by Walt Mussell
His eyes blinked rapidly, while the rest of his face went rigid. “Yes?”
She pressed her palms into her hips. “Did you say anything about this place to anyone?”
He tilted his head with his mouth open wide. “No, I said nothing. This was our secret. I . . . I promised you that. I would never break my word.”
“You’re the only other person who knew about it. I didn’t tell anyone, not even Omi, until I brought her with me today.”
Nobuhiro stared into her eyes and held his palms out. “I . . . I didn’t say anything to anyone. I wouldn’t do that.”
Sen’s shoulders relaxed, her arms dropping by her sides. He had saved her life twice. Had he been early, those who did this might have hurt him.
Yet her heart ached for him. She had asked the question and slighted him. Nobuhiro felt wronged. “I know. I’m sorry for not trusting you.”
He nodded, though the corners of his mouth drooped. “I understand. How is everyone?”
“Everyone made it out safely. Yoshi and the baker both inhaled too much smoke. They are resting behind the store.”
“Let’s go see them.”
They walked around to where Yoshi and the baker were recuperating. Naomi tended one of them. Another woman oversaw the baker. From the way she doted on him, she was likely his wife. She hadn’t been at the meeting. Yet she was here now. How had she known?
She jabbed herself in the hip. That thinking was wrong. Nobuhiro lived farther away and he was here. She was looking for a conspiracy and was creating one instead. There had to be a simple answer. She needed time to think.
Nobuhiro squatted next to the two men. The baker had his eyes closed, but Yoshi was awake. “How are you?”
Yoshi looked at Nobuhiro and struggled to sit up, pushing himself into place.
Naomi placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Lie back down. Rest a few for minutes.”
His face drained of color as his eyes widened. “I cannot.” He faced Nobuhiro. “This is your fault.”
“M . . . my fault? What do you mean?”
Yoshi gestured to the building. “This fire. Your father is responsible for it.”
Nobuhiro’s face blanched and he shook his head. The look on his gentle face registered disbelief. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. The muscles in his arms and legs pulsed in rhythm like a heartbeat. “I said nothing to anyone, not even my father.”
Yoshi shook his head and pointed to the building. “The proof is in front of us.”
Nobuhiro studied the building. His body vibrated like the cloth head of a drum. He said nothing to anyone. It was not his fault. He turned to face Yoshi. “I . . . I understand why you say it. But I promise I didn’t do anything to cause this.”
“Then why are you here?”
He stared Yoshi in the eye. “I came here because I saw smoke. I was concerned. I had a feeling something might be wrong.”
“That is your conscience. You should listen to it.”
Naomi patted Yoshi’s hand. “Husband, calm down. He speaks the truth and I believe him. You had a rough time in there. You’re not thinking with reason.”
Nobuhiro coughed and wiped his mouth. He thanked Naomi with a bow and then turned to Sen. “I need to tell your parents. What should I say?”
Yoshi groaned and rolled over on all fours, grinding his feet into the ground as he rose slowly. He declined Naomi’s assistance at first but then took it when he couldn’t stand straight. “You can tell them their apprentice almost made them childless.”
Sen looked at Nobuhiro, who returned her gaze. His moist eyes appeared to hold back tears. The pain of loss registered in his face. The fire had opened feelings within him as it had in her. She missed Haru. He missed Jiro.
Nobuhiro faced Yoshi. “I am sorry.”
“Sorry for what you did?”
He shook his head. “No. I am sorry you feel this way. I hope, one day, to convince you otherwise.”
Nobuhiro walked away without another glance. Sen crossed her arms, squeezing them with opposite hands. She tried not to cry but failed. Nobuhiro was a good man. He was the man of her dreams.
For Nobuhiro, though, Christians were only trouble.
###
Nobuhiro grabbed the reins of his white-and-black spotted horse and rubbed the animal’s nose. The horse rested its head on Nobuhiro’s shoulder as if in support of Nobuhiro’s sad heart. When he returned home, he would tell Master Goami that he had seen Sen and that she was fine. He exhaled, his lungs deflating to match his feelings. The taste of smoke soured his lips, just like the conversation with Yoshi.
