The Samurai's Heart (The Heart Of The Samurai Book 1)

by Walt Mussell

  Nobuhiro stopped, his soft gaze glancing down. “No, it is not the only reason. I wanted to apologize for last night. I should not have—”

  “Should not have what? Should not have kissed me?” She regretted her outburst but couldn’t pull it back. The constricted look on his face revealed his pain. Furtive looks from passersby caught her attention, but they soon turned back to their business. She had been loud. Rudeness reflected poorly on her.

  Nobuhiro leaned in. “Do not think that way. I don’t regret what happened. I am concerned, for your welfare as much as your parents’. I protect you as much for me as I do for your family’s future.”

  Her chest warmed. He cared for her. Why did it matter so much to her? She had prayed often to God to help her find a Christian man, but Nobuhiro did not believe in God.

  He did believe in her, though. He believed in her feelings and believed in her future. Would God lead her to a non-Christian?

  “I am humbled by the care you have given me.”

  He swallowed hard. “You have been touched once by a sword. I would do anything to prevent that from happening again.”

  She grabbed her throat, massing the fabric just above the scars. “How long have you known?”

  “I have noticed the scars on your neck several times, but always just at a glimpse so I wasn’t sure. Then I realized there were two straight lines. You had swords there. Why?”

  Sen took a deep breath and then recounted the day. It was the first time she had discussed the incident with anyone who hadn’t been there. The words came slowly.

  Nobuhiro nodded but said little other than to indicate that she should continue. Her feet grew heavy as she recalled each step toward the front of the line. She craved water now like she had then. Nobuhiro’s body flinched with each sentence. Her scars tingled. Her shoulders scrunched together.

  He moved closer, as if he feared her falling. “So you renounced and survived?”

  She inhaled through her teeth.

  She could not lie.

  “I professed my belief in God.”

  His face contorted as his cheeks grew red. “How could you do that? You knew what that confession might do. You knew your sister was dead. You knew your duty to your family.”

  “I knew my duty to God. I trusted in Him to protect my parents.”

  He stared back, his eyes wide open. “I don’t see how it benefited you.”

  “I survived to return to Himeji. I can still help my parents.”

  “Have you told them? Do they know the choice you made?”

  Her stomach twisted like weed roots. “Nobuhiro, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not me who deserves an apology.”

  “My apology was for placing you in a difficult position with my parents. However, I will tell them.”

  His face remained stern, but he said no more as he turned down the road, pausing only to stare back at her. She started forward, keeping her gaze on the road.

  Fifteen minutes passed, and Sen and Nobuhiro approached the restaurant where they had stopped twice before. He had said nothing to her during the walk, but she hadn’t talked either. When would she see her parents again and have the chance to admit her actions?

  Sen paused at the restaurant entrance. Her heartbeat quickened, as optimism and fear argued within her. A dog barked, but Sen glanced around and saw none. Probably a neighborhood dog behind one of the buildings.

  “This is it,” she said. “I hope we’re right.”

  “It makes sense.”

  Nobuhiro’s voice startled her. His anger still radiated.

  The place was closed. A sign on the door thanked potential patrons for coming and said the place would open at the hour of the horse, just in time for lunch. Nobuhiro stepped up onto the porch and knocked. A window on the side of the building slid open and then closed quickly, but no one came.

  “Let’s go,” Nobuhiro said.

  She closed her eyes and strained her ears. Someone had at least looked. “Wait. Please.”

  Soft footfalls on a hardwood floor sounded from inside. The door opened and a petite woman, aged fifty or so, stepped to the entrance. She wore a simple blue kimono. Her black hair reached her shoulders. Her smile was wide. Her look firm.

  “I’m sorry, but we’re closed right now,” the woman said. “Thank you for stopping by. We’ll be open soon. I would happily welcome you early, but we’re not ready for customers. Please come back.”

  Sen put her hand out, palm down, and stopped the woman from leaving. She bowed low. “We’re sorry for disturbing you. We were hoping you could help us.”

