Gloria Oliver

by In Service Of Samurai

  He sighed. He should have never lost his temper. He was supposed to be behaving like a samurai, not some spoiled child off the street. As a samurai, he had the right to take her life without explanation. It horrified him to have been responsible for the fear he’d seen in her eyes, since she actually believed that power was his.

  Yuko didn’t return for the rest of the afternoon; evening was falling before he heard the door open again.

  His apology was already rising to his lips when he abruptly realized his visitor was not the maid.

  “Good evening. I apologize I was not able to come any sooner.” Kirin bowed and then came in, shutting the door behind him.

  Toshi bowed in return and watched the old man as he approached to sit very close. He thought it rather odd, considering they were alone, but made no comment. He was distracted by the fact that, now he had the man here, he wasn’t at all sure what he should say. He wracked his brain trying to find a way to start off the conversation, even as Kirin sat expectantly and silently before him.

  “I have been somewhat surprised not to have met anyone in the last few days,” he began.

  Kirin nodded approvingly. “Shiroyama Castle has not been the center of activity it once was for a number of seasons. Our ways of life have been changing.”

  This told Toshi nothing he didn’t already know. He decided to probe a little deeper. “Yes, so I’ve heard.

  Yet, these changes don’t seem to be for the better.”

  Kirin nodded. “Just so, Kazete-san. Such is the way of all things here. Though time flows like a great river, there is no wind with which to fill our sails to try and travel against it. So, we end up being dragged along by the current.”

  Toshi said nothing right away, trying to decipher all Kirin might have just inferred. “Will the writ not prove strong enough to summon the wind, in my case? It is from Lord Asano himself. Surely, it’s worth something.” He couldn’t read the old man’s expression.

  “I have been serving our lord for a very long time, Kazete-san. I have held many posts, seen many things.” Kirin’s voice dropped to an almost-inaudible whisper. “I know whose paper you hold, for Lord Asano has only issued such a writ once in his lifetime. It would prove most inopportune if your document was seen too often, and the truth came to light.”

  Toshi felt his pulse quicken as he realized Kirin might really know all he implied he did. This also told him that Tsuyu might very well be one of the enemies Asaka had feared might already be within Asano’s walls.

  “I will try my best to gain you the meeting you seek, if you will only indulge me with your patience,” Kirin continued. “The gods have smiled upon you, that is certain; or you would have never made it this far. Let us hope they’ll continue to do so and give aid to me to grant you what you seek.”

  “But, Kirin-san, what about—” He forced himself to stop as Kirin bowed before him, ending their conversation. As he watched the older man leave, he realized his waiting was far from over.

  Not long after Kirin left, Yuko appeared. Meekly, he let her lead the way back to his room.

  Chapter 32

  Toshi met the dawn sitting in his spacious room. The sliding panels facing the garden had been pushed back, letting in the cool morning air and the pleasant scents springing from beyond.

  He hadn’t slept well. His mind had been too preoccupied with his dilemma and his inability to solve it. No real choices were left to him, and he knew it. Though he didn’t like it, he would have to trust in Kirin’s ability to arrange a meeting for him with Asano. Making a fuss would only draw attention to himself, and that was the last thing he wanted—especially if his growing suspicions about Tsuyu were true.

  So, in the meantime, he would just have to be content with waiting.

  On the verge of desperation, he fervently wished he could talk to Miko. He wished he could share his troubles with her and bask for a while in her company.

  With those thoughts in mind, he started wondering where she and all the others were. Were they hiding in the city, or were they still out in the lands surrounding it? Perhaps they were waiting just beyond the castle walls. Would they know something had gone wrong? Or would Asaka believe him to have reneged on his task?

  He shook his head, trying to drive such thoughts away. He sent a prayer to Buddha that the Enlightened One might lend him the patience of the sun. It never hurried or grew impatient. The sun traveled the path of the sky every day without fail. He needed to do the same.

