The Sword That Cut the Burning Grass

by Dorothy Hoobler

  Yabuta stared at Seikei with such rage that Seikei felt it like a blast of hot air. He expected Yabuta to denounce him immediately and order his death. In fact, Seikei thought he would be lucky if death was all that Yabuta had in store for him.

  But that didn’t happen either. Instead, Yabuta abruptly turned and stalked out of the haiden. Evidently he had decided on some other course of action.

  The two ministers looked helplessly at Seikei. Seikei understood. Since they had brought him here as the emperor, it was impossible for them to abandon that deception. There was only one way to get out of here.

  Seikei pointed to his sandals, left on the floor outside the honden. One of the ministers slipped them back onto Seikei’s feet, and Seikei stepped into the kago.

  The door slid shut, and Seikei felt the ministers lift him off the floor. He regretted leaving the shrine without a final word for the priests, but “Don’t worry. It’s not your fault,” seemed unlike anything an emperor would say.

  Seikei worried about how the ministers were going to get through the crowd outside without Yabuta and his men. But Takanori was waiting for the kago at the shrine gate. “Make way!” he shouted. “The kago is empty. The emperor has remained at the shrine. Let us through.”

  Seikei had to admire this strategy. Except for a few people who wanted just to touch the empty kago, the crowd moved aside. It did not take long before they arrived back at the house where Seikei had met Yabuta. The ministers set the kago down much less gently than when they had carried the “emperor.” Seikei had to open the kago door himself.

  This time, no one knelt on seeing him. He faced Takanori, who stood ready to draw his sword. “Take off that costume,” he told Seikei, “and leave it in the kago.”

  Seikei did as he was told, keeping only the undergarments. Takanori took him inside the house. Once more Seikei noticed the smell of blood. This time he was certain his own blood would soon be mingled with it. He could think of no reason why Yabuta would want him to live, and several why Yabuta would want him dead.

  The two ministers had disappeared. Takanori showed no interest in them. He slid open the door to a room and motioned Seikei inside. “Sit,” Takanori said, and Seikei took a seat on the matted floor. He looked around, but saw no bloodstains. If he were going to kill someone, he would choose a room where there would be no mats that would need to be burned later.

  The house seemed utterly empty. Takanori stood vigilant, with his back against the wooden-frame wall, but said nothing. The paper between the frames was plain brown, with no decorations. Seikei thought he had never been in so dull a room.

  “What are you waiting for?” Seikei asked finally. He noticed that his voice shook, and chided himself for it.

  “I am waiting for Yabuta,” said Takanori. “Or someone bringing orders from him.”

  Seikei could see that Takanori relished the power he held. Seikei wanted to puncture his self-assurance. “Suppose Yabuta has abandoned you,” he suggested.

  “He would never do that,” Takanori replied. “I have been too useful to him.”

  “Just because you told him that story about Lord Ponzu?” Seikei scoffed. “And revealed that you had told me the same thing earlier?”

  Takanori gave Seikei an unpleasant smile. “You never figured that out, did you? It was Yabuta who sent me to meet you on the road and tell you that story.”

  Seikei couldn’t keep the surprise from showing on his face. “But then . . . the story was false all along?”

  “Oh, no,” Takanori said, delighted with the effect his words were having. “Lord Ponzu really is planning a rebellion against the shogun. Yabuta encouraged him to do so.”

  “Encouraged him?” Seikei felt as if he were waking from a dream and the world had suddenly become very different from what it had been before.

  “Yes,” said Takanori. “Oh, Lord Ponzu really is as greedy as I’ve told you. It required only a few suggestions from Yabuta to persuade him that he could overthrow the shogun. All it would take would be to capture the emperor and take the Kusanagi sword.”

  “But why would Yabuta do such a thing?” Seikei asked. “He is one of the shogun’s officials.”

  Takanori nodded. “You see how smart he is? Imagine how grateful the shogun will be, how generously he will reward Yabuta, when he learns that the head of the Guards of the Inner Garden has foiled a rebellion.”

  “Foiled?” Seikei shook his head, as if something were loose inside. “I thought you said he suggested the rebellion.”

