Kill the Shogun (Samurai Mysteries)

by Dale Furutani

  At the very end, one of the guards broke ranks and stepped forward with a spear, ready to thrust it into the prisoner to end his suffering. Angrily, Okubo’s father ordered the guard arrested before he could deliver the thrust of mercy. Okubo couldn’t remember what happened to that guard, but he supposed that the guard was himself boiled at a later date. What he did remember was that his father quite enjoyed himself, laughing out loud while the other witnesses to the execution all turned away.

  Okubo’s father kept the man in the pot until his flesh started boiling off his bones. Young Okubo and his father sat on the veranda for the entire time this took. Then, when it was all over, Okubo’s father asked his heir if he enjoyed the spectacle. The young Okubo answered, “Hai! Yes!”

  When Okubo was around nine, his father conducted a series of disastrous campaigns against his neighboring daimyo. Although he was outnumbered, the neighbor was just too good a general to be beaten by the Okubo clan, and Okubo’s father was forced to settle for peace under humiliating circumstances. Part of the peace agreement required the young heir to go to the enemy’s castle as a hostage for three years, to guarantee the Okubo clan’s good behavior.

  So the young Okubo, then ten, was sent to the next fief. He took with him several servants and retainers so he could continue to live in spoiled comfort. He was officially an honored guest, but his entire clan knew his life would be forfeit if his father started another ill-fated adventure within three years.

  What only he knew was that, on the night before he left, his father came to him in his room.

  “I hate those people!” his father declared. “They think they’re more virtuous than us, even though our rank in the Imperial Court is much higher than theirs! I want you to know that since you are my heir, I will try to restrain myself, but someday the Okubos will have a chance to bring that family to ruin! If that day comes sometime within the next three years, I intend to act. I can always father another boy.” Then Okubo’s father left without a further word. The next morning, as Okubo and his entourage left for the next fief, his father did not appear to say farewell.

  Despite his precarious position, the neighboring daimyo turned out to be quite kind and solicitous of Okubo’s welfare. Instead of responding to this kindness, the young Okubo felt bile in his soul, and for some reason his hatred and contempt of the neighboring clan grew to exceed even the hatred expressed by his father.

  The neighboring fief seemed to be run more efficiently than Okubo’s own, even though the daimyo seemed so weak that he didn’t grind his vassals into the dirt. Instead, he treated them with respect, and they responded with loyalty and maximum efforts in peace or in war. Instead of embracing this model, the example only hardened the heart of the young Okubo. It made him want to embrace the autocratic ways of his father all the more.

  One thing the young son missed was executions by boiling. When execution was required, the neighboring daimyo had it done swiftly, with a single stroke of a sword. Missing one of his favorite recreations, the young Okubo decided to rectify this.

  He had three of his retainers find him a stray dog. They trussed up the poor animal, taking special care to tie up its muzzle. Then, behind the villa of the daimyo, Okubo had firewood and a pot of water brought. The dog was in a panic when Okubo had his retainers place the animal in the water. The dog thrashed about, causing the water to fly. Okubo himself lit the fire; then he stepped back to see the fun.

  “What are you doing?”

  Okubo looked over his shoulder to see the person who now called himself Matsuyama Kaze looking at him. Okubo’s body was shielding Kaze’s view of what was in the pot. The three Okubo retainers had stepped away when the young Okubo lit the fire, and none of them made a move to intercept the young Kaze.

  Kaze was nine then, and in his youthful hands he held a paper kite and twine. Okubo ignored him. Kaze was the son of a mid-level samurai at the castle, and should not have even been addressing an heir and future daimyo like Okubo.

  “I asked, what are you doing?”

  Okubo was not used to being addressed in such a tone of voice, and he said irritably, “This is none of your business. Go off and play your stupid games!”

  Kaze stepped to one side to see the contents of the pot that was sitting in the midst of the newly lit fire. When he saw the pot’s contents, he dropped his kite and twine to the earth.

