The Memory Painter

The Shogun’s men led Asano into the garden, where several layers of white cotton cloth had been laid. A small stand holding a dagger had been placed in its center. His Second, his Kaishakunin, stood at stoic attention behind him with a sword, prepared to sever his head at the end.

Lord Asano had now changed into a ceremonial white kimono. He took the proper stance and sat on his heels. As part of the ritual suicide, he picked up the sake cup from the wooden table and drank it in four sips. Then he wrote his death poem on a sheet of washi, paper made from mulberry leaves. He did not know what to write but somehow, his brush moved across the page.

Wind makes the flower fall

I too am falling

Not knowing what to do

With the Remaining Spring

It would be remembered as a poor death poem, he thought, and he felt ashamed. He slipped off his outer garment and tucked the sleeves under his knees. He grasped the cold dagger in his hands and thought about his dream of the strange Egyptian woman upon the mountain. Had she known this day would be his last?

As he prepared to end his life, Asano remembered the rest of what she had said to him.

“Between the beginning and the end, this life is but one moment.”

Asano grabbed onto her words as the blade pierced his skin. He did not feel the Second’s sword on his neck.

He was already gone.



SIXTEEN

DAY 20—FEBRUARY 25, 1982

The memories come without warning. This is the second time this week I have suffered a recall. Today, I was working in my office when my sight began to blur and the dream took me. I have stopped the medication, but that hasn’t slowed the visions. It is as if Renovo has opened Pandora’s box.

I have shared what I have recalled with the team, but only to a certain point, and have taken to locking myself in this office, searching for some kind of answer. My mind keeps going back to the Egyptian woman in Asano’s dream. I have seen her appear in the dreams of other lives I have recalled as well, and I cannot help but feel she is a key to understanding all of this. Who is she? A goddess? An ancient priestess? A traveler from another time and place with a message for a dying man?

None of this makes sense and I am afraid to voice these thoughts. I have limited my interactions with the team to the tests Finn is conducting. I have even sworn to keep Diana away until I can sort out what is happening.

I am now fluent in over ten languages and have knowledge of historical events and written texts that cannot be found in books. It is a persuasive argument for reincarnation to be sure, but the scientist in me is still not convinced these are memories of past lives. Even so, it is hard to deny these recollections feel like my own.

Now I have relived the life of a Japanese lord from the seventeenth century. I first heard about Lord Asano years ago when I took an Asian Studies course as an elective my freshman year of college. My professor, Mr. Yamamoto, loved to entertain us with stories from his homeland. The account of Lord Asano’s death and the bloodshed that followed became one of the greatest sagas of Japan.

His tale gripped me, but I told myself I was no more enthralled than any other student. Strange to think I might have been the one who caused the story.

Diana played an instrumental part too. Just as she did in Pushkin’s life. I am certain she was my wife, Natalia. Natalia who had raged about how she wanted to be a man in order to avenge her husband’s death. When I look into Diana’s eyes, I cannot help but feel that she did come back as a man in the next life. And what a war she waged.

I don’t know what will happen when Diana remembers her life in Japan, but I pray she never will. The whole team has taken Renovo now. God help us.

*

Bryan put the journal down. He couldn’t bring himself to read anymore.