The Samurai's Garden (2 page)

****

Hiromasa Tanaka studied the tiny woman before him. Instead of the elaborate hairstyle or wig worn by the women in his world, Hanako's hair was scarcely visible. A faded scarf held it off her face and under a wide-brimmed straw hat, but a few stray tendrils had escaped, gently framing her delicate features. Her complexion, though tanned, was not as rough as many of the farmwomen he had seen. Perhaps the straw hat she wore protected her somewhat. A cheap linen kimono hung loosely on her slender frame. The faded brown fabric had no embellishment, and an equally shabby strip of fabric wrapped around her middle was her
obi
, or sash. A coarse rope tied over the
obi
served as her
obi-jime
, holding everything in place. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, but she held herself with dignity and pride, giving her the illusion of height.

"What is your name?" he asked when she didn't respond.

She peered up at him curiously. "You know my name. You called me 'Little Flower' in the marketplace."

"It was simply an endearment, the first that came to mind. Your name really is Little Flower?"

"I am called Hanako — Flower Child." She turned her face and her cheeks pinked. "My mother loved flowers, and I was born in the spring when her garden started to bloom."

"I see. So, Hanako-san, will you allow me to work in exchange for lodging?"

She bit her lip and looked down, and he guessed at the reason for her hesitation. "I am accustomed to simple accommodations. After all, a soldier must learn to sleep wherever he is at nightfall, whether he is in a cave or under the skies. If you accept my offer, I will do my best to be of assistance to you. Which way to your home?"

She hesitated another moment, and he realized he had been holding his breath when she finally nodded and indicated the direction they would take.

They followed the road until the sun began its descent. The long walk gave Hiro plenty of time to think about his new employer. From his outdoor seat at the tavern, he had noticed her arrival in the village. Marching into the stockyard, she'd made her selections with knowledgeable assurance. Despite her delicate appearance, she had demonstrated experience and a firm hand with the animals. However, the antics of the slimy Sato-san had disgusted him. The merchant's refusal to deal with her had prompted Hiro to step in.

He hadn't intended to do more than help her make her purchase, but the chance to get acquainted intrigued him. Working on her farm would allow him to pass the time while he decided on his life's course, as well as pay penance for the wrongs done by his former comrades.

Finally, they reached a pair of dilapidated huts. From this point, the road curved and disappeared in the woods. He stopped on the road, turning to her and raising his brow in a silent question. When she simply nodded toward the larger one, he walked to the doorway and entered it.

The evening's dim light made it difficult to see inside, but when his eyes adjusted he could tell the woman kept a tidy home. The shabby contents were clean, and arranged comfortably. While Hanako dealt with the animals, he took stock of his new temporary lodgings.

A simple wooden box to the right of the stove held two rusty urns. A bowl of rice and a few berries had been placed in front of the urns, along with a stub of candle. A man's garment, made from cheap coarse fabric, had been draped on the wall behind the box. This must be her
obustudan
, the home for the spirits of her husband and father. It was a far cry from the elaborate, lacquered wood and gold-painted arrangement holding his father's ashes. Yet, the simple tribute was equally profound.

Her entrance into the room interrupted his perusal. She lit a lantern, further highlighting the shabbiness of the hut's furnishings. "I will prepare the evening meal. Will you have some tea?" Her voice, though marked with the accent of a peasant, was lyrical.

"I would enjoy some refreshment. Thank you." He sat on one of the threadbare cushions in the seating area and watched, fascinated, as the young woman performed her task. Her motions were fluid and economical as she prepared tea and a meal of soup and vegetables.

"Does someone live in the other building?" he asked.

"When my father lived, he slept there. I hope it will be suitable for you. It's dusty, so I'll clean it for you while you eat."

"I am certain it will be satisfactory. Thank you for your hospitality."

"I apologize for the lack of substance in our meal," she said as she set the fare on the floor in front of him, "but I left early for the market and didn't go fishing today. I'll be sure to have a better meal tomorrow." She bowed respectfully and turned to leave.

