The Iris Fan

by Laura Joh Rowland

“They know I’m a former samurai. They think my name is Oarashi.” Great Storm. “I’ve been calling myself that for almost two years.”

  “You’ve been a gangster for almost two years? The fire was more than four years ago. What happened during the time in between?” Sano slammed his cup down on the table as he realized what a cruel hoax had been played on the shogun, on the whole country. “Why in hell did you let everybody think you’re dead?”

  Yoshisato responded with a thin, humorless smile. “It wasn’t my idea. When you hear the whole story, you’ll understand.”

  Once Sano had thought Yoshisato a decent, honest man despite his history. Now he was so drastically changed in more than outward appearance. Sano sensed a difference inside him, a new darkness. Unsure whether to trust him, Sano folded his arms. “I’m listening.”

  “The night of the fire, I was almost asleep when I heard scuffling and shouting outside. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my sword, and ran to the door. They burst through it, chased me, and cornered me in my bedchamber.” Yoshisato’s voice conveyed none of the terror he must have felt; he could have been reciting what had happened to somebody else. “I fought hard, but it was five against one.”

  “‘They’?” Sano prompted.

  “The one in charge was Manabe Akira. He’s Lord Ienobu’s chief retainer. I didn’t know the others. I figured they worked for Ienobu, too.”

  You think you know so much, but you don’t know anything, said Manabe’s voice in Sano’s memory. Here was the information Sano had gone to Yoshiwara to learn—the role Manabe had played in what he’d thought was Yoshisato’s murder. “There were five men?” His informer had told him that only Manabe, Setsubara, Ono, and Kuzawa had gone out that night. “Not four?”

  Yoshisato waved away the interruption. “They tied me up. Manabe poured medicine down my throat, then gagged me. His men carried in three dead bodies—my guards. Suddenly one of the men turned on another and cut his throat. They left him with my dead guards.”

  Revelation filled Sano with awe and horror. “After the fire, we found four bodies in the ruins. We thought one was yours. But it was Lord Ienobu’s fifth man.” Lord Ienobu was even more ruthless than Sano had thought. To serve his purpose, he’d sacrificed one of his own. But what purpose? Why had he faked Yoshisato’s death?

  “Then they brought in a big wooden trunk,” Yoshisato said. “They put me in it. Things are a little hazy after that. There must have been opium in the medicine. I only remember smelling smoke and hearing the fire bell.”

  Korika had set the fire after Manabe and his gang had set their scheme in motion, Sano thought. The arson and the murders had been blamed on her, just as Lord Ienobu had planned.

  “When I woke up, I was locked in a cellar,” Yoshisato said. “Ienobu’s men had taken me from the castle and hidden me someplace.”

  Sano shook his head, astonished. Lord Ienobu was guilty not of murdering but kidnapping Yoshisato. Sano began to see a solution to a puzzle that had mystified him. “Does Yanagisawa know you’re alive?”

  An opaque expression like a coating of ice came over Yoshisato’s face. “I assume so. Lord Ienobu’s men made me write a letter to Yanagisawa. They told me what to say, and I had to put it in my own words. It said I’d been kidnapped and if he ever wanted to see me again, he should cooperate with Lord Ienobu.”

  That was why Yanagisawa had allied with Ienobu, his onetime enemy. That was why Yanagisawa had refused to help Sano prove that Ienobu was responsible for Yoshisato’s murder. Ienobu had blackmailed Yanagisawa, and Yanagisawa was trying to save Yoshisato. “But if Lord Ienobu needs you as a hostage to hold over Yanagisawa’s head, then how is it that you’re walking around as free as a bird?”

  “Be patient; let me finish. Manabe handed me off to some of Ienobu’s other men. They smuggled me out of Edo. I don’t know where we went. I rode in the trunk and slept. We moved around a lot.”

  To hide from Yanagisawa, who must have started hunting for Yoshisato as soon as he’d received the letter, Sano deduced.

  “They kept me drugged during the day. They woke me up every night, at a different house or inn or temple. They would untie me and let me eat and wash. I tried to run away a few times, but I was too weak from the opium. They caught me. So I pretended to give up. They stopped drugging me. They let me walk around outside as long as one of them was with me. When we went someplace, I let them tie me up and put me in the trunk. They thought my spirit was broken. I waited for a chance to escape. I was a prisoner for more than two years.”