  Having nothing better to do, he stripped to his underwear and began practicing his exercises. A thin layer of perspiration covered his body when a soft rap at his door brought him to a stop. He sat down next to his folded clothes.

  The door slid open and Yuko bowed to him from the hallway. “Ohayo gozaimasu.”

  “Good morning,” he replied.

  Yuko smiled and came inside with his breakfast. “Kazete-sama, will you be taking lunch in the waiting room?”

  He hesitated a moment before replying. “No, here will be fine. I won’t be going to the waiting room today.”

  Yuko nodded, making no comment at the change in his routine.

  He ate his breakfast in silence as she sat nearby, ready to serve any need. Though he longed for company, her presence made him uncomfortable. Yuko treated him as a samurai, which he wasn’t. She even treated him as if he were older than she, which he also wasn’t. On top of that, he was a little afraid to trust anyone here—he had too much to lose.

  After breakfast, the rest of the morning wore on slowly. It didn’t help him to know this was but the first of an indefinite number of long days to follow.

  As he had sat, stared and fidgeted in the waiting room before, he now did the same on the small porch outside his room. He had his lunch there, staring out into the immense garden. Lunch consisted of grilled eel, rice, crisp seaweed, sake and tea; yet it all tasted like gruel to him. He wondered dejectedly how long Asano’s people would let him stay there eating the lord’s food, sleeping in the lord’s rooms, using up the servants, before they would get tired of it and kick him out, his quest unfulfilled.

  Yuko moved quietly around him, serving, pouring, even cleaning; but he barely noticed her presence. He never let the wrapped kettle out of his sight for any reason, though. The crux of his duty lay always at his side.

  Why had so many people died for that kettle? What was so important about it that people were willing to kill for it? Did the rumors Miko heard when Asaka first came here have anything to do with it or not?

  He doubted daimyos disappeared every day. But, despite that, why was it proving so difficult to give the kettle to the man who’d supposedly wanted it all along? Had something happened because he hadn’t gotten it when he’d first sent Asaka on his mission? Could that be why things here had changed so much?

  But what could a kettle have to do with something that important?

  He sighed, not knowing the answer to any of his questions. It looked like he might never find the answers. He would never meet Lord Asano. Asaka-sama and the others would spend eternity wandering the earth because of him, their duty unfulfilled because they dared entrust this task to a foolish peasant boy.

  “Stop it!” He slapped his thigh hard, trying to snap himself out of the cascading despair he was falling into.

  “Sir?” Yuko looked up from behind him, a teapot in one hand.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you, Yuko-san,” he quickly explained. “I think I’m going for a long walk in the garden.”

  Not waiting for a response, he grabbed the wrapped kettle, slipped on some sandals and stepped off the porch. Stoking the anger he felt and using it to keep back the despair, he stiffly took the first stone path he came on.

  The sounds of birds gaily flitting through the trees drifted all around him. A small waterfall poured into a pond full of brightly colored giant carp. The echoing sound of bamboo striking stone came at regular intervals as a miniature stream filled a hollow rod that would tip down, once full, to s
pill its contents and then start the process all over again.

  Though the beauty and solitude around him should have helped to calm him, he could find no comfort in his surroundings. Privacy was something everyone coveted, but not like this. Not when there was no end in sight.

  Feeling alone, though he was in a city of thousands, he stopped as he strolled amidst a clump of bamboo and tall pines, deciding he should turn back. A frightening hunger for human company had grown inside him. He decided he should satisfy it even if it was only with watching Yuko work.

  Turning to go back, he arrived at an intersection. He stared at it, unable to remember from which of the two paths he’d come. He looked around but couldn’t spot his room. He realized he had no idea how long he’d been walking. He’d never thought the garden would be as extensive as it was.

  Just as he was about to pick one of the paths at random, he stopped as he heard a rapid rustling sound somewhere behind him. He turned, wondering who or what might be there, and let his hand fall to the hilt of his wakizashi.

  Seeing nothing untoward, he stepped deeper into the trees.

