Fish of the Seto Inland Sea

‘Holy Man? Don’t be ridiculous. I have told you before. What a disgusting idea. Matabei, empty the bath tub immediately. Drinking bath water, indeed. You will all die of cholera one day.’

‘They still come for your uncle’s bath water,’ Kei said to Yasuharu. ‘Country folk are so superstitious.’

Yasuharu laughed indulgently. He knew that his mother was also full of odd ideas.

‘Do you remember the Takanos of Miura village?’ The talk of superstition gave Kei the chance she had been waiting for. ‘Their son Fusataro san was at school with you.’

‘Ah, Fusatan.’ Yasuharu involuntarily resorted to the childhood nickname. ‘A very nice guy. He went to Waseda University. I met him in Tokyo by chance some time ago, and we had a meal together.’

‘He is the representative of his village now and comes often to see otohsan. Both of them are very keen on the problem of diet and sanitation.’

‘Oh, that’s good. I want to go and see him one day.’

As the conversation was going in the direction that she wanted, Kei was encouraged.

‘You know Fusataro san has a younger sister.’

Yasuharu said he did not remember, and now realised what was coming.

‘Okahsan,’ he said, ‘I am not against marriage. On the contrary, I know it is important for me to marry.’

He then told Kei that his world was no longer confined to Kitani village or to the prefecture. For that matter, his horizon was beyond Japan.

‘The Ministry of Education has set up a scholarship for medical researchers to go to Germany and study. I haven’t talked to otohsan, yet, but I am thinking of applying for it in a few years’ time. I will get his consent when I know better what I am doing. You see, okahsan, there are things that I want to achieve before I am saddled with responsibilities.’

The news that Yasuharu planned to go abroad did not shock Kei unduly because, in her mind, the distance between Kitani village and Germany was not much further than that between Kitani village and Tokyo. She accepted his view on marriage calmly, and embraced his ambition. Yasuharu told her that he wanted to specialise in ophthalmology and the study of trachoma.

‘Oh, Yasuharu san.’ She was pleased. ‘How marvellous! Go to Germany or anywhere and study as much and as long as you need. When you come home, you can cure Yone san, Katsu’s okahsan, Ken san of the Matsudos and ... oh, they will be so relieved.’

‘Okahsan, it will be a long time before anyone can cure Yone san and everybody else,’ Yasuharu told her in haste. He was horrified to imagine that when he came home next time, there would be a queue of villagers and their friends and relatives waiting for him to cure their trachoma.

‘It does not matter. I will be a good mother for the doctor of trachoma and wait until the time comes.’

‘Can I be a doctor, too?’ Haruko suddenly said from the corner of the room. As she had been quietly looking at her new book, both Kei and Yasuharu had forgotten that she was there. Some of her schoolfriends had eyes caked with mucus. Although she did not know what they were suffering from, the Miwa children were warned by Kei not to hold these friends’ hands.

‘I want to be a doctor and cure people,’ she said. Her grandfather wore a white apron to see his patients, but her uncle wore a smart white coat when he helped grandfather. She had thought that she would become a teacher, but being a doctor seemed more interesting and exciting.

Kei looked at Haruko affectionately and smiled. ‘Oh, what an idea! Girls cannot be doctors. It’s a man’s job. But you will be a lovely bride one day like your okahsan, won’t you?’

It seemed the new year opened a new page for the Shirai family. On the seventh of January, it was the custom to have rice gruel with seven kinds of herbs for breakfast. In the mountain areas, people often had to look for tiny shoots under the snow. On the fifteenth, to mark the end of the New Year’s celebration, they had rice gruel with red beans. The battledore and shuttlecock that girls played, and the kites that boys flew, were all put away.

As if he had been waiting for the holiday season to end, Tei-ichi announced, ‘Kei, I will stand as candidate to be a member of the Prefectural Assembly.’

Kei received the news calmly. For men, the world was changing and progressing, but her role remained the same. She accepted and gave support as always.

She had heard Tei-ichi say many times that hygiene was more important than medicine – ‘The way they live, it is a miracle they don’t get ill’ – and he had been excited about a plan for a health-care centre.

She had never thought she would be a politician’s wife, but she would do her best. Kei suspected that there was another reason for Tei-ichi’s decision to direct his efforts in a different direction. Whenever Yasuharu came home, there were villagers who came in with sheepish grins and asked, ‘Eh, I wonder if the young Dr Yasuharu is at home?’ Tei-ichi would say with a wry smile, ‘Cunning rascals. Drinking bath water and wanting a new doctor.’ Although Kei’s interpretation was simpler, Tei-ichi felt that the time had come for a new generation of doctors with knowledge and technology. Experience alone was no longer enough to gain people’s confidence. He had suspected this for a long time, perhaps since Shintaro came home from university.

Kei calculated that with his reputation and the respect he had among people, he would succeed in being elected. As though she had planned it all along, she said, ‘It is very good timing.’

Their second son had been adopted by a landowner’s family in a nearby village. Their third son, Masakazu, Kei said, would not need any more education.

‘Why?’ Tei-ichi wondered why she was telling him about their sons and also why there would be no more expense for Masakazu’s education. Their third son had always been a worry for Tei-ichi. Shobei had said that the Shirai boys were all bright but he had overlooked Masakazu. He was a kind, cheerful boy but would not be able to go to university without great expense for special tutoring, and even that might not achieve the aim.

