Kill the Shogun (14 page)

Infatuated
sighs and sad puppydog eyes.
Young love. A bother!

S
aburo!” Momoko came running down the dark street, her feet making the characteristic shuffle sound of someone running in a kimono. She stepped around the bodies that littered the ground and threw her arms around Kaze’s neck.

Surprised, Kaze took one hand off his sword hilt and patted her on the back. “Don’t worry, Momoko. The ninja are all dead now. They can’t hurt you.”

Momoko pulled back. “I’m not worrying about them hurting me,” she said indignantly. “I knew you’d kill them! I’m just worried that you’re hurt.”

Kaze smiled. “You have a lot of faith in me. There were five of them.”

“They hit me and knocked me down, so I didn’t know how many of them there were, but when I regained my senses I could see you had already defeated all but one of them. You were fantastic!”

Kaze smiled. “Youthful enthusiasm.”

“I’m not that young,” Momoko said. Then, taking advantage of the fact that her arms were around Kaze’s neck, she kissed him
fiercely. It was a clumsy, sloppy kiss, but what Momoko lacked in technique, she made up for with vigor.

Kaze put a hand on her chest and gently pushed her away. “Five men just died,” he said. “It’s frightening how youth can ignore death to indulge lust.”

Momoko drew herself up, as dignified as any court lady. “I kissed you because I was happy that you survived,” she said. “It wasn’t lust.”

“Whatever it was, let’s leave this place before a patrol comes by and discovers us. It would be inconvenient to have to explain five dead bodies.”

Momoko nodded and started rushing off.

“Slow down,” Kaze said. “If we run, we’ll attract attention from anyone who sees us. If we stroll, no one will take notice.”

Momoko slowed down and dutifully started following Kaze a pace behind, just like a wife. Her face was flushed with excitement from the night’s events, but just as if she were onstage, she played the role of the Edokko housewife perfectly.

“Why were you following me?” Kaze asked when they had left the street with the dead ninja.

“I just didn’t want the night to end. It was so wonderful for me. When you took off your makeup and abruptly left, I decided to see where you were going. I was curious.”

“About what?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “I was curious to see, ah, if you were visiting a woman, or maybe even—”

“Even?”

“Well, maybe you were visiting a boy. A lot of samurai like that. I wanted to know if that was the case with you.”

Kaze shook his head. “The young people these days are incredible. Haven’t you been told that a maiden of your age should have some modesty?”

“I’m not a child,” Momoko said.

“Then you should feign modesty. You’re not a strumpet.”

“Remember, until a few weeks ago, the Kabuki dancers at the theater were females doing the most lascivious dances. After the performance, they would entertain patrons, sometimes right backstage. I was always backstage helping them dress or picking up costumes after the performance. I’m not experienced, but I’ve seen plenty.”

“Maybe too much,” Kaze said.

Kaze had left the theater to look for a convenient way to get on the roof of the Little Flower, to see if he could look down into any inner courtyards and get an appreciation for the layout of the building. Within moments of leaving the theater, he knew he was being followed, and seconds after that he knew the follower was Momoko. Although she had a gift from the Gods when she was onstage, this gift did not extend to an ability to mimic clandestine operations. Initially, Kaze thought a little wandering would discourage the girl, but she was persistent, and Kaze decided a confrontation and lecture were in order.

Instead of being the teacher in this situation, however, Kaze learned a lesson: Skilled ninja can hide anywhere, even behind a mere slip of a woman. Kaze was so focused on Momoko that he didn’t even realize so many men were surrounding him until he heard the tsugumi call. Kaze was not a city dweller, but he understood that this call was unusual in a city like Edo, especially at that time of night.

He and Momoko walked back to the Kabuki theater. Momoko’s imitation of a wife on the journey somehow irritated Kaze. When they got to the theater, Momoko proceeded to stir up the charcoal fire in an earthenware container, which served as the only source of heat for warmth and cooking. She poured water, which was obtained from a communal well in the neighborhood, into a teapot, and commenced to heat it. Kaze shook his head. It was as if it were a totally normal part of Momoko’s daily routine to witness
a battle between one man and five ninja, and now it was time to sit back, relax, do some domestic chores, and have some soothing tea.

As Momoko busied herself with chores, Kaze rummaged through the theater props until he found a suitable piece of wood. It was a branch that must have been used as decoration. No matter. Taking out his katana, he cut the branch to the proper size. He sheathed the katana and took out his
ko-gatana
, the small knife he kept in a holder that was built into his sword’s scabbard. He sat by the fire and started to carve.

Momoko was curious, but she kept quiet and let Kaze work. Under Kaze’s practiced hand, the wood took shape rapidly, a figure emerging from the grain in quick order. When he was done, he put the statue of the Kannon on the floor before him.

“Would you like some
ocha
, tea?” Momoko asked timidly. She had remained silent, allowing Kaze to work the entire time.

Kaze nodded, and Momoko handed him a chipped cup of the bitter green brew. Kaze sipped at the scalding liquid and sighed.

“Can I see it?” Momoko asked, pointing to the statue.

