In spite of his father’s attempts to teach him, Andy had never learned to like this dry, bare kind of Japanese garden. To him, there had never been anything special about the swirls of sand and few lonely pieces of rock. But now, in the peaceful morning light, there was something magical about it.
He heard a door being opened and found Mr. Sato standing on the wooden veranda overlooking the garden.
“Ohayo gozaimasu,” said Andy. It meant good morning, and was one of the phrases he had practiced.
Mr. Sato was still wearing a cotton kimono. He stepped down from the veranda and pushed his feet into a pair of wooden clogs. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Very well,” said Andy, and decided that a tiny bow would be appropriate. When in doubt, always bow. “This garden is great!” he said.
His enthusiasm was genuine, and Mr. Sato beamed with pleasure. “You like? Even without colorful flowers?”
“It’s in the Zen style, isn’t it?” said Andy. “My father tried to teach me to appreciate it.”
Mr. Sato beamed even more, and Andy could feel his approval rating soar. He hoped he could keep it up.
“It is early, but in summer we like to get up early to enjoy cool air,” said Mr. Sato. “You would like breakfast, yes?”
Andy’s father had warned him that a traditional Japanese breakfast involved hot rice, bean paste soup, broiled fish, pickles, and sometimes a raw egg on top of the rice. He was so hungry that all of that actually sounded good to him. “Just watch me!”
Mr. Sato chuckled and told Andy to follow him inside. He stepped out of his clogs, while Andy removed his shoes. They stepped up to the veranda, and Mr. Sato pushed open a pair of latticed doors covered with white paper. Andy found himself in a room furnished in the traditional Japanese style. The floor was covered by reed tatami mats, and there were no chairs, only a low table with some big flat cushions around it for seating. One side of the room had some shelves and a flower arrangement. Hanging on the wall behind the flowers was an ink painting.
Andy thought the picture looked like the kind Mrs. Hua painted. “This is in the literati style, isn’t it?” he asked.
This time he hit the jackpot. “You know the style?” cried Mr. Sato, sounding astonished.
Andy nodded. “My father likes this kind of painting.” He was sure that by now he must have earned enough points to tide him over for the rest of the visit. He looked around the room and saw a shelf with two samurai swords resting on a rack.
Mr. Sato noticed Andy’s glance. “The swords belonged to my ancestors. Normally, I would hand them down to my son. But I have only a daughter, Haruko.” He added after a moment, “Of course, we could adopt a boy.”
Andy didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded. For the first time he felt a little sorry for Haruko. Then he remembered the way she’d scowled at him and decided his sympathy was wasted.
The door behind him opened and Mrs. Sato poked her head in. “Oh, you are awake. Shall we have breakfast?”
Putting his shoes away in the cupboard, Andy went into the same room where he had eaten supper. The table was set for a breakfast that looked Western.
Behind him, the door slid open, and the elder Mr. Sato came in, supported by Haruko. The old man was not crippled, but he walked with difficulty, perhaps from arthritis. Haruko carefully guided her grandfather to his chair and smiled down at him. It was a surprisingly tender smile. Haruko then seated herself.
At a gesture from his hostess, Andy sat in the same seat he had had the night before. In front of him was a plate with two slices of toast, the bread almost an inch thick. There was also an egg cup with a boiled egg that was still warm, and an empty teacup and saucer. Although he usually had a big bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice for breakfast, Andy was more than happy to dive in.
Mrs. Sato passed him some butter and a little bowl of strawberry jam. “Kocha?” she asked. Seeing that he was puzzled, she explained, “Kocha is black tea.”
At home Andy seldom drank black tea, though his parents occasionally drank green tea. “Sure,” replied Andy, and held out his teacup. “So you eat a Western breakfast with toast and everything,” he said.
“You were expecting us to eat like peasants in the countryside, maybe?” demanded Haruko. “After breakfast, I suppose you will join us in the fields to transplant rice seedlings?”
Back to the old Haruko.
“Haruko!” Mrs. Sato protested weakly.
