They were true heroes, paragons of samurai loyalty, exemplars of Bushido, even though they called themselves criminals. What a tragedy that they must die!
“We thank the honorable judges,” Oishi said, his voice firm. “We apologize for the trouble we have caused.”
“Accepted.” His voice heavy with resignation, Magistrate Ueda said, “Your ritual suicide will take place tomorrow morning.”
The assembly bowed. Sano gazed at the bent backs of the forty-seven rōnin. He looked hardest at Oishi and Chikara. Father and son would die together. Sano pictured himself and Masahiro in the same position. He blinked to dispel the vision, but its darkness lingered.
“The supreme court is dissolved,” Magistrate Ueda said.
41
THE SUMMONS CAME a month after the forty-seven rōnin died. The shogun had taken that long to recover from his ordeal. He’d spent the time in his chambers, attended by physicians and priests, seeing no one else. Edo Castle was rife with rumors. Some said the shogun was dying; some said he was going to abdicate; others said a major purge and reorganization of the government was imminent. Sano didn’t know which, if any, to believe.
When Sano arrived in the palace reception room, the dais was vacant. The mural on the wall behind it depicted cherry trees in pink bloom, appropriate for the season, too cheerful. Yanagisawa was kneeling below the dais. This was the first time Sano had seen him since the day of Yoritomo’s death. Yanagisawa had completely withdrawn from politics.
Sano knelt a cautious distance from Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa turned. Sano was shocked by the change in him. He’d lost so much weight that his body was like a skeleton under his dark green silk robe. Sharp bones protruded through the waxen skin of his face. His eyes were underlined by shadows, his lips raw. Sano thought of Oishi and Chikara. He wondered if Yanagisawa would trade places with them if he could. If Masahiro died, could Sano bear to live?
The shogun minced onto the dais, accompanied by two adolescent boys. When he sat, they knelt on either side of him. Their rosy, sweet faces and bland smiles were identical. One of the rumors was true, Sano noted. The shogun had twins as his new favorites. Sano glanced at Yanagisawa. How terrible for him to see that Yoritomo had been replaced so quickly!
As Yanagisawa bowed to the shogun, he appeared indifferent to everything except his own pain. Sano bowed, too, observing that another of the rumors was false: The shogun wasn’t dying; rather, he looked healthier than usual. The cut on his neck had healed. His holiday from court responsibilities had done him good.
“Forgive me for, ahh, making you wait such a long time to see me.” The shogun’s perfunctory smile conveyed how little he cared about anyone’s feelings except his own.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Sano replied politely, even though the suspense was killing him. Yanagisawa didn’t answer.
“I suppose you, ahh, think I’ve forgotten what happened the last time we were together.” The shogun’s expression turned peevish. “Well, I haven’t.”
Yanagisawa gazed through the shogun as if he weren’t there. Sano braced himself.
“You,” the shogun said, pointing at Sano, “protected me from Kajikawa. And your wife killed him.” He beamed. “She saved me the trouble. You both served me very well indeed.”
Sano was relieved that apparently Reiko wasn’t going to be punished and their family could stay together. The shogun hadn’t drawn a connection between Sano’s investigation and Kajikawa’s desperate act.
“Whereas you—” The shogun bent a pouty glare on Yanagisawa. “You completely, ahh, lost your wits! You made Kajikawa angry. You got yourself gagged so you couldn’t even speak on my behalf. You were worthless!”
Yanagisawa didn’t protest as the shogun said, “I am relieving you of your post as chamberlain. You’ve been, ahh, neglecting your duties lately, anyway.”
Sano had taken them over because the government needed a chamberlain at the helm.
“I am demoting you to the, ahh, position of my third-in-command. You will vacate your residence immediately.” The shogun added spitefully, “Consider yourself fortunate. If not for our long friendship, I would throw you out of my regime altogether.”
