Toru: Wayfarer Returns (Sakura Steam Series Book 1)

by Stephanie R. Sorensen

  “Yes, my lords, this is his simple message. The Americans are aggressive, they are coming to our shores and time is short to prepare. I have examined his claims in detail. Reluctantly we have concluded the fisherman is correct about foreign intentions and capabilities. We believe his two years spent among the enemy foreigners make him a valuable source of intelligence. Therefore, I ask you, as leaders of this realm, to allow our military officers time with him. I ask a suspension of his sentence of death for three months, together with his companions, while we ensure we have learned from him and from those who have worked so closely with him for over eight months anything we can use in our future battle with the foreigners. If you will grant me this time, I vow to carry out their sentences immediately afterward, and take responsibility for holding him in the meantime. As for Tōmatsu and Aya, we hold their families. I would send them back to their domains to arrange their affairs and then return, upon their oath of honor, at the end of that period. Contingent upon their timely return, their lands and titles will pass to their families and heirs after sentence is carried out. My lords, how shall we proceed?”

  The uproar broke out again. This time Lord Abe and the Shogun sat back and allowed the gathered daimyōs and councilors to argue and debate, to whisper and shout. The prisoners knelt as the noise swirled about them, listening as their fates were discussed as though they were not even in the great hall. Finally the tumult in the great hall quieted down and Lord Abe stood, gesturing to an elderly soldier near the front of the room.

  “General, what do you suggest?” The elderly general stood, aided by nearby companions.

  “My officers wish to learn of the Western technologies from the wretched criminal. We support waiting three months before execution.” He bowed and was helped back down by his colleagues.

  Lord Abe skillfully wove his way around the room, calling out this daimyō and that bureaucrat, this officer and that elder statesman, asking their advice. Nearly all gave him the answer he sought—delay—and those who did not faced a low growl from the gathered room as they put forth their contrarian views. After each lord who mattered, either because of raw power or ceremonial importance, had been thus consulted, Lord Abe turned again to the Shogun, who had remained silent and immobile throughout.

  “My Lord, it is the humble request of this assembled Council and other leaders who have come to consult with us that we delay for three months the execution of the three treasonous and craven criminals while we learn from them and document fully both their crimes and their knowledge. Will you grant us this time?”

  The Shogun narrowed his eyes at his wily Chief Councilor.

  Even Shoguns can be outfoxed by a determined opponent. Today he had lost the battle. Instead of presiding with all due gravity over the just execution of rebels and traitors and ensuring that all the realm knew of his swift and sure enforcement of the sakoku policy, lest any of the rebellious tōzama lords get any ideas about training their shiny new Western guns on Edo, the Shogun was forced into granting the stay. He had no choice but to agree. But he would not be manipulated again, nor allow Abe the opportunity to pressure him thus again in open full Council.

  The Shogun grunted assent.

  As the prisoners were led from the room, and the business of the meeting concluded, Lord Abe watched the slim young fisherman, wondering not for the first time who his father was. He knew the victory he had just won over the Shogun had come at a steep cost, a price that would be exacted from him in the future. He hoped the bet he had just made on young Himasaki and his companions would be worth the price he had just paid. He prayed to the old kami gods and the blessed Buddha he had bought them enough time to prepare the realm for the coming war.

  CHAPTER 12

  LOYALTY

  “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.”

  – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

  Masuyo and Lady Tōmatsu were spending their fourth day together in the capital as they had the first, second and third.

  Shopping.

  Or more precisely, as wealthy Lady Tōmatsu understood the term, commanding purveyors of the finest kimonos, hairpieces, footwear and other ladies’ wear to visit her home and display their offerings. Since the good lady herself already possessed countless luxurious and elegant kimonos, both new and heirloom, and enough fans and hairpins and obis to adorn all the noble women in both the Imperial and Shogunate courts, she devoted her considerable skills in this area to adorning Masuyo.

  Masuyo, for her part, pleaded to be left alone and not be given anything, a plea she repeated with a certain honest vehemence that went beyond the polite demands of enryo restraint. Desperate not to burden her father with frivolous bills or an obligation to respond to generosity he could not reciprocate with his lesser resources, Masuyo begged Lady Tōmatsu not to give her anything.

