Winter Earnings
The first two days of winter vacation were pure heaven. Kazuo and Yasuo didn’t have to go to school; their mother left home at eight in the morning and didn’t return until five, and their father left even earlier, of course, and didn’t come home until late. The middle part of the day, when both parents were away, was Kazuo and Yasuo’s to spend pretty much as they pleased.
The TV stations were broadcasting special animated programs for children during winter vacation, so Kazuo and Yasuo stayed sprawled on their bedding all morning and watched TV. After that, they made instant ramen with cabbage and egg for lunch. When they had finished, they headed out to the empty lot to meet Nobuo or Nishino-kun or Minoru, and Kazuo continued training with Nobuo to run as fast as Bob Hayes, or they sumo wrestled with Minoru. Or they flew kites, even though it was a bit early for New Year’s kite flying.
But the boys knew that their blissful freedom would come to an end soon.
That was because their father’s company and the electronics factory where their mother worked both closed for vacation. On December 28, both parents would finish work earlier than usual. Mother would arrive home just after noon, and Father would be back around three.
On the morning of December 28, Kazuo and Yasuo’s mother reminded them of something else.
“Kazuo, Yasuo. Uncle Yoshio is coming today, so don’t mess up the house.”
“Hooray, tonight!” exclaimed Yasuo, grinning widely.
Uncle Yoshio was their father’s older brother. Each November he left the rural prefecture of , where he lived, and came to Tokyo to work on construction sites to earn money for his family. This year he was helping to build a subway tunnel.
Once, during summer vacation, Kazuo and Yasuo had visited Uncle Yoshio’s village, which was also where their father had been born. Surrounded by mountains, it was a quiet place with three clear streams meandering through its center. Spread out around the streams was a patchwork of flooded . After dark, the fireflies that lived on the riverbanks filled the village with their tiny, faint lights, like dancing stars. For city kids like Kazuo and Yasuo, the sight was so beautiful it was like a dream.
The two of them had spent whole days outdoors with Takashi, the third of Uncle Yoshio’s three sons and the closest to Kazuo in age, catching beetles in the mornings and swimming in the streams in the afternoons. At night, they would flop down on their bedding, worn out from play, and drift off to sleep while gazing at the fireflies. Takashi told them how beautiful it was in winter, too.
“The snow piles up everywhere—the fields, the mountains—and everything turns completely white,” he said. “It gets as high as a grown-up is tall, and we ski around on it and play every day. Have the two of you ever skied before?”
Kazuo and Yasuo shook their heads.
Listening to Takashi, Kazuo had wondered how Father could have left this gorgeous place and gone to Tokyo, which was crammed with people, buildings, and noise.
Then again, Uncle Yoshio’s stories about his construction work were filled with thrills for Kazuo and Yasuo. He told them about how there was lots of water underground in the city. When workers constructed a building, they often pumped out enough water to fill dozens of swimming pools! And when construction crews were digging deep with cranes, they sometimes found people’s dwellings from thousands of years ago.
The work at the construction sites stopped for New Year’s vacation on December 28, and Uncle Yoshio always went back to his village to spend the New Year’s holiday with his family. It had become a tradition for him to stop by Kazuo’s house on the night of his departure. And the menu for dinner was always the same: sukiyaki.
“We’ll keep the house clean,” Kazuo promised as Mother headed out the front door.
“Hey, do you think Uncle Yoshio will bring us New Year’s money?” Yasuo asked Kazuo.
“Maybe,” Kazuo muttered as he carried his breakfast dishes to the kitchen. It wasn’t that he didn’t look forward to receiving New Year’s money from Uncle Yoshio. He just felt that being open about it like Yasuo was childish.
A Tokyo highway under construction in the mid-’60s.
“Oi, Yasuo, I’ll do your dishes,” Kazuo called to his brother, who remained seated at the kotatsu. “So bring them here.”
That afternoon their mother came home just after twelve, and their father came home at a little past three. Perhaps because of the upcoming six-day holiday, their expressions were milder than usual.
“Otohsan, why don’t you take Kazuo and Yasuo to the bathhouse before your brother gets here?” Mother called from the kitchen, where she was starting to prepare dinner.
