“She’s hungry. You won’t give us rice,” Kiyoshi said accusingly.
Hanako kicked at the ground.
“Nice shoes,” he remarked.
He was wearing muddy straw sandals. But when she’d first met him, he’d been barefoot, so this was an improvement.
Hanako’s shoes were black with shoelaces and the slightest heels and sort of pointy toes. The pointiness was her favorite part. The leather had grown scratched and wrinkled, but they were very comfortable and still pretty. She remembered spending an hour looking through the catalog in camp when she needed to order a new pair.
Kiyoshi was really studying her shoes. “I could get food for those. I know a girl who would like those, and her family has rice.”
Hanako could feel his eyes boring into her toes—her feet actually seemed to almost warm up. He raised his eyes to look into hers, as if he was pretty sure he could get those shoes from her. She steeled herself to say no. But what if he tried to take them from her? Should she run now?
But then his face turned sweet. He picked up his sister and hugged her tightly. “She’s so hungry, I feel sorry for her. . . .”
Hanako thought that over. It wasn’t as if Akira could eat her shoes, right? So if she gave them away, it wouldn’t hurt him. Right? And yet . . . what would she wear to keep her feet warm? She tapped her toes together. She liked these shoes a lot, but she didn’t absolutely love them the way she did her coat. Well . . .
She reached down and pulled off her shoes, holding them in her hands, looking at them for a few seconds. Then she handed them to Kiyoshi.
“Arigatō gozaimasu!” he said solemnly, bowing. “You’re very kind.” Then his eyes seemed to be evaluating her. “If you should ever have any rice, I could get you something special. If you don’t like the kimono I had before, I could get you something else. What would you like?” he asked sweetly. “I might be able to get it for you. Would you like another skirt?”
Hanako hesitated. She certainly would like another skirt—she only had two. She highly doubted that Baachan would be able to buy fabric for a new skirt for a long time. But then she said firmly, “I can’t give you rice.” But she thought again of Baachan. What she specifically thought of was Baachan sobbing and chasing her out of the kitchen. And she had an idea that was pretty brilliant. “I wonder, could you get a purple kimono?” she asked.
Kiyoshi’s eyes lit up like pure fire. “Purple?”
“Yes. Silk.”
“You have rice?”
Hanako hesitated once more, glancing over her shoulder and then back to Kiyoshi. Mimi seemed to have heard and was now gazing seriously at Hanako. “Ettoooooo,” Hanako said. That was the way Japanese said “ummmm.” “Maybe if you found a really pretty purple kimono, I could see if I could find you a little. It must be pretty, though. Very pretty.”
Kiyoshi was evaluating her again. Mimi said, “I want rice.”
Kiyoshi stood up. “I’ll see you soon, then,” he said confidently, and walked off with Mimi on his back.
Hanako looked around again, feeling rather mixed up. Had she just done a good thing or a bad thing? That is, it was a bad thing . . . but it also might turn out to be a good thing. Kiyoshi and the little one would get rice, and she would get a special kimono for Baachan. It was a good trade for everyone, wasn’t it? She could give it to Baachan for her next birthday, whenever that was. It would be a wonderful surprise! And would everyone truly be mad at her if she said she simply had to feed two children? Would they?
But her heart was very, very heavy as she continued to the field. She didn’t feel right about this at all. She had spoken too quickly! She hadn’t thought long enough! As she stepped into the woods, she considered rushing back to see if she could find Kiyoshi, and finally she decided to do it. But Kiyoshi and Mimi were gone now. She saw a woman carrying a baby on her back, a man with a wheelbarrow. And nobody else. So she turned once more and headed for the fields.
When she arrived, she didn’t see anyone at first. Despite how beautiful everything was—the curving wheat that was more yellow than the week before, the sky that was cloudless today—she felt a stab of loneliness. She felt like the last person on the entire Earth. But then she spotted some wheat moving unnaturally. She shouted, “Jiichan! Baachan!”
