All is forgotten,
even being far away:
the change of clothes!
If it really exists something called Destiny, I met mine thanks to my father when I was fourteen. It is a destiny whose name is Happiness, now I can say so, even if at that time I really thought exactly the opposite. But not always looking at the way ahead one can understand in what direction the road will bend, even if you are travelling on it, or rather, mainly if you are travelling in it, possibly even unwillingly.
I was fourteen years old and I was the third of the four sons of Fujita Monzaemon. The elder was Heizaemon, who was then nineteen years old; then there was Zenbei, seventeen; then I, Shigehide; and last Yasuhide who was twelve. It was a period of great changes, of great novelties, but also of great uncertainties.
Our father, a lover of culture, wanted all us four son to study and therefore he paid, generously, several private teachers, who came to our home to teach us. He choose them from amongst the best living at those times in our area. He could allow that, thanks to the wealth accumulated by generations of our ancestors and wisely administrated by them and by our father. In particular, I loved very much studying and wanted to become a real man of letters. I was particularly attracted by the Chinese studies, but also by our past literature, especially the fiction of the Genroku period. Or perhaps, looking back, I liked my teacher, and therefore, what he taught me.
This teacher vas a man twenty eight years old, the son of a lesser samurai of our fief, whose name was Ishiyama Hirosato. His father was a close friend of our father, notwithstanding his inferior rank. I ask myself if, when they were young, they weren't by chance lovers. Sure is that I liked very much Hirosato-sensei, and not just as a teacher. He was a virile man, and yet he had a fascinating gentleness. Moreover he had a body, to say little, perfect, and that was quite unusual in a man of letters, or in a learned man, who is inclined to laziness and not to care for his appearance or his body. It was not so for Hirosato-sensei. To make short a long story, I fell madly in love with him. In my mind and in my heart rose a determination - I wanted to became his thing. Only and forever his. And it was right the study of Genroku literature that gave me the opportunity. We were studying a book where there was the story of the love between a young samurai called Shigetsugu and a boy page of his lord, whose name was Yukichi.
"If Shigetsugu was handsome like Hirosato-sensei is, I too could have done nothing but to fall in love with him." I suddenly said, without even understanding where I could find the courage to unveil him my sentiments, and neither daring to look at his face.
The silence that received those words of mine, seemed to me endless. I felt like I could hear the deafening sound of my heart, similar to that of the horses launched to gallop in the matsuri of our family temple. I was holding back my breath, my body trembled.
"And if Yukichi was beautiful just the half of Shigehide-dono, everybody would be moved and proud to welcome his love." my teacher murmured at last, barely brushing the hand with which I was holding the book we were analyzing. I looked at that hand, I put down the book, then I put my hand on my teacher's hand in a light caress.
"But their love ended in a tragic way." Hirosato-sensei said, with a sweet voice.
"It surely was worth it, I think."
"Yes, even if it was to last just only one day instead of one year. Shigehide-dono, are you aware of what you are asking me?"
"Sensei, this boy in front of you would like very much to belong to Hirosato-sensei, to be all and only his thing."
He has been my first man. He picked me like if I was a precious flower, with extreme delicacy but with a warmth that even today doesn't abandon me. It has been him that transformed me from a little boy barely post pubertal in an adult man, in a complete man. His love and his passion. And that taught me all the subtle arts of love between men. And I became completely his.
Our relationship didn't last just one day but, unhappily, neither a full year. Anyway it represents in my life one of the most brilliant, luminous, full of warmth periods. The intimacy hours with Hirosato-sensei has been the most beautiful, intense, sweet of my adolescence. When he welcomed me in his strong arms, each time he took me and made me his, each time I could feel his virility dancing inside me, to me nothing else existed.
I would have shouted to everybody my happiness in those wonderful days, my joy for that marvellous love that I had discovered, that filled me, that I was experiencing day after day. If I did that, possibly, we could still be together. Or possibly not - how much power do we really have to turn our life in the direction we desire?
