In the Woods of Memory

by Shun Medoruma

  Flights and hotels for Okinawa were mobbed during the summer, so Hisako’s children were nervous about her traveling alone and wanted her to wait until it got a little cooler. However, Hisako felt she was ready, so she went ahead and booked her flight anyway.

  The bus arrived at the terminal at nine forty. They had agreed to meet at ten, but Fumi was already sitting on the bench at the station, waiting. When the bus stopped and their eyes met through the window, they recognized each other immediately. It was uncanny how Hisako could detect the remnants of childhood in Fumi’s face, even though she was over seventy years old. When Fumi smiled, her stern expression turned kind and gentle. Oh! It’s Fumi-chan! she thought when she saw her old friend’s smiling face. Sixty years had dissolved in an instant.

  When she got off the bus, she saw that Fumi was with a man of about forty.

  —Long time, no see, said Fumi.

  Fumi beamed with delight as she grasped Hisako’s arms. Hisako had been chatty on the phone, but she was speechless at seeing her old friend’s face. For a few moments, they tugged each other’s arms and gazed into each other’s eyes.

  —This is my eldest son, Yōichi.

  When Fumi finally introduced the man at her side, he lowered his head as if attempting to make his huge body smaller.

  —Let me take this to the car, he said, picking up Hisako’s bag.

  They walked past the concrete block wall of the terminal to the car. Once everyone got in, they headed for the island. The plan was to explore until evening, and then have dinner and spend the night at Fumi’s house. Hisako normally wouldn’t have been so imposing, but since this was probably her last visit, she decided to accept Fumi’s kind offer.

  On the way to the island, Hisako and Fumi filled each other in on their lives. Fumi had graduated from the University of the Ryukyus. She spent the next thirty plus years working as an elementary school teacher. Talking on the phone, Hisako had heard that Fumi’s last years before retirement had been spent at their old school, that she had married Shōei, who was also an elementary school teacher, and that they were now living with their son, Yōichi, and his family. When Hisako asked about Yōichi’s family, Fumi answered that Yōichi had three children and that the seven of them were living in a duplex.

  —Every day is a lot of fun, she said.

  But then, she suddenly fell silent, perhaps out of consideration for Hisako, who was living on her own. Yōichi, who was driving, picked up where his mother had left off. He was also a teacher, he said, and taught social studies at a junior high school. He explained that even though they were on summer break, he was busy with teacher training and supervising club activities. After Hisako thanked him for taking the time to be with them, he answered that he’d really wanted to hear about his mother’s wartime experiences, too. He added that up until now, he’d never heard anything. Fumi, who was looking over at him, seemed mildly annoyed. Hisako pictured the screaming woman with disheveled hair and became nervous. She reminded herself that she hadn’t come merely for a vacation but to confirm the truth with her own eyes and ears.

  The concrete bridge crossing over to the island was approximately two hundred meters long.

  —It’s so beautiful, said Hisako, commenting on the ocean.

  —Not like it used to be, Fumi muttered.

  Hisako couldn’t remember how the ocean looked, but she recalled crossing in a small boat with her family when they were moving back to Naha. As the boat pitched and rolled in the strong winds, she had clung to her mother and tried not to cry. The memory reminded her that her parents were now gone, and she felt overwhelmed with loneliness. She looked out the window to hide her tears.

  After crossing the bridge and going a short distance, they stopped at a store and bought some bottled water and a bag of Okinawan brown sugar. Then they got back in the car and headed toward the woods on the hill in the central part of the island. Fumi explained that that was where the man Hisako remembered had hidden. On the way, Hisako was surprised at how much the scenery had changed. The narrow farm roads had been paved, and plots of farmland stretched into the distance. Everything was so different from the densely wooded island in her memory. As she stared at the sugarcane and pineapples planted in the reddish soil, she searched for signs of the scenery she remembered. But she could find nothing.

  —It’s really changed, hasn’t it? said Fumi.

  —If I’d come here on my own, I wouldn’t have known this was the right island.

  —It confuses me sometimes, too, said Fumi in a sad voice.

  When they reached the woods, they got out of the car. The path heading into the trees was covered with overhanging branches. If Yōichi hadn’t cut through the brush the day before, it would’ve been too dense for them to pass.

