Japan, 1957
The sun is slow to make its way across the late-afternoon sky, and the impatient moon encroaches the same space. As I teeter on the uneven path below, they wink at me through the trees’ thick canopy of green.
While Hatsu finishes her chores, I wander to collect my thoughts, calm my nerves and piece together what happened with Jin. Like Yoko, Jin wasn’t there in the morning. Did her parents come and get her? Did Aiko and Chiyo help Housemother move her to another place? We don’t know, and they won’t say. I wish I had remained awake. Instead, I slipped into the abyss, then woke to find Hatsu beside me on the floor and our door opened.
Since we have the key, we planned to leave first thing. But Housemother’s watchful eye has been on us every time we are together. And when we are not, she uses spies. Even now, Chiyo follows me.
I step up onto the weather-worn footbridge with one hand outstretched for balance. “Hello, Ganko, stubborn fish, remember me?” I drop a sliver of sweet roll filled with red bean paste. A blur of yellow and black disrupts the water. He fights the others to guarantee his share and doesn’t quit until he wins. I like him. Satoshi was right. The fattened carp and I are both the same. Persistent.
Has Satoshi wondered why I haven’t returned? Did he inquire of my whereabouts and did Grandmother again mislead him? Has Hajime come back from the Taiwan Straits to meet a similar fate? Or does destiny keep him there still delayed?
My hand rubs reassurance to the emerging bump at my middle. Housemother says it should be bigger, but without proper health care and such meager meals, I am lucky she grows at all. My baby fights. So, I do.
Usually when a woman is ready to give birth, she leaves her husband’s home and travels back to her kin. My family sent me here. I imagine Grandmother has told Father I am better off in a maternity home. My guess is she left out what kind. He would trust Grandmother, as a woman, to know best. She has created a lie with more than feet; it has sprouted scandalous wings and flown beyond my forgiving reach. To imagine my father knows otherwise is the foot of a lighthouse. Dark.
Hatsu cannot go home, and it is risky to return to my house in the outcast village. With Hajime detained, my family, knowing I have run off, may look for me there and drag us back. I cradle my belly and think words of comfort: It is okay, Little Bird, I’ll keep you safe. The monastery will not turn us away.
I sigh, knowing all my worries are sparrow’s tears. A small thing compared to the larger picture. This baby. Hatsu’s baby. The pact we made. The one we will keep.
We named Jin’s baby Minori, which means Truth. One of many I contend with. Because we leave tonight, Hatsu and I cannot keep our promise to Jin. At least, not right away. I swear to the heavens I will return to honor my word and her baby’s spirit. She won’t wait long.
“Oh? More?” I crumble the last bits of sweet roll and toss them in the stream’s eddy, then continue my walk, listening for Chiyo’s noisy feet. She follows me everywhere.
In many ways, I must become like these koi, able to accommodate myself to the water. I should not force my direction. Instead, I should enter the current’s swirl and flow out the current’s spin. This is how we will manage our escape.
Ahead, the tall gate looms, the same one we check every day. Housemother Sato’s rusty lock hangs crooked. With a tug, I confirm its hold. Still locked. I smile. It won’t be for long.
Hatsu holds the key. One of us must. As a safeguard we keep exchanging it.
If I had it with me now, the temptation to free myself would not prompt me to take it. Not at Hatsu and her baby’s expense. How could I? We get one shot to leave, and we are taking it together.
I listen as monks and nuns walk by for their daily outing. The same monks and nuns who will not intervene while we are on this side of the fence but are obligated to help once we cross over.
I close one eye and widen the other to see them through the high bamboo stalks. Blurs of brown and rust. I imagine Brother Daigan is among them in a robe of white, his pleasant face and rounded cheeks pushed high from a smile, causing eyes to curve like two crescent moons. I pretend he can hear my secret thoughts. Not yet, Brother Daigan. I’m not ready to hand over my baby. I still have a chance to keep her. We will escape tonight!
