Read The Samurai's Garden Online
Authors: Patricia Kiyono
****
Reiko Nakamura stood by the doorway of her home, listening to her youngest son describe the death of her eldest. Her left hand gripped the doorway, supporting her, and her right hand clutched at her heart. Her face was wet with tears, her mind's eye seeing him as a little boy, so earnest, so loving.
Ten years ago, she'd thought she couldn't possibly endure any more pain than what she had felt at the death of her husband, her soul mate. But this â the death of her firstborn â was almost too much to bear. Noburu had taken his responsibility seriously, shouldering the weight of manhood at such an early age. Now, he was gone as well. The
ronin
had taken him from her. Perhaps, before the day ended, she would lose another son.
Her heart ached, knowing Noburo still lay in the field alone. Perhaps she should goâ
"
Okaasan
?"
Her third son, Takaro, stood before her, avoiding her eyes. Knowing the teenager was uncomfortable seeing her cry, she hastened to dry her tears. "What is it, son?"
"Tanaka-san and his friend have gone to search out the
ronin
camp. Shinobu and Iâ" His voice wavered, and he swallowed, visibly summoning the strength to continue. "We will go to the field and take care of
onisan â
our older brother. We do not want you to go there."
Reiko wanted to stop him from going but could only nod her acceptance. "Thank you, Taka-chan. When you return, I know you and Shinobu will need to join the other men. I will prepare food for you and the others, and then I will take care of Noburo's body."
"But, Motherâ"
"I will help her."
Both turned toward the newcomer. Hanako stood a respectful distance from them, Baby Yasa tied to her back. She bowed to Reiko. "It would be my honor to assist you, Nakamura-san."
****
Hiro felt his stomach clench at the sight of his wife entering the Nakamura home. She knew the flares meant the
ronin
were here. Why had she subjected herself and their baby to such danger? She could have come in contact with the
ronin
cutting through the woods. He forced himself to breathe normally. At least now she would not be alone. The Nakamura brothers had agreed to wait here and inform the rest of the locals while he and Ginjiro looked for the
ronin
camp. He nodded his readiness to Ginjiro, and they slipped into the woods.
****
Hideyori paced, tracing a path around the dying fire. He was alone, since all the men had left him to hunt earlier that afternoon. As the sun began to sink behind the trees, he grew more and more agitated. The men had been gone for hours, and he was hungry.
Whatever happened to strong, reliable samurai who valiantly fought simply for the honor of dying for one's warlord? These men are pond scum, not fit to wash my sandals.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage, but the stench of the camp made him regret the action.
There had to be a better way. He had offered every incentive he could think of to entice stronger, more intelligent warriors. But he was stuck with a rag-tag group of vermin who were here because they had nowhere else to go.
He had been a good leader, he thought. Strong men had quaked before him. At one time his lands had spread far and wide, and his wealth had been unlimited. His courtesans, kept in each village of his lands, had dressed in only the finest silks. It was a shame none of them had managed to give him an heir, but that couldn't be helped.
The sun sank behind the trees, taking with it the warmth of the day, and he paced around the dying fire, pausing to warm his hands. Hopefully, the men would return soon and revive this fire by whatever means they used. He knew wood was needed but had no tools to cut firewood, nor any idea of how to use them. Cutting wood was work for the underlings he hired, not for a nobleman like himself.
Perhaps they would come with some decent food, or perhaps a woman who could cook. He hadn't had a decent meal since he had been forced to leave his castle. These foul creatures certainly didn't know how to create anything resembling the meals he'd grown used to as a
daimyo
. Perhaps his next move would be to take over one of the better homes in the area.
The voice of approaching men's voices shook him from his reverie, and he hid behind a tree until he knew who was coming. As the crowd drew nearer, he caught the unmistakable slur of intoxication, the shuffling of unsteady footsteps. His mouth firmed into a scowl. It was bad enough they were incompetent, but their drinking habits made them even more useless.
He stepped out from his hiding place, ready to confront the motley group. They were hampered by their inability to navigate the wooded terrain. It was certainly easy to follow their progress, as they carried torches and belted out a popular drinking song.
