by Sarina Dorie
One day Grandmother Ami and an old woman I’d never spoken with sat next to Faith as I came in the weaving room. Grandmother Ami waved to me.
“Look at this weaving we’ve been working on today. Our Faith-chan is so talented, ne?”
“No, no, I’m just average, Grandmother. You are too kind,” Faith said. She managed to use a polite title and sound humble. She was starting to fit in.
In the following weeks, I noticed how the women tried to make her feel welcome. They invited her to the bathhouse and made her gifts of clothes more like ours. She was polite in her words, but she wouldn’t accept the invitations to the bathhouse or the clothes.
I had to apologize for her rudeness. “It’s the scars,” I told one grandmother. “It’s the doing of gaijin men. She is shamed by what they did and doesn’t want anyone to see. That’s why she keeps her body hidden from everyone.” It was a half-truth.
The grandmother sucked her teeth. “Ah, so she has scars inside and out.”
“Yes, in her mind,” I said.
Another almost truth, but easier for my people to understand than her strict modesty.
Hekketek was the one who came to me to voice the problems. She toed the dirt and wouldn’t make eye contact when she told me. “I’m so sorry to trouble you with this, Nipa, but I’m afraid someone must do so. People think Faith-chan is rude. She doesn’t use honorifics after our names, like we are things instead of people. She makes eye contact with everyone, even the elders.”
It was these minute details that made her sisam and a gaijin. If we could get Faith to improve her manners people would like her better.
“Faith-chan’s mind is like a child’s,” I said. I didn’t believe this myself, but I suspected it was the only way to make others forgive her indiscretions. “She will make mistakes, but she won’t learn unless we help her. Remind her gently, and if she doesn’t listen, tell me and I will scold her. The same with Michi-chan.”
I was lucky my brother didn’t need minding along with Michi and Faith, or else I would never have been able to attend meetings and do my share of duties. I wouldn’t have been able to settle arguments in the council chamber or hear disputes.
Taishi was likable and understood people’s minds better than I did. He knew what they wanted and gave it to them. He earned the warriors’ admiration while practice fighting, the elders’ respect during the council meetings, and gained favor with many others the rest of the time with his stories and jokes. He worked hard performing guard duties, hunting, collecting food and even cleaning. Just as he had among the Chiramantepjin, he did his share and more. People saw the kind of man he was. More than this, he taught the Tanukijin about the gaijin, the range of their weapons, ways to trick them, and steal their provisions on raids. He explained the limits of their magic machines. His greatest weakness, his gaijin geari wife, became his asset.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Duty is as heavy as a pregnant chiramantep.
—Jomon proverb
It was only weeks after Shiromainu’s death that I became an official woman. I was in the women’s room with Faith, singing and weaving with the others. I’d requested the Ballad of the Nipas because I was trying to memorize the chronology of past leaders. Eranpokinu had been nipa twenty-two successions ago. Tompi was listed as twenty-first. Kiror wasn’t even mentioned.
I sat there wondering how old that memory was that had been passed down and whether I intended to pass it on, when I the first needles of pain came, stabbing into my abdomen. I tried to breathe through it and pretend nothing was wrong. What if I was sick and illness was about to strike the village?
The trickle down my leg under my clothes made me even more apprehensive. I excused myself for the privy and found the red stain on my hakima pants.
I wasn’t afraid. I understood exactly what it was now. Women talked about their course in the onsen, and I’d seen the red stains in the laundry room.
Finally, I had eaten enough that the kamuy inside my body had grown up. I truly was an adult. My tattoos no longer lied. Now that I was a woman, what to do about it was another matter. I knew women used rags to collect the blood, but I didn’t know where rags were. Just the idea of asking and revealing how imperfect and human I was when I was supposed to be a nipa and know everything daunted me.
