“The Rose Still Stands”

Yup - this story (and all that inspired it) means that much to me.

February 14, 2021

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[Editor’s Note: For this Valentine’s Day, JDK has decided to share his first short story with you. It’s a story he mentioned in his most recent episode of his new podcast (click the February 8th episode), and one that helped him better come to terms with the meaning of love in his own life. And yes, it even inspired one of his tattoos. It’s a longer piece broken up into sections, so watch for the ********** marks and take your time with it. It’s funny - if this were written in a book, it would be a standard “short story.” But because it’s on the internet, that makes it a “long post.” So enjoy it at your own pace. And Happy Valentine’s Day from JDK-World.]

The Rose Still Stands

By JDK Wyneken

“Time to wake up, boys. There is something new out there to discover today.”

Every day, first thing in the morning, a learned man and famed gardener named Hideo sent his two grandsons, Mitsuo and Chuichi, through the mountainous forest to fetch water from the nearby river. Its water was far cleaner to drink than what they could draw from the well. Though their task was important, Hideo mostly wanted his grandsons to start each day out in the beauty and strength of nature, hoping both would absorb and reflect such attributes in their own budding lives.

  “Not yet, Jiji. It’s too warm under my blanket to get up yet.”

Chuichi, his bright eyes and inquisitive energy reflective of his seven years of life, grumbled each morning when Hideo woke him, but inevitably made each visit to the river an adventure, full of fantastical dangers that his invented heroes inevitably conquered with joyous whoops and laughs.

        “You say that every day, Jiji, but nothing new ever happens. Every day is the same.”

Mitsuo, eight years his brother’s senior, was the exact opposite. Typical of boys his age, he shunned anything but what he wanted to do, and mostly he wanted to sulk. He hated the daily jaunts and his brother’s company, and always complained to Hideo about his sore arms and legs after their return. Hideo, for his part, just thanked his grandsons for their work and set them onto their daily routine of studies and household upkeep.

        “It is up to you to discover the new, grandson – not the other way around.”

Hideo saw each day as an opportunity for growth, whereas Chuichi sought adventure and curiosities, and Mitsuo just wanted to be left alone. Or so he told himself.

It took more cajoling, but soon Mitsuo and Chuichi were up and moving slowly through the morning twilight, each putting on warm coats and their jika-tabi boots for their daily trek. They paused between bites of their rice porridge and fermented soybeans to warm themselves by the hearth fire Hideo had lit an hour earlier, long before sunlight cracked the eastern sky.

        “Could we not have eggs and miso for breakfast someday, Jiji?” Mitsuo asked. “This is what I mean – we eat the same thing every day.”

Hideo smiled and shook his head as he opened the thin shoji doors looking out into the courtyard garden. He could keep time by Mitsuo’s daily complaints.

“We can certainly have those, grandson, as soon as enough new chickens are born. Give it time. We always need some eggs to become chickens, remember.”

“I remember. I still want eggs,” Mitsuo grunted, before nudging his brother roughly. “C’mon. Hurry up. Let’s get this boring thing done.”

Chuichi, never one to be pushed around, shoved his brother playfully in return. Very little could dampen his enthusiasm. 

“You are so grouchy. When we see my dragons today, then you’ll forget to be grumpy and run for your life.”

“While you play with them, I suppose?” Mitsuo replied, shaking his head at his brother’s obsession with the mythical beasts. “You’d run from them, too, if they were actually real and not just your silly kites.”

“They are NOT silly, and they are not just kites! They will not harm me, right, Jiji? Tell him why they won’t.”

Hideo pulled his shawl around his shoulders as he stepped out into the courtyard to inspect his gardens, ignoring the cold from snow leaking in and around his zori sandals.

        “Because, grandson, dragons never turn on their creator.”

        “See? That’s right, Mitsuo. They will turn on you instead, when I tell them to.”

        “Sure they will. Let’s go already,” Mitsuo ordered his brother, handing him two empty wooden buckets. “The sooner we are back, the sooner this boring day can become more boring until its boring end.”

“Maybe we can fly my kites later, then,” Chuichi suggested. “I have two, remember! One big red one for you and one small blue one for me!”

“We will see.”

Picking up two buckets of his own, Mitsuo led the way out into the courtyard, not pausing as he passed Hideo. Mitsuo deliberately set a fast pace to make his brother nearly have to run to keep up.

Hideo turned to watch them leave.

       “Keep one eye on each other, boys, and the other out for what the world offers you.”

        “Dragons!” exclaimed Chuichi to the sky as he chased after his brother.

        “It offers us snow and trees and rocks and silence. Just like every day,” Mitsuo grumbled.

As he watched his grandsons pass through the arched wooden exit out into the forest, Hideo spoke the same prayer he uttered the same way every morning, for the same wish.

        “May today bring them something new.”

 Something new was already awaiting them. 

*****************

“Why must you always walk so fast, Mitsuo? It makes me tired and I can’t stop to look at things. Jiji doesn’t care if we take our time.”

        “There’s nothing to see except what we always see, so why bother going slow?”

Mitsuo believed he knew every rock, tree, rise, and dip in the path by heart. He knew right where and when to look to see the tree that had been hit by lightning long ago, or the pointed rock cliff that jutted out from a hillside above them. He had counted the exact number of steps it took to get to the river and back. 

The only thing that ever changed was the season. In the summers, they strode under the hot sun, seeking the occasional shade of towering pines. In the spring, they strolled among cherry blossoms, through warming breezes and light showers of mist. In the fall, they breathed in the crisp morning air and crinkled their noses at the smell of the fallen leaves sinking into the feasting soil. And in the winter, the stillness of the air over the fallen snow made every footstep crunch loudly and their breath rise like icy smoke into the sky. Chuichi never seemed to tire of any of it, and that bothered Mitsuo just as much as any part of this daily routine. 

  “There is so much snow up in the trees!” Chuichi exclaimed, ignoring his brother’s melancholy, craning and twisting his neck all around them. The buckets swayed and batted against his spindly legs. “How come the clouds that dropped all the snow are gone so fast?”

Mitsuo only glanced at the pine branches closest to him, then quickly up at the sky increasingly lit by the eastern sun. It would be a clear and cold day, he knew. He could feel it already.

        “It is the weather. It changes all the time. The winds blow the clouds in and out. It’s just how things are.”

        “That’s a boring answer. You’re right that you always know what’s boring.”

        “What do you want to hear, little brother?” Mitsuo asked, exasperated. “That it is the sweep of dragon’s wings that make the winds blow? That it is their fiery breath that makes some seasons warm? That it is the tears of their victims that makes it rain?” He’d already had enough of his brother’s foolishness, and the sun wasn’t even above the mountain yet.

        “Wow! That’s the best explanation you’ve ever had!” Chuichi cried, laughing as he ran ahead of Mitsuo, his arms outstretched like he was flying – with a bucket at the end of each wing. “Yes, that is exactly what it is! I will draw that with Jiji when we get home!”

“Stop running around like that,” Mitsuo snapped back, “Or you’re going to slip and fall. I can’t carry you and all our buckets if you break your neck.”

But Chuichi was already too far ahead, running and making dragon noises as he reached the crest of the hill above them. Mitsuo opened his mouth to yell at Chuichi again, but didn’t when he saw that his brother had stopped abruptly at the top of the hill, lowering his arms until the buckets hung slack at his sides. He stared at something ahead that Mitsuo couldn’t yet see.

        “What’s the matter?” Mitsuo yelled up at him. But Chuichi didn’t answer. He simply stood frozen in place. Fearing it might be a predator like a wolf, or even maybe an actual dragon come to life out of one of Jiji’s old bedtime stories, Mitsuo forgot his irritation and ran as swiftly as the snow would allow to his brother’s side. “What is it?”

Chuichi, his nose and forehead crinkled in confusion, simply pointed down the pathway, an area where the tree line wandered from the path, exposing it to open sky. Unblemished snow blanketed everything in sight, as if the world had been erased and awaited a new artist to paint it.

But there was a single spot of vibrant color, bright against the white, that drew Mitsuo’s eyes immediately.

