The Heat of the Sun

Cast her out of the family for becoming a Christian. He never forgave himself.’
    We passed beneath cypresses, Trouble keeping a slow pace by my side. Shadows and sunlight flickered over his robes.
    ‘So, you’re a Buddhist now?’ I said. ‘You believe all that?’
    ‘What’s believing? You think you have to trust in something, be convinced of it absolutely.’ I was not sure he was talking to me: by you , perhaps, he meant Westerners
generally. ‘Here, you learn that it’s practice that’s important. Forget belief. There are things you just do . All else follows.’
    I said, ‘But Yamadori, you believe in him?’
    We had come to a stony platform overlooking a lawn. Trouble gestured for me to sit on a bench. Far out on the lawn, three young men in monks’ robes competed at archery. As they stretched
back their bows, it seemed to me there was no element of play in their actions, but care, a care as meticulous as the Bonze’s in his interminable raking of the gravel. Punctuating my talk
with Trouble came a muted thop-thop of arrows striking targets.
    ‘I’d expected Yamadori,’ I said. ‘To see him, I mean.’
    ‘We thought you might. But I’m the one who has to tell you.’
    ‘Tell me what?’
    ‘Sharpless, what did you expect to happen?’ he said.
    ‘That I’d hear about Le Vol.’ I had barely thought about him.
    ‘Oh, they’ve released him. I dare say he’s waiting for you back at the consulate. Better be quick, though. Tomorrow, he must leave Japan. He’s been lucky. I was able to
change the prince’s mind.’
    ‘Thank you.’ I gripped his hand.
    His voice hardened. ‘I’m not coming back. You know that, don’t you? In America I was incomplete, always at a loss. And Mama could have told me so much. But all she told were
lies. And the senator’s no better. He’s worse. Why does he hate me so much?’
    ‘He doesn’t. You can’t forgive him – ever?’
    ‘There’s a saying we have in Japan, Shikata ga nai . It can’t be helped. Too bad. I know what you’re doing. You want me to go back and I can’t. I won’t.
It’s not about forgiving. Once I lived in the wrong world. Now I don’t.’
    A flush spread up my neck. ‘No. You’re half-Japanese, but half-American too. You grew up in America. Your family’s American. How often do you play this game, dressing up in
monk’s robes?’
    ‘It isn’t a game. I’m at school.’
    ‘I get it. Renounced your religion, like your mother.’
    ‘You don’t understand my mother. Don’t think you do.’ He reached into his robes and withdrew a small, glittering object: the dagger. Casually, he held it out to me. How
beautiful were the handle and scabbard: the gold, the silver, the precious stones. I drew out the blade.
    ‘See that writing in Japanese?’ Trouble’s voice seemed to come from afar. ‘ To die with honour when one can no longer live with honour . I think all the time about
those words.’
    I said abruptly, ‘There’s a war coming.’
    ‘Japan and America? All America cares about is keeping the profits flowing. Any war that’s coming, they’ll keep well out of it.’
    The bowmen had left off their contest and stood talking; they could have been any three young men, relaxed after play. One of them waved a hand to Trouble, and Trouble waved in return.
    ‘Tell Kate it’s no good, all right?’ he said. ‘Tell her it’ll always be no good.’
    ‘You thought I came for Kate?’
    ‘You did, didn’t you? You’re her ambassador.’
    The bowmen were splitting up; one, the one who had waved, walked in our direction. His robes glowed in the sun and I thought how beautiful he was: a loose-limbed, carefree boy, bow and quiver
hooked across one shoulder. How different Isamu appeared, dressed as a monk!
    I began to tremble. The dagger glittered in my hand, as if I meant to stab myself and was hesitating. ‘Trouble, this is all unreal. War will come. There’ll be no place for you here.
Come home. Save yourself.’
    ‘But I have. I am home.’ He took back the dagger, concealing it in his robes again as Isamu reached us. Addressing Trouble in Japanese, Isamu mimed an arrow-shot, cuffed
Trouble playfully, raised a hand to me, then made his way back towards the temple buildings.
    Envy and sorrow burned in me like fire. What Trouble had said was true: all the time, but unknowingly, I had been Kate Pinkerton’s ambassador, and my mission, I realized now, had
failed.
    That evening, Le Vol, Clifford T. Arnhem