Zen Attitude

by Sujata Massey

  My vehicle passed them, so I could no longer observe. The damage was done. Something inside me had been permanently crushed under the wheels of the rikisha. I took a gulp of sake and listened to Akemi chatting to the people around us. Despite her costume, everyone knew who she was; there were some respectful references to her gym, which she made into self-deprecating jokes.

  I remembered all the Kamakura townspeople who had greeted Akemi enthusiastically when we’d gone into town for dinner. She seemed equally at home with the people on parade. Everyone was chatting about what was going to happen next, Akemi’s father’s forthcoming speech at the parade’s ending point near the Hachiman Shrine. Abbot Mihori and other dignitaries would speak, followed by local children reciting prayers they had written to the festival’s goddess.

  “The beginning is pretty boring,” Akemi told me. “The only thing I really enjoy is the archery demonstration. I fantasize about an arrow being shot in a certain direction.”

  Was she thinking about her cousin Kazuhito? I grew nervous again, remembering that Kamakura was a prime place for assassinations. An extremely famous murder had taken place here in 1219, when the young shōgun Sanetomo of the Hojo clan was beheaded by a jealous relative. Most people believed the killer had been his nephew, but there were plenty of conspiracy theories about the others who might have hidden inside the massive gingko tree that stood to the left of the shrine stairs and jumped out to do the deed. It was an unsolved death with family links, just like the Ideta-Mihori saga.

  The parade ended at the ornate red entrance to the Hachiman Shrine. We decamped, and I stood next to Akemi amid the other rikisha. riders. Akemi’s father stood on a stage with several other Buddhist priests, as well as some Shinto priests, who wore more elaborate, skirted costumes and wonderful headdresses. The mayor of Kamakura and some other city officials were on stage wearing sober business suits. There wasn’t a woman among them.

  “I can’t believe he gets to speak first.” Akemi’s voice grated in my ear, and I followed her gaze to see Wajin, resplendent in the brilliant turquoise robe, step up to the microphone. I realized now that the robe was not a costume; he was of higher temple rank than I’d assumed.

  “Good evening. On behalf of Abbot Mihori and the entire religious and business community of Kamakura, I welcome our esteemed visitors to a celebration of Tanabata.” Wajin bowed deeply. He sounded warm yet authoritative, speaking in a powerful, low-pitched voice I hadn’t heard him use before.

  “On behalf of the family! How sweet.” Akemi’s complaining chorus was irritating; I tried to tune her out and translate Wajin’s words.

  “This star festival provides us a unique opportunity to celebrate the summer season and also explore the meaning of ancient native myths. The Tanabata festival began with noblewomen who wrote poems and wishes on strips of colored paper that were tied to branches of the sacred bamboo tree. These prayerful branches were offered to the star goddess Orihime, who was known for her skill as a weaver. Orihime was engaged to marry her true love, Kengyu, the cowherd living on another star. Does anyone know the rest of the story?” He smiled at the group of primary school students in summer sailor suit uniforms, but no one dared speak.

  “When Orihime fell in love, she stopped weaving. Her father, the emperor of the sky, did not approve. Maybe he was afraid of losing his little girl.” As Wajin spoke, his eyes swept the crowd and landed on me. I’d been stupid to tell him I was wearing a fox mask, but surely others were wearing such masks, too.

  “The emperor banished the pair to opposite sides of the Milky Way. The lovers are allowed to meet on just one night each year. Tonight is that night, when they will run across a bridge built by birds to be together.”

  A flock of pigeons that had been roosting on the shrine’s tiled roof chose that moment to lift off and circle over the stage, their wings beating up a storm. Had Wajin willed them to move? Nothing would surprise me after he had erased my black eye with the touch of his finger.

  Wajin glanced upward, smiled, and then looked straight at the crowd. “Tanabata is a magical night. May all your dreams come true. First we will have a recitation of prayerful wishes from members of the first grade at Kamakura Primary School. . . .”

  Akemi nudged me. “We don’t have to listen to the stupid children. Let’s go over to the archery area before all the good seats are gone.”