Father was in the living room playing thumb sumo with Kazuo and Yasuo. Today meant the end of their lazy days of freedom. But they had not seen much of Father for the past month while he worked overtime, and now they were having fun.
“All right, boys, we’re off to the bathhouse,” Father announced. Kazuo and Yasuo jumped to their feet.
With their towels and soap in their basins, Kazuo, Yasuo, and Father walked down the main street of the shopping area. A children’s song, “Just a Few More Nights Till New Year’s,” blared from speakers. The shopping area was crowded with people stocking up on food for their New Year’s celebrations. When Kazuo, Yasuo, and Father reached the center of the district, Yasuo’s friend Nobuo, who was skewering chicken for at the back of his parents’ butcher shop, noticed Kazuo and called out to him.
“Heading to the bathhouse early today, huh?”
Like his mother, who was frying croquettes and ground pork cakes at the front of the store, and his father, who was carving slabs of meat with a huge cleaver, Nobuo was wearing a white work smock over his clothes. Next to him, helping him slide pieces of chicken onto skewers, was Nobuo’s older brother, Haruo.
“Yeah, Otohsan came home early,” Yasuo said before Kazuo could respond.
“Kids shouldn’t cut into other people’s conversations,” Kazuo said, giving Yasuo a poke in the face, then turned back to Nobuo. “Our uncle’s coming tonight. We have orders to bathe before he gets here.”
Nobuo winked. “So that’s why your mom stopped by for sukiyaki beef a little while ago ?”
“Guess so. You’re helping the folks today?”
Nobuo nodded. “I’m working hard, that’s for sure.”
Nobuo’s father looked up. “You’re only doing this because I gave you a good talking-to, and because you want your New Year’s money!” He flared his nostrils, looking exactly like his son, and Nobuo snickered.
“Our Kazuo and Yasuo haven’t lifted a finger at home since the winter vacation started,” Kazuo’s father spoke up. “All they do is stare at the TV. They could learn a lot from your Nobuo.” He put his hands on Kazuo’s and Yasuo’s heads and wagged them back and forth.
“Our boys only help every now and then,” Nobuo’s mother said, pausing as she turned a croquette. “What I wish is that they would study harder, like Kazuo-chan and Yasuo-chan.”
“I guess the grass is always greener on the other side,” Kazuo’s father remarked.
The three adults laughed, and then exchanged formal, year-end greetings.
Later Kazuo, Yasuo, and Father returned from the bathhouse to find a portable burner and iron pot set out on the kotatsu. The hands of the clock showed it was past five.
“No sign of Yoshio yet?” Father asked Mother. Uncle Yoshio always arrived before five.
“No,” Mother said. She stopped chopping the vegetables for sukiyaki and looked at Father with a worried expression.
“He’s probably running late because they had a lot of work to do before New Year’s,” he told her. “Before we worry about that, why don’t you go to the bathhouse. I can handle the rest of this.”
“You’re right. I’ll be back.”
Their mother left, and their father took over preparing the sukiyaki ingredients. He chopped onions, chrysanthemum greens, shiitake mushrooms, and tofu, piling them on plates, which Kazuo then carried to the living room. Yasuo took five sukiyaki bowls from the cupboard and set them out on the kotatsu.
“Do you know why there are so many vegetables in sukiyaki?” Father asked Kazuo and Yasuo, after they had laid everything out.
“Because if we only eat meat, it costs a lot of money?” Yasuo answered immediately.
Father laughed heartily. “Well, that’s true. But that’s not all there is to it. Kazuo, do you know?”
“Um . . . for balanced nutrition?” Kazuo answered.
Father looked impressed. “Since when did you get to be such a smarty pants?”
Kazuo listened to his father explain to Yasuo how the vitamin C from vegetables helped people to stay healthy. Father knew things, just like a schoolteacher knew things, and sometimes he could explain math or science lessons even better than Mr. Honda. When Father had finished the chores in the kitchen, they resumed their rounds of thumb sumo. The three of them howled with laughter.
Finally, after their mother returned from the bathhouse, Uncle Yoshio arrived, carrying a bag stuffed with gifts for his family back home.
Uncle Yoshio always put everyone in a cheerful mood when he came to visit, telling jokes and fooling around. But today he heaved a sigh as he sank down at the kotatsu. “I’m sorry to be late,” he murmured.
