by Susan Spann
“A day,” Nori begged. “Just one more day.”
“I would rather do it now.” Chou blinked back tears. “Before I lose my nerve.”
“May I go too and pray with her?” Father Mateo asked.
“We do not pray to your foreign god.” Satsu spoke gently. “Thank you for the sentiment, but it is better if you leave.”
Hiro caught the Jesuit’s eye. “You cannot help her,” he said in Portuguese. “You must not interfere.”
Father Mateo seemed on the verge of tears as well, which startled Hiro into silence.
“Please excuse me,” Satsu said. “I will walk you out, and then I must go with Chou, to assist. I give you my word, this will be done today.”
“Of course.” Hiro bowed to Satsu. “Please accept my condolences on your losses.”
The actor bowed back more deeply. “Thank you for allowing me to keep this matter private.”
“I will stay with Nori,” Rika said, “and my worthless son will confess to Botan. I promise he will take responsibility for his actions.”
Yuji hung his head like a beaten dog.
Hiro nodded. “We will leave you to your duty.”
Satsu escorted Hiro and Father Mateo to the door. When they reached the street, he stepped outside and closed the door behind them.
“I must go and help my daughter,” he said, “but first, I wish to apologize. I did not believe you would help me if you knew that Chou was guilty from the start. When did you know I realized she was the killer?”
“When Chou removed the coin from Emi’s body, you asked if she was positive that Emi hadn’t told her about the coin.” Hiro paused. “You didn’t ask the expected question—if Chou had seen the coin before—which meant you knew she had.”
“Because she used it to murder her sister.” Satsu sighed. “Did you know the entire truth from that moment?”
“No,” Hiro said. “In fact, I didn’t realize the importance of your statement until last night. Without all the evidence, taken together, the words alone would not have solved the crime.”
“I regret that we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances,” Satsu said.
“I regret it also,” Hiro said. “We are leaving the city this afternoon. Have you any messages for Iga?”
“Please thank your mother for raising an honorable son.”
“You should leave the city also,” Father Mateo said. “The Miyoshi army is marching on Kyoto.”
“I’ve heard the rumors,” Satsu replied, “but for now, I think we will stay. Samurai always need entertainment, and men who wear masks can often survive where those who wear swords cannot.” His smile faded. “Please excuse me. I have a daughter to assist . . . and then to mourn.”
CHAPTER 55
Hiro and Father Mateo walked home together in heavy silence.
Hiro knew the Jesuit disapproved of death by suicide. He wondered if the priest would have preferred Chou die by public hanging, but didn’t ask.
Words that could not help were often better left unspoken.
As they reached the bridge at Marutamachi Road, the samurai on duty stepped out to meet them. “Heading home?”
Father Mateo bowed. “I have finished my business.”
Hiro sensed finality in the words.
As the samurai moved aside to let them pass, a voice behind them yelled, “Stop those men!”
Hiro turned to see the yoriki approaching.
The guard looked wary. Hiro considered running, but it wouldn’t solve the problem. Better to talk their way out of this, if they could.
“Is something wrong?” the samurai asked as Yoriki Hosokawa reached them.
“These men are under arrest,” the yoriki said. “They failed to pay a fine.”
“The fine is not due until later today.” Hiro gestured toward the sun. “We still have several hours.”
“The fine is overdue,” the yoriki snapped.
Father Mateo turned to the guard. “Please help me. I have committed no crime. This man abuses his power to steal from the innocent.”
“How dare you!” Sunlight flashed on the yoriki’s sword as it flew toward Father Mateo’s neck—and stopped with a clang as Hiro’s katana met it in the air.
The yoriki froze, stunned by the interference.
“Step aside, ronin!” he demanded.
“No.” Hiro didn’t lower his sword. “I am saving you the embarrassment of killing a foreign priest and starting a war. Come to the foreigner’s home. We will pay you in full.”
Hiro felt the pressure on his katana lessen slightly as Yoriki Hosokawa considered the offer. He hoped the yoriki’s greed would prevail. The man wanted money badly, and Father Mateo would earn him nothing dead.
