The Samurai's Garden

by Gail Tsukiyama

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Mika is at home doing the laundry. This morning I made a bet with her that she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet for five minutes, and she’d have to do the wash alone.”

  “And she spoke?”

  “Only a moment later,” Keiko laughed. “It was my one chance to get away alone.”

  We took a walk along the empty beach. At first, Keiko was anxious that Mika might find us, but it wasn’t long before she relaxed enough to stop looking over her shoulder. When she did look away, I stole a glance or two at her smooth, pale skin, straight nose, and dark eyes. Keiko was quite tall and, when she wasn’t bowing or looking down, stood somewhere between my chin and nose. If King could only see me now, he would be more than glad to trade places with me.

  “I really enjoyed the yokan,” I said.

  “I hope you are feeling better, Stephen-san,” Keiko said, her eyes focused on the sand in front of us.

  “Yes, much better. I’ve been helping Matsu in his garden.”

  “I have heard that Matsu-san is a master of gardens.”

  “Yes, he is,” I said, proud that Matsu was known in the village for his art.

  After a moment of silence, Keiko glanced shyly in my direction and asked, “What is it like to live in a big city like Hong Kong?”

  “It’s noisy and crowded, but between the movie theaters and restaurants, there’s always something to do.”

  “Do you miss being there?”

  I looked at her and smiled. “Sometimes, but not right now.”

  Keiko looked away, embarrassed. In our silence, I could hear the measured squawking of the sea gulls. We walked along the beach until she stopped and asked, “Can we sit for a moment?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  We sat down on the white sand that was still damp and cool. I threw aside large pieces of tubular seaweed, and wished I’d thought of bringing something to offer her to sit on.

  “Are you comfortable here?” I asked.

  Keiko nodded her head and gazed out to the sea. “It’s always very beautiful after a storm. So calm and serene after all the destruction. We were very fortunate this time. The storm barely touched the village.”

  “We don’t have much control over nature,” I added, remembering some of the typhoons that had pounded Hong Kong. They swept in gradually, only to leave uprooted trees, debris, and even fragments of makeshift squatter houses scattered across the island.

  Keiko smiled. “It’s a reminder of the strength we all have within us. Many years ago, my parents told me of a storm that had destroyed much of the original Tarumi village. The villagers argued over where to rebuild, afraid that another storm would simply destroy the village again. Only one fisherman stood up and refused to move anywhere else, believing the best fishing was right here. He said that each storm would only serve to make them stronger if they carried the memory of its strength with them, and used it to prepare for the next storm. Tarumi has stood here ever since.”

  “Have you always lived in Tarumi?”

  “Mika and I were born right here. My older brother was born near Kobe.”

  “You have an older brother?” I asked, surprised by the fact.

  “Yes,” she smiled. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “I have two sisters and a brother. My older sister and younger brother are studying in Macao, and my youngest sister is in Hong Kong. Mika reminds me of her.”

  Keiko suddenly turned around and looked behind her. “I should be going back now. My family will be wondering where I am.”

  We got up and brushed the sand from our clothes. The damp sand had left a wet stain on the seat of my slacks that I hoped Keiko wouldn’t notice. I stepped back and let her walk ahead of me.

  “Where is your brother now?” I asked.

  Keiko looked away, hesitated a moment, then said, “He is with the Japanese army in China.”

  Then we both kept silent. I wondered if her brother was in Shanghai, celebrating their victory after months of fighting. I turned to see if there were any signs that Keiko might have felt the same thing. I thought I saw her shudder, but she simply wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. Then she gradually picked up the pace, her face serene, her eyes focused in front of her, giving me no hints as to what she thought.

  I walked Keiko halfway back to the village until she stopped, bowed to me, and said, “Dmo arigat gozaimasu, Stephen-san, but I will walk the rest of the way from here.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “I think it would be wise,” she smiled.

  “Are you afraid to be seen with me?”

  “My father is very old-fashioned,” Keiko answered.

  I quickly asked, “Can we meet again?”

