“Oh, yes, I heard about that,” Ricchan said. “Unaiko told me she was very moved when you quoted the translation of one of your favorite lines from Eliot, These fragments I have shored against my ruins. She said it made her realize that even for an older author who has had a great deal of success, the struggle never ends; on the contrary, it goes on forever, until you die. As I’ve said before, while Unaiko is undeniably egocentric, she is also a very sensitive soul who can be saddened to the point of tears by something as small as suddenly becoming aware of the burdens an old person has to bear.”
3
When Asa finally returned to her house by the river after having stayed in Tokyo considerably longer than expected, she brought with her a packet that had been put together by Akari’s music teacher in Tokyo. It contained a summary of Akari’s overall progress; copies of all the handwritten sheet music for his original compositions — both in progress and completed; and an evaluation of his most recent work. (I had shared Akari’s latest efforts with our family in Tokyo, and Asa had passed those pages along to the music teacher.)
When Asa and I got together to talk about Akari’s musical situation, she told me about a new development we both feared would be upsetting for Akari if he knew. It appeared likely that his music teacher, who was married to the associate conductor of an orchestra patterned after the West German model, would soon be accompanying her husband on a posting abroad, where she would pursue her own education as an advanced student of music.
After we had finished a communal lunch and Ricchan had set off with Akari for his daily round of rehab exercises, Asa gave me a full report on the state of affairs at my house in Seijo. This included an account of a soul-baring talk she’d had with Maki, who had been left in charge of the household while Chikashi was in the hospital. Asa began by reassuring me that I didn’t need to worry about Chikashi’s medical bills, since they would be covered by our health insurance. As for taxes, she said Maki was already planning for the following year. In an ordinary year, I would have published a new book, which would have yielded some income. This year, however, my work on the drowning novel had screeched to a halt, and I didn’t have any other book projects in mind. There was enough money in the bank to cover everyone’s living expenses through the next year, but what, Asa asked, was I planning to do when the big tax payments came due next March?
“Don’t worry, Kogii,” she said briskly before I could reply, “I may have come up with a possible solution. It’s been confirmed that we have copyrights on all versions of the screenplay for the Meisuke’s Mother Marches Off to War movie. According to Ricchan, they’ve begun work on a draft of their stage-play version of the story, which will be presented using Unaiko’s trademark dog-tossing method. As remuneration for your work and for the use of your screenplay, what if you combined those two versions of the story in a single volume, as a set? There’s no reason to expect a novelist’s screenplay and a playscript to be a bestseller, but it’s worth a try, don’t you agree? I’m acquainted with the editor who would have been handling your current novel, if it had ever come to fruition, so I went ahead and sent an email to sound him out about this idea.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said, remembering. “If you’re wondering what became of his reply, the editor and I just corresponded directly. As you’re aware, his publishing house puts out a literary magazine, and as it happens, the editor in chief has a long-standing interest in both film and the theater. He’s already said that he would like to publish both scripts in his magazine, as a new work, and they’re willing to pay for it, too. I really have to hand it to you, sis — you’re as much of a go-getter as any professional literary agent out there!”
Asa knew I was historically ambivalent about her aggressively proactive tendencies, and she clearly heard the undertone of resentment beneath my compliment. However, that didn’t stop her from forging ahead.
“Once it’s been decided that your scripts will appear in a literary magazine, you won’t be able to bail on the project the way you did on your last novel,” she said pointedly. “In that spirit, I think you need to take the time to walk the insurrection route and check things out for yourself. You’ve never actually made the trek along the river, have you? Unaiko mentioned she wanted to get a sense of where the uprising took place to help her imagine the frightful ordeal that Meisuke’s mother endured afterward, so I told her we’d be glad to provide a hands-on guided tour. We’re planning to go next Sunday, and I trust I can count on you to come along?”
4
That Sunday morning, Unaiko drove over to pick Asa up, and then they swung back around to fetch me. I climbed into the passenger seat next to Unaiko and assumed the role of explainer in chief, while Asa added her own questions and comments from the backseat.
“I’ve been thinking about the best way to give you the grand tour,” I told Unaiko. “Asa, remember the time when we were kids, when we went and rambled around some ruins not far from here? They were supposedly the habitat of the Destroyer: the literally larger-than-life character who’s the star of the single most popular legend around these parts … I suppose ‘legend’ could imply a basis in truth, so maybe I should just call him an apocryphal being. In any case, sometime between 250 and 300 years ago, deep in the forest where the feudal clan’s authority held no sway, this charismatic individual supposedly created a completely independent, self-sustaining community of separatists. He’s said to have lived a remarkably long life and somehow, along the way, he was magically transformed into a giant. According to local lore, the Road of the Dead and other large-scale projects were built under his leadership. In any case, one day during our childhood we went to take a look, as a family outing. In the midst of the ruins there was a raised area, like a round platform, covered with vividly verdant grass.”
“I remember!” Asa exclaimed. “It was supposedly the Destroyer’s favorite spot for an afternoon nap!”
“That’s right,” I said. “And according to the story, that was where the spirit of the late Meisuke supposedly appeared and lay down side by side with Meisuke II, his posthumously born little brother. Then the original Meisuke proceeded to instruct his reincarnated self in the art of war, including some strategies for the second insurrection. I’ve always felt as if the story about the meeting between the two Meisukes — one alive, one dead — might really be true.”
“Well, I was quite the tomboy,” Asa said, “so I could freely go places that would have seemed daunting to some of the girlier girls, and I remember visiting the spot with my big brother. (Although, truth be told, I was hanging on to him for dear life.) Actually I suspect the reason my brother took a companion was because he wanted to explore the forest, but he had heard so many stories and legends about the Destroyer that it seemed too scary to venture in alone, even for him.”
“At any rate, I was thinking we could begin our grand tour at that spot today,” I said stiffly.
“Slight change of plans,” Asa said. “I had the same idea of starting out at the Destroyer’s napping spot, but when I talked it over with my son he told me the area has become overgrown and inaccessible in recent years. So instead we’ll start by going down to the road along the Kame River and then following the walking course that winds uphill from Okawara, toward the mountains. The path will take us past the place where Meisuke’s mother was attacked, and we’ll also get to see the site where Meisuke II was stoned to death. We can leave the car down in Okawara. Tamakichi will ride his bike over to fetch it later, and then he’ll pick us up when we start to get tired of walking. So, that’s the plan.”