The Samurai's Garden: A Novel (10 page)

Read The Samurai's Garden: A Novel Online

Authors: Gail Tsukiyama

“Please, Kenzo-
san
, you don’t understand,” I heard Sachi’s voice pleading.
I moved closer to the kitchen doorway, careful to stay in the hallway and out of sight. I could see Sachi pull her scarf closer, as she huddled next to Matsu. Kenzo’s thin, angry face was crimson as he stood across from them. He looked nothing like the calm, gracious man I had met at his teahouse.
“I understand perfectly,” Kenzo yelled. He moved his arms through the air in frantic motions.
“Kenzo,” Matsu said, stepping up to him.
Without warning, Kenzo lunged forward and pushed Matsu back. Matsu staggered a bit, then caught his footing, but did nothing. He was much broader and stronger than Kenzo, and could have easily defended himself, but Matsu simply stood still. This
seemed to anger Kenzo more. He clenched both of his fists and a deep groan rose from down inside him. Then, all of a sudden he turned to Sachi and tore the scarf away from her face. Sachi let out a small scream as her scarf dropped to the floor. For a split second, they all stood frozen; the white, puckered scars magnified in the bright light.
Kenzo stepped back. “You really are a monster!” he roared. He began to laugh hysterically.
Sachi turned away from Kenzo and quickly picked up the scarf to cover her face. I gripped the door frame tighter. I wanted to do something to help her, but I knew it was not my place. Swallowing hard, I waited to see what Matsu would do.
“A monster!” Kenzo shouted.
Then Matsu regained his voice. “You are the monster,” he said, his voice low and threatening. He stepped forward and shoved Kenzo into the back door. Kenzo’s body slammed hard against the door as he grabbed his shoulder.
“Matsu!” Sachi screamed.
But he continued to move closer to Kenzo. Matsu grabbed Kenzo by the shoulders and threw him out the door. He fell clumsily down the wooden steps and onto the dirt. Then Matsu stood at the door, not moving. I stepped forward, just far enough to see Kenzo quickly pick himself up off the ground.
“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. They would mean nothing to her now, just as Kenzo’s words meant everything. So I hid from them, until I heard their footsteps move through the house, and Matsu’s soft words grew more distant. I
swallowed hard and felt an emptiness, knowing in my heart that Sachi was returning to Yamaguchi and wouldn’t be back.
“Sachi has returned to Yamaguchi,” was all Matsu said, when he returned yesterday. Then he went back out to his garden and began planting more moss around the pond.
It wasn’t until we ate our dinner of rice and marinated eel that he suddenly looked up and remembered to ask, “Did you see the girl this morning?”
“Yes,” I answered. “We had a nice time.”
Then a silence so thick filled the kitchen, I could hear my chopsticks slide against the side of my bowl. I looked around the small kitchen, which held no signs of what had happened that afternoon.
Matsu set his bowl down and rubbed his chin. He had eaten very little and appeared restless. I thought it better to stay out of his way and keep quiet.
“There was trouble here this afternoon,” he suddenly said. His voice sounded low and tired.
“I know.”
Matsu looked at me, his eyes opening in surprise. “You know?”
“I came back and heard your voices. I didn’t know it was Kenzo until I heard the yelling.”
Matsu shook his head slowly. “Good, then I won’t have to explain to you why Sachi won’t be visiting us again.” He leaned forward on the wooden table. “Kenzo rarely comes out to the house, but he forgot to give me a letter for Sachi, so he decided to bring it himself. We were in the garden working when he came through the gate. We thought it was you returning, so Sachi made no move to hide. By the time I realized it wasn’t you, it was too late. Kenzo didn’t immediately know it was Sachi. He stood for a moment, as if surprised that a woman would be with me. It was Sachi who stood and bowed, addressing Kenzo by name. At the sound of her voice, I saw the light of recognition appear in Kenzo’s eyes. He took a step forward, then stopped, and whispered her name.
When Sachi bowed again and nodded her head, Kenzo simply stood speechless. It was Sachi who asked him into the house for tea.”
“What did you say?”
“What could I say? I had led Kenzo to think Sachi would never step foot out of Yamaguchi. It had been the truth until the storm brought her down.”
“Why does Kenzo still have such strong ties to Sachi?” I asked.
Matsu didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and walked over to the small cabinet above the wooden basin. He took down a bottle of whiskey and a glass.
“They were once engaged to be married,” he finally answered. “Sachi was the only girl Kenzo ever loved. I was his best friend and his go-between when the disease came. At first he didn’t have the courage to face Sachi, but later when he realized how much he loved her, his family had forbidden him to go to Yamaguchi. So I became their only link.”
“What about your feelings?” I dared to ask.
Matsu poured the whiskey into the glass and took a large swallow. When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “Kenzo has been my best friend since we were young. If I felt anything for Sachi, he was never supposed to know.”
“But after all these years,” I said.
“I’ve never seen Kenzo so angry. In all the years we’ve known each other, there’s never been any anger. I have misled him, dishonoring myself and our friendship,” Matsu said as he emptied his glass.
“Why didn’t he just go to see Sachi himself after his parents died?”
“It was too late,” Matsu answered. “By then, the prospect of seeing her again frightened him. He was ashamed of his weakness. It was easier to speak through me.”
I paused a moment before I said, “There’s no reason why Sachi shouldn’t come back now.”
Matsu sat heavily down on his stool. “She has had to live through one disgrace in her lifetime, and because I have been a foolish old man, she will have to live through another.”
“I could talk to her.”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Matsu simply said.
“I could try.”
Matsu suddenly leaned forward across the table. His strong, rough hand gripped my shoulder, and he said firmly, “I will not have Sachi hurt any more.”
I
’ve tried to paint again, but with little success. My thoughts have mostly been on Sachi’s abrupt return to Yamaguchi. Matsu has spent most of his time alone in the garden since the argument with Kenzo. The garden has once again become his refuge, the only place he seems to feel any comfort. It’s there that Matsu becomes the artist; adding and mixing colors. Yet, even as the garden regains its former appearance, something is missing. Sachi’s presence, which had held us and the garden captive is gone, leaving an emptiness that can’t be filled.
 
