Kiku's Prayer: A Novel

by Endō, Shūsaku. Translated by Van C. Gessel

  Seikichi and the other peasants had a hard time understanding what the village head was saying. Of course, even living unobtrusively as Kirishitans in the shadow of the Urakami hills, they had heard something about a conflict between the emperor and the shogun, but they were utterly in the dark regarding the specifics of the situation.

  “Ah-hah.” Comprehending nothing, they merely nodded.

  The rain grew fierce.

  “You want to return to your faith no matter what?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The village head heaved a sigh.

  It’s possible that the magistrate won’t have any more time to deal with you—This bleak pronouncement by the village head also made oblique reference to the fact that peasant uprisings similar to the one here in Urakami were erupting in various parts of Japan.

  For the past two or three years, peasants and merchants in areas of the country plagued with unrest had been abandoning their centuries-old postures of submission and had incited riots. In Osaka and Edo, in Musashi, and in Shinobu of Mutsu Province, farmers had been raising cries of “Reform!” as they stormed the homes of the wealthy and held rallies, and though the officials had finally been able to subdue them, for a time they were completely unmanageable.

  In addition to these uprisings, this was also the period in which bizarre dances known as “Ee ja nai ka”—“Who cares?”—became the rage among the masses. Men dressed as women, and women dressed as men filled the streets, dancing in a manner similar to the Awa Dances and chanting:

  Who cares? Who cares?

  Spread some paper over whatever stinks,

  If the paper rips, spread some more!

  Who cares? Who cares?

  Dancing with abandon, they paraded through the streets. The dance swept like a tsunami across the land, from Kantō in the east to Kamigata in the west.

  The rebellion of the Urakami Kirishitans and their return to the faith were of an entirely different nature from the peasant rebellions in other parts of the country and the Ee ja nai ka Dance phenomenon, but that was because the vague premonition that “it’s pretty much all over for the shogun” had made its way to this impoverished village.

  They knew nothing concrete about such matters, but in fact the shogun had already decided to surrender his political power.

  The magistrate’s office in Nagasaki was thrown into disarray as these pieces of news arrived one after another. Just as the village head had predicted, when the magistrate was notified that there was more trouble among the Urakami Kirishitans, who should have been stifled by now, he was at his wit’s end. They’re in revolt again?!

  Itō Seizaemon, with a dumbfounded look on his face, went to seek advice from Hondō Shuntarō. “Lord Hondō, what should we do about this?”

  But with a sardonic smile Hondō replied, “It’s no longer a question of what to do. Of far more interest to me than the Urakami peasants is the problem of what will become of us, Lord Itō.”

  “What do you mean, ‘what will become of us’?”

  “If the shogunate falls, there will be no more military class. What will you do then, Lord Itō?”

  With a tragicomic look on his face, all Itō could say was, “Hmph.”

  In the tenth month of the third year of the Keiō period, the shogunate restored ruling power to the emperor. By the Western calendar, the date was November 1867.

  1. The “Glancing Back” willow was at the gateway of the old pleasure quarters in what is now Tokyo. Male patrons who had spent the night in pleasure were said to pause at the tree and glance back longingly toward the women from whom they had just parted.

  2. Throughout the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the warlords who eventually united Japan had to struggle with uprisings by militant Buddhist sects that feared—rightly—that they would be stripped of their power and wealth.

  3. In 1637 and 1638, peasants in the former Arima fief, suffering from brutal taxation and starvation, rose up in rebellion against the anti-Christian government. The fief had originally been home to a Jesuit seminary and printing press, and although most of the peasants had publicly renounced their Kirishitan faith, once the rebellion broke out, they declared themselves followers of Christ and fought vigorously until nearly 35,000 were killed in the siege of Hara Castle.

  4. Bateren was the Japanese pronunciation of the Portuguese word padre.

  5. Iruman is from the Portuguese word irmãos, brothers who ranked just after the padres. Initially most were European, but under Alessandro Valignano (1539–1606), visitor for the Jesuit missions in Asia, the number of Japanese iruman increased significantly.

