by Lee Welles
Ojisan took it and examined the scar. He traced the scar with his finger and Miho wondered if he was imagining the great waves. When he let go, she told him about Shinju and Lightning and their long, risky journey north. She choked back tears as she described her long night and waking to find Lightning gone.
And then she told him that Shinju was in Ago-wan. Her remark caught him mid-inhale and he started coughing plumes of cigarette smoke. “You mean this little dolphin is in Ago-wan right now?”
“Yeah, I think she’s really hungry. I gotta feed her, I’m all she has.”
Now Ojisan had a line between his eyebrows just like Miho’s. “Show me,” he said, and rose to his feet. It felt like a challenge. Miho had the sense that if Ojisan saw Shinju, he might believe her whole story. Miho gathered up the hamachi, yellowtail tuna, from the refrigerator. She tried not to get nervous at the odd way Ojisan stared at her.
They walked over the hill and down to the docks. Miho felt very uncomfortable. She hadn’t thought too much about how strange what she had been doing really was, until she got ready to do it in front of someone else. She hoped her Oji would understand. He didn’t speak, just stood with his hands on his hips as if he were waiting for her to admit she lied about everything.
Satoru satori, Miho thought, bowed, and dove into Ago-wan. She felt so slow without her speedy dolphin friends pulling her. She kept swimming and calling underwater. When she surfaced for air, she could see the small, dark form of Ojisan standing with his hands still planted on his hips. Of course he thought she was spinning some wild tale. Maybe he had already called the psychiatric people to come get his crazy American niece and have her locked up with other crazy people!
Miho began to angle around the island and, finally, her calls reached Shinju. The little dolphin zipped through the gloom, buzzing her sonar, and calling Miho’s name excitedly. Miho realized for the first time that there was a Dolphinese version of her name.
She also realized that her name was, indeed, Japanese. In English it meant, “Beauty in the crest of a wave.” In Dolphinese, as far as she could tell, it meant “Bridge.” It was an image of a link between the water and the land, complete with long arms and legs and a big smile.
Shinju peppered her with pictures and chirps and whistles. Miho knew that about every third one was a reference to her mother, Star. Miho knew exactly how it felt to wonder when, or if, your mother would come home. She also knew that knowing was better than wondering. She had to tell Shinju.
But in order to help her, Miho also had to prove to Ojisan what she said was true. She felt bad, but asked Shinju to jump. “Why?” was the Dolphinese response. If Miho hadn’t been underwater, she would have sighed.
There was simply no way to explain, so Miho repeated the call for jump over and over until Shinju shot to the surface. Miho came up in time to see Shinju pass the apex of her beautiful arch. The last bit of daylight winked off the drops of water that trailed out behind the little dolphin. In the distance, Miho could see Ojisan’s hands drop to his sides.
Miho asked Shinju to pull them halfway back to the dock and then jump again. Shinju did it beautifully and only asked ‘why’ three or four times. Miho saw her Oji pull out a cigarette and noticed the way the glow of the tip shook in his hand.
Enough with the dolphin show! All Miho wanted to do was take care of her fellow orphan and let her know what had happened to her mother. Miho pulled out the fish. When the hamachi was gone, she shared the pictures of Star being lifted from the water. She wished she could tell the little one where her mother was going. She wanted to be able to tell her that she was sure her mother was thinking about her too. But she didn’t know those answers and those kinds of thoughts were beyond pictures. It hurt Miho to not know how to say those kinds of reassuring things. Like Ojisan, her mind whispered before she could stop it.
Shinju fell silent. Miho didn’t know what else to do but give her another human hug. She again told her of the plan for the next day. But she also knew that the little dolphin’s heart was breaking. It took a long time to swim back to Ojisan. She couldn’t stay under long while she was crying. She ended up doing a backstroke, so her tears could fall while she stroked through Agowan. She cried for Shinju. She cried for Lightning and Moe and the others. She cried for her parents. She cried for herself.
