Reunited – Chapter 9

Everyone takes the morning off several days later so we can lay Koichi to rest, even Kentaro. I take his arm on the way to the temple so Jiro and Yoichi can be with Mariko, but he’s silent the whole walk there.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him. “You’re not usually so quiet.”

“Sorry. I went to visit my parents yesterday. It didn’t go well.” He aims his eyes at his feet, his brow furrowed and lips straight across. Kentaro’s hair is short again but he’s stopped wearing it spiky. He brushes his hair down towards his face. “My mother wants me to come and live at their estate. My father does not. He’s happy I’m gone, but my mother misses me.”

“I can imagine she misses you. Do you want to move back?”

“Hell no!” He spits out, and we both laugh before Sakai turns and gives us the stink-eye. “No way. I’m… how old am I?”

“Um, twenty-six… I think.”

“If this were Nishikyō, I would have moved out a long time ago. I’m not going back just to make my mother happy, as much as I love her. My father would drive us both insane.”

“What do you talk about with him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“You mean business-wise? Nothing. He doesn’t talk to me about anything.”

Oh no, that’s not good. A wash of cold, slow energy coats my back, and I shiver.

“He pushed me out after your marriage to Jiro. I’m not sure what’s going on. He pretends to want me to lead the family when he’s gone but gives me nothing to do. He’s a hypocrite.”

“He’s my ally. If you know something, you should tell me.”

“I suspect many things, but know anything? No. I’m sorry. I wish I knew everything.” Kentaro is incapable of lying to my face. When he needs to keep something from me, he avoids me, and now he is telling me this straight. My jaw tightens as he pats my hand on his arm and shakes his head.

We turn a corner, and the temple sits in front of us by a block, its bright red torii gate hovering over an entrance into a courtyard much like the Sakai temple back home in Nishikyō. Sakura cherry trees hang over the buildings, ripe with buds ready to burst forth into the pink blossoms that grace Beni’s back. The white gravel in the courtyard crunches under our feet and a bird picking bits of bugs out of the stones takes flight surprised by our noise. I’m continually amazed by birds, such beautiful creatures flying through the air, and they come in all colors and sizes. Wildlife here on Yūsei will thrill me till the day I die.

I pull my haori coat closer to my body as a breeze whips around the corner. I’m always cold. Does this world never warm up?

Kentaro squeezes my shoulders as I shiver in place now that I’m not walking anymore. Sakai and Mariko bow to a priest opening the doors to the temple. Even priests were included on the first wave. Everyone wears silk kimono and haori coats today, but no one is as cold as I am. Jiro walks over, and Kentaro releases me.

“She’s been shivering for the last block.”

“I’m s-s-s-oooooo c-c-c-cold.” Jiro wraps his arms around me, creating an extra layer to cocoon me from the damp.

“Let’s all go indoors. The priest says there’s no heat but at least we’ll be sheltered from the wind.” He turns me, and with his arm around my shoulders, we follow everyone inside. “You need to put more fat on your body. It will help keep you warm here.”

“What are you talking about? I’m the softest I have ever been in my life.” Despite all the exercise, I haven’t lost my hibernation fat, and I still have cleavage. I examine my chest everyday, and unbelievably, real breasts are there every morning.

My prayers are short. I thanked Koichi on numerous occasions for his love, his family, and his sacrifice the night he died, and I’ll thank him for these things till the day I die too. I think perhaps Mariko, Sakai, and Yoichi will sit here the longest. The main room is warmer inside and the wind rattles the shōji screens in short bursts, but the temple is peaceful. The tatami mats have all been ripped up and the wood shines, buffed to perfection.

I don’t want to go back outside, but the wind has died down and sunshine lightens the windows. Hopefully the weather is warming up because our next stop will be the beach. I rise slowly from seiza, letting the blood flow back in my legs, and groan. My hips have been killing me lately. I should visit the doctor but finding the time is difficult.

Jiro’s already done and waiting for me. We slide the rear door open and slip out before anyone can notice we’re gone. A courtyard in the back of this temple building mirrors the front with a wide expanse of white stones and a washing well off to the left. On the right, hundreds of little, bald men statues with their hands clasped, line up in rows. I squat down in front of them and let the sun warm my back.

“Jizō statues, Jiro. So sad.” Jizō is the protector of deceased children, especially children who died very young before their parents. The piles of stones left here are most likely from parents who lost children of their own, lessening the load of stones deceased children will pile on the banks of the Sanzu river before being admitted to the afterlife, if Jizō doesn’t come along and save them first. Many of the little statues are adorned with decayed and weathered gifts — a yoyo, a ball — and a few have hats or scarves on them. Most look like they’ve seen a hundred years worth of summers and winters but a few do not.

I silently point to a statue bearing a brand new red, knitted cap and scarf with a pile of wildflowers next to it, and Jiro nods.

“Do you think anyone from the colonization did that?”

Jiro shakes his head. “No. This temple’s only been open three days. I think we might be its first visitors. No one lives in this section yet but the priests.”

Rubbing my hands together, I try to get some warmth back into them.

