by Stephen Benfey

Kazu sat in the freezing waterfall beside the white-bearded yamabushi. The mountain priest’s temple lay below. Kazu knew it from hikes in Kyoto’s hills with his high-school mountaineering club.

He’d sought refuge here three months ago, in November. Heartbreak had sent him, and fear.

It was her smile. Every time his co-worker Emi at the department store smiled, his love deepened.

“We’re soulmates,” Kazu said, one day, “tied by a red thread.”

“You’re an interesting person,” she said. Kazu’s heart froze. Emi’s smiles weren’t for him. They were a sales tool.

The panic attacks started soon after.

The yamabushi had no other acolytes. No sermons, no talk at all. Kazu cleaned, washed, cooked, and foraged for sansai —wild roots, greens, mushrooms. Maybe he’d catch a yamame trout, dredge it in salt, and broil it over glowing embers.

When he wasn’t working or sleeping Kazu meditated with the old man. The falling water smoothed and rounded the sharp shards of his heart. Heijoshin, equanimity, grew to fill the cavern of unrequited love.

For twenty minutes each morning they’d sit under the waterfall. But today seemed longer, much longer. Kazu stole a glance. The old priest’s head lolled sideways, cheek cupped in hand —Buddha enlightened —legs frozen in full lotus.

The local villagers insisted that Kazu leave immediately. He’d be a homicide suspect when the police showed up. They gave him fresh clothes, a bus ticket, and a bento for the once-daily ride back to Kyoto.

As the bus turned onto Shijo Dori in front of the department store, Kazu looked out the window, wondering. His heart had healed. Could his relationship with Emi mend as well? She wasn’t the person he thought she was. And now, neither was he.

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Stephen Benfey’s homepage with examples of his short stories can be found here. For his short story on gardening and rocks, see here. For a New Year story, click here. For his piece on foxes, see here. For Gaijin’s Redemption, click here. For his short story titled Tofu, see here.