Yet they could still burn if they touched you, Seikei discovered. After glancing briefly at the judge, the kannushi focused on Seikei. His eyes seemed to bore right to Seikei’s inner spirit. Seikei knew that he was being examined.
“Why have you come here?” The kannushi’s voice was sharp and shrill, like a cricket’s chirp. Surprisingly, he directed his question to Seikei. Seikei looked at the judge.
“I am Ooka, an official of the shogun’s government,” the judge told the kannushi. “We are searching for a ninja who murdered Lord Inaba while the daimyo was in Edo under the protection of the shogun.”
“Why do you think this ninja is here?” the kannushi asked.
“Because he left a red butterfly made of paper that was sold to your shrine. And because it is well known that ninjas regard Miwayama as a place of sanctuary.”
“They have good reason,” said the kannushi. “The kami of the mountain is their protector.”
“And you permit them to enter the shrine’s holiest place.”
The kannushi nodded. “The ninjas are generous with their offerings, and the mountain kami accepts them.”
“If the kami accepts the ninjas,” said the judge, “then it will accept us.”
“You are samurai,” said the kannushi. “You bring your swords here. There can be no death on the mountain. The kami will not tolerate it.”
“This ninja has brought death elsewhere,” said the judge, “and yet he returned to the mountain.”
“He has purified himself,” said the kannushi. At last Seikei understood why the ninja had left the red butterfly next to Lord Inaba’s body. That was his own act of purification. He had to dispel the evil kami that surrounded death so that he would be able to return to the mountain.
The kannushi turned his eyes on Seikei again. “You did not answer my question,” he said.
Seikei was flustered, trying to remember the question. “I ... I came here because I wish to see justice done,” he said, “and because the path my father set for me has led me to this place.”
Wrinkles appeared briefly at the corners of the kannushi’s eyes as if he wanted to smile but had forgotten how. “You have brought something with you,” the kannushi said. “Show it to me.”
Seikei thought he meant the butterfly. Would the judge be angry to learn that it had been lost? “I don’t have it anymore,” said Seikei. “It was needed to purify another place where death had been.”
“You are mistaken,” the kannushi said. “Show me what you have inside your garment.”
Seikei brought forth the writing kit, the coins, Dr. Genko’s wire frames, and then touched the stone Tatsuno had given him. It seemed even warmer now.
That was what the kannushi was looking for. His eyes shone with a kind of reverence as Seikei displayed it. “Where did you get that?” the kannushi asked.
“Someone gave it to me,” said Seikei.
“You have a generous friend,” said the kannushi. “This is a gofu, a powerful one that may protect you if your heart is pure.” He looked at the judge. “Does he have a pure heart?”
“I believe so,” said the judge.
The kannushi returned his gaze to Seikei. “You may go onto the mountain,” he said. Then he added, “Alone.”
“You do not have to do this,” said the judge as he and Seikei walked to the simenawa rope at the base of the mountain. “I am not at all sure that I should allow you to go. There is no way I can protect you there.”
Seikei turned to look at him. “Father,” he said, “the first time you assigned me to follow a path, you sent Bunzo in disguise to watch over me. And the second time you trusted me to follow a path, you yourself rescued me when my life was in danger. Even on the journey I have just taken, you told Tatsuno not to let me come to harm.”
Seikei took a deep breath. “But, Father,” he continued, “I want to be worthy of being your son, the son of a samurai. I can only do that by facing danger, by being willing to lose my own life if necessary. I can never do that if you are always waiting to protect me. Because then it is only like boys playing at war, pretending.
“And, as Basho once wrote, ‘Even if I should die on the road, this would be the will of Heaven.’ ”
The judge smiled. “I often think of those words of Basho’s when I am about to leave on a journey, but I am much older than you.” He sighed. “I am afraid I chose too well when I asked the shogun to let me take you as a son.”
Seikei felt his heart in his mouth. Did the judge regret choosing Seikei? “Why do you say too well?” asked Seikei.
