The Samurai's Heart (The Heart Of The Samurai Book 1)

by Walt Mussell

  As they drew closer, she allowed herself to acknowledge him. Light soot stains marked the collar and edges of his kimono. He’d worn these clothes under his ceremonial swordsmith robe. His face and hands were clean, but he had small black streaks on his arms.

  His shirt was slightly open at the neck and she looked away so as not to stare. The labor in her father’s shop was good exercise. Her father was a strong man. Seven years of similar work had made Nobuhiro the same. His smooth, bare chest showed the definition she had seen in many samurai. However, Nobuhiro appeared more powerful . . . and handsome.

  Put those thoughts aside, Sen, he’s not the one for you.

  She grimaced at the voice in her head. A slight breeze cooled her nerves but not the feelings within. Nobuhiro had large brown eyes and a cute round nose. He would attract attention from any lady.

  “H . . . h . . . hello,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

  That stutter. It arose every time they talked. Why was he nervous? His smile appeared forced, but she wasn’t sure. Had he known this meeting was happening or had he been brought here like she was? She didn’t have a chance to consider it as the men headed into the shop, expecting Sen and Omi to follow.

  A light ring of metal drew her attention, and her gaze drifted to the hanging wind chimes at the entrance. She stopped and read the various blessings that hung on pieces of paper attached to the ends of the chimes. She reached up and fingered one of the metal pieces, feeling the raised writing. The character for “happiness.” An omen for the relationship with her mother and for the resolution of her duty? She could hope.

  “Is something wrong?” Omi asked.

  “Nothing,” Sen replied, gathering her distracted thoughts. “I just noticed these chimes and the blessings written on them. This restaurant must be a happy place.”

  Omi smiled. “Or at least it has good food.”

  The two laughed and headed in. Windows were open inside, but the heat from the hearths on the floor made the place warm. Tapping their feet, the brothers stood at an open area on a platform that was set aside from the rest of the place. It appeared to be reserved for important people. The owners recognized Toshi’s samurai status, which afforded him and his guests a place of honor. Sen and Omi quickened their pace and sat down on the cushions on the tatami mat floor, the men on one side and the women on the other.

  Sen swallowed hard as Nobuhiro sat down directly across from her. At other tables, people were enjoying themselves. Why couldn’t she do the same? She rubbed her thumbs, pulling at them. Yet no delays, distractions, or silent prayers would quell the hot rush that hit her face.

  The waitress took the order and returned shortly, carrying four dishes. The woman put the first two plates down before the men, then circled around to serve Omi and Sen.

  As the waitress bent down, she lost control of her tray, sending two bamboo plates flying. Sen flinched to avoid them.

  She needn’t have bothered. Both Toshi and Omi extended a hand quickly, each catching a plate.

  “Amazing! How did you do that?” Sen asked.

  “I’m a samurai,” Toshi responded.

  Omi smiled. “Just fortunate.”

  Sen nodded. She expected such from Toshi. Omi’s quickness surprised her. Another reason she drew interest from men like Toshi. She glanced across the table. Nobuhiro’s gaze remained down. What troubled him? Her resolve against him tempered as she wanted to ease the unknown pain he exhibited. Did being with his brother relax him or did it remind him of the life he wished he had? Did it remind him of his father’s rebukes?

  She tried to be disinterested.

  She failed.

  ###

  Sometimes, Nobuhiro couldn’t stand his brothers.

  His nerves pulled at him and flattened his stomach. He desired to impress Sen, to make her see him as an alternative to the men she was surrounded by daily.

  Then Toshi showed off his skills.

  Brother, couldn’t you have let the plate hit the ground?

  Did it matter anyway? One glance from Sen and he hid his face like an embarrassed child. He rubbed his hands along his trousers and wallowed in his nervousness a few more minutes. If only he could adopt Toshi’s attitude, maybe Nobuhiro could deal with unexpected situations like this as easily as he did.

  Would the meeting even last that long? Every time he had seen Sen, something intervened. Why would today would be any different?

