The Samurai's Garden

by Patricia Kiyono

  All too soon, the fantasy ended. The muscular arms left her sides, and her heart returned to earth with a crash. Hiro backed away, taking the comforting warmth with him.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, peering at her curiously. "You look pale. Perhaps you have been working too hard. I should end the training sessions earlier so that I can help you—"

  "No." Hanako shook her head, her cheeks burning. The physical contact with him had affected her so strongly that he had noticed.

  "You and Ginjiro are helping me more than enough. I am simply winded from the drill. I really should practice more, especially since the ronin are getting closer." Realizing she was babbling, she waved her hand toward the group in the clearing. "And the help you are giving the village is so greatly appreciated."

  Hiro shrugged off her words of praise. "I do not expect thanks from you or the others. It is the least I can do. But you are my main concern. You looked so tired when I first came to the farm. And now you are finally starting to get enough rest and food. I do not wish to see you so exhausted again."

  The intensity in Hiro's brown eyes mesmerized her. She felt them pulling her in. Should I bind myself to him? Can we truly build a good life together? Or would he tire of me some day and wish to return to his old life?

  ****

  Hiro walked back to his eager pupils, his mind whirling from his encounter with Hanako. Touching her, holding her in his arms, he had felt at peace and yet so alive. Her compact body had felt right in his arms. He'd struggled to keep his mind on the sword drill and not give in to the temptation to crush her in an embrace. It would not do to give in to such a whim, especially with people there who could see them. His strong moral code had never been this sorely tested, not even with the most stunning courtesan.

  Perhaps Hanako would soon agree to be his wife. He would have no trouble remaining faithful to her, and he could provide her with luxuries she had never had. She would provide him with strong sons, and together they would raise them to be stewards of the earth. They would be honest, intelligent men, judged by their competence and not by the size of their inheritance, or the strength of their warlord.

  He stopped in mid-step. Sons? The vision had played briefly in his mind before, but this time it was so clear. A family. Strong sons and daughters. Hanako was the key to that dream. She must agree to be his wife before the visions would become reality. He needed to convince her to share the dream with him.

  For now, he had a job to do. If the villagers could not defend themselves against the ronin, there would be no land on which to raise his family. He entered the clearing from behind the group, observing their progress.

  Ginjiro had continued the drill, encouraging the ragtag army of villagers while correcting their errors. Hiro was impressed at the ease with which his friend had integrated himself into the community. His genial personality had earned him several friends among the farming community, and when he wasn't needed on Hanako's small plot, he had gone to work on other farms in the area.

  Standing at the edge of the clearing, he watched his friend bark instructions. As a samurai, Ginjiro had never been in a position of leadership. His size and easy-going temperament had denied him the promotions his more fierce counterparts had earned. But here, in this small, tight-knit community, he was well-liked, and the men were responsive to his instructions. With each command, he seemed to gain more confidence.

  There was no sound, but Hiro became aware of a presence at his side. Drawing on his own training and instinct, his hand quickly went to his sword as he faced the potential intruder. The sword dropped back into its scabbard as he realized the person approaching him was Shinobu Nakamura, one of the widow's sons. The young man paused, eyes wide with fear as he realized his approach had been viewed as a potential threat. When Hiro took his hand away from the sword's hilt, he spoke, though he kept a respectful distance between them.

  "Tanaka-san, I wish to speak with you a moment," he began, bowing low. As a former member of the samurai class, Hiro was given the highest respect by even the local village officials.

  Hiro bowed in return. "What is it, Nakamura-san?"

  One of our men reported the ronin have now split into two factions. Part of the group is going to Tokyo, looking for work with the Imperial Guard. A smaller group is staying in the area. It seems the threat of this group is not as great as before."

  Hiro considered this development. "How large is the group that stayed?"

  "There are about ten men. They have been observed in village taverns each night, loudly bragging about their exploits in other towns. They prey upon travelers. It is said their finances are getting low, and they are waiting for the arrival of a former daimyo who will retain them for his cause."

  "A daimyo is traveling to recruit men? But they no longer need independent armies. Who is he?"

  "I don't know. But his delayed arrival is causing the ronin to make trouble in the villages."

  "Ten angry warriors can do a great deal of damage. We have about thirty men here, but they are spread out, and it would take valuable time to gather us all together. We must continue our training and be on alert."

  The younger man smiled. "We were all hoping you would say that, Tanaka-san. We know we are not as efficient as an entire army of samurai warriors, but feel better able to protect ourselves with your training. We all sleep better at night now that we have a plan. We have taught our wives and children how to sound the alarm if needed. Thanks to you, we may have something to leave to our sons." He bowed low again as he backed away then turned around to take his place in the fighting drill.

  Hiro thought about Nakamura-san's words long after the drill was over and the men had left for their homes. He had spent most of his adult life fighting for another man's land, for someone else's home. He had fought for financial gain, as well as honor. Generations of his family had been groomed for this life. He had known of no other course.

