It took a while for things to get back to normal after the princess was born. I mean, my youngest sister. Same difference. 

We kids weren't allowed to go in to the hospital to see them, which we all thought was a really stupid rule. Pop went instead, and came back with the news that Ma and baby sister were both doing all right but it would be a few days before they could come home, so Sister and I would have to look after the little boys until our mother was home again. It was a good thing neither of us was in school at the time, or Pop would've had to either stayed home to look after them himself, or gotten us excused from school. Probably the first would have been the easiest to accomplish; our school had this thing about perfect attendance. 

It was also a good thing I wasn't working at the restaurant. I kept that thought to myself, since I knew Sister wouldn't appreciate it much, but it was true. The brothers had learned the joys of working together to find mischief, meaning they were getting harder and harder to manage. Hyper-kid by himself was a bundle of trouble, but my quiet one was rapidly becoming a willing accomplice, to my chagrin. A late bloomer, I suppose. Anyway, they were both less likely to obey Sister than me, possibly because I was quite a bit bigger and could yell louder. Not that I needed to, much; a few sharp words from me almost always did the trick, where Sister might have yelled her voice away and still not made much impression. 

I wondered for a while what was behind that, but after a particular scene wherein hyper-boy snidely informed Sister that she wasn't 'older enough' to tell anyone what to do, I didn't wonder any more. Like I said before, the older are supposed to look after the younger and the younger are supposed to obey their elders- but you do run into some conflict now and then when the age gap isn't very large. Especially in pre-school days. When you get to school, you learn real quick that anyone from any grade higher than yours is sempai, elder, even if their birthdate is just a couple months before yours.

But since there were several more years before little brother would get to experience that on his own, I decided to give him an early lesson. So I picked him up and told him, eye to eye- and pretty nearly nose-to-nose, since he had used some very insulting language- that if I ever heard him say stuff like that again, I'd swat him myself before I told our father about it. Then, having got his attention, I informed him that he would obey Sister, because she was older than he was, and if he wanted to argue with me about it, he could start right then and there. 

I felt like a monster afterwards, but it did put an end to an awful lot of 'I won't, I don't have to, you can't make me, go boil your head, go take a drink from the toilet,' and other crude stuff that I'd been hearing lately. (He was a bit young to have learned such crap, but I figured it came from some of the other kids at the day-care place; and Sprout's always been precocious anyway.) Kids will push the line, and sometimes I guess you just have to plant your foot and make them behave. You only get so far with time-outs and patient talk. 

Besides, ten-year-olds don't always make great disciplinarians.

It also didn't help that Ma's ' few days' in the hospital ended up being a lot more. Like, 'almost two weeks.' Two or three days of full-time kid-care was a novelty, but that wore off in a hurry. And we were all fretting about Ma- and to some degree, our new sister- so that made everybody cranky. Don't get me wrong, we were worried about the baby- it was just that we were a lot more worried about our mother. We knew her better and depended on her more, y'know? 

I think what spooked me most about the whole thing was how awful my mother looked when she did finally come home. See, I'd expected her to be recovered. That's what people go to hospitals for, right? To get better? And that was the whole reason she'd stayed there so long, to get completely better. So to see her come in leaning on Pop, looking all pale and tired and weak and having to stay in bed and not exert herself much for about a month, was pretty scary for me. She was supposed to be well, but she wasn't! It really set me thinking: about how sick she might have been, if that was such an improvement, and whether maybe she hadn't really been so sick at all and it was being in the hospital that made her worse, and what we'd do if she hadn't come home...

'Died' was not a word I wanted to think, but it kept creeping in when I wasn't looking and scaring me. Usually at night, when I was trying to fall asleep. I knew just enough about death to know that once someone was 'gone', that was that, and the thought of never seeing my mother again gave me some wretched nights. You don't have to have a lot of imagination for that to bug the hell out of you.

So anyway, it was a huge relief to see Ma improving in the days before school started up again. It was funny, in a way; now Sister and I were helping Ma as well as taking care of the boys AND looking after the new baby girl- but even though we were doing more, it felt like less. It's amazing what a difference it makes when everyone's not all stressed out. It's also amazing what the mere presence of an adult will do to quell a rowdy kid or two. Though I think Sister maybe took advantage of the situation a bit; she ran most of Ma's errands and as a result she was always telling the brothers, "Ma said do this, Ma said do that." I wasn't so sure Ma really had expressed all the requirements Sister came up with...but I never quite got around to asking about it. There were plenty of chores, and it was kinda nice to see them getting done in a timely way for a change.

