The Street of a Thousand Blossoms (14 page)

Just yesterday, Kenji had turned down a quiet alleyway, away from the noise and crowds, lost in his thoughts. A sudden, high-pitched shriek made him glance up; two
kempeitai
stood not ten feet away, watching something on the ground and laughing. A terrible burning smell rose through the air and a squealing sound came from a small twitching heap on the ground. Kenji hesitated, put his hand over his nose, and kept walking, thinking he might draw more attention to himself if he suddenly turned back and went the other direction. If he could just make it past them, the mask shop wasn’t far.

“What are you looking at?” one of the men turned and snapped at him.

Kenji bowed quickly and kept his gaze downward, heart beating as he walked faster. He heard the men laughing but didn’t dare look up. When he was far enough away, he turned back, saw them kicking the small bundle on the ground, a rat, he guessed from the long tail that twitched as smoke rose from the dark, convulsing creature. Kenji turned around and felt sick to his stomach as he hurried away. He never said a word about it to anyone.

Kenji shook his head in the darkness of their room but couldn’t tell his brother what was really on his mind. He was proud of Hiroshi, but even more so, he was afraid for him.

“What did
obaachan
say?” he asked.

“Nothing. I haven’t given the
mochi
to her yet. I told her I would stop stealing.”

Kenji swallowed. Like his
obaachan
, he didn’t want his brother stealing anymore, taking chances that might get him hurt or in trouble with the military police and taken away to prison. Even his brother’s skill and speed as a wrestler wouldn’t help him then. For as long as Kenji could remember, Hiroshi had never backed down from what he believed. It was what he admired about him, and also what he feared. If his brother’s life were a Noh play, Hiroshi would be an
Ayakashi
, the warrior who returns to earth to avenge his family and good name. Yes, Hiroshi would always be the avenger. Kenji could see the mask now, the sharp piercing gaze and dark flowing beard. He’d also come back and seek the love he’d left behind. Kenji’s mind wandered and he wasn’t sure how long they had remained silent until he recaptured his train of thought, breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders, and whispered from his futon, “I think you should stop stealing, before something really goes wrong.”

There, he had said it. When Hiroshi didn’t answer, Kenji waited in the darkness of the room as the winter winds blew, rattling the shoji windows behind the rough blackout curtains. In the dimness, he reached out, let his fingers lightly brush against his brother’s blanket, his shoulder or arm just underneath. Kenji listened, until beyond the rattling, the soft sounds of Hiroshi’s even breathing let him know that his brother was already asleep.

The Shogatsu or New Year of 1943 had passed quietly. His
obaachan
cleaned house but there were no decorations, no going to visit the shrines or friends, and no traditional three-day holiday filled with
toshikoshi
soba, the buckwheat noodles Kenji loved.
Ozoni
, the soup with
mochi
, was only a memory that left his stomach aching. Hiroshi gave his
obaachan
the box of Okata’s
mochi
, but only after he solemnly promised never to steal again would she allow them to be eaten.

Instead of forgetting the troubles of the old year, they worried about the ongoing war. On New Year’s Eve, they listened for the
Joya-no-Kane
, the traditional gongs, struck one hundred and eight times with a wooden log in the Buddhist temples and shrines. Ever since they were little, his
obaachan
had told them it was to drive away the 108 hindrances that each person carried. What’s a hindrance? he had asked. His grandmother called them evil thoughts. The gong was struck until the morning light of the New Year appeared.

“What are these evil thoughts?” Kenji asked his
ojiichan
every year. To think badly of others? To lie to your grandparents? To cheat on an exam? To steal? To touch yourself until you’re excited? Was Hiroshi evil because of his stealing, even if it was to help his family? Kenji didn’t want to admit that he was already guilty of some evil thoughts. Still, he believed there was no greater evil than the
kempeitai
. What could be more evil than hitting women, stealing food from those who had so little, and burning defenseless animals alive? Kenji shook away the thought, and the acrid stench that he still smelled.

“All that it means to be human,” his
ojiichan
always answered.

“But that doesn’t answer my question,” Kenji persisted this time. He wanted real answers. “And aren’t some evil thoughts much worse than others?”

His grandfather laughed and nodded. “Yes, Kenji-chan, but we’re talking of the small evils that we hold in our hearts. You know the answers, deep inside, when you’ve had a bad thought, or said something wrong to hurt another person.”