I could have asked Grandmother Ami what to do about the blood and how to make it not stain my clothes. Of course, old women gossiped, and I hated overhearing what they said about me already. Someone would ask me why I had tattoos if this was my first cycle. Even being nipa didn’t make me safe from grandmothers and their questions.
I could ask Faith, but she was so secretive about her own body’s functions I didn’t want to embarrass her. Besides, she was spending time with the other women and it was important they see her as one of them. I could have gone to Opere or Pananpne, but none of them knew I wasn’t a woman. I’d have to admit it to them, and I’d be ashamed how long it took me to become an adult. I didn’t want to hear what a shame it was I’d only began to bleed right after Shiromainu died.
I was nipa. I couldn’t be less than perfect. I didn’t know who I could turn to who wouldn’t judge me or chide me for being false.
All at once it came to me. Whether it was the times we’d shared secrets of memory exchange or because I respected her as my teacher, I knew I could confide in Tomomi. I wanted her wisdom on the matter.
I cleaned myself the best I could and ran to the practice field, holding on to my eboshi. I shouldn’t have run, but I was desperate. Tomomi and my brother laughed on the practice field. He clapped a hand on her shoulder like he would any of the male warriors. There was no polite formality between them. They were as informal and close with each other as I was with Pana and Hekketek.
They bowed to each other and sparred with staffs of wood, playfully calling out insults.
“Tomomi Sensei, I must speak with you.” I panted, out of breath. My voice hardly carried over the wind, sounding high and child-like.
They continued to fight.
I stepped closer. “Sensei, I need your wisdom.”
My brother scowled at me. “We’re busy.”
Tomomi shook her head at him. “This is your Nipa. Have some respect.” She swiped her staff under his feet, knocking him onto the ground. Her smile was wicked. “Besides, I’m not busy any longer. I’ve won, ne?” She circled one of her immense arms around me and let me lead her away from the practice field. “What is it Little Nipa?”
“Sensei, I—there’s something—it’s happened finally.” I stumbled over my words. My pride and apprehension mixed together, overwhelming my words.
She waited patiently for me to finish. I swallowed my nervousness and whispered, “I’ve started my bleeding. I’m a woman. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t have a mother to tell me.”
She released me and bowed low to me. “Please allow me to educate you in this matter.”
“What are you two conspiring about over there?” Taishi called.
Tomomi waved him off. “Nothing that concerns you.” She squeezed me around my shoulders again. “Come. I am honored to act as your mother.”
She took me to one of the storage rooms and showed me the belt and the straps women used to hold absorbent leaves. “You have to use leaves when they’re fresh and green. If they are dry, they’ll be brittle and it will itch. When the snow is heavy and there are no leaves, we use—”
I could barely concentrate on her words. My thoughts were elsewhere. “Do you think … ?” I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat as I considered my late husband. “Would he have had me if I had bled? He said that I was too young and he wouldn’t have had a girl who was too young. But if I had started my bleeding at the age Opere and Chinatsu had, and then I’d come to the village—”
Tomomi’s voice rumbled like rocks crashing down a mountain. “Are you asking if you had started your monthly course two months ago, would an old man dying of a brok
en hip and cough have bedded you?”
She had such a way with words. Every day with Tomomi was burei ko. Always direct. Always without formality. She made a good teacher and would be a good leader, only her Tatsujin manners would be considered a weakness.
“I mean, when I’d arrived for tsuma no koukan the first time, do you think Shiromainu Nipa would have wanted to consummate our marriage?” I asked.
“Have I ever told you that you ask too many questions?”
“Yes.”
“Have I ever told you that you ask foolish questions?”
I bit my lip. She hadn’t. That was what she told unskilled warriors on the practice field who didn’t observe their opponents. They always asked the obvious. Or it would be obvious, if they paid attention.
This was different. “It’s not fair. He died and now I’m a woman. Why couldn’t I have become a woman first so I could tell him? I would have been so proud for him to know.”