“Because I thought I would be sure to have a son to observe the proper ceremonies for me for the required forty-nine days after my death. Instead I have a son who is willing to lay down his own life in pursuit of honor.”
“Father,” said Seikei, “I pledge that I will do my best to return and someday say the prayers for your spirit.”
The judge nodded and smiled. “I see it would be useless for me to forbid you to go onto the mountain,” he said. “Was it Tatsuno who gave you that stone?”
“Yes,” Seikei said.
“Did he tell you why?”
“No,” said Seikei. “He only said that he’d decided my life was worth saving.”
The judge smiled. “I see that I was not wrong to trust Tatsuno. Remember one thing: You do not need to capture or kill the ninja. You need only find out who sent him to kill Lord Inaba.”
“I will carry out the task you have set for me,” said Seikei.
They had reached the dividing place, where a simenawa rope strung between two wooden posts separated the world of humans from the world of the kami. Red paper butterflies hung from the rope, their wings fluttering in the wind as if they were struggling to free themselves. One of the strings that held the butterflies was empty, and Seikei knew that was where the one that was later found in Lord Inaba’s chamber had hung.
The young priest accompanied Seikei and the judge. He offered Seikei a pail of water and a dipper. “You must purify yourself,” he explained. Seikei knew the ritual from watching at other Shinto shrines. He took a mouthful of the water, which had a salty-sweet taste. He swirled it around and then spat it onto the ground. Finally he rinsed his hands in the water.
“I am ready,” he said. The judge’s face was grimmer than Seikei had ever seen it, but Seikei lifted the rope and crossed to the other side.
21
ON MlWAYAMA
Seikei walked only a few steps before entering a thick stand of trees. When he paused to look back, he saw the judge just once. After that the forest closed in, and Seikei was alone.
It was difficult for him to make any progress up the mountain. There was no trail, of course, because people seldom set foot there. The ground sloped steeply upward, and it was covered with snow that concealed branches, logs, and rocks. Earlier Seikei had put on thick tabi socks and a new pair of bamboo sandals, but his feet sank into the snow above his ankles. Eventually, the tabi became soaked and the cold air started to freeze them.
Seikei stopped. He was breathing hard from the effort, and could see his breath in the air like puffs of smoke. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to find the ninja. Somehow, Seikei had expected that once someone invaded his domain, the ninja would appear.
“Hai!” Seikei called out. “Ninja! Tatsuno!” He still suspected that Tatsuno might have been the killer all along, even though the judge thought otherwise.
There was no answer. The mountain was silent, even though Seikei knew there must be many living things here.
Seikei reached into his kimono for the black-and-green stone. It was still warm. As he cupped it in his hands, he felt its warmth spread through him. The kami within the stone was giving him help of some kind, Seikei thought.
He decided it was time to call the kami of the mountain, to appeal to it.
Everyone in Japan knew how to do that. On entering the torii gate of a shrine, they clapped their hands. Seikei did so now. He made as much noise as
he could.
“Kami!” he shouted. “I appeal to you, spirit of this mountain! Show me the ninja! I must speak with him. I promise not to pollute your holy dwelling. Tell me! Give me an answer.” Around and around he turned, facing all parts of the mountain. “Kami! Hear me!”
The sun moved slightly then. A sliver of light shone through a gap in the treetops. Seikei looked toward the place where the sunlight touched the ground.
A deer stood there. Apparently it had been hunting for food. Under the snow there were still shoots of grass that were nourishing. Now it was looking at Seikei. Seikei waved his arms, but the deer didn’t move.
It was a doe, not a large one, and seemed gentle. But it kept on looking at him, so long that it began to make Seikei nervous. “Hai!” he shouted, waving his arms again.
Still the deer stared at him. Seikei walked toward it, and the deer dug at the snow with its front hooves. It gave Seikei a final look, tossed its head, and walked off slowly.