“What happened?” Father asked worriedly.
“A fellow named Toshi from upcountry in broke his leg. Getting him into the hospital and calling his people took all afternoon.” Uncle Yoshio sighed again.
“Will Mr. Toshi be all right?” asked Kazuo’s mother. She paused while lighting the burner to make the sukiyaki.
“The doctor says the bone should heal in a month, so everything will be fine. But it’ll be at least March before poor old Toshi can work again.” Uncle Yoshio shook his head and stared into the steam that rose from the sukiyaki pot. “And by then it’ll be time to go home and get back in the fields. Basically, it means no income for him for the rest of the winter.”
“Can’t he get any compensation?” Father poured some beer into Uncle’s glass.
Uncle Yoshio sighed again and brought his glass to his mouth. “Here it is almost New Year’s, and I come in with all this heavy talk. Sorry about that.”
“How is the job situation, by the way?” asked Father as he poured more beer into Uncle’s glass to top it off.
“Last year there was a big construction rush because everyone was getting ready for the Olympics—putting up buildings and highways all over Tokyo. Now the Olympics are over so they’re not hiring like they were. At least Tokyo doesn’t have any snow, so a person can find some work. Back home in Yamagata, there’s nothing to do all winter but shovel snow.”
Father nodded.
“Hold on now,” Uncle said suddenly, looking at Kazuo and Yasuo.
“I’ve been forgetting myself. Here, boys, this is for you.” He took two red New Year’s envelopes from his shirt pocket and handed them to the boys.
“Wow, thanks!” Yasuo’s eyes lit up as he received his.
Kazuo also expressed his thanks and put the small envelope in the pocket of his trousers.
“We thank you for your kindness every year,” Mother said to Uncle Yoshio.
“Here, these are for Koichi-kun, Sanae-chan, and Takashi-kun.” She took three envelopes from the chest of drawers and gave them to Uncle.
He bowed his head slightly, and then accepted the gifts with polite words of thanks.
“By the way, how is Takashi-kun?” Kazuo asked, remembering the cousin he had not seen in nearly two years.
“Takashi seems to be all right. The last letter I got from home said he’s going to represent his school at a ski tournament in January.” For the first time that day, Uncle’s expression grew genuinely happy.
“Koichi-kun will be off to high school next year, won’t he?” Mother asked, inquiring after Uncle’s eldest son.
“That’s right. He’s studying hard, says he’s going to take the exams for the top high school in the prefecture,” Uncle responded proudly. “With that boy studying day and night, I’ve got to do my part and work just as hard.”
A little later, just after nine, Uncle Yoshio stood up. He was getting ready to catch the overnight to Yamagata from Ueno Station.
“Tomorrow morning I’ll look out the window and the whole world will be white!” He put his shoes on at the front door.
Father went to the station with Uncle to see him off.
After the men left, Mother began to clear off the kotatsu. Kazuo and Yasuo reluctantly withdrew from the kotatsu’s warmth, laid out the bedding in their small room, and curled up under their blankets.
“Hey, Niichan, how much New Year’s money did you get?” Yasuo asked, poking his head out from under the covers.
“Five hundred yen,” Kazuo answered shortly.
“Five hundred yen, huh? I got three hundred. Hey, what do you think you’re going to buy with yours? A plastic model, or some comics maybe?”
“I haven’t decided yet. You’d better get to sleep or we’ll be in trouble.” Kazuo pulled his covers over his head. In previous years, his mind would have been racing just like Yasuo’s, thinking about what he would buy. But this year he kept thinking about how the gift had come from Uncle’s hard, physical labor for the sake of his family. It was money earned from work that could have given him a broken leg, just like Mr. Toshi.
Kazuo turned over in his bedding. The only sound in the house was water running as their mother washed dishes. Father had not returned from the station yet.
Kazuo closed his eyes and remembered Uncle talking about the snow he would see tomorrow morning. Snow took away people’s jobs in wintertime, and it was snow that his father had come to Tokyo to escape.
Even so, Kazuo couldn’t help but hope that the snow his uncle saw in the morning would be glittering in the sunrise, its whiteness stretching as far as the eye could see.