Kill the Shogun (Samurai Mysteries)

by Dale Furutani

  Kaze was surprised that Okubo revealed so much of himself, but he realized that Okubo felt free to display his inner thoughts because he knew that only one of them would be alive at the end of the duel.

  Kaze knew the same thing.

  Unlike Okubo, however, Kaze felt no need to provoke or taunt. In fact, he was trying to do the opposite; to withdraw emotionally from the duel, to swallow his rage and achieve a state of non-mindedness, to defeat himself before he tried to defeat another. He realized that the more he wanted Okubo dead, the less likely it was that he would achieve his goal. The more he tried to control the bout, the less he was in control of himself.

  Okubo stepped forward to attack once again. Kaze planted his feet, feeling the strength flow into him from the earth. Automatically, Kaze’s blade flew to the right position to block Okubo’s daito, the slim sliver of steel moving almost of its own accord, without Kaze having to consciously direct it.

  When Kaze didn’t give ground, Okubo stepped back. He had a look of concern on his face, wondering what sudden change had occurred so that the techniques and tactics he had used successfully just moments before were now neutralized.

  “I am the sword of righteousness. I am the blade of justice,” Kaze said to himself. Over and over like a mantra. The sword of righteousness and the blade of justice.

  With his blade at the aimed-at-the-knee position, Kaze twisted his sword until the shiny surface caught the sun’s rays, bouncing a shaft of light upward and into Okubo’s face. Okubo blinked at the flash of light hitting his eyes, and Kaze stepped forward, putting himself inside the arc of Okubo’s blade. He was putting himself into the reach of death, but it was the only way to get close enough to deliver a cut at Okubo.

  Okubo slashed downward at Kaze, intending to cleave him in two. With Okubo slightly off balance from the blinding light, Kaze was able to move to one side. He felt Okubo’s blade swing past his face and come close to his shoulder. The deadly edge of the blade slightly brushed the cloth of his kimono, and he actually felt the wind generated by the moving sword slide down his arm.

  Once Kaze was safely inside the arc of Okubo’s blade, the long sword turned from an asset into a liability. Although it had greater reach, it was not as nimble as a standard katana. Without Kaze’s thinking, without his planning the blow, his blade came across horizontally and transversely sliced Okubo’s stomach, just like the cut made during seppuku. Okubo gave a cry of pain and looked down to see his entrails bursting forth from the wound. He gave a moan and reached out with one hand to hold his guts in.

  Holding his long sword with the other hand, he took an ineffectual slice at Kaze, one Kaze easily blocked. Kaze stood back and assured himself that the cut he delivered was mortal. He looked at Okubo’s face and saw pain and fear painted across it. He should have stepped forward to deliver a blow to Okubo’s neck, taking his head and putting Okubo out of his misery. Instead, Kaze turned on his heel and started walking out of the grove. Behind him, he heard Okubo give a gasp of pain. Kaze looked over his shoulder and saw Okubo take two staggering steps, and then crumple to the ground, like a rotting leaf falling off a branch. Lying on the ground, Okubo looked up and his tearful eyes caught Kaze’s for a brief instant.

  “I’ll see you at the gates of hell,” Okubo said, before the pain caused him to suck in his breath sharply and say no more.

  “Perhaps,” Kaze answered. “I’ve killed too many men not to make hell a possibility. But everyone I’ve killed had an equal chance of killing me. More important, most that I’ve killed have made the world a better place by leaving it. You, on the other hand, have always sought out the weak and helpless to kill. You relished making their death as slow and painful as possible. You’re one of those twisted men who take pleasure in the pain of others. If I were a truly good man, I’d come over there and take your head, putting an end to your suffering as you spill your life and guts on the ground. But, unfortunately, Okubo, I am not that good. For what you’ve done, it would take a Buddha to want to ease your passage into the void. For the deaths I’ve caused and the suffering I’m putting you through, my karma may lead me to hell. But you’ll be going before me.”

  Kaze left the grove, leaving his enemy to die a slow and agonizing death. When he approached Ieyasu, the Shogun knew how the duel had gone.

  “It’s a pity,” Ieyasu said.