The shogun’s callousness had reached an extreme that Sano could hardly believe. Yanagisawa had lost his son, and the shogun hadn’t offered a single word of condolence! Did he not recall that Yoritomo had died trying to save his life? He seemed to have forgotten that Yoritomo had ever existed. His turning against Yanagisawa was insult piled upon injury.
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Yanagisawa’s voice was cracked, bereft of strength, an old man’s.
“Sano-san, you will take over as chamberlain,” the shogun said. “You can move back into your compound. Hirata-san will be chief investigator again.”
As Sano bowed and thanked the shogun, his triumph in his and Hirata’s redemption was spoiled because he pitied Yanagisawa so much.
“That’s all,” the shogun said, stroking the sleek heads of the twins. “You’re dismissed.”
Yanagisawa walked from the room as if in a trance. Sano followed. Outside, Sano started to say how sorry he was about Yoritomo. But the look in Yanagisawa’s eyes silenced him. It was fury, hatred, and bitterness transformed into something deadlier than Sano had ever seen.
Someday you’ll wish your wife had killed me.
Yanagisawa turned and walked away, his message delivered without a word.
* * *
“I HAVE GOOD news,” Lady Wakasa told Reiko. “The Todo daimyo clan is very interested in your proposal. They asked me to arrange a miai. Shall I go ahead?”
“Yes. That’s wonderful! Thank you.” Reiko poured tea and handed Lady Wakasa a cup. Outside her chamber, the garden was radiant with pink cherry blossoms. Masahiro, Akiko, and Hirata’s children ran about, catching falling petals. “What’s the bad news?”
“There isn’t any,” Lady Wakasa said. “Your husband’s fortunes are about to rise, I’ve heard. People are glad he settled the forty-seven rōnin business.”
But Reiko couldn’t be happy about the outcome. Forty-seven men were dead, and mourned by those they’d left behind.
The day after their ritual suicide, Reiko had gone to visit Lady Asano and Ukihashi. She’d found the women together at Lady Asano’s convent. When Reiko offered her condolences, Lady Asano said, “I don’t think they should have had to die. But it was their choice, so I can’t complain. I’ll always be grateful to them for avenging my husband.”
“I’m grateful to you, Lady Reiko, for reuniting Oishi and me,” Ukihashi said. “At least we parted in love instead of anger.”
Reiko bowed. “I thank you for your help. Without it, my husband couldn’t have guided the affair to a peaceful ending.” Before she left, she asked, “Will you be all right?”
“Yes,” Ukihashi said, even though tears filled her eyes and Reiko knew she was grieving for her son and husband. “The priests at Sengaku Temple have been very kind. They send me a portion of the alms they collect. My daughters and I don’t need to work anymore.”
Lady Wakasa’s voice drew Reiko back to the present. “What a lucky break for your husband—Yanagisawa lying down and playing dead. Never thought I’d see the day.”
But Reiko couldn’t feel any better about Yanagisawa than she did about the forty-seven rōnin. They at least had decided their own fate. Yanagisawa had been struck by the worst catastrophe a parent could imagine, his child’s death. Reiko wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“I’ll consult my astrologer about an auspicious date for the miai.” Lady Wakasa departed.
The miai was just a formality. The families were already acquainted, and Reiko liked the Todo daughter, a pretty, sweet, intelligent girl. Masahiro was as good as betrothed. At least Reiko could be glad about that. But unfinished business hung over her like a cloud.
When she’d come home after the incident at the palace, she’d found that Okaru had left. Reiko hadn’t seen Okaru since. She wondered what had become of
the girl and felt guilty about the way she’d treated her. And although the tension between Reiko and Masahiro had eased, she knew he missed Okaru.
Lieutenant Tanuma entered the room. “There’s a visitor asking to see you. It’s Okaru. She’s down at the castle gate.”
Reiko was surprised; it seemed as if her thoughts had summoned the girl. “Bring her in.”
Soon Okaru arrived. “Lady Reiko!” Arms flung wide, she smiled as if they’d parted on the friendliest terms. “I’m so happy to see you again.” She knelt and bowed.
