Toru: Wayfarer Returns (Sakura Steam Series Book 1)

by Stephanie R. Sorensen

  Lord Tōmatsu bowed thanks for the compliment. “Please forgive our plain country food. We are so far from the center of things, we cannot offer you the delicacies found in the capital.”

  Kato took a sip of saké, nodding slowly as though considering the merits of Edo cuisine.

  A silence had fallen in the full hall, as Lord Aya’s and Lord Tōmatsu’s men watched the formal dance of diplomatic discussion. The presence of an emissary from the Shogun’s Council, a senior aide to rōjū shuza Chief Presiding Councilor Abe Masahiro himself, was a unique occurrence in all their memories. Such high-ranking bureaucrats did not travel so far to the west, not in person. Rather the lords of the west were summoned to Edo, the eastern capital.

  As they disembarked from the train, no one had missed the sight of Kato’s escort of fifty armed men either, settled into their camp outside Lord Tōmatsu’s gate. Were their lords to be arrested? Should they defend their lords from this visitor from the Shogun’s court? His men were outside, fully armed, while they were inside, without weapons, as is customary within a lord’s hall.

  “I’m curious about this great iron engine you have constructed. After you have refreshed yourselves from your journey, perhaps you will offer me a tour?” said Kato, breaking the silence. “As you know, my lord Abe is interested in rangaku Dutch studies and the technology of the foreign barbarians. He wishes to learn from you how this machinery works. I saw with my own eyes its power, as it drew all the carts full of your lordships, your men, your baggage and your horses. Impressive.”

  Lord Aya bowed low. “I would be honored to show it to you. Many flaws remain—we are struggling still with the design and our casting methods. But it does work, after a fashion. You have seen its strength.” He bowed again and then pressed forward with a bold comment. “It is our humble hope we might assist the Lord Shogun in strengthening the realm through the use of these technologies.”

  This drew the whistling sharp intake of breath indicating thoughtful consideration from Kato. “Yes, these technologies, they are powerful. The powerful and the new, such things can create fear, you must understand.” He paused before continuing, as though debating within himself. “As our time is short, I will speak frankly. Our lord Shogun, Defender of the Realm, is not pleased with the news of your foreign engine. He is most curious…as to how you came by the design. He would inquire of you why your sudden activities have so…consumed you. Much travel, much building, much activity in what was once such a…quiet and peaceful place. These steps…you have taken…without the usual consultations. Most irregular.”

  Lord Tōmatsu opened his mouth to speak. Kato held up his hand to silence him. Lady Tōmatsu hovered by the door, pretending to supervise servants carrying food and saké to the men.

  “Say nothing here. Many eyes and ears follow you closely. But listen well. Our Lord Shogun is not pleased. I am here, though, not at his request…but under strict command of my Lord Abe, chief councilor to the Shogun. My lord has sent his own men to escort you safely to Edo and protect you from any…untoward…actions from men loyal to the Shogun. He has many young men in his service, hotheaded young men who might act…hastily…in their desire to please their lord. You will need to meet with the Shogun yourselves and explain your activities. My lord cannot prevent the meeting for you.” Kato bowed low. “Nor can he determine its outcome.” When he spoke, he raised his voice loud and commanding, an echo of the commander he had been as a young man in Lord Abe’s father’s service. “At my Lord Abe’s command, I will see you safely to Edo.” Kato’s gaze met and held Lady Tōmatsu’s gaze in his own across the hall. She broke eye contact first and fled the room.

  Kato leaned in close to Lord Tōmatsu. He whispered, “Sir, your wife has betrayed you and sent word through her brother to the Shogun that you rebel against his rule. You must be watchful at all times, in front of her and any men with you who are loyal to her clan. My lord Abe is in sympathy with your intentions and goals, for he agrees with you on the imminence of the foreign threat…and the need to improve our technology. But he cannot save you from the Shogun alone. He can protect you for the journey, but once in Edo, you will need to convince the Shogun himself of the purity of your intentions. Or die a traitor’s death.”

  1852 Winter

  CHAPTER 10

  TŌKAIDŌ

  “There ain’t no journey what don’t change you some.”