  Sano’s respect for Yoshisato increased. The youth had had the intelligence, patience, and determination to foil Lord Ienobu.

  “One day we were on the highway. Ienobu’s men were traveling by horseback. My trunk was carried by porters who didn’t know I was in there. Suddenly I heard a loud roar. The ground started shaking. At first I thought it was an earthquake. Then something started clattering onto the lid of my trunk, as if somebody was throwing rocks at us. The horses were neighing and stomping; Ienobu’s men were shouting. The porters screamed and dropped me. The lid of the trunk popped open. I wriggled out and—” For the first time during his story, recollected fear crept into Yoshisato’s voice. “The sky was red. Rocks were falling from it. Ienobu’s men were groping and stumbling and coughing. Their horses had bolted. The air was full of black ash and smelled like sulfur.”

  “The Mount Fuji eruption.” Sano remembered the faint roar and minor earth tremors, a rain of pebbles, and the fumes. Although Edo was distant from Mount Fuji, the effects had been dramatic. Yoshisato must have been in the zone near the volcano.

  “Yes.” Yoshisato said, “I was tied up. I wriggled off the road, into the woods. The trees protected me from the rocks, but I could hardly breathe. I rolled down a hill. At the bottom there was a cave. I crawled in. The air was better there. I chewed the ropes off my wrists and untied my ankles. If I went outside, I would suffocate or get killed by the rocks, so I stayed put.”

  Sano imagined the unbearable suspense Yoshisato must have experienced, waiting for Ienobu’s men to come after him.

  “The rocks kept falling until the next morning. When I came out of the cave, the woods were covered with ash. The air was like the breath of hell. I tore off a piece of my kimono and tied it over my face. Then I started walking. I never saw Ienobu’s men again. Either they were dead or they’d run away because they were afraid to tell him they’d lost me.”

  The eruption that had killed many and caused so much suffering and damage had been wonderful luck for Yoshisato. Sano asked, “How did you survive afterward?”

  “That first day I found some people dead on the road. A merchant and some servants and a samurai bodyguard. Their noses and mouths were full of ash. I stole the merchant’s money and the bodyguard’s swords. I traveled from village to village, living on the money until it ran out.” Yoshisato said without pride or guilt, “Then I started robbing live people.”

  The shogun’s heir had become a bandit.

  “I made my way to Osaka.” That was a market city, some thirty days’ journey from Edo. “It was big enough to hide in. I fell in with a gang.”

  Now Sano understood the new difference he’d sensed in Yoshisato. Had Sano not been so shocked to see him, he would have identified it at once. During his time with the gang, Yoshisato had killed—he’d bloodied his hands, crossed a line. That changed a person, Sano knew. He’d crossed that line, too.

  “The gang was a major one, with its fingers in every illegal business in Osaka,” Yoshisato said. “I eventually became the boss.” Sano intuited that Yoshisato had killed the former boss. Once he’d thought Yoshisato would make a good shogun despite his dubious origins; now Yoshisato had demonstrated his leadership ability by taking over a gang.

  It sounded like exactly what Yanagisawa, his father, would have done in his position.

  Sano’s distrust of Yoshisato grew. “So you’re a gang boss. You have a new life. Why did you come back? Are you tired of beating
up people who won’t pay you protection money?”

  Yoshisato grinned; he answered as if flinging a challenge at Sano. “I’m here to reclaim my rightful place as the shogun’s heir.”

  He was as ambitious as Yanagisawa. “Why did you wait so long?”

  “Do you think Lord Ienobu would just let me stroll into town? He’s got the army scouring the country for me. In the early days, I tried several times to come back, but there were soldiers at every checkpoint along the highway. They were detaining every man who looked the slightest bit like me. Ienobu wants to find me before I can tell the shogun I’m alive. I had to wait until my disguise was good enough.” Yoshisato opened his kimono and rolled up his sleeves. His arms and chest were covered with tattoos of demons and lucky symbols.

  “The soldiers never suspected that the shogun’s dead heir was hiding under those,” Sano said. “Am I the only person who knows you’re back?”

  Yoshisato nodded.

  “Why did you reveal yourself to me? Why not Yanagisawa?”

