A Thousand Stitches

by Constance O'Keefe

  “Come, come, sit down,” said O-Hana, moving pieces of the rubble to arrange seating for Michiko and Shotaro. Once she had everyone settled, she ducked back inside the cave and reappeared holding a dented canteen. “Mugicha is just what we need in heat like this,” she said, tipping some of the liquid into battered cups and handing them around.

  As they sat and sipped the cool barley tea, Shotaro told the old couple about his aunt and uncle, the trip from Haruyama, and their encounter with the gangsters. O-Hana and Shun were shocked but not surprised. They talked about how dangerous everything was and how they wouldn’t go out after dark. They explained that they were using the cave to conceal what they had found scavenging. As they talked, Michiko realized that Shun knew everything there was to know about scavenging and possessed the skills that in just one day she and Shotaro had learned were now crucial to survival. All the years O-Hana had worked at the hospital, she and Shun had lived together in the tiny custodian’s room on the ground floor of the hospital. Shun had gone out during the day, working as a collector of scrap metal. “We were lucky, that the doctors thought so well of O-Hana that we had such a nice, safe place to live,” he said.

  O-Hana explained that after the hospital was bombed, Dr. Ashikaga, who had taken Shotaro’s father’s job as head of the internal medicine department, decided, once the surviving patients were transferred to other hospitals, that he would go to Hiroshima to volunteer. Shun looked at Michiko and Shotaro and asked what they knew.

  “Not much really,” said Shotaro. “We only know what we heard in the speech—that and rumors, of course.”

  “Well, there are all sorts of rumors, and even a bit of information on the radio now,” said Shun. “But I think the doctors know more about what really happened. I was with Dr. Ashikaga at his house when he got a call from a colleague in Okayama who had spent a week in Hiroshima. Dr. Ashikaga said he just had to go. His colleague told him that the center of the city was completely obliterated and that those who died were the lucky ones. People were burned and injured beyond what we can imagine. Dr. Ashikaga didn’t spend much time thinking about it. He packed up and left—the day before.…” He hesitated, finally concluding with “the broadcast.”

  O-Hana took up the story. “After the raid when your dear father and mother were taken, Dr. Ashikaga sent his wife and daughters to the country, to her family in Shiga. He didn’t want his house left empty while he was in Hiroshima, so he asked us to stay there. And now you’ll stay there with us.”

  Shotaro hesitated for just a moment, but rather than the usual refusals that etiquette demanded, he merely said, “O-Hana, Shun, thank you. We would be delighted.”

  “Wonderful,” said Shun. “And now that that’s settled, Shotaro, I hope I can persuade you to help me with my scrap business. I’m getting too old to manage all by myself.”

  As Shotaro was nodding, trying to decide how to answer, O-Hana said, “Shun, give them time to get settled. Then we’ll talk about business.”

  Shun laughed. “Yes, we should wait, but,” he said as he reached toward Shotaro, “let me see that piece you have tucked in your belt. It’s chrome. You have a good eye. I can get you a good price for that.”

  All four of them went together to the Ashikaga residence, Shotaro helping Shun carry four more pieces of scrap metal that materialized from the old man’s underground hiding place.

  Dr. Ashikaga’s fine house, another ten minutes past the hospital, sat behind a tall wall. The thick, dark rhododendrons in the garden were an inviting green, but they were wilting in the heat.

  O-Hana unlocked the entrance gate. They walked through the garden to an old carriage house. Shun said, “The doctor wanted us to stay in the house, but my stubborn wife insists on staying here.”

  “But now,” said O-Hana, “that Shotaro and Michiko are here, they’ll stay in the house, so there’ll be no chance that anyone will think it’s abandoned. And Shun,” she said, turning to her husband, “I’m not stubborn.… Not stubborn. I just knew they were coming,” she concluded with a triumphant laugh.

  After Shun and Shotaro added the scrap to a neat stack against the wall of the carriage house, O-Hana led them into the kitchen at the back of the main house. She took the lid off a large wooden bucket and spooned rice into four bowls, added pickles and some dried fish.