        “It’s…that,” Chuichi said in an awed whisper.  “Is that what I think it is?”

Mitsuo heard the question and knew the answer, but still couldn’t believe his eyes. Transfixed, he moved down the hill towards it, holding his breath for reasons he couldn’t understand. Chuichi followed, silent for once, willing to follow his older brother’s lead. When they reached it, they both dropped their buckets into the snow without a thought.

It was the most beautiful thing Mitsuo and Chuichi had ever seen.

It was a tall, broad, deep red flower, glistening in the morning light, standing strong and bold in the breeze, its color dazzling to the eye. Its layered petals swayed gently in a type of harmony, as if dancing to a silent melody. The flower’s inviting fragrance gently washed over them as if they could bring it to their lips like water from a stream. 

        “I don’t understand,” Mitsuo whispered, awed for the first time in years. “This shouldn’t be here at all.”

        “It’s a really pretty flower,” Chuichi observed, more as a question. “A big one. It’s almost as tall as you! And it’s growing out of the snow. It shouldn’t be alive in winter. But it is. Do you know what kind it is? It doesn’t look like any of the ones that Jiji grows in the courtyard in spring or summer.”

Mitsuo barely heard Chuichi’s words, mainly because he was saying the same ones to himself. He didn’t have answers. But it felt almost...magic? He couldn’t find the right word. He found himself memorizing every part of it, from its bud down its strong, green stem to where it disappeared into the deep snow, its roots somewhere far below. Thorns adorned the stem at seemingly perfect, intervals, adding a layer of warning and strength to its elegant beauty. 

“So what is it? What’s it doing here?” Chuichi asked again. He never stopped asking questions until he received an answer. 

“I don’t know,” Mitsuo answered. “Everything you said about it is right. And yet it’s more somehow.”

“You never say I’m right about anything,” Chuichi said, surprised. “But I don’t know what flower this is. Do you think it’s magic? It has to be, doesn’t it? It shouldn’t be out here in winter. Do you think Jiji would know? He must. He knows everything about flowers.”

“No one knows everything about anything,” Mitsuo replied absently, though Chuichi had the right idea. Their grandfather would know. “But you’re right, we should go ask him. Let’s dig it up right now and take it back to him. We could plant it in the courtyard.” For some reason, Mitsuo dreaded letting the flower out of his sight. 

Chuichi recoiled at the idea, somehow feeling protective of their new discovery. He wanted to leave the flower just as it was, where it was - he wasn’t sure why. But why didn’t matter. It wasn’t a lost jewel, or their prize to take home. It belonged where it was. 

“Are you crazy, Mitsuo? You must be. Why would you dig it up? It might die, and it’s too beautiful to let die. Leave it alone.”

Mitsuo’s anger flashed abruptly, surprising both of the boys standing in the snow. 

“You don’t know anything! I’m the oldest, and I say let’s dig it up. Now help me.” 

“I will not! Leave it! Jiji would agree with me!”

“Then go get him and bring him here,” Mitsuo said angrily. “I’ll wait.” 

“You’re not supposed to leave me out here by myself! And you never have before. Why would you do that now? Jiji will get very angry with you if I go back alone.”

Chuichi was right, and Mitsuo hated him at that moment because of it. He looked around - there was no one in sight as usual, and it wasn’t as if the flower could move from that spot. It wasn’t far back to the house, and they could be back with Jiji in minutes; he moved pretty fast for an old man. And then, Mitsuo knew, once he saw the flower their grandfather would agree with him and help dig it up to bring back to the courtyard. Jiji would want the most beautiful flower in the world to live with them, tended by him. Otherwise, why be a gardener?

“Alright, fine,” Mitsuo said, pretending to still be upset. “Let’s go get Jiji. Leave the buckets. We will go to the river after we….after Jiji gets here with us.”

Chuichi jumped with excitement and relief. It felt good to convince his older brother to do something he wanted - to change his mind about something. That didn’t happen often, so Chuichi grabbed his brother’s arm, pulling him towards home before he changed his mind. They needed to leave the flower alone. 

“Then let’s go! Jiji will know what to do!”

Mitsuo let his brother drag him away, but craned his neck back to look at the flower until it dropped out of sight behind the hill. Once that happened, Mitsuo shook off Chuichi’s grip and ran ahead of him. They slipped and slid at times, with Chuichi shouting out for his brother to wait up. Behind them, as the sounds of their voices and the crunch of their steps faded, the cold morning wind blew gently through the treetops and caressed the snowfields and the cliff faces. The flower swayed along with it, exactly how and where it belonged at that moment. 

***************

“Slow down a bit, boys. I am not as spry as I used to be.”

     “You must hurry, Jiji! It’s not far now. Wait until you see it! It’s so big and red and shiny. It looks like….like a Dragon Eye! But not dangerous like a dragon would be.”

Hideo had never seen Chuichi more excited, and it made him smile. He also had never seen Mitsuo more urgent, and that surprised him. He wasn’t sure what to think, but he knew whatever this flower was, it had captured his oldest grandson’s attention like nothing Hideo had seen in a long time. At least since….

Hideo shook away the memory as he worked to keep up with his grandsons. They had been in such a hurry to drag him back down the path that he was still in his zori sandals, so his feet were getting quite cold. But it was worth the toe numbness to see what had so ignited his grandsons’ interest. Whatever they had discovered was thrilling to them — and that thrilled him in turn.

“A Dragon eye, you say? Indeed, this must be some flower, a gift from the gods perhaps.”

     “It’s not a Dragon eye, Jiji,” Mitsuo said testily as he led the way back to the flower. “But I’ve never seen anything like it before. And I knew you’d want to see it for yourself.”

      “I said it looks like a Dragon eye, not that it is one! Wait! There is the top of the hill!” shouted Chuichi, pulling at his grandfather’s arm as they trudged through the snow. “It’s right on the other side, along the path!”

The three made their way towards the top, Hideo short of breath before they reached the crest. He tugged at his shawl to keep warm and silently thanked his ancestors that they were almost there. But he was surprised when, upon reaching the top of the hill ahead of him and Chuichi, Mitsuo stopped suddenly and shouted into the blue morning sky.

“NO!!!!”

His angry cry carried disbelief and betrayal in its wake, echoing off the hillsides and cliff faces before soaring into the sky. Alarmed, Hideo redoubled his efforts and ignored his burning lungs to reach Mitsuo’s side, pulling the again-silenced Chuichi with him.

      “What is it, grandson?” Hideo asked Mitsuo, whose chest heaved with fury. But it was Chuichi who answered, shouting out himself.

       “It’s gone! Jiji, it’s gone!”

Chuichi ran down the hill, Mitsuo right behind him.

        “I knew it!” Mitsuo roared as he ran. “I knew we shouldn’t have left it here!”

        “Where did it go?” Chuichi asked. “Did someone take it? Did an animal get it? Are there animal tracks? People tracks?” He spun around searching where the flower had been just minutes before, frantic for answers. It was a mystery that needed solving, and his imagination had not yet come up with the creative possibilities that so often comforted him.

Mitsuo, meanwhile, fell to his knees in where the flower had once stood, a hole in the snow marking where it had once been. His face flushed, and he gripped his hands in such fury that his fingernails dug into his palms. He felt robbed, teased, and denied what he’d so desperately wanted for himself. He felt tears rising in his eyes, and that infuriated him beyond words and reason. He kneeled unmoving in the snow, not noticing that his legs got colder and wetter as a result.

Hideo slowly moved his way down the hill, watching both grandsons closely. When he reached Mitsuo, the boy looked up at him with a expression that Hideo had not seen in his eyes before. It was a pain he’d always known the boy had carried, but was surprised at what was finally bringing it to the surface.

        “There was a flower here, I swear it,” Mitsuo said to him, half angrily and half pleadingly, as if he feared Hideo wouldn’t believe him. “It was almost as tall as me, a giant red bud at the top, sharp thorns on its stem, and unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

Chuichi seconded his brother's words as he continued to scramble around looking for clues to the flower’s disappearance.

