SILENT
HONOUR

SILENT HONOUR
A CORGI BOOK : 0 552 14132 1

Originally published in Great Britain by Bantam Press,
a division of Transworld Publishers Ltd

PRINTING HISTORY
Bantam Press edition published 1997
Corgi edition published 1997
Corgi edition reprinted 1997

Copyright © Danielle Steel 1996

The right of Danielle Steel to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Condition of Sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers Ltd,
61–63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA,
in Australia by Transworld Publishers (Australia) Pty Ltd,
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and in New Zealand by Transworld Publishers (NZ) Ltd,
3 William Pickering Drive, Albany, Auckland.

To Kuniko, who has lived it,
and is a remarkable lady.

And to Sammie, who thought of it, and
is very special, and whom
I love dearly.

With all my love,

d.s.

Also by Danielle Steel

SPECIAL DELIVERY

THE RANCH

MALICE

FIVE DAYS IN PARIS

LIGHTNING

WINGS

THE GIFT

ACCIDENT

VANISHED

MIXED BLESSINGS

JEWELS

NO GREATER LOVE

HEARTBEAT

MESSAGE FROM NAM

DADDY

STAR

ZOYA

KALEIDOSCOPE

FINE THINGS

WANDERLUST

SECRETS

FAMILY ALBUM

FULL CIRCLE

CHANGES

THURSTON HOUSE

CROSSINGS

ONCE IN A LIFETIME

A PERFECT STRANGER

REMEMBRANCE

PALOMINO

LOVE: POEMS

THE RING

LOVING

TO LOVE AGAIN

SUMMER’S END

SEASON OF PASSION

THE PROMISE

NOW AND FOREVER

GOLDEN MOMENTS^*

^* Published outside the UK under the title PASSION’S PROMISE

Chapter 1

Masao Takashimaya’s family had searched for five years for a suitable bride for him, ever since his twenty-first birthday. But in spite of all their efforts to find a young woman who suited him, he rejected each of the girls as soon as he met them. He wanted a very special girl, a young woman who would not only serve and respect him, as the go-between promised each would, but he also wanted a woman he could talk to. Someone who would not only listen to him, and obey, but a girl he could share his ideas with. And none of the girls he had seen in the past five years had even come close to fulfilling his wishes. Until Hidemi. She was only nineteen when they met, and she lived in a buraku, a tiny farming village, near Ayabe. She was a pretty girl, delicate, and small, and exquisitely gentle. Her face looked as though it were carved of the finest ivory, her dark eyes were like shining onyx. And she scarcely spoke to Masao the first time she met him.

At first, Masao thought she was too shy, too afraid of him, she was just like the others that had been pressed on him before her. They were all too old-fashioned, he complained, he didn’t want a wife to follow him like a dog, and look at him in terror. Yet, the women he met at the university didn’t appeal to him either. There were certainly very few of them. In 1920, when he began teaching there, the women he met were either the other professors’ daughters or wives, or foreigners. But most of them lacked the total purity and sweetness of a girl like Hidemi. Masao wanted everything in a wife, ancient traditions mixed with dreams of the future. He didn’t expect her to know many things, but he wanted her to have the same hunger for learning that he did. And at twenty-six, after having taught at the university in Kyoto for two years, he had found her. She was perfect. She was delicate and shy, and yet she was fascinated by the things he said, and several times, through the go-between, she had asked him interesting questions, about his work, his family, and even about Kyoto. She rarely raised her eyes to look at him. And yet once, he had seen her glance at him, with excruciating shyness, and he thought her incredibly lovely.

She stood beside him now, six months after the day they met, with her eyes cast down, wearing the heavy white kimono her grandmother had worn, with the same elaborate gold brocade obi. A tiny dagger hung from it, so she could take her own life, should Masao decide that he did not want her. And on her carefully groomed hair, she wore the tsunokakushi, which covered her head but not her face, and made her seem even tinier as he watched her. And hanging just below the tsunokakushi were the kan zashi, the delicate hair ornaments that had been her mother’s. Her mother had also given her a huge princess ball, made of silk threads, and heavily embroidered over the course of Hidemi’s lifetime. Her mother had started it when Hidemi was born and added to it through the years, always praying that Hidemi would be gracious, noble, and wise. The princess ball was the most treasured gift her mother could give her, an exquisite symbol of her love and prayers, and hopes for her future.

Masao wore the traditional black kimono with a coat over it, bearing his family’s crest, as he stood proudly beside her. Carefully, they each took three sips of sake from three cups, and the Shinto ceremony continued. They had been to the Shinto shrine earlier that day for a private ceremony, and this one was the formal public marriage that would join them forever, in front of all their family and friends, as the master of the ceremony told stories about both families, their history and importance. Both of their families were present, and several of the professors Masao taught with in Kyoto. Only his cousin Takeo was not there. He was five years older than Masao, and was his closest friend, and he would have wanted to be there. But Takeo had gone to the United States the year before, to teach at Stanford University, in California. It was a great opportunity for him, and Masao wished he could have joined him.

