The Golden Carp
The pool was a study of opposites, its outer edge bright, sandy bottom glinting as flecks of mica picked up the fading afternoon sunlight. In contrast, the inner crescent of the pond was hidden in shadow. A waterfall pounded relentlessly against a jumble of artfully placed rocks, sending up a wall of mist to coat the mossy boulders, colorful shrubs and stands of spring-green bamboo surrounding the pond. In the shallows, a single golden carp, larger by at least a third than the rest, forced its way to the surface through the slithering mass of questing mouths and fins and raised its head. For a long moment it seemed to stare straight into Steve’s eyes—straight into his soul. Its mouth moved as if forming silent words. Then it flipped its tail and slid once more beneath the surface, leaving Steve shaken, his pulse rapid, breath shallow.
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“A golden carp.” The voice came from behind him. Steve started at the sudden sound. He turned to see a man somewhere in his mid-to-late fifties, wearing a tweed jacket and leaning heavily into a wooden cane as he approached. “It’s worth more than all of the others combined.”
There was a trace of British accent in the man’ s voice. His hair was dark, but Steve judged from the lines on his face that it had been dyed. There was no sign of a limp in his gait, but he walked slowly enough and leaned heavily enough that Steve decided the cane was not merely for show.
“Masanori Fujiwara,” the man said, shifting the cane and reaching out a hand to Steve. Steve took it. The palm was slightly moist, but the grip was firm.
“Steve Vannon. You must be Fujiwara-san’s younger brother?”
Masanori laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He likes to tell people he’s the youngest. It’s good to meet you, Mr Vannon. It isn’t every day we have visitors from the United States.”
“I’m not from the U.S.” Steve looked down at the koi. It was pure gold, like a floating ingot. It broke the surface again, looking up at him. It’s eyes had no bottom. Steve gave himself a shake. He’d felt like he was toppling over for a moment. It was only a fish.
“Canadian then,” said Masanori.
Steve turned back to him with a wry smile. “Australian.”
Masanori smiled. “Ah, the land down under. I’ve been there a few times. It would be good to emigrate someday, maybe get myself an apartment on the beach.” Masanori sighed dramatically. “A dream.”
“Sounds nice,” said Steve. “Your English is certainly good enough.”
“Thank you. I studied at Oxford. Economics. It hasn’t helped me much over here, but I did learn to speak the Queen’s English.”
Masanori pointed at the koi. “Long ago fish like that walked out of the sea and it changed them, made them harder, leaner. Forced them to adapt. We Japanese are like those fish. We want to know how to speak English so that we can mix in the wider world, but in the process we must undergo a transformation. It is not easy.”
“Change is never easy,” said Steve.
Masanori nodded. “Yes. We don’t want to change. There are many of us who have left the pond and come back, but what effect is that having on the pond?”
Steve didn’t know what to say. “Wanting to possess useful skills is not a bad thing. Even though there’s not much call to speak English in Japan. Having the ability can’t be bad.”
Masanori nodded. “Which is exactly why I went to Oxford. I learned English, and I learned how hard it is to slip back into the pond again.”
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A woman walked up to them, clearing her throat. In Japanese she said, “You must be Steve. I hope this old bore is not talking about fish again? We rarely let him out to talk to guests.”
Steve chuckled. “It was an interesting theory.”
“My sister, Yuka, is the equivalent of the golden koi,” Masanori said, smiling. “She’s never afraid to open her mouth.”
“The jewel of the pond,” said Yuka.
“Happy to snap up any old offering that comes its way.”
Steve looked up at Masanori, but the older man’s eyes were twinkling and Yuka seemed to be enjoying the joke, whatever it was.
“Let’s introduce you to the others,” said Masanori. We’re quite a big family as you’ll soon find out. Meeting Emily is the biggest event we’ve had for a very long time. I think you’ll find it quite...” He looked at Yuka. “How would you describe it, Yu-chan?”
Yuka hooked her arm through Steve’s. “Entertaining,” she said.
Masanori smiled again. “Yes. Exactly.”
Heading back up the stairs Steve looked up at the slope with the castle-like manor perched on its peak. It was hard to believe that the structure had stood there for centuries almost exactly as it was now. A third of the way up he saw an old man in workman’s clothes staring down at them, a rake or a broom in his hand. Steve looked for him again just before they entered the house, but he was gone.
Thanks for reading. This is part of a supernatural mystery set in Japan that I am working on. I may post some other bits of it at some point as well. If you liked this, please check out my other posts and if you really liked it, please spare an upgoat or a resheep. :-)