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                 CHAPTER ONE Ryogoku Street, Tokyo September 1, 1923 11:20 a.m. My older brother, Takeo, was late from school again. I waited for him on Ryogoku Street so we could walk home for lunch together. I didn’t mind that he was slow because there was always something to see. There was a mix of the old and the new everywhere I turned. There were teahouses, a department store, and a four-story hotel with electricity. The women in kimonos with their long hair piled into buns walked alongside the young women known as Moga girls. They kept their hair short and wore knee-length dresses. Cars shared the streets with rickshaws and horse-drawn carts. Some people, like my father, believed the Western part of the world had brought too many changes to Japan. I couldn’t wait to see what was next! My brother walked toward me with a scowl on his face. “I don’t like studying science,” he complained. “It makes no sense.” I held up my sore fingers. “I don’t like learning to sew, but I have to so I can be a ‘good wife and wise mother.’” “You would rather be a Moga girl with short hair and a job,” he teased. I straightened one of my long braids with my achy fingers. “Mama would never allow that.” Takeo tightened his arms over his chest. “At least you don’t have to work at the fish market with Papa when you’re done with school.” “I like helping at the market. And I like listening to Papa’s stories about sea monsters and talking animals,” I said. “The customers do too.” Takeo pinched his nose shut. “I hate the smell of raw fish, and I’m not a storyteller.” We had no more to say about our futures, so we quietly watched cars rumble past the rickshaw drivers. Takeo and I talked this way to each other sometimes, but never to our parents. We were respectful of them and their wishes for us. I was twelve and a few years from marrying, but Takeo would be done with school soon. I wished there were more choices for him. I thought of something that would cheer him up. “We can walk past the theater and see what movie is showing.” He smiled at me. “Let’s look in the department store window too.” “That’s too far away!” I said. “We’ll be late for lunch and Mama will be angry.” “Then we should hurry!” Takeo grabbed my hand and pulled me along. We took in the smell of something called croquettes as we passed by a fancy restaurant. The menu said it was a fried potato dish borrowed from France. We paused at the theater, which was playing an American movie. Standing in front of the ticket counter was as close as we would ever get to seeing a movie. I inhaled the perfume of two Moga girls as they walked out of the theater. As they swished past me, I felt very plain in my school uniform and flat, black shoes.     My brother smoothed his hair and said, “Maybe I will marry one of them someday.” I laughed. “Mama would chase you from our house with a broom.” Our next stop was a department store with display windows full of hats and scarves and jewelry. It was a store with things no one needed, but everyone wanted, my mother said. My stomach growled at the smell of curry from the market stalls. Oh, yes! I remembered. My lunch is waiting for me! “Come on!” I yelled to my brother. “We’re late. I’m sure of it.” Takeo walked backward to take one last look before he caught up to me. We crossed the street, weaving through the traffic of horse-drawn carts and cars. The streets narrowed as we turned into neighborhoods with wooden houses crammed tightly together. There were noises from crying babies and men chopping firewood. Chattering students were filing into their houses for lunch. It was strange that the dogs we passed didn’t bark to greet us. Why are they so quiet? I wondered. The smell of miso soup and pickled vegetables drifted from the houses and made me forget about the fancy food on Ryogoku Street. Everyone knew a fisherman lived in our house because of the old fishing nets in our yard. Although my father was too busy selling fish to catch them, he still liked to take his boat on the river. Takeo and I placed our school shoes on the steps outside the door beside our mother’s wooden sandals. We quietly slid the paper screen door open and entered the living room with our heads down. My mother was kneeling on her tatami mat in front of a low table filled with bowls of food. Without looking at us she said, “You are late again.” As we took our places at the table, she leaned over the hibachi full of hot coals and took the cooked mackerel from the grill. “Gomenasai.” My brother and I bowed and apologized at the same time. We knelt on our mats and unfolded the hot washcloths resting on a plate and cleaned our hands. “Have you two been wandering on Ryogoku Street, staring at all the things you cannot have?” my mother guessed. I nodded. “I made Fumiko go with me,” Takeo admitted. “You are the oldest and must be a good example,” my mother said. I glanced at my mother. “I didn’t mind following him.” My mother smiled at me. “You would follow your brother into the ocean.” I shivered. “No! I’m afraid of deep water.” My father had tried to teach my brother and me to swim once when we were on his boat, but I was afraid of what might be lurking in the river. My father said the scary creatures in his stories weren’t real, but I always felt like something