The Samurai's Garden

by Gail Tsukiyama

  “‘Sumimasen, Matsu-san,’ I said timidly. ‘What is it that you’re planting?’

  “Matsu took a moment before he looked up, as if he wasn’t sure I had really spoken to him. ‘Chrysanthemums,’ he finally mumbled.

  “I was about to continue our conversation when I heard Tomoko calling for me. When I turned back to Matsu, he was already at work digging another hole as if I had never been there.

  “Afterward, Tomoko and I often saw Matsu walking from town to your oj-san’s beach house. He would mutter something and bow as we passed on the road, and there were times when Tomoko, in a playful mood, would tease her brother for being so sullen. ‘Matsu, you’re too much like an old man, come with us down to the beach!’ she would say, laughing. He would only shrug his shoulders and walk quickly away from us. Sometimes, when I turned back, I could see that Matsu had stopped and was staring after us as we continued to laugh and make our way down the road.

  “‘What’s the matter with Matsu?’ I asked Tomoko one of those afternoons.

  “‘He’s all right,’ Tomoko answered, serious for a change. ‘Matsu’s like my father. They get along better with silk trees and chrysanthemums than with people.’

  “At the time I didn’t think to ask anything else. After all, Matsu was only Tomoko’s older brother. I dismissed his remoteness as something that would never affect me.

  “Yet my friendship with Tomoko flourished. We did everything together, growing strong like stalks of bamboo. While we might sometimes bend one way or the other, it would take a great deal to break us. Even now, after so many years, I have to smile when I recall that the one thing about me which constantly annoyed Tomoko was that I was slightly taller. And like most things having to do with appearance, she was greatly conscious of it, holding her shoulders straight back with her head lifted regally to give her more height. In turn, I humored her by slouching a bit.

  “Tomoko had a spark which seemed to ignite everything she touched. You couldn’t help but be drawn to her beauty and enthusiasm. And she did everything quickly, from her school work to her household duties. Perhaps too quickly, now that I speak of it. Sometimes a body can simply burn out too soon. But how I waited for Tomoko each day, knowing that once she was finished with her work, she would come to my house to get me. And no matter how much work I had to do, Tomoko could always persuade me to follow her. We would usually take a walk down to the beach, wearing the American-style cotton dresses Tomoko’s mother had sewn for us at her daughter’s pleading. Tomoko always wanted to be the first to do things differently from the other girls, and I was always her willing accomplice.

  “It was right after my fourteenth birthday that Kenzo began to pay more attention to us. Sometimes he and his friends would be down at the beach or grouped at his father’s teahouse where Kenzo helped after school. At first I thought he was interested in Tomoko, but he slowly began to speak more to me. Tomoko would tease me, saying, ‘You see, Sachi, Kenzo-san doesn’t even see me when you are around. I might as well be invisible!’

  “But Tomoko was far from invisible. She was too beautiful not to be noticed. And though she was pursued by many of the young boys in Tarumi, she never had any real interest in them. Tomoko always spoke of going to Tokyo after middle school, and of finding work there in a large office, or perhaps a department store where they carried all the latest fashions. No village boy was going to ruin her plans. Even as a young girl, she always seemed to be aware of how far she could go with her beauty. I sometimes still wonder if she had valued other things as well, would she be with us now? While it wouldn’t have stopped the disease from touching her, it might have allowed her to live with it. But that seems to be another story, Stephen-san.

  “I didn’t know at first what good friends Kenzo and Matsu were. I more or less stumbled on the fact one day when I saw them together at the teahouse. It was the first time I had seen Matsu as a real person, laughing and talking comfortably. But as soon as I made my presence known, Matsu stood up, bowed politely, and returned to being Tomoko’s silent brother.

  “‘How do you know Matsu-san?’ I asked Kenzo. He simply smiled and answered, ‘It isn’t as if Tarumi’s a large city. Matsu’s always been a friend of mine.’

  “‘But I thought he didn’t like people?’ I said, naively.

  Kenzo laughed. ‘Only some people,’ he answered.