  Yōichi broke off a branch and pulled off the leaves to make a whip.

  —To keep the habu snakes away, he laughed.

  Swatting to the right and the left, he headed down the path into the cool shade of the woods. Fumi followed behind him, and Hisako took up the rear. Poisonous habu snakes tend to shy away from the first person and aim for the second, Hisako recalled her father telling her as a child. That’s why Fumi’s in front of me, she thought, thanking her old friend in her heart. Hisako didn’t know the name of a single plant or tree, but the colors and smells of the subtropical varieties were much more intense than the cedar, zelkova, and ginkgo with which she was familiar. The density and vigor of the vegetation overpowered her, and the intense buzzing of cicadas echoing through the woods seemed to be right on top of them.

  Sixty years ago, she and her mother had raced up this path with the other villagers. By the time they’d reached the top, everyone was completely out of breath. Now, she couldn’t climb at even half that speed. Why on earth had we been in such a hurry? As Hisako was pondering this, Fumi turned around and asked if she was all right. Hisako nodded with a smile and looked down at her feet. Her shoes were wet from the dew. She wondered what shoes she’d been wearing back then, but couldn’t remember.

  After walking for nearly ten minutes, they still couldn’t see the cave. In her memory, they had arrived right away, so she was surprised they had to go so deep into the woods. Yōichi must’ve spent a long time cutting through the brush for them.

  —Sorry for having caused so much trouble, Hisako called out from behind.

  —Huh? asked Fumi, turning around.

  Apparently she hadn’t heard.

  —I didn’t know it was so far. I feel bad that Yōichi had to cut through so much brush.

  —I had a grass cutter, so it wasn’t so bad, Yōichi replied before his mother could say anything.

  He had overheard their exchange.

  —But you must be tired, he added. Would you like to take a break?

  —I’m fine. Before the end of the war, I used to pick up firewood here all the time.

  —It’s a bit different now, put in Fumi. You were a child then.

  The three laughed and stopped to wipe the sweat from their brows. Then they drank some of the bottled water and popped pieces of sugar into their mouths. With his branch, Yōichi pointed into the depths of the woods.

  —You can see the cave over there. Just hang in there a little bit longer.

  Hisako looked to where he was pointing. Through the woods full of trees so large you could barely get your arms around them, she could see a cave beneath a cliff. The scene of sixty years ago revived within her. Back then, so many trees had been blown up during the US naval bombardment that you could see the sky through the openings. Now, the cave’s entrance was half hidden by the dense growth of brush and the outstretched branches of trees clinging to the cliff. The entrance was a dark gaping hole. In spite of the chirping birds and unceasing buzz of cicadas, the area around the cave seemed to be engulfed in silence. Hisako was struck by how much the trees had grown in sixty years.

  When they started walking again, Hisako had to grab branches to pull herself up the steepening path. She was glad she hadn�
�t waited to come to the island. If she had, she’d have been too old to make it up this hill. After going down into a hollow, they started up the final slope to the cliff. The hollow was overgrown with plants with big leaves that looked like those of the taro potato. She had seen them displayed as houseplants, but never in the wild. The leaves were a darker green and had so much vigor that they looked like they’d start moving.

  —They’re kuwazu-imo potato plants, said Fumi, noticing Hisako looking at them. They’re poisonous, so you can’t eat them.

  Hisako nodded and continued climbing. When she reached the top of the hill, Yōichi pulled her up to the rocky area in front of the cave. The entrance was flanked by two human-sized stones, covered with moss and fern. Several daddy longlegs scurried across the stones and ran off in various directions. The bugs looked creepy, but the green moss was beautiful. Hisako peeped into the cave. The tunnel sloped downward for several meters and then opened into a cavernous space.

  —I took a look inside yesterday, said Yōichi. But after going about ten meters, some bats came flying at me, so I got surprised and turned back.

  He laughed with embarrassment. The chilly air from the cave smelled like mud mixed with vegetable matter. Beer cans and candy wrappers were strewn along the walls. Since they were new, Hisako could tell that people still visited.

  —This is the cave you remembered, isn’t it? said Fumi.