 
This morning I made up my mind to visit Sachi, despite Matsu’s wishes. I struggled with whether I should tell him or not, but in the end decided to keep it a secret. I was afraid Matsu wouldn’t let me go, or worse, would want to go along with me. I needed to see Sachi alone.
For the first time since I arrived in Tarumi, I was up before Matsu. The house creaked in the stillness. I could hear the sounds of Matsu’s restless sleep come from his small room as I stepped quietly into the kitchen. I grew warm writing the note in which I lied that I couldn’t sleep and was out for a walk. Then I signed it quickly, and left it on the wooden table.
Outside, the sun had just risen, lighting up the sky a pale gray. Matsu would be up shortly. I closed the bamboo gate behind me and quickly walked down the dirt road that led to Yamaguchi.
The cold morning air stung my lips and fingers. My legs felt weak with anxiousness. It was the first time I’d made the journey to Yamaguchi without Matsu. What if Sachi didn’t want to see me? Should I turn away quietly, or should I force her to listen to what I had to say? What was it that I wanted to say? These
thoughts ran through my mind as I began the gradual climb up the mountain.
By the time I reached Yamaguchi, I was short of breath and had warmed into a sweat. Since the storm, I’d done nothing more vigorous than help to clean up Matsu’s garden. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. Every time my lungs ached, it was a reminder that I was also hidden away. Most of the time these thoughts clutched at me right before I fell asleep, in the semidarkness of my room, watching the shadows of the pine trees dance against the shoji windows.
When my breathing calmed again, I walked through Yamaguchi to Sachi’s house. The sun shone weakly as the village stirred out of sleep. There was a pungent smell of boiling herbs which reminded me of Ching’s bitter teas. I could hear voices and see shadows within the houses as I hurried along. When Sachi’s small house came into sight, I decided to tell her that I’d become concerned when I heard she could no longer come down to visit us. It was a flimsy excuse, but one I hoped Sachi wouldn’t question.
I climbed the steps of her house and knocked lightly on the door. When there was no answer, I knocked again and waited. It never occurred to me that Sachi wouldn’t be at home. Then I heard a muffled noise from within the house and the front door opened a small crack.
“Who is there?” Sachi’s voice asked, meekly.
“It’s Stephen-
san
,” I answered.
The door opened wide, and Sachi pulled her scarf closer to her face and bowed toward me.
“Ohay
gozaimasu,
Stephen-
san
, I am very happy to see you,” she said, obviously surprised.
“Ohay
gozaimasu.”
I bowed.
“Is Matsu-san with you?” Sachi asked. She stepped forward and looked past me.
“No, I came alone. He told me you weren’t coming down to the house for a while, and I was wondering if you might be ill, or if there was anything I could do.”
Sachi looked away. She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in, Stephen-
san
,” she said.
When I stepped into the warmth of her house, the sweet smell of
congee
filled my head.
“Please sit,” Sachi said, pointing to the cushions by the low
black lacquer table. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, only to reappear a few moments later carrying two cups of tea. “You must be cold and thirsty after your long walk.”
I took the small clay cup from her and sipped from it. The warm, slightly bitter tea soothed my dry throat. I smiled, looked up, and asked, “Is everything all right?”
“Has Matsu-
san
led you to believe otherwise?” she asked.
“He said very little.”
Sachi laughed softly and sipped her tea. “It is just like Matsu,” she said, shaking her head. She sat down at the table across from me. “Matsu didn’t want to tell you that I could no longer go down to Tarumi. My presence there has brought great dishonor to all of you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I was seen by Kenzo-
san
on the morning you were gone.”
“What difference does that make?”
“I have disgraced you and Matsu, as well as myself.”
“You have disgraced no one,” I said.
Sachi lowered her eyes. “I should never have gone back down to Tarumi. I should have known better than to think the past had quietly gone away. Kenzo was so angry when he saw me with Matsu. He thought that we had purposely deceived him for all these years.”
“But you and Matsu might never have become friends if it weren’t—”
“There is no excuse,” Sachi interjected, her voice trembling.
I put down my teacup and looked hard at what I could see of Sachi’s pale, tired face, partially hidden under the dark scarf. Something in her voice made me want to reach across the table and take her hand. Without thinking I leaned toward her, and in the next instant my hand moved up and slipped under her scarf, resting on the white, puckered scars. They felt smoother than I expected, like the exposed veins on an arm. Sachi sat frozen at first, not really acknowledging what was happening. Her eyes reacted first, opening wide with realization as she let out a small cry and quickly turned away from me.
She rose from the table and backed away from me. “You must go now, Stephen-
san
.”
“I came here to tell you you don’t have to hide from us. The
scars make no difference to me, and I know they never did to Matsu,” I said frantically.
Sachi continued to back away. “I will not dishonor you any more than I have,” she repeated. “Please, you must go now.”
I stood up, my heart beating faster. I knew I couldn’t leave without convincing Sachi that she could never disgrace anyone. I didn’t want to upset her, and I had no idea what possessed me to touch her scars.
“I just want to talk,” I pleaded. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Sachi shook her head slowly. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“There’s a great deal to talk about. Matsu needs you!” I said at last.
Sachi stopped. She seemed startled. She 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. Part of her nose was eaten away and there was a small depression near her mouth, which made her lower lip sag downward. I was more astounded to see her entire face uncovered than I was by the distorting scars. Her hair was pulled tightly back into a chignon, and in her good eye I could still see her youthful beauty. 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 thought Sachi would lead me to the front door for a brief and final good-bye. Instead, she simply bowed and gestured for me to follow her. I stood up and waited, as she slid open the
shoji
panel which led out to her garden and we stepped outside.
The sunlight hurt my eyes as they adjusted to the bright light,
and to the spare clarity of the garden. The strong smell of wet pine added to the sense of peace and quiet she had created.
Sachi immediately went to work as if I weren’t there. She took hold of a claw-tooth rake and stepped out into the sea of gray stones. Then, with quick, easy strokes, she began to recreate the wavy patterns in the stones in front of her. Her scarf was still draped around her shoulders and she no longer made any attempt to cover her face. The crackling sounds of the stones hitting against one another reminded me of the tiles in my mother’s mah-jongg games.
At that moment I hoped my mother was feeling all right. When I first received the letter from her about my father, I couldn’t believe what I was reading, followed by my own selfish thoughts of having my already disrupted life disturbed again. Until this moment, I had blocked out what my father’s indiscretion really meant to my mother, the hurt she must feel. I knew that as soon as I got back to the house, I would write my mother a long letter.
 
