirit.
Kyoaku gave a derisive snort. "That'll be the day, my little lotus blossom. Remember, you owe me."
Kohaku squeezed her palm around the sword's hilt.
The monk's started at the motion. "We're really sorry, m-miss!" What they really thought was Please don't kill us!
Kohaku grunted in disgust. She needed to calm down. If she lost her control, Kyoaku would take advantage. She took a deep calming breath and focused on the words she needed to say.
"I'm sorry," Kohaku apologized, concentrating on her Chinese again. "It's just that I've come a long way, and your sanzo priest—or maybe even you—might know a fellow monk I'm looking for. He's a sanzo as well. I don't recall his name…but he's traveled to Japan several times. His first trip may have been nearly twenty years ago?" Kohaku was banking on these religious types for keeping meticulous records. Their penchant for organization would be of some use. Maybe there was a scroll or a book somewhere with one of those sticky notes Yuzo was fond of affixing to his text books.
"Priest Genjyo Sanzo would not have been ordained at that time," monk number two said as he shook his head.
"Japan?" monk number one murmured doubtfully. "I've never heard of a sanzo priest traveling that far East."
"Oh believe me, they do." Kohaku muttered cryptically. "This one and my mother were well 'acquainted'." She deliberately emphasized the word acquainted and took a perverse delight in both monks' reactions.
Kyoaku grunted.
"Are you sure he was a sanzo priest?" monk number one asked. "I mean," he added quickly when Kohaku glared at him. "It's just that imposters are not unheard of…"
"Anyone can throw on a priest's robe," monk number two nodded arrogantly. "The sign of a truly ordained sanzo priest are his sutra and forehead chakra."
Kohaku shook her head and tried to recall a memory that just wouldn't come fully. She remembered a costume of white. Maybe a scripture? But all that really stood out were the acrid smell of cigarettes, glasses...
And a smile so perverse that it could not have been misconstrued for fatherly affection, even to an eight year-old.
"My memories are…fuzzy," Kohaku admitted, rubbing her temple. "But someone else confirmed he was a sanzo priest from China and I believe them."
"A famed sanzo monkfrom China, the highest of Buddhist Priests. What woman would deny such a man?" Kohaku bitterly recalled Kiyou-sensei's (11) words. Was a man's title and position really all that mattered? Kohaku didn't put much stock in such things. Papa had been an important man as Ontake's guardian, but she would have loved him with or without the lofty position amongst his Shugendo peers. Yuki was an anonymous youkai, the last of his kind on Ontake. A nobody to anyone who cared about such frivolities, but he had been everything to Kohaku. After a rocky start, Kohaku couldn't find fault in Tomoko, heiress to one of the most successful iron vehicle companies in Nagoya. She saw passed a person's earthly wealth and treasured the person they were within. Her decision to marry Yuzo, a lowly worker in her fathers company, made her a benevolent goddess in Kohaku's mind.
Kohaku shook her head. "Are there other sanzo priests besides the one at this temple?" she asked hopefully.
Monk number two nodded. "Indeed."
"Really?" This cheered Kohaku. "Where?"
"Um," monk number two stammered.
"We don't know, exactly." monk number one answered.
"Don't you keep a directory or something?" Kohaku bristled, at her wits end with these monks. Why was this so hard?
"Well, no."
"Well, you should!"
VVV
"So that's it then? This is the kind of operation you run here; whoring yourselves to Buddha and his earthly representatives."
"You have to understand—"
"I understand all I need to know. My mother was a plaything. That's what this place is, a haven for cast off toys. Once your fathers and husbands have no more use for you they send you here. Or, destitute, you tell yourselves this place is your only choice, a life of 'unforced' devotion to a god with little regard for your sex. Every day you memorize and chant useless sutras in a foreign language that curses your very existence. I can't even pity you."
"Think what you want, Kohaku, but don't be mistaken. Your mother wasn't a victim. She sought him out."
"Piece of work, that mother of yours," Kyoaku remarked, blithely interrupting Kohaku's uneasy reminiscing.
"You shut up about my mother." Kohaku barked. "You don't get to say a goddamned thing about my parents, you wretched bastard."
"Ho! Aren't we in a snit?" Kyoaku cackled. "What would the old man say if he heard you now?"
"I said SHUT UP!"
"Hey, Mom, isn't that the crazy woman from the—"
"Get over here, you!"