“I’m happy to see you looking so well,” Reiko said, relieved because Okaru had apparently not suffered since she’d left. In fact, Okaru was lovelier than ever. Her cheeks were as rosy as the cherry blossoms printed on her new kimono. “Where have you been?”
“Goza and I went back to the inn. The proprietor let us stay because nobody knows we’re there.” Okaru smiled ruefully. “I’ve learned my lesson about talking to news-sellers.”
“But how…?”
“How can we afford it? Oh, Goza has a job at a teahouse that has women’s sumo wrestling matches.” Okaru added, “She was wrestling the night your father was attacked.”
That was one more mystery solved. Here was Goza’s alibi, and the reason for the blood on her clothes, which Masahiro had told Reiko about.
“We couldn’t tell you because women’s sumo was against the law then, and we were afraid she would get in trouble,” Okaru explained. The government periodically issued edicts against sumo, which were later rescinded.
“Why does Goza have tattoos on her wrist?” Reiko asked. Masahiro had told her about that, too.
“She was arrested for stealing food when she was a child. But soon she won’t need to steal or work to support herself and me anymore. Because—” Okaru paused, sparkling with glee. “I’m getting married!”
Reiko was astonished. A short time ago Okaru had been in love with Oishi and heartbroken because he’d jilted her. Now she’d found someone else. “Who is he?”
“His name is Jihei. He has his own furniture shop. He’s rich, and handsome, and not too old.” Okaru bubbled, “He’s so good to me! We’re so much in love! I’m so happy!”
“How did you meet him?” Reiko asked, impressed by Okaru’s fast work.
“His shop is near the inn, and he saw me that day when the crowd was hounding me. He thought I was so beautiful, he fell in love at first sight. He couldn’t forget me. After I went back to the inn, I peeked inside his shop one day, and he saw me, and he rushed out and introduced himself, and I fell in love with him, too.” Okaru blushed and giggled.
Reiko wondered if a love match made in such haste could bring lasting happiness. Then again, many arranged marriages didn’t. “Well. I’m glad you’ll be settled comfortably.” But she couldn’t help thinking of Oishi, forgotten so soon.
Tears misted Okaru’s eyes. “I’ll never forget Oishi, though.” She smiled sadly. “If not for him, I wouldn’t have come to Edo, and I wouldn’t have met Jihei. In a way, he brought us together. I visited his grave at Sengaku Temple, and I thanked him and prayed for his spirit. Have you been there?”
“Not yet,” Reiko said. “My husband is taking me today.”
“Before I say good-bye, I want to thank you for your kindness,” Okaru said. “You helped me when I had no one else to turn to.”
“It was nothing,” Reiko said, glad that Okaru didn’t bear her any grudge.
“There’s something I’d like to ask…?”
“What is it?”
“Masahiro was kind to me. May I say good-bye to him?”
“Of course.” Reiko didn’t think it could hurt. “He’s outside.”
As soon as Okaru had left, Chiyo arrived for a visit. “Did you hear that?” Reiko asked.
Chiyo nodded. “I couldn’t resist eavesdropping.”
“What do you think?”
“I think that although many people have suffered because of the forty-seven rōnin business, Okaru has managed to land on her feet.” Chiyo spoke with annoyance and admiration.
“She certainly has.” Reiko added ruefully, “You were right about her being trouble.”
“But you were right to act on Okaru’s information about the vendetta,” Chiyo hastened to say. “Discovering the truth is important, no matter the cost.”
They smiled at each other. Reiko was glad that Okaru hadn’t permanently come between them. Their friendship had weathered a difference of opinion and emerged stronger because each could appreciate the other’s viewpoint.
* * *
MASAHIRO HEARD OKARU call his name and saw her tripping toward him beneath the cherry trees. His heart soared. Ever since she’d left, he’d felt a hollow ache inside. He’d thought of looking for her, but his shame about what had happened while she was here had stopped him. He wasn’t only bothered by his mother catching them together; he felt guilty because of Goza, the tattoos, the bloody clothes, and the fact that he’d delayed telling his parents about them because he’d wanted to protect Okaru. It was his first, upsetting taste of divided loyalty. Now he was glad he hadn’t gone after Okaru, because although she smiled and held out her arms, he could tell that she didn’t feel the same way about him as he did about her.
