She guessed that there was no use asking Iso about it. Despite Tatsuya's happy-go-lucky personality he was, after all, a man, and so perhaps he might have heard something. With this in mind, Ichi casually tried to worm a hint out of him, but he knew no more than Iso. He was so open in manner that he did not arouse in her even a suspicion that he might be hiding something. All he said was, "When the time comes, we'll be able to find out all about it. It's nothing to worry about."
Like Ichi, Tatsuya had been captivated by the baby as soon as it was born. Iso's fondness for the child was understandable, given that it was her first grandchild. But Tatsuya's love for the baby was rather out of the ordinary, and things often happened which made Ichi burst into laughter as she watched him. Only ten days after the baby's birth he began to sit beside Nobu and talk to her. Ichi told him that the baby could not see a thing, but he refused to believe it.
"I don't think that's possible. Sure she can see! Look, when I move, she looks in that direction, doesn't she?"
"That's called 'distinguishing objects.' It's just that her eyes are attracted by light and shadow."
"Maybe that's usually the case. But since Nobu was born ahead of time, she's getting wisdom ahead of time. Look—she's laughing, isn't she?"
So Tatsuya behaved, and if Ichi said nothing he would talk to the baby for hours. Gen had advised them not to hold her too much, but once it became safe to hold her (around the time when the frost began to settle) he wanted to hold her so often that Ichi had a difficult time refusing him, which she did with the remark that it would not be good if the baby got into the habit of being held. However, since Tatsuya began helping Josuke in the fields shortly thereafter, matters improved.
Long afterwards Ichi found out that Tatsuya had years earlier given up making a living as a samurai and had been thinking of becoming a farmer if the opportunity presented itself. It was with this hope in mind that he had stopped Josuke and chatted whenever the old man had shown up. The two of them had made some plans for Tatsuya to become a farmer, and Tatsuya said that he had often visited this place to study the land for that purpose.
Salvation by a coincidence is not so unusual in life. Tatsuya's acquaintance with Josuke might have been a complete coincidence, but thanks to this coincidence Ichi had been able to give birth to her child safely with Gen's help and the family had been able to slip through the fingers of Toneri Otaka's clique, even though this place was not very far from Ogaki. This coincidence was something so valuable that it could even be said that all the help they had received and all the subsequent events resulted from coming here.
However, Ichi did not yet understand Tatsuya's feelings, and she even felt relieved that now her child was bothered less. But Tatsuya would come to hold Nobu as soon as he returned from the fields, as if he did not want to waste even the time spent in washing his hands.
"Were you lonely, Nobu?" he would ask. "Hmm, hmm, so you were lonely, I know, I know." He would make eyes at her while he talked. "When does she start walking, sister? Would New Year's be a bit too early?"
"Much more than a 'bit' too early," Iso answered, dumbfounded. "She simply can't walk before her first birthday, even if she's capable of walking earlier."
"Maybe that's usually the case, but since Nobu was born fifty days ahead of time ..."
"You're always saying that, Tatsuya, but actually it's the other way around," said Iso. "The rule is that a child born prematurely will be slow in growing. You've misunderstood the saying."
"Sure, maybe that's generally the case, but ..."
"There's nothing 'generally' or anything else in these things. By the way, what are you holding to your chest? It's falling out."
At these words Tatsuya hurriedly pressed his hands to his chest, but something slipped from his hands and fell to the ground.
It was a small pair of woven straw sandals attached by red thongs to clogs.
Footnote
* In old japan, only samurai families and a few merchants and farmers who had performed distinctive service for their lords were permitted to have family names. Most farmers were known only by their given names. If someone once had had a family name, it was therefore an indication that he came from a distinguished family.
Part Three
10
ICHI DID not begin going to Minojin House in Shimada village until February of the following year, although she had conceived the idea during the preceding fall.
One day, after Nobu's birth, she had seen wagons piled high with something that looked like grass. They passed the house at frequent intervals, and Ichi asked Gen what the grass was and where it was going. Gen's explanation was that it was toshin, or wick grass. Most grass, she continued, was made up into the straw mats called tatami, but toshin was used by the workers at Minojin House to make flower mats, straw mats into which designs were woven with dyed rushes. The work required a special weaving machine, technique, and materials, and it was not easy to do. A flower mat was regarded as an unusual and expensive object.
Ichi herself had seen such a mat once, at the home of the roshoku Iki Toda. It had been about the size of two tatami, with a border of interwoven swastika patterns and a center motif of leaves and a peony-like flower. She remembered that its lines were generally crude and inaccurate, and she had not regarded it as beautiful.
"We could earn some money if we wove this kind of thing," Gen said. "But it's a job which requires patience, and some people are good at it while others aren't. Some people from this village are hired to work at Minojin House, but they never stay long."
Gen spoke as if to herself, but Ichi took the words as a hint. For some time she had been thinking of earning her living at a suitable job. She could not entertain the hope that her husband was still alive, and even if the family was allowed to return to the Kugata home, Kyunosuke or Tatsuya would be the head of the household. Things would have been different if her child had been a boy, but since it was a girl the question of succession was practically cut and dried. Moreover, since her hope of returning to the clan was uncertain, the best thing would be to plan on earning her own living and to forget completely about other possibilities for the time being.
