Makoto-chan comes running through the gate, the sleeves of her kimono flying behind her.
A veritable miniature of myself. So little of her father in her, at least on the surface. At times I see something in her expression, or the way her mind works. But she’s still so young. Time will tell.
However, she is taller than I was at that age. And undeniably headstrong and stubborn , but that could come from either of us. Her eyes are mine but lighter. It is probably rather sad to look for signs that she is his… as if that would be -proof- that it ever happened.
“Okaa-saaaaan!” she cries, launching herself at me. Ooof. She -is- getting bigger. She giggles, grinning at me, more bubbly than usual. “Did you miss me? I was gone all morning, and some of the afternoon!”
Oh, I -did-. “Hai hai,” I say, smiling, brushing her hair out of her face. *Sigh* And it had been so neat this morning when I left her at school. Her first day at school. This new era is changing things – even in this town by the sea, there is a small school for girls, and now that Makoto-chan is five she was ready (and excited) to go. Oh, I could teach her myself, I suppose, as I was taught at home, but I do want her to get out more. I will walk her and her best friend, Isuzu-chan, in the mornings as I go to work and Isuzu-chan’s mother will walk them home at mid-day when the youngest girls leave and keep her until I get home mid-afternoon.
Work is at an onsen, where I help the owner. She is an excellent hostess but a so-so businesswoman, and I have a mind for organization, facts and figures. Now that Makoto-chan will spend days in school, I will help her more, and bring in a little more money. That is always -helpful-. School means expenses – the uniform she wears, books… but it is also opportunity.
Life is quiet now, and there is a steady routine… I appreciate the peace. None of the turbulence of that one year.
?
The year I met Hajime, when I lost myself to him.
There’s part of me that is lost to him forever. I’ll never get past him, in some ways. It is a sad thought that wherever he is, he doesn’t remember me at all. I’m rather certain Kizu erased his memories of me, as she always said that she would, of what we had, of what we could have had. But isn’t it good that he can live a life with no regrets? That he doesn’t know that somewhere he has a child? He is, if nothing else, not the kind of man to take fatherhood lightly. I hope… that wherever he is, he has found what he was looking for.
I never said goodbye to Hajime, that I regret. But maybe it’s best he left thinking that I didn’t love him. He could hate me, it would make it easier for him to forget, after all. To have him think I was fickle, and that Kizu was right, that I would leave him. She was right… that I gave him up, in the end. Sometimes when I think of him I’m angry, or so -sad- that it hurts to -exist-. It’s hard at these times to remember his smile… it’s just the -pain-. But just as Kizu keeps his pain, I keep my own, and that from our time together.
After… I went alone to Kyoto. Said my goodbyes to my brothers, renounced the Yagi name, taking that difficult chore from my dear brother. Then I went to Tokyo, packed and left, and came to the one place that was my refuge – this resort town by the sea. The sound of the waves… means that it is never really silent here.
The sea goes on, just like life. Just like -my- life. Just as it is spring and the sakura blooms again. It always comes back.
Even my sister… I gave up on talking to her. She won’t remember me. She’ll be okay, I think.
And in this town, a tourist town, where there’s a daily coming and going of new faces… there have been those who have deduced my situation and have shunned me for it yet I have a few friends here. My employer is glad for my skills, and as long as I am “respectable” now, she does not hold the past against me.
Makoto-chan was born on December 1879, in this place by the sea, where I had first “felt” her. I gave birth to her surrounded by strangers. I had no family to tell or to be happy for me, but the first moment I saw her… When I first saw her, she was so beautiful that I cried. And I knew I could never resent her for who her father is. She is free from that, and I love her for her own sake.
I make my dear girl dinner, as she chatters at me about her day. She’s so excited about school, I love to see her this happy – it makes me think that I am doing right by her. Tamaseborou had said, when I told him… that he could find someone to take her in, take her off my hands, but I refused. I wanted this child, as I always had. The first year, when I struggled so, emotionally and financially, I had wondered if I was doing the correct thing… but then I found this job, this house and as the practical side of my life settled, I was able to mentally stabilize as well.
