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Tokyo was a vibrant city, a hotbed of activity and excitement at the dawn of the twentieth century. Full of busy people going about their important business in and out and around clustered buildings. Therefore, the average person would not have given a second thought to a young lady walking hastily through the streets as though she were on a mission.
Kaneko Chiyo was not the impetuous sort. Abandoning her maid while shopping in downtown Tokyo was simply not in her nature. Abandoning her maid to trail a small troop of dashing military men — unthinkable. She was a married woman, for heaven's sake, and not just any married woman. Six years in Tokyo had grown her reputation, and if anyone in her social circle were to have spied the young Mrs. Kaneko like this... well, honestly, they probably would have held their tongues and assumed she had good reason, but the gossip would soon run wild.
The soldiers' commanding officer had a regal bearing, yet his handsome face was marred by a look of disgust. He was ranting about some political affair to his three subordinates. One was a young man with a broody, inexpressive face. Another hung on his lieutenant's every word with rapt attention — he had prominent eyelashes and oddly symmetrical moles on his cheeks. Chiyo tried not to look at him, as something about him left her unsettled.
The third soldier she took for a ghost.
It had happened so fast, just a few minutes ago: Chiyo was following her maid out of a shop, and they had paused with a polite bow as the soldiers walked past. She'd heard a voice she thought she recognized, and looked up just in time to catch a split-second glimpse of a profile forever engraved onto her heart. No other man in the world had that same flat nose, lined face, and stocky build. None other than Tsukishima Hajime.
Chiyo's feet had moved on their own. If her maid called after her, she didn't hear. The only thing on her mind was that she had to confirm if that man was truly Hajime, she just had to. She had to know if he was, by some miracle, actually alive.
The soldiers halted before crossing a busy street. Chiyo took the opportunity to duck behind a stationary carriage, her eyes fixed on him. The cap on his head shielded part of his face, which included a trimmed goatee. He wore a hooded coat over his uniform, obscuring the shape of his body. Maybe it wasn't him after all. Maybe Chiyo had convinced herself that this random man was her dead former lover, just like she convinced herself she could catch up to him, tearfully reunite, and... then what? Run away like they had always planned? Leave her doting husband and high-class lifestyle, disappointing her parents? She couldn't have done that. Good thing he wasn't—
But then the creepy-faced man made some snide remark, and the shortest one gave him a glare as he barked a reprimand, and Chiyo knew him at once. It was Hajime, all right. As a soldier he carried himself with composure, but the hot-blooded troublemaker from Sado lingered under the surface.
Everyone picked on him for one reason or another. Some because his father was a lowlife, and some just thought it was funny to see little Hajime go berserk with rage. But Chiyo only ever saw a boy who craved a kind word and gentle touch since the loss of his mother. And he never once raised his voice nor a hand to her. She witnessed him being kind to animals, helping the elderly, paying respects to his mother's humble grave year after year — she knew, intimately, a side of Hajime about whom no one else bothered to learn.
The same children called her ugly. It wasn't born out of cruelty, just a joke to them. Harumi Chiyo could wear lovely kimonos and act as ladylike as possible, but no one would marry her with that freakish monster seaweed hair. Hajime beat up the first boy he overheard, and their torment of him increased from then on. Chiyo begged him to put an end to it, and he vowed he would defend her no matter what, because she was the most gorgeous girl in the entire world to him.
He loved her hair. It was hers, for one thing. And it was unique, he'd said. Not seaweedy at all, else he could not run his fingers through it so easily. His hands, scratched and bruised, would often find their way into her hair. Stroking it gently as he gazed at her. Gripping it passionately (though not painfully) as they lay tangled together, consummating their marriage that would come after the war. They couldn't wait that long. Chiyo, he'd murmured in that husky tone his voice would take whenever they were alone. My beautiful Chiyo.
Her Hajime, alive! How many nights had she cried for him, mourned his death on the seashore? She'd always wondered if it was a lie spread by her parents, who so desperately wanted her to go to Tokyo with the Mitsubishi businessman. The timing was too convenient. So was their moving to Tokyo with her. They wanted to leave Sado more than anyone. She was perfectly content to wait for Hajime to come home and whisk her away, to marry him and keep him safe — safe from war, from people who didn't understand him, from his monstrous father.
Oh, but how unfortunate that he died! At least he died serving his country, he did something good with his miserable self and there was nothing for it but to move on. Take the nice businessman up on his offer, meet his son, charm him with your mannerisms just like I taught you, and then you can have a better life. You want your poor mother and father to have a better life too, right? In Tokyo?
Chiyo touched her carefully-coiffed bun. Expensive product had tamed her curls for the past six years, kept even the shortest pieces plastered to her head. The kimono she was wearing — all the ones she now owned — was ten times nicer than the one her parents scrounged up to buy to help her feel pretty. Small wonder Hajime did not recognize her in passing. Had her hair been free to blow in the breeze, he would have seen it and stopped, right? Did the serious soldier in the bulky coat remember her? Did he still have—
It dawned on Chiyo that she knew the handsome, bearded lieutenant. He had come to Sado to pay his respects to the fallen Tsukishima Hajime, he'd said, because he, too, was born in Niigata prefecture. And he had sought out the fiancée of whom Hajime spoke so often to personally deliver his condolences. Through her tears she cut off a lock of hair and requested it be buried with Hajime's precious bones.
