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But the spirit of togetherness beneath the billowing clouds of war was everywhere and Nangi found a ride into Tokyo in a farmer's broken…down truck； rattling over bumps and holes in the roads； stopped seemingly at every turn to allow the military traffic its right of way。
As it turned out； he needn't have bothered。 The sky was black over Tokyo； a dense； acrid pall in no way related to the rain clouds higher up。 Choking ash hung in the air； coating face and hands； lining the mouth and nostrils with grit。
Nangi stood shakily up in the back of the trembling truck as they rolled into the city。 It seemed as if there was nothing left。 Tokyo had been devastated。 The high winds made it difficult to see clearly； and he was obliged to blink constantly to keep his eye free of ash。 Not whole buildings； not whole blocks； but entire sections of the city had been incinerated。 Where Nangi's family's house had stood there were now squads of sweepers and shovelers clearing their way through the lumps of blackened structures。 No one was left alive； he was told。 The intense heat of the igniting napalm bined with the high winds…the same winds that had fanned the terrible Tokyo fire of 1920…to roast fully half the city。
There was nowhere left to go but to Kyoto。 Nangi had not forgotten the promise he had made to Gotaro to see to his younger Brother； Seiichi。
The ancient capital had been spared much of the devastation that had turned Tokyo into a smoldering blackened skeleton； but food was still scarce and starvation was rampant。 Nangi had acquired a small loaf of black bread； a pot of jam； a bit of butter； and six daikon…white radishes。 These he brought to the Sato house as a gift against the disruption and inconvenience of his visit。
He found only an old woman at home； a straight…backed； stiff…lipped creature with iron gray hair pulled back flat to her skull and the eyes of an inquisitive child behind a face full of wrinkles。
〃Hai？〃 The interrogative was somewhat defensive and Nangi recalled what Gotaro had said about his grandmother。 There had been a great deal of suffering and death in this family； and he could not bring himself to be the bearer of more bad tidings。 With the current chaos of the war it was all too likely that news of the death of her grandson would not have reached her。
He bowed politely and； handing her the packet of food； told her that he had served alongside Gotaro and that he sent his best respects to her。
She sniffed； her nose lifted slightly； and said； 〃Gotaro…chan never paid me any respect while he was living here。〃 But clearly she was pleased with this message and； bowing； she backed away from the doorway to allow him entrance。
It was still difficult for Nangi to negotiate； and she turned away in such a natural and graceful way he could never be certain that she had done it on purpose to avoid him embarrassment。
Oba…chama…for Nangi would know her only as others did； as 〃Grandma〃…went to make him tea； a signal honor in those drear days without hope。 They sat on opposite sides of the room with the break in the tatami between them as was customary between host and guest； sensei and pupil； sipping weak tea； leaves that had obviously been used more than once。
Oba…chama spoke and Nangi listened； at times answering her sharp perceptive questions as best he could； fabricating a skein of lies when it came to Gotaro's whereabouts。
〃The war has destroyed this family；〃 she said； sighing； 〃just as it is destroying this country。 My son…in…law is buried； my daughter in a hospital from which she will never leave。 Japan will never be the same no matter what the Americans do to us。〃 Her eyes were hard and glittery and Nangi found the idea of being her enemy frightening。 〃But it is not the Americans I fear。〃 She sighed again and； shaking her head from side to side； took a delicate sip of her tea。
Just when he believed she had lost her train of thought； she began again； leading him slowly into the rhythm of her life。 〃The Russians have joined the war。〃 The words had the pronouncement of a death sentence。 〃They waited until the last moment； until the oute was clear even to their slow； bearlike brains。 Now they have jumped in with their swords rattling and they will want a piece of us； too。〃 Her white hands； with skin as translucent as porcelain； gripped the tiny handleless cups with unnatural tension。
〃Do you see these cups； my grandson's friend？〃 Nangi dutifully looked； they were beautiful； impossibly thin so that light falling through the window penetrated from outside in； turning the material they were made of milky and glowing。 Nangi nodded his head。
〃They are quite magnificent。〃
Oba…chama sniffed again。 〃They were a recent gift。 From a distant relative of mine。 It was all that was left of his family。 He stopped here on his way out of Tokyo to the countryside。 He had bee sokaijin* I urged him to stay here； but the bombing of Tokyo had been too much for him and he could no longer tolerate being within a city's limits。 Any city。 Poor thing； he did not even understand the nature of his flight； but at least he was smiling。
'〃Oba…chama；' he said； 'the fire raids on Tokyo have forced me to move four times in the past three months； first out of my house； which is no more； then from temporary shelter to temporary shelter。 With each move my priceless collection of T'ang Dynasty antiques was diminished。 Fire took some of the scrolls here； a stumble on the street destroyed a vase there。' He handed me these cups。 'Here； Oba…chama； I see that your life is still calm。 Please take these。 They are the last of my collection。 Now I have been freed to start my life anew without dragging my collection behind me like a burdensome hump。 The war has made me appreciate other things in life。'〃
Oba…chama turned the cup in the light using only her thumb and index finger。 〃Imagine！ It is the T'ang Dynasty I hold in my hand！〃
Nangi heard the awe in her voice and was not surprised。 He looked anew at his own cup； marveling at its artistry and age。 He too felt the mon appreciation most Japanese had for this most revered of all the Chinese dynasties。
Oba…chama carefully put down the antique and closed her eyes for a moment。 〃But of what use is talk of art and antiquity now？ The Russians will soon arrive along with the Americans； and then we will truly be undone。〃 Beneath the despair Nangi heard the deep and abiding undercurrent of rage and fear directed at the Soviets。 He felt a violent urge to reach out across the intervening space that tradition and courtesy dictated must forever remain and touch her； assure her that everything would be all right。 But he could not。 The words stuck in his throat like needles in the knowledge that everything would not be all right for them。
He was about to open his mouth to say something…anything to break the taut； painful thread of silence…when there came a sharp rapping on the door。 Oba…chama's eyes cleared and； bowing； she excused herself。
Nangi sat silently without turning around。 His back was to the front door； all he could hear was the soft murmur of voices； a
*Sokaijin means； literally； 〃escape to the country。〃 The term was used for the thousands of refugees strea