Andy was determined to keep his temper. “I’m just going by what my father tells me. He loves to talk about staying at traditional inns where he was served a raw egg on top of hot rice for breakfast. So I guess that was what I was expecting.”
“That’s what I like, too,” said Mr. Sato. “It seems that Andy’s father and I have the same tastes in gardens and paintings, as well.”
Haruko scowled. Mrs. Sato hurriedly poured some tea for her daughter and put two slices of bread in the toaster.
Andy still couldn’t figure out why Haruko was so unfriendly to him. The way she behaved toward her grandfather showed that she did have a softer side. He resolved that before he went back to America, he would make Haruko respect him—not necessarily like, just respect.
The Lakeview kids had been instructed to gather in front of the Kasei School. Andy and Haruko were driven to the school by Mr. Sato. The narrow streets were jammed with morning traffic, so progress was very slow, and they were among the last to arrive.
Andy saw that Sue was already there. When she saw him, she broke into the shy smile he loved. He had to fight down an urge to rush over and grab her and kiss her hard. In Japan, doing something like that in public would be totally shocking. Even if they were back in America, people like their parents would disapprove.
Sue must have seen something in his eyes, because her face turned red. She cleared her throat. “How did it go with your host family?” she asked when Andy made his way over to her.
“Pretty good,” he said. “Let me introduce . . .” He looked around for Haruko and found that she was no longer with him. He turned back to Sue. “Never mind. What’s your host family like?”
“I’m staying with the Chongs,” said Sue. “They seem nice. They’re Korean, not Japanese.”
“You mean Korean Korean, Korean Japanese, or Korean American?” asked Andy.
Sue grimaced. “The Chongs have been in Japan for three generations, but they’re still not citizens. So that makes them Korean Korean, I guess.”
“So do they have one of their kids here at the Kasei School?” asked Andy.
Sue shook her head. “Their daughter went to school here, and she was in the orchestra when it toured the States last year. But she’s graduated, and she’s now going to a music academy.”
Sue began to describe the discrimination experienced by the Chongs. Andy was shocked when he heard that most of the Kasei parents didn’t mix with the Chongs because they were Korean. He thought about the rude way Haruko treated him. If she was like that with him, he could only imagine what she would be like with the Chongs.
“I don’t think the Chongs are poor,” added Sue. “They run a convenience store, and Mrs. Chong teaches music. They can send their daughter to the Toho School of Music, which is pretty expensive.”
“Weird,” said Andy. “Every once in a while, someone will say something offensive to me back home. But I’ve definitely never felt that kind of discrimination. My grandfather said when he first moved to America, he was called names and stuff. But it doesn’t seem that bad in America anymore.”
“Mrs. Chong also told me there’s prejudice against the Chinese here,” said Sue. “It’s because so many Chinese came over from mainland China to look for work. I guess some of the younger people got into trouble and formed gangs, so many Japanese think that all Chinese are hoodlums. I wonder if that’s why they put me with a Korean family, because both Koreans and Chinese are inferior people.”
Andy was shocked. “You really think they believe that
? Just tell them what my mom told me: the Japanese were illiterate until they learned reading and writing from the Chinese!”
Before Sue could say more, Andy heard a voice behind him. “Hi, lovebirds!” said Mia. “Hey, Andy, this girl here says you’re staying with her family.”
Mia was standing with Haruko, who was now smiling happily. “She says she’s Harko . . . Harpo . . .” Mia stumbled over the name and gave up.
“This is Sato Haruko,” said Andy. “Her parents have a gorgeous house, and their garden is like something you’d see in a magazine.”
Ginny and Nathan joined them, and Andy saw that Haruko’s eyes brightened as more of the Lakeview kids came up to talk. The players began to compare their experiences. Laurie was staying with a family whose daughter had stayed with Laurie’s family when she visited Seattle the year before. Nathan was staying with the family of the trumpet player who had been his guest.