Since I had the most experience in dealing with young kids, I naturally ended up being the one to keep my eye on the baby. And like I said, it was only about an hour or two after she got home that I nicknamed her Princess. She was the sweetest little thing! 

I guess the main reason we bonded so tight with each other was because I was the one who gave Princess her bottles most of the time. Ma couldn't...um, you know... so she told me how to fix the bottles and said I should hold Baby every time I fed her- it was good for her emotional development. Well. Emotional development was a bit beyond me, but I did what Ma said and it wasn't long before Princess recognized me and smiled whenever she saw me. Even after Ma was better I did most of the feeding, and the only negative about it was that I usually ended up handling all the diapers, too. Funny: the brothers would wander over and watch while I fed her and ask questions or talk to me, but as soon as the word 'diaper' came up- oh, you never heard so many excuses to get out of a room. Not that I would have trusted either of them with the job, of course, they were too young- but still! But other than that, they both seemed to approve of her. First Brother, particularly, liked her; she wasn't as quiet as he had been at that age, but that's pretty near impossible anyway. Mainly she wasn't a screamer like Brat, which my Quiet One appreciated. He told me a couple of times that when I was in school, he'd help Ma with her, so I shouldn't worry about anything.

He's a sweet kid. And a perceptive one- more than I am- I think he'd guessed how much I'd miss my Princess while I was enduring school. I didn't anticipate that, but for the first week or two, whenever I sat down at my desk, I got the weirdest feeling that something was seriously wrong. It took me a little while to figure out what was missing: I'd gotten so used to having the baby in my arms whenever I sat down that I felt sort of incomplete without her there. 

So anyway, nothing much happened for a while. I mean, you know, nothing out of the ordinary. Ma got better enough that she could take care of the brothers, so they didn't have to go to day-care; Sister did well in school; Pop came home earlier and in better moods and sometimes even took Sundays off to do stuff. I spent a lot of time studying, to my disgust, but I did good- I mean, did well- at school and didn't have any more trouble getting projects done. Princess learned to sit up, then to crawl, and it became hyper-boy's job to keep up with her and make sure she didn't get into any mischief. It kept him out of a lot of mischief, too, and keeping up with an active almost-toddler kept him from getting bored. Their attention-spans were about equal anyway, so that was...convenient.

I sometimes wonder if that kid hasn't got ADD or something.

Anyway, with Ma and Sprout looking after Princess, Brother and I went back to the dojo and had evening lessons there, twice a week. Sort of. Brother had the same class each time, but I had the kendo class Mondays and the Kunfu one Fridays. I really enjoyed it- maybe not quite as much as when I could run around the place and join in whatever, whenever- but still, it was a lot of fun. I asked Ma once if she'd ever go back and she said not until Princess was into school; she didn't want to leave the kids in a day-care again. I thought of all the insults second brother had learned while he was there and agreed that one person couldn't really look after twenty kids very well, no matter how much attention they paid. Ma laughed a little and said it was only ten, but the point was accurate enough; just keeping up with three or four was plenty of a challenge. "Especially with wild ones like mine," she teased me.

"I'm not wild," I protested. "And neither is first brother. And Sister's not very wild, either."

"Individually, that's true, but all together-" Ma laughed as I made a face; there was some truth in that!

So...I guess the next really exciting or interesting thing that happened was our trip to New York, in August, during the school-break. It was great. The cousins were kind of squealy sometimes- they had all gotten bigger and a little boy-crazy- but still pretty cool. Uncle Chin was even rounder and more jolly than ever, and just as easy to talk to. He and I ended up talking a lot, actually; he told me some truly crazy stuff about New York and America in general (a lot of which, Rowen's told me, isn't, strictly speaking, true. Chin exaggerates.) including the awesome fact that people in America decide for themselves what their jobs are going to be. If they want to be a lawyer, they study to be one and pass the exams and are one, and the goverment doesn't tell them that they can't be because the quota's already filled. We had quite a talk about that, and I daringly told him I didn't want to run the restaurant: I wanted to be a geologist. I'd always been intrigued with rocks and mountains- and earthquakes, I might add. I didn't have room at home for a rock collection, but that didn't stop me from collecting thirty or forty good books on the subject.