  But the older woman shrugged off her concerns. “You owe me nothing. Allow me to enjoy making you into the elegant young woman you are meant to be, as I have no daughter of my own, and you have no mother. This is play, and as my guest you must play with me.” And so Masuyo submitted, and reluctantly allowed Lady Tōmatsu free rein. Merchants brought fabrics of light colors and bold designs, suitable for a young woman of rank, the finest silks, heavy and light, crafted by firms that long served the courts of both the Shogun and the Emperor. Others brought in armloads of elegant wools and cottons to lay at Lady Tōmatsu’s feet, secretly imported and sold privately into the highest ranking homes in the land by a network of traders with clandestine ties to the illegal traders to the west.

  By the fourth day, Masuyo possessed a wardrobe in the making rivaling those possessed by any Imperial princess or wife of the highest-ranking daimyōs in the land. The wealthy women of Japan were not flamboyant and showy, that propensity being left more to the working women of the stage and the ukiyo Floating World pleasure districts. But within the bounds of propriety and dignity guiding the respectable woman’s attire, Masuyo’s new wardrobe was a treasure trove of luxury. The task of creating it once all the fabrics had been chosen was farmed out to dozens of seamstresses and craftsmen throughout the most exclusive shops and workrooms in the huge city. No detail was overlooked, from the creation of the delicate under kimonos and footwear, to unique and beautiful hairpins and fans to match each outfit intended for outdoor wear.

  Lady Tōmatsu bestowed upon Masuyo as well an heirloom kimono, of simpler but elegant make in a discreet charcoal gray silk, passed down from her own family. She unwrapped it from its stiff paper and soft silk wrapping, and presented it with some formality to Masuyo, refusing all protests from the girl.

  “You will need this when you are older, on occasions when your goal is to be present and correct but invisible, and not the butterfly catching every eye. My grandmother wore this, and my mother, and I have myself, upon occasion. Please take it, with my best wishes, and may it serve you in those critical times. I have no daughter and shall have none in the future, so please allow me to pass this on to someone who can use and appreciate it.”

  Bowing deeply, helpless against the grand lady’s will, Masuyo humbly thanked her for the lavish gift, and the flood of new items coming her way. After four days in the formidable woman’s company, she no longer found herself quite so overawed. Her fear of Lady Tōmatsu’s sharp tongue and chilly air had softened to a certain wariness mingled with appreciation. She had come to like and admire certain aspects of her hostess. Lady Tōmatsu had a dry sense of humor, and a self-deprecating wit. She liked to eat, and to eat well. She loved literature, and shared with Masuyo as well volumes from her own library of poetry and classical tales. She was a sharp negotiator with the army of merchants she had commanded to descend upon her home. Lady Tōmatsu may not have cared a whit about spending vast sums, but she found great pleasure in ensuring those sums were well spent.

  Masuyo could not believe it at first, but she came to trust the older woman’s sincerity in wanting to dress her. She saw Lady Tōmatsu’s actions came not
from a desire to put her down but from a genuine pleasure in the creativity of the task and a joy in seeing Masuyo at her most lovely. Against her will, by the third or fourth day, Masuyo was enjoying the parade of beautiful silks and seeing herself made as graceful as a court painting.

  Lady Tōmatsu had not asked her again about the fisherman, nor interrogated her about Lord Aya’s activities. Masuyo instinctively understood the furious shopping activity was a defense against the concern both women felt for their men. Masuyo had begun to wonder if she had misinterpreted Lady Tōmatsu’s cool behavior toward Lord Tōmatsu and his guests. Was it just how the highest level of ancient families behaved in public, with perhaps more warmth and affection in private moments?

  Masuyo saw the occasional look of worry cross Lady Tōmatsu’s face in unguarded moments between fittings and animated discussions of the charms and defects of various obi sashes. The sight softened her heart toward Lady Tōmatsu. She realized the grand lady did in fact fear for her husband and the father of her only child, a child born so late in life and therefore doubly precious.