        “I believe you both,” Hideo replied soothingly, hands out to calm the boys. “I can see where its stem reached down through the snow to the ground. Dig it away now both of you.”

Mitsuo and Chuichi jumped to the task quickly, kicking aside their empty buckets to concentrate on their work. Within seconds, they had the snow cleared away. The brown of the hard, frozen ground lay bare, the soil completely undisturbed except for a small circular hole the exact width of the flower stem. Mitsuo and Chuichi both looked up to their grandfather for guidance.

        “This is indeed curious,” Hideo said to them both. “I see no other tracks or evidence that any person or animal took away this flower that you saw.”

        “So what does that mean?” Chuichi asked urgently. Mitsuo’s face showed he had the same question. Hideo thought for a long moment.

        “Well,” he said measuredly. “What do each of you think? If no human or animal took it away, what is the only other possibility?”

Mitsuo was in no mood for one of his grandfather’s quizzing games. He felt his anger burn deep inside his belly.

        “Stop making us try to guess,” he snapped bitterly. “And just tell us already!”

        “Wait! I know!” Chuichi yelled, jumping to his feet with excitement. “It must be magic!”

        “Don’t be stupid, Chuichi,” Mitsuo said harshly. “There’s no such thing as magic, and even if there were, magic has to be done by someone or something. It doesn’t just happen out of thin air.”

Hideo held his hand out gently to Mitsuo.

        “Chuichi is not stupid, Mitsuo, and you know that. And I believe he is a lot closer to the truth than you are right now.”

        “So it’s magic, you say?” Mitsuo spat out in furious disbelief.

        “It is?” Chuichi said, even more elated at the prospect. “It’s magic? I was right?”

Hideo couldn’t help but smile at the younger boy, even as Mitsuo fumed.

        “In a way, yes,” Hideo said. “But Mitsuo is also right that something has to make magic happen. So if it wasn’t some person or some other thing, what is the only thing that could work such magic to make that flower disappear?”

The only sounds were the wind and the boys’ labored breathing as they considered the answer. Mitsuo wanted the solution, but more wanted a target for his anger at losing the flower. Chuichi, meanwhile, furrowed his brow deep in thought. Then his eyes widened.

        “I know! It had to be the flower! It has its own magic! It made itself disappear!”

Mitsuo rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, but was utterly shocked at what his grandfather then said.

        “Exactly right, Chuichi. Well done.”

        “WHAT?” Mitsuo shouted, jumping to his feet. “You’re saying the flower made itself disappear? That somehow  it has its own magic? That’s insane, Jiji! Do you have other flowers back in our courtyard that have magic?”

        “Not that I know of, grandson,” Hideo replied calmly. “But right now that is the only plausible answer.”

        “Now why would a flower want to make itself disappear?”

        “I do not know,” Hideo said, “But there is no way to know why. So focus instead on the fact that it does. Think, Mitsuo. You’ve read the legends and the histories with me. In those stories, there are always reasons for actions, even if we cannot see them. So, what does it mean if there is a flower that can make itself disappear? What is the logical conclusion?”

Mitsuo did not want to play his grandfather’s game, but the answer came to him nevertheless. He huffed impatiently and stamped his cold feet.

        “It means that if it can disappear, it must also reappear somewhere. It is in its nature to do so. That’s its ‘magic.’ It is its nature, even though we cannot see it or understand it fully.”

Hideo beamed. He knew Mitsuo had paid attention to those lessons far more than he had let on.

        “Well done, Mitsuo. Yes, you are right. That is the only conclusion we can make with what we know. That flower that seemingly appeared here out of nowhere, has disappeared and gone elsewhere. And we do not know where, sadly. I very much wanted to see it.”

        “I know where!” Chuichi suddenly shouted, pointing off the path and towards a clump of trees some meters away from them. “Look! I think I see it!”

For a moment, both Hideo and Mitsuo thought the boy had to be imagining things out of wishful thinking, but both were surprised when they, too, saw a bright red dot right where Chuichi was pointing. Before Hideo could say anything, the boys were off like a shot, leaving the path and running down the gentle slope towards the tree line. Hideo moved as quickly as he could after them, calling out for them to slow down and be careful. When he himself reached the tree line, again huffing and puffing, he found both boys grinning widely — the youngest with a smile like he’d solved the greatest mystery, the older a smile of relief and what Hideo could only call desire.

He understood their reactions, because between them stood the most beautiful flower Hideo had ever seen — and he had seen many. It was truly stunning, like an imperial palace painting come to life. Nature had never ceased to amaze him, but it had truly achieved perfection with this particular flower. Hideo moved closer, not touching it, to examine it as closely as he could. Its perfume was hypnotic. somehow comforting and more than a little familiar. It touched his mind, his heart, and his soul in ways he had not felt in years.

        “What do you think, Jiji?” Chuichi asked excitedly. “Isn’t it amazing?”

        “Yes, it is truly the most beautiful flower I have ever seen. It is called a ‘Rose.’ But I have never seen one in this country before, nor ever one as beautiful. It is from another land, far from here.”

        “We knew you’d think so!” Chuichi clapped in glee. “And we knew you’d know its name! Didn’t we, Mitsuo? We knew he would!”

Mitsuo could only nod. He was already focused on the most important question, the most important thing at that moment. In his entire life. He had to have it. 

        “So, Jiji, considering all that, don’t you think we should dig it up and take it with us back to the courtyard? Before it disappears again, or someone else finds it and takes it?”

        “No!” Chuichi shouted in protest. “I told you we have to leave it alone!”

Hideo did not like the tone of Mitsuo’s voice, or the look in his eyes. He had seen such looks before in the eyes of other men about other things, and what had resulted had been nothing but pain and heartbreak. He anticipated the reaction he was about to get from Mitsuo, but nevertheless shook his head decisively.

        “No, Mitsuo. We will not dig it up. We will not keep it in the courtyard.”

Mitsuo’s face turned dark red, and his eyes flashed in fury.

        “Why not? We have to take it with us! It will disappear again if we do not! You are a master gardener! You can take care of it, or you can teach ME to take care of it! I do not ask you for anything, but I am asking you for this! Please let’s take it with us!” 

He pushed Chuichi down into the snow when the young boy came at him in protest.

Hideo knew his older grandson had asked him for many things in the past, but that did not matter. He reached out and seized Mitsuo by the shoulder.

        “Stop, Mitsuo. We will not do this. You will not harm your brother, and we will not dig up this Rose. Even if we did, we’ve already seen that it can disappear at any time for reasons that are unknown to us. We don’t know what might happen if we dig it up, it might die right on the spot. We do not know its nature, Mitsuo. But the flower itself does, so we must honor that. We must accept all living things as they are, and let them be as they are. We cannot possess what does not want to be possessed, or corral what does not want to be corralled.”

        “But you corral all the flowers in our courtyard!” Mitsuo shouted, tears finally overpowering him. “How is that different?”

        “If they each had the same power as this Rose, then they likely wouldn’t allow me to tend them. But this flower is clearly unique, so we must let it be as it is. To try otherwise will only hurt it, and you.”

Mitsuo had heard enough.

        “Hurt me? Me? How could that hurt me? What is hurting me is NOT taking it with us!”

        “Stop yelling at Jiji!” Chuichi said angrily, back on his feet and moving to Hideo’s side. “He’s right! I told you we had to leave it alone! It has its own magic!”

        “I am not leaving until we take it with us!” Mitsuo shouted, at his wits end. Pain flowed through him, anger at his grandfather and brother, at the whole world. “If we leave it now, it will disappear and we will never find it again!”

        “I found it again!” Chuichi said. “And I don’t think it will go away for good. I think it let us find it the first time!”

        “That’s ridiculous!” Mitsuo roared back. “You just invent stories to make yourself feel good! This is serious!”

Hideo saw it before the two boys did.

        “No, it is not ridiculous, Mitsuo. And, it doesn’t matter now anyway. Because….” He pointed, and the boys looked.

The Rose was gone again, only a small hole in the snow to mark it had ever been there. 

No one spoke for a long while. Then, with a glare of rage at his grandfather and brother, Mitsuo stormed off, back to the path and towards the house. Hideo and Chuichi stood hand-in-hand and watched him go. Hideo looked down and saw the young boy crying.

