The Great War of the Quartet (The Imperial Timeline Book 1) (19 page)

“Hey Otsu, sis says for you to come and help her.”

His sister looked up at him from the big book she was reading at Tatsuji’s desk. Kan had come home early since none of the neighbors needed his help. Most of the stingy men and women preferred to let their own boys help them out for free rather than give him a couple of rin in return for taking packages to customers. He wondered why women couldn’t start to drink so there would be more wine and beer to deliver, but old man Okayama seemed to have absolutely no business at all these days. Just a year ago he had paid a whole sen for each big delivery, but now his grandsons took care of the few orders he got.
Stupid, cheap old geezers
…

Most men who wanted s
ome of his kerosene-tasting wine came in person, and that meant no business for the young boy. And sis was so stingy too! He hardly ever got to keep any of the money, and with so little work he felt too guilty to keep the occasional rin coin now and then for himself so he could buy gum—the last time he grabbed gum in the shop Isuzu had hit him really hard and screamed her head off like a witch. Who was she calling a thief, the stupid witch?!

“Why don’t I go instead?”
Kazuko suggested.

Kan looked quizzically at his other
big sis—his sister-in-law. He had no idea why Kazuko was spoiling Otsu, but he figured it was okay since she was a girl. That was how it was, right? It wasn’t fair, and Kan would much rather just do what he wanted like Otsu than try to earn money so he could buy gum from Young Mrs. Rin with the money he kept from Isuzu.

Otsu shone up
when Kazuko said that she would go, and she gave big sis a big smile and a chirpy “thank you” and returned to reading the fascinating book. Kazuko was so nice to her, not like Isuzu who wanted her to work and do tedious things that were no fun. She would much rather read Tatsuji’s books. The ones she didn’t understand she read anyway, thinking that maybe something could be learned from reading them. Somewhere inside her head the words were no doubt going to stick, so maybe they would be useful in the future.

Her favorite book was one called
The People of the Gods
, and it was a history book that in great detail chronicled the nation’s long history from the first disunity way back when some of her ancestors left Chuuka for the Yamato Islands in the Mythic Era. It then continued to describe the trials and suffering of the people still in Chuuka while the people who had gone to Yamato began to build up a modern country in peace while following the teachings of Heaven. The rest of the nation had suffered under a series of tyrants until the people finally united to fight the Qing and restore the disunited nation. And, together with their Yamato brethren, they were finally freed from the evil Qing over a century ago and the nation was made all whole again by the brave, patriotic heroes. But the Qing were only one of several enemies, and if the people would disunite or stray from the right path, the country could fall into war again, and all the suffering of old history could come back again if people would be selfish and disobedient and forego Heaven’s blessings.

Otsu knew that her big brother, Isuzu’s husband,
and many of the boys and men in Tekika had gone to fight the barbarians that wanted to undo the Great Liberation when Chuuka had been reclaimed from the tyrannical Qing. Like their ancestors had, Ota, Sekiji, and the other brave patriots would have to be willing to fight with all their strength to keep the country safe. Heaven willing, they would not have to follow the exact paths of the great patriots they burned incense for every National Martyrs’ Memorial Day.

Selfish as she was, she didn’t want
her big brother to die, no matter how happy she should feel at the prospect of being related to a true patriot and martyr. It would feel better if he would come home, if for no other reason than the fact that Isuzu could stop pestering Otsu like a mean hag. As much as Otsu disliked Isuzu pushing her to help her though, she liked her sister and could tell that the responsibility and the absence of Sekiji and Ota seemed to make her grow into an old lady. Isuzu had to be the youngest old lady in the world by now, and Otsu could almost picture her sprouting gray hairs and wrinkles any day now from working so much and being a little matriarch for the family.

Atsuko was playing with her do
lls in the corner of the room, both the one she got when she was four and the doll that Otsu and Isuzu had had before that. There wasn’t much else for her to do when she was back from school and didn’t have Association activities. Otsu and Atsuko went to the Patriotic Association for Girls twice every week, and Atsuko enjoyed it very much since she liked to play with other girls and that was what she and the younger girls in the Association did while the older girls focused on actually getting work done. Otsu got to sew lucky belts or make banners and prepare get-togethers, as well as to go out and help sell bonds, which was hardly fun to do. She did feel a bit guilty when people couldn’t afford bonds, but she also understood Mrs. Suguru’s point when she confronted stingy, unpatriotic people. If Mr. Suguru, Ota, Sekiji, and other men were working hard—while their wives, sisters, and children held the fort at home—then why could not people who made no sacrifice not even bother to sacrifice something as worthless as money?