  “Let that poor creature go!” Kaze’s voice was sharp and low. Although he was a full head taller than Kaze, Okubo somehow felt threatened.

  “Take care of that brat,” Okubo ordered his retainers. Incredibly, they made no move to comply. Instead, they stood there immobile and mute.

  “I said, let that creature go!” Kaze had advanced on Okubo, his hands now in two tight fists.

  Okubo looked at his retainers, still not understanding why they hadn’t moved to follow his orders. When he looked back at Kaze, his face was filled with a fist flying toward it.

  The fight was not an elegant one. It was a schoolboy scuffle. Okubo was taller and stronger than Kaze, but Kaze had the strength of will and rapid reflexes that rained a shower of blows on Okubo. The fight ended with Kaze sitting on Okubo’s chest, pummeling his head, while the older boy tried to protect himself by placing his hands over his face. The three Okubo retainers simply looked on.

  Convinced he had thrashed the older boy, Kaze got off Okubo and ran to the fire. He kicked the pot over and the spilling water doused half the flame, sending up a cloud of white steam. Kaze took the struggling dog out of the pot and untied it, first making sure the water had not yet gotten hot enough to harm the animal. As soon as Kaze released the dog from its bonds, the animal leapt up and ran with all speed out of the area.

  Okubo complained about the beating. Since he was the son of a daimyo, the Lord who was holding him hostage called Kaze and his father to explain themselves.

  As they sat outside the Lord’s reception room, Kaze could see his father was irritated by the trouble Kaze had caused. Kaze knew the Lord had power of life and death over his father and everyone in the fief. From the fact that his father was irritated but not concerned, Kaze guessed the situation wasn’t as serious as that. Still, he felt acute embarrassment for causing trouble.

  He sat waiting, trying to wash all thoughts from his mind and concentrating on his breathing. Breath was life and Kaze had already been taught the breathing exercises that samurai students were drilled in. It calmed him and also steeled him to go through his first direct contact with his daimyo. He wanted to greet the daimyo as a warrior and not a child.

  The Lord finally called them in.

  As they entered, the daimyo and his son, who was a few years older than Kaze, were sitting on a dais at the end of the room. Kaze and his father marched to the daimyo, stopping a respectful distance away. They both gracefully sank to their knees, put their hands on the floor before them, and gave a deep, formal bow, almost touching their heads to the floor. Then they both sat up, sitting on their legs, with calm faces and rigid backs.

  The daimyo was impressed. The young boy had been well schooled in proper etiquette, but any child likely to have contact with daimyo and other high officials of the clan would be so schooled. What impressed the daimyo was the calm of the boy. Most children would be nervous or even crying when summoned to see the Lord of the fief after beating the son of another daimyo. The daimyo glanced at his son, to see if he had also noted the young boy’s presence. In the normal course of things, this young boy would someday serve the daimyo’s son, just as the father served the daimyo.

  “Young Okubo complained about your beating him,” the daimyo said without preliminaries. The young boy sat calmly, not denying the charge or rushing to offer an excuse.

  “I did beat him, great Lord,” the boy said.

  After waiting to see if the boy would say more, the daimyo continued. His respect for this youth increased because he maintained an impressive composure, and he started looking at him as a precocious young man, and not a child. �
�Why did you beat him?” he asked.

  “Young Lord Okubo had a dog tied up in a pot of water and he seemed intent on boiling it alive.”

  “So he was torturing your dog?”

  “It was not my dog, great Lord.”

  Surprised, the daimyo asked, “It was not your dog?”

  “No, Lord. I think it was a stray dog.”

  “Then why did you rush to protect it? Are you aware that some daimyo hunt dogs, shooting them from horseback with a bow and arrow?”

  “Yes, great Lord.”

  “And would you beat up the son of a daimyo if he was doing that?”

