Editor’s Note on Sakura
After having not seen or heard from him in two years, middle son Kaoru receives a letter from his father, with the news that he’ll be home for the New Year’s holiday. Kaoru then travels from Tokyo back home to Osaka for a very awkward family reunion. We are introduced to the colorful members of his family — his neurotic and compulsive mother, his aloof and eccentric younger sister Miki, his father, whose betrayal of the family underlines every interaction. Although Kaoru’s mother is trying her best to act as if nothing happened, the cracks in the cheerful veneer are too deep to be ignored. We are then launched back in time for a deep dive into the Hasegawa family history, where we learn of Hajime, the eldest brother, hero to the family and the neighborhood, and the tragic incident that has left him conspicuously missing from the present-day storyline. It soon becomes clear that Sakura, their aging family dog, is the only thing keeping this formerly tight-knit family together, and she may in fact hold the key towards reconciliation.
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I Dare You
Just as my brother inspired the “Hajime legend,” my sister became a sort of celebrity at kindergarten, too. Miki’s fame, however, differed somewhat from Hajime’s.
If my brother’s popularity was mythic in origin, my sister made a name for herself as a brute.
If something upset her, she would throw things using the precise aim she had honed playing catch with us. Whether it was an uwabaki indoor school shoe or a plastic container from school lunch, Miki would fling whatever was ready at hand.
Or she would beat up whomever was close to her. And I don’t mean typical girlfight stuff, like scratching, pinching, and pulling someone’s hair — she would actually punch them with her fist. She’d take a full swing like a boxer. Sometimes she only lightly grazed her target’s chin to intimidate them, but other times she used a technique befitting someone much older, trampling her opponent so they couldn’t get away from her blows.
Her homeroom teacher brought her concerns to the other teachers, convinced that Miki was on the verge of neurosis. “Sometimes Miki-chan scares me,” she said.
Whereas my brother’s sweetness and affability made him a teacher’s pet, my sister, on the other hand, was their least favorite kind of student.
Once, a teacher paddled her bottom so hard with a picture book for spitting out seeds from the watermelon that was served with school lunch that, like an old lady with hemorrhoids, Miki could barely sit in a chair. Another time, she was made to stand alone in the middle of the playground after reeling around out of sync with all of the other students as they practiced the dance for Parents’ Day. It had been winter, cold enough for snow flurries, and not surprisingly, Miki caught such a severe cold, she was in bed for a week. But, like Hajime, Miki was too cool to say anything to our parents about any of this. Even the time she came home with what, thinking back on it now, was clearly a deep purple and worrisome-looking bruise.
“Goodness gracious, you poor thing!” my mother fretted.
But when my father, already plotting revenge, demanded to know who had done it to her, Miki said nothing. She just opened and closed the door of the fridge, keeping her mouth shut, only later revealing to my brother and me what really happened. And the story was relayed in such a rapid-fire, nonlinear fashion that when she abruptly blurted out the unfamiliar name of some kid, we still couldn’t follow what she was saying. Nevertheless, Hajime patted Miki on the head (my brother and my father were the only two males in the whole wide world who were permitted to touch Miki on the head — if any other boy tried to, they got one of Miki’s signature swift right hooks) and praised her. “You took it like a champ.”
In reality, no one was less capable of taking it like a champ than Miki, but she seemed truly thrilled to receive Hajime’s praise. Her handsome and kind brother was everything to her, with all other boys being, in her words, “poop” (as it was, I was “gomame,” those little dried sardines).
Because of her beauty, Miki received a constant stream of invitations from boys. They wanted to go on the swings with her (so they could gently push her soft back) or make mud pies with her (so they could look up her skirt while she squatted in the sandbox), and at recess these boys would line up outside the Star classroom, earnestly hoping she’d accept their requests. Miki might glance in their direction, but then, seemingly indifferent, she would take over the organ in the classroom and bang away at it. Her classmates, familiar with her renegade ways, would have to wait patiently for their turn.
Miki’s studiously nonchalant expression as she played the organ, ignoring the line of boys outside, wasn’t about trying to keep any of them in thrall; rather, she hoped at some point that Hajime would hear her play. When she stoically and silently endured being paddled by the teacher, it wasn’t out of chagrin but because she craved Hajime’s praise. And her wistfulness when she was on the swing didn’t come from melancholy, but because she was lost in thought over Hajime.
