Toru: Wayfarer Returns (Sakura Steam Series Book 1)

by Stephanie R. Sorensen

  She could not be used this way, against her beloved father. She had to escape, to find a way to release her father from fear of harming her so he could freely do whatever he needed to save the country without worry for her.

  As she turned her thoughts to planning her escape, a messenger came from Lord Abe’s compound. His face was sweaty and sad, uncomfortable at the news he bore. After a deep bow and greetings, he gave her his message.

  “Lord Tōmatsu and your own father, Lord Aya, have been condemned to death by will of the Shogun’s Council.”

  “You say they are—”

  “No, no, Lady Aya, not yet. They have been given three months to set their affairs in order. And then the…the…Shogun’s command will be carried out.”

  Three months! Three months is an eternity! Lord Abe is a friend after all. Surely this is a signal to her to escape, to free her father from his death by removing herself as a hostage piece from the board. She had time to figure this out. She would escape and save her father.

  She remained calm, her face still. She could not look happy, for he had just delivered news of a death sentence. Her joy at the news of a mere death sentence and three months reprieve in place of a death was so great she could not face him, for he would see her joy. She turned her face away, as though overcome with sorrow. Politely he waited until she had composed herself.

  “Please take this dread news to Lady Tōmatsu. She is calling at her brother’s home. She will want to know as soon as possible.”

  The young messenger bowed and departed, leaving Masuyo alone in the dimly lit room. She did not call the servants to light the room, but sat there in darkness, plotting her escape.

  1853 Spring

  CHAPTER 13

  ESCAPE

  “Well, Captain, time to get out of Dodge.”

  – Solo (movie, 1996,

  director Norberto Barba,

  screenwriter David L. Corley

  Two and a half months had flown by for the prisoners Saigo Takamori and Himasaki Tōru. They passed more slowly for Masuyo, who lived alone in Lord Tōmatsu’s home except for servants watching her with pitying eyes. Even old Obata was gone, assisting her father in arranging his affairs before his execution. She had sent her ladies home to their families in her father’s domain, for they need not share her fate, nor did she have the energy to appear gay and carefree in front of them. Girlish games held no appeal. Masuyo felt no appetite, only a cold hard knot of fear for Tōru and for her father and for the cheerful young giant Takamori.

  Each day she practiced with her naginata in the hidden back courtyard of Lord Tōmatsu’s spacious compound, slashing and stabbing for hours at enemies only she could see. There was no telegraph at Lord Tōmatsu’s Edo home, but she practiced her Mōrusu Cōdo each day in case she ever needed to send or receive a message after her escape, tapping out poems in the dot dash code on the low table where she huddled alone in the evenings. The servants whispered, but she would not speak to them, but only practiced with her naginata and read from the English books she had brought with her from the countryside.

  The time passed much faster for Tōru and Takamori. As reluctantly commanded by the Shogun, the two young men were thoroughly debriefed. Lord Abe did not waste a moment of their imprisonment. Gaining them three months had cost him dearly, and he would see value from his political investment.

  He unleashed the full force of the ministries under his influence and dispatched his bureaucrats out to every corner of Japan to gather up military officers serving the daimyōs both great and lesser from dozens of domains. He drew in leading merchants and skilled craftsmen, blacksmiths and the like, all amazed to receive a summons from the Chief Minister of the Shogun’s Council. He invited them to spend as much time as they liked as his pampered guests in hidden bungalows scattered about his vast property. From dawn until dusk, these representatives from the many hans questioned Tōru about his time in America. Lord Abe hired scribes and artists to make copies of sketches Tōru and Takamori made of the technologies they had built from Western models. More scribes copied the Western books Tōru had brought back.

  Each afternoon, Tōru shared with the military officers and merchants everything he had learned about the American military, economy and political systems. At first, the two groups were insulted by being forced to spend time with each other, the rich merchants because the samurai officers were often so swaggering in their manners, and the officers because merchants, all merchants, were beneath them and unworthy of their notice. But as the months passed, Tōru was glad to see them working together and forming bonds, as the merchants spotted opportunities to earn profit making weapons for the military and the officers saw the potential of the new technologies Tōru outlined for them.

