The Street of a Thousand Blossoms (54 page)

“What’s this? My little brother drinks?” Hiroshi teased.

“Only on cold, rainy days,” he said. “Or special occasions, such as this.” Kenji poured them each a glass and raised his in a toast. “To marriage!”

“To marriage,” Hiroshi echoed.

The amber liquid burned going down Kenji’s throat and spread comforting warmth throughout his body. He no longer thought about Mika’s becoming pregnant. Across the room, a row of masks gazed back at him. Kenji was in no position to make judgments about Aki or anyone else; he spent most of his days away from the world, making masks. Wasn’t he the one who, as a boy, stood to the side watching,
invisible to everyone? All that mattered was that Aki made his brother happy. And Hiroshi’s happiness was very important to him. Besides, she was the daughter of Tanaka-oyakata; she knew what being the wife of Ozeki Takanoyama must entail. Their privacy would always have to be balanced against his public life. Kenji swallowed the rest of his whiskey, along with his apprehension, which felt small and hard and was something he couldn’t quite name.

Haru saw signs of spring everywhere in Deer Park, from the budding leaves that clung to branches like small knots to the thin whisper of ice melting on the ground that cracked beneath her steps. There was only a trace of winter left in the sharp April air. Her warm breath trailed like smoke, and a fine vapor still hovered above the path. She’d long since traded her kimonos for Western-style clothing, which was more suitable for her countless forays among the plant life. Haru felt most alive in the world during these early-morning walks in the park before her classes began. She remembered it all, the slant of rain that fell through the mist in winter, the heat of the sun that filtered through the trees during a summer heat wave, the buds of the cherry blossoms that unrolled like tiny fists opening every spring. She saw all of life revolve within the park, changing in its own intimate and subtle ways.

So early, the park was almost deserted; there was only an elderly man walking a good distance ahead of her, deep in his own thoughts. The pale gray light turned brighter and she heard the rustling of the deer in the trees but hadn’t seen any yet.

Haru touched the letter from Aki in her pocket, which had arrived yesterday bearing unexpected news. She could feel the heat emanating from it, as if it might catch fire at any moment. It was little more than a month since she’d last heard from Aki, and she’d been eager for news from home. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the news of Aki’s engagement to Hiroshi, and her sister asking her to return to Tokyo for her engagement ceremony in June. “It
happened so suddenly,” she wrote in her quick, large characters. “We’re to be married next year.”

Next year. Haru picked up her pace, so that her breathing grew rapid and her heart raced as she ran down the path. She’d almost caught up with the elderly man walking in front of her when she suddenly veered away from the main path, where it branched off onto several smaller trails. Like the park’s arteries, they led in different directions down through the trees, toward the lake or to the old temple. It gave Haru choices, for which she was grateful.
Aki is marrying Hiroshi
. She took a moment to catch her breath and chose the path through the trees, careful of the uneven ground so she wouldn’t fall. She picked up speed on the downslope. Her heart pounded harder in her chest and she tried to keep her breathing steady as she struggled to keep up the pace.

Haru’s four years at Nara Women’s University had passed in a blur. At twenty-one, she would graduate in July with an honors degree in botany and a chance to keep teaching, while she was pursuing her graduate studies. Professor Ito had become her advisor and valued advocate. There were moments when she thought Ito-san might have an interest in her, other than as a student or colleague, but aside from having tea with her and discussing students, he always kept a proper distance. She’d had a male friend or two who flitted in and out of her life, but Haru was happiest with her work, looking for new species of plants, cataloguing and inspecting them with wonderment. There would be time for a relationship later. In the back of her mind, she had always thought there was Hiroshi-san. Until now, he had been the shadow standing at the end of the path.

Haru ran faster when the trail leveled, weaving in and out of the trees until she grew dizzy, her heart about to burst as she finally slowed to a stop and dropped to the damp grass. She lay there panting like some wild animal, surrounded by the tall, silent trees as she gasped for breath. She felt sweat pool at the base of her throat, under her arms, and between her breasts. Her heart pounded against her
rib cage as she stared up at the clearing sky, the bloom of life all around her. Up until now, Haru had thought her life in Nara was extraordinary, but as the beating of her heart calmed and the sharp pull in her lungs subsided, she realized that gaining one thing meant losing another. Wasn’t that the way it always was? It was that simple: her mother’s life for that of Aki and her; her life in Nara for that of marrying Hiroshi.

Her breathing calmed and she began to feel cold. She lay silent and small among the maple and wisteria, oak and cedar trees, finding comfort in the knowledge they’d still be standing long after she was gone.

