A Pale View of Hills

“It’s such a pleasure to meet again like this,” Mrs. Fujiwara said, seating herself on the edge of my bench. “Etsuko tells me you reside in Fukuoka these days. I visited Fukuoka several times. A fine city, isn’t it?”

“Yes, indeed. Fukuoka is my hometown.”

“Fukuoka your hometown? But you lived and worked [here for years, Ogata-San. Don’t we have any claim on you in Nagasaki?”

Ogata-San laughed and leaned his head to one side. “A man might work and make his contribution in one place, but at the end of it all” he shrugged and smiled wistfully — “at the end of it all, he still wants to go back to the place where he grew up.”

Mrs. Fujiwara nodded understandingly. Then she said: “1 was just remembering, Ogata-San, the days when you were the headmaster at Suichi’s school. He used to be so frightened of you.”

Ogata-San laughed. “Yes, I remember your Suichi very well. A bright little boy. Very bright.”

“Do you really remember him still, Ogata-San?”

“Yes, of course, I remember Suichi. He used to work very hard. A good little boy.”

‘Yes, he was a good little boy.”

Ogata-San pointed at his bowl with his chopsticks. “This is really marvellous,” he said.

‘Nonsense. I’m sorry I have nothing better to give you”

‘‘No, really, it’s delicious.”

“Now let me see,” said Mrs. Fujiwara. “There was a teacher in those days, she was very kind to Suichi. Now what was her name? Suzuki, I think it was, Miss Suzuki. Have you any idea what became of her, Ogata-San?”

‘Miss Suzuki? Ah, yes, I recall her quite well. But I’m afraid I’ve no idea where she could be now.”

“She was very kind to Suichi. And there was that other teacher, Kuroda was his name. An excellent young man.”

“Kuroda Ogata-San nodded slowly. “Ah yes, Kuroda. I remember him. A splendid teacher.’

“Yes, a most impressive young man. My husband was very struck by him. Do you know what became of him?”

“Kuroda Ogata-San was still nodding to himself. A streak of sunlight had fallen across his face, lighting up the many wrinkles around his eyes. “Kuroda, now let me see. I ran into him once, quite by accident. That was at the start of the war. I suppose he went off to fight. I’ve never heard of him since. Yes, an excellent teacher. There are so many from those days I never hear of now:”

Someone called out to Mrs. Fujiwara and we watched her go hurriedly across the forecourt to her customer’s table. She stood there bowing for several moments, then cleared some dishes from the table and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ogata-San watched her, then shook his head. “A great pity to see her like this,” he said, in a low voice. I said nothing and continued to eat. Then Ogata-San leaned across the table and asked; “Etsuko, what did you say was the name of her son? The one who’s still alive, I mean.”

“Kazuo,” I whispered.

He nodded, then returned to his bowl of noodles.

Mrs. Fujiwara came back a few moments later. ‘Such a shame I don’t have something better to offer you,” she said.

“Nonsense,” said Ogata-San. “This is delicious. And how is Kazuo-San these days?”

“He’s fine. He’s in good health, and he enjoys his work.”

“Splendid. Etsuko was telling me he works for a motor car company.

“Yes, he’s doing very well there, What’s more, he’s thinking of marrying again.”

“Really?”

“He said once he’d never many again, but he’s starting to look ahead to things now. He has no one in mind as of yet, but at least he’s started to think ahead.”

“That sounds like good sense,” Ogata-San said. ‘Why, he’s still quite a young man, isn’t he?”

“Of course he is. He still has all his life ahead of him.’

“Of course he has. His whole life ahead of him. You must find him a nice young lady, Mrs. Fujiwara.”

She laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t tried. But young Women are so different these days. It amazes me, how things have changed so much so quickly.”

“Indeed, how right you are. Young women these days are all so headstrong. And forever talking about washing-machines and American dresses. Etsuko here’s no different.’

“Nonsense, Father.

Mrs. Fujiwara laughed again, then said: ‘1 remember the first time I heard of a washing-machine, I couldn’t believe anyone would want such a thing. Spending all that money, when you had two good hands to work with. But I’m sure Etsuko wouldn’t agree with me.

I was about to say something, but Ogata-San spoke first:

Let me tell you,’ he said, “what I heard the other day. A man was telling me this, a colleague of Jiro’s, in fact. Apparently at the last elections, his wife wouldn’t agree with him about which party to vote for. He had to beat her, but she still didn’t give way. So in the end, they voted for separate parties. Can you imagine such a thing happening in the old days? Extraordinary.’

Mrs. Fujiwara shook her head. ‘Things are so different now,” she said, and sighed. “But I hear from Etsuko, Jiro San is getting on splendidly now, You must be proud of him, Ogata-San.”