Chapter 29 Present Day
PRESENT DAY
OSCAR
With Buki settled in their new living arrangements, Oscar didn’t know what to expect as Joseph drove them all to Doctor and Missus Jō’s house on the north side of the university.
But when they walked inside, Oscar was surprised how ordinary suburbanite the home was.
He also realized that the informality they enjoyed together outside of class stopped at the Jō’s threshold.
This made it awkward when Sensei became more animated and friendly, as if he were welcoming his four favorite grandkids. And Missus Jō was even more gregarious.
Doctor Jō introduced his wife as Elizabeth, but he called her Lizzy.
She appeared to be around the same age as Sensei, with gray hair piled into a bun on the top of her head.
Although somewhere in her eighties, her vibrant personality made her seem twenty-years younger.
Only her gray hair and facial wrinkles betrayed her age.
After introductions and removing their shoes, Missus Jō invited the four to the dining room table where it appeared she had been busy setting a beautiful spread.
A large electric skillet filled the center of the table, and as soon as they sat, Missus Jō placed sliced beef from a large platter on it.
The meat sizzled, sending up a cloud of steam.
Sensei sat at the head of the table and said, “Tonight we eat like kings, a meal of sukiyaki, to celebrate OsCar’s arrival to our family.”
“Thank you, Sensei,” Oscar said and bowed, somewhat embarrassed by the attention, especially being of such low rank. He didn’t understand why Sensei seemed to like him so much but was grateful for it.
Missus Jō added a small heap of sliced green onions to the meat. Doctor Jō patted her on the small of her back and she turned to say something in Japanese. Ashley, who sat to the right of Oscar, laughed. “She told him not to get so frisky,” Ashley whispered in Oscar’s ear.
“I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with you, but do you know why Lizzy and I chose our names when we came to America from Japan?” Doctor Jō asked. “Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor were the famous love story couple, so we became Richard and Elizabeth.”
“Way better than Sonny and Cher,” Missus Jō laughed.
“Richard always teases me that he chose the names after seeing their movie, The Taming of the Shrew.” She leaned over and kissed Sensei on the forehead, then reached across and poured a pitcher of sweet soy sauce broth into the skillet.
Another cloud of steam arose, filling the room with a delicious aroma.
“And I’m still working on that, my untamed shrew,” he teased, for which he received a sharp slap on the shoulder.
Oscar shot a smile at Joseph, who sat across from him, enjoying Sensei’s banter with his wife. Joseph struggled to suppress a smile.
Missus Jō added large handfuls of napa cabbage to the skillet, put a lid on top, and tottered off to the kitchen.
“Lizzy spends all her time across the street at the Berkry Rose Garden. OsCar, it is one of our rights of passage. You must spend a day with her so she can tell you about each one of the rose bushes,” Sensei said and added in a low whisper, “Bore you.” He laughed at his own joke.
“I heard that,” her voice called from the kitchen.
“Actually, it is the reason for our success together. We have our own interests outside of our marriage. Lizzy has her roses. I have kendo.” He nodded around the group, making sure they understood. “OsCar has a broken heart, so we must pray he finds someone nice.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Ashley said, making Oscar blush.
“I mean outside of kendo,” Sensei added, now making Ashley’s cheeks redden.
Missus Jō returned carrying a tray of ceramic bowls filled with steaming rice and handed it to Ashley to distribute. Then she lifted the lid to the sukiyaki, mixed in the now cooked spinach and cabbage, added rice noodles and mushrooms, and stirred the soup. “I hope you all are hungry.”
Oscar’s mouth watered and his stomach growled.
“Yes, please eat up because you never guess what we do in morning.” Sensei spoke gleefully, looking directly at Joseph and Tom. “Tomorrow, we run Mount Diablo!”
Oscar’s roommates all groaned.
“Mount Diablo?” Oscar asked tentatively.
Joseph grimaced. “Sensei wants us all to keep in good shape, so he likes to spring this on us every once in a while to double check. It’s only a ten-miler.”
“But all up hill,” Tom added.
“Have you told OsCar what we do next week?” Sensei asked Joseph.
“I have not, Sensei,” Joseph said and bowed his head.
“Oh good! You make it to the top of Mount Diablo, and I will tell you,” he teased. “Now eat before you offend Missus Jō.”
* * *
Oscar had never eaten sukiyaki or tasted anything so delightful.
It was the best of comfort and gourmet food all in one satisfying meal.
Plus, it was a wonderful community meal, with everyone talking and laughing as they picked at the last morsels in the skillet with their chopsticks.
Afterwards, Missus Jō served a soothing green tea as they sat satiated and talked.
“So, OsCar, you have been on quite a journey to search for your family roots,” Sensei began. “Tell us what you have discovered.”
Oscar sat back in his chair, unsure of where to begin.
He skipped the most obvious part…his mother’s indiscretion.
“I met my biological father for the first time last week. Unfortunately, it was the same night I got dumped by my fiancé.” He searched the eyes of the people at the table and saw no judgment, so he continued.
“It has led to this whole family that I did not know existed…who apparently emigrated from France. My great-great-grandfather was a wine maker. It’s crazy, but the winery he started when he came to the US is still going strong.
That’s kind of where the trail stops.” He looked at Doctor Jō.
“I guess I’m still trying to process the whole thing.
” He sat up, not sure he wanted to add much more.
“You said it was your biological father who gave you the sword?” Joseph asked. “Sensei, do you mind looking at it with us?”
“What does an old man know of swords?” Doctor Jō teased. “Certainly.”
Joseph nodded to Oscar to retrieve the sword from the bag he’d placed by the front door.
