Blade of the Samurai: A Shinobi Mystery (Shinobi Mysteries) (12 page)

“Did Miyoshi Akira demand this?” Hiro asked.

“No,” Father Vilela said, “but Akira made his meaning clear. His message complained of Mateo’s behavior and said that the shogun didn’t want to trouble the foreign mission with further investigation of Japanese crimes.”

“What of me?” Hiro asked.

“The message indicated that your help is still desired,” Father Vilela said. “You are not a common servant, to be commanded, but I would consider it a favor—to Mateo and to me—if you would do as Miyoshi Akira requests.”

“And Father Mateo?” Hiro asked.

“Has nothing more to do with this investigation.” Father Vilela’s mind was made up.

Hiro disagreed, but even a samurai servant lacked the status to contradict a priest, and as far as Father Vilela knew the shinobi was merely a translator.

Father Mateo nodded once. “I understand. I will not return to the shogunate.”

“Thank you,” Father Vilela said. “We are making progress in Kyoto. Sometimes it comes at substantial cost, but the end result will be worth it—for commoners as well as for samurai.”

He rose and bowed, first to Father Mateo and then to Hiro. “Thank you for your hospitality.
Pax vobiscum.
”

“Peace be with you also.” Father Mateo stood and escorted the senior Jesuit to the door.

When he returned, alone, Hiro asked, “Do you really intend to abandon the search for Saburo’s killer?”

“Father Vilela told me to, and Akira demanded it.”

Hiro frowned. “You surrendered too quickly. You claim to believe in truth at any cost, yet you resigned without argument. Akira will think he was right and you were wrong, not only about equality, but about everything else as well.”

Father Mateo met Hiro’s gaze with calm determination. “I made the right decision. Akira is mistaken, but he was born and raised to believe himself superior to commoners. To him, that too is truth, not opinion. Arguing with his beliefs will never change them.

“Father Vilela is correct—I must find another way.”

“There is an important reason for you to continue,” Hiro said. “If Lord Oda’s men are spies, their arrival could lead to violence—and not just at the shogunate. I cannot protect you adequately if you quit the investigation and I do not.”

Father Mateo smiled. “I never agreed to abandon the investigation. If you remember, I merely said I would not return to the shogunate.”

Hiro considered the priest. Father Vilela might look more like a samurai, but Father Mateo thought like a shinobi.

Ana entered the
oe
through the kitchen door on the north side of the room. Hiro’s kitten, Gato, pranced along in her wake. The maid crossed to the hearth and removed the teapot from its chain. Lost in thought, Father Mateo didn’t seem to notice.

Hiro looked at Ana. “Did the broom handle split Kazu’s lip right away or did you have to hit him more than once?”

“Hm.” She straightened, kettle in hand. “You think I can’t split a lip in one blow?”

“You beat Kazu?” Father Mateo sounded horrified.

“He said if I didn’t the shogun would think you hid him.” Ana glared at Hiro. “Why did you let that drunken pig sleep off his sake here? You know we don’t allow alcohol in this house!”

“He didn’t bring any with him.” Hiro remembered the smell of Kazu’s robe and wished he hadn’t mentioned it.

“But … you beat him?” Father Mateo repeated.

Ana set her free hand on her hip. “I will not let Hiro’s lazy friends bring trouble on this house. Staying out to all hours, coming here drunk, hiding from responsibility! That lazy good-for-nothing deserved far worse than I gave him! Good sons stay home and take care of their parents. Shameful drunken carousing…”

She disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering about inconsiderate children who abandoned their aging parents to live debauched and useless lives in the city.

Hiro heard the front door open. He turned, surprised and a bit relieved, as Luis entered the common room. Until that moment, Hiro thought the merchant was still sleeping.

“Good evening, Luis.” Father Mateo bowed.

“Not really.” Luis waved a hand in the air. “Nasty rain and insufferable samurai.” He crossed to the hearth without returning the Jesuit’s bow. As he lowered himself to the floor in the host’s position, he shouted, “Ana! Food! And tea!”

He looked at Father Mateo. “I have to ride back to
Ō
tsu to fetch the shipment. The shogunate won’t issue a pass for shippers to bring the firearms into the city, even though the weapons are for the shogun.”

“Why not?” Father Mateo asked.

