All through these days Kino did not feel like playing. He worked hard beside his father in the fields. They did not talk much, and neither of them wanted to look at the sea. It was enough to look at the earth, dark and rich beneath their feet.
One evening, Kino climbed the hill behind the farm and looked toward the volcano. The heavy cloud of smoke had long ago gone away, and the sky was always clear now. He felt happier to know that the volcano was no longer angry, and he went down again to the house. On the threshold his father was smoking his usual evening pipe. In the house his mother was giving Setsu her evening bath.
“Is Jiya asleep already?” Kino asked his father.
“Yes, and it is a good thing for him,” his father replied. “Sleep will strengthen him, and when he wakes he will be able to think and remember.”
“But should he remember such sorrow?” Kino asked.
“Yes,” his father replied. “Only when he dares to remember his parents will he be happy again.”
They sat together, father and son, and Kino asked still another question. “Father, are we not very unfortunate people to live in Japan?”
“Why do you think so?” his father asked in reply.
“Because the volcano is behind our house and the ocean is in front, and when they work together for evil, to make the earthquake and the big wave, then we are helpless. Always many of us are lost.”
“To live in the midst of danger is to know how good life is,” his father replied.
“But if we are lost in the danger?” Kino asked anxiously.
“To live in the presence of death makes us brave and strong,” Kino’s father replied. “That is why our people never fear death. We see it too often and we do not fear it. To die a little later or a little sooner does not matter. But to live bravely, to love life, to see how beautiful the trees are and the mountains, yes, and even the sea, to enjoy work because it produces food for life — in these things we Japanese are a fortunate people. We love life because we live in danger. We do not fear death because we understand that life and death are necessary to each other.”
“What is death?” Kino asked.
“Death is the great gateway,” Kino’s father said. His face was not at all sad. Instead, it was quiet and happy.
“The gateway — where?” Kino asked again.
Kino’s father smiled. “Can you remember when you were born?”
Kino shook his head. “I was too small.”
Kino’s father laughed. “I remember very well. Oh, how hard you thought it was to be born! You cried and you screamed.”
“Didn’t I want to be born?” Kino asked. This was very interesting to him.
“You did not,” his father told him smiling. “You wanted to stay just where you were in the warm, dark house of the unborn. But the time came to be born, and the gate of life opened.”
“Did I know it was the gate of life?” Kino asked.
“You did not know anything about it and so you were afraid of it,” his father replied. “But see how foolish you were! Here we were waiting for you, your parents, already loving you and eager to welcome you. And you have been very happy, haven’t you?”
“Until the big wave came,” Kino replied. “Now I am afraid again because of the death that the big wave brought.”
“You are only afraid because you don’t know anything about death,” his father replied. “But someday you will wonder why you were afraid, even as today you wonder why you feared to be born.”
While they were talking the dusk had deepened, and now coming up the mountainside they saw a flickering light. The fireflies had come out, but this light was steadily climbing the pathway toward their house.
“I wonder who comes!” Kino exclaimed.
“A visitor,” his father replied. “But who can it be?”
In a few minutes they saw the visitor was Old Gentleman, coming from the castle. His manservant carried the lantern, but Old Gentleman walked behind him very sturdily, with the help of a long staff. They heard Old Gentleman’s voice in the dusk.
“Is this the house of Uchiyama the farmer?” Old Gentleman asked.
“It is,” his servant replied, “and the farmer sits there at his door with his son.”
At this Kino’s father stood up, and so did Kino.
“Please, Honored Sir,” Kino’s father said, “what can I do for you?”
Old Gentleman came forward. “Do you have a lad here by the name of Jiya?”
“He lies sleeping inside my house,” Kino’s father said.
“I wish to see him,” Old Gentleman said. Anyone could see that this old gentleman was one who expected to be obeyed. But Kino’s father only smiled.
“Sir, the lad is asleep and I cannot wake him. He suffered the loss of his whole family when the big wave came. Now sleep heals him.”
“I will not wake him,” Old Gentleman said. “I only want to see him.”
So Kino’s father led Old Gentleman tiptoe into the room where Jiya slept, and Kino went too. The servant held the light, shaded by his hand so it would not fall on Jiya’s closed eyes. Old Gentleman looked down on the sleeping boy. Jiya was very beautiful even though so pale and weary. He was tall for his age and his body was strong, and his face showed intelligence as well as beauty.
Old Gentleman gazed at him and then motioned to the servant to lead him away. They went again to the dooryard and there Old Gentleman turned to Kino’s father.
“It is my habit when the big wave comes to care for those who are orphaned. Three times the wave has come, and three times I have searched out the orphans and the widows and I have fed them and sheltered them. But I have heard of this boy Jiya and I wish to do more for him. If he is as good as he is handsome, I will make him my own son.”
“But Jiya is ours!” Kino cried.
“Hush,” his father cried. “We are only poor people. If Old Gentleman wants Jiya we cannot say we will not give him up.”
“Exactly,” Old Gentleman said. “I will educate him and give him fine clothes and send him to a good school and he may become a great man and an honor to our whole province and even to the nation.”
“But if he lives in the castle we can’t play together any more,” Kino said.
“We must think of Jiya’s good,” Kino’s father said. Then he turned to Old Gentleman. “Sir, it is very kind of you to propose this for Jiya. I had planned to take him for my own son, now that he has lost his birth parents, but I am only a poor farmer and I cannot pretend that my house is as good as yours, or that I can afford to send Jiya to a fine school. Tomorrow when he wakes, I will tell him of your kind offer. He will decide.”
“Very well,” Old Gentleman said. “But let him come and tell me himself, so that I will know how he feels.”
“Certainly,” Kino’s father replied proudly. “Jiya will speak for himself.”
How unhappy Kino now was to think that Jiya might leave this house and go and live in the castle! “If Jiya goes away, I shan’t have a brother,” he told his father.
“You must not be so selfish, Kino,” his father replied. “You must allow Jiya to make his own choice. It would be wrong to persuade him. Kino, I forbid you to speak to Jiya of this matter. When he wakes I shall speak to him myself.”
When his father was so stern Kino did not dare to disobey and so he went sadly to bed. He thought when he drew his quilt over him that he would not sleep all night, but being young and tired he slept almost at once.
Yet as soon as he woke in the morning he remembered Jiya and the choice he had to make. He got up and washed and dressed and folded his quilt and put it into the closet where it stayed during the day. His father was already out in the field, and there Kino went and found him. It was a beautiful mild morning, and a soft mist covered the ocean so that no water could be seen.