Oscar hopped up, went to the front door, opened the bag, and carried the sword as Joseph had instructed.
He took it to Sensei and held it out the proper way with two hands.
Doctor Jō smiled approvingly at Joseph, then at Oscar. “Oh…what do we have here?”
Sensei stood to receive the sword, took it with both hands, and lifted it to his eyes. “This is from your birth father?”
“Yes, Sensei, his grandfather, my great-grandfather, brought it from Japan.”
As Sensei pursed his lips and sucked a breath through his teeth, Oscar hoped this was not upsetting, but Sensei continued to inspect it and said, “Yes, this was very common. When the war ended, all the Japanese soldiers had to disarm. Many, many katana left Japan,” he commented without malice.
“From the outside, it appears to be a shin-guntō katana,” he said of the sword with its brown cord-wrapped handle and brass cap with tassel within the faded dark greenish-brown scabbard.
“Shin-guntō means new military sword and Japan mass produced them in wartime for the Imperial Japanese officers. But we will not know what secrets it hides until we dismantle it. Would you want me to do that?”
“Yes, please Sensei, of course.”
“This is an honor. May I draw the sword?”
Joseph had prepared Oscar for the question and Oscar replied now in Japanese, “Hai, onegai shimasu.”
Again, Doctor Jō nodded at Joseph, knowing where Oscar’s etiquette came from.
Holding the sword in his left hand, Sensei opened the blade with his thumb and pulled the sword out only a few inches. He again held the sword up to the light to examine it. “Hmmm.”
He nodded and said something to his wife in Japanese. She went to the china cabinet, pulled out a small wooden box, and placed it in front of Sensei on the table. She then smoothed out a clean white dish towel to cover the table.
Sensei removed the blade completely from the scabbard, placed both on the towel, and sat down.
“OsCar, have you ever taken apart a live sword?”
“No Sensei. I didn’t even know they came apart.” He chuckled nervously.
Sensei opened the box, removed a small brass-colored hammer, and unscrewed the post from the top.
He carefully used the instrument to hammer out a wooden plug from the handle.
“I’m removing this wooden peg, the mekugi, so that we can remove the handle, the tsuka, from the tang, the metal underneath.
This is where we find the sword’s secrets.
The peg came out easier that Oscar thought it should, but Sensei seemed unfazed. He lifted the sword by the handle and thumped his own hand with his other, loosening the handle from the tang. He laid it back down on the table, and without touching the blade, pulled the handle off.
Missus Jō handed him his glasses without being asked, and Sensei took considerable time looking at the Japanese characters etched into the metal—hemming and hawing as he read.
When Doctor Jō finished interpreting what he saw, he let out a loud sigh and leaned back in his chair. Then he did something totally unexpected that worried Oscar. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
“When we reach the top of the mountain tomorrow, I promise I will share more of my story…my family’s story.
I know I have never told you all much. But I am an old man, and it’s important that you know your kendo…
your samurai heritage.” He wiped at another tear.
“This sword reminds me that history is important.”
“What does it say, Sensei?” Ashley asked, now standing and looking over his shoulder.
Sensei seemed to melt into his own thoughts, until his wife came up behind him and held his shoulders.
He looked up at her and smiled, then looked at his students gathered around him and nodded.
“This is no ordinary sword. It is no shin-guntō. This is a family sword, probably handed down to a son from his father when he left for war and carried for the honor of the family. The maker of the sword is Hosokawa Tadayoshi. The Hosokawa family made katanas from the late 1500s until the government outlawed swords in the 1870s. This particular sword was forged in 1840 for the Shibata family.”
Oscar nodded. “Then it feels kind of weird to have it. What are you thinking, Sensei?”
“OsCar…these things are complicated. Your father just gave this to you, I know…but you might want to think about returning it to the rightful owner.”
“Yes…I think you’re right, Sensei. Maybe this is what this whole mess is about. Restoring what has been lost.”
* * *
Missus Jō had chased everyone out of the kitchen who so much as tried to help her prepare or serve dinner, but once dinner was finished, and everyone was talking about the sword, she gladly relinquished the cleanup chores.
Oscar didn’t wait to be assigned a duty.
As he ranked lowest of the roommates, he knew it was his responsibility to wash dishes.
But Missus Jō was kind to keep him company in the kitchen.
“Oscar, I am sorry about your lost love,” she said.
“Betrayal is awful. I hope you don’t mind me knowing your story as Richard and I are at that age where nothing is hidden.
It is a beautiful stage in life. Richard and I fell in love the minute we saw each other.
Love can be like that, but marriage takes lots and lots of work. I pray you find a good help mate.”
“Thank you, Missus Jō.”
“Believe you me…it takes tons of patience.”
Oscar tried not to smile too broadly.
“Richard and I love Montana. When we moved to America, we thought about moving to Missoula for a job offered at the University of Montana. We saw Glacier National Park for the first time and fell in love. ‘Heaven on earth,’ Richard kept saying. It is why he still loves to go visit. Richard used to have kendo camps every summer in the mountains…of course this was before you were born,” she smiled.
“Those summer camps are legendary.”
“In the end, we decided that Missoula was not quite ready for a Japanese professor, so we came to Berkeley.”
Oscar nodded.
“You know Richard is very fond of you, and I can see why. You have a beautiful spirit about you. I know love will find you, Oscar. A young lady will be lucky to discover you.”
With his hands in the dish water, Oscar could not wipe the tear that had formed in his eye. He blinked, playing her words in his mind over and over again. He didn’t think he’d ever heard that from anyone, not even his mother.
“Maybe you can find a nice French girl,” Missus Jō smiled, “or better yet, a beautiful Japanese maiden.”