Chapter 4

While the book is being translated, I take a week off to visit my sister and nephew.

Kenji greets me at the door, his thick hair ruffled and his work uniform wrinkled. "Thank you for coming."

Expecting my sister, we stare at each other for a bit, him squinting at me as the bright morning sun shines behind me. I had taken the first train out, rising before Ikeda-san.

"It is my duty as an aunt" I reply with a shallow bow and offer him my special gift package. Ikeda-san even allowed me to borrow one of the brocade fabrics used for wrapping, with an emphasis on the word borrowed, as she reminded me to return the fabric as soon as I got back to the house. "A present for Satsu and the child."

"He is named Sanji," Kenji said, taking the gift with a strained smile. He had actually accepted something from me for once- the situation must be dire. Having stepped closer to give it to him, I notice how worn his face has become, with stubbly cheeks and dark circles under his eyes, different from the Kenji I knew previously, who liked to take care of his appearance. That was what attracted Satsu in the first place and now he reminded me of a rumpled sheet. "Thank you, Chiyo-chan."

A feeling of dread made my stomach sink like a rock thrown into a pond as I entered the little house. It is still clean, in the way that it was not cluttered or dusty, but there was something in the air that made it difficult to breathe. My sister was nowhere to be seen.

"He's asleep," Kenji says as I near the old wooden cradle. I look at my lovely nephew, swaddled in white cotton and tucked in a pretty blanket, probably secondhand from Kenji's elder brother. Sanji has a sweet, relaxed look in sleep, though he must be a demon when he wakes. One of my first jobs was working for a wealthy couple with a newborn and I hardly got any sleep during the first few months, where nightly wailing woke the whole household. "The boy prefers to do his activities at night."

"That must be quite a trial," I say sympathetically. He sighs in reply and rubs a hand over his face.

"Satsu mostly wants to rest these days," my brother-in-law says in his slow manner of speaking, which did not hide his visible worry. "I dislike disturbing her when she's in this state."

"I see," he was warning me off from seeing her at this moment. "And Sanji has enough to eat?"

"A wet nurse stops by every afternoon," Kenji says and frowns slightly, as though daring me to say something about this luxury. It was just his luck that I had slipped two-hundred yen into the care package. He could not refuse it if Satsu showed it to him after I had left.

"That's good," I say to reassure him. I wasn't judging at all, though if this was the state of affairs at first glance, I was not looking forward to seeing Satsu in the flesh.

"I must be off to work soon," Kenji remarks, mostly to himself because I had already taken my leave to find Satsu.

"Safe travels," I reply, opening the door to the bedroom, quietly as a mouse would.

It is quiet as a tomb inside and I'm almost sorry to disturb the silence with a soft, "It's me."

The room is small enough that you can see it in its entirety with one look, and it is almost completely dark, as the shutters have been drawn and then covered with a dark cloth. The curled-up bundle on the tatami mats is my sister, shifting in response.

Her face when she finally faces me, is hollow-cheeked yet still taunt with anger. I haven't seen her look so hungry since when I was a child of nine, meeting her in the dead of night in a pitch-black alley outside a brothel.

"Leave me be," she hisses and pulls the covers over herself, as though she could block out the whole world. Well, the world would have to come to her.

"I won't leave you alone," I stand my ground. "You've ignored the world for too long, Sister."

Satsu says nothing. I soldier on, "You haven't been yourself since Sanji was born. Come back to us. If not for Kenji, who's hardworking and kind and everything you could have hoped for in a man, and me, the one who ran away with you and the boy, then for the sake of your son, the boy who needs you the most. Every baby needs their mother at their side, both of us know this well."

I settle on the floor, wondering if I should place a hand on her for comfort, then thinking better of it, I continue, hoping that words would get through to her, "My employer's son sent a book to Toshikazu-san's house. It's about losses that afflict women who recently gave birth. It's being translated right now and I want to tell you that you're not the only one. We'll find a way to help you."

Exhaling softly after my little monologue, I place a tentative hand on where I think her shoulder would be. Satsu doesn't pull away from my touch, though her body tenses under the sheets. "Find us when you're ready."