"Please sit with me." The words came from his mouth without warning. She froze in mid-step and spun back to stare at him.
She may be a simple girl
,
but she has some manners
. It would not be her place to be seated with a man as he took his meal. "I have some questions, and since I am quite tired and would like to sleep after eating, I want to speak with you now."

She hesitated another moment, and then nodded. She knelt demurely, keeping a respectful distance, and folded her hands on her knees. He noted her hands trembled slightly, despite her expressionless face.

"Do you not have any relatives to help you?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "My mother died in childbirth when I was young. My brother was sickly and lived only two years. My father and I lived here until he passed away three years ago. I have no aunts, uncles, or cousins who will acknowledge me, and my husband never talked about his family."

"How long were you married?"

"Six years."

"So your husband took over the farm when your father died?"

She took her time answering him. A series of expressions swept across her face: frustration, sorrow, defeat. He hadn't meant to evoke painful memories. Finally, she sighed and squared her shoulders. Her eyes still downcast in respect for his gender and rank, she answered in a clear, firm voice. "Father was — ill — for a long time before he died. My husband wasn't raised on a farm, so he didn't really know what to do. I — helped him with the work and the management."

Hiro's compassion for the young widow grew. Apparently her father had left her to make all the arrangements and decisions, and now that her husband was gone she was left with all the physical labor as well. He would need to work hard to help her get back on her feet. But he knew nothing about agriculture, and even less about farm animals. He'd have to observe and take his cues from his hostess.

He finished his meal then set the bowl down. "Thank you for the delicious meal. Are there any duties you wish for me to complete before I retire?"

Hanako shook her head. "The animals are settled for the night, and since the light of day is gone, we can't do any work in the field. As soon as I have prepared your room we should sleep, and begin our work early in the morning." Since he had finished, she rose, bowed, and took his bowl. She placed it in the cooking area and hurried outside.

Hiro took out his pipe and went out into the night. His years of warrior training had taught him to familiarize himself with his surroundings. The road to the village marked the northern edge of Hanako's land. Open fields lay to the east and west. To the south, dense woods guarded the fields. A narrow stream gurgled as it cut a path out of the woods toward the house then curved and returned back into the trees. Hiro examined the earth, digging at it with his toe. The cold harsh winter had left it hard-packed. It was no wonder Hanako wanted livestock to help with the plowing.

The soft rustle of Hanako's kimono told him she had finished cleaning out his hut and returned to her own. Through the open doorway, he saw her scoop out her own meal and sit down to eat. If the thin soup was all she'd had to eat all day, it wouldn't do much to fill her. He would have to do all he could do to help.

****

Hiro put the axe away and walked back to his hut. He made use of the tiny washbowl and returned to Hanako's hut to find out what the day's work would be. She was still busy cooking, so he sat down on the cushion to watch her.

He hadn't expected to be comfortable here, but he had slept soundly and awakened full of energy. The air here seemed cleaner, everything looked brighter, and he had tiptoed past her hut to investigate the surroundings in the light of day. Noticing the nearly depleted woodpile, he imagined her struggling to chop the wood for her fire. The thought distressed him so much he chose the tallest tree he could find, cutting it down and chopping it into pieces so that she wouldn't have to worry about the chore for a while.

Watching her now, as she worked on the simple meal, he compared her to the women he had known. Embodying the traditional concept of beauty, their smooth, uncalloused hands held delicately painted fans in front of their powdered faces. Hanako's fingernails were lined with dirt, and her face was tanned from working outdoors. Her clear eyes shone with intelligence and sincerity. Yet in her simplicity she was as elegant as a
geisha
.

Hanako's breakfast preparations were interrupted by a strange bellow from behind the hut. Hiro looked up, uncomprehending, while she jumped up and ran outside. He got up to follow her.

The cow had broken her lead rope and had begun to trot away. Hanako ran after the animal, but the kimono she wore didn't allow her to run very fast. She could only move her legs from the knees down, and the cow got farther and farther away.