        “What happened, Jiji?” Why did he get so angry? What’s the matter with him?”

Hideo wiped a tear from the boy’s face, then led him back up towards the path.

        “I do not know, grandson. But we must let him sort it out. Come. We will get the water together today.”

They gathered the buckets and set off towards the river. As they did so, Mitsuo stormed back to the house, nearly tearing off the shoji door from its runner as he threw it open. He ripped off his coat and shoes, hurling them all into a corner. 

He’d made a plan on his march home, and he would see it done, no matter what his grandfather and brother thought.

He’d do it in secret. He would get that Rose. And he would make sure it could never disappear from him again.

****************

Mitsuo had said nothing to his grandfather and brother when they returned that day, even disguising his excitement when they told him they’d seen the Rose again on the far side of the river. Then they had seen it again near a rock escarpment on their way back to the house.

        “Good,” Mitsuo told himself silently. “So I can find it again, too.”

Hideo tried to talk with Mitsuo alone that night after dinner, but the boy wouldn’t speak about what had happened, or about his feelings. He’d instead gone to bed early, leaving Chuichi to talk about the Rose with Hideo alone. The boy asked many questions about the Rose, some of which had no real answers. The boy drew pictures of the Rose that night, and with Hideo’s encouragement, came up with stories about its origins, what it was doing when it appeared and reappeared, and even about its place in the divine universe. The boy had a wondrous imagination, and Hideo wanted him to indulge in it.

But Hideo worried about Mitsuo.

The next morning, Mitsuo and Chuichi again went for water, but Mitsuo didn’t say a word to his brother the entire time. Instead, he’d kept watch for the Rose. They saw it twice — once close by the path, then again in the Valley. Both times, Mitsuo had stopped to take a close look at it, leaving his brother to ask his questions without offering any answers. Instead he took in all he could about the Rose, and upon returning to the house wrote down everything he could remember and kept his journal hidden from his brother and grandfather.

All the while, Mitsuo plotted. And, with each passing day, he went about his routine while internally remaining entirely focused on getting the Rose for himself. Each day, he saw the Rose at least once or twice, even as the snow melted and spring began to nip at the air. So he wouldn’t arouse suspicion, he made sure to do all his daily chores, keep up on his studies, and talk with his grandfather and brother about mundane things. He didn’t mention the Rose to his grandfather at all.

Which is how Hideo knew Mitsuo was thinking about it constantly. Chuichi told him whenever he and Mitsuo saw the Rose, so Hideo knew Mitsuo always stopped to look at it. He also saw that Mitsuo was withdrawing further and further into himself. Hideo knew he could not prevent that, as he was the focal point of Mitsuo’s anger, but believed the moment would soon arrive when he could get through to the his grandson again – when the boy would reveal what was really going on inside his heart.

As the spring rains invited flowers to bloom again in the courtyard, Hideo worked devotedly every day on bringing everything to life. The large Japanese maple that soared above the house from one corner of the yard cast shade on the increasingly warm days, and blossoms covering all the colors of earth and heavens grew, meticulously tended to by Hideo. Chuichi took on a deep interest in helping his grandfather, inspired by his excitement about the Rose. He learned how to help the soil breathe, and how to care for each unique plant. They spent their afternoons in the garden together, following the study hours, and always invited Mitsuo to join them.

He nearly always declined, however, preferring to go out “exploring” in the woods on his own. In truth, he was putting his long-laid plan into action. All winter and early spring, he’d quietly moved tools, an oil lantern, and other goods into a cave in the woods where he could work undisturbed. He’d first come upon it a few days after first seeing the Rose, and it started as a place where he could sit and think out of the cold. It descended only about twenty cart lengths into the ground at a gentle slope, and it didn’t look to be a home for any wild creatures. The space was high enough for him to stand comfortably, but he could also reach the ceiling with his fingertips. He could even stretch comfortably on the tatami mat he smuggled out there one day. Mitsuo adopted the cave as his own, and now used it as storage for his project. 

He collected large stones from the streams, and cut wood from fallen trees that he’d then honed down into small boards and poles with a small hand ax, saw, and sandpaper. He lit small fires in front of the cave mouth to warm it, and even cooked food for himself sometimes. He worked most of the afternoon hours, then packed all of his materials back deep in the cave, hidden in holes he dug in the earth, before heading home for the night.

Each night, he planned his next day in his head. 

By the time summer arrived, with the courtyard and surrounding forests exploding with color and life, and the birds and insects buzzing constantly, Mitsuo had completed his project and readied it for the next day. Trying to contain his nervousness, he rushed home to eat and get to his bedroll early – since he planned to be up long before dawn the next morning.

        “Tomorrow,” he told himself in the dark that night, “I will have the Rose for myself.”

******************

            When Mitsuo opened his eyes, darkness and silence hung thick over the house. Immediately alert, Mitsuo forced himself to move slowly away from his bedroll to not awaken Chuichi, just across the small wood-floored room. He could hear his grandfather’s gentle snores from the other side of the house, and kept one ear focused in that direction as he quietly slipped on his trousers and shirt. He picked up his sandals so their flap-flap sound wouldn’t echo in the quiet, and inched the house’s main shoji door open slowly. Once he’d stepped out, he closed it again with equal patience and tip-toed down the main path of the courtyard to the exit. Around him, all his grandfather’s flowers and plants stirred gently, but Mitsuo ignored them. He had only one flower on his mind.

Leaving the courtyard and entering the near-complete darkness of the forest, Mitsuo counted out twelve steps along the courtyard wall, then turned and knelt. Feeling around with his hands carefully, he finally found the bush in which he’d hidden a small lantern a couple of days earlier. Grinning to himself in the dark, Mitsuo slipped on his sandals and lit the lantern, keeping its shutter low enough to provide just enough light to see a few steps ahead of him. After waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust, he set off in the direction of the cave, having memorized the path in the months since he’d first seen the Rose.

        “There is no turning back now,” he told himself. “This plan can work.”

Only one thing was out of his control – somehow finding the Rose in the darkness with only the aid of the lantern. But he knew he could, even if he had to sneak out a hundred early mornings to do so.

        “One step at a time,” he told himself as he moved through the dark woods, the sounds of his passing muffled and lost among the sounds of a forest deep asleep.

When he reached the cave, Mitsuo opened the lantern shutter fully, bathing the inside with light. He squinted as he uncovered the tools, stones, and cut wood pieces. Moving them to the front of the cave, he deftly assembled  his project, having practiced for days. When it was done, the cave was still surrounded by darkness. Mitsuo estimated there were still a few hours remaining until dawn, and he congratulated himself for being so prepared.

Mitsuo picked up a wooden bucket he’d kept in the cave, and quickly put in the tools he needed – a digging spade, and hand rake, and his trusty hand saw. Wolfing down a quick breakfast of dried river fish, he picked up the lantern in his other hand and began to cut his way through the forest towards the path from the house to the river. He’d pick it up beyond sight of the house and head towards the river – his months of observing the Rose had shown him that it never appeared close to the house, nor did it ever seem to be completely out of sight. He’d seen it every day since that first sighting.

        “Which means I should see it today, too.”

It took a few minutes to complete the journey, and Mitsuo kept his senses keenly focused on his work. Stepping out onto the path he knew so well, he threw open the lantern’s shutter to get as far a view as possible into the dark. Somewhere in the distance, a fukuro – an owl – hooted, its voice resonating through the night and in Mitsuo’s chest. He smiled at the blessing of good fortune, and it redoubled his confidence.

He set out towards the river slowly, swinging his lantern to and fro, eyes following along in sweeping arcs, seeking his quarry. He knew he’d spy it easily, and several times frustrated himself with false sightings that turned out to be just some other forest plant. Time passed slowly but inexorably, and Mitsuo’s earlier enthusiasm slowly turned to anxiety and anger as dawn creeped closer.

        “If this goes on too much longer, I will have to give up to get home before Jiji and Chuichi awaken.”