  For her part, Masuyo was frantic with worry about her father. And about Tōru. A messenger had come the first day from Lord Abe’s home, letting the women know the party would be staying at Lord Abe’s “to prepare for the meeting with the Shogun and Council.” Left unclear was whether this stay was voluntary or not. The absence of any messages from Lady Tōmatsu’s husband and Masuyo’s father left them uneasy. It was unlike either of them to be out of touch, when a messenger could bring word in under ten minutes. Masuyo did not allow her mind to rest upon Tōru. If his face rose unbidden in her mind, she whispered “fisherman” to herself, to make him vanish. She realized this had become a near-constant habit for her. She too said nothing of her fears.

  Upon their arrival, Lady Tōmatsu had rushed to her brother’s home, only a few minutes away from her own, sharing with him her concern about her husband’s and Lord Aya’s activities. Her brother had swiftly sent her back to her husband’s home, commanding her to urge him to renounce his defiance of the Shogun or lose his life. She would have made the case, but had not laid eyes on him since he departed for Lord Abe’s compound their first morning in Edo. She knew he was meeting with the Shogun today, as did Masuyo.

  As the day dragged on, with both women carefully avoiding the topic, a silence entered the space between them. After four days of intense effort, neither woman could have endured more shopping, even the indefatigable Lady Tōmatsu. Everything Masuyo could possibly use, let alone need, had been ordered, and more.

  After the last merchant had carried the final bolt of fabric away, and left them alone together again, the silence grew. Even the ever proper Lady Tōmatsu, skilled hostess though she was, found no words, frivolous or serious. They sat in silence, Masuyo reading one of Lady Tōmatsu’s books of poetry and Lady Tōmatsu listlessly pouring tea she failed to drink. She poured yet another cup of strong green tea for Masuyo, and broke the silence at last. “When you have children of your own, you will understand.”

  “Pardon me, but understand what, Tōmatsu-sama?”

  “Why I must do what I must do.”

  Masuyo stared at her, not comprehending.

  “Your father and my husband will be condemned to die today, for their activities with the fisherman.” Lady Tōmatsu spat out the word “fisherman” with distaste.

  Masuyo stiffened, bracing against the charge against her friend and the penalty for her father.

  “To die.” Masuyo repeated the word, trying to fathom its meaning for her, for her father, for her life.

  “Yes, child, to die. My brother has heard this from court officials. And Lord Abe will be the one to carry out the sentence. He holds them now, so he can carry out this duty.”

  Masuyo could not move, nor breath, nor speak. Of course she had feared this possibility, but to hear it matter-of-factly spelled out like this made it suddenly real. Not her precious father. Not…Tōru.

  Lady Tōmatsu did not look for a response from Masuyo.

  “To save my son, I must take him with me to my brother’s home and swear fealty to the Shogun. I must reject all my husband has done. My brother has word that my son’s inheritance can be spared this way.” Lady Tōmatsu stared straight ahead, her gaze falling on a worn patch of tatami by the doorway.

  “You are leaving Lord Tōmatsu?”

  “I am saving his son. This is his wish. His life for his son’s freedom and inheritance.”

  And yours, thought Masuyo.

  “How can you leave him?”

  “I am not leaving him. I am making my personal allegiances clear. My husband will be dead, perhaps by nightfall, maybe even now. But if he dies honorably and I swear loyalty to the Shogun as guardian of my son, our child will be allowed to grow to manhood and inherit his father’s land and role.”

  “Wakarimashita. I understand.” Masuyo did not understand, but could think of nothing she could possibly say.

  “You, too, should come with me. Bow to the Shogun and denounce your father’s actions. Your reputation will be stained by your father’s actions, but you can still make a good marriage and carry on your father’s line, if you swear loyalty to the Shogun and denounce your father. The Shogun himself will find you a husband of quality, loyal to the Shogunate, with your father’s lands as your marriage portion. With time and loyal behavior, you can find your way back into respectability.”