  “Afterwards, I made a few weak attempts to speak to Matsu when I was visiting Tomoko, but his abrupt replies led me to believe that perhaps I was one of those people he chose not to like.

  “I was too blinded by my youth, along with what I knew was a life blessed with good fortune to notice anything else. Kenzo and I continued to grow closer, and by my fifteenth birthday we were betrothed by our parents. I prepared to become his wife by learning from my mother to cook the foods he liked, such as pickled cabbage and tonkatsu, and to keep a neat home. During those months of preparation, everyone and everything else simply hovered in the shadows. You see, Stephen-san, I’m ashamed to say that it wasn’t until Tomoko’s tragedy, and then my own, that I really began to know Matsu.

  “And so it was almost a year after Tomoko died that the whitish rash appeared on my left forearm. It was no larger than a yen coin. At first, I thought nothing of it, until I started to feel feverish and dizzy and the rash wouldn’t go away. Then I had to admit that it might be a sign of the disease. I panicked, remembering it was a rash that first appeared on Tomoko’s face. I hid it from my family under the sleeve of my kimono and after a while, the rash began to fade away, only to return a few months later. By then a favored day for the marriage between Kenzo and me had been chosen by our families. I was so young, and until then I had thanked the gods for my lucky match with a young man whom I loved. But every time I dared to look at the blotchy rash, it was like a nightmare. I didn’t know where to turn, and then I thought of Matsu. He had been so kind and understanding when Tomoko had taken her life. He was the only one who wasn’t afraid to speak to me of her death, who told me Tomoko would want me to go on with my own life. I felt I could trust him to help me face whatever it was.

  “One afternoon when I knew Matsu would be working at your family’s house, I stopped by to talk to him. I remember being very scared. I didn’t really know what I was going to say. I just somehow prayed he would know what to do to make the rash go away.

  “‘Konnichiwa, Matsu-san,’ I said. He was so surprised to see me, he almost stumbled in his hurry to rise from where he was planting round islands of green moss. Even now I feel bad, because I hadn’t really spoken to him in months, even though he had been so kind to me about Tomoko. Nevertheless, that day in your oj-san’s garden, Matsu bowed low and said, ‘I am honored to see you again, Sachi-san.’

  “I didn’t know what to say, so I simply held out my left arm. At first, Matsu stood back, as if I might strike him if he came closer. ‘What is this?’ I asked, pointing to the pale, blotchy patch. At once he moved closer to me, taking my hand in his and letting his fingers lightly brush over the rash. Matsu never seemed to be afraid of the disease, nor any of us here in Yamaguchi, even after we became monsters to the rest of Tarumi.

  “‘Is it the same thing Tomoko had?’ I asked.

  “Matsu was silent for a long time, before he said, ‘I can’t be sure. Have you seen the isha?’

  “At the time there was a young doctor vacationing in the village. I told him I hadn’t shown anyone. I didn’t want my family or Kenzo to find out. Matsu bowed and told me to wait for him, he would take care of everything. In the next moment, he was gone. It seemed an eternity until he returned, but when he did, he brought with him the reddest plums I’ve ever seen. ‘Eat them,’ he told me, ‘they will give you strength. I’ve asked the young doctor to meet us here.’ Then he brought me some cool water and while we waited for the doctor to come I ate and drank. I would have done whatever Matsu told me at that point, but I don’t think I said more than two words while we waited. Then later, after the doctor came, I said even less whi
le he examined my arm and confirmed my worst fears. ‘I’m sorry,’ the young doctor said, shaking his head. ‘Every day there are new treatments that may help to keep it under control,’ he went on, but all I remember hearing was a terrible scream that filled my head, drowning all the rest of his words. When I calmed down again, all I could hear was Matsu’s voice talking quietly to the doctor, thanking him for his time. The next thing I knew the doctor was gone with a basket of plums and Matsu was silently leading me back home.