Miki’s life revolved entirely around my brother; her emotions were completely dependent upon him. Her detached attitude, however, made the boys’ hearts swell and only increased everyone’s fascination with her.
And Hajime, being Hajime, could not help but adore his stubborn little sister who followed him everywhere, enveloping her with great affection that was uncharacteristic for his age. He brought her along wherever he went to play, even when it might have been unwise (be it baseball, sumo wrestling, or climbing trees), and always included her among his friends. He brought me along too, but I didn’t have their guts, so I often copped out.
Back then, it was popular with my brother’s friends to play “I dare you.” The game involved sticking a firecracker into dog poop (the fresher the better). Okay, so this may sound like par for the course for boys all over Japan, but their form of “I dare you” took it up a notch. They would stick in the firecracker and then form a circle around the dog poop, waiting for it to explode. The ones who got scared and left the huddle were deemed wusses, whereas whoever lasted longest were deemed the heroes. In other words, it was a game of chicken, but with poop.
At the tender age of five, Miki achieved the feat of last man standing. In a throng of strapping elementary-school-age boys, she was obviously the one closest to the poop, but Miki made it until the end, along with my brother and Yamashita-kun (the catcher on his Little League team), and she got a faceful of poop to show for it.
Hajime and Yamashita-kun would just hose themselves off, but Miki was of a different breed. Despite almost vomiting from the stench, she was so elated by my brother’s gleeful approval — “Isn’t she amazing? That’s my little sister for you!” — that she announced she was going to take a bath, before making a brisk exit. Once home, she was pounced upon by my mother, who kept asking her what on earth had happened, but Miki said nothing as she washed herself off — and then, all clean, went right back to where my brother was and, undeterred, stuck a firecracker in another pile of poop.
/ / / / /
勇気あり
兄ちゃんが「はじめレジェンド」を作ったみたいに、ミキも幼稚園で、ちょっとした有名人になった。でもミキのそれは、兄ちゃんとは少し違っていた。
兄ちゃんはそのモテぶりで伝説を作ったけど、ミキは、モテプラス乱暴者ぶりで名を馳はせたのだ。