Every man who was too old, sick, or weak to fight should buy bonds on behalf of all the men who were off to keep even the weak and the cowardly from being enslaved, murdered, or worse by the white brutes. But as much as she understood Mrs. Suguru’s logic, she felt that she was being a bit too untoward
when she tried to confront unpatriotic men who wouldn’t buy a single war bond, suggesting that they be mean-spirited cowards—maybe even closeted Qingists trying to undo Japan. Maybe a lot of people really couldn’t afford to buy the bonds and really were too weak to pick up a gun.

But Mrs. Suguru had an answer to that too. If the
volunteer girls in Altay City had been strong enough to happily give their weak bodies for His Majesty and Great Japan, then what excuse was it to be weak? Everyone had a duty to the country, and that included girls like Otsu—even her sick old mother. That was why Otsu, Atsuko, Isuzu, and Kazuko had to work hard: They had to make up for all the fortune in their lives and do what they could to support the brave soldiers and His Majesty through this dangerous war no matter how weak and small they might be.

When she leafed through the history textbook looking for an interesting chapter to read, h
er eyes were drawn to the rare picture on a page in the book. As if a sign from the gods, it was a print of the heroic Tomoe Gozen—the fearless lady warrior god. It was different from the large painting in the auditorium in the school building the local Girls’ Association used for its meetings, but the caption was a curt reminder of how a virtuous woman may not remove herself entirely from the business of politicians, statesmen, and soldiers and be solely a good daughter, mother, and wife. The book might have been written ahead of the war, but the photos and prints of the Girl Battalion in Altay City seemed to prove that the courage of Tomoe Gozen could be found in Japanese women who were not as weak and cowardly as the selfish, lazy, and vapid European “women.” Otsu wasn’t sure if she had it in her, but she liked to imagine that she would not run if Tekika would be threatened by the enemy and would rather die than to let the enemy take another step on her holy homeland.

The way that Tomoe Gozen had fought and served the nation before she
had settled down to live a womanly life was a wonderful story of the soft femininity and its steel core, and she might be a good example not just for girls but even for some men as well. At least she hoped Sekiji would return with his laurels alive and safe like Tomoe had so he could resume his stewardship of the household. And Otsu would make sure to be like an ancient heroine and not only love the country but also strengthen her love for it by reading everything she could so that maybe she could put that to use in some small way and serve the Laws of Heaven. Like she should, no matter how stupid Isuzu thought reading was. She’d show her—she’d be twice the woman her stupid big sister would ever be.

It was getting warmer outside. Spring was coming, if a bit slowly, but the frost had disappeared completely, at least in the day around here. She wasn’t sure about what it was like outside after dark, but from just going into the backyard she could see that the weather was really changing. Meryem was so bored since they got to the city, however, and tracking the changing of seasons wasn’t her idea of fun. She did not mind being a wife who couldn’t stay with her husband every second of the day. Indeed, she felt a certain pride in making tea and keeping house in their tiny room in the small tenement building without needing any kind of guidance from anybody, but she hated being away from Daryn in this lonely, awful place. While he was out listening and looking and then coming back to make notes on what he had seen and heard, she just stayed indoors. Alone. He said it was dangerous for her to be outside and that she should just stay in the room of the smelly boardinghouse. Because of the
white ghosts
there were hardly any decent lodgings available, and most of the residents were workers living like packed cattle—like sheep herded into a much too small room. Daryn had convinced the landlord to let them stay in a small storage room on account of her femininity and the danger of her being around a bunch of womanless men, although he didn’t put it as crudely as that—he didn’t have to. Anybody could understand that nobody would want a young—maybe even cute—woman to be around a bunch of men who weren’t family. So they had their own little room for a price that bordered on downright extortion, from Daryn’s claim. She had no idea how much one of those ridiculous Russian rubles was worth, so she couldn’t quite tell if the price was outrageous or not. Either way, she spent most of the time making tea and just sitting around.

Two weeks she had spent holed up here, and it was driving her nuts as she tried her best to track the days passing while having no real chores to deal with in the daytime. However, she had noticed something funny this morning after Daryn left to try to get more information that he could pass along to his superiors later. Unlike yesterday, she didn’t bemoan her loneliness today, and instead she remained seated on the floor and moved about her torso, watching to see whether she was just imagining it. Although she had joked about being pregnant months ago, her tummy was weird, a little ball-shaped. Feeling around and pulling her belly was odd, and there was certainly something there. Was it her son?

When she had said that she was carrying their son she didn’t mean it like that. She meant like… something that would happen in the future. Her mother hadn’t really taught her about these things, and she had been much too young the last time her mother was pregnant to ask pertinent questions about what it was like. Had she married under happy circumstances she might have asked for tips and important things to know from helpful aunties or other knowledgeable women, but out here she only had Daryn, and he would hardly be an expert on female things. She had had absolutely no access to female guidance since she married, and that had an obvious downside in not being able to learn about these matters.