  “I don’t want to talk about Yanagisawa.” Before Sano could ask why, Yoshisato said, “I need a favor from you. Will you take me to the shogun?”

  Surprised that Yoshisato would ask him of all people, Sano said, “You know I don’t believe you’re the shogun’s son. Why do you think I would help you get yourself reinstated as the heir?”

  “Because you’ve dedicated your life to seeking truth and justice. The truth is that I’m alive. The shogun deserves to know. The truth is that even though I wasn’t murdered, Lord Ienobu had me kidnapped and held prisoner for years. He deserves to be punished. And you’re the one person I can trust to deliver him to justice.”

  Sano smiled glumly. Yoshisato had him pegged. He could guess what Reiko would think of all this. And the fact that Yoshisato was alive had other ramifications. Sano hesitated a moment before he said, “Let’s go.”

  Yoshisato smiled as if he’d known Sano would agree; he rose.

  “Not so fast. Have you heard what’s happened?”

  “No…?”

  The news hadn’t trickled into town yet. “The shogun was stabbed last night. As of a few hours ago he was still alive, but he’s seriously injured.” Sano added, “It’s a good thing you didn’t wait any longer to come back. If the shogun dies before he finds out you’re alive, then Lord Ienobu wins.”

  And now that Lord Ienobu couldn’t be convicted of Yoshisato’s murder, Sano’s hopes of defeating him hinged on proving he was responsible for the attack on the shogun.

  16

  ACCOMPANIED BY ONE of Sano’s few troops, Reiko walked up through the snow-blanketed passages inside Edo Castle. The trembling began as she neared the palace. Her heart raced as her memory carried her back in time.

  The day she’d lost the baby had begun with her and Sano and the children escaping from house arrest and a death sentence. Since then, her mind had gone over and over each moment of that day, like a waterwheel churning a pond. Now, more than four years later, as she walked the same path as then, she again felt the weight of her pregnant belly and the painful contractions that signaled that the baby was coming soon, too soon.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Her escort’s worried voice jolted Reiko out of memory, into reality. She was bent over, panting, and holding her stomach outside the little house where the shogun’s wife lived. The soldier asked, “Are you sick?”

  “No, I’m fine.” But the sight of the house made Reiko feel giddy and faint. She hadn’t been here since that day; the last time she’d seen Lady Nobuko was four years ago, at her own home. This was where she’d come to confront Lady Nobuko, to extract information that would save her family. She’d succeeded at the cost of her baby’s life. Black spots coalesced in her vision, as if from the darkness that the house exuded.

  She couldn’t go in there. Sano was right: She wasn’t up to it. The boldness that had sustained her through fifteen investigations was gone.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” asked the soldier, a fatherly, kind man.

  But she’d made Sano let her question Lady Nobuko. It was her duty to help him, no matter how bad things were between them, and she had to protect her family. The gods help them if they didn’t solve this crime.

  “No,” Reiko said. She mustn’t be a coward. “Wait here.”

  As she walked up to the door and knocked, she strained against panic as if against a fierce wind. A woman with a mouth like a pickled plum opened the door, looked at Reiko, and said, “You’re not welcome here.”

  “I know,” Reiko said. Lady Nobuko had declared, during their last conversation, that she was severing all ties between them. The memory of that conversation dredged up anger, which formed a screen between Reiko and her panic. “I don’t care.”

  She pushed through the door and moved down the passage even though she was shaking. Lady Nobuko was in her chamber, kneeling at a low table, ink brush in hand. The brush’s tip was poised above a sheet of paper covered with spiky black calligraphy. All manner of evil memories buzzed like wasps behind the mental screen of Reiko’s anger.

  Lady Nobuko glared up at Reiko. “I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

  Her right eye was half closed, the muscles on that side of her narrow face bunched together by the pain of her constant headache. Her figure was as bony as a skeleton in her padded lavender silk robe, and her hair had gone white since Reiko had last seen her, but she’d held up remarkably well. She looked as if she were sustained by drinking vinegar, unaffected by the events that had devastated Reiko.

  “If you hadn’t pretended to be too sick to speak with my husband, then I wouldn’t have had to come,” Reiko said.