  – David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

  The journey to Edo and the waiting Shogun from Lord Tōmatsu’s domain took several weeks. First was a short trip of four days to Kyoto, where the Emperor lived in quiet seclusion. Never appearing outside his shadowy court, the mysterious ruler lived out his days surrounded by nobles of ancient houses in service to the Imperial family for centuries.

  The procession had to travel slowly, as there was no train line yet to Kyoto. Lady Tōmatsu and Masuyo and their ladies had to be carried in their norimono palanquins by bearers on foot. Their group made an impressive sight, with Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu leading the way, accompanied by Kato. Along with the hundreds of samurai under their commands, cooks, grooms, bearers and other servants filled out the ranks of the procession.

  The lords rode with impressive solemnity, faces impassive, and their men likewise, slowly winding along the narrow country tracks that passed for roads in this less developed part of the country. Such processions were common in Edo and in Kyoto, but as they passed through the countryside on the way to Kyoto, whole towns turned out to watch them pass. Over two hundred armed samurai on horseback protected the lords, between Kato’s escort and Lord Tōmatsu’s men.

  Lord Aya had brought just a handful of men to protect Masuyo while the remainder of his men remained at home, guarding his lands in his absence. His retainer Obata led this small guard, and kept Tōru and Takamori hidden from the observant eyes of Kato and his chief commanders.

  Once they reached Kyoto, they found their way through the bustling narrow streets full of merchants and travelers to the ryokan where they intended to lodge during their time in Kyoto, a planned several days to refresh themselves before the two week journey along the Tōkaidō coastal road to Edo. Kato warned them to be cautious and guarded, and never to walk about the streets unarmed or alone. He himself was in a constant state of alertness, watching faces and hands and weapons. Lord Tōmatsu did not seem to notice or care, but Kato’s vigilance made Lord Aya uneasy.

  The ryokan’s proprietor hastened to assist the lords and warriors with stabling their horses in his vast stable. His servants escorted the samurai to the barracks-like rooms where they would be staying while the lords and ladies stayed at the ryokan proper. He bowed nearly to the ground in his eagerness to please the prosperous and well-armed group.

  Once the women were safely settled and the lords seen to their rooms, Obata and Sugieda led Tōru, Takamori and a dozen of Lord Tōmatsu’s and Lord Aya’s men to the market to purchase supplies for their journey.

  “It would be safer if you went in the morning, with a larger group,” said Kato, when he saw them assemble to leave.

  “We still have an hour of light, and the streets are full. No one will bother a dozen armed men.” Sugieda bowed to Kato. “Do not worry, my lord. We will be watchful.”

  Tōru had visited most of the major cities of America, but never Kyoto, the ancient capital of his own people. Merchants called welcome “O-koshi-yasu!” Near Gion, the red-light district they passed on the way to the market, lower ranked geiko and their servants running errands tottered by on their tall okobo, swaying in a manner the group of young samurai found most appealing.

  “Stay alert!” Obata growled a warning and steered the young men away from the area they found so tempting. Tōru, less distracted by the geiko than the others, still found his eyes darting not from alleyway to doorway watching for enemies but from shop to shrine to temple as each new shiny attraction presented itself. Every corner boasted its own Shinto shrine or Buddhist temple, surrounded by merchants selling fine lacquerware, pott
ery, omiage, silks, tea, and every other imaginable good.

  Maintaining proper military awareness seemed unnecessary under the assault of riotous color, rich scents, sing-song calls of the merchants, the distant pounding of drums and bells at the thousands of temples and shrines. Tōru relaxed and let himself take it all in, for how could there be danger in such a crowded and festive place? Just as he was pointing out to Takamori the border of the imperial park, a blow shattered the festive excursion.

  Aoki, one of Lord Aya’s men who had been walking alongside Tōru to his left, suddenly crumpled and fell to the ground. Tōru had barely noted Aoki’s fall before a black clad and masked man was suddenly in his face, dagger flashing. Instinctively he ducked. He whirled away and drew his own katana with a smooth unbroken gesture, as he shouted, “Attackers!” to his companions.

  Takamori was struggling with another fighter to his right, dagger on dagger in a close-in grip. Obata and Sugieda shouted commands to their men as a wave of warriors burst out of an alleyway in the dimming light and fell upon the group. The other men formed up in a loose circle, backing each other up as the black wave washed over them.