Finally, the ragtag bunch made it back to the clearing. They staggered toward the fire, cursing at the lack of warmth from the dying embers. A few of the men knelt at the fire pit, coaxing a flame from the hot logs. Other than an occasional glance, the men ignored him.
Masao Akira, his second in command, entered the clearing. Unlike the others, Akira-san showed none of the effects of alcohol.
"Where have you been?" Hideyori demanded.
Masao threw a dead rabbit, narrowly missing Hideyori's head.
"We were taking target practice." He grabbed some brush, threw it on the fire, and settled himself on a stump.
"One rabbit? Where is the rest of your catch? We have not eaten all day. Couldn't you and your men could have caught enough for a decent meal?"
Masao ignored him, stoking the fire and warming his hands. Finally, when Hideyori thought he could bear it no longer, the soldier spoke.
"We didn't bring anything else to eat because we didn't see any animals worth hunting. Katsuo shot a farmer. I didn't think you wanted him for dinner."
"Farmers have livestock! If you were shooting, why didn't you shoot one of his cows or a chicken? Was your aim that lousy?"
Hideyori regretted his last question when Masao leveled a glare and reached for his bow. "I would be happy to demonstrate my shooting skill, if you wish."
The once-powerful
daimyo
clamped his mouth closed. He put a hand to his grumbling stomach and turned away.
Â
Â
The sun descended, affording them less light, but Hiro and Ginjiro pressed on. Following the bank of the stream, they kept their footfalls silent. They had decided the
ronin
must have camped by the stream in order to take advantage of the water and the fish.
Their outright execution of Noburo baffled the two samurai. The young man had been unarmed, and other than training with the militia groups, had never been a threat to anyone. How could men who had taken the oath of the
Bushido
have sunk so low? Even though their place in society might no longer exist, their ideals should have been ingrained.
Hiro noted the smell first. The dank, rancid odor of unwashed men. His lip curled in disgust. It was one thing to go unbathed when fighting prevented it, but here in the peaceful woods near a clear stream, there was no excuse. The Shinto priests who had guided him in his youth had always stressed the importance of cleanliness, both physical and spiritual. If these men had ever been samurai, their filthy habits as well as their despicable actions proved their unworthiness.
He pointed ahead to signal their nearness, and Ginjiro nodded in understanding. They slowed their pace even more, careful to prevent detection.
They needn't have bothered. Most of the men gathered around the fire in the clearing were in no condition to fight. A few snored loudly, and others sprawled in various stages of intoxication. Only one man stood. Dressed in a frayed brocade robe, he paced around the fire and berated the men. Another soldier, though he sat with the others, cast a bored, though clear-eyed gaze at the speaker.
Hiro immediately recognized the speaker as Hideyori Kato. He motioned for Ginjiro to circle around to the sober soldier then waited for his friend to get in position. The anger he'd held simmering inside for years came to a boil as Hiro stepped into the clearing. From the corner of his vision, he noticed the soldier sit up, but the man quickly backed down when Ginjiro's sword flashed in front of his face and stopped at his neck.
"It appears you should look elsewhere for 'strong, honorable men,' Kato-san, if this is the response you got from your newspaper ad."
The older man stopped in his tracks. He turned to face Hiro, and his eyes widened in recognition. "Tanaka-san?"
"Why have you moved your operations here to the north, Hideyori? What happened to all your holdings on Honshu?"
Hideyori scowled. "The Emperor seized my lands. His Imperial Guard took over my castle, my lands, even my army! Those worthless soldiers wouldn't even fight for me!"
Hiro laughed. "Why would they fight for a dishonorable man against the emperor?"
"You dare to speak to me that way? I could have you beheaded."
"You would have to do it yourself." Hiro gestured toward the inebriated soldiers. Those who were still awake stared uncomprehendingly at them. "Your minions are in no condition to take orders. Why would you think about recruiting trash like them? These are the very men you announced you would eliminate!"