"That's a fine idea- you do that. Japan's so unstable, they need all the good geologists they can get," was my uncle's response. "And you tell me if my little brother get stubborn about it; I'll back you up," he added with a wink. "If I hadn't moved here to America, I would have run Dynasty- and then your father would have had to work in an office building."

So that was an encouraging visit, and I improved my English a lot too. I'm not too bad with langauges, which is lucky, because I had to speak Chinese at home and Japanese at school. And just because the writing systems are the same doesn't mean the spoken language is! That's like saying Spanish and American are the same just because their alphabets are extremely similar (thank you, Rowen, for that tidbit.)

Um, back to the subject. Vacation. Yeah. Well, New York was fine. But we only went for three weeks that time, because Pop wanted to visit the Grandfather in Toyama when we got back to Japan. And that was when things got....kinda nasty.

I still don't really know if the Grandfather was our real grandfather or not. I just know we called him that, since Pop told us to and since it was a gesture of respect. He was quite old, at least sixty, and he lived in a large apartment in the older area of Toyama. He still had paper partitions in place of actual walls, and there wasn't a chair in the house- just cushions. And straw mats, so you had to be particular about your slippers. To be honest, we kids were dreadfully bored whenever we visited there. It wasn't just that being on good behavior was a pain, it was that there were no books, no toys, no TV, only a crackly old radio. And there wasn't much to do outside, unless one was a big fan of sitting on the steps and watching traffic go by. To us, the only interesting part of the house was the living room; there were wall hangings to look at, although the colors were pretty dull- and there were shelves. Shelves with pottery figures and glass ornaments and wooden carvings and porcelain dishes all arranged. There were even some things that looked like they were made of gold and silver, though it was probably brass or bronze. Of course, we weren't allowed to touch anything....

Three guesses.

Yep. 

What happened was, I was trying to keep Princess amused, showing her the interesting stuff while the adults all talked over their tea. Well. Interesting for her, since she hadn't seen it before. I was distracted by something Pop was saying about Uncle Chin and knelt there listening for a while- and when I turned back around, it was to see the baby holding a large, gray-ish green ball that looked like polished stone, but was carved like wood. I had always been intrigued by that thing myself, wondering whether it was really stone and if so what kind- but at the moment I was just alarmed. The No-Touch rule had been broken! I glanced at the adults, hoping they hadn't noticed, which they hadn't, then gently tried to take it from Baby's hands. She fussed, but I got it away from her, put it back on the shelf, then turned to pick her up. I didn't want her grabbing anything else. 

It was such a soft noise, just a faint whirring sound followed by a little crackling thunk, but when I turned towards the sound, I gasped in horror. The beautiful ball had rolled right off the shelf while my back was turned, and now it was lying in at least a dozen pieces on the mat beside me. Trouble. Deep, deep, deep trouble. I turned to look at the adults, petrified, and the Grandfather caught sight of me.

I suppose putting my hand over my mouth was a dead giveaway, but really, there was no point trying to act like nothing had happened. It was only a matter of time until he noticed that one of his treasures was now rubbish.

He moved awful fast for an old man with a cane! The next thing I knew, my parents were beside him, staring from me to the broken ball and the old man was sputtering with shock. "What is this? What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, crouching beside the shards. "You wretched children!" he added, glaring at Princess and I. "Answer me! How did this happen?"

I gulped, taking in the glares, and then I braced myself. "I- I'm sorry, it was my fault, I- the baby wanted to see it, so I picked it up and showed it to her and I g-guess it rolled off the shelf when I put it back! I'm, I'm awfully sorry, honored Grandfather, I didn't think it could break, it's stone-"

It wasn't really a lie. But it wasn't the exact truth, either. I was supposed to be looking after the baby, so anything she did was my responsibility. But from the way my father was glaring, I figured I'd better not tell him the whole truth. I didn't want him mad at my Princess. She was already whimpering a little, hanging on to me tightly as all the grown-ups radiated anger.

"That was jade, boy!" the Grandfather snapped, slowly kneeling beside the little scattering of chips and chunks. I think my mouth fell open; I know my father took a long, deep breath and my mother closed her eyes in horror. 