  “I like children.” I was also tired of being yanked around.

  “Princess Orihime, I hope your family is in good health and your father is not angry anymore. Please help me pass my kanji examination. Guess what? I love you!” a round-faced little girl with pigtails recited.

  “Very well said by young Michiko Otani. Do any little boys have wishes or prayers to offer?” Wajin said.

  “I can’t stand Kazuhito when he’s like this, so phony. If you knew the real guy, you’d be as disgusted as me,” Akemi muttered.

  “Kazuhito?” I asked dumbly.

  “My cousin, silly, the one who’s been talking! He thinks he is so important he doesn’t even bother introducing himself anymore.”

  When Akemi turned on her heel and started pushing through the crowd to go to the archery field, I followed, trying to put the facts together. Kazuhito was the man I knew as Wajin.

  “I think I’ve seen your cousin around, but I thought he had a different name,” I said. “Isn’t it Wajin?”

  “Now it is Wajin. According to Buddhist custom, monks are given a name with Chinese roots instead of Japanese when they are fully initiated. The kanji characters used to write the old and new name are identical, but the name is pronounced differently.”

  Looking at Akemi’s cousin’s name written in kanji on the festival program, I saw that the two pictograms making up his name were simple enough that even I knew them: “peace” and “person.” Peaceful Person was the perfect name for a man of Buddhism. And I was inwardly glad that Wajin hadn’t lied about his name to me. I was also impressed that he chose to work in the garden, given his high status.

  We reached the archery zone, a long, fairly narrow dirt roadway that was already filled with men dressed in samurai armor readying their horses. Akemi grabbed a folding chair in the front row, and I sat down next to her.

  “I thought Wajin—I mean, Kazuhito—was the frail type. Angus saw him faint the first day I came to go running with you.”

  “He is delicate. A real wimp,” Akemi said.

  “Doesn’t he work in the garden?” I asked cautiously.

  “Gardening’s not difficult! He says he works at every job within the temple so he can understand what the monks go through. That’s what he tells my father, but I think it’s because he gets easily distracted. He looks for chances to be outside and talk to people, when he really should be more silent.”

  That did sound a lot like the Wajin I’d met—who wouldn’t leave me alone. He’d been in his element giving a speech to the crowd. Hearty applause sounded after Wajin’s last words, and the crowd rose en masse and began sweeping toward the archery range. I had limited time to speak privately, so I asked Akemi, “Is Kazuhito phony, or is he just extremely skilled at getting along with people? I’m sorry he will eventually get the temple and everything, but perhaps he is not so bad.”

  “You think I’m jealous! I thought you understood me. After all I’ve done for you!” Akemi had gotten to her feet and was staring at me in horror.

  “Shhh, let’s talk about it later,” I said. The seats around us had filled so fast it was now standing room only. I was worried people would lean in and listen to Miss Fox and Miss Bear’s fight.

  “Forget it. If you don’t recognize how dangerous that bastard is, you’re doomed,” Akemi said, taking one last look at me and storming off.

  The seat next to me was filled in a scant half second with an eight-year-old boy anxious for the sports to begin. He squirmed in his seat, fussing with a tamagotchi toy like the one Yoko Maeda’s granddaughter had been playing with.

  “Are the arrows really sharp?
Will they hit us?” the boy asked his father, who was hovering behind me, perhaps in the hope I’d give up my seat.

  “Why are you wearing a fox mask?” The boy looked at me petulantly and began knocking his tamagotchi against my thigh.

  “It’s a folk tradition to wear masks at Tanabata,” I began patiently.

  “Are you a boy fox or girl fox?”

  “Girl, actually.”

  “But you have hair like a boy! And your voice is weird.”

  “I’m from another country.” I looked to the boy’s father for help.

  “My son is very rude. I apologize. . . .”

  The whole thing was beginning to irritate me. I hated the mask, too. I lifted it up, releasing my damp face to the fresh air, glad that Akemi was not around to stop me. I said to the boy, “I’m female. See?”