Hosokawa lowered his sword. “Fine. But we’re going immediately. No tricks.”
Hiro sheathed his katana. “A samurai always honors his word.”
The guard stepped away with visible relief as Yoriki Hosokawa returned his sword to its sheath as well.
Hiro and Father Mateo walked up the road with the yoriki between them.
The Jesuit leaned forward and looked at Hiro. “Have you got the money?” he asked in Portuguese.
“Speak Japanese!” the yoriki ordered. “None of your foreign trickery.”
Hiro didn’t answer. He was working out a plan.
They had almost reached the Jesuit’s home when the yoriki stopped and demanded, “What’s going on here?”
A horse-drawn wagon stood in the road in front of Father Mateo’s home. Straw-wrapped sake barrels filled the cart. A man in an artisan’s tunic and trousers stood beside the bony horses hitched to the front of the wagon. He turned, and Hiro realized with shock that the man was Ginjiro.
Luis and Ana emerged from the house with woven baskets in their hands.
The yoriki turned to Father Mateo. “You were planning to flee the city!” He reached for his sword.
“Wait!” Hiro raised a hand. “We have the payment in the house, as you demanded. We would never leave without paying you.”
Yoriki Hosokawa looked suspicious. “Why is the cart already here?”
“Packing a house takes time,” Hiro said. “Please come inside.”
“No tricks.” The yoriki drew his sword. “The foreigner goes first. Then you. Then me.”
Father Mateo walked toward the house. Hiro followed.
“You stay here,” the yoriki growled at Ana and Luis as he passed.
“Go to the kitchen and don’t look back,” Hiro whispered in Portuguese as they entered the common room.
“No foreign talk!” the yoriki snapped. “I told yo—”
The final word became a gurgle as Hiro spun, wakizashi in hand, and opened a gash in the yoriki’s throat.
Yoriki Hosokawa dropped his sword and clutched his neck. His eyes went wide with surprise and disbelief.
Crimson blood welled up between his fingers and spilled down across his tunic. The flow pulsed with every beat of his heart. He choked and spat out blood.
Hiro stepped forward and thrust his sword through the yoriki’s chest, using an upward angle designed to pierce the lungs and heart.
Yoriki Hosokawa fell to his knees and coughed again. A rivulet of blood dripped off his lips and spattered on the wooden floor.
“I promised you payment in full, and now you have it.” Hiro withdrew the sword. “A samurai keeps his word.”
Yoriki Hosokawa tried to speak. The effort sent a spray of blood across the floor. He choked and slumped over, dead. Blood drained from his mouth and pooled around his face.
Hiro wiped the blade of his sword on the yoriki’s surcoat.
“Hiro,” Father Mateo gasped, “what have you done?”
“What I had to.” He returned his sword to its sheath.
“Luis has silver. We could have paid him.”
“He would have killed you the moment he had it.” Hiro looked down at the yoriki’s body. “He could not risk you telling Magistrate Ishimaki what he’d do
ne.”
“He didn’t kill Botan or Jiro,” Father Mateo objected.
“Commoners have no access to the magistrate, but Ishimaki would listen to you. He had no intention of letting you live.” Hiro shook his head. “The Hosokawa are mostly noble. The clan is better off without him in it.”
Luis walked into the room. “We heard shouting.” He noticed the body. “And now that’s happened. Good thing I arranged for us to leave the city promptly. They would hang you both as murderers by nightfall.”
“You arranged . . . How do you know Ginjiro?” Father Mateo asked.
“I don’t, but I know you saved his life. And now he’s saving yours. Let’s go.” Luis turned around and left the house, as if expecting the others to follow.
They did, though Hiro took the time to change his bloodstained clothes for clean ones. As he left his room, he regretted the loss of his favorite gray kimono. While this one was also gray, it was only his second-best.
Outside, Ginjiro let go of the horses’ rope and bowed to Hiro. “Please do not tell me what happened here. Some things, it is better not to know. I am glad to help you, but we should hurry. Get into the barrels now.”
