The Tree of Perseverance, page 2
“‘Well, my friend, I have no doubt you know why I am here.” He went on before I could reply, which, as it turned out, was just as well. “I am so sorry to simply arrive like this, and on the day of your return from Oban Festival, but I could not contain my happiness for another moment. I had to speak to you.’
“My bewildered expression must have finally told him I had no idea what he was talking about. His beaming smile faltered, and I gathered my wits and spoke quickly before he could begin to speak again.
“‘Naturally, it is always a pleasure to meet such a close business associate as yourself, Mikayo-san, even if it is somewhat unexpected. Please, do tell me what has brought you here so urgently.’
“He spoke slowly, his expression suddenly wary.
“‘Your sons have not said anything to you, Kono-san?’
“His voice was almost pleading. I shook my head.
“‘My sons? They tell me many things,” I said as pleasantly as I could manage. “But as far as I am aware, nothing that concerns you.’
“I knew my response was so blunt as to be rude, but I could say nothing else. I had no idea what he was talking about. But I should have known, shouldn’t I have? Ichiro? Satoru?”
Both my brothers chorused, “Yes, Father,” their eyes still fixed on the tatami. Their embarrassment was contagious; I felt their discomfort and squirmed with them.
“So, perhaps you would be good enough to tell your mother and sister what you have done? And me, finally. In your own words. Ichiro?”
Ichiro cleared his throat. “We thought we were acting for the best, Father,” Ichiro repeated stubbornly. Mother made a movement toward her son, but Father’s hand chopped through the air to stop her and she sat down again, her hands drawing her face down into a mask of anguish. Ichiro blurted, “It wasn’t our fault. It was Mikayo-san’s idea in the first place. We often met his son at sumo bouts and naturally, given that we were in the same line of business, we got talking. He—the son, that is—said his father wanted to expand his business, but the market just wasn’t big enough to allow him. We knew he meant that was because you stood in his way, of course. We sympathized with him but did no more, even though we kept meeting the son at sumo bouts. After a while, he started telling us how beautiful and talented his sisters were. How it was very sad that they had not been betrothed years ago, but his father was such a proud man that nobody but the very best would do for his precious daughters. We shrugged his words off. Of course he would say his sisters were lovely. After all, if anybody asks if we have a sister, we always praise Mi-chan to the skies in spite of her withered leg.”
I glared at him, but he appeared not to notice.
“Anyway, the son finally asked us if we would like to come to an event his father was holding for various business acquaintances. We thought we might pick up some useful information for you, Father, so we agreed to go. We were going to mention it to you, but it just slipped our minds.”
Father smiled, or at least his lips moved, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
“Really? That was…unfortunate. Do go on, Ichiro.”
“Well, it was an excellent event. There were many geisha who played and sang. The sake flowed freely. Mikayo-san was a very attentive host. He spoke to us as if he had known us for years, as if we were respected colleagues. He…” Ichiro paused and swallowed, as if he was unsure how to go on. The deadly silence must have prompted him, as he finally went on in a rush. “He mentioned his daughters. Said how lovely, how talented they were. Told us, as if in confidence, that they were not betrothed as he had never found anyone he would be happy to accept as his son-in-law. I—we—were flattered, Father. I don’t really know how it happened, but suddenly I found myself agreeing that nothing could be more fortuitous than a match between his daughters and Satoru and me. And at the time, an alliance by marriage between our two houses seemed to be the most sensible thing in the world.”
Mother cried out loud, and Ichiro stared at her miserably, suddenly no longer an iki man-about-town, but a small boy who knew he had done something very foolish. Father remained silent. I glanced at him, rather in the manner of one who feels the first drop of rain and looks at the skies, anticipating a thunderstorm.
Father’s face was still grim, but the fire had left his eyes. I realized with a shock that left me cold that he was no longer a young man. That someday the unthinkable would happen and he would die. He was everything to me, the rock that supported me through each and every day, and the knowledge left me wanting to echo Mother’s despairing cry.
My brothers had done this. They had demeaned Father, leaving him less than the man I knew him to be. Those stupid creatures had acted without a thought for anybody but themselves. I wanted to howl at them, to make them listen to me until they understood how deep the loss of face was that they had inflicted on Father. How terrible was the shame they had brought on the whole family.
Naturally, I did nothing of the kind. I was a mere girl child, and a crippled one at that. For all Father’s extravagant praise earlier, I knew my place. But that did not stop me from longing to shake both my brothers until their teeth rattled.
“So Mikayo-san told me.” Father spoke calmly, and I saw my brothers relax. Did they really think they had gotten away with this? Could they be so stupid? “We had a long discussion. Mikayo-san is of the opinion that young men can be thoughtless, and he regrets that he intruded upon me before my sons had the chance to speak to me. Naturally, I agreed with him. I had no option.”
“Perhaps it is all for the best?” Mother’s voice was breathy and hesitant.
