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

by Walt Mussell

  Something had happened in the castle that evening. Yet she still didn’t know what it was. Servants had gone about their duties with their eyes more downcast than usual. The samurai walked together, speaking in hushed tones as if they feared being overheard. What was happening? She asked some of the attendants, but none of them knew. It wasn’t her place to ask the samurai. Even if it were Nobuhiro’s brothers or Nishioji, she couldn’t overstep that boundary.

  Instead, she tried to ignore it. When it was appropriate for her to know, she would know. She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep. Her nerves, however, remained on edge. She gently massaged her temples. Nothing. She clasped her hands and pressed against her stomach. Nothing. Something nagged at her. Something seemed wrong. Something raised her suspicion.

  Omi had yet to arrive. Sen had laid out her futon for her. Maybe they could talk when she arrived. Maybe sleep might help. What question was still unanswered?

  ###

  Nobuhiro and his brothers entered the back room at Uji’s house, the room that housed their mother’s shrine. The back doors of the room were open, showing a yard lit by torches. Their mother had enjoyed sitting out back on warm evenings. The location for this gathering was appropriate.

  Father knelt in front of the shrine, his right side to his sons. He wore a white kimono, the folds of which reached the floor and covered his legs. Over the kimono, he wore an off-white kataginu. The garment’s stiff shoulders made him appear regal.

  A long, thin stick of incense burned on the altar. Nearby lay a short sword on a small, flat wooden platform. Their father’s best sword, a katana with a dragon’s head on the scabbard, lay on a pillow. A bucket of water and a wooden cup on a long stick sat outside the rear door. Everything was ready.

  “Michiba’s dead,” Uji said.

  Their father cocked his head slightly. Yet his eyes remained on the ornate, dark brown wooden memorial. “I’m not surprised. Wasn’t he searched when he was arrested?”

  Uji moved to his father’s side and bowed low. “He was. Somehow, he got a small sword. We do not know how it happened.”

  “It’s not important. Lord Kinoshita could have ordered one tossed in to rid the castle of the problem. He admitted his guilt. No reason to delay justice.”

  Uji cleared his throat. “Agreed, but he slit his own throat.”

  Their father stood up. His kimono shifted, revealing a black hakama that stretched from his waist to his ankles. He stared at all three of them, his eyes wide open. “That doesn’t make sense. Two dead retainers. Both cut their throats instead of slashing their stomachs.”

  Uji nodded. “I agree. There is no logic to these actions.”

  “How about the lack of a second?” Nobuhiro asked. “After all, the traditional way is painful.”

  Toshi shook his head. “Impossible. It’s not the samurai way. There must be another reason.”

  “It’s not the first strange thing,” Uji said.

  Their father stared at Uji. “What do you mean?”

  Uji turned to Nobuhiro. “Nobu, do you remember what you told me after the arrow attack?”

  He thought for a second. “I said I was lucky because the shot was high.”

  “High?” Father asked. “Michiba was the best shot. That would suggest he missed on purpose. Why?”

  ###

  Kaiken paced the castle grounds, hoping for solitude in the darkness. Solitude offered little in the way of solace.

  Once they were seven and they created terror.

  Now Kaiken was the only one.

  Just Kaiken.

  Captured, Michiba had confessed. Now he was dead by his own hand.

  Michiba, the most loyal of all, had saved Kaiken from that traitor Kitayama. Michiba had noticed Kitayama’s hesitations, his conversations with Tokoda, his second thoughts and brought them to Kaiken.

  Then, Michiba, following Kaiken’s orders, had addressed the traitor.

  Poison was no way for a samurai to die, but Kitayama had no longer deserved a samurai’s death.

  Now Michiba was dead, too. The Carpenter had disappeared and was useless. Solitude was the only result.

  The revelation of Nishioji’s faith at the fire would bring comments. Maybe there were others who would voice their displeasure at these Christians. There was time, time to pull back and recruit.

  Images of Michiba’s lifeless body flashed through Kaiken’s mind, the blood pooling from his neck and congealing.