  But these men were fighting for their own homes. Their technique wasn't as polished as the soldiers Hiro had fought with, but they were more motivated, because they had more at stake. They were going against their peaceful natures to protect what was theirs. Hiro admired their tenacity. He, too, was trying to put aside generations of family tradition and take on another way of life. These people were now his people. Their cause was now his. He did not intend to let them lose.

  ****

  From her seat in her rickshaw, the Widow Nakamura watched her sons as they learned and practiced their drills. She was proud of the village men for taking the incentive to guard their homes from the rebel soldiers. Even after a handful of training sessions, she could see a change in the physical strength as well as the mindset of the townspeople. There was a sprig of hope in the air.

  A few other women watched, but they kept themselves apart from the widow. She was accustomed to the isolation. It wasn't that the other women disliked her, but her status as the widow of a wealthy landowner and government official set her apart. When passing, the townspeople stopped and bowed, but said nothing unless asked. They were not in her social class.

  So the widow watched alone. She loved her family, but yearned for friends like those she'd had in the city. Her brother, a physician, had recently retired from his practice and lived nearby, but there was no companionship for her.

  Though her eyes were focused on her sons, her senses were always aware of another person. Tanaka-san's assistant reminded her so much of the man who had once been the center of her world. Her marriage to Fujii Nakamura had been a love match, and he had been a good provider. Together, they had produced four strong sons to carry on the family name and lands. Fujii had always treated her with kindness and respect. He had been small but wiry, and stronger than one would expect of a man of his stature.

  When a farming accident had claimed Fujii's life, Reiko had wanted to throw herself into the funeral pyre. The knowledge that her sons, then ranging in age from three to twenty, still needed her had prevented her from doing so. Since then, she ha
d built a comfortable life for herself, thanks to the excellent managerial skills of her eldest son. Even now, Noburo tried to shelter her from the hardest tasks and decisions, though she had her ways of learning what went on.

  Her sons would eventually move on. As the eldest, Noburo and his family would stay, of course, and there was enough room on the estate for any or all of her sons to share in the work and profits of this farm should they choose to do so. She would enjoy seeing them marry and begin their families. More grandchildren would be welcome, and it would be nice to have some young female companionship.

  But the former samurai, even in his awkward state on Hanako's floor, had touched a long forgotten chord. Was it because his build was similar to Fujii's? Was it because she missed the companionship? Or was it the way those deep brown eyes had looked into her soul?

  It would do her no good to dream. She was a mature woman, not a starry-eyed maiden. She had no business yearning for a younger man. Sighing, she signaled to her servant to take her home.

  Chapter Ten

  The sun had set, but Hiro was unable to sleep. He sat at the table, reading by the dim light of a lantern. Before him lay a newspaper he had purchased during his last trip to the village. Though some of the news from Tokyo was dated, he could at least get some idea about what was happening in his home city.

  His eyes scanned the page, but his mind was on the drill earlier. Seeing Hanako attempt the fighting exercise with the hoe, it had seemed only right to step in and help her perfect the moves. He hadn't meant to hold her so closely, but once his arms had wrapped around her, it had seemed so natural, so right. It had taken all his strength to step away.

  He turned the pages idly, without actually reading, when a name caught his eye. It was a name he had not seen in over a year, not since he had left his former life behind. Instantly his blood began to burn, and his hands gripped the paper as he read the article more carefully.

  In coming to the rural north, he had wanted to leave behind all traces of his former life, especially the memory of the treacherous daimyo for whom he had fought. At one time he and his best friend Kunio Fukada had entered battles side by side, conquering foes in the name of the mighty daimyo, Hideyori Kato. But after that final battle, the only reward his friend collected was the order to kill himself in the bloody ritual called hara-kiri. Kunio had not deserved to die that way. He had kept his honor and fought bravely. But he was powerless to override the edict presented to him. And so Hiro had watched his best friend die. With his friend's death, Hiro had also lost his trust in the Bushido, the "Way of the Warrior".

  Now it appeared that Kato-san had found another cause, another reason to send young men to their deaths. The article read the former daimyo had declared war on the renegade ronin and wanted to recruit "strong, honorable men" to help stop these troublemakers and keep peace in the area. Strong, honorable men indeed! The former daimyo had not recognized honor when he had witnessed it. This was obviously a plot to raise his standing in the eyes of the emperor. If the ronin could be defeated, a grateful emperor would no doubt bestow favor upon the nobleman who brought this about. Though the emperor and his army had made progress, they were unable to stop the devastation left by several renegade soldiers. Hiro shook with rage as he finished reading the notice. Hideyori Kato must be the daimyo Nakamura-san had mentioned, the one the local ronin were waiting for.

  When Hiro had stopped working for Kato-san, the man had lived in a stone fortress with hundreds of guards and servants to do his bidding. What had happened to make it necessary for him to recruit ruffians like the ronin who terrorized innocent people? The offending paper fell to the floor as Hiro rose, picked up his pipe, and went out into the night. Walking always helped him to think and plan. He had to make sure Kato was unsuccessful in recruiting an army for this "honorable" cause.

