he had married a daughter of a samurai who had seen in this sturdy son of the soil a caliber of manhood that could not be found in sons of hereditary warriors. This marriage was a tremendous boost to Sadaki's prestige in the days of feudal bigotry, but would be a handicap after the restoration if his bride were not adaptable to the new era. They went to live with his elder brother, a farmer, but the lot of a second son, especially burdened with a wife and son, was not a happy one.
The burgomaster, the shoya of the village, one day accosted Sadaki who was helping his brother on the farm. "You are working pretty hard. That, I can see by your sweat-soaked clothes. Have you got used to farmwork?"
"Yes. I am now used to working in the fields. Anyway I was born a farmer and it is merely picking up things I left ten years ago before I joined the forces of the Lord of Uto."
"Well it is good to see you content with your work. Many of your friends have joined the police, but many have been forced to steal and commit crimes for which they are caught and brought to trial by their erstwhile friends. I am glad to see that you are happy with the lot of a farmer. But we must think of you as an independent farmer and not as a dependent of your brother. I am thinking of old Mosaku. He is getting along in years and soon will not be able to tend to his crops. His acreage is among the best and there is a good balance between fields for rice and that of the dry crops of sweet potatoes and vegetables. What do you think about becoming an adopted son, yoshi. Since you are married and have a son, your case will be a fufuyoshi. Personally, I think it is a very good move if you can make up your mind to do it."
"I have never thought much about the role of an adopted son. I shall have to talk it over with my wife and brother. But since my return I heard that old Mosaku had two adopted sons already. What became of them?"
"Well, Mosaku is quite a slave driver. His holdings have been accumulated by hard work and self-denial, even to the point of miserliness. He drove the two young men too hard and they simply could not take it. But I am betting on you. You ought to be able to make the grade."
Mosaku was famous for being a very hard man to get along with. Bent with life-long toil in the rice patches, his face was wrinkled and sunburnt. He was like thousands of peasants with no distinguishing peculiarity. There was a hardness and slyness in his assumed humility before authority, but ready to break into a fury when there was no retaliation. To his wife ten children were born, but all died in either infancy or early childhood. This was a calamity. The ancient house had to have a successor, and they were getting old. At his deathbed, there must be someone to offer the last cup of water to speed him on to the nether world. The ancestors' graves must be tended and their souls at the time of bon, the monthly and annual day of demise, must be properly observed with the lighting of candles and adornment of the shrine with flowers.
On the 3rd, 7th, 13th, 20th, and 33rd anniversary, priests had to be summoned and sutras chanted. Mosaku had his own soul to be looked after as well as to answer to the reproaches of his ancestors if he did not leave someone to do the proper things after he was gone.
Therefore, when he became certain that the procreating days were over for his wife, he looked about for some suitable young couple that might be prevailed upon to come and live with them to carry on after his days should come to an end. It was not hard to find a man willing to accept the proposition because the acreage he cultivated was better than the average in the locality, but to endure the exacting Mosaku was a different matter.
The first young man did not last a year. Another tried to be amiable to the old man in order to become master of the farm and property, because the wiry man could not live forever, but he too could not survive the test. It was this that Sadaki faced. But people did not laugh. They said that if Sadaki could not please the old miser, there was no one that could ever suit him. He was known to his fellow villagers as being patient and good natured, and a good mixer. The sterner part of his character that had enabled him to rise swiftly in the army was allowed to remain hidden under the mask of his smiling exterior.
Sadaki was twenty-four and of average height. His carriage was straight for he had gotten away from stooping farm work and had practiced the feat of arms such as fencing and jujitsu. Cleanly shaven and composed, he looked different from other peasants even when he was dressed for the field.
The arrangement for adoption into the Mosaku Murayama family was speedily concluded. Sadaki decided to make this arrangement endure. Under no harsh or unreasonable treatment would he show his temper. He would be the epitome of good manners and placate the ire of old Mosaku. The arrangement was not easy, especially for his bride who had been used to expect respect from her foster parents. But she knew too well that the present forbearance was for their future security, and especially for their little son Torao.
"Mosaku-san, it is a nice day."
"Shoya-san, good day to you. I am deeply indebted to you again and again for all the trouble you went through for my yoshi arrangement."
"Well, how is the young man getting used to the work as a farmer?"
"He is all right. He works hard and does not show any disrespect. He is a good son. My daughter-in-law is above reproach. I am satisfied and happy. I feel secure knowing that my ancestors' souls will be dutifully served and on their anniversaries priests will be summoned to have sutras read."
Sadaki, try as he might, could not become a true farmer. He lacked the peculiar inborn trait and sagacity that makes one a good, successful farmer and the next door neighbor a failure, although the two might be equally industrious. After a few years, the old man stopped trying to teach him and doted on the little grandchild. He concluded that perhaps the only way to get a good farmer out of the trio was to educate this little boy in the art of tilling the soil when he was young.
But the little one received an altogether different training from his mother, for she insisted that he talk and act the little gentlemen that a samurai son was expected to do. Unlike the sons of regular farmers, Torao had to strictly observe at home the salutations of morning, night, coming and going, with all the etiquette attending these greetings. Due respect in speech and mannerism had to be shown his elders, in contrast to the free, easy going approach his playmates paid the village elders. Soon there was a brother born and later a sister.
With the restoration of the emperor came different improvements to raise the status of the undertrodden peasantry. Universal education was one. A grammar school was erected in the village next to the burgomaster's house. Textbooks were not adequate and the old classics of Chinese derivation were taught to instill the age old maxims and aphorisms that every educated person was expected to know by heart.
Every morning before he started out to school, Torao was given a cup of rice wine by his grandfather. To be a man, one had to take his liquor well and that training might as well start early. It was a peculiar notion from later standards, but in the eyes of the Japanese, heated rice wine is usually weak in alcoholic content, and was not devastating in its effect like the distilled spirits of the West. Besides, it was used in all the religious and formal rituals. Only on the departure for an undertaking that presages sudden or certin death is wine substituted by plain water. Plain water exchanged in drinking connotes death and a willingness to enter into such a contract. Rice wine is drunk in Japan by the men just like wine is freely taken in France or in Italy. Thus, Torao was trained to drink from his childhood, but this training was destined to cause heartbreak and loneliness in his later years.
About once a month Mrs. Murayama used to take her children to Amizu where her ancestral home was situated and proceed to the hill in back of the village where the family cemetery was located. The purpose behind this monthly pilgrimage was to impress upon her youngsters that though the world she had been brought up into had changed and was replaced by a more enlightened era under the direct rule of the emperor, it was still important to learn and feel proud of their lineage.
Not
