Read The Samurai's Garden Online
Authors: Patricia Kiyono
The Samurai's Garden (20 page)
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Hiro gazed up at the palatial structure where his mother lived. It was a far cry from the building he had come to consider his home. All the trappings of wealth and nobility were proudly displayed here. Briefly he tried to imagine Hanako in these surroundings, but the picture didn't gel. Her way of life came from a love and respect for the tiny parcel of land she was proud to call her own.
If she could love me nearly as much as she loves her farm
,
I would be a wealthy man
.
The brief message from the Emperor had told him his brother Taro had been killed in the line of duty. Hiro was now the head of the Tanaka family, and was expected to take his place in the Emperor's service. He'd begged Hanako to come with him, but she'd refused. Her place was on her farm, she'd said. While she understood his duty to his family and the Emperor, she could not follow him to Tokyo.
They'd finally compromised â Hiro would go, and Hanako would stay and finish out the growing season on the farm. After the harvest, they would discuss the matter again. If Ginjiro and the Nakamuras hadn't promised to look out for Hanako and the baby, he would never have left without her.
It had taken him two weeks to return to the home of his birth. When he had left for the far north, he had been a bitter ex-soldier, seeking a plan for his life, looking for the elusive element that would give meaning to his existence. Now, he felt, he had found what he needed, but by returning here to take care of his birth family's needs, he may have lost the family of his heart.
Taking a deep breath, he entered the gilded gate. A tiny, gnarled man scurried forward to greet him as he removed his sandals at the doorway. "Welcome home, Master. Your mother is in the garden."
Hiro nodded at the servant and strode through the ornately furnished house to the exquisitely landscaped garden beyond. All his life he had taken this grandeur as his due. Though he had seen poverty and hardship during his travels as a samurai warrior, he had always had this palace to return to. Living with Hanako had taught him more about the important things in life. Returning to this, his childhood home, he was a bit ashamed of the extravagance, knowing so many of the people he had befriended could live for an entire year on the price of one painting.
His mother sat on a bench near the center of the gardens. At fifty-three, Michiko Tanaka had aged gracefully. The daughter of a successful merchant, she had been raised in comfort and tradition, but she had a spark of fire and a sense of humor that kept her young. Seeing her son, she rose eagerly to greet him.
"How wonderful to see you again, Hiro. I am pleased you have completed your travels unharmed."
Hiro bowed in respect. "I am pleased you are well,
Okaasan
."
The corners of her eyes crinkled, and her lips curved upward. "And now that we have dispensed with the formalities, come closer so I can hug you."
He laughed aloud. He should have remembered his mother's disdain for many of the conventions of polite society. Her willingness to voice her true opinions had caused his father to cringe with embarrassment on more than one occasion. She made her own rules, and one tradition she had never followed was keeping distance between herself and her adult children, physically or emotionally. He crossed the remaining steps to her and hugged her tightly. She seemed more frail than he remembered â or was he comparing her to the rugged woman he had left behind?
"You have grown even larger and stronger, my son," Michiko noted as she led him back to her bench. "Obviously you have found a way to keep fit. Have you come into the employment of an errant warlord?"
"No,
Okaasan
," he assured her. "I have been learning the ways of a farmer."
"Really?" She looked up at him. "We heard you were in Hakodate. Have you apprenticed to an estate near that city?"
"Not really. I am doing the actual labor on a tiny farm near Furano."
"A common laborer? Why? Have your travels left you destitute? Surely you could have sent for some money orâ"
"No, no, I'm fine. I met a farmer who needed my help, and became interested in the work there. I am learning about agriculture, as well as the care and feeding of animals, and a little carpentry besides."
"I see. And this farmer, does he treat you well?"
Hiro thought of the contentment he felt working side by side with Hanako, the pride he felt in helping to work the land, and the joy she brought him each night. But he was not ready to talk about this yet. His life with her was so precious; he wanted to keep it close to his heart. And his choice to bind himself to a poor subsistence farmer would not be something his mother would easily understand. He would need time to approach the subject with her. For now he settled on vagueness. "Yes,
Okaasan
, I am well treated. Shimizu-san is a good farmer and teacher. I have learned much about agriculture and the care of animals." Calling his wife by her former name seemed odd, but it kept her identity hidden for now.
"Please tell me about this person. How did you meet?"
Mother and son spent the next hour in the garden. The painful subject of Taro's death was avoided for now, and the time was spent happily reminiscing and catching up on other family matters. They talked until a servant announced dinner was served. He assisted Michiko to her feet and accompanied her inside to the elegant lacquered table, spread with the finest delicacies in the land. He mentally compared the meals before him to the simple but tasty dishes Hanako prepared each evening after working in the fields all day. Surely none of the ladies in his former life would be able to do either fieldwork or cooking without major complaints and a lot of whining.
