Free The Samurai's Garden: A Novel by Gail Tsukiyama Page A

just dies down,” Matsu said, turning back to watch the road.
     
     
    It seemed like the storm would last forever, as it steadily grew in strength. The wind and rain continued, and the noise of the violent sea was deafening. With a wire net, Matsu carefully scooped up his fish from the overflowing pond into a wooden barrel. I watched as the waves crept closer and closer to the house, sliding under the bamboo gate and into the garden. Each time a wave receded, it left a foamy white line marking each advancing step.
    “The waves are getting stronger,” I yelled over to Matsu.
    He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “You better go into the house,” he yelled back, working frantically. I started toward the house, then stopped and turned quickly back to help Matsu catch the last of his fish. Just then the first wave crashed over the fence, drenching us. I saw several of his fish washed out of the barrel, squirming on the dirt. The next wave was even more powerful, and the one after that roared over the bamboo gate so fast and strong that neither of us had the chance to hang on. The wall of water swept us both off our feet, knocking us solidly against the house. I hit the house so hard the air was knocked out of me. I tried to get up, but the next wave slammed me back down before I knew what was happening. I grabbed onto a post by the genken and tried to stand up again. I could hear Matsu yelling to me, but he sounded strangely far away, like we were already lost, deep under the water.
    NOVEMBER 24, 1937
    I woke up lying naked in my own bed. I opened my eyes to the dim light of a flickering oil lamp. My wet clothes were on the floor next to me. As my head cleared, I remembered the last thing I felt was the strong punch of the rushing water and then nothing; blackness. It was just a miracle that the house still stood, somehow having survived the crashing waves.
    When I tried to raise my head, I felt an intense pounding that forced me down again. I closed my eyes until the throbbing quieted, then opened them cautiously, hopeful that the gradual light wouldn’t hurt my head.
    The boarded shoji windows gave no hint as to whether it was day or night. The house was completely still. There were no sounds of Matsu anywhere. Outside I could hear rain falling, but the fierce winds seemed to have died down. The strong, sweet and sour odor of the dank tatami mats filled the room. All I wanted was to steady myself enough so that I could get up and see what was going on.
    Very slowly, I moved my feet from the futon to the tatami mats, and with all the strength I could muster in my arms, gradually pushed my upper body into a sitting position. My head began to pound again. I gently rubbed my temples, still sticky with salt from the ocean. Behind my right ear I could feel a good-size bump.
    It was the sound of voices that reached me first, followed by footsteps that entered the genken. I recognized Matsu’s voice immediately, but the other was barely audible. From the ease of Matsu’s words, I could tell it was someone he knew well. The sound of footsteps continued down the hall until the shadowy figures stopped in front of my door.
    “What are you doing?” Matsu’s voice boomed across to me as he slid open my door.
    I smiled weakly up at him as he stood in the doorway. Across his left cheek was a long, white bandage.
    “Are you all right?” I asked.
    “That’s what I was wondering about you,” he laughed. He touched his bandaged cheek.
    “My head hurts,” I said, holding myself steady.
    “You were knocked out when you were thrown against the house by a wave. It felt stronger than a tsunami,” Matsu said, stroking his cheek again.
    I lifted my weak legs back onto the futon and quickly covered my nakedness.
    “Someone’s here to visit you,” Matsu smiled.
    Only then did I remember that there were two voices that had entered the house. I looked up just as Sachi stepped out from behind Matsu.
    “Sachi- san! ” I said,