The Samurai's Garden: A Novel (29 page)

BOOK: The Samurai's Garden: A Novel

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OCTOBER 27, 1938

Today I began to pack. My father booked passage for me on a ship that departs in three days. The day after tomorrow I’ll catch a
train to Kobe and the following day I will sail for Hong Kong. It doesn’t seem possible that I’ve been in Tarumi for over a year, but in packing up my belongings, I’m amazed that I’ve gathered so many possessions—my grandfather’s paintbrushes, clay pots, shells from the beach. What I’d originally brought seems to have grown three times. Still, I hoped to get most of my packing finished, so Matsu and I could spend my last day in Tarumi without extra burdens.

My grandfather’s house feels heavy with silence. Matsu brought me a few boxes this morning, then lingered in the doorway to watch. He hasn’t said much since my father wired my departure date. Most of the time Matsu and I don’t know what to say to each other. He wanders from one room to the next trying to keep himself busy, but I know we both feel lost. It’s as if the house is slowly becoming a stranger to us. Matsu stares hard into each room as if he already sees it as it once was, silent and uncluttered.

Sachi came down from Yamaguchi to be with us this afternoon. It was like a wish come true. The gate creaked open and she walked into the garden unexpectedly, daring all in the bright light of day. Yet, somehow it didn’t surprise either one of us as we watched her lower her veil and smile, reassuring Matsu that everything was well.

“I just wanted to see you and Stephen-
san”
was all she said.

Neither of us asked another question.

Later, as I lay in my bed, I tried to hold on to every moment of our evening together. Sachi had brought back a strange lightness to us. Matsu talked and laughed with ease. I couldn’t stop watching them together as we sat down to eat around the old wooden table. I wanted Sachi to stay the night, but she insisted on returning to Yamaguchi. As always, Matsu accompanied her back. At the gate, Sachi bowed low to me, saying nothing more. It was only after I was alone in the house again that I realized that this time she had come down for Matsu.

OCTOBER 28, 1938

By the time I woke up this morning, Matsu had left breakfast for me on the table and was already gone. He didn’t leave a note telling
me where he went and I couldn’t help but feel let down that he had disappeared on my last day in Tarumi. But this thought soon passed when I heard the gate open into the garden. I stepped into the
genken
just in time to see Matsu walk in carrying two parcels wrapped in brown paper.

“I thought it was better to take care of my business in the village early today,” he said, walking over to me. He lifted up one of the packages. “I went to buy our dinner.” The other package stayed safely tucked under his arm and remained a mystery. He appeared much happier after Sachi’s visit.

“I thought you were trying to get rid of me a day early,” I tried to joke.

Matsu suddenly stopped. “It never crossed my mind,” he said.

Matsu prepared lunch while I cleaned up the last of my belongings in grandfather’s study. The brushes and paints were neatly stored back in their cases, the empty white canvases left for Matsu to pack away until my next visit. I looked up at my only completed painting of the garden which had sat on the easel since the day it was finished, so many months ago. I decided then I would give the painting to Matsu.

After lunch when I had presented the painting to him, he stood stunned for a moment, then bowed so low I thought he would fall forward. “I am very honored,” he said quickly, his eyes directed to the floor in formality.

I returned his bow. “It isn’t half as good as having the real garden, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway.” Then I took the chance to tell him, “I don’t think anyone else could have done a better job taking care of me.”

He never lifted his eyes from the floor, but his voice was firm and clear. “I sometimes think it has been the other way around,” Matsu said.

We returned to the Tama Shrine in the afternoon. Matsu was surprised when I chose to go there. I was anxious about leaving and I wanted to walk somewhere. Somehow I felt going to the shrine might give me the sense of peace that I needed. This time after I
entered the three
torii
gates, I went through the ritual of washing, removing my shoes, and bowing three times without taking any cues from Matsu. It wasn’t that I had gone there with any special intention to pray at the shrine. I knew all the praying in the world wouldn’t stop the war from continuing, or make my parents love each other again. I wanted to leave a message on the wall by the altar, tacked alongside all the other hopeful requests so that even if I never returned to Tarumi, something of me would remain.

OCTOBER 29, 1938

Last night Matsu prepared salmon and sliced cucumbers topped with miso paste. I watched him prepare the entire meal with the delicacy of hand which has always amazed me. All the while, he sipped from a glass of beer and acted as if it were just another evening in a series of many more. I tried to act normal, too, though the anxiousness gnawing in the pit of my stomach was a constant reminder I was leaving.

After dinner Matsu didn’t remove the bowls as usual, but stayed at the table talking as we had done the evening before with Sachi. I told him I hoped to begin taking classes again once I was back in Hong Kong. He said he might eventually go to Tokyo to visit Fumiko for a few days. She’d been trying to get him to go for years, and it might be a good time. I agreed that it would be a perfect time for him to make a visit. After that he would spend time with Sachi, maybe eventually move to Yamaguchi. I saw him watch me closely as he told me this, but I simply agreed with a smile. Then when we had exhausted our conversation, Matsu stood up and took the
daruma
doll I had given him down from the kitchen shelf. He turned its face toward me so I could see he had plainly drawn in one eye. “When you return, I’ll draw in the other,” he said. “Now you should get some sleep, you have a long journey tomorrow.”