  “I hid the rash for as long as I could. Matsu tried to convince me to tell my family, but I was too ashamed. I knew it would be a great dishonor for my father to bear, and I couldn’t even imagine telling Kenzo. Then, several months after it first appeared on my arm, the rash began to spread up my neck toward my face. I knew I could no longer hide the truth. It would only be a matter of time before everyone would notice.

  “The night I told Kenzo, he thought it was all a big joke. ‘But you look beautiful,’ he laughed. ‘Who put you up to this?’ Then I showed him. I will never forget the look in his eyes when he realized it wasn’t a joke—a look of both fear and betrayal. He quickly dropped my hand and without a word, backed away from me and walked out. I never saw Kenzo again until that day at your ojsan’s house. And even after so many years, I saw the same betrayed look in his eyes.

  “I don’t want you to be angry with the dead, Stephen-san. Kenzo didn’t know what else to do. I know now that it was too much for him. He believed life should be simple and uniform, filled with a sense of order and honor. In the end, he did stay with me in his own way, the only way he knew how.

  “At first my father would also not accept it. He dragged me to the Tama Shrine to pray and be purified by a curing priest. When everything else proved fruitless, he resorted to trying the moxa treatment, which was igniting a little cone of powder directly on my skin to burn away the rash. Aside from the agonizing pain and the smell of scorched flesh which I’ll never forget, the darkened rash soon reappeared and spread to another spot. My father would no longer look at me and my mother simply cried. By then, four other villagers had found signs of the disease. It must have been incubating for years before it showed its face to those of us most susceptible to it. My father was afraid it might spread to my younger brother, and the villagers also grew frightened. They wanted the afflicted ones sent away from them. There had been rumors of a place for our kind in the mountains, but no one really believed these mountain people existed. We had nowhere to go, no way to know what would become of us. It seemed easier simply to end our lives.

  “There was nothing left for me to do. I cried until I had no more tears left. Then I prayed for a day and night so the gods would give me strength. The next morning those of us cursed with the disease sought to end our misery and restore honor to our families. While the village still slept, the five of us walked silently to the edge of the sea.

  “Even now I can feel the cold waves pushing and pulling against my legs as I stood knee-deep in the ocean that morning. There was a flock of birds flying overhead, as if they had come to watch, their squawking voices leading us on. As the water lapped around me, I saw one man, the father of a school friend, walk straight into the ocean. He never turned back, nor hesitated. One moment he was there, and in the next he had been swallowed by the sea. It was a nightmare.

  “One older woman took a knife from the sleeve of her kimono, raised her hands, and slashed her wrists. I remember how the blood streamed down her arms, staining the water around her. She turned toward me, and with a strange, calm smile, bowed low before handing me her knife. It felt so light and cold in my hand, I wondered how it could possibly end a life. I looked down at the sharp blade, and saw my hand covered with the woman’s blood. I wanted to scream, but it seemed I had suddenly lost my voice. Just as quickly, the knife slipped from my hand into the water.

  “‘Don’t be frightened, child,’ the old woman mumbled, ‘Find the knife and end your misery. Return honor to your family.’

  “But at that moment I knew I didn’t have the courage of Tomoko, nor of this woman dying before me. When she reached out toward me, I pushed her back, and she fell to her knees, still crying out for me to end my life, as a wave washed over her.

  “I turned away from her and just began running. I ran and ran, away from the beach and all the death and dying. Even now, I don’t remember what I was thinking. The greatest honor I could have given my family was that of my death, and I ran from it. I was frightened at not fulfilling my obligation, not giving ko to my parents. Yet, there was a voice inside of me that kept telling me to escape. I ran away from Tarumi, as if it were the diseased one. At nightfall I hid among the trees along the stretch of road that now leads to Yamaguchi.

  “It was so cold that first night alone, and I was so hungry. I began to think that maybe death was a better way, after all. I had never before felt that black void of abandonment, but I knew no one would be looking for me. As far as my family and the village were concerned, I had drowned with the others that morning. Everything had been planned without anyone’s knowledge. We had each left notes for our families, hoping we would honor them better in the other world. I had said good night to my family for the last time, knowing that the moment I stepped out of the house that morning, I would no longer be a burden on them. The only way I could still honor them was to allow them to think I was dead.

