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

by Walt Mussell

  Uji nodded. “Yes. As soon as the investigation is complete, Father plans to take his own life.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sen, with Omi in tow, approached the restaurant. She paused at the entrance, running her fingers through her hair, and then glanced at Omi, who bounced on her toes while scratching her forearms at the same time.

  A week had passed since Sen’s discovery of the church. Earlier today, Nishioji had pulled her aside to mention some rooms that needed attention. Then during the conversation, he had informed her that there would be a meeting of Christians at the restaurant this evening. She had thought of little else as she had attended to her duties.

  The sun was setting over the mountain. It would be dark soon. Perspiration dripped down her face and back. She hoped the evening would be cooler.

  Not likely.

  The hot, early-June weather felt as heavy as some of the elaborate kimonos her mistress wore for festivals. She and Omi would have to contend with getting cleaned up as best they could before they returned to the castle.

  Barks rose from the back of the restaurant. Moments later, a little white dog appeared, the same one she had seen with the baker. The dog panted and pranced and seemed to smile as it stared at her. It then bounded toward the entrance and pawed at the door. Sen laughed. The little dog seemed to know where it could find food, as any good community dog would. Sen stepped toward the entrance and knocked on the doorframe.

  The door slid open and Naomi stood there smiling. “Come in. Come in.” She waved them in with quick motions, indicating they should hurry.

  Sen and Omi stepped inside. Sen bowed to Naomi. “Nice to see you again.”

  Naomi bowed back and then grasped Sen’s hands. Naomi’s warmth and happiness flowed to Sen. “You also.” She smiled and tilted her head toward Omi. “I see you have someone with you.”

  Sen introduced Omi and related her story. Omi’s cheeks turned red as Naomi’s infectious smile and welcoming manner brought a smile. Good. At times, Omi seemed tense and too serious. Whatever troubled her at the castle, maybe she could find peace here.

  Sen stepped toward both of them. “I like your little dog outside. He’s as friendly as you are.”

  Naomi stared into space as if visualizing the outside. “Ah, yes. Boon. Very special dog. Very discerning. He understands people.”

  Tables had been moved out of the way to create a space in the center. Sets of cushions were stacked on the floor with some laid out in rows in the center of the room. Twelve people had already gathered, including her parents’ next-door neighbor and a prominent umbrella maker and his wife. Two other servants from the castle were also in attendance. Did Nishioji tell them as well or did they get messages about this meeting from another source? How many Christians were part of this group?

  The baker stood in the corner of the room. Naomi’s comment about the discerning dog took on new meaning. She recalled the day she had walked through town and seen the baker playing with the dog. Did the dog recognize Christians? She smiled at that. Discerning indeed, if that was possible.

  The baker was talking to a tall man. Sen only saw his back but knew who he was instantly. She glanced at Omi, wanting to point him out, but Omi appeared engrossed in the whole scene. A gathering of people from different strata of society. It was one of the true joys of believing. Christianity brought all types together. All were equal in His sight.

  “Nishioji-sama? He’s here?” Omi’s voice rose to a high pitch after he finally turned around. “He’s even more handsome close up. Maybe there’s something to this Christian thing after all.”

  Sen laughed at Omi’s newfound interest. “I thought you only liked Toshi. What would he say if he heard you say this?”

  “It doesn’t hurt to look. Besides, how do I know if Toshi’s the right one unless I compare him to others?”

  Yoshi, dressed in a green kimono, asked everyone to take a seat. Sen knelt and bowed her head to pray, then sat cross-legged. Omi sat beside her.

  Yoshi began the meeting with a song and followed with a prayer. He then opened a metal box and pulled out a raft of papers. Was it a partial Bible? Was it written in Japanese? Did one exist? The missionaries, even those who had arrived in the country as young men, found the language difficult. Was it written in the missionaries’ language? Could Yoshi read it? Joy washed over Sen as Yoshi recited three different passages. From there, he locked the pages back in the metal box and began to preach.