Ojisan helped her out and started to ask questions. “Sumimasen,” Miho began, hoping what she was about to say wasn’t too disrespectful. “I am very tired, and you ask too many questions. We should talk tomorrow.”
To her great relief, he simply said, “Hai.” She leaned on his arm as they walked back over the hill. She needed his help just to keep her legs moving. Her heart ached and the line was once again firmly set between her eyebrows. She had to find the pod for Shinju. She had to.
37
Oikomi
In the morning, a fierce, crisp wind blew in through the opened shoji screens. The day seemed electric with potential. Miho tore through her breakfast and went out to find Ojisan pacing the veranda, talking very fast on his cell phone and smoking his cigarette even faster.
He finally snapped the phone shut and made a movement like he might throw the phone against the fence! Miho knew the feeling. But he rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and slipped the phone in his pocket. “Ohayo, Miho-san.”
“Ohayo,” she replied, cautiously.
“I must go soon.” He spoke in Japanese, but Miho understood every word. “I have to go back to Nagoya. There is a lot to do if we are going to be here.” Miho’s heart skipped a beat. Omigosh…we’re staying! He sighed and Miho could sense a long, grownup to-do list forming in his head.
“Sumimasen, but, I can’t go to Nagoya!” Miho said. “Shinju needs me to take her out to find her pod. We have to at least find Gaia! I can’t leave. I…”
Ojisan held up his hand and stopped her mid-sentence. “Hai. Hai, I know this.” He laughed, tipped his head back, and smiled at the sky. “Your story is too crazy not to be true! Ever since O-bon, things are different. I don’t belong in Nagoya. I have been so busy being angry, I forgot something very important: I am Ama too.”
The news rocked Miho back on her heels. It was like her dream. Her uncle would be just as much Ama as his sister or his mother. But were men Ama? Miho thought it meant ‘woman of the sea.’ She wanted to know more, but Ojisan was talking. She wanted to hear everything he had to say before she bent his thoughts in a new direction.
“When I found out about Yoko, my sister,” his voice tightened up when he said ‘sister.’ “I tried not to care,” he continued. “But then I learned about a niece. My niece. And you were coming here. Every day I had to think about why I was still in Nagoya, about why I did the job I did. At first, I did it for Yoko, but she left me long ago.”
He smiled down at Miho. “Now I sound like an American, eh? Why? Why? Maybe the dead really do come back at O-bon. It was like my mother, my father, my sister, maybe even your Ameko-father…” he sighed. “They shook me awake, like I was waking up from a long dream and not sure why I had been sleeping so long. And maybe Gaia is doing something to me too. Last night…” He looked around like he was afraid someone else might hear him. “…I thought I heard something. You told that little dolphin about her mother, didn’t you?”
Miho was speechless. She nodded. It was amazing—she had never heard her Oji say so many words in a row before! His cell phone rang and startled them both. He answered it and swept into the house before she could ask any of her thousands of questions.
By the time Miho came in, he had a duffle bag over his shoulder. “I must go back to Nagoya, and you have things you must do, too. I understand.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and Miho felt very grown-up.
She nodded and said, “I’ll call you before I leave and I’ll call you when I get back. Don’t worry Ojisan. I don’t think Gaia will let anything happen to me. But I gotta…I must, take care of Shinju,” she looked at the floor and felt a flush climb her neck. “Just like you a
re taking care of me.”
“Hai. Hai.You call. Text. Let me know you are okay.” He walked toward the front door and then turned back. “Oh, this is for you.” He handed her a rolled-up newspaper, “Page 7.”’
After Ojisan left, Miho sat on the sunny veranda with her Japanese/English dictionary next to her hip and the newspaper folded back. It was a report from a town called Futo. It seemed rogue waves had disrupted the beginning of the annual dolphin drive! They should call it murder! Miho thought fiercely. The dolphin hunt was called Oikomi in Japanese.
Miho struggled with the translation. But it was worth it to read how the fishermen were scared. The older ones suggested that a Shinto god or two might be displeased in some way. Miho’s frown gave way to a small giggle. If only they knew it was Gaia, the whole earth that is displeased with hurting the minds in the water! Well, Gaia and me; Gaia through me?
