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  “Uh huh,” I said. “I talk.” I was three and Mama said I was good at talking.

  He smiled at me and winked. I grinned back. With Mama’s attention on him, I grabbed onto her necklace made from the red trunks of nose birds and tried to bite into one of them.

  Mama pried the necklace out of my fingers and replaced it over her naked breasts. “Don’t touch, little one.”

  “I want cha,” I said.

  She nodded to the pot of tea on the table. Father poured some for us.

  She looked to him. “We must set a good example for the gaijin. You didn’t hear the words Taishi translated when the off-worlders heard what her name was. We are backward savages to them. They think us primitive and simple.”

  Father slid a cup of steaming cha toward Mama. “Since when do you care what gaijin think, whether it is the Tatsujin sisam with their strange ways, or these off-worlders with their alien customs?”

  Mama smoothed a finger over one of my chubby cheeks, her eyes twinkling with love for me. I hugged her, happy she wasn’t wearing her scary eboshi. She was so much nicer to me when she was herself like this and didn’t make me call her Nipa.

  Father’s easy smile vanished. “It’s that Earnshaw man, isn’t it?”

  “Earnshaw Nipa,” she corrected.

  He snorted at that. “Don’t tell me you’re going to offer yourself in tsuma no koukan with one of those gaijin. They’ll probably give you one of their diseases if you do, no?”

  Mama’s mouth crooked upward. “Jealous? I think someone just doesn’t want to share his wife.”

  “If you’re tired of me, see if you can exchange yourself with the Isepojin nipa’s wife. Or the Hebijin. Anyone but one of those star men.”

  “Yes, you would like that, wouldn’t you? The Hebijin nipa has a young new wife who would be paired with you in tsuma no koukan. You’d like a girl of seventeen to taste?” she teased.

  He scowled. “That isn’t what I mean. I just worry his customs will be … perverse. I don’t want him to be like, well, you know.” He cleared his throat and looked at the straw mats where they sat. “I don’t want him to be like Unayanke Nipa. I don’t want him to steal your memories.”

  Mama’s smile faded.

  I grabbed at my mother’s necklace again, but she pushed my hand away. My parents were silent. I looked from one to the other. “I want cha,” I said.

  Mama blew on the tea and held it so I could sip it. I slurped it into my mouth. It was hot and bitter. I spit it out, getting it all over my swaddling.

  “Iya!” Mama said. “No kamuy is going to want her when she does such things, ne? Tomorrow we will have her naming ritual. She will be Sumiko-chan.”

  Father arched an eyebrow. “Is this my wife speaking or Nipa?”

  “Oh, shush!”

  “I will not be shushed. We have traditions for a reason. We must uphold them. It is our duty. Bad things happen to those who break with tradition.”

  Mama set me down on Father’s lap and crossed to the other side of the room where her eboshi sat on the floor. I covered my eyes. I didn’t want her to put it on. My father hugged me and held me close. Even though it was hot and humid, I didn’t mind the sticky warmth. I nuzzled closer to him, feeling safe in his arms.

  The memory faded into blackness. I was warm and cozy. I couldn’t remember what I’d seen, only that my body felt relaxed and happy.

  Shiromainu sucked his teeth. “That was very interesting. Unexpected. Hmm. Sumiko-chan, did your mother perform tsuma no koukan with a gaijin?”

  I shrugged and yawned. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?” I couldn’t recall the memory anymore. I just wanted to savor that feeling of being loved. I’d felt safe and content.

  “Your memory indicates she might have. Tell me, do you know anything about her relationship with a man named Earnshaw Nipa?”

  “Earnshaw? That’s Faith-san’s family name. He must have been her father. But no, I don’t know.” I bit my lip. Neither Faith nor my brother had ever said anything to that effect. What had I remembered? Had it been something that would make him trust my family or hers?

  “Will you allow me to keep this memory until tomorrow morning? I wish to meditate on it and attempt to memorize it before I give it back. Is this acceptable to you?”