  Takamori captured notes from these lectures. A small army of scribes camped in Lord Abe’s compound copied these notes. These were bound up and printed as “Observations of Barbarian America by the Treasonous Returnee Himasaki Tōru.” The slim volume became an underground best seller throughout Edo and the entire realm, avidly devoured by every literate young samurai who dreamed of glory fighting against the barbarian Americans and every merchant who dreamed of profit from selling to them.

  Lord Abe personally made sure every daimyō in the realm also sent artisans and blacksmiths and their brightest young samurai to sit each day in what Takamori and Himasaki called “engineering school,” for that is precisely what it was. For seventy-five long days, as ordered by Lord Abe, for five hours each morning they taught the bright young men and the artisans and blacksmiths everything they had learned about building telegraphs, trains, dirigibles, Babaji difference engines and Western modern guns.

  Tōru wished he had Jiro by his side explaining how to actually construct these devices, but he did his best in the face of withering questions from the small cluster of belligerent but engaged blacksmiths who sat, filthy and foulmouthed, in the back of the classroom behind the young samurai clerks.

  Lord Abe had sacrificed a corner of his elegant gardens to build a workshop where Takamori and Tōru demonstrate how they had designed and built each item, noting pitfalls and failures along with their advice on the best way to create each device. The intense young Lord Abe would sometimes appear, silently like a spirit, at the back of the workshop watching as Tōru and Takamori lectured to their charges. Occasionally he would ask them to explain some concepts in greater depth. “Without the sakoku isolation policy, we could teach this in every han in the country. Someday, we will open our country.” Tōru and Takamori were amazed at these statements in favor of opening the country, for if there existed any unquestioned law in all the land, it was the law of isolation.

  Lord Abe seemed to long for this unthinkable change.

  Tōru was certain the Shogun was unaware of the vast and urgent scope of his “debriefing.” Lord Abe occasionally summoned Tōru to his home to meet with a creaky old general or a doddering bureaucrat from some ministry or other. These visitors asked naive questions about the Americans, which he dutifully and respectfully answered. These were the interviews the tired old Shogun was hearing about, Tōru guessed, not the others.

  Tōru was grateful, though, that Lord Abe had won him the time to share, at national scale, all the knowledge Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu had been working so hard to share among their allies earlier in the year. Lord Abe, by imprisoning him, had given Tōru and Saigo Takamori the means to take their message to the entire realm, under the direct order of the Shogun.

  Lord Abe commanded Tōru and Takamori to pass on every bit of knowledge and practice they had to the representatives of the other daimyōs. “You will die in ninety days by my hand, as is commanded by our laws, but if you truly are loyal to our Emperor, our Shogun and our people, you will not die without sharing every bit of knowledge you possess that may serve to defend our realm. If you are warriors for our land, this is your duty.”

  Tōru and Takamori had bowed and promised to do so. Their mission and their duty to help their homeland
inspired them. Furthermore, to a young man, ninety days is an eternity. With young men’s blind optimism, they were glad of the opportunity to inspire and teach others, as they had hoped to do. They even clung to the slender faith that somehow their executions might be averted, if their ideas served to aid Japan in the looming confrontation with the Americans. Even if they were to die, it would be only after they had done everything in their power to defend and protect Japan. Was dying not the lot of warriors and samurai anyway, when required to fulfill their missions?

  Tōru did not spend much time worrying about his own death, even as the scheduled day grew closer and closer, a mere three weeks away now. He was too busy. In still moments, though, Masuyo’s face rose again and again in the quiet of his heart.

  He had not seen her since the day they left Lord Tōmatsu’s compound to visit with Lord Abe before their appearance before the Council. As close as they had become in the happy days building the first devices in Lord Aya’s domain, he could not contact her, near though she was, just minutes away. She was his lord’s daughter, and he a convicted traitor, personally sentenced to die by the Shogun. Her situation was already precarious. He could not further endanger her by making any sort of contact that might taint her reputation. He knew she was safe from any immediate harm at Lord Tōmatsu’s comfortable Edo home, well protected by her father’s retainers and Lord Tōmatsu’s men.

  Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu had returned, as ordered, to their hans in the west to put their affairs in order before their executions, accompanied everywhere by bakufu guards. Tōru knew Masuyo’s fate as the Shogun’s hostage, effectively under house arrest except for chaperoned market visits, if her father continued his rebellion. While Tōru hoped Lord Aya was somehow clandestinely continuing to prepare for the foreign invasion under the watchful eyes of the Shogunate escort sent with him to his home, he was torn, fearing Lord Aya’s success might lead to harm for Masuyo.

  Tōru was saying farewell to the afternoon’s clutch of military officers asking him arcane details about American military strategy. He turned around to see not only the silent Lord Abe but also a subdued Masuyo standing at the back of his classroom.

  She was dressed simply and elegantly in a rich silk kimono of drab but luxurious color, a dark charcoal gray, nearly black in the twilight. Her hair was up, twisted in the severe bun favored by Lady Tōmatsu, and her face painted in a stern visage of white skin and black brow and red lips. Her dress and bearing made her look older, even regal, nothing like the laughing girl of his memory and imagination who had lifted his heart whenever he allowed his thoughts to dwell on her during the past two and a half months of his imprisonment and brief but frantic career as an impromptu military tactics and engineering professor. She looked drawn and weary, as though being a hostage in even the most comfortable of surroundings had drained her of her natural life and vivacity.

  Lord Abe nodded to Tōru. “We have a guest for supper this evening,” he said, indicating Masuyo, who made a small formal bow to Tōru and Takamori. “You will join me.” He turned. They followed in his wake, winding through the dim park, lit by occasional torches and lanterns.

  When they reached Lord Abe’s home, they joined him in a spare and spacious hall. Places were set for nine at low lacquered individual tray tables. Kato was there, as was a young samurai wearing the Satsuma mon crest of a cross within a circle. Saigo nodded a greeting to the Satsuma samurai, who returned the nod. Obata of House Aya and Sugieda of House Tōmatsu were there as well, to Tōru’s surprise. He would have expected them to be at their lords’ sides back in their domains, arranging their affairs.

  A girl a few years younger than Masuyo was playing a koto in a corner of the room, sitting before a gold-painted screen of pink and white sakura branches laden with blossoms. She set aside her instrument and rose to greet the group, bowing as she did.

  “Allow me to present my daughter, Chie. It is irregular, highly irregular, to enjoy the company of a lady at a war council.” Lord Abe bowed to Masuyo, who returned the gesture, “and so I have asked my daughter to join us, so Lady Aya might be more comfortable amongst all these men. Please forgive my daughter her wretched koto playing and my imposition of my family upon our business this evening. We live, it would seem, in highly unusual times, and must adapt to the demands of our times.”

  The men bowed greetings to the elegant young women, surprised at their presence, rare as it was for women and family members to join such a supper. Lord Abe indicated the women should sit on either side of him, his daughter to his left. The men took their seats as well, as serving women began bringing tray after tray of the finest kaiseki ryori to the gathered guests, of refined flavors and arrangements more Kyoto than Edo. The women sipped o-cha and tiny glasses of umeshu plum wine.

  The men, hesitating at first in the presence of the great Lord Abe and amazed at the novelty of drinking in front of high born women, enjoyed a diverse selection of sakés, gathered with interest and care by Lord Abe himself. Lord Abe had them try one saké after another, pointing out the rich body of an unadulterated junmai saké, and the light and delicate complex fragrance and flavor of a ginjo shu saké.

  Somewhere hidden in the reaches of the sprawling home, a skilled flute player played, now haunting soft melodies, now fast-paced dances, adding an undertone of gaiety to the evening. What began as a stiff encounter, shadowed by the impending and never-mentioned executions, soon evolved into a merry gathering. Even the somber and earnest young Lord Abe joined in jests and stories.

