MYLEA: the journey begins (Mylean Universe Chronicles Book 1)

by Philip Elrod

  After endless days of waiting, he got his approval. His first task was to find a builder. This was not an easy task since the younger people had sought work in the cities. More days were now spent visiting with the older residents until he discovered that one couple had a grandson skilled in the ancient building processes. There would be no concrete, no modern insulation, and no plastic anywhere.

  It was then that Akiro had an epiphany. He would hire several of the elders to oversee the project and approve every step of the building. They would make a modest, but a respectable wage, which they could certainly put to good use and he would benefit greatly from their wealth of knowledge.

  At last construction began. The site was above the tree line in a location that would give him excellent viewing of the night sky. The cabin would be one large, multifunctional room with a storage closet and bathroom (one of the only concessions to modern civilization). The building was made of carefully selected native woods and topped by a tall, blue tin roof—another deviation from ancient traditions.

  All of the houses in the village originally had thick, thatch roofs. But, as time passed, and the younger villagers moved away to find city work, there was no one left with the skills and strength to replace the thatch periodically. Even though not traditional, the practical villagers opted to begin replacing the thatch roofing with tin. With the high pitch of the roofs, the new type of roofing proved to be quite attractive and certainly more sensible than the thatch.

  Akiro’s cabin sat with its back to the mountain. At the front, he had a large wooden deck built for his telescope and equipment. He added a small folding table and two chairs so that he could sit outside and enjoy the views of the mountain and the village below.

  It was peaceful beyond description, and he was delighted with the results of the construction project. The builders had been very careful not to disrupt or interfere with nature. In fact, the cabin was so harmoniously integrated into the environment that it was hardly noticeable from any distance.

  He obtained pure drinking water from a nearby spring. Water for other purposes was acquired by a rain collection system positioned at the rear of the cabin. A kerosene generator provided power. Two portable kerosene heaters provided warmth to ward off the mountain chill. As for insulation, there would be none. Japanese houses were traditionally constructed for ventilation and provided comfort in the summer months, but they could be most unpleasant in the winters.

  Akiro’s cabin was quite isolated, but he had no concerns that his supplies would be stolen. A thief would have to be able to carry his loot on his back for a great distance. The villagers were known for watching out for each other and were happy to check on the cabin frequently. He thought of them fondly as elderly snoops who loved nothing more than a little good gossip for entertainment.

  ****

  At last, he was ready for this last trip to the cabin before the rains set in. He loaded his Toyota Land Cruiser with all his gear and supplies and headed out of the city towards Kofu. The drive always gave him the opportunity to relax and forget, at least temporarily, the hustle and bustle of the city. With every quaint village that he passed, he breathed easier, and his excitement grew. The weekend would surely be wonderful. He could just feel the good karma.

  Although Hirogawara was quite isolated, its location at Mount Kita made it a popular spot for hikers and climbers accessing the mountain all year long. All these visitors once created horrific traffic and parking problems for the tiny mountain village. But now, thanks to some legislation by the prefecture, traffic between Kofu and the village was restricted to buses and taxis. Fortunately for Akiro, this didn’t present a problem. As a villager, he had the right to drive his personal vehicle all the way to Hirogawara.

  The tiny village was located sixteen hundred feet below the summit of Mount Kita. The population had already dwindled to less than a hundred inhabitants by the time that Akiro built his cabin. The tiny homes clung stubbornly along a ravine of the Katsura River.

  Many years ago, this part of Honshu was an important forestry area, and the village was much larger and more robust. The men worked as woodcutters in the vast forest surrounding the village. But, as has happened in many other countries, the forests were eventually depleted, and the population dwindled. Eventually, the only remaining villagers were the elderly who fiercely clung to their ancient traditions and lifestyle.

  The drive took about two hours. At last the village was in sight. Akiro drove through the village, waving at a few old timers as he passed. Just past the last house, he found his road, little more than a rough dirt track. Halfway up the trail, he shifted into the full-time 4-wheel drive mode for the steep and harrowing last part of his journey. The precipitous, rocky slope was replete at this time of the year with brightly colored alpine flowers that belied the danger of the beautiful area. At last, he could see his beloved cabin. Such a welcome sight. He stopped the car, carefully set the hand brake, and began to unload the Land Cruiser.

  After only two quick trips, all the supplies were sitting on the wooden deck beside the sliding door to the cabin. He unlocked the door, removed his shoes, and entered his tiny domain. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to appreciate the fresh evergreen scent of the wood.

  Akiro considered his cabin and its surroundings to be a sacred space. The majestic trees below seemed to reach toward the heavens in prayer. His tiny place was unspoiled, a constant source of peace and tranquility. Each time that he came here, he would solemnly perform a Shinto purification ritual to show his respect and reverence.

  First, he filled a small hand-carved wooden basin with pure spring water. Then, he used a wooden dipper to cleanse his hands and mouth. The remaining water was sprinkled ceremoniously about the cabin’s entrance while Akiro whispered a simple prayer of thanksgiving.