The ceremony was extremely solemn and very long, and never once did Hidemi raise her eyes to look at him, or even smile, as they became man and wife, according to the most venerable Shinto traditions. And after the ceremony, at last she hesitantly looked up at him, and the smallest of smiles lit her eyes and then her face, as she bowed low to her new husband. Masao bowed to her as well, and then she was led away by her mother and her sisters to exchange her white kimono for a red one for the reception. In wealthy city families, the bride changed her kimono six or seven times in the course of her wedding, but in their buraku, two kimonos had seemed enough for Hidemi.

It was a perfect day for them. It was a beautiful summer day, and the fields of Ayabe were the color of emeralds. They spent the entire afternoon greeting their friends, and accepting the many gifts offered them, and the gifts of money carefully wrapped, and handed to Masao.

There was music, and many friends, and dozens of distant relatives and cousins. Hidemi’s cousin from Fukuoka played the koto, and a pair of dancers performed a slow and graceful bugaku. There was endless food as well. Especially the traditional tempura, rice balls, kuri shioyaki, chicken, sashimi, red rice with nasu, nishoga, and narazuki. There were delicacies that had been prepared for days by Hidemi’s aunts and mother. Her grandmother, ‘obaachan,’ had overseen all the preparations herself; she was pleased that her little granddaughter was getting married. She was the right age, and she had learned her lessons well. She would be a good wife for anyone, and the family was pleased with the alliance with Masao, in spite of his reputation for being fascinated by modern concepts. Hidemi’s father was amused by him; Masao liked to discuss world politics and speak of worldly things. But he was also well versed in all the important traditions. It was a good family, and he was an honorable young man, and they all felt certain that he would make her an excellent husband.

Masao and Hidemi spent the first night of their marriage with her family, and then left for Kyoto the next day. She was wearing a beautiful pink-and-red kimono her mother had given her, and she looked especially lovely as Masao drove her away in the brand-new 1922 Model T coupe he had borrowed for the occasion. It belonged to an American professor at the university in Kyoto.

And when they returned to Kyoto they settled into his small, spare home, and Hidemi proved everything he had believed about her from the moment he met her. She kept his house immaculate for him, and observed all of the familiar traditions. She went to the nearby shrine regularly, and was polite and hospitable to all of his colleagues whenever he brought them home for dinner. And she was always deeply respectful of Masao. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly bold, she giggled at him, particularly when he insisted on speaking to her in English. He thought it was extremely important that she learn another language, and he spoke to her on many subjects: of the British running Palestine, of Gandhi in India, and even about Mussolini. There were events happening in the world that he thought she should know about, and his insistence on it amused her. He was very good to her in many ways. He was gentle and kind and considerate, and he told her often that he hoped they would have many children. She was deeply embarrassed when he spoke of such things, but when she dared, she whispered to him that she hoped she would bring him many sons, and great honor.

‘Daughters are honorable too, Hidemi-san,’ he said gently, and she looked at him in amazement. She would have been deeply ashamed to give him only daughters. She knew the importance of bearing sons, particularly coming from a farm community like Ayabe.

She was a sweet girl, and in the ensuing months they became good friends, as they learned to love each other. He was gentle and thoughtful with her, and always deeply touched by her myriad delicate gestures. She always had wonderful meals waiting for him, and flowers, perfectly arranged, particularly in the tokonoma, the alcove where the painted scroll was kept, which was their home’s most important and honored decoration.

She learned what he liked, and what he didn’t, and was careful to shield him from the most minor annoyance. She was the perfect wife for him, and as the months wore on, he was ever more pleased that he had found her. She was still as shy as she had been at first, but he sensed that she was growing more comfortable with him, and more at ease in his world. She had even learned a handful of phrases in English to please him. He still spoke to her only in English at night when they shared dinner. And he spoke to her often of his cousin Takeo in California. He was happy with his job at the university, and had just married a kibei, a girl who had been born in the States of a Japanese family, but had been sent to Japan to complete her education. Takeo had said in his letters that she was a nurse, her name was Reiko, and her family was from Tokyo. And more than once, Masao had dreamed of taking Hidemi to California to meet them, but for the moment, Masao could only dream of going there. He had his responsibilities at the university, and despite a very respectable career, he had very little money.

Hidemi did not tell her husband when they were expecting their first child, and according to tradition, and the instruction she had had, the moment it began to show, she bound her stomach. And it was early spring before Masao even knew it. He discovered it one day when they were making love, very discreetly as always. Hidemi was still very shy. And as soon as he suspected it, he asked her. She couldn’t even bring herself to answer him. She turned her face away in the dark, blushing scarlet, and nodded.