  Kaze wasn’t quite sure what Ieyasu meant by that. Maybe he thought it was a pity that a ronin killed a daimyo. Perhaps he thought it was a pity that it was the human condition to fight. Maybe he just thought Kaze was a fool for taking Okubo instead of the other rewards offered him.

  Ieyasu didn’t elaborate, and instead, seeing the wound on Kaze’s arm, he ordered a retainer to bring Kaze a bandage. As the bandage was being tied, Ieyasu said conversationally, “I saw you the last time you fought Okubo at Hideyoshi’s great sword exhibition. I enjoyed that. I would have liked seeing you this time, too, to see if your skills have diminished.”

  “You would have seen a poor exhibition,” Kaze said frankly. “I let anger control my sword, not righteousness. Until righteousness controlled my sword, I was losing.”

  Ieyasu nodded. “Anger is an enemy.”

  When the bandage was tied tight, Kaze stood and gave a stiff, formal bow to the Shogun.

  “Thank you for having my wound bandaged, Ieyasu-sama.”

  “Are you sure you won’t reconsider joining me?” Ieyasu asked. “Yagyu is my fencing master, but I can always use a sharp blade like yours.”

  “Perhaps my blade is too sharp, Ieyasu-sama, for I find I must balance on it as best I can. I mean no disrespect, Ieyasu-sama, but if I should change my loyalty so easily, then I would surely fall off that blade, tumbling to one side or the other, and never able to get back to a state of equilibrium.”

  Ieyasu looked at the ronin. Matsuyama was tired from his recent bout with Okubo, but he showed modesty, restraint, and a lack of exaltation in his victory over his enemy. Ieyasu was a patient man. He would not have obtained the Shogunate if he were not. He stored away this man’s face and his new name of Matsuyama Kaze, feeling that, if he remained patient, somehow in the future he might get this remarkable swordsman to serve him.

  Expressing none of this, Ieyasu walked to his horse and, despite his potbelly, swung up to his saddle with the ease brought by over fifty years of riding.

  “I’ll take your name off the list of wanted men,” Ieyasu said to Kaze. He glanced at Okubo’s retainers, who were still confused about what was happening. “I can’t promise that Okubo’s clan or that Yoshida’s clan will not want revenge for what has happened today, but I won’t allow them to register an official vendetta against you.” He gave a curt nod of his head and galloped off, his surprised retainers scrambling to gain their own saddles and catch up with the man who was the ruler of Japan.

  CHAPTER 22

  One path is finished.

  Another path looms ahead.

  The cycle of life.

  That night Ieyasu had a Noh performance to celebrate the smashing of the assassination plot. He ate rice gruel and vegetables, as was his preference. Honda joined his master in the simple fare with relish, but Ieyasu noticed that others didn’t appreciate culinary simplicity. Toyama especially curled his lip at the food served and seemed to force himself to eat it. Ieyasu had already decided that Toyama, although from an ancient family, was a fool; too much of a fool to leave in charge of such a lucrative fief. Toyama would be invited to trade his current fief for one a tenth its size on the island of Shikoku. If he didn’t accept this invitation, he would then be invited to slit his belly, and acceptance of this second invitation would be mandatory. Either way, that would remove Toyama from both the capital and national life.

  After several flasks of sakè, Ieyasu was in a sufficiently good mood that he decided to take a part in the kyogen that added buffoonish comic relief between acts of the Noh drama.

  Ieyasu chose Kane no kane, a kyogen that revolved around the Japanese love of puns
. A Lord wants to check the price of silver in the city, so he asks his bailiff to go into the city to check on the price of money (kane). The bailiff confuses the Lord’s desire with a curiosity about the bells (kane) of the city. The humor is generated as the Lord and the bailiff discuss the trip, with the resulting confusion as one is talking about money and the other is talking about bells.

  Ieyasu played the part of the bailiff. As with many kyogen, this one was a bit subversive about authority, and the pompous Lord was the butt of most of the jokes, so Ieyasu selected the role that allowed him to generate most of the laughter. He was astounded when Honda offered to play the part of the Lord. Despite their decades of association, Ieyasu had never seen Honda take a part in Noh.

  “This is a new talent, Honda,” Ieyasu remarked.

  The old warrior glowered, then almost blushed. “I’ve been taking lessons,” he said gruffly.