  The woman stared and then turned aside as if she wanted to say something but dared not. “Maybe another time. Please come back when we’re open.” She gave a slight bow.

  “Wait, please,” Nobuhiro said as he stepped forward. “Can you tell us where true joy springs from?”

  The woman hesitated for the second time in the conversation. She closed her eyes. “From burying your bitterness in the ground.”

  Sen inched forward. “You can help us?”

  The woman inhaled. “You are Haru’s sister, are you not?”

  Sen’s skin tingled as joy leapt into her throat. A tear slid down her cheek. “Yes, I am. You knew her?”

  “Come inside,” the woman said. “Quickly.”

  ###

  Nobuhiro’s heart beat louder in his ears as he stepped through the entrance. Where was this leading? He was here to protect her for his master and his wife. Why had he stepped forward to ask that question? It would have been easy to press on, but then Sen might have returned without him.

  How would these people greet him? He was not a Christian.

  “Please sit down.” The woman motioned to one of the tables. “I will only be a moment.”

  Nobuhiro looked around. They were the only ones in the room. The tables sparkled. Cushions were available for customers. Rear and side windows had been opened to allow a breeze. He focused on the solid floor, sliding his feet along the wood. His muscles tensed as if expecting a problem.

  The woman returned with a man dressed in a white linen kimono, the man who had greeted them at the door when they had been there before. Like the woman, he was also in his fifties. His hair was gray and his face round. His clothes had smudges of food on them. His wide grin showed kindness. Nobuhiro’s shoulders dropped, the tension easing out of them.

  The man rubbed his palms together. “I apologize for my appearance. I have been preparing to open. My name is Yoshi. This is my wife, Naomi. Welcome, sister of Haru. We offer our condolences for your loss.”

  The older couple bowed low before Nobuhiro and Sen. Nobuhiro returned it, seeing Sen out of the corner of his eye as she bowed as well. His hands trembled and he placed them against his thighs to steady them.

  His throat grew dry. Should he say something? These people had known Sen’s sister.

  They had also known Jiro. Jiro had trusted them. That was the only support he needed. He decided to keep quiet and let Sen ask questions.

  Sen smiled back at the couple. “Thank you very much. I am—”

  “Sen,” Yoshi answered. “We heard about you often from your sister. She spoke fondly of you. Again, our sympathies.”

  Sen’s lips drooped as her eyes glazed over, likely recalling past joyous times. “I wish I had made it home to see her.”

  Naomi stepped forward and grasped Sen’s hand, patting the top of it. “Nevertheless, you are home. Your parents must be happy.” She paused, looking at Nobuhiro. “Is this a relative?”

  Nobuhiro coughed and brought his hand under his chin to stop the hard lump from rising into his jaw. He stroked his chin and took a breath. “My name is Nobuhiro. I am an apprentice in the Goami household.”

  “Wonderful. Then the Goami style will extend more generations.” Naomi turned toward the kitchen but looked over her shoulder. “Please rest. I will fetch something to drink.”

  Yoshi grabbed some cushions and brought them over, handing one
each to Nobuhiro and Sen and then pointing to a table. Sen sat next to Nobuhiro while Yoshi sat across from them. Yoshi entertained Sen with a couple of stories about Haru. Sen’s eyes lit as she listened to both tales. Her smile was beautiful. Just like her.

  Naomi returned shortly, carrying a tray of cups with steam rising from them. She served them and then sat next to Yoshi.

  Yoshi glanced between Sen and Nobuhiro, his face a blank stare. “How did you find us and how can we help you?”

  Sen’s lips thinned, but she said nothing. Nobuhiro waited and then leaned forward, his hands open and his muscles tight. “Sen is looking for a place to meet other Christians. Can you help her?”

  Yoshi and Naomi looked at each other and nodded. Yoshi then glanced at Sen. “Yes, we can. Sometimes, we meet here.”

  Sen’s eyebrows raised. “Here? How could you meet here? This is in the market area. Won’t people notice a large group coming in here? Wouldn’t they be suspicious if you’re closed?”

