Minae Mizumura - A True Novel

Taro was livid. If Masayuki had tried to push his way in, I could see from Taro’s eyes that he would have a go at him.

I caught up with them then and gave Taro such a fierce look that the minute he saw it he turned on his heels and ran off to the shed. Masayuki was still recovering. But then the other car arrived and soon everyone trooped in, inspecting the house inside and out. Unlike the girls, Masayuki spent most of his time exploring the outdoors, but he seemed leery of Taro and went nowhere near the shed.

“Masayuki!” Yoko called in a flirty sort of voice.

I was outside chatting with Fuyue, and turned toward the sound to see Yoko standing on the porch in a crisp new yukata with a design of scattered crimson koi, her face flushed. The other girls were clustered around her. Mrs. Utagawa had finished sewing the yukata in time for her to wear it for the Bon festival dancing that night. Yoko had been so eager to show it off that she must have begged to put it on as soon as she arrived. Neither her sister Yuko nor her cousins Mari and Eri had ever worn one, so they stood there fingering the long sleeves and the dangling ends of the sash with mixed curiosity and envy. When Masayuki came out where he could see her, he said “Wow!” and headed straight for the porch, all thought of Taro clearly gone. “You look terrific, Yoko.” She flushed even more and, catching hold of her long sleeves in both hands, swung them back and forth, trying her best to look fetching, like a little dancer.

Taro was hypersensitive to Yoko’s voice. When she called out “Masayuki!” in that coquettish way, the shed door opened and he came out. He went and balefully watched the children on the porch, his face still pale.

Shortly afterward, when the two cars had gone, Yoko finally began to explore the summer house properly. Although Mrs. Utagawa promised to help her put the yukata on again when it was time for the Bon dancing, she wouldn’t take it off, happily waving her sleeves as she wandered through the rooms and outside and even into the shed, flitting about where Taro would be sure to see her. Taro, meanwhile, was out in the yard, pointlessly picking up twigs and ignoring her. Without him there to explain things, it was no fun for her to look around. Above all, she was disappointed that he’d made no comment about her new outfit.

“Taro!”

She called his name several times and even went up to him, but he wouldn’t respond.

The two children had an early supper of a local specialty, steamed buns with vegetables inside, eating by themselves at a small Formica table in the kitchen. While Takero was here in Oiwake, Mrs. Utagawa had ensured that Taro kept a low profile by feeding him there first alone, and, with Yoko staying, she apparently planned to go on that way, feeding the children together ahead of the adults. Taro sat diagonally across the table from Yoko and reached silently for a bun, looking sullen. Yoko picked up her red plastic bowlful of miso soup with both hands. She had no idea why Taro was so angry with her, but she was cross with him for being angry, and sulked. Mrs. Utagawa seemed to think this was a holdover from the recent trouble in Karuizawa, so she kept quiet.

After the dishes were done, Taro went back to the shed. Since he hadn’t asked her along, Yoko stayed in the main house with nothing to do. She stood in front of the glass doors with a round festival fan in her hand, admiring her reflection from various angles, but soon got bored and settled in a rattan chair with an illustrated book. I kept an eye on her while I prepared supper for the adults and set the table. Off in the distance came the sound of singing and the beating of a drum.

Yoko perked up her ears like a small animal and started up, then sank back into her chair, waiting for Taro to summon her to go. But Taro did not appear.

Too impatient to wait, she flew outside. Soon I could hear her calling his name over and over by the shed. “Taro! Taro! Taro!” The cries grew more insistent: “Taro-Taro-Taro! T-A-A-R-O-O!” The last was a screech.

The shed was close to her father’s study, so I grew concerned. Mrs. Utagawa poked her head out of the kitchen and looked at me as if to say, “What’s all the noise about?” I was forced to step outside into the dark and do something about it. The door to the shed was open, but the lights were out, the interior pitch dark. Just inside the doorway stood Yoko. I went closer and saw that she was clutching her fan in her tiny fist, her frizzy hair flaring out as she glared furiously at Taro, who lay on the upper bunk staring at the ceiling.

Pale moonlight filtered in at a low angle behind her.

“All right, never mind, I’ll go by myself! Don’t blame me if I get lost.” With that she turned, whirling her long sleeves, and went outside. To think that the worst threat she could come up with was that she might get lost made me smile in spite of myself.

Taro sat up and stared morosely through the open door for a second, then bounded down, grabbed a flashlight hanging from a peg, and went off in pursuit.

I noticed then that there was a full moon that night.

I stopped to close the shed door, so by the time I reached the gate Taro had just caught up with Yoko some way up the slope. I watched them with a wary eye, wondering what would happen next. Yoko kept right on walking, paying him no attention. He must have grabbed her by the arm, for I heard her cry out with exaggerated pain, “Ow, that hurts!” Immediately afterward, I saw her start sobbing like a little child again, and then, between convulsive sobs I caught the faint sound of her shrill command: “Say you’re sorry! Say you’re sorry!” As she saw it, she had sacrificed the pleasure of spending time with the others in Karuizawa in order to be with Taro in Oiwake, and it made no sense that he should be so grumpy. Anyway, in the end, as he alone knew—and knew only too well—she held absolute sway over him.

“You apologize!” The demand rang out more insistently.

In the white light of the full moon I saw Taro drop down on his knees and, supporting himself with both hands, lay his forehead flat on the ground in an attitude of abject apology. The flashlight he’d laid down shone on the pebbles. I gasped as Yoko slipped off one wooden clog and put her bare foot on his head to press it down farther. There was no need for me to intrude, however. As soon as her toes touched his head, she lost her balance and toppled over, landing on the ground beside him. Now she began bawling even harder, fists in her eyes, elbows sticking out in the air. Taro jumped up, grabbed her by the hands, and pulled her up off the ground. Then he was on his knees again. He took her bare foot in his hands and slipped the wooden clog back on, then brushed the dirt off the hem of her yukata . His slim figure was radiant in the light of the moon.

I watched in bemusement as the two children disappeared hand in hand up the dark mountain path to the strains of the “Tokyo Ballad.”

Yoko stayed for ten days in Oiwake, as planned. As for myself, I went the next morning to stay with my family in Saku for a two-night visit and then directly back to Karuizawa. How the children spent the rest of their time in Oiwake, I don’t know. But over and over again I saw in my mind’s eye those two small figures climbing the mountain path, like a vision from another world.

THAT SUMMER, TARO showed up in Karuizawa again. First he came with Mrs. Utagawa, bringing Yoko back from Oiwake. One look at his face told me he was braced for whatever might come. I suspect that Mrs. Utagawa had hesitated to bring him after what had happened the time before, but he must have insisted on coming.

Since it wasn’t Sunday, instead of a full meal at the Shigemitsu villa we had a simple lunch at the Saegusas’, where there was no separate servants’ hall but a spacious kitchen with plenty of room for the help to eat. Taro ate alongside Chizu and me without batting an eye. After the meal, Harue came in and said to Taro, “Thanks so much for coming! You are such a help.” Then she handed him a pile of wet old newspapers—“This is how they clean windows in England”—and set him to washing all the windows in the house, from the attic to the first floor. He took this in his stride. He seemed to have told Yoko in advance what things would be like for him in Karuizawa, because when she came darting up to him while he was straddling a windowsill and polishing a pane, he couldn’t conceal his pleasure, but only spoke to her for a few minutes before sending her back to the other children. Since they were playing doubles on the tennis court, she would plainly rather have watched or even helped him work for as long as the tennis game lasted. She left dragging her feet.