‘Yes, little one? … Yes?’ He gently moved her chin so that she faced him, and smiled down at her as he held her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ But she couldn’t answer. She could only look at him, and pray that she wouldn’t disgrace herself by giving him a daughter.

‘I … I pray every day, Masao-san, that it will be a son,’ she whispered, touched by his gentleness with her, and his kindness.

‘I would be just as happy with a daughter,’ he said honestly, as he lay beside her, dreaming of their future. He loved the idea of having children, her children especially. She was so beautiful and so sweet, he couldn’t imagine anything lovelier than a little girl who looked just like her mother. But Hidemi looked shocked by what he had just told her.

‘You must not say that, Masao-san!’ She was afraid that even thinking about a girl just now might bring one to them. ‘You must have a son!’ She looked so adamant about it that it amused him. But he was a rare man in Japan, he truly didn’t care if they had a son or a daughter. And he thought that the traditional obsession with wanting only sons was extremely foolish. He actually liked the idea of having a daughter whom he could educate with new ideas and new views, unfettered by the weights and chains of ancient traditions. He loved Hidemi’s sweet, old-fashioned ways, but he also loved the fact that she seemed amused by his passion for modern ideas and contraptions. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her. She happily tolerated all his newfangled ideas and fascination with modern developments and politics the world over. She wasn’t deeply involved in any of it herself, but she always listened with interest to the things he told her. And the idea of bringing those same ideas to a child, and bringing him or her up with them from the first, absolutely enthralled him.

‘We will have a thoroughly modern child, Hidemi-san.’ He smiled as he turned over to look at her, and she looked away from him, blushing in embarrassment. Sometimes when he was too direct with her, it made her feel shy again, but – more than she would ever have been able to tell him with words – she loved him deeply. She thought him fascinating and intelligent and sophisticated beyond anything she had ever dreamed. She even liked it when he spoke to her in English, no matter how little of it she understood. She found him completely enchanting. ‘When will the baby be born?’ he asked, realizing that he had no idea. The year was already off to an interesting start, particularly in Europe, where the French army had occupied the Ruhr, in a reprisal for delayed reparations payments owed them by the Germans. But world news seemed far less important now, in relation to the arrival of their first baby.

‘In early summer,’ she answered him softly. ‘I think, July.’ It would be exactly a year since they’d been married. And it was a nice time of year to have a baby.

‘I want you to have it in the hospital,’ he said as he glanced over at her, and he instantly saw a stubborn look in her eyes. He knew her well, after only eight months of marriage. Even though his more modern ways seemed to amuse her, on some things she had no intention of moving an inch in honor of more modern inventions. And when it came to family matters, she clung to all the old ways with dogged determination.

‘I don’t need a hospital. My mother and my sister will come to help me. The baby will be born here. We’ll call a priest if we need one.’

‘You don’t need a priest, little one, you need a doctor.’

She didn’t answer him. She had no desire to be disrespectful, nor to heed him. And when the time came, she cried bitterly as he argued with her fiercely. Her mother and oldest sister arrived in June, as planned, and stayed with them. Masao didn’t mind, but he still wanted her to see a doctor and have their baby in the hospital in Kyoto. But it was obvious to him that Hidemi was afraid. She didn’t want to go to the hospital, or to see a doctor. Masao tried in vain to reason with her, and to convince her mother that it would be better for her. But Hidemi’s mother only smiled and treated him as though he were eccentric. She herself had given birth six times, but only four of her children were living. One had died at birth, and another from diphtheria when still a baby. But she knew about these things, and so did Hidemi’s sister. She had two babies of her own, and she had helped many women when their time came.

As the days passed, Masao realized that he wasn’t going to convince any of them, and he watched with dismay as Hidemi grew larger and more tired in the heat of the summer. Each day, her mother made her follow the traditions that would make her delivery easier. They went to the shrine, and they prayed. They ate ceremonial foods. And in the afternoons she went on long walks with her sister. And at night when Masao came home, he would find Hidemi waiting for him, with tasty delicacies prepared, always anxious to be with him, and serve his needs, and hear whatever news he told her. But the only news that interested him now was about her. She seemed so tiny, and the baby so large. She was so young and so frail, and he was desperately worried about her.

He had been so anxious to have children with her, but now that the moment had come, he was terrified that a baby might kill her. He spoke to his own mother about it eventually, and she assured him that women were made for such tasks, and that she was sure that Hidemi would be fine, even without the benefit of a modern hospital or a doctor. Most women throughout the world were still having their babies at home, despite Masao’s insistence on the advantages of being different.