Finally, evening falls and even she gets tired. “Okaasan, tell me a story!” I laugh, ruffling her hair. She loves stories. The myths and legends of our country open up her imagination and her bright mind, and I’ve overheard her relating the stories back to her dolls, or to Isuzu-chan.
“There was a princess and a wolf -” I start, as she snuggles up alongside me.
“Okaasan, was the princess pretty? Like the one in the book?” Yuunosuke doesn’t write but he sends books. At least, I think it’s him sending it, it’s his handwriting on the package and who else would send us Western books – for me on plants, and children’s stories for Makoto-chan? It’s just like the money that I see arrive in my account – small amounts, at New Years, or on our birthdays… their silent support… reminds me that Makoto-chan and I aren’t truly alone, even if they can’t acknowledge us, or speak to us directly. And it had given my daughter a voracious appetite for learning English, so she can -really- figure out what those stories are about.
“Ah. Some said, I suppose. But you must stay quiet to hear the story, okay?” She nods, her eyes wide yet sleepy. She won’t last long.
I continue. “They met at New Years, and by spring the wolf and the princess were in love.”
“How could a wolf and a princess be in love?” She gives me a look, confused. “This is a -silly- story, Okaasan.”
“Hai, hai, but this is just a -story-, little one.” I stroke her hair. “She was lost, alone in the wilderness, locked away from a world where she could never be. But the wolf came and found her, and would come to see her when she was lonely, because he was lonely too. Where he lived… they weren’t kind to wolves, but she always was.”
“What a mean place!” She frowns, but her eyes are drooping. “So what happened?”
“For a time… it worked, and they were happy.” I’m quiet for a moment, and she doesn’t ask more questions, and I hear her breathing become even and heavy. I continue, in a softer voice, “but a lone wolf cannot be tamed; and by summer… they had become too different. They realized… the wilderness was not his home, and that it was tearing him apart, no matter how much they loved each other. So they said goodbye. Goodbyes are a part of life, after all.” Ah, that’s not the truth, but if I’m to have a story with sad ending at least I can make it a pretty one.
It’s not until I feel her stir that I realize that I’ve started crying, and my tears are falling down my face onto hers. “What a sad story, Makoto-chan…” I whisper as I wipe my tears from her face. I don’t get to do this much, she’s a strong child who rarely cries. She’s asked about her father once or twice… I still don’t know what I’ll tell her for now. When she’s old enough, I will tell her the truth, no matter how difficult it is.
I lay her down, and she whimpers slightly, but doesn’t wake. I slip out the shoji door, walking onto the engawa and sitting on the edge. From this house on a hill I can see the ocean glittering against the bright light of the moon.
My life now… shouldn’t be dismissed as too “nice”. No, there is nothing “nice” about being cut off from the family I love, but those were the consequences. There is nothing nice about still missing Hajime so bad it -hurts-, the nights when the dreams are a bit too real and I wake up crying. Just as it is not nice that financially I still struggle, but… I refuse, just as I did years ago, to marry for security. As long as I can manage… freedom will come above being “safe”.
The wind blows a little, and I can smell my garden, the vanilla smell of the samurai orchids. The scent… takes me back, always a bittersweet thing. Of the man I still love, who I saw so much possibility in, but in the end we could only hurt each other. But I live now for the present, and my future with the most precious thing he ever gave me.
Summer, 1879 – Early April, 1885
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Darkness has fallen again.
“Push, Yagi-san.”
This will never end.
Another surge of pain rips through me and I resist the urge to cry out. I never knew it would be like this. I remember being so afraid, so afraid of this pain… It seems to last forever and the time between each one seems only seconds.
Earlier I screamed and got repremained by the midwife. An old woman, and the doctor is not the Sasaki-sensei who I trusted. The old woman sharply reminds me that a well-bred Japanese woman edures the the pain, and that I may grunt if I must. Only barbarian foreigners embarrass themselves and scream.
At first this physical pain was welcome, I haven’t felt anything since that day I locked the house in Tokyo and came back to Ito. I made myself stay alive only for this child. I ate but tasted nothing, I slept but never rested.