Ana had already climbed into the cart. She held her basket in one hand and used the other to open a barrel. Clasping the basket tightly against her chest, she climbed inside.
“We have an hour, at most, before they come,” Luis said as he reached the cart.
“Before who comes?” Father Mateo asked.
Luis’s cheeks flushed angry red. “Simão Duarte arrived this morning, earlier than expected. A few minutes after he reached the warehouse, a pair of samurai showed up and ordered me to go to the shogun’s palace. Apparently, the shogun wants to revoke my license and our travel permit.”
“He wanted to see you in person for that?” Father Mateo sounded suspicious.
“I didn’t believe it either,” Luis said, “so I sneaked out the back of the warehouse and ran directly to this man’s brewery.”
Hiro eyed the merchant’s bulging belly and puffy legs. “You ran?”
“I do possess the ability.” Luis glared.
Ginjiro climbed into the back of the cart and sealed a lid on the barrel with Ana inside. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The barrels have concealed holes in the sides to help you breathe.”
“Concealed air holes?” Hiro asked.
Ginjiro smiled. “On occasion, I cart more than sake out of the city. Please forgive me, but I cannot tell you more.”
CHAPTER 56
Ginjiro lifted the lid from another barrel. “The merchant told me that Shogun Matsunaga intends to kill you. I have no intention of letting that happen.”
Father Mateo looked toward the house. “My Bible . . .”
Luis retrieved a leather-bound tome from his basket and handed it to the priest. “Here, I brought it for you. I have my silver too. The rest we’ll replace when we get wherever we’re going.”
“How did you outrun Hisahide’s samurai?” Hiro asked.
“They didn’t know I’d left the warehouse.” Luis climbed awkwardly into the cart. “I told them I needed time to finalize the ledger so I could pay my final taxes when they took me to the shogun. Simão offered to make them tea. He had no idea I planned to escape out the back—and it serves him right if they blame him for helping. Trying to take my business . . .”
Ginjiro helped Luis into a barrel. It wasn’t an easy fit, but they managed.
“You next,” Hiro said to Father Mateo.
While the Jesuit climbed into the wagon and concealed himself in a barrel, Hiro looked up and down the street. He didn’t see anyone in the road or watching from a doorway.
Hiro jumped into the cart.
Ginjiro indicated an open barrel. “You’ll have to use that one. The rest are full of sake, in case the guards at the city gates want to test my wares.”
“Thank you for this.” Hiro took off his swords and climbed into the barrel. He crouched down, leaving just enough room to stand the swords beside him.
Ginjiro lowered the lid without a word.
Hiro crouched in the dark, stuffy barrel and listened to the cart rumble over the narrow, earthen road. A few minutes later, the wheels creaked to a halt.
They had reached the barricade that led to the Tōkaidō Road and freedom.
Hiro’s heart pounded so hard his ears began to ring. He heard the muffled sound of voices, first at a distance but coming closer. The wheels crunched and stopped as the cart inched forward. There must be a line at the gates.
At last, he heard Ginjiro address the guards.
“I’m heading for Ōtsu,” Ginjiro said. “Here are my papers.”
“This doesn’t list the cargo,” the guard objected. “It just says ‘sake.’”
“The sake shop at Ōtsu has a standing order for as many barrels as I can spare,” Ginjiro said.
Footsteps thumped to the back of the cart.
“We should open these up, to make sure he’s really carrying sake.”
“What else would he have in there?” another voice asked.
“A cartload of spies,” the first voice answered.
A flush of adrenaline passed through Hiro’s muscles. He wanted to reach for his dagger, but any movement could make the barrel creak or wobble.
“I wouldn’t defile my barrels with spies.” Ginjiro laughed. “I brew the best sake in Kyoto.”
“Smuggling pays better than sake,” the voice declared. “Open them now!”
“If you ruin my sake, you’ll pay for every drop,” Ginjiro said. “I know my rights. My papers are in order.”
“Are you threatening me?” the samurai asked.