Kei argued, ‘Any more education for him would be a waste of money.’

Tei-ichi had always thought of Masakazu as a failure. Many times he had sat with the boy till late at night trying to teach him things he could not grasp. The more annoyed and angry Tei-ichi became, the more confused the boy became until he could not answer questions that even Haruko was able to get right. But Tei-ichi was nevertheless determined to go on trying harder to make him like his other sons.

‘He is not good at school, but that does not mean he is not worthy,’ Kei was saying. ‘He is kind and honest. The post master in town promised to employ him if you agree. He can work from this spring when he finishes school. He will be able to have a contented and respectable life.’

Although Kei did not name him, Rinji was in her mind.

As for Hideto, Kei said, he was a bright boy. If it was difficult to send him to university, he could go to military college or naval college. They were free.

‘It does not matter if we have to sell our land now,’ she went on. ‘Kitani village is too small for our children. They should go out, and get their places in the wider world. Your ancestors would be proud of you if you spend what they passed on to you for the sake of the people around here.’

‘Oho!’ Tei-ichi stared at his wife. If Haruko had been present, she would have understood that Yasuharu’s ambition had inspired Kei. ‘You have grown to be a great woman.’ Tei-ichi disguised his surprise by teasing.

‘Oh, no,’ Kei replied modestly. ‘I am just repeating something Yasuharu san told me the other day.’

Tei-ichi Shirai’s campaign had hardly any opposition, particularly after Shobei offered his wholehearted support. Shobei’s trust in the Shirais as a mainstay for his family, expressed before his son’s marriage, had been fulfilled.

Tei-ichi was busier and within a few years had risen to the position of Chairman of the Assembly.

In the spring, Masakazu started to work at the post office. Kei bought him the first bicycle in the village. On the morning of his first day, she lit new candles in the recess where the ancestral name tablets were placed. She made Masakazu sit by her and both of them prayed.

‘I thanked our ancestors that you have grown up to be a fine man,’ she said. ‘I am sure they are very proud of you.’ She handed him his lunch box. She stood at the gate and watched him ride away until he waved at her and turned a corner.

The villagers were getting used to hearing the bell of the bicycle through the early morning mist, and a cheerful ‘Good morning.’ ‘Kuma san, if you want to write to your son again, I’ll do it for you. Come to the post office.’ ‘Thank you very much, Masakazu dansama. I’ll come to see you tomorrow, if it’s all right with you.’ Watching his disappearing back, they would say, ‘The young dansama of the Shirais are all hard-working and well educated.’ Kei’s plan was successful.

‘It is better to be a chicken’s head than an ox’s tail.’ Kei was breezy when talking to Ayako about her younger brother. ‘He is respected now and appreciated. He would have been miserable among scholars.’

‘What does that mean, obahsama?’ Haruko asked, laughing. ‘Why is he a chicken’s head?’

Kei was serious. ‘It means, it is much better to know one’s place than to hang at the bottom of more able people and be undistinguished. Remember it. It is an important lesson in life.’

As for Hideto, Kei was confident and hardly worried about her youngest son. He was now a boarder at a school in town. Although he was mischievous, he was popular among his friends. Kei secretly believed that he had the potential to become a great man. He would be a hero among heroes, she thought. The school tolerated most of his adventures and he was given only minor punishments.

It was mere boyish misbehaviour. On winter evenings, when the boys were hungry, the vendors came around calling, ‘Baked sweet potatoes! Baked sweet potatoes!’, or, ‘Buckwheat noodles. Hot noodles!’, over the school walls. The vendors had earthen barrels with burning charcoal on a cart, and the sweet potatoes were hooked and baked inside. It was always Hideto who had to go and buy them for everyone, as he was the best able to climb up on the high wall of the boarding house.

One night, as Hideto carried a hot newspaper bag and jumped down into the school premises, a teacher was waiting for him. He was also involved in many fights, mostly defending weak boys from bullies. All the incidents were duly reported to his parents and they both ignored them.

‘He has already been punished at school,’ Tei-ichi would say. ‘Leave him. If he is still like that when he is eighteen, then, I will disown him.’ Kei secretly loved these stories which she thought gallant and fun. But when he participated in a strike against the school authorities, the matter could not be left unattended. It was an incident concerning a young history teacher. He was enthusiastic about democracy and freedom and excited the boys with an idealism bordering on anti-imperialism and anti-militarism.

This was at a time when twelve people had been sentenced to death just for being accused of planning the assassination of the Emperor. Socialism was a dangerous word. The Military Police were increasing their influence. Although Hideto was not a senior pupil or the main agitator, taking part in the strike was judged to be a grave offence. Tei-ichi was not only Chairman of the Assembly but also by then the head of the parents’ association of the school. The school hesitated to publicise his son’s misconduct. If it was known that Hideto was treated generously because he was Dr Shirai’s son, Tei-ichi’s name would be tarnished. On the other hand, if Hideto was either suspended or expelled from school, it would affect his future.

Kei visited the headmaster, the deputy headmaster, the class teacher, and all the other teachers, even the kendo instructor, and apologised to each one. She was the wife of the Chairman of the Prefectural Assembly and a doctor who was widely known and respected. Her family was also closely connected with the Miwas, but she humbly and politely asked everybody to forgive him as in future he would be strictly supervised. All the teachers sympathised with Kei. She was admired as ‘a very accomplished lady’.