Hiro knew he could overtake the animal more easily and raced after the errant cow. Charging past Hanako, he finally reached the animal and grabbed what was left of the lead rope. Then he slowed his steps, gradually bringing the cow to a halt. The massive animal resisted his pull, but Hiro managed to turn her around.

A flash of gray to his right caught his attention. A wolf? Was that why the cow had run? Perhaps he'd better go hunting later.

Before Hiro had the cow back to the hut, Hanako was already hard at work digging a hole. A sturdy pole and a thicker rope lay on the ground nearby.

He admired her athletic movement, as well as her fine form, as she set about her task. She was such a hard worker. A sudden thought entered his mind, startling him with its intensity.

She is a strong woman, worthy of a strong warrior
.

He wondered again about the husband who had been fortunate enough to claim her as his own. Had he been strong? She had said that he had not been interested in working the farm, but he must have helped her with the hard physical labor.

His heart had never known jealousy. If a woman preferred not to respond to his advances, it was of no consequence to him. But the vision of this particular woman in another man's arms brought an unfamiliar ache to his chest.

He reached for the shovel. "I will take care of this. You'd better tend to your animals."

She opened her mouth as if to argue but closed it and simply nodded her assent, handed the tool to him, and walked toward her charge.

By the time he finished, the sun was high in the sky, and his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet. He remembered the breakfast Hanako had prepared for him.
Would it still be edible?
He doubted it.

He returned to the hut, finding the planned morning meal covered with scavenging insects. He noted the care with which she'd set the makeshift tray and had arranged the flowers. She'd really made an effort to serve him. Gingerly taking the bowl with his fingertips, he disposed of the mess and looked around for her food stores, intending to start over. There were none. Had she really planned to give the last of her food to him?

Remembering the stream behind the hut, he lifted his sword and went in search of some nourishment. The stream, as he had hoped, was clear, and he saw he would be able to make a fine catch.

He found a sturdy old tree with a thick branch overhanging the stream. Carefully inching out on the branch, he found it could accommodate his weight, and lay face down along its length. His hand gripped his sword and he waited, poised and ready for his prey. The rippling water played a calming melody, and the shade from the higher branches enveloped him in a blanket of security he hadn't experienced in years.

As a warrior in the elite forces of his
daimyo
, he had not known serenity, only anger and death. What would it be like to live in peace and beauty, instead of constant pain and needless bloodshed?

A splash in the water below reminded him of his task. A school of carp, making its way upstream, swam into his vantage point. Drawing on his survival training, he lowered his sword, spearing the largest of the group. Quickly he raised and lowered the sword again and again, until the still-moving fish covered half his blade.

The water beneath him turned murky, and his arm froze as the haunting memory of another time, another knife, overtook him. His stomach churned as he remembered a man he had known like a brother, one he loved and revered, dying by his own hand. Though Hiro had fought nobly and had observed the death of many, this time it had brought him to his knees. It was then that he knew he could not continue as a warrior.

He shook his head, bringing himself back into the present. He had a marvelous catch, so the two of them would eat well tonight. Slowly, carefully, he backed off the branch. Carrying his quarry back to the hut, he looked around for his hostess. Apparently, the cow's anxiety had passed, and she grazed contentedly. Hanako was still hard at work, tending the chickens. Hiro felt a moment of guilt, having spent time fishing in the cool shade while his hostess had been laboring.

"I brought some fish from the stream. I'll prepare them for a meal."

Hanako straightened, her eyes taking a moment to focus on him. Her face brightened with pleasure as she eyed his catch.

"That's wonderful!" Her cheeks turned pink and she averted her face. "I had forgotten about preparing a meal. Please forgive me."

"You had other concerns." Hiro shrugged away her apology. He carried the fish into the hut, intending to filet them. She followed him. "Is something wrong? Would you prefer not to eat these tonight?"

"Oh, they will be wonderful! I just thought — well, you have more than we need for a meal, and if you don't mind, I could trade one or two for some rice."

So, this is how the woman has survived
. He nodded his assent, and she took two of the larger fish, wrapped them in a clean cloth, and bundled them in a carrier to take to a neighbor. He watched her hurry across the field then set about at his own task.