  “Yes, Nipa, it’s an honor you should find my memories so pleasing.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Anata, please.”

  I closed my eyes, suddenly overcome by exhaustion. Shiromainu wiped the memory moss from my hands and shoulders. Within moments I was asleep.

  The next morning I found Shiromainu meditating. I dressed and tiptoed out to use the privy. Shiromainu had been right about the itching of my tattoos. Today was worse for my wrists, but also it was worse where the memory moss had given me a rash on my back. I rubbed my spine against the wall, trying to sooth the tickle that I couldn’t reach. I fought not to scratch the black lines.

  I considered going to the onsen, but decided I should wait until Nipa had dismissed me. When I returned, he was finished with meditation and he gestured to the table. We ate fish stew and sweet ume fruit for dessert. I wished I could have saved some so I could take it home for my family, but I knew the fruit wouldn’t last twelve more days until we made the journey back.

  After I used the chewing stick, he asked, “Will you permit me to return your memory?”

  “As you wish, anata.” It sounded funny to say the endearment to this old man.

  We performed memory exchange again. This time I saw what he’d seen and the memory stayed in my head. I wanted to savor the warmth and comfort I’d felt as a child, knowing I had been given an appropriate child name. It meant my parents had loved me. At the same time, there was too much in that memory that kept me from questioning what I’d seen.

  Why had my mother felt the need to give me an adult name so early? What did it matter what the gaijin thought of my baby name? All this talk about naming made me think of Shipo, my best friend up until her death three years ago. Even with an ugly name that meant excrement, the kamuy had still taken her. Yet I had been given a pretty name early on and lived. Perhaps my mother was right. Some traditions had no use. They were meant to be broken.

  And yet, what did it mean to question tradition and rules when people ostracized and punished rule breakers? I didn’t see why two women couldn’t love each other, or share memories, but I would be punished all the same if I broke this tradition.

  Chapter Eight

  If surveyors find themselves on a planet with signs of colonists from the first era of spaceflight, it is vital to report such findings to the Bureau of Interplanetary Acquisitions in the United Worlds of America. It will also be important to note whether these native colonists are Jomon, Sumerian, Meso-American, or another ethnicity so that diplomatic teams will best know how to proceed. If you believe you have found a native tribe, skip to page 238 for classification.

  —The Guidebook of Colonization and Interplanetary Relationships, Fifth Edition, 1867

  I accompanied Shiromainu about the palace, lending him my arm for support. We both wore our bulky eboshi, mine rattling as I walked. I hated the sound and tried to be graceful and quiet, but no matter what, people looked up when they heard me coming. Shiromainu didn’t acknowledge my indiscretion, though it was possible he was simply being polite. In some matters he was less traditional—like my mother had been. I liked that about him, but I wondered what his people thought about that.

  Shiromainu’s first duty was the council meeting that morning. I sat as still as I could without speaking. Not scratching the itch from the memory moss on my back was torture. Grandmothers glared at me when I fidgeted and rattled the seedpods on the heavy hat. It was as boring and ordinary as meetings back home as they discussed what to do about people’s squabbles. Cha had already been served and the elders were in the middle of discussing tribal business when Petennouk swaggered through the door. He wore a furry eboshi like
the other elders. It was smaller and less elaborate than mine and Shiromainu’s. His bow was brief and half-hearted, as if he didn’t think he needed to bow to anyone. He didn’t even apologize for his tardiness.

  “How kind of you to make time to join us,” Nipa said.

  Petennouk kneeled and bowed more deeply, an appropriate bow. “I apologize, Nipa. I was attending to other duties.”

  By other duties I wondered if he meant sleeping in.

  The council moved on to discuss gaijin.

  “Two of our scouts found an encampment of gaijin about two miles away,” one of the elders reported. “They don’t appear to be armed. Not like the others we’ve encountered anyway. They’ve occupied themselves in structures farther down the canyon. It will only be a matter of time before the weather clears and they venture in our direction.”