  Tōru took down his own attacker with two swift blows, messy awkward blows, not elegant strikes like his sessions with Obata, but workmanlike slashes sufficient to leave the man motionless and bleeding on the dusty ground. He leapt to shield Takamori from a second fighter bearing down on his friend from behind. Their own opponents down, Tōru and Takamori joined their companions in loose formation, methodically taking down attackers one by one.

  No solo heroics, no glorious one-on-five battles, just precise and powerful brutal bloody blows focused on the skillful dancing enemies whirling around them, darting forward to pierce and wound and then slipping back to attack again.

  Tōru and Takamori teamed up, grunting warnings to each other as they protected their fellows and bore down on the dark devils one at a time, leaving them bleeding in the dirt.

  The group formed a knot around Aoki, their fallen companion. Yamagata fell too, when he foolishly turned his back to the alley as he circled an enemy. A masked enemy burst out of the dim alley and slashed his neck, stopping him mid-step as he crumpled and fell to meet Aoki. He was the last to fall, though, as Obata, Sugieda, Tōru and Takamori and the other men gradually overwhelmed and defeated their attackers.

  It was hard, sweaty work.

  Tōru’s arms grew weary as the companions fought for endless long minutes against men as skilled as themselves but twice their number. Finally it was over. They could stop to breathe, gasping huge gulps of air as they stood, gathered around their fallen companion, hyper-alert now, watching for another wave of attackers from the street or the alleyway. What had seemed moments before to be an endless fight was now but a moment that had flickered like the flash of a rifle in the night.

  It was dark now, or as dark as it gets in a bustling city, where every merchant hangs out his lantern. Obata sliced the black garment on the breast of one of the fallen enemies to reveal the mon crest beneath. The three hollyhock leaves of the Tokugawa clan gleamed up at him in the flickering light of a nearby merchant’s lantern. He spat. “The Shogun’s men. Or someone wants us to believe so. Or are they arrogant enough to reveal themselves deliberately this way?” He motioned to the squad to get Aoki and Yamagata before police and other authorities arrived, and led them back the way they had come, bearing their wounded and fallen with them swiftly in the dusk.

  At the ryokan inn, Masuyo and Lady Tōmatsu and their ladies were ushered inside to the women’s wing by the bowing wife of the proprietor. Masuyo’s room was next door to Lady Tōmatsu’s room. As serving girls knelt to slide open the doors for the two noblewomen and their ladies carried in their traveling trunks, Masuyo bowed to the older woman.

  “I trust your journey was comfortable, Lady Tōmatsu?” she inquired politely. They had no opportunity to speak together much along the road, traveling as they did in their individual norimonos, shielded from the prying eyes of the townspeople they passed along the way. The regal noblewoman still intimidated the young girl. Masuyo had made up her mind to overcome her fears and connect, if she could, with Lady Tōmatsu.

  “Ah yes, indeed, thank you. And you found the journey not tiring?” Lady Tōmatsu’s reply, while perfectly correct and courteous, was delivered with a stiff smile under cold eyes. Masuyo would rather die than complain, but riding in the norimono was a jarring, hot, cramped torture she had endured for four days. But then, so had Lady Tōmatsu. Masuyo wished she could ride out in the open fresh air like the men, but knew her father would never permit such a scandalous action. Her joy at being able to stretch her limbs at last found its way into her reply.

  “Oh no, I found it quite exciting! I’ve not traveled beyond my father’s domain before, so to see Kyoto at last, where His Highness our Emperor and His court live, and to enjoy all the towns along the way…I cannot be tired, for there is so much to see!” Masuyo’s nervousness and youth made her run on with awkward enthusiasm. She slowed to silence, embarrassed at her outburst and bowed deeply to the other woman. Lady Tōmatsu inclined her head the slightest bit, as her ladies carried her boxes into her room.

  “So you’ve not been to Edo, then. Poor child, to have no experience in the capital. It’s a shame your father has not seen to your education more suitably. Letting you run about like this—”

  Masuyo flushed at the insult, and involuntarily looked down at her best traveling kimono, which had been fashionable when her mother wore it a generation ago. She could not summon a suitable reply but bowed to hide the anger in her eyes.

  The grand dame continued her faux sympathy.