Labor began last night, and we are into the next day and the sun is again setting. I can’t…
I can’t hold on…
Hajime…. Hajime… Am I speaking?
Hime-sama… I hear his voice, and feel him holding my hand. You’re doing -well-. Not too much longer.
I turn my head and open my eyes. In the dark room, lanterns are lit at the other room. My vision won’t focus. Hajime… I’m not this strong… I just want to go to sleep…
No. His voice has something I can’t quite place… something stern yet worried. Hide, you’re almost done. Listen to the doctor.
I hold back another scream, holding tight to his hand. Bear with it. You were able to stay silent when we made this child… He smirks, but it fades into a smile as he strokes my hair. I concentrate and push. Almost done, almost done…
—-
“Who is she talking to?” Asks the midwife, frowing. It’s bad enough to attend to a birth of a woman like this – alone, but she behaves rather poorly as well.
“Hallucinating, no doubt.” The doctor shakes his head. “Whatever it is she’s trying harder.” In a low voice he says, even though he knows the woman is beyond hearing him, “I thought we might lose this one.”
—-
“Yagi-san, you have a daughter…” My eyes flutter open and I look to my right. No Hajime… it was only a dream. “You’re almost done, and then we’ll clean you up… the baby is getting a bath now.”
I only nod, tired. I survived. “My baby… is… she well?” A daughter. A daughter. Oh, we have a daughter…
Shaking and shivering, I feel the final surges of pain, but -dull- now, “Ah, done.” Says the doctor. He disappears, and the midwife comes back, cleaning me up, helping me move to clean bedding and into a fresh yukata. She leaves, coming back with a small bundle.
She looks tired but doesn’t look as grumpy now. Gently, she hands me the child, and leaves after taking some of the soiled linen.
I look down into her face, and the bright eyes that look back up into mine. Tenderly, I cradle her close, this small child, all pain forgotton. My eyes memorize every line of her face, searching in it for him…
It is then I begin to cry, tears running down my cheeks. “Makoto…” I whisper. “You shall be called Makoto…”
Back to Kyoto…
Home… or, it was home. On the train I try to ban all memories of the last time I made this trip.
He’s moved on… you know that. You failed him and he doesn’t want you anymore. The clack-clack of the tracks seems to chant that at me. The sound of the rain against the windows… I feel slightly ill, this train is too warm and smells like something I can’t quite place.
I close my eyes, tight. I would sleep but alone I wouldn’t dare. There is nobody here now to hold me while I rest.
Stop thinking about that. You can’t have that. You don’t -deserve- that.
Instead I bring out some sewing. Busy, busy, keep busy. For the baby. Delicate, decorative work. Take my thoughts away…
You’re the one that failed him, that lost faith.
—
Once in Kyoto I settle into an inn near the station. Hopefully this won’t take long. I send a note to Tamesaburou, asking him to come alone. I don’t want Hanako-san to see me shamed and exiled. I don’t want Yuunosuke to be here – he will be the one that will break my heart.
Tamesaburou comes, looking worried, and I calmly tell him of the situation. It is by now of course rather obvious… he is shocked, and by turns sad and angry.
For him, for Hanako-san and the children and Yuunosuke… “I accept that my actions bring shame to the Yagi family… and I shall accept exile from this family. I am no longer your sister.” I lower my head. I am calm, almost removed from this entire scene. Good. I can’t break anothers heart when mine is shattering as well.
“Hide-neesan…” his voice breaks and again I see my little brother, as a child. The one that let me hold him when I cried when I found out that Souji had died. The one that believed in me enough to let me go to Tokyo alone to find a new life.
I have dissappointed so many, destroyed so much…
“I need to have the money Okaasan left me.” I calmly lay out the papers, the ones with dense legal language. It is mine, mine and this child’s…
Tamesaburou nods. “Of course… I would never deny you Oneesan…” He stands and turns. I see him struggling to remain composed. Us Yagis are sometimes too transparent in our emotions. “Tomorrow… come by in the morning. I will… Yuunosuke will be working, and I will make sure Hanako and the children are gone.”
