by Shin
Ogyu exchanged an oblique glance with Katsuragawa before replying. "I am afraid you will not be investigating this or any other matter any longer, Sano-san. As of this moment, you are relieved of your post as yoriki of the city of Edo, and all its attendant duties and privileges."
The words hit Sano like a physical blow. He actually swayed under its impact. Such a disgrace, both for him and his family! Ogyu's face wavered before him. Sounds echoed; the room dimmed. Of the magistrate's words he registered only a few-disjointed phrases.
". insubordination. incompetence. disloyalty. mistake to appoint you in the first place. character unsuitable. If you would please vacate your office and your quarters at once. "
He almost forgot the investigation that had seemed so important a moment ago. How would this affect his father?
"Sano-san. Do you understand why I am dismissing you?" Ogyu asked.
Sano opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Ogyu must have thought he intended to argue or plead, because he said, "My decision is final. There will be no appeals. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Honorable Magistrate," Sano managed to whisper.
"And, if you would be so good as to leave Hamada Tsunehiko's ashes with my clerk, an official representative will deliver them to his parents and offer condolences on behalf of the city."
Sano felt no relief at being spared the task. How could Ogyu deprive him of the chance to fulfill even this responsibility? But the numbing paralysis of shock kept him from speaking. He nodded, obedient when it no longer mattered.
"Then you may go." Ogyu paused, then added, "I hope you will find success in your future endeavors."
Like a sleepwalker, Sano rose.
Katsuragawa spoke for the first time. "I'll go with you."
Sano looked at his patron in dismay. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He wanted to clear out his office and rooms in the barracks and leave as quickly as possible. He needed time to plan what he would say to his father. But Katsuragawa stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder.
"We need to talk, Sano-san," he said.
He firmly guided Sano to the entry way where they both retrieved their shoes. Once outside, he led the way down a quiet lane that ran between the mansion's wall and its neighbor's.
They walked in silence for a while. Sano glanced sideways at his patron, noticing again the features that had impressed him at their first meeting. The heavy shoulders that almost swallowed Katsuragawa's short, thick neck. The distinctive profile, with its full lips, large-nostrilled nose, and wary, unblinking eyes. The great curve of his generous but firm belly. Katsuragawa's posture exuded confidence; his controlled movements and slow, deliberate pace suggested power held in check. Beside him, Sano felt small and diminished, although he was taller than Katsuragawa.
"As your patron, I accept some degree of responsibility for what has happened to you," Katsuragawa said, looking straight ahead. "Perhaps, in my eagerness to discharge a long-standing obligation, I acted too hastily. I should not have directed you into a position for which you are so unsuited. But the ultimate blame lies with you, does it not?"
He turned to face Sano. "Did you even try to conform to your superior's requirements? Did you even try to make up for your lack of qualifications and aptitude with loyalty and obedience?"
Jolted out of numbness by Katsuragawa's reproach, Sano retorted, "What have my shortcomings got to do with anything? I was dismissed not because I performed badly, but because I performed too well. I uncovered a murder that Magistrate Ogyu wanted to keep hidden. " He flung out his hands."How can you expect me to give my loyalty to a man so corrupt that he would sentence an innocent man to death in order to perpetuate this cover-up?" He was shouting now, but he didn't care who heard or if he offended Katsuragawa. His urge to defend himself- against his own as well as everyone else's accusations-was too strong."Do you deny that there is a cover-up?"
"Sano-san." Katsuragawa stopped walking and folded his thick arms across his chest. In a condescending tone he said, "This is exactly what I mean by your lack of aptitude. Of course there's a cover-up! And if you'd been the right man for your job, you would have immediately understood why it was necessary."
Ignoring Sano's shocked exclamation, he demanded, "What do you think would happen if it became known that someone in Lord Niu's household had murdered Yukiko? And what if you proved that the 'someone' was another member of the family? What if the shogun saw fit to put the entire clan to death and confiscate its lands as punishment? Imagine the effect this would have on the country!"
Katsuragawa lifted his hands skyward. "Thousands and thousands of ronin, eager to avenge their master's death. The Niu allies and other daimyo, restless after ninety years of Tokugawa rule, looking for a reason to start a rebellion. Put these together and what do you get?"
He leaned so close that Sano could see the pores in his swarthy skin. "Bloodshed. Another five centuries of war. You would have this? Just to satisfy your curiosity about the deaths of a common peasant and one insignificant woman? You would not sacrifice the life of a wrestler-a cretin who injures because he cannot control his temper-for peace?"
Sano hadn't considered the larger implications of the murders, and Katsuragawa's explanation had a certain terrifying logic. But something about it rang false. In the first place, Sano couldn't believe that national peace alone had motivated Ogyu.
"Why didn't Magistrate Ogyu explain this to me?" he asked.
"He probably assumed you understood." Katsuragawa turned and resumed his slow walk.
Sano followed. "Do you really believe what you told me? Does Magistrate Ogyu? Wouldn't the murderer, if he is a Niu, be allowed to commit seppuku? The family wouldn't be punished, like commoners would. And the Tokugawas are strong. The daimyo wouldn't risk a revolt. They have more to gain by holding on to their lands, their wealth-and their heads."