He nodded in greeting to his youngest brother, who bowed low in respect before sitting down. At twelve years of age, Toshiro was brimming with questions about his older brother's exploits as a samurai, knowing only about the glorious and none of the ugly side of fighting. "Why isn't anyone at war?" he whined. "What good is a samurai without a battle to fight?"
Hiro smiled inwardly. Only a few years ago he had been a warrior without a cause, a lost soldier. Gently, he answered his brother's questions, but deflected any suggestions about his future. He wanted to return to Hanako and Yasa-chan immediately, but he had to take care of his mother and brothers. He would also have to take care of his military responsibilities. How could he do both?
Would Hanako ever agree to come and live here, in the city? He tried to imagine his sturdy wife, her lovely tan covered with white makeup, her shining ebony hair covered by an ornately styled wig held in place with bejeweled combs, her feminine figure trapped in yards of embroidered silk. Could she adjust, or would his beautiful flower wither and die in this artificial setting? She shone in her natural element among her fields of growing plants in the bright sunshine. How could he take her away from that?
****
Michiko Tanaka knelt on a cushion near the table, watching her sons interact. While Hiro listened to his brothers' stories and answered each question politely, she could see his mind was elsewhere. His physical being was at home here, but his heart had not returned with him. He had not been forthcoming about his life in Hokkaido. She only knew he was content to stay there. It was no surprise to find he had embraced a more peaceful profession. Hiro had always been more studious than his brothers, but his sense of duty had forced him to follow his father's footsteps and carry the swords of the samurai.
He wears the mantle of authority well
, she thought
. His father would be proud of him.
Yukio Tanaka had been a samurai of the first rank, answering only to the emperor. He had expected his four sons would follow in his footsteps and had overseen every step of their martial training. Taro, the eldest, had been a natural warrior, like his father. Young Hiro had been eager to please his father and had excelled in the grueling exercises. But he had always had a gentle side. He had always treated his younger siblings with compassion and had often brought home stray animals. After the death of his closest friend, Hiro's zest for life had fled, and she had been concerned for his mental well-being when he had left.
Because Taro had died, Hiro had returned out of a sense of duty, ready to assume his place in society. As a mother, she was happy to have him home. But seeing his half-hearted smiles, she wondered if perhaps the old ways were not always right. He had found happiness as a farmer. He hadn't embraced one of the usual trades for a high-ranking samurai, but it was a respectable vocation. He seemed much more content than when he had left.
Who was this simple farmer who had taught her son a different path, one that embraced life, rather than taking it? Was this man more than a mentor? Had Hiro missed Yukio so much he had sought out a father figure?
Her opportunity for discussion did not come for several days. Relatives and neighbors had heard of Hiro's return and had come to visit. His reputation as a fierce warrior defending an entire town against the band of renegades had made him a celebrity, and he had been summoned for an audience with the emperor. While he prepared for this honor, Michiko stole a few moments alone with her son.
"Hiro, you are so handsome wearing your father's ceremonial kimono. You wear the family crest well. Surely, Yukio's spirit is smiling as you bring honor to the family name."
Hiro glanced down at his clothing. Though he appeared every inch the gentleman, she noticed he looked uncomfortable wearing the fine silk kimono and gold brocade
obi
. It was as if he wished he were in another place.
What soldier would prefer to avoid a meeting with the emperor? Something must have happened to change his priorities.
"Hiro-chan, are you all right?"
He looked up at her with a crooked smile. "I'm fine,
Okaasan
. Just lost in thought."
"And these thoughts, are they of your life in Hokkaido?"
He hesitated. "Yes."
"You found contentment there, did you not?"
"Yes, I was very content. I enjoyed working outdoors, seeing things grow."
"And you wish to return there, don't you?"
Another hesitation. "Yes. But â but I know that it was not the life
Otousan
wished for me."
"Your father is not here now. It was his expectation that you, like he and his father and many more before them, would be a samurai. But the time for those warriors is past. Since the
shogun
no longer rule, the men of the samurai class must find other vocations. You must find another purpose for your life."
He seemed surprised at his mother's words. "But as the eldest son, it is now my responsibility to care for you. Many of the samurai remain here, in the city, and they have occupations with more prestige. If you were to come to my home in Hokkaido, you would not have the luxuries and social life you have here. I would see to it that you were comfortable, but a common farmer lives much more simply than a merchant or politician."