"The cost, sir-" my father said rather tightly.

"Priceless!" the old man barked. "Moss jade, handcarven, more than two-hundred years old! It came to me from my father, to him from his father, to him from his, for the past five generations! There is no price to put on it. Take this boy and this baby away before they break even more."

"Give the baby to your mother," my father said grimly as I got to my feet. "And you come with me," he added as I obeyed.

It was the worst whipping I'd ever gotten in my life. 

It was a thoroughly unpleasant evening, too.

I was very glad when it was time to go to bed, but it took me hours to get to sleep. I wasn't used to lying on my side, and I couldn't get my mind off the whole thing. I'd known I would be punished, of course, but I felt- I don't know, betrayed or something. Getting a beating had been enough punishment, I thought; having those three adults making it clear that I was unforgiven and in disgrace all night was really going too far. The worst of it was that we were set to leave in the morning- I was glad of that, but I was afraid it wouldn't be a pleasant trip home. My parents had left all the lecturing to the Grandfather, as it was his right, but I was pretty sure they'd have some private words for me and I was not looking forward to it. I had only two comforts: my brothers and sisters were thoroughly, if silently, sympathetic; and my Princess hadn't gotten into trouble. I knew my father wouldn't have beaten the baby, but he would have raised his voice and made her terrified of him. Besides, as I kept telling myself, it was my fault, mostly.

It must have been near midnight when I heard the strange ringing sound. Nothing like a phone- I don't think the Grandfather had one. And if he did, I doubted it would be kept outside, which was where the noise was coming from. I got carefully up from my bed- paper walls mean moving really quietly- and slipped over to look out the window. There was enough light from the streetlights to see down into the tiny, fenced-in yard at the back of the house, and what I saw was a little puzzling. The Grandfather was standing out on the bricked part, the patio, talking with a strange visitor. It was a man- an old man, I thought, seeing his long white hair and the staff in his hand- but he stood straighter and taller than Grandfather. He was wearing a dark robe that I couldn't tell the color of, and he had on a strange old-timey round hat. The sound seemed to be coming from his staff, but it was hard to tell- the top of it gleamed in the light, but I couldn't make out what shape it was. Weird. I wondered who came visiting at this late hour, and why would anyone put a music-box in their staff? 

The two stood on the patio for a while and I gathered that they were talking- in fact, Grandfather seemed to be doing most of the talking, occasionally waving his arm or shaking his head. Then he held out his hand and I saw he was holding something, something that reflected the light, though not like that staff. I wondered if it was the pieces of the jade-ball, and then I wondered indignantly why he'd tell anyone else about it; it was our own family's business and no one else's. I scowled down at them as the white-haired man nodded slightly and seemed to say something to Grandfather. Then the two of them bowed to each other, the strange man turned, and Grandfather walked with him to the gate in the fence. 

I slipped back to bed and lay there feeling humiliated. Bad enough getting punished without having him tell all his friends about my disobedience and clumsiness and... Well, one friend. A neighbor or- something. ...Or ...maybe that was someone who would be able to fix it? Or at least might know where there was another one? That was a hopeful thought, and some of my sullen mood lifted. That might be it, the fellow might be an antiques dealer- maybe Grandfather had contacted him after supper. Strange about that staff, but many older people did carry fancy staffs, if not usually so long- more like canes. Well, maybe it was one of the Fuji-san staffs that you got when you made the climb so many times- thirty, was it? Or twenty-five, or something? Or maybe it was fifty... 

Maybe it's not surprising that I dreamed about volcanos that night, after thinking of the mountain...but it was a weird dream, involving that old man, and his staff, and a tiger, and someone I couldn't see clearly- someone in red. I remember that the person in red was someone I was trying to help or find, but it wasn't easy because he kept disappearing, and when he was there...well, it was pretty confusing. Something about a big fight and broken swords. The only thing I remembered clearly when I woke up was the very end: the guy in red disappeared with the tiger and the man with the staff was gone too. But lying on the ground was a small glowing red ball, with the character jin inside it somehow. Then it changed, turning orange- kind of like the lava- and the character turned into gi, justice. I woke up thinking that was fitting, since I'd gotten the long side of the justice stick the day before!

That came in handy later, that dream-memory.

See, Ryo? You weren't the only one having crazy dreams about the weird folks you'd be hanging out with some day!