  “That is a surprise.”

  Honda, a warrior who had faced charging hordes of enemy samurai and literally laughed, actually looked at the ground in embarrassment. “I’ve been taking the lessons in secret,” he admitted. “We’re at peace. We have one big problem still to fix,” he said, clearly making reference to Hideyoshi’s heir, still strongly ensconced in Osaka Castle, “but until you finally decide to remove that threat, even an old warrior like me has to figure out how to fit into this new society you’re building. I thought I’d start with Noh.”

  Ieyasu motioned Honda to join him in the kyogen. Unlike Noh, kyogen didn’t use masks or elaborate costumes, so the two men just stood and took their places in the torch-lit square that formed the Noh stage. Although Honda stumbled through his lines and stage movements, Ieyasu, who was an experienced performer, still managed to evoke laughter with his antics as the bailiff.

  After the kyogen was finished, the Noh proceeded. Ieyasu could have taken a role in the formal Noh, but decided he would rather pour drinks for Honda, proud that an old warhorse was willing to adapt to the new order.

  On the Noh stage, the pageantry of motion was framed by the accompanying music and the sumptuous costumes, masks, and fans used by the actors. When the formal performance was over, Ieyasu decided it was time to view the heads.

  Samurai brought two spike boards out and took them to Ieyasu. These were finely lacquered boards with a metal spike projecting from the center. The spike was shoved into the neck of a severed head. The samurai carried the heads with a himogatana, a one-piece dirk that was stuck through the topknot of the severed head, forming a convenient handle.

  The heads were placed before Ieyasu, who studied them one after the other.

  “This was Niiya,” Ieyasu remarked. “It’s interesting that his eyes are open. He was a superb shot, so I suppose it’s only natural that he would want to use his keen eyes to guide him into the next life. How did he die?” Ieyasu asked the samurai who brought this head. Ieyasu knew that Niiya had been allowed to commit seppuku, so he wasn’t inquiring as to the cause of Niiya’s death, but Niiya’s composure during the suicide.

  “Very well, Ieyasu-sama. Niiya-san made two full cuts across his belly before he would allow me to cut off his head. It was a fine and courageous death.”

  “Such a fine shot. It’s a shame he had to die.” Ieyasu then turned his attention to the second head.

  Yoshida’s severed head looked ashen, but a smoky, sweet odor came from it.

  “Did Yoshida-san waft incense smoke into his hair?” Ieyasu asked, puzzled.

  “Not while we were there, Ieyasu-sama. Once he read your order to commit seppuku, he proceeded with dispatch to fulfill it.”

  Ieyasu nodded and remarked to the others at the banquet, “Most efficient. Here was a man whose ambition was too great, but whose skills were great, too. He conceived a very clever plot and implemented it with initial success. It’s fortunate for me that Yoshida’s karma was to cross that of the ronin Matsuyama Kaze. Still, Yoshida shows his foresight and efficiency, even in death. When Niiya went to assassinate Honda-san, Yoshida knew there was a possibility of failure and the disclosure of his plot. Because of that, he scented his hair with incense smoke before he knew of its failure, on the chance that this very fate would befall him. Now his head is suitably presented, and also perfumed by incense.” Ieyasu looked at the assembled guests at the banquet. “This is an example of efficiency you can all learn from.”

  At about the time that Ieyasu was viewing the heads, Kaze and Kiku-chan were settling into the straw of a warm barn. Normally, Kaze would sleep outdoors in fair weather, but he realized that traveling with the young girl would force many changes in his lifestyle. Finding shelter at night, whenever possible, was just the first of these changes.

  Kaze and the girl had started walking west on the Tokaido Road until they left the outskirts of Edo. Then, because he thought it would help him avoid any of Okubo’s or Yoshida’s men who might be intent on revenge for the death of their masters, he had taken a side road and walked until late at night, sharing toasted rice balls with the girl as they walked.

  Kiku-chan was clearly exhausted, but she made no complaints as they walked. Each step took her farther away from the horrors of the Little Flower.

  Kaze could have continued, but he perceived the girl was getting too weary, so he found an accommodating farmer who let him use his barn. Kaze and the girl settled in amid the smell of hay and animals and fell asleep almost immediately.