As more minutes passed, he angrily muttered to himself, sweat pouring off of him, both from his emotions and from the warmth of the summer night as it gave way to the day. He’d gotten a fakuro blessing – how could he not find the Rose??

Then, suddenly, there it stood, in the center of a clearing just several cart lengths off the path. He’d first spied it in his peripheral vision on the other side of two tall pines that made part of the clearing’s perimeter. Mitsuo suppressed his shout of joy and ran to the Rose, falling to his knees beside it and emptying the bucket of tools all in one motion. He ran the lantern light up and down the Rose, from its bud to where its stem met the earth. It was as beautiful as always.

        “And now I will finally have it!”

Setting down the lantern to give him the best light for his work, Mitsuo picked up the spade. He took one hand and laid it next to the stem where it met the soil, and spread his fingers as wide as he could, his pinky a hair’s length from touching his prize for the first time. He then held the spade point next to his thumb – he would begin digging there, then all around the flower until he could pull it out of the ground with its roots intact, then put it in the bucket for its journey back to the cave.

Mitsuo, grinning widely, picked up the spade and aimed for his mark. He had to dig deep and work fast to get back to the cave – and then home – in time. There could be no mistakes, no delays.

He lifted the spade high in triumph, and he anticipated its plunge into the soil around the Rose more than anything he had before in his young life. He thrust it down, nearly shouting as he did so.

        “Yes!”

But as the spade hit the ground, it twisted awkwardly and painful tremors shot up Mitsuo’s arm. He lost his balance from his knees and fell back with a surprised yelp. Reflexively, he grabbed his arm in surprise and pain, staring at what was left of the spade.

It’s blade had shattered into several pieces and broken away from the wooden handle. And it hadn’t so much as made a dent in the soil next to the Rose. Mitsuo stared in disbelief.

        “How did that happen? Did I hit a rock?” he said out loud, the sound echoing into the dark outside the lamplight.

Frantically, he scrambled to pick up the shards of metal and the handle, as if he could somehow put them back together. But it was useless – none of the pieces would dig fast enough or deep enough. Angrily, he threw the wreckage of the spade into the darkness; they all landed with thuds beyond his sight. He grabbed the hand rake and attempted to dig it into the soil at the same mark.

With a screech that reverberated around him, sparks flew from the rake’s teeth. The soil remained unmarked, as if it were made of pure stone. Eyes wide with fear and fury, Mitsuo tried again and again, slamming the rake with increasing force against the ground, trying to break it open. Each time, it sparked and rang out loudly, but with each effort Mitsuo cared less and less about the noise he was making.

        “No! Damn you, no! Let me in! Let me in!”

The soil would not give. With a howl of outrage that echoed all around him, Mitsuo stood and flung the rake into the darkness.

        “How can this be?” he screamed at the flower. “Why will you not budge! Why do you do this to me?”

He stalked around the Rose in a circle, his love of its beauty lost in his lust to own it for himself, subsumed in the anger that it would not submit to his bidding, not follow his plan. His eyes blazed and tears ran down his cheeks, a dam breaking open to release a flood of emotion that had been building for months, perhaps longer.

In a rage, he pounced on the Rose as if he were a starved wild animal, grabbing it by its stem to yank it out of the ground. He immediately recoiled with a howl of pain as its thorns dug into his hands. He stared at the wounds as they leaked blood, eerily black in the lantern light, then stared hatefully at the Rose as if it had attacked him.

        “I will have you! I don’t care how much you make me bleed!”

He reached for it again, the thorns tearing into his hands as he gripped the thick stem. He kept his hands firm and yanked over and over again, to no avail. The stem wouldn’t budge from the ground, no matter how his muscles bulged, his hands bled, or his voice strained as he cursed violently. Finally expending all his energy, Mitsuo threw himself to the ground and glared at the Rose, unsure of what to do next. Months of careful planning, hours spent dreaming and scheming, days full of a singular desire for this one thing, and not only was he failing – but it looked like he could never succeed. The Rose could not be removed from the ground.

        “How? Is this your magic? Curse you!! If I cannot have you, if no one can, then what is the point of all this? What is the point of YOU?”

There was only one thing he could think to do. Lost in his need for vengeance, Mitsuo stalked over to the bucket and picked up the saw with a bloody hand. If he couldn’t keep the Rose for himself, then he never wanted to see it again. 

He seized the Rose again, gripping its stem near the soil. He leveled the saw to cut through it, but immediately saw that it, too, was no use – the saw’s teeth simply slid off the stem, leaving it as unmarked as the soil had been. This time, Mitsuo didn’t even bother trying again, and hurled the saw into the darkness with a cry of heartbreak and defeat. He fell to his hands and knees, sobs wracking him. Next to him, the Rose still stood, unmarked and unmolested, its deep red bud shimmering in the lantern light. It watched him impassively, unthreatened by his furious flailing and harsh words.

Mitsuo refused to look up at it. He slumped over to sit, his back to the Rose he coveted so passionately, that had defeated him so easily by doing nothing. By simply being.

        “I don’t understand,” Mitsuo said over and over again, weeping as fatigue swept over him. His hands bled and throbbed, and his temples pounded on either side of his hot eyes, which felt like they were shriveling into nothing. Mitsuo lifted his head to the sky, trying to see it beyond the glow of the lantern, but all he could see was black. It was as if his entire world had shrunk to just inside the light, his only companion the rejection he’d just experienced.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

A new sound gave him his answer, and an unwelcome one.

Beyond the reach of the lantern light, out in the darkness at the edge of the clearing, something walked.

And breathed.

Evenly, steadily, a decidedly living sound.

Mitsuo’s heart froze in his chest, fear numbing his muscles as he struggled to stand. Somehow he picked up the lantern and held it in front of him, towards the sound.

        “Who is there?” he spoke loudly into the night. “Show yourself or leave me alone!”

A low rumbling growl answered him.

At the edge of the wood, behind a tree, Mitsuo saw the gleam of two thin eyes staring hungrily at him. Terror froze Mitsuo’s feet to the ground. The Rose stood behind him, a silent witness to the consequences of his hysterics.

It could only be a wolf. And where there was one, there were bound to be others. There weren’t many in the mountains – some called them “Ghost Wolves” – but they did exist. And now one, at least, had found him. Likely more were on their way.

Fear and shame washed over Mitsuo.

        “I drew them to me,” he said to himself, his body trembling with fright. “My shouting. The smell of my blood. And I threw all my tools away – I have no defense against them. I’ve been so foolish.”

He whirled around when a similar set of sounds emerged from the darkness behind him. Then more from either side. He saw more pairs of eyes winking in and out of the darkness as they circled around him, growls and movement in the undergrowth closing in on him.

They were surrounding him. He had nowhere to run, no way to help himself. He’d done himself in. His grandfather and brother had no idea he was in danger. Sorrow and regret welled up in him. He recognized the folly of his past months, the consequences of his obsession, laid out clearly by the wolves pacing around him. But he had no way to make things right. Jiji and Chuichi would never know what he had tried to do, why it had all gone so horribly wrong, and how much he loved them at his very end.

        “I’m sorry!” he screamed at the wolves, whirling himself and the lantern in a circle around the Rose as he did so. “Leave me alone! Let me go so I can do better!”

But the wolves were not listening. He knew they were waiting, planning, plotting, readying to make him their own just like….

        “…. like I did with the Rose.”

Like a veil lifting from his eyes, like a fog clearing, Mitsuo saw the truth. He’d been a wolf, singularly focused on conquering – consuming – what he felt he needed to survive. He’d stalked his prey, planned to capture it, to destroy it where it stood, to haul it back to its cave and devour it.

“I’m so sorry,” Mitsuo said to the Rose, his back still to it as he moved in circles around it. “I shouldn’t have done this. I didn’t understand. And now it’s too late.” He repeated it all over and over again, as the wolves tightened their ranks around him. Their growls began to reverberate, and Mitsuo knew his time had run out.

Mitsuo couldn’t see it, but far to the east, behind the mountain beyond the river, the first sign of the day’s light began to awaken.

But in the west, along the path leading back to the house, another light had also appeared.

