"Because there was a seed
A pine has grown even here
On these barren rocks.
If we really love our love
What can keep us from meeting?"
—Anonymous from the Kokinshu
trans. by Donald Keene

One day during each of his rare visits to his family, Shiba Satoru would go off alone. He would return with the coming dusk grave and deep in thought. No one would ask where he went, because there was only one place that could bring that sad look on his face.

But today he was with his little niece Ayame, having been cajoled by his sister to let her daughter go with him. He agreed on the condition they wouldn't stay long, certain he'd never have a moment's peace. That was what he sought in this place—peace. He wanted to enjoy the calm this glade had always given him.

Ayame was ahead of him, looking at the insects she disturbed in her wake. She was singing to herself, enjoying their walk, asking what plant or animal she spotted in the woods. The grass was tall at some spots, and they had to wade through them. When the girl tripped over an unseen rock and fell on her knees and hands he spoke. "You should be more careful, Ayame-chan," he warned, helping her up.

"Yes, uncle," she replied, but she was eager to get to their destination, and didn't mind her grazed knees. "I see it! I see it!" She ran and he quickly followed. He placed a hand to his daisho as he did, afraid of losing one of his most cherished mementoes.

It was a large pine and Ayame was awe-struck at the beauty and asymmetry of the needles and branches. With a motion full of childish carelessness she embraced the tree's trunk, pressing her cheek against the rough bark. He smiled at her expression of love. It was an easy smile, the smile of someone content. He was surprised to realize he was.

'How can I be content? Now, after so long?' Instead of continuing his thought he asked, "Do you like the tree, Ayame-chan?"

"It is a happy tree, full of happy things, uncle," she replied. "It's very quiet and very nice, and I get the feeling it is my friend. But why does mother always say it is your tree?"

He pressed a hand on the bark and glanced up at the galaxy of branches, remembering a young woman very like this child. His eyes softened with the memory. "Because someone made it grow for me, Ayame-chan."

"Grow for you, Uncle? How can anyone make a tree grow this big? It must've taken years and years!"

He picked at the hardened resin under his fingers. "A shugenja—your mother's one, so go ask her everything that they could do—planted a pine, and then she made it grow faster and faster, until it was full-grown in a span of months instead of years. It was exactly a year to—" he stopped. "Well, it was this size after many months."

She was amazed and looked up again at the tree's mesh of pine needles. Sunlight dappled her face. "A shugenja could do all this?"

"Yes, and she doesn't need to be a special shugenja. When the time comes you could make one grow, just as Momiji-san did."

She said with childish artlessness, "Isn't Momiji-san the one you were in love with a long time ago?"

He was stunned for a moment. "In love with?" he asked, trying not to laugh at the suggestion. He recalled the teasings he had to endure when he decided to be a yojimbo to the young Isawa. Apparently those rumors never died away, instead passing to the next generation along with the lessons and traditions passed by elders to their children. "Who said that?"

"Mother did. She said you never married because of her. Is it true, uncle?"

"I think I should know better than your mother, little Ayame. I was a yojimbo to Momiji-san, that was all. When we were children they thought we were sweethearts, but there was nothing but a true friendship between us."

"Oh." She was silent. "But you told me—or you told mother—the tree was in memory of someone you love."

Amusement vanished, to be replaced with sadness. Ayame paid too much attention to gossip. He would have to tell his sister not speak about it. But how could he tell the child he didn't want to speak of it anymore? Maybe he should tell this tale for this one time. "And it is, Ayame-chan."

"Can you tell me the story?"

He sat down, leaning on the rough pine bark. "It's a story with no happy ending, Ayame-chan. Do you want to hear it?" When she nodded, face solemn, he continued, "It is a secret. Can you keep a secret, Ayame-chan?"

She nodded again. "Good. Only you and Momiji-san will know, so that means I trust you and hope you won't betray my trust. Why don't you sit down and I'll tell you." When Ayame was finally settled down he started, "Your Uncle Satoru was once a vain samurai with long hair and a matching daisho with sheaths made of red lacquer and gold, the colors of our clan. But now you see me with my hair short and with my katana's saya of red and gold and my wakizashi's saya is simply covered in goldleaf. It's because of this story.

"I first met the one I loved under a pine like this a long time ago. It was like the tales story-tellers tell, where a man and a woman see each other for the first time and they know for certain they're meant to be together. In stories like that there's always something that keeps the two from ending happily together. Duty is one reason, or pride, or maybe there's someone else one of them has to marry. In our case we weren't supposed to fall in love because of duty. That was the time when we were enemies with the Lion, and I was in love with a Lion."