  The shadows on the path were long and deep. He kept his eyes moving, looking for anything that might be hiding in them. A small part of him screamed he’d been discovered, that his enemies had found him.

  He paid the small voice no heed. As he went on, he heard a muffled sound off to his right. Tensed and ready, he noticed the path branched off into the deeper shadows. Taking a deep breath, he took the new path.

  The bamboo thickened on either side, crowding out the trees. He couldn’t see what lay ahead on the curving path. His heart beat faster. The muffled sound came again as he rounded the turn. He stopped, surprised by what he found there.

  A large bench sat nestled in the shadows of bamboo at the end of the small path. Draped over part of it was a young woman. Her voluminous cherry-blossom-colored kimono spread out grandly about her with its many layers. Long, glistening black hair flowed almost to the ground, hiding some of the blood-red flowers stitched onto the pinkish fabric of her clothes. The woman’s face lay hidden from him.

  He realized the muffled sounds he heard were the sounds of weeping. Not wanting to interfere, or to let the woman know he had witnessed her pain, he stepped back to get out of the grove. His gaze stuck to her, though, as her shoulders shook with misery. He backed up onto a broken piece of bamboo and stumbled.

  He fell hard on the path and cried out before he realized what he was doing.

  “Who’s there?”

  The fierceness in the voice caught him offguard. He tried to scramble backward out of the grove but ended up smacking into a clump of bamboo. He struggled to his feet as he gazed upon one of the most beautiful and stoic faces he had ever seen.

  For a moment, it occurred to him that maybe he hadn’t stumbled on a woman at all but rather some kind of spirit in disguise. What else would explain the delicate oval features, the rounded lips, the soft, tearstained cheeks and the flaming brown eyes that pinned him where he stood?

  “Please, forgive me. I hadn’t meant to intrude.” He felt his tongue trying to trip him. “I’d come into the garden for a walk and ended up losing my way. I heard a noise and came to investigate. I never meant any offense. Truly, I—”

  He forced his mouth shut, hearing himself starting to babble like a child. With some misgivings, he stared at the small, sheathed blade he saw the beauty holding in her hands.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Oh, yes, that. Please, forgive me. My name is Kazete Toshiro. I’m a visitor here.” He bowed low, realizing from the diminutive painted brows on her face she was an aristocrat and a samurai. He noticed she barely returned his bow as she began dusting off her kimono.

  “Hm, I’ve never heard the name, and I am pretty familiar with most prominent samurai families.” She turned her steely gaze on him. “Have you any idea who I am?”

  “No, my lady, I’m sorry, but I don’t.” He stumbled the words out even as he pondered if telling her the truth might have been a mistake.

  She stared at him long and hard, almost as if she didn’t believe him. “My name is Himiko.” She turned away from him, extracting a handkerchief from the long sleeve of her kimono.

  “Again, I wish to tell you how sorry I am for my rudeness. I will leave you to your privacy.” He bowed again, ready to make his exit.

  “You will not leave,” she commanded.

  He stopped. Her tone left no doubt this was not a request. He wondered if he’d somehow offended her again.

  “I wish to speak with you, if it would not prove too inconvenient.” Her voice softened.

  “I would be honored to, Lady, if it is what you wish.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

  He was shocked by her bluntness but didn’t dare let it show on his face. With a calculated swirl of silk, Himiko moved to sit on the bench she’d moments ago been leaning against. Seeing her sit down, he immediately sank to the ground, keeping his head lower than hers, hoping to cause no further offense.

  “You say you are a visitor, yet real visitors haven’t been allowed entry to the castle for some time. How do you account for this?”

  He glanced at her and had his gaze met by one of steel. Somehow, it seemed out of place in her delicate features.

  “I have a writ from Lord Asano. It was able to get me in past the guards.”

  “From my father?” He saw a wispy look of surprise cross her face, but in no way did it equal his own.

  Himiko was Asano’s daughter?