Was his death presumed in error? Did he wind up surviving a wound or illness thought fatal? That was just like her Hajime: so tenacious, so lively. Or was the lieutenant helping her parents spread the lie? Maybe it was actually some cover-up for a military operation? Whatever the reason... did Hajime still have her lock of hair? Did he carry it right now in the depths of his coat? Or perhaps in his breast pocket, close to his heart?
Oh Hajime, we are one now and forever. Promise you'll come back to marry me? That you won't forget me?
Those rough-skinned hands had trailed gently along her bare body, and his green-tinged eyes glistened. I could never forget you, Chi-chan. I promise.
She wiped away a tear, and when she looked back up, the soldiers had left the street corner. She darted out from behind the carriage, ignoring some startled shouts and questions. There they were, crossing the street, so she followed, carefully staying a few feet behind so it wasn't too obvious. At this rate, she had no idea how to isolate Hajime so she could talk to him... or that would even go. Good afternoon, Hajime. You're looking well and quite alive. I am married now, but let's not talk about that. How was China?
This was a terrible plan. What would she even do when the soldiers reached their destination? Surely they were going to some Army base, and she, a civilian, would be turned away. And then the news would reach her family, and how would she explain herself? Or could she leverage her name to have them bring Hajime to her? For what purpose?
Maybe a more elegant solution would have been to write him a letter and arrange a future meeting. It would be just like before, writing letters, pouring their hearts into every stroke, pining for one another through words. She still had Hajime's old letters, after all. She kept them in a locked chest in her wardrobe, which no one knew about but her maid. What's this? she had once asked.
Just some keepsakes from my childhood. Seashells, a doll... you know, frivolous things that I still love and like to take out once and awhile.
You are too sentimental, ma'am. But that's part of your charm.
It was all kinds of wrong, but she kept trailing them. Her eyes were fixed only on Hajime's back, praying that he would turn around, recognize her, run to her. So solely fixated on him was she that she failed to notice the company was now three men instead of four.
So when her wrist was snatched from behind by a strong hand, she gasped out loud.
"Why are you following us?" a man asked in her ear.
"I-I'm not. Please let go, you're hurting me."
He did not let go. Chiyo watched helplessly as Hajime and his comrades moved farther from her reach. Hajime... he had been so close. She nearly reached out her free hand as if that would bring him back.
"I know when I'm being spied on." The soldier had a breathy, alluring voice that made her shiver. "And I know women make excellent spies because they can more easily blend in. You, however, must be new at this."
"I'm not a spy!" This was bad. The soldier could have found out exactly who she was — and then her family would learn. Her husband might be more forgiving of her whims, but her conniving mother would put two and two together and figure out precisely what was going on. Then there would be trouble.
"I..." Chiyo grasped at straws. "I thought I recognized one of you, is all. But the closer I got, I realized I was mistaken. It was right before you caught me."
The soldier spun her around to face him. It was the sullen-faced one with a goatee that lined his mouth and dark, shrewd eyes. These eyes stared straight into hers, paralyzing her with their intensity. Then they glanced up and down at her finery.
"Hmm..." He leaned closer, gauging her reaction. "You're lying."
"Eh?"
"Second Lieutenant Tsurumi is quite well-connected to the upper classes, after all. You're lying, and you have some business with him, don't you?"
"No, I—"
A woman's voice suddenly called her name. Chiyo leaned past her captor's frame to see her maid running to her rescue. And the soldier, sensing defeat, released her and disappeared, catlike, into the crowd. Chiyo turned in every direction but saw no trace of him. Hajime and his comrades, too, were long gone.
"Ma'am!" The maid, out of breath, scolded her. "What were you thinking? You took off without a word back there! And who was that man? A soldier? What did you do?"
"I'm so sorry. I thought I knew one of those men, so I wanted to say hello. But it turned out I was mistaken." Chiyo figured she had best keep up the fiction, in case there was any question about her actions in the future. This likely meant no secretive letters to her former fiancé...
"You cannot just chase after strange men like... like... some loose woman!" The maid's face reddened. "Let's head back home now, and pray nobody we know saw you."
"Yes," Chiyo agreed quietly, filled with a shame she did not want.
The third member of her little party finally caught up. "Mommy~!" he cried out, arms outstretched. "Where did you go?"
She took his little hands in hers. "Forgive me. I was chasing a butterfly."
His eyes widened. "Was it pretty? Did you catch it?"
Chiyo smiled sadly. "No. It got away from me. But that's for the best. Butterflies need their freedom."
One look at his innocent face told her he didn't understand, especially as the maid frowned. "Can we go home now?" he instead asked. "I'm tired."
"So am I," Chiyo agreed. "Let's go home, Hajime."