"But we're not enemies with the Lions anymore, right, uncle? So that means you can be together now."

Satoru smiled at this childish naiveté. "I will tell you why that can't happen—later. Anyway, we both knew it would cause trouble if we would openly have a relationship. That's why we agreed to meet in secret under the pine tree we first met, and there we were who we were. We were simply two lonely people, both wanting someone who could understand even when we weren't talking."

"When we were not under the tree we didn't talk to each other, pretending we were strangers. It wasn't easy pretending when there were people spying on such things and we wanted to be together. It can show in our eyes when we met, or in the way we would greet each other as strangers. That was how life was—then. But then an event ruined it all and I became sad."

He grew silent, staring away. Ayame fidgeted but kept quiet. Satoru appeared to be reliving his memories. Realizing he was quiet for too long he smiled an apology to his niece. "Why were you sad, uncle?" she prompted.

"There was a duel and death separated us. You've heard about duels, right, Ayame-chan?"

"Yes, uncle," the child replied, serious.

"You die without pain—it is very quick. Some people would rather die that way than have their honor stained. There was someone in court who was blackmailing me, a someone my Lion didn't like. I said it was my trouble, and mine alone, because I didn't want my Lion to take it up. The next time an opportunity for a duel arose my Lion took it instead of following the clan's policy to ignore such baitings. I doubt if anyone remembers the reason anymore, except it didn't involve me, though I am sure they both knew it was really because of me."

"Then why didn't you go after the person your Lion dueled with, uncle?"

"There are forms to follow after such a death. A death by duel can't be avenged because there is no dishonor in dying that way. If people were allowed to kill other people after a duel, then there would be very few people, because everyone would have a reason for revenge. Also, duels must be sanctioned by the daimyo of the samurai involved, and I simply could not explain why I would challenge the other person. We were allies of that clan. But I wanted to give something for my Lion's funeral pyre.

He took a lock of his hair between his fingers, smiling as he looked at the ends. "I cut my hair, and I wrapped the locks with my wakizashi, telling Momiji-san I wanted my small token given for the pyre. They accepted the offering, and I mourned in the quiet of my rooms for days, accepting only Momiji-san's company. A week after the duel Momiji-san brought a visitor who gave me the wakizashi and the final haiku my Lion made, in return for what I had given. That is the wakizashi I now bear, and in honor of my Lion's love I never wear my hair long.

"Despite the gift of haiku and wakizashi my days were very sad, but I tried to do my duty. The sadness was slowly poisoning me inside though, and Momiji-san saw how I longed for a sanctuary. She planted this tree and tended it till it grew to look like the one I keep in my memories. When she brought me here one year after the duel, I didn't know what to say. It was a precious gift, one only a close friend could think of giving. She promised not to tell anyone. She knew I would visit this tree, and just remember days that have passed. Momiji-san is the only one to know the story fully, besides you. I keep my grief here and I now learned to be content with my life despite my great loss. I can even be happy."

He smiled at his niece. "Like today. Because the memories live on, inside me, and now they do in you. Promise never to ever tell the story to anyone, Ayame-chan?"

She nodded solemnly. Satoru was satisfied. "Now that you have seen my tree, will you show me what has been keeping you busy in the gardens for the past few days?"

"Uh-hum, uncle Satoru. One secret for your secret. You mustn't tell mother though. It's for her, and I worked so hard for it."

"I will not tell a word about it, I swear," he said, helping her stand up.

When they were walking away from the tree she looked back. The pine stood as if waiting for their return. She smiled. "Uncle Satoru?"

"Yes, Ayame-chan?"

"How did the haiku go?"

He laughed. "It was terrible, and I'd better not say it aloud anymore. Lions aren't well known for their skill in poetry. Come, Ayame-chan. I promised your mother to come home early."

She persisted. "But uncle, what was the name of the Lion who died?"

He was silent. He didn't know if he should say it but he had spoken of everything already. "It was Yuuki."

"Yuki? Like snow?"

"No, Ayame-chan. It is Yuuki for bravery."

"What a strange name for a girl."

He remembered golden hair and deep brown eyes full of laughter, and a heart filled with so much love and courage. "It was a name that fitted a Lion—perfectly."

—end—

I was told by someone to give an idea how the haiku went, so no slander to the Lion clan maybe attached to it. The real reason why it's not there is I'm a terrible poet. ^_^

'Under the pine tree
I found an unhoped-for love
our spring will arrive'