  THE REUNION

  THE SHOGUNS WHO had ruled Japan for more than two hundred years had been defeated by the emperor….

  When this news arrived, Nagasaki was flung into a spiral of confusion. Unlike surrounding domains, this province was under the direct control of the shogunate, a privilege that had been a source of pride to the residents for many years. For that very reason, when a rumor (“They’re saying that those ruffians from Satsuma are going to attack us!”) spread around the city that the military forces of Satsuma, which was part of the imperial faction, were marching on Nagasaki, the citizens trembled in fear. The ferocity of the military forces of the Shimazu clan in Satsuma had been legendary throughout Kyushu ever since the wars of unification in the sixteenth century.

  Impulsive merchants threw together their belongings and fled in search of refuge. Some houses shut their doors tightly and huddled behind them, as though violence and pillage would break out in the city at any moment.

  The Gotōya shop was one such place.

  In hushed tones the Master and Mistress discussed whether the best precaution might be to escape to their ancestral home on the Gotō Islands.

  “If they close down the shop, what will happen to us?” Tome asked Oyone.

  “Obviously they’ll just throw us out,” Oyone replied resentfully.

  “Mitsu has a home to go to, so she’ll be all right. But my family’s so poor, I can’t even think of going back there,” Tome mumbled disconsolately.

  Mitsu was filled with pity for Tome, who had once told her, “There’s lots of families as poor as mine who have to sell their daughters as servants.” Mitsu’s nature was just a bit different from Kiku’s: whenever Mitsu saw a sad, unfortunate person, she was filled with an overwhelming compassion toward them.

  “I wonder what Kiku will do?” Tome asked. Mitsu knew that Kiku had not gone back to Urakami but that, for who knows what reason, had ended up working as a maidservant at the Nambanji. One early morning as Mitsu was sweeping at the entrance to the store, Kiku had come running breathlessly up to her. After explaining briefly that she had ended up working at the Nambanji, Kiku said, “So could you tell Ichijirō that that’s what I’m doing? I’ll take care of myself, so there’s no need to worry.” Then, announcing she had to fix breakfast for Lord Petitjean and Lord Laucaigne, she ran off like a shot from a gun.

  “There really isn’t any reason to worry about her; she is Kiku, after all,” Mitsu thought. Kiku was the sort of woman who would choose and pursue her own life’s course.

  But I’ll never be like Kiku. From childhood, Mitsu couldn’t help but envy the outgoing Kiku. But one day she came to the realization that she was not Kiku. That “one day” was the day Kiku was booted out of the Gotōya.

  For her part, Kiku was working with all her might at the Nambanji. Petitjean and the other foreign missionaries, as well as Okane and her husband, all thought very highly of her.

  It was a real advantage for Kiku to be well liked here rather than having to return to her home in Magome. Were she to go back to Magome, she would have no way of knowing what was happening to Seikichi. Kiku had been told from her youth that even though Magome was right next to the Kirishitan village of Nakano, there was an invisible and impassable chasm separating them.

  Staying here, however, it was easy for Kiku to learn what was happening to Seikichi and hi
s fellow believers. Petitjean and Father Laucaigne were kind enough to keep her informed.

  It made no difference to Kiku that the shogun had fallen or that the emperor had taken the reins of government. It was of far greater importance to her as a woman that Seikichi be happy and that she might one day have the good fortune of becoming his wife.

  “Kiku. Seikichi and the others have returned to Nakano.” When Petitjean gave her that news, the clouds lifted from her face, and it suddenly became so light around her that it seemed as though sunlight was pouring down onto the flower garden.

  But then he went on. “Kiku. Seikichi and his friends showed up unexpectedly at the village head’s house, saying they wanted to become Kirishitans again.”

  The blood rushed from her face. She hurried to the chapel and once again began spewing a stream of complaints to the statue of the Blessed Mother.

  The magistrate’s office, however, was on the verge of collapse itself and had no time to be bothered with the likes of Seikichi and his comrades. Joy returned to Kiku’s face when she learned that the magistrate had decided to put them under watch and allow them to live their normal lives.