  A bark from Boon silenced Yoshi. The hair on the back of Sen’s neck stood up. Yoshi went to the back of the restaurant, returned a few moments later, and continued.

  Sen clasped her hands and continued to pray, enjoying every minute of the service. Her head was still bowed when Boon again began to bark loudly.

  Voices from outside soon grew loud. Yoshi again stopped the service, holding his hands out to silence the group. Could the people outside hear the singing and prayers? What was causing the commotion? A few seconds later, whispers of smoke touched Sen’s nose.

  Fire.

  ###

  Nobuhiro finished sweeping the workshop. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his kimono, but sweat still poured across his face. He removed the cloth tied around his head. It was soaked.

  “That looks fine, Nobuhiro.” Master Goami hung various steel tongs on the wall. A column of swords was placed on the wall, blades to the sky. Even unfinished, the swords were placed ready for battle.

  Bags drooped under Master Goami’s eyes. Did his own face exhibit the same exhaustion? He looked forward to eating a light dinner and resting. The two of them had worked hard the last few days.

  “Yes, Master. I will just look over the shop again and make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

  His master nodded at him with a smile and wished him well, exiting by the door that led to the house. Nobuhiro bowed and resumed his duties.

  His thoughts turned to Sen. It had been a week since they had visited the restaurant and met the proprietors. He was happy for her and wished her well.

  In the last week, though, he had done more than just think about her. His meeting with the couple at the restaurant weighed on his heart. He recalled the old man’s words. “May God guide you in your steps,” he said. No pressure. Just the good wishes of a well-intentioned man. A man comfortable in his faith. Just like Jiro had been, up until the day he died. Just like Haru, too. Their faith had been an outpouring of their love for each other. Their faith made them happy. Their faith made them able to face life.

  When he found Jiro, he was holding on to Haru. Both went to their deity with smiles on their faces.

  He envied their peace.

  Could this Christian deity be the way for him?

  Sen would suggest he try to pray.

  He clasped his hands together and went to the door that led outside.

  Words failed him from there.

  Dusk approached. He glanced at the rock garden. The tiny pebbles had been smoothed even more since the work Sen had done. New furrows had been dug in, creating detailed curved lines. He smiled at this. His master’s wife was restoring the garden to life.

  He looked in the direction of town, when suddenly his happy thoughts vanished and his body began to quiver. Long tendrils of smoke rose in the distance over what looked to be the market area. He guessed Sen was at the castle, but couldn’t escape the feeling that lodged in his gut.

  It would take him too long to get there if he walked to town. He ran to one of the neighbors and rapped on the door. A tall, thin, gray-haired man opened the door. He wore a light white shirt, dusty from work. The old man bowed, but his eyes opened wide, as if feeding on Nobuhiro’s intensity.

  “Nobuhiro, good to see you. What brings you here?”

  Nobuhiro swallowed hard and looked down. “I apologize for asking, but I need to borrow your horse. It’s urgent.”

  ###

  “Fire!” The baker rushed to Yoshi. Both of them ran to the front door. Yoshi tried to slide it open, b
ut the thick door was stuck. Both men rammed their shoulders into it. Still, the door wouldn’t budge.

  Sen felt the touch of a hand on her shoulder. She wheeled about to see Naomi.

  Naomi’s eyes were alert and fearful. “Let’s try the back. Come with me.”

  Sen and Omi followed the older woman through the kitchen. The flames engulfed one wall, creating thick, acrid smoke. Sen coughed and lifted her sleeve to cover her mouth. Naomi did the same.

  Nishioji and another man were already there, trying to break open the door. It was stuck, too. The two men slammed their shoulders into it.

  Oomph.

  Oomph.

  Crash.

  Wood splintered as the jamb gave way. The men fell through the opening into the street. The door hung askew and off its railings. The men lifted it out. Omi stumbled out first. Sen pushed Naomi to the opening, but the old woman coughed hard and didn’t move. Sen’s face tightened. “You need to go.”

  The woman’s red-rimmed eyes wept from smoke and sadness. “No, I have to get my husband and show him the exit. He might not have gotten out.” She turned and headed to the front.

