June, 1890
“Come on, Ai-chan!”
“I’m coming oneesan! Wait for me!” With that, Ai-chan pulls her hand away from me to try to climb after her sister, her fluffy hair bouncing as she runs.
“You’re too slow, hahaue!” she calls out.
I smile, and hold onto my stick. I don’t need it, much, in flat places, or on nice days, but this monument is left in a quiet place, a peaceful place… but there are hills and no established path. There’s no bodies here, so maybe any ghosts that stop by are happy to, not sad and trapped. I got back Toudou-san’s haori, after, and cleaned it and mended it, and buried it here. They would welcome him back, Shinsengumi code or not. Brotherhood goes beyond death, after all.
We came alone, this year. Nagakura-san had to work, and says that the girls are getting too old to drink in front of anymore. He’s been a good friend, both him and his wife have been supportive, but give us space. But this place is different to each of us who come here – living or dead, I suppose, and we all have to make of it what we need.
I won’t lie to myself. It’s not been perfect, these past… almost four years, now. Our life in Tokyo ended, I left behind that place where love once bloomed. The family we gathered, now, scattered. Tsutomu-kun in Aizu, with his mother and Tsuyoshi-kun. Yukiko-san, following Eiji-san to his latest Army posting. And the three of us… in Hokkaido.
The sky is bigger here, bluer. He would have loved it.
I wear the golden band on my left hand now, the one that matches his. We’re the Yamaguchis up here, taking that name. I don’t think Hiroshi-san, or his parents, would have minded. I’m not -the-widow, but… I’ll take what I was. What I am. And despite the surplus of men here, I… don’t even consider it. It’s not that there’s nobody else that could ever fill that hole inside me… but it’s the peace I need.
But like Ito, it’s a small life. I secured a house for us, with a garden, learning an entire new way up here in the land of snow. I found a job keeping books for a lavender exporter, where my English skills are useful, and a school for Makoto. It’s not Futaba, but Yuunosuke sends her supplementary materials to keep her bright mind active and engaged. Tamesaburou helped me give testimony, before I left the south, that sent Kato and many others to jail for life – although Kato died soon after in a prison scuffle. Over time, my body healed. My ankle and hand remain stiff, sometimes, and winter can be rough. My hair grew back, but it’s now streaked with grey. I sometimes look in the mirror – would he have teased me?
We say our prayers, and then sit down to have our picnic. It’s taken time, but my left hand improves and I can make most everything again. I made the children’s favorites, and a few things for the others, who would have enjoyed them.
“And…. zaru soba for chichiue.” Makoto-chan then looks away, quiet, before standing up. I came back for her, of course. And I’ve not been the mother from my nightmares. Not perfect. But grief is something we can share. We can help each other. She had her chichiue for just a year and a half. Sometimes she has nightmares, sometimes she’s angry, withdrawn… but we come back together.
But Tsutomu-kun keeps in touch with her, and I write him too, even though he doesn’t reply – but there’s usually a line in his letters to Makoto along the lines of “I hope Yagi-san is okay”. Midori-san writes better letters, now that she’s back from Europe. Maybe one day she’ll be the one to finally drag him up here.
For Ai-chan, Hajime is a man of legend, of stories. I share with her the pictures. I’ve told her of the day she was born, how he gave her her first bath. I’ll show her the lacquer bowls he bought for her, that she had her first taste of real food from. About the grandmother she resembles, with those disarming golden eyes.
After we eat, Ai-chan curls up on me, and even Makoto comes to snuggle next to me. There’s a lot here, that’s like Ito. The loneliness that eats at me, late at night. Missing someone to share the joys of the girls growing up, and the worries when they’re ill or injured. But it’s not like Ito. I came here with scars, regrets, -broken-… but I know now that if I love him, I have to face the hardest things. I have to live a life that he would be proud of, and not just scrape by. His children deserve better.
“Tell me again, hahaue, of the princess and the wolf…”
I smile. “They met at New Years, and by spring the wolf and the princess were in love”, I start. “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.”
Was I? But this is a story for children, and my self-recriminations have no place here. “But they found a place, a remarkable place, a place full of love and flowers. Sometimes it rained, but… the skies were often blue. They had,” I say, touching Makoto and Ai’s noses in turn, “two little wolf-princesses.”
“Then one day, an ogre came and stole the princess, wanting her for his own. The wolf came after, and defeated the ogre and saved his princess… but the wolf couldn’t fight any more. But he’ll always love his princesses.” I say.
For a moment, we’re all quiet. Ai-chan, asleep. Makoto, lost in reflecting. “It’s not the same story you told me when I was her age,” she says. I see her turn her face to wipe her eyes. She’s a strong girl. But… it’s not just our grief that bind us, but our love… and she has not none of the bitterness that the girl in my vision has. “But it still has a sand ending.”
“Well, my dear… stories go ever on.” I smile at her, and place a kiss on the top of her sun-warmed hair. I look out at the blue sky. He would have loved it here.
And I will always hope.