  Boar snouts! The neck! Michiba? You betrayed me, too?

  A silent rage exploded within Kaiken’s chest. Michiba used his death to send a message. Like Funaki. Would the Tokodas understand?

  Did it matter?

  Did anything?

  Kyara. Curse me for a fool as well.

  Even if the Tokodas remained unaware, the swordsmith’s daughter would soon figure it out. She must.

  Kaiken must leave. Tonight. The brothers were away, attending their idiot father’s seppuku. It was fortuitous timing.

  Kaiken’s life was over.

  No chance to say goodbye to Toshi.

  No chance for one last shared moment of love.

  No chance for one last night as a woman.

  She would flee tonight to Kyoto to see her master. There was no other option. She might be required to pay the ultimate sacrifice. It was no matter. Death in the service of one’s lord was the highest hope for any samurai, even if it came at the lord’s command.

  Yet before Kaiken’s death, one more Christian would die tonight.

  ###

  Their father’s question rolled around in Nobuhiro’s head. He was right. There was something missing. Some detail they had overlooked. Sen and Omi were attacked by the archer. Sen and Omi were attacked by Michiba in town. Sen and Omi were attacked at the church. His chest tightened. “Father, maybe it’s a message.”

  Silence fell, the void filled only with the buzzing of nearby flies and the chirping of nighttime insects attracted to the light outside. Light sweat trickled down Nobuhiro’s face. His undershirt was damp already, owing to the hot night.

  His father nodded, his eyes showing interest. “Continue.”

  “It’s something I remember Sen mentioning earlier about the attack in town.”

  “You’re just telling us now?” His father stepped closer, unblinking. His breath singed Nobuhiro’s face. It made the night heat seem cool by comparison.

  He drew himself up to his full height and inched closer to his father. “I am responsible for my own actions. You questioned her first. I assumed she had told you.”

  His father eyed him. “Continue.”

  “Before she fell unconscious, she said she thought she smelled honey and plum on the attacker.”

  “On Michiba?” his father asked. “Only a woman would wear such fragrances.”

  “Not always,” Uji said. “However, it wouldn’t be on purpose. For a man to have that scent indicates recent company with a woman.”

  “You can be plainer than that,” retorted his father. “It could just mean Michiba visited a prostitute before the attack. Nobuhiro, are you suggesting something more?”

  He nodded. “Perhaps it means there is another member of this conspiracy, other than Funaki and Michiba. Both used a woman’s method of suicide. Maybe a woman is involved. Behind the scenes.”

  Father pursed his lips. “Possibly. Toshi, you’ve been silent for a while. What is your opinion?”

  Toshi stared into space, not looking at any of them. His face radiated death. “My opinion is that I’ve been a fool.”

  ###

  Sen lay her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. Thoughts of the attack in the marketplace swam through her mind.

  “Probably a good idea, let’s get—Aiiih!” Omi crumpled to the ground.

  A flash of movement in the dark startled Sen. She turned. A masked man stood in front of her. He raised his arm as if to strike. She lifted her hands to block the blow. He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head in one vi
se-like hand.

  “Let me go. What do you want?”

  “You,” the man replied as he struck her on the right temple.

  Pain rushed to her forehead. Her knees buckled. She fell forward. Her world turned dark. Fabric ripped. She crashed to the ground. The impact shot pain through her knees. She smelled honey, plum, and . . . kyara.

  Sen sat up from her futon. Heat surged through her body, erasing her grogginess. She looked at Omi’s usual spot, but the bedroll was empty. Where had she gone? No time to think about that now. She had to find Nobuhiro’s father or brothers, offer her lowest bow, and tell them everything.

  She rose, stepping softly as she exited the room. She looked both ways at the door but saw no one coming. Turning right, she walked quickly, the floor squeaking with every step. The men, if they were back yet, would be in another building. She would have to cross the grounds. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run into Omi before then. She knew too much. Omi would recognize that.

  Sen turned a corner in the hall. The building’s exit was in sight. Her steps quickened. Her pulse raced.

