that what he said? After you’ve been so kind to him?”
“Well, I don’t know what else to do. He’s the boy’s father, after all.”
“He has no love for him, does he.”
“So it seems. If he really has no use for him, I’ll take him on and bring him up myself.”
Oriku’s anger refused to abate, but Shūsaku was soon up and about again. He was still a child, and he got over such things quickly.
“I’m very sorry to have caused you all this worry,” he said apologetically.
“What can have happened? You have such a fine home—what in the world made you do it?” Oriku’s reply sounded severe.
“A fine home? You have no idea what you’re talking about, Auntie.” He pursed his lips.
“Your father’s mistress moved in after your mother died—I’m sure it must be difficult for you.”
“It certainly is. I can’t even begin to tell you.”
“Very well, but what are you going to do now? You can’t just go on this way. You’ll end up a tramp on the streets.”
“I know that.”
“Well then, stop. I gather you have promise, and now of all times is the time to learn. Right? Tell your father you’re sorry and go home.”
“Go home? I’d rather drown myself in the river.” The tone of his voice changed. Home was obviously a subject he preferred not to discuss.
“Auntie?” He was looking Oriku straight in the eye. “Will you listen if I tell you what I really want?”
“As much as you like.”
“Then please do. I want to learn to be a dancer.”
“But not from your father?”
“No, of course not. My father isn’t the only teacher around. There are lots of others, and I can learn anywhere, as long as I really want to. That’s what I think, anyway.” He looked resolute. Judging from Mitsunojō’s voice on the phone, and Shūsaku’s obvious resolve, there was no longer any affection between father and son.
“So what do you have in mind?” Oriku sat up straighter. “You mean you want to learn some other school of dancing, not Bandō?”
“That’s right.”
“And you absolutely refuse to go back to Kanda.”
Shūsaku nodded in silence. “It wouldn’t be any use, your telling me to go home. You don’t know this Omura woman. She’s really something.”
“I hear she’s quite a lady.”
“Quite a horrible lady, yes. She moved right in with her son, and she practically told me to get out.”
No doubt he was prejudiced, but he really hated his father and stepmother.
“I wish you’d talk about me to someone you know, Auntie. Could you possibly do that?”
“I suppose I could, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass your father.”
“He won’t care! He doesn’t want me around—it’ll be a relief for him,” he said, giving her a pleading look.
“I’ll do anything!” he went on. “I’ll polish the floors, or whatever else anyone wants me to do. Just the thought of going back to Kanda makes me capable of anything. Please think about it. You understand—this other woman is now sitting on the cushion that used to be my mother’s.” His speech had dropped to a whisper. The faintness of his voice spoke volumes: the more deeply he loved his mother, the more he detested his father. Oriku could see why.
“All right, stay a few days. You can help with the garden, and meanwhile I’ll think it over.”
With that, she kept him at Mukōjima. Once properly bathed and dressed in the clothing Oriku happened to have on hand, he made a very fine young fellow. Sleeping under the temple’s main hall had accustomed him to a frugal life, and he never just sat around indoors. Sweeping and tidying the garden, helping the maids with the heavy chores—it was a big place, and there was always plenty of work. The maids were glad to have him. “Shū-chan,” they called him, and they looked after him very nicely.
“If Mr. Bandō doesn’t want him, Mistress Oriku, why don’t you adopt him?” This was Ofune’s suggestion.
“He wants to be a better dancer than his father, so I’m thinking about who might take him on.” A teacher for Shūsaku: that was the one thing on her mind.
“I found you at Kannon’s temple, so you should probably have an Asakusa teacher.”
“I’ll leave it up to you,” Shūsaku replied. He seemed in no particular hurry. Instead he went around looking quite relaxed. Everybody liked him. There were no other men at the Shigure Teahouse, so he was everyone’s darling, and he never acted as if any task was beneath him.
The place suddenly became very busy, as it did every year when the cherries started coming into bloom and an avalanche of blossom-viewers filled every room. With the women working at a frantic pace, Shūsaku was caught up in the same whirlwind. No dance study for him! He became the restaurant’s general servant. He never complained, though.
“We can’t ask Shū-chan to do that!” Oriku would say about some task or other that he then did gladly anyway. “I’m here to help till the blossom-viewing season is over,” he would say.
“I’ve never known such a nice boy!” Ofune could hardly get over it. “What can Mr. Bandō possibly have against him? He’s wonderful!”
“It’s because this Omura, his mistress, has a son of her own. Shūchan has a stubborn streak, and it seems he refuses to call her ‘Mother.’”
“Why should he? He can hardly start calling her ‘Mother’ at his age.”
“You’re quite partial to him, aren’t you? You didn’t like him much at first, though.”
“When he first came he wasn’t well, and you couldn’t tell just what he was like, but now it’s Shū-chan this and Shū-chan that—everyone thinks the world of him. Just yesterday the ceramic drainage pipe was blocked. He dug three feet down to it, got himself covered in mud, and fixed it.”
“You really mustn’t have him do things like that! He’s not a common laborer, you know.”
“That’s why everybody is so happy to let him have his bath and bring him fresh clothes.”
“It’s just not right, though, when he’s the natural successor to the position of head of the Bandō house. You really mustn’t do it anymore.”
Oriku spoke severely, but all this meant nothing to Shūsaku himself. Easygoing by nature, and rendered confident by an excellent upbringing, he had what it takes to remain cheerful through adversity. Oriku knew she should not go on putting him to