But he grew more uneasy each day, until finally, late in July, he came home in the afternoon to find the house seemingly deserted. She wasn’t waiting for him outside, as usual, nor was she in their room, or at the small brick stove in their kitchen. There was no sound anywhere, and he knocked gently on the room occupied by his mother- and sister-in-law, and there he found them. Hidemi had already been in labor for hours, and she lay there silently, in agony, with a stick between her teeth, writhing in pain as her mother and sister held her. There was steam in the room, and incense, and there was a large bowl of water, and Hidemi’s sister was trying to wipe her brow as Masao glanced into the room and then backed away, afraid to enter.

He bowed low, turning away, reluctant to offend any of them, and asked politely how his wife was. He was told that she was doing very well, and his mother-in-law came swiftly to the shoji screen that served as a door, bowed to him, and closed it. There had been not a word or a sound from Hidemi, but from the little he had seen of her, she looked awful. And as he walked away, he was tormented by a thousand terrors. What if she was in too much pain? If she died of it? If the child was too large? If it killed her? Or if she lived, and she never forgave him? Perhaps she would never speak to him again. Or what if she hated him for what she’d been through? The very thought of it dismayed him greatly. He was so much in love with her, so desperate to see her sweet, perfectly carved face again, he almost wished he could enter the room where they were and help her. But he knew that all of them would have been hysterical at the mere thought of anything so outrageous. A birth was not a place for a man. Anywhere in the world, a woman in labor was not to be seen by her husband, and surely not in his world.

He walked slowly through their garden, and sat down, waiting for news of her, forgetting completely to eat, or do anything. And it was dark when his sister-in-law came quietly to him, and bowed. She had prepared sashimi and some rice for him, and he was startled when she offered it to him. He couldn’t understand how she had left Hidemi to take care of him, and even the thought of eating repulsed him. He bowed to her, and thanked her for her kindness, and then quickly asked about Hidemi.

‘She is very well, Masao-san. You will have a handsome son before morning.’ Morning was still ten hours away, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her being in pain that much longer.

‘But how is she?’ he pressed her.

‘Very well. She is full of joy to be giving you the son you desire, Masao-san. This is a joyful time for her.’ He knew better than that and couldn’t bear the pretence of what she was saying. He could imagine Hidemi in unbearable pain, and the thought of it was driving him crazy.

‘You’d best go back to her. Please tell her that I am honored by what she is doing.’ Hidemi’s sister only smiled and bowed, and then disappeared back to her bedroom, while Masao strolled nervously through the garden, and completely forgot the dinner she had made him. There was no way in the world that he could have eaten. And what he had wanted to say to her but of course couldn’t, was to tell Hidemi that he loved her.

He sat alone in the garden all night, thinking about her, and the year they had shared, how much she meant to him, how gentle and kind she was and how much he loved her. He drank a fair amount of sake that night, and smoked cigarettes, but unlike his peers, he didn’t go out with his friends, or go to bed and forget her. Most men would have retired, and been pleased to hear the news in the morning. Instead, he sat there, and paced from time to time, and once he snuck back to the room where she was, and thought he could hear her crying. He couldn’t bear the thought of it, and when he glimpsed Hidemi’s sister again later on, he asked if he should call a doctor.

‘Of course not,’ she snapped, and then bowed, and disappeared again. She looked distracted and busy.

It was dawn before his mother-in-law came to find him. He had had quite a lot to drink by then, and he was looking slightly disheveled as he smoked a cigarette and watched the sun come up slowly over the horizon. But he was frightened instantly when he saw the look on his mother-in-law’s face. There was sorrow there, and disappointment, and he felt his heart stop as he watched her. Suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He wanted to ask about his wife, but just seeing the look on his mother-in-law’s face, he knew he couldn’t. He just waited.

‘The news is poor, Masao-san. I am sorry to tell you.’ He closed his eyes for an instant, bracing himself. Their moment of joy had turned into a nightmare. He had lost them both. He just knew it.

‘Hidemi is well.’ He opened his eyes and stared at her, unable to believe his good fortune, as his throat tightened and his eyes filled with tears that many men would have been ashamed of.

‘But the baby?’ This time he had to ask her. Hidemi was alive. All was not lost. And how he loved her.

‘Is a girl.’ His mother-in-law lowered her eyes in grief that her daughter had so badly failed him.

‘It’s a girl?’ he asked excitedly. ‘She’s well? She’s alive?’

‘Of course.’ Hidemi’s mother looked startled by the question. ‘But I am very sorry …’ She began to apologize, and Masao stood up and bowed to her in elated excitement.

‘I am not sorry at all. I am very happy. Please tell Hidemi …’ he began, and then thought better of it. He hurried across the garden as the sky turned from peach to flame, and the sun exploded into the sky like a bonfire.

‘Where are you going, Masao-san? You cannot …’ But there was nothing he could not do. It was his home, and his wife, and his baby. He was law here. Although seeing his wife at this point would have been highly improper, Masao had no thought of that at all, as he bounded up the two steps to their second bedroom, and knocked softly on the shoji screens that shielded her from him. Her sister opened them instantly, and Masao smiled at her, as she looked at him with eyes full of questions.

