The Street of a Thousand Blossoms (62 page)

Days later when his fever broke, Kenji helped Akira outside to sit in the warm sun. His body felt weak, cleansed by the fever. “What did I say to you when you found me delirious with the fever?” he asked.

Kenji smiled. “That it was the second time you were being saved.”

Hiroshi watched Aki slowly become herself again with Haru back in Tokyo. Her voice grew stronger and she spoke more with each day, as if she were slowly awakening from a deep sleep. Listening to Haru’s and Aki’s voices reminded Hiroshi of his
obaachan
and her friend Ayako-san together when he was a boy. It was the same sweet, carefree tone that he always loved and envied. He paused at the kitchen doorway and listened to their melodious words ring through the air like music, never once like the gruff staccato words and grunts that men often used to address each other.

He studied the similarities and differences between the sisters; although they had the same inflections when they spoke, the slightly taller Haru, with the always inquisitive eyes, who never cared if her skin was tinged darker by the outdoors, was the opposite of the more fragile, black-pearl-eyed, creamy-skinned Aki, animated again in her sister’s company. Occasionally, Aki would still lapse into staring vacantly out the window, or down at the floor, lost in her own world. Moments later she would return as if she’d just stepped out. Hiroshi wondered where she’d gone and what she was thinking, but held his breath until she was herself again.

By the end of July, Hiroshi returned to Tokyo after the Nagoya Basho. He’d been away since early July. A heat wave simmered throughout most of Japan and the air remained so hot and stagnant that each breath was a gift. Even a thin cotton
yukata
robe felt heavy against his body. As he watched Haru and Aki try to remain comfortable in the sweltering heat, Hiroshi made arrangements to take them and his
obaachan
to Hakone, where the cooler mountain air of Lake Ashino and the hot springs had long been a favorite spot. But only he and Aki finally boarded the train to Hakone. His
obaachan
hadn’t wanted to travel in the heat, while Haru chose to return to Nara for a visit instead.

When they stepped out of the car at the train station, a crowd immediately surrounded them. There were few places Yokozuna Takanoyama wasn’t recognized. On most days, photographers were waiting outside their home for a quick snapshot. The rush of strangers and flashing lights terrified Aki. While Hiroshi’s driver stepped forward to clear the way, he gently took hold of Aki’s arm as they hurried along to catch their train.

When they arrived in Odawara, they transferred to the mountain-climbing train, which wound its way up the lush mountain slope by the side of a flowing river. The higher they climbed, the cooler the air became. Away from the hot press of people and the media, he saw Aki find calm and her body relax as she watched the trees flicker by. From the train, they would ascend farther up the mountain in a cable car. Aki grasped his arm and Hiroshi pulled her close as the car swayed to the side when he stepped in. It was the first time they had laughed freely together after Takashi’s death, just over a year ago. He sat down and was careful to stay centered on the seat to balance the car as it moved slowly upward.

“Oh, look!” Aki said, pointing below.

Hiroshi looked down on views of the natural hot springs as whiffs of sulfur vapors floated upward and he felt as if they were being transported to another world.

They stayed at a famous
ryokan
at the edge of Lake Ashino. The inn was built over three hundred years ago and was often visited by the imperial family, as well as many famous artists and writers. Yokozuna Takanoyama was given the special cottage behind the inn, surrounded by trees, with a hot spring bath and a veranda that overlooked the lake from each room. The smell of the pine trees and fresh air was a welcome change from the stifling world of Tokyo. Hiroshi and Aki were slowly getting to know each other again and he was thankful the fates had led them to Lake Ashino by themselves.

The next morning, after they finished a breakfast of miso soup, fish, rice, and pickled vegetables, they walked down a dirt trail from the inn to a wooden dock to embark on a ferry ride across the lake. When Hiroshi stepped onto the boat, the rocking motion gave him a strange sensation, as if he’d been there before, but he shook it off and helped Aki step down onto the deck. It was a pleasant excursion; the boat was filled with other guests from the
ryokan
who tried not to stare at the famous
yokozuna
. At one point, the ferry slowed down and shut off its rumbling motor so that the passengers could enjoy the majestic view of Mount Fuji that rose before them like a towering god. It wasn’t until they had docked again that an old man, with a wrinkled face and thinning gray hair, approached Hiroshi and bowed very low, introducing himself as the captain of the boat.

“Sumimasen
, please excuse me for bothering you, Yokozuna Takanoyama. Never in my life did I think we would have this opportunity.”