As much as she wanted a son, she remembered what Daryn had said about pregnant women. Would he want her to go home? Would he send her away? It wasn’t fair! A husband should be with his wife, and his wife with her husband.

After tugging and pinching herself over and over again she finally pulled her shirt down again. There was no doubt. Her tummy was big, and she was sure that it was her son. It was hard to decide whether she should tell Daryn. Maybe if she wouldn’t eat so much he wouldn’t notice. She could just make sure that he didn’t see anything and then, when his son popped out, he would be too proud to separate from his son. The more her mind wandered, the more she could envision how Daryn would be pleased, complimenting her on her ingenuity for keeping God’s gift a surprise until it was all done and he could see his beautiful son in the flesh. Smiling to herself, she poured some tepid water from the samovar into one of the cups. It would be so simple, and she could already run the next several months in her head like a motion picture. How hard could it be? She rubbed her rounded tummy, beaming with joy as she pictured a small Daryn lying inside her.

The hall was filled with young women and girls wearing white sashes across their torsos with the shorthand name of the Association on them. The wide variety of colors and patterns on their kimonos, jumper dresses, tunic suits, and other kinds of clothes gave them a lot less uniformity than a military organization. The dress code only forbade foreign skirts and dresses unless they were sanctioned by patriotic organizations, like as part of a school uniform or a uniform of a public employer. The rows of females made the hall pretty crowded, and the speaker at the lectern had to talk really loud so everyone could hear her voice even over the lousy loudspeakers that didn’t help all that much.

“‘The Russian knows only how to destroy and to abuse,’” the girl recited from the small booklet. “‘When the culture of Chuuka flourished across the nation divided by the sea, the Russian was eating grass and plundering all human settlements he came across. And while he has since shaved his wild beard and hair, he has not changed from the violent ways that I have described. The progress that Europe has made in recent centuries have been taken by Russia not to further human knowledge and respect for virtue, but to conquer North Asia from our race, shackling men and defiling women…

“‘In this long-destined struggle between the peoples of Asia and their few allies abroad against mighty, wicked Russia, no sacrifice can be spared. As a mother I cry for my sons; as a wife I cry for my husband; as a sister I cry for my brothers; and as a daughter I feel awestruck when I ponder the courage of our ancestors
who have secured the blessings of Heaven and the virtues of our patrimony for as long as we remain stalwart and loyal patriots…

“‘Every one of us is a soldier, though not wearing a uniform or carrying a rifle. In our veins flow the blood of our ancestors, the same blood that has been spilled to unite the nation and defend it from those who have sought to rule over us. If the Russian should kill our brothers, fathers, husbands, and sons we will either live as slaves and cattle, or we will
fight with every knife, gun, sword, and spear until we die or conquer the enemy horde…

“‘My vow
, as a Japanese woman, a daughter of our united race, and a subject of His Heavenly Majesty, is that I will not let Russia do to me what it has done to the world. For the sake of our nation, our children, and all the people of Natural Japan and the world I pray that good will conquer. But praying is not enough. We must fight in this war. If we love anyone in this country and the country itself we must offer up our bodies, minds, and souls to defend the nation against the Russian hordes…

“‘If we must eat grass to win, then I will eat grass. If we must go naked to win, then I will go naked. If we must work in a factory or a field until our bodies ache in order to win, then I will work. And if I must die to win, then I will gladly give this body without hesitation
if only our Emperor asks me to. Long live Great Japan. Long live His Majesty!’”

The
teenaged girl had hardly finished reading the long text before the women and girls cheered, several cries of “long live His Majesty” going through the crowd gathered in the hall. Arms were up in the air, and the collective roar was exciting to be a part of, and the cheering was one of the best parts of the meeting. It made for a wonderful rush of energy and pleasure, and there was no doubt that the noble sentiments behind it made all the difference from just screaming anything else.

Otsu was always curious to hear what Lady Haruma
had to say, so she treasured the times when her passionate writings were recited for Association meetings. She was a good and wise lady who was one of the top secretaries of the Association and would regularly write messages to all the local associations. When Otsu had been in school she had read Lady Haruma’s
Female Virtues
and
The Patriotic Spirit of Girls
which were small textbooks—like nifty little manuals—that laid out the important things that all girls should know, but also of the dangers of certain customs. Barbarian culture was like a charming but dangerous ghost that would enchant girls with ideas and behaviors that would lead them away from the virtuous life they should be pursuing. Some deviant behaviors were the sort of things you just didn’t think about as bad unless Lady Haruma explained it all. Lady Haruma was a good granny, and she had to be the world’s smartest woman since legendary times. Otsu wanted to study to be a teacher and all-round perfect woman like her.