  When they finished dinner, O-Hana and Shun went back to the carriage house. Michiko and Shotaro walked through the house, through the lovely rooms of a family that had managed to hold on to most of its possessions. Shotaro lingered in Dr. Ashikaga’s study, running his fingers over the medical texts. They found a room upstairs that they decided was a guest room and spread out the futons that were stored in the closet.

  After breakfast the next morning, Shun announced that the first order of business was a trip to the ward office to inquire about the status of the Miyazawa property. They all set out together. Again, even though it was early, the heat was oppressive. It took more than a half-hour to reach the ward office.

  There was one clerk behind the public inquiry desk. Michiko, while waiting for her eyes to adjust, felt her knees buckle. Suddenly, all the exhaustion of the last week overwhelmed her. O-Hana was at her side before she realized she needed help, leading her to the bench along the wall. The clerk looked them over, but rather than acknowledging them, turned back and bent his head over the newspaper spread out over his desk. After they helped O-Hana settle Michiko, Shun and Shotaro walked to the counter and waited. The clerk took a last drag on the cigarette in the ash tray on the desk and finally looked up again. “Yes,” he said.

  “I would like to get a copy of the deed to my family’s property. It was bombed early in the year, and I’ve just now returned from the country.”

  “And you?” the clerk sneered at Shun.

  “Just here to help out my friend,” said the old man companionably.

  “Give me the address,” the clerk said languidly, turning again to Shotaro.

  Shotaro wrote it on the piece of paper the clerk pushed across the counter.

  “I’ll get the book,” he said, and disappeared into the rows of shelves behind the desk. Much more quickly than they expected, he was back.

  “It’s gone,” he said, pleased to deliver bad news.

  “Gone?” said Shun.

  “The whole book is missing. There’s a note that it was requisitioned by City Hall in April. It never came back.”

  “Damn,” said Shun. “Let’s go.”

  Shotaro bowed to the clerk, who shrugged, watching Shun walk through the door, and turned back to his desk with another smirk.

  When the others caught up with the old man, Shotaro said, “Thank you, Shun. I’m sorry this was a waste of time. I’ll try City Hall later when I have time.”

  “No, there’s no point,” said the old man. “City Hall was hit last month. There’s nothing left. Who knows if the records are really gone, but they might as well be. The unsavory types always survive and flourish. I don’t think there’s anything you can do now about the property.”

  Shotaro limped alongside Shun, O-Hana and Michiko walking behind them.

  “O-Hana and I will help you, and you and Michiko will help us. We’ll survive together. We’ll work extra hard so those people can’t hurt you again.”

  The next day, O-Hana took Michiko and Shotaro out with her. They made the rounds of the open-air markets. In just the few days since the war had ended, they were taking on the trappings of permanency. Michiko and Shotaro were surprised at how many people O-Hana knew. She introduced them to everyone, smiling with pride each time. As they walked back, O-Hana said she was especially glad they had met Nishida-san, a cheerful woman who was selling foodstuffs. She had gotten to know Nishida-san after the hospital was bombed and had taken a great liking to her. O-Hana considered the day a success. She had deftly traded two pairs of shoes and an old padded cotton jacket for a large bunch of beets and a whole kilo of rice. O-Hana had added those ingredients to others she was storing at the
Ashikagas. For dinner, she produced green vegetables and even bits of pork. It was a feast.

  When they finished, O-Hana looked over at her husband for assurance and then turned to Michiko and Shotaro. “My dears,” she said, “my Shun and I have a proposition for you. Neither of us is getting any younger, and we’ll all have to work if we want to eat. Could we persuade you two to help us? Michiko, will you help me? We could be in charge of our daily provisions if Shotaro helps my Shun. Everyone’s a scrap man now, so he needs an edge to stay in the business and prosper. Shotaro would be a much better assistant than his old wife. What about it?”

  Michiko felt Shotaro beside her take a deep breath. He put down his bowl and chopsticks, pushed his chair back, and stood up before bowing deeply to Shun and O-Hana. “If you would be so kind as to let me help and if you would teach me what to do, I would do my very best and be eternally grateful,” he said.

  Michiko joined him bowing and said, “And I would too, of course.”

  “Sit down, sit down,” said Shun as he gave Shotaro a big smile and reached across the table to slap him on the back. “Good, now I have a partner.”