  The cabin was just as he had left it—scrupulously clean and neat; not a speck of dust anywhere. Akiro quickly changed into the mountain clothes that he kept there, checked and started the generator, and lit the kerosene heaters. The room warmed to a comfortable temperature quickly as he prepared a simple meal from a dry noodle mix.

  He didn’t mind the instant soup at all. That was just a small price to pay for life in such an isolated cabin, but there were some things that he just couldn’t sacrifice. Akiro removed a small bottle of his favorite Junmai sake from a cabinet and poured a portion into a wine glass. He almost always used a wine glass for his sake because he loved to enjoy the crystal clear appearance of this perfect rice wine.

  Junmai always made him happy. He had first tasted this hand-made sake many years ago. Back in those days, he could have never afforded such a luxury, but now, he made sure that a bottle was always nearby.

  After a few delicate sips, he sat back and looked around his cabin lovingly. Aaah! Life was good.

  How he loved this cabin! So beautifully crafted from native woods, yet so simple. He enjoyed every moment that he could spend here. There was no television and only inconsistent cell phone reception, and that suited him just fine. The beauty of the mountain, especially in the summer months, more than compensated for any lack of modern conveniences. The fact that his cabin was distant from the hikers and skiers on Mount Kita made him even happier. Solitude, perfect solitude—a luxury that few ever enjoy, particularly anywhere near Tokyo.

  After finishing his sake, he began his preparations for a night of stargazing. The telescope was a large piece of gear, and it required a substantial tripod to hold it steady. Akiro assembled his treasure on the heavily reinforced wooden deck at the front of the cabin. He had insisted that the deck be especially strong and well-set as tiny vibrations would disrupt his telescope’s effectiveness. He checked the equipment carefully since even the slightest bit of motion could cause more than a serious problem for this highly sophisticated equipment.

  After a final check of his telescope, he sat outside in the cold mountain air anxiously waiting as darkness crept its way across the valley and up the mountain. He was warm and
comfortable in his winter clothing, but just to top things off, he sipped on a cup of hot sake. It was a quality sake, but not Junmai; it would be sinful to heat that wonderful premium sake.

  He refilled his cup and enjoyed the warmth that spread through his body from the steaming beverage. Soon, tiny lights could be seen in the village below, reminding him of his boyhood and the twists and turns of life that had brought him here. He had survived a world war that left his nation in ruin, but he was resilient and resourceful. Eventually, he had built a business, and with it, considerable wealth.

  ****

  Shortly before the beginning of World War II, Akiro was born in the port city of Niigata on the northwest coast of Honshu.

  Akiro’s father, Hiroshi, existed only in the stories that he had heard from his mother and the few old and faded photographs that he had. Many times his mother had told him about her beloved husband and how he had been born into a respected merchant class family. They were not members of the wealthy elite, but they were well respected in the community and could verify their ancestry back through many generations. Akiro smiled at the memory of how his mother had stressed the importance of ancestry in making business contacts and arranging acceptable marriages.

  Even though his mother did not meet Hiroshi until she was grown, she never failed to describe his boyhood in glowing details. He was destined to serve his country in the Imperial Navy. His family made certain that he made excellent grades and developed strong leadership skills. At last, the family was thrilled to receive the news that he was to receive a distinguished appointment to the Imperial Naval Academy.

  Back in those days, Japanese military philosophy was based on the proud samurai code, bushido. Bushido, the way of the warrior, emphasized chivalry and honor above all else. Unfortunately, later, as military leaders became more and more powerful, they cleverly used the samurai code as a propaganda tool to instill absolute and unquestioned obedience to the Emperor. All young men were indoctrinated with the idea that they must serve and die without question. War was purifying, and death was a duty.

  Hiroshi thrived at the academy and graduated as a commissioned midshipman. Soon afterward, his parents decided that it was time for him to be married. They engaged a well-respected nakodo, or matchmaker, to find a proper wife from an acceptable family.

  Many candidates were carefully examined, and their lineage researched thoroughly. After what seemed to be a very long time, the nakodo respectfully presented the parents with a portfolio of young ladies who would be acceptable.

  After several formal meetings, a candidate was finally selected by the father. In truth, Hiroshi’s mother put firm but gentle pressure on the father until he made the “correct” choice. This young lady was from a merchant class family of impeccable family history. The nakodo assured them that the girl was most beautiful, talented, well bred, and submissive. She would be an asset to the family.

  The agreement was sealed, and the matchmaker made arrangements with the girl’s family. Eventually, after many discussions and negotiations, both families agreed on the union.

  The young naval officer could now meet his fiancée for the first time. He was quite apprehensive and wondered: Would she be ugly? Would she be bossy? What if she didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like her?

  A thousand questions tormented him until the fateful day of the meeting. Whatever his misgivings were, they wouldn’t matter. The deal had been finalized. His future was settled.

  Hiroshi saw Kioshi for the first time at a formal meeting of both families. All his questions and doubts instantly were swept away. She was quite beautiful with impeccable manners and a shy charm. After the prescribed formal engagement period, they were married in a traditional Shinto ceremony. The celebration was lavish, and the family and guests could only see happiness and success as a future for the handsome young pair.

