The Tripartite Pact
The kimono shop thrived after the wedding. Chiemi surprised herself by how much she enjoyed being a shopkeeper. Taisho-ya Kimono was such a popular shop for women to buy fabric material that Ito-san decided to open a second location within sight of the Ota River in the prosperous Hondori shopping street. Chiemi thought it unwise to invest so much money, given the war. But despite the deprivations, people still came in and bought. Who was she to argue? She didn’t know about business.
She really liked the lily-of-the-valley lanterns just outside and along the main street, lighting the way until closing at night. She was there late most times to greet and help customers.
She avoided reading the newspapers. She turned away from radio reports. Despite her efforts, the war intruded at every turn. It was everyone’s favourite topic of conversation. Japan had joined Germany and Italy in a pact to come to the defence of the others if a conflict were to erupt with an adversary. As a result, the United States moved its Pacific Fleet to some place called Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. She had never heard of the place but thought it a “nice” enough name.
In the meantime, Japan moved into Vichy-controlled Indochina, and the United States, as a countermeasure, closed the Panama Canal to Japanese ships and placed an embargo on scrap metal to Japan. Maybe Hideki was right, she thought. The two sides are just arguing with little or no consequence. She concluded that there would be no war; the United States feared the might of Japan.
These actions had little effect on Chiemi and family though the military needed the scrap metal. Purchasing rice, however, was beginning to become a problem in 1940. Businesses like the Fukuya Department Store kept their basement bins full, but the cost was going up. And the rice stocks were from foreign countries, like Taiwan. Most agreed, not as good as Japanese. The small neighbourhood shops found it difficult to replenish. They certainly couldn’t afford to stock the imported kind. Neighbours like the Mizuyabu family resorted to eating millet or barley mixed with a few grains of precious rice, whatever they could get.
There was no need to patronize the Black Market yet, given the Itos’ prosperity, but Chiemi wondered when she would have to go there. She didn’t worry about her parents.
The government, in its wisdom, scoffed Chiemi, soon began to appropriate land for the war effort. In Hiroshima, work to improve port facilities was done as well as construction of industrial zones within the city.
Military barracks sprouted in Ujina for soldiers from all over Japan. That made sense to Chiemi since the port was the departure point for them to destinations in China and the South Pacific, she assumed. But there would be no more visits to Miyajima at Obon.
She felt sorry for Mizuyabu-san whose candy shop was appropriated for an officers’ club. The business had been in the family for three generations. About a month ago, Chiemi treated her neighbour, Mizuyabu Aiko, to tea and cakes in the Shintenchi district, with its many lights and fashionable shops and cafés, to commiserate.
“I don’t understand,” Chiemi opened as they sat at a small table in the window of Toranomon Café, away from the crowded counter that faced the coffee roaster and pastries. It was a new place, cleanly white and almost monastic in appearance. But it was popular with crowds on weekends.
“Why pick on such a small shop like yours for their own pleasure?” she wondered.
“It’s the solid concrete and sturdy building, not the store,” Aiko answered. “Bomb proof. They took it because they can.”
“They think Hiroshima will be bombed?”
“I don’t know, but they said, ‘In case’.”
Chiemi paused as she remembered General Tojo’s declaration that Japan would never be touched by the enemy. He sounded so sure of it.
“Have they no compassion?” Chiemi said as she turned back to the issue at hand. “Have they no shame?”
“Ito-san,” Aiko fell into a confessional mood. “I don’t mind telling you, we’re heading into desperate times.” She quietly lowered her gaze, and her voice became almost a whisper. “I opened the rice can the other day…the last of our rice…and…and I found ants all over it…” She gulped her emotion down.
Chiemi was disturbed by the revelation. “What did you do?”
“I picked the bugs out. Threw them in a can of water…”
After a long pause, Chiemi asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
“No…no.” She bowed her head.
Who has caused all this misery? Chiemi asked herself. And why? I know what the newspapers say, but I don’t believe them.
Later that day, Chiemi placed a small bag of rice inside Mizuyabu-san’s house through one of the open doors.
***
One night, after Ito-san had fallen asleep, Chiemi found herself thinking about Hideki, for some reason. It had been some time. Maybe because Mizuyabu-san had said during the tea she heard disturbing facts coming to light about a mass slaughter of Chinese civilians in someplace called Nanking. Chiemi recalled Hideki had mentioned the place, and she did read about the original campaign as a major victory for the Japanese military back in early 1938. Hence the disparaging nickname for the Chinese: Nankin-san. One newspaper proclaimed Nanking was revenge for the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. 4,000 for one missing Japanese soldier? Was he dead? she questioned. Seemed to be overkill, she thought with a slight grin.
She then recalled Hideki tormenting the “Ant Soldiers” on that hot summer’s day so long ago. He saw himself as the Emperor’s samurai destroying the hated Chinese. But no one in the family had ever met a Chinese person to hate them. Maybe Otousan during his business trips, but he never said. Curious. In any case, her brother couldn’t have taken part in Nanking since he was still in Japan at the time.