When Katsuragawa didn't respond at once, Sano said, "Please, at least consider what I've said. And if you decide I'm right, will you use your influence to reopen the murder investigation?"
Instead of answering, Katsuragawa bent a glance on Sano that simultaneously pitied him for his na‹vet‚ and expressed outrage at his effrontery. Sano saw the futility of asking for Katsuragawa's help. Even if Katsuragawa didn't believe in the disaster scenario, he and Ogyu and the other officials were bound by their own complex web of obligation, which Sano couldn't hope to unravel.
Katsuragawa said, "Sano-san, I am prepared to help you find a new position. Perhaps a better one than you've just lost. I have many contacts." His shrug indicated that he had only to wave a hand, and a new place would open for Sano. "There is also the matter of your marriage, which I understand your father would like arranged as soon as possible. I would be glad to offer my services as a go-between, and to act as guarantor to the extent that I am able."
A new position, possibly a higher one with a larger stipend. And, with Katsuragawa negotiating for him and ensuring his financial security, a chance to marry into a high-ranking family. Sano could reclaim his social standing and some part of his honor. Such prospects would greatly ease his father's disappointment.
Katsuragawa's offer was generous, and Sano had to consider it. But he knew a bribe when he saw one. And the ghosts of Tsunehiko and Raiden stood between him and his acceptance of it.
"You'll help me-if I stop investigating the murders?" he said, naming the obvious catch.
Katsuragawa's mouth twisted with distaste at Sano's bluntness. "All right, then: yes."
"I can't do that."
Katsuragawa halted in his tracks. "Are you a fool, Sano Ichiro?" he demanded. He grabbed Sano by the shoulders and shook him. "Can you not see what you're doing to yourself, to your father? Besides, you can do nothing about the murders now. You're not a yoriki anymore. No one is obliged to answer your questions or follow your orders. If you attempt to conduct a private inquiry, you will be arrested and severely punished for interfering with government affairs. It's over, Sano-san. Give up!"<
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"No." As he pulled free of Katsuragawa's grasp, Sano realized that with one word, he'd severed his relationship with his patron. An exhilarating sense of liberation came over him, tempered by fear. An influential patron who could provide introductions to the right people was an absolute necessity for a samurai who wanted to rise in the world. Without one, Sano could relinquish any hope of advancement. What had he done?
"Then you are a fool." Katsuragawa brushed his hands together as if dusting off the last vestiges of his obligation to Sano and his family. He started away down the lane. Before he'd gone ten paces, he turned.
"Do you know why Magistrate Ogyu and I decided you would make a good yoriki?" he said. "Because we thought your inexperience would render you so incompetent as to be harmless. Because your indebtedness would make you easy to control." Katsuragawa laughed in derision. "We were wrong about you then, but not now. If you pursue this ridiculous course, you are as good as dead."
Twilight was falling by the time Sano reached his parents' home, his horse still laden with the baggage from his trip, except for Tsunehiko's ashes, which he'd reluctantly left with Ogyu's clerk. Behind him trailed the two porters he'd hired to carry his possessions from the barracks. Dismounting, he helped them unload the bundles outside the gate, paid them, and sent them on their way. Then he stood alone in the gathering gloom, contemplating a thought just as dark.
As a samurai, he'd always known there might come a time when he must commit seppuku to avoid disgrace, or to atone for it. His training told him that time had come. After what had happened, only his ritual suicide could restore honor to his name and family. But although his warrior's spirit welcomed the release and purification of death, he must forswear it. His life was not his to take until he had avenged Tsunehiko's death, cleared Raiden's name, and achieved justice for Yukiko, Noriyoshi, and Wisteria.
Sano roused himself to stable his horse and put his bundles in the entryway of the house. He slid open the door to the main room. To drive a dagger into his own stomach would have been easier. He dreaded facing his father, dreaded also seeing again the mark of death on the old man. So at first he was relieved to find the room empty. Then he saw something that disturbed him far more.
The door that connected the main room with the bedchamber stood open. Through it he saw his mother standing by the window, her back to him, despair evident in the slump of her shoulders. His father lay on the futon. His eyes were closed. Low, rumbling coughs shook his body almost continuously. Fear shot through Sano. He'd never seen his father take to bed so early. And the amount of sickroom paraphernalia arranged by the bed-tea bowls, washbasin, crumpled cloths, medicine jars-indicated that he'd been there all day, or longer.
"Otosan?" Sano said.
His father stirred. Slowly he opened his eyes. A frown crossed his sunken face. Then the frown disappeared, as though the slight movement of facial muscles had exhausted him.
"Ichiro," his mother said, turning with a strained smile."What a surprise. We were not expecting you."
Sano walked over to his mother and embraced her. Always a sturdy, robust woman, she now seemed smaller and more frail, as if weakened by her husband's illness. Then he knelt beside his father.
"My son," his father whispered. "Why have you come? Shouldn't you be at your post? Even if your work is done for the day, the others will want you in the barracks."