‘I’d like to see my wife.’

‘She cannot … She is … I … Yes, Masao-san,’ she said, bowing low to him, and stepping aside after only a moment’s hesitation. He was certainly unusual, but she knew her place here, and she disappeared, and went to the kitchen for a moment to prepare tea for him, and join her mother.

‘Hidemi?’ he asked softly as he entered the room, and then he saw them. She was lying peacefully, wrapped in quilts, and shivering slightly. She was pale, and her hair was pulled back off her face, and she looked incredibly lovely. And in her arms, tightly wrapped so only the tiny face showed, was the most perfect child he had ever seen. She looked as though she had been carved out of ivory, like the tiniest of statues. She looked just like her mother, although, if possible, she was even more beautiful, and he gazed down at her in wonder as he saw her. ‘Oh … she is so beautiful, Hidemi-san … She is so perfect …’ And then he looked at his wife, and saw easily how much she’d been through. ‘Are you all right?’ He was still worried about her.

‘I am fine,’ she said, suddenly looking very wise, and a great deal older. She had crossed the mountains from girlhood into womanhood that night, and the journey had been far more arduous than she’d expected.

‘You should have let me take you to the hospital,’ he said anxiously, but she only shook her head in answer. She was happy here at home, with her mother and her sister, and her husband waiting in the garden.

‘I’m sorry she is only a girl, Masao-san,’ Hidemi said with genuine emotion, and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. Her mother was right. She had failed him.

‘I am not sorry at all. I told you. I wanted a daughter.’

‘You are very foolish,’ she said, daring for once to be disrespectful.

‘So are you, if you do not think a daughter a great prize … perhaps even far greater than a son. She will make us proud one day. You will see, Hidemi-san. She will do great things, speak many languages, go to other countries. She can be anything she wants to be, go anywhere she chooses.’ Hidemi giggled at him. He was so silly sometimes, and it had been so much harder than she’d thought, but she loved him so dearly. He reached out and took her hand in his, and bent low to kiss her forehead. And then he sat for a long moment, looking with pride at their daughter. He meant everything he had said to her. He didn’t mind at all that they had had a daughter. ‘She is beautiful, like you … What shall we call her?’

‘Hiroko.’ Hidemi smiled. She had always liked the name, and it was the name of her dead sister.

‘Hiroko-san,’ he said happily, looking from his wife to his child, and engulfing them in the love he felt. ‘She will be a thoroughly modern woman.’

Hidemi laughed at him then, beginning to forget the pain, and then she smiled, looking suddenly a great deal older. ‘She will have a brother soon,’ she promised him. She wanted to try again, to do it right for him the next time. No matter what he said, or how wild his ideas were, she knew she owed him more than this girl, and that there was nothing more important in life than bearing sons for her husband. And one day, he would have one.

‘You should sleep now, little one,’ he said softly, as his sister-in-law brought in a tray with tea for them. Hidemi was still shaken from the loss of blood and the shock of all she’d been through.

Hidemi’s sister poured tea for both of them, and then left them alone again. But Masao left the room a few minutes later. Hidemi was very tired, and her sister needed to tend to the baby, who was stirring.

His mother-in-law went back into the room then too, and pulled the fusama screen to divide the room and give Hidemi privacy. Masao walked through his garden, smiling to himself, prouder than he had ever been in his entire life. He had a daughter, a beautiful little girl. She would be brilliant one day. She would speak English perfectly, and perhaps even French, and German. She would be knowledgeable about world affairs.

She would learn many things. She would be the fulfillment of all his dreams, and just as he had told his wife, she would be a completely modern young woman.

And as the sun rose in the sky, he smiled up at it, thinking what a lucky man he was. He had everything he wanted in life. A beautiful wife, and now a lovely little baby daughter. Perhaps one day he would have a son, but for now, this was all he wanted. And when he finally went back to his own room to sleep, he lay on his futon and smiled, thinking of them … Hidemi … and their tiny daughter … Hiroko …

Chapter 2

The earthquake that leveled Tokyo and Yokohama in the first week of September that year rattled Kyoto as well but not as badly. Hiroko was seven weeks old by then, and Hidemi clung to her, terrified, when the quake struck, and Masao hurried home to find them. There had been considerable damage in the town, but their house withstood the shock fairly well. And it was only later that they learned of the total devastation of Tokyo. Most of the city had been leveled, fires blazed, and for weeks people wandered the streets, starving, and desperate for water.

It was the worst earthquake in Japan’s history, and for weeks afterward Masao talked about leaving Japan and moving to California like his cousin Takeo.

