The Street of a Thousand Blossoms (58 page)

But they weren’t the reasons Sadao hoped to perform the bow twirling ceremony; if he rose in rank, this tournament would be
his last opportunity to show his appreciation for the home Tanaka-oyakata and sumo had given him. He also knew Yokozuna Takanoyama could easily influence his selection as the bow twirler. Sadao decided to talk to him about it, knowing the best time to approach the Yokozuna was after his long, hot soak, when he was most relaxed.

The soaking room was still thick with steam when he brought in clean towels. Sadao bowed. “Excuse me, Yokozuna Takanoyama, I was wondering if I might speak to you for a moment.”

Takanoyama reached for a towel and dried off. “Of course, what is it?”

Sadao paused, and then said in one quick sentence, “I was wondering if you might mention my name to perform the bow twirling ceremony during the fall tournament?”

Takanoyama paused and looked at him. “I didn’t know you were interested in the performing the ceremony.”

“I am.”

“And have you heard the superstition attached to performing it?”

“Hai
, I’ve heard what the other
rikishi
say. I don’t believe it’s anything more than stories to pass the time.” Sadao swallowed. He’d heard that most of the wrestlers who performed the bow twirling ceremony were rarely promoted beyond the Makushita Division afterward.

“Some look at it as a curse,” Takanoyama added. “Do you want to take the chance?”

“Does the Yokozuna believe in such tales?” Sadao asked lightly.

Takanoyama smiled. “Let’s just say, I certainly wouldn’t challenge such tales, real or not.”

“I’m willing to take my chances,” Sadao answered. He wasn’t superstitious; he didn’t believe in curses or bad luck, just as he didn’t believe in good luck. He’d sat on the floor of his father’s bloodstained meat locker, while the world as he knew it at the age of six disappeared. He believed only in the moment, nothing before or after.

“And it won’t take away from your own training?”

Sadao smiled and bowed, “No, Yokozuna, I’ll train for the ceremony before or after practice.”

Takanoyama cleared his throat and gave his wet towel to Sadao. “We’ll see, then.”

Sadao didn’t look up when he stepped up on the
dohyo
and the referee handed him the bow, as Yokozuna Takanoyama had instructed him. “Concentrate on the task at hand.” In the first row were all the wrestlers from his stable, as well as Tanaka-oyakata and Yokozuna Takanoyama, who had stayed to see him perform. Sadao moved to the center of the
dohyo
dressed as an upper-ranked wrestler. He was already perspiring and his stomach churned. He knew that if he dropped the bow, it would not only bring him shame but he would have to pick it up with his feet. To touch the
dohyo
with his hands would mean defeat. He’d memorized the steps in his sleep, and now he grasped the bow tighter as he swung it in front of him and over his head in swift circular motions that grew in speed as he relaxed. He was in control, with the blur of motion in front of him and the whistling sound of air filling his ears like locusts. Earlier in the day, Sadao had won all his tournament matches and was likely to be promoted to the upper ranks before the November tournament. He was determined to prove the curse wrong. Sadao felt the bow vibrate in his hands and travel throughout his body. More than anything, he wished his parents could be there to see him. It was a moment he hoped would last forever, a moment that belonged entirely to him.

It began one morning with a queasy feeling in her stomach that quickly rushed up to her throat. At first, Haru thought it was something she’d eaten but it persisted each morning throughout the early
weeks of July until she could no longer ignore the fact that she was pregnant. She knew it was true by the way her body felt, a heaviness growing inside of her, a constant reminder that she was no longer alone. Haru moved through each day, both frantic and fearful. After Oshima, she and Professor Ito had seen each other for more than six months. They’d only been intimate a few times, enough for her to have to pay for her indiscretion. It didn’t take her long to realize loneliness and admiration weren’t good substitutes for love. So they had parted just before the waves of morning sickness began.