  The two people from the castle and the umbrella maker and his wife passed by, along with another. Neither Yoshi nor the baker were there.

  “I’m going with you.”

  Naomi grabbed Sen’s arms. “No, child. You go outside. I’ll be fine. I can show my husband the way.”

  Sen shook her head. “You’ll never make it back without my help.”

  The old woman smiled, albeit through more coughs. “You are truly Haru’s sister.”

  “Sen, come on,” Omi yelled from behind.

  “Stay there. We’ll be right back.”

  Sen followed Naomi to the front of the shop. They found Yoshi and the baker lying on the floor.

  Naomi knelt and shook Yoshi. “Husband, wake up.”

  Sen knelt beside the baker and tried to move him. But he, like Yoshi, was unconscious. She put her arms underneath the baker’s shoulders and brought him to a sitting position. She tried to bring him to his feet, but the man was too heavy. She slapped him hard on the back twice. Wet coughs racked his body. His head lolled as though he was still unconscious.

  Lord, please help us. Please see us through this.

  Sen heard coughing behind her and saw a large figure crawling underneath the smoke. Nishioji. He came around her and put his strong arms underneath the baker. “Help Naomi. I’ll take care of our friend here.”

  Sen relinquished her hold. Nishioji’s strong arms easily lifted the baker, whom he carried toward the kitchen. Sen turned her attention to Yoshi and Naomi.

  Yoshi, roused by his wife, wheezed and coughed up streams of soot. Naomi knelt on one side of him, while Sen moved to the other side. They pulled him to his feet and began to drag him toward the kitchen.

  Smoke filled Sen’s lungs. She gasped for breath and forced her feet to move forward. The heat and flying ash burned her eyes and brought tears that poured down her cheeks.

  Nishioji then appeared at the door and rushed to their aid. He took Naomi’s place and tilted his head toward the door. “Go! Both of you. I’ll get him the rest of the way.”

  Sen and Naomi took his advice and moved. They turned the corner. The back door was off its rails, offering air.

  Just a few more steps.

  The two women clutched each other for support as they hurried outside and inhaled, breathing in great gulps of fresh air. The rest of the church members were already outside. All were fine. Several of them had faces covered with soot. Their clothing was singed. Others worked with townsfolk to put out the fire, throwing buckets of water on the walls. The restaurant was beyond hope. Stopping the blaze from spreading to other buildings became the concern.

  The baker lay on the ground, his head propped up with someone’s coat, but he was awake. Another member attended to him. The little white dog sat next to the baker, his tail wagging excitedly. The baker didn’t move much but gently scratched the dog’s head.

  Sen knelt next to him, smoothing out his kimono. “Can I get you anything to help you?”

  He looked at her and smiled. “I remember you trying to help me in there. Thank you very much.”

  She nodded. “You did the same for me. I remember what happened at my parents’ house. I owe you a debt.”

  He paused. “I would do the same again, for the love of Christ and the memory of your family. Your brother-in-law, Jiro, gave his own life to save mine. Now I am in your family’s debt again.”

  Sen bowed and then looked back at the door. Naomi was on her knees, clasping her hands in prayer. She no longer cared who knew her beliefs. Nishioji carried Yoshi in his arms and laid him next to her. He coughed a bit. He was still alive. Naomi bowed low, her forehead kissing the dirt. Nishioji placed his hand on her shoulder and then looked back at Yoshi. He then removed his outer kimono and placed it under Yoshi’s head. The umbrella maker’s wife came over, bringing something to drink to the couple. Both drank it quickly, their faces marked with gratitude.

  Sen looked at the restaurant, now consumed with flames. More townspeople had arrived and worked on putting out the fire. A light wind blew and licked at the flames. All in the crowd quickened their pace, as if concerned that pieces might blow to other buildings. Sen wanted to join them, but her legs burned. She spit up soot, sick from the smoke, and sank to the ground.

  Omi sat next to Sen and gave her a friendly grin, the kind shared by two people who had escaped death. “How are you feeling? Are you all right?”