  ****

  The morning after experiencing blissful warmth in Hiro's arms, Hanako woke to find him gone. Ginjiro arrived for breakfast, but did not share any information about his friend's whereabouts. It was nearly midday before Hiro returned to the farm. He wordlessly joined Ginjiro in the field. At the evening meal, he still had nothing to say about his absence. Hanako wondered if Hiro had been repulsed by the closeness they had shared the night before, but his cool demeanor kept her from asking.

  The coldness continued for weeks, and Hiro's disappearances occurred again and again. Sometimes, he would be gone for several hours; other times days would pass before she would see him. If it hadn't been for Ginjiro's continued presence, she would have been frantic with worry. While Hiro was gone, Ginjiro and the Nakamuras would lead the drill group. Hanako noticed their numbers had dwindled, but the remaining core of would-be soldiers stayed committed.

  The men had decided to hold their drills in a different location each night to avoid attracting the attention of unwelcome strangers. This decision resulted in a larger number of trainees, though attendance at each session varied. She resolved to attend as many sessions as possible, determined to defend her land if necessary.

  During one of Hiro's unexplained absences, Hanako noticed a stranger standing silently at the edge of the field. The last time strangers came, Hiro and Ginjiro had fought them off. But this man looked more dangerous than the two ruffians who had attempted to abduct her. She looked around for Ginjiro, wondering how she could signal a warning to him. Her hands trembled as she attempted to appear unconcerned, continuing to tend to the radishes, but her eyes were not focused on her work. Faster and faster, she moved toward the end of the row away from the stranger. Quick, furtive glances assured her that the man had not moved from the edge of the field. Finally, she spotted Ginjiro, working in the next field with the ox and the ancient plow. She gave up all pretense of calm and raced to him. He looked up in surprise as she approached him.

  "What is wrong?" he asked.

  Hanako struggled to catch her breath as she gasped out a description of the man at the roadside. Ginjiro's expression tightened, and he checked for his sword before heading to where she had seen him. He trod slowly, looking around for signs of other intruders, until he spied the newcomer. Then his face broke into a wide grin, and he re-sheathed his sword before running to greet the man.

  Hanako breathed a sigh of relief. If Ginjiro knew this person, he was probably not a threat to her. But why would an acquaintance of his travel here? Perhaps he was a relative.

  Ginjiro brought the silent man to her and introduced him as a former comrade. He had answered a request to come and help the town defend against the ronin. The newcomer was immediately invited inside for tea. Since the new house had a larger kitchen and dining area, Hanako usually prepared and served meals there. She got out her fine china cups and special tea. As she worked, she caught snippets of their conversation.

  The newcomer, Watanabe-san, was younger than Hiro and Ginjiro. Like Hiro, he walked with a proud, erect posture that bespoke a life of privilege and importance. She suspected that he, too, came from a long line of samurai. She wondered what business he had with Hiro.

  Hanako strained to hear the men's conversation as she prepared the tea and a light snack. Ginjiro's voice carried more clearly, and she could make out his words. Being a lower-level samurai, he was respectful as he spoke to the younger man.

  "Watanabe-san, we are honored you came here to assist us. The ronin have caused much damage here and in other nearby towns in the last year."

  "Yes, Tanaka-san told me about their evil deeds," the newcomer replied. "It is a shame that some of our kind have chosen to use their skills in dishonorable ways. It was an honor for Tanaka-san to invite me, and I was intrigued by his offer of payment."

  Payment? Hiro was paying men to help fight the ronin? Hanako nearly dropped the teapot.

  "I have never owned property, and since I am a younger brother, I will not inherit my family's estate. My older brother would provide for me, of course, but a chance to have my own land was an enticement for me."

  Hanako brought the tea in to the men,
bowed, and left to complete dinner preparations. But she left the sliding shoji screen open just enough so she could hear more of their conversation.

  So Hiro has promised land in exchange for fighting power. Such a brilliant idea. But is he purchasing this land to give to them?

  "I have spoken to Fukazawa-san and Kobayashi-san, and they should arrive within the week," the newcomer continued.

  The rest of the conversation was lost to her. There are more men coming! He is recruiting an army! The village will be protected! She let the rest of the conversation flow as she prepared the finest meal she could provide. As she chopped and stirred, she thanked the gods for her short time spent as a kitchen maid in the house of a fine gentleman. She had watched as the cook transformed piles of meat and vegetables into creations she could appreciate through her sense of smell. It was only after the gentleman and his family ate, and then the higher servants, that she was allowed the scraps that remained. But the experience had given her an appreciation for the crops she grew and the knowledge of how to serve them.

  "Hanako-san."

  She nearly dropped the long wooden chopsticks she used to stir her concoction. "Nakamura-san, forgive me," she cried, quickly turning to bow to her esteemed neighbor.

  "Please do not stop your work. I was passing by on the way to the village, and the wonderful aroma from your new home enticed me to investigate."

  "Thank you. But — this is actually Hiro's home," she began.

  "And you are merely a servant? No, this will be your home soon, when you and Hiro marry. And then you will have servants to prepare your food."

  "Servants? No, I—" She paused in her denial, realizing that Hiro, as the head of the household, would undoubtedly hire servants to take care of the housework. The idea was unsettling. After working hard all her life, how could she sit back and let people work for her?