The Scent of Sake (26 page)

“Now we need another solution. Selling the sake of small brewers under our own label will not be enough, now that Yamaguchi is moving into our markets. We must look elsewhere. We need something new.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I have a question for you, Kinno-san.” She tapped her fan on the table. “Do you know of a small brewer in Nada or anywhere in Kobe who is forced to close his brewery this year?”

Kinno scratched his chin. “Let’s see. I think Yanagihara in East Nada . . . I heard something about them. They had a shipwreck and it finished them.” He looked at Rie.

Jihei frowned at her.
Frown all you want,
she thought.

She continued. “If it’s true that Yanagihara has had to stop, then I propose that we buy his brewery, his kura, and sell it at a higher price. If he had to stop he won’t be able to bargain over the price.”

Jihei’s mouth hung open. “Are you talking about buying and selling kura, dealing in kura? Whoever heard—”

Rie tapped her fan again. “That’s just the point. If no one else is doing it, it will be our chance. What do you think, Kinno-san?”

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He sucked in his breath in a hiss. “A new idea. Interesting. It might work.
Hmm.
” He scratched his chin. “Let me think a bit.” He leaned forward. “As a matter of fact, I hear the Ozawas are having a difficult year; had to cut back on production. I have an idea we might be able to buy one of their kura too.”

Rie nodded and smiled at Kinno. “Good.”

Jihei frowned. “You’re always pushing to be first in everything. I thought a brewer’s task is to brew good sake and not worry about anything else, except maybe lending money.”

“That doesn’t work on our scale here in Nada,” Rie said, stat-ing the obvious. Why didn’t Jihei understand this by now? “We have to be always on the lookout for something new as well as trying to improve our quality. Otherwise we’d be relegated to second or third class, if we survive at all.” She shook her head. “Do you follow what we’re discussing, Yoshi?”

“I think so.” He nodded.

“All right, Kinno and Yoshi. Our credit is good. See what you can do about the Yanagihara and Ozawa kura. Let’s start on it tomorrow.”

Jihei frowned and walked out of the office. Some head.

She
had led the house out of this crisis.

Two weeks later Rie sat with Yoshi and Kinno in the office. “I was right,” said Kinno, nodding and placing his hands on

the table. “Yanagihara had stopped brewing. He was receptive to selling. I hesitated to make an offer, but Yoshi helped convince me. We had to raise our price a bit. So now we own the Ozawa kura in East Nada and the Yanagihara kura.”

“Excellent, Kinno and Yoshi.” Rie slapped her fan on the table. Just then the shoji opened and Jihei walked in. “I heard what you were saying,” he said, his speech slurred. “I think it’s too fast.

We should proceed one kura at a time.”

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Yoshi stole a glance at his father, then looked down. “I felt sorry for Yanagihara, having to stop after so many generations,” he said.

“It’s all right to feel sympathy for someone, Yoshi,” Rie said, “and natural. But please remember that such emotions should not intrude when you are doing a business negotiation. Your head must rule, not your heart.” She rested a hand on his arm. “But you succeeded. Congratulations.” She felt Jihei’s glare. He was too drunk to sustain it, though. What an embarrassment he was.

Kinno’s eyes crinkled in appreciation, his mouth shaping a toothy grin. “I think we should sell one kura now and keep the other for next winter, when we may be able to increase our production.”

“Very well,” Rie agreed. “And Kinno and Yoshi, I want you to start giving Sei small jobs in the afternoon. Remember, Yoshi, you were following Kinno everywhere when you were five. That’s how you learned so well.” She beamed at him. “Teach Sei to do just as you did.”

Late one afternoon Rie stopped outside the boys’ room. The tutor had left, and she hoped to learn what he was teaching them, especially Yoshi.

“Yoshi,” she called as she slid the shoji open and entered the room.

The boys sat at the low table with papers and copy sheets. Sei was painstakingly copying syllables with a brush. Yoshi was reading aloud from a book printed on rice paper. They bowed to Rie.

“Continue, please. What are you reading, Yoshi?”

“Sensei left me these two books.” He pushed them across the table.

“
The Way to Wealth,
by Saikaku,” Rie read aloud. “Yes, a good lesson, Yoshi. Saikaku says here what a merchant needs is frugal-ity, persistence, a ready mind for figures, mastery of the abacus,

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a pleasant manner, honesty, and imagination. Just what Grandfather and I have been teaching you. We must keep this so Sei can read it when he’s old enough.” She read on. “It is not plum, cherry, pine, and maple trees that people desire most around their houses, but gold and silver, rice and hard cash.”

Rie burst out laughing, covering her mouth with the book.

The boys grinned.

“Of course we value gold and silver,
and
hard cash. But we also enjoy the plum and cherry blossoms in the garden too. And the other book, Yoshi?”