  Sen exhaled hard, hoping to purge remnants of the fire from her lungs, and spat soot. “I’m fine. Just tired.” Still, an unanswered question gnawed at her like a dog chewing on a bone.

  “You don’t sound like it. Everyone seems to be fine. You should be happy.”

  Sen looked at the building but stared beyond it. The sounds of the crowd meshed in her ears, a mixture of dissonance that overrode the insect tweets that normally filled the night air. “I’m just wondering who would do such a thing. These people aren’t a threat. Why did this happen?”

  Omi mumbled a response, but Sen couldn’t make out the words. She rubbed the back of her neck. The tension remained and shot pain through her muscles. “Only one other person knew about this place. I didn’t even tell you where it was until we got here.”

  Omi eyebrows rose high. Who? Nobuhiro? You can’t mean that. He wouldn’t do this.”

  Sen waved her hand, hoping to calm Omi. “Yes, I know he wouldn’t, but he may have mentioned it to someone. I have to ask him.”

  Shaking her head, Omi clasped Sen’s hands. “There are many people who knew about this. One of them could have let it slip. Maybe someone who wasn’t here tonight.”

  “The people who knew are here. There has to be another reason.”

  “That dog is a message. Someone else in the community might have noticed, someone unfriendly to Christians.”

  Sen stared at her hands, pulling at her thumbs. Sorrow replaced her relief at being safe. Had Nobuhiro told someone, despite her concerns and pleadings? It was only through the grace of God that everyone was all right.

  Nobuhiro’s face appeared in her mind and her stomach tightened. The next time she saw him, she would have to find out. Whatever happened here had nearly cost all these people their lives. She scrunched into a ball, clasping her hands tightly around her legs, then buried her face into her knees, dampening the voices of those around her. The sounds of the night, the ones that she had grown accustomed to those evenings under the stars, reached her ears.

  And over those sounds she heard the approaching hoofbeats of what sounded like a lone rider.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sen looked again at the building. Ash and smoke permeated the air, but the fire was now contained. Sen had survived death again. Why did she deserve to live? She had as much as brought this trouble to them.

  Omi walked toward her, her normal gait now timid. “Sen, the officials will be over sho
rtly. They’re going to ask you questions.” She sounded as if she were asking for a favor, and it hurt to phrase the question.

  Sen didn’t feel like answering anyway.

  She rubbed her face in her hands, seeing the black streaks on her palms and realizing her cheeks were probably streaked with black as well. “What did you tell them?”

  “Everything, though it’s not much. I heard that Yoshi and the baker are both fine. They will need to rest a few days. A doctor who lives nearby is here. He is looking everyone over.”

  Sen laughed softly. “Great. Everyone is being told to get a bath and drink some strange Chinese herb. That should help a lot. Is anything else happening? Did the magistrate or his men find anything about who did this?”

  “They found shards of wood covering the front and back entrances, pieces that didn’t belong to the building. Someone jammed the doors from the outside, intending to burn us all.”

  Sen’s hair stood on end. “Are you serious? Wasn’t burning the building enough? Why did someone have to do that?”

  Omi glanced down, licking her lips while her foot tapped the ground. She didn’t meet Sen’s gaze. Her silence signified her confusion, or was it more? “What is it? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Nobuhiro’s here.”

  Sen gritted her teeth, inhaling sharply, as blood coursed through her veins. It masked the pain. She searched the crowd and saw him, talking with her neighbor who had been at the service. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Omi’s voice soothed her nerves. “Sen, he had nothing to do with it.”

  “I still have to ask.” She took a deep breath and calmed herself. She needed to be lucid when she saw him. She didn’t have long.

  Nobuhiro walked over a minute later. “Are you injured?”

  She stared into his eyes, puffy and red. Could a man cry? Had he shed tears for her? Had they been tears of worry or relief? Sensitivity marked his personality, a trait her parents probably admired. It made him a good swordsmith. “I’m fine.” She glanced away, stiffening her spine. The rage of the night brimmed within her. “Nobuhiro, I need to ask you a question.”