I stand, ready to leave but freeze at the sight of Satsu's face. There are tears streaking down her exposed cheeks, glittering despite the weak light inside the room. She looks as exhausted as her husband, both of them fighting the same war against the cruel spirit that has taken over her body. I have to remind myself that she is not completely lost.

"Get out," she sneers, yet the way her voice cracks mirrors the cracks emerging in my heart. Whatever expression she could see on my face makes her sneer deepen until she hardly looks like herself. "Get out!"

At her snarl, I startle and hastily run out of the bedroom.


Sanji had not woken despite his mother's unhappy outburst. It is probably not a good sign that he seems to be used to the sudden loud noises. Does he look thin for his age?

With limited experience with young babies that weren't born to wealthy parents, I thought to call for a doctor, but that would really be overstepping. For my nephew's part, he seemed to sense my eyes on him, because he makes a gurgling noise and stirs.

"Do you want to be held?" I ask him, like I was speaking to a full-grown adult. And, like he understands, Sanji holds out one arm.

He's light in my arms, about the same weight as a small sack of fresh mackerel. I sit on a mat, mumbling to him until my arms ache and he starts to grow restless on my lap. When he reaches for my left breast, I realise that he wants something I cannot give him.

"Calm down," I tell him sternly, holding him at arm's length. It must be nearly time for his feeding. "I'm sure the wet nurse will be here soon. Wait a little longer with me."

He lets out a few pitiful cries, which touches something unexpected in me. Maybe it is the feeling of kinship. All children are born weak into the world, needing constant care and attention. Is it not natural for us to become caretakers in return? And it isn't possible for one person to do it all on their own.

I wonder what I would be like as a mother, and then dismiss that thought. With no dowry to my name and a questionable past, I would likely never find the sort of companionship other women had, my sister being the exception. But I was watching her throw this all away due to the infection in her mind. How long could she keep a man like Kenji, devoted as he was, free from resentment? To me, someone to who has never been favoured with such a close bond with a man, it doesn't seem like any love given by a man was unconditional, even if he was a good one by any measure.

When the wet nurse finally arrives, I had already made a simple lunch of rice and tofu garnished with ginger and garlic. I also had to change my nephew after he had soiled his cloth diaper. I would have to wash it later.

"You're new," the woman is surprisingly thin for a wet nurse. Whenever I think of a woman in this line of work, I would imagine them as quite buxom and red-cheeked, who really liked children and had given birth to a small army as a result. "And young."

I had introduced myself to her as Satsu's sister, so I don't know why she makes this remark. And I'm hardly young, so I tell her, "I'm nearly seventeen."

She lets out a snort, which makes the other sleeve of her yakuta slip from her shoulder, revealing her most private feminine parts to me. Blushing, I quickly avert my eyes from her unselfconscious nakedness and at that, she snorts again. "One day you'll look like this too. This body will be yours in a few years time."

The sloppy suckling sounds are very distracting, but if the woman, named Tsubaki- after the beautiful camellia flower- gives no sign that Sanji is hurting her with his baby teeth. I imagine someone biting the tip of my breast more than once, several times in a row. That would hardly be pleasurable.

Tsubaki seems determined to make conversation with me. "I'm used to doing this all alone, you see. The man who hired me isn't here when I come and as far as I could tell, his wife doesn't make a single peep when I'm here. It's good to have someone to chat with."

"I'm glad you're amused," I thought she wanted privacy for this very intimate act in front of a complete stranger. She hardly fit into the image of a proper wet nurse I have in my mind. Perhaps that is why she agreed to provide this service for a working man like Kenji. It worries me that in between Kenji's shifts at the tea house, she might be the only other adult in the household, since my sister was unwell and thus neglectful. What would happen when Sanji starts to learn to stand and then takes his first steps? It would do none of us any good to leave him unsupervised.

"He's a good boy," Tsubaki says. She wants me to make eye contact with her but I do not. "A bit on the slim side, but I suppose he takes after his father. And they keep growing, don't forget."

"I hope so," I have only been in Sanji's company for around two weeks in full but I would do anything to protect him. Not only because he is my blood, but also because he is an innocent, oblivious to the hidden struggle within the four walls of his home.

After a while, Sanji is sated and detaches himself from Tsubaki's breast. I take him, carefully avoiding eye contact with her as she straightens her yukata and tidies up.