  I had a hundred questions I wanted to ask about the gaijin, but I was more of guest than member of this tribe, and it wasn’t my place to ask. That, and I was the youngest in the room and I didn’t want to appear presumptuous.

  Petennouk spoke before Nipa even had a chance to respond. “We must destroy them before they have a chance to attack us. I volunteer to lead a party of warriors to their camp.”

  Several elders looked away as if embarrassed by his lack of restrain.

  Shiromainu sucked on his teeth. “You speak with your stomach—boldly and brashly. Let us hear more before we decide a course of action.”

  I listened to the conversation. It was a group of families with children. Probably they weren’t traders or surveyors. They sounded like homesteaders who hadn’t counted on the winter being so harsh, and found a place in the canyon that was protected from the weather.

  “How will they survive without food? Or firewood?” asked one elder.

  “They won’t. They’ll die,” another said. “Problem solved.”

  Shiromainu grunted. “Perhaps.”

  Here was my chance to make Faith and my brother appear useful, assets Shiromainu couldn’t live without. It was the chance to make myself useful. Only, I had to break my barrier of polite silence to do so.

  “Pardon me.” I bowed. “May I speak about my knowledge of gaijin?”

  All eyes looked to me. Shiromainu nodded.

  “Many gaijin have ‘machines’ that can generate heat. They can store great amounts of food and keep it fresh. It’s possible they might—”

  “Excuse me, Sumiko-san, but what do you mean by this word—matinu?” a grandmother asked.

  “Machine,” I corrected. “Think of them like animals that can do things like ours do: haul wood, carry us on their backs, and attack during battle. Only instead of being alive and animated with kamuy, they are made of rocks and metal—like their ships in the sky.”

  “You know this from that sisam in your village?” a grandmother asked.

  “Yes. She told me about their machines. Some are very useful, but some are destructive. Some of their smallest machines can even kill. Arrows and spears are ineffective against their greater weapons. If a party is to be sent out to kill them, they must use extreme caution and know what dangers to look for so close up.” I paused, carefully wording what I was about to suggest. “But it is possible these gaijin have no weapons. Not all those my brother has encountered have been hostile. Some didn’t even know the planet was inhabited until they met us.” I looked to Shiromainu. “If you had someone who spoke their language, she might be sent to listen to their conversation to determine if they were friend or foe. Perhaps she could even be sent to speak with them. They might have valuable tools and medicines that would help prevent—”

  Petennouk interrupted, “If we killed their party, we wouldn’t let any of their weapons go to waste.”

  A grandfather said, “Anything you find should be burned. All they touch are cursed with sickness.”

  Shiromainu cleared his throat. “I would like Sumiko-san to finish before we discuss her words.” He glared at his grandnephew and the other elder as if daring them to contradict him.

  I went on. “If you had someone in your village here who speaks the gaijin tongue, as I do in my own, you could find out the intentions of these people. My brother’s geari wife, Faith-san speaks to traders when my brother has asked it of her.” Not that he’d asked her to do so in years, but they didn’t need to know that. “My brother also speaks their language, as do I. This has proved to be a useful skill. Years ago we traded for medicines and tools and the gaijin showed us how to use them. It benefited both of our peoples and there was no need for bloodshed.”

  Silence greeted me when I finished speaking.

  “Are you finished?” Petennouk asked.

  I nodded.

  Petennouk’s words came out loud and strong, like the bark of a tanuki for which his tribe was named. “I say we kill them. All of them. We can decide what to do with their things afterward. The important thing is we kill them before they find our stronghold, spread their sicknesses, or attack us.”

  “There are children among them. Will you kill them too?” Grandmother Pirka asked. I knew her name from when she’d introduced herself in the onsen. She was different from the other grandmothers. Her arms, from her wrist to her shoulder were covered in intricate patterns of tattoos. I wondered what that meant.

  “We could kill them,” Petennouk said. “Or we could make them into our slaves as they do to our people.”