We only have one additional obstacle to overcome. Housemother’s rat spies. Still, they are not as bad as Grandmother’s foxes. At least we know who and where they are.
With new girls arriving at the maternity home next week, Housemother Sato allows Hatsu to share my room. She need not worry about space, because after we escape tonight, there will be plenty. Night pulls down its shade, but we lie side by side awake, listening to the bush crickets’ three-pulse song.
“I know everyone’s stories,” I say just above a whisper. “How Aiko learned her boyfriend already had a family and left her, how Chiyo got pregnant on purpose only to have him deny the baby was his and how Jin suffered such an ordeal.” I angle my head to face Hatsu. “But I do not know yours.”
She stares at the bamboo beams in the ceiling with the thin blanket tucked under her pointed chin. Her hair fans out in different directions. She blinks in silence.
Restless, I shift to cover my exposed feet. “Satoshi, the boy that escorted me here, is not my husband. You were right to suspect as much.” I curl my toes, uncomfortable with the subject, but share my story in hopes she will tell me hers. “But I did not intentionally mislead anyone. It was just easier to allow the confusion.”
“So, you are not actually married?” She angles her head to meet my eyes, then sighs. “I almost hoped it were true.”
“No, I am.” I roll to my side and prop myself up with an elbow. “Satoshi, the boy everyone saw, was my family’s choice as match. He’s honorable, but I had already given my heart to another.” A soft smile fills my face. “I call him Hajime, but his real name is Jimmy. Jimmy Kovač—he’s an American sailor. Right now his ship sits in the Taiwan Straits. He does not know where I am or what has happened. We married before he left.” I share how my mother gave me the choice, how my choice split my family and how I ended up here.
Hatsu moves to her side so we face one another, and our whispers have less distance to travel. “But your mother, she came to your wedding? She actually was there?”
“It was such a magical ceremony, Hatsu.” I share the details and relive them with every spoken word. How the lanterns twinkled from the trees like a thousand glowing fireflies. How handsome Hajime looked in his crisp white uniform. How his promise of love expressed so many times sustains me even now. I also tell her of the morning after. How I shared the possibility of our baby.
“And he was happy?” Her chin dips almost unbelieving.
My smile beams. “Yes, yes. Although...” I rock my head from side to side. “At first, surprised.”
We laugh.
Hatsu swivels again onto her back and pushes out a long, dreamy breath. “Your baby will have such a good story of how she came into this world. One of want and love and a beautiful wedding.” She sighs again. “I wish my baby could have the same.”
I wet my lips, debating if I should dare the question again, then brave it. “What is your baby’s story, Hatsu?”
She bites her lips, then loosens them. “You know how Chiyo and Aiko share similar tales? Even Yoko. Almost everyone’s stories are the same.”
“Except for Jin’s,” I say.
“Yes, except for Jin’s.” Her expression falls flat and shadows. “And except for mine.”
My hand covers my mouth.
“Jin is somewhat lucky. At least she only battled one demon.”
My heart drops. Tears follow. Their moisture floods my fingertips and seeps through. That is why she took Jin under her wing. Stood up for her. Mothered her. I didn’t know. I didn’t guess. I didn’t ask.
“So, you see?” Her lips pull high and her shaky words fight to work through them. “When my child asks his or her new parents, ‘Why was I given away? Where did I come from?’ they won’t have a wedding story of magical lights and forbidden love to share. They will have nothing to offer, because with a story as horrible as mine, I have nothing to leave.”
“You leave life, Hatsu.” I slide close, wrapping her in my arms and whisper through tears. “You leave life.”
Hatsu managed to drift off to sleep. Small snores rattle with each inhale. I have been listening to her for hours and thinking of her words. What was said. What was not.
Such ugly truth.
The word rape in English is ugly. It is a pucker of lips, then a hard pop. But the word, ugly or not, almost always connects to a bigger story.
Hatsu is right. I am blessed to have a good one. That is why Hatsu will now share mine. She can leave her baby a story of love and a magical wedding, too.
