“Okay, so maybe Buzz Sugimoto is suspicious,” Mariko conceded, “but saying Junko’s a Yakuza is silly.”
“Then who was she talking to, and why did she hide when she saw Sugimoto?”
“I don’t know. Okay, okay, something fishy is going on. What do you think we should do about it? Confront Junko?” Mariko asked.
“No. In the morning, let’s ask her how she slept and see what she says. If she says she got restless and went into town, then we should be upfront with her about me seeing her and ask her why Sugimoto’s here. If she lies again, then I think we should be cautious.”
“How?”
“Let’s split up the search tomorrow. The center of the map is north of here, but let’s tell Junko we should also search to the west of the town and that we’ll split up to do it. We’ll search the north and I’ll find someplace in the west for her to search.”
“Is that really necessary?”
I sighed. “You’re the one who’s been telling me I’ve gotten paranoid over the Yakuza thing. We can call the search off completely, but that will mean turning everything over to the News Pop show and Buzz or Junko can come up and look for the treasure after I leave Japan. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Well, that doesn’t leave us many choices, then. I could try going to the local police, but I don’t have any proof of anything. I don’t want to leave Japan without at least giving a shot at finding the treasure. And if Junko lies to us tomorrow, I don’t want to have to worry about her at our back while Sugimoto may be in front of us. Do you have a better plan?”
After a few moments, Mariko said, “I hope Junko tells us in the morning that she couldn’t sleep and went into the village where she picked up a guy. Then we can go treasure hunting together. Otherwise, I’ll play along as you explain that you had a brainstorm about a new location for the treasure to the west.”
27
The forest was a wild and feral place. Giant cryptomerias grew in profusion. The rough, red bark of the trees clung to the large trunks, making a curtain that shrouded the forest beyond. Between the trees hagi, or bush clover, grew. A low morning mist clung to the roots of the trees, adding an eerie highlight to the forest.
“You sure you want to split up?” Junko asked.
“Yes. I was looking over the maps last night and I realized that the treasure was just as likely to be in the western part of the valley as here. It will be more efficient if you scout that location while Mariko and I look here. Meet us here at three o’clock and we’ll compare notes. If we find anything interesting here, we’ll still have time to take you to it so you can see what you want to film for the show.”
That morning Junko had joined us claiming she had slept like a baby the night before. Mariko and I exchanged what Henry James used to call “significant looks.” If I remember right, James meant those looks to signify love, but in our case the looks signified the cementing of a conspiracy to keep Junko away from the prime location for the treasure. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did know we were being lied to.
“Okay, I’ll see you at three this afternoon, then,” Junko said as she put the Patrol in gear and pulled away.
“Are you ready?” I asked Mariko. She was bundled up and carrying a knapsack over one shoulder.
“Sure.”
“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” I asked, a wave of second thoughts rolling over me.
She snorted her disdain for my backsliding and started purposefully down the path into the forest. Feeling a little foolish, I followed.
The hiking trail was well marked, so even though we plunged into a sort of gloomy twilight as we entered the forest, I didn’t think we would get lost. I looked at Mariko and said, “So I gather you’re ready to go treasure hunting?”
She stopped and let me catch up. She reached up and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. Her mouth was very cold and wet from the morning air. “I’m more than ready,” she said. “Let’s go see if we can find where there’s a pile of gold.”
“I don’t see how we’re going to find a group of trees or rocks that looks like an M,” I said after we had been hiking for ten minutes or so. “I thought there’d be only a few groves of trees in this area, but now I see the whole area is a forest.”
“Well, it’s pretty anyway,” Mariko said. “If we can’t find billions in gold and silver, we can at least have a nice hike.”
“That’s very philosophical of you. I hoped to make enough off this treasure hunt to buy most of Japan. Now, according to you, I should just come back with a few memories of pretty countryside.”
“You don’t really expect to find the treasure, do you?”
“Well, I guess not,” I admitted. “And if I did find it, I’m sure the government of Japan will have something to say about who keeps it. I haven’t even checked into what the laws are about treasure hunting in Japan, but I’m sure it’s not just finders-keepers.”
We came across a stream that I had seen on the map and started following it. Despite my disappointment in seeing that the terrain was all woods, I was pretty happy. Having Mariko with me on this treasure hunt in Japan was an unexpected bonus, and it’s always better when you share an exciting experience with someone you love. In the back of my mind, I just kept hoping that it wouldn’t get too exciting, thanks to Sugimoto, Junko, the Yakuza, the Nippon Tokkotai, and whoever else might be interested.
After hiking for about an hour, Mariko said, “I’m hungry.”
“What? Already? It’s not even ten o’clock.”
“So what. Come on, let’s stop and eat.”
“I don’t understand how someone as small as you can pack in so much food.”
“Jealous?”
“Damn right. If I ate as much food as you, you’d have to roll me along the side of this stream because I’d be shaped like a barrel.”
Mariko laughed and said, “Look, there’s a little clearing ahead. Let’s eat there. Mrs. Sakurai packed us some kind of lunch.” She patted her knapsack. “And I’m anxious to see what kind of goodies we have. We’ll have a picnic.”
The clearing was like a miniature meadow by the side of the stream. Perhaps it was the aftermath of a long forgotten small fire, or perhaps the boulders that dotted the meadow gave a clue to the possibility that the ground was too rocky for the large trees to grow. Regardless, it let some sunlight into the gloom of the forest.
Mariko and I found a large rock to sit on. She unslung the pack, and before she got the lunches out, I leaned over and gave her a kiss. She gave me a happy hug in return. From the knapsack she brought out two black lacquered lunchboxes. She gave me one and took the top off the other and peered inside.
Inside was a pair of disposable chopsticks sitting on top of the beautifully prepared and neatly packed food. Rolls of rice covered with black sesame seeds and garnished with green, purple, and yellow pickles, made up one side of the box. Grilled fish, vegetables, and what looked like a rolled egg omelet made up the other half of the box. “Hey, that looks pretty good,” I said, as I took the lid off my own bento, or box lunch. The Japanese would call this a honeymoon bento, because it was the kind of special lunch that a newly married salaryman could expect, prepared with care and with a delicious variety of foods. According to Japanese lore, eventually the salaryman would make the transition to a one-thousand Yen Samurai, whose wife would give him a daily allowance of one thousand yen with which he was supposed to buy lunch and other daily incidentals. In samurai times, the women kept the household purse strings, and many Japanese couples retain this custom, so a daily allowance for the man isn’t unusual.
By the time I had my chopsticks broken apart, Mariko already had one of the rice rolls stuffed into her mouth. She closed her eyes in ecstasy and said, “Um. Delicious.”