  “Of course,” Takanori said. “And thus he would know all of Lord Ponzu’s plans. Yabuta even has men loyal to him among Ponzu’s forces, ready to act when Yabuta gives the word.”

  “Traitors? How could anyone be so dishonorable?”

  Takanori laughed as if Seikei were a child. “Because when Lord Ponzu is defeated, those who served Yabuta will receive part of the lord’s domain.” He clasped the hilt of his sword and stood tall. “I will be rewarded that way myself.”

  “But why did you approach me with the story of Lord Ponzu’s rebellion?” Seikei asked. “I could have reported it immediately.”

  “Yabuta didn’t think so,” said Takanori. “He told me to make the story unconvincing. He was angry that the shogun trusted you to persuade the emperor to resume his duties. Yabuta feared that that if you succeeded, your father would rise in the shogun’s favor. This way, Yabuta could make sure you were disgraced.” He paused and shrugged. “Even if you had reported the story of the rebellion, Yabuta would simply have called it off, and made you appear to be a fool.”

  “So it was all my fault,” Seikei said miserably.

  “Why blame yourself ?” asked Takanori. “Yabuta is just much smarter than anyone else. You could still be useful to him, you know.”

  Seikei was curious enough to ask, “How?”

  “Well, even though the sword was already gone, everyone at the shrine accepted you as the emperor. Perhaps Yabuta would want you to continue that role. Then the shogun would have no more trouble getting the emperor to fulfill his duties.”

  “You’ve forgotten about the real emperor,” said Seikei.

  “Oh, no,” replied Takanori. “Yabuta has already decided what to do with him. When the sword turned out to be missing, you see, Yabuta knew Lord Ponzu must have taken it.”

  Seikei doubted that. He had a pretty good idea who had stolen the sword, but he wasn’t about to share that with Takanori.

  “That must mean Lord Ponzu has decided not to wait any longer,” said Takanori. “So it is time for Yabuta to put down the rebellion.”

  “How is he going to do that?”

  “By setting fire to Ponzu’s castle. When the daimyo emerges, Yabuta and his samurai will kill him. And I suspect, to get the emperor out of the way once and for all, Yabuta will do away with him too.” He smiled at Seikei. “Of course, Yabuta will need a replacement. If not you, then someone else.”

  Seikei thought of Hato, who might well be with the emperor at this moment. He had to get out of here, to warn her. To warn them both, he reminded himself. But how?

  “I . . . I don’t think that will work,” he told Takanori.

  Before the samurai could respond, a sword popped out of his chest.

  Seikei gaped at it, feeling more than ever as if unnatural events were taking place.

  Takanori, of course, was equally surprised. Without thinking, he reached down and grasped the blade with both hands. It seemed as if his first thought was to pull it out.

  Seikei wanted to tell him that he was doing it wrong. He wouldn’t be able to pull it through his body, because it must have a hilt on the unseen side. He should be pushing. But Seikei found himself unable to utter a word. He could only watch in horrified fascination.

  The sword was now moving back into Takanori’s body, seemingly of its own accord. Takanori’s fingers were sliced to shreds as he struggled to hold it.

  Finally the sword disappeared, and Takanori held up his bleeding hands as if
he saw something approaching and was trying desperately to stop it. Seikei nearly looked over his shoulder to see what it was, but couldn’t take his eyes off the ribbons of flesh hanging from the samurai’s hands.

  The sword, apparently, had been all that was keeping Takanori upright. After it left his body, he fell facedown on the floor. A pool of blood spread rapidly around him. Someone will have to burn those mats now, Seikei thought.

  With Takanori no longer blocking his view, Seikei could see clearly what had happened. There was a rip in the paper wall behind where Takanori had been standing. Someone had plunged a sword right through the wall and into his back.

  Someone . . . whose shadow Seikei could see moving along the wall.

  Someone . . . who then began to slide open the door of the room.

  It was the person Seikei most feared seeing: Reigen. He stood in the doorway, wiping the blade of what looked like a very, very old sword.

