2. Mysterious Sound
The garden was
transformed and meticulously tended by skilled gardeners.
The trees on
the mountain side that had protruded far beyond the wall, as well as the
overgrown weeds, were all gone.
The low bushes
that had been planted as an afterthought were neatly trimmed, greatly improving
the appearance. Still, the overall impression remained somewhat empty and
forlorn, unable to shake the feeling of desolation.
Minato offered
freshly brewed green tea to a young gardener sitting on the engawa (veranda).
The large
gardener, dressed in overalls, cheerfully bowed and wiped sweat from his chin
with a towel hanging around his neck.
“Well, it was
done pretty quickly, surprisingly. Ended in no time,” he said.
“The work was
finished by morning, wasn’t it? Thank you very much,” Minato responded.
Although it was
originally scheduled to take an entire day, the work finished earlier than
expected, and it was still early in the day before lunch. The other workers,
who had been involved in the cleanup of branches and leaves, left with three
light trucks loaded with debris.
“The toughest
part was probably dealing with the mountain visitors,” the gardener chuckled.
“Because they
couldn’t see over half of the wall from above. The white wall was blinding,”
Minato said.
The gardener,
laughing merrily, refreshed his throat with tea. He gazed at the empty pond,
narrowing his eyes.
“My father, who
commissioned this garden design, would be quite disappointed that it was left
halfway done,” he said quietly.
It was his
father who had asked for the garden to be made.
But the project
was abandoned halfway not only because the owner of the house had suddenly
passed away, but also because his father himself had soon entered the
afterlife.
Minato also saw
that the back of the gardener’s hand gripping his glass was tense.
The young
fifth-generation gardener, who exhaled deeply, turned to Minato with a friendly
expression and asked:
“What should we
do about the garden? If you like, I can take over. Maybe plant a symbol tree?
It’s just too lonely as it is now, don’t you think?”
“That’s true,
but I’m only here temporarily,” Minato replied.
“Is that so?”
the gardener asked.
“Yes. So I
don’t want to do anything too presumptuous,” Minato answered.
The gardener
tilted his head slightly, looking a bit disappointed, then distorted his face
and grabbed Minato’s shoulder—though it looked quite painful.
“Did you hurt
yourself during work?”
“No, lately
I’ve just been feeling a little off,” the gardener replied, awkwardly rolling
his shoulders. His face looked unwell, so Minato thought it would be better if
he left early.
“I’ll ask the
owner about the garden. I think it’s better to get some clarification,” Minato
said.
“Understood,”
the gardener nodded.
Minato reached
into his coat pocket to take out his memo pad, intending to make a note of
contacting the owner.
Suddenly, a
strong wind blew from behind, flipping the memo pad open, and a single note
card fluttered away.
The moment it
hit the gardener’s shoulder, both of them looked surprised.
“Excuse me!”
“Huh? Oh, no
problem… but my shoulder… it suddenly…,” the gardener said, surprised.
“Did something
happen?”
He awkwardly
swung his bent arms forward and backward, then turned his neck as well.
Along with his
quick movements, a dry, pleasant sound rang out.
His face
slightly improved in color, and he muttered as if he couldn’t quite believe it:
“…It’s light.
It was so heavy just a moment ago.”
“Really? That’s
true?” Minato asked, surprised.
“Yes, the pain
I felt in my arm almost unable to lift it has completely disappeared,” the
gardener said, with a bewildered expression.
“Ah, that’s
good if the pain’s gone,” Minato said cheerfully.
“Yeah… well, I
suppose so,” the gardener nodded, still looking confused, and then bowed to
take his leave, with a bewildered expression on his face.
Minato followed
to see him off at the back gate, though he couldn’t see what was happening. But
someone who could see would have noticed the terrible sight of multiple evil
spirits, which had been clinging tightly to his shoulders even before he
arrived scattered to pieces by the explosive dispersal of the note paper.
The garden, now
cleansed of evil spirits, quietly passed through the back gate with light
steps.
◇
The house, with
its black exterior, was surrounded by a white wall, with a sukiya (traditional
Japanese style) gate at the front and back.
Minato attached
a wooden plaque to the pillar of the front gate and nodded with satisfaction.
“Just for a
while, but… as long as I’m here, it’s okay, right?” he muttered.
At twenty-four,
he was experiencing his first independent living situation. And it was in a
grand single-family house the dream of owning his own castle.
Displaying his
nameplate on his own property was a small dream come true.
He traced the
black characters of his name, “Kusunoki,” engraved on the plaque, with his
index finger. The plaque was handmade by Minato himself.
“Pretty
well-made, isn’t it? Yeah,” he said proudly.
He was pleased
with the neat, unwavering calligraphy an outcome he had worked hard to achieve,
repeatedly applying varnish and drying, then carving the characters with a
chisel, filling the black with powder, and applying varnish multiple times,
pouring his heart into the process.
Even without
formal calligraphy training, many commented that his writing was easy to read
and beautiful.
Since
childhood, he had continued making nameplates and signs for his family’s home
and hot spring inn, creating two more this time, which he had brought with him.
He installed
the best one on the front gate and headed for the back gate.
The weeds
outside the wall had also been cut, leading to a smooth, flat path.
The wall that
surrounded the house was taller than Minato, completely blocking the view from
outside.
He thought back
to when he first started making nameplates.
“Come to think
of it, why did I start making nameplates?” he mused. “Oh, that’s right. Because
someone complimented me when I was in elementary school.”
It was a
project he had done in upper elementary school.
Much worse than
now his handwriting was crooked, and he simply carved the name of a hot spring
inn in a rough piece of wood.
When he gave it
to his father, it was displayed on the inn’s gatepost, making him both shy and
happy.
That was when a
middle-aged man in traditional dress, wearing a Panama hat, who was a guest at
the inn, praised it generously:
“This is
wonderful. Did you make it yourself? You should definitely keep it. I highly
recommend putting one on your house, too. By the way, could you make one for my
uncle? I’ll pay you properly.”
He was
surprised when he heard that at the time.
He smiled
faintly and attached the nameplate to the back gatepost.
A clear,
high-pitched sound rang out a sound that Minato couldn’t hear, a boundary of
spiritual power being established.
A jade-green
light was emitted from the enclosed square property in all directions.
It dispelled
the swirling miasma above the house.
In an instant,
the house and mountain that had been faintly shadowed regained their vivid
form.
A gentle breeze
blew. The trees covering the slope of the neighboring mountain rustled.
It was as if
they were singing with joy, trembling in ecstasy.
“Yeah. This is
pretty good too,” Minato thought, simply looking at the nameplate, unaware of
anything.
Even if he had
looked directly at it, he wouldn’t have been able to see what was happening the
special eye that could perceive evil spirits was not his.
The nameplate
he had made at his family’s request had lasted less than a year before
cracking, and he couldn’t remember which generation the current one was.
The man who had
implored him was very pleased when he received it.
And, as a token
of thanks, he paid him a sum that could comfortably stay at the inn’s annex for
half a moon (around two weeks).
His entire
family was astounded.
Since then, he
hadn’t visited again. He hoped that the man was doing well somewhere.
Lost in
nostalgic thoughts, Minato closed the gate.
He walked back
home at a relaxed pace within the pure atmosphere of the boundary.
Suddenly, the
nameplate on the back gate gently swayed as if moved by a breeze.
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