Read The Samurai's Garden Online

Authors: Patricia Kiyono

The Samurai's Garden (4 page)

BOOK: The Samurai's Garden
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Hanako woke early the next morning, intending to prepare a fine breakfast, but Hiro had already left. She supposed it was for the best. It would have been more painful to watch him leave.

The morning's chores were completed automatically. The animals were fed. The eggs were gathered and brought to the market. She came home and tended her fields. Though her hands kept busy, her mind was elsewhere. And then it was dinnertime. She watched the sun dip in the western sky, wondering where the day had gone.

Hiro had snared a wild rabbit the day before. He had wrapped the leftover meat in layers of cloth and had stored it in the cool shaded waters of the river. A heavy rock had kept it from floating away. Unable to summon an appetite for more than a few bites, she forced herself to eat. Then what to do? There were a few more hours before sunset. She went outside to tend to the flowers she had planted outside the night before. Standing in her flower garden, she remembered the reassurance she had received from Hiro while out here. Gentle warmth stole over her, as if Hiro was standing next to her. She kneeled down and began to dig.

For the next two weeks, she kept the same routine. She would wake with the sun and tend to her animals before working in her fields. At the end of the day she would drag herself back to her hut and make an effort to eat. Much of what she cooked was fed to her animals, and she would spend time in the flower garden before collapsing on her
ofuton
for a night of sleeplessness. So many times she found herself wanting to tell him about small things, like the pesky birds that irritated her by diving into her beans, or the visible growth in the other plants. And when the seedlings in her flower patch began to bud, she nearly wept, wishing Hiro was there to see them.

Her weight dropped again, and her
yukata
hung in folds. She found it difficult to summon the energy to go into the fields. Sometimes the effort seemed too great. But she reminded herself to care for the growing plants and the animals she, or rather Hiro, had purchased. Perhaps he would demand payment for the animals. She would need a good crop in order to repay him.

She crouched in the flower garden, staring at the growing buds with unseeing eyes, when a large shadow loomed over her. She took a deep calming breath, trying to think of a way to defend herself, when the shadow moved to her side, and the figure crouched beside her.

"I see the flowers are almost ready to sprout. They have grown much since I left."

Hiro has returned!
Hanako placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. She fought to contain the squeal of joy threatening to escape her lips. She simply nodded, not trusting her voice. Finally she composed herself enough to look up at him. He was as handsome as she remembered. His clothes and sandals were dusty from the walk, and he seemed thinner. But despite the dust, he was the most welcome sight she could imagine. His lips were moving —
what was he saying?
She forced herself to concentrate on his words.

"If you are working out here, then you must have had your dinner. Would you have any left for a hungry traveler?"

"Oh! Forgive me. You must indeed be tired and hungry from your travels. I will prepare something—" Standing quickly, she felt the earth tilt, and fade away.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on her
ofuton
, and an anxious Hiro was bathing her face with a cool cloth. She heard water boiling on the stove. Embarrassed to see him preparing his own tea, she tried to sit up, but he pushed her gently back down.

"Rest," he commanded her. "It seems my absence has caused you to work too hard. And you have not eaten well. I could not even find a cup of rice to boil."

His comment brought her further embarrassment. "I'll go to Nakamura-san and ask if she has something I can trade."

"No. It is not necessary. I made some purchases in the market, so I will prepare something for us to eat."

He got up and sprinkled some tea leaves into her ancient, cracked tea kettle. Then he poured the boiling water over them and put the lid on top. While waiting for the leaves to steep, he took his purchases from his pack. Fresh beef, large mushrooms, and onions tumbled out. She watched in amazement as he skillfully trimmed the fat from the beef and put the chunks in a skillet to melt before pouring the green tea into two cups. And she was even more amazed when he brought one of the cups to her. Never would she have dreamed of being served by a man, especially one as powerful and masculine as Hiro.