Kenji breathed a sigh of relief. Well, it wasn’t so bad then—evil thoughts came in all shapes and sizes. Surely he and Hiroshi must fall into the “small evil” category.

Every New Year, when Kenji heard the resonant brass gong being struck, he felt each evil hindrance rise from his mind and body, leaving him with a feeling of weightlessness. This year, there was only a suffocating silence. The
kempeitai
wouldn’t allow the traditional striking of the gong to interfere with their blackout rules and disrupt communications. And though no one said a word, Kenji now
knew that the old evils of the previous year would remain in Yanaka. He saw the same sad recognition in his
obaachan
’s face as she stood and walked slowly up the stairs to bed.

Six-year-old Aki awaited the
Joya-no-Kane
, the thing she loved most about New Year’s Eve. Like last year, she would lie in bed next to Haru and count each strike of the gong until she fell into a deep sleep. The rhythmic lullaby rang on into early morning. But this year there were no gongs and Aki couldn’t sleep. She whispered Haru’s name but her steady breathing told her she was already asleep. Thoughts didn’t run wild in her sister’s head and keep her awake as they did Aki. Never mind, Haru would only tell her to close her eyes and count to fifty …
ichi, ni, san, shi
…and she would soon be asleep. Just what Aki didn’t want to hear. She lay perfectly still, tried to conjure up the gong’s reverberation in her head as in previous years, but it was no use, there was only silence.

Aki pulled away from the warmth of her sleeping sister and rose slowly from the futon, quietly slipping on her sandals. Things were different now than they were last New Year’s, and not just because all the big boys had left the stable. Even her parents were acting strange lately. Her mother jumped at every sound and never had energy to play with her. And her father never stayed at home for long. When he did, he sat alone in his office at the stable, or stood and stared at the empty
dohyo
in the keikoba.

No one would tell Aki what was wrong. Even Haru avoided her questions. Just that morning, as they finished their watery congee, Aki had asked, “What’s wrong with Mother and Father? What’s happening?”

“We’re at war,” Haru calmly answered like an adult. “We’re trying to find our place in the world,” she added.

“Isn’t our place right here at the stable?”

Haru shook her head, “You’re too young to understand these things,” she answered. Aki looked at her pleadingly. She
could
understand if Haru explained. But the grave, serious look on her sister’s face told Aki to stay quiet.

Aki tiptoed out of their room and into the hallway. She paused a moment at a strange sound coming from the courtyard, a distant moan. Could it be a cat? Her parents had told her over and over she was never to leave the house after dark, but Aki thought if she counted to fifty, she could be outside and back again before anyone knew.
Ichi, ni, san, shi
… She passed her parents’ dark and quiet room and was down the hall.
Go, roku, nana, hachi
… She was almost at the front door. It wouldn’t hurt to just take a peek outside. What if the kitten needed help? Father would be proud that she checked.
Kyu, ju, juichi, juni
… Aki reached down and unlatched the lock, slid the door open slowly, slowly, so she wouldn’t wake anyone up, just enough to take a look and listen to where the whimpering sounds were coming from. She poked her head outside. The night air was icy and felt like glass. There was the moan again, not like a cat sound exactly. Perhaps it was another animal that needed help.
Jusan, juyon, jugo…
One step after another and Aki was in the courtyard, the scratching of her sandals making too much noise, so she lifted her feet higher and moved quietly. The sound again. It was coming from the other side of the courtyard, near the stable where Hoku, the stable caretaker, stayed.
Juroku, junana, juhachi…

Aki stopped when she saw the shadow, something pressed against the wall—big and dark. It was moving back and forth and the whimpering moan was coming from it. Aki became invisible. Ever since she could remember, she turned invisible when something frightened her. Now, no one saw her, not the dark
obake
, not the big monster that leaned back and moaned.

Then all at once, there were two shadows. Aki turned around and ran back to the house, her sandals clacking against the stone walkway. “Who’s there?” a voice shot through the cold air. It sounded like Hoku but Aki didn’t stop to find out. She slipped into the house and latched the shoji door behind her. Quickly, she retraced her steps
down the hallway to her and Haru’s room and fell onto the futon. Breathing hard, she moved toward her sister’s warmth. Only then did Aki make herself visible again. She closed her eyes and began counting to fifty from the beginning:
ichi, ni, san, shi
…