Hiroshi bowed back. “How may I help you?”

“I would like to apologize, Yokozuna-sama. I have met you once before a very long time ago.”

Hiroshi tried to place the old man’s face. Was he a friend of his grandparents’? If so, he had no memory of the man at all. “I don’t understand,” he said. Aki had stepped back on the dock and waited for him.

The old man fidgeted with the soiled hat in his hands. “You see, I’ve lived with the guilt for the past thirty years, of how I left all my passengers in the water after the boat had sunk.” He shook his head and tears brimmed in his eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“That I’m the one responsible for the deaths of your mother and father when you were just a baby.” He took a deep breath and continued. “When I read the story of how you were orphaned, I knew it was my boat that had struck the rocks and left you without parents. I would give anything to take that evening back.” He bowed low again.

Hiroshi stood in disbelief as the other passengers milled around them. “It can’t be …,” he said.

“We had drunk too much sake that night. We had no business taking passengers out to sea. I have lived each day trying to forget. And when I saw you board this morning, I knew that the gods had given me a chance to apologize to you.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I was frightened. I swam away.”

Hiroshi remembered all the stories his
obaachan
told him as a boy, and how she had always wished the captain of that boat dead. Now, here he was standing before him, a small, withered man who looked no more a killer than his own grandfather had. “And what do you expect of me now?” Hiroshi asked, his own voice sounding strange. “Forgiveness?”

The old man shook his head. “It will never be my place to ask that of you. It was simply my way of finally accepting the guilt, to say it out loud to the one living person whose life I altered that night.”

Hiroshi swallowed but didn’t say a word. He didn’t feel the anger he always imagined as he pushed past the old man and stepped out of the boat without turning back.

“Do you know him?” Aki asked when he joined her back on the dock.

He hesitated and shook his head. When he was a boy, Hiroshi always believed he would track down the man who had left him and Kenji orphans. As a man, he knew the past was best forgotten. What had it to do with his life now? He would never say a word to his
obaachan
and stir up such painful memories. “He wanted to know if I enjoyed the boat ride,” he finally told Aki.

She smiled and touched his arm lightly with her fan.

At sixty, Sho Tanaka was slowing down. He entered the sumo stable and stopped to watch two young recruits at practice, wondering if he still had the energy to take them up the ranks. As a stable master, he’d already produced two grand champions, with young Sadao on his way to reaching
ozeki
rank. All around him was the hum of activity he’d heard for over forty years, the grunts and groans, the slaps and thuds of men pushing their bodies to the furthest limits. Sho walked through the training room, and bowed quickly back to all the wrestlers before he made his way upstairs to his office. He knew he’d find Haru there, going over the books, making sure that everything was in order. Ever since she’d returned to Tokyo, Haru had been taking care of Aki, handling most of the household matters, and spending a few days each week helping him with the stable accounts. He glanced through the open door to see her sitting at his desk, concentrating on the books spread out in front of her. For a split second, he saw Noriko again in her profile. Had Noriko lived, he wondered what she would think of him now—stoop-shouldered and sagging, without a hair on his head. He knew many women still found him attractive. Even Yasuko-san called him “Yul-o Blenner,” after the famous American movie star, when she saw him at the Sakura teahouse. He smiled to think Haru never realized how much like her mother she was. In fact, Sho thought his older daughter grew lovelier with age.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said.

She looked up and smiled. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine.” In that moment, he also saw her as a wonderful teacher, someone who listened as well as instructed. Noriko would have been so proud of her. Sho sat in the chair across from his desk, his hand running across his smooth pate. He had never regretted keeping the original building of the stable that had survived the firestorm. He had built from the past like new branches sprouting from a proud old tree. His small, cube-shaped office had remained unchanged for both practical and sentimental reasons. It was the first time he sat where his
rikishi
usually did, facing his desk. “I was thinking,” he said thoughtfully, “that it’s about time you returned to Nara and to your teaching.”

Haru put down the pencil. “And who will take care of you?” she asked.

He laughed. “What makes you think I can’t take care of myself? I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Ah, that’s why it’s taken me almost a year to straighten your books out.”

Sho smiled. “I happen to understand my accounts perfectly, and that’s all that matters. Besides, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll hire a professional to do it for me.” Since Hiroshi had reached the rank of
yokozuna
, the stable had benefited from sponsor money. Sho had even been thinking of building a new wing to the stable, along with a large new office for himself. But in the end, he had decided to keep things the way they were.