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

by Walt Mussell

  Sen placed her hand on the wooden door, ready to push it out. “Still, how did Michiba find out about the meeting?”

  Omi’s lips curled in and she looked down before facing Sen. “I’ve been thinking about that. It could have been us.”

  The words struck Sen like a punch to the gut. Had Omi had the same thoughts she had? “What do you mean?”

  “Well, when you talk about your faith, you always look around to make sure no one is close enough to hear. Maybe this time Michiba was close by and you didn’t see him.”

  Sen’s knees quivered and she pulled at her thumb. Lord Akamatsu had warned her about keeping her faith secret. Nobuhiro’s father had warned her as well. Now Omi suggested she hadn’t been careful enough. Her own experience in Haibara had not been enough. She had managed to endanger people here. How could she be so concerned with herself? Had she thought of her parents’ welfare? She had survived Haibara. Her guilt had led her to put others at risk. She had failed. She had failed everyone.

  Omi grabbed Sen’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry about it anymore. Michiba has been caught. It’s over.”

  They left the sauna. The three customers who had been there previously were gone. However, five more women had come. It would get even busier later. The best time was when it was still warm but after the temperature had cooled in the evening. A third attendant had joined the two who had been there before.

  Sen and Omi walked to the washing area and sat down. Two attendants approached. One appeared to be in her sixties, with gray hair and lines etched in her face. The other looked about ten years younger, with salt-and-pepper hair and a smooth round face. Both women wore similar white yukatas with yellow trim. Each carried a small bamboo scraper.

  The older woman pointed to buckets of soapberry and volcanic ash with small bowls next to them. “Please turn around.”

  An attendant lathered Sen’s back, applying pressure to massage the muscles, and then scraped the soap and dirt away. The massage and scraper relieved stiffness. Sen ran her fingers down her thighs and slowly exhaled. Omi was right. She no longer needed to worry.

  After her back was done, Sen held out her hand and was given the scraper. She nodded. “Thank you.”

  The older of the two attendants then reached into her pocket and took out an egg. She grabbed a small bowl nearby, cracked the egg, and separated it, putting the egg whites in the bowl. She scooped in some ash and mixed the two, handing the bowl to Sen, who poured the mixture on her hair and rubbed it in. The attendant filled a small wooden bucket with water and rinsed Sen’s hair.

  Sen held out her hand, palm outward. “I’ll finish it.” Omi did likewise and they were left alone, as alone as one could be with three attendants and now seven customers as two more women entered. She wanted to continue her earlier conversation with Omi, but the place had echoes.

  Sen rubbed soapberry on her arms and legs, scraped it off with bamboo, and then rinsed her legs. The water cooled her down. She poured more on the back of her neck, sending waves of relief through her body. It was time to go. The sooner they left, the sooner she and Omi could talk more. Omi’s first meeting with Christians hadn’t gone well. Would she hesitate to think about it again?

  Sen dried herself and walked to the basket area where she had stored her clothes. She donned fresh linen and stopped as a whiff of incense from Omi’s bag reached her. “What’s that fragrance?”

  Omi glanced between Sen and her own bag as if she didn’t understand for a minute, for her eyebrows flashed. “Oh, it’s kyara.”

  “So that’s what kyara smells like. It’s nice but heavy. Where did you get it?”

  Omi’s eyes lit up. “About a month before you arrived, the mistress invited a few of us to play the incense game with her. I won. Kyara was the prize. I sometimes fragrance some of my clothes with it. Not often.”

  Sen giggled. “You’re lucky. It’s rare, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. You’ve never smelled it before?”

  She shook her head. “Lord Akamatsu’s wife received some once as a gift, but I don’t know if she ever used it.”

  They finished dressing and then left the bathhouse. The day was nearly over. Soon, lanterns would be lit to mark the street. Sen always enjoyed people watching. Today, though, she spent more time looking at the ground than at the shops.

  “What’s wrong now?” Omi asked.

  “Just wondering how Lord Akamatsu and his wife are.”

  Omi smiled. “They’re fine. I’m certain of it.”

