The Samurai's Garden: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

was just a matter of time.
    Matsu looked up when he heard me close the gate. He was almost shy as he bowed and spoke. “Your o-tsan is safely on his way back to Kobe?”
    I nodded, then whispered, “Yes.”
    Matsu straightened. “I’m going to visit a friend who lives in a small mountain village near here,” he said, his eyes avoiding mine. “I wondered if you would like to come with me?”
    I looked at him and smiled, unable to conceal my surprise. “I would be happy to go with you!” I quickly answered before he had time to change his mind.
    “Good, then we’ll go after lunch,” he said.
    I watched Matsu turn around and walk back to the house, still clutching a handful of wet flower petals.
     
     
    Yamaguchi was a small village in the mountains, Matsu said. He often visited to deliver supplies to a friend. We walked the two miles or so up a narrow, rocky, brush-lined dirt road. Ahead of us I could see the hilly slopes and large pine trees, which could easily cover up any signs of life.
    “Yamaguchi is also called the Village of Lepers,” Matsu said, as we walked slowly up the road. “When some of those who had the disease were no longer wanted by others in town, they took what few belongings they had and went up into the mountains, hoping to die peacefully. Away from the cruelties of the healthy.”
    “Aren’t you afraid to go there?” I asked hesitantly.
    Matsu walked straight ahead. I thought he wasn’t going to answer,
when he suddenly looked right at me and said, “The first time I went, I wasn’t sure what to expect. After all, lepers from all over Japan found their way to Yamaguchi, simply hoping to be accepted, to be swallowed up by the mountain.” Matsu looked down at the path again and then walked on. “I began to visit a friend there—someone from my youth. No one knew. I was young and healthy. And I remember being told long ago by a visiting doctor that there was nothing to fear. Leprosy wasn’t a disease that could be spread by simple contact.”
    When Matsu’s voice stopped, I realized he was several steps ahead of me and had turned to wait for me to catch up. I felt a shortness of breath as I drew in more air and let out several long sighs. “I’m fine,” I said, increasing my pace and moving past Matsu up the hill.
    “Maybe we should visit another day,” Matsu said, raising his voice to make sure I heard.
    I stopped and turned back to him. “I’m really fine!” I said, with such conviction that Matsu caught up, then continued up the path alongside of me.
     
     
    The village of Yamaguchi stood in a clearing on the gradual slope of the mountain, hidden away by tall pine trees. Small wooden houses sat in a cluster like any other village. I stopped at the outskirts and let my eyes wander over the tranquil sight. From the distance, the villagers appeared just like Matsu and me. Men were gathered in small groups sipping tea and talking, while others worked in small gardens, and women sat mending clothes. Only with closer scrutiny did I begin to see that the houses were painstakingly pieced together with mismatched scraps of wood. And while some villagers had their heads and hands bandaged, others freely displayed their raw scabs and open wounds. I felt a strange curiosity, rather than fear. In China, lepers had always been feared and shunned. I had heard stories of how they were forced to live on the streets, left to beg or eat rats, while they simply rotted away.
    I stood a long time taking it all in. When I finally came out of my trance, Matsu was studying my face with an unusual intensity. He continued to watch me and finally said, “You don’t have to
be afraid. I wouldn’t have brought you here if there were any danger.”
    I smiled at his concern. “I’m afraid for them,” I said, quick to cover my cough.
    Matsu laughed, then pointed toward the far end of the village. “My friend’s house is that way,” he said.
    We walked slowly through the village. There was a