“Sumiko-sama.” She took my hand in her immense one, making me feel like a baby. “Why must you torture yourself by asking ‘what if?’ Dreaming of what you cannot change will never make you happy.”
She was right. She always was right.
“Do you know how often I have dreamed of my tribe and my family? I dream of my wife and my daughter, and I will always miss them. But I don’t try to change the past. I let my family live as they were.”
“You had a daughter?” I asked. And a wife? I could only imagine what the elders would say if they knew this detail. It had to be a secret or else I would have heard it by now. She hadn’t even given this to me in memory. I wondered if Taishi knew.
Tomomi looked away. “My daughter, Nanuwen, would be your age. Sometimes I think you could be her, only you’re too puny to be Tatsujin, ne?” She cuffed me on the shoulder in her good-natured way. She nearly knocked me over.
I felt her grief at having lost a daughter as tangibly as I felt my own for having lost a mother. Regret bubbled up my throat and stung my eyes. I lowered my head to hide my tears. I sniffled so snot wouldn’t get on my eboshi.
She hugged me to her side. “Let me serve in the place of your mother today. I am putting you to bed and you can cry all you want. I’ll be here at your side just as I would for my daughter.”
As the months passed, I worked every day to ensure Faith was accepted as a Tanukijin. I worried just as much about my brother’s acceptance, though he didn’t need any help from me. When he wasn’t palling around with Tomomi and the other warriors, he was working.
I went to Tomomi after she had finished practice fighting for the day. She ordered the children about on the muddy banks, telling them to pick up their sticks and whose turn it was to do what chores. I stood patiently behind her, not wanting to interrupt. Today I wasn’t desperate.
Taishi sparred with another man farther down the bank. My brother was very good, one of the best warriors. From the way he gave tips to his opponent or helped them up, and they bowed to each other, I could see he wasn’t a sore winner. He made friends easily because of his cheerful demeanor.
One of the children pointed to me. Tomomi glanced over her shoulder. She turned to me and bowed. “Yes, Nipa?”
I returned the bow with one just as deep to show my high regard for her. “Do you have a moment to spare?”
“I always have time for my nipa.”
“I wondered if we could discuss the tribe’s future.” I led her farther away from the children.
She followed. One small stride for her was equal to two large steps for me.
I cleared my throat. “I wonder what will happen if you are elected leader.”
She shrugged. “I can’t predict what the future holds.”
She was being purposefully dense. I crossed my arms. “Tomomi Sensei, do you like Faith-chan? Will you allow her to become part of the tribe if you are appointed as leader instead of my brother?”
“Those are two different questions. Which do you wish me to answer?”
I hated it when she played games like this. She was just like Taishi with her teasing. It was no wonder they got along so well. “Do you like Faith-chan? You came to know her quite well while you stayed with the Tanukijin.”
She grunted. “As well as I wanted to.”
That didn’t sound promising.
“But you will allow her to stay with the tribe?”
Tomomi leaned against her stick. “She is foolish and she causes your brother one problem after another, only he’s too headstrong to see it. She is his weakness. Everyone knows it, even you.” She grimaced. “But I can see it would cause him great pain to lose her.” She sighed in frustration and stared across the practice field. My brother patted a young man on the back.
There was something wistful in Tomomi’s gaze. “If it wasn’t for Faith-chan, he would have remarried by now. Her presence makes him remember his wife. If it wasn’t for her, he would forget his broken heart and move on. He would be able to love again.”
I didn’t think that was true. He remembered Felicity because he still loved her. He believed she was still alive and in Lord Klark’s keeping. It had nothing to do with Faith.
It wasn’t often that I saw softness in Tomomi’s face. Perhaps it was simply friendship and the closeness they’d gained during memory exchange. But when she looked at my brother I would swear it was more than that.
“Are you in love with my brother?” I didn’t mean to squeal, but the idea was ridiculous. She was twice his size, older than him by at least ten years, and she’d once had a wife. If he had wanted to bed a woman, he could have had any pretty woman. Tomomi was far from a beauty.