  20

  A MESSAGE FROM HATO

  Is that . . . ,” Seikei started to ask.

  “Yes,” Reigen said, returning the blade to its scabbard. It was now the only sword he carried. He no longer wore monk’s robes, but instead a purple kimono with a white chrysanthemum design. “This is the Kusanagi. I had to take it from its resting place to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.” He gave Seikei a meaningful look.

  Seikei hung his head. “Yabuta told me that I had to take the sword to stop Lord Ponzu’s rebellion,” he said.

  “It does not matter now,” said Reigen. “We must go to Lord Ponzu’s palace.”

  Seikei got to his feet, realizing that he wore only the emperor’s undergarments and high sandals.

  “You can’t go like that,” said Reigen. “Where is the sword I made for you?”

  It didn’t take long for Seikei to find his other clothes and the wooden sword in a nearby room. As he dressed, Reigen said, “There is something I want you to promise.”

  “I know,” said Seikei. “I learned my lesson. Regard anyone who stands in our way as an enemy.”

  “Yes, but something even more important,” said Reigen. “You will not need to use your sword against anyone, as long as I am near. With the Kusanagi, I can defeat any enemies.”

  Seikei was a little disappointed. He hoped to be of some use, and now it seemed as if Reigen was going to ask him to promise to stay out of the way.

  “I want you to remain vigilant at all times,” said Reigen. “Be ready to use your sword—on me. Or anyone else who holds the Kusanagi.”

  Seikei couldn’t believe what he heard. “On you? Why?”

  “I told you before that the sword is too powerful for anyone to possess. That includes me. I would have left it where it was, had not Yabuta tried to seize it.”

  “But with the sword, you cannot be defeated,” Seikei said. “How could I even attempt to use a wooden sword against you?”

  “When I made your sword,” replied Reigen, “I gave it the power to defeat me.”

  “I cannot do what you ask,” said Seikei. “How would I know when to do it? Suppose—”

  “I will let you know,” said Reigen. “Be alert.”

  Seikei shook his head, thinking of the training sessions Bunzo had put him through. The judge’s chief samurai had constantly told him to remain alert, on guard at all times. Seikei had seen Bunzo, apparently asleep, suddenly open his eyes, ready to act, if he heard a strange sound. “I will try,” Seikei said. But he secretly felt he would not have the courage to attack Reigen.

  Reigen had two horses waiting outside. As they rode toward Lord Ponzu’s castle, they saw that it was too late. A plume of smoke was rising above that part of the city. Before reaching the palace, they encountered a swarm of people fleeing from the fire. Many of them carried possessions on their backs. Clearly they were people who lived near the castle, and feared that the fire would spread. Unlike Edo, where the judge had organized fire brigades for each section of the city, Nagoya had no regular fire fighters.

  That was obvious as Seikei and Reigen came upon the scene. Behind a high stone wall, the wooden castle was blazing fiercely. Two of its five towers were engulfed already, and looked as if they might collapse at any moment. It would have been nearly impossible to put out the fire at this point, even if a thousand fire fighters with buckets of water had been available. The castle was doomed.

  Now Yabuta’s plan became clear. There were only three entrances—or exits—in the high stone wall that surrounded the castle grounds. Yabuta’s men, along with the traitors among Lord Ponzu’s samurai, blocked all three. Seikei could hear the cries of the frightened people on the other side, pleading to be allowed to get away from the raging fire. Seikei could feel the heat of the flames even from a distance.

  The emperor was in there, he thought. And Hato, who had been so faithful to him. He wanted to urge his horse forward in an attempt to save them, but of course that would be futile. He looked at Reigen to see what the old man would do.

  Reigen was straining his eyes. The smoke and the chaos, with people running past them on all sides, made it difficult even for Seikei to see anything.

  Suddenly a chorus of shouts rose above the other noise. It came from the gate nearest to them, and Reigen headed in that direction. Seikei followed.

  A battle was going on for control of the gate. Some of the samurai who had remained loyal were attempting to force their way through to the outside. Seikei heard the clash of steel blades and understood this would be a fight to the death.