The start of the Aki Basho fell on the second Sunday in September. The moment Hiroshi had waited for all his life had finally arrived. He rubbed his knee, touched the soles of his feet, and stood up. He laid his ceremonial apron carefully in his
akeni
trunk and closed the cover. The warm, thick air of nervous tension had permeated the stable all morning as they trained before going to the stadium. The quick, terse commands that came from Tanaka-oyakata had already begun in the days leading up to the tournament. The stable master paced the floor and seemed agitated from the start, snapping at the younger
rikishi
who didn’t move fast enough or hit hard enough. It hadn’t been that way a year ago when the messenger came with the news from the Sumo Association that Hiroshi was promoted to
ozeki
rank. Tanaka-oyakata calmly accepted the news as if he already expected it. This time was different. The chance for Hiroshi to reach the highest rank of
yokozuna
left everyone at the stable on edge. If he could win this tournament, capturing at least thirteen of his fifteen bouts, his promotion to grand champion was almost assured; the final decision would be made by the Yokozuna Council. And still, like Tanaka-oyakata, Hiroshi knew anything could happen, a single wrong move could end even the most illustrious career. He leaned over to rub his knee again.

Hiroshi untied his
yukata
robe and looked down at the green silk kimono Sadao had laid out for him to wear to the stadium. His muscular
girth protruded like a solid mountain through the opening of the robe. From the courtyard, he heard the rustlings of the lower-ranked
rikishi
as they hurried back and forth, preparing to move trunks and equipment to the stadium. Sadao would be coming for his trunk soon and he listened for the boy’s breaking voice among the others.

Hiroshi felt unsettled in the charged air. Sponsors and fans alike were waiting for his last bout to take place late that afternoon. He was to fight against the wrestler Kobayashi, whom he’d first defeated years ago. Since then, their rankings had risen side by side. They’d won an equal number of matches against each other, and, like him, Kobayashi had risen to the rank of
ozeki
and was a popular wrestler among the fans. It was their matchup that made this tournament so eagerly anticipated. The outcome would most likely determine which wrestler would reach the rank of grand champion.

Hiroshi breathed deeply and felt ready for whatever the fates dictated. More than anything, Hiroshi wished his grandfather were alive to see him reach
yokozuna
. It had always been their shared dream, and one he hoped to achieve now in honor of his grandfather. There was a knock on his door and he slid it open to see Sadao waiting on the other side. The boy bowed. “I’ve come to take your trunk to the stadium,” he said, his voice rising.

“Right there.” Hiroshi pointed. He could feel Sadao’s energy and tried to play it down. “Be careful with it.”

Sadao bowed again. At seventeen, he continued to show signs of becoming a fine young sumo. He was smart and listened well. Already quick and strong, he’d grown taller in the past few months. Hiroshi watched him and resisted the urge to smile at his young apprentice.

But Sadao remained serious and hesitant. “Ozeki Takanoyama, may I speak to you for a moment?”

Hiroshi nodded, distracted, wondering if he hadn’t forgotten something that he needed brought to the stadium. He noticed the boy held something in his hand that he rubbed nervously against his kimono sleeve. “What is it?”

“I want to give you something”—Sadao hesitated—“give you back something.”

“It can’t wait until after the
basho?”

Sadao shook his head and bowed low. Without looking Hiroshi in the eyes, he held out the silver pin. “I took this from your trunk not long after I arrived here,” he said quickly.

Hiroshi turned the pin over in his hands. It felt small and delicate between his fingers. He hadn’t missed it until now. “It belongs to my
obasan
. One of the few pieces of jewelry she hid away during the war.” He paused and waited, forcing Sadao to look up at him before he asked, “Why?”

Sadao bowed low again. “Back then, I thought I might need to sell it in case I’d have to leave the stable. I was wrong, Ozeki Takanoyama, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Hiroshi fingered the pin. “Why return it now? You could have easily slipped it back into the trunk or sold it. I would have never noticed.”

Sadao cleared his throat but didn’t look away. “Because I hope to become a
sumotori
,” he said.

Hiroshi nodded. “Then you’d better get my trunk to the stadium.”

After Sadao carried out his trunk, Hiroshi watched from his window as, moments later, his young attendant moved across the courtyard and out the front gate. The boy was learning the meaning of honor and that pleased Hiroshi. He paused a moment longer at the window, still foolishly hoping for one quick glimpse of Aki before he left for the stadium. However the tournament played out, he found comfort in knowing that nothing would stop him from finally marrying Aki.

Aki sat alone in her father’s private tatami-lined box at the stadium, which seated up to four people on flat cushions. She wore a lightweight yellow kimono with a delicate willow pattern, which had once belonged to Haru. The squared-off privacy of the box allowed
her a clear view of the
dohyo
with just enough distance. She was grateful for the luxury of having a little room to breathe, while still being surrounded by a packed stadium full of fans, fans who had come to see the great Ozeki Takanoyama fight his final bout of the tournament, while she had simply come to see Hiroshi-san.

She’d hardly seen him during the past few months. While Aki knew he was busy training for the tournament, she despaired at times to think he might have lost interest in her. But it was her
otosan
, seeing her unhappiness, who told her not to worry, that the importance of the upcoming tournament demanded all of Hiroshi’s attention. In those rare moments they shared, she remembered the closeness she once had had with her father as a little girl.