  Yoshi smiled. “We often host private gatherings for large groups, so it is not uncommon for groups to be here. Also, the meetings are not always here. We are discreet and move it often, something necessary given the regent’s unfortunate decree.” Yoshi’s eyes glowed and accented his smile. “Smaller groups meet in homes. Besides, the way someone worships is a private matter, is it not?”

  Sen nodded her head slowly. “What if the magistrate suspects something? Has the place ever been searched?”

  “No, it has not. But if it is, then we are just a private meeting of friends. We do have special items, reserved for if a missionary were to visit, but these things resemble elaborate cups. If the police saw these items, they would not know what they were. We’re more likely to lose them due to taxes than to our faith.”

  “Missionaries have visited here?” Sen asked.

  Yoshi sighed. “Only one since the decree. I heard that after the edict was announced, the missionaries were given twenty days to leave. Some left, but most are still in the country. Unfortunately, they live with other Christians and need to keep themselves quiet.”

  “Did the missionary stay with you?”

  Yoshi’s smile was matched by Naomi’s. “Yes, we were honored to have him. However, he told us of the destruction of the church in Kyoto and other places. Our hearts ached.”

  “The church in Kyoto was destroyed?” Sen’s mouth and eyes flew open in shock.

  Yoshi rubbed the back of his neck, the joy on his face from celebrating his faith gone. Naomi squeezed his hand and the two of them exchanged supportive glances. “Yes, it was disheartening.”

  Sen’s gaze fell and she did not respond.

  “What is it, Sen?” Nobuhiro asked.

  “Do you know what happened to Lord Akamatsu and his first castle? With your upbringing, I supposed you’d be familiar with the story.”

  “I only know that he surrendered it to show his allegiance to the regent’s predecessor. What else is there?”

  Sen’s lips thinned. “He surrendered it for his faith. In exchange, the missionaries were permitted to build a church in Kyoto. It was important to have a large presence in the capital. Now it’s gone. Lord Akamatsu proved once before that he could practice his faith without betraying the government. Still, the regent made an example of him.”

  The looks on the faces of the couple matched Sen’s. What was it about this faith that strengthened and drove its converts?

  Naomi turned to face Nobuhiro. “I am curious. You said Sen is looking for services. How about you?”

  Nobuhiro coughed and considered his answer. He did not wish to offend the couple, but he didn’t wish to lie. What should he say? This faith’s adherents impressed him. Better to tell the truth. “I’m not a Christian. I’m just supporting my friend.”

  “Then may God bless your efforts. So, who are your parents? Do we know your family?”

  Nobuhiro dragged his fingers across his mouth. “My mother passed away many years ago.” His heart still ached at the thought of his mother, the few memories that remained. “My father is Tokoda Shigehiro.”

  Their shoulders snapped straight. “Your father has a surname?” Yoshi asked. “He must be as great an artisan as Sen’s father to have earned such a title.”

  Nobuhiro avoided their looks. The couple’s words were to mask their concern. They were words of hope. Great craftsmen could earn a last name. However, surnames were reserved for samurai and ladies of the court.

  The type of people this couple would most fear.

  “He is a senior retainer at the castle,” Nobuhiro said.

  Both Yoshi’s and Naomi’s nostrils flared. Each sat back, as if to avoid getting closer. Yoshi finally voiced their concerns, concerns Nobuhiro knew well. “Your father serves the regent?”

  Nobuhiro crossed his arms and lowered his chin. “I am not my father. However, he protects the castle, its residents, and the city.”

  Yoshi squinted and stared at Nobuhiro. “The regent’s brother-in-law is the castle resident. Everything he does, he does on orders. He is responsible for the fire that claimed Sen’s sister and her husband, just as much as those who set it.”

  Nobuhiro balled his fists, putting them on the table. “My father may act on orders, but he is an honorable man.” His jaw clenched as the hair on the back of his neck rose. “Jiro was my best friend and I want whoever did this punished, but my father had nothing to do with the fire. He and my brothers are searching for the true perpetrators.”

  “Searching?” Yoshi asked, his voice gaining volume. “Like they soon will be searching every house in Himeji.”