The wheat started to sway, and soon Baachan emerged from the plants. In a moment Jiichan emerged as well. They weren’t moving quickly, but she could feel their urgency. They looked worried, maybe because she was here and shouting for them!
She hurried forward, saying, “Everything is all right! Everything is fine!”
“You scare me!” Baachan said.
“I almost have heart attack!” Jiichan said, but he wasn’t mad.
“You just come to visit?”
“Mama and Akira weren’t home,” Hanako explained. “I thought they might be here.”
Now Baachan looked even more concerned. She glanced at Jiichan, who seemed to be deciding something. “My feeling is not good,” he said. “We must go home!”
What? “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Let me feel in my body.” He closed his eyes and held his hands slightly raised, then dropped them and opened his eyes. “No, feeling is not good. We go home now.”
Hanako carried her grandparents’ food basket as they hurried back home. She ran a little ahead, plunging into the forest alone, because she realized that she had a bad feeling as well. In fact, she left them far behind. When she reached the house, the sliding front door was slightly open. “They’re back!” she cried out, but there was nobody behind her to hear.
She shoved the door hard all the way open. “Mama! Akira!” The doors to the bedrooms were open. But when she went into the big bedroom, it was empty. She got scared suddenly and ran outside. But she could see her grandparents in the distance, and that gave her courage. She went back inside.
She girded herself and walked into the kitchen. The cupboard doors were open! She rushed forward, saw the cupboard floor was empty. She stared at the barren stone floor and let out a soft screechy noise.
“What is?” Jiichan gasped, behind her now. She turned and saw he was out of breath.
“Nothing! It’s just . . .” There had been rice there this morning! She had seen it herself!
“What is your unhappiness?” Jiichan asked urgently.
“The rice . . .” Kiyoshi had stolen it, Hanako knew it. She had let him know they had rice, and he had stolen it. “I should have stayed home and guarded the house!” She burst into tears.
But Jiichan wrapped his arms around her and said, “No, no, not your fault. You cannot know. You were look for your brother.” He lifted her chin with his fingers. “Not your fault, no, not,” he said firmly. “We will think what to do. We may have to spend, your father have money. Not quite sixty dollar anymore. But we will be fine.” He let go of her then and searched the cupboard, even running his hands over the shelves, though he must have been able to see there was no rice. He sighed. “I know your father want to buy you food, but he also want to save for your future.”
Hanako knew that Papa had received ten American dollars as a tip one day. He wouldn’t say what the tip was for, but it must have been pretty bad, or good. She thought he was probably dealing with black market vendors every day. She wondered if he became a bulldog the way Jiichan did when he was bargaining.
Baachan finally arrived and was saying, “Nani, nani?”
Hanako thought about telling them the whole story, but she couldn’t. She just nodded through her tears. Then she ran to the big bedroom and lay on the floor sobbing. She was not a good person! She was not a smart person! She was not much of a person at all!
Her grandparents let her be, or she thought they did, but then a while later she happened to open her eyes, and it turned out they were sitting there quietly, kneeling next to where she lay. She hadn’t even heard them come in.
Jiichan looked extraordinarily sad, and even guilty, as if he had d
one something wrong. “I wish I could give you better life,” he said, rubbing the thin hair on top of his head. Rubbing, rubbing, until it was standing on end. “It my fault.” He lifted his hands, let them fall. “Maybe if I work harder . . .”
“It’s my fault!” Hanako interrupted. “I should have stayed home!”
“You are child,” Baachan said. “Not your fault. We do not worry. We will use your father money. He will understand. He worry about future, but I will explain he need to worry about today. . . .”
“We have bacon grease,” Jiichan said hopefully. “Ahhh, let me check. I saw in there moment ago, but let me check.” He pushed himself up.
If the bacon grease was gone, Hanako would . . . something . . . She sobbed more.
“We will fry carrot tonight,” Baachan said. “Carrot in bacon grease is best food. Akira will like.”
Jiichan came back into the room. “Bacon grease is there! We have good luck!”
“I love good luck!” Baachan exclaimed, then began stroking Hanako’s hair and cooing, “Good girl, good girl, you are good girl.”