I shift to my other side and stare at the wall, thinking of my husband. Husband. My fingers drum my belly, causing featherlike flutters inside. So light, if I was not statue still, I would miss them. Hajime is missing them. I am missing him. He consumes my thoughts. Is he safe? Does he think of me? Is he working hard to return?
I stretch with a lazy yawn, trying to keep tired eyes open, and roll over to find Hatsu awake and staring back. Her expression asks if it is time. I blink, look up and listen for the answer.
My erratic heart.
The heaters buzz, and there are soft irregular taps like tiny pebbles on the rust tiled roof. It’s raining? I breathe in deep to taste the air. It is chilled and damp. Kerosene taints the flavor, which means Housemother Sato has left the wick too high again. My eyes wheel back to Hatsu, and I nod. The house sleeps.
It is time we did not.
We are dressed in layers to steer off the evening chill and to keep our bags light and manageable. Hatsu has the key.
“Let’s go,” I whisper.
Hatsu lifts her bag and takes careful steps. The floorboards groan from the disturbance. We pause to allow night’s normal rhythm to reestablish before trying again. Then, moving as one, we both lift a foot and set them down together. This is tedious but assures we are not detected. Has the distance to the door always been so great? The floor creaks under our weight near the entrance, threatening to snitch to Housemother and her spies.
We freeze with wide eyes and listen.
No one stirs.
Maybe it is lucky that it rains. The light patter helps hide our maneuvers. I pry open the front door. My heart thuds in my chest. We are so close. On the deck, I wait for Hatsu to move through, then close it with measured care. I resist the urge to run.
Dark clouds hide the moon and most of its available light. I didn’t plan for the weather and we’re without a lantern. A man surprised is half-beaten. I’m vigilant with each step, knowing our babies’ lives are at stake.
“Come on,” I whisper, taking her hand. The ground is slick, and with her protruding belly out front, she is already unbalanced. Steady rain falls from low clouds to accumulate on the grass. Our hems soak from their moisture as we dart through the clearing toward the narrow path.
The overhead canopy of branches acts as an umbrella and offers some sanctuary from the downpour. I stretch a drenched foot in front to test its placement before committing, but puddles collect where the ground dips. I can’t see them and only know they are there after I have stepped through. “Be careful,” I warn Hatsu. The air bites, leaving me to shiver regardless of my many layers.
With the rain, it is taking us twice as long to make the trip.
The slight embankment in front of us worries me most. The rain makes it slippery. I drop our bags to take Hatsu’s hand. “You go first. Hold on to me for support.”
She rotates, positions backward and steps down. Then she swings her leg to find stable footing. The rain pelts my back. Trickles run down my neck to add stinging cold. I lean all my weight back to assure my hold. She takes another step, digs that foot in and moves farther still, almost beyond my reach.
“Oh!” My head jerks back.
Hatsu cries from the sudden release and fall.
Housemother Sato screams. “You both try and sneak away, eh?” She yanks my hair again, so I stumble into her. “I knew you were up to no good!”
I flail with wild hands, trying to remove hers.
“Without payment? I don’t think so.” She shakes me, so I shriek.
“Run, Hatsu! Run!”
“Naoko!”
“Run!” I yell again, and swat at Housemother. She pulls back, causing imbalance as I claw for release.
She drags me. With every labored step, the distance between me and the gate increases. I thrash and fight even as hair rips from root, grateful Hatsu has the key, and pray she makes the gate.
I kick. I scream. I bite.
“Ahhh!” Housemother releases me, reeling back in pain, cursing.
I whirl around and run, the taste of blood in my mouth. The taste of freedom slipping away. She’s right at my heel, screaming threats in rage.
My heart beats like a rabbit so I move like one. Fast steps with only one desire. Out. I’m not fast, but I can maybe outmaneuver her and hide. I veer from the familiar path into the dense, overgrown woods.