"Nearly seventeen," Tsubaki muses, showing no signs of leaving. I pat my nephew on the back, soothing him, as I had seen the nanny in the rich household do after feeding the baby.

I meet her eyes. She is hardly a great beauty, possessing an ordinary face that wouldn't stand out in a crowd of a thousand women. However, her eyes are a warm and gentle brown, glimmering with amusement as she watches me back. Could Satsu one day recover and look as healthy as this?

"I don't suppose you have a young man you're sweet on?"

I wasn't expecting her to ask such a question. Thinking of the curious boys and men of Toshikazu's village, I shake my head. None of them made my heart flutter.

Tsubaki has a look of mock surprise on her face. "Not a single one?"

Unbidden, Nobu's face floats into the front of my mind. The fire that burned inside him, surfacing whenever he spoke, almost distracting one from the horror of his face. The firm manner of how he steadied me in the woods. I have never let a man touch me like that. Where did those thoughts come from?

"No," I say curtly, putting an end to that train of thought.

I wait for her to make some comment about my looks. It's an easy target, to say that my eyes are too strange or that my clothes are too shabby, hinting at my low status and my limited chance of making a good match.

"You have an agreeable personality," she says, assessing me without mentioning my appearance. "I believe it might be the overabundance of water I sense in you. Water moulds to any shape and you have a way of changing yourself based on the person you're with."

"How do you know this?" I ask. She has only just met me and hasn't seen me talk with others- she couldn't possibly be so perceptive. I am so used to performing as a servant, surrounded by people who never gave their true feelings away. I have forgotten what interacting with other simple folk was like.

"Call it a sense," Tsubaki answers, using that word again. "And you are good company for me. That's the water in you, Chiyo-chan."

I think that Tsubaki might be too generous with me, since she has an easygoing personality herself. It makes sense for the both of us to somewhat get along during the first meeting.

"Though you are too shy," she continues. "An innocent in some regards. That is attractive to most men, though you need the right one to come along, someone who can handle your water when as it flows. It is natural, as most people change with age."

She sounds like a matchmaker now. Against my chest, Sanji lets out a burp with his eyes closed in contentment.

"Tsubaki-san, are you going to say that as I grow, the river I carve for myself will run deeper and deeper?" I smile wryly.

"If you have heard this before, then it means the readings are consistent," she replies shamelessly. "You must find someone who can stand in deep waters without drowning."

The greatest poets in Japan are no match for the profound lines spoken by a woman with a matchmaking scheme in mind.

I inhale deeply. "I'm glad you find me agreeable, but I have yet to meet any man who feels the same."

"A wider net must be cast, in distant waters," Tsubaki has a wry smile of her own. "To catch the perfect fish."

I wonder if she could 'sense' that I was born to a fisherman father in a windy village beside a churning sea. There couldn't have been a more perfect metaphor for my love life.


Satsu eats sparingly. Her appetite for any food, even the blandest rice porridge that would settle an upset stomach, is bird-like. On the other hand, with me to cook for him, Kenji digs into each meal with gusto, always asking for seconds. I envy him for his limitless appetite- watching my sister grow thinner and more disagreeable is ruining my own.

I know that he might want me to stay past the week I had been generously given by Toshikazu (though my salary would be docked), but to support a four-person household on a teahouse worker's salary in this economy meant that all resources would be stretched thinner than they were already. And I quite like my position in Toshikazu's household, where I don't have to sneak away to visit my sister and haven't been fired for taking so many days off work yet.

"I'm leaving today," I say to the unmoving form on the tatami mat. Satsu is lying on her back, empty eyes staring at the ceiling. She clearly hasn't slept at all. "Take care of yourself."

"Oh, Chiyo," my sister says without an honorific. "What am I to do?"

It breaks my heart to see her like this, with her life drained out of her. I stare at her, assessing the situation. I tell her to wait and then I head into the main room, picking Sanji up and taking him to see his mother.

"Hold him, Sister," I say gently, easing her into a sitting position. She goes along easily. It could be one of rare moment of clarity, like she is in the eye of the storm. Sanji is subsequently placed on her lap, arms raised instinctively, reaching out. Why are we born with hands, if not to seek out others?

"Hello, little radish," Satsu says. I am reminded of when she chided me that her son wasn't a radish. I didn't know it had become a fond nickname. "Are you hungry?"