  “Probably not, great Lord.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that is not cruelty for cruelty’s sake. I was taught that all creatures must die, including human beings. Death is inevitable, by one means or another. The manner of death, however, is important. Being boiled alive to give another pleasure is not a good death, even for a dog. I have never seen this type of cruelty exhibited before by our clan. Young Lord Okubo is a future daimyo, but he is also a guest of our clan. He should abide by the customs of our clan. That includes not inflicting pain for callous reasons, even to a dog.”

  Kaze’s father opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. His son was acquitting himself like a man. He didn’t know from what depths the young boy was pulling up the answers he was giving. He wanted to turn his head and look at his son, but protocol prevented him from doing so in this type of formal interview. He had to keep his face toward his daimyo.

  The daimyo raised his eyebrows at Kaze’s answer, surprised at the response.

  “Undoubtedly there are other customs in Okubo’s own clan,” the daimyo said diplomatically. “Why do you think Okubo complained to me about the beating you gave him?”

  “To get me in trouble because he was defeated and …” For the first time in the interview, Kaze looked his age as youthful embarrassment flitted across his face. He stopped talking.

  “Finish your thought,” the daimyo commanded.

  “Yes, great Lord. I believe young Lord Okubo complained to you because he has not been properly trained in bushido, the way of the warrior. A true warrior would never complain about such a trivial matter.”

  The daimyo placed his hand to his face to hide his smile, but his son, who was not as experienced in maintaining his composure, laughed out loud.

  After a moment, the daimyo said, “All right. I’m not going to punish you this time, but please try to restrain yourself from beating up the sons of daimyo, even if they’re engaged in what you think is cruelty.”

  Kaze and his father gave another deep, formal bow and left the room. As they left, Kaze’s father looked at his son as if he were seeing him for the first time.

  When the father and son were gone, the daimyo looked at his own son and said, “Someday that young man will become your right arm.”

  Okubo was assured that proper punishment had been given to Kaze, but he continued to hate the young boy. He also hated the retainers who did not defend him, and when he returned to his own fief, he had the three retainers put to death.

  Later, Kaze and Okubo met again during the finals of Hideyoshi’s great sword tournament. There, Okubo’s clan tried to bribe Kaze, which made him want to destroy Okubo, not just defeat him.

  CHAPTER 8

  Poor pay, much hardship,

  and the joy of the moment.

  Welcome, show business!

  Kaze balanced the top on his blade and walked it toward the tip. Although he kept the top balanced on the sword, his attention was not on the spinning orb of painted wood. Instead, he was studying a building across the street from him.

  It was a discreet building of dark wood and white plaster outer walls. It might have been an upper-class residence, except for the blue half-curtain hanging from the top of the door. The curtain had the kanji for “Little Flower” on it.

  The building had no windows facing the street, and in the twenty minutes Kaze took to do his act with the tops, no one entered or left. It was midmorning, and the street was bustling with people conducting their shopping or business. After years of a solitary existence on the road, the swirl of people that made up a typical Edo street was strange to Kaze, but he willed away the distractions and focused his attention on the brothel.

  Kaze was in Ningyo-cho, a compact community of Edo, not too far from the construction site of Edo-jo, tucked in the angle of the Sumida River and the Nihonbashi. It was filled with brothels, drinking places, theaters, and other entertainment establishments of various sorts. It also had a great number of the shops that gave the district its name: Doll Town. These dolls were the kind made of porcelain and cloth, and Kaze noted the irony of putting a brothel that apparently specialized in young children in a district where the parents of other, more fortunate, children purchased treasured dolls.

  In theory, girls were to be left alone until they were considered women, and they could not be kept in sexual slavery at any age. In fact, there was no organization to see to the welfare of children. If an enterprise like the Little Flower Whorehouse remained low-key and didn’t cause problems for the authorities, it was allowed to function.

  Kaze watched the Little Flower for almost an hour. It remained quiet, but that was no surprise because it was a business that operated primarily at night. He didn’t see any tradesmen entering to deliver food and drink, nor did he see anyone leave. Dressed as a street entertainer, he couldn’t just walk into the Little Flower to see if the Lady’s daughter was inside, so he decided to circle the block to see if there was an alley or side street that led to a back entrance.