  The fisherman’s face rose in Masuyo’s mind again, as Lady Tōmatsu calmly discussed the good marriage she could make, presumably with some stuffy daimyō’s second son in need of a domain to rule. This husband Lady Tōmatsu envisioned for her would not be well traveled, and personally familiar with customs in New York and Boston. He would not be insatiably curious about the causes of prosperity and how those causes might be harnessed for the good of the common people. He would not speak English, let alone the damnable French. He would not know how to operate a sewing machine, or design a dirigible or send a message on a telegraph. He would not have loyal commoner friends like Jiro the blacksmith. He would not know how to make her laugh.

  Her dear father’s face rose up as well, impatiently bellowing “Toranosuke!” at her over some grievous breach of feminine propriety she had willfully committed, secure in the knowledge he was secretly proud of her intelligence, her skills and her defiance. She held her voice as steady as she could, as anger simmered in her.

  “You would have me denounce my father.” She uttered it as a flat statement, not a question.

  “Yes, for his clearly treasonous actions.”

  “You would have me denounce my father for risking his life to save an innocent commoner. You would have me denounce him for spending everything he has to defend the Emperor’s realm, for knowingly risking his life to bring a warning to the Shogun’s court. My father is the most loyal subject in the entire realm, giving everything he has to warn our Shogun and defend our land. You would have me denounce this noble behavior for an inheritance?” Masuyo’s voice shook as she spat the words out.

  Lady Tōmatsu looked at Masuyo now, directly in the face, her own eyes damp and her expression troubled.

  “Child—”

  “I am not a child.”

  “Masuyo-san, your father may already be dead, alongside my husband. Our world is cruel to a woman alone, without husband or father to protect her. Your father would not want you to suffer over his actions. He would want to see you safe, as my husband wants to see our son safe. It would be your father’s wish that you do this.”

  “I will never denounce my father. I admire what he has done!”

  “Do not utter those words again. The walls have ears. You are young, and do not understand. Honor your father’s memory by doing what you must. Live, carry on his line and his memory, and raise a fine son to protect his domain.”

  “I do not need safety. I do not need any inheritance that requires that I denounce my father. I would rather die than—”

  “Well, you may get your wis
h.” Lady Tōmatsu stood and gathered her belongings to depart. “I cannot save my husband. I can save my son. I can try to save you. No matter how I feel about any of this, my son is my duty now. I offer you a path to save yourself and your father’s legacy, but if you are too foolish to take it, there is nothing else I can do.” She swept out of the room, calling for her servants to prepare to take her to her brother’s home.

  Alone in Lord Tōmatsu’s home after Lady Tōmatsu had gone, in a mad swirl of boxes and furious activity, Masuyo considered her options. Lady Tōmatsu had left instructions with the servants that Lady Aya was to be treated as an honored guest for as long as she would like to stay in Lord Tōmatsu’s home. She had begged Masuyo one last time to come with her and do what was necessary.

  Masuyo could not, she would not, denounce her father. She could not hold the thought in her head long enough to consider it. He was her beloved father, and she admired all he had done. If he was to die for it, then so would she. But…she was young and her heart beat strongly in her chest, thudding the rhythm of life at her. She knew how a woman of her rank should die, when so required. The binding of her legs, to avoid immodesty when she falls. The swift strong stab to the throat, deep and hard, to ensure the task complete, the suffering short. She stared into the dying embers of the fire, imagining this hard blow. But she was not ready, not yet able to take that final step.

  Lady Tōmatsu was certain her father was dead, or would be soon, by his own hand at Lord Abe’s command. She could wait at least to find out, to see his dear face one last time before she acted.

  But then a new thought gripped her. What if he were not dead? What if the Shogun had shown mercy, had listened to her father’s warning? She could not break his heart with her death if he still lived. So with some relief, as her young heart beat strongly in her chest, she resolved to live until she knew for certain her father’s fate as determined by the Shogun in court today.

  Yet a worse thought came to her. Lady Tōmatsu had not needed to explain what Masuyo already understood about being a hostage of the Shogun. She would die in her father’s place if he did not submit to his own death. What if the Shogun had not killed her father, but compelled him to do some awful thing by threatening her father with her fate? This new thought horrified Masuyo even more than the awful thought of her father’s death or her own.