“It’s not as warm out here as I thought it was,” Jiro says, taking my hands in his. “Let’s go back inside.”

We both turn away from the statues and freeze. A small boy, maybe eight years old, peeks up over the wooden fence surrounding the courtyard. He’s frozen, too, suspended in the motion of scaling the barrier. He’s definitely Japanese, and definitely a native, since no one in first wave was younger than seventeen.

Jiro drops my hands and bolts straight for the boy.

“Sanaa, Usagi, go!”

The boy disappears as Jiro reaches the fence and scales it in three swift movements. Shit!

I sprint for the door, open it, and find Usagi all done with prayers and standing at the entrance. Being as fast yet as respectful as possible, I head straight for him and pull him out the front.

“Around the back, through the street. Jiro chasing a small boy.” I motion with my arm while shoving him at the nearest exit. “Go!”

Usagi takes off, gravel spraying from beneath his feet. He’s heading in the right direction so I can only hope he catches up.

“What was that about?” Sakai appears next to me. I didn’t hear him coming, and I yelp and nearly fall over from surprise.

“Dear gods. Please stop doing that to me.” I put my hand to my chest and take a deep breath. “Jiro and I were out back looking at the Jizō statues, and then we turned and saw a small boy peering over the fence at us.”

“A small boy?” Sakai scans the courtyard around us. “There are no small boys in the colonization.”

“Yes, hence the chasing.”

“Did he hear you speaking?”

“Probably. I’m not sure. We were silent looking at the statues, but I noticed one of them had a new hand-knit hat, and I thought someone must have come and left it here. Someone not from Earth.”

Before Sakai can comment, Jiro and Usagi return, and Usagi has the boy by the back of his shirt.

“We got him. Fast little guy. He even jumped a fence along the way.” Jiro smiles, runs his hands through his hair, and tucks it back.

“Konnichiwa.” I smile and squat down to get on the same level as the boy. “Watashi no namae wa Sanaa desu. Anata no namae wa nan desu ka?” Exchanging names seems like a good place to start.

His mouth puckers, and his nose crinkles. I don’t think he’s going to talk until we’re no longer holding him, so I reach over to Usagi’s kimono and tug on it, and Usagi lets go of the boy. He looks well taken care of. His clothes are pretty clean for a little boy. His hair’s a mess, and his fingernails are dirty, but he’s not too skinny.

“Hanasemasen ka?” Can’t speak?

He laughs, his eyes bright, but realizing he’s given himself away, he kicks at a stone.

“Ah! So desu ne! Wakaremasu ne.” Ah, so you can understand me, but you can’t speak to me. I stand up and turn to Jiro. “What should we do with him, Jiro? Put him to work? Scrub the bathhouse?”

Jiro catches on, rubbing his hand along his jaw and staring off into the sky. “I was thinking we’d get him to sweep out the garden and wash the floors in the kitchen.”

“Eh! I’m not your slave!” His foot stomps the gravel, a scowl crawling across his lips.

“You speak English, do you?” He clamps his hand over his mouth, but he can’t take it back now. “Good, though I could speak Japanese all day, it’s not my first language. Why were you climbing the back wall?”

“I come to take care of the grounds here. Every four weeks. And my English is only so-so.”

“Maa maa. Okay. Where do you live?” I pause as Sakai’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “I’ll be discreet,” I whisper to him.

“The town north of here. I hike here with my parents. They’ll be wondering where I am if I don’t come back.” He’s not frightened, but with his head cocked and his arms crossed, he knows what passes for a threat.

“It’s all right. We’re not going to keep you. I was only kidding.” I wink at him, and he cracks his first small smile. “But I’d like to meet your parents. We all would, I think.” Mariko stands at the door to the temple with everyone else, and they’re all watching me negotiate with our first native visitor. The little boy peeks past me, and his eyes widen.

“You’re not all Japanese!”

Helena and Lucy smile from the temple door.

“No. We’re not.”

“I’ve only seen people like her in school books. Wow.”

Well, at least the native population knows they’re not the only kind of people in the universe.

“What can I call you? I shared my name with you. Sanaa. Will you share yours with me?”

He thinks for a moment, chewing on the inside of his mouth. “Hiro.”

“Great, Hiro. Why don’t you come with us to the beach and then back to our house for lunch? Then you should bring your parents so we can all get to know each other.”

“I’m old enough to know that I don’t go places with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers now.” I grab Jiro and pull him next to me. “This is my husband, Jiro. This is Usagi, and my other friend, Mark. And I’ll introduce you to everyone else on our way to the beach. We came out today to spread my father-in-law’s ashes and eat lunch together. How about I make you a promise? If you eat lunch with us and bring your parents to meet us, you can play soccer with these guys all afternoon. Deal?”

I hold out my hand to him. He can’t be more than eight years old. Do eight year old boys even hold hands? But he only hesitates a moment and takes it. “Ah! Hiro! Your hands are cold like mine. Come. We’ll be quick at the beach, and then my friend, Oyama, will cook us hot soup.”