I was up very early, moving quietly through the house and out into Matsu’s garden. Fall had deadened some of the colors, but there still remained the quiet beauty I would always miss. Nothing had given me more solace those first few days I was in Tarumi than
sitting in the garden. In it, life seemed to have stopped, and a separate life contained itself in its beauty. I sat by the pond for the last time, remembering. I had learned the difference between a Japanese flowering cherry tree and a weeping
Higan
cherry tree. I could almost see Sachi again when she came down from Yamaguchi after I’d been hurt, leaning over with Matsu as they planted a new tree. I felt Keiko’s white blossoms that flowed over the fence and dusted my head. These images turned around and around in my mind as I listened to the wind crying through the bamboo fence.

I was about to go inside when I heard a small sound by the front gate. I had grown accustomed to checking on these ghostly occurrences with hopes that they might be real. I moved quietly toward the gate, so I wouldn’t scare whoever or whatever it was. I couldn’t see any shadows between the bamboo slats as I strained to listen for another sound. Except for the wind, there was nothing out of the ordinary. I grasped the handle of the gate and quickly swung it open. The road was empty, but this time Keiko had really been here. Attached to the gate was a single pressed white blossom.

Even if you walk the same road a hundred times, you’ll find something different each time. It was dark and overcast when we started out for the train station. The air felt heavy with rain. For the first time, the road ahead of us looked dark and menacing. Gray waves pounded hard and loud. I strained to take one last glimpse of the garden before Matsu closed the gate behind us. Then he turned around and began to walk down the road at a quick pace. Even loaded down with my possessions, he didn’t slow his pace.

By the time we reached the station, it had begun to rain lightly. Matsu and I put down my suitcase and boxes and waited in silence. My throat was so dry, it was all for the best that we didn’t talk. I could barely swallow. Suddenly I wanted Matsu to leave at once. His waiting only made it more difficult.

“Why don’t you go back before it really begins to rain? The train will be here any minute. There’s no use our both being here,” I said, swallowing hard.

Matsu looked uneasily around the station. “What about all the boxes?”

“I’ll get the porter to help,” I answered. “You’d better go,” I strained, my voice breaking.

Matsu looked at me and understood. “I think you will be fine, Stephen-
san,”
he bowed.

But instead of bowing back, I waited for Matsu to stand straight again before I put my arms around him in a hug. For a moment, he simply stood there frozen, but I didn’t back away until I felt him lift his arms around me.

Only then did I let go. “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 words.

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

Matsu bowed low, then looked at me a moment longer before he left. At the edge of the station he paused. I was tempted to run after him, but my legs wouldn’t move. I could only lean forward and watch him disappear from sight.

I sat back in the train, and wanted to cry. Outside, a splattering of rain ran across the window. Though it was only half-filled, the car felt hot and airless. I noticed the people settling in their seats, and it was only then that I saw a brown parcel tucked in among my belongings. I knew immediately it was from Matsu. I unwrapped the paper to find two black leather-bound books. There was no note. I let my hand run over the thick, soft leather covers before flipping through the empty white pages. Then as the train rattled toward Kobe, taking me away from Tarumi, I took out my fountain pen, opened one of the books, and began to write.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

Book design by Ellen R. Sasahara

ISBN: 978-1-4299-6514-9

First eBook Edition : July 2011

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING IN PUBLICATION DATA

Tsukiyama. Gail.

The Samurai’s garden/Gail Tsukiyama.

p. cm.

1. Japan—History—1926-1943—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3570.S84S26 1995

94-44996

813’.54—dc20

CIP

A Reading Group Guide

The title of the novel obviously alludes to Matsu’s garden, but could anyone else in the book be considered a “samurai”? Why?
All three central characters–Stephen, Matsu, and Sachi–?nd some sense of comfort in tending the garden. What are some of the metaphors for the garden and how are they worked out in the novel?
Loneliness, solitude, and isolation are all themes that permeate the novel. How do the three central characters’ approaches to these feelings vary, resemble each other, and evolve?
It appears as though Stephen and Sachi are somehow juxtaposed. How is this connection represented and developed?
How is the politically turbulent time at which The Samurai’s Garden takes place approached in the novel? Is it a strongly political novel or does the world of Tamuri somehow defy and avoid the political turmoil of the era?
How do you regard Kenzo’s suicide? What prompted it—feelings of dishonor, shame, or betrayal—and how does it affect the characters left behind?
How is Stephen and Keiko’s relationship represented? Examine it in relation to the courtships of the past–Kenzo and Sachi, as well as Matsu and Sachi.
As the novel progresses, Stephen stops longing to return to his home and in fact dreads having to leave Tamuri. What provokes this change of heart? How does this sentiment affect the ending of the novel?
Consider the kinds of beauty and strength explored in the novel. How are the contrasting characters of Sachi and Tomoko, Matsu and Kenzo illustrative of the differing natures of beauty and strength?

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