The Scent of Sake (49 page)

Rie smiled at Ume and tried to fathom her feelings.

“I guess so,” Ume said. She bowed and picked up the tea tray. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” Rie said, and turned back to

her dressing table.

Rie opened the shutters of her upstairs room early one morning, then thrust her hands into her sleeves and shivered. A chill wind was soughing down from Mt. Rokko. Ice crystals glistened and wove a gossamer web on the trees and shrubs of the garden. The faint pink plum blossom buds peering between the leaves and lacy crystals reminded her that it was already February. Why was it that the older one grew, the faster time passed? At sixty-seven she must be nearing the end of her allotted time, a life already longer than most. She was making preparations. Each morning she reported to the ancestors at the Butsudan, whether or not Tama had set out the rice and wine. And each evening before going to sleep she sat quietly for several minutes, reviewing in her mind what she had done for the house during the day. That way there would be no major miscalcula-tions when the time came to join the ancestors. Hadn’t her father done something similar when he sat alone in contemplation each evening? This was a comforting thought.

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She dressed quickly, put on her padded winter wrap and tapped down the stairs to the kitchen, where she picked up a pair of clip-pers. At the door to the garden she slipped into wooden geta and foraged out into the icy scene. A chill mist enveloped the garden, and Rie hurried to the plum tree. Rain lashed at her eyes when she reached up and clipped two blossom-laden sprigs. Back in the warmth of the kitchen, she arranged the stalks in a low celadon vase. In the parlor fresh incense burned before the name tablets, proof that Tama had preceded her. She placed the vase carefully before the scroll hanging in the tokonoma alcove, and moved on her knees to the Butsudan.

She lit a second incense stick, then clasped her hands before her face and closed her eyes.

“Father, Hirokichi will do. He will be best for the house,” she whispered.

Rie sat in the garden late one afternoon musing about Buntaro’s startling information about the black ships, the steamships that had entered Kobe port. All the changes she had witnessed in her lifetime in the brewing and selling of sake flashed through her mind: the discovery of pure Shrine Water that granted divine assistance to brewers near Nishinomiya; the discovery by her own son of steam power to replace the waterwheel rice polishers; the development of kura of brick construction, also by Seisaburo; and now the steamships she and Kinnosuke both knew would replace the cask ships and transform forever the way sake was transported to major markets. And her father had told her of advances before her time, most notably the replacement of the foot treadle by the waterwheel for polishing rice. The dizzying pace of change before her eyes was proof of Japan’s progress since the coming of the Western barbarians, just as the Satsuma and Choshu leaders had promised for this new era called Meiji, “Enlightened Rule.” Rie silently thanked the gods that she had been able to grasp

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the significance of each of these developments almost at the moment of its appearance. Her father and Kin had always praised her sense of timing. Yes, it was true. This did give her an advantage over other brewers, even the sales-oriented Nada brewers. These new steamships were just the latest example. And Kinnosuke had immediately grasped the importance of each step. That White Tiger was at this very moment sending the first barrels of sake by steamship to Tokyo gave Rie a sense of elation, a feeling she knew was central to her life as a brewer.

Brewers as a group were well known for their attachment to tradition, for doing things as they had always done. This con-servatism was natural. Brewing sake was the oldest, the primal, business in Japan. In the earliest stories of creation the first myth-ical hero, Yamato Takeru, had ordered eight barrels of sake for the eight-headed demon, and when the ogre was far gone in his cups, the hero had wielded his sword to slice off the monster’s eight heads. All Japanese knew that in every town and village throughout the land the sake brewers were the most honored and respected of inhabitants. Their pride in brewing was legendary. It must be some quirk of fate that granted her this special sense of the importance of timing in this ancient and honored profession.

As these thoughts ran through her mind she inhaled deeply and caught the whiff of salt air pushing inland off the ocean. She smiled. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Hirokichi or Buntaro fashioned a miniature model of one of the new steamships? It would be something to put in the parlor, perhaps even in the tokonoma next to the Butsudan. Her father would appreciate it.

The Meiji government issued new regulations delimiting the amount of rice that could be used for brewing sake, and it was therefore imperative that all brewers attend the association meeting. Yoshitaro, Kinnosuke, Eitaro, Seisaburo, and Hirokichi all would attend. During the first two decades of the Meiji era, the

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government, preoccupied with so many dramatic innovations, had not gotten around to placing controls on brewing. Now every brewer in Nada and Nishinomiya, in fact throughout the country, was concerned to know what the new directives would be. Each association would be assigned an allotment, and limita-tions on individual brewers would be determined by the Brewers Associations, those close to local conditions. The Nada meeting was doubly important because the president was to be elected as well. Rie felt that Seisaburo had a chance, though at thirty-nine he might be considered young for the position. Still, as head of an Omura branch and with his reputation as one of the region’s most successful brewers, Rie felt he could not be ruled out.

