He took out the urn and cradled it. Unbidden, tears fell from his blue eyes. He didn’t try to wipe them away.
Jet hated to see her grandfather so sad. It was making her sad, too, and she couldn’t afford to open that door—to think about her mother, her father, even Amy Williams and her high school friends who now seemed worlds away. She couldn’t afford to think about all the people who were no longer there.
“Ojiisan,” Jet cried, “why didn’t Mom come back to Japan?”
“It’s a long story… But, well, the village was attacked before you were born. Your mother had something those people wanted.”
“What was it?” Jet pleaded. “Please tell me. I need to know.”
“She understood a lot of things that most of us never will, and she had the courage to keep up the fight for years and not give them what it was that they wanted. When you arrived, I thought you’d have the answers. I’m still in shock that you don’t.”
Now it was Jet’s turn to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, Ojiisan. I wish I did.”
He nodded. “I only know that your mother was on the run all of those years.”
“Is that why we lived in New Mexico?”
“Yes. But I didn’t know that. For the longest time, I didn’t know where she was. She believed we were being watched and feared that if she returned—or you did—the problems would start up all over again.”
“I see,” Jet said, mulling over his words. She had grown up in her mother’s constant aura of fear and determination, thinking Satoko was crazy.
Ojiisan lit a bundle of incense and started to chant. The sun was slowly going down, the air cooling against Jet’s skin.
“Your mother died too young,” he said solemnly. “But it was her en, her karma. Only the dead can cut the ties of en.”
Jet nodded. She didn’t really believe in karma or fate. “Are you afraid of death, Ojiisan?” she asked.
He sighed. “If I were afraid of death, I’d be long gone by now. I simply want to be, like a rock that accepts the sunshine, rain, and wind peacefully. Death will come when it comes.”
Jet watched as her grandfather released the stark gray ashes and white bones into the water. Instead of sinking, one small bone floated, moving gently like a butterfly over the surface. Satoko’s nodo-botoke, the small bone of the Adam’s apple.
“Every creature in the world is precious,” he said softly, watching the water carry the ashes away. “Our survival depends on the animals and plants we eat. Our lives contain those lives and those deaths. The same is true with human beings—some take advantage of others. That’s just life.”
He looked at her meaningfully. “No one can escape the laws of this world. That’s why our people know how to fight. We’ve been treated unfairly, and that’s our en, our karma.”
“Can’t we change it?” Jet asked.
“Maybe. Maybe you can change it,” Ojiisan said emphatically, holding her gaze.
“How?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat.
Ojiisan sighed. “That’s what you came here to find out. We’re here to help you however we can.”
Reflexively, Jet made a fist and punched the earth. She’d wanted to stay calm, but she was rattled. It was like she was special in a way she couldn’t possibly understand. Or believe. And yet, she’d made a promise to come here. To figure it out. So far, she’d gotten nowhere.
Ojiisan sighed. He stroked his chin as if gathering his words, then spoke clearly. “I know you’ve come back to help. And for that, I thank you with all of my heart. I know you are frustrated. But we must be patient. Your mother knew what she was doing, even if the rest of us don’t,” he laughed.
“Ojiisan,” Jet whispered. “Grandpa….”
He wrapped her in his strong arms and pulled her close as her sobs released themselves. Letting herself surrender, she realized how good it felt to be held like this. She’d never had a father or a grandfather. She’d had men in her life, like J-Bird, but never that blood bond that would make her walk through fire and over water. She yearned for that closeness, that comfort, somewhere to belong. More than anything, that’s what she wanted. Would Kanabe be it? Would she finally find a place to be herself, whoever that was?
CHAPTER 9
予言 Yogen
The Prophecy
Ojiisan led them down the path to the huge wooden gate before the temple, where people sat in small circles outside the prayer hall. In the middle of each circle, a blind female itako in a white kimono chanted as she fingered her prayer beads, clicking them together rhythmically.
“Hey! There she is!” Hiro shouted. He grabbed their hands and pulled them toward a stout old woman who appeared to be almost ninety.
“Hello there,” he said. “Remember me?” He crouched next to where she sat. The woman squinted, tilting her head in his direction.
“Ah! I’ve heard that voice before. Yes, I remember! You’re the boy who always comes with your Ojiisan from Mt. Hakkoda. Am I right?”
“Yes, that’s me,” Hiro answered.
“And you came with your Ojiisan today, too. But wait…” She turned toward Jet. “You’re also with a young lady.”
Hiro laughed. “I knew it! You’re just pretending to be blind. You really can see!”
The old lady snorted. “Even if I can’t see, I have a nose and ears. Even if my nose and ears don’t work, I can feel someone’s presence through my skin. Seeing is not the only way of receiving and perceiving. Understand?”
The sound of prayers rang out through the temple hall.
“I understand!” Hiro said confidently, then shifted his gaze to Jet. “Hey… My cousin came all the way from America to talk to the spirits. Here…” He pushed Jet in front of the itako.
She motioned Jet closer. She took a few breaths and placed her right hand on Jet’s heart. It raced under the itako’s touch, the woman’s power charging her like electricity. Then words echoed from the itako’s mouth, though they seemed to come from somewhere behind her body.
“The spirits are protecting you,” she said, “but as you gain power in the present, you are being asked to go back to the past.”
Jet opened her mouth to speak, but the woman’s hand pressed her chest, as if stopping her words.
“You must find the treasure and save the magic mountain. It’s what your mother trained you to do.”
“How did you….” Jet stammered.
“You will save the mountain and its gods from destruction. You will be the one….”
Jet trembled in the cold air. “Me? How?” She also wanted to ask: And how could a mountain be magic? Carpets, sure, and markers, too. But a mountain? But she held her tongue.
The itako lifted her palm. “People from all over the world will come to the mountain for its blessings. It will become a symbol of peace. But only if you help.”
“How! Tell me! How can I help?” Jet asked, her interest more piqued now than ever.
“Find your power. Then trust your power,” the old woman said, nodding rhythmically as the words came out. “The women will guide you.”
“What women? Where?” Jet said, struggling to understand.
The itako nodded. “Ahhh. Look within. We’re always