  Nobuhiro bit into his cake as the back of his neck warmed. He rubbed at it to remove the tightness. Toshi stopped chewing and bit on his lower lip. Nobuhiro remembered that look. Toshi was visualizing the room. Some circumstance had changed. The meeting was over.

  Nobuhiro glanced toward the door. A second later, Uji appeared at the entrance. Nobuhiro sighed. Another interruption. Toshi had heard their brother’s steps from the street.

  Uji scanned the patrons and then strode over to the table.

  Toshi looked up. Smug. He had heard him. “Honorable older brother, what brings you here? I thought you’d be having your midday nap.”

  Uji rolled his eyes. Nobuhiro laughed and grinned at both of them. Uji acknowledged Nobuhiro. The look on Uji’s face said much. He wasn’t surprised to see him.

  “Ujihiro.” Nobuhiro used his older brother’s full name in front of others. “In the excitement at the castle, I forgot to ask. How was your trip to Kyoto?”

  “It went well,” Uji replied. “At times, the regent still tries to impress the emperor.”

  Nobuhiro scratched at his neck. “Why? Isn’t the title of kampaku enough? Does he seek to be called shogun?”

  Uji leaned his head forward and paused before responding. “Maybe, but I doubt it. The regent knows he’s not a descendant of the Minamoto clan. He recognizes the futility of such a hope.”

  “Regent. Shogun,” Toshi piped in with a playful sneer. “As if being in charge of the country wasn’t enough. If he wants another title, he could offer to clean the emperor’s—”

  “Toshihiro,” Uji said, glaring as he used Toshi’s full name, an action that mimicked their father’s serious nature. “That is not the proper tone for discussing the regent.”

  “I was only going to say clean his stable,” Toshi said. “But it’s an accurate statement. After all, there’s a reason Nobunaga nicknamed the regent ‘monkey.’”

  Nobuhiro closed his mouth to stifle a guffaw. Everyone else’s engorged cheeks told him they found Toshi’s comment amusing. Nobuhiro breathed in through his nose to calm himself and then exhaled slowly.

  “What brings you here?” Nobuhiro asked.

  Uji shifted his gaze between Toshi and Nobuhiro. “Nobuhiro. Toshihiro. I need to see both of you outside. Your excursion is over.” His voice brooked no discussion, only obedience.

  Nobuhiro nodded. So did Toshi.

  Uji reached into his kimono and pulled out a string of coins. He pulled one off, placed it on the table, and looked at Sen and Omi. “Wait here. Have some more tea.” His tone resembled a command and his brusque demeanor surprised Nobuhiro. Uji was a samurai, but he rarely gave orders to anyone but other samurai. He knew what the answer would be.

  “Hai.” Both women bowed their heads in affirmation and respect. Uji, true to his nature, returned the same. Even when serious, he was still polite. He didn’t need to acknowledge the women. He did so out of decency. Another trait where Nobuhiro felt deficient and didn’t measure up to his brothers.

  Uji even exhibited his affable qualities toward people he vehemently disliked, a quality Nobuhiro had grown to admire more since moving out of the castle. The one time he had met Uji’s wife, she had commented that his graciousness was his best trait.

  Nobuhiro followed his brothers out of the restaurant and kept going as they turned onto a side street. Finally, Uji turned and faced them.

  “What is it?” Nobuhiro asked.

  Uji glanced each way, though his head movements were nearly imperceptible. He then stared at Nobuhiro. “What your brother and I have
to say can go no further than this street.”

  Nobuhiro locked eyes with his brothers in unspoken agreement.

  “Toshi and I are involved in an investigation,” Uji continued. “We fear either one person or possibly a small group of samurai at the castle are targeting Christians in the area.”

  Nobuhiro’s heart stopped and his mind flashed to Sen, his fists clenching. He flinched toward the restaurant entrance.

  Uji’s gaze held Nobuhiro in place. “Calm down. She is safe for now.”

  She was safe for now? Did Uji know about Sen’s faith? He must. He and Toshi knew Lord Akamatsu well. They must have realized that Sen was a Christian.

  Nobuhiro tried to remain calm. “How do you know? She is under scrutiny due to the edict? Is it not connected?”

