Chapter Text
The night was starless, with a hoarfrost moon hanging high.
Tiptoeing gently past the pair of small foxes—their coats newly changed, huddled and drawing warmth from the poolside to ward off the early winter chill of the plains—Atsu allowed herself to sink into the water.
Fatigue and the warm current immediately enveloped her. The hot spring returned to quiet stillness until she pressed the heels of her palms against the rocky edge, grimacing slightly as she pushed off. Half of her body was heaved from the surface like a beached fish, violently gasping: inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling... A breeze swept by, and her long black hair, which she had completely unbound beforehand, lay cold and stark against the skin of her face, neck, and chest.
Atsu opened her eyes. Her reflection in the water resembled a lost soul who had drowned, calling heaven to no answer and the earth to no avail, looking utterly somber and exhausted.
How long had it been since she had a proper sleep?
Earlier today, she, the aunt, had been kept busy by her niece's enthusiastic efforts, bustling about to weave a presentable flower wreath with Kiku. Atsu had initially excused herself, claiming she had little talent for such fine handiwork since childhood. However, Kiku invoked someone in their conversation, unsettling Atsu's mind so much that Kiku's later remarks about strange illnesses, foxes, and winter games did not register clearly.
Yet, it was not exactly the same fault—being "in one ear and out the other"—for which her mother had once scolded her for not practicing the shamisen diligently as a child. This time, Atsu was simply seeing an indistinct glint of a sword blade buried beneath the shallow snow in those light-hearted scenes, hearing the ominous, rustling slither of a snake passing by.
Then, little Kiku, standing high on the threshold, swaying back and forth, pouring out baskets full of carefree, interesting observations to her aunt, suddenly vanished from the water’s undulating reflection as she had to attend to the task of fetching the horse to pick flowers.
Left behind was that blurred, unimaginable face of the person from the past, shimmering across her chest where the water flowed. Her unseen hands, once clutched savagely and arbitrarily by someone else, pulling her into a terrible, clumsy dance in the old inn room, transmitted from Kyoto. Now, those same hands felt as if they rested right on Atsu's chest, pressed onto that scar, making her tremble in the warm water not from cold. The dance continued relentlessly, spinning; the faces of the rough, vulgar figures from Kiku's secondhand account flitted with the dim lamplight in eyes devoid of genuine smiles. This pair of eyes, suspended between child and woman, half-closed, brows furrowed, flickered brightly in Atsu’s reflection as the pool water rippled, mirroring the fleeting dimness and brightness of pretense and sincerity.
She and her niece had picked many hydrangeas along the riverbank to bring home. There were not many other choices at this time of year.
After lunch, she temporarily set aside Kiku’s shamisen practice for the day. Sitting cross-legged by her mother’s former garden, she stiffly tried her best to follow Kiku’s instructions for making the wreath. Initially clumsy, she ruined two or three pieces consecutively. Afterward, she was merely clumsier but more cautious; it was not until the gentle sunset hung over Mount Yōtei that her hands were filthy and Kiku clapped her hands, exclaiming, "This is the one!" At least, that declaration marked the end of Atsu's half-day of hard labor. She sat where she was, holding her lower back, her arms aching and her legs numb. She wanted to ask Kiku if all this fuss was just to skip a day of shamisen practice, but she looked up and saw her niece happily standing on her tiptoes, raising the wreath high up her arm to measure it. The words caught in her throat, and her playful mood vanished without a trace.
Then came dinner. Kiku had little appetite, pretending to eat a few mouthfuls before putting her chopsticks down, proclaiming herself full, and scampering back to her room, where she began to busy herself making a paper pinwheel. Atsu let her go.
She barely touched the fish in front of her, mainly because she had started drinking first. The advantage of this homemade country wine was that it was always in demand, yet it made her drunk much faster than the well-known "Two Hundred Mon" or "Five Hundred Mon" wines available at Fujimi inn. Even though Atsu considered herself not easily intoxicated, she felt a slight dizziness when she stood up to light the lantern in the front yard. As the evening darkened, the cooking smoke from Fujimi Inn gradually faded, and the lamplight grew brighter. Occasionally, the carts and horses of traveling merchants clip-clopped outside the fence.
Daylights is quite short in early winter on the Yōtei plains, and children's drowsiness came early. She leaned on the lantern, hoping the cool breeze would sober her up, but the few cups of wine had ignited a restless heat within her. The sounds from inside the house, however, gradually softened.
"Is it done already?"
"But it doesn't look quite right? Those petals..."