‘They have earthquakes in California too,’ Hidemi had reminded him quietly. She had no desire to leave Japan, no matter how great the risk there. Besides, Masao had just been promoted. But he didn’t want to risk his family, now that he had one. To him, they were far more important.

‘They don’t have earthquakes as often there,’ Masao had snapped at her, unnerved by everything that had happened. He had been terrified for her and the baby. And for weeks they were horrified to hear stories about what had happened to relatives and friends in Tokyo and Yokohama, and the surrounding towns around them. His cousin Takeo’s wife, Reiko, had lost both her parents in Tokyo, and other friends had lost relatives as well. It seemed as though everyone in Japan was affected.

But eventually, after the initial excitement died down, Masao turned his attention to world news again, and forgot about moving to California. The war in China was continuing. There was trouble in Germany in October and November, which fascinated him too. And in November, the young National Socialist leader, Adolf Hitler, tried to effect a coup against the German government, failed, and was arrested. Masao was greatly intrigued by him, and taught several of his more advanced political science classes on the subject of the young German radical, whom he felt certain would change the course of Germany before much longer.

In January, Lenin died, which provided further fodder for discussions among the political scientists. And in February, Masao discovered that once again Hidemi was pregnant. The baby was due in June this time, and Hidemi was going to the shrine daily to pray for a son, although Masao again insisted that he would be just as happy with another daughter. Hiroko was seven months old by then, and Hidemi had already started making the traditional silk princess ball for her, just like the one her own mother had given her for her wedding. And when Hiroko wasn’t strapped to her mother’s back, she was crawling everywhere, and laughing and giggling, and thoroughly enchanting her father. He spoke English to her, and although his own English was not totally without flaws, he was fairly fluent, and even Hidemi could now manage a simple conversation in English. Masao was proud of her. She was a good wife to him, a wonderful friend, and a loving mother. She was everything he had hoped for, and in letters to his cousin in America, he always told little stories about her, and praised her. And he often included photographs of their baby. She was a pretty little girl, tiny for her age, and even more delicate than her mother. But what she lacked in size, she made up for in energy. And at nine months, she started walking.

Hidemi was seven months pregnant when Hiroko walked for the first time. And Hidemi was even bigger this time than the last time. Masao was once again insistent that she go to a hospital and not attempt to have their baby at home without benefit of a doctor.

‘It went very well last time, Masao-san.’ She stood firm. Her sister was pregnant again as well, so she would be unable to come and help her, but her mother was planning to be there.

‘People don’t do that anymore, Hidemi-san,’ he insisted. ‘This is 1924, not the dark ages of the last century. You will be safer in a hospital, and so will the baby.’ Masao loved reading American medical journals, as well as the material that related to political science for his classes. And after reading about obstetrical complications a number of times, the idea of giving birth at home again appalled him. But Hidemi was far less modern than he, and extremely stubborn.

Just as scheduled, her mother arrived at the beginning of June, and planned to be there for three or four weeks before the baby. She helped Hidemi with Hiroko every day, and it gave Hidemi a little more free time to spend with her husband. They even managed to spend a day and a night in Tokyo, which was a treat for them, and it fascinated them to see all the reconstruction after the earthquake.

Five days after they returned, Masao and Hidemi were lying on their futons late one night, when Masao noticed that Hidemi was moving around restlessly, and finally she got up and went to walk in the garden. He joined her after a little while, and asked her if the baby was coming. And finally, after hesitating, she nodded. A year earlier she wouldn’t have said anything to him, but after two years of marriage, she was finally a little less shy, and a little more open with him.

He had long since lost the battle for the hospital, and as he watched her, he asked her if she wanted him to go and get her mother. And for an odd moment, she shook her head, and then reached for his hand, as though she wanted to tell him something.

‘Is something wrong, Hidemi? You must tell me if there is.’ He always worried that out of modesty she would fail to tell him if she was ill or if there was something wrong with her or the baby. ‘You must not disobey me,’ he said, hating the words, but knowing that they were the key to making her tell him if there was a problem. ‘Is something wrong?’

She shook her head as she looked at him, and then turned away, her face filled with emotion.

‘Hidemi-san, what is it?’

She turned back to look at him then, with the huge dark eyes he loved so much and which always reminded him of their daughter. ‘I am afraid, Masao-san …’

‘Of having the baby?’ He felt so sorry for her, his heart went out to her, momentarily sorry that he had helped her do this. He had felt that way the last time, when he had glimpsed her pain. He hoped that this time it would be easy for her.

But she shook her head, and then looked at him so sadly. She was twenty-one years old, and there were times when she looked like a little girl, and other times when she seemed totally a woman. He was seven years older than she, and much of the time, he felt protective of her, and almost old enough to be her father.

‘I am afraid it will not be a son … again … Perhaps we will have many daughters.’ She looked at him despairingly and he gently put his arms around her and held her.

