31.

Feudal Japan

DECEMBER, 1753

Kyoto

借り逃げを

やっと止められる

ひきとるの

Kari nige wo

Yatto yamerareru

Hikitoru no.

Finally, I can stop

Running from my debt

The one named Hikitoru.

Saburo reads over the lines of his death poem. Sighs. It will have to do. He stamps it with his seal and sets it aside for his number one disciple to find when he’s gone. Before laying down his brush for the last time, he pulls another piece of paper to him, and with a trembling hand, sets down his final wishes. There must be no mistake. He’ll only be able to move on to the next life unencumbered if he pays his debt in this one.

Saburo has sinned more than he ought, had more success than he deserved, and his reputation is greater than he ever dreamed possible. But now it’s time to follow the old Pottery Priest into the next life, hoping that if their paths cross again, he’ll be forgiven for the wrongs he’s done him in this one.

As the ink dries, his mind wanders back to the long-ago winter that changed his life. The fierceness of the kiln fire, sparks blasting through the tiny stoking windows as he and Hattsan fed the dragon within. A rabbit bounding ahead of him down a mountain path, as snow drifted down in feathery clumps. A sudden guffaw erupting from the man who’d never been able to see, but who saw farther than most.

He folds the note and wraps it around the scroll onto which he has copied the eight verses it has taken him nearly forty years to write. Not bothering to rinse his brush, he leaves it on the writing table and calls his servant to help him rise from his desk and ease him onto his bed.

He asks the man to put some more wood on the fire, thanks him, and closes his eyes. His work is nearly done. It won’t be long now. Both he and the scroll resting between his dry old hands will soon be smoke, rising toward heaven.

He is ready.