Haru leaned over the sink. She didn’t think there was anything left inside of her to come out. She would be returning to Tokyo at the end of the month. She could still easily disguise her pregnancy, but it would be just a matter of time before her family found out. If she calculated right, there was a certain irony in the fact that Aki’s baby was due at about the same time as hers; only her sister was happily married to Hiroshi. For just a moment, Haru’s stomach roiled at the thought. She wished, too, that she were the one married and looking forward to something as miraculous as a child growing inside of her.

Haru shook the thought away and tried to clear her mind of worries. She wondered if their children would like each other. When they were young, Haru was always secretly jealous of Aki’s resembling her mother in appearance, with her black-pearl-colored eyes and fair complexion. She was always beautiful. Her own likeness to her mother came in smaller, subtler ways that grew with age; in her mannerisms and the way she carried herself. She leaned away from the counter and caught her reflection in the window, seeing a face she was just growing comfortable with, wondering which of her features she’d find in her own child.

Haru felt another wave of nausea come over her and still couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She swallowed saliva, took a deep breath, and washed her face with cold water. There were ways to take care of an unwanted pregnancy, but none she could bring herself to do. She had to decide if she wanted to keep the baby or not. Until then, Ichiru didn’t have to know, and might never need to know if she just returned to Tokyo to live. Her thoughts ebbed and
flowed all morning as she ate rice crackers to settle her stomach. It was finally mid-afternoon by the time she dressed and dragged herself to the university to clear out her office.

Two nights later, the answer to all Haru’s questions arrived in the middle of the night. She awoke with a dull cramping in her lower stomach and back, which gradually intensified. Her fear tasted bitter. She dragged herself to the bathroom and doubled over in pain. There were spots of blood, and then more, followed by a cleansing flow that washed away the life growing inside of her. Haru spent three days in bed afterward, sleeping and waking, feeling numb to the world around her, as she had after the big firestorm when her hands were burned. She was alone again and felt nothing.

Aki couldn’t wait for the baby to arrive. She moved around her bedroom slowly, feeling heavy and clumsy. Her legs were swollen and her back hurt. Everything made her feel sick, from a taste of the cook’s seaweed soup to the sweet straw smell of the damp tatami mats from the continual February rains. At twenty-two, she already felt old and tired. Did her mother feel like this carrying Haru and her? For Aki, this last month of pregnancy was nothing but a torment, and she could barely remember what it was like not to be pregnant.

The New Year holidays had come and gone and Aki felt as if she had missed everything, refusing to lumber along after Hiroshi as he went from one celebration to another. At first, she felt hurt and angry that he’d leave her behind, even when she knew it was always more business than pleasure. Dinners were arranged by the Sumo Association almost a year in advance, and wives didn’t accompany their husbands to these business dinners, which she had to remind herself was what sumo had increasingly become, a business. Hiroshi was the great Yokozuna Takanoyama and everyone wanted to see him. They had a roomful of gifts from sponsors and fans alike who’d never even met him. Sometimes, she looked at her towering husband and willed him to stay home with her for just one night. At other times, she saw Hiroshi for only moments in a day as he hurried from one meeting to the next.

It seemed the entire world had left Aki behind. She knew Haru was busy with her life researching and teaching in Nara. She’d written to her several times in the past month, but still hadn’t heard back. So Aki waited alone for the baby to arrive. She was uncomfortable both day and night now, and she sometimes felt as if this baby were squeezing the life from her. Aki carefully lowered herself down on the futon, lying on her back, loosening the tie of her cotton kimono, and rubbing the globe of her stomach. The baby’s weight pressed down against her lower spine, and she couldn’t imagine ever being able to get up again.

The room was dark when Aki awoke. She had no idea what time it was. The pain took her voice away and her arm flailed to Hiroshi’s side of the futon only to find herself still alone. She grabbed at the futon until the pain subsided enough to call for their housekeeper, Tamiko-san, once, twice, louder, until she heard a door sliding open and footsteps rushing up the stairs. Then Aki took deep breaths through the next wave of intense pain, which steadily increased and brought a moan to her lips. She closed her eyes and began to count, just as she had when she was a little girl and couldn’t fall asleep, or was frightened,
ichi, ni san, shi
…