Silent Honor (4 page)

“Thank you,” Masao said earnestly, bowing low to him, as tears stung his eyes and filled his throat. “Thank you,” he whispered again to the doctor, and to all the gods he prayed to. He would have been lost without her.

Masao never left the hospital all day, although he called his neighbors to tell his mother-in-law that Hidemi was all right and they had had a little boy. And after he'd done that, he went to see his son. He was a fat cherub of a child, and Hidemi had already told him months before that she wanted to call him Yuji. She hadn't even chosen a girl's name this time, for fear that picking one might mean she would need one.

And then finally, at the end of the day, they let him see Hidemi. He had never seen a living woman look so pale, and they were still giving her transfusions, and assorted medications intravenously. She was groggy from the painkillers they'd given her, but she recognized Masao the moment she saw him, and she smiled as he bent to kiss her. He almost wished she would blush so he could see some color in her cheeks again, but at least she was alive, and so was their baby, and she was smiling.

“You have a son,” she said victoriously. At what price glory.

“I know.” He smiled at her. “I have a wife too.” To him that was far more important. “You frightened me very badly, little one. No more of your old ideas. It's too dangerous to be so old-fashioned.” He had realized more than ever that day how much he loved her.

“We'll have the next one here,” she said amiably, and he didn't contradict her. It was still too soon to tell her everything that had happened. But having only two children was no tragedy to him. They had a boy and a girl, she had done her duty by him, and she could retire with honor.

“I have enough with you, and Hiroko, and Yuji.” It felt sweet saying his name. He was so new to them, but it felt good to include him.

“Who does he look like?” she asked softly, clinging to Masao's hand, unaware of how close to death she had come. But he was well aware of it and he knew he would never forget the terrors of the night before and that morning.

“He looks like a little samurai, like my father,” Masao said, grateful again that they had both been spared.

“He must be handsome and wise like you, Masao-san,” she said, drifting slowly back to sleep, still holding on to him, very gently.

“And sweet and kind like his mother,” Masao whispered, smiling at her. He knew that he would cherish her forever.

“You must teach him English,” she said softly, and he smiled, laughing at himself for once. “And we will take him to California to visit his cousin,” she went on, woozy from the drugs, but busily planning their son's future.

“Maybe hell go to college there,” he said, playing the game with her. “Or maybe Hiroko will…. Well send her to Takeo at Stanford.” But this time Hidemi smiled as her eyes fluttered open again.

“She's only a girl….” Hidemi corrected him. “You have a son now.”

“She's a modern girl,” he whispered as he bent close to his wife. “She will do everything Yuji can,” he said, with eyes filled with dreams, and she laughed at him. He was so crazy with his modern ideas and plans for all of them, but she knew just how much she loved him.

“Thank you very much, Masao-san,” Hidemi said awkwardly in English as she drifted off to sleep, holding her husband's hand.

“You're welcome, little one,” he answered her more fluently, and settled down in a chair to watch her.

Chapter 3

N
O!' HIDEMI
said forcefully. It was an old argument between them, and one she absolutely refused to give in on. “She's a girl, not a man. She belongs here, with us. What good will it do to send her to California?” Hidemi adamantly refused to send her daughter away to college.

“She's almost eighteen years old,” Masao explained patiently for the thousandth time in a year. “She speaks English very well, but she will benefit enormously from at least a year in the States, if not longer.” He wanted her to do all four years of college there, but he knew that for the moment, Hidemi was not ready to let her do it. “It will improve her education, open up her ideas, broaden her horizons. And my cousin and his wife will take good care of her.” They had three children of their own, and lived in Palo Alto. But Hidemi knew all of that, and she still didn't want to do it.

“Send Yuji next year,” she said stubbornly, as he looked at her, wondering if he'd ever win the argument. It was really something that he wanted for Hiroko. She was very shy, and very traditional, in spite of her father's revolutionary ideas, and he thought it would do her good to leave Japan for a while. It was Yuji who really wanted to go, who was dying to spread his wings, and who was so much like him.

