He was leaving. His meager belongings tucked into his backpack, Makoto slipped down the hall. The morning sun was creeping into the house. Shadows lingered in the living room like quiet storm clouds after a summer rain.

He would soon be free.

'Good morning, Makoto.'

Makoto stopped, hoping the shadows would swallow him.

I said, 'Good morning.'

It was Grandfather, of course. No one else would be up this early.

'Good morning,' Makoto answered in a voice that sounded like surrender.

'I don't usually have company this time of day. Come sit with me.'

Makoto sighed. Grandfather sat on the floor, a book propped against his chest. It occurred to Makoto that it was still too dark to read. He crouched, waiting for his grandfather to ask him where he was going.

Grandfather sat motionless.

'I'm . . . I'm leaving,' Makoto blurted, startling himself with the confession.

'Ahhhh,' Grandfather acknowledged. 'Leaving. Yes, I can see that, Makoto. But it is not enough that one leaves. One must have somewhere to go. Where are you going, Makoto?'

'It's boring here in Kyoto. I've seen everything, done everything. I'm ready to see the world.'

Makoto paused, wondering if this sounded as silly to Grandfather as it did to him right now—a ten-year-old boy leaving to see the world.

'Good,' Grandfather replied, 'it's good to see the world. Have you any money with which to see it?'

'Some.'

'You'll need money for trains, food and places to stay. Perhaps I could help.'

Makoto hadn't expected this. 'I could use more,' he admitted.

'Well then, you shall have it. Just answer a simple question for me.'

Makoto winced. He felt as if he was being pulled into a bargain he could not win.

'It's about the garden in the center of the house. You know the one I mean?'

Of course, he knew. There were palms, bamboo, flowers, rocks tucked into corners and a stone lantern near a pond topped with purple lotus flowers beneath which swam gold carp.

'In the corner is a chrysanthemum. Tell me, which insect makes its home in the leaves but does not consume them?'

Makoto knew the plant. At least, he thought he did.

'I'm not sure,' he stammered. 'I mean . . . I guess I don't know.'

'Too bad. We can try again tomorrow if you wish. It will be our arrangement.'

The light of day was beginning to scatter the shadows. Makoto thought he saw his grandfather smile.

He would not be fooled again. For the rest of the day, Makoto scoured the garden, searching for the answers to the questions Grandfather might pose. He memorized every bush, every rock and the location of as many insects as he could find. When dusk ended his study, he left the garden and collapsed into bed.

It was a new day when Makoto arose and dressed. His arms and legs ached. He wasn't sure why. No matter. He would answer Grandfather's question, get the money and leave. The arrangement would come to a quick end.

'A black beetle,' Makoto confidently pronounced upon seeing his grandfather.

Grandfather nodded. 'Yes, it is the black beetle that makes its home in the chrysanthemum. But that was yesterday's question. Here is today's: There is moss on the cherry tree. On which side does it grow?'

Moss! He hadn't noticed any moss. He had been looking at bushes and insects. Was this a trick? Maybe there wasn't any moss. Maybe there was moss but on a different tree.

'I'm not sure,' he finally managed.

He could have guessed, of course. But somehow, Makoto didn't want to risk being wrong.

Grandfather chuckled and motioned for him to leave. And he continued chuckling as Makoto steered his sore limbs in the direction of the garden.

And so, the arrangement continued. Makoto, on his hands and knees, scurried through the ferns and aspidistra, studying and memorizing every inch of the terrain. Each morning, he knew the answer to the previous day's question, but not the new one that his grandfather posed. Each afternoon, he would slink away to the garden to resume his study.

Weeks passed. And though it was difficult to pinpoint exactly when it happened, Makoto found that he began looking forward to the daily quest.

And then one day. . .

Makoto was propped on his elbows, watching two ladybugs wind their way up a plantain lily when a thought struck him like a peal of thunder. He had forgotten to present himself to Grandfather for a question!

That morning, Makoto had dressed, consumed some rice cakes and headed to the garden. He had completely forgotten about the arrangement. With difficulty, he got to his feet. Feelings of embarrassment flooded over him.

Grandfather was sitting on the porch, softly playing a bamboo flute, eyes closed. Makoto quietly approached.

'Are you awake?' he asked, realizing how ridiculous the question was.

'Very awake,' Grandfather remarked, 'and waiting.'

'I'm ready for my question,' Makoto announced in a faraway voice that did not sound like his own.

'Hmmmm, yes, our arrangement. I thought maybe you had forgotten.'

Makoto shifted uneasily. The old man paused, then spoke slowly and clearly.

'The question is: what insect makes its home in the chrysanthemum but does not consume the leaves?'

Makoto stepped back and almost stumbled. What was happening? Grandfather was asking a question he had asked before—the very first question he had ever asked. Makoto's heart beat wildly. He could answer the question, get the money and leave Kyoto to see the world. It was as simple as that. That was the arrangement.

But something prevented him from speaking. His mind spun silken images of the garden before his eyes—the red plum blossoms, the persimmon and mulberry trees, the green waterfalls of moss on the rocks. Why hadn't Grandfather asked about those?

A whole world was in the garden. His world. An exciting, ever-changing world, one he had only just begun to explore.

'I'm not sure,' he murmured. 'I mean . . . I don't know, Grandfather.'

'No? Well, perhaps the matter requires a bit more study, hmmm?'

Grandfather winked, unfolded his legs, rose from the porch and draped one of his arms over Makoto's shoulders.

'Let's go to the garden,' he softly spoke. 'There may be a few things that this old man can show you yet.'

Makoto smiled. He was sure that there would be.