Ruri Pilgrim - Fish of the Seto Inland Sea

‘Take your overnight things with you and stay there tonight. I don’t want you to come back in the dark.’

After Ayako left, Kei spent the afternoon alone worrying. She had never known Shobei to be ill. He was vigorous and had not shown much sign of ageing, but she realised that he was in his late seventies. Time had passed quickly.

Kei remembered a saying, ‘An old man should not have a cold shower’. It was a warning to old men against rash behaviour. There was a particular reason that the news of his illness disturbed her. She went into the butsuma where the ancestors’ name tablets were kept and prayed.

As she sat in supplication, she could hear in her mind Shuichi’s shrill voice calling, ‘Oji-isama! Oji-isama!’ It had been in the spring. Tei-ichi told the boy off for running around like a puppy. He said, ‘A man should never hurry, Shuichi.’ The boy said, ‘Yes, oji-isama,’ but could not hide his agitation.

‘Now, what is it?’ Tei-ichi asked.

‘There is a gigantic white snake in the butsuma , oji-isama. You should come and see. It’s hanging between the lintels like a bridge. Something bad is going to happen.’

‘In spring all snakes come out of hibernation. It is not at all unusual to see one in the house. A lot of them live among the stones of the wall.’

‘But o’Shige san said that this one is the old spirit of the house. He comes out only when a bad thing is going to happen. Last time it appeared, otohsan died.’

‘Tell Shige we have only one old spirit in this house and that is me, oji-isama.’ Shuichi looked at his grandfather and saw that his eyes were dancing with fun. ‘It is not just in spring that I am around. I am always here to guard the house. Nothing bad will happen in our family.’

Shuichi laughed and seemed to have dismissed the white snake from his mind, but Kei had not forgotten. She and Shige shared the same beliefs. Since then, she had felt uneasy whenever something happened to a member of her household. If Ayako had a cold, she had been more worried than before. Every time Shuichi set off on an adventure, she had prayed for his safety. In Shobei’s case, it was unfortunate that Rinji had not offered to undertake the inspection himself or at least accompanied his father. One thought followed after another and Kei sat in the room for a long time. Eventually she got up and told herself that, after all, Shobei would get better. He might have stayed home realising himself that he ought to be more careful.

Ayako’s stay at the Miwas’ was extended from a week to two and then three. Instead of their mother coming home, the children were called to the Miwas’. When Haruko arrived with the other children, she saw by the entrance a broad-brimmed oilskin hat and a coat that had once belonged to Shintaro. Shobei had come home wearing them and soon afterwards had taken to his bed. No one had thought of putting them away.

When Haruko had seen him on her way home from school a few days before the flood, Shobei had been wearing the oilskins.

‘Oji-isama,’ she had called, as he had not noticed her and passed by.

‘Oh, Haruko.’ He had looked surprised, then he smiled. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, oji-isama.’ She had nodded.

‘Good. Good.’ He had looked as though he had wanted to tell her something but large drops of rain had started to hit them.

‘Hurry home. You’ll get wet. I’ll see you soon.’

He had stood and watched her go. He had looked as robust as ever.

While her sisters shied away from their paternal grandfather, Haruko respected him and at the same time felt close to him. Her father had trusted her and she felt the same sympathy from his father as well.

Haruko was surprised to see how Shobei had changed within a few weeks. His face was ashen and gaunt.

‘I am scared,’ Takeko whispered when they came out of the room. Shobei’s wife, Ayako, and a nurse took turns to sit by him.

Tei-ichi had just gone and Rinji arrived.

‘How is he?’ he asked, moving his lips without making a sound.

‘Just the same, but he had a small amount of rice gruel,’ his mother replied in a low voice. ‘Come and have supper with us.’

Shobei lay in his study and away from the main house, but everybody tiptoed and tried not to make a sound. During the meal, however, there was some conversation and an exchange of outside news.

‘I will go and sit by oji-isama,’ Haruko offered, ‘so that the nurse can come and eat. I am not hungry. I will eat later.’

‘Thank you, Haruko san.’

She went into the room quietly. Her grandfather looked asleep but when the nurse closed the sliding screen, he gestured to her by a slight movement of his hand to come near him. He spoke to her in a hoarse faltering whisper.

‘Your speech ... was well-written.’ He stopped and Haruko waited. ‘General Akashi ... was very ... impressed, so was I ... and the headmaster.’

There was a smile on his face.

Shobei was referring to a general who had been invited by Haruko’s school to give a talk to the pupils and, as was often the case with a distinguished visitor to the area, Shobei had invited him after the talk to his house for dinner.

General Akashi was an unusual hero of the Russo-Japanese war, Haruko was told. His achievements were reputed to have made a significant contribution to Japan’s victory, but he had never met the enemy in the battlefield. As a colonel, he had spent the entire war in the capitals of Europe, meeting the leaders of anti-Tsarist underground groups, helping them with funds which had been entrusted to him by the Japanese government.

When it became known that the school was going to invite General Akashi and had selected Shuichi to make a speech of thanks, Shobei called Haruko to give her some advice. Everybody, including the teachers, counted on Haruko to write Shuichi’s speech.

At the school, General Akashi’s talk had been about the courage of other people who were passionate about saving the Russian people from destitution, and the surrounding countries from Russian tyranny.

Shobei impressed on his fourteen-year-old granddaughter that courage was needed to pursue a career with little public recognition.

‘You ... should have been a ... boy,’ Haruko’s grandfather repeated from his bed in a voice which was barely audible. Haruko nearly replied, ‘So that I could be a spy, oji-isama?’, but she noticed that his breathing had become more laboured. His windpipe began to make a whistling noise.

‘Are you all right? I will call someone.’ As she was going to stand up, his eyes gleamed for a second. He was clearly impatient and agitated. He seemed to try to draw Haruko’s attention to the shelf above his head on which she could see a wooden box.

‘The box, oji-isama?’

He looked satisfied and relieved. He breathed, ‘Your Shi’ ... oji-isama ... okahsan.’ His eyes were closed. His head rolled a little sideways.

‘Someone, come quick.’ Haruko ran out of the room, shouting. The first person who came running out was her uncle Rinji. He collided with Haruko and nearly knocked her off her feet. As she reached the main house, she looked back and saw her uncle coming out of the room. He was carrying the wooden box under one arm. As he ran, he looked like a picture of a devil with wide open eyes and flowing hair. His free arm was moving from front to back as though he was swimming in the air, staggering with the size and the weight of the box.

On a clear autumn day, a long cortege went through the village. Shuichi was again the chief mourner and walked behind the coffin, but this time he was no longer an infant, and was wearing a black kimono and hakama. Haruko in a white kimono walked behind with Ayako and her sisters.