He leaves without looking back. I settle in for a long night.
The next morning I meet Tamesaburou. I leave instructions to the carriage driver. I would rather have not come here. Mibu is still a small village still, and everyone knows everyone. It would be best if I were not seen.
As he promised he is alone. We sit, the shoji opened towards the garden… oh, that garden, where Souji and I would spend summer evenings; where Harada-san and Nakagura-san would tell me jokes that I probably shouldn’t have been hearing. Yamanami-san would share his quiet wisdom with me, or Kondou-san would tell me about his home.
And it was there that I saw Hajime, his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. He could see right through me, through Hidejiro, as he could always could. In vain my eyes scan, looking for him. Remembering the night he came here with Saya, when he quietly touched my hand for a moment, to let me know…
Resolve…
I concentrate on what Tamesaburou tells me about investments and yields and interests. It will make sense to me later. Now I am struggling not to be overwhelmed…
All of the resolve in the world isn’t helping make this easier. Tamesaburou leaves, and comes back with a trunk. It was my mothers. “I hope… I tried to pack what you had left here.” He smiles, awkwardly. “You might wish to repack the kimono.”
“Hanako of course brought her own doll festival set, so I’ve packed yours… and things of mother’s; she would have…” He frowns. Words are hard, I only nod my thanks as I gather up the papers. “Are you staying in Tokyo?”
“No.” I do not elaborate. Of course I won’t. That house it too full of memories. That entire city is … and I must escape. To the one place this entire summer I felt peace.
Tamesaburou takes the trunk and heads towards the gate. I shake my head. “No, the back.” It is right. I don’t do these things to enjoy this pain, or take satisfaction from doing my duty… I only make the hard choices for him. It is my actions that lead to this, and only my actions… I do what I must now. Of course I should leave through the back. He would never ask me but it is what is done in these situations.
Of course, I leave him with the worst of it, telling the others. Yuunosuke… will never understand.
Pausing at the gate, he suddenly gathers me in his arms. He’s not embraced me since he was a child, and I feel something wet fall on my shoulder through the fabric of my kimono. I do not move, only let him hold onto me. “Yagi-san,” I almost choke at calling him this. “I must be going now.”
He steps back. “I don’t care… you -will- send me word… when you have your child… tell me where you are.” I only nod, afraid to speak.
I get in the carriage as the trunk is put away, and I do not look back as I leave Mibu for the last time.
I can’t stay here any longer.
And I can’t live off of this money any longer. It has a better use.
Makoto-chan sleeps this afternoon. Her needs have given me something to live for. At times I am grateful that I have her just to -hold-. Smelling her clean baby smell, her little hand curling around my finger, her wide eyes watching me.
I look around. This is just a room I’ve rented, it’s impractical. I can’t really cook. I don’t really have a life.
I think… I must find a job. And a real place to live. This is no place to raise a child. I must think of her.
Both of these are difficult to find. A job will be difficult enough, because I must care for Makoto-chan. And as in housing, my status will be a problem. Ito isn’t Tokyo, but it’s also not Mibu.
I can’t think of the past… Mibu… Tokyo… I must concentrate…
I can’t think. Too often my thoughts dwell on Hajime.
It is empty without him. Today… is his birthday. Last year…
I want to fall back and sink in those memories. Go and pull out that box of letters and trinkets. Listen to the music box over and over. Pretend that it is last year, and any moment he’ll be coming to see me. If I lay down and close my eyes, I can escape to dreams, maybe I won’t have to open my eyes again…
Makoto-chan’s cry shakes me from this. I am here -now-. I am the worst mother… If I cannot see this child. I did send my brother news, as I promised. The only letter he’s sent… He wrote me of a couple he knew who wanted a child, and would take Makoto and I could come back to Kyoto, come back to my family as if nothing had happened.
Would that be the answer? To give up again? Could someone else give Makoto the life that I cannot?