  “How do you know? Have you heard something?”

  “No, but that’s why I am sure. Lord Akamatsu is a prominent samurai. If something had happened to him, we would’ve heard by now.”

  Sen nodded. Omi’s words made sense. Always that bright spark of reason that made her so popular, even more so than the looks that garnered many stares.

  Omi held her hand out and pointed to some street vendors. “Ahhh, that’s what I’m looking for. Let’s get something. Michiba’s caught. We need to celebrate. We also need to talk a little more about Nobuhiro.”

  “Why Nobuhiro?”

  “Because it’s over and because he took care of you. I don’t understand this religion of yours yet, but I wonder if your God didn’t put him in your life for that purpose. You owe him your gratitude.”

  A smile creased Sen’s lips as the aroma of frying octopus reached her. Much had changed since her arrival in Himeji. She had lost a lot before coming, but she had gained more. Like Lord Akamatsu, she needed to look forward.

  Nobuhiro had been there for her. He would die for her. She would die for him. Marrying Nobuhiro might be the only way her parents would forgive her for choosing God over them.

  She would find no better man.

  ###

  “Michiba confessed.”

  Nobuhiro’s mouth gaped at Toshi, whose words still resounded in his head. Confessed? His brother had told him after the fire he would see him in two days and he had kept his word. Still, Nobuhiro hadn’t expected this news.

  He removed his headscarf and wiped his brow. The scarf, saturated with sweat from the long day, helped little. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead and then rubbed his eyes. “He was responsible for the fire?”

  Toshi nodded and took a sip of tea, wiping the ends of his lips with his thumbs. “The fire, the kidnapping, even the arrow shooting at the castle. All him.”

  “How did you find him? Did someone see him outside the restaurant?”

  “One of the magistrate’s men found a ripped piece of a dark blue yukata near the scene. Also, while interviewing potential witnesses, Uji and Matsubara got a description of a stranger and it matched Michiba. They found and questioned him, found the yukata, and matched the torn piece to it. After that, Michiba told us everything.”

  “Did the magistrate take umbrage with Uji’s and Matsubara’s involvement?”

  “Doubtful. Uji is well known locally and respected for more than just his rank. Likely, the magistrate was happy to cede everything rather than question a samurai.”

  Nobuhiro chewed on his lower lip. Toshi’s compliment of Uji without even light sarcasm hung over his words. “What about the first fire? Did he say anything about that?”

  “He blamed Funaki for the fire that killed Sen’s sister.”

  Nobuhiro rose from the bench and walked to the window. He stared out into the growing darkness and massaged his neck, but the knot that appeared there refused to leave. The gentle voice of crickets and cicadas chirped for the full arrival of night, their voices carried on the wisps of wind. He should feel peace. Sen would be safe for now, at least from the attacks. Images of a little white dog barking excitedly and wagging his tail tried to bring a smile to his face. They failed.

  He should feel relief. His name would be cleared among the people. There would be no effect on Master Goami’s business and nothing to stop Nobuhiro when he opened his own shop a year from now. Yet neither peace nor relief found a willing home within him. Something g
nawed at him, the same way the last vestiges of night clawed at the dawn.

  He turned to Toshi. “Does that mean the investigation’s over?”

  Toshi walked over and joined him at the window, staring out instead of looking at him. “Yes, it’s over.”

  Nobuhiro’s shoulders tightened. He tried to loosen the tension, but his palms were sweaty. He coughed once and cleared his throat. Nothing dulled the edge in his body. The realization of what was to come explained Toshi’s unusually dour mood. “And Father?”

  Toshi put both his hands on Nobuhiro’s shoulders, rapping the right one twice and then squeezing. “Father’s seppuku is two nights from today. He has requested your presence.”

  ###

  Sen again checked the placement of the cups and whisk on the tray. Her hand shook as she edged a cup to the left, then moved it back to its former place. How many times had she done that? Six times? Seven? She needed to leave the cups where they were. A tray of sweets lay next to the cups. She reached out to move the sweets, only to draw back her hand and rub her chest.