Maybe he had changed his mind. He had wanted to get out, after all.
She dismissed the rumours in the end, calling it Nankin propaganda.
***
Remembering her brother did put into her mind the bag of money he had left her in the garden of the Akamatsu family compound. She had brought it with her when she married and placed it in her bedroom clothing chest. Ito-san’s house was a modest two-storey building close to the kimono shop. Built out of stucco, the walls were grey and stippled. The green shingled roof was in the Chinese style with sloped and pointed corners. The two front windows were in the Western style and the front door was wooden and heavy. The upstairs bedrooms were functional and featured Western beds. People called her filthy rich in their whisperings. She dismissed such a notion.
She had never counted Hideki’s money or ever looked at it. But the next day, she decided to take it and bury it in the back lot (small as it was). She found a spade and began digging in a likely spot among the bushes that hid the house from the street.
Ito-san caught sight of her from a back window. “What are you doing?”
She growled and snapped, “Nothing for you to worry about.” She strained against the weight of the dirt and the size of her stomach as she hunched over the spot. She dug about a foot deep.
“You shouldn’t be doing that.”
She didn’t answer; she just grunted.
“What’s in the bag?” he asked as she finished digging and lifted the bag into the hole.
“Something my brother gave me to take care of.” She began to back-fill the hole.
“Like what?”
“Never mind,” she said crossly. “Just forget about what you saw.”
“All right, but you should stop and let me do that.”
She ignored him.
After a moment’s pause, he spoke again. “Chiemi-chan, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” He sat on a convenient rock.
She put down the spade after packing down the dirt and glared at her husband. “What is it?”
Nervously he continued speaking, “I…I…I…had to…”
“Well?” she said impatiently.
“I joined the military…the navy in fact.”
“You did what?” she said as she picked up the spade again and gripped it tightly while glaring at her husband.
“I joined the navy.” His voice was filled with newly found conviction.
“Nonsense, you’re too old.”
“Not anymore. They’re starting to recruit older.”
“Why do you want to join the navy? You can’t swim.”
“I was conscripted.”
“Well, you could fight it. Tell them of our circumstances,” she said standing straight up and rubbing her stomach. “Are you too stupid to have forgotten?”
He turned away. “No, I won’t do that,” he replied. “I want to be patriotic.”
“Patriotic?” she scoffed. “Why get involved in a stupid war against a people we have no business with?”
“It’s not so much the Nankin we worry about—”
“What? Then who?”
“Europe and America. There’s a war coming with them.”
“Who told you that?” She kept mum about her brother’s foreshadowing.
“I listen.”
“Nonsense, you don’t listen to me,” she dismissed. “Okay, you go off and play sailor…but remember you’ll have a family soon.”
“The store will take care of you. No need to worry.”
“What about the babies?”
“Babies?”
“The doctor said I was big enough for twins,” she revealed and continued anticipating his next question. “Yesterday, he told me yesterday. I’ll need help!”
Haruo was stunned for a moment as his thin head shook slightly. “I’ll ask my okaa to help.”
“No, you will not! If anything, I’ll ask my mother,” she harrumphed.
***
Ito-san is so stupid. He could’ve argued against conscription because of her condition and his age. But he complied. She wondered if he just wanted to get away from her. From the children. His mother.
As it came about, he became assigned as a clerk at naval operations in Hong Kong, far from the fighting. At least, he wasn’t on a ship that could sink and drown him, she thought. She was surprised to learn she felt relieved.
She had the twins, named Kuniya and Takeshi, and decided to live with her parents on the outskirts of Hiroshima. They were beautiful babies, Kuniya constantly fussing while Takeshi remaining still and quiet. Chiemi and her mother-in-law kept an eye on Kuniya, suspecting that he was going to be a rambunctious and perhaps difficult child. Chiemi then announced her move home.
“What is your last name?” asked Giri-no ha ha.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ito Okaasan bristled. “It’s a simple question. What is your last name?” she asked with emphasis.
“Ito.”
“Then you should stay with the Ito family. You and the babies will come to our place, and you’ll work at the store.”
“I choose not to,” she said and turned away. She knew her giri-no ha ha wanted a daughter-in-law under her thumb. A slave in other words.
“You belong to us.”
“I don’t belong to anyone!” Chiemi exploded. “I’ll work at the store, but I’ll live with my family!”
And so, it was decided. Chiemi would move to the Akamatsu compound. Her mind was made up. The city house would remain empty until her husband returned. All was well until impermanence took hold.
On a late-spring day of 1941, when the sun rose high in the sky and glowed with a warmth that was welcome, Chiemi sat in the Whispering Oni Room waiting. It was characteristically cold within the confines. The room was open to the inviting garden where the vegetation was moist, lush, and inviting. A comforting wind rustled the bushes and trees. She loved standing in the breeze, feeling invisible arms around her.
