Kiku's Prayer: A Novel

by Shusaku Endo

  He weeded, he drew water, he loaded merchandise from the store onto a cart, and he delivered it. His only free time was during meals, and then he was fed in a corner of the kitchen separate from the family and the other employees.

  Thanks to him, the burden was lifted considerably from the female employees, including Oyone, Tome, and Mitsu. All they had to do was ask, “Kuma-san, would you mind?”—even with chores that were difficult for them, such as fetching water or chopping wood—and he never complained.

  “Well, of course he doesn’t. We picked him up off the street, didn’t we?” Oyone said, but somehow Mitsu couldn’t help feeling sorry for Kumazō.

  “Isn’t he from Urakami?” Oyone asked Mitsu.

  “He says he was born in Sotome, but his accent is like somebody from Urakami,” Mitsu observed.

  For whatever reason, Mitsu felt certain that Kumazō had come from Urakami Village. He was certainly not from Magome, so he must be from Nakano, or perhaps Motohara …?

  “That Kumazō isn’t a Kuro, is he?” Oyone and the Mistress began to have suspicions about him. On one occasion, the Mistress had asked him, “I don’t suppose you’re a Kuro, are you?”

  Kumazō’s complexion changed abruptly and in a loud voice he disavowed: “A Kirishitan? No, I’m no Kirishitan. I hate the likes of them!”

  “Well, then, that’s fine. We don’t like Kirishitans here, and we made the decision we wouldn’t hire any Kirishitans no matter what the circumstances,” the Mistress nodded, relieved.

  Not long after Kumazō began working at the shop, summer arrived. Summers in Nagasaki are scorching. Some nights there is no breeze at all after the sun sets. On those nights, one could hear people throughout the house fanning themselves and turning over in bed, time after time.

  Autumn began; it deepened, then turned to winter.

  Employees at the shop received only two days of vacation during the New Year festivities. That was sufficient for someone like Oyone, but there was no way that Tome from the Gotō Islands could go home and back in only two days.

  “Tome, why don’t you come home with me?” Mitsu decided to invite Tome to her home in Magome. Tome was delighted.

  They worked until late on the first day of the year, finally getting time off on the second. Tome and Mitsu left Nagasaki together early in the morning.

  Near the summit of the Nishizaka Hill, they passed several women heading toward Nagasaki from the direction of Urakami. The women moved in a line, and as they walked along they chanted words that Mitsu could not understand.

  “They’re Kirishitans,” Tome told Mitsu. Tome knew that there were homes in Gotō where people recited oraçiõ in that manner.

  The Kirishitans that Tome and Mitsu crossed paths with on the Togitsu Highway were, of course, women from Nakano and Motohara. They were headed for the Ōura Church to seek the Lord’s help on behalf of their husbands and sons and brothers who had been transported far, far away.

  Back home after a long absence. Though it was a mere two days, everything about it—with one exception—was joyful and comfortable for Mitsu.

  The only thing that bothered her was that Kiku was nowhere to be seen. Her parents wouldn’t even mention Kiku’s name, as though it were somehow taboo. Perhaps Kiku’s relatives felt ashamed toward the other villagers for having produced a girl who had, of all things, fallen in love with a Kirishitan boy.

  But when the two-day holiday came to an end, on the morning when they had to return to Nagasaki, Granny called for Mitsu and asked, “Would you give this … to Kiku?” She furtively produced a bundle of dried persimmons. “And tell her if there’s anything she needs, I’ll have Ichijirō get it to her…. Tell her that, will you?”

  “OK.” Mitsu nodded, almost in tears. She was overjoyed that Granny did, after all, worry about Kiku.

  She returned to the Gotōya that evening with Tome.

  “Well, aren’t we just the little princesses? Getting yourselves a little chance to rest up,” Oyone said sarcastically, but Mitsu and Tome both were used to her insults.

  “This morning we ran into some Kirishitan women on the Togitsu Highway,” Tome told Oyone.

  “Probably the wives of the exiled Kuros.”

  At that moment, the sound of the ax chopping firewood in a corner of the kitchen abruptly stopped. Kumazō was silently listening in on their conversation.