  Omi had reviewed details of tea ceremony with Sen, much of which Sen had forgotten since childhood. Her father had maintained the teahouse behind the family house for customers, a must for entertaining samurai. She had watched him and her mother and mimicked their actions. That was years ago.

  Sen pulled at her thumbs, but Omi’s words circled in her mind. Nobuhiro’s family was samurai. They were well acquainted with tea ceremony. However, to learn that Nobuhiro’s father had studied under the nation’s master drew out her breath. Everything had to be perfect.

  A flower arrangement rested on a pedestal in the room. She had tended it as well as she had tended the outside. She scratched her head as she surveyed the room. Everything was in place.

  A rap on the frame drew her attention. It was time.

  She went to the door and dropped to her knees, opening it two-thirds of the way and bowing, then opening it completely.

  “Welcome, Nobuhiro. Thank you for coming.”

  Nobuhiro climbed the steps and entered, depending on his right leg as he did so. He had likely made the steps to assist her father. “It is my pleasure.”

  He wore a simple blue kimono, one without stains from his work. He probably saved it for guests. She wore a light green kimono decorated with flowers. It had belonged to Haru. Her mother had thought it appropriate. Would he like the way she looked?

  He gestured outside. “You did wonderful work on the garden. Your parents must be appreciative.”

  “I’m humbled by your approval, but I only did my duty. I was inspired when I noticed the plants in front of the house sprouting new life. Life brings more life. I felt I should support it. Please sit.”

  Nobuhiro glanced away and then smiled back at her. Family obligation mattered. She had proved her loyalty to him. It had taken too long.

  “Your mother is getting out again, more than just shopping. Your presence has been soothing for her and your father.”

  Sen tilted her head. “That is good to hear. Is that the only thing?”

  Nobuhiro’s cheeks reddened. “I . . . I . . . I admit I have enjoyed seeing you as well.”

  Sitting on her knees, Sen handed a mochi to Nobuhiro, who nodded and accepted it. She then reached for the ladle, pouring a scoop of hot water into the chawan, the serving bowl. She grasped the whisk and stirred slowly, checking its tines as she did. Her right hand trembled, and so did her breath. She placed the whisk aside, then picked up the chawan, tilting and rotating it so that the warm water could warm the bowl. Drops of water jumped from the bowl and landed on the mat.

  Nobuhiro reached out his hand and placed it under hers, grasping her hand and wrist. His gentle, steady touch calmed her. “There is no reason to be nervous.”

  She stared into his brown eyes, eyes that had never wavered in their love. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Omi told me that your father trained you in tea ceremony and that your father was trained by Sen no Rikyu.”

  Nobuhiro smiled and rubbed her arm, sending heat through her frame. “Yes, I met the tea master twice when I was a child. He has a teacher’s manner. He is a great man, but even he would be impressed by your care. He preached simplicity. You are adhering to that.”

  Her cheeks warmed at his comment and she discarded the water into a separate bowl. Time to make the tea.

  She placed one and a half scoops of bitter green tea into the chawan. Then, she ladled more hot water into the bowl and mixed it with the whisk, creating a green froth. It matched the churning in her stomach. She loved Nobuhiro. If he would have her as his wife, she would agree.

  She handed the serving bowl to Nobuhiro, who took it in his right hand. Her fingers stiffened as he turned it three times so that the flower on the bowl faced her and then drank it, finishing with a slurp.

  Sen smiled and sat back on her feet as the weight in her stomach dissipated. He liked it.

  He turned the bowl, then handed it back to her, brushing her fingers as he did so. Again, her heart pounded in her chest. Waves of heat shot through her arm and went to her face. Would his touch always feel the same?

  “I was flattered by your invitation, but why did you go to this much trouble?”

  “Because of the fire. You have done everything for me and my family. Yet I doubted you. My faith was weak when it should have been strong.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “You were right, Nobuhiro. You were right. I’ve let Lord Akamatsu’s commands blind me to my duty to my family. I understand that I’m supposed to be here. I took irresponsible chances. I placed my parents and you in danger.”