Hiro noticed a few of the soldiers had roused themselves at his insults. But before they could seize their weapons, another man leaped into the clearing and kicked the swords out of their reach. Watanabe stood in front of the men, his sword raised and ready to cut down anyone who dared to rise. Could Kato-san be convinced to surrender?
Hideyori drew himself to his full height. "The men I recruit are none of your concern. I am the
Daimyo
â"
"The
daimyo
class has been abolished. You have no power."
"I have more power than you! The samurai class also has been abolished." He cast a cunning grin at Hiro. "You should come and work for me. I would pay you very well."
"Your money is worthless to me. I would not carry a sword for anyone as unscrupulous as you."
"Then you will die. There are plenty who would fight for me."
"Worthless vermin who would shoot an innocent man for target practice? The man they killed had more honor than this entire group together." Hiro stepped closer. "A mother, a wife, two children, and three brothers are mourning because of that senseless murder. That is not the teaching of the
Bushido
â the Way of the Warrior."
Hideyori reached toward the body of one of his unconscious soldiers and drew the man's long sword. "You dishonor me," he cried, "and now you must die."
Hiro was stunned. Kato-san was almost twice his age and had never done his own fighting. This challenge was suicidal. The elder man rushed forward, prompting Hiro to unsheath his own sword, though he used it only to deflect the blows aimed at him.
Over and over, Hideyori swung the heavy sword. It was like sparring with a beginner, Hiro thought. His opponent's technique was clumsy and ineffective, and the weight of the weapon quickly tired him. The thrusts slowed, the arcs became erratic, but still he fought on. Sweat poured down his face, and he blinked, trying to see.
Hiro was vaguely aware of the circle of men who surrounded them. Had the drunken soldiers roused themselves enough to fight? Where was Ginjiro? He didn't hear any other swords connecting but didn't dare interrupt his concentration to look around. A break in his attention could be fatal.
The elder man clumsily swung the weapon around his head. He tried to stay on the offensive, but his long robe dragged in the dirt, tripping him up, and his eyes shone with desperation. Hiro had several opportunities to cut him down but couldn't bring himself to do so. He simply fended off the older man's ineffectual swipes of the sword.
The smell of burning fabric alerted Hiro. The long hem of Hideyori's robe had dragged over the fire and the flames worked their way up the garment.
"Kato-san, your clothes are on fire!" Hiro would have pulled him away from the flames, but couldn't put down his sword while the older man continued to swing his weapon.
"I don't believe you. You're just trying to trying to distract me." Hideyori fought on, his flaming coat trailing behind him. His frantic movements only fanned the fire, and by the time he understood the danger, the flames had engulfed him. He dropped his sword and screamed.
"Masao! Help me!"
With his free hand, Hiro grabbed Kato by the arm and dragged the smaller man to the ground. He pulled off the heavy robe and rolled the burning man in the dirt, extinguishing the flames. When he knelt to check for injuries, Kato pushed him away and struggled to sit up. In the firelight, the man's face and arms glowed bright red from his burns. His long hair was singed, and he struggled to speak.
"You may think you have defeated me, Tanaka-san, but my men will avenge me," he gasped as he reached for his sword.
"If anyone harms Hiro, you will all die." Ginjiro spoke for the first time, startling the older man.
Hideyori cast a quick glance around, and his eyes opened wide. The soldiers who were awake enough to understand what was happening huddled together in fear. Glancing around, Hiro was nearly as surprised as Hideyori.
Gun barrels pointed at them from behind every tree. Apparently, the men of the village had followed them into the woods.
"You are surrounded, Kato-san," Ginjiro taunted. "And you are seriously outnumbered. What will you do now?"
"You will never take me," the older man declared. "I will die with dignity." Then, before anyone could stop him, the former
daimyo
plunged the blade into his abdomen.
Hiro rushed to Hideyori's side, but the sword had done its damage. Hideyori Kato would no longer bring fear and suffering to their village.
Around them, several of the gun barrels lowered. A few of the villagers, led by Fukazawa and Kobayashi, entered the clearing and quickly disarmed Kato's men.