The men in Futo bragged that they managed to get one live dolphin that would be sold to do shows in a marine park. Star! That’s why she was lifted up like that! The article said that the live dolphin was worth ten times more than the dead ones. What Miho read next had her on her feet and searching the house for a map. The fisherman in a town called Taiji were going forward with their dolphin drive. Murder, Miho corrected the phrase.
Oh no, they’re not! They are not! No! No more Oikomi! Not when I’m here! Miho knew what it felt like to have your parents disappear. She couldn’t stand the thought of more lost little “pearls,” like the one waiting for her in Ago-wan. She knew she could stop it.
She stormed from room to room searching for a map that could tell her where Taiji was. Her cell phone rang. Her phone; her phone had a GPS! She could find Taiji and stop this horrid Oikomi. It was Ojisan. “I forgot to tell you, go visit Sensei; he is not well and asked for you.”
Miho thanked Ojisan for calling. Her anger waned and she sat, limp-limbed, wondering what she should do. Any dolphins swimming near Taiji would be in danger. She wanted to go see Sensei; he was the first person in Japan to treat her as a friend. But Shinju needed her. The first thing she had to do was find the remaining lags. She hoped Sensei would understand. She would explain it next time she saw him. He had Tomiko; Shinju was alone.
Miho ran over the hill to Ago-wan and, when she was sure no one was watching, she dove in. She made the journey through the dappled blue out to the small island, calling Shinju the whole time.
She felt the buzz of sonar long before she saw the little dolphin. Shinju rushed up to her from below, and they did a sort of twirling dance in the gloom of Ago-wan. Miho sent her pictures of the mermaid cove and then began to swim toward the tip of Goza.
Shinju understood and gave Miho her little dorsal fin. The travel was much slower than it had been with the full pod, but faster now that they were both rested. When they finally reached the mermaid cove, Gaia was waiting.
Shinju was so excited she leapt over the whiskered otter several times. Miho wanted to know that everything would be okay. But the air around Gaia felt charged. The day was still electric with possibilities.
“Ohayo, Gaia-san.”
“Ohayo, my dear. Why are you and this small one all alone?”
Miho didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t anticipated this question. She couldn’t tell Gaia what had happened. Miho’s stomach knotted when she thought about how she had wanted her pearls so much that she had led her friends into a deadly trap.
“Well?” Gaia prodded. The way she said it filled the air with the tang of a coming storm.
“Gaia I…I didn’t listen to you. I didn’t understand what you were trying to tell me.”
The otter sighed and looked sad. “So very few listen anymore. This is why I come to you, all of you: because I think you can truly listen. You, more than the other three, must understand. Water is everywhere: in the air and the soil as well as in the deep bowls of the seas.”
Miho only had a moment to wonder what others Gaia was referring to before the otter twitched her broad, black nose and continued. “I am taking this small one with me. You shall go home.”
Miho was stunned. Her mind had been so focused on how she could find the pod that she hadn’t considered another option. “But Gaia, I want to take her home. I want to help.”
“And if I let you take her home,” Gaia began, her voice sounding like a cold night. “Would you tell the story of what happened? Would you help the others understand?”
“Of course I would! I…” Miho fought to find the right words. “I hate not knowing things! I get scared when I don’t know what’s going on. They need to know, so, yeah! I’ll tell them. I’ll show them what people can do to them!”
“What if they don’t listen? You didn’t listen when your friend tried to tell you. How do you convince those who will not listen?”
Miho’s heart felt like a cold stone. It was true. Notch had tried to warn her. He had known about the danger, but she had only her selfish wants in mind. “Gaia, I will try to tell them what happened when I didn’t listen, when I was thinking only about myself.”
“Ahh. We may make a Gaia Girl out of you yet.”
Gaia Girl? The phrase rang like a bell in Miho, but she didn’t have time to think about it. The little dolphin and Gaia were still circling her and Gaia was still talking—giving her directions.
