Mother - Chapter 3.2

The sun clears the eastern mountain range, unleashing a cold, white light on Shinpi Farm.

A thick layer of mud coats my legs, somewhat muting the chilly water. I yearn to lay on a hard surface, allow my throbbing spine to decompress. The pain inspires a newfound respect for Miiko.

Conrad seems unfazed, placing the final bunch of seedlings onto the giant mound and standing with a proud grin, hands on hips. “That was so much fun, wasn’t it, Hen?”

I disagree with his summary, of course, however Miiko is within earshot. I slip on a convincing smile. “Sure it was!”

Conrad’s eyes light up. “You really think so?”

“Mhmm!” I pat his shoulder for good measure. I’m desperate to see if Miiko is buying the act, but looking at her would telegraph my motives. A part of me cringes, knowing Conrad will get clingy if he thinks we’re having fun together. Hopefully it’s a small sacrifice.

Miiko sends one of the farmers away; a tall woman with a braid that flows to the small of her back. Her posture is better than Miiko’s, though she keeps her head bowed and avoids eye contact.

When she returns, she’s carrying a tray of bowls. Plain rice, as expected. I don’t complain. I politely accept my meal and fight the urge to shovel it down.

#

Miiko leads us across the road to the other side of the farm. Along the riverbank there are two staggered rows of rice paddies. There’s about twenty in total, each roughly the size of the cultivation plot we just reaped. These areas are slightly less water-logged, the soil churned, uneven. One of the farmers has begun flattening the fields with an Ox, which drags a plank of wood lassoed to its horns.

Conrad hops on the spot, beaming at the Ox. “Can we play with him?”

“He’s not for playing,” says Miiko, quelling Conrad’s excitement.

Something catches Miiko’s attention. I follow her gaze north and spot two children, a boy and girl, roaming the riverbank, heading in our direction.

“Only two this season,” Miiko says with an air of defeat. Her words from yesterday ring in my ears.

The families of Hato village are increasingly reluctant to send their children to help.

The boy is older, aged somewhere between myself and Conrad. The girl clings to his arm, eyes wide, darting in every direction as if she expects an attack. My strategy immediately shifts. Impressing Miiko is the long game. Children are easier to fool. I must get one of them alone. Preferably the boy—clearly the better candidate for questioning.

Miiko takes the girl’s hand then points at Conrad. “Help us unblock the pipes.”

The water level of the rice paddies is controlled by a crude irrigation system; a network of bamboo starting from the river and feeding into the fields. Miiko guides Conrad and the girl away, leaving me with the boy and two farmers. One of them is Mr Tanaka. He’s making trips back and forth from the nursery to the paddies, dropping off seedling bunches for transplanting.

“Watch me,” the other farmer mutters. He enters a flattened paddy and begins to inject seedlings into the soil, showing us the correct spacing.

“Begin,” he says, concluding the short demonstration. He walks over to the neighbouring paddy, leaving the one he started to us.

“My name is Henrik,” I say to the boy, starting to sow the field.

He begins planting a new row beside me. “I’m Franko.”

“The girl you came with. Is she your sister?”

Franko nods. At the mention of his sister, he glances in her direction. An instinctive need to protect.

“She seems scared,” I note, casual. “She doesn’t enjoy farming?”

“We really need the money. Our parents make us come here.”

“By yourself?”

“They have their own farm to look after. But it’s going bad.” He lowers his voice, almost to a whisper. “Our rice doesn’t sell as good as the rice from here.”

His words by themselves are harmless. There could be many reasons his rice is inferior—perhaps their farm receives less sunlight. Perhaps they have a pest issue. There are many simple explanations.

So why did I have chills running up my back?

“That’s interesting,” I reply, thinking of a way to divert the conversation back to his sister and her obvious fear. I gesture towards our minka with a nod. “We moved here yesterday. Shinpi is kind of a creepy place, isn’t it?”

“You live in the last minka?” Franko asks, his bug eyes now wider than his sister’s. I try to ignore his incredulous expression.

“Yeah, sure.”

“T-the minka on the forest’s edge?”

“Yes,” I reply, a hint of frustration slipping through. “So what?”

He glances at our minka and then back to me. His eyes contain a familiar expression—the exact look of sadness Mr Tanaka and the other farmers have in theirs.

“Back to work!” Miiko barks, snapping us back to reality.

We resume planting the seedlings. I worry Franko is too nervous to speak to me now, but after a few minutes he breaks the silence with a rushed whisper.

“Don’t go into the forest.”

#

Father eventually joins us. Miiko must make a disapproving comment, because I hear Conrad shout: “Daddy can sleep through an earthquake!”

