The Potter's Notebook by Frank Giovinazzi, a historical novel set in 17th century Japan, is available on the Amazon Kindle platform and in paperback.
Forty-Nine The boys talked in excited whispers about the things they were discovering in their minds. As Shuji was telling Hideaki about his attempts to concentrate and stick to this project, Hideaki was overjoyed. Shuji was working very hard at realizing his potential this time around. Hideaki wondered if at some level of his personality he knew it was a second chance. There was also the possibility that Hideaki was the greater cause of Shuji's incremental progress and he was humbled – and also by the realization of how important it is for everyone to have someone in their lives to guide them over the rough spots, keeping them from committing harmful errors and to root for them as they get in the ring to try their skill and determination. After they had exhausted the possibilities of explaining what had happened so far, Hideaki asked, "Well, brother, how do you think we can use this newfound ability of ours to make this project a success?" They each carried a bundle of tools under their outside arms, and a lantern hooked in their fingers. They were walking side by side, with a rope looped around the kickwheel, each holding an end of the rope as a handle, sharing the burden between them. They had left the tools in the waste dump area after borrowing them from the pottery and had to go past the village and up through the Garden to reach their destination. They stopped to survey the dormant scene, letting the question air itself before the response was issued. The Garden was quiet like a still life that had yet to be painted, as if it was a dim pre-memory in the mind of some artist who had yet to awaken to the idea of what he was going to paint on some particular day. It's open architecture in the cul de sac beneath the waterfall made it a gathering point for what available light there was so it looked half-lit, as if a weak candle flame was either dying out or struggling to born. They had both been tested on that ground already, indeed they had both helped build the arena, and they were proud of what happened here. Shuji still felt a twinge of remorse for what happened to Hideaki but now it was just part of the investment they had in this whole thing together. The waterfall and the streams that flowed from it were producing their insistent, splashing roar, overwhelming the sight of the Garden instead of providing background, having temporarily won the fight for prominence. The absence of the banners was what made the difference, as if without framing magnificence something essential was lost from the tableau. Had they been cheated? Tricked into thinking they were part of something greater? Or, in the absence of the banners were they now free to write a new chapter in the history of the fief without the burden of the past pressing down on them, suffocating their creativity? Despite these and the myriad feelings that raced through their minds, they were both determined the next celebration would be a triumph for them. They would be part of the celebration next time, not merely servants. The walked around the Garden; neither boy needed to look for the remnants of Shuji's sculptures. That was the past. Now they were focused on the next project. They both considered the question Hideaki had posed. "Brother, we have to do both things in order to make this project successful," Shuji started. "You mean, see the project as a whole, from start to finish . . . " Hideaki continued. " . . . And visualize the things we are to make," Shuji added. "See the process and the product," Hideaki concluded. "Yes, and if we do it together, maybe we can make it stronger!" "Maybe. We can do it together, and separately. In the morning, on breaks," Hideaki said. "And when each of us is doing separate tasks," said Shuji. They had crossed the stream and were approaching the waterfall tunnel. "Hey brother," Shuji said, "remember the last time we were walking through a tunnel together?" Hideaki didn't like this. "Um, yeah, I think so." "What were we doing?" asked Shuji Hideaki responded in a clipped fashion. "Don't remember. Fooling around. Exploring." "No, that's not it, we were coming from somewhere. Where?" "Don't remember, a lot's happened in the last ten days." Hideaki was doing his best to avoid this line of questioning. "Well, be careful, I slipped and fell last time I came through here." "Okay." They continued through the waterfall in silence, sidestepping and feeling their way, through the unseen knobby surface, the weight of the kickwheel bobbing back and forth between them. Suddenly, Hideaki worried that if Shuji figured out they weren't brothers he would rebel against the process, turning his back on him. He was inching his way along, facing the granite rockface that formed the backbone of the