Part 16 (2/2)

”You were making more noise than a wild boar.”

”I was not!”

”Maybe I have something of the Kikuta hearing,” she teased him.

”I have that.”

”I know. And I think it will become even sharper as you grow older.” She opened his palm and traced the line that ran straight across it. ”You and I have the same hands.”

”Like Takeo,” he said with pride.

”What do you know about Takeo?” she said, smiling.

”He's Kikuta too. Uncle Kenji told us about him: how he can do things no one else can do, even though he was impossible to teach, Uncle says.” He paused for a moment and then said in a small voice, ”I wish we didn't have to kill him.”

”How do you know that? Did Uncle tell you that too?”

”I heard it. I hear lots of things. People don't know I'm there.”

”Were you sent to find me?” she asked, reminding herself to share no secrets in her grandparents' house without checking where her son was first.

”Not exactly. No one told me to come, but I think you should go home.”

”What's happened?”

”Aunt Seiko came. She is very unhappy. And Uncle-” He broke off and stared at her. ”I have never seen him like that before.”

Yuki, she thought at once. She stood quickly and pulled on her sandals. Her heart was pounding, her mouth dry. If her aunt had come, it could only be bad news-the worst.

Her fears were confirmed by the pall of mourning that seemed to have settled over the whole village. The guards' faces were pale, and there were no smiles or banter. She did not stop to question them but hurried to her grandparents' house. The women of the village had already gathered, leaving fires unlit and the evening meal uncooked. She pushed her way through them as they muttered words of sympathy and condolences. Inside, her aunt, Kenji's wife, knelt on the floor next to her grandmother, surrounded by the household women. Her face was drawn, her eyes red, her body shaking with deep sobbing.

”Aunt!” s.h.i.+zuka knelt before her and bowed deeply. ”What happened?”

Seiko took her hand and gripped it hard but could not speak.

”Yuki pa.s.sed away,” her grandmother said quietly.

”And the baby?”

”The baby is well; it's a boy.”

”I am so sorry,” s.h.i.+zuka said. ”Childbirth...”

Her aunt was racked by even fiercer sobs.

”It was not childbirth,” the old woman said, putting her arms around Seiko and rocking her like a child.

”Where is my uncle?”

”In the next room, with his father. Go to him. Maybe you can comfort him.”

s.h.i.+zuka rose and went quietly to the next room, feeling her eyes grow hot with unshed tears.

Kenji sat unmoving next to his father in the dim room. All the shutters were closed and it was stifling. The old man had tears trickling down his face; every now and then he raised his sleeve to wipe them away, but her uncle's eyes were dry.

”Uncle,” she whispered.

He did not move for a while. She knelt silently. Then he turned his head and looked at her.

”s.h.i.+zuka,” he said. His eyes went bright as tears sprang into them but did not fall. ”My wife is here; did you see her?”

She nodded.

”Our daughter is dead.”

”It's terrible news,” she said. ”I am so sorry for your loss.” The phrases seemed useless and empty of meaning.

He did not say anything else. Eventually she dared to ask, ”How did it happen?”

”The Kikuta killed her. They made her take poison.” He spoke as if he did not believe his own words.

s.h.i.+zuka herself could not believe them. Despite the heat she felt chilled to the bone. ”Why? How could they do such a thing?”

”They did not trust her to keep the child from Takeo or to bring him up to hate his father.”

She had thought nothing could shock her about the Tribe, but this revelation made her heart nearly stop beating and her voice disappear.

”Who knows, perhaps they also wanted to punish me,” he said. ”My wife blames me: for not going after Takeo myself, for knowing nothing of s.h.i.+geru's records, for spoiling Yuki when she was a child.”

”Don't speak of these things now,” she said. ”You cannot blame yourself.”

He was staring into the distance. She wondered what he was seeing.

”They did not have to kill her,” he said. ”I will never forgive them for that.” His voice broke, and though his face was clenched, the tears fell then.

The Festival of the Dead was celebrated with more than usual solemnity and grief. Food was placed at the mountain shrines and bonfires lit on the peaks to light the way back to the world of the dead. Yet the dead seemed reluctant to return. They wanted to stay with the living and remind them over and again of the ways they had died and their need for remorse, for revenge.

Kenji and his wife brought no comfort to each other, unable to draw close in their grief, each blaming the other for Yuki's death. s.h.i.+zuka spent many hours with each of them, unable to give them any consolation but her presence. Her grandmother brewed calming teas for Seiko, and the woman slept long and often, but Kenji would take nothing to dull his pain, and s.h.i.+zuka often sat with him until late at night, listening to him talk about his daughter.

”I brought her up like a son,” he said one night. ”She was so talented. And fearless. My wife thinks I gave her too much freedom. She blames me for treating her like a boy. Yuki became too independent; she thought she could do anything. In the end, s.h.i.+zuka, she's dead because she was a woman.” After a moment he added, ”Probably the only woman I've ever really loved.” In an unexpected gesture of affection, he reached out and touched her arm. ”Forgive me. I am of course very fond of you.”

”As I am of you,” she replied. ”I wish I could ease your grief.”

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