The Samurai’s Garden

“Many years ago, when I first came to Yamaguchi, the possibility of having a life had all but vanished. Matsu was the one who insisted I have a garden.”

“And you created this?”

“With Matsu’s help. He showed me that life is not just from within, it extends all around you, whether you wish it to or not. And so, this garden has become a part of my life.”

I wanted to say something back to Sachi, but the words were caught in my throat. Her garden was a mixture of beauty and sadness, the rocks and stones an illusion of movement. What could she have possibly done to deserve such a fate?

Matsu cleared his throat, slowed down, and turned to me. “[Sachi] hasn’t left Yamaguchi in almost forty years. In the beginning, I tried to get her to come down, but she was too ashamed.”

“Didn’t her family care what happened to her?”

“Her family gave up on Sachi a long time ago.”

“They disowned her because of the disease?” I asked, flushed with anger.

Matsu shook his head, then said, “It wasn’t so simple. It was a question of honor. Once she became afflicted with the disease, it was Sachi who chose not to dishonor her family any more than she had.”

“What?”

“It was her choice.”

“But why?”

“She saw no reason for them to suffer her shame.”

“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.

[Sachi] stood perfectly still for a moment, then, without saying a word, pulled the scarf down and away from her face. She turned the damaged side of her face to me as her left eye strained to open wider. The scars appeared like a matted white web, stretched from her chin to her eye. […] If Sachi was trying to shock me then she was in for a surprise. I had known from the moment I met her that she was very attractive. But it wasn’t until I came to know Sachi that I began to see how beautiful she really was.

“Does Matsu need this?” she whispered, the dark scarf gathered around her shoulders.

I never took my eyes away from her scarred face.

“Yes,” I answered.

Sachi bowed her head and said nothing.

“I’ve spent my life doing what I thought was the right thing to do. I’ve never tried to hurt anyone, not in my business dealings and certainly not with my own family. I’ve always followed my judgment in everything, weighing one decision against the other. But in this matter, I didn't have any choice but to follow my heart. We are all here to live out our own fates. I just hope you can try to understand what has happened. The most important thing is that you know I love you all very much.”

[…] As his mouth softly formed the words, I knew the sense of integrity I had long admired in him had died, and that I was already grieving for its loss.

“So now what?,” I asked, after an uncomfortable silence between us.

“We go on living,” he answered.

“The next thing I knew, Sachi had stumbled, while the crowd kept pushing forward. […] I had just a moment to grab Sachi from behind and lift her to her feet. She was so light, it took so little effort. By the time she turned around, I had disappeared into the crowd […] When the festival was over, Tomoko spread the rumor that it was Kenzo who had saved Sachi, even though he had been carrying the shrine all the time.”

“Didn't Sachi or Kenzo say anything?”

“Sachi never mentioned it, until now. It’s sometimes easier to believe what everyone else believes. Besides, they were sweet on one another, and what could be more romantic?

“And now that she knows the truth?” I asked.

“Sachi only said, ‘Sometimes you can't see what is right in front of you. I’m sorry, Matsu-san.’”

“‘Those years are like another lifetime,’ I told her.”

“Time does change some things. I remember when I couldn’t stand the sight or scent of a flower. They brought me nothing, neither beauty nor calm.” Sachi pointed down to her garden. “I wouldn’t allow Matsu to plant any flowers in this garden, because it was too difficult. They reminded me of the past, of Tomoko, and everything that came into my life only to leave after a short, beautiful burst.”

“And now?” I asked.

Sachi brushed her hands together, and still kneeling, sat back against her legs. “And now, Stephen-san, I am thankful for any kind of beauty that may find its way to Yamaguchi. I never dreamed that often after all these years I would have the good fortune to find a new friend such as you.”

If I had been brave like some of the others, I would be in the other world now. I still remember the salty ocean water, stained red with blood that morning so many years ago. And I often recall my father’s voice telling me how the samurai maintain their honor by committing seppuku. […]

My father had hoped that by ending my life, he could retain the honor of our family. And in the end, I didn’t even allow him to have that. It would have simply been doing ko, submitting to his wishes. It was an obligation, the supreme duty of a child to adhere to one’s parents, but I failed my father. Only now, as I move toward the end of my life, can I begin to understand the enormous task that was asked of me, and to forgive myself for not completing it.

“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.”

You see, Stephen-san, that day I learned that there were greater losses than mine. Every man and woman in Yamaguchi had a life before coming here. From then on I could never look at any of them without asking myself: ‘Whom did they leave behind? How much did they give up? What bargains did they try to make?’ If I hadn't learned humility before then, from that day on I knew what the word meant. Here in Yamaguchi I learned that beauty exists where you least expect to find it.

I remember I turned to Matsu as we stood looking at the rock garden and asked, “Did you know it would be so simple and beautiful?”

“I knew its beauty would appear if we worked hard enough,” he answered.

“But I never expected it to be like this.”

Matsu smiled. “Beauty can be found in most places.”

I turned to face him, really looking for the first time at his thick, strong features. They were so different from Tomoko’s, I thought again that they couldn't really be related. After a moment I said, “I thought I no longer had any desire for beauty. I’ve had it all my life and look what it's done for me!”

Matsu then shook his head, looking out toward the garden. “Sachi-san, you’ve only known the ordinary kind of beauty which appears on the outside. Perhaps you now desire something deeper.”

I remember how I stood there in my bare feet, the dull sensation of the stones pushing and crackling beneath my feet. It was like a dream to think I had worked for months to create it, only to finally realize what was in front of me. In that moment, it all came to life. Suddenly, I could hear the water flowing and see the soft ripples on its surface. But most of all, I could now relish the fact that its beauty was one that no disease or person could ever take away from me. I stood there for a long time until I felt like I was no longer myself at all, but part of the garden.

After [Matsu and Sachi] left, I sat in the garden for the longest time. I tried to comprehend what it meant to die, to move on to an eternal sleep and never wake up again. Ever since I had come to Tarumi, I’d seen more deaths than in all of my life in Hong Kong. Everything before me was changing. I knew I would never be able to step back into my comfortable past. Ahead of me lurked the violent prospect of war, perhaps bringing the deaths of people I knew and loved, along with the end of my parent’s marriage. These were terrors I’d somehow escaped until now. And as I sat among the white deutzia blossoms, I felt a strange sensation of growing pains surging through my body, the dull ache of being pulled in other directions.

I looked over at Kenzo’s tea house which stood dark and empty. I could almost imagine seeing him last year during O-bon, his trim figure rushing back and forth, carrying trays of drinks to thirsty customers. He might have slapped Matsu on the shoulder and invited him in for a beer. Only this year he was gone, leaving Matsu to honor him with food and drink. And what must Sachi be feeling this O-bon? I wondered if they were celebrating the dead in Yamaguchi?

It was hard to imagine what the future would bring to any of us. All over Japan they were celebrating the dead, even as more and more Chinese were being slaughtered. There would be no one left to celebrate them.

“So we’ll write. And you’ll take care of Sachi?” I asked, my voice sounding high, much younger as it searched for reassurance.

“As always,” he answered.

I thought of what a fine father he would have been. “I hope the war…” I began, trying to say something about it, but not finding the right words.

“It is another life. It will never have anything to do with us,” he finished. “I wish you a safe journey, Stephen-san.”