“Now, I’m not suggesting that the male students who will see our play are all potential rapists by any means. However, if their female counterparts — the girls who are now in school — are never taught about the harsher aspects of life, they’ll be far more vulnerable to the danger of being raped someday. You suggested that there must be a more delicate way to present the serial rape of Meisuke’s mother. But the thing is, that indirect approach wouldn’t merely diminish the impact of her tragedy and suffering. It would also blunt one of the points we want to make, which is that (figuratively speaking) Meisuke’s mother is still being raped today, and every day. We want to present the unvarnished truth to our young audience, to let them know that rape in any form should be a very real and immediate concern for them.”
“But why do you feel compelled to do that kind of brutal truth-telling in public, and at a school event?” asked the round-faced woman.
“Simply because for the past 140 years, ever since Meisuke’s mother was attacked, there has been no societal evolution to speak of in this country, and the situation for women hasn’t improved in any significant way. As I said, the truth is that Meisuke’s mother wasn’t raped only on one afternoon a century ago; she’s still being symbolically raped now, every single day, and that brutal reality is what we’re trying to address with this upcoming play.”
“Well, okay. But why on earth do you want to put on a play that’s so obsessed with the topic of rape? (By the way, I see your point about resorting to euphemisms, and I’ll try not to do it anymore.) And why stage it here of all places?” demanded the woman with the masculine-looking forehead, returning the discussion to its original focus. “Seriously, why do you have to go out of your way to put on such a controversial play out here in the boonies? People are saying this play of yours has some kind of hidden agenda.”
At this point Asa stepped forward and joined the conversation. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, ladies,” she said tartly, “so I’m going to ask you outright: Did you really hear that, in those exact words? I mean, ‘hidden agenda’? Please! And even if everything you’re saying isn’t just wild conjecture spawned by some vague rumor you heard around town, you still have a lot of nerve coming here and trying to deprive Unaiko of her right to freedom of expression by asking her to censor the content of her play. When my late husband was the principal of the junior high school in Honmachi, I remember that you used to attend the free lectures my brother here would often give when he came home for a visit, and afterward you and your cohorts would always make a big fuss about the subject matter, which was apparently too left wing for your tastes.”
“This isn’t about freedom of speech, or freedom of expression, or anything like that,” the first woman shot back. “I may be a teacher but I also happen to be a mother, and I have a genuine concern about the effect it might have on the students (including our own children) if they were forced to witness a rape scene taking place onstage during a public performance. Today being Sunday and all, my friend and I were out and about gathering some edible wild plants, and we happened upon your group purely by chance. We’re sorry if we startled you by popping up out of the blue like this.”
“Oh, no, don’t mention it,” Asa said in a friendlier tone. “This place is supposedly on a route traveled by wild boars, so we wouldn’t have been startled by something as minor as being accosted by you. However,” she added slyly, “I can’t help wondering which edible wild plants you expected to find around here this time of year. I mean, nothing’s in season right now.”
Without a word, the two interlopers sheepishly withdrew into the shadows beside the shrine and vanished from sight. Asa made no move to follow them. Instead, she turned to Unaiko and me and said, “Those two probably spotted us getting out of the car when we left it at the parking lot down by the river. That much, at least, could have been happenstance. They probably had a hunch we’d be bringing Unaiko to see this site, so I’m guessing they followed us and then put on a lame charade of ‘popping up’ by accident. Well, Unaiko dear, shall we mosey on toward the site of the tavern where Meisuke’s party stopped while she was being borne home after her unspeakable ordeal, and she made her famous retort after the ill-mannered proprietor asked her a lewd question? The little factory where the sake was made isn’t operating anymore, but we can at least see what’s left of the building and the big house where the owner used to live.
“And on the bright side, at least we’re all ambulatory, so none of us will need to be carried there on a stretcher!”
Chapter 14. Everything That Happens Is Fodder for Drama
1
Our little group plodded along in companionable silence, occasionally stopping to marvel at the extraordinary fact that we were following in the footsteps of a long-ago procession of female warriors. After taking a shortcut through a row of antique houses, we headed downhill toward the newer rows of shops and dwellings that had sprung up around the riverside road. Although the old path I remembered from my childhood appeared at first glance to have been completely destroyed, I noticed as we walked that a few nostalgic segments of the ancient roadway had been incorporated into the new national highway. Just before the spot where the Kame River merged with another river, a pair of bridges had been consolidated into a two-level cloverleaf crossing. At its base a car park stood next to a recently built supermarket where the area’s abundant farm produce was for sale.
“When Honmachi was converted into a provincial city that included this entire basin, one side became a pocket of suburbia, while the other side continued to lose its population as young people fled to more urban areas. This spot right here is the junction of the two,” Asa explained to Unaiko. “In our own little mountain valley, when young people want to move someplace a bit less rustic, they often head out here. Why don’t we grab some coffee from the convenience store while we’re waiting for Tamakichi to come and get us with the car? Or, if everyone’s game, we could continue on foot. It would take the better part of an hour, but …”
“Since the route would take us along Meisuke’s mother’s personal ‘trail of tears,’ I’d really like to try hiking it,” Unaiko said.
There was a steady stream of long-haul trucks on the highway, so Unaiko and I had to traipse along in single file, with Asa bringing up the rear.