My father one day summoned us all. When we entered his room and saw his two swords displayed in the tokonoma, we understood that he had assembled us for a very important reason.
"The Fujitas have a long history. Starting when Kichizaemon entered the service of the Maeda family, fifteen generations ago. History that always went on with honour. Because our forefathers succeeded in uniting two essential qualities - loyalty and farsightedness.
We are living in great changing times. Our Emperor decided to move the capital to Yedo. A new Japan is taking shape and who will be able to stand by His Majesty's actions in this moment, will mould this new Japan. And the Fujitas, as ever, have not to be a lesser part of all that. Therefore I decided that you four have to move to Yedo. You will go to live in the house of one of our far relatives, Mori Arinori, who is well established in the world of the new politics. Mori promised me that he will help you Heizaemon, to enter the political field, you Zenbei in the new army His Majesty is shaping. About you, Shigehide, considered the growing importance that the relationship with foreign countries will have for the development of the new Japan, will enter the Imperial School for Western Studies, and will learn the German language. And you, Yasuhide, will enter in the Court as a page for the noble Konoe. So, from now on, we Fujitas can give with honour our contribution and, at the same time, to maintain high the destiny of our family, of our name, also in the new Japan."
To me this was a terrible stroke. First of all I didn't want to be parted from Hirosato-sensei, and anyway I was not at all interested in the studies of the "Southern barbarians", how the westerners were called in olden times. But I couldn't find the courage to tell about the love binding me to my teacher, and all the excuses I could bring forward to persuade our father to allow me to remain, not only didn't have any effect, but rather made my father remarkably vexed toward me.
I made projects of disobedience, of flight, of... But Hirosato-sensei dissuaded me. "I could not continue to love a man who refuses to accomplish his duties, to take on the responsibilities that his family assigns him." he said, and just his evident sadness in saying these words let me understand that to him also our parting was a high price to pay. That day I heartily hated my father.
Today I cannot but thank him.
At the end of the month of March we reached Yedo, or to be more exact Tokyo, that is the East Capital, how it has been renamed for a little less than one year.
The Moris' residence was a new building, very wide even if not yet completed, standing in the area of Akasaka, and was surrounded by a wide garden. My family was rich, but the Mori were much more wealthy than us. Mori Arinori had six children amongst whom just one was a male, Ryoichi, who was then eighteen years old. I at once almost disliked Ryoichi: he was very haughty and made weight on us the fact we were coming from the province. He mocked our accent, our way to dress. But he was the son of Mori, so we had to show him respect. Heizaemon studied at the same school with him, but I luckily was in another school. Here, for the first time, I saw the western way of dressing. In fact everybody, teachers and students, had to wear those weird clothes. I too had to have the uncomfortable school uniform made for me.
At least in part, my idea about the western clothing, to which I'm now somewhat used, has today changed. But at that time those clothes seemed to me really weird and queer. And really uncomfortable. Today I think that the western fashion has merits and faults, as after all also our traditional clothes.
Kimono is a more comfortable kind of dress. Our body in it feels freer, at ease. Moreover, wearing a kimono, the body shape has no relevance, or very little. What becomes important wearing a kimono, is the gait, the way of moving. Furthermore, just as it makes less evident the body shape, wearing a kimono it is the face that becomes more important, and the face is the only trait really individual in a man, or a woman wearing a kimono. And last but not least, in a person wearing a kimono there is a remarkable elegance, because it makes all the moves more fluid, soft, graceful.
The western clothing, on the contrary, underlines much more the shape of the body of the person wearing it. If the person wearing it has a nice body, it can surely be agreeable to see him in a western attire, also because if it is a man, it allows to guess particularly that part of his body that always attracts my eyes. But I realized that just in a second moment. At the beginning I just found the western clothing uncomfortable because it swathes, ties and constrains the body, and makes it less elegant.
When I wore the western attires, I felt like in a masquerade, or to better say, like a naked puppet.
At the beginning I felt too sad for having had to part from Hirosato-sensei and to be forced to live in that alien ambience, and therefore possibly also for that I was not able to appreciate at once the several novelties that my new life was offering to me.
I suffered very much, I terribly missed my man.
I missed his presence, his voice, his glances, his warmth, his body, his hands on my body. I missed the intimate hours with him. The continuous demonstrations of his love for me. I missed the possibility to give him my love, to give myself completely to him, to welcome him inside me. And I felt almost like I was once again just a little boy, without him at my side. Well, I still was just a boy, but he made me feel an adult. Confident. Happy. Now on the contrary, because of my father's ideas, I was unhappy, insecure.
Even if I didn't show it, in that enormous and alien house, amongst these people so peculiar.
The Moris, parents and children, were incredibly in love with all that was western. They always wore western clothing, ate western food, and a big part of the house was also furnished in western stile. When I had to sit on these tall, narrow and strange chairs, I felt terribly awkward. I very much preferred my little traditional room, my kimono, to sit on a tatami.
When I was back home from school, I immediately pulled out those alien clothes and wore my more comfortable traditional clothes. I had very much to study, therefore I spent the most of my time inside my little room. And I was happy for that, because I didn't tie up a great deal with the Mori family. I felt well when I could be alone in my room. A part my nostalgia for Hirosato-sensei.
The nostalgia for Hirosato was possibly what pushed me to accept the courting of Saburo.
Saburo was a young servant of the Mori. He was twenty four years old and a handsome young man. I did notice from the beginning that he had special attentions towards me, but I just thought that his master had ordered him to take care of me in particular, and that he was just carrying out his duty in a good way. After all, in the Mori household, servants were not missing, for sure. Saburo had an open and likeable smile. And I didn't have the time to express a desire that he did not immediately go out of his way to grant it. Each evening he spread my futon and put it away each morning. He changed my candles before they were too short. He never made me miss fresh fruits in my room. He called me when the water of the bath was warm at the right point, and he also poured water on me when I had to rinse away the soap.
When, a few months after I was guest of the Mori, one day that we were in the bathroom, he offered to wash my back, I thanked him and accepted. His hands on my body were gentle and strong, likeable. To tell the truth, even too much likeable. So that he noticed that and smiled at me.
"Fujita-sama does like the way I'm washing his back?" he asked with a warm and gentle voice.
"....."
"If Fujita-sama would allow a simple servant as I am, I could wash all his body." he added and, without waiting for my answer, his soaped hands passed lightly on the front of my body in a kind of long, agreeable, exhausting caress. That in a short while, made me lose my head.
"Fujita Shigehide-sama is really very handsome. He seems more mature than his fifteen years. It is an honour for me to be allowed to service him in this way."
"....."
My eyes were staring at the swollen and palpitating fundoshi of the young servant, in fascination. He noticed that. He said nothing. He simply, with just one move, untied them and let them slide away softly, slowly drooping on the floor. My eyes, my hand didn't have any more obstacles. Notwithstanding I felt uncertain about the opportunity of doing such things with a servant of my hosts, in their house, and that anybody could have entered the bathroom at any moment, I let myself go and he promptly answered.
So my relationship with Saburo begun. Just a relationship, not love. After each time we made love, I promised to myself it would have been the last, but when he touched me, I was at once filled with a strong desire to do it again. What restrained me was not the fact that he was a servant, but just the fact that I was still deeply in love with Hirosato, and each time I felt like cheating on him. But Saburo was far too attractive, and he was able to make love in a far too good a way, so I was not able and could not resist him. His hands on my body did accomplish marvels. And I needed so much these cares to be really willing to resist him.
What partially lessened my guilt sensation, some months after the beginning of my relationship with Saburo, was the news that Hirosato had married. I was pained by this news even more than if I was informed he had another boy. And yet I was still in love with Hirosato.
