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A Matter of Choice

By: KristenElizabeth
folder Rurouni Kenshin › General
Rating: Adult +
Chapters: 5
Views: 5,281
Reviews: 19
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Look Ahead to the Past

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin was created by Nobuhiro Watsuki. I take no credit for anything that is his.

Author's Notes: Definitely, assuredly the last part of the story. I hope it does the rest of the story justice.


****

San Francisco, 2001

"Keiko!!"

Keiko Tanaki sighed loudly and turned down her CD player. "Nani, Okaa-san?e ree replied in Japanese, one of two effective methods to placate her mother.

Her mother's dark head poked through the door of her room with a pleased smile on her face. No matter what sixteen-year-old mischief her daughter created, if she practiced her Japanese, she was unable to stay mad at the girl. Hana Tanaki's smile dropped when she saw the fashion magazines spread out on her daughter's carpet, instead of textbooks. "What are you doing?"

"Um..." Keiko looked at the brightly colored pages. "Studying?"

Hana's eyes narrowed. "Keiko..."

"Gomen, Okaa-san." Keiko adopted her Japanese again.

"It's not going to work this time, young lady. Dinner was over a half-hour ago. Before dinner, you promised you would start on your project as soon as the table was cleared. And now I find you here, breaking your promise." Her mother folded her slender arms.

Keiko thought quickly. "You know that old saying, Okaa-san. 'Don't study for an hour after eating'."

Not even dignig thg that with a response, Hana walked into the room and turned off the CD player, halfway through Dave Matthew's guitar riff. "Get moving."

"Okaa-san..." Keiko protested. "This is so stupid! I don't even know where to start!!" She scowled. "History class is evil."

"Don' sil silly," Hana replied, picking up magazines. "I've told you where you can find everything. And if you had started a week ago when it was assigned, you wouldn't be in this position now."

Keiko dug into her schoolbag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. "'Trace your family tree back to its roots, starting with the first of your family members to come to America. Explain the reasons why they left their home country and what they found upon arriving here.'" She made a face. "Evil."

"If only your grandmother were still alive," her mother said, wistfully. "She loved this sort of thing She even managed to trace the family line back several generations in Japan." Hana blinked back tears. "Well...at least she left most of her things up in the attic. That, young lady, is where you should start."

Grumbling, Keiko dragged herself off the floor. "Fine. I'll waste the rest of this perfectly good evening in the cramped, dirtd, dd, dare I say, un-organized attic."

"That's the spirit."

Keiko had her hand on the doorknob when she turned around to face her mother. "Okaa-san..." she began in her sweetest voice. "Will you help me?"

"Hmm..." Hana pretended to think the question over. "I don't know. The attic is very dirty..."

"Okaa-san!"

Her mother laughed. "Fine. I'll help you." She set the armful of magazines onto Keiko's bed. "Let me just tell your father where we'll be. I'll meet you up there."

Keiko started for the short flight of stairs that led to the attic. Gulping, she attempted to swallow back childhood fear; she was sixteen years old. And nothing in the attic was going to get her.

She climbed the stairs for what seemed like an eternity, but it was only a minute before she was in the dark room. Boxes and trunks littered the floor, all covered with a fine layer of dust. She sneezed and the light came on.

"Whew...the bulb still works," her mother said. She looked around, taking in the dust. "Oh dear. Well, I know what I'll be doing this summer."

Keiko rubbed her nose. "Can we just get this over with?"

Hana looked down at her oldest child. "I'm surprised at you, chibi," she said, using Keiko's childhood nickname. "This is our family's history. I don't see why you can't take a more active interest in it."

"Because..." Keiko pushed a box a few inches across the floor with the toe of her shoe. "No offense, Okaa-san...but our family is very boring. Two point five children, Cadillac in the driveway and taxes. And I'll bet anything that it's always been that way. Except the Cadillac was a rickshaw."

Her mother shook her head. "I think you might be surprised. I remember some of the stories my own grandmother used to tell me about her grandparents, your great-great grandparents. They were the first ones in America, you know." Her brow furred. "I just wish I could remember their names. Oka-san told me a hundred times, but I just can't remember."

"Megumi and Sanosuke?" Keiko asked.