  “I imagine we will,” she answered. Her eyes avoided mine.

  “I look forward to it,” I said, bowing.

  Keiko glanced up for a moment, smiled shyly, then said, “Sayonara, Stephen-san.”

  Before I could say anything else, Keiko quickly turned around and continued down the road that led back to the village. At that moment, I realized how much I wanted to see her again. I bit my lip to stop myself from calling out her name. Instead, I watched Keiko disappear down the road, a small cloud of dust rising up behind her.

  By the time I walked back to the house, it was past lunch and my stomach was rumbling with hunger. I was eager to tell Matsu and Sachi about my morning with Keiko. I expected to find them both hard at work in the garden, but when I entered the gate, the garden was empty. There was a breath of quiet before I heard loud voices coming from the house.

  I knew something was wrong when I reached the genken. There was a voice other than Sachi and Matsu’s coming from the kitchen. I could barely catch all the words, spoken in obvious anger. I moved quietly down the hall and stopped in front of my room.

  “What other lies have you been telling me?” the voice shouted.

  Then Matsu’s voice answered, “We never lied to you, Kenzo.”

  “You never spoke the truth!”

  “Please, Kenzo-san, you don’t understand,” I heard Sachi’s voice pleading.

  I moved closer to the kitchen doorway, careful to stay in the hallway and out of sight. I could see Sachi pull her scarf closer, as she huddled next to Matsu. Kenzo’s thin, angry face was crimson as he stood across from them. He looked nothing like the calm, gracious man I had met at his teahouse.

  “I understand perfectly,” Kenzo yelled. He moved his arms through the air in frantic motions.

  “Kenzo,” Matsu said, stepping up to him.

  Without warning, Kenzo lunged forward and pushed Matsu back. Matsu staggered a bit, then caught his footing, but did nothing. He was much broader and stronger than Kenzo, and could have easily defended himself, but Matsu simply stood still. This seemed to anger Kenzo more. He clenched both of his fists and a deep groan rose from down inside him. Then, all of a sudden he turned to Sachi and tore the scarf away from her face. Sachi let out a small scream as her scarf dropped to the floor. For a split second, they all stood frozen; the white, puckered scars magnified in the bright light.

  Kenzo stepped back. “You really are a monster!” he roared. He began to laugh hysterically.

  Sachi turned away from Kenzo and quickly picked up the scarf to cover her face. I gripped the door frame tighter. I wanted to do something to help her, but I knew it was not my place. Swallowing hard, I waited to see what Matsu would do.

  “A monster!” Kenzo shouted.

  Then Matsu regained his voice. “You are the monster,” he said, his voice low and threatening. He stepped forward and shoved Kenzo into the back door. Kenzo’s body slammed hard against the door as he grabbed his shoulder.

  “Matsu!” Sachi screamed.

  But he continued to move closer to Kenzo. Matsu grabbed Kenzo by the shoulders and threw him out the door. He fell clumsily down the wooden steps and onto the dirt. Then Matsu stood at the door, not moving. I stepped forward, just far enough
to see Kenzo quickly pick himself up off the ground.

  “To think I wasted all these years on a monster,” Kenzo yelled, backing away from Matsu. “Now I understand everything! She’s all yours, Matsu, no one else would want her!”

  Matsu didn’t say another word as he shielded Sachi, who stood behind him. She was crying softly, as she pulled the scarf tighter across her face.

  I quickly stepped back into my room and leaned heavily against the wall, as if I had just taken the blows given to Kenzo. I didn’t want Sachi to know I had witnessed her shame. If she did know, she might never be able to face me again. I wanted nothing more than to tell her how beautiful she was, to let her know she didn’t have to hide from anyone, especially not from someone as cruel as Kenzo. But I knew my words would be a waste of time. They would mean nothing to her now, just as Kenzo’s words meant everything. So I hid from them, until I heard their footsteps move through the house, and Matsu’s soft words grew more distant. I swallowed hard and felt an emptiness, knowing in my heart that Sachi was returning to Yamaguchi and wouldn’t be back.