  A sliding door made her look back. A hand grabbed her throat and pulled her back. She gagged. No scream.

  The door closed behind her. The hand on her throat relaxed but didn’t release.

  An arm slid across her chest and held her arms against her sides. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

  Cold metal found her neck and dug just under the skin right at one of her scars. A warning.

  Omi whispered in her ear. “No talking. No screams. Or your parents and your precious Nobuhiro will die.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nobuhiro stared at Toshi, whose face grew red. Omi’s treachery. He wanted to support his brother.

  He wanted to find Sen. She was still in danger.

  “Uji.” Toshi’s voice carried an edge. “Your hachimaki. It is needed.”

  Uji reached underneath his kimono and withdrew a thin, white piece of cloth. He offered it to Toshi, who shook his head and then angled it toward Nobuhiro. Uji turned toward his youngest brother, walked over, and held the hachimaki out to him. “Your time, little brother.”

  Nobuhiro took the thin fibrous cloth and rubbed it in his fingers. He glanced at Toshi, who took out his own hachimaki and wrapped the cloth around his scalp, finishing it with a knot behind his head.

  Nobuhiro followed suit, tying Uji’s around his own head. The feel of the knot on the back of his head cleared his thoughts. He now possessed only one goal.

  Uji removed his two swords and held them out to Nobuhiro. “You will need these.”

  Their father held up his hand, his face a mixture of solemnity and pride. “No.” He walked over to where his own swords both lay, picked up the blades, and offered them to Nobuhiro. He licked his lips. “Take mine.”

  Nobuhiro grasped both swords, holding the hilts in each hand.

  He had grasped swords before in his life. Only now, wielding them with a purpose, did he grasp the honor of doing so.

  He placed them crosswise in the belt he wore and then bowed to his father. His father returned the gesture and Nobuhiro’s heart grew in stature. He locked eyes with Toshi and each nodded. “It is time.”

  ###

  “Stop struggling. You’ll only make me use more pressure,” Omi said.

  Sen inhaled and caught a whiff of kyara, the same scent she had noticed earlier at the bathhouse. She fought a little longer but knew she was powerless against the much stronger Omi, who had been trained as a samurai. She gave up the struggle.

  “That’s good,” Omi said. “It will make things easier. You’re not going to die . . . yet, but you will.”

  Omi relaxed her grip, allowing Sen to turn. She looked into Omi’s eyes. They radiated cold, like the gray steel of a blade. The warmth that showed during what Sen thought was their friendship was no longer there. The true Omi had taken her place.

  Omi had used her.

  Omi held Sen’s arm tightly, removing the blade from her neck and waving it in front of her eyes. It sported a drop of red. Her own blood.

  “Your own blood shouldn’t scare you. Didn’t you see enough of it back at Lord Akamatsu’s castle in Haibara? Now let’s go. Slowly.” Omi’s voice was as sharp as the blade. “Not a word from you until we’re outside. Do you understand?”

  Sen flinched her head and swallowed hard.

  “Good. Time to go.” Omi turned Sen around and placed her hand over Sen’s mouth. The knife once again pressed against her neck. She stiffened, afraid to breathe lest the blade go deeper.

  “Slide the door open,” Omi said.

  Sen complied and the two of them stepped into the hall. They walked slowly through the exit into the open air. There was no one in sight, but guards must be patrolling nearby. If only she could find them. She needed to get Omi to talk. To waste time. To relax her guard. “Why?” Sen tried to say with her mouth muffled.

  “Why what?” Omi sneered. “Why am I doing this or why did I pretend to be your friend?”

  “Mhoth.”

  “Both, huh? I guess you deserve the answer. I did it for duty.”

  “Mhat mhuty?”

  “Can’t understand you. I’ll lower my hand, but no sudden moves. Remember, it’s the only way your parents and Nobuhiro stay alive.” Omi lowered her hand, but the respite was short-lived, as Sen’s arm was jerked hard. Omi stayed behind her, holding Sen’s left arm in a crooked position that guaranteed she couldn’t move. The knife was still at her throat.