Hana blinked. "That's it. How on earth did you...?" Keiko pointed to a box in the corner. Its label read 'Sanosuke and Megumi' in both Japanese and English. "Ah...I see. Well, that's the logical starting point."

It only took a moment for mother and daughter to drag the box into the light. Keiko sneezed several times from the dust covering the cardboard box. "I bet it's been ages since anyone opened this," she said, sneezing again.

Hana lifted the top off the box. Inside the box was an old-fashioned pholbumlbum and a bundle of letters tied together with a faded ribbon. She pulled out the photo album first. Keiko reached inside and took out the letters. They were, of course, entirely in Japanese. "Great," she muttered.

"Careful, chibi," her mother warned. "They're very old.

Keiko turned the bundle over in her hands with extreme care. A sheet of typing paper was attached to the bundle; the words on it were in English. Keiead ead them outloud. "'Letters to Sanosuke and Megumi from Japan. Sanosuke and Megumi's friends in Japan wrote them often, up until 1919. The most letters came from the Himura family in Tokyo. Later letters came from a family called Myojin and there are one or two from a family in Kyoto called Shinomori'."

She took a breath and continued reading the old, typed words. "'The letters, while interesting, are more news about those families than anything about Sanosuke and Megumi. One early letter from the Himuras does ask detailed questions about Megumi's medical practice and the health of a baby. It is interesting to note that this baby is not my grandfather, Matsukake, but an unknown child, perhaps one that died in childbirth or shortly thereafter. Another letter from the Himuras expresses remorse over the child's loss. The letters from the Himura family stop in 1910 with the death of Himura Kenshin. The last letter sent was from Myojin Yahiko to Megumi, sending his condolances over Sanosuke's death in 1919. The letter was not recieved by Megumi herself; by the time it arrived, she had joined her husband'."

"How sad," Hana commented. "Losing a child. I suppose it was fairly common back then, though."

"Medical practice? Megumi was a doctor?" Keiko sniffed. "That's sort of cool."

Her mother smiled. "For a woman in Japan at that time, it's more than just 'cool'." She took the letters from her daughter. "Your grandmother read every single one of these letters and wrote that page. I suppose she hoped one of us would be interested one day."

Keiko tried to picture her grandmother, hunched over an old fashioned typewriter, writing the words...trying to give the memories to her family. She smiled, despite herself. "Maybe someday I'll be able to read them."

"Only if you study", Hana replied, pointedly. She looked down at the scrapbook. "Let's start on this." Gingerly, she opened the book. The first thing that greeted them was a photograph of the couple in question, Sagara Sanosuke and Sagara Megumi. Mother and daughter looked at their ancestors for a long minute.

"Why does everyone always look so stiff in old-time pictures?" Keiko broke the silence.

Her mother smiled. "In order for the picture to be taken, they had to stand very still for a long time. It's easier to do that if you're not smiling." She pointed to the tall man in the picture. "No one told him that. Look....can you see how he's almost laughing at the photographer?"

Keiko squinted her eyes at the picture of Sanosuke. Her mother was right; his expression was cocky. His eyes almost seemed to shine. "My great-great grandfather was a hottie," she declared.

"Okaa-san always said he was supposed to be very handsome," Hana agreed. "And Megumi was very beautiful, as you can see. No wonder they fell in love with each other."

"I wish we could see what color her kimono was...it looks so pretty." After another second of gazing at the photograph, she turned the page. A faded, water-stained document lay across the book. Keiko scanned it quickly. "These are Megumi's citizenship papers..." She flipped the page. "But where are Sanosuke's?"

Hana looked puzzled. "I think I remember Okaa-san saying that Sanosuke had been to America before...then returned to Japan before coming back. With Megumi."

"He traveled?" Keiko asked. "He must have been wealthy." Her almond-shaped eyes adopted a dreamy gaze. "He sailed around the world, but always came back to her."

"I don't know. Actually..." Her mother flipped a few more pages. "There's not much about Sanosuke at all. Before they came to America, anyways. There's a lot about Megumi, though. She was born in Aizu, this says."

Keiko peered at the old pages. "Where was Sanosuke born?"