Franko and I finish the first paddy and then enter a fresh one. Father follows with a grin, which stops me in my tracks. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this happy. A whisper of sadness stirs within me, a sudden longing for the past. I squash this feeling, though. I can’t afford such a trivial distraction.

“Hello, kids,” Fathers says, immediately snatching a seedling bunch from the pile Mr Tanaka left us. I then watch, perplexed, as he proceeds to sow the field at an impressive rate, arms and legs a blur. He finishes an entire row before I even reach the midway point. I can easily believe Conrad would have a flare for farming—he literally talks to flowers. Father, on the other hand, never struck me as the agricultural type.

My brain starts to ache. Today I’ve learned so much, yet nothing at the same time. It’s like I have a million puzzle pieces but none of them belong to the same puzzle.

#

When the sun starts its descent, I notice Franko frequently checking the sky. After half an hour of this strange behaviour, a thick cloud rolls out of nowhere and shields the sun, throwing Shinpi Farm into temporary darkness.

“We must return to Hato!” he exclaims, hurrying up the bank towards his sister, who’s brushing the inside of a bamboo water channel with Conrad. He grabs her arm, startling her.

Miiko excuses them with a nod.

#

With thanks to Father’s expertise, we finish planting every seedling before sundown. Many of the rice paddies are left unutilised—there must have been a time when a lot more farmers lived here.

I expect a cheer, or any show of satisfaction, really. However the farmers simply trudge back to their minka houses, ending the day with the same looks of despair they started it with.

I let Father walk ahead with Conrad, taking advantage of the solidarity. Even after a heavy day of labour, I’m certain Conrad will find the energy to annoy me back in our minka. I need a second to think, process the day.

A hand curls around my shoulder and I jump out of my skin.

“Woah!” I spin around and come face-to-face with Mr Tanaka. He’s stood still, face sadder than ever. Before I can react he grabs my hand and shoves a folded paper into it—not an aggressive act, he just wants me to take it quickly.

“What is it?” I ask, pocketing it. Then I remember he’s mute and I won’t receive an answer.

I’m at a loss for what to do. Without knowing what the paper is, I’m not sure if I should thank him. It could be his shopping list for all I know.

“Good night, Mr Tanaka,” I say, stepping backwards but keeping my eyes locked on his. There’s no way I’m turning my back on him.

And then I see it. The smallest, fastest possible glance, but I catch it nonetheless. Mr Tanaka’s eyes flick to my forearm.

He knows. He did see the symbols that morning. I force my expression to remain neutral, for what good it will do.

He knows!

“Henrik!” Father calls. Mr Tanaka departs, following a path to his minka.

“Coming,” I shout back, rushing over the bridge. Father stares over my shoulder as I approach.

“What did Mr Tanaka want?”

“No idea,” I reply.

Conrad pokes his head out of our minka. “Come in, I’m making tea!”

“You better deal with that,” I say to Father.

He chuckles, deep and booming. Again, I can only watch, perplexed. His laughter transports me to a time I almost forgot, when our family made sense, when we knew how to be one.

“I’ll be right with you,” I say, turning away. “I need to wash my boots in the river.”

I amble to the river bank and halt, checking Father has gone inside. Satisfied, I turn my back to the sun, which has connected with the western mountain range, coating the peak with an explosion of red and yellow.

I dig the paper from my pocket. It’s glossy, like a photo. I unfold it to find that’s exactly what it is. The photo is riddled with creases and foxing, suggesting it’s been admired many times. It depicts a black-and-white scene, difficult to see in the dying sunlight. I squint, making out a minka house, surrounded by a backdrop of evergreens.

I’m looking at a photo of my own house. Taken from the very spot in which I stand. The farmers of Shinpi are lined up, posing in front of it, each with an ear-to-ear grin. There’s way more of them than I saw today—triple. And children, too.

A girl is sitting on the shoulders of a lanky man, who after a few seconds I realise is none other than Mr Tanaka, but a long time ago, maybe thirty years. I have no idea how I recognise him, because the person who handed me the photo is but a shell of the man in it. The younger Mr Tanaka has thick hair and stands tall, with an unrelenting smile, arm tightly wound around a woman. His wife? I didn’t see her today. Or the girl.

Did something happen to them? Why would that have anything to do with the symbols on my arm?

My eyes are drawn to the boy standing next to the Tanaka family. He's about my age—

My heart judders. I realise how much I have in common with him. Dark hair. Prominent cheekbones. Crooked smile.

He's holding hands with a girl—

My heart jumps again. She's the mirror image of Conrad. Blonde. Petite.

A whisper of sadness stirs within.

“Mother."