  “Do you still have this writ?” Her tone made it quite clear she hadn’t believed a word he’d said.

  “Yes, Asano-sama, I still have it.”

  “Show it to me.” Her tone was hard.

  Nodding, he reached into his kimono and extracted the bamboo case holding the writ. He was forced to move forward on his knees before he was close enough to hand it to her.

  Himiko snatched the case from his hand and opened the container, taking out the paper safeguarded within. Ignoring his presence, she read the writ twice before carefully studying the stamped signature at the bottom. He saw a second look of surprise cross her features, but it was quickly replaced by enmity and distrust.

  “How did you come by this? I suppose my father gave it to you himself!”

  He cringed as she threw the writ at him. “No, Lady, Lord Asano didn’t give this to me. It was my lord, the original recipient of the writ, who passed it onto me.”

  She eyed him warily. “Why would a lord give such a valuable document to you?”

  He bristled at the implied insult but at the same time realized the reason for her question. “My lord has fallen on hard times. As unworthy as I am, I was still the only one left with any chance of accomplishing that which Lord Asano had bidden my lord to do.”

  Her small brow arced high, though the rest of her remained impassive. “And just what was it my father had supposedly bidden your lord to do?”

  He hesitated, but after a moment realized he really had no choice. If she was truly Lord Asano’s daughter, she might prove his only way to reach his goal. “Your father had asked my lord to find and deliver this to him.”

  He brought his wrapped bundle before him.

  “Let me see it.”

  He stared hard at the ground. “No.”

  “I believe I just told you to show it to me.”

  He hung his head low. “I’m sorry, Lady Himiko, but I can’t.” He forced himself to go on. “I won’t. This package is meant for Lord Asano’s eyes alone.”

  He heard her scoff, but refused to react to it.

  “I could have you killed for your impudence and see the contents anyway,” she said.

  He bowed, his blood turning cold at the seriousness in her tone. He lowered his head all the way to the warm earth but never let his hand stray from the kettle. “If that is your wish.”

  He waited in silence to see what she would do next.

  “You’re no
t Tsuyu’s man, are you,” she said.

  Her odd statement made him look up. He saw a strange expression cross her face as she looked away to stare at the bamboo around them. Abruptly, her gaze returned to him, pinning him where he knelt.

  “You’re obviously not from Narashi. Would you tell me where you come from then, Kazete-san?”

  He hesitated, not sure what to make of her new conversational tone. “I come from the north, from the port city of Shinsha. It is in the Toyama Bay.”

  “How long have you been in Narashi?”

  He glanced up at her again. “Five days.”

  “Have you seen much of it?” she asked eagerly.

  He sat up, seeing true curiosity in her face. “Only what could be seen on the streets on the way up to the castle.”

  She sighed, her eyes drifting from him. “That’s a pity, for Narashi is a marvelous city, what with its grand, paved streets, its eateries, its most excellent shopping districts and, best of all, its plays and art.” Himiko looked up, as if seeing what she spoke of in her mind’s eye. “You really should have availed yourself of them before coming here.”

  Toshi once again became the object of her stare. He saw her eyes soften before she turned to look away.

  “Please forgive me for my previous rudeness,” she said. “Things just haven’t been as they once were, and I’m forced to be careful.”

  He bowed to the ground again, accepting her apology but also wanting to hide his confusion.

  “My father hasn’t granted an audience to anyone for some time. My father hasn’t been my father for some time.” Her words were all matter-of-fact. It was the way. “Please stop groveling in my presence.

  We’re both samurai. We’re alone, and, in truth, I hold no position of importance.”

  Hesitant to break decorum, he sat up slowly. Himiko scooted over to one end of the bench.

  “Come, sit here with me.” She patted the empty seat beside her. “You’re getting your clothes dirty.”

  With some relief he noticed her sheathed blade was gone. He stood up, retrieving the thrown writ, and dusted off his clothes.

  “Sit here, next to me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone new to talk to.”