  Not long afterward, Hiroshi was assigned to an aircraft carrier stationed in Niigata. Kioshi would stay with relatives there while he was away on active duty on the Hiryu.

  That December, the Japanese made an unprovoked and devastating attack on the American naval fleet at Pearl Harbor. Hiroshi, along with many others, secretly believed that the attack would bring shame on Japan. According to the ancient bushido code, one never attacked an enemy in such a manner. As an honorable warrior, you always made your intentions known to the opponent. An attack without warning would only bring shame and loss of honor.

  Why would Japan do such a thing? Tensions between Japan and Western countries had grown to the breaking point because of Japan’s expansionist policies. Now, there was an oil embargo and trade sanctions that were crippling the nation in its war against China. Those sanctions contributed to Japan’s decision to declare war on the United States

  Admiral Yamamoto carefully crafted his plan of attack, but there was one terrible flaw. There would be a formal declaration of war against the United States delivered in Washington. Thirty minutes later, the attack would begin. Unfortunately, the declaration of war was rather long and required a very accurate translation into English. That translation took much longer than expected, and the declaration was not delivered until after the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. That mistake in timing would result in an enraged United States. It caused an unprecedented fury and would eventually lead to the downfall and a devastating defeat of Japan. It would change the country forever.

  During the early days of the war, Hiroshi was promoted to the rank of lieutenant commander, kaigun shosha. But, he was never proud of that rank. He secretly felt shame about the attack on Pearl Harbor and could never accept that the bushido code of honor was ignored.

  Nevertheless, he performed his duties faithfully until a fateful day in June 1942 when his aircraft carrier along with four others, was lost in the huge naval battle of Midway. The Imperial Navy would never recover from that loss of untold numbers of airmen, ships, and naval personnel. Three long and bloody years later, the war would end with the utter destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by atomic bombs dropped by American military aircraft.

  Akiro was born shortly after the battle that took his father’s life. Kioshi was devastated by the loss, but she now had a beautiful baby boy. Like so many other grieving families, she made a tiny shrine in her little home to honor her lost hero. She would maintain that shrine until the day that she died, many years later.

  ****

  Twilight had now turned to darkness, and Akiro drank the last sip of his sake, now cooled by the mountain air. He continued to think of his mother and the father who was only an image in a few faded photographs.

  His favorite photograph of his father was one in which he was poised, proud and erect, in his full dress uniform. His right hand rested on the hilt of his katana sword. It appeared to have been engraved with intricate cherry blossoms and leaves. It had a bright gold tassel attached to the slider. That sword was somewhere on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean now along with the ship’s wreckage and the bones of the hundreds of airmen and sailors who were on board.

  Even as a small boy, Akiro had admired that sword and wished that he had it as a memorial to his father. It represented honor and service to the country. Later, when he was a man, he found an almost identical katana that he bought and placed reverently in a small ancestor shrine in his Tokyo condominium.

  Akiro and his mother stayed in Niigata during the war years. She believed that they would be much safer there than in Tokyo. She had made a wise decision.

  Akiro fondly remembered Niigata with its canals lined with graceful willow trees. Their drooping branches swaying in the winds reminded him of gentle ocean waves. There was always a great deal of activity because of the war. Many ships filled with military personnel came and went constantly. There was even a camp outside the city for captured enemies. He was very curious, but his mother forbade him to talk about it and certainly they would never go near the place or question what might be going on there.

  Akiro had a basic understanding that there was a wa
r going on. He saw the throngs of young men in military uniform that came and went from Niigata. He understood that many of them would never return to their homeland. His mother tried to protect him from the images of war and death, but she was not to succeed. The images and stories were always there, but they didn’t seem to tell the truth. His countrymen were always portrayed as heroes battling Western tyranny. Newspapers, movies, newsreels, and radio broadcasts constantly tried to keep the public in a nationalistic fervor.

  There were many shortages during those years, but Akiro and his mother survived with minimal discomfort. There were much fish in the sea, so they were seldom hungry. They didn’t need a car, so the gasoline rationing didn’t affect them. Everyone economized, made sacrifices, and offered prayers for the end of the war.

  After the war, Akiro was horrified to learn that he and his mother came very close to being victims of the second atomic bomb dropped on Japan. Niigata had been the original target. After much study and calculation, the target was changed to Nagasaki. Military leaders feared that Niigata was stretching the flying distance of the B29 flying fortresses that must deliver the bomb.

  Akiro would later be forever thankful for that decision that saved Niigata, but he would always grieve for the beautiful city of Nagasaki and the many that died there.

  At the end of the war, many of his countrymen accepted the defeat stoically. In their minds, they had fought with honor and courage. Losing was painful but acceptable since there had been no national loss of face.

  ****

  After the war, General Douglas MacArthur was in charge of the occupation of Japan. During those years, the nation became democratized and demilitarized. Women gained unprecedented rights and could vote, have an education, and even hold political office. It became acceptable for a woman to have a career and work outside the home, at least until they married.