  “But the following morning in the woods, I was awakened by the sounds of footsteps. I was so cold I had covered myself with a pile of leaves. If I moved, I would surely draw attention to where I was, so I lay silent and still, hoping whoever or whatever it was would move on. I remember staring up through the leaves to the very blue sky. It appeared so sharp and clear it seemed unreal. When I heard the steps growing closer, I closed my eyes and began praying to the gods. When I opened my eyes again, I could hear breathing and almost feel the warmth of another body, it was so close to me. Then, I heard his voice call out, low and soothing: ‘Sachi! Sachi, it’s me Matsu, let me help you.’

  “I thought I had died and gone into the other world. How had he ever found me?

  “‘Matsu?’ I whispered, springing up from the pile of leaves like a wounded animal. I forgot everything, even the shame of allowing him to see me in such a state.

  “Matsu took one look at me and began to laugh. ‘Is that you?’ he asked, ‘or is it the fox god, Inari?’ It was the first time Matsu had ever joked with me. He had always been so quiet.

  “But it wasn’t the time for laughter. I was so tired and hungry. If I had been the god Inari, I might have made some food and water appear. But it was my good fortune that Matsu found me. Smiling kindly, he bowed low and helped me brush away the leaves.

  “‘I have been looking all night for you,’ he said.

  “‘Are there others?’ I asked, my throat so dry and sore I could barely get the words out.

  “‘They think you have gone into a better world,’ he answered.

  “‘How did you find me?’

  “Matsu just smiled. He opened the furoshiki he carried and took out a bottle of green tea. Even though the tea tasted cold and bitter, I have never been more grateful for anything else in my life. He also brought along some rice cakes and a package of dry seaweed which I ate hungrily.

  “When I had finished, I bowed to Matsu and asked again, ‘How did you know I was here?’

  “‘Tomoko,’” he whispered.

  “‘What about Tomoko?’” I asked, swallowing the last of the bitter tea.

  “Matsu gathered up what little was left of the food and wrapped it back up in the furoshiki. ‘I followed you and the others down to the beach yesterday morning. I wondered if you might try to find your way to peace as she did.’

  “‘I couldn’t,’ I began to cry, turning away in shame. Then Matsu leaned over close to my ear. He smelled of sweat and the earth as he whispered, ‘It takes greater courage to live.’

  “I am a lucky one. I know now that there are rare people who will help y
ou carry your burdens through this life. I remember my mother telling me it was because these people were doing penance for a wrong they had done in a past life. It is my belief that perhaps I had wronged someone and was serving my own sentence. But what of Matsu? Had he been so cruel in another life? In Tarumi he had always made his way as quietly as possible, never creating any disturbances. But look what he has become to me, my bearer of burdens, the last one I would ever have dreamed of being my savior.

  “After that, amidst the silence of those trees Matsu told me of others who had chosen not to end their lives. Instead, they had begun a village in the mountains, a village called ‘Yamaguchi,’ where they were trying to live out their lives the best they could.

  “‘How do you know so much?’ I asked him.

  “‘It is where I had hoped to take Tomoko,’ he answered.”

  I leaned back heavily, and the shoji wall rattled as if there were an earthquake. A shiver ran through my body. I couldn’t take my eyes off Sachi, I could only draw in a deep breath of sweet air and let it out again. I had no voice for words. Then as if Sachi understood exactly what I was feeling, she placed her withered hand on mine, giving me her warmth.

  “We began our journey up the mountain that morning. I felt comforted having Matsu there, like a warm protecting blanket. Matsu had seen all my haji, the shame which burned inside of me, yet he did not abandon me. For a moment, I had even forgotten the ordeal of the day before. It was like a bad dream with only one saving grace: my family thought I was dead. I suddenly felt lighter, relieved of the burden that had been placed on me as a living person. Yet, there was still someone who knew that I existed, which made me feel like a real person again, not a ghost roaming the earth.