Tokyo Dreaming--A Novel by Emiko Jean

Author:Emiko Jean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

* * *

The brakes whine and hiss as the train comes to a stop. The doors swing open. Reina and the other imperial guards exit. As we disembark, there aren’t the crowds I’m used to. A few stragglers at the station notice the train car and gather. One person snaps a picture.

A woman wearing a fine gray suit and cashmere overcoat moves forward to greet us. “Konbanwa, I am Princess Fumiko, chief priestess of Ise Jingū.”

I expected the chief priestess to be older, like the empress, timeless and elegant. Instead, she’s around my mother’s age, with a head of dark shiny hair that is modestly cut and creamy ivory skin. There is a strand of pearls around her dainty neck. Well, okay then.

While our luggage is unloaded, we deliver the correct pleasantries and bows.

“Hajimemashite.” The Shining Twins bend at the waist, sweeping into perfect bows.

I rush to follow. “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

“Welcome to Ise,” she says after, her gaze lingering on my pink nose, my red-ringed eyes. “Now, if you’ll follow me.” She starts off, and we trot after her. Reina and the imperial guards take up points surrounding us—two up front, a couple at our sides, the rest behind, keeping pace with the luggage cart and porter. Outside, dark cars with imperial license plates idle at the curb. The luggage is loaded into a separate vehicle. I climb in and sit next to Fumiko and across from the Shining Twins.

It is a short drive, around fifteen minutes. Ise Jingū is actually a complex of 125 Shinto shrines divided into two main areas—Naikū, the inner shrine, and Gekū, the outer shrine. All in all, it is roughly as big as central Paris.

“You may settle in this evening and begin your duties tomorrow,” Princess Fumiko announces.

The hour is getting late. Darkness descends and we curve around the little town of Ujitachi-chō. I can just make out the simple architecture—buildings with roof tiles and wraparound verandas. It is easy to feel as if we’ve been swept back in time. Here is the spiritual home of the nation. Here Amaterasu is enshrined. And this is where the sacred mirror of the emperor is kept—a piece of imperial regalia and one of the Three Sacred Treasures. According to legend, Amaterasu hid in a cave after her brother, Susanoo, threw a flayed horse on her weaving loom. Without the sun goddess, the world plunged into darkness and hunger set in—crops withered and died. The mirror was used to lure Amaterasu out. Life was restored. The people rejoiced.

I’m jerked from my thoughts as the smooth road turns to gravel. We’ve arrived. The guesthouse is topped with a hipped and gabled roof. The windows are lit with warm yellow light. The dark forest winds around the property, like a piece of unfurled green velvet ribbon. Outside the vehicle, I inhale. The air is cool and lush and clean. And it’s quiet. There isn’t the usual cloud of imperial staff waiting to greet us outside the door. Strange.

Princess Fumiko opens the front door, and we step through, pausing in the genkan to exchange our shoes for slippers.

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