  “What do you mean?” Sen asked, her voice soft and calm.

  Nobuhiro looked at her, her eyes pleading calm. His ire subsided. He lowered his arms.

  Yoshi looked at his wife, his eyes aflame, and jerked his head in a direction behind them. “Please show them.”

  Naomi rose and walked to the back of the room, returning shortly with a rolled-up piece of parchment. She handed it to Nobuhiro.

  He unrolled the scroll and read aloud. “By order of the regent, all swords and guns, except those owned by the samurai class, will be confiscated. Surrender your swords to any retainer who visits your house or establishment. All properties will be searched. Individuals who do not surrender all their weapons will face severe punishment.”

  Sen’s hands shook and she gasped. “Can this be true?”

  Nobuhiro studied the document, looking for anything telling. “It looks legitimate.” He stared at it further, stunned by its implications. What was the reason for this order? What were they trying to accomplish?

  “It is legitimate,” Yoshi interjected, his eyes raging but his voice dropping. He tapped his forefinger on the table, creating heavy pings that vibrated through the wood. “The regent fears revolt. This is a pretext to ensure that only those within his control have the means to protect themselves.”

  Nobuhiro rolled up the document, feeling the soft, heavy paper and the heavy weight of the ink. “Thank you.”

  Yoshi slammed his fist on the table. “For what? For allowing you in? For telling you our secrets so you can inform your father?”

  “Your secret is safe with me. As I said, I know my father. He was not involved in the fire and he is not trying to harm Christians. His only concern is protecting the populace.” He stared Yoshi directly in the eyes. “Whoever did this is a criminal. They will be punished.”

  Yoshi hesitated. Had Nobuhiro convinced him of his father’s intentions? Sen had searched for Christians. Nobuhiro couldn’t bear causing them to flee.

  The proprietor bit his lower lip and nodded his head in assent. “I believe you, but I do not know if I trust your father.”

  “His father is an honorable man,” a deep voice called from another room. “We have nothing to fear from him.”

  Slow, ponderous footsteps sounded on the wooden floor as a tall, dark man entered the room. The top of his head was shaved, samurai style, with his hair in a topknot. He wor
e a white shirt and a gray kimono. He was half a foot taller than Nobuhiro and muscular, with arms that could break a man like a toothpick. A scar marred his right cheek.

  The sight of him raised the hairs on the nape of Nobuhiro’s neck. He had seen him at the archery competition for the first time since he had left the castle seven years ago. His presence alone intimidated Nobuhiro. As a child, he had been a bully. As an adult, he was a force.

  The nemesis of his existence stood in front of him.

  Nishioji.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sen’s breath lodged in her throat as the brawny Nishioji approached the group. His black hair was tied in a topknot. His gray kimono did little to hide his broad shoulders and biceps. The samurai admired him as the strongest man at the castle. She had never met him, but she knew who he was.

  So did every female attendant at the castle. His sparkling brown eyes had melted many hearts.

  Nobuhiro grunted under his breath, though it was nearly inaudible. Sen turned to look. Nobuhiro frowned, his arms locked across his chest. His eyes focused on the samurai.

  The entire group stood to greet the brawny man. Why was he here?

  Nishioji stopped within an arm’s length of the group and drew himself to his full height. “Pardon my interruption. I thought it best to add my thoughts to this discussion.”

  Yoshi stared at the man and nodded his head, though he glanced downward. A sign of respect accorded Nishioji’s status. “I’d wished to protect you, Nishioji-sama. It wasn’t necessary for you to reveal yourself, though I always value your sage counsel.”

  Sen couldn’t take her eyes off the imposing figure. “Are you really a—”

  “Christian?” Nishioji widened his smile. “Yes, sister of Haru. I am.”

  Sen’s heart swelled. There was another Christian in the castle. Did he know about the mysterious cross tile on the wall? Did he know how it got there? Maybe. Could she ask?

  Forget that. He was a samurai. She wouldn’t be able to approach him at the castle. She wouldn’t be able to approach him at a gathering. He would have to mention the cross.