Hana studied the book for a minute and then shrugged. "Okaa-san never found out. She figures they met in Tokyo...but before that there isn't any record of a Sagara Sanosuke."

"Well..." Keiko thought for a minute. "I guess that doesn't really matter. I'm supposed to tell why they came to America and what happened when they got here."

"But aren't you curious?"

Her daughter smiled. "I'll be curious on my own time. This is study time." She flipped another page. "Does it say why they came to America? I mean..." She looked at the bundle of letters. "They left behind so many friends...they probably never saw them again. What would make them do that?"

"Let's find out. All right...Megumi's citizenship papers are dated 1884. She was born in 1857. So she would have been..."

"Twenty-seven when she came to America. So?"

Her mother's brow furred. "I have no idea. Twenty-seven is young. Maybe they just wanted to start over."

"I guess," Keiko replied. After a moment's hesitation, she flipped back to the picture of her great-great grandparents. "I don't know...I just get this feeling it was something else." She shook her head. "Got me. I'll just put down 'change of scenery' in my report. Next question: what happened to them once they got here."

"Now that's the easy part," her mother said. "Okaa-san wrote it all down. They arrived in 1884 and by 1885 they had settled not too far away from here in San Francisco. Megumi had her medical practice and Sanosuke..." She turned a page. "Sanosuke helped build the San Francisco cable cars."

"So...I guess they weren't wealthy," Keiko concluded. "Did they live comfortably?"

Hana nodded. "As well as any Japanese immigrants in San Francisco did. Okaa-san says in here that they were a little bit above the common ground because Megumi was educated."

"And Sanosuke wasn't?"

"It doesn't say either way. Just that he helped build the cable car system."

"So, he wasn't rich. He wasn't educated. He had no background." Keiko scratched her head. "Why on earth did she marry him?"

Her mother looked down on her with much affection. "Chibi....you'll understand one day that when you're in love, the trivial things aren't worth a cup of ant's spit."

"Ant's spit? That's a new one, Okaa-san." Keiko took the book from her mother. "I just want to know...why did she choose him? Why did he choose her? What made them fall in love and leave their whole world behind to come here? Where they became part of a lower class minority, not looked upon as real Americans but as dirty immigrants? Why would they do that?"

"I suppose we'll never know," Hana replied quietly. "And there isn't any sense in asking because we can't ever know what they were feeling. If there was a catalyst that pushed them out of Japan, we'll never know what it was. All we can do is be grateful that they made what was for them the most monumental journey of their lives."

Keiko continued to protest. "But I want to know!!"

"Chibi..." Hana looked at her watch. "Oh dear. We've been up here for two hours. You need to get to bed. School comes way too early in the morning."

"Hai..." Keiko closed the scrapbook. "Hai."

Her mother stood and worked out her cramped muscles. "Come on."

"I'll just be a minute, Okaa-san. I want to put everything back." Keiko accepted a kiss on the forehead. "Oyasumi."

Hana pressed another kiss to her daughter's head. "Oyasumi, chibi. I love you."

"Love you too." After a minute, she could hear her mothers shoes on the stairs and finally, silence. She glanced back down at the album in her hands. Slowly, almost reverently, she opened it again and found the final pages. Two death certificates. Sagara Sanosuke...June 15th, 1919...injuries sustained after an earthquake. Sagara Megumi...October 1st, 1919...heart failure. Survived by three children and two great grandchildren.

"And me," Keiko whispered. She touched the old piece of paper before flipping back to the ancient photograph of the couple. "You couldn't live without him...could you?" A tear tickled the corner of her eye. "Was it his idea to come here? Did you follow him to the ends of the earth and beyond? Or did you decide together? Maybe he was just as unable to live without you."

Her great-great grandmother looked back at her with a cool gaze, fixed in time and space. The secrets were hers to keep. And all Keiko could do was make guesses about two intertwined lives that had burned out long before she came into existence. She touched the corner of the photograph before closing the album, sealing up Sanosuke and Megumi.

"Keep your secrets," Keiko told the scrapbook. "It's enough just to know you were here. 'Why' doesn't seem so important anymore." With a little smile, she replaced the letters and the album into the box and moved it back to where she found it. Her feet were light as she headed down the attic stairs to her room.

She had a report to write.

****

The End
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