 
I stood aside and watched Sachi gain strength and momentum as she worked. She moved backward, covering her tracks with each new stroke as she worked her way to where she had begun. Suddenly, Sachi stopped and turned to me.
“Would you like to help?” she asked.
“I don’t want to ruin the pattern,” I answered, as I stepped back and shrugged my shoulders.
Sachi raised her right hand up to cover her laugh. “How can you ruin stones, Stephen-
san
? You can only rearrange them, and who knows if it won’t be for the better.”
She handed me the rake and stepped out of my way. Very slowly, I began to move it through the stones in front of me, careful not to disrupt the smooth, wavy lines the stones formed. It was a strange feeling, much different from working with the fluidity of brush and paint, or water and earth. The weight of the stones pulled against each stroke and left a distinct feeling of strength and permanence.
“I often change the patterns in the stones,” Sachi said. “When I first began the garden, I would sometimes change the pattern several times a day.”
“What did Matsu say?” I stopped and asked.
“Matsu said nothing. He knew it was the only way I could keep my sanity.”
I remained silent, not knowing what to say.
Then Sachi’s voice filled the air again. “Who could know that Matsu would save my life. I always thought it would be Kenzo, until that fateful day that Tomoko took her life.”
“Tomoko?”
“Matsu’s
im
to-san,”
Sachi paused. “His younger sister. She was my best friend and very kirei. It was as if she received all the beauty in the family.”

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