But she played the obedient daughter, though she shivered in her seated position. There seemed to be a transparent barrier between the garden and the Oni Room. The stone samurai scowled at her. Nothing unusual about it except to her the statue seemed somewhat menacing that day.
Akamatsu Gunhei swept into the room, his long black kimono fluttering in the air. Chiemi looked up and grimaced. She was tired of this game. Still, she was happy to see her father; he had been away for a few days. Probably in Tokyo. Probably since he had said nothing.
His face was ashen and haggard, his full head of hair a tad greyer. What had happened? Thin and tired, he sat in front of her.
“Are you all right, Otousan?”
“I’m fine…fine,” he replied, turning to evade her inspection. “I have something to say to you.”
Chiemi quelled her concern to listen.
“Come August 6 at 9:15 in the morning…” His voice faded.
She remained quiet, not wishing to offend him with her impatience.
“On August 6th at 9:15 a.m. …I…”
“Yes, on August 6th at 9:15 a.m., what?” Her patience was at an end.
“I will be no more. I will die.”
She quivered slightly as she continued to sit. How was this possible? True, he appeared a little sick, more fatigued than anything, but that could be from the travel and business. There was nothing catastrophic going on with his body. He was hale and hearty before he left for Tokyo.
“What do you mean? What are you saying?” she said quickly. “That’s just nonsense.”
He sighed and continued, “On that day and time I will be no more.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. How do you know anyway? Are you joking with me?”
“I just know. And no, I’m not joking. I am serious.”
“Did you see a doctor while you were away. Did he say something?”
“I didn’t see a doctor.”
“Then this is all a joke, I know it. How can you be so cruel?”
“No, it’s true. Chiemi-chan, I have something for you.” He reached underneath his kimono and pulled out a piece of paper. He gave it to her.
Death has no meaning for me,
But when I give thought to the
Moment of death,
I grow sad at the loss of
Warm family memories.
“What is this?”
“A tanka. I sent it to your brother and sister as well. They should know.”
“What does Okaasan think about all this?”
“She doesn’t believe it, like you. You are your mother’s daughter.”
“Ach,” she said dismissively. “There’s nothing wrong with you that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure. How can you be so cruel to send Hideki and Chisato this…this tanka?” she said waving the paper in the air. “I’m sure they have bigger problems.”
Gunhei closed his eyes, not disclosing his thoughts. Instead, he said, “I regret not seeing my grandchildren grow up, but I’m sure they’ll become fine young men. I love holding them in my arms. They are a great and sincere comfort.”
“Then, don’t die,” she said under her breath.
***
As fate would have it, on August 6th, 1941, at precisely 9:15 a.m., Akamatsu Gunhei died in his sleep. His wife kneeled by his side and recited the Nembutsu. Sensei Kiyahara lit the incense in the family altar, rang the chime, and chanted the Heart Sutra.
Chiemi was in shock. She couldn’t understand how this could happen. Otousan was in perfect health as far as she was concerned. He showed little signs of ill-health. He just took to his bed the night before and died—as predicted. He was only fifty-eight.
In late September, Chiemi was again sitting in the cold Oni Room. The funeral was simple with only her mother and her with the priest presiding. Haruye was rather stoic in her reaction to Gunhei’s passing. She took care of the details efficiently and quickly, showing little emotion. This is what he wanted. He just wanted to go was all she said about it.
Chiemi said nothing to her. But she did wonder how her siblings reacted to the tanka and pronouncement. Chisato did write to clarify; Hideki never responded.
It was late at night when Chiemi heard a Buddhist chime. She went to the altar and found the small bell in position and still and the cloth-covered hammer undisturbed. But after she returned to her ofuton, the sound started again, softly and, this time, coming from the Oni Room, she swore. As she moved to the room, the chime stopped.
Chiemi shook her head. Must be my imagination, she thought, even though she knew she had heard the sound clearly. She went back to bed and quivered to sleep.
***
In the depths of night, she awoke with a start. No bell, no noise, not even the sound of cicadas singing in the air disturbed her. She sat up and felt a distinct presence in her room.
She scanned with her eyes, straining to see, but it was too dark. But then she heard a rustling as if someone were moving. The night fractured right before her like a cracked mirror; she thought she was looking at the inside of a dream. The blacker-than-night pieces slowly dislodged and floated before coming together into a mass. She couldn’t make out what it was. She called out, “Who’s there?” But no answer.
Eventually she recognized that the fragments formed into a figure, a human being, a featureless person. No face but certainly a body, like an inert shadow. She watched as it silently moved across the foot of her ofuton. It moved some distance before blending into the darkness and disappearing. Though she pulled up her legs under the covers, she couldn’t move from the bed.
Chiemi was shaken, an eerie sensation tingled through her body as she stared into the darkness. She rubbed her eyes and tried to dismiss it as a dream, but she knew she was fully awake. What could it possibly be?
A thought then flashed through her consciousness: Otousan.