  Hisako was at a loss.

  —I guess so. But with all the trees, it’s hard to tell.

  —During the war, everything was blown up from the bombing. The trees around here were burnt up, so there was more open space.

  Fumi looked around at the area and then up at the trees.

  —This is the cave you were talking about.

  Surprised at the change in her friend’s tone of voice, Hisako stared at Fumi as she turned her gaze to the cave. Fumi’s furrowed brow and pursed lips revealed determination and tension, as if she were simultaneously digging up and burying the memories that welled up from the cave’s depths.

  —That day, I got here before you did. Like you, I was with my mother. I remember seeing you coming up the path, and thinking, Oh! Hisa-chan’s come, too! I didn’t wave because I was worried about what was happening. So I don’t know if you noticed me.

  —I noticed you, Fumi-chan.

  Getting used to Fumi’s childlike tone of voice, Hisako started talking like a child, too. But that was okay.

  —You mentioned Seiji, right?

  —Who?

  —The man you mentioned. The man hiding in the cave.

  Hisako stared into the dark cave and pictured the man’s bloated face and swollen eyes. Imagining that the grotesque figure might emerge at any moment, she felt the hair on the top of her head tingle to the roots.

  —Why was Seiji hiding here?

  Fumi stared at Hisako in disbelief.

  —You remember that the Americans surrounded the entrance, right?

  —Yes.

  —But you don’t remember why?

  —No, I don’t.

  —It was because he stabbed one of them. He stabbed an American with his harpoon and hid in the cave to get away.

  —But why did he do that?

  Fumi looked over at Yōichi, who stood to the side listening. He stared back at her with a calm expression. After brushing away a mosquito, Fumi turned her eyes back to the bottom of the cave. Hisako could hear the wind swirling around inside. It was as if the whole woods was a huge living thing, taking deep breaths.

  —He did it for Sayoko.

  —Sayoko?

  —The woman in your dreams.

  Though hazy and unclear, Hisako thought she could remember the name.

  —Sayoko had shiny black hair that went down to her waist. She was very pretty. Seiji lived next door to her. We lived nearby, too, so my mom knew that Seiji liked her. But she also thought Sayoko was too good for him. She used to laugh at the idea of someone like Seiji getting married. But you know what? Seiji was braver than any other man in the village. He fought the Americans with just one harpoon.

  Now Hisako could remember Seiji in front of the cave. There he was: leaning on his harpoon, on the verge of collapse.

  HISAKO AND FUMI [2005]

  Fumi stared into the cave and spoke to Yōichi and Hisako without looking at them:

  —When Sayoko was raped, the men didn’t do anything. Some of them talked about getting revenge, but when the Americans actually showed up, nobody said a word. And then, when the Americans ordered them to help with the search, they joined in without protest and even swore to capture Seiji themselves. In those days you could be shot for resisting, so I guess they didn’t have much choice. Still, I really despised my father when I saw him grab a stick and head off to the woods with the other men. And not just my father. I despised all the men in the village. I wonder how those men felt about Seiji standing up to the Americans all by himself. He exposed them as cowards, so they probably felt angry and humiliated. But I was angry at them. When I heard that Seiji had stabbed an American with his harpoon, I was happy. Really, really happy. Anyone who could’ve done such terrible things to Sayoko deserved to die. I was disappointed to hear later that that American had survived....

  Fumi had started speaking more rapidly and with more of the island language, so Hisako could barely follow what she was saying. At the mention of rape, a vision of the glittering white beach and screwpine thicket appeared before Hisako’s eyes, and her skin started to burn, even though she was standing in the shade of a huge bishopwood tree. Just then, a piercing cry from a brown-eared bulbul rang out, and Hisako’s heart skipped a beat. Throwing her head back to find the source of the cry threw her breathing off, too. The thick layers of leaves turned into the murmuring waves of the ocean. Who had explained to Hisako about what had happened in the thicket? Had she overheard the adults talking? Even though she hadn’t fully comprehended the precise nature of the event, she knew that she’d witnessed something horrible. She remembered that for a short time afterward, they had been forbidden to go to the beach.