  “You’re sweaty like a construction worker. And construction workers are boys!”

  I sighed, glad that the tournament was finally beginning and the child would have some real men to focus on.

  “My tamagotchi! You knocked it on the ground!” The boy pummeled me.

  “Shhh, look at the knights on their horses,” I said, wishing his father would take some responsibility. “All the pretty horses!”

  At a sharp command, the costumed riders urged their horses into a slow canter toward each other, a speed determined by the shortness of the field.

  “Otōsan, make her give it to me!”

  The father muttered an apology to me, but I gave up and bent down. The plastic egg had rolled off my leg and somewhere under the chair. My long yukata was complicating the search. As I groped between my ankles, I was surprised by a rush of air and an odd, vibrating collision.

  “An arrow, Otēsan! A real arrow!”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw what the little boy was talking about—a foot-long metal arrow quivering in the back of my chair.

  Chapter 21

  Had I been sitting upright, the arrow would have hit me between my breasts. I barely had time to contemplate that horror before I sensed another speeding blur. I fell forward, yanking the annoying boy underneath me for his own safety as another arrow hammered my chair.

  The awful vibrating sound of the arrow was almost masked by the stampede. The boy’s father had finally taken action, wrestling his child away, and everyone around us was screaming and knocking over chairs in their haste to get out of the target area. People ran straight onto the field where the archers had all called their horses to a halt.

  “Stay calm,” the announcer screamed into a bull-horn. “No archer on the field has shot any arrows. The arrows have come from somewhere else. Please stay calm!”

  I wasn’t sticking around to find out who the shooter was. I kicked off my treacherous sandals and merged into the crowd. I ran blindly, passing the panicked majority and the concession stands, wanting to get off the shrine grounds and to a place where there were no flying arrows.

  “Run, Forrest Gump! Run!” Angus Glendinning called as I whizzed past his position near the Asahi beer booth. I didn’t pause, but in my peripheral vision I saw Hugh drop his arm from around Winnie’s shoulders. So he’d recognized me.

  I was no longer concerned about his new romance. Was the archer behind me? I didn’t want to look when I heard someone running behind me. I withdrew all the things Akemi had taught me about pacing and sprinted as fast as I could along the path where the rikisha had traveled.

  I would have made it if my bare foot hadn’t landed on nettles. In the second I paused, a body slammed into me.

  “Your stride is ex—ex—excellent.” Hugh was panting hard.

  “Get off me before it’s too late,” I pleaded from my position underneath him.

  “What a coincidence that you’re at the festival! Now I know why Angus was so bent on coming here.” Hugh’s short breaths landed on the back of my neck like small explosions.

  “Okay, you found me. Go back and hold hands with Winnie.” I twisted, trying to get him off me.

  “You’re blowing things out of proportion! I only had my arm around her to keep from getting separated in the crowd. She’s like an older sister to me.” Hugh wouldn’t let go.

  I bucked sharply underneath him, causing him to groan and grab for his groin. I hadn’t hurt him badly, just enough to help restore my dignity. I sat up, pulling my robe together again and feeling along the sore patch on my foot.

  Hugh dug around in his pocket and pulled out his Swiss Army Knife key chain. “Use the tweezer attachment, okay? But it’s getting too dark to see.”

  I thrust the key chain back at him. “I can’t stay here any longer while I’m under attack!” I told him in a few sentences what had happened at the archery field. “It wasn’t one of the knights on horseback, because the arrow came from the wrong direction. It was someone else.”

  “Come back to Tokyo with me.” Hugh was already pulling me to my feet.

  “I can’t. Everything I own is at the teahouse. I have to go there tonight.”

  “Lead on, then, because I’m not leaving you. Not tonight.”

  A few days earlier I wouldn’t have shown him the teahouse, but now I thought of it as my last refuge. The walk that night was especially slow with my sore foot and no flashlight. When we finally reached the woods, Hugh started muttering about poison ivy. A small, mangy animal ran into the path and stared at us with cold yellow eyes, Hugh grabbed at me for support.