気に入らないことがあると、僕らとのキャッチボールで養った正確なコントロールで、すぐ物を投げる。それは上履きだったり給食のプラスチック容器だったり、とにかく自分の身近にあるものを片っ端から投げるのだ。
近くにいる人は、殴る。女の子お得意の、髪を引っ張る、ひっかく、つねる、とかそうゆうのじゃなくて、きちんとグーで殴る。しかも振り切る。ボクサーのそれだ。たまに相手の顎あごを軽くかすめて脅したり、よけられないように足を踏んづけてなぐったり、大人顔負けの高等テクニックを駆使した。担任の先生が
「ミキちゃんが時々怖くなる。」
と、他のクラスの先生に相談をもちかけ、ノイローゼ寸前だったというのもうなずける。
兄ちゃんはその愛くるしさと素直さで先生に大人気だったけど、ミキは逆で、先生に一番嫌われるタイプの女の子だった。ある日、痔じ持ちのおばあさんみたいに、ミキが椅子に座るのを辛そうにしていることがあって、それは給食で出たスイカの種をぷっと飛ばしたら絵本でさんざっぱら叩かれたからだし、お遊戯のお稽けい古このときふらふらと皆と違う動きをしたら、お稽古の間中運動場に立たされた。その日は冬の寒い日で、空にはちらちらと雪さえ舞っていて、当然ミキは大風邪をひき、一週間ほど寝込んだ。兄ちゃんと似てミキの格好いいのは、そうゆうことを絶対に両親に言わないところだ。今から思えば明らかに問題になるような青あお痣あざを作って帰って来たときも、
「いやあ！ 可哀そうに！」
と焦る母さんや、
「誰にやられたんや!? 誰や？」
と、もうすでに復ふく讐しゆうを考えている父さんにも、何も言わなかった。口をぎゅっと結んで、おもむろに冷蔵庫なんかを開けたりする。ただ、僕と兄ちゃんにだけは本当のことを喋った。それはもう機関銃のように話して、でも時系列がバラバラだったり突然知らない子の名前が出てきたりで、あんまり言っていることは理解出来なかった。それでも兄ちゃんはミキの頭を撫でて（ミキの頭に触れることが出来る異性は、この世で父さんと兄ちゃんだけだった。それ以外の男の子が触ろうとすると、ミキお得意の右フックをお見舞いされるのだ）、
「よう我慢したな。」
と褒めた。
実際ミキほど我慢の足りない女の子はいないのだけど、兄ちゃんに褒められて、ミキは心底嬉しそうな顔をした。かっこよくて優しい兄ちゃんはミキの全てで、兄ちゃん以外の男はミキに言わせれば「うんこ」だった（ちなみにミキは僕のことを「ごまめ」と言った）。
ミキはその美しさで、男の子達からひっきりなしにお誘いがかかった。ミキとブランコに乗りたい、その柔らかな背中をそっと押したい、砂場で一緒に泥団子を作りたい、しゃがんだミキのスカートの中が見たい、男の子達はそんなことを切実に願って休み時間の度に「星組」のドアの前に立つ。ミキはその様子にちらりと一いち瞥べつをくれ、全く興味が無いように、オルガンを独り占めにして弾いている。ミキの無法者ぶりを知っている星組の面々は、ミキがオルガンに飽きるまで辛抱強く待っている。
ミキが、並み居る男の子達に興味が無い顔をしてオルガンを弾くのは、誰かの気をひこうとしているのじゃなくて、いつか兄ちゃんに聞かせるためだし、先生にお尻を叩かれている間、少しも声をあげずじっと耐えているのは、悔しいからじゃなくて、兄ちゃんに褒めてもらいたいから、そしてブランコに乗ってぼうっとしているのは、悲しいからじゃなくて、兄ちゃんのことを思ってうっとりしているのだ。
ミキの生活の全ては兄ちゃんを中心に回っていて、感情の全てを兄ちゃんに左右されていた。そのぼんやりとした様子は周りの男の子の心を波打たせ、皆はますますミキに夢中になった。
兄ちゃんは兄ちゃんで、いつでも自分の後についてくるこの小さくて頑固な女の子が可愛くて仕方ないらしく、子供らしからぬ大きな愛情でミキを包んだ。遊ぶところどこへでも連れて行ったし、たとえそれがミキの力では出来ない遊び（野球だとか相撲、木登り）でも、絶対に仲間に入れてあげた。僕のことも連れて行ってくれたけど、僕は根性が無いので辞退することが多かった。
当時兄ちゃんの仲間内で流は行やっていて、僕がまっさきに辞退した遊びに「勇気あり」というものがある。犬のうんこ（なるべく出来たてのやつだ）に、爆竹を刺す。ここまでは大概の日本の男の子はやっていると思うけど、「勇気あり」は一味違う。爆竹を刺して、今まさに爆発しそうなそれを囲んで、ぐるりと円陣を組むのだ。当然爆発するまでに怖くなって円陣から抜ける奴もいて、そいつは根性なし、最後まで残った奴がヒーローだ。簡単に言えば、「うんこチキンレース」。
ミキはなんと弱冠五歳で最後まで残るという偉業をなしとげた。屈強な小学生の男達に混じって、明らかに皆よりうんこに近い位置にいるミキは、兄ちゃんと、山下君というリトルリーグのキャッチャーと最後まで残り、まさに顔中うんこまみれになった。
兄ちゃんたちはＴシャツについたそれを水道で洗えばすむけど、ミキは勝手が違う。うんこの臭いにゲロを吐く寸前だったけど、兄ちゃんの
「すごいやろ？ 俺の妹やで！」
という嬉しそうな言葉で気を取り直して、
「ちょっとお風呂に入ってくる。」
とさらりと言い、颯さつ爽そうとその場を去った。家で散々母さんに
「いやぁ！ どないしたんどないしたん。」攻撃を浴びせられたけど、それでも何も言わず黙々と体を洗い、さっぱりしたところでまた兄ちゃんのところへ行き、懲こりずうんこに爆竹を刺した。