Tomomi’s posture straightened. She swiped her staff under my feet. I fell back onto my behind in the mud. My eboshi went flying off. Her expression remained as neutral and expressionless as it always did when sparring. “You will never say those words again. Understand?”
“Yes, Sensei. Sumimasen.”
She helped me to my feet. She wiped my eboshi off on her manto and handed it back to me.
That conversation hadn’t gone as I’d planned.
I fitted the eboshi back over my head. “Does that mean you will make Faith-chan leave, Sensei?”
She snorted and turned away. “You and your questions.”
I hastened after her. “You will let her stay, won’t you? For me?”
“For you perhaps. Not for him.”
When the end of six months came, the elders narrowed down their choices to three: Tomomi, Makiri and Taishi. My stomach fluttered with anxiety as I sat in the stuffy council chamber, awaiting the vote. Sweat dripped down my neck and my fitted tanuki eboshi stuck to my forehead. Torches lit the walls, illuminating the elders in their smaller masks of office. More elders sat in the council room than ever, those of the Chiramantepjin having become accepted into the Tanukijin ranks.
The aspects of those around me reflected the fierceness of the clan animals they wore. The horns and teeth on the purple and green animal heads became extensions of their own personalities: Grandmother Ami’s tanuki ears were pricked upward in alert attentiveness and Grandfather Apnianu’s mask with rows of teeth looked like they could bite with as much power as his words.
Taishi, Tomomi and Makiri sat amongst the circle of elders—though I’d been informed they could not vote. Any of the three would make a fine leader. But only Taishi would permit Faith to stay for certain. Makiri had made it no secret what he thought of all gaijin. Tomomi had a reason not to allow Faith to stay if she was jealous. Then again, I might be able to convince her to allow Faith to stay. She was reasonable, more so than Makiri.
One of the elders cleared his throat. There were ten of us who could vote.
Grandmother Pirka explained we would vote by going around in a circle. They started with Grandmother Ami.
“I vote for Taishi-sama.” She used a reverent honorific.
The next vote was for Makiri and the following for Tomomi. Another came f
or Tomomi and another for Makiri. This was torture.
If they would have allowed me to go last, there would have been less pressure, but I was in the middle. Two votes for Tomomi and two for Makiri. With my brother at one vote, I weighed what I had to do to keep Faith safe. The elders stared at me, waiting for me to decide.
I wanted to vote for my brother, but with Tomomi there was a better chance of winning. If I showed my favor for her and she won, Faith would most likely be safe. If I did so, would my brother be shamed? Was familial loyalty more important, or making sure a leader was elected who would ensure safety to all?
I told myself Faith’s life was the most important, but the idea of not voting for my brother gnawed at my insides.
I kept my chin ducked down. “I vote for Tomomi Sensei.”
In the end, Taishi and Tomomi tied at four votes each. Makiri only got two votes. I was elated the danger of Makiri being elected was gone. Then the realization sank in that my vote had made the difference in my brother not winning.
Makiri was excused by the elders. He bowed to his opponents and then to the rest of us.
His face was a calm mask. “Ganbatte.” He gave Tomomi and Taishi another bow with his well-wishes and left.
I peeked at my brother. His face was blank. His eyes were fixed on the elders squabbling about whether they should take another vote or decide another way. Either Taishi or Tomomi would make a good leader. Only, it was a matter of pride that I should wish my brother to be elected. It was now my fault that he hadn’t been. My cheeks burned in embarrassment.
He didn’t look at me, and I didn’t know if he was angry with my disloyalty or agreed with my logic. If he’d agreed with my pragmatism, I think he would have smiled at me at least. He didn’t.
Tomomi and Taishi’s merits were discussed all over again. Both spoke on his and her own behalf and the elders argued about many things. It embarrassed me to hear the criticism of two people I admired so greatly spoken out in the open like this.