“He’s got a point,” the second voice countered. “What kind of idiot puts a spy in a barrel? Anyone could open it to check. Let him go. I’m hungry, and we can’t eat until this line gets through the gates.”
“Fine,” the samurai said, “pass through. But next time, put the number of barrels on the papers, or we’re opening every one—and you can pay for the loss yourself, old man.”
“Yes, sir,” Ginjiro replied. “I humbly apologize for the oversight.”
The cart began its journey through the barricade.
Hiro didn’t relax until the sounds of the city faded behind them, leaving only the rumbling creak of the cart. But just as he relaxed, his stomach clenched.
In the rush to depart, he had forgotten Gato.
Hiro told himself that cats were resilient. Gato would find a new home. And if not, she hunted well enough to survive alone. Even so, his throat closed up. He tried not to think about Gato’s fur or the rumble of her purr beneath his hand. Most people would say she was only a cat, little different than any other, but the pain in Hiro’s heart said otherwise.
He would miss her deeply.
Several hours later, the cart stopped moving. Hiro had fallen asleep, but jumped awake when the movement ceased. His muscles ached from hours of confinement. He strained his ears for the sound of guards or commotion, but heard nothing.
“We’re safe and alone,” Ginjiro said. “I’m opening the barrels.”
Cool, fresh air flooded into the barrel as the brewer lifted the lid away. Hiro stretched and pulled himself upright. He climbed out and helped Ginjiro free the others.
The cart sat beside a stand of trees that obscured the road.
“I pulled back here for privacy,” Ginjiro said. “We’re a couple of miles from Ōtsu. I didn’t want to get too close before I let you out.”
“We have to walk the rest of the way?” Luis’s face grew red. “I left a pair of perfectly good horses back in Kyoto!”
“Better the horses than your head,” Father Mateo pointed out.
“You should return to Kyoto,” Hiro told Ginjiro. “You don’t want Hisahide’s guards to catch you on the road.”
“I doubt he even knows you’ve left the city,” the brewer said. “Besides, I really do have a standing order at Ōtsu. I simply moved up the delivery
date.”
“We’ll travel separately.” Hiro fastened his swords to his obi. “I don’t want anyone telling the shogun’s samurai we were seen together.”
Ginjiro nodded. “Safe travels, Hiro. I don’t know why the yoriki and Shogun Matsunaga want you dead, but I am glad they failed.”
“For today, at least,” Hiro said.
Ginjiro turned the cart around and started up the Tōkaidō. As he pulled away, he called back over his shoulder, “Do not worry about Suke. I’ll see that he eats, and even pour him a flask from time to time.”
Hiro smiled and waved. For the first time in his life, he wished a samurai could bow to a commoner without dishonor.
As the cart rumbled off, Father Mateo clutched his Bible to his chest. “Thank you for remembering this, Luis.”
Hiro thought of his shinobi weapons, hidden in his room, and of the box of drugs and poisons he’d left behind. He didn’t care about any of them. He could get replacements at Iga, and he had enough weapons on his person to see them through the journey. Like the priest, there was only one item Hiro truly cared about.
But his had been left behind.
Ana’s basket mewed.
Hiro turned to the housekeeper in shock. “Did you bring Gato?”
“Hm. Did you think I’d leave her there to starve?” Ana lifted the lid of the basket, and Gato’s tortoiseshell head peeped out, eyes squinting in the sunlight. She mewed and pulled back into the basket as if nervous about her strange surroundings.
“I brought your medicine box as well,” Ana said. “In case of need.”
Father Mateo looked at the basket. “Did you bring anything of your own?”
Ana drew herself to her greatest height—not much to brag about—and said, “A person of my age and experience has no need for material things.”
“Now that we’re safe,” Luis said as they started up the road on foot, “how will we get to Yokoseura? I have enough silver to rent the horses, but Ana isn’t allowed to ride.”
It seemed as good a time as any to break the news.
“Only you and Ana are going to Yokoseura,” Hiro said. “Father Mateo and I are going to visit my relatives, at Iga.”