She wasn’t in love with him, and she never would be.
“Hello! Do you remember me?” Okaru said gaily.
Masahiro was so downcast that all he could do was nod. She thought he was a child, like Akiko and Taeko and Tatsuo, who were running and playing nearby.
“I felt bad because I left without saying good-bye to you,” Okaru said.
She’d come to say good-bye now, Masahiro realized. The ache inside him grew. “Where are you going?” he managed to say.
“Not far. I’ll be staying in Nihonbashi.” Dimples wreathed Okaru’s face. “I’m getting married.”
The news was like a stab to his heart. All his vague dreams about Okaru died for good. While she rambled on about her fiancé, the house she would live in, and the children she hoped to have, Masahiro was struck by how far apart the few years’ difference in their ages put them. Okaru was a grown woman, while he was still a boy. Sadness filled him, but he also felt relief. He wasn’t ready for marriage, or housekeeping, or even love. He had too many other things to do first. And although he still desired Okaru, they weren’t meant for each other. He could accept that they belonged to different worlds.
“It would be nice if you would come and visit me,” Okaru said.
“Yes.” But Masahiro knew he would never see her again. That was as it should be.
After a pause, Okaru said, “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry about … what happened.”
Masahiro felt his cheeks flame.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I was so unhappy, I needed somebody, and you were there.” Okaru seemed ashamed, too. “I’m sorry I upset your mother.”
To her, the embrace that had caused him so much excitement and pleasure had been nothing but a mistake. But Masahiro could accept that, too. “It’s all right,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re not mad at me. I’ll never forget how you protected me from Oishi’s wife.” Okaru smiled fondly. “You’re my hero.” Then she took a closer look at him, and surprise raised her eyebrows. She frowned as her gaze held his.
Masahiro heard a thought, as clear as if she’d spoken it: If things were different … His heart was suddenly lighter.
Okaru’s smile turned wistful. “I guess I should be going.” She bowed. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” Masahiro said.
Okaru hesitated, then held out her hand. Masahiro hesitated, then reached for it. Their fingers clasped, then let go. The soft warmth of her skin lingered on his as Okaru walked away through the rain of falling cherry blossoms.
“Masahiro!” Taeko called. “Try and catch me!”
And now he was running, laughing as he chased Taeko. It felt good to be so carefree. Masahiro spared a moment to wonder if he would fall in love agai
n someday. Would he be lucky enough that the girl he fell in love with would fall in love with him, too?
He thought he probably would.
* * *
“SHH, DON’T CRY,” Hirata crooned to his baby daughter. He rocked her in his arms. “Papa’s here.”
The baby squalled, her little fists waving, her feet kicking inside the blanket wrapped around her. Hirata smiled. It was amazing how much one could love such a tiny, new person.
Midori bustled into the room. “She’s hungry. Give her to me.”
Hirata handed the baby over. “She’s also wet,” he said, holding out the damp sleeve of his kimono. “It’s amazing how much water such a tiny person can make.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Midori said. “You have visitors.”
When Hirata went into the reception room, there were Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano. They bowed politely. “Hello,” Tahara said with his rakish smile.
Chilling fear and fuming anger beset Hirata. “What are you doing here?”
“Now, now, is that any way to greet your guests?” Kitano’s eyes crinkled in his scarred, paralyzed face.
“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Tahara said, “so we decided to stop by.” Deguchi watched Hirata through heavy-lidded eyes, inscrutable. “Have you been avoiding us?”
Hirata had. Whenever he’d felt their aura, he’d walked in the opposite direction. Whenever he’d seen them around town, he’d pretended not to notice them. He hadn’t wanted to talk to them until he’d made sense of the incident at the palace. But no matter how much he mulled it over, he ended up with the same questions that only they could answer.
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