  Michiko was watching O-Hana beam at Shotaro and her husband. Then O-Hana turned to look at her, winked, and said “So, we’re all set.”

  The next morning, true to his word, Shun collected Shotaro and off they went. By the end of a week, Shotaro had met all the dealers with whom Shun traded, and his good eye had grown much more sophisticated. Shotaro learned who could be trusted and who couldn’t; who was powerful and who was dangerous. It was clear that the gangsters who had set up shop on the site of the Miyazawa home were no anomaly. They, more than anyone else, had what it took to succeed in the new world Japan’s defeat had hurled them all into.

  As the heat abated and autumn approached, they established routines. Shun and Shotaro were up early and out collecting. O-Hana and Michiko packed them the lunches they ate on the run. They made the rounds of the wholesalers in the afternoon and collected more on their way home, making sure they were back before dark.

  Michiko and O-Hana went out every day. They almost always had enough money or something to trade and thus were assured that they had enough to eat. Michiko and O-Hana found that they spent more and more time with Nishida-san, who often had good produce for sale. They were surprised when Nishida-san was selling candy one day. When Michiko asked, she said she had made it herself the night before. A discussion about Michiko’s parents’ shop followed. Within the week, Michiko was helping Nishida-san make candy every morning, while O-Hana minded Nishida-san’s stall at what was by then a sprawling black market. Michiko and Nishida-san joined her in the afternoon. The candy was so popular it usually sold out in an hour or two.

  One day in October, Nishida-san told them that she would be away for a day or so. She was going to her hometown in Mie Prefecture to see what more she could get to sell in the city. When she came back, she had lots of new produce and told them that she was planning to go to the country every two weeks.

  When it was time for the next trip, she took Michiko with her. But for the presence of cheerful, confident Nishida-san, Michiko felt she would have been overwhelmed, as she was in Haruyama, by the suspicious locals and the claustrophobic provincialism of the country town. But Nishida-san had her roots in Mie, and her shrewd, impersonal bargaining style and no-nonsense attitude served her well with the country people, who complained ceaselessly and dramatically about the poor harvest. Michiko stuck close to Nishida-san, anxious and smiling. But, she realized when they staggered off the crowded train back in Osaka, she was learning how to bargain.

  Autumn closed in, and winter approached. Late one November afternoon, they all arrived back at the Ashikaga residence at the same time, O-Hana and Michiko proud that they had extra rice with them and proud too that they could report that they had managed, with Nishida-san’s help, to get a supply of kerosene for the heaters. They would be prepared for the cold weather. Shun and Shotaro were tired. They bragged about how much they had collected and sold that day and listened as the women described their triumphs. Shun said he was especially pleased about the kerosene and then, with a flourish, produced an apple from his pocket. He laughed when he saw the surprise on Shotaro’s face and the pleasure on his wife’s and Michiko’s. “You didn’t notice, did you, Young Master?” he said.

  “No,” said Shotaro. “Where…? How did you…?”

  “Oh, I’ll keep that my secret,” said the old man. “But we’ll all enjoy it now.” He pulled out his pocket knife and deftly peeled and sliced the apple, distributing the pieces. Michiko bit into the piece he handed her and tasted autumn, crisp and cool. She saw the same pleasure on Shotaro’s face and thought, not for the first time since they arrived in Osaka, how lucky they were. They had each other, and together they would have a future.

  The next day, Michiko and O-Hana arrived home about an hour after Shun and Shotaro. Shotaro told them that Shun was sleeping and explained why. As they worked, Shun had complained that he was tired. They finished early, and on the way back from the wholesaler where they sold everything they had collected, the old man grew short of breath. “Shotaro,” the old man had said, “I believe I have to rest.” He stumbled and then sat on the low wall at the edge of a property about two blocks from the Ashikaga home. Shotaro sat down by the old man and was alarmed to see how pale he was.

  “Shun, does it hurt?”

  “Just a bit, my young friend.”

  “On your side, down your left arm?”

  “Yes, just a bit. It feels like I’ve fallen under a big package.”

  After Shun had sat for about ten minutes, he fell asleep.

  Shotaro knelt in front of the wall, reached behind himself, and pulled the old man onto his back. He was outside the gate at the Ashikagas before Shun woke up.