‘Then we will have many daughters … I am not afraid of that, Hidemi-san. I only want you to be well, and not suffer … I will be happy with daughters or sons … You must not do this for me again, if you don’t wish it.’ There were times when he thought she had rushed into having another child just to please him and give him the son she felt would bring him honor. Her gift of a son for him was the most important thing she could give him.

And when her mother came to lead her away, Hidemi looked at him reluctantly. She liked being with him, and odd as it seemed, she didn’t want to go away from him to have their baby. She knew that in some ways, their relationship was different than that of most Japanese couples. Masao liked being with her, and helping her, and spending time with her and Hiroko. Even now, in pain, she wanted him to be with her, although she knew that her mother would have been shocked to hear her say it. But she would never say it to anyone. They would never have understood her feelings, or the way Masao treated her. He was always so kind and so respectful.

For hours she lay in her mother’s room, thinking of him, and this time she knew from the way the pains came that the baby would come before morning. She had felt the pains all afternoon, but hadn’t wanted to say anything. She didn’t want to leave Masao, and she had liked lying next to him, and being close to him, and all that day being with Hiroko. But now she knew she had work to do, and she lay silently as her mother gave her something to bite on so she wouldn’t make a sound. She would do nothing to disgrace her husband.

But as time wore on, the baby didn’t seem to move, and when her mother finally looked, she could see nothing. No head, no hair, no movement at all. There was just endless pain, until Hidemi was almost out of her mind with it by morning.

And as though he sensed that something was wrong this time, Masao came to the shoji screens several times and inquired how she was doing. His mother-in-law always bowed politely and assured him that Hidemi was fine, but at first light, he noticed that even the old woman was looking frightened.

‘How is she now?’ he asked, looking haggard. He had been worried about her all night, and he wasn’t sure why, but he somehow sensed that this time was different. Last time, there had been an atmosphere of calm about the two women bustling in and out of the labor room. This time there was only Hidemi’s mother, and he could feel throughout the night that she wasn’t pleased with her daughter’s progress. ‘Is the child not coming?’ he asked, and she hesitated, and then shook her head, and then he horrified her with his next question. ‘May I see her?’

She was about to tell him that he couldn’t come in, but he looked so determined that she didn’t dare say it. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, and then stepped aside, and what he saw in the room behind her terrified him, as he hurried toward Hidemi. She was only half conscious, and moaning softly. Her face was gray, and she had bitten down so hard on the stick her mother had given her that she’d bitten through it. He pulled it gently out of her mouth, and felt her belly tighten beneath his hand, as he tried to ask her some questions. But she couldn’t hear him. And when he looked more closely, after another minute or two, he saw that she had slipped into complete unconsciousness and she was hardly breathing. He had no medical degree, and he’d never been at a delivery before, but he was certain, as he looked at her, that she was dying.

‘Why didn’t you call me?’ he snapped at his mother-in-law, terrified by what he was seeing. Hidemi’s lips were faintly blue and so were her fingernails, and he wondered if the baby was even still alive within her. She had been in labor for hours, and she was obviously in serious trouble.

‘She is young, she will do it herself,’ her mother explained, but even she didn’t sound convinced, as he hurried out of the house and ran to the neighbors’ house. They had a telephone. He had long since wanted to put one in, but Hidemi always insisted they didn’t need one, and in an emergency they could always get a message at the neighbors’. He ran to them now, and called the hospital, which he knew he should have taken her to despite all her protests. They promised to send an ambulance for her as soon as possible, and Masao berated himself for not insisting she go there in the first place.

When he got back to the house, it was an interminable wait for the ambulance to come, and Masao simply sat on the floor, rocking her back and forth in his arms like a baby. He could feel her slipping away from him. And through it all, the terrible tightening of her belly continued. Even her mother seemed helpless now. All the little tricks and old wives’ tales had been useless. When the ambulance came for her, her eyes were closed, her face was gray, and her breathing was the merest thread to life. The doctor who had come for her was amazed that she had come this far.

They put her quickly into the ambulance, and Masao asked his mother-in-law to stay with Hiroko. He didn’t even take the time to bow, he just left with Hidemi and the doctor. The doctor said very little to Masao in the ambulance, but he checked her constantly, and finally just before they got to the hospital, he looked up and shook his head at Masao.

‘Your wife is very ill,’ he said, confirming Masao’s worst fears. ‘I don’t know if we can save her. She has lost a great deal of blood, and she’s in shock. I believe the baby is turned the wrong way, and she has worked for many hours. She’s very weak now.’ Nothing that he said came as a surprise, but it sounded like a death sentence to her husband.

‘You must save her,’ he said savagely, looking like a samurai and not the gentle soul he was. ‘You must!’ He refused to lose her.

‘We’ll do everything we can,’ the doctor tried to reassure him. Masao looked half mad, with his hair disheveled and wild eyes full of grief for Hidemi.