The cooing and stroking was like warmth moving through Hanako’s veins. It felt so good! It was almost hypnotic. Kiyoshi left the bacon grease, she thought with satisfaction. He had come only for the rice. Possibly he didn’t even know what bacon grease was. And she had noticed two jars on the shelves, which she knew were filled with miso that her father had gotten. She felt the despair from the stolen rice exiting her body, almost like smoke escaping. “Good girl, you are good girl . . .”
Jiichan was standing in the middle of the room holding out his arms with his eyes closed. Then he opened his eyes and said “Ahhh” with satisfaction. To Baachan, he said, “Akira is fine, I can feel. They will come home soon.”
He cleared his throat and stood up extra tall. “I don’t like congratulate self, but can I say one thing?” Jiichan said. “I could feel bad in my body. Yes, I could. I knew was something bad in house. But it was stolen rice, not about Akira.” Then he looked at Hanako. “When you and your brother are older, I will teach you to feel good or bad inside your body. It is talent I learn during this war. The village have council meeting to support war. Every village in Japan, I believe. Everybody scared not to go. And then one day I see that some friend I can trust, and some friend I cannot. I can feel in my body who I can trust. It is good talent to learn for survive.”
Hanako thought about what Jiichan was saying. “But, Jiichan, if you can’t trust them, they’re not your friends.”
“Ah, child,” he said. “In war they are not my friend. But before war they are my friend. And after. One man from village loan me his ox before war for no money because I had none. He did not ask for grain when I harvest because he know I will not have extra. He ask for nothing. So he is my friend. He will always be my friend. But during war, he is not my friend. He report anyone who try to keep extra food for their own hungry child. He report anyone who try to hide their son from army. But if same person who try to hide son ask him today, he will loan them his ox even they have nothing to give him in return.”
Baachan was sadly nodding. “He lost his own son in war. He love his son the way I love you. But your jiichan is right, he will loan you his ox for nothing if you have nothing.”
It was getting darker in the room, but for some reason, even in the dim light that hid their wrinkles, her grandparents looked older. More tired. Exhausted, even. Today Hanako had made life harder for everybody in her house. People who only wanted to make her own life easier. Papa always said there is no point in your bad experiences except to learn from them. But she had a whole trail of bad experiences behind her, and she didn’t think she had enough time even in the rest of her life to figure out what she might have learned.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
It turned out Akira had wanted to see the nearby river that day, so Mama had taken him. Then he had slipped on some rocks and said he’d hurt his ankle, and Mama carried him most of the way back home. But she had to rest a lot. Then at some point he said that his ankle had healed, and he walked the rest of the way.
Mama appeared almost dazed with fatigue as she explained all this, but Akira just calmly twirled his thumbs.
“Akira!” Hanako snapped. “Why did you make Mama carry you?”
“Never mind, Hana, I’m not in the mood for fighting,” Mama said tiredly. She lay back on the floor, murmuring, “Ah, Aki, Aki, Aki . . .”
Akira drove everybody insane sometimes, the way he could make a fuss, and then it turned out to be nothing. Hanako wanted to kill him sometimes, but then she’d look at him, as now, with his big, beautiful wine stain that nobody outside of the family thought was beautiful, just playing calmly by himself. She’d had to carry him herself once, when he was three. They had walked to the edge of camp, and he didn’t want to walk back because he was tired. It was summer . . . she’d been so hot. But she had done it. And for some reason, these things made her love him more, not less. She just wanted him to play with his little toys all day if he wanted.
But all of a sudden, everybody was looking at her dirty, bare feet. Just looking.
“My shoes!” she cried out. She paused: Lies or truth, which was best? “My shoes . . .” Truth! “I gave them away because—because a girl needed them more than me!”
“But Hanako! Which girl?” Mama asked.
Hanako cast her eyes down before looking up again. “Mama, I don’t know the girl. It’s a long story. . . .” She clutched at her stomach dramatically. “I’m hungry!”
“I’m hungry too,” Akira agreed.
