The Remembering by Steve Cash

spoken. “We have everything we want from him,” Sailor added. “The Fleur-du-Mal has become obsolete, Zianno.”
    I didn’t respond, but I didn’t agree. The Fleur-du-Mal had lied to me about Susheela the Ninth and her existence. He could have also been lying about everything else, including the “futility of vendettas.” And though the Fleur-du-Mal may or may not be relevant, I knew he would never be obsolete. In a few minutes our train began to pull slowly out of the small station and continue on to Osaka. I watched the fields and tiny farms pass in silence. The Japanese countryside was beautiful. It was the middle of August and the grasses and trees were deep green. I let my mind drift away from war and the Fleur-du-Mal and thought about St. Louis and Forest Park … and Opari.
    • • •
    Once we were off the train and walking the streets of Osaka, it became much easier to go unnoticed. The great city had been devastated in several areas from heavy incendiary bombing, and after the Emperor’s speech many people seemed almost in a state of shock. We did see a few patrols and truckloads of drunken soldiers driving wildly through downtown, crashing liquor bottles in the street and screaming that the war would go on. Most people simply watched them, unmoved and unaffected. Finally, just after dark, we found the address Sailor had been seeking. The house was on the south side of the Dotonbori Canal in the Minami section. Sailor said we were looking for a man named Katsuo Gidayu, the last in a long line of masters in the art of Bunraku, or traditional puppet theater.
    “Do you know this man?” I asked.
    “No,” Sailor replied.
    “I don’t understand. Then why are we here?”
    “Do you remember the dinner we had many years ago in St. Louis, Zianno, when Solomon and I recalled our first meeting in Macao?”
    “Yes, of course. Solomon said you were ‘too easily found.’ ”
    “Well, what can I say? He may have been right. The point is, I told you I was waiting for someone.”
    “I assumed it was Solomon.”
    “It was not Solomon for whom I was waiting. I was waiting for Takeda Gidayu, Katsuo’s father. The Gidayu family has, how shall I say, assisted the Meq on several occasions throughout the last three centuries. Takeda and Geaxi were especially good friends.” Sailor paused, removing his odd straw hat and surveying the crowded street. “I am hoping he told his son about us. If so, we can be assured he will help us.”
    “What if he didn’t?”
    Sailor ignored my comment and knocked softly on the door.
    After several moments the door opened and all three of us were looking into the beautiful dark eyes of a girl exactly our height. She gazed back at us, glancing at Sailor and me, then staring at Susheela the Ninth. I was certain she had never seen black skin before.
    In Japanese, Sailor asked, “Is your father here?”
    The girl focused on Sailor. “No,” she answered. “My father is dead. He was a soldier.”
    Sailor waited a heartbeat. “I see,” he said. “Are you alone? Is there no one else?”
    The girl paused and looked hard at Susheela the Ninth again. “My grandfather is here.”
    “Is his name Katsuo?”
    Suddenly, from somewhere inside the house, a booming male voice asked, “Who wishes to know?”
    “I do,” Sailor said.
    A middle-aged man appeared behind the girl. He was tall, well over six feet. “Who are you, boy?” the man asked. His hands and long fingers were resting on the girl’s shoulders.
    Sailor then did something unique and unexpected. He had not been wearing his star sapphire because the ring would have drawn attention to us. Instead, he had kept it hidden inside his pants pocket. Never losing eye contact with the man, Sailor held his index finger, his ring finger, out to his side. Then, using his “ability” of telekinesis, Sailor made the ring move slowly out of his pocket. Silently, magically, the ring traveled into the air and over to his hand, where it