  Uji shook his head. “The regent only requires that Christians renounce their faith or lose their possessions. He’s not killing those who refuse. He’s barely even following his own edict.”

  “But the incident in Haibara at Lord Akamatsu’s castle?”

  Uji chewed his lower lip. “Regrettable. Two samurai overstepped their orders. They have been . . . disciplined.”

  Disciplined? So the samurai who led the forces at Haibara Castle were now dead, like the Christians who served Lord Akamatsu. What did that benefit anyone?

  Nobuhiro wiped his perspiration-covered fingers against the coarse hemp of his kimono. Yet they still felt wet. “So the regent doesn’t approve of this? How about our father? Is he not enforcing the ban?”

  Both his brothers’ eyes flared and Nobuhiro regretted his harsh words.

  Uji shook his head. “He oversees the ban, but he will handle it in his way. You know him better than that.”

  Nobuhiro bowed his head as his face warmed. “Forgive me. I only meant to suggest that, since our father oversees the ban, these actions would benefit his efforts.”

  Uji rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Father’s opinion of Christians is irrelevant. If they behave, he will not trouble them. However, Father is tasked with keeping order. These rogue samurai are operating outside the bounds of the law. To Father, they are a much greater threat than any foreign religion.”

  Nobuhiro nodded. “Then why the attacks?”

  Toshi stepped forward. “Some zealot for Toyotomi’s edict may be taking a more aggressive approach. We don’t know why.”

  Footsteps crunching on the road drew Nobuhiro’s attention. Were people trying to listen to their conversation? What tradesman would involve himself in the private discussions of samurai? It could mean death.

  Uji paused and glanced around, his face like stone. “When Father told me to assemble a team for Kyoto to deliver the sword your master made, I took five people with me: Funaki, Kitayama, Michiba, Nishioji, and Matsubara.”

  “Our four remaining suspects and a backup,” Toshi added. He looked at Uji. “A risky decision. I questioned it.”

  “A necessary risk,” Uji said. “Picked for the trip, they might not realize we suspect them. Away from the castle, they might relax. A little sake, and their tongues might loosen.”

  Toshi’s grin was pocked with annoyance. “I understand why you chose them, brother, but it was not wise.”

  “Even now you question me. Enough. It was my decision.”

  Nobuhiro’s blood raced through his body. Toshi’s concern for Uji was understandable. Uji had returned unharmed, but there was likely a lot he didn’t know. It concerned him. “What was the problem then? He is fine.”

  Toshi licked his lips. “We don’t know who is involved or if, possibly, more than one person is behind these events. It was risky. Four suspects. What if all of them had been involved? Death is synonymous with the number four. Uji put himself in a precarious position.”

  “That’s why I asked Matsubara,” Uji said, his tone both confident and irritated. “Even if all four were involved, Matsubara and I could address it.”

  Nobuhiro remembered Matsubara. Uji’s best friend. As a fighter, he was of the same mold as his brothers. However, he was more laconic than Uji. How could two silent people force the other four to talk, unless they broke the silence? As children, Uji and Matsubara often sat together while studying their lessons or working on their swordsmanship. Father commented once that he’d never seen two people who could have a long conversation with each other and not utter a word.

  “Maybe the two of you could handle the other four,” Toshi said. “Matsubara was an excellent choice for a backup, and he at least heeds my advice sometimes. Plus, he’d made two trips to Kyoto in the last few months. He knows people all along the route.”

  Nobuhiro nodded and mimicked glancing around like his brothers had been doing, though he didn’t know what he was looking for. He thought of Sen, still having tea with Omi. Is she safe? A slight breeze greeted his face.

  No one approached them, but the usual loud cries of vendors hawking various food wares cut through the conversation. Food. He still needed to pick up items for this evening and tomorrow. Master Goami knew Nobuhiro was with Toshi. He had time. He looked at Uji. “Did you discover anything on the trip to Kyoto?”

  “Nothing definitive, unfortunately. I suspect Kitayama isn’t involved. He was in Osaka the morning of the incident we’re investigating. It would have been impossible to get from Osaka to Himeji in the amount of time he had.”

  “Are you ready to cross him off the list?” Toshi asked.

