Chapter 37 Present Day
PRESENT DAY
JULIA
Julia and Zoey sat quietly and watched an outdoor wedding on the lawn below the dining room of their hotel in Shizuoka City.
The hometown of Julia’s great-great-grandfather sat halfway between Tokyo and Kyoto and became the perfect respite destination before leaving for Tokyo in the morning.
Spending two days overlooking the picturesque Mount Fuji felt surreal to Julia.
She remembered Grandmama’s photo album with a picture of the mountain and never believed she would actually see it in all its glory.
The waiter interrupted their contemplation as he brought black and red lacquered bowls and plates of colorful sushi, vegetables, and various aromatic dishes that promised to taste delicious.
He removed the lids from their soup bowls and asked if they cared for more wine.
“Meshiagare,” he said, adding in French, “bon appétit.”
Julia picked up the chopsticks and stabbed at the meat floating in the soup. The meat rolled, allowing a fish head to bob to the surface with one eye staring at her.
Zoey laughed. “Aren’t you special? You got the head. I got the tail.” She lifted her bowl and sipped.
“Yeah, you want to trade?”
“That’s okay, princess.”
Zoey had called her princess since the super-centenarian had said that her familial line came from the Shōgun himself. Indeed, “daughter of the Shōgun,” continued to ring in Julia’s ears.
She scoffed at Zoey and thought of a comeback. “I’m going to eat this eyeball, just to show you what a commoner I am,” Julia teased. Instead, she picked up a piece of sashimi, dipped it in soy, and plopped the whole slice in her mouth. “Oh my gosh, that’s good.”
They had spent two more days exploring Kyoto and agreed that the historical Higashiyama district was their favorite, with its beautiful traditional homes, fantastic shopping, and magnificent Kiyomizu-dera Temple.
The Buddhist temple, built in 778 without a single nail, took its name from the waterfall within its complex.
The name meant “pure water.” The waterfall was divided into three channels—one for longevity, one for success in business and school, and one for fortune in love.
The tour guide said, “Only drink from two as drinking from all three is greedy and will bring bad luck.” Julia chose success in school and fortune in love; Zoey went for longevity and success in business.
Near the temple stood the Jishu Shrine, known as the Cupid of Japan.
The shrine contained two large stones placed thirty feet apart.
Legend said that if you can walk between the two with your eyes closed, you will find true love.
Zoey dared Julia to try. Julia thought she might wet herself with laughter as she walked blindly and slowly between the love rocks with her hands held out in front of her.
When she reached the other stone, she blushed from the sudden applause of the crowd that had gathered to watch her. In her competitiveness, she was disappointed that she had almost missed the second stone. Their guide laughed and said, “You must be careful to not let love slip by you.”
For sure, Julia was falling in love…with Japan.
With the scenic, pine-covered mountains and the surrounding sea, Japan reminded her so much of Seattle, especially with Mount Fuji standing guardian over the area the same as Mount Rainer.
Japan held a rich history and a mysterious spiritual depth.
Julia believed that, for sure, everything Japanese seemed encoded in her collective DNA.
The people were as kind and generous as she had hoped and as interested in her as she was in them.
Julia and Zoey had kept their promise of not overstaying their visit with the super-centenarian.
They expressed appreciation, said their goodbyes, left the facility, and played tourists for the rest of their time in the city.
Julia admitted to Zoey that as much as she appreciated her friendship and translation skills, she’d grown weary of people assuming she spoke Japanese and the fact that she didn’t, embarrassed her.
Julia had started to pick up basic phrases, but that only made it worse because the locals then assumed she spoke the language.
I don’t know when, but I will take some Japanese language classes.
She smiled at her companion. “Thank you, Zoey. I couldn’t have made this trip without you,” she said and raised her wine glass.
“Oh my gosh, Julia. Thank you!” Zoey toasted with her glass. “Look at this view. Look at this food. Look at this dress you bought me.”
They clinked glasses.
The views from the Nippondaira Hotel’s restaurant were spectacular.
Japan was known as the “Land of the Rising Sun,” and Julia declared that the land of the setting sun was equally beautiful, with its golden hour highlighting the distant snow-covered peak of Mount Fuji.
The resort sat on the top of the Nihondaira Plateau and boasted of panoramic views of the city of Shizuoka and the ever-changing sky, as well as Mount Fuji.
