The Samurai's Garden (6 page)

****

Hiro fed the chickens, his mind on his journey to this place. It had been a wayward path, one he had not expected to take. Only a few years ago, he had been a soldier, a member of the elite fighting force feared and respected by all. And now he was here, laboring in the hot sun, in a place where his fighting skills and tactical training were of no use.

After Hiro's final break with the
daimyo
, his older brother had encouraged him to return to Tokyo and join the Imperial Army. Taro's letter had been the last communication he'd had from his family:

We would be a strong force for the emperor. Like our father, we would be able to represent and defend a leader, one we can be proud of. Please come back to Tokyo and join me. I would be proud to serve with you.

Instead, Hiro had gone even farther north. Taking a ferry to the island of Hokkaido, he had walked aimlessly for days, until he had reached the village of Furano. And now he was here, on Hanako's farm. Instead of being paid to take lives and use his strength to suppress lives, he earned his way by nurturing life. What would his father, the great Yukio Tanaka, think of his son now? Would he be embarrassed to know his second born had chosen to live as a simple farmer?

He was certain his family and friends would be amazed to see him working like this. The Tanaka family had wealth and social standing, and even though he was a second son, he had the benefit of the finest education and training. His father had hired tutors in music, literature, mathematics, and science, as well as the physical training necessary for a samurai. Hiro had enjoyed his studies and had endured the physical training as a necessary part of his regimen.

Now, Hiro used his strength to spread the grains from his sack over the ground, chuckling at the way the birds raced around to snatch them up. The chickens now numbered four, and a rooster had joined the menagerie. The hens' combined output of eggs now exceeded what three people could eat, and Hanako sold the excess during her weekly trips into town. Hiro was trying a new combination of grains to feed the flock. Lately, he'd read whatever he could find about the science of agriculture, and had persuaded Hanako to let him experiment with different types of feed to see if it would improve the hens' size and output.

Across the yard, Ginjiro milked the cow. When finished with his task, he covered the bucket with a cloth, and carried it to the stream, where the milk would stay fresh for a day or two in the cool shade. Farm life seemed to suit the former warrior. His eyes were now clear, his step lighter, and he stood straighter, having a purpose in life.

"I think I'm getting used to this," Ginjiro bragged. "I managed to keep my head away from the hooves this time," he added, pointing at the nasty gash on his forehead. "I've had my share of injuries, but I've never been attacked by a farm animal." He glanced around the yard. "So what's next? Shall I go to the field and help Hanako?"

"That's fine. I'll join you in a moment," agreed Hiro.

Ginjiro nodded and turned toward the field. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back to Hiro, a question in his eyes.

"What happens to these animals in the winter? They aren't going to live in the hut with Hanako, are they?"

Hiro stared at his friend. "I hadn't thought of that. The hut is too small for her, let alone all her animals. We will need to build something."

"If we're going to build something, we should build a home for her, and turn the hut into a barn. The place we sleep in would make a nice chicken coop, but then we would need to build two structures."

Hiro nodded in agreement. "Good idea. I'll discuss it with her."

Ginjiro regarded his friend shrewdly. "Would you share this home with her?"

Hiro hesitated. "We have not agreed to that," he hedged.

His friend grinned. "She's afraid of you?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps she's not ready to marry again."

Ginjiro's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Hiro almost laughed at the comical look of surprise.

"Marry? Why would you want to do that? Just build her a house and live in it with her. You would be her protector. No one would expect you to do more."

Hiro knew this was true. Many of his fellow samurai had concubines. But the idea did not sit well with Hiro. Hanako deserved to be treated with respect, and reducing her to the role of mistress would not do. His friends always teased him about his soft heart, his penchant for healing lost souls. Was Hanako a lost soul in need of protection? Was that why he was so concerned about her feelings, her needs, and her reputation? How had the son of a samurai become such a bleeding heart? His father had been known for his strength, but there was one summer long ago when he'd shown another side of his personality. Hiro had been on his way home from school when he'd decided to take another route...

****

The tiny kitten lay on the roadside, injured and abandoned. Ten-year old Hiro couldn't leave the animal in the road to die, so he brought her home, cleaned her up, and nursed her back to health. He found an old basket, lined it with a soft blanket, and hid the kitten in his room. Each day, after completing his studies and exercises, he sneaked back to his room, gently petting the fur ball and crooning to her softly. Always a dutiful son, he was careful to complete his tasks before indulging himself in the luxury of cuddling with his pet.

One day, the kitten fell ill. Hiro's heart ached for the tiny being as she lay listlessly, refusing to eat, not wanting to play. He feared for the kitten's life, but didn't know how to help her. Chores were done quickly, and he hurried back to his room to check on his charge. He sat on his
ofuton
, gently petting her, when the
shoji
screen opened and his father walked in. In his hand was a piece of armor. Hiro had been instructed to polish the headpiece, but the lack of shine attested to his carelessness. Hiro looked up, up, up at the man he loved and feared more than any other. Not only had he failed in his duty, he was harboring a pet. What would the great samurai do? Could he stand by and watch his father callously discard the kitten?

He clutched the kitten to his chest, trembling. The pet squirmed, but thankfully remained quiet, as if understanding that her fate lay in this powerful man's hand. Hiro struggled to contain the tears that filled his eyes and fought to keep from pleading for the mercy he knew would not come. Duty came first to a samurai. There was no time for the frivolity of pets.

And then the great warrior spoke. Hiro mentally prepared himself for the lashing he knew would follow.

"I wondered about the noises I heard coming from this room when you weren't home. But you have not come here during the day before now. What caused you to abandon your duties today?"

Hiro's heart held to a thread of hope. Was it possible that his warrior father understood? He struggled to find his voice. "F-forgive me,
otousan
. She — she seems ill. She is not eating."

Otousan
said nothing, but one brow raised. He held out his hand and waited.

Dutifully, Hiro handed over the kitten, though his hands trembled, and he feared he might drop her.
Otousan
took the tiny bundle in his large hands and examined her closely. "It appears she has a cold. See, her eyes are watering, and her breathing seems labored. Let's see if we can help her." He turned and strode to the
ofuro
, the bath area, with Hiro following closely on his heels.

In the hot, steamy room,
otousan
lay the kitten on a soft, clean towel. Gradually, the kitten settled in, her breathing calmed. Hiro's anxiety also eased as he realized she was going to be all right.

Father and son brought the pet back to Hiro's room to rest. "You should bring her back to the
ofuro
three or four times each day to clear out her lungs." He turned a stern eye toward his son. "Of course you will do this in between your chores and lessons." Hiro nodded in understanding. "And now that she is resting comfortably, you can return to polishing this armor properly."

Hiro bowed low, thanking the gods he would not be punished today. "Yes,
Otousan
. I will polish until it gleams."

The beloved pet had lived until her master left for the university, and Hiro never forgot his father's compassion that day. He had learned it was possible to be both a fierce samurai and to have a tender heart. And he realized that strength used to care for a weaker being showed a greater nobility than strength used to take from those who could not fight back.

****

Now, Hiro leveled a steady look at his friend. "Hanako would make a fine samurai wife. I would be honored if she agreed."