  Kaze didn’t know how long he was asleep before the Lady came to him in his dreams. This was the normal way for a Japanese to talk to the dead, so this neither disturbed nor surprised him. His previous encounters with the deceased Lady had been in the form of a faceless obake, a ghost, so this encounter seemed almost normal.

  In his dream, the Lady descended from heaven with blue tendrils of clouds trailing after her. She was dressed in her most beautiful kimono, the one with the red-headed cranes flying across a silk field of gray clouds. Their majestic white wings beat the air, causing the clouds to billow about, and Kaze was not sure if the clouds were painted on the kimono or actual clouds that clung to the Lady.

  Kaze bowed as the Lady drew near to him. When he straightened out, he was pleased to see that her face was as lovely and serene as he remembered, and that she was actually smiling. She was no longer faceless.

  “So you know?” Kaze asked.

  She nodded.

  “Your daughter is with me. She … well, she’s had a hard time of it, my Lady. I don’t know what kind of life I can arrange for her. I always thought that after I found her, I would find some relative of yours who would take care of her. Perhaps I can still do that. In the meantime, she must stay with me. It is not an easy life. I am wandering constantly and don’t know what dangers still wait for me. Okubo was not loved by his clan, but it will be a point of honor for his vassals to hunt me down and kill me. When my role in bringing about the downfall of Yoshida and Niiya is known, their clan will be intent on revenge, too. In addition, Lady, I don’t know how to take care of a child, especially a ten-year-old girl. In my former life, I had a wife and servants to take care of children. Now I have neither and, frankly, my Lady, now that your daughter is free, I’m not sure that I am the one she should stay with.”

  The Lady continued looking at Kaze, a curl of amusement broadening the edges of her smile.

  He sighed. “All right. I can see you’re determined that the girl should stay with me. I’ll do my best, my Lady, but I’m not sure my best will be the best for the girl. Shikata ga nai. I guess it can’t be helped. But tell me, Lady, are you happy? Can I go to your funeral temple and reclaim my short sword, my wakizashi, the keeper of the samurai’s honor? Is my honor mine again?”

  The Lady smiled and nodded yes. Continuing to smile, her body ascended back to heaven. Kaze watched her rise into the cloudy skies, growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared entirely.

  Kaze was about to drift back into a mindless sleep when suddenly he felt the Lady was next to him again. This time, however, her body w
as right next to his. Confused, Kaze asked the Lady, “Is there something more?”

  The dream figure of the Lady looked at Kaze, but she was not smiling. Kaze didn’t understand why her ghost would invade his dreams a second time in one night, and asked, “What is it you want, my Lady?”

  The ghost of the Lady reached forward and pressed against Kaze’s chest. He was so astounded that he flinched. Then the ghost did something that made Kaze realize he was not dreaming. She slipped her small hand inside his kimono and touched his bare flesh. No matter what feelings Kaze might have for her, the Lady was still the wife of his Lord. Even in death, Kaze could not imagine her taking such an action. His eyes snapped open and he saw that Kiku-chan was snuggled up to him, with her hand placed inside his kimono. She was awake and watching him intently, as if looking for some sign.

  “What are you doing?” Kaze said, roughly grabbing her arm and jerking it away from him.

  Kiku-chan looked confused and in pain. She cried, “You’re hurting my arm!”

  Kaze eased the grip on her arm. Kiku-chan was crying, her hot tears falling down on his kimono. Kaze hesitated a moment, then instead of shoving her away, he drew her next to him, placing his arms around her and comforting her.

  “Don’t cry, Kiku-chan,” he said soothingly. “I know you’ve come from a place where you were taught to do things to please men, but those are not things I want you doing to me. There is nothing wrong with those things when they’re done by men and women, but they are wrong when an adult takes advantage of a child.

  “The past few years must have been like a nightmare for you. There is nothing I can do to erase those years. There is also nothing I can do to restore your former life, when you were happy with your mother and father, and living in their castle. I can only deal with here and now, and even then the present is uncertain. I don’t know what the future will bring, but it’s likely to involve wandering and hardship and perhaps even danger. That is our karma. But from this moment, our karmas are linked, and I will do my best to make sure you are protected and safe.