Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. 

Was that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his 

mother to speak to his father to approach a 

go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

    He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the 

door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda, 

so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid 

knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps, 

the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a 

calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.

    Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she 

was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at 

a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt 

spread over the sides of the table so their legs were 

tucked inside with the heat.

    “Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie 

questioned as she picked the name card off the 

maid’s lacquer tray.

    “Shinoda, Akira.Kobel Dental College,” she read.

    Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft 

intake of air.

    “I think you should go,” said Naomi.

    Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early 

twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black 

military-style uniform of a student. As he 

bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a 

black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the 

other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening 

surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving 

stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.

    “Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption, 

but I come with a matter of urgency.”

    “His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and 

stole a deferential peek at her face.

    In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity. 

Chie felt herself starting to like him.

    “Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely 

your business can wait for a moment or two.”

    “I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would 

approach you more properly but I’ve received word 

of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as 

dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”

“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement. 

“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I 

involved?”

    Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the 

name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message, 

delivered like a formal speech, filled her with 

maternal amusement. You know how children speak 

so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about 

things that have no importance in an adult’s mind? 

That’s how she viewed him, as a child.

    It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though 

Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts 

needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no 

effort to find her a husband.

    Akira blushed.

    “Depending on your response, I may stay in 

Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”

    Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.

    “Does Naomi know anything of your…

ambitions?

    "We have an understanding. Please don’t judge 

my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I 

ask directly because the use of a go-between tasks 

much time. Either method comes down to the same 

thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your 

consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the 

House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to 

America, to secure a new home for my bridge.”

    Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full 

in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see 

I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no 

more of your evening. My address is on my card. If 

you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you in 

two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”

    He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless 

grace, like a cat making off with a fish.

    “Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and 

turned from the door. “He has asked you?”

    This sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows 

gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were 

preposterous.

    “Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He 

thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to 

America all in the snap of his fingers!”

    Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.

    Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute looking 

straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke. 

“I met him at my literary meeting.”

    Naomi turned to go back into the house, then 

stopped.

    “Mother.”

    “Yes?”

    “I mean to have him.”

* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her family’s name