“Some hot-headed samurai murdered a clerk at the shogunate, and the
bakufu
office won’t issue new passes until the killer is caught.”

“The magistrates normally issue travel passes, not the shogun,” Hiro said.

“Not for firearms,” Luis snapped.

“I thought so,” Hiro said. “The shogun wouldn’t shut down Kyoto’s supply lines over a killing.”

Luis hadn’t stopped fuming. “The ban is on new permits only, and only for weapons. It doesn’t apply to other merchants or to food, as far as I can tell. I can bring the weapons into the city myself, I just can’t hire a Japanese merchant to cart them here from
Ō
tsu.

“Typical samurai nonsense.”

“A murder didn’t cause this.” Hiro explained about Lord Oda’s approaching embassy. “The shogun doesn’t want Oda’s warriors sneaking weapons into Kyoto.”

The explanation only made Luis angrier.

“Ridiculous waste of time,” he grumbled. “These are the shogun’s weapons, in marked containers! But now I have to close the warehouse, ride to
Ō
tsu, and bring the shipment back myself—and with the price already set, I can’t even charge him extra for my trouble.”

Hiro suspected that was the real problem. Luis just wanted more money for the job.

“But you can bring the weapons into the city?” Father Mateo asked.

Luis nodded. “Police had better not try to seize them. Murder investigation or no, I’m getting paid for these firearms.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Hiro said. “The Kyoto police aren’t investigating this murder.”

Luis turned to Father Mateo. “How does he know that?”

“Hiro and I spent most of the day at the shogunate,” Father Mateo said.

“You’re investigating this murder?” Luis turned purple. “What are you thinking? The last one nearly got you killed.”

Chapter 23

“Father Vilela asked us to help the shogun,” Father Mateo said. “I couldn’t refuse.”

“But now he has instructed Father Mateo to quit the investigation,” Hiro added.

Luis shook his head. “Jesuits—almost as inscrutable as Japanese.”

Ana carried a tray of soup and pickled vegetables into the room. She set it down in front of Luis and asked, “Father Mateo, would you like to eat now too?”

“Please.” The Jesuit knelt beside Luis. Unlike the merchant, Father Mateo had trained himself to sit in the Japanese style. “Hiro? Will you join us?”

“No thank you.” The shinobi slid open the door to his room. Gato raced through the opening the moment the gap was large enough to admit her narrow frame.

Hiro shook his head and followed the kitten into the room. As he slid the door shut behind him he heard Luis tell Father Mateo, “I’m heading for
Ō
tsu tomorrow morning. I’ll be gone overnight and back on the sixteenth, hopefully by midday.…”

The door closed and Hiro stopped listening. The merchant’s words held no further interest.

Gato ran halfway across the room and flopped down on her side. She stretched herself in a backward arc, legs splayed out and claws extended. She finished the stretch, rolled upright, and looked at Hiro.

He snapped his fingers. The kitten jumped up and trotted toward him with a trill. Hiro stroked her fur as she padded back and forth, purring in a low but constant rumble reminiscent of a temblor. Hiro smiled. At least her rumbling wouldn’t set the room to shaking.

When Gato wandered off, the shinobi exchanged his gray kimono for a dark blue surcoat and black
hakama
trousers. He slipped a
shuriken
into the tunic’s inner pocket and tied an obi around his waist. As he passed a hand over his hair, he decided to retie his
chonmage
. The morning’s hurried dressing had pulled the knot out of place, and the leather tie pinched when he turned his head.

Hiro removed the outer tie that secured the knot but left the second, inner band in place. Retying the outer knot was hard enough without assistance.

He ran a comb through his hair until the well-oiled tail hung smoothly to his waist. He set down the comb and twisted the hair in his hands, preparing to double it over the top of his head. Most samurai used a hairdresser, and Hiro preferred that option too, but necessity had forced him to learn to tie a passable knot on his own.

The attack came from behind and without warning.

A dozen tiny daggers punctured Hiro’s shoulder and upper back. He grunted with surprise and pain and tried to twist away, but the effort made Gato sink her claws even deeper into his flesh. Her free paw batted his hand and grabbed at the swaying tail of hair.

“Ow!” Hiro grabbed for Gato, determined to pry the kitten away before her efforts ruined his hair completely. He felt her claws release as the kitten slithered away through the oiled strands, clawing furiously as she slid to the floor.