  His face seemed to contort with inexpressible anguish. He stared at the ground, struggling against the pain of his loneliness, but when he noticed Mitsu looking at him, he quickly raised his ax once again.

  Once the New Year holidays were over, Mitsu, making sure the Mistress and Oyone didn’t discover them, persuaded Tome to dash with her early one morning to deliver the dried persimmons from Granny to Ōura.

  Kiku was sweeping in front of the gate of the Nambanji, just as she had at the Gotōya. Catching sight of Mitsu climbing breathlessly up the hill from the beach, she shouted, “Mitsu!” and rushed to her. Mitsu gave her the dried persimmons, exchanged only a few words of conversation with her, and then with painful reluctance announced that she had to get back to the shop.

  “Mitsu.” Just as Mitsu was leaving, Kiku suddenly blurted out something unexpected: “If you come to see me again, I may not be here.” She whirled around and disappeared inside the Nambanji.

  After glancing over her shoulder to check the spot where Kiku had gone, Mitsu raced back to the Gotōya. She was worried by what Kiku had said as they parted. Did it mean she shouldn’t come too often, because Kiku was busy? Or did it mean that Kiku intended to leave the Nambanji and go somewhere else? It was hard for Mitsu to decide what it meant.

  Kiku herself was struggling to decide. Should she follow Seikichi and go to be where he was?

  Listening in on conversations between Petitjean and Laucaigne, she found out that the priests had received word that the Kirishitans—113 of them, including Sen’emon and Seikichi—had been taken by boat to Shimonoseki, but they seemed to have no information about what had become of the men after that. They did not know how much farther the prisoners might have gone after they were carted off the boat at Shimonoseki.

  One morning, Kiku abruptly went to say good-bye to Petitjean. “I’m sorry I’ve been nothing but trouble.” Stunned, Petitjean asked, “Kiku, if you leave here, where will you go?”

  “Sir, I haven’t thought about that yet. But I’m going to find out where Seikichi is.”

  “What are you saying?” Petitjean emphatically shook his head. “If we can’t find out where he is, there isn’t any way that you’ll be able to track him down, Kiku. Stay here for a while longer. The number of padres here is increasing, and we need at least one other person to look after them. If you stay here, we’ll surely find out where Seikichi has gone.”

  Kiku listened without responding. In her heart, she felt that what Petitjean said was true.

  To begin with, she had no money to travel to Shimonoseki. Even if she did make it there, how in the world would she go about locating him?

  And so summer ended and fall came. Autumn foliage flourished around the Ōura Church. Seeing the Chinese bellflowers and the wild chrysanthemums, Kiku longed from the depths of her heart for her home in Magome. But more powerful still was the yearning to see Seikichi.

  Each day as she cleaned the chapel, she hurled words of rage at the statue of the Blessed Mother Mary. “You’re really a horrible, devilish woman! Now that you’ve separated Seikichi and me … are you happy?” She had no one else on whom to vent her anger, her resentment, and her sorrow other than to fling them at this statue.

  “You’re a devil of a woman!”

  Yet, for a devilish woman, the statue of the Immaculata merely stared back at Kiku mournfully.

  “I won’t be asking the likes of you for any more help. I’m going to find Seikichi myself!” she said spitefully.

  Then one day in the ninth month, Father Laucaigne came to her beaming with news.

  “Kiku. Kiku! We’ve found out where Seikic
hi and the others are! They’re in Tsuwano of Iwami Province. Do you know it? Tsuwano?”

  Kiku listened to the words in utter amazement.

  Tsuwano of Iwami Province.

  Raised in the sleepy village of Urakami, she had no idea where Tsuwano might be. It certainly sounded like a place far, far away.

  But now it was affirmed that however far away, Seikichi was alive and living there. What was he doing that very moment? What was he thinking about? Was he thinking of me?

  What if they weren’t giving him anything to eat, and what if he were ill? What if he were being beaten by guards at the prison?

  With thoughts such as these, not even brandished weapons could hold Kiku back. “I have to see him!”

  A few days later she walked out of the church and down to the beach that skirted the bay. With a leaf clenched between her teeth, she closed her eyes and tried to let the sound of the waves calm her surging emotions.