“We can send Yuji too, but this would be an unforgettable experience for Hiroko. She'll be safe there, she'll be in good hands. And think of all that she'd learn.”

“A lot of wild American habits,” Hidemi said disapprovingly, and Masao sighed in despair. She was a wonderful wife, but she had very definite, and very traditional, ideas about their children, particularly their daughter. Hiroko had been schooled in every possible ancient tradition before her grandmother died the year before, and Hidemi herself continued all of them with meticulous precision. They were important, certainly, but there were other things Masao wanted Hiroko to learn, that he thought were more important, particularly for a woman. He wanted her to have all the same opportunities as Yuji, and in Japan, that was far from easy. “She can learn English here. I did,” Hidemi said firmly as Masao smiled at her.

“I give up. Send her to be a Buddhist nun. Or call a go-between and find her a husband. You might as well. You're not going to let her do anything with her life, are you?”

“Of course I am. She can go to university here. She doesn't have to go all the way to California.”

“Think of what you're depriving her of, Hidemi. I'm serious. Can you really live with yourself, doing that to her? Think of the experience she would have there. All right, never mind four years of college. Send her for a year. One school year. It would be a year she would treasure for the rest of her life. She'll make friends, meet new people, get new ideas, and then she can come back and go to university here. But she'll never be quite the same again, if she goes … or if she doesn't.”

“Why do you have to make it my responsibility for cheating her out of an opportunity? Why is it my fault?” Hidemi pouted.

“Because you want to keep her here. You want to keep her comfortable, hidden in your skirts, safe in our little world, shy, and old-fashioned, and totally tied up by all the useless traditions your mother taught her. Set her free, like a beautiful little bird. Shell come back to us…. But don't clip her wings, Hidemi, just because she's a girl. It's not fair. The world is hard enough for women.” It was a fight he had long championed, and one his wife didn't entirely agree with. She was perfectly satisfied with her lot in life, in fact, as his wife, she enjoyed a great many freedoms. But she also knew it, and she wasn't entirely deaf to what he was saying, or the voice of her own conscience.

It took another month of soul-searching and arguments, but eventually Hidemi conceded. One year, or more if Hiroko truly loved it, but she only had to go to San Francisco for a year. And Takeo had gotten her into a small but academically excellent women's college in Berkeley called St. Andrew's, and Masao swore she would be safe there. It was a long time to be away, but Hidemi had to agree, though grudgingly, that it was an exciting opportunity for her—though why women had to go to university, and one that far away, was beyond her. She never had, and she had had a wonderful life with her husband and children.

Even Yuji thought it was a great idea, and he could hardly wait for the following year, when he was hoping to apply to Stanford. But in the meantime, he thought his sister was really lucky to be going to California. The only one who didn't share his enthusiasm, other than Hidemi, was Hiroko.

“Aren't you pleased your mother agreed?” Masao asked her confidently, thrilled with his victory when Hidemi finally capitulated and agreed to let Hiroko go to San Francisco. It had been a year-long battle. But Hiroko was silent and hesitant, though she assured him that she was very grateful She looked like a little doll, with tiny features and graceful limbs. She was even lovelier and more delicate than her mother. But she was also even shyer than her mother had been, and unlike her father, with all his forward ideas, Hiroko was naturally old-fashioned. She took great comfort in it, and had a genuine fondness for all the old ways and traditions. Her grandmother had given her a deep respect for them, but beyond that she was just very comfortable with domestic pursuits and the most ancient of traditions. She was traditional Japanese to her very core, far more so than even her mother. Over the years, Hidemi had developed a deep respect for a number of Masao's modern concepts. But Hiroko showed no interest in any of them. She was just a very old-fashioned girl, and the last thing she wanted was to spend a year in California. She was only doing it to please her father. And it seemed a terribly high price to pay to show her respect for him, but she would never have defied him.

“Aren't you excited?” he asked again, and she nodded, trying to look enthused, but failing. And as he looked at her, his heart sank. He know his daughter well, and loved her deeply, and he would rather have died than make her unhappy. “Don't you want to go, Hiroko?” he asked sadly. “You can be honest with me. We're not trying to punish you. We want to do something important for your future.” It was also a considerable financial drain on them, with his professor's salary, but they really felt it was a worthwhile sacrifice to make for their children.