As she drank the light green liquid, she watched as he made himself at home in her kitchen. How had he learned to cook with such mastery and flair? He again reached into his bag and pulled out an enormous knife, with which he carefully sliced the vegetables. They were placed in the hot grease to cook. When the food began to sizzle, he told her about his mission in Hakodate, the island's capital.

"I visited the Office of Finance in Hakodate. They were very interested to hear about your visit from Ishikawa-san." He paused as he concentrated on cutting a slab of beef into paper-thin slices. "It seems he did work for their office, but he was dismissed from his position more than a year ago."

"A year ago? But the message only came last fall."

"Yes. Apparently he took several items with him when he left the office, including an official signature stamp, some forms, and the enclosure ribbon. He has used them to send tax notices to people who will not question authority — widows, small business owners — anyone he thinks will take him seriously. The directives instruct the poor victims to send the 'taxes' to his own address." He took the vegetables out of the pan and added the meat to the sizzling fat.

"He kept the money himself? How terrible. But how did you know that the bill was not official?"

"I wasn't sure, but I became suspicious when I read the message and saw the money was to be sent to him, at an address that was not near the government offices. I paid a visit to my cousin, who is with the Department of Justice. He was able to get an edict for Ishikawa-san's arrest."

"So I don't have to pay the fines and taxes? What a relief that would be!"

"You do have to pay some taxes, since your husband did not pay them before he died, but they are not nearly as high as the amount Ishikawa demanded of you."

"How much will I owe?" A knot of unease started to grow in the pit of her stomach.

"The amount was so minimal, I paid it. It will be easier for you to repay me than to send the payment to them." He tested the vegetables to be sure they were done, and then added the beef.

Her unease flared into irritation.
How could he be so arrogant as to pay her bills and demand payment?
"Repay you? How can I do that? You know I won't have any money until the harvest!" Agitated, she rose and paced the short length of the hut. "I already owe you more than a year's harvest for the animals. And you've been working for no wages. Now my debt is increased even more!"

He waited patiently for her tirade to end. He answered in a voice so deliberate Hanako felt he was treating her as an impatient child. "You don't owe me for the animals. They were given to you as compensation for your losses from last year's raid. As for my wages, you are paying me by teaching me a new profession, as well as feeding me and giving me a place to stay." He pulled a bottle of dark brown liquid from his bottomless pack and poured some of its contents over the mixture.

"Nonsense. You could afford to stay in the finest hotels and learn about farming from a wealthy landowner."

"But the wealthy landowner would not be able to show me the pleasure of working with the soil, of creating something from nothing. He would not show me the beauty of the sunrise, the wonderful fresh smell after a spring rain, or the musical melodies of the insects in the evening. If I stayed in a fine inn, I would not understand all the difficulties you face, and see how you manage in spite of them. You are a far better teacher than any moneyed landowner, and your lessons are worth far more than the money I have paid for your livestock and taxes."

He stopped speaking then, as if he realized he had said more than he intended. He stirred his culinary creation, pulled two new bowls from a package she hadn't seen and scooped a generous portion into one. Then he brought it to her, along with a pair of chopsticks.

Hanako was stunned, both at the novelty of having a man serve her, as well as the poetic way Hiro had described her life. Could it be he understood why she stayed here, despite all the hardships and advice against it? Was it possible a man who had been raised to destroy could actually embrace a life celebrating growth? Could she trust him? But no, he wasn't offering a lifetime. His stay here was only temporary. Soon he would pack his swords and leave. If he wanted to continue farming, he would purchase his own land, and she would go back to her dreary existence.

She simply nodded and said, "I'm glad you're pleased with your experience here. I will work hard to make sure you learn enough to make it worth your investment. But I insist that when the harvest is in, you must share in the profit."

He regarded her silently for a moment then turned to fill his own bowl. He took his time pouring himself some tea, and carefully brought his food and drink to her futon. Then he settled himself on a cushion and began to eat. Hanako wondered if he planned to ignore her and was about to repeat herself. Finally, he answered.

"There is one way we can settle the matter of money owed and profit shared."

"How is that possible?"

"We could marry. Then our possessions and our fortunes would become one."

