“Mugwort?” asked Mizuki. “Daizo-san said he found some, or at least a plant like it. I’ll fetch it.” She came back with some California mugwort. “He found it a week or two ago.”
Ihaku rubbed it on his own skin, then sniffed it. “I think this will do.
“I am getting too old for this traipsing about, especially in this alien land,” he told his apprentice. “Perhaps you should stay here and be their resident physician.”
“I am not worthy.”
“When I am dead, you will have to be worthy.”
Maruya/Carmel
“I think I must tender my resignation as commander,” said Kanesada.
“Don’t be foolish,” First-to-Dance replied; “that was a stroke of genius.”
“What, attacking the wrong Indians?”
“No, that was stupid. I meant, scourging yourself.”
“I did it because it’s what the Christians do as penance for sins.”
“Well, that sort of ‘self-sacrifice’ is what shamans do. The Indians went home thinking that you are a powerful medicine man. They will go out of their way to please you, I think.”
Kanesada’s eyebrows twitched, ever so slightly. And then he smiled, so evanescently that First-to-Dance wondered whether she had imagined it. “I suppose I can wait and see how matters unfold. I can always resign next month, if need be.”
First-to-Dance wondered what she might do to persuade Kanesada to smile some more.
Kodachi Machi/Santa Cruz
Hiraki suddenly poked his head through the sliding door. “Grandfather wants you, Poppa.”
Takuma walked, first quickly and then slowly, to Daizo’s sickroom.
He was astonished to find his grandfather chanting “Namu Amida Butsu.” This was the the nembutsu, the ticket to Amida’s Western Paradise for the followers of “Pure Land” Buddhism.
“Father! Have you forsaken Our Lord Jesu?”
“Oh no,” said Daizo weakly. “Look!” He held out his rosary beads. “I prayed in the Christian manner first. But what if Deusu refuses to have mercy on my soul? For more than half my life, I was proud, and greedy, and lustful. I pray to Amida Buddha so I can go to the Pure Land if I am not found worthy of Heaven.”
Takuma couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Always trying to hedge your bets, Father.”
“It’s good business sense. Hmm. While you’re at it, make sure to have an ihai made for me.”
The ihai was a memorial tablet; the family would pray before it during the Forty-Nine Days of Judgment, in which the fate of the new soul was decided. That is, which heaven, if any, it would go to, and if it were sent to jigoku—the Buddhist hell—how many millennia it would remain there. Pure Land Buddhists didn’t rely on ihai; they thought that faith in Amida Buddha was sufficient for them to be reborn directly to Paradise.
The early Christian converts burnt their family ihai, but this was construed as evidence that the Christian church did not believe in filial piety, leading to official displeasure. The Jesuits decided to tolerate ancestor veneration as a secular practice; the Franciscans, Dominicans, and Augustinians, whose missionaries began coming to Japan in 1602, vehemently disagreed. For the kirishitan, it had all been very confusing.
“My illness has reminded me of how close I am to passage to the other side,” said Daizo.
“Don’t speak that way, Father. Your fever has gone down; soon you’ll feel yourself again.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But the next time, Death may take me suddenly by the throat, and deny me the opportunity to say what I must. We need to talk about the division of my property, and the future of our family.”
And so they spoke. Then Daizo said, “My throat is dry, bring me some sake.”
“The doctor said, ‘no strong drink.’”
“And if I die tomorrow, nonetheless, would you want your memory burdened by the thought that you had denied me one last pleasure?”
Takuma brought him the sake.
* * *
But the fever returned, and the rash continued to spread, until it covered his entire body. Each day, Daizo seemed less and less aware of his surroundings. He also complained about there being too much light in sick room. Three days after Ihaku’s visit, Daizo took a sharp turn for the worse. He was short of breath all day, and awoke several times that night, gasping for air. In the morning, Takuma couldn’t help but notice how swollen Daizo’s legs and abdomen had become. Takuma sent for Dr. Ihaku once more.
Ihaku returned, and then motioned Takuma out of the sickroom. He slid the door shut and whispered, “I am sorry. He has less than one chance in ten thousand of living.” The physician’s shoulders slumped, ever so slightly. “There is nothing I can do, other than join you in prayer.”