Andy envied Laurie, Nathan, and others who were reunited with the Japanese kids they knew. He, on the other hand, was stuck with Haruko, who stared at him coldly, when she bothered to look at him at all. Maybe Haruko was just stuck-up. Andy got the impression that the Satos were among the wealthier parents at the Kasei School. Also, they were from a samurai family.
“I’ve been learning to eat on the floor,” Nathan was saying. Some of the other kids laughed, and he explained. “This family I’m staying with, they have normal kinds of furniture in most of the rooms, but there’s one room in the Japanese style. The floor is covered by tatami mats, and you sit on cushions.”
“The Satos have that, too,” said Andy. He turned to Haruko. “I saw the Japanese-style room in your house.”
Haruko did not look pleased at this reminder. She gave a curt nod and turned away.
“So how do you feel after sitting on the floor all through dinner?” Nathan asked Andy. “Maybe you’re used to it, being Japanese and all. But by the end of the meal, I felt like a million ants were crawling up my legs. When I tried to stand up afterwards, my legs were so numb that I almost fell over. Thank God we ate breakfast in the kitchen this morning!”
“They were giving you a special welcome,” Andy explained. “Serving dinner in the Japanese room takes more work. I just ate at a regular table.”
Then, realizing that his remark might be interpreted to mean that Haruko’s family had been less welcoming, Andy glanced quickly at her. But she had her back to him and was busy talking to Mia. I’m going to make Haruko look at me with respect, if it’s the last thing I do.
The school bell rang, and the Japanese kids went off to their classes. “Should we just wait here? Do you know what we’re supposed to be doing this morning?” Andy asked Sue.
“Mrs. Chong said something about a field trip they’ve planned for us,” said Sue.
Mr. Baxter came up and called the players together. “The principal of the Kasei School said that you’re probably all suffering jet lag. So instead of rehearsals today, he’s arranged to have us take the day off for some sightseeing. We’ll start work tomorrow.”
Andy was relieved. His stomach had already begun to flutter at the thought of playing his solo. Now he had a reprieve—at least for the day.
“They’re taking us to a town called Kamakura, where we’ll be spending the day,” Mr. Baxter went on. “It’s a couple of hours by bus from Tokyo.”
Sue looked excited as they waited for the bus. “Kamakura was the capital of the first shogun, who was the leader of the samurai and the ruler of Japan during the middle ages,” she said.
“How come you know so much about the shogun and samurai and things?” Mia asked Sue.
“She likes stuff about warfare,” said Andy.
“My mom took me and my sister to all those antiwar demonstrations,” said Sue. “So I wanted to understand why some men would kill people and destroy cities and villages, even men like knights and samurai, who talked a lot about honor.”
“Did I hear someone mention samurai?” said Nathan, coming over. “I love stories about the samurai. They were so honorable, so powerful, you know?”
“The samurai weren’t always on top,” said Andy. He felt a certain satisfaction in saying this. His father’s family had originally been farmers, not samurai. “Earlier, the court nobles were at the top, and the samurai were simply attendants for their betters. In fact, the word ‘samurai’ means attendant.”
“If the shogun was just the head attendant, how did he become the ruler of Japan, then?” asked Nathan.
Andy didn’t know the answer, and neither did Sue. Their bus arrived, and after they piled in and seated themselves, a woman with a mike got up in the front of the bus and introduced herself as their guide for the day.
“Let us start with a brief history of Kamakura,” she began. “In the eleventh century, the emperor became weak and the warrior samurai class rose in power. One leading warrior family, the Minamotos, defeated all their rivals . . .”
Andy saw that Sue was listening eagerly to the guide’s words. He tried hard to follow what the guide was saying, but her voice was soft and soothing, like a lullaby. . . .
The bus made a sudden turn and Andy’s eyes popped open. He realized that he must have been dozing. The guide was now talking about some famous Zen Buddhist temples.
Andy saw that even Sue had fallen asleep. Her interest in military history couldn’t keep her awake. He smiled as he watched her silky curtain of hair fluff up and down with her soft breathing. He looked around and found his fellow players all asleep. Even Mr. Baxter was slumped in his seat, dead to the world.