The difficult point was the question of whether Ichi, who had been brought up in a life of ease, would be able to support the family. But Ichi did not think it would be that difficult. Her father had often said that if a person sticks for ten years to a single thing he is determined to achieve, he usually succeeds at it. An example of this was the story of a samurai, Sawada, who was a vassal of the Okumura family.
Sawada had begun in middle age to learn painting, and after studying for ten years had finally succeeded and become a good painter. Soon he left the Okumura household and took up residence in Osaka, where he gradually became popular and was sought out by numbers of students. Finally he started a separate school in Kyoto which also served as his workshop.
This vassal was a dull-witted, stupid man who had been unable to write his own name well before the age of thirty. People could find in him no keen perception or dexterity for painting, and even after he had begun his studies nobody had dared to say for sure that he would be a success. All this had happened before Ichi's birth, and she had not known him during this period. But since he came every year from Osaka to present New Year's greetings to her parents, she had often seen the taciturn, courteous, fat old man since his success. The painting of the four seasons on the six-fold screen which Ichi had brought with her to the Kugata home was his work. Her father's remark had made a deep impression on Ichi, especially after she had become acquainted with the painter. That a man unable to write his own name had yet become a painter was quite rare, but it nevertheless seemed to Ichi that his example was one of the things supporting her in her determination.
Her mother-in-law expressed disapproval, and did not quickly give her consent, saying that Ichi should not have to go to such lengths. Tatsuya was quite unable to express an opinion. But Ichi explained her idea to them quietly, and begged a
little, saying, "If I do this maybe my feeling of depression will lift." The presence of a wet nurse for Nobu—a great convenience and the strongest argument of all—was a help. When Iso approved, Ichi immediately asked Gen to act as a go-between to take her to Minojin House after New Year's.
Shimada was on the bank of the Makida River, about two and a half miles to the northwest, and it had a landing stage called Karasue. It was the departure and arrival point for boats plying between Kyoto, Osaka, and Edo via Kuwana, and although it had few houses it was a prosperous, lively place. Minojin House, the first house this side of the village, consisted of three separate buildings set on four acres of land fenced in with willow trees. The willows looked peculiar, but the external appearance and the interior of the buildings were even more eccentric. The main house was three stories high and had a thatched, mountain-shaped roof. The two other buildings looked like large, long boxes to which roofs and windows had been added.
"It's a very strange-looking house." Ichi looked around for a while with a feeling of wonderment.
"The master of the house is really an eccentric person, and he built his house to suit his personality," Gen answered. "People say there are many disturbing things about his way of life." She was leading Ichi to the main house as she spoke.
A large number of thick lacquered pillars about three feet square surrounded an unfloored area. Then came a shiny black floor which resembled a two-stepped platform and which extended as far as the back room. Ichi and Gen passed through the shoji* near the entrance and into a 12-mat room with an earthen hearth, apparently a conference room.
Here Ichi met the elderly chief manager, Mankichi, and was shown around the workshop. This consisted of the two box-like buildings, one of which was used for dyeing the rushes while the other served as the weaving room. The dyeing room was large—over a thousand square feet—and was divided into two areas. Bottles of dyes and chemicals stood on the ground, and the partition above them served as the drying area. To the left and right were clapboard walls about eighteen inches thick, made of cryptornería board. Through the use of windlasses, each board could be moved into an oblique position to leave open spaces through which the wind could freely pass.
A large fireplace stood against the partition between the dyeing and drying areas, and someone explained that in the rainy season and in winter the mats could be dried by the heat from the fire. At this moment an old woman crouching in front of the fireplace was poking at logs as big as her arms. It was explained that the heat from the fireplace did not immediately pass through the roof, but went through tubes under the floor to warm the room and was then forced out through the walls. Crosspieces were installed at lintel height, and the dyed rushes were hung in closely packed rows. Ichi listened to the man's voice in the sour-sweet odor of drying grass and dyeing materials. She felt their hot dampness steaming up from the floor. Perspiration stood in beads on her forehead.
Five women were weaving mats in the weaving area in the other building. Twelve weaving machines stood on a spacious plank flooring, but only five were in operation, and the man said that the others were idle because weavers could not be found. Two of the women were young, another was only a teenager, while the other two were middle-aged married women. Only the young girl seemed to be absorbed in her work ; the other four appeared to have no interest or eagerness. As Ichi turned to go after her inspection of the room, one of the middle-aged women raised her husky voice and began to sing :
If the mountain is burned down,
The mother bird will escape.
There is nothing more precious
Than her own life.
Ichi returned to the main house and was told over tea about wages, working hours, and holidays. Mankichi, having likely learned something about her life from Gen, treated her courteously and even seemed anxious for her to come to work there.