“Nobuhiro, wait,” a low voice called out.
He turned and saw Toshi. Nobuhiro was so lost in thought that he hadn’t recognized the sound of Toshi’s voice when he called his name. How long had he been there? How could he not have known? He stared at him, unsure of what to say. “Brother.” It was all he could muster.
“I saw what happened back there. We were fortunate any real tragedy was averted, but how can the restaurant owner believe you had something to do with this?”
Nobuhiro rubbed his hand across his face. “He knows Father’s position and the sword hunt. He does not trust him because of the edict.”
“Regrettably, that makes sense. How does Sen feel? Does she agree with him?”
“She doesn’t. I promised I would keep the church a secret and Sen believes me. However, if the restaurant owner thinks otherwise, then others may believe him.”
His brother eyed him. “Of course you wouldn’t break such a promise, though I do wish you’d told Uji and me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“I understand. At the same time, do not let love blind you to issues of safety. We could have protected them and done it quietly. You took much on yourself. Do not forget that family shares burdens.”
Dissonant voices merged in the night. The people were coming together to help those less fortunate. In the middle was Sen, now tending to others who had been hurt. Someone tried to kill her tonight. Again. Yet she maintained her strength. A strength propelled by faith. She was strong. She deserved someone who could care for her. “It is my duty to protect her. Yet I failed.”
“She is safe. You may rest. If you didn’t say anything about the church, then tonight’s activities are a coincidence. Whoever did this must have learned another way. You cannot worry about what has happened, only how to change the future. Do you agree?”
“I think so.” His body relaxed as Toshi’s firm voice provided support. “However, someone betrayed these people and now they may think I’m to blame.”
Toshi looked him in the eye. “I know of the restaurant owner. He is a respected local leader and his voice carries weight with other merchants.”
“That could cause problems for my master’s business . . . and for mine when I begin in a year.”
“Do you have any ideas then?”
He paused and closed his eyes. “None. There is no reason for this attack.” He scanned the area. “Where’s Uji?”
“He and Matsubara are investigating something to do with Michiba. Matsubara followed Michiba earlier this evening but lost him.”
“Do you think Michiba is responsible?”
“Likely, but there is still no proof. Besides, he couldn’t have been the archer. He is the best we have.”
“So we still don’t know?”
Toshi shook his head and said nothing.
Nobuhiro pressed his fist against his chest. Pain and relief remained. His body tensed, working up from his calves. “It is lucky that everyone got out safely.”
Toshi’s gaze swung back to the scene. “Yes, though I understand much of the thanks goes to Nishioji. He saved several people’s lives. Sen was also brave, I hear.”
Nobuhiro nodded. Sen’s heroics underscored what he knew to be true about her. “Does Nishioji’s presence have anything to do with the reason he’s a suspect in your investigation?”
“Yes. In keeping many o
f his activities hidden, he caused us to think he might be involved. It appears he converted to Christianity last year during the campaign in Kyushu. He spent some time in Nagasaki and saw drawings of a printing press the foreign missionaries hope to bring here. He understands well how machines work. Nishioji says he can use what he learned from those drawings to improve the printing techniques that Buddhist priests use to print prayers. He hopes to use this new method to spread this faith.”
Toshi’s words cut Nobuhiro like the edge of a blade. Didn’t Toshi understand that Nishioji, his childhood tormentor, was now a hero? Nobuhiro was now a villain. He hadn’t been needed here and showing up had made things worse for him.
Nobuhiro’s horse whinnied slightly, as if vying for his attention. “Then he’s no longer a suspect?”
“No, he is not,” a stern voice uttered from behind them.
An odd calm rinsed his nerves. His father? He should have expected his arrival. He should have prepared.
Nobuhiro pressed his hands along the sleeves of his kimono. Oddly, the stiffness remained steady instead of increasing with his father’s approach. Did he no longer dread being with him? Did he even welcome his presence? Then what caused Nobuhiro’s apprehension?
Nishioji.
Nishioji’s fate raised Nobuhiro’s tension. Would he be stripped of his samurai status? Would he have to start a new life? “What will happen to Nishioji, now that everyone knows of his beliefs?”
Father’s face remained unchanged. “He will retain his samurai status. People think him a hero. We would not cast such a man out of our ranks, but he could be demoted.”
Nobuhiro tilted his head and glanced askance at Toshi. “Demoted?”
Toshi nodded. “His annual allotment of rice would be reduced. However, it should still be sufficient to support his parents.”
Parents? Nobuhiro scratched his chin. He had never thought of Nishioji having a family. The demotion would be a loss of face. “Would a samurai accept demotion?”
His father shook his head. “It depends on the reason. However, Nishioji’s father has been ill for a long time and requires his mother’s constant care. He is devoted to them and his parents depend on him for support. He is also a Christian. If he is true to his beliefs, as I understand them, he will report to his post tomorrow morning.”
“If he is not?”
Father went silent for two seconds, looking through Nobuhiro instead of at him. “Then, unfortunately, we may need to prepare for his funeral.”
Nobuhiro swallowed hard and nodded. The life of a samurai was difficult. Despite his history with Nishioji, Nobuhiro wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone. Nishioji’s faith, like Sen’s, was powerful. Whatever his faith, Nishioji had found a way to provide for his family, like any dutiful son.
Like Sen was trying to do.
Would this God find a way to let Sen care for her parents and remain true to her faith, when duty seemed at odds with faith?
Nobuhiro found himself wishing Nishioji well.
“Nobuhiro,” Toshi said, his voice quiet. “I will visit you in a couple of days. Please return to the Goamis and let them know about their daughter. Maybe by then, the restaurant owner will have reconsidered his hasty words.”
Nobuhiro agreed. He stroked the neck of his horse. “Let’s go home.” Nobuhiro put his right foot in the stirrup and stepped up, swinging his left leg over, thankful that his defect still allowed him to mount a horse properly. He had once heard that these foreign visitors mounted horses from the left side. It didn’t make sense. Little did.
He picked up the reins and rubbed the cord in his hands. It had been a rough day. He had gone to town because he had feared for Sen’s life. Now, some people believed he might be responsible for the fire. Could it get any worse?
He prodded the horse into moving but didn’t push the pace. The up-and-down clop, clop of its motion mixed the acid in his stomach. He hadn’t talked to anyone. He was sure Sen hadn’t either. But then how did whoever set fire to the restaurant know about the service?
Could he convince everyone that he hadn’t betrayed them? If not, then what would be his station at the house? Master Goami and his wife had known him for years. They would believe him. Others in the city might not. He would have to leave to save their business.
If that happened, he would have nowhere to go. He couldn’t return to the castle. If he ran from his situation again, people would believe him guilty.
If that transpired, he would have only one option for restoring his honor. He would need to make the ultimate sacrifice.
And not even Sen’s God could save him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sen glanced at the sky as clouds covered the late-afternoon sun, providing a brief respite from the sun’s intense glare. It was a good time to go inside. The bathhouse was normally full, since it was attached to a well-known inn. It was also popular with locals.
She and Omi crossed the threshold and entered the building. Two bathing areas were at the end of the hall, one for men and one for women. As the rooms had different ambiences, they were rotated twice a day to allow guests to enjoy both rooms. Large signs denoted the gender of each spa, to avoid any potential embarrassment to guests.
She slid the door open to the women’s entrance. Steam billowed from the room, bringing sweat to her brow. She wiped her face as her shoulders relaxed. “Ah. This is what the doctor should have recommended two days ago after that fire. We’ve endured much.”
Omi shook her head. “You still need to go slowly. The doctor was worried the smoke might have affected you more than you think.”
Sen put down the bag that carried fresh clothing for after the bath and surveyed the bathing area. Three customers sat nearby in the area reserved for washing and rinsing off. Each of the women wore light, sheer underskirts that extended to their ankles. Attendants scrubbed the backs of two of the customers. The third woman held a wooden bucket, pouring water to rinse her own legs.
“I’m fine, just tired. Tired of being injured. Tired of dealing with surprise visitors in my life.” She laughed at her own words, but her insides tightened like a court lady’s hairstyle. The latest attack had left her frustrated at all that had occurred. If Nobuhiro hadn’t told anyone, then did that mean she was the source? Had she made a mistake? Had someone followed her? She felt responsible for the fire but didn’t know why.
She stripped to her underskirt and placed her clothes and bags in one of the straw baskets next to one wall of the room. Omi did likewise and headed to one of the small wooden rooms in the bathing area. Sen followed, ducking below the top of the frame and stepping into the room. No one else was there. Steam rose from underneath the wooden floor.
Sen felt the sweat trickle down her face instantly. She sat on the bench inside and closed her eyes. Omi sat next to her and sighed. Fifteen minutes should be enough time to loosen the dirt.
Sen rubbed both her hands through her hair. The steam allowed her to sort through her feelings. About the fire. About Nobuhiro. He was a gentle, noble soul. No matter what the restaurant owner said.
“What’s wrong, Sen?” Omi asked. “Your face looks like the time you had to help clean up tatami mats after Lord Kinoshita’s wife was sick the night before.”
Sen pursed her lips. “I was thinking about Nobuhiro.”
“Aren’t you always? Though that face doesn’t exactly exhibit fondness . . . ”
Omi’s light teasing eased Sen’s tension. She smiled back at her. “I was thinking about what the minister said earlier. Nobuhiro had nothing to do with the fire. He would never have mentioned it to anyone.”
Omi’s eyes flew open. “You haven’t heard the news? I guess it’s being kept quiet. It was Michiba. He was responsible for the fire. Ujihiro caught him. He confessed yesterday.”
Sen sat up, lifting her back away from the wooden wall. Sweat now flowed down her arms and legs. “He confessed. If it’s a secret, how did you learn of it?”
Omi looked down but said
nothing.
Sen smiled. “Oh. Toshi told you, didn’t he?”
Omi’s cheeks reddened and she looked away. “Y-e-e-e-s.”
Sen tilted her head. “That will make Nobuhiro happy. It will erase the comments about him and his father.”
“Why would you or anyone believe Nobuhiro’s father was involved anyway?”
Sen’s throat tightened and she rubbed at her scars. “I Didn’t. Still, he twice warned me about my former associations and, by that, he meant Christians.”
Omi shook her head. “It sounds more like a warning to me. It’s just concern or fear. He’s really a harmless old man. He tries to frighten people to maintain order at the castle.” Omi wiped her forehead. “His harder job was raising three sons alone. I’ve talked with Toshi about it. His father took his mother’s death hard.”
She stared at Omi as pity again crept into her opinion of Nobuhiro’s father. Just like the day he had escorted her to the kidnapping site. He stayed close to her for her protection, not her confinement. “What happened?”
Omi closed her eyes for a second, as if thinking. “The family used to live in a house about one ri from the castle. After his wife passed away, Tokoda basically moved himself and the boys to the castle.”
“What did they do with the house?”
“They maintained it. Servants took care of it and the rice fields. When Uji married, he moved back into the house. Uji’s wife now manages everything.” Omi displayed a devious grin. “Toshi has a room there where he rests sometimes, though Ujihiro’s wife thinks Toshi is there to annoy her.”
Sen clasped her hands on her lap. The slip she wore was now soaked. “And Tokoda still lives at the castle. The whole thing must have been difficult.”
“He cares for all his sons, I think. He has probably always known where Nobuhiro was. He may have even looked in on him, though he would have kept his distance out of respect for Nobuhiro’s decision.”
Sen nodded but didn’t respond. More sweat poured down her body. How long had it been since they entered the room? Fifteen minutes? Twenty minutes? She had had enough and jerked her head to the entrance. Omi nodded and the two women stood.