*************

“Get away from me!” Mitsuo shouted at the wolves, even though he knew it was futile. There wasn’t anything he could do but die defiantly. After all his cowardice and scheming, he wanted to act bravely just once.

The wolves continued to circle closer. Soon he could see their mottled fur, lean muscled bodies, and sharp jaws join their hungry eyes in the death dance they wove around him.

But Mitsuo didn’t want to die. He wanted to do things differently. He wanted another chance.

        “Help!! Help me!” he cried out to the sky in one last plea.

A fukuro hooted.

And a piercing shriek erupted from the direction of the path, and down into the clearing, bursting into the lantern light out of the gloom, two forms swept into view, giant wings flapping and fire blazing in front of them.

Mitsuo cried out in alarm, tripping over himself and stumbling to the ground. The wolves were also caught unawares and yelped in surprise, scattering back into the trees. Mitsuo tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

        “Dragons?” was all that would come out of his slack jaw. But that didn’t quite match the sight.

There were two of them – one small and blue,  and one large and red, the smaller shrieking loudly as it sped around the perimeter of the clearing, fire whipping back and forth in front of its head as it moved. The larger one moved a bit more slowly, but appeared to have even more fire at its disposal.

Then Mitsuo realized the dragons were…. talking?

        “Get back you Ghost Wolves!” the smaller one shouted. “Leave my brother alone! You will taste our fire!”

Mitsuo gaped as his mind struggled to catch up.

        “Get up, Mitsuo! Get up!” shouted the larger one. “Add your voice to ours! It will scare them away!”

Mitsuo leapt to his feet still confused by what was happening. Was he dreaming?  Was he already dead?

        “Shout, Mitsuo! Jump up and down!” the small dragon yelled, still running around with his fire.

        “Here, Mitsuo, take this!” the bigger one shouted, approaching him and thrusting fire into his hand. “Wave it around!”

Mitsuo stared at the flaming torch in his hand, the familiar smell of burning oil filling his senses. He looked at the bigger dragon and saw him clearly for the first time.

        “Jiji!?!?!”

        “Wave that torch around! They hate fire!” Hideo hollered as he ran back towards the tree line, waving his own torch around his….

“…. wings and dragon head?”

His grandfather was a dragon?

        “That means that the small one must be…” Mitsuo realized, finding the smaller dragon zooming around, fire frantically spasming out in all directions.

        “They are running away, Mitsuo! They are running away! My dragons are obeying me!!”

        “Chuichi!!!” Mitsuo yelped in disbelieving delight. He ran towards his brother, seeing blue wings waving wildly in the light as he waved his own torch in front of him towards the forest.

Suddenly he understood.

        “Your kites!!” Mitsuo shouted. “It’s your kites!”

        “It’s my dragons!!” Chuichi insisted, whooping and shrieking at the wolves as they retreated loudly into the undergrowth. “They never forsake me! We wear them with honor!”

        “Keep waving that torch, grandson!” Hideo shouted from across the clearing. “Scream, yell, whoop, be crazy!”

Mitsuo did as he was told, joining the fray. Despite the pain in his hands and heart, he ran and waved the torch around, screaming at all pitches. Soon, a cacophony of sound and movement exploded from the clearing, whirling flames bouncing shadows and light off the trees and, occasionally, off red and blue dragon’s wings.  It went on for many minutes, it seemed, so long that when Hideo finally called for a halt, the sky above them had brightened noticeably.

The sun was rising. The long night was over.

        “How did you know?” Mitsuo panted, holding his torch aloft despite his aching muscles. “How did you find me?”

        “First,” Hideo said, “Both of you come here beside me.”

Both boys moved quickly to their grandfather, one bloodied and dirty, the other with a blue dragon kite strapped to his back, its wood-framed wings and fanged head arcing out over the top of the boys’ sweat-matted hair. Hideo’s larger red dragon hung crazily off of him, and heaved up and down as the old man panted wearily.

They gathered next to the Rose, which stood, as always, unperturbed.

        “We will stand here together until the sun has fully arrived,” Hideo said. “Only then can we safely return home.”

For long minutes, they stood  in a tight circle, holding out their torches and breathing hard from exertion. Soon, the clearing was clearly visible, the sky became bluer above them, and morning birds began their songs in earnest. When Hideo dropped his torch to the ground and sat, the two boys collapsed next to him without a word. The Rose stood guard over them.

Mitsuo knew he had to be the first to speak.

        “How did you know?”

Hideo shook his head and shrugged.

        “Your brother woke me, hearing yelling in the distance. You weren’t in your bedroll. He said he knew it was you and that you were in trouble.”

Chuichi nodded, grinning and wiping sweat from his face.

        “I heard you, and I just knew you’d gone looking for the Rose. I didn’t know why or what was wrong, but in case it was animals, Jiji grabbed torches.”

Mitsuo chuckled over tears that had begun anew.

        “And the dragons?”

Hideo pointed to the younger grandson.

        “Of course, his idea. It was a good one, though. If you faced predators, he said, then they’d be frightened more of dragons than people. Especially Ghost Wolves – they hate dragons. So he says.”

        “And my dragons always do what I say,” Chuichi added devoutly. “I knew they’d save the day if we joined with them.”

Mitsuo and Hideo shared a knowing smile. It was not a point worth arguing. Chuichi had been right all along. His dragons had saved them all.

        “We then just followed your cries down the path to this clearing. We could hear the wolves when we got close. As for the rest….” Hideo said, looking at Mitsuo gravely. “Tell us what happened. Don’t leave anything out, grandson. You’ve been keeping secrets for so long, and they have plunged you into this darkness. It’s time to bring them into the light.”

Mitsuo nodded and didn’t hesitate. He told them the whole story, from his anger at them the first day they saw the Rose, to his discovery of the cave, to his scheming and planning, to how he’d snuck out of the house hours before, and all that had led to him being surrounded by Ghost Wolves. As he recounted the story, Hideo tended to Mitsuo’s wounded hands as best he could, ripping away parts of his own shirt to use as makeshift bandages. Chuichi listened to the tale with rapt attention, never taking his eyes off of his brother. When the wound tending and the storytelling were both done, Mitsuo wept. He curled himself up onto a ball and hung his head, teardrops splashing the ground.

        “I’m so sorry, Jiji. Chuichi. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’m sorry you had to put yourselves in danger to help me.”

But Hideo stood up and reached a hand down to Mitsuo.

        “I know you are sorry, grandson.  But right now, we are going home to clean up and have breakfast. Then you will take me and your brother to see this ‘project’ of yours. On the way, consider what is happening in you that led you to this. The walk will do you good. You will find the answer.”

Mitsuo and Chuichi obeyed, rising to their feet. Chuichi grabbed the empty bucket and Mitsuo extinguished the torches. As they left the clearing, Mitsuo turned to look back at the Rose one more time.

But it was gone.

        “Don’t worry,” Hideo told him. “You will see it again. It is also in its nature to reveal itself to you. That, at least, is now abundantly clear.”

The three walked up the path towards the house, a red and blue dragon catching a ride on two pairs of shoulders.

*****************

Just before midday, Mitsuo led his grandfather and younger brother to the cave. Though he had washed up, guzzled down water and food, and had allowed his grandfather to skillfully clean his wounded hands, Mitsuo still felt awful. He was sad, embarrassed, and confused, yet filled with gratitude for the love his brother and Jiji had shown him. It was much more love than he’d shown them in months – maybe ever.

        “This is quite the project,” Hideo said, hands on his hips surveying Mitsuo’s handiwork.

        “Wow,” Chuichi agreed. “You sure did a lot of work on this. It’s like a little house. With a shoji paper roof and walls!”

        “It’s to let in light,” Mitsuo mumbled sheepishly. “So the flower could live inside it and not die.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Chuichi said. “But okay.”

        “And this door on the side,” Hideo observed, crouching down on one knee for a closer look, “that is for you to open to look at it whenever you wanted?”

Mitsuo’s face burned hot with shame, so he only nodded.

