The Samurai's Garden: A Novel (16 page)

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Authors: Gail Tsukiyama

BOOK: The Samurai's Garden: A Novel
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“I will see you again soon,” she said, reaching out for the fallen persimmons.
I purposely held them back. “What are you so afraid of? I just want to help you carry the basket home,” I said, exasperated.
Keiko’s eyes moved away from the persimmons and looked pleadingly into mine. “Please, they are for my father’s meal. He’s very old-fashioned, and I’m already late.”
“Are you afraid your father won’t like me?”
“Please, Stephen-
san.
”
I paused, but seeing her anxiousness I placed the persimmons back into the basket without another word. Keiko bowed, then looked up gratefully at me before she hurried away. Seeing Keiko’s fear, I couldn’t help but wonder whether her father was so old-fashioned that he had forbidden her to be alone with a young man. Or if it had to do with the fact that I was a Chinese young man. I stood there and didn’t move, long after Keiko had vanished around the corner.
Kenzo’s burial brought out the entire village. Gathered together was an assortment of old men, women, and children. Until Keiko had mentioned her older brother, I took it for granted that most of the young men from Tarumi had gone to seek their fortunes in larger cities. Now, I couldn’t help but realize that most of them had joined the Japanese Army. When I questioned Matsu about the lack of healthy young men in Tarumi, he simply shook his head and said, “They’ve gone off to fulfill the dreams of dreamers.”
The first month after I arrived at the beach house, I had somehow convinced myself that being in Tarumi kept me far away from what was happening in China. But the realization again hit me right in the face as I walked beside Matsu: I was the only young man in the crowd. While the villagers had grown used to my presence, I felt obvious and uncomfortable.
I tugged hard to tighten the
obi
sash of the black cotton kimono I had borrowed from Matsu. Just this morning, I realized I had nothing dark to wear. Unlike certain Chinese burials where white is worn, a Buddhist ceremony required dark colors. Matsu laughed and handed me the too-large black kimono, which could be wrapped twice around me. It was the only thing I could wear on such short notice, so with it hanging loosely from my body, I tripped clumsily after Matsu in a pair of wooden sandals.
The sweet smell of burning incense filled the air as the procession made its way to the Buddhist temple just outside the village. Matsu had told me that, unlike the Tama Shrine where births and marriages were celebrated, burials were always Buddhist ceremonies. In the Buddhist faith, it was believed that through a life of right living and thinking, one could achieve Nirvana.
The temple was a large, wooden structure. It was by far the most ornate building I’d seen in Tarumi, strangely reminiscent of Hong Kong, with its red and gold walls and curved roof tiles. It stood within walking distance of the village so that the many ancestors of the villagers buried or cremated there would not be lonely.
The crowd moved in a dark wave down the dirt road, slowly entering the temple. Matsu was silent throughout the entire procession, simply bowing his head to those who showed their sympathy at the loss of his good friend. If the villagers knew anything else, they kept it to themselves, giving Matsu the respect of their silence.
Inside, the large room was hot and filled with the thick smell of burning incense. There was a simple wooden altar up front, but no sign of Kenzo’s body. Monks in flowing orange robes began the ceremony with low chants which hummed throughout the room. The chants were consistantly accompanied by the steady clanging of gongs and cymbals. We bowed several times and repeated the chants, praying that the soul of Kenzo would find supreme happiness. During the ceremony, I glanced around and saw Keiko a few aisles away, dressed in a dark kimono and veil. I recognized her by the small pearl ring she wore on her right hand. Next to her stood Mika, and then an older man and woman who must have been their parents. While I couldn’t see her mother’s face clearly, I saw that her father was thickset and balding, with
more the air and appearance of a businessman than a fisherman.
When the ceremony was over, I decided to approach Keiko and her family. Still, I couldn’t forget the day before in the village when Keiko tried so hard to get away. In my mind, I again saw those same dark eyes imploring me to let her go, and I stopped cold when I saw her family standing nearby. But it was too late, for Keiko turned just in time to see me. She quickly took hold of Mika’s arm and began to pull her away, but not before her father turned toward me. He stood there solid and unmoving. His unsmiling glare cut right through me, sizing me up. I stood frozen, not sure what I should do, yet too close to ignore him. Then he leaned over and whispered something to Keiko’s mother. I could see her mother nodding submissively. When her father turned back to me, it was with a look so full of hate I simply bowed my head and walked quickly away.
 