Should he make up some excuse, Sano wondered, and tell his father that he'd lost his position and his patron only when-or if-the old man grew stronger? Surely it would be an act of mercy.
His father's emaciated hand emerged from under the quilt to touch Sano's. "Go," he said, making a feeble pushing motion. A cough shuddered through his body. "Do not shirk your duty."
"Otosan." Sano swallowed against the dry lump in his throat. He couldn't lie. His father's own uncompromising honesty had always demanded the same from him. "I'm sorry, but I have something bad to tell you."
He explained all that had happened, from the start of his investigation of the shinju to his parting with Katsuragawa Shundai. When he finished, he braced himself for his father's recriminations.
But his father said nothing. Instead he blinked once, slowly. Before he turned his face away, Sano saw the weak light in his eyes grow dimmer still.
"Otosan, I'm sorry," Sano said, less alarmed by the wordless rejection than by the knowledge that he might have just destroyed his father's last chance for recovery. "Please forgive me. Don't give up!"
He put his hand over his father's. It shrank from his touch. For the old man, he no longer existed. Now he wished he had committed seppuku. His father would prefer a son dead than in this terrible disgrace which would speed him to his own grave.
"Otosan!"
His mother was beside him, tugging gently on his arm, urging him to his feet. "Let your father rest," she entreated him. "Wouldn't you like to put your things away and have a bath before dinner?"
Sano turned away from her pleading eyes and anxious smile that begged him to act as though disaster hadn't just shattered their world. He walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" his mother called, hurrying after him. "When will you be back?"
"I don't know."
A steady rain began to fall, drenching Sano's clothes as he roamed the streets. It pattered onto the tile rooftops and dripped off eaves into puddles that splashed under his feet. Lamplight made hazy yellow squares of the windows he passed. The tops of the fire towers disappeared in mist and darkness. An occasional pedestrian hurried past him, hidden beneath an umbrella. From the alleys behind the houses, Sano could hear the rumble of wooden wheels and the clatter of buckets and dippers as night-soil collectors made their rounds. The night soil's odor mingled with the clean scents of wet earth and wood, charcoal smoke and cooking.
Sano had been walking for hours; he'd lost track of how many. His legs ached, but his mind would not let him rest. All the thinking he'd done hadn't reconciled him to either of only two possible courses of action: to somehow mend the rift between him and Katsuragawa Shundai and salvage his career, or to commit seppuku. Either way, he must relinquish the murder investigation that could only result in more disgrace and a dishonorable death for both himself and his father. But that was what he could not accept. His desire for truth and justice forbade such passive submission to defeat, even as the Way of the Warrior dictated filial piety and obedience.
So he wandered aimlessly through the city, turning corners at random-or so he thought, until he saw the moat and walls of Edo Jail looming before him. Torches flared on the ramparts; the guards at the gate wore rain cloaks over their armor. The whole edifice shimmered in the mist like a haunted castle. Sano had never imagined returning to the loathsome place, but he marched across the bridge and up to the guards without hesitation.
"I am Yoriki Sano Ichiro," he said, hoping they hadn't heard otherwise yet. "I wish to see Dr. Ito Genboku." Conscious thought hadn't provoked his desire to see Ito again, but now he saw the rightness of it. The doctor had made sacrifices for his own ideals. Sano could talk to him. Ito would understand his dilemma.
The guards hadn't heard, and they admitted him. Instead of escorting him through the prison, one of them led him around the buildings, through a series of courtyards and passages, to a hut near the far wall. Its one window shone weakly; smoke rose from the skylight.
The guard opened the door without knocking. "Ito. Someone here to see you." He bowed to Sano and left.
Since there was no veranda or entry way, Sano left his shoes on the ground beside the door, where the thatched roof's overhang provided inadequate shelter from the rain. It didn't matter; they were soaked anyway. He ducked his head to avoid hitting the low door frame.
He was standing at the threshold of a single room that occupied the entire hut. Ito knelt in the middle of the floor beside a small charcoal brazier, lamp and book in front of him. In the corner, Mura the eta was washing clothes in a bucket. The doctor regarded Sano without surprise.
"Somehow I always thought you would return," he said. "Don't just stand there shivering, come and warm yourself. Mura-san? Sake for our guest, please. And a bowl of rice gruel."
Mura went to a makeshift kitchen composed of a one-burner stove and a few crowded shelves. Sano knelt by the brazier, grateful for its heat. He hadn't realized how cold he was. Great shudders racked his body and rattled his teeth. He couldn't hold his trembling hands still over the coals.
Without speaking, Ito rose. From the cabinet he took a quilt and brought it to Sano.
"No, thank you," Sano said. The cabinet had held just the one quilt, his host's own.
Ito continued to hold out the quilt. "Take off those wet clothes and put this around you, or you'll be sick." He added, "Please oblige me. I get few chances to offer hospitality."
Sano did as he was told. He drank the heated sake and ate the steaming gruel that Mura brought him. When warmth returned to his body, he told Dr. Ito everything that had happened since they last met.