He whirled to prevent a second attack, but the kitten moved even faster. She sprang for his back, and once again he felt her needle-sharp claws dig into his skin.

When he finally managed to grab the kitten, she purred at him through a mouthful of oiled hair.

“Stop it!” Hiro maneuvered Gato’s paws into one hand and used the other to extract the overexcited kitten from his hair. As he finished, Gato wrapped her paws around his wrist and sank her tiny teeth into his thumb. Her green eyes glowed with excitement. She kicked his sleeve with her legs. Her purr crescendoed.

“No!” Hiro dislodged the kitten from his wrist and set her on the floor. She fell to her side, paws extended, eager to continue the wrestling match.

Hiro looked for something to distract her.

A piece of rumpled parchment sat in the discard pail beside the desk. He grabbed the paper and crumpled it into a ball.

Gato mewed and jumped to her feet.

Hiro tossed the paper across the floor. Gato sprang after it, purring loudly, and tackled the target as it hit the ground. Kitten and parchment somersaulted across the floor and rolled to a stop. Gato clutched the paper between her paws and kicked contentedly at her captured prey.

Hiro took advantage of her distraction to fix his
chonmage
. By the time he finished, Gato had shredded the parchment and started to eat it.

The shinobi scooped up the scraps and dropped them into the discard pail, imagining Ana’s fury if Gato threw up parchment on the clean tatami floor. The maid wouldn’t blame the cat. Ana believed that Gato, like Father Mateo, could do no wrong. Hiro would bear the brunt of her wrath for feeding the kitten paper in the first place.

He tucked his swords through his obi and left the room as Gato curled up for a nap.

As Hiro passed through the common room, Father Mateo asked, “Will you join us?”

The Jesuit and Luis sat by the hearth enjoying a cup of tea. It smelled expensive, almost certainly
ichibancha
from Luis’s personal supply.

“No thank you,” Hiro said. “I need something stronger than tea.”

Father Mateo’s smile faded. “You’re going to Ginjiro’s?”

Hiro ignored the obvious, and familiar, disapproval. “Care to join me?”

“I have a worship service here in an hour. Why don’t you stay?”

“Another time.” Hiro avoided the Jesuit’s preaching as diligently as the priest avoided sake.

*   *   *

Hiro walked up Marutamachi Road as the darkening sky turned the clouds from gray to black. The evening air smelled of earth and smoldering fires, and though the rain had stopped for the moment the rainy season had definitely arrived.

The torii gate at the entrance to Okazaki Shrine glowed red, reflecting the charcoal fires in the braziers at its base. A whiff of acrid smoke from the coals made Hiro think of hell. He wasn’t sure he believed in the flaming pit of the Christian god or the multilayered Buddhist hells where evil met a variety of peculiarly twisted punishments. He was more concerned with avoiding the torments inflicted upon the living—and ensuring that Father Mateo did the same.

Hiro crossed the Kamo River and continued south along the river road. As he walked, he considered what he knew of Saburo’s murder.

The body’s condition indicated that Saburo died around midnight. By that hour, all visitors would have left the shogunate grounds. Kazu and Ozuru, as well as Jun, admitted to staying after the gates were closed, though each of them claimed no knowledge of the murder.

Saburo hadn’t drawn his sword, which suggested the dead man knew the killer and didn’t question his appearance in the office so late at night.

All of which looked increasingly bad for Kazu.

Hiro hoped Ginjiro, and possibly Suke, could fill in some of the gaps in Kazu’s evening. If not, the shinobi might have to depend upon Kazu’s word and inferences drawn from the younger man’s story, and though Hiro trusted Kazu more than almost anyone else in the world, the shinobi’s distrust of assumptions ran even deeper than his faith in friends.

Chapter 24

As Hiro approached Ginjiro’s brewery, the hum of masculine voices told him the evening crowd had arrived. Most of the regulars knew one another on sight and Hiro was no exception. A samurai patron called a greeting, echoed by several others, and the shinobi acknowledged the welcome with a polite if not heartfelt smile.

Suke sat in his usual corner farthest from the counter, but the monk seemed too absorbed in a flask of sake to notice Hiro’s approach.

The shinobi noted Kazu’s absence with relief. Ginjiro might talk more openly without the younger man present.

Unfortunately, the brewer was absent too.