Unfazed, the guide talked on. Andy struggled very hard to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle. The last words he heard from the guide were “. . . other Buddhist sects . . . the great bronze statue of Buddha . . .”
“We have arrived,” said the voice of the guide. Andy opened his eyes and discovered that the bus was stopped and the guide was standing by the open door. “Please watch your step when going down,” she said with a faint smile.
Once the students were outside, the fresh air revived them. Andy was glad to find Kamakura cooler than Tokyo. Being near the sea also made the air breezier. “We start our visit with the Hachiman Shrine,” the guide told them.
The shrine consisted of a complex of buildings painted in brilliant orange. The guide stopped in front of a raised open-air stage and told the story of a famous performance.
“Although the shogun Yoritomo became the most powerful man in Japan, he was still jealous of his younger brother, Yoshitsune, who was a brilliant soldier. Yoritomo not only hounded his brother to death, but forced his brother’s mistress, a beautiful lady called Shizuka, to dance for him on this very platform.”
“Can you believe that?” Sue said indignantly. “And those samurai had the nerve to talk about their code of honor!”
Startled, the guide turned to look at Sue, and Andy had to turn away to hide his grin. Most people noticed only Sue’s shy exterior, and were startled by her flashes of spirit.
The guide cleared her throat and went on. “Yoritomo’s family did not enjoy their power for long. When he died, he left only two young sons, and both of them suffered untimely deaths.”
They began to climb a steep flight of stone steps. The guide pointed at an immense ginkgo tree by the side of the steps. “Yoritomo’s second son, Sanetomo, was killed right here. His assassin hid behind this tree and am-bushed him.”
Nathan shook his head. “That’s awesome! See, that’s why I love stories about the samurai. Nonstop action. Wouldn’t that make a great movie, like with Tom Cruise and . . .”
The guide heard him. “There have been countless movies and plays about these incidents already.”
They walked past a stand selling little wooden plaques with a picture of a horse painted on one side. “You buy one of these and write a wish on the blank side,” the guide told them. She pointed at a frame where a lot of the wooden plaques were hung, with writing on one side. “Most of the wishes have to d
o with success in business, or passing entrance examinations and getting admitted to a good college.”
Andy looked at the plaques. Almost all of them were in Japanese, but there were a few in English, and even one in French. Some of the Lakeview kids thought it would be fun to make wishes, and they went over to a booth selling the plaques.
A horn player, who was a junior, said he hoped he would do well on his college board exams next year. Ginny had fought with her boyfriend just before leaving for Japan and was wondering what he was doing back home. “I want to make sure he’s behaving,” she said, writing quickly on her wooden plaque.
Andy heard Mia saying to Sue, “Guess you and Andy don’t need to make wishes about each other.”
Sue blushed, and Andy had to smile. Then he had an idea. He bought one of the plaques and wrote on the back, “I wish Haruko would stop looking at me like I’m such a loser.”
“What are you wishing for?” Sue’s voice said behind him.
Andy jumped. “Nothing much. I just wished that Haruko would stop being a jerk to me.”
Sue looked surprised, and a little bit hurt. “Why do you care so much?” she asked sharply.
Suddenly Andy felt embarrassed. Does she think it’s weird that Haruko bugs me? Is she jealous? “Look, never mind. It’s not important.” He tossed the plaque into a nearby trash can.
After leaving the shrine, the guide told them it was time for lunch. Bento, or lunch boxes, had been prepared for them while they were touring the shrine. The guide led them to an area with benches and small tables shaded by tall trees. They each picked up a box, as well as a small plastic bottle that turned out to contain lukewarm green tea.
Andy had eaten bento boxes back home in Seattle, where they were sold in many supermarkets. They usually contained pieces of sushi and slices of ginger. The bento box he opened now was quite different. It had a pile of white rice, a piece of broiled salmon, a slice of red and white fish paste shaped like a flower, a piece of boiled squash, yellow pickled radish, and items that even he didn’t recognize.
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