  DECEMBER 2, 1937

  “Sachi has returned to Yamaguchi,” was all Matsu said, when he returned yesterday. Then he went back out to his garden and began planting more moss around the pond.

  It wasn’t until we ate our dinner of rice and marinated eel that he suddenly looked up and remembered to ask, “Did you see the girl this morning?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “We had a nice time.”

  Then a silence so thick filled the kitchen, I could hear my chopsticks slide against the side of my bowl. I looked around the small kitchen, which held no signs of what had happened that afternoon.

  Matsu set his bowl down and rubbed his chin. He had eaten very little and appeared restless. I thought it better to stay out of his way and keep quiet.

  “There was trouble here this afternoon,” he suddenly said. His voice sounded low and tired.

  “I know.”

  Matsu looked at me, his eyes opening in surprise. “You know?”

  “I came back and heard your voices. I didn’t know it was Kenzo until I heard the yelling.”

  Matsu shook his head slowly. “Good, then I won’t have to explain to you why Sachi won’t be visiting us again.” He leaned forward on the wooden table. “Kenzo rarely comes out to the house, but he forgot to give me a letter for Sachi, so he decided to bring it himself. We were in the garden working when he came through the gate. We thought it was you returning, so Sachi made no move to hide. By the time I realized it wasn’t you, it was too late. Kenzo didn’t immediately know it was Sachi. He stood for a moment, as if surprised that a woman would be with me. It was Sachi who stood and bowed, addressing Kenzo by name. At the sound of her voice, I saw the light of recognition appear in Kenzo’s eyes. He took a step forward, then stopped, and whispered her name. When Sachi bowed again and nodded her head, Kenzo simply stood speechless. It was Sachi who asked him into the house for tea.”

  “What did you say?”

  “What could I say? I had led Kenzo to think Sachi would never step foot out of Yamaguchi. It had been the truth until the storm brought her down.”

  “Why does Kenzo still have such strong ties to Sachi?” I asked.

  Matsu didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and walked over to the small cabinet above the wooden basin. He took down a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

  “They were once engaged to be married,” he finally answered. “Sachi was the only girl Kenzo ever loved. I was his best friend and his go-between when the disease came. At first he didn’t have the courage to face Sachi, but later when he realized how much he loved her, his family had forbidden him to go to Yamaguchi. So I became their only link.”

  “What about your feelings?” I dared to ask.

  Matsu poured the whiskey into the glass and took a large swallow. When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “Kenzo has been my best friend since we were young. If I felt anything for Sachi, he was never supposed to know.”

  “But after all these years,” I said.

  “I’ve never seen Kenzo so angry. In all the years we’ve known each other, there’s never been any anger. I have misled him, dishonoring myself and our friendship,” Matsu said as he emptied his glass.

  “Why didn’t he just go to see Sachi himself after his parents died?”

  “It was too late,” Matsu answered. “By then, the prospect of seeing her again frightened him. He was ashamed of his weakness. It was easier to speak through me.”

  I paused a moment before I said, “There’s no reason why Sachi shouldn’t come back now.”

  Matsu sat heavily down on his stool. “She has had to live through one disgrace in her lifetime, and because I have been a foolish old man, she will have to live through another.”

  “I could talk to her.”

  “It wouldn’t do any good,” Matsu simply said.

  “I could try.”

  Matsu suddenly leaned forward across the table. His strong, rough hand gripped my shoulder, and he said firmly, “I will not have Sachi hurt any more.”

  WINTER

  DECEMBER 5, 1937

  I’ve tried to paint again, but with little success. My thoughts have mostly been on Sachi’s abrupt return to Yamaguchi. Matsu has spent most of his time alone in the garden since the argument with Kenzo. The garden has once again become his refuge, the only place he seems to feel any comfort. It’s there that Matsu becomes the artist; adding and mixing colors. Yet, even as the garden regains its former appearance, something is missing. Sachi’s presence, which had held us and the garden captive is gone, leaving an emptiness that can’t be filled.

