Akira Mori, Ken had concluded, was that she merely looked _avant-
garde_. Inside she lived in another age. In fact he suspected the
reason she'd never married had something to do with the fact she was
already wed: to the vision of Japan's powerful, sacred Imperial past.
On the trip down to Ise, Mori had silently sipped her green tea while
Noda chatted with Asano about the costs and timing of commercializing
the intelligent machines that would come out of the Fifth Generation
Project. Although Noda stuck to generalities, it was clear he was
totally conversant with the latest developments in the field. In fact,
Tam found herself thinking, he seemed to know anything there was to
know about just about everything. He displayed the same obsession with
Japan's technological future that the old-time shoguns must have had
about the goings-on of their vassals.
She also sensed that he and Asano were doing a lot of their
communicating in a verbal shorthand, enough so that she began to
suspect they had worked together before: they were like father and son,
each anticipating the other's thoughts and conclusions.
By the time they reached Ise it was already late afternoon, but Noda's
driver had phoned ahead from the car and arranged rooms for the night
at the local spa, so they wouldn't have to go back late. She noticed
there hadn't been any talk about the famous Sword, but she figured
maybe he was saving that for dinner.
The museum Noda planned was to be built outside the shrine proper, just
before you crossed the wide, arched Uji Bridge spanning the Isuzu River
that separated Shinto's holy ground from the ordinary world. The shrine
itself, a collection of thatched-roof buildings in severe traditional
style, was hidden down a long trail among giant cryptomeria trees that
towered hundreds of feet into the pale afternoon sky.
Attesting to the speed with which things can happen in Japan when
there's the go-ahead from above, the location had already been staked
and the trees cleared. Excavation for the foundation merely awaited
Noda's approval. While everybody else stood around and waited, he
consulted with the site engineer, checked over the plans, and made a
few final changes. All the while, onlookers were bowing to him right
and left. He'd become, overnight, an authentic Japanese legend.
After finishing with the engineer, he suggested they stroll on down to
pay respects at the shrine itself, since they'd come all this way.
Their burly chauffeur suddenly became a bodyguard, clearing the path
ahead. Noda was expansive now, presumably confident his niche in
history was secure. As they were crossing the wooden bridge, he
casually asked Tam what she knew about the Sword.
A one-of-a-kind historical find, she replied. Important and
fascinating. She'd seen the Emperor on TV. . . .
"I assumed you would understand its significance." He was leading the
way down the path. "Perhaps then you'll indulge me a moment for an
ancient tale about it."
By now the entire shrine had been cleared of tourists and they were
surrounded only by bowing and smiling priests in white robes: the VIP
treatment. "The Imperial sword harkens back in a way to our version of
Adam and Eve. Except, according to our own creation story, they were
also the ones who created Japan; they were the original _kami_."
"The original Japanese gods."
"Well, perhaps 'god' is too strong a term, Dr. Richardson. I prefer to
think of our _kami_ as merely spirits of life." Noda shrugged, then
continued. "According to the myth, the first male and female _kami_
stirred the sea with a long spear, then lifted it, and the brine that
dropped from its tip piled up and became Japan."
She caught herself smiling. "I've always wondered what Freud would have
thought of that."
Mori glared at her in a way that suggested some offense at her
irreverence, while MIT-educated Ken merely stifled a grin. Noda,
however, took the quip in stride.
"Freud? Ah, yes, your philosopher. I seem to recall he's the one who
regarded almost everything as some manifestation of our sexual
appetite. Well, these are primitive stories, Dr. Richardson, that
describe the beginning of life. I suppose they should be somewhat
earthy, wouldn't you agree?" He chuckled. "Nonetheless, according to
our early tales, the Sun Goddess--whose shrine this is--was created out
of the left eye, the side of honor, of the first male _kami_, and the
Moon God was created out of his right. Then they ascended into the
skies."
She glanced up. The Sun Goddess appeared to be headed for bed, the sky
itself barely light through the cryptomeria. The air was beginning to
grow slightly crisp.
"Now we come to the sword. When the Sun Goddess finally sent her
grandson down to rule over the mortals below, he brought with him the
three items that became the emblems of Imperial rule. They were the
sacred mirror, signifying purity, a curved bead necklace, used to ward
off evil spirits, and the sword, standing for courage. The great
grandson of that first earthbound immortal extended his dominion over
all of Japan and became the first emperor. We are told his name was
Jimmu, and the legends say that was around 660 B.C."
"_So desu_," Miss Mori interjected abruptly, startling even Ken. She
seemed to be lecturing directly to Tam. "We all know our Emperor today
is directly descended from him. In fact, he is precisely the one
hundred and twenty-fourth emperor after Jimmu. Japan and the Imperial
line were born simultaneously, and every Japanese is related to him. We
are a monoracial state."