Hideo walked around the little wood-framed dwelling, which stood on four honed poles with a cantilevered roof, thin paper stretched between each piece. It stood on a high pile of rich soil spread inside several layered circles of smooth stones. On one of the stones sat a metal candle stand and incense dish. Hideo looked over at Mitsuo, who struggled to meet his eye.

        “This looks like a shrine, grandson. Is that what you intended?”

Mitsuo hadn’t thought of it that way, but he could see why his grandfather did.

        “No. I wanted it to be a beautiful place for the Rose to stay. If I made it nice, maybe it would stay.”

Hideo shook his head, eyes narrowed.

        “But you built a roof and walls to keep it inside, grandson. To trap it. To hold it for yourself.”

        “That’s like a prison,” Chuichi said, not unkindly. It was only an observation, and the truth of it stung Mitsuo deeply. He blushed again as Hideo nodded in agreement with Chuichi.

        “Indeed, it would be a prison. But tell me, Mitsuo – even if you had gotten the flower inside, why did you think it wouldn’t be able to just disappear from inside of it?”

Mitsuo hung his head. It was something he’d thought about, but had never liked the answer.

        “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I just hoped it would stay inside it, maybe because it was always out in the open before.”

Mitsuo was worried his grandfather would be angry, but was surprised when Hideo nodded and sighed.

        “I understand,” Hideo said. “We build such things to hold all that we love in life. So much we do not want to lose, so we make structures that we hope will keep them with us. We say it’s for their best interest, to protect them, but it is really about our own fears of loss. Do you understand?”

Mitsuo thought he might.

        “I think I understand,” Chuichi said, sitting down in the mouth of the cave. “It’s like with Chichi and Haha, right?

Mitsuo’s knees buckled and he sank to the ground at hearing those names. He couldn’t bear to think about them, but they never drifted far from the back of his mind.

Hideo smiled sadly at both boys.

        “In a way, yes,” he said kindly. “It is like when your father and mother left us. We could not prevent either of them from leaving, though we gave them all the love we could to try to keep them here.”

        “Haha was sick a long time, and nothing we could do or give her saved her in the end.” Chuichi said. “Her soul went away to live in the sky. That’s why I fly my dragons sometimes, to try to reach her.”

Though his youngest grandson was sad when he said it, it didn’t weigh him down like it did Mitsuo, Hideo observed. The older boy had begun to cry openly.

        “And then Chichi disappeared after that,” Mitsuo said bitterly. “He was so sad that he just left. He said he’d be back, but he hasn’t returned. And he won’t.” The last came out as a yell, an accusation against a father far away.

Hideo knew Mitsuo had found his answer, why the Rose had become such an obsession.

        “He may yet, Mitsuo. We don’t know he won’t.”

“I’m tired of things I love leaving me!!” Mitsuo exploded, hoisting himself up on his knees, his tear-streaked face reddening with emotion. “Of them not coming back!! Haha died and cannot come back, and that was bad enough. But our father left us! I wanted to run away, too, but he said I could not! He said it was cowardly for me to run away, then he did it himself!”

Hideo nodded, his own tears leaking out to join Mitsuo’s on the ground. Chuichi scooted over to sit next to his brother, wiping at his own eyes.

        “So, when you saw that beautiful Rose…” Hideo prompted Mitsuo. The boy wept so deeply that Hideo thought he might get sick.

        “It’s so beautiful, more so than anything I’ve seen since…since Haha. It reminded me of her, but also of how Chichi felt about her. He loved her so much! Seeing that Rose, it was like getting to be with them both again, yet it was also new, something just for me. Like it spoke to me. I didn’t want that feeling to disappear again, like everything else. But more than that, I don’t want that feeling of love to disappear from inside of me! It was gone, the Rose brought it back, and suddenly I was terrified I’d lose that, too!”

Mitsuo staggered from releasing his grief, as if a serpent had exploded out of him, leaving a torn husk behind. He fell to his side weeping, and Chuichi cried gently as he rubbed his older brother’s back.

        “I think that is both the saddest and happiest reason I’ve ever heard for wanting something so badly,” Chuichi said, looking up at his grandfather. “Now it makes sense why he was so sad and angry. Why he wanted the Rose this much.” 

Hideo kneeled down next to his grandsons, gathering them in his arms. Both rested their heads against him and cried at their own memories and from the emotion of the day. Hideo had shed many tears for his son’s disappearance, for the slow withering and death of his daughter-in-law, and for what all of it had done to his beloved grandsons. They deserved so much better.

They sat there together for a while, remembering those they loved and missed, and listening to the summer wind in the trees. Finally, Mitsuo sat up and moved to his project.

        “So I wanted to make sure that the Rose didn’t disappear again. Or hoped it wouldn’t. I’d dig it up, put it in here, then I’d always know where it was and could look at it at any time. It wouldn’t leave me again. It was so stupid of me.”

Hideo shook his head, standing stiffly.

        “Understandable, grandson. I see that now, as do you. And yet, as I said that first day, it is not in that Rose’s nature to stay in one place, and you learned today that its nature is not to be caged, either. The reasons don’t matter – what does is that you see its nature and accept it. If you want to love something – or someone, as you will someday – you will have to love them not in spite of their nature, but because of it. For if we do not love people as they are, we don’t truly love them – we instead love what we think they can give us.”

        “That sounds kinda selfish,” Chuichi said with a frown.

        “It’s tricky, certainly,” Hideo told him. “Do you understand what I mean, Mitsuo?”

The older boy nodded, his pain ebbing away.

        “I think so. Haha couldn’t be controlled either, now that I think of it. Chichi sometimes tried, and that never worked.”

        “He’s where you get your stubbornness, and from her your passion.” Hideo replied. To Chuichi he said, “And you get your creative joy from her, and your fierce bravery from him.”

Both boys grinned despite their heavy hearts.

        “And they both love you,” Hideo said. “As best they can, from where they are. Not in the past. But the present. They love you now, as you are. And you cannot – and should not – be controlled, either. You must live your nature, like that Rose does.”

        “I wish I could disappear and reappear whenever and wherever I want,” Chuichi giggled. “I’d pop in on you both to scare you all the time.”

Mitsuo shoved his brother playfully, then looked somberly at his project.

        “I suppose I should take this apart, then?”

Hideo considered something. A way to help both his grandsons learn from the New Discoveries the day had brought them.

        “Yes, but then let’s take it all back to the house. I have an idea.”

*******************

By the time the sun was beginning its descent below the western hills, they were finished. All three were tired, dirty, and thirsty, but it had been worth it.

Standing in a corner of the courtyard, just under the outer edges of the Japanese maple, they had reconstructed the layered stone circles of Mitsuo’s project. Hideo had then filled in the space with the finest soil from his expansive garden, and Chuichi had helped his brother put up the frame of the little dwelling – after removing all the shoji paper from it. The bare wood now stood as if its walls and roof were invisible, the soil inside unimpeded from rain and sunlight.

        “We can decorate the wood, too, if you want,” Chuichi suggested to Mitsuo. “We could use some of my paints to color them, put symbols on them.”

        “Like dragons?” Mitsuo said to his brother with eyebrows arched. But Chuichi shook his head vehemently.

        “No, this is what you built. You get to put on what you want. I’ll just help.”

Hideo smiled at both boys. He was proud of them both beyond measure.

        “This looks really good, grandsons.. This is the best we can do.”

        “Explain it to me again?” Chuichi asked. But unlike the first time when Hideo had done so, this time it was Mitsuo’s turn.

        “This little plot is what we can offer the Rose. If it wants to ever come here, it can have the best spot in the courtyard, its best soil, its best sunlight, and its best shade. We can then enjoy it for as long as it wants to stay. That way, we honor its nature, love it for what it is, and enjoy its beauty in the moment. That’s the best we can ever do.”

        “I like that,” Chuichi said. “So it might stay for an hour? A day? Or longer?

        “No way to know,” Mitsuo said. “It may not come at all. And we will likely still see it out in the forest. But someday we might not. It may not be in its nature to stay in one area for too long.”

Chuichi thought hard about that for a moment.

        “Then I guess we really better enjoy it every time we see it, for however long we can.”