  “Put me down Shotaro,” he said, indignantly. “What are you doing carrying me?”

  “We’re home now,” Shotaro said, setting Shun down. “I want you to lie down and rest. And stop arguing with me.”

  “Fine, fine,” said the old man. He leaned heavily against Shotaro until they reached the carriage house. He allowed Shotaro to ease him onto the bed he and O-Hana had built along one wall. Shotaro left him there and returned in a few minutes with the kerosene heater from the kitchen. Shun protested only feebly as Shotaro lit the heater.

  O-Hana rushed to her husband’s his side and Shotaro walked Michiko to the kitchen in the main house, talking to her while she prepared their dinner.

  “I’m certain he’s had a heart attack,” said Shotaro. “There’s not much I can do for him other than make him rest.”

  O-Hana took her dinner and Shun’s back to the carriage house and fed her husband there. After dinner, Shotaro and O-Hana talked for a long while. When they crawled into their futon upstairs, Shotaro told Michiko that O-Hana had told him where another of his father’s former colleagues was living. “I’ll go first thing in the morning to see Dr. ­Hagiwara.”

  The next morning, Shotaro was up and out before dawn and brought the doctor back with him in the first light. Dr. Hagiwara was well over seventy and was dressed in an immaculate suit that had been fashionable twenty years earlier. He examined Shun and ordered him, over the old man’s strenuous objections, to stay put for at least a week. After he finished, Dr. Hagiwara walked Shotaro out to the garden. “Yes, you’re right. He’s had a heart attack. It could have been worse, much worse, but he’ll have to rest completely and then when he wants to work again, you have to be sure that he doesn’t take up his old work again. It’s simply too strenuous.” He handed Shotaro a supply of medicine packets. “See that he has one each morning and one when he’s ready for bed. Let him sleep as much as he wants.”

  Shotaro went back to Shun’s bedside, and Dr. Hagiwara went to the kitchen, where O-Hana and Michiko were waiting. He accepted a cup of tea from O-Hana and said, “My dear O-Hana, your Shun is quite ill. He needs to rest and can’t work so hard anymore. I’ve told young Miy
azawa all of this and how to care for him. I’m glad you have these young people here with you. Otherwise, I’d worry about you and Shun. Still no word from Dr. Ashikaga?”

  “No,” said O-Hana. “Thank you for all your efforts on behalf of Shun. We’ll be careful. And when we hear from Dr. Ashikaga, we’ll let him know you were asking for him.”

  When Shun recovered enough to be up and about, the four had a meeting over dinner. Michiko and Shotaro reported on what they had decided, and even though they protested, the older couple agreed to reallocate the tasks of their little family. O-Hana would go collecting with Shotaro. Shun would go to the market in the morning while Michiko and Nishida-san made candy, and then stay there in the afternoon when they joined him there. “Your job will be to look tough so no one bothers the women,” said Shotaro. “And you can put all of your bargaining skills to good use too, my friend.”

  The letter from Hiroshima arrived in mid-December. Shotaro read it for Shun and O-Hana. Dr. Ashikaga said he planned to travel to Shiga to celebrate the New Year holiday with his wife and her parents. He would then bring his wife and daughters home to Osaka. The university hospital was on the Occupation’s priority rebuilding list and he was coming back to supervise. He made it clear that he and his wife wanted Shun and O-Hana to stay at his home until the hospital was rebuilt.

  The next afternoon, Shun was grinning when Michiko and Nishida-san arrived at the market. When Michiko asked why, he said, “I have news. But I want to tell you and Shotaro together. So you’ll just have to wait.” Nishida-san sent Michiko on an errand—she had forgotten the turnips she had promised one of her customers. Michiko made the trip to Nishida-san’s house to retrieve them.

  When Michiko arrived back at the market, breathless, Nishida-san too was grinning. She was now in on Shun’s secret, but she too refused to tell Michiko anything. “You’ll hear soon enough,” she said.

  That evening, O-Hana had dinner ready by the time Shun and Michiko arrived back at the Ashikagas. Shotaro, who had worked alone that afternoon, came in a few minutes later and joined the group around the kitchen table once he had washed up.