Tam glanced at her. By God, she wasn't kidding.
"Well, it's possible the traditional account has reworked historical
facts a trifle," Noda continued smoothly. "Actually the peoples who
became our modern Japanese seem to have made their way here to the main
island from somewhere in the South Pacific and settled in this area
around Ise. Near here we still find burial mounds that contain replicas
of their early symbols of Imperial authority--mirrors, gems, swords."
"But the sword you found? Did it really come down from on high?" Tam
asked, half hoping to rankle Akira Mori.
"You mean was it that very first one?" Noda shrugged. "Who could locate
the original Garden of Eden? Please, we all must allow for a certain
element of poetic license in our myths. But it is unquestionably the
sword referred to in the ancient chronicles such as the Heite
Monogatari, which dates from the Heian era, the ninth through twelfth
centuries. That sword was lost in 1185, and now it's been recovered.
That's all we know for sure."
Mori, walking along in her quick, Japanese-woman pace, obviously was
not satisfied with Noda's rationalist version of history.
"Dr. Richardson," she cut in again, "what the recovery of the sword has
achieved is to remind the Japanese people that we are unique. We
Japanese have a special soul, a Yamato _minzoku _of pure blood and
spiritual unity. All Japanese are related to each other and to the
Emperor, so there is a oneness of spirit, a blood-and-soul relation,
between the Emperor and his people. Yamatoists believe, rightly, that a
temporary eclipse of our Japanese _minzoku_ was brought about by the
American occupation, whose imposed constitution and educational system
were acts of racial revenge against Japan. Our postwar identity crisis,
our negative image of ourselves, was created by Americans. But that
time is over. Although we have no single God, as in the Judeo-Christian
tradition, we have something even more powerful. Through our Emperor we
have a line of descent that harkens back to the beginning of our world.
Perhaps we no longer choose to claim he is divine, but that makes him
no less an embodiment of Japan's special place."
Akira Mori, Tam suddenly realized, was a closet Yamatoist, those new
right-wing racist firebrands of modern Japan. Time to give her a little
heat.
"Surely nobody today seriously thinks the Emperor's forefather came
down from the skies?" She turned back to Noda. "You don't believe it,
do you?"
He shrugged. "Ours is a skeptical world, Dr. Richardson. Is your pope
really infallible, or did he acquire his right to be divine spokesman
by winning a small election? Nonetheless, popes and kings are like
ancient tribal leaders. Despite all our modern democracy, we still
yearn for a figure to embody our identity. For the Japanese to have an
emperor who, if only in legend, has blood kinship with the gods who
created our homeland--what could be more important?"
About that time Tam glanced up and realized they were passing under a
large _torii _gate, entryway to a place that seemingly had nothing to
do with the real world. Just beyond were the shrines, reminding her
somewhat of a sanitized tropical village as imagined by Hollywood. Each
of the cypress-wood buildings, set above the ground on stilts, was
architecture at its most primal, a study in simplicity. Their polished
wood was untouched by a speck of paint, while the foot-thick blanket of
woven straw comprising their roofs had a creamy texture that looked
like cheesecake. There was nothing in the world to compare.
What really made them unique, though, was something else entirely.
Although the shrines were merely straw and natural wood, possessing
none of the centuries-old authority of the cathedrals of Europe, in a
curious way they were actually
older, for they had been rebuilt anew every twenty years since time
immemorial.
Suddenly the real significance of that struck her. What other people
had kept alive such a powerful symbol of their common heritage for
centuries and centuries? Westerners had difficulty grasping the
continuity this shrine represented. Little wonder Noda could galvanize
his clan with some powerful new reminder of who they were. Shinto
wasn't a religion; there were few rules and no payoff in the sky.
Instead it was the mortar binding a race.
"The main shrines over there," he continued, pointing to a collection
of buildings in an area enclosed by a high wooden fence, "are off
limits to all save the Emperor himself and certain of the priests. That
ground is the sacred link between our Emperor living now and those of
times past. Even photographs are forbidden."
Tam noticed that many of the gables of the buildings were tipped in
gold, burning amber when an occasional shaft of late sunlight reflected
off them. Dusk was starting to settle in, and the evening birds and
crickets had begun to add their eerie sound effects. She found herself
deeply touched. What was it about the place that inspired such
reverence? Was it the serenity? The purity?
Yes, this Shinto holy of holies possessed a secret power, the
unassailable strength of nature. It moved her; how could it not?
Somewhere inside she felt envy of them all, felt a yearning to share
their absolute sense of' who they were.
While she reflected on that, surrounded by the white gravel and golden
woods, she found herself looking anew at Ken. Being here with him at
Ise made her question once again whether in his world, his austere yet
deeply passionate world, she could never be anything but a _gaijin_, an
outsider.