  “Not yet,” Uji said. “He could still be an accomplice, providing other information. His actions remain suspect.”

  “Is there anyone besides these men?” Nobuhiro asked.

  Uji and Toshi glanced at each other. Then Uji nodded. “Ishida, but he is no longer a concern. His body was found outside of town. At least we think it was his body.”

  “We must identify who it is soon,” Toshi said. “We don’t know how much time we have.”

  “I know,” Uji said.

  A drunk man in a loosely tied gray kimono stumbled into the side street. He was dirty and unshaven. His stench suggested he hadn’t bathed recently. Bile rose in Nobuhiro’s throat, but he managed to keep it down. Uji and Toshi both stopped talking and smiled at the stranger, their eyes focused. Nobuhiro glanced down. His brothers had one hand each on their swords. The drunk man stopped, likely aware he had surprised two samurai. He bowed low and then left.

  Nobuhiro stared a few more moments at the street. Passersby continued to mill about, but none took notice of the conversation in the alley. He looked back at his brothers. Uji tilted his head, indicating that they could continue their conversation.

  “What do you mean you don’t have much time?” Nobuhiro asked. His thoughts flashed again to Sen. “Is someone in danger?” His voice rose to match his worry, but he slowed his breathing to steady himself. Samurai did not betray themselves with their emotions. Yet, once again, Nobuhiro’s lack of control over his emotions betrayed him.

  “Not yet,” Uji said, “but it depends on Sen.”

  That did it. He straightened his back and clenched his fists, which now matched the tension in his shoulders. Inside, though, his stomach churned like the water that flowed through the straits between the islands of Japan. “How is she involved in this? She hasn’t done anything.”

  Toshi placed his palm firmly on Nobuhiro’s chest. “Calm yourself, brother. She is not involved. Not yet anyway.”

  Nobuhiro nodded. He should trust more. If there were a concern, his brothers wouldn’t be out here. He looked directly at Toshi. “Then why is she in danger?”

  “Those behind the incidents we’re investigating may be following her to see where she goes. While I did want to get out of the castle, I also arranged this meeting to see who might notice Sen’s departure.”

  “You used her as a lure?”

  “You must trust me. She is in no danger. I will explain everything in due time.”

  Nobuhiro relaxed his shoulders. “Did that happen? Did anyone notice that she left?”

  Toshi looked at Uji
, whose head bobbed slightly. “Yes. Funaki and Michiba had sudden changes in plans. They left together.”

  “Are they around?” Toshi asked.

  Uji shook his head, placing his thumbs inside his thin belt. “They are not around here that I’m aware of. However, Matsubara is watching them. He will let us know if he discovers anything.”

  “I still don’t understand why Sen may be involved,” Nobuhiro added.

  Toshi laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve only met her a few times and already she’s turned your brains into tofu.”

  Nobuhiro gritted his teeth. He was missing something. If only he could understand Toshi’s point. Uji’s lips thinned as he glared at Toshi before focusing again on Nobuhiro.

  “She served Lord Akamatsu,” Uji said. “She continued to serve him, even after he lost his castle. The people we are looking for may suspect that one of the Christian groups might try to contact Sen . . . or she may try to find them.”

  Nobuhiro rubbed his chest while protective feelings swelled within him. Sen was just on the other side of this wall. He should go back in.

  Toshi broke his concentration. “Don’t worry. She is safe for now.”

  “You said that before but didn’t explain. I would welcome an answer. Is it because she hasn’t found any local Christians yet?”

  “Only partly,” Toshi said. “Whoever it is won’t want to try anything now, especially during the day when so many people are around.”

  “True,” Uji said in a gravelly voice. “Scum like this usually appears only at night.”

  “But the incident at the castle . . . ” Nobuhiro said.

  “During the day, I know, but they were away from the crowd,” Toshi answered.

  Nobuhiro inhaled and wiped the perspiration from his brow, catching a familiar scent that he couldn’t place. A mixture of musk and sweat. He put it aside. Maybe everything would start making sense soon.

  “Still, how can you be so sure she’s safe?”

  Toshi patted his arm. “She is fine. I assure you. Omi is with her.”