 
Outside the temple, I looked around for Keiko’s family, and was relieved to find them already gone. At least I knew why Keiko was always anxious to get away from me. Her father’s dislike of me for whatever reasons was obvious. I had never felt such hatred, and shivered just to think of it.
Voices rang out in the distance as scattered groups of people moved back along the dirt road which led to the village. I stood aside waiting for Matsu, when out of the corner of my eye I saw her. Dressed in a black kimono and veil, her slight, graceful figure hovered among the trees. From the moment my eyes fell upon her, I knew it was not an illusion: Sachi had come after all. She lifted her veil and her eyes caught mine for just a moment as she bowed low in my direction. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then returned her bow, but when I looked up again, Sachi was already gone.
Everything seems to move in slow motion, or not at all. The radio and the week-old newspapers sent to me by my father from Kobe prove only that the war in China moves with a quick brutality, leaving a sour, anxious taste in my mouth. Every day I wait for a
letter from my mother, or a message from my father telling me to return to Kobe, where at least I’d be closer to the current news, but a troubling silence remains.
I’ve felt afraid since I saw Sachi and Keiko at the Buddhist temple. They’ve both disappeared from my life, vanished from sight. While I know Sachi is safely hidden away in Yamaguchi, I go down to the beach every day, hoping for a glimpse of Keiko. Her father’s cold stare of hatred seems far away now, but like a nightmare, it comes back in full force at the most unexpected moments. I can’t help wondering if I were Japanese, would I still be feeling such hostility from him? Or could it be some past grievance between our families that makes him hate the sight of me? It’s the only time that I feel I’m amidst some kind of enemy here in Tarumi. Yet, all I know is that I want to see Keiko again, and I only hope she feels the same. But each day has brought only the endless sea and an empty white beach.
After Matsu stayed close to the house for weeks, he disappeared this morning and I couldn’t find him anywhere. I had secretly hoped he would go to Yamaguchi, even if it was without me. The thought of Sachi alone after Kenzo’s burial worried me, though I didn’t dare approach Matsu with it. Ever since Kenzo’s death, it was as if the new life I’d discovered in Tarumi had stopped. I’d fallen back into being an invalid, sleeping late and doing as little as possible. Day after day, Matsu worked silently in his garden, keeping his grief to himself. My promise to Sachi stopped me from sneaking away to visit her. In my mind, I could see her thin, black-veiled figure hovering among the trees, and sometimes I wondered if it had all been just an illusion. Still, I’d kept her appearance at the temple a secret, not knowing if she wanted Matsu to know. It seemed as though he were purposely staying away from Sachi, as if Kenzo’s death had made them strangers. At times, I wanted to shake Matsu and wake him from this deception. But I realized he needed time, so I’ve kept out of his way, and quietly waited.
I felt restless this morning and decided to do some sketching in the garden. Matsu had gone into the village and I’d just sat down
by his favorite silk tree, when I heard the dull clapping of wooden sandals, and saw a shadow behind the bamboo fence move slowly toward the front gate. I stood up and waited, my heart beating faster. The shadow stopped just short of the gate and didn’t move for the longest time, when all of a sudden there was a faint knock. I knew immediately it was Keiko. At once I swung open the gate to see her standing a few feet away, dressed in a pale blue kimono.
“Ohay
gozaimasu,
Keiko
-san.”
I hoped she wouldn’t run away.
Keiko bowed low and quietly returned my greeting. But instead of looking me full in the face, her gaze remained directed down to the ground.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
Keiko wouldn’t look up at me. “I have come to apologize for my
o-t
san,”
she finally said.
“You don’t have to.” I followed Keiko’s gaze down to the dirt. “Your brother and the war …” I managed to get out before my voice stopped. I wondered if they had even heard anything from her brother, or if Keiko knew much about the Nanking massacre.
“It was Toshiro’s own decision to go fight for our Imperial Emperor. There is no excuse for my
o-t
san
to have been rude to you,” she whispered. “He has brought shame to our family.”
At that moment I wanted to touch Keiko’s face, to raise her lips to mine so that I could kiss her, but I knew it would only scare her away. Instead, I stepped back and bowed again. “Keiko-
san,
would you do me the honor of sitting with me in the garden for a moment?”
Keiko glanced over her shoulder. “I must return, Stephen-
san.”
“Then let me walk with you. For just part of the way,” I said quickly. I stepped away from her and toward the gate before she could say anything more.
 
 
Instead of taking the main road, we walked down the length of the beach, the warm sand soothing against my bare feet. I looked up at the dune, fearful that we might see Mika, only to relax when I saw that Keiko and I were alone.
“I was hoping to see you again,” I spoke first.
Keiko walked slowly beside me. She still avoided my eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was shy, or still embarrassed by her father’s
rudeness. “It has been very difficult to get away,” she said. “Mika is constantly by my side and my
o-t
san
is very strict. I told them I was going to go pray for Toshiro at the Tama Shrine, knowing Mika would prefer to stay at home.”
“I wasn’t even sure if you wanted to see me again.”
Keiko suddenly stopped walking. “I did,” she said softly, kicking some sand away with her wooden sandal. “I hoped you would accept my apology.”
I took a step closer to her, and could feel Keiko’s body tense against mine, but she didn’t move away. I touched the smooth white skin of Keiko’s cheek, then lifted her chin so that her eyes met mine before I leaned slowly forward and kissed her. I would have kissed her again, if she hadn’t pulled away.
“I must go now, Stephen-
san,
” she said, her face flushed.
I didn’t want her to leave so soon, still feeling the warm rush of desire. But I stood there, my feet pressing deep imprints into the sand. “When will I see you again?” I called out to her.
Keiko stopped for a moment, then turned back toward me. “I will come to you,” she said. Her voice drifted off into the air even as I tried hard to hold onto it. Then she began to run to the sand dune, lifting her arms just enough so that her kimono sleeves flapped gracefully through the air like wings.

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