Kaze handed it to her. She examined it closely, as if the planes and curves of the wood would reveal something about the soul of its maker.

“It’s a beautiful Kannon,” she said.

Kaze gave a brief nod to acknowledge the compliment.

“Is this modeled after someone you know?”

Again, Kaze nodded.

“Your, ah, your wife?”

Kaze shook his head no.

Momoko looked at the statue again. “She is extremely beautiful.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Oh, has she grown old now?”

“She will never grow old.”

“How is that possible?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Was she as gentle and serene as you’ve made her in the statue?”

“Yes. She had a remarkable quality for making you feel happy and calm. Most women make men happy by getting them excited, but she had a loving grace about her that washed over all in her presence.”

“Were you in love with her?”

Kaze sighed. “I couldn’t be in love with her. She was the wife of my Lord.”

“But Saburo …”

“Momoko, I’m not Saburo. My name now is Matsuyama Kaze. I was once a samurai in the service of my Lord, and now I am a ronin, a wave man, a wandering samurai.”

“Matsuyama Kaze …” Comprehension washed across Momoko’s face. “Are you the man who tried to assassinate the Shogun?” she blurted out.

“No.”

She looked a little relieved.

“I am, however, the man the authorities want for trying to assassinate the Shogun.”

“But—”

“The authorities think I tried to kill Ieyasu, and ended up killing Lord Nakamura in the assassination attempt. I actually didn’t do either.”

“But if they’re looking for you, why are you still in Edo? Saburo, ah, Kaze, you must leave here for somewhere safe!”

“Where in the entire realm is it safe for a man suspected of trying to kill the Shogun? More important, I have business in Edo.”

“No business is worth your life!”

“To me it is.”

“Please leave Edo right away! I’ll, ah, I’ll go with you. Just to
keep you company. The authorities won’t suspect a man and, ah, his young wife.”

Kaze smiled. He was going to remark on the transparency of youth, but Momoko’s drawn face, so filled with fear of the authorities for Kaze’s sake, plus her boldness in declaring, albeit indirectly, her love for him, made him soften his statement.

“It would probably be good for me to leave Edo for a short while, but not for the reasons you want. This city is interesting, but I can’t think here. I want to go to a place where a bird’s song doesn’t mean an attack, a place where I can breathe clean air and find trees that are free to all, instead of locked up behind the walls of a great lord’s Edo villa. I have to consider what to do next, and I can’t do it in this city.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, you’ll stay here. I’ll be back shortly, because I have to finish my business here in Edo. It’s a sacred pledge, and I must complete it. But before I can do that, I must think, and that requires me to be alone for a while. Besides, Goro and Hanzo need you. They’re hopeless businessmen, and this theater will fail if they try to run it by themselves. They have good hearts, but weak minds. You have a good heart and a good mind, and you love this Kabuki. You’ll help mold and invent it, and I’m sure you’ll be a great success. It is your karma to be here, not wandering the roads with me.”

“But—”

Kaze was already on his feet.

Momoko grabbed the statue of the Kannon. “At least let me keep this, as a remembrance of you.”

Kaze reached down and gently took it from her hands. “No. This has a purpose. On my way out of town, I’ll stop at the place where the ninjas died and place it where she can look over the site, and soothe the troubled souls of the men I killed.”

At the tears forming in Momoko’s eyes, Kaze snapped, “Don’t cry. It’s pathetic, and I hate pathetic people!”

Momoko wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her kimono, and actually managed a smile, although it was a forced, stage smile.

“I’ll be back in a few days.” Kaze stuck his sword in his sash. Then he said, “I’ll carve you something else someday. Something more suitable for a woman of your remarkable talents.” Momoko’s false smile metamorphosed into a genuine one.

“Good,” Kaze said. He took the carved statue of the Goddess of Mercy and left.

Look within yourself.
Block out all thoughts and worry.
Hear your beating heart.

T
oyama was in a rage. He had spent the morning in his villa’s study, writing instructions to his retainers in his home fief and notes to relatives. None of the correspondence discussed his growing anxiety over his position with Ieyasu or his desire to distinguish himself when others, like Yoshida, Honda, and Okubo, seemed to be getting ahead in the new order that was coming from Ieyasu’s Shogunate.

Toyama was also anxious to hear from the ninja he had hired to kill Matsuyama Kaze. As soon as he heard Kaze was dead, Toyama intended to tell Ieyasu, disclosing his role in hiring the ninja. Yet despite days of waiting, he had heard nothing.

The only comfort Toyama had was that Yoshida, with all the power of the Shogunate’s troops behind him, was doing no better. Toyama delighted that Yoshida’s search of Ningyo-cho had disclosed nothing, despite the effort he put into closing off that quarter of the city and sending troops to examine every house, business, and alleyway.

Buoyed by that thought, Toyama had decided to treat himself to a walk in the garden before he finished his correspondence. It
was a fine day. Toyama was told that Edo was hot and humid in the summer, and dreary in the winter, but today, one of the last days of fall, the weather was glorious. Above, the clouds looked like white swirls on deep blue silk, and in the luxury of his garden, he was insulated from the bustle of the city.