She picked it up and read,
“The Man Who Spent His Life in Love.”
Then she turned to Yoshi. “Have you read this one?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, let me read it first. I’m not sure it’s suitable.” She slipped the book into her sleeve, rose, and went to the door. “Continue. We’ll have dinner soon.”

Rie retired early, intending to read Yoshi’s lesson book. She set the lamp next to her futon and pulled out the story. She read aloud to herself the words of one of the characters in the story. “‘Many years ago it was observed that a father slaves, his son idles, and the grandson begs.’
Ho!
” she exclaimed aloud. She read the story of the rakish, profligate son who spent his time and money in the entertainment quarter where he squandered the money so painstakingly accumulated by his father. This was a good lesson for Yoshi . . . and for Jihei. She would ask the tutor if he had any more of these stories. She finished the book and decided to leave it on Jihei’s seat in the office where he was sure to see it.

Rie walked to the courtyard one morning and looked at her three daughters standing in front of the barrels in their indigo
mompei
work pants, slapping each other and giggling in their high-pitched voices. Rie tied her sleeves back and walked up to them.

“Talking won’t get the barrels clean, girls. Come on, pick up the brushes. I want to see how you’re doing. You too, Teru. You’re old enough. Watch your sisters. You’ve washed your hands and feet? And remember, stay away from the kura.”

“Yes, Mother,” all three replied at once. They bowed quickly and picked up the large brushes next to the hose.

“Get to the back of the barrel first, the bottom. You’ll need this small ladder to reach,” Rie said. “I know some brewers just run water through the barrels, but that isn’t enough. We don’t want a repeat of last year’s sake.”

“But it’s so cold, Mother.” Fumi shivered and rubbed her hands together. “My hands are freezing.”

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“I know. Cold weather is what makes good sake. You can stop when you’re too cold and warm your hands. Like this.” Rie held her hands over her nose and mouth. “And after a while your back gets tired. But there are three of you. I used to do it all alone, so you’ll each do only a third of the work.”

“But we have more barrels now. We produce more,” Kazu said.

“Yes, you’re right.” Rie laughed. “Use the ladder, Kazu. You’ll need it to reach the bottom, there at the side. And Teru, use some force. That’s right, Fumi. And it helps to sing. It takes your mind off the cold.”

Rie began to hum a rhythmic folk tune and clapped her hands in time to their brush strokes. They all began to sing.

“You’ll get to enjoy it after a while, when you realize how important it is for the sake, and for the success of the house.”

“You always talk about the house, Mother,” sixteen-year-old Fumi said.

“Yes, it’s the most important thing in the world, Fumi. In whatever we do we need to think of the house.”

Rie mused as she watched the girls. Kazu was already fifteen, taller than average and a capable, responsible model for her younger sister. Teru was obviously attractive and must be watched closely so that she did not behave like a geisha. Rie felt a twinge of guilt that she had given Fumi more attention than her sisters. She turned and walked to the inner office, allowing herself only the briefest of thoughts of Fumi’s real father.

Rie opened the wooden shutters one morning and looked out into the garden. The maple leaves were reddening, yellow chrysanthemum buds were ready to burst, and the cicadas had fallen silent. Could summer have come and gone so quickly? Even when the autumn foliage was at its most brilliant, Rie always felt a faint twinge of melancholy at the cold gray winter to come. Of

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course that was the weather that produced good sake, the colder the better. It also brought on O-Natsu’s painful rheumatism and everyone’s sniffling noses the whole winter through. And there had not been time to go to Bunraku this summer, regretfully.

The autumn colors in the garden also reminded Rie that it was time to prepare for the start of another brewing season. She prayed that the previous year’s disaster would not be repeated. Maids cleaned the kurabitos’ room to prepare for their arrival from their farms. Jihei must call the priest for the start of season ritual, a Shinto observance performed in the kura. Rie and the girls were not allowed to witness it. Rie had O-Natsu and O-Yuki ready the fruit and mochi plates to set on the white-draped table at the entrance to the number one kura. Ropes hung with white folded paper amulets were strung above the entrance to each kura. In her father’s time Rie knew prayers were said each morning before the Shinto god shelf. Now the ceremony was performed just once annually, though Toji said a prayer himself each morning. Sake brewing required the help of the gods.

The purple-robed priest in his pointed black cap arrived the morning of the ceremony and was greeted by Jihei, Yoshi, Toji, and Kinnosuke. Kin returned for the occasion. The wooden shutters of the main room were open so Rie and the girls could witness the ceremony from a distance as they were not allowed in the kura. Jihei, Yoshitaro, Kinnosuke, Toji, and the kurabito stood in a row in front of the main kura. The priest held his white paper wand in both hands and shook it several times at the entrance to each kura before entering the main kura. He stood at the ceremonial table inside the entrance. The women were silent as they listened to him intone solemn prayers to the god of sake for the success of the season’s brew.

Completion of the ritual was the signal for everyone to spring into action. Huge baskets of rice were carried inside the brewery

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