  Staring at Fumi as she continued talking, Hisako felt uneasy at seeing how stern her friend’s expression had become. The voice emanating from Fumi’s unceasingly moving lips echoed back from the cave. Hisako suddenly had the feeling that invisible beings had crawled out from deep inside and were listening on the rocks and at Fumi’s feet. She wanted to hold Fumi’s hand to protect her but felt unable to do so.

  —When the gas canister was thrown into the cave, everyone thought it was poison gas and started to panic. I thought Seiji would die. But after a while, he came out, staggering and leaning on his harpoon, just like you wrote in your letter. And then he tried to throw the grenade. My mother covered me and pushed me to the ground, so I couldn’t see what happened next, but I definitely heard gunshots. When I pushed away my mother’s hands and looked at the cave, Seiji was lying on his back, with blood covering his shoulder, stomach, and feet. Even then, he wouldn’t let go of his harpoon. He raised his head and tried to find the Americans, but his eyes were too swollen. My dad told me later it was from the gas. Anyway, I don’t think Seiji could’ve seen anything. I wanted to scream and tell him that the Americans were right in front of him, but I couldn’t. I just stared as he struggled to get up. If the grenade hadn’t been a dud and had exploded, dozens of Americans would’ve died. And Seiji would’ve been happy, even if that meant dying himself. But that’s just like Japan, isn’t it? Whether it’s soldiers or grenades, when push comes to shove, it’s completely useless....

  Yōichi was visibly anxious about his mother, who was practically foaming at the mouth as she spoke. Hisako didn’t think they should try to stop her. If they interrupted her now, Fumi might lose control of the words coming out of her mouth, and go completely crazy.

  The wind caused the light filtering through the trees to flicker, which in turn caused the green moss to glisten and speckles of light to dance over Fumi, Yōichi, and Hisako. The light also refle
cted off something inside the cave and flickered against the walls. Hisako’s feeling that so me unseen beings were with them grew stronger, and she imagined their contours beginning to take shape. She turned and looked at Fumi’s profile. It occurred to Hisako that she’d always depended on her. Suddenly, Fumi turned toward her. Hisako flinched, but the reaction confused her.

  Fumi pointed at Hisako’s feet and continued:

  —There. Right there. Seiji fell down right where you’re standing. As he was trying to get up, one of the Americans pointed his rifle at him and pressed his boot down on his hand, the one holding the harpoon. Another soldier picked up the grenade and tossed it into the cave, and the soldier standing on Seiji’s hand took the harpoon, and passed it back to one of the others. Then he started kicking Seiji in the head. Seiji’s head was jerking back so hard that the American who’d tossed away the grenade had to step in and stop him. So then that damn American gave Seiji one last kick in the stomach, as hard as he could. And then he stooped down, just so he could spit in Seiji’s face. When I saw that, I knew he must’ve been one of the soldiers who’d raped Sayoko on the beach. After that, Seiji was lying there unconscious for I don’t know how long. Two Americans ran off to get a stretcher, and while we were waiting, the other soldiers kept their guns pointed at us. The villagers couldn’t move, so they just stared in silence. At first, I could only hear the ward chief, the interpreter, and the tall American commander. Later, I could only hear the buzz of the cicadas. I assumed that Seiji would be shot, so I couldn’t bear to watch as he was being put on the stretcher and carried away. I just hid behind my mother and cried. That’s why I never knew what happened next, until I read your letter. But when I read what you wrote, I knew that that’s how it must’ve been. I could picture Seiji’s face as if I’d seen it myself: his swollen eyelids, his pale face covered with purple bruises, and his body wet with sweat and blood. That’s how he looked when he was carried off, right? You also wrote that we’d thrown stones at someone, didn’t you? And you wanted to know who it was. Well, I think it was probably the ward chief, the one at the time. I don’t remember anyone throwing stones, but I was crying, so I probably just didn’t notice. But if what you wrote was true, judging from the situation at the time, it must’ve been him. Cooperating with the Americans helped us in some ways, but it also caused a lot of resentment. My father, for example, talked about it for years after. But I wonder how qualified the other villagers were to throw stones? They also received things from the Americans and cooperated in various ways. And when Sayoko was suffering, they didn’t do anything to help. I really don’t think they were any different.