  But the ardent desire to rush to Seikichi drove her to walk along the beach toward Nagasaki. Though there was no likelihood of meeting up with Seikichi in Nagasaki, she could not sit still.

  The streets of Nagasaki were bustling that afternoon. She continued walking aimlessly until she came to the Dōza-machi district where many Chinese people lived.

  When she reached Dōza, she saw Chinese men and women standing in front of their houses conversing. One of the houses was a butcher shop where pigs’ heads hung from the rafters, while another was a Chinese ceramics store stocked with vases and plates. In the street some men were stretched out on wooden platforms where they were being poked with acupuncture needles.

  Kiku swallowed hard as she studied the unfamiliar surroundings and started up a hill toward Maruyama, walking along a street that smelled of cooking oil.

  “Young lady!” Someone abruptly called out to her. A man with yellowed teeth stood there alone. “Young lady!” he called. “Young lady … do you by chance work at the Gotōya? … I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere near the Gotōya.”

  “Yes, I worked there,” Kiku nodded cautiously.

  “That’s what I thought…. So you’re out on an errand today?”

  “No … I’m not at the Gotōya anymore.” She spoke quickly and tried to walk away.

  “Is that right? You quit, did you? What are you doing now?”

  “Sorry, I’m in a hurry.” She gave a slight bow and picked up her pace. But the man seemed headed in the same direction, and he followed her.

  “Where do you work now?” he had the nerve to inquire.

  “Me? I’m at the Nambanji in Ōura.”

  “Where the foreigners live?” The man’s eyes flashed with curiosity. “You’re a Kirishitan, are you?”

  “No.” Kiku was becoming uneasy at this man’s familiarity, and with an aloof look she headed into the entertainment quarters at Maruyama.

  “Young lady, I can get you a job a lot better than working at the Nambanji,” he called unexpectedly from behind her. “Why don’t you come with me, young lady? You don’t need to be afraid of me. Why, I’ve helped out those foreigners at the Nambanji where you work.”

  Kiku was trying to ignore the man and his words, but his last remark pricked her curiosity.

  “No, you haven’t!”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you. Those foreigners spent a lot of time searching for Kirishitans hidden here in Nagasaki…. And I helped them.”

  Kiku had heard from the other priests how Petitjean had walked the streets of Nagasaki until he found Kirishitans.

  “You really did?”

  “I really did. That’s why I’m telling you that I can get you a good job.”

  “What kind of job?” Kiku stopped walking and peered into the man’s face. Truth be told, she was desperate for some money. Enough money to travel to be near Seikichi. The money to go to a place called Tsuwano … She was provided with food and a place to sleep at the Nambanji, but they didn’t give her enough money to do that….

  “Will you wait here for a minute?” The man left Kiku standing there and disappeared into the Maruyama throng.

  What should I do?

  Confused, she remained at the side of the road.

  To abandon the Nambanji—she felt it wasn’t fair to Petitjean and Laucaigne, who had always treated her with kindness. But she couldn’t remain there forever. Nothing would change if she stayed there. Seikichi had been shuffled from Urakami to some distant place. And the foreigners at the Nambanji hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

  “Well, you’ve waited here patiently!” The man came scrambling down the hill, and once he determined that Kiku was still there, he looked behind him and called to someone, “Ma’am?”

  A middle-aged woman nodded at his words and followed him down the hill.

  “Ma’am, this is the girl I told you about. With just a little polishing, she’ll be a real prize. You don’t see many girls this pretty these days.”

  The woman studied Kiku and smiled affably at her. Then somewhat forcefully she said to the man, “Why don’t you leave?”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You’ve introduced me now, so just leave.”

  Grudgingly the man disappeared.

  “Now, dear,” the woman spoke gently to Kiku. “You look so very sad…. Have you had some troubles?”

  “No, no troubles.” Bewildered, Kiku shook her head.

  “Well, that’s fine, then…. But if you walk around the streets in Dōza or Maruyama with such a gloomy face, you’ll have lowlifes like that fellow who brought me here calling out to you. You’ll be all right now that I’m here, but if one of those bad men got hold of you, they’d sell you off.”