"A pinwheel is just a pinwheel. Besides, I told you everything your grandma taught me."
"Grandmother was the most skillful person in our family! And I'm NOT."
Kiku spoke with such conviction, as if she had met the grandmother she had, in fact, never seen. Atsu kept her hands beneath the lantern, cupping it lightly. The hazy outline momentarily doubled, then merged back into one.Hearing Kiku mumble inside the room, she first smiled at it. While finding her niece very endearing at such moments, she was also reminded of things from the past.
...because her mother had once cupped her face just as gently.
Even though she had just been rolling in the mud, her topknot was undone, and her small face was contorted by a petty quarrel among the children, snot and forcibly held-back tears had run out, leaving her messy and distraught. Yet, her mother cradled her in her hands, entirely unconcerned. She felt pity for her, holding her like a broken treasure, without letting the treasure know the worry in her heart.
"I’m NEVER playing with them again! Shinkichi, Atomi, Saburo, Kinu, and Komatsu!"
"Oh dear. They must be very troubled. Isn’t that right, Jubei? Go inside and fetch a basin of hot water for your sister. Yes, they must be troubled. Without you, where will they find a playmate so good at climbing trees and so adept at collecting honey?"
Jubei then put down the crooked pinwheel he was making and went inside to fetch the water.
Atsu felt a little shy from her mother’s praise. But because she had stumbled all the way home and it was almost completely dark, and she had just been crying, her face was still flushed, so the fresh wave of embarrassed blushing was indiscernible. She felt her mother's palms were warm, like two small stoves on either side of her face, so her tears and snot dried up, making her eyes and face itch.
"My Atsu. Look at you. What a poor little thing." Her mother said this, wiping her face with a towel wrung out from the hot water. Atsu closed her eyes, making soft Mmm and Hmm sounds. She vaguely heard Jubei chuckle nearby and was about to call out "Hey," but when she opened her eyes, he had already picked up the basin and walked away. Yone looked at her swollen eyes, took her small hands, which were still clenched into fists, and gently rubbed Atsu's knuckles with her thumb. The small hands then opened up like clamshells.
Yone noticed the wrinkled yellow Omamori (charm) in her daughter's grime-covered palm. Three characters, "良," "缘," and "守" ①, were faintly distinguishable by fine needlework in the center. However, with the passage of time, the whereabouts of the former wearer were unknown, leaving only this Omamori quietly resting in a child’s palm, like one single murky tear.
"Did you fall out with your good friends just for this?"
"They are not my good friends."
"Hmm, Shinkichi and Saburo just moved here, so they aren't. What about Kinu and Tomi?"
"We only played together because Komatsu’s mother helps out at their house."
"Then Komatsu isn’t your good friend either?"
Atsu tightened her grip on that dry tear in her palm.
"I found this in a bird’s nest in the tree today."
"The birds must have found it to make their nest."
"Yes. We had agreed to look for mushrooms. But Shinkichi said, 'It hasn’t rained these two days. My father said that only wild mushrooms after rain are the best, and any we pick on a sunny day won't taste good.' So he told us to look up for bird nests in the trees. He said he brought a piece of flint from home, and if we found bird eggs, we could boil one each to eat. I said I didn't want to. The little bird was still inside. Shinkichi then said we could look for something else. 'Birds are best at flying away with things in their mouths, and that’s how children are delivered to their parents too.' "
"I don’t believe him… Shinkichi’s father is a liar. Shinkichi too! But Jubei believes him."
"Is that so?"
" We secretly went to watch when the mare gave birth to her foal! Please, don't tell anyone."
So the two of them leaned their heads together.
"I promise.” Her mother hooked her pinky finger with hers. “And then? You didn’t see that crane, did you?"
“No. They kept the mare alone in a room. She was lying on the ground, with her rear end… facing out. The foal’s head was wrapped in a white sac, and it was squeezed out with a ‘whoosh,’ followed by its two front feet; we were peeking outside the stable. The mare looked like she was in terrible pain, but she endured the pain, pushed hard again, and the foal’s body and two hind legs slid out. I thought it was born, and the spot where it came out of its mother started to bleed. I wanted Jubei to hurry and look! The mare kept trembling, but he ran away... He still believes Shinkichi's words now.”
She almost forgot the sad feeling of running home alone because she was sitting with her mother
"It’s not good to take the bird eggs to eat, but it’s fine to see if there is anything else."
"And then you found this." her mother said.
"Yes. I was up in the tree at the time. Shinkichi told me to quickly throw down 'his' thing. I said since I climbed the tree to find it, it should be mine. He then stood under the tree glaring at me."