 

Chapter Four

 

Hiro saw his suggestion had caught Hanako by surprise. Turning an honest look inward, he had surprised himself. He had been reluctant to pledge himself to any woman. Remembering the pain in his mother's eyes when his father had been killed had always been enough to make him avoid that complication in the past. But now his life as a samurai was over, and if he wanted to be a farmer, he needed a strong farmer wife. Who better than a woman who was already accustomed to that life?

Marriage to Hanako would certainly be pleasant. He had long ago admitted to himself that he was attracted to her natural beauty. But he had been unwilling to give in to that attraction because of his respect for her. Several times he had gone into the village, with the goal of releasing that pent-up longing, but although the women in the tavern were willing, they did not interest him the way the beautiful woman at the farm did. If they married, he would not have to hide that attraction.

But perhaps she did not see him as a suitable husband. She had not said a word since he uttered his suggestion. Was it because she did not trust a man who had once been a samurai? Did she require more stability? Perhaps she saw him as a threat to her way of life. He remembered his mother declaring that she would never remarry because she was too set in her ways.

The meal continued in an uncomfortable silence. Without a word, Hanako rose and took their plates to the washbowl, never looking at Hiro, never giving an indication of her thoughts.

Unable to bear the tension, Hiro went outside. He needed to do something to get his mind off his obsession. The woodpile was low again, so he decided to release some of his energy by replenishing it. He had purchased a proper axe on a previous trip to the village, and now he swung it with vigor. The tree he had selected came down with a crash and was soon cut up into pieces for the fire. How he wished he could mow down all of Hanako's reservations so easily.

He had bent to gather the wood into a neat pile when he heard the singing. An unsteady voice, rendering a wobbly version of an old drinking song, came from deep in the woods. Occasionally the voice would stop, as if unsure of how the song should continue. Hiro stood still, watching the woods, trying to place the voice. It was a familiar song, sung by someone he felt he knew. Finally he saw him — a bent, haggard shadow of a man, weighted down by his pack and his swords. Judging from his posture, it seemed he also carried the weight of his world. He staggered along the path, losing his footing and bumping against a tree. The offending tree was duly cursed and punished by an ineffectual swipe with the short sword.

Hiro grimaced.

Ginjiro Yamada had fought with him in many battles, but his weakness for drink and women had prevented him from becoming a samurai of the first rank. When the feudal system was discontinued and samurai were forced to find other careers, Ginjiro had limited choices. The older man had not been a great scholar, and his unfortunate habits prevented him from succeeding in business. Hiro suspected Ginjiro had become one of the
ronin
, the displaced samurai. While some
ronin
had found respectable new occupations, many wandered the country and caused trouble for innocent citizens.

Ginjiro's winding path took him past the woods where Hiro stood, and he teetered as he noted Hiro's presence. His eyes scrunched as he tried to focus. "Friend, could you help an old soldier?" he slurred.

"You are not so old, Ginjiro, and I see your habits have not changed. Why do you continue to drink yourself into a stupor? You can hardly walk. Sit down and stop weaving about before you hurt yourself."

The inebriated man started in surprise. "You know me?" He tottered forward and squinted again. "Tanaka-san, is that you? What are you doing so far from the mainland? I thought you would have a successful career as a merchant or a politician in Tokyo."

"We will not talk about me. You need to sleep off your drink."

"No, I need to fill myself with the ale. It will dull the pain."

"Why are you in pain? You don't appear injured."

"I'm talking about the pain of my sword when I perform
seppuku
."

Hiro's eyes widened, and he stepped toward his former comrade. "No!"

"Yes, my friend. You are smart. You have the mind and the money to become anything you choose. But I am a warrior. Perhaps not a very good one, but I am a soldier. It is all I know. I cannot do anything else. I have looked all around trying to find a noble to take me on as a guard, but I am too small, too weak, too — stupid. I even worked for some disreputable men, but I was not able to stay. I am a failure as a samurai. I must die."

BOOK: The Samurai's Garden
2.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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