Her mother’s travel agent had outdone herself finding their accommodations.
“Sure I don’t look like a blue crayon?” Zoey said and frowned.
Julia smiled at her and admired the blue and black silk dress that she’d bought for Zoey in the Higashiyama district that complimented her blue hair. “I think you look fabulous!” she said and raised her glass to toast again.
“Well, I now own exactly one dress,” she said. “I always thought I was too fat and my calves were too big to wear anything this nice.” Sadness swept over her face as she looked away from Julia out the picture window.
“Truly, you look great, Zoey. We’re always our own worst critics, aren’t we?”
Julia followed Zoey’s gaze to the wedding ceremony on the spacious green lawn in the front of the resort.
The preparations had been elaborate. At least three hundred people attended, and they all sat in white chairs.
A glamorous arbor wrapped in white and pink flowers perfectly framed the wedding couple against the backdrop of Mount Fuji, and lace ribbons hung from the posts, danced gently in the summer breeze.
The bride wore a dazzling white kimono and head covering, the groom a dark kimono jacket and striped hakama pants.
Julia and Zoey sighed, looked at each other, and wiped a few tears, and giggled.
“Why is love such a deep part of us?” Julia mused. “My doctor says it may be our greatest need, ‘To love and be loved.’”
Zoey began to cry. “I don’t think I’ll ever have that.” She looked at the wedding party and, blinking back tears, turned to Julia. “You probably have guys falling all over themselves for you.”
Julia bobbed her head. “I’m never sure about their motivations,” she frowned and looked at the wedding party. “You see how the groom looks at his bride? I want someone who loves me like that.”
They continued to watch the ceremony in silence until Zoey finally said.
“You know, I always tell my friends I’m queer.
” She sighed loudly. “I’m not even sure what that means anymore.
Maybe I chose that label, thinking love would never be possible for me.
” She tilted her head toward the wedding scene.
“I think you’re pretty awesome,” Julia assured her and smiled.
Zoey huffed. “Well, you’re the one with royalty running in your genes.”
Julia glanced at Zoey, knowing this may or may not be true.
Their search had brought them to Shizuoka, the city that Hiroshi Yamamoto, the husband of Shibata Rikka, had listed in the Fort Missoula camp as his city of origin.
Julia and Zoey had spent one unsatisfying afternoon at the local government office in Shizuoka searching the koseki, the official Japanese family register.
Although the secretary had been helpful, much of Julia’s family heritage remained elusive. The koseki verified that Hiroshi Yamamoto had married Shibata Rikka, and Shibata Mizuki was, indeed, Rikka’s mother.
The one missing piece they’d discovered was Mizuki had been born in Shizuoka City in 1867, the daughter of Shibata Yuria.
Shibata Yuria would be Julia’s great-great-great-great-grandmother.
The listing and date had surprised the office worker, and she’d stated, “One important thing to understand about family history research in Japan is that until 1868, the beginning of the Meiji era, only the elite nobility had family names. The common person only had a first name.”
When Julia explained through Zoey that they had been told that Shibata Mizuki was the daughter of the Shōgun and that meant the Shibata Yuria was the wife of the Shōgun, the secretary politely said. “That might be possible…but…”
“The big but!” Julia and Zoey had said simultaneously. It had been their frustration and private joke since spending time in Shizuoka. The koseki listed no father for Mizuki, and no husband for Yuria. The secretary offered an uncomfortable possibility.
Zoey grimaced at Julia, knowing the secretary’s words that she had just translated must have stung. “Being a concubine to the Shōgun is like being his wife,” she tried saying convincingly.
Julia shrugged.
The public secretary had explained that “Modern koseki only record basic facts, such as names, dates, and locations. They rarely include explanations for why an event took place.”
It was also the secretary who had suggested that Shibata Yuria was not a primary wife of the Shōgun but possibly a secondary wife.
When Julia had asked Zoey to explain, she’d hesitated, then spoke the word that now echoed in Julia’s mind, “concubine.”
They spent a morning in Shizuoka doing the math.
If Shibata Mizuki was born in 1867, as the records showed, her mother would be childbearing age, at best guess, in her twenties.
A web search showed the Shōgun alive at that time would have most likely been Tokugawa Yoshinobu, since the Shōgun before, Tokugawa Iemochi, died young in 1866.