Shinkichi was the notorious local leader of the children. He was two years older than the twins and the few children they used to play with. His father was originally a farmer in the mainland. After the war broke out, he developed some crooked ideas, making a quick fortune by trading counterfeit goods after befriending a few samurai, but he couldn't stay put for long; so he brought his son to Ezo to continue his business. The samll telescope kept tucked into his belt, which was the envy of all the children including Atsu, was bought by his lying father from a Nanban merchant. Later, Komatsu borrowed it for less than two days, and she actually broke it; no matter how hard they tried to fix it, they couldn't see the torii of the shrine on Mount Yōtei from the backyard anymore. Komatsu hadn't been brave enough to tell the adults at home about this; only Atsu and Shinkichi knew.
Atsu didn't betray her best friend. When she was eight, she thought she would spend the rest of her life with a close friend just like Matsu, and Komatsu always followed her, taking her to the homes where her mother worked, where she met another pair of sisters. But this could never diminish the special bond between Atsu and Komatsu, for they had once hidden under the altar in the small room where Kinu’s grandmother chanted scriptures daily, secretly eating the dried persimmon cakes offered to the Bodhisattva. They didn’t even care if those cakes were covered in incense ash, chewing the sweet persimmon pulp, mouthful after mouthful. "It feels so nice to be with you, Atsu." Matsu mumbled shyly. The next day, however, both of their stomachs were upset with bloating. The Bodhisattva must have been a little angry, she guess.
When the incident with the telescope occurred, Atsu handed two hundred mon over Komatsu —which she picked up near the woodpile by the fence. But Shinkichi had since used it as a small hold over matsu, choosing to exploit it at times like this.
"Are you going to give it or not?" Shinkichi roared, hands on his hips, beneath the tree. The little dumpling was very fat and panted continuously when angry.
"I found it, so it's mine!"
"Last time I’m ASKING you!"
"NO!"
Atsu's refusal was sharp and decisive. She leaned against the trunk, stood up on the branch, and made a face. This action completely infuriated Shinkichi. He scanned the ground, casually picked up a rock, and threw it at her. Though Atsu quickly dodged the first one, she nearly lost her balance and fell from the tree. Encouraged and half-threatened by Shinkichi, the other children below also picked up stones or pebbles and threw them at her. Komatsu didn't move at first. She just stood there, wringing her fingers, wanting to say something. Atsu could see it. But Shinkichi turned his head and glanced at her, and she seemed instantly to feel a deep sense of guilt for that broken foreign object: Komatsu's mother also worked at the inn, washing clothes for guests willing to pay an extra twenty mon on their stay, and the innkeeper would deduct thirty percent of that; they had once asked a traveling merchant resting her horse by the river how much a Nanban telescope in a silk case cost? The number she gave them left the children both with heavy hearts.
Komatsu backed away and stood behind the others. "Who do you think you are?" Shinkichi cursed, panting. Atsu turned to the back of the trunk, determined not to look at Shinkichi; she thought: it wouldn't be difficult to stay up there until sunset, and then she would whoosh down the trunk and show the little trinket to Matsu. But after a string of insults like "You look like a frog" and "Ugly creature," she heard Shinkichi say, "Let’s go," followed by the sound of children's feet shuffling on the grass and the rustling of their clothes.
"Komatsu!"
She quickly turned from the back of the trunk and called out, "Komatsu!"
But Komatsu, amid the crowd of children of varying heights, replied nothing. Her head was slightly lowered, and her expression was almost far beyond the resolution for a little girl; when Shinkichi yelled again, the others walked ahead, and she, still facing her helpless, seemingly idiotic playmate in the tree, lifted her toes, took two steps back, and finally turned and walked away.
"She just left me alone."
"And you cried bitterly over it," her mother said. "You didn't want to lose Komatsu."
"No… it wasn’t just that."
But Atsu didn’t know.
She didn't know then, didn't know later, and still doesn't know now: where exactly she went wrong. Or maybe, as her mother said, neither of them was wrong, truly.
However, this explanation was neither understood nor accepted by Atsu.
"My girl will understand later," Yone gently pressed her forehead against hers. Atsu saw her own childlike face reflected there, having just experienced the first, and perhaps most insignificant, growing pain of her life.
"I can’t do it…"
"You can," she smiled, with infinite grace and endless generosity.
"You can do anything."
The evening wind slipped into her collar, taking half the smell of the wine away. Atsu shivered, and sobered up.