Aegean Intrigue

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Aegean Intrigue Page 8

by Patricia Kiyono


  “I’m sorry, Andy and Leigh, but I can’t read this.” He set his glasses down on the side table and sighed. “My parents spoke Japanese to us, but my brothers and I went to American schools so our main focus was learning to read and write in English. I know just enough to get around when I go to Japan, but a lot of these characters I’m not familiar with. Why don’t we go and see Mr. Kimura? He should still be awake.”

  * * * *

  “Kimura-san,” as his acquaintances called him, was a close friend of the Tanaka family. He had come to America from Japan in the late 1960s as an instructor of ikebana, the art of Japanese flower arranging. He quickly became close to the Tanaka family through their mutual work with flowers. Even now, Andy's family included him in their holiday gatherings. Mr. Kimura lived in a retirement home close by.

  “Kon-ban wa—good evening, Tanaka-san. Andy, what a nice surprise. And Leigh, too. What brings you out here this evening?”

  “Kon-ban wa, Kimura-san.” Kenjiro, Andy and Leigh bowed and offered the traditional Japanese greeting.

  Leigh eagerly gave the explanation for their visit. “Andy found an old chest in his parents' storage shed. This scroll was inside, and we wondered if you could translate it for us.”

  “I will try. It has been so long since I have done any reading in Japanese, I have probably forgotten many characters. Let me find my reading glasses, and I will see what I can do.”

  Leigh helped the older man find his glasses and Andy set Mr. Kimura’s wheelchair next to a table lamp. He started to read, but fussed about the lighting, so Andy brought another lamp over and plugged it in. The reading was laborious, and more than once he consulted an old Japanese character dictionary. Finally, the man set the scroll down.

  “This is a letter from a man named Hiromasa Tanaka—I’m assuming he's an ancestor of yours—to his son, Yasahiro. It is a moving letter. I'm not sure of some of the characters, since the letter is faded from age, and it's written in an old style of the language. You may have to check with a linguist to get the exact meaning of some phrases. But I will tell you what I know.”

  Kenjiro sat in an upholstered chair. Andy and Leigh settled on the floor in front of the old man and waited eagerly for his story. Mr. Kimura regarded each of them solemnly, and then focused his attention on Kenjiro.

  “Hiromasa Tanaka was a samurai soldier. He came from a family of samurai. It says here he always knew he disliked fighting, and at the end of the samurai age, he was actually relieved, even though he didn't know what he would do. It wasn't until he met his wife in the far north, that he knew what he wanted to do with his life. He became a farmer, and established a successful flower farm.

  “He had been raised with the samurai code of honor known as the bushido, and he believed it was this code that helped him to prosper as a farmer and a businessman. He raised his sons with the same ethics. Apparently his eldest son, Yasahiro, came to live in America. He must have been the Tanaka who established Tanaka Farms in California.”

  Kenjiro nodded in agreement. “Yes, Yasahiro was my grandfather.”

  Kimura-san continued the story. “Hiromasa was, of course, sad to see his son leave the country, but on the other hand was proud of him for his bravery in going to a new land. Hiromasa had other sons who continued Tanaka Farms in Japan, but he observed the accomplishments of his son in America with great pride.

  “The letter says Hiromasa realized he was growing old, and feared he wouldn't have much longer to live. He wanted to give his eldest son his swords and other treasures of his life as a samurai, which Yasahiro was to pass down to his sons when they proved they were true keepers of the samurai code, or the bushido.”

  Leigh's breath caught. What a beautiful legacy! But she saw Andy's grandfather frown. Was something wrong?

  “So this would have been passed down from Yasahiro to his son Ichiro, my father,” Kenjiro mused. “And Father would have passed it down to my older brother, Michio. But Michio was killed in World War II. I was in college then, and my family was in the relocation center at Camp Amache in Colorado. I wonder when it was put away in the storage shed?”

  “It is hard to say,” Kimura-san replied. “Perhaps it was stored there before the family went to the camp, and later, in his sorrow, Ichiro didn't think to pass the legacy to you, his second son. It is rightfully yours now.”

  Kenjiro nodded. “It would seem so.”

  “Grandpa, are you angry that your father didn't give these to you?” Andy’s question echoed Leigh’s thoughts.

  Kenjiro turned to him, seemingly surprised. “No, of course not. My father was devastated when Michio died. We all were. I can understand why he didn't think to pass them on to me. I'm just sad this is mine because of my brother’s death.” He took a deep breath, and let it out. “But it is an honor to have it.” He looked at Andy again. “This will be yours someday. You are the eldest son of my eldest son.”

  Andy's chest swelled with pride. But then he had a thought.

  “Grandpa, I hope it's not mine for a long, long time.” At his grandfather's puzzled look, Andy explained. “It becomes mine when both you and Dad are gone. I don't look forward to that.”

  Astraea Press

  Pure. Fiction.

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