Kneeling next to her, I am transfixed as my sister tugs down the shoulder of her sleeping robe and offers her milk to Sanji. It is one thing to watch Tsubaki perform it daily with ease and another to be a voyeur to my only living relative and dearest sister do the same. I spare a thought to when she had last bathed- a few days ago with my help and her great reluctance- but to say anything in this moment of calm would likely break it.

She lets out a little gasp when he latches on. So it is painful, I think to myself, and the milk does not flow immediately. But before long, mother and son find a natural rhythm. It is one of the few times I believe I've seen my sister act like a mother in front of me. Maybe this is the cure- she only has to stop avoiding her child to grow to love him. The cynic in me wonders how long this will last, before she is possessed by the anger and sadness once more.

"There you go," she whispers to him. I smile at her but she grimaces in return.

"Take him away," Satsu says suddenly, though Sanji is obviously unfinished, and he wails when I pry him off his mother's nipple. I smell warm milk on his breath as I hold him close.

"Satsu-" I begin, wanting to ask for an explanation, knowing I would not get one- her condition is entirely irrational.

"The wet nurse is coming isn't she," Satsu interrupts. With her wild hair and half-naked state, she looks half-mad to me. "I can't- I can't do this."

"You're a great mother," I try to comfort her.

"No!" Her lack of hesitation shocks me. "Don't say that."

She had been doing so well. "Please… don't give up."

Satsu starts hitting the floor with her fists, saying no over and over again. I feel sick to my stomach, but holding the crying child in my arms, I could do nothing but watch her hurt herself. Mother and son feed from each other's unhappiness, until there is a symphony of hysteric crying and I can stand it no longer.

"Stop!" I beg her, rocking Sanji in one arm to calm him and attempting to restrain her with the other. At my touch, she stops, freezing like a statue. There is blood on the mats and on her knuckles. I could say nothing but a soft oh as she falls back onto her sleeping mat, completely drained of energy.


I wish I didn't have to leave her or at least had the means to hire someone to take care of my nephew while Kenji was at work. The future, once so bright when Satsu made her precious announcement, is now gray and clouded. My awful mood is compounded when I reach Toshikazu's house and enter through the servants' entrance to jump slightly at Ikeda-san's greeting. She had stepped out of the shadows behind me. I had no idea how long she had been lying in wait, like a tiger stalking its prey. I bow deeply to hide my surprise.

"Taneka-san is here," she says brusquely. Isn't his visit in a few days? He has come awfully earlier and I haven't had a chance to compose myself for another ordeal.

"Will I wear the kimono again?" I ask, hoping the longing note in my voice hadn't been noticed. It's been a long day and I selfishly want to wear something pretty to cheer myself up.

Ikeda-san gives me a once-over. She does that a lot lately, constantly taking my measure. I could hardly look more unappealing, with hairs escaping from my loose bun and stains on my sister's old yukata. My eyes may even be reddened from shedding a few tears in the train car, though I pretended to be admiring the view to hide my face from the other passengers.

She gestures at the water barrel and I splash some cold water on my face, swallowing a few mouthfuls out of genuine thirst, before turning to face her. Ikeda-san quickly repins my hair.

"It will have to do," she pronounces her verdict, brushing my clothes with a small hand brush she had conjured from nowhere. You don't have to bother, I want to tell her, dust doesn't show up on patterned fabric like this. "Off you go- they're waiting for you in the study."

Everything is set just as they were during my first meeting with Taneka, down to the two half-empty teacups on the table. I mumble a polite greeting and bow in front of the men who hold all the power in this room.

I study their faces when I kneel opposite to them. Toshikazu looks contemplative, while the look in Taneka's beady eyes does not bode well for me. I do a mental count- it has been four months since the first time we met, a whole season for me to improve.

"Welcome back, Chiyo-chan," Toshikazu says in a neutral tone.

"She looks even drabber than before, Hiroshi-san," Taneka says, sounding bored. "I didn't think it was possible."

My mouth moves before my brain thinks better of it. "I believe that I am not to be judged solely on appearance, Sir."

Taneka doesn't do anything as unsophisticated as scowl at me, but an unpleasant emotion ripples across his face before it is smoothed away.