Fallen twigs snap from my weight. Wet, tall grass whips at my calves. I push through barbed brush and keep going. Farther and farther I go to create distance until her shouts fall away, and I’m exhausted to the bone.
Out of breath, I stop, hunched over to listen.
Inconsistent drips filter through branches to land on the forest floor. It’s almost musical as they strike one leaf to the next, a hollow chord progression of tap-tap-tap followed by a pause before changing tempo and key.
But that is all I hear.
No distant shouts. No nearby footsteps. No one follows me here.
But where is here? Where is Hatsu? I pray she is far away and safe.
I blink in the darkness and look back the way I came. I ran erratic, a hare stalked as prey, going left, right, maybe in circles.
Sliding to the ground, I clutch my knees, having lost all sense of direction and losing hope. Snares have scratched my legs. Raised thin lines wind up my calves and swell in serpentine welts. They itch. I don’t care.
I dig at the earth, squeezing mud and twigs between my fingers, and gently rock. I will stay put, wait out their search—if they still search—then move at first light.
We left so late, morning can’t be long off, but with this rain, it’s hard to tell. Rain drips from drenched hair and beads along my cheeks. It collects on my lashes, blurs tear-filled eyes. Open, shut...open, shut. I squint, trying to keep focus.
When I am with others, it is almost bearable, but here in the blackest of nights alone? Grief and worry are intolerable. My head spins in the past, remembering my choices, choices made for me... If I had chosen different would Okaasan be here? Would I? But then what of my baby?
My head pounds from memories. The muscles around my chest pinch so I cannot take a full breath. Instead, I focus on my hands. The twig I hold and strip of bark. When it is bone-bare, I drop it and claim another to begin peeling off its many layers. I imagine Hatsu at the monastery, warm, fed and looked after. This thought warms my heart and sustains me as I wait...
Minutes. Hours. And then...morning clouds drip red with the long-awaited yawn of light.
My mind scrambles to reacclimate my surroundings. What did I say to Jin and Hatsu? “We know there’s a front path between the locked gate and the maternity home and a back path to where the spirit babies wait. But the rest is an infinite wood surrounded by an endless fence.”
I lift my chin. That is it.
I just need to climb back up on the elephant and march him in a straight line. Eventually, I will either find myself back on a path or blocked by the fence. Either way, one of them will lead me to the gate.
Pressing muddy hands to soaked thighs, I rock myself up. I pivot left, then right, then spin back the way I’d come. A thousand-ri journey begins with one step, and so what does it matter? This way will do. A stiff step forward. Then another. Then one more.
With outstretched arms, I push through. I catch on an exposed root, stumble over mud and moss, but don’t quite fall. It goes on and on this way. Under the rain-soaked canopy and in drenched clothes, I am in another world. Damp earth fills my nose. A dank chill rattles my teeth. And it is quiet. Except for squabbling birds and something more—something familiar. I cock my head.
Water.
The stream! Am I so close? My heart propels stiff legs to up their pace. To move faster. To get out! Stepping high over brush, I snap back branches with still-wet leaves, dart to where the woodland clears and find the small river. I accommodate myself to the water, remembering its direction. I chase the current’s swirl to flow out the current’s spin. And there it is.
The red footbridge. The path. And what it leads to...the gate.
I run.
I run along the uneven stone path as it winds through dense woodland. I run until I spy golden slats of tall bamboo. I run and slam open palms into its crossbeam gate.
It sways from impact but jolts me back.
I push again.
Again.
Leaning close, I peer through. My stomach drops. A new lock hangs crooked on the other side. Housemother’s not here. Has she gone to look for Hatsu? Me? Maybe she believes I’ve gone.
My emotions run feral. First, calm in a suspended disbelief. How did this happen? How did Housemother know? Then anger rips through me with a quiet scream. I strike the gate again and again, then spin on my heels to find Chiyo’s smug smile.
“Hello, Naoko.”
I now understand how Housemother knew. How she found us so quick. We were foolish to underestimate her.
Spies and foxes are no match for such a rat.