  “I suppose it is not your father’s fault. I’m certain he wants the best for you. Men simply do not grasp the details we women must master to present ourselves properly. I would be happy to introduce you to some kimono makers and jewelers of quality when we reach Edo. My husband informs me we have no time to shop here in Kyoto. Such a shame. The southern textiles are the finest in all Japan. But do not fret. We can work on your attire properly once we reach Edo.”

  “I would be much obliged,” managed Masuyo, knowing the invitation was not intended to be accepted. She vowed to herself she would rather be kidnapped by foreign pirates and taken to America than be taken on a humiliating shopping trip with the snake-like Lady Tōmatsu.

  To Masuyo’s surprise, the older woman waved off her servants, who had arranged her room for her during the brief conversation with Masuyo. “Very well, thank you. To your rooms, and the baths, now, with all of you. I’ll join you later after I rest.” Lady Tōmatsu continued, “Masuyo-sama, perhaps your ladies would like to join mine?” Masuyo nodded to her ladies that they too could go.

  “Come, have some tea with me,” commanded Lady Tōmatsu, indicating Masuyo should join her in her room. Masuyo dutifully bowed and took her seat at the low table in Lady Tōmatsu’s spare but elegant room. Lady Tōmatsu poured steaming green ocha into Masuyo’s cup, and then her own. She placed tiny artfully decorated sweets on a small wooden plate. “Please, help yourself.”

  Masuyo bowed thanks and picked up her tea cup, hiding her eyes as she bent to take a tiny sip of the steaming fragrant ocha. She was thrown off-balance by the attention from this woman who had so repeatedly made clear her scorn for Masuyo herself, and for her father. Tomboy, inventor and budding scientist though Masuyo was, she was also a woman of good breeding and education, exquisitely attuned to social cues appropriate to her birth and class. She was anxious not to embarrass her beloved father with social disgrace by offending the higher-ranking lady. What did Lady Tōmatsu want? The answer was not long in coming.

  “I hear your father has elevated the fisherman to be a samurai.” Lady Tōmatsu paused to unwrap a delicately paper-wrapped tiny sweet. She popped it whole into her mouth, rudely eating before her guest as though Masuyo were a lowly servant. Masuyo said nothing as she frantically considered and rejected possible replies. She sensed danger for Tōru with he
r whole body.

  “How awkward it must be! Forced into the company of a man of such low birth. Your father should not embarrass his house or shame you this way.” Protests rose up in Masuyo. She knew how intelligent and educated and resourceful Tōru was. She knew her father was proud of Tōru, even though he himself had protested Lord Shimazu’s request to elevate him.

  “Himasaki…he is a skilled swordsman,” she stammered by way of defense. A samurai was, after all, a soldier at the end of the day, and Tōru was undeniably good with his weapons. She instinctively knew discussing his other talents, and his experience with the Americans, was not safe for Tōru. On her guard, Masuyo resolved to reveal nothing harmful to her father or dear Tōru.

  “Swordsman! Anyone can flash a blade around. A samurai is more than his swords. Your father ought to know better, a man of his background.” Lady Tōmatsu sniffed. Energized by her little speech, she unwrapped a second sweet, impolitely gluttonous, as her guest had yet to touch a first sweet. She waved one at Masuyo. “There, child, have one, please.”

  Masuyo bowed thanks and slowly reached for a sweet, unwrapping it with undue care, stalling for time. As she pulled back each delicate corner of the fine paper wrapping, she pondered how to reply. She could not contradict the older higher-ranking woman. Lies would be punished. Information about Tōru would be shared with the wrong ears. What to say? How to respond? Insipid courtesy provided a way out, as it often does. She struck her blow.

  “How exciting to see the capital! I am sure Lord Tōmatsu maintains a beautiful estate in Edo. Are you looking forward to being there?” For all its girlish breathlessness, it was a masterful series of strokes. She had offered her opponent an opportunity to be condescending about Masuyo’s lesser experience outside her hometown that Lady Tōmatsu could hardly resist. She had made a compliment that must be countered with a humble denial of any beauty in her husband’s estate even by the higher-ranking woman. And she had asked a question demanding a polite and affirmative reply, for no loyal subject of the Shogun could deny any joy at visiting the capital. Lady Tōmatsu would have to fight through three thickets of conversational bracken just to return to her line of inquiry about Tōru. Anything could happen in the meantime to save Masuyo from further grilling.