"For some reason we're in a stalemate," said the elderly chief manager, who bore some resemblance to Josuke, "but we feel that with an effort we can make a comeback. Anyway, it's the kind of job that has good prospects."
He looked at Ichi as if wondering what she was thinking. His small face was old and withered; only his clear eyes radiated a kind of power.
There was a lifeless, stagnant atmosphere throughout the house. Ichi could even sense a kind of deterioration, and it gave her an unpleasant sensation. But inspiration had come to her as she looked at the types of goods being woven. She also felt she could not refuse Mankichi's request heartlessly. After thinking it over for three days, she decided to take the job.
The night before her first day of work, Josuke and his wife cooked the red rice used for celebrations and prepared sweetfish with rice jelly. But they also expressed the fear that perhaps it was poor breeding to celebrate the first day of work by a samurai's wife.
"Then you're really going to start weaving flower mats tomorrow, sister?" Tatsuya asked, smiling. "I'm working in the fields and you're weaving flower mats. A great sight, isn't it?"
"You're awful, Tatsuya. You shouldn't call such a thing a great sight. It's exactly the opposite," said Iso.
"Oh no, mother," said Ichi smiling. "I think it's exactly what Tatsuya says. Don't you think we can call it a great sight if Tatsuya becomes a fine farmer and I have a shop for weaving flower mats ? I really do intend to become the owner of a weaving shop."
"It might be all right . . Iso mumbled, and lowered her eyes. The hand holding the chopsticks seemed to tremble—but perhaps that was just Ichi's imagination.
Ichi could guess approximately what her mother-in-law was thinking. The samurai customs and the honor of the Kugata family name were deeply rooted in Iso's mind, and even now she hesitated to do things considered out of bounds.
If her life up to now has been her real life, it's really difficult and painful for her to leave it. If I were a little older, I might not be able to give it up so easily either. Ichi sympathized with her mother-in-law and realized that she herself must be cheerful and brave to change the older woman's way of thinking.
Then her new life began.
Footnote
* Shoji : a lightweight sliding screen used as a divider.
11
ICHI'S confused, restless life, exacerbated by her difficulties in getting used to the weaving machine, continued into spring. She tired easily and found it difficult to put up with the unpleasantness generated by her lack of harmony with the other weavers.
Since four more weavers had joined the group after Ichi, the unfriendly situation in the workroom was gradually improving. But two of the original employees—the woman who had sung the song and another housewife who seemed to be her best friend— constantly directed nasty looks toward Ichi and never hesitated to be mean to her or backbite her within earshot. There was no real reason for their behavior, only their resentment of Ichi's samurai background and the kindness shown to her by the owner, Teijiro, and old Mankichi. Ichi felt they would come around with time. In contrast, her problem with the owner would only grow worse.
One of the reasons for Ichi's decision to become a weaver was her desire to make a patterned flower mat of a new type. The products she had seen on her first visit differed little from the one she had seen in Iki Toda's house. Ichi wanted more designs in her work and more intricate beauty of both pattern and weaving.
About a month after her arrival she spoke of her desire to Mankichi and worked on patterns of her own design. Mankichi told the owner and then informed Ichi that Teijiro wanted her to concentrate exclusively on this job. But since she had no idea of what the result would be, and out of consideration for the other women's feelings, she decided that for the time being she would work on her mat at another machine for only two hours every afternoon.
One rainy March day, when the mountains and fields were hidden in the mist of dancing rain drops, Ichi walked through the Minojin House gate and headed for the weaving room. She inclined her umbrella slightly and glanced at a person standing in front of the main house.
&n
bsp; "Oh!" she cried. A shudder rose from the soles of her feet through her body, and she almost stopped breathing.
It was her husband.
A purple light sparked before her eyes. Ichi started to run toward him but went down on one knee. As she staggered forward, throwing aside her umbrella, the man began running toward her.
"What's the matter?" He took Ichi's hand and helped her up. Of course it was not Shinzo. In fact, the man bore no resemblance whatsoever to her husband. It was Teijiro, the owner of Minojin House.
"Did you stumble? Are you hurt?" Teijiro picked up her umbrella. A person of about thirty-five, he was thin, pale, and sad-looking, and Ichi was struck by his look of exhaustion and his extremely long, thin fingers.
Why did I mistake him for my husband? she wondered. He bore not the faintest resemblance to Shinzo, but when she closed her eyes the man she saw standing in front of the main house was not Teijiro but Shinzo. The powerful impression which had overwhelmed her at that moment remained with her for some time. Her heart beat faster, a strange feeling of paralysis overcame her from time to time, and she spent the entire day in the grip of a restless, uneasy feeling.
A few days after this incident Mankichi came to tell her that the master wanted to talk with her.
Ichi's heart beat fast. In answer to her question why, Mankichi said that Teijiro wanted to ask her about the work. Since she could think of no pretext for refusing, she went with Mankichi to the main house.
They entered the unfloored area of the house, the area Ichi had glimpsed on her first visit. Mankichi pushed open a shoji at the back of the room, and they went into a large central hall which contained a stairway.
The Flower Mat Page 7