idea really was too frivolous, even Tsune knew it, but how would it be to leave the corner chocolate as it was, covered with baby drool?
âMaybe we could put something in its place,â said Lord Okubo, âa piece of fruit or an actual netsuke , if we can find one that small.â
He began touching his clothing as if he might right then come up with a netsuke just the right size, and Junichiro, whom no one was caring for, fell over onto his side. It was then that Tsune stuck the ruined chocolate with her knife, pulling it from the box. The knife was in the chocolateâs heart and when she applied a little pressure it split into two equal halves.
âI donât want any,â said Masako. âI donât like bean paste, either. On that, at least, I can agree with Keiko.â
Tsune quickly cut each of the candy halves into thirds. âWithout Masako there are six of us,â she said. âIsnât that nice?â
The acorn adorning the top of the chocolate had not broken apart as well as its body had. When the chocolate was initially halved the acorn had been halved too, but now each acorn half affixed itself to a one-sixth piece. The center of the candy was softer and apparently stickier than the candyâs outside, for when Tsune held up her knife they could all see bits of the white stuff stuck to the blade. She put the knife in her mouth, letting Manjiro see the sharpness of it against her tongue.
âWhat does it taste like, Auntie?â asked Keiko. âTell me, does it truly taste like bean paste?â
Tsune pointed the knife at the ceiling. âNot like bean paste,â she said, ânothing like beans at all.â
That was enough for Keiko. She took a one-sixth piece of chocolate and popped it into her mouth. It was rude to go first and she only hoped her mother would notice that she had stayed away from the pieces with the acorns. Pretty soon worry about her mother went away, however, when the taste of the candy came over her like a wave.
âItâs good,â she told her aunt. âIt makes me want to close my eyes.
After that Manjiro and Fumiko and Tsune took the other three pieces without the acorns, rolling them around in their mouths. When they were finished Fumiko picked up the two acorn pieces, placing one each in the hands of her husband and father-in-law.
âItâs a strange thing,â she told them. âI think itâs overly sweet. Perhaps one small piece like this is enough.â
When Masako heard her motherâs words and surprised everyone by starting to cry, her father and grandfather each offered her his piece of candy, Lord Okubo even joking that, though it was all right for the others, until the treaty negotiations were done, he felt it best that he stay clear of anything that might be construed as foreign trade.
âPlease, Ma-chan,â he said, âeat mine.â
Masako took the candy from her grandfather and ate it before her mother could intervene. And since her father still had his hand open, she took his piece, too, broke the acorn off its top and pushed it into Junichiroâs still drooly mouth. The baby looked surprised. He closed his mouth and flapped his arms and fell over on the tatami one more time. âNow weâve all had some,â Masako said, and though that wasnât quite true, Lord Okubo and Einosuke both felt satisfied.
As for the candy itself, none who had eaten it had liked it very much. They had all lied. Maybe they thought that to tell the truth would be a reflection on Manjiro, who, so far as they knew, was the only man in Japan to have thus far received a personal gift from America.
Keiko stood up and stepped down onto the pathway that surrounded her fatherâs rock garden. She bent without looking and picked up a small stone.
âHere,â she said, passing it up to her Aunt Tsune.
The stone was perfect, precisely the size of the candy they had eaten, and when Tsune