I don't think Saburo was in love with me. Or at least nothing ever made me think so. He simply liked me very much and he was able to show that to me with all his strong and lean body.
During the daytime he behaved like any good servant, devoted, respectful and thoughtful.
But when, in the full of the night, he silently slipped in the accomplice darkness of my room, waking me up with sweet caresses, then came under my sheet, naked against my naked body, and we started making love, then he was hot and passionate like a true lover. While he was taking me, he whispered me sweet, very beautiful words. Even though he was illiterate, in him there certainly was the soul of a true poet. I really enjoyed being under him, feeling him move on and in me. And each time, after our good, long union, Saburo cleaned me with delicate care, thanked me, then slipped away, silent as he came.
No, I would not have been able to say him no. After all I needed him. I needed his body, his warmth, his sex. But, differently than with Hirosato, with him I didn't feel like being a man, but just the boy I was. Afterwards I often asked myself the reason of this difference, but I never had been able to give me an answer. Or perhaps the answer is in the fact that between me and Saburo there was no love. Possibly it is really the love that makes you feel a man. The fact to be able to give love and, above all, to receive love.
My relationship with Saburo lasted around two years, that is until he was sent by Mori to work in the house of Mori's eldest daughter that had just married. So, again, I was alone, as after all I had been for the most of my life.
Solitude never frightened me. Every human being after all is born alone and alone dies. As the poet says: "We go from the womb's tub to the grave's tub."
I immersed myself more than ever in my studies.
German didn't seem to me a difficult language. Our teacher was an austere professor coming from Berlin, whose name was Herbert von Steiner. He was around forty-five years old. The most conspicuous thing in his aspect was his thick beard and moustache that gave to his face an sullen expression. He spoke Japanese in a funny way, but sufficient to make himself understood, but he used Japanese less and less as we were able to use German.
The more I was learning to understand and to read German, the more I became curious about the literature of that people. It was then that I started to think that after all the "Southern barbarians" weren't so barbarous. They had an ancient culture, worthy of all the respect.
Including Herbert von Steiner.
I didn't tie up so much with the other students. A part from the normal school relationships, we didn't meet out of the school. I was not interested in any of them. As I had to study something different from what I would have liked, I tried to apply myself to the studies so that I could progress rapidly and get them out of my way as soon as possible.
My school-fellows seemed all so enthusiastic for that new language and literature and for the culture under them, that they seemed eager to transform themselves in to Germans as they were. Not I. Even if I started to appreciate the literature and the culture, I was and I felt more and more Japanese. And yet, in a short while, I became the best student of my course. It seemed that I had a natural talent for German. I was studying it night and day, with all my energies. Also because I had nothing better to apply my energies to.
So, at the end of the course, having passed all the texts with full marks, my school got me a special scholarship from His Majesty the Emperor, who personally awarded it to me in a ceremony at Court. That was the first, and has been the last, time I was in front of the Emperor in person. Useless to say that I was deeply moved and impressed. Also His Majesty the Emperor had a beard and moustaches in the Western fashion, and wore a uniform in Western style. It was almost as He wanted symbolize the "modernization" of our land, quite wanting to show to the Western Powers and to the Japanese people, that we were no lesser than anybody.
The scholarship consisted in the fact that I entered to be part of the group accompanying the Govern Mission that was going in Germany to negotiate again the treaties, especially about the extraterritoriality of foreigners in Japan. But then, I and the other student who got a scholarship, would stop in Germany for at least two years, to deepen the knowledge we had about German language and culture.
Also about that I was not so happy but, in some ways, it was quite the Emperor's order, therefore I could just obey... and be grateful to Him.
I went back home for a short period, to prepare for my long and adventurous journey. My father and my family, of course, were very proud of me.
I met again Hirosato-sensei, and had my last disappointment. He behaved with me like with a dear former student, but not as his lover as I was expecting from him. I wanted to ask him the reason of that, but I lacked the courage. Frozen by his formality, I prepared for my journey. And I understood that I really was alone.