Toyama returned to his study refreshed. On the low desk he was using to write, he found a letter. Toyama was puzzled. When he left, he was sure that the desk had been clear, save for a few sheets of fine paper, an ink stone, a stick of ink, and some fox hair brushes.

Toyama called out, and one of the guards in the hallway slid open the door.

“Yes, Lord!”

“Did one of the servants just deliver a letter?”

“No, Lord. No one has come down the hallway.”

Toyama waved a hand to dismiss the guard. He knelt on the low cushion placed before the writing desk and picked up the letter. It was not placed in an outer wrapping, like some formal correspondence might be. Instead, the letter was folded tightly until it formed a flat strip, and then the strip was folded over into a decorative knot. “Lord Toyama” was written on one of the paper ends coming from the knot. His name was written in proper kanji, using a very thin brush and a fine hand. Toyama undid the loose knot, then unfolded the paper. Inside was a note in the squiggly lines of hiragana, written with the same brush and fine hand.

      
To Lord Toyama
—

      
Five have died, but the target still lives. The contract has been completed, but was not successful.

The note was unsigned, but Toyama knew who it was from. The ninja! He let out a shout of frustration and anger that caused the guard to slide the door open again.

“Lord, is there something wrong?”

“No! Close the door, you fool!” The guard hastily did as he was ordered.

Those peasant murderers would not be allowed to get away with this, Toyama fumed. He looked at the words “The contract has been completed” and “not successful” and threw the letter down. Toyama would go to Ieyasu. He would explain what happened, and how much money he had paid these ninja. Then he would enlist Ieyasu’s support for a campaign to exterminate these assassins and spies. Why, it wouldn’t surprise him if the attempted assassination of Ieyasu had really been a ninja plot. It was just like them to strike from hiding, when the victim would least expect it. He would show them that they couldn’t trifle with a Toyama! With Ieyasu’s help, he would hunt them down, every one of them, and rip the guts from their women and children before he crucified the men. He would be merciless! No amount of begging or pleading would deter him from exacting a terrible vengeance on the ninja, wiping them from…

Toyama’s eyes fixed on the letter, lying crumpled in a corner where he had thrown it. A terrible thought entered his head. “Guard!” he bellowed.

The door slid open instantly. The guard, his eyes wide with fear over his Lord’s inexplicable actions, said, “Yes, Lord!”

“Are you sure no one was in my study?”

“Yes, my Lord. There are two of us. We would certainly know if someone had entered your room.”

A chill seized Toyama’s spine, and he actually felt the flesh on his arms rising to chicken skin. “All right,” he said breathlessly. When the guard continued to look at him, seeing if he was possessed, he simply waved him away.

Toyama was possessed. Possessed with fear. A ninja had managed to penetrate his villa, delivering a letter to Toyama’s study
unseen and unheard, in the few minutes available when Toyama left his study to walk in his garden. Toyama had heard many legends of ninja magic. Even without magic, he also knew the ninja were incredibly tenacious.

He remembered the rumor of how Uesugi had died. A ninja dug a tunnel under Uesugi’s garden, directly under the privy next to Uesugi’s manor. The tunnel exited right under the hole in the wooden floor of the privy, intersecting the deep shaft dug to hold human waste. The ninja crawled down the tunnel and waited, in the stinking darkness, for days, until Lord Uesugi finally used that privy to relieve himself. Then the ninja had thrust a sword up Uesugi’s backside, impaling him and causing him an agonizing death.

At first, the servants thought Lord Uesugi had had some kind of terrible seizure, until they saw the blood gushing from his bottom. Afterward, Uesugi’s guards discovered the tunnel and were able to piece together how their Lord was killed. The official story was that Uesugi had died of a sudden fit while going to the bathroom, but six guards committed seppuku in apology for the successful assassination. Toyama thought this was a waste, because who but a ninja would conceive of such a terrible way to kill a man? How would you defend a lord from such a thing?

If Toyama declared a vendetta against the ninja, they would undoubtedly reciprocate. He would forever be fearful about using a privy. But even such a bizarre precaution couldn’t save him from the ninja’s revenge. He looked at the crumpled-up letter and realized that it had been delivered in a specific manner to serve as a warning.

Toyama slid over and picked up the letter with a trembling hand. He opened it and stared at the phrase, “Five have died.” What manner of demon was this Matsuyama, that he could kill five of the ninja devils?

T
he demon Matsuyama was sitting in a pine tree, looking at a flower. He had walked the entire night and most of the morning. Edo was large and growing larger by the day, but it wasn’t so large that one couldn’t escape the city and its satellite villages on foot. One direction being as good as another, Kaze had started walking toward Fuji-san, that snowcapped slope of perfection seen in the distance from Edo.

Passing farms and villages in the still, early morning hours, he came to rolling hills, thick with woods. This was what he was seeking.

Kaze could taste the scent of the trees on his tongue. If they were pines or cryptomerias, it was a heady taste of pitch and tