by Shin
Ito listened without comment. When Sano finished, he said, "What will you do now?"
"I don't know," Sano admitted. "I thought you might help me decide."
"I see. And why do you wish my advice?"
"Because you understand what it's like to be in this situation. And because I value your opinion."
Ito studied him in silence for a moment, his gaze stern but not without sympathy. Finally he said, "Sano-san, when I was convicted, I lost my home, my wife, my family, my wealth, my position, my servants, the respect of my peers, my health. My freedom. This room and the morgue are my entire world.
"I still have my studies"-he gestured toward the book-"and one friend, Mura, who helps me because he chooses to. But everything else is gone. I live in disgrace; I will die in disgrace. Often my pain and shame are almost unbearable. So I am the last person who would advise you to throw away your future prospects for the sake of your ideals."
Sano felt like a man who has opened a secret treasure box only to find nothing inside. Somehow he'd expected more from Ito than the same conventional words he could have heard from anyone else.
Then Dr. Ito said, "But I will not tell you to forsake your ideals, either. You would not be able to live with yourself if you did." He paused, gazing at Sano with a strange mixture of pity and approval. "I know this because I see much of myself in you. Giri, ninjo," he finished with a sigh. "Tatemae, honne."
"Yes." Sano nodded, thinking how well his situation illustrated the two classic conflicts Ito had cited: duty versus desire, conformity versus self-expression. Eternal and unresolvable.
"Each man must decide for himself what matters most," Ito began.
Sano waited. The flickering lamp made a hollow of brightness that contained only him and Ito. For now, the outside world didn't exist.
"Each man must know when he has decided, and know what his decision is. I think you do, Sano-san."
Sitting perfectly still as he absorbed Dr. Ito's words, Sano gazed with unfocused eyes into the lamp's flame. Images began to form in his mind. His dying father, symbol of the duty set out for him in the Way of the Warrior. Katsuragawa Shundai, who represented the status and rewards he could attain if he fulfilled that duty. But other images superseded these: Yukiko's body burning on its pyre; the weeping Wisteria; Raiden's bewildered face; Tsunehiko laughing as he rode along the Tokaido. These images burned brighter than the others, lit as they were by the fire of Sano's need for truth and justice. Time passed. The fire consumed the tangle of his uncertainty, leaving his mind clear and his head light. His breath escaped in a short laugh directed at his own self-delusion. He realized that Dr. Ito was right. He had decided, and he would continue his hunt for the murderer. Even if it meant sacrificing security and prosperity, and even his life. Honor must return to him as a result of following his own path, or not at all. And his father's life depended upon his self-redemption. All his walking and thinking had been nothing but an attempt to avoid acknowledging these facts.
"Thank you for your hospitality and your insight, Ito-san," he said. "Both have helped me beyond measure. But I mustn't impose upon you any longer."
He started to rise, feeling strengthened by the doctor's solicitude but no more at peace than he had been when he'd arrived. With no authority and nothing but his own inadequate skills to rely upon, how would he bring a powerful, seemingly invincible murderer to justice?
"It is late," Ito said. "The city gates will have already closed. You cannot return home tonight. Mura will make a bed for you here. Sleep, and in the morning you will have the strength and wisdom to do whatever you must."
Chapter 20
The next morning found Sano back in the daimyo district. Dressed in a peasant's shaggy straw rain cape and wide straw hat, he walked up and down the wide boulevard in front of the Niu's yashiki, ostensibly collecting litter, but in reality watching their gate. Every so often he skewered some trash with his pointed stick and put it in his basket, hoping he could convince the guards that he was a street cleaner with every right to loiter outside their lords' houses. He couldn't let them identify him as ex-yoriki Sano Ichiro, barred from the Niu estate and keeping secret surveillance on young Lord Niu. If the Nius or Magistrate Ogyu found out what he was doing, he would be arrested, if not killed on the spot.
Sano pretended to scan the street for debris, while watching for Lord Niu to make an appearance. Subterfuge didn't come naturally to him, but he had no choice except to wait and hope Lord Niu would lead him to evidence that he'd committed the murders. He had no authority or help, as Katsuragawa had reminded him, not enough money to buy answers, and no other way to avoid the ubiquitous Edo spies. The memory of what Midori had told him about Yukiko's diary flashed through his mind. He had no other way of learning what Lord Niu had done that he would kill to hide.
Despite his minimal chance of success, Sano experienced a curious buoyancy of spirit. He was now free to use unconventional means of detection, and he had unlimited time at his disposal. He had no responsibilities to anyone but himself. He could pursue truth and justice as he chose, and somehow save his father's life. A true ronin, he could live-or die-by his own wits. Although he yearned for the security of a master, his new freedom filled him with a terrifying exhilaration. The future had opened up before him, blank, yet hinting at unknown possibilities.
But his necessary disguise anchored Sano to the grimness of here and now. The cape, though it protected him from the chill drizzle, chafed his neck and wrists. Cold mud oozed through his straw sandals and into his socks; every step squished. And how humiliating for a samurai to dress like a common farmer! He also felt naked and vulnerable on foot, with his only weapon the short sword tucked into his sash under the cape. Missing his horse and his long sword, which he'd left behind because they marked his rank, he hoped he wouldn't need them. He was glad to discover, though, that his costume made him virtually invisible; people hurried past without glancing down from their horses or out from under their umbrellas at him.
Thirty-seven paces brought him to Lord Niu's gate. He took his time scooping horse droppings into his basket. No one entered or left the yashiki. Finally, not wanting to attract attention by staying too long in one place, Sano moved on. He left a few droppings as an excuse to return.
He looked casually over his shoulder whenever he picked up a scrap of debris. Reaching the end of the street, he turned and worked his way back again. This time three samurai wearing the Niu dragonfly crest entered the gate. Two more passes later, they came out. Still Lord Niu didn't appear. Sano began to feel increasingly conspicuous. The street was free of litter now, and he wished someone would drop something so he would have a legitimate reason to stay. He lingered outside the Nius' yashiki for as long as he dared, then started on another tour.
"Hey, you!" At first, Sano didn't respond. People didn't address a samurai that way. Then he remembered his disguise and turned toward the voice.
"The street is clean enough," called one of the guards from the Niu gatehouse, "and I'm sick of looking at you. Get lost, you dirty beast!"
Dirty beast! All thirty years of Sano's samurai upbringing rebelled against the insult. Furious, he stared at the guard. An angry retort sprang to his lips. He dropped his stick, and his hand reached automatically for the sword that wasn't there.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" The guard came out of the gatehouse and started toward Sano, brandishing a small object.
It was a lighted match.
Laughing, the guard called to his comrades, "Shall I make him dance?" To Sano: "If you want to keep your filthy rain cape and your filthy life, you'd better run!"
"Yes, master!"
Shaken, Sano bowed low in accordance with his humble status. He picked up his stick and made a hasty retreat around the corner. There he stood, struggling to control his anger and shock. That guard, fearing no harsher punishment than a reprimand, might have set him on fire, killing him the way Lord Matsukura of Shimabara had once killed peasants who'd failed to mee
t their rice production quota! Finally his body stopped trembling. His breathing slowed and evened. He inspected his surroundings and tried to think of a way to maintain his watch for Lord Niu.
The side street, half the width of the boulevard he'd just left, ran between the wall of the Niu yashiki and that of its neighboring estate. Pairs of guards stood sentry at plainer secondary gates through which continuous streams of porters and servants passed. Here Sano worried less that someone might challenge him. The guards were occupied, the foot traffic heavy, the trash plentiful. But he had little chance of seeing Lord Niu here. A daimyo's son would use the main gate.
Disconsolate, Sano paced the side street, wondering what to do now that his plan had failed. He could search for witnesses who had seen a man throw a large bundle into the river. He could go back to Yoshiwara and question the rest of Noriyoshi's friends in the hope that one had seen him with Lord Niu the night of the murders. Sano shook his head. How far could he get before someone penetrated his disguise and reported him to Ogyu?
Then, as Sano passed the Nius' gate for the third time, it opened to discharge four samurai carrying a black palanquin. Neither the palanquin nor the bearers' cloaks displayed identifying crests, but they bore the unmistakable stamp of quality. What Niu family member or distinguished guest chose to leave through the side gate? Sano peered at the palanquin, his curiosity frustrated by its sealed shutters.
Suddenly the shutters opened. The passenger spoke to the bearers, then quickly closed the shutters again. His face, partially hidden by a wicker hat, had appeared for a mere instant. But Sano recognized him at once.
It was young Lord Niu.
Although mystified by Lord Niu's stealthy departure, Sano had no trouble following the palanquin. Nihonbashi's crowded streets offered many hiding places and kept the bearers' pace slow.
Lord Niu visited a swordmaker's shop, talked briefly to the other customers, and left without buying anything. He went to a seedy martial arts academy frequented by ronin, where he practiced his swordsmanship. Sano strolled back and forth in front of the open door, watching. Lord Niu fought with a steel blade instead of a wooden practice sword. Unhindered by his bad leg, he executed each thrust and parry brilliantly, his reflexes lightning fast. Match after match ended with his blade against his opponent's throat. His skill left Sano breathless with admiration. Would that he need never face Lord Niu in combat!
Afterward, Lord Niu and three fellow students went to a restaurant near the academy. Sano followed the bearers' example and used the time to buy lunch from street vendors. Although he risked eating at the stall next to theirs, he overheard nothing useful. They were taciturn men who gave their orders and then ate in silence. Sano wished he dared eavesdrop on Lord Niu and his friends instead. At this rate, he might never see or hear Lord Niu incriminate himself. But he stayed, ready to pursue Lord Niu for the rest of his life if necessary.
His quarry had begun to exert a powerful magnetism on him. He was gradually coming to believe that Lord Niu had killed a blackmailer, his own sister, and Tsunehiko, all in an attempt to cover some earlier dreadful crime. Sano couldn't let the creature out of his sight. Hatred and fascination whetted his appetite for vengeance, and he accepted whatever hardships awaited him. He bought two mochi cakes in case the pursuit took him someplace where food wasn't available. He endured sore legs, frozen feet, and the ever-present threat of death, watching with a fierce sense of anticipation as Lord Niu came out of the restaurant and climbed into the palanquin.
To Sano's disappointment, the bearers began to retrace their steps home. Then, bypassing the daimyo district, they followed a circuitous path down winding streets, across the Nihonbashi Bridge, along canals, and through rich and poor neighborhoods, gradually heading north. Finally they left the city's outskirts and continued into open country.
Sano felt safe enough following Lord Niu through the Kanda district, where undulating wooded hills lay brown and gray beneath low, swollen clouds that continued to send down a thin, cold rain. Although the crowds had vanished, there was still plenty of traffic on the Okushudo highway leading into Ueno, including peasants dressed like himself. Then the bearers turned onto a deserted road that climbed a steep hill into the woods. Sano dropped farther and farther behind so they wouldn't see him.
Finally, fearing he might lose them if they turned onto one of the trails that branched off the main road, he sped up and took to the woods.
Firewood gatherers had cleared the ground of dead branches that might have slowed his progress, but Sano had to contend with other hazards. Rocks thrust their sharp points against his already sore feet. Puddles soaked him to his knees. An arrow stuck into a tree told him that he was in some lord's hunting ground. As he hurried to keep Lord Niu's palanquin in sight, he expected a party of mounted hunters to descend on him at any moment. To his relief, the trail ended a short distance ahead, at a wall with a roofed gate bearing the Niu crest. The bearers set down the palanquin while two samurai came out of the guardhouses and opened the gate.
Sano watched from the woods as the gate closed behind the bearers and the palanquin, and the guards returned to their houses. This must be the Nius' summer villa. With the daimyo in his province and the rest of the family spending the winter in town, Sano didn't expect to find the villa heavily guarded. He approached it at an angle, moving deeper into the woods, away from the road and gate. Then, as he neared the wall, he heard the squelch of footsteps on the damp ground. Quickly he crouched behind a bush to peer through it at the pair of armored samurai carrying bows and arrows. As they marched past, snatches of their conversation reached him:
"I'll be glad to get back to Edo. Too quiet here."
"Not tonight, though." Laughter.
What did that mean? Sano waited until he heard them talking with the guards at the gate. Then he hurried in the direction from which they'd come. Additional patrols, if any, would be spread out around the estate. He followed the wall's curve until he could no longer see the road or gate. He paused to watch and listen. No one was inside the observation towers mounted at intervals along the wall. The forest seemed deserted, its gloom deepening with the fading sky, quiet except for the steady drip of water from the trees. Sano stole up to the wall.
Made of earth and faced with flat stones fitted together without mortar, it rose high above Sano's head. He began to climb, his fingers and toes finding precarious holds in the cracks between the stones. His straw cape rustled loudly, and he winced at the noise. He pulled himself on top of the wall and lay there, looking down at the other side. There he saw more forest, similar to the one he'd just left-a natural-looking mixture of evergreen and deciduous trees and shrubs. It, too, seemed deserted. Sano waited a moment more. Seeing no one, he dropped over the edge of the wall. His cape rustled again as he landed. He hastily tore it off, burying it under a pile of dead leaves. The rain had almost stopped, and his dark cloak and trousers would make better camouflage in the coming twilight.
He stood up and began moving in the direction of the gate. A trail led through the woods, probably cleared to make a scenic walk for the daimyo's ladies. It curved and wound, then ended at the edge of a clearing. Ahead Sano saw a wide gravel path leading from the gate. His eyes followed it to the distant house at his left. Immediately he felt as though he'd gone back in time.
Built in a style popular some eight hundred years ago, the Nius' tree-shaded summer villa crowned a small rise in the land. The large main house, or shinden, a boxy shingle-roofed wooden structure raised on stilts, faced south. At the foot of its steep staircase rested Lord Niu's deserted palanquin. Two more guards stood watch over a door fronted by a wide veranda and sheltered by a pillared roof. Covered corridors led from each side of the shinden to similar but smaller houses. Diamonds of light glowed behind the window lattices of all three buildings. From each side house, Sano guessed, another covered corridor extended backward, enclosing a rear garden and ending in open pavilions. Behind this compound, more interconnected buildings would ho
use family apartments, servants' and retainers' quarters, kitchens, and stables. He'd seen such dwellings in old paintings. Female authors of the Heian imperial court, such as Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shonagon, had written their poems, stories, and diaries in them. Prince Genji had carried out his romantic intrigues in the chambers, pavilions, and gardens. Lord Niu's coming here out of season, in an unmarked conveyance, suggested some more sinister purpose for the elegant villa.
Moving from tree to tree, Sano approached the rear of the house. The clearing paralleled the covered corridor he'd expected to find. He stopped just short of the rambling wooden family quarters and crawled under the raised floor of the pavilion at the end of the corridor. Reaching the opposite side, he peered cautiously out toward the shinden. The back garden contained a small lake with an island in the middle. Arched bridges connected the island with the shore. Sano jerked his head back when he saw two more guards standing on the rear veranda. His curiosity, piqued by the other guards' conversation, increased. Did all the daimyo keep such tight off-season security on their summer estates, or were these men here for a special reason? Were there more inside the house? He wouldn't get anywhere near Lord Niu with them around. Frustrated and exhausted, Sano squatted under the pavilion, wondering what to do next. He leaned against the curved wooden surface of a large object beside him.