Temple Alley Summer

by Sachiko Kashiwaba

  She had a kindly look in her eyes. It seemed she was able to talk of her daughter without tears now. Perhaps she had already cried enough for a lifetime.

  “Saori had a short life without much joy in it,” she went on. “I so wished that I could bring her back with a healthy body! I prayed for this with all my might. I remembered that prayer when I visited your house.”

  That’s it! I thought. That was why Akari had returned! I wanted to scream it right there in Mrs. Andō’s house.

  “If Saori had lived just a few more years, she might have survived due to advances in medicine,” Mrs. Andō continued. “I couldn’t help thinking that, even though it’s been so long.”

  After speaking in a kind of reverie, Mrs. Andō seemed to come back to herself. She looked at me in apology.

  I longed to tell her that Saori-chan had come back, as Akari Shinobu. But I wasn’t sure if I should tell her. Perhaps I should do it later, I thought, after I understood the situation more clearly. For now, I kept quiet.

  The Mr. Sada that Mrs. Andō described sounded a bit different from the grandpa I knew. He had been kind to my family and me, of course, but I never knew that he showed that kindness to others as well. Knowing this made me glad. I said thank you, and then I left Mrs. Andō’s house. I began to think that a project about my grandpa might not be so bad.

  The previous night and this morning had been amazing. I’d figured out quite a lot about Kimyō Temple, and I had even learned something about Akari’s past.

  Everything had been such a coincidence. Mrs. Andō had prayed for Saori’s return at the statuette at our house, without knowing our house was Kimyō Temple. Saori had wanted to come back, of course. It made sense—she’d been stuck in a hospital for most of her life.

  I decided then and there to keep Akari’s story quiet. I would keep it to myself for the rest of my life. I was actually glad that I hadn’t had a chance to tell Yūsuke. I vowed to make sure that Saori, as Akari Shinobu, would get to enjoy her new life as a healthy person. I would help her so she would never feel anxious. And I would do it so she would never know that I knew her story. Which made me begin to wonder if I could pull it off.

  I also got to thinking about a movie my sister had told me about. In it, a murdered girl returned from the grave to take revenge on her killer. I also remembered a rakugo storytelling performance I had seen with Uncle Junichi about a man who had promised never to remarry when his wife died, but then got married again after some years passed. The dead wife came back as a ghost to express her displeasure.

  Maybe Akari also had certain things she wanted to do, or something she wanted to say, and that was why she was back. If she wanted to see her real mother, I could help them meet. There were plenty of things that I could do for her.

  As I rode my bike home from Mrs. Andō’s house, I felt a smile spread across my face.

  But I had forgotten something. I had forgotten the number one most important thing that I needed to do.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Missing Statuette

  “I’m home!”

  My mom’s “hi” echoed from the living room.

  “I’m starving! Mom, what’s for lunch?”

  “Oh, boy. Now that you’re out of school, I need to make your lunches too, don’t I?”

  Mom walked into the kitchen from the altar room holding a tray, which held one of the teacups we use for guests. We had had a visitor.

  “This August will be the first Obon season since your grandpa died, so we’ll have more people coming to call. I’ll have to go buy things to give as thank-you gifts …” Mom talked to herself as she washed the teacup in the sink.

  “Mom! My lunch!”

  “I hear you. I was thinking we’d have cold noodles with cucumber and ham, but you look like you can’t wait. So, instant ramen it is. What flavor do you want? Miso? Soy sauce?”

  “Mo-om, it’s hot as an oven outside! Do we have to eat hot ramen?”

  “Picky, picky! Remember who stands at the stove to boil it, young man. Unless you want to do it yourself?”

  Oh, I did not. I bowed and scraped to avoid this fate.

  Mom was right about my being too picky. I was lucky I could even eat instant ramen. When Akari was in the hospital all that time, I bet she never got to try instant ramen or convenience store lunches. Again, I was thinking of Akari.

  Dripping sweat, I began to slurp the noodles Mom had just made.

  “Ms. Minakami was praising you to the skies, you know,” she told me. “She called you ‘the nicest little boy.’ Imagine, you, a ‘little boy’!” Mom laughed.

  “Ms. Minakami—you mean Ms. Minakami from Minami Heights?” I asked.

  Mom nodded.

  “Where did you see her? Was she just here? Why did she come?” I got a sinking feeling.

  “Yes, she just visited,” Mom answered. “She was early.”

  “Early for what?”

  “For Obon, the celebration of the ancestors. Ms. Minakami said that she has other plans during Obon in August and can’t come here then.”

  “Really? You mean people will come again and pay their respects to Grandpa?”

  “So it seems. Our relatives will for sure. We may also have people from the neighborhood, and others who knew your grandpa well. When your grandma died, your grandpa took care of all this, so I’m not certain of the details. But I’m glad I at least put the Obon altar lanterns out. Ms. Minakami brought an offering of money, so I’ll have to buy her a present to express gratitude. Oh, and I need to clean inside the altar—I can’t exactly stick the vacuum hose in there. I wonder why she looked at it so closely …”

  “Aa—!”

  I sprang up with my chopsticks in my hand. This was no time to be snarfing ramen.

  I ran to the altar room. I hadn’t checked for the Kimyō Temple statuette! I didn’t even know what it looked like. Uncle Junichi only said that it would be on the altar. It dawned on me that I hadn’t bothered to see if it was still there.

  My family’s altar is old and big. It has a main cabinet with a long, skinny table in front. At both ends of the table we usually have vases with flowers in them. Today there were also some special Obon lanterns, which my mom had put out; they were turned on, with the lights rotating in circles. A fancy gold cloth covered the altar table, and on it sat a gold meditation bell, an incense stand, candleholders, matches, and a lighter. The scent of the incense Ms. Minakami had lit still lingered in the air. I saw three or four boxes of sweets stacked near the altar. When the summer and year-end gift-giving seasons come, my family always places the gifts we get near the altar first—even bottles of cooking oil or boxes of laundry soap.

  Yūsuke and I grew up in houses with altars, so this all seems normal to us, but once I had a friend come over who lives in an apartment, and he was shocked to see us fetching snacks from our altar. The only part of the altar I’m truly familiar with, though, is the area around it. I’ve never looked carefully inside it. When I tried to peer into the main cabinet, the table in front of it blocked my way, so I scooted the table over and looked more closely.

  The inside of the cabinet must have been gold at one point, but it had faded to light brown. In the middle stood a tall, thin structure like a house with its door open. Inside that structure stood a kind of platform, which held a statuette of the Buddha that was maybe a foot tall. Around the Buddha’s house stood seven smaller houses with similar doors, and these held memorial tablets for my ancestors. I saw my grandma and grandpa’s photos there too. In addition, there were flowers in small vases on each side, two candles in holders, two small gold cups (shaped like trophies) for offering rice, two melons, my grandpa’s old teacup filled with water, and a few other items. The cabinet was pretty cluttered.

  I couldn’t tell which object was the Kimyō Temple statuette. Was it the Buddha in the center? I didn’t see anything that looked exactly right. Mom had said that Ms. Minakami carefully inspected inside the altar, but was that all she had done?

/>   I hurried back to the kitchen and asked her. “Mom, did you ever leave Ms. Minakami alone in the altar room?”

  “Did I leave her alone? Yes, I guess I did. I went out to prepare tea and sweets, and then I went back in.”

  “Did you notice anything missing from the altar?”

  “What would be missing?” Mom looked at me curiously.

  I could tell that she would be of no help. She made the daily ritual offerings of rice, but she hadn’t memorized the altar’s contents.

  I fired off another email to Uncle Junichi.

  What does the statuette look like?

  I kicked myself for not asking that in the first place. I had no idea what I might be looking for. It could be a likeness of the Buddha. Then again, it could be a stone. It could be a mirror like in a Shinto shrine. My mom had offered rice and water near it every day but hadn’t noticed it missing, so it couldn’t be that big. If there had been two large Buddhas and one had disappeared, Mom would have noticed. The statuette had been passed to different households, so it must have been the right size to fit in many different altars. And it would have to be small enough that Ms. Minakami could snatch it without Mom seeing. As I waited for Uncle Junichi’s reply, I felt certain that Ms. Minakami was a thief.

  My uncle’s reply arrived more quickly than I expected. Since I had emailed him the night before, he had apparently begun missing home and started emailing with friends in Japan. He said he had a little more time to sit at the computer now than before. He wrote:

  It’s a Buddha statuette made of ebony. The statuette and the structure around it are small enough to sit on the palm of your hand. It’s about four inches tall. What’s wrong? Is it not there?

  I wrote back to him:

  It’s gone.

  I wanted to tell him so much more—and that Ms. Minakami had swiped it.

  Look again! Uncle Junichi replied. We had it in the altar, but it was kind of behind the memorial tablets for my mom and dad.

  I replied: I did look closely.

  He asked: Why would it be missing?

  I replied: I have no idea.

  Ms. Minakami stole it, I thought to myself.

  Uncle Junichi replied to me.

  Well, find it! If the statuette disappears, the power of Kimyō Temple disappears with it. And if—if—there are people who have come back to life through Kimyō Temple, those people could disappear too.

  Akari’s life was in danger!

  Got it!

  That was all I could say back to him.

  Ms. Minakami must have figured out from watching me that someone had returned to life through Kimyō Temple. She had suspected the statuette was in my house. She had come to check it out. And she had taken the ebony Buddha.

  Why would she do that? Why? I needed answers.

  I found myself back at Minami Heights apartment 902, face-to-face with Ms. Minakami and Kiriko.

  To my annoyance, Ms. Minakami offered me food. “Kazu, I know you’re fond of watermelon. Your mother told me! I just ordered some from the greengrocer, and it arrived a few minutes ago. It isn’t cold yet, but would you like some?”

  The watermelon she put on my plate was lukewarm and gross.

  I was sure she knew I would come and had lain in wait. That had to be proof of a crime.

  I poked at the watermelon but got down to business. “You took a Buddha statuette from our altar,” I blurted out. “Please give it back.”

  “My, my, how rude you are, young man! What are you talking about? I don’t know a thing about a statuette.”

  Ms. Minakami opened her eyes wide. She could really be dramatic.

  “You’re the only person who could know,” I said, glaring back at her. I did not look down. For me, this was really saying something.

  Ms. Minakami stayed silent a moment, but then she shrugged. “You realize, don’t you, that you have no proof?”

  “How could you do that?”

  “I told you, I’ve done nothing!”

  “Nyaaa!” Even Kiriko joined the chorus.

  This conversation was going nowhere. Ms. Minakami realized it too. She leaned uncomfortably close to me.

  “Listen, young man, let’s say I did steal the statuette. Leaving aside whether I would even do that, don’t you think it’s wrong that the dead should come back to life?”

  “I don’t think it’s wrong at all,” I replied.

  “Oh, really … so you’re saying it’s fine to have ghosts running around.”

  “Of course! What’s bad about that?” Even I was surprised by how quickly and clearly I answered.

  “But it’s unfair!” she argued. “Everybody in this world gets one lifetime, Kazu. One chance. We all try to live in such a way that we have no regrets. Some of us may still end up disappointed, of course. That’s how it goes. But, ‘Oh, I wanted to do this,’ ‘Oh, I wanted to do that’—having regrets when we die is part of living. Every single one of us must face that fact. There’s no way I would choose to return to life after I died,” Ms. Minakami finished, nodding for emphasis.

  “But wouldn’t you be happy if you could come back and have a new start?” I asked her.

  “I might be. But still, it wouldn’t do. People have to live as if there is no second chance—so they’ll make the most of every day. That, my dear, is how I live my life.”

  “That might be fine for people who grow old, but—”

  “Stop your nonsense! I’m eighty-three.” Ms. Minakami shook her head as if to say she was nowhere near old.

  She had lived plenty long as it was, in my opinion, but I didn’t say that. I kept my mouth shut. But she read my thoughts.

  “Aha! I see. You’re thinking of people who aren’t ‘old ladies’ like I am, hmm? If someone your age passed away, I can see why there would be many things a person still wanted to do.” Ms. Minakami nodded knowingly.

  I wanted to click my tongue in disgust at myself. I might as well have told her that the person who returned was a child! If we kept going like this, the whole secret of Akari’s identity would slip out. All because I had rushed over here without thinking first. I needed to get away. I started to stand up.

  Ms. Minakami stopped me with her eyes. What an exasperating granny! Kiriko too—she used her cat eyes to say, Stay where you are, or else. How pitiful was this? I sighed deeply as I sank back into the sofa.

  “Listen, Kazu. Everyone says that humans are equal, but we don’t all get the same chances in life. You know that, don’t you? You’re a big boy in fifth grade. Some people are born healthy, and others are born with illnesses and disabilities. There are beautiful people who get adored by everyone, and people of fine character who never get any credit due to their looks. Some children get good grades without studying, while others study like crazy for nothing. Plenty of things in this world are not fair and equal, Kazu.”

  I’d never thought about this, but I found myself nodding at Ms. Minakami’s words. I always insist that I’m fine being third, but I also think that if I’d been a little faster on my feet, I could have kept playing baseball.

  “But one thing is the same for everyone, Kazu. Not only on the surface, but through and through,” Ms. Minakami went on. “It affects the smart people, the rich people—no matter what they do, they cannot get more of it than their due. Do you know what I’m referring to?”

  Of course I didn’t. I glared at the air in front of me.

  “Time, Kazu. Time is the same for everyone. Men, women, young people, old people—everyone. A day is a day. An hour is an hour. Time is the one thing applied impartially to all humans, and to every living creature. This is something we must protect.

  “And yet, there are people who try to recapture time when it’s gone.” Ms. Minakami pursed her lips. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

  I could see what she meant. But I didn’t agree.

  “I don’t think it’s unfair, exactly … I mean, maybe we don’t need to be so harsh on people,” I said. “If someone wants a second ch
ance and that chance is available, why not take it? It’s like the lottery—some people get lucky, some people don’t, and—”

  I couldn’t say it how I wanted.

  “You’re talking about luck,” she replied.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Kazu, did you hear about Kimyō Temple from your grandfather?” Ms. Minakami asked. She had used the words ‘Kimyō Temple’ for the first time.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I heard it from Uncle Junichi.” But in truth, he had sounded like he wasn’t sure himself.

  “Do you know why Kimyō Temple faded away?” Ms. Minakami asked.

  “Something about the anti-Buddhist movement in the Meiji Period.”

  That was what Uncle Junichi’s email had said.

  “Actually, they say it was because there were people who misused it.”

  “Misused?”

  “Misused. Think about it—people can come back to life!”

  I nodded.

  “Dying is scary for everyone. Coming back seems like a good idea.”

  I nodded again.

  “Some people asked folks to pray for them at Kimyō Temple, so they would come back to life,” Ms. Minakami went on. “They also asked people to search for them once they returned, to find them in their new families.

  “And there were keepers of Kimyō Temple who accepted money for this service, in secret.”

  “They made it a business.”

  Even I could see the problem with that.

  Uncle Junichi said he thought it was fishy that the returned souls went to new families, but I had liked that part of it. I liked the idea that people would set all thoughts of themselves and their families aside and pray purely for someone’s second chance. That selfless affection had brought people back. And the people who returned, even if they were anxious like Akari, would do everything they could to make the best of their new lives. That side of Akari had made me want to help her. But now I was hearing that people had taken money for this. I felt let down.