“I …” She struggled with the fear of being disobedient to him, as she lowered her eyes and battled her emotions. She loved them so much, and her brother too, that she hated to leave them. “I don't want to leave you,” she said with big eyes filled with tears. “America is so far away. Why can't I just go to Tokyo?” She raised her eyes to his, and he almost cried as he saw them.

“Because you will learn nothing there you can't learn here. In fact, it is better for you here than in the big city. But America …” he said, his own eyes filled with dreams. He had never been there, but he had wanted to go all his life. For twenty years he had read his cousin Takeo's letters and wished he could have been there. Now it was a gift he wanted to give his children, the ultimate gift, the only one he would have wanted. “You only have to go for a year, Hiroko. One school year. That's all. If you hate it, you can come back here. A year isn't such a long time. You can do that. And maybe you'll like it. Yuji might even be there your second year, if you stay. You'd be together.”

“But you wouldn't be there … or Mama…. What would I do without you?” she asked as her eyes filled and her lip trembled, and she lowered her eyes in respect for him, and he came to put his arms around her, always startled by how slight she was. She was barely an armful.

“We'll miss you too, but we'll write to you, and you'll have Uncle Tak and Aunt Reiko.”

“But I don't know them.”

“They're wonderful people.” Takeo had come back for a visit nine years before, but Hiroko scarcely remembered him, and Aunt Reiko hadn't been able to make it, because she was expecting their last little girl, Tamiko. “You'll love them, and I know they'll take care of you like one of their own. Please, Hiroko, please give it a chance. I don't want you to be deprived of this opportunity.” He had saved for years for it, and it had taken him almost as long to convince his wife, and now Hiroko made him feel like he was punishing her, and he wanted this so much for her. If only she would do it.

“I will do it, Papa. For you,” she said, bowing to him, and he wanted to shake her. He wanted her to give up the old ways. She was too young to be so steeped in tradition.

“I want you to do it for yourself,” he said. “I want you to be happy there.”

“I will try, Papa,” she whispered, as the tears slid down her cheeks, and he held her. He felt like a monster, forcing her to go, and yet until the moment she left, he was certain that once she was in California she would love it.

But the morning she left, a pall fell over all of them, and when they left the house, Hiroko just stood outside and cried at the thought of leaving her home and her parents and brother. She stopped for a moment at their little shrine and bowed, and then she followed her mother to the car, and slid into the backseat beside her to begin the drive to Kobe. Yuji and her father chatted quietly in the front, and Hiroko sat in total silence. She just sat and stared out the window as her mother watched her. Hidemi wanted to say something to her, to tell her to be brave, to tell her that she was sorry if they were wrong, but she didn't know what to say to her, so she said nothing. And as Masao glanced at them in the rearview mirror from time to time, he was dismayed by the deafening silence behind him. There were no little girlish sounds, of excitement or amazement. She said nothing about the ship, or America, or her cousins. She said nothing at all. She just sat there, feeling as though her heart would break, as she was torn from her homeland. And each house, each tree, each blade of grass she saw only heightened her anguish.

Her mother had packed all of her things in one trunk, which they had sent ahead to the NYK Line in Kobe. And now the brief hour and a half ride to their pier seemed endless. Even Yuji's attempts to lighten the moment barely brought a smile to her face. She was extremely serious, and she rarely made the kind of jokes or got into the mischief that he did. Yet despite their natural differences, they were extremely close, and it was obvious that they loved each other deeply. He spoke to her in English now, which he spoke surprisingly well, better than she did. He had a natural gift with languages, as he did with many things, especially music and sports, and in spite of his fondness for having fun, he was an excellent student. Hiroko was slower and more serious about things. She didn't leap into projects, and friendships, and new ideas the way he did. She approached things carefully, with a great deal of thought, and a great deal of precision. But what she did, she did well. She played piano and violin, which she practiced constantly. She had worked considerably less on her English, and although she spoke it well, she always felt awkward. Unlike Yuji.