  Fueled by the generous selection of exquisite sakés and the presence of the noble ladies, the men, still gentlemen, still courteous, but cheerful and expansive, toasted their beautiful lady fellow guests and remarked upon this delightful alteration from custom. The ladies blushed, and looked to Lord Abe for guidance on how to respond. Servants carried away the dessert trays, their burdens of sweetened fruits and intricately molded omochi barely touched after all the bounty that had come before.

  Lord Abe signaled a turn in the conversation to serious matters.

  “Enough. Make Lady Aya welcome. As her father’s heir, she needs to hear what must be said tonight and participate in our decisions.” The men straightened and sat forward to hear what Lord Abe would share next. “Himasaki, Saigo, you have done good work these last months. Every daimyō now has men who have mastered the basics of what you have learned. They can take your knowledge back to their hans. When you are resting in your graves, know that you have together done more to strengthen and prepare our country than all the hundreds of bureaucrats I have working for me at the Ministry. I thank you for your contribution.”

  Tōru and Takamori bowed their thanks at the compliment. They shifted uneasily at the ghoulish mention of their graves alongside the clearing of the dessert bowls.

  “The Shogun has commanded a meeting with Saigo and Himasaki tomorrow morning. He wishes to confirm some aspects of your debriefing directly himself from reports he has heard second hand from his officers,” continued Lord Abe. “He also commands the presence of Lady Aya. I will send Kato and my men along to protect you on the way.”

  Tōru and Takamori bowed assent to this request.

  Masuyo nodded her understanding. She was a hostage of no use to the Shogun unless he had her in his grasp. She understood she might not return from Chiyoda Castle tomorrow. She held herself stiffly immobile lest she shiver and show her fear.

  “Obata, Sugieda, Asano. You bear tidings from your lords. Please share them.”

  Obata bowed and began. “My Lord Aya is ready to make his return to Edo, as he promised to do, that his sentence be carried out in twenty days as commanded by the Shogun. He asks that his lands and domain pass to you, Lord Abe, in trust for his daughter, Lady Aya, to be returned to her upon her making a suitable marriage. He humbly asks you, Lord Abe, to stand in position of father for her after his death. As her guardian, he begs you to find her an appropriate husband, and carry out all necessary ceremony in his name to adopt the young man into H
ouse Aya that his daughter may be protected and his House continue.”

  “I understand, and will watch over Lady Aya as over my own Chie.” Lord Abe held Masuyo’s eyes in his own gaze.

  She saw, most unexpectedly, a father’s gaze in the eyes of the powerful young minister. Masuyo felt strangely reassured, even as everyone calmly discussed her father’s impending execution. She broke the gaze and looked down at her hands folded in her lap, fearful of errant tears welling up and breaking her barely held composure. When she had gathered herself, she peeked over and saw Chie looking at her, most warmly, although the two girls had never before met. She managed a small nod, returned with a friendly smile by Chie, and turned back to the conversation, staring directly at each speaker as though listening, although the effort to hold herself together consumed all her attention.

  Sugieda broke into the pause in the conversation. “My Lord Tōmatsu is also ready to return. His infant son will inherit his land and title, as decreed by the Shogun, held in guardianship by his wife and her brother, the Shogun’s official.”

  Lord Abe nodded his understanding.

  Asano, the representative send by Lord Shimazu of Satsuma, now spoke. “My Lord Shimazu will not be coming to Edo.” He paused to let them all absorb that fact, a fact that meant the death of Saigo Takamori in his lord’s stead for Lord Shimazu’s failure to return. Saigo sat expressionless, his large frame a still mountain.

  “Does Lord Shimazu have other counsel for us?” asked Abe.

  Tōru watched him carefully. Ever since the day he had been condemned to death and learned in nearly the same instant of a three month stay on his execution, he had known even the smallest events were carefully scripted by the wily young politician. Surely Lord Abe had known these reports before asking the questions in front of the group, which meant he already knew the answer Asano was about to give. Curiosity held Tōru rigid with anticipation.