Michiko raised a brow. "I did not realize I was infirm enough to require constant care."
Hiro groaned. "You are far from infirm,
Okaasan
. And I know
Otousan
left you with enough resources to live comfortably for a long time. But unless you remarry, I am the head of this household, and I need to make sure that you remain safe and well provided for."
Michiko grimaced inwardly at the thought of remarrying. Though her life with Yukio had been pleasant, she had come to enjoy the freedom afforded her as a widow. If she ever married again, it would be on her terms, and her husband would have to be content with a very independent wife. No one, including her strong, traditional sons, would ever rule her.
"I am not afraid to live simply, but I would prefer to remain here in the city. I am not so tied to tradition that I expect you to have sole responsibility for my care. I still have two other healthy sons, one of them a successful businessman here. If you choose to go back to your farm in the country, I would miss you, as I always do when you are away, but I want you to find the life that brings you happiness." She knelt on an embroidered cushion. "You are not expected at court for some time. Tell me about this new life of yours."
Hiro pursed his lips and frowned. Instead of sitting with her, he paced back and forth. Then, instead of answering her, he asked a question of his own.
"
Okaasan
, did
Otousan
bring you happiness?"
Michiko started in surprise. "I was content. Why do you ask?"
"I need to know. Were you happy to be married to a samurai, or was it difficult to be married to a man whose career was built on violence?"
"The violence was not welcome, but your father tried hard to shelter us from it. I was proud to be wed to your father. My father was happy he was able to arrange such an advantageous union."
"Did
Otousan
treat you well?"
"He treated me with respect. And I never wanted for anything."
He looked as if he wanted to ask another question, but apparently he decided against it. "I am glad
Otousan
was good to you," he said as he adjusted his jacket.
Michiko got up to follow her son from the room.
Why is he asking questions about my life with Yukio?
The answer hit her with a force so powerful she stopped in her tracks. "Hiro, you have met a woman!"
Hiro froze in mid-step. She scurried around him to look up at his face as she grabbed his sleeve. "Is it true? Have you met someone you wish to marry? When can I meet her? Is she from a good family?"
Her son was silent for so long she feared he would not answer. Finally, he sighed. "I need to leave now. We will talk when I return."
****
Hanako awakened to her baby's cry. Little Yasahiro was hungry again. Bone weary from the day's work, she reached over to the little
ofuton
placed next to hers, picked up the baby, and opened her yukata. As her son drank greedily, she lay back and closed her eyes. She had accomplished much that day and had come home ready to share the day's news with her husband before she remembered he wasn't there. Her elation had turned to despair. She understood the need for Hiro to return to his parents' home, but she and Yasa needed him, too. He had become so much more than her husband. He was her friend, her confidante, her soul mate. He had become⦠her life.
Hot drops seeped from beneath her eyelids. She breathed deeply, willing herself not to sob. It would not do to disturb the little one. Yasa-chan seemed to sense her moods, and wailed his displeasure whenever Hanako was unhappy. He was so like his father. What a precious gift she had in him. No matter what happened, whether Hiro returned or not, she had this living reminder of her time with him. Growing up, she had heard stories about the gallant samurai, about their bravery as well as their code of ethics. She had never expected to meet a real-life samurai, let alone marry him and have a son with him.
Yasa stirred, and she carefully rolled to her other side so he could drink from her other breast. She gently cradled Yasa's downy head, covered with jet-black hair. He would know about his father, she decided. He would be able to defend himself with dignity, but would learn to love the fields and the animals his father had grown to appreciate. Briefly, she wondered how she would manage this alone.
It would be difficult to run the farm alone, as well. At least Sato-san and the other merchants would not pose a problem for her. Before he left, Hiro had gone into the village and informed all the merchants that he had been called to Tokyo, and that his wife was authorized to act as his manager. Any supplies she needed for upkeep on the farm were to be given to her immediately. If she did not bring enough money with her, he would settle the debt upon his return. The merchants were more than willing to agree to his request.
The baby detached himself from her, signaling the end of his nighttime feeding. She rearranged her
yukata
and got up to walk with him until he went back to sleep. It had been an unusually hot day, but the cool night breeze called to her and she stepped outside
The moon cast an eerie glow over the yards. The new chicken hut stood like a silent sentry post. She made her way to it, noticing the chickens were being unusually noisy tonight. She wondered if she had left the doorway open again. The new rooster had a habit of making a nuisance of himself. She must not allow herself to be so distracted.