  If that’s the case … then one day soon he’ll be coming here to the Nambanji, she thought intuitively. Gradually that thought became a conviction in her mind.

  “Kiku,” one day Petitjean smiled and asked her, “would you be interested in going with me to France?”

  In amazement, she responded, “France?”

  “I’m only kidding, Kiku. But actually I am going back to France. I’ll return to Japan soon….”

  Petitjean and the other Christian missionaries living in Japan shared the view that with the fall of the shogunate, the new government that was being formed would likely be more tolerant of Christian proselytizing. As a result, they needed to confer with the church leadership in their homeland regarding the proper response to these new circumstances, and Petitjean had been chosen to perform that assignment.

  “But you’ll be coming back to Japan soon?”

  “I will. Japan is now my home, Kiku.”

  Although Kiku detested the Kirishitan teachings, she was fond of the priests at the Nambanji. She liked Petitjean especially because he was the one who brought her here. Though she definitely disliked the way he reeked of butter, and she didn’t care for the beard on his face….

  The second month of the year came.

  During the winter in Nagasaki, the morning peddlers sold sea cucumbers called tōrago. Other men walked about hawking Chinese cabbage.

  About this time the troops from Satsuma and Chōshū stormed in to occupy Nagasaki, blowing pipes and beating drums. The citizens bolted their doors, fearing random violence; the foreigners, preparing for any exigency, summoned aid from the warships anchored at sea while sailors were brought to land and positioned to defend the mouth of the harbor leading to Ōura.

  I hear the magistrate has fled the city! The rumor spread like a flash throughout the city. The magistrate, Kawazu Sukekuni,1 had disappeared.

  Several young men of promise from Satsuma and Chōshū took charge at the leaderless magistrate’s office and assumed the role of preserving peace in the city. Included among them were men such as Matsukata Masayoshi and Machida Minbu,2 who would become prominent leaders during the Meiji period.

  Because they had feared violent behavior or looting, the anxious citizens of Nagasaki were relieved to discover how well disciplined the Satsuma and Chōshū soldiers were. Shops that had locked their doors once again opened for business.

  Every day when Kiku had some free time, she would stand in front of the Nambanji, stretching as tall as she could make herself and peering toward the beach, wondering whether perhaps Seikichi might be climbing the hill.

  On cloudy days the inlet was cold and forlorn. On such days her feelings were also cold and forlorn. She was cheered somewhat on clear days by the sound of the waves pressing in on the shore. Those were the days when she had hope that Seikichi just might appear.

  One day—

  The person Kiku saw climbing the hill to the Nambanji was not Seikichi but a samurai. It was Itō Seizaemon, looking particularly down in the mouth. Once he loses the backing he so grandly boasted of, such a man comes to look startlingly unkempt.

  He walked past Kiku, apparently preoccupied. Kiku, of course, had no idea he had been the mastermind behind the painful tortures inflicted on Seikichi.

  “Well, if it isn’t Lord Itō!” With a slightly acidic smile, Laucaigne greeted the man who had been spying on the priests.

  “I’m sorry to bother you. The truth is that I’ve had to swallow my pride and come to beg a favor from you.” Itō smiled awkwardly and bowed his head servilely. He went on to explain that thanks to the generous good offices of Matsukata Masayoshi, he had been permitted to continue his work at the magistrate’s office, but ultimately he would have to look for other employment. No one is as pathetic as a government worker who has lost his stipend. So his request was for the priests to help him get a position as a guard at some foreign country’s consulate.

  “I don’t have the talents or the quick wit of someone like Hondō Shuntarō. I hear that he made a quick getaway to Yokohama and is up to something there….” There was spite toward Hondō in his voice.

  Striving to contain his amusement, Father Laucaigne promised Itō he would try to find him work. When the man left the Nambanji, the priest spotted another man climbing up from the shore. It was Seikichi.