But Mama was weeping. “Your shoes. Your beautiful shoes.”
Baachan pushed herself up. “I go cook now. I fry carrot in bacon grease! Taste good! Not worry. I will cook, and after dinner, I will make straw sandal for Hana. Not to worry!”
As Baachan left the room, Hanako knew she had to tell her mother and brother about the stolen rice. Her heart sank a little. She looked down at her dirty feet and started to talk.
“I think we ran out of rice,” she told Akira. Saying that completely erased all of Baachan’s stroking and cooing. She felt like an awful idiot person again.
Akira lifted his head. “I thought we had some from the butter and sugar we traded.”
“We ran out because . . . I guess we just ate it all. . . . Actually, maybe it was stolen. I think it was stolen.”
“Was it stolen or we ate it?”
Mama was frowning. “Hanako, we have rice. What are you trying to say?”
“It was stolen,” she said. “That is . . . I think . . . I’m pretty sure it was. Nobody was home, and it got stolen!”
Mama looked stricken, so upset that Hanako had to look away. But she could hear Mama huffing as if out of breath. She had to look back then, because she’d never heard her mother breathe like that. “It’s my fault,” Mama said. “We should have just stayed home.”
“It’s my fault for wanting to go to the river,” Akira pointed out. “Everything’s always my fault!” He burst into tears, but for once Mama didn’t comfort him. She looked too flabbergasted that the rice was gone.
Jiichan had been pacing back and forth. He stopped now. “Nobody fault!” he said. “If you get robbed, it is not your fault.”
“I’m a bad person!” Hanako blurted out. She burst into tears too.
“It’s my fault!” Akira screamed.
“It’s my fault!” Hanako screamed back.
“Oh, Hanako!” Mama carried Akira over, so she could hold both of them at once.
Jiichan surprised everybody by laughing. “These children have many fault, neh? I forget children tears. I ever tell you your father crybaby when he little? Hai, you would not believe it today, though.”
That made Hanako and Akira stare at him. Papa a crybaby?
“Only his mother could make him stop cry. I thought he grow up and still cry all time, but he stop when he twelve. I don’t think he ever cry again! First we worry that he cry too mu
ch. Then we worry he never cry anymore.” He shook his head. “All parent like to worry, but your baachan and me special because we worry all time. We never stop! He cry, we worry. He don’t cry, we worry. So you see?”
Hanako didn’t see, actually. “See what, Jiichan?”
“You cry, is your job. Your parent worry, is their job. So everything is fine tonight. As should be.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood proudly, almost triumphantly. “I understand many thing!”
“Yes, Jiichan,” Hanako and Akira said together. And they had both stopped crying.
“Aki, I’ll help fry the carrots extra-special,” Hanako said. “I’ll use a lot of grease.”
“Thank you.”
“I go get onion from neighbor,” Jiichan said, his face lighting up. “Onion make everything taste good.”
Hanako headed for the kitchen while Mama lay back on the floor—she said her spine ached.
Baachan had already cut a lot of carrots in three different ways, to make them look pretty. Into sticks, into round slices, and into triangles. And they did look very pretty. Baachan could make any food look pretty. Then Baachan spooned two big globs of bacon grease into a pan and set it on the stove before lighting the fire.
“Oh, you can’t cook it yet! Jiichan went to get an onion from your neighbor. He said onion makes everything taste good.”
“Onion!” Baachan said. “One time during war we run out of food and eat nothing but our neighbor onion for three week. I never like onion after that.” She continued to cook, with a stubborn look on her face. “I don’t want to smell onion!”
Hanako liked onions a lot. She liked to put them on sandwiches, and in spaghetti, and fried in tempura batter. But she didn’t say so now. She asked, “Would you have starved if you didn’t eat onions?”
Baachan nodded over the food. Then her face softened. “Our neighbor have baby granddaughter. They mash up onion to keep her alive. . . . Yes, I have many memory of life. When I die, will be gone. So deshō.”
“You can tell me all your memories. Then they won’t be gone.”
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