Halfway to the coop, she noticed a dark ball of fur floating back and forth, back and forth. Glowing orbs shone from the front of the furry mass, and sharp fangs jutted out from enormous, salivating lips. The creature had not yet seen her, and she silently appealed to the gods for Yasa-chan to remain quiet as she backed up, retracing her steps to the house. She laid her now sleeping son back onto his
ofuton
and reached for the sword Hiro had left for her.
"Please help me to remember all that Hiro taught me," she begged the gods.
By the time she returned to the doorway, the wild dog had recognized the scent of people and had abandoned its mission at the chicken hut in favor of a bigger prey. Noiselessly, it crept across the grass toward the house, staring at Hanako. She was grateful Hiro had insisted on leaving one of his swords with her. He had installed hooks above the doorway so it would be out of the way, but accessible. She hoped his lessons during the drills would not be forgotten. She would have only one chance to protect her son.
Just outside the hut, her foot brushed against the box of flares. There had been no incidents of
ronin
attacks since Hiro's confrontation with Hideyori Kato and his men the previous fall. After sitting idle during the cold winter, would they light to summon the people nearby? Would her neighbors come? She told herself she had nothing to lose, and using one hand to keep the sword aloft, used her other hand to set a flare in the ground and light it with the candle from her lantern. The first flare lit, but the flame died out before launching. Her heart sank.
Grabbing another flare, she glanced at the dog to see if he had come any closer. He sat still, eyeing her.
Did he plan to attack?
She prayed as she lit the second flare and rejoiced when it shot high into the air, lighting the night sky.
The animal was startled at the sudden bright light and noise. Hanako harbored a small hope that the noise would be enough to scare him away, but instead he crouched, as if deciding whether or not to advance.
Encouraged by her effort, Hanako lit another flare, hoping to keep him at bay. Inside the house, little Yasa started to wail, but she didn't dare stop to go to him. The commotion was enough to keep the animal from advancing, but it wasn't enough to make him leave. She set out the remaining flares in the box and lit them, one by one, encouraged when the dog stepped back a little.
The last flare went up with a sputter. If the dog didn't leave she would have to fight for her life and for her son. Gripping the sword tightly with both hands, she held it out in front of her and stepped out of the doorway. The animal growled deep in his throat, his razor-sharp teeth bared. He seemed totally unthreatened by the weapon in her hands. He stood, poised for attack, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
A chorus of male voices made the animal's head turn sharply. She sighed in relief as she beheld several of her neighbors, led by Sato-san himself, carrying ancient swords and pitchforks, anything that could act as a weapon. Sato-san raised his sword and let out a war cry that had the unfortunate creature backing up. Encouraged by the animal's retreat, the group advanced, shouting and making such a commotion that the once fearsome creature turned and ran.
Hanako's legs wilted beneath her, and she sank to the ground.
The alarm system worked!
She lay in a heap, sobbing, while her rescuers huddled around her, unsure of how to proceed now that their mission had been accomplished. While Hiro had trained them well to deal with danger, they had absolutely no idea what to do with an emotionally spent woman.
Her baby's cries finally broke through Hanako's frantic thoughts, and she raised herself up to go to him. Wiping her eyes, she realized that the men who had come to help her still surrounded her with looks of shy concern on their faces. The expressions eased as she stood.
She stifled her sobs and bowed low to thank her rescuers, hoping her voice was steadier than her nerves. "My son and I are deeply indebted to you for saving us from the wild dog," she began. "I am embarrassed I have no refreshment to offer you after your hard work."
Sato-san, having designated himself the leader of the group, returned the bow. He still breathed heavily from the unaccustomed exertion and adrenaline rush from the danger. "Please do not trouble yourself, Tanaka-san. We are relieved the danger is past, and you and your son are safe. We will return to our homes now."
Hanako watched the group leave then turned to care for the baby, who had calmed down, having sensed all was well. He lay gurgling on his mat, happily raising his arms for his mother to pick him up.
The baby snuggled against her shoulder as Hanako walked back and forth across the floor. Slowly, the child's eyes closed, and as he drifted again into a peaceful slumber, Hanako came to a difficult decision. She had been a fool to refuse to accompany Hiro to Tokyo.
Yasahiro deserved to have the rights and privileges his samurai father could give him. As a young heir, he should have the protection of the city gates and the education available to him there. Hiro had become the man he was because of his family. It was what she wanted for little Yasa. If Hiro's family would not accept her, surely they would accept Hiro's son. Giving up her child would be akin to tearing her heart out, but she must do what was best for him. Laying the sleeping child back on his mat, she formulated her plan. As soon as the harvest was in, she would leave the farm in Ginjiro's care and go to Tokyo.