Seikei made his way to the spot where the deer had been standing. He saw footprints in the snow. Some, the deer had made, but there were others as well. Seikei bent low and examined them.
They were made by a fox. Seikei remembered the fox prints outside Lord Inaba’s castle, where the killer had escaped. And the guards’ dreams. A chill went through him. It was one thing to chase a man, even a ninja—but to capture a man who was at times a fox ...
The tracks led farther up the mountain, and after a moment Seikei began to follow them. It was not easy, even though the ground was covered with snow. In open places, the sun had melted some of the snow and the trail was washed out. Seikei had to circle these spots to find where it began again.
He also had to keep reminding himself to take his eyes off the tracks every so often and look up. He remembered the story his mother had once told him about a hunter who followed bear tracks and walked right into the bear’s mouth.
Seikei knew that was only a story, but he also realized that somewhere, the tracks would end. He wanted to be well prepared before he reached that spot.
It was a longer journey than he expected. The tracks didn’t lead directly upward. They wound back and forth as if the person who made them wanted to avoid being followed. Twice the trail even doubled back and crossed itself. That gave Seikei a great deal of trouble sorting out the older tracks from the fresh ones.
Finally, however, he looked up and saw where the trail ended. It was a cave, not far from the summit of the mountain.
Seikei approached it warily, knowing that from within the deep black opening someone could be watching him.
He reached the entrance without drawing any response. Staring inside, he saw only that the cave headed down into the heart of the mountain.
Deciding he would prefer fighting out in the open, he shouted, “Ninja! Come out and face me!”
The only response he got was an echo—and a faint one at that. Seikei realized that his voice sounded reedy and weak. He reached inside his kimono again, grasping the stone to give himself strength.
Should he wait here for the ninja to emerge? He had to come out sometime, didn’t he?
Unless the cave had another exit.
Seikei thought about his promise to return so that one day he could say the mourning prayers for the judge. No doubt the wisest course would be to wait here for a while. If nothing happened, Seikei could return to the judge and report that he had followed the path as far as he could.
But not to the end.
Basho’s words again ran through Seikei’s head. If a man saves his own life by being a coward, Seikei thought, then what is the value of his life? Heaven has granted me the wish that once seemed an impossible dream: to be a samurai. I must prove myself worthy of that.
He put his hand on the hilt of the sword and stepped into the cave.
The tunnel led downward toward the heart of the mountain. After Seikei had taken only a few steps, the light from the tunnel’s mouth no longer lit the path in front of him. He took each step more carefully than the last. Pausing between steps, he stopped to listen. In the absolute silence of the cave, it should be easy to hear any sound. However, his own breathing drowned out any other noise. He forced himself to be calm, using a meditation technique Basho had taught him.
After another few steps, he slowly became aware of another sound. At first it seemed like buzzing, as if there were a hive of bees sheltered here from the cold. After listening for a while, however, Seikei decided that the sound rose, fell, stopped, and then rose again. It was like the pounding of waves at the seashore.
Or like snoring.
Yes, thought Seikei, that was what it must be! The ninja was not far away, lying asleep in the cave, snoring. He must feel very safe.
Seikei considered what to do. With a drawn sword, he could rush forward and kill the ninja before he woke up, whether he was a fox or a man.
However, then Seikei would not find out who hired the ninja to kill Lord Inaba. According to the judge, that was more important.
And if the ninja really was Tatsuno ... Seikei didn’t like to admit it, but he would feel sad to have to kill Tatsuno.
“Hai!” he shouted, more out of frustration with himself than for any other reason.
The snoring stopped. In fact, now there was no sound at all, for the ninja had been able to stop breathing entirely. He must have great powers of self-discipline. But Seikei knew he was just a few steps up ahead in the darkness.
Listening.
22
THE FOX’S CONFESSI0N
Seikei stood absolutely still for so long that his knees began to ache. Yet it was the ninja who moved first. Seikei heard the soft rustle of silk—and suddenly realized what that sound meant.