  Lady Nobuko didn’t argue that she really had fallen ill upon hearing the news that the shogun had been stabbed. She regarded Reiko with a dislike colored by amusement. “So you’re dabbling in another investigation. I would have thought you’d learned your lesson. After all, you gave birth to a dead baby last time.”

  Reiko felt as if Lady Nobuko had stabbed her in the heart. To hear the baby’s death mentioned in such a callous manner was unbearable. Tears welled up from the bottomless reservoir inside Reiko.

  “Besides that, you and your husband came to a mistaken conclusion about the murder of the shogun’s daughter,” Lady Nobuko said. “Lord Ienobu wasn’t responsible.”

  “We weren’t mistaken.” Reiko’s voice quavered.

  “So you told me the last time we met. I must say this for you: You never give up.” Lady Nobuko’s tone scorned Reiko’s persistence. “I hope you think it was worth it.” She obviously knew all about Sano’s downfall. Studying Reiko, she said, “You’re losing your looks.” Her facial spasm relaxed a little; Reiko’s loss was balm to her headache. “You used to be beautiful.”

  Her cruelty worsened Reiko’s anguish. Reiko had insisted to Sano that she could handle Lady Nobuko, but she’d been wrong. Struggling not to cry, Reiko lashed back at Lady Nobuko. “You should have listened to us and helped us avenge the death of the shogun’s daughter. But you prefer to believe the official story because you don’t like to think that Lord Ienobu got away with conspiring to kill Tsuruhime. You’d rather think that my husband and I are wrong than that you let Tsuruhime down.”

  Lady Nobuko winced with grief. She was Tsuruhime’s stepmother, but she’d loved Tsuruhime as if she’d been her own child. In a fit of anger she threw down her writing brush. “You have the gall to say I let Tsuruhime down! You’re the one who killed your baby!”

  The low blow hit Reiko right in the tender, vulnerable center of her guilt. Her tears spilled even as she furiously blinked them away. To talk back would invite more personal attacks, but there was no other choice except running out of the room, and Reiko could imagine Lady Nobuko jeering at her. “You’re the one who’s made a mistake, by allying with Lord Ienobu after he learned that my husband was reinvestigating Yoshisato’s murder.”

  Sano had tried to keep his investigation secret, but someon
e he’d questioned had informed on him. Ienobu had begun persecuting Sano with Lady Nobuko’s help. Lady Nobuko was a powerful ally, but not because she was married to the shogun—theirs was a marriage of convenience; they rarely, if ever, spoke. Lady Nobuko had amassed a fortune by investing an inheritance from her father. She had Japan’s biggest bankers under her thumb because she was their best client. They extended credit or called in debts on her orders. Reiko hadn’t known that about Lady Nobuko until she’d become Sano’s enemy. Lady Nobuko had persuaded her powerful relatives who were allies of Sano to desert him and pressure other powerful clans to do the same. Rather than let her bankrupt them, they’d obeyed.

  Blotting the page she’d written, Lady Nobuko said, “I don’t believe Lord Ienobu is guilty of Yoshisato’s murder, either.”

  “It’s in your interest not to.” Reiko heard her voice rise too high and break as she recalled how much of her family’s trouble was due to Lady Nobuko. The information that Lady Nobuko had withheld could have prevented Sano from being charged with Yoshisato’s murder. It might have prevented Reiko from losing the baby during her strenuous efforts to prove Sano’s innocence. She was flustered by anger as well as grief. “Lord Ienobu stands to inherit the dictatorship. You need his goodwill.” She had to breathe deeply and swallow a sob before she said, “Did he tell you to kill the shogun? What did he offer you in return?”

  Lady Nobuko squinted at Reiko. “Do you really think I stabbed my husband as a favor to Lord Ienobu?”

  “I’m beginning to.” Reiko thought the old woman was ruthless and heartless enough.

  “And you came here to make me admit it?” Lady Nobuko chuckled. “Look at you! You’re so weak, you’re still crying over a baby that died four years ago. You couldn’t make a mouse squeal!”

  Humiliated, Reiko couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

  “There, there, it’s all right.” Lady Nobuko’s false sympathy was like sugar syrup mixed with lye. “I’m going to make things easy for you.” She picked up her jade signature seal and pressed the carved end into a red ink stick. “I’ve written out my statement.” She applied the seal to the paper, under her spiky writing, then handed the paper to Reiko.