Baba remembered that his new father would sleep in a certain place, but about one moon after his mother died, he noticed that Mabatu made a mysterious pilgrimage. He would reappear in his usual place each morning, but apparently did not spend the night in that spot. This intrigued Baba and one night he determined to follow his father.
Quietly tailing him, Baba watched as King Mabatu walked, ears drooped and tail hanging limply. The King crossed the broad meadow, the creek, and beyond to the termite mounds and the place where Kako died. By her bleached bones--or what was left of them--Mabatu fell on his face and rolled on his back. “Kako!” he sobbed. “Kako! My little Kako!”
Baba, against his better judgment, walked to Mabatu and touched him with his paw.
The old king jerked around. “What are you doing here??”
Tearfully, Baba stroked his mane with a paw. “You don’t have to hide it from me anymore.”
“Hide what??” Mabatu asked fearfully.
“You loved her, didn’t you?”
Mabatu sighed. “Yes, I loved her. Her ties to your father were stronger than death itself. And I loved her stronger than death itself. She knew that--she asked me to be strong for your sake. The poor Nisei, always looking after us, even at the boundaries of death itself!” He pawed Baba’s mane. “Ask me no more about it, Baba. Not if you love me.”
“As you wish, father. But tell me: you come here every night, don’t you.”
“Yes. And when I die, I want to die here. It’s a beautiful spot to meet Aiheu in. Yes, a beautiful spot for anything. Kako and I were apart in life, but we will be together in death.”
Baba wept. “If I have to drag you here myself, you will rest here.”
Mabatu nuzzled him tenderly, then lay in the grass and said, “Son, you have a wife whose fur is warm and soft. Leave me with the dead and go treasure the living while they may be found. I’ll be OK, I promise.”