FIVE
The fireworks exploding over the River Dojima reminded her of flowers. Like great big burning flowers of pink, and blue, and green. Toshiko Sato's father held her in his arms while behind them, on the river itself, the boats made their way out towards the point where the Dojima meets the Okawa, each one carrying dozens of people, all of them dressed in brightly coloured costumes.
'Smile!' said her mother, and Toshiko and her father beamed for the lens in the seconds before they were both near-blinded by the flash.
The Tenjin Festival was Toshiko's favourite time of year, better than the Cherry Blossom Festival, or the Aizen Festival. Better, even, than the Midosuji Parade, and she loved the Midosuji Parade.
It was only during the festivals that her father ever seemed to have time for them. It wasn't his fault, as her mother often reminded her. Her father was a very busy man with a very important job, and he often had to travel far away, but he never missed the Tenjin Festival.
When the procession of the boats was over, Toshiko's parents walked her back through the city streets, each holding her hand. They stopped at a stall where her father bought her a bag of wagashi sweets, and then they walked down to the nearest subway.
The train was busy, thanks to the festival, and Toshiko spent all of her journey on the Yotsubashi Line surrounded by a forest of people's legs. She held on tightly to a nearby bar and tried not to stumble when the train stopped suddenly in each station. It was a little quieter on the Midosuji Line, but even so she still had to sit on her mother's lap.
By the time they got to their stop, Toshiko was asleep and had to be carried up the steps to their apartment, which overlooked Minami, in the south of the city. On clear days, which didn't come very often, you could see out past the city to the bay of Osaka, and her father had told her that on some days you could even see Kobe, though she didn't believe him.
She woke as her father opened the door and they stepped into the apartment, her mother and father kicking off their shoes. As her mother carried her through to her room, they passed the door to her grandmother's bedroom, and she could hear her grandmother snoring, as she did almost every night. In the mornings, of course, when her mother or father would say something about the snoring, Grandma would deny it, saying they must have been imagining it, which was a source of endless amusement for Toshiko and her parents.
Her mother tried to put her to bed and turn out the light but, having slept for much of the subway journey, Toshiko was restless and wanted a bedtime story.
'All right,' said Toshiko's mother, eyeing her suspiciously. 'You can have a story, but just the one. It's way past your bedtime. Which story would you like? Tin-Tin? The fairy tales?'
'Fairy tales!' said Toshiko, suddenly very much awake, clapping her hands together and bouncing up and down on her bed.
'OK… Fairy tales it is,' said her mother, picking the book from Toshiko's shelf and sitting on the edge of the bed. She opened the book, and began to read.
'This story is called "The Land Of Perpetual Life". Many, many years ago, there lived a rich man called Sentaro. His father had been a powerful and wealthy man, and Sentaro inherited his fortunes from him, but he was not hardworking like his father, and spent his time being idle and lazy.
'One day, when Sentaro was thirty-three years old, he thought of death and sickness, and the thoughts made him very sad.
'"I would like to live until I am six hundred years old, at least," said Sentaro, "so that I am never sick and I am never old. The span of a man's life is far too short."
'Sentaro had heard stories of people who lived much longer than normal men, and indeed women, such as the Princess of Yamato who, so he'd been told, lived to the ripe old age of five hundred. He had heard stories, too, of a mighty Chinese emperor called Shin-no-Shiko, who had built the Great Wall of China. Despite his riches, his palaces, and his precious stones, Shin-no-Shiko was unhappy because he knew that one day he would die.
'Every day when he woke up, and every night when he went to sleep, Shin-no-Shiko would pray that somebody might give him the famous Elixir of Life-'
'What's an elixir?' asked Toshiko.
'It's like a drink,' said her Mum. 'A drink that makes you live for ever.'
'OK:
'So… Where was I? Oh yes. He prayed that somebody might give him the famous Elixir of Life.
Then one day a courtier, whose name was Jofuku, told him that far, far away across the sea, on Mount Fuji, there lived hermits who possessed the Elixir of Life, and that whoever drank it would live for ever.
'Shin-no-Shiko told Jofuku to travel to Mount Fuji, find the hermits, and bring back with him a bottle of the magical elixir. He gave Jofuku his best boat, and a chest filled with his finest jewels and bags full of gold, for him to give as gifts to the hermits.
'Jofuku sailed away across the sea, but he never returned. It was said, however, that the hermits on Mount Fuji now worshipped Jofuku as their patron god.
'Hearing of this story, Sentaro was determined that he would find the hermits and, if he could, join them, so that he might have the water of perpetual life.
'He travelled for many days and many nights, until he reached Mount Fuji, but there were no hermits to be found. All that remained on the mountain was the shrine of Jofuku. As he had travelled for so long, Sentaro prayed for seven more days, pleading for Jofuku to show him the way to the hermits and their elixir.
'On the night of the seventh day, as Sentaro knelt inside the temple, a door opened with a great big BANG!'
Her mother yelled the word, and Toshiko jumped and then giggled.
'And from out of the door came the spirit of Jofuku, like a glowing puff of smoke.
'"Sentaro!" said Jofuku. "You are a selfish man and your wish cannot easily be granted. Do you really think that you would like to live as a hermit? Hermits can only eat fruit and berries and the bark of pine trees; a hermit cannot live amongst others, amongst family or friends, and must live by many rules. The hermit does not feel hunger, or pain. You, Sentaro, live well. You eat fine foods, and drink much sake. You are not like other men, for you are lazy, and when it is cold you complain that it is too cold, and when it is hot you complain that it is too hot. A hermit does not do these things. Do you think that you could really live as a hermit?
'"However, as you have prayed now for seven days and seven nights, I will help you in another way. I will send you from Mount Fuji to the Land of Perpetual Life, where nobody dies, and where everyone lives for ever!"
'And with that, Jofuku placed in Sentaro's hand an origami crane, and he told him to sit on the back of the crane, so that it could carry him to this faraway land.
'Sure enough, when Sentaro sat on the crane it grew and grew and grew until it was bigger than any normal crane, and then it carried him away, over the top of Mount Fuji, and out over the big blue sea.
'They flew across the ocean for many thousands of miles, Sentaro and the paper bird, until they reached a faraway island. When they landed on this island the origami crane folded itself up and flew straight into Sentaro's pocket.
'Sentaro walked around the island, and saw that the people there were prosperous and wealthy, and so he settled at a hotel in one of the villages. The owner of the hotel, a kindly man, spoke with the governor of the island and arranged for Sentaro to be given a house of his own, so that he could live for ever in the Land of Perpetual Life.
'And it was true what Jofuku had said, for in the Land of Perpetual Life nobody ever died or got sick. People came to the island from all around, from China and India and even faraway Africa, and told the people on the island about a land called Horaizan, where everybody was eternally happy, but the only way to reach this land was by travelling through the gates of death.