“You go back to your human teacher today. I will care for this little one until tomorrow. I expect you here in the morning. I expect more humility, understanding, and a sense of duty.You cannot think of only yourself if you are going to do what is best for all.”
Miho returned home, ate a bit of lunch, and went to see her Sensei. The store was open and as Miho walked in, Tomiko came rushing out from the back room. Miho clenched her jaw and prepared herself for any rude or unkind thing the grouchy woman might fire at her.
Tomiko, surprisingly, gave Miho a quick bow and motioned for her to come around the counter. Miho followed, wondering about this unexpected courtesy.
Through a doorway behind the counter was an office, the desk covered in papers, a computer screen glowing a dull blue in the dim light. Through a second doorway, however, was a room that reminded Miho of Ojisan’s.
Portions of the wall had been wheeled back to let the Pacific-cooled breeze flow through. Across from the doorway hung beautiful Shodo and a vase of white daisies. Miho wondered if Sensei had made the Shodo. When she looked into the room beyond, there was her teacher, in a plain brown robe, seated at the low table near the open shoji.
“Konnichiwa, Miho-san,” Sensei said, and motioned for her to sit. She took a seat in front of a steaming cup of matcha, green tea, and a platter of wagashi, sweets that were shaped to look like daisies.
Sensei lifted his cup of tea and Miho noticed the tremor in his grip. He took a long, noisy sip, and turned to her. His eyes twinkled in a way that was like the happier version of Gaia’s fierce glint. “I think this Ama has been adrift at sea; I have not seen you in so long,” Sensei said.
Miho wasn’t sure how to respond. Was that his way of saying he missed her? Did he really know what she had been up to? He was as full of riddles as Gaia! “Sensei, I have been seeking…understanding.” And without planning to, she made the motions, as if she were holding her brush and making the kanji.
Sensei sipped his tea, his eyes peering over the lip of the cup. He set the cup down and said in such a conversational way that Miho almost missed it, “I have asked Masuaki-san to return. I believe the school in Goza can have new life. I believe that you, little Ama, will be a good student, the first of many who will seek understanding through the way of the brush.” He paused, leaned in close to Miho and whispered, “Ishin denshin.”
“Sensei! What is…why are you…” but her teacher held up his hand, cutting off her questions.The sweetness of the wagashi began to turn sour in her throat. Sensei started to push himself up from the floor. Miho rushed to take his elbow and help him rise. Tomiko was there in a flash, doing the same thing. Their eyes met across the weave of h
is robe and Tomiko’s look held the same worry Miho felt.
The moment passed and Tomiko said with her customary bit of a growl, “Go home. Go home to your own family.” Miho was left in the doorway between the house and the store wondering what ishin denshin was, wondering what makes a family, and trying not to wonder too much about what Gaia had in store for the following day.
38
Gaia Girl
As she walked back from Sensei’s, the wind doubled in strength, and a chill in the breeze spoke of some event that was streaking their way. The waves sounded as if they were pounding to come in and be understood by the strange, long-limbed creatures that insisted on venturing out into the blue.
She looked up ‘ishin denshin’ right away. It was like a heart-to-heart communication. Miho wasn’t sure what Sensei meant by saying that. But between Gaia and Sensei, she was used to being a little confused and waiting to understand.
A “beep” from her phone alerted her to an incoming message. It was Ojisan!
-You OK?
-KONBANWA, OJISAN. I M OKAY
-GOOD -
-SAW SENSEI-
Miho’s thumbs hovered over the tiny keys as she waited for Ojisan’s response.
-IS HE WELL?-
-NO-
There was another long pause, which Miho chose to fill with one of her father’s poems.
“The bleat, the bark, bellow and roar.
Are waves that beat on Heaven’s shore.”
She repeated this four times before Ojisan typed back.
-BE HELPFUL-
Miho didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. She stared at the blue screen and wondered if Ojisan had his own poems to fill such moments as this.
-IS SHINJU HOME?-
Miho was surprised he asked. Her heart felt warm with the knowledge that he cared, at least a little bit, about the small, orphaned dolphin out in the big blue.