        “Yes,” Mitsuo said with a ruffle of his brother’s hair. “Like we did with Haha.”

Hideo put aside his shovel and put his arms around his grandsons.

        “That Rose is what it is, and it can be a reminder for you that all good things – especially Love and those we love – are best enjoyed in the moment, as they are. That is the only way we can see them and accept them. As they are.” 

        “And if they leave,” Mitsuo added quietly. “That doesn’t mean they won’t come back. Or that they no longer love us.”

Hideo hugged the boy tightly. He understood.

The next morning, Mitsuo and Chuichi went to the river for water. On their way out and after they returned, they each checked the special plot. Both times, it was empty. They saw the Rose on their way to the river, amidst some rocky boulders near a cliff face. It was gone on their way back.

The next morning, and each one after that through the summer, the boys repeated their routine. Every day, they saw the Rose and spent a few minutes with it, but it did not appear in the courtyard plot. In the afternoons, after their studies, Mitsuo and Chuichi spent their time helping Hideo with the gardens, learning how to tend each plant. For Mitsuo, who had never liked gardening, it was like discovering a new world. He learned to love and appreciate the beauty in all of his grandfather’s plants, seeing them all as such for the first time in his life. The Rose remained the flower he loved most of all, but it had also taught him to seek and enjoy the beauty and uniqueness of all the other flowers, too.

On rainy or lazy days, Mitsuo helped his brother with his drawings and his stories, and whenever they had time, Mitsuo helped Chuichi fly his dragon kites. Some days, out in the Valley pulling them through the mountain breeze, the Rose would appear as if it wanted to watch them fly, too.

Each day into the autumn, the courtyard plot remained empty, and Mitsuo worked hard to remain patient. Some days doing so was easy, other days were tougher. He wrestled with his embarrassment over how he’d acted, and struggled with the anger he still felt about his mother and father. His grandfather told him the experience was helping him build character, but that was something grown ups always said when something wasn’t fun.

Then on one cool, wet day, Chuichi came running into the house, calling out for Mitsuo.

        “What is it? You’re being loud,” Mitsuo said irritably.

        “Come with me! I want to show you something! I’ve been working on something in secret for you, and now it’s done!”

Mitsuo tried to put it off, but Chuichi used his effective “I saved your life that one time” technique to get his older brother to do what he wanted.

Chuichi took them into the forest, shouting out to Hideo that they’d be back soon. Mitsuo soon recognized their path, and within minutes they’d arrived at the cave. Mitsuo hadn’t been there since That Day. He’d avoided it since.

        “Come inside with me!” Chuichi said excitedly. “Here’s a lantern!”

Mitsuo sighed and followed his brother as he lit the lantern and opened its shutter wide. Light shone on the grey-brown walls and ceiling. About halfway down the cave, Chuichi stopped and pointed to the wall beside them.

        “Look!”

Mitsuo gasped at what he saw. The entire wall was painted.

“It’s a story!” Chuichi shouted. “About you and the Rose! The whole thing!!

Chuichi wasn’t lying. The whole story was there. It started on the left with them walking for water, with the Rose in the snow, then there they were with Jiji. Then it was Mitsuo working at his cave, then him out in the darkness with his lantern, followed by the Rose refusing to budge, the glowing eyes of the Ghost Wolves. The dragons with fire soared in to drive them away. Finally, they were building the courtyard plot and helping Jiji tend his garden. There was even Haha’s spirit floating away, and Chichi far away riding a strong, black horse.

        “This is perfect,” Mitsuo mumbled in awe. “It’s wonderful, Chuichi. Thank you.”

“It’s not exactly done yet,” his brother admitted suddenly, picking up a brush and handing it to a confused Mitsuo. “There’s one more thing.” He led Mitsuo a bit further down the cave wall to a spot where he’d painted a life size image of the courtyard plot. “You need to add the Rose to this. That way, it will always at least be here, where you can see it anytime you want.”

Mitsuo was moved beyond words. He knew what he needed to do.

        “I don’t know how to paint like you,” he said to Chuichi. “I think it will be perfect if you do it. I’ll watch you, and it will turn out just like it’s supposed to.”

        “Really?” Chuichi exclaimed. “You don’t want to do it? I want you to like it.”

        “I will. I promise. I’ll watch.”

Chuichi clapped his hands and took the brush back from his brother. He poured out water from his canteen and mixed it on a block pallet with red and black powder. Mitsuo watched his brother closely, seeing him clearly for who he was.

With focused concentration, Chuichi’s hand flowed over the wall, up and down, across at every angle. He considered every movement, but didn’t hesitate. His hands moved assuredly, his eyes in perfect harmony with every stroke. After about thirty minutes, Chuichi stood back and smiled widely.

        “It’s done!”

It looked like a rugged calligraphy, as if the greatest artist of the royal court had brought his own brush to the rock. Sweeps of black outlined the Rose’s stem and petals, and a burst of bright red brush strokes filled the bud, some of it bleeding onto the black, which somehow seemed only fitting. Not all the space was filled with red, though.

        “It’s because if I fill the bud fully with red, then the Rose can’t keep growing,” Chuichi explained. “I gave it more room to keep living. It captures its spirit this way.”

        “That’s perfect.” Mitsuo told him, his heart filling and aching at the same time.

The two brothers stared at the Rose painting for a while longer, then decided to head for home. They stepped out of the cave, and stopped short. 

The Rose awaited them. There it stood, as it always did.

The boys looked at each other in wonder, then approached it reverently. They investigated closely its petals and stem, tapped its thorns, and leaned in close to smell its fragrance. It made them even happier than they’d been moments before in the cave.

After a few minutes, it was time to go. The brothers said their goodbyes to the Rose, then headed for home.

But Mitsuo stopped. He motioned for his brother to wait, then jogged back to the Rose. He stared at it, then spoke softly.

        “I don’t know why you are as you are, but I want you to know – you are perfect as you are. I see that now. And I love that I get to see you every day, and even when I don’t see you, I still do. So, you are welcome in my courtyard at any time. We have a beautiful plot just for you, and there are many other beautiful flowers there to keep you company. I will take great care of that plot for you while you are there, and you can stay for as long or as little as you like. I just wanted to make sure you heard me invite you.”

He turned and went back to his brother, and the Rose gently swayed in the breeze.

When they neared the house, Hideo was waiting just outside the main courtyard entrance. It was unlike him to do that. Seeing a strange smile on his face, the boys glanced at each other quizzically. Behind Hideo, tied to one entrance post, stood a strong black horse, a worn empty saddle and fully packed bags adorning it.

Hideo pulled Mitsuo and Chuichi close to him and knelt down. Tears welled in his eyes as he smiled widely.

        “We have visitors, grandsons. Two of them, and you know them both well. I have no idea how long each will stay, but they are both here now. Go see them.”

The boys raced into the courtyard, hearts pounding. Standing inside the open shoji doors of the house they found a familiar form and face, one who called out to them with joy and then swept them both into a fierce, tearful embrace.

And in the courtyard plot, the Rose stood, watching it all unfold. 

******************
Thanks for reading My Sunday Post. Here are some important updates from my past week:

Soul Book of the Week: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (I’m 47 years late to it)

Book On My Nightstand: Germania: A Novel of Nazi Berlin by Harald Gilbers (debut novel)

Best Show / Movie I Watched: Family Tree, Season One: Episode Six (The Civil War Reenactment Episode - I nearly peed myself laughing)

Strongest Earworm Song: Into the Mystic by Van Morrison

Best Guilty Pleasure Meal I Ate: Hamburger Helper Cheeseburger Macaroni (for the LAST time…)

Longest Walk / Run of the Week: 3.1 mile run / 10 mile ride (post-vaccine recovery, Friday)

Strangest Experience of the Week: Aftermath of Vaccine Shot #2 - it’s like being sick but not. Doozy.

Best Thing I Found That I Thought I’d Lost: one of my favorite all time sweatshirts (my car ate it)

Most Surreal Moment: A giant snowstorm making me look for Mr. Tumnus in Seattle

Biggest Surprise of the Week: Getting brownies in the mail (not THOSE kind - as far as you know)