I pick up my sleeping child. I love her too much. She is all that anchors me to reality now. I am selfish. But I -will- do everything in my ability to secure her future. Getting a job and supporting myself… that will leave all of the Yagi money for her, for her future. I won’t let her be held back because of what -I- did. It is not hope, it is a plan. If I have failed everyone else in my life I cannot fail her.
Makoto-chan… my light in this darkness. I stroke her dark hair, fine and soft. She is my only reason now.
I don’t answer my brother. It is best if I don’t.
Makoto-chan sleeps in her basket by my feet, tired after one of the kitchenmaids spent an hour playing with her. I suppose I should fuss at them to -work-… yet Aiko-san is good at making Makoto laugh. That sound… is like sunlight that pierces the clouds that always surround me.
I sit in my office that I share with Sugiyama-san, but as usual she’s out seeing to guests. I am trying to figure out how to balance these numbers and I must figure out why the costs for tofu have doubled in the past month… which will mean a trip to market with the head cook, and a chat with the tofu vendor.
Work is good. Now I see why Hajime would lose himself in it.
I wonder… of course he’s still working. What he’s doing now. Concentrate. I’ll never balance these figures if I think of him.
My employer is kind. She first noticed Makoto-chan, complimenting my “pretty child”. Sugiyama-san is the type of person who can draw your story out of you – ah, I did keep details to myself… but she knows that I am unmarried. As long as I live a respectable life now… she will not hold the past against me.
However, she had cause to be so forgiving. Sugiyama Tsuhiko runs this ryoken while her father is ill and she waits for her fiancee to return from his duties. She is an excellent hostess, but hopeless on practical matters.
And I… excel at practical matters. I came in to find her books a tangled jumble of illegible numbers and her staff running expenses too high. Finally I have it running well.
It is good to be useful. To have direction. That is what I need. A routine. Not like those months after Makoto-chan was born, and I drifted in and out of sleep when I wasn’t needing to care for my infant daughter. The money isn’t much, but I depend less and less on the income I make from mother’s money, and I am able to put more aside for Makoto.
Sugiyama-san even found me a house, a small one, on a hill. From the front gate it didn’t look like much and the climb up was quite something, carrying Makoto. Sugiyama-san took me to the back, flinging open the shoji.
The ocean…
I looked out on the glittering water below, and it was then that I remembered why I had felt so drawn to this place when I wanted to settle somewhere new… how this was the place where I had first felt Makoto-chan, looking at this same sea. This is home… I close my eyes. Maybe… maybe I could have a garden again.
Makoto-chan has made a friend in Isuzu-chan, the little girl next door. Her mother, Mochizuki Hiroku, makes me feel terribly old, she can’t be more than 23. But my dear child is happy with Isuzu-chan, and afternoons like this Mochizuki-san will happily carry them both off.
It is good that Makoto leaves this house. Maybe like her father the walls and limitations are restrictive.
She grows… and she is my sole joy in this world. I love watching her personality develop, watching her become the person who she will be.
Setting out the laundry to dry… it was a July day like this that I last saw him.
Why can’t I get -better-? Why am I still bound in my heart to this man? If he even remembers me, I am probably just a -regret-.
I’m so aware of what I lost. He was my friend and lover, my true beloved, and I came alive under him. I had always such a hopeful person, but he gave me something to hope -for-. Something tangible to really want. A life by his side… the man I still love so much.
But that doesn’t matter -now-…
Because in the end it didn’t matter. He looked to others when I failed him. Women who could be there in his world, be there -with- him, open. Not this woman who lived in the shadows.
Is this my reality? My fate? Somedays it feels like an endless dream because even though it’s my life I feel so disconnected. A child I love but … at one time in my life I treasured what I had and wouldn’t think of what I didn’t.
Now I can only dwell on what I don’t have. And try to survive. For her sake, but how long can I continue? I try to be brave, I try to be strong… but something in my soul is missing.
My writer doesn’t talk to me much, honestly, I don’t want to see her. She only looks at me sadly and tries to apoligize. I can’t hear her anymore, I just stare at her coldly and wait for her to leave. The only thing I hear. “I’ll take it away, Hide.” Oh, if only I had enough fire left in me to stab her for being so stupid.