Kohaku looked up to see the same woman and child she had seen at the Chow's restaurant the night she'd first inquired about the dishwashing job. The little boy, showing more bravado by approaching Kohaku in the out of doors, was forcibly yanked back by his mother before he could grab a hold of Kohaku's sleeve. The woman muttered a quick apology as she hurried away, dragging her son along with her.
Taking in her surroundings, Kohaku winced. That's right. After leaving the temple, she'd ended up in the town park. From the look of things, it was the social spot on a warm spring Saturday afternoon. Children ran around screaming and laughing as they gave chase over meticulously cut lawns and hid behind stone carvings. Young couples walked side by side down gorgeous cobblestone paths or stood abreast and shared meaningful looks beneath orange trees. Even married couples enjoyed a lazy stroll amidst the breezy spring air as their children ran amok.
Kohaku stood from the stone bench she occupied and followed the cobblestone path that led out of the park toward the surrounding wooded area. Several onlookers openly stared and whispered, but Kohaku ignored them. She was used to the scrutiny. Insults were some of the first words Kohaku learned in Chinese, as early as the ferry ride to Taiwan and then on to Nanking. Crazy foreigner. Crazy Jap. Crazy foreign bitch. Crazy ass bitch. Kohaku knew at least a dozen or more variations of slurs with the words foreigner, crazy, and bitch in Chinese, Japanese and even Korean.
She was a foreigner in a foreign land. Add to that a longstanding history of animosity between China and the country of her birth and the resentful comments didn't completely shock her. She was a woman in a man's world. Men and women as equals was an illusion. And as for the crazy comments, Kohaku realized she brought that upon herself. She could commune with Kyoaku inwardly and avoid the strange looks and murmurs, but she preferred to respond to the sword-kami out loud. It made her feel sane.
The irony wasn't lost on Kohaku. Responding verbally to Kyoaku served to remind Kohaku of one very important thing; her existence. Her tongue, her customs, her homeland…these were things that tied her to this earth. They were proofs of her humanity. They were also reminders of those she left behind in Japan; Yuzo and Tomoko, her adoptive father and Yuki; and, her mother, a woman who confounded Kohaku as much as her estranged foreigner father.
I sometimes wonder how they ever even married; those were An-Mei's words from the other night, echoing back in Kohaku's head. She too often wondered of her own parent's bizarre relationship. At one time, Kohaku had naively thought she understood the deep feelings between a man and a woman. She had loved Yuki deeply, had been devoted to him completely. The differences between them were of no importance. Age, race, these were inconsequential things. She accepted him as he was. Nothing else mattered. Was it the same with her parents? Did the connection they have transcend duty and doctrine?
She wasn't a victim. She sought him out. Kohaku replayed her conversation with Kiyou-sensei at the Hokkeji Nunnery (12) in Nara two years past. She'd nearly driven poor Tomoko and Yuzo mad with her singled minded purpose of reaching Nara and the nunnery where her mother resided before her death in search of answers, but the outcome resulted in less answers and only more puzzling questions.
What the hell did Kiyou-sensei mean? What drove her parents together if not deep feeling and genuine regard? Had it just been lust and base desire? Or was it defiance? Rebelling against religious doctrine? Kohaku needed to rationalize their heretical union, which was why she was trying to find him.
Kohaku scowled. Heretic. She especially hated that slur. Heretic was a direct insult to her existence. Whatever the circumstances behind her conception, heretical in the eyes of Buddha, Kohaku refused to see herself as an abomination. No matter what markings she was forced to bare to the world, she was not an example to be made of. She was a human being with the right to a decent life same as any other creature that walked this earth. Her parents sins were not her own.
"Fuck Buddha and the horse he rode in," Kohaku muttered.
"Well said," Kyoaku chuckled.
"You're not off the hook."
"Like I give a shit."
Kohaku sighed and ran a weary hand through her hair. She was tired of bickering with Kyoaku and of thinking of her parents. Her mother was long dead; there was nothing to be done about that. Her father was an enigma and trying to puzzle his intentions was exhausting. Why travel all the way to Japan to take her back, only to leave her behind?
And now…
He'd be in touch was what Yu had said before she'd taken the lackey's life. Kohaku looked every which way before slumping to the ground, crossing her knees in front of her. She took out her kiseru. There was no point in exhausting herself anymore if she didn't know where she was going.