“Yoshi, you and Eitaro must support Seisaburo for the presidency,” she said, excited by the prospect. She went to the door and saw Yoshitaro and Kinnosuke off for the meeting. “It is so unreasonable that I can’t go too,” she muttered under her breath as the ricksha pulled off into the street.

Rie invited Seisaburo and Eitaro to return to the main house for dinner after the meeting. She ordered special delicacies for the occasion. The intervening hours passed slowly, interminably. She tried her hand at some needlework to help pass the time in the late afternoon, but soon set it down impatiently. She could still hear her mother’s voice after all these years: “Try to be more careful with your stitches, Rie. They’re a bit irregular.” She looked at them and saw that they still were. A rueful smile played around her lips.

Several hours later Rie heard rickshas and voices of the men returning. She hurried to the door to greet them and quickly surveyed their faces before focusing on Yoshitaro, who stood closest to her.

“It’s all right, Mother,” he said. “Sei was elected vice president. Kato is president. Yamaguchi was defeated. I could see that he was angry. He had tried to line up votes.”

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“Good!
Huh!
Yamaguchi’s still angry that we got access to Shrine Water, after all these years,” she said. “Still, it’s good that you’re vice president, Sei. I am so proud of you. President next time, yes? Come. Dinner is ready.”

Thrilled for her son and for the business and house, Rie led the way into the dining room and motioned the men to be seated. Kinnosuke was included as well, since the dinner was also in the nature of a family business council. O-Yuki brought in tea and three flasks of warmed sake with cups, and the men began pouring for each other, loosening their kimonos.

“Sei had some support, Mother,” Eitaro began, “but Kato is senior.”

Rie remembered Saburo’s elder brother, and was pleased that the Kato family had captured the prestigious position, as Sei’s predecessor.

“It’s only natural,” Seisaburo said. “At my age I didn’t really expect to be elected.”

“But after Kato’s term is up, you’ll be next, won’t you?” Rie nodded confidently as she spoke.

“Possibly so. By that time I’ll be in my forties. But I think Kato will be in for several years. And the new system will be in place by the time I take over.”

Rie nodded and turned to Kinnosuke. “What about the new regulations? How will they affect us?”

He rested his chopsticks on his rice bowl. “It’s as we thought. The individual allotments will be made by the association, a bit like the old kabu system. It won’t be a great hardship. The allotments will be made according to past production, and since ours has been rising steadily we’ll be all right, with even an allowance for a bit of expansion.”

Rie put down her cup and nodded. Her heart gave a small flutter, something it had begun recently. She ignored it. “Good. Good.”

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She asked Eitaro to remain behind after the others had left the table. Recently, she had begun to feel her age and knew that it was imperative that she find a successor soon.

She took her fan from her obi and placed it on the table before her. “You know, Eitaro, that the reason I have encouraged Hirokichi all along, had him spend time here with Kinnosuke and Buntaro and, of course, Yoshi, is that I envisioned bringing him into the main house as Yoshi’s successor.”

Eitaro bowed correctly. “That is what Fumi has led me to believe. A great honor and opportunity it will be for him, and for us.” He bowed again. “It will also be a chance for us to choose Mie’s mukoyoshi.”

Rie glanced at Eitaro’s clean-planed face and turned her fan over several times. “So I’ll have Fumi bring him over in a few days. Now that his twenty-first birthday is approaching we can begin preparations.”

“I’ll mention it to Fumi but of course not to Hiro,” he said.

He stood, bowed low, and bade Rie good night.

A few days later Rie sent a request for Fumi and Hirokichi to come to the main house. She met them at the entrance and ushered them into the parlor, where a low lacquer table stood in front of the tokonoma. O-Yuki brought in tea.

“How are you, Mother?” Fumi asked. “As well as can be expected at my age.”

Hirokichi smiled. “You seem very healthy, Grandmother.” “Thank you, Hiro. Yes, I can’t complain. And speaking of age,

now that you are of age, Hiro, we can plan for your future, your marriage in particular.”

“That’s true, Mother,” Fumi nodded, without indicating that she knew what was coming.

“We need to settle your marriage, Hiro. You know that White Tiger is now number three in all Japan.”

“I know, Grandmother,” Hirokichi said. “It’s impressive.”

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