Autumn Bridge by Takashi Matsuoka

first scroll, written in 1291, was purely chance. The second had been from 1641 and the third from 1436. If any two scrolls were chronologically contiguous, it was not by design. It was this way, Genji said, because as every succeeding lord read the history, he tended to reread certain scrolls more than others, and thus any order, if there had ever been an order, was lost and lost again, repeatedly through the years. At first, this lack of sequential arrangement had bothered her. But soon, she found herself enchanted by the unpredictability. It was quite like opening a Christmas present, and being pleasantly surprised each time.
    This was particularly so when, as today, it was not only time for a new scroll but also time to open a new trunk. The disorganization of the clan history was consistent with its manner of storage. Varying numbers of scrolls from different decades and centuries were contained in trunks of vastly different designs and sizes. Since there was no order about which to be concerned, whenever it came time to select a trunk to open, Emily let her eyes wander over the containers grouped in the corner of her study. As always, she would let her fancy make the choice.
    Would it be a large one or a small? One that showed obvious age, or a newer one? That one of European vintage, closed with a rusty iron bolt? Or the elegant black lacquerware oval from China? Or the fragrant Korean sandalwood chest? But as soon as her eyes alighted on the odd leather-covered box, she knew her curiosity would not permit her to open any other. Upon its topmost surface was a painting, faded but with its original colors still apparent, of a red dragon curling around blue mountain spires. Her study of East Asian art enabled her now to recognize the country of origin of most artifacts she saw. But she could not identify this one.
    The lid had been sealed to the rest of the box with wax, which also coated the entire surface of the container. Flecks of broken wax indicated it had been opened only recently, which was somewhat strange. Genji had told her that it was the duty of every Great Lord of Akaoka to read the history in its entirety upon his ascension, so of course, it should have been opened long ago. Genji must have resealed it with wax after he had read the scrolls, then opened it again before Emily received it. She would ask him about it later.
    Inside, a rough cloth covered the contents. Within this cloth was another, of embroidered silk, brilliant with color. When Emily unfolded the first flap, she saw a pattern of roses, a wild profusion of them, in red, pink, and white, against a field of billowy white clouds in a bright blue sky. Since the American Beauty rose was near to being an unofficial symbol of the clan, it was more surprising that this was the first time she had encountered it among the cloths that always wrapped the scrolls within the trunks.
    She removed one and unrolled it. Unlike every other scroll she had seen so far, this one was written almost entirely in the simple native Japanese phonetic script, called
hiragana
. The others had been written primarily in
kanji
, the Chinese characters which had been adapted by the Japanese to render complex ideas in their own language. Kanji had proved difficult for Emily in her studies of Japanese, but hiragana was another matter. She read the first line with little difficulty.
    Lord Narihira learned from the visitor that the arrival of American beauty —
    She stopped, surprised, and reread it. Yes, she had made no mistake. There were the phonetic marks for “American” —
ah-me-li-ka-nu.
If the word was mentioned, the scroll must date from a time after the Japanese were aware of the existence of the New World. The previous scroll she had translated covered much of the late eighteenth century. Perhaps this was also from that period. She began again.
    Lord Narihira learned from the visitor that the arrival of American beauty in Cloud of Sparrows Castle would signal the