waterfall; Shuji was facing the water itself. Hideaki couldn't see his feet and he suddenly froze, unable to take the next step. He stopped and the momentum of the kickwheel, and Shuji's movement, nearly knocked him backwards into the water. Hideaki felt himself starting to fall and went to swing his arms to regain his balance, but since that wasn't an option, he stiffened his legs as best he could, feeling his stomach swinging back and forth like a giant tide. "What's the matter?" Shuji asked. "I can't see the next step." "Take a deep breath." Hideaki waited for the moment to pass. Their arms were getting tired, they had to put their burden down but there was no place to put it – it would slide into the water, maybe get broken on the rocks. "Feel the next step with your right foot, without moving your left. Just find your next step first." "I'm trying." "Take a small step." "I'm scared." "I can see where you're going. It's just a step up, then another ledge, then another step and we're past the water. Then we can put this stuff down and rest.” Hideaki was staring at the dark grey-black granite. It resembled his state of mind. He couldn't think, couldn't see any of those reassuring images he had seen so clearly earlier. He put his right foot out but without the feedback of his eyes, he didn't have the confidence to understand the shape his foot was feeling. He swallowed hard. "I can't move." Shuji was calm. "Brother, trust me. I can see where you're going, you have to take a step up, move over a bit, then another step up." Hideaki's mouth tasted like moist aluminum. He couldn't commit his foot to make the move. But he had to. He lifted his foot into empty space. It couldn't have been more than a few inches but he felt like he was reaching out into vast empty space. When he did find purchase, he couldn't tell if he had enough space to support his body, then move sideways. His body was in a teeter-totter position, one side up, the other down. He lifted his shoulder with his burden, then his left leg, which also spent agonizing seconds in midair, unable to support his share of the kickwheel for precious seconds. He was blank, for a second there was no Hideaki at all, there was just a boy's body underneath a waterfall. He didn't know where he went, but when he felt himself back in his body he was on the higher ledge, alone, and Shuji was still on the lower one. "Very good," Shuji said, soothing and relieved. Hideaki slid over and his brother made the same, slightly less difficult move up to the higher ledge. They attained the second ledge without mishap. Up the hill, a more strenuous but not as stressful hike than the one through the waterfall, they discovered the hidden meadow in an even more primordial state than the Garden. Underneath the moon, covered with grasses, vines and brambles, with the imposing stand of cedars overlooking it, the field was an undifferentiated mass from which nothing definite had yet decided to rise. It was the Tao before the Tao gave rise to one, which gave rise to its opposite, all potential without purpose. "Come, Brother," Hideaki said, "let's go up the hut where we can set up your work area. Later we will come down and dig out the old kiln." The brothers stayed to the trampled down foot paths as best they could, but still got caught, snagged and cut from the brush underfoot. They were beyond tired by now. A full day's work, plus lugging the heavy kickwheel between them was beating their muscles into leaden dullness, making them feel as if they didn't have arms, backs and shoulders, but were made of a mass of useless jelly. Moving through the orderly trees was easy compared to the previous segments of their trek. Now they were moving into an area that was theirs to claim and keep, if only for the limited time of this project. Hideaki was sure no one lived in this hut, it was long abandoned and tucked into the mountains where no other people roamed about. This was a secure place for them and the boys were excited. They would have their own place and even if it was only for work they approached it with the expectation and pride of homesteaders staking out a new family plot. There was little light breaking through the wood, but Hideaki led them easily to the boulder that faced away from the world below. "Is this it, brother?" "Yes, we're here." In the dim light of their lanterns, the hut looked more like an unusual natural growth than a man-made structure. But it was sound, and it was their hideaway for the time being. Hideaki hooked the tip of his foot on the door and swung it open. Setting the lantern down on the floor, he pivoted and said to his brother, "Let's put the kickwheel in the workspace, then set up everything around it." As he was saying that, he saw the cup left on the floor of the hut. Read Chapter 50 of The Potter's Notebook.
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