The journey to Kure was arduous since the town was on the Inland Sea coast, a bit of a distance from Hiroshima City. But no one complained, though Chisato’s mother, Haruye, expressed discomfort sitting on the hard train benches. She nagged at her husband who had not bought a better class of ticket. He just ignored her.
The Kimura house was smallish with a vegetable garden in front. The one-storey structure with a roof of curved red clay shingles was on a dirt-road street surrounded by forest. The blue of the ocean could be seen between branches. A nice, steady breeze came in to cool the halls and bedrooms of the place. The wind was laden with moisture, but it took the heat out of the air, a welcome change from Hiroshima, simmering in its humid weather. The floor was made of an unfinished wood. “Kimura-san was too busy to bother,” Chisato’s mother whispered to her daughters.
There were various rooms, fitted with gleaming tatami (that Kimura had time to arrange), for sleeping, dining, reading, and communing. One featured a family altar. The kitchen seemed as large as the Hiroshima compound, all giving Chisato a sense of familiarity.
***
Akamatsu Chisato was to become Chisato Kimura, married to a Canadian gaijin, in the Canadian naming style. Her father had arranged the union through a matchmaker, Inouye Nobuko, the most respected matchmaker in Kure City. She was thorough in her rooting out of sickness and insanity in the intended’s family, even if he was a gaijin (foreigner). The union was soon approved.
The trip was all worth it when the Akamatsu family watched their youngest record her name in the Kimura register housed in the local temple, even if the groom was six-thousand miles away. Chisato watched as her mother cried. Did Obaachan do this? she wondered. Grandmother.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked her mother in an aside.
“Yes Mother,” she reassured with some impatience. She turned away and gave a little groan.
Hideki did not attend. His head was buried in the Shuho (To Preserve), a magazine he was constantly reading again and again. Even old issues. The pages were filled with news and stories of the conflict in China.
It worried Chisato; they would be the subject of gossip about the absent sibling, but she was relieved, given the heated argument they had.
“What do you mean?” she asked her brother angrily.
“I mean I’ve got more important things to do.”
“More important than going to a family wedding? Your sister’s wedding?”
“Yes, the Emperor commands my attention,” he said with pride.
“Aho. You a personal friend of the Emperor?” she said as she remembered the same accusation of her. Stupid.
His eyes bulged and grew large. He fell mute in his obvious outrage, but just for a moment. “Don’t be blasphemous! We all must be dedicated to vanquishing Japan’s enemies. I must train…you’ve got to understand—”
“I don’t care about some stupid war!” she said passionately.
“Don’t raise your voice to me! I am an honourable soldier of His Majesty’s Imperial Army.” He finally had had all he was going to take.
“Oh, come down from that high horse of yours,” Chisato said. “You’re in training…a recruit!”
“Damare! You have no right to treat your oniisan like this.” Shut up!
“I’m just thinking of the family, of our parents,” she said, changing her tone. “Don’t you understand that a wedding without the chonan looks bad. You bring shame to us.”
“Perhaps, but it would be a greater shame if I died like a coward in battle.”
Chisato threw up her hands, before turning on her heels and leaving.
The summer wedding reception was resplendent with flowers, colourful paper lanterns, and elaborate kimono. Her father paid the travel expenses for Fujita Sensei to preside. Sensei drew on his Shinto background to conduct the ceremony.
The celebratory dinner was opulent, surprising given the deliberate austerity the Kimura family embraced. But Kimura Hideo was an important man. The guests included many naval dignitaries as well as the local mayor and provincial governor. Chisato’s father was impressed.
The food was lavish, including such delicacies as king crab and herring eggs (brought at great expense from Canada—Hideo’s tribute to his son’s adopted country, no doubt). Chisato smiled to herself seeing Kimura Okaasan, her mother-in-law, sitting glumly as the sake started to flow.
***
So Chisato Kimura bid a tearful farewell to her parents and Chiemi Oneesan. She knew she would miss them, especially her sister, but it was necessary for her own sake. Her new life would begin in Kure and continue in Canada.
“Maybe we can go shopping together during the Ebisu-ko festival this year,” Chiemi suggested.
That gave Chisato some comfort.
At night, when loneliness descended and the still muggy quiet of the house oppressed, her mind raced with all kinds of thoughts. She trembled with the fear that she had made a mistake, that she should be back home in Hiroshima. The vastness of the Pacific Ocean began playing on her mind. She couldn’t fathom just how far away from Japan her new life would take her. Tears wet her ofuton.
***
Kimura Hideo, Chisato’s father-in-law, worked in the shipyard, but he never talked about it. In fact, he hardly ever came home. She did learn that his son, Kiyoshi, lived in Vancouver, British Columbia, and was employed as a clerk of some kind. Chisato said she liked the fact that he was an office worker, toiling in a “clean job”.
Chisato’s mother-in-law, Kimura Fumiko, was an overly serious woman with stern features, a scowling mouth, close-set eyes, and a set jaw. Not that Fumiko needed to say anything, her look could cow anyone, Chisato especially. Thus, with Hideo away most of the time, the daughter-in-law lived in a two-person house of silence. Little advice was given by or even conversation took place with her mother-in-law.
The only thing that Chisato could live for was her future, but the Canadian government would not allow her to immigrate for up to two years. Some speculated it was an effort by the Canadians to slow the propagation of the species.
A saving grace was the fact that Fumiko was about the same height as Chisato. Gave her a measure of equality.
To keep her spirits up, Chisato fantasized about her husband. At least, her mother-in-law had given her a photograph of Kiyoshi, a blurry one of a young man standing on a dock, Kobe perhaps, about to board a ship bound for Canada. A noppera no more.
It didn’t matter, Chisato exaggerated his features. Kiyoshi was a tall, well-put-together man. His handsome face, from what she could glean from the photograph, was heaven-sent. She gazed at it every night when she was alone in her bed.
She remembered her friends talking about the act of love. The glory of a naked man’s body. The touch, the kisses (sweeter than nectar, they claimed), and the final “connection” (a word an older girl used). She wondered what it all would feel like: was it the thrill of exploding stars with their beauteous light above, or as unknowable as the depths of the ocean? It was all a dream to Chisato.
But it wasn’t until her mother had talked to her about her forthcoming wedding night that things became real.
“Chisato-chan, you must not be afraid.”
“I’m not,” she said confidently. She had talked seriously and foolishly to her school girlfriends many times over the years. She knew a man’s body from seeing her brother’s and father’s naked bodies and guessed at through hearsay amongst her friends what would happen when she was “with” one. Her friends were quite explicit.
“That may be so, but it will be a new experience.”
“Oh Okaa,” she said dismissively.
Her eyes arched in surprise, but she carried on, “Do exactly what he says, and you’ll be all right.”
As Chisato thought of Kiyoshi lying in the dark, she breathed faster, moved from side-to-side, hips rising and falling, until she quietly moaned in conclusion, falling asleep relaxed and satisfied.