He dropped to the floor of the cave just in time to hear the sound of hummingbird wings overhead. Only Seikei knew it was not a hummingbird: it was a razor-sharp shuriken, thrown right at the spot where Seikei’s face had been an instant before.
Scrambling on all fours, Seikei struggled to climb back up toward the mouth of the cave. He heard the ninja start to pursue him. Realizing he couldn’t escape, Seikei rolled over on his back and drew his sword partway from its scabbard, ready to use it.
The ninja heard the sound and halted. He did not know exactly where Seikei was, but he knew that if he rushed forward in the darkness, he might run right onto the point of a blade.
“Who are you?” the ninja said.
The voice was not Tatsuno’s.
Seikei was afraid to reply, for the location of his voice would tell the ninja where to direct the next deadly shuriken.
Slowly Seikei inched backward along the rocky floor, keeping his sword pointed toward the darkness that hid the ninja.
Another shuriken whizzed overhead. This time Seikei heard the chink of the metal disk as it struck the wall of the cave.
He stopped to think. If he tried to get back to the mouth of the cave, the ninja only had to follow him. There, Seikei would make a perfect target, for then he would be outlined against the light coming from the entrance.
Seikei’s hand slipped. He had put it down on a loose rock. That gave him the idea for a desperate solution. It was better, he decided, than waiting for the ninja to zero in on Seikei with his shuriken.
Raising himself into a crouched position, Seikei drew his arm back and threw the rock into the center of the darkness. As he turned and ran, he heard a surprised grunt that told him the rock had found its mark.
Seikei ran as fast as he could, his feet wobbling against the stones underfoot. In a few steps he spied the cave entrance and hunched his back, making himself into as small a target as possible. Closer and closer he came, telling himself to go on without fear.
Then he was directly in the entranceway—and still no whirring sound overhead. He came through it with a bound and headed for a large rock nearby. Using it for shelter, he crouched down, turning back to watch the cave entrance. The ninja emerged slowly, aware that now he too could be a target. Seikei was re
lieved to see that he had the form of a man. He was somewhat older than Tatsuno, but moved with the grace and stealth of a fox. He wore a black kimono, like the ninjas of myth and legend, but even from here Seikei could see that the ends of the sleeves were frayed and the cloth was faded in places.
The ninja looked around, the way an animal does when entering a clearing. Seikei saw his eyes. They were yellow, the only part of him that did not appear completely human. “Who are you?” the ninja called. “What have you come here for?”
Seikei wondered if he should answer. The ninja’s hands were empty, but Seikei had no doubt he could reach into his kimono and launch another shuriken if he knew where Seikei was.
Still, why else had Seikei come if not to question the ninja? Seikei was in as safe a position as he would ever be.
“I am Ooka, Seikei,” he shouted. “I have come to question you about the murder of Lord Inaba.”
The ninja laughed. When his mouth opened, Seikei saw that several of his teeth were missing. “Is that so?” the ninja said with a touch of mockery. He had heard Seikei’s voice, and recognized that it was not yet that of a man.
“Come, show yourself,” the ninja said, coaxing now. “I will not harm you.”
“You tried to harm me in the cave,” said Seikei.
“I was merely defending myself,” the ninja replied smoothly. “You startled me.”
“I could have done more than startle you if I’d wished,” Seikei told him.
The ninja thought this over. “Yes, that’s true,” he said. “You had a sword, and you found me asleep. I should be more cautious, but people seldom disturb my rest. How is it that you were allowed on the mountain?”
Seikei was tired of answering questions. “You have not yet told me your name,” he said.
The ninja smiled. “My name is Kitsune.”
“That isn’t a name,” said Seikei. “It means ‘fox.’ ”
“A man takes the name that suits him,” the ninja replied with a smile that made Seikei clasp the hilt of his sword even more tightly. “Why have you come to question me about Lord Inaba’s death?”
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