  This morning I made up my mind to visit Sachi, despite Matsu’s wishes. I struggled with whether I should tell him or not, but in the end decided to keep it a secret. I was afraid Matsu wouldn’t let me go, or worse, would want to go along with me. I needed to see Sachi alone.

  For the first time since I arrived in Tarumi, I was up before Matsu. The house creaked in the stillness. I could hear the sounds of Matsu’s restless sleep come from his small room as I stepped quietly into the kitchen. I grew warm writing the note in which I lied that I couldn’t sleep and was out for a walk. Then I signed it quickly, and left it on the wooden table.

  Outside, the sun had just risen, lighting up the sky a pale gray. Matsu would be up shortly. I closed the bamboo gate behind me and quickly walked down the dirt road that led to Yamaguchi.

  The cold morning air stung my lips and fingers. My legs felt weak with anxiousness. It was the first time I’d made the journey to Yamaguchi without Matsu. What if Sachi didn’t want to see me? Should I turn away quietly, or should I force her to listen to what I had to say? What was it that I wanted to say? These thoughts ran through my mind as I began the gradual climb up the mountain.

  By the time I reached Yamaguchi, I was short of breath and had warmed into a sweat. Since the storm, I’d done nothing more vigorous than help to clean up Matsu’s garden. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. Every time my lungs ached, it was a reminder that I was also hidden away. Most of the time these thoughts clutched at me right before I fell asleep, in the semidarkness of my room, watching the shadows of the pine trees dance against the shoji windows.

  When my breathing calmed again, I walked through Yamaguchi to Sachi’s house. The sun shone weakly as the village stirred out of sleep. There was a pungent smell of boiling herbs which reminded me of Ching’s bitter teas. I could hear voices and see shadows within the houses as I hurried along. When Sachi’s small house came into sight, I decided to tell her that I’d become concerned when I heard she could no longer come down to visit us. It was a flimsy excuse, but one I hoped Sachi wouldn’t question.

  I climbed the steps of her house and knocked lightly on the door. When there was no answer, I knocked again and waited. It never occurred to me that Sachi wouldn’t be at home. Then I heard a muffled noise from within the house and the front door opened a small crack.

  “W
ho is there?” Sachi’s voice asked, meekly.

  “It’s Stephen-san,” I answered.

  The door opened wide, and Sachi pulled her scarf closer to her face and bowed toward me. “Ohaygozaimasu, Stephen-san, I am very happy to see you,” she said, obviously surprised.

  “Ohaygozaimasu.” I bowed.

  “Is Matsu-san with you?” Sachi asked. She stepped forward and looked past me.

  “No, I came alone. He told me you weren’t coming down to the house for a while, and I was wondering if you might be ill, or if there was anything I could do.”

  Sachi looked away. She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in, Stephen-san,” she said.

  When I stepped into the warmth of her house, the sweet smell of congee filled my head.

  “Please sit,” Sachi said, pointing to the cushions by the low black lacquer table. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, only to reappear a few moments later carrying two cups of tea. “You must be cold and thirsty after your long walk.”

  I took the small clay cup from her and sipped from it. The warm, slightly bitter tea soothed my dry throat. I smiled, looked up, and asked, “Is everything all right?”

  “Has Matsu-san led you to believe otherwise?” she asked.

  “He said very little.”

  Sachi laughed softly and sipped her tea. “It is just like Matsu,” she said, shaking her head. She sat down at the table across from me. “Matsu didn’t want to tell you that I could no longer go down to Tarumi. My presence there has brought great dishonor to all of you.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I was seen by Kenzo-san on the morning you were gone.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “I have disgraced you and Matsu, as well as myself.”

  “You have disgraced no one,” I said.

  Sachi lowered her eyes. “I should never have gone back down to Tarumi. I should have known better than to think the past had quietly gone away. Kenzo was so angry when he saw me with Matsu. He thought that we had purposely deceived him for all these years.”