  She clucked her tongue in disapproval. Something about her body language reminded me of Opere, and I wondered if this was her grandmother.

  The elders continued to discuss what to do about the gaijin. Although one suggested sending me as their spy, Shiromainu rejected that idea. They argued for so long, the sun shifted in the sky.

  Finally Shiromainu said, “I will think upon this and we will discuss it again another day. So much disharmony amongst ourselves is not good for our tribe.” He dismissed the council and they filed out.

  Petennouk’s eboshi concealed much of his face, but it didn’t hide his glare at me. I turned to Shiromainu after he’d left.

  “What will you do?” I asked. I didn’t even know if it would be his decision or that of the elders. “Will you let your grandnephew kill children and babies?”

  “My tribe trusts me to think of their safety of first. I will think, for days if I must. There are no easy answers.”

  I nodded.

  “Perhaps you can now see how unwelcome your brother’s geari wife would be here. Many of us lost family members during their attacks. It is hard for many of us to see the gaijin as anything less than a danger.”

  Himself included, I suspected.

  In failing to convince the Chiramantep that gaijin could be useful, I felt as though I had failed Faith. I wanted to run out to the forest and scream and kick at piles of snow, but there was no way to get away from all the people here. I forced my hands to be calm in my lap and not bunch them up into fists. I made myself look serene even though I wasn’t. I still had many days to convince Shiromainu of Faith’s goodness.

  He strummed his fingers on the table, watching me in that sage way of his. He must have understood the energy inside me bursting to explode into a punch or kick because he suggested we visit the practice field along the riverbank. A cool breeze blustered against us and the sun peeked in and out of the clouds. I wore the same warm manto from the day before. The girls from yesterday ran up to us and greeted us with enthusiasm.

  “Will you practice with us and show us more of your learning?” Hekketek asked.

  “Say yes, Sumiko-san!” Pananpne said. “Please!”

  I wished I had friends like this in my own village. I looked to Nipa for permission.

  “Please let your wife show off her skills,” Pananpne begged. “You should see what an excellent fighter she is.”

  “If she wishes to join you, she may.” He nodded to me.

  I pointed to my headdress. “Um… .”

  “Yes, yes, you may remove yo
ur eboshi,” he chuckled.

  We practiced the same holds and locks I had shown them the day before as Shiromainu leaned on his cane and watched. It had to be boring for him, but he acted as though he found it interesting.

  “Who taught you that maneuver?” Shiromainu asked.

  “My brother.” I bit my lip, afraid to overstep politeness, but ultimately I knew my tribe wouldn’t be accepted into his unless I tried every angle I could. “My brother is a very good warrior. The best. And a good teacher. He would make an asset to any tribe.”

  He stared off into the distance toward the young men practicing. His grandnephew was in that group. “It’s good for young women to know how to defend themselves.”

  I had a feeling he meant more with those words than what he said out loud. If the girls understood, they were wise not to show any indication they did. They continued smiling brightly and nodded.

  Shiromainu continued staring at the group of boys. “Don’t let me interrupt your practice. Continue for as long as you wish.” Shiromainu wandered from where we stood to watch another group.

  He shouted criticism and encouragement in a hoarse voice. He was very hard on the men and oldest boys with the most skills, but to the children he was less severe. He stopped a group of five-year-olds from play fighting and repositioned a boy’s feet.

  “He is like my brother in that way,” I said. “He also encourages the young ones.”

  “Your husband is kind to you?” Chinatsu asked.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “If you become with child, will you choose to stay here with the Chiramantepjin?” Opere asked.

  Hekketek nudged her.

  I opened my mouth, but didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t going to get pregnant. Nor had the idea of staying ever crossed my mind. To live in this village where it was warm, there were girls my age who liked me, and I was well-fed would be hard to say no to.

  Opere bowed her head. “I apologize, Sumiko-san. That’s none of my business. Forgive my insolent tongue.”