  “What is it, a hound from hell?”

  “It’s called a tanuki. It’s just a Japanese raccoon dog.”

  “Have you really been staying here? How do you even get inside?” Hugh asked when we reached the ruined teahouse.

  “These windows are like doors. But only one works.” I slid the shoji aside and climbed into my small room. After Hugh followed, I slammed the screen closed and lit the citronella candle.

  I noticed a large paper shopping bag from the Union Supermarket standing in the middle of the room. I opened it and found the street clothes I had left in Akemi’s shower room. She’d dropped it off so I wouldn’t have to come to her the next day to get it. If she’d had time to drop the bag off, she couldn’t have shot at me on the archery course.

  “This is as bad as your old place in North Tokyo. But more minimalist.” Hugh didn’t pay attention to the bag; instead, his gaze wandered over the worn futon and the decrepit tatami. “I gather there’s no kitchen. Do you even have a loo?”

  “I use the ladies’ room near the temple grounds. Or, in times of desperation, I go in the woods.”

  “Well, at least you have the pocket phone. Thank God for that. In fact, I need to make a call.”

  Disappointed beyond words, I watched him punch in a phone number. “I just paged Angus. He’ll call me back.”

  “Angus got himself a pager? Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?” I asked.

  “I’m renting it for him,” Hugh snapped. Soon enough, the pocket phone rang and he answered. “Angus? Er, I called to ask a favor . . . would you go back to Tokyo with Winnie? I’m tied up.”

  Angus must have given him an earful, because Hugh listened with a downcast expression and then handed me the telephone. “He wants to say hello.”

  “Well done, Rei!” Angus drawled. “Now that Shug’s out of the way, I’ll arrange to have Winnie exterminated. I heard there’s a mercenary running around with a bow and arrow.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Keep my brother for the night, okay? I’ll go back with Winnie, but after that I’m going to be out. Make sure he doesn’t call the flat, and don’t tell him that I told you so, all right? I don’t want to hurt his brotherly feelings.” Angus clicked off.

  Poor Hugh. Of course I wasn’t going to tell him Angus didn’t want to be with him and was probably going to throw a rave at Roppongi Hills or stay out all night getting in trouble.

  “I’m incredibly thirsty. What have you got?” Hugh asked.

  I waved him toward the corner where I kept my collection of fru
it and bottled water.

  “Angus told me the festival’s collapsed. Police are crawling all over the place, and all the tourists are fighting for space on the trolleys so they can get back to the train station,” Hugh said after he’d poured the warmish water into two tea bowls for us to drink from.

  The thought came to me that the shooter might have fired into the crowd to cause mass hysteria. I couldn’t think of a better way to embarrass the Mihoris or ensure the festival would never be held again. I voiced my feelings, but Hugh brushed them aside.

  “Come closer to the candle and show me your foot.” He was flexing his Swiss Army Knife tweezers. “You were the target. How convenient for Akemi to set you up in the first row and then leave.”

  “It was only because we fought that she left.” I flinched as he pulled out the longest nettle first.

  “You mean you fight with other people besides my brother and me?”

  “I said something about her cousin, and she went ballistic.” I wiggled my foot, but he held on to it.

  “You’re talking about the vice abbot who had a seizure? The one Angus saved? We saw him tonight.”

  “Where?”

  “He was standing on stage giving a speech we couldn’t understand. Then some kids came up to recite something, and he and Akemi’s father moved off.”

  “Toward the archery demonstration?”

  “I didn’t see. There were too many people around, and Winnie was nattering about wanting to buy sausage on a stick.” He looked at me. “Sorry. You look hungry.”

  I was actually having vulgar thoughts about the kind of sausage Winnie really wanted, but I just said, “I’m always hungry. I can’t store food here because of the ants.”

  “Do you want some roasted chestnuts? I’d just bought some when you ran by.” He pulled a crumpled paper package out of his shirt pocket. “Chestnuts and water. One of our more bizarre candlelight dinners.”