  ###

  Nobuhiro and Toshi galloped toward the castle. Each one bent down to increase his pace.

  “Where do you think they’ll be?” Nobuhiro shouted.

  “We’ll check the women’s quarters first.”

  They slowed their horses to a trot as they arrived at the gate. Toshi signaled the guards. “Arrest Moto Omi on sight. Let everyone know.” The guards nodded and allowed the brothers to pass.

  Nobuhiro’s stomach clenched with nervousness. Hopefully, Sen was safe. If she was hurt, he didn’t know what he would do.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Omi stared at Sen and smiled. “Good girl. You’ve listened well.”

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “No. You didn’t.”

  “Why are you doing this? What did you mean by duty?”

  A smug look crossed Omi’s face. “The regent fears this new religion. When he took Kyushu last year, he saw how many converts there were and it frightened him. It’s why he banned it. Here, the emperor is a god. Citizens don’t need to look elsewhere, especially not to some foreign land.”

  “But he’s not killing Christians. He only required that they renounce their faith. He hasn’t done anything publicly since the castle and the destruction of the church in Kyoto. Lord Akamatsu served him well. He was not a threat.”

  Omi cackled and threw back her head. “No, but he was convenient. There is one who believes in a more aggressive stance. The Christians are first. Himeji is only one place, but there are many groups in other places. My master will restore the nation to true beliefs. There remains but one missing piece and then the nation will return to the only way.”

  Sen breathed in huffs. “Christians are peaceful.” She tried to turn but felt the sharp edge dig into her skin.

  Omi flipped her around and stared with an unblinking gaze, her face curled up in grim delight. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “The most peaceful person is a dead one.”

  Unable to look away, Sen listened intently, hoping for something that might draw Omi’s attention. Nothing. Only the rustle of wind. Where were the internal sentries? One should pass soon. “When did you realize I knew?”

  “A whiff of kyara on my clothes reminded me that you had noticed the scent at the bathhouse. I remembered it being on Michiba when he locked us in the warehouse.”

  Sen shook her head. “Why did you plan that? Why the arrow attack?”

  “I was worried you wouldn’t trust me enough when you f
ound your church. People who’ve endured harrowing situations together grow a bond. I created one.” Satisfaction covered Omi’s face, the satisfaction of control.

  Sen slowed her breathing. “So, Michiba and Funaki felt the same way about Christians you do?”

  “They said they did, but they were indifferent. Besides, they’re men.” She rolled her tongue around her lips. “I was able to persuade them in other ways.”

  Chills coursed through Sen. “That explains why Michiba had your scent on him.”

  Omi’s nose wrinkled. “The fool should have bathed.”

  “You’re disgusting and pathetic.” Sen’s face tightened as feelings of hate rose inside her.

  “As if I care about your opinion.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Omi smiled. Her expression resembled a cat ready to pounce on a bird. “Where else? The well. It’s about time poor Okiku had someone to help her count dishes.”

  Sen’s knees shook. What could she do? She just needed one opening. One chance. She closed her eyes and cleared her thoughts, trying to see a way out.

  Lord, please look after Nobuhiro and my parents. Keep them safe. Keep them—

  A slap forced her eyes open. “Prayers to your God won’t help you now.” Omi’s face twisted like her mind. “Your life is in my control.”

  ###

  Toshi closed the door to the women’s quarters in one of the servants’ barracks and stepped back into the hall, shaking his head. “Omi’s not here. Neither is Sen.”

  Nobuhiro glanced down the corridor. “We came in one entrance and didn’t see them. Maybe they went out the other.”

  Toshi nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The two of them exited the building. Nobuhiro watched as his brother moved his head about. He had always thought Toshi could commune with the elements. Today, he depended on that talent. Toshi would sense. Nobuhiro would follow. Toshi would obtain revenge.

  Nobuhiro would save Sen, the daughter of his master.

  The holder of his heart.

  Toshi changed course and started to run, headed in the direction of the well. A grunt escaped his lips as he hit the ground hard.