VVV
"I'm OK, You're My Parents: How to Overcome Guilt, Let Go of Anger, and Create a Relationship That Works (13). How to Say It to Girls: Communicating with Your Growing Daughter (14). Fathers of a Certain Age: The Joys & Problems of Middle-Aged Fatherhood (15)… holy shit!" Old Man Wang cackled hysterically, brushing the books from the chess board to set his pieces. "Lady Gyokumen isn't…"
"Hardly." Ni smirked. "A child of taboo would be of no use to her or the resurrection project." He stuck his cigarette between his teeth and closed the book he was reading, making a mental note of where he left off before he set about arranging his own pieces.
"Hm." Wang murmured, chin in hand as he regarded the board in front of him. "So what you said the other day was true. You've a brat skulking about somewhere." He shrugged. "Strapping man in your prime… a girl, eh? Girls can be troublesome."
Ni arched a quizzical brow.
"Take that one for example." Wang pointed a clawed finger towards the hall.
"Big brother!" Lirin's sing-song squeal echoed down the corridor as she ran passed the laboratory. "Let's play hide and seek!"
"Lady Lirin!" Yaone's soft trill followed after. "Please wait, Lady Lirin!"
"Troublesome," Wang muttered moving a pawn.
"Hm," Ni shrugged carelessly and then smiled. "Girls are fun."
VVV
"Hey. Hey! Wake up you lazy—"
"Huh?" Kohaku sat up blinking back cobwebs and floaters as she was roused by an incessant beeping noise near her head. The corner of her mouth was suspiciously sticky and she wiped at it as her eyes focused in the dark. "Shit!"
"That thing still works?" Kyoaku grunted.
Kohaku sought the annoying beeping device in her satchel which she used as a pillow moments ago. She'd forgotten all about her cell phone, a parting gift from Yuzo and Tomoko before she mounted the passenger boat at Nagoya Harbor. The thing spent more time turned off or dead as Kohaku would often forget to charge it. On occasion she'd receive a random text message or phone call from Tomoko, and with the baby on the way—
The baby!
"It's probably about the baby," Kohaku murmured hoarsely as she rubbed her eyes. She flipped open the phone, the cat-bell strap chiming with the movement. How many months along was Tomoko now? Seven? Eight?
"What a waste of a perfectly good piece of—"
"Would you shut up?" Kohaku muttered before the sword-kami could finish his crass comment regarding Tomoko's attractive person.
"Tch."
"Hm, it's a text message…" she squinted, "from…" Kohaku paled in the darkness, the phone nearly falling from her lax grip. "No… way…" the words stuck in her throat. She gripped the phone in her hand, the orange plastic skin creaking in her palm. How did he get this number?
Kohaku could sense Kyoaku's maniacal grin.
The small phone screen glowed bright against the dark with a simple message in kana: "O-kaeri (16)."
Chapter Notes:
(1) Mount Ontake has several names to distinguish it from other mountains with similar sounding names in Japan. Kiso Ontake refers to the Kiso Valley.
(2) In Japan, white chrysanthemums are symbolic of death and are only used for funerals or on graves. In China, white chrysanthemums are symbolic of lamentation.
(3) Japanese Romaji: mother.
(4) Yamabushi Clothing: shirt.
(5) Yamabushi Clothing: pleated pants.
(6) Japanese Clothing: short-length overcoat.
(7) Japanese Romaji: spectacles; glasses.
(8) Japanese Mythology Fox Demon.
(9) Japanese Buddhist Proverb said of the parents of crippled or deformed children. But the popular idea here expressed is not altogether in accord with the teachings of the higher Buddhism. The proverb is also an abbreviation of a longer text; "The fallen blossom never returns to the branch; the shattered mirror never again reflects."
(10) Japanese Honorific/Nickname: Yama abbreviation for Yamabushi, Jii abbreviation of O-Jiisan; Old Man, Grandfather.
(11) Japanese Romaji: sensei can be used fawningly in addressing or talking about charismatic business, political, and religious leaders (especially un-ordained ones). Japanese speakers will also use the term sarcastically to ridicule overblown or fawning adulation of such leaders.
(12) Located in Nara, Japan, the Great Hokkeji Nunnery in the thirteenth century was a very prominent nunnery with hundreds of practicing women living there; it also served as the headquarters of a network of Buddhist nunneries.
(13) I'm OK, You're My Parents: How to Overcome Guilt, Let Go of Anger, and Create a Relationship That Works By Dale Atkins.
(14) How to Say It to Girls: Communicating with Your Growing Daughter By Nancy Gruver.
(15) Fathers of a Certain Age: The Joys & Problems of Middle-Aged Fatherhood By David and Martin Carnet.
(16) Japanese Romaji: welcome home.