‘And the baby?’ He wanted to know it all now. They had been so stupid to stay at home. It was so old-fashioned and ignorant, and he didn’t know why he had let her convince him. And now look at what had happened. More than ever, he was certain that the old ways were dangerous, or even fatal.

‘I can still hear a heartbeat,’ the doctor explained, ‘but only a faint one. Do you have other children, sir?’

‘A daughter,’ Masao said distractedly, staring at Hidemi in wild-eyed desperation.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Is there nothing you can do now?’ Masao asked. Her breathing seemed even fainter and more labored than it had when the doctor arrived. She was slowly losing her grip on life, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. He felt rage and despair wash over him, as the doctor answered.

‘We must wait until we get to the hospital.’ If she lived that long, the young doctor thought. He doubted now if she’d even survive the operation she needed to save her life and the baby’s. It was almost hopeless.

They careened through the streets in the ambulance, and finally reached the hospital after what seemed like an interminable journey, and Hidemi was rushed away from him, still unconscious on a gurney. He wondered if he would ever see her alive again, and he waited alone for what seemed like hours, as he thought of the two brief years of their marriage. She had been so good to him, so loving in countless ways. He couldn’t believe that it might all end now, in a single moment, and he hated himself for getting her pregnant.

He waited two hours before a nurse finally came to him. She bowed low before she spoke, and he had a sudden urge to strangle her. He didn’t want obsequities, he wanted to know how his wife was.

‘You have a son, Takashimaya-san,’ the nurse told him politely. ‘He is very big and very healthy.’ He had been a little blue when he was born, but he had recovered very quickly, unlike his mother, who was still in a grave state in surgery. The outcome did not look hopeful.

‘And my wife?’ Masao asked, holding his breath in silent prayer.

‘She is very ill,’ the nurse said, bowing again. ‘She is still in surgery, but the doctor wished you to be informed about your son.’

‘Will she be all right?’ The nurse hesitated, and then nodded, not wanting to be the one to tell him that it was unlikely.

‘The doctor will come to see you soon, Takashimaya-san.’ She bowed again and was gone, as Masao stood and stared out the window. He had a son, a little boy, but all the excitement, all the joy, was dispelled by the terror of losing the baby’s mother.

It seemed an eternity before the doctor came to him. In fact, it was almost noon, but Masao didn’t know it. He had completely lost track of time. The baby had been born at nine o’clock, but it had taken another three hours to save his mother. But they’d done it. She had lost frightening quantities of blood, and the doctor explained with regret that this would be her last child. There wasn’t even the remotest possibility that she could have another. But she was alive. They had saved her, though barely. He explained that she would have to rest for a long time, but he felt certain that eventually, as young as she was, she would be healthy, and useful to him.

‘Thank you,’ Masao said earnestly, bowing low to him, as tears stung his eyes and filled his throat. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered again to the doctor, and to all the gods he prayed to. He would have been lost without her.

Masao never left the hospital all day, although he called his neighbors to tell his mother-in-law that Hidemi was all right and they had had a little boy. And after he’d done that, he went to see his son. He was a fat cherub of a child, and Hidemi had already told him months before that she wanted to call him Yuji. She hadn’t even chosen a girl’s name this time, for fear that picking one might mean she would need one.

And then finally, at the end of the day, they let him see Hidemi. He had never seen a living woman look so pale, and they were still giving her transfusions, and assorted medications intravenously. She was groggy from the painkillers they’d given her, but she recognized Masao the moment she saw him, and she smiled as he bent to kiss her. He almost wished she would blush so he could see some color in her cheeks again, but at least she was alive, and so was their baby, and she was smiling.

‘You have a son,’ she said victoriously. At what price glory.

‘I know.’ He smiled at her. ‘I have a wife too.’ To him that was far more important. ‘You frightened me very badly, little one. No more of your old ideas. It’s too dangerous to be so old-fashioned.’ He had realized more than ever that day how much he loved her.

‘We’ll have the next one here,’ she said amiably, and he didn’t contradict her. It was still too soon to tell her everything that had happened. But having only two children was no tragedy to him. They had a boy and a girl, she had done her duty by him, and she could retire with honor.

‘I have enough with you, and Hiroko, and Yuji.’ It felt sweet saying his name. He was so new to them, but it felt good to include him.

‘Who does he look like?’ she asked softly, clinging to Masao’s hand, unaware of how close to death she had come. But he was well aware of it and he knew he would never forget the terrors of the night before and that morning.

‘He looks like a little samurai, like my father,’ Masao said, grateful again that they had both been spared.

‘He must be handsome and wise like you, Masao-san,’ she said, drifting slowly back to sleep, still holding on to him, very gently.

‘And sweet and kind like his mother,’ Masao whispered, smiling at her. He knew that he would cherish her forever.