“I hear you, wife. And perhaps you are right.” Her eyes flared with a hope that died as quickly as it came as Father went on icily. “What’s done is done. If I had told Mikayo-san that there could be no betrothals, that I was unhappy with the match and had no intention of combining our two businesses, then I would not only be offering him a deadly insult, but I would appear to be an idiot. The whole of Edo would know of it in a day or two, and the loss of face would finish me. Nobody would wish to deal with a man who had been made foolish by his own sons.”
“But, Father,” Satoru broke in eagerly, “that will not happen. If you and Mikayo-san unite, then it would only be to your advantage. You do far more trade with the gaijin than Mikayo-san, but he has many clients from amongst the aristocracy. The union would bring great prosperity to both houses.”
I shook my head in disbelief. How could my brothers not see that being forced into such a union was anathema to Father? Whatever he did, whatever he had accomplished, he had done himself, for himself. I remembered the accounts ledgers stored in the upper room of Father’s business premises, remembered seeing the slim volumes that represented the modest business that Father had run so many years ago. He had taken that small beginning and changed it into one of the most respected and thriving concerns in the whole of Edo, all by his own efforts. That was his way, and always would be.
Father smiled, and I felt the tension ease in the room. Only I stayed rigid, holding my breath as I waited for the final act of the performance to take place.
“I cannot forbid the matches,” Father said calmly. “If I did, I would be as a dead man in Edo. I have told your future father-in-law that I am delighted by the union of our families. But that is all I have told him. He is a subtle man, and I believe he understood that this was not the time to discuss business. All will be done as it should be, and you will leave this house with my blessings.”
“Leave this house…?” Ichiro thrust his head forward like a snapping turtle about to pounce on its prey. Satoru was slower, his puzzled face turning from Ichiro to Father and back again. “Surely, your new daughters will come to live here, Father, with us. For us to live in Mikayo-san’s house rather than his daughters moving in with us would be unheard of. People will think it very strange indeed.”
It was my turn to smile. Father had called Mikayo-san a subtle man, but surely, he was far more subtle still.
“Tell me, Ichiro, why do you think Mikayo-san is so eager to make a match for you both with his daughters? Is it possible that you are vain enough to believe it is because he thinks you are such great catches?” Ichiro made an indecisive gesture with his hands, frowning. “You are wrong. The only reason he has pursued you both so cunningly is because he thinks that by gaining you as sons-in-law, he has also gained my business. He is a clever man, without a doubt. He must know that if he had approached me honestly, I would have refused him. This way, he no doubt thinks that I have no option but to surrender and appear pleased about it. That our businesses will combine to his great advantage.
“He is wrong.
“I have agreed that you and Satoru will marry his daughters. But that is where it ends. On the day of your marriages, you will leave this house. You will not live here, and you will no longer be employed by me. If Mikayo-san thinks it worthwhile, you may work for him. It means nothing to me, for from that day onward, I do not know either of you. From that day onward, I will have no sons.”
Father spoke the last three words with great emphasis. Ichiro climbed to his feet. He was trembling; I could see that his hands were shaking violently. I could only admire his courage as he took the few steps that took him close enough to touch Father.
“That is unheard of. The world will think you have gone mad.” He spoke loudly, as if he was talking to a deaf man or a fool. His behavior was so insolent I tensed, expecting Father to strike him.
He did not. Instead, he smiled, the slow grin of a wolf that knows his prey is within striking distance.
“The world will understand perfectly. It will be Mikayo-san who appears foolish. He will have gained two worthless sons-in-law, but not a single thing more. The people who matter will see that I no longer acknowledge my sons, and that our businesses remain distinct. There will be gossip, but it will be Mikayo-san who loses clients. Nobody will want to deal with a dishonorable man, still less a man who has failed so very badly.”
Ichiro’s hands clenched into fists. Father regarded him calmly for some moments and then bowed his head once. His meaning was clear, the audience was finished. He waited calmly until Ichiro turned and—gesturing to Satoru to follow him—walked out of the room silently.
Chapter
Three
The moon’s light is cold;
What does he care for the pain
We bring on ourselves?
The day of my brothers” wedding was perfect. Warm, but not disagreeably so, with just a gentle breeze to cool those who had perhaps taken just a little too much sake.
Everything was just as it should be. The only slight shadow was the obvious surprise of the many guests when my brothers followed their new wives back to Mikayo-san’s house. Naturally, nobody dared to mention it, but I knew that tongues would wag, and very soon.
Father showed not the slightest displeasure at the event. If he was not concerned with what the world thought, then neither would I care. Mikayo-san was obviously less content. His smile was forced, and it looked as if he wanted to get the happy couples away before my brothers—who were amongst those who had drunk far too much—could speak. Nothing would be said directly, but when the rumors began to spread, Father would know how to handle the situation. In any event, I could not see how Mikayo-san could complain. The whole of Edo must know that he had chased my brothers as husbands for his daughters. He had gotten what he wanted, if not what he had expected. Truly, as the proverb has it—be careful what you wish for, you may get it.