  “From what I see, you’ve learned your duty. You’ve begun to look after your parents.”

  Sen rubbed her neck as her body shook and then steadied. “But I didn’t at first. Back in Haibara, so many died, but I was spared. Those people had families, too. They did not get to return home. To their parents. To their children. None ever saw them alive again. Why did I deserve better?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Is that why you took the chances you did? You acted as if you wanted to die yourself.”

  Sen glanced down and said nothing as her chest tightened. Her eyes held back tears as she shook her head. Her dry throat choked her words.

  “At least you will get to share it with them,” Nobuhiro continued. “My father’s seppuku is tomorrow night. There is so much more I could have learned from him, time I could have spent with him. You still have time. More than I.”

  Sen moved closer. Nobuhiro would soon know grief. If only she could be there to support him. “I want to come home.”

  His eyes opened wide. “That would be wonderful. You should do it.”

  “I cannot. Not yet. Your brothers are protecting me. What if there are others besides Michiba?”

  Nobuhiro squeezed her hand. “I can protect you. My brothers know this. My father knows this. Else, you would not be here. You can leave your position. You can come home.”

  Sen smiled. “It will take some time. I will work with Omi on the matter. She has a new position at the castle, but she can talk with your brothers.”

  “Please give them some time. My brothers will not be ready to discuss this so close to Father’s ceremony. After a couple of weeks have passed and all family duties have been addressed, then that will be the time.”

  She inched her face closer to his. “Nobuhiro, I’m ready to become the dutiful daughter I should be. If my parents approve, I know a way to extend the family, if someone will have me.”

  Nobuhiro smiled and leaned forward, planting a kiss on her lips. It was sweeter than before. A kiss to carry forward.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nobuhiro entered the barn close to Uji’s house and tied up his spotted horse. He was thankful his neighbor had let him borrow it again. He didn’t look forward to walking back after his father’s ceremony. Master Goami and his wife would be asleep before he got home. He didn’t wish to wake them.
Three other horses, two brown and one white, were already there, including Toshi’s. However, Uji’s horse was noticeably absent. Nobuhiro stepped back outside. The moon had waned to less than half but still lit up the ground on the clear night.

  A light breeze blew across his face as he walked along the path that led to the front door. The stoop spread across the narrow front of the house. Shrubbery flanked both sides. It was well manicured. Uji’s wife kept the place looking neat. Nobuhiro would have enjoyed seeing her again but knew she wouldn’t be here this evening.

  His stomach growled, but he ignored it. He had tried to eat dinner earlier but found he had no appetite. His dream had been to reconcile with his father on his own terms.

  How regrettable that true reconciliation would not occur until the day of his father’s death.

  He rapped on the doorframe. It slid open to reveal Toshi. His usual smile gone. “Where’s Uji?”

  Toshi glanced over him and down the road. “I don’t know. He was to follow me within a few minutes after I left the castle. He should’ve been here over thirty minutes ago.”

  Nobuhiro licked his lips. “Where’s Father?”

  Toshi exhaled slowly. “He is meditating alone. He asked that we enter after all of us had arrived.”

  Nobuhiro nodded but said nothing, rubbing his waist to stem his unease. Rapid hoofbeats thumped along the dirt road from the left side. He and Toshi turned to see Uji approach.

  Uji brought his horse to a stop and dismounted, tying it to a post on the stoop. He ran to the door. “Where’s Father?”

  “Inside,” Toshi said. “When I left him, he was kneeling in front of Mother’s shrine. He’s been there since I arrived. What kept you?”

  Uji glanced back at his horse and then jerked his head toward the entrance. “We need to talk. All of us.”

  ###

  Sen lay on her back on the futon, worn out from the day’s activities. Omi had been promoted to supervision over the mistress’s kimonos, a lofty position, and had brought Sen with her. Sen welcomed the change. Still, Omi began her work day before dawn and expected the same from those working under her. Sen needed sleep. Omi would have her up even earlier tomorrow.