  As he made his way around the block of buildings, he entered a few narrow passages, but they turned out to be private alleys leading to particular businesses and not to the Little Flower. He decided to circle the block once more. Like most of Edo, Ningyo-cho had been hastily reconstructed after the great fire, so it was a confusing jumble of makeshift buildings and permanent structures. Kaze was confident of his ability to detect something as slight as the passage of a rabbit on a forest trail, but he wasn’t as certain of his ability to see all the possible crannies in and around city businesses, one of which could turn into a back entrance for the Little Flower.

  When he was on the far side of the block, a man walked out of one of the businesses and stopped, looking at Kaze with surprise.

  “Samurai-san!” the man exclaimed.

  It was Goro, one of two peasants Kaze had met recently. The two men had helped Kaze transport a load of gold for a merchant to Kamakura. At the end of the journey, Kaze had given Goro, and his partner Hanzo, four gold coins, a magnificent reward.

  “What are you doing here?” Kaze asked.

  Goro puffed out his chest. “I am the proprietor of this business,” he said proudly.

  Kaze looked at the curtain above the doorway. All it had was the word “Kabuki.” It was a word Kaze wasn’t familiar with. It seemed to be made up of three kanji: ka, which meant song; bu, which meant dance; and ki, which means skills. Song-dance-skills. It was peculiar.

  “And what kind of business is this?” Kaze asked.

  “It’s something totally new! You samurai have had Noh plays forever, but Kabuki was just started in Kyoto by Okuni. She was a shrine maiden who used to dance in a riverbed to great crowds. It’s going to really catch on here in Edo. Come in! Come in! We’re in the midst of rehearsals so you can see for yourself.”

  Kaze entered the building, curious to see what the peasant had gotten himself into. He found himself in a lobby constructed of rough boards. Goro led Kaze through the small lobby and into the rest of the building. It was a large room. The floor was crisscrossed with low railings, dividing it into sections. Each section had low-quality tatami mats on the floor. At the back of the room was a raised platform that was reminiscent of the platforms used for Noh performances, or by shrine maidens for dancing. Behind the platform was a large curtain with a crudely painted pine tree on it,
forming a backdrop.

  It was a theater.

  Flickering torches illuminated the room, and on the platform a man and a woman were standing. They wore garish kimonos. Kaze was used to the stately refinement of Noh, where the actors were all men. They did wear sumptuous kimonos in Noh, but their faces were covered by masks that indicated what part they were playing. Kaze was surprised by the lack of masks on these players, and he was also surprised at the presence of a woman onstage.

  In front of the stage, Hanzo was busy wrapping omusubi, rice balls covered with dried seaweed, in broad, green leaves to protect them. Evidently, Hanzo was in charge of selling snacks to the audience.

  “The samurai!” Hanzo said. He dropped everything and rushed to Kaze, genuine pleasure showing on his broad peasant’s face. He gave a deep bow, and Kaze returned the bow with a nod of his head.

  “How did you get involved in this place?” Kaze asked Goro.

  “After you gave us the money in Kamakura, we decided to come to Edo to have a good time. Hanzo and I argued about it, because he wanted to spend the money on a once-in-a-lifetime binge, and I wanted to start a business so we don’t have to return to our little farm. We decided to compromise. We came to Edo and had a small binge. Before we could complete our binge, we met the former owner of this theater, who offered to sell us this. Hanzo and I argued some more, but we eventually bought it, thanks to the gold you gave us in Kamakura.”

  The part about Hanzo and Goro arguing was something Kaze could well believe. The two men argued like an old married couple. The two of them running a business was what Kaze found hard to believe.

  “Have you ever run a theater before?”

  “No, but the man who sold us the theater company said it’s a gold mine!”

  “And why did the mine owner want to give it up?”

  Goro looked puzzled. He looked at Hanzo, who simply scratched his head. Kaze sighed. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”