“Saburo,” she said, “apologize to the gentleman. That skinny horse of ours is no great loss. I may not have tethered it properly. But the thing to do now is to fix up the chrysanthemum patch. It’s a perfect chance to express our gratitude for all the kindness we’ve been shown.”
“Oh, so that’s it,” Saburo groaned. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
He heaved a deep sigh but grudgingly began to tend to the damaged plants. Watching him, Sainosuke couldn’t help but marvel: even those mums that were nearly dead from having been trampled or uprooted sprang back to life as the youth replanted them. The roots soaked up moisture from the soil in great draughts, the stems swelled, the buds grew plump and heavy, and the wilted leaves stretched out firm and erect, pulsating with vitality. Sainosuke wasn’t about to let on how astonished he was, however. He was a man who’d spent his whole life growing mums, and he had his pride to maintain.
“Well, do what you can here,” he said as coolly as possible, then strode into his cottage, where he climbed in bed and buried himself beneath the quilt. Soon he was back on his feet, however, peeping out at the garden through a crack in the shutters. Sure enough, all the plants Saburo tended were springing miraculously to life.
That night Saburo came smiling to the cottage.
“Sorry about this morning,” he said. “But, listen, my sister and I were talking things over, and, well, if you’ll pardon my saying so, you don’t seem to be leading a very comfortable life here. We were thinking that if you’d lend me half your garden, I could grow some really first-rate mums for you to sell in the market in Asakusa or somewhere. I’d be happy to do it.”
Sainosuke, whose self-esteem as a grower of chrysanthemums had been severely shaken that morning, was not in the best of moods. Seeing this as a chance to even the score, he twisted his lips in a contemptuous sneer.
“Out of the question,” he said. “Of all the vulgar ideas! And here I thought you were a man of taste and breeding. I’m shocked. To even think of
selling one’s beloved flowers simply to put food on the table! It’s too outrageous for words, a violation of the very spirit of chrysanthemums! To turn a noble-minded pastime into a scheme to make money is, why it’s, it’s obscene, is what it is. I’ll have nothing to do with it.”
Sainosuke spewed out this rebuke in the gruff and guttural tones of a samurai issuing a challenge, and Saburo, understandably enough, took offense. His reply was rather heated.
“Using one’s god-given talent to put food on the table hardly qualifies as greed, and to sneer at me and accuse me of being vulgar for wishing to do so is appallingly wrongheaded. It’s arrogant and childish—the attitude of a spoiled little brat. It’s true that a man shouldn’t be overly covetous of riches, but to take undue pride in one’s poverty is every bit as base and mean.”
“When have I ever boasted of my poverty? Look, my ancestors left me with a small inheritance, and it’s all I’ve ever needed. I want for nothing. And I’ll thank you not to meddle in my affairs.”
Once again their exchange had blossomed into a full-blown row.
“You’re being awfully narrow-minded, you know.”
“Fine. Call me narrow-minded. Call me a spoiled brat. Call me anything you like. I simply prefer to carry on as I always have, sharing the joys and sorrows of life with my mums.”
“All right, all right!” Saburo shrugged and smiled ruefully. “You win. But listen: There’s a small plot of bare ground behind the shed. Would you consider lending that to us for the time being?”
“You must realize by now that I’m not a man who’s attached to worldly possessions. I don’t imagine you’ll find such a tiny plot sufficient to your needs. Half my garden remains unplanted: take all of that if you like. Do with it as you see fit. Allow me to make one thing clear, however: I will not associate with anyone who would grow mums with the intention of offering them for sale. From this day on, I want you to consider me a complete stranger.”
Saburo gaped at him incredulously for a moment, then shook his head in exasperation.
“So be it,” he said. “I won’t refuse such a generous offer. In fact, if I might further impose upon your generosity, I noticed that you’ve discarded a number of old chrysanthemum seedlings behind the shed...”
“You needn’t bother me with requests for every trifle. Take them.”
And thus they parted, on the worst of terms. The next day Sainosuke divided his garden in two and erected a tall fence along the border, obstructing the view from either side. Relations between the two households were severed.
As autumn advanced, all of Sainosuke’s chrysanthemums burst into beautiful bloom. Satisfying as this was, he couldn’t help wondering how his neighbors’ flowers had fared, and finally one day his curiosity got the best of him and he decided to peek over the fence. What he saw left him agog. The other half of the garden was ablaze from end to end with the largest and most spectacular blooms Sainosuke had ever seen. And that wasn’t the only surprise. The shed had been rebuilt and was now a charming and cozy little cottage. This was hardly a sight to soothe Sainosuke’s soul. Not only were his own chrysanthemums no match for Saburo’s, the upstart had gone and built himself an elegant little home. No doubt he’d made a small fortune selling his mums. It was an outrage! Determined to teach the youth a lesson, he scrambled over the fence, his heart wracked with an insufferable mixture of righteous indignation and envy. Close up, Saburo’s mums were even more impressive. The flowers were blooming for all they were worth; each individual petal was extraordinarily long and thick and vibrating with life. Adding insult to injury was the fact that, as Sainosuke soon realized, the plants were none other than the worthless seedlings he’d discarded behind the shed. He let out a gurgle of despair, and just as he did so a voice called to him from behind.
“Welcome! We’ve been waiting for you to drop by.”
Flustered, Sainosuke spun around to see Saburo standing there, grinning at him.
“You win!” he nearly shouted in frustration. “I know when I’m beaten, and I’m man enough to admit it too. Listen, I’m... I’m here to ask you to take me on as your apprentice. Everything that’s passed between us...” He paused to unload a great sigh of relief. “It’s all just water under the bridge. We’ll let bygones be bygones. However, I—”
“Wait. Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say. I’m not a man of your moral fiber. As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve been selling off the chrysanthemums little by little. Please don’t look down on us for that. My sister is always fretting about what you’ll think, but we’re only doing what we need to do to survive. Unlike yourself, we have no inheritance to fall back on—it’s either sell the mums or die of starvation. Please be so indulgent as to overlook that, and let us be friends again.”
The sincerity of Saburo’s plea and the sad droop of his head melted Sainosuke’s heart.
“Don’t be silly,” he said meekly, and bowed. “I’m not worthy of your apology. I feel no enmity toward either of you. Besides, I’m the one who’s asking you be my teacher. If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”
And so they were reconciled, at least for the time being. Sainosuke dismantled the fence in the garden, and the members of the two households resumed relations, although, to be sure, conflicts still arose now and then.
“You must have some secret to raising these mums.”