  “Stay here,” Reigen said. “Watch for the emperor. If you see him, take him to safety.” He rode off toward the battle.

  Seikei yearned to follow him, but Reigen was right. The important thing was to save the emperor—and Hato. Seikei scanned the mobs of people running away from the castle. There was no reason to expect them to be together, for Hato might never have been able to get near the emperor.

  Seikei found it difficult to keep his eyes off Reigen. The old man had caught Yabuta’s men by surprise, for they didn’t expect anyone to attack them from behind. Seikei saw Reigen raise his sword and strike down with it. Yabuta’s men began to fall one by one, as easily—yes—as if they had been blades of grass.

  Others, now aware of the danger, turned to face Reigen. Seikei saw three of them at once try to bring him down from his horse, but they fell to the ground, bloodied. It was difficult to see what Reigen did to fight them off. Seikei had seen expert sword fighters, but none compared to Reigen. It was hard to believe that anyone could wield a sword that swiftly and effectively. Was it really just the sword that was so powerful? Seikei found himself wishing he had been the one to take the Kusanagi from its resting place, just to see . . .

  He shook his head to chase the thought away. Reigen’s involvement in the fighting had allowed Lord Ponzu’s forces to break through the barricade. With a shout of triumph they poured through the portal, hacking at their remaining enemies.

  Now that the entrance was open, a whole host of people followed the samurai through it. Servants, laborers, women of the household, even some children. On the back of his horse, Reigen remained above the fray, searching the faces in the crowd. Seikei rode closer to help him look for Risu and Hato.

  Suddenly a young woman blocked his way by kneeling in front of his horse. Seikei had to pull the reins sharply to keep from trampling her. “Get out of the way!” he shouted.

  She looked up at him, her hands pressed together. “Sire!” she cried. “Forgive me! I have a message for you!”

  He leaned over and tried to speak so that only she could hear him. “What did you call me?”

  “Oh, Sire, Hato said you would be angry, but she had a good reason for telling me . . . who you are.”

  Seikei didn’t know whether to be annoyed with Hato or relieved that she must still be alive. “How did you, um, recognize me?” he asked the woman.

  “Hato said you would be wearing a delivery boy’s jacket. I beg your pardon for mentioning it. And of course your hachimaki
.”

  Seikei put his hand to his forehead. He had nearly forgotten the headband on which he had written the word honor.

  “Very good,” he said. “Now tell me the message.”

  “Hato said to tell you Lord Ponzu’s men have taken Risu to the Suzuka Mountains and she went with them.”

  “They did?” he said. “When was this?”

  “This morning, Sire. Before the fire.”

  “Where exactly in the mountains did they go?”

  “I’m not sure. It was a place that Risu wanted to visit. I’m . . . I have to beg your pardon again, Sire.” “For what?”

  “I suppose you’re aware that Lord Ponzu thinks Risu is the emperor. Not that that’s true,” she added hastily.

  “Yes, I understand. That’s all right.”

  “Well, Risu seemed to want to visit some place that belongs to you.”

  “To me.”

  “Yes, Sire, but of course the servants would realize he wasn’t you. They wouldn’t allow him inside.”

  “I’m sure,” said Seikei. He was getting impatient. He had to find Reigen and tell him this news.

  “Hato said to tell you that she will try to have the servants take Risu prisoner. She’ll keep him there till you arrive.”

  Seikei was barely listening. He was getting a headache from trying to keep straight who thought he was the emperor and who didn’t. He couldn’t see Reigen anymore. He must have gone inside the castle grounds. “You have done well,” he told the young woman. “When I’m . . . back in Kyoto again, I will try and reward you.”

  She bowed low, and Seikei urged his horse forward. There were too many people fleeing the fire through this gate, however, and he made slow progress.

  Without warning, someone yanked the reins from his hands. Seikei reached for his sword, but before he could draw it, a mounted rider on his other side grabbed his arm. Seikei felt the point of a knife on his neck.

  “Do not resist,” the man with the knife said. “We do not want to hurt you.”

  “What do you want, then?” Seikei asked.

  “To bring you to someone who wishes to speak to you.”