Ruri Pilgrim - Fish of the Seto Inland Sea

Until Shintaro’s illness became serious, Shobei thought he had been lucky. They lived in the south along the Seto Inland Sea. The climate was mild. The soil was fertile. The sea was productive. He invested well. And he had an excellent son and grandson to carry on the family name.

Shobei sighed and opened the polished wooden box on his desk and took out an envelope. He began to tear it up.

He could hear his own voice telling Shintaro, ‘I am sure to die before you. All the instructions as regards to our property are kept here when you need them.’ He also remembered that Shintaro hesitated as if to say, ‘No doubt you will live for a long time yet,’ but eventually he just said, ‘I shall carry out your instructions, otohsan.’

Shobei’s reminiscence was broken.

‘Did you want me, otohsan?’ Rinji, Shobei’s younger son, came into the room.

‘Oh, yes, sit down.’ Then Shobei said, ‘It’s very mild for November, isn’t it?’

Rinji, who was not in the habit of being received with such a sociable remark from his father, looked a little surprised. Usually if he was called, his father was ready to go straight to business. Shobei’s loneliness might have made him more gentle than usual. The father and son were looking at the carefully tended garden. Rinji wondered why he had been called.

Although Shobei had never heard directly what the villagers were saying about his second son, he could have made a good guess. They were saying that at the Miwas’, the older son had taken everything good with him when he was born, and left only the dregs behind.

Shintaro was tall, but Rinji was short. They had the same features, yet Shintaro was handsome, and he had a natural grace. Rinji lacked refinement. Shintaro was intelligent, but Rinji had not learnt much at school.

Shobei chose a nearby stonemason’s daughter called Tetsu as Rinji’s wife. It was Shobei’s view that his second son needed a clever wife who could manage his affairs, and not an innocent girl who had been brought up protected in a good family.

At his marriage, Shobei gave Rinji one-third of his property and made him establish his own household independent from the main family.

‘You could give Rinji half the property,’ Shintaro had suggested. ‘You gave me my education and I could support my family.’ But Shobei had been adamant. Rinji was also given land including forests. If managed well, they produced good timber. Rinji had a new house built on the other side of the village. After eight years of marriage, he and Tetsu had no children.

When Shintaro was alive, Shobei felt no pressure to tie the loose knot in the family affairs. Now that he had gone, the bridge he had to build between himself and four-year-old Shuichi was long. Every obstacle had to be removed and the foundations had to be made solid for Shuichi’s sake.

Recently Shobei had been hearing an unsavoury rumour. Tetsu’s nephew, who had run away from his family trade of stonemasonry, had come home and was often at Rinji’s house.

‘People are saying that Tetsu is passing a lot of money to her family. She may eventually adopt her nephew as their heir,’ Shobei’s wife said to him one night. ‘That nephew of hers does not have a good reputation. I think you must have a word with Rinji san.’

When she told Shobei this, his wife felt a sense of retaliation. She had been brought up in an old family which still prided itself on its bygone samurai status. It was beyond her comprehension that her own family should mix socially with people like stonemasons and vendors. Her own son Rinji should not have been treated like a good-for-nothing. She felt rebellious now and again against Shobei’s dogmatic ruling of the family, and she had opposed Rinji’s marriage as strongly as she dared.

Now Shobei turned to Rinji.

‘I hear that Tetsu is passing a lot of money to her family. Is that true?’ he asked without further preliminaries.

‘Oh, well, you know, otohsan, how it is. She might have helped them out once or twice, a little here and there.’

‘You do not have a plan for adopting your wife’s nephew as your successor, do you?’

‘Oh, I don’t think so. Nothing definite yet, anyway.’

‘Good,’ Shobei said. ‘You will adopt your niece Haruko. One day she can take a husband and succeed your family.’

As Rinji did not answer right away, Shobei said, ‘That is the best plan for you.’

‘Yes, otohsan.’

‘When Haruko is a little older, I will explain to her and we will make it public. At the moment, it will suffice to decide among ourselves.’

Haruko and Shuichi. Between the two, the families would continue safely, Shobei thought.

Towards the end of the year, Shobei called on Tei-ichi.

‘I came to apologise to both of you,’ Shobei began to say to Tei-ichi. Kei appeared with cups of tea, bowed, and started to leave the room. Shobei stopped her.

‘I asked you to give us your daughter and promised that we would make her happy. Now, I have made her a young widow.’

‘Don’t be absurd!’ Tei-ichi was genuinely moved. ‘Even if it was not long enough, Ayako had a lovely life with your family and now has wonderful children. She does not regret, neither do we.’

‘Thank you.’

After a pause, Shobei said, ‘I came to ask you a favour. I have been thinking about Ayako and the children a lot recently. Since Shintaro died, her days are very lonely. The children, too, need a more lively atmosphere. I wonder if you would agree to have Ayako and the children come to live with you. It is not that I am giving them back to you. If you accept, I would like to provide for them.’

Soon after that, Ayako and the four children went back to live in the Shirais’ house in Kitani village. Ayako insisted on leaving most of her belongings at the Miwas until later. The children were told that they would be staying at their Shirai grandparents for a holiday. They wrapped some of their clothes in small bundles, each using a furoshiki , a square cloth.

‘What about our school things?’ Haruko asked.

‘You take them with you. We will be there for a while as Yasu ojisama is coming home from Tokyo.’

‘We can play with Hiden sama!’ They were delighted. Hideto was the youngest of Kei’s sons and only two years older than Takeko. They called him Hide niisama, older brother, instead of ojisama, uncle, but the pronunciation had degenerated to Hiden sama. He was an excellent swimmer, gymnast and runner. He was a hero among the children.

Ayako insisted on walking. She wanted to make the leaving as casual as possible. A servant carried Shuichi’s furoshiki and the children ran and chatted.

‘A nice day. Where are you going, Shu dansama as well?’ Villagers stopped and asked.

‘We are visiting the Shirais. My brother is coming home from Tokyo,’ Ayako replied politely.

When Ayako had come to Shobei’s study to say goodbye, both of them made light of the leave-taking.

‘Give Shirai oji-isama and obahsama my regards, and all of you, be good. I will come and see you soon,’ Shobei said to the four children.

Although his study was built away from the main house and he had seldom heard the children before, the quietness was oppressive.

‘What I have done is best for Ayako and the children.’ He rested his chin in the cup of his hands and looked at the garden. ‘The Shirais’ sons are wonderful company for Shuichi. He needs boys around him. And Ayako ... I could not bear watching a beautiful young woman living day after day, lonely and quiet, just waiting for her children to grow up. I don’t think she would want to re-marry even if she was advised to take another husband. She is thinking of Shintaro all the time. Every corner of this house reminds her of the days she has been happy with him.’