In the weeks that followed the ceremonies, Mother stayed in her apartment. When I ventured in to see if she was well—happiness, I doubted was possible—it was clear that she had been weeping. She glared at me through reddened eyes and demanded to know if I was content now. My brothers had been driven away from her. Had I dared to come to try to take their place in her affections, as I seemed to have done with Father? I slipped away, saddened that she seemed to blame me for my brothers” stupidity, but still amazed that she could not see that her sons had brought their downfall on themselves.
But I couldn’t help it. Now that my brothers were lost to the family, I was as happy as Mother was distressed. No more teasing from them. No more brutal games where I was always the target. No longer would I be made to feel even more ugly and deformed than I was by their cruel comments. And although I knew it could not really be so, I did wonder if the gods had decided it was time my brothers were paid back for their treatment of me over the years. Their new brides were far from the beauties their father had described, and it seemed to me that both girls were already deeply possessive of their new husbands—they never took their eyes off my brothers for the entire day of the wedding ceremony. There would be no more sneaking off to visit expensive women of pleasure for my brothers, their wives would see to that. I doubted if they would even stand for their husbands spending all their spare time and money at sumo wrestling bouts. I knew I should feel guilty about my spiteful pleasure in all this, but somehow, I could not.
And best of all, Father had spoken to me in a way that made it obvious that I was to go back to Edo with him, to be at his side in the family business. True, he had not said explicitly that I was to take my brothers” place, but surely, that would come. I was sorry for Mother’s distress, but I was so full of joy, nothing could diminish it.
Even with my brothers lost to the family, I did not fool myself that Father would ever have acknowledged me publicly if I had still been obviously deformed. I accepted that without hurt. It would have been too much to expect that he would parade a crippled daughter in front of the important men who made up his world. I gave silent thanks whenever I thought of Tengen for his gift of what—to me—was life. I remembered now that his parting words to me were that he expected to hear of me spoken of admiringly in the future. I felt a surge of excitement as I wondered if perhaps this would be so.
The thrill lasted only a moment. I shook my head and laughed at myself. Was it not enough that I was to be given my heart’s desire and finally be allowed back into my father’s world? I could help him, I knew I could. I could read and write, and my skill with the abacus was as great as any of Father’s clerks. More than that, I had a feel for business. I understood—in a way that my brothers never had—that money was one of the important things in this world, far more important than traditional status. In the new world that was opening to Japan, it mattered less who one was than what one could offer, and in that respect, money was truly one of the greatest gifts.
My brothers had taken it for granted that money was theirs for the asking. Although they both worked in Father’s office, they were lazy, leaving when they had a mind to go, not appearing to understand that money had to be earned and did not simply appear when they wanted it. They were both gamblers and spent yet more on expensive women of pleasure. If they had not been his sons, I guessed that Father would never have tolerated them as employees. I tried—and failed—to suppress a deep glee as I wondered what Mikayo-san was making of his longed-for bargain. Be careful what you wish for, indeed!
A sharp wind slid through the open shoji, sufficiently vigorous to ruffle the pages of the book that lay on the chabudai table in front of me. It was not my book. One of Father’s messengers—Gen—had been instructed to teach me to read and write. To help me, he had loaned me a book of haiku written by the great poet Bashu. I had thought nothing of it at the time, but Tengen had explained to me that the book was old and very precious, and I had realized belatedly that it must have been very important to Gen. The paralysis of the morning—the dreaded disease that had left me crippled—had left me confined to our house for many, many months, and I had forgotten I still had the book for a long time.
Now, I stroked the binding lovingly. Tengen had taught me to appreciate the beauty of its words and illustrations. But to me, of far greater importance than its contents was the fact that Gen had freely loaned me his most precious possession.
We had parted on bad terms, Gen and I. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. At the time, I had had no idea that it would be more than a year before I would be well enough to think about seeing him again.
In the days just before my illness struck, I had realized that I had been unfair to him. In fact, my behavior toward him had been almost insulting. I had been full of plans to make amends, but the gods had seen fit to arrange things differently.
But at least I had the chance now to make things right. On my return to Edo, I would return his book and apologize to him for my unreasonable anger at our last meeting. For some reason, the thought of seeing Gen again made me uncomfortable. I could concentrate on nothing but what I would say to him. How he would react.
I told myself firmly that it was of no consequence. Clever as he was, Gen was a mere messenger boy. Father’s chief clerk, Tanaka-san, had told me that Gen was one of the best calligraphers in Edo but had chosen to enter Father’s service because he understood the way the world was changing, and he perceived that only men like my father had the drive and determination to succeed in that new world. Grudgingly, I admitted to myself that I owed him an apology for my behavior, and also thanks for giving me my first lessons.
No doubt he would be delighted to get his book back. It was a great credit to him that he had not asked Tanaka-san to enquire of Father if it could be returned to him. Apart from his book, I had no reason to suppose he had wasted a moment thinking about me. I would do well to follow his lead.
But the more I tried to push Gen from my thoughts, the more persistently did he intrude. Oddly, I found that I could not recall what he looked like. He was taller than me, much taller, I could remember that. And slender. Now that I came to think about it, he was too thin. His mother was very poor, I recollected. Was he thin because he could not afford to eat properly? That had never occurred to me, and now my conscience smarted.