  “Sell me off? Really?!”

  “Really. The slave traffic has picked up lately.” The woman smiled and nodded. “I understand you’ve been working at the Nambanji.”

  “Yes.”

  “And why were you with those foreigners?”

  This level-headed woman did not seem like a bad type to Kiku, but she still did not respond to the question.

  The woman peered at Kiku and said, “Why don’t you come with me for a bit? Have a cup of tea and then you can go back to Ōura.”

  Kiku was escorted to the Yamazaki Teahouse in Maruyama.

  “Ma’am, what is this place?” Kiku was taken and seated in front of a rectangular hibachi brazier, and her eyes opened wide in wonderment at the delicious flavor of the steamed cakes she was served. Having never in her life eaten anything sweet other than dried persimmons in Urakami, this was a new taste experience for her.

  “It’s a Chinese pastry called xiang bing.” As the woman poured tea for Kiku, she kept carefully examining the girl’s face. The almond eyes. The tiny lips. There was no doubt she would make money for them once they shined her up a bit.

  “Now, why did you say you were working at the Nambanji?”

  Kiku could no longer avoid giving a response. As Kiku explained her situation, the woman listened carefully, nodding along the way.

  “You’ve had some painful experiences, too, haven’t you? The man you love being a Kuro … and then being taken off somewhere far away.”

  “Ma’am, what kind of place is Tsuwano?”

  “Tsuwano is the domain of Lord Kamei. Just think of it as being between Yamaguchi and Matsue.”

  That still gave Kiku no idea where Tsuwano was. She narrowed her eyes and seemed to be gazing at something far in the distance.

  “And you’re sure this Seikichi of yours is in Tsuwano?”

  “Yes. That’s what the foreigners at the Nambanji said.”

  “Kiku … It was Kiku, wasn’t it? Why don’t you work here for a while? Some very important men from the Nishi Bureau in Nagasaki come here for entertainment. We often see such men as Lord Inoue and Lord Matsukata. You could get to know them and then plead with them for Seikichi’s life.”

  In spite of what this woman said, Kiku’s mind was in commotion. She felt as though working here would be a slap in the face to Petitjean or
Laucaigne. But since it was all for Seikichi …

  TSUWANO

  TSUWANO, IN THE province of Iwami.

  Unlike Nagasaki, there was no blue ocean anywhere in sight. It didn’t matter which way you looked: there were mountains to the east, mountains to the west, and mountains to the south. Among them were Tokusaga Peak, Mount Aono, and Shiroyama, which was crowned by a castle.1

  It was summer, and the mountains were still blanketed in green when Seikichi and the other men were brought here from Shimonoseki, accompanied and guarded by Itō Seizaemon from the Nagasaki government office. Pure white cumulonimbus clouds drifted up from the shadows of the green mountains. In a tiny basin surrounded by these mountains squatted a village as serene as a napping pet.

  Here was none of the liveliness found in the bay of Nagasaki, where boats were always coming and going. There was not a single Westerner with strangely colored hair and eyes, or even a Chinese person to be spotted. Instead of the bustling traffic, this village was subdued and still, and irrigation canals reflecting the sun’s rays traversed it in all directions. The villagers washed their clothes and themselves in these canals, and throngs of carp swam in them, the sounds of their splashing deepening the silence of the town.

  Lord Kamei, who had been daimyo of this province until the end of the shogunal reign, worked to foster men of talent through an emphasis on education and training, and as a result Tsuwano produced a succession of scholars and literati. It is well known that such men as Nishi Amane and Mori Ōgai2 were brought up here.

  Tsuwano was chosen as the place of exile for twenty-eight of the Urakami Kirishitans because Kamei Koremi, the former lord of the domain, had expressed to the Meiji government his opinion that “the Kirishitans should be converted through the use of reason,” and it was determined that this approach should in fact be attempted here in Tsuwano, enclosed by mountains.

  Sen’emon, Seikichi, and twenty-six other prisoners were sent to the Kōrinji Temple, a vacant Buddhist temple on the outskirts of town.