  Itō, walking with his head down and engrossed in thoughts about his own future, didn’t see Seikichi coming from the opposite direction. But when Seikichi spotted Itō, he quickly hid himself behind the trunk of a camphor tree. Once the man was gone, he scrambled up to the Nambanji.

  “Father Petitjean!” Happy but breathless, he called out for the priest. He did not know that Petitjean had left Japan for a brief time.

  Laucaigne came outside and, reflexively calling out in French, “Quelle surprise!” gave Seikichi a bear hug. Not one Kirishitan had come to the church since the terrifying crackdown. Seeing Seikichi made Laucaigne’s joy all the sweeter.

  “We’re being watched,” Seikichi began. “Every single day, there’s someone hiding out at the end of the Togitsu Highway. They’re constantly watching to see where we Kirishitans go.”

  Seikichi’s report on his experiences in prison, his release, and his return to the faith came gushing out of his mouth like the words of a man who has had no one to talk to for a very long time. Laucaigne summoned his brethren, Father Cousin and Father Ridel,3 to hear Seikichi’s account.

  “But since the magistrate’s office shut down, they’ve let up on following us…. I think the officials don’t really know how to deal with us. After all, I hear that the magistrate himself has gone missing.” Seikichi seemed pleased with himself at the final comment and grinned as he spoke, showing his white teeth. He was brimming with the confidence and feelings of victory that came from belonging to a group of impoverished farmers who had won out over the magistrate.

  “Padre, everybody’s waiting for you to come. We want to receive the Mass. And some children have been born, so they want you to baptize them.”

  “Tell them I’ll come by night as soon as I can,” Laucaigne agreed.

  As they conversed, the priest sensed someone behind them. When he turned to look, he saw Kiku standing a bit away from them, watching them intently. No—Laucaigne quickly realized she was not watching “them”—only Seikichi.

  How much she must love him. Laucaigne and Petitjean were well aware of what was going on. They noticed that Kiku hadn’t missed a word they’d said about the Kirishitans who were in prison, and they knew that Kiku was secretly praying for Seikichi’s safety to the statue of the Blessed Mother in the chapel.

  “Kiku.” Laucaigne beckoned to her. “Come here. Seikichi, Kiku has been continuously concerned about your welfare.”

  Kiku stiffened, lowered her eyes, and did not move.

  “Kiku, why don’t
you go out to the garden and have a good talk with Seikichi?” Laucaigne tactfully signaled the other priests with his eyes, indicating that they should leave the young lovers to themselves. The French priest thought it would be best for Seikichi and Kiku to talk together alone, just as young people in France would do.

  But—

  Once the priests in their display of tactfulness disappeared, Seikichi and Kiku felt even more constrained and embarrassed and said nothing to each other.

  Kiku could have talked freely with him if he were just the Seikichi who came peddling in front of the rear door of the Gotōya. And Seikichi would have been able to speak to her without reservation if he could have thought of her simply as a young woman who, like him, was from Urakami.

  But their mind-set now was quite different. The letter he had received from Kiku while he was in prison had given him a sense of her single-minded ardor. And even before her expulsion from the Gotōya, Kiku had realized just how completely he consumed her thoughts.

  Fully cognizant of their own feelings, they looked away from each other with an almost angry look on their faces.

  “So I understand you work here.” Seikichi sullenly asked the obvious.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I imagine the padres are kind to you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  They lapsed into silence again.

  Suddenly Kiku spoke. “The prison … I guess it was pretty difficult.”

  “Hmm. It wasn’t all that bad, I wasn’t there by myself. And the magistrate didn’t treat us so badly.”

  “But I heard you were tortured terribly.”

  “Yeah, it took its toll. But I was able to bear it by thinking about the sufferings of the Inferno.”

  “But, Seikichi, are you sure you won’t be punished for coming like this to the Nambanji?” Kiku looked up worriedly at Seikichi. She did not mention to him that every day she had been petitioning, pleading, cursing, railing at, and complaining to the statue of the Blessed Mother Mary in the chapel. It was, after all, too embarrassing for her to confess….