"I suppose any lyrical praise of beauty would be wasted on a commoner," he says, addressing Toshikazu and not even looking at me. I curse Ikeda-san for feeding me to the lions with a disheveled appearance.

"I agree with Taneka-sama," I say through gritted teeth. This gets him to look at me, finally. "I would rather be appreciated for my intelligence than for my looks. For beauty is in the eye of the beholder, while the mark of an intelligent person rarely varies. I am certain one day I will be adequate in the latter."

"Well said," Toshikazu says serenely. Taneka taps his finger on the table.

I breeze through the reading exercises. Taneka has clearly been given information about my curriculum and he quizzes me on poems I read with Toshikazu. He even attempts to stump me by asking me to write a paragraph on a debate on government expenditure. Relieved that I would read the morning paper in the evening after Ikeda-san was finished with it, I write something about interest rates and over-spending on defense. I had read an article about this issue a month ago and was generously borrowing from what I could remember of the text. My handwriting is slanted due to the speed I had been writing at, but the finished product is a legible essay. The only flaw to me is the lack of my own voice because I had read someone else's opinion on the topic without understanding it.

I resolve to ask Toshikazu to teach me what he knew of social issues to better prepare, because there is definitely going to be a next time. I couldn't just show up to these encounters with silly stories of boys losing their kites or girls gathering ingredients to put together a holiday feast.

"Her knowledge of kanji has improved in such a short time," Taneka says, more than a little begrudgingly. "Solid reasoning as well."

It's high praise from him. I resist the urge to preen.

"One last test," Taneka says, pulling out two sheets of paper.

Looking at the content of those papers, my stomach cramps. It is my least favourite subject that Toshikazu insists on teaching me, taking up the majority of what used to be pure reading and writing classes. I can't make head or tails of some of the questions I read. Why should I care if so-and-so sold forty-five percent of his chickens and that translated to 300 chickens, and the question was how many chickens does he have originally? The real question should be who is buying all those chickens and at what price. After those disastrous sessions learning fractions and such, he put shapes in front of me. Shapes.

I personally believe that I was good enough at the sort of sums that were useful like those that protect me from being cheated at in the market. The deeper study of numbers and figures perplexes me but I'm not about to show my weakness in front of Taneka. Although I spend more time than I thought I would poring over the question paper and feel like I got at least half the questions wrong, I finished all of them.

"She has been instructed in mathematics for nearly three months. This is remarkable progress."

"Still not quite there," Taneka says to Toshikazu. "She performs as an educated boy of ten would. Careless mistakes all around."

The criticism stings me but I do not let it show, keeping a calm look on my face as Toshikazu does.

"You are assuming that she has the privilege of spending her waking hours in a schoolroom, being taught by the best teachers," my teacher retorts. "I am only one man and she has other duties to attend to."

"If you had genuinely been serious about this," Taneka says. "You should not have brought her on as a servant. Unlike the others, I do not know what you are trying to prove."

What does he mean by 'this'? Are there others like me?

"Chiyo is a bright girl," Toshikazu replies, on the defensive. "And I have two and a half years to go."

It is the first I have heard of a deadline relating to my studies and I suppress a shudder. I am a piece being played in the game between these two men. I do not know to what end.

Taneka opens his mouth but then, as if remembering that I am still in the room, shuts it.

"Thank you, Chiyo-chan," Toshikazu says dismissively, taking his hint. "You may go."

A servant must obey their master. I bow with my back held straight and leave after saying an insincere farewell to Taneka.


Feeling left out of something that felt important, I ask Ikeda-san about the precise relationship between Toshikazu and Taneka, and why I have been involved.

"It's not our business to question Toshikazu. He is a scholar born with a pen in his hand and more ideas in his head than common sense. He will explain everything when he thinks it is the right time for you to know."

"I'll just leave him because I can't see that ever happening!" I can't help but snap at her. "I apologise for my tone. Toshikazu-san insists on hiding information from me to the detriment of us both. I must know the nature of the competition between them."

Ikeda-san glances at me. I know that I have discovered part of the truth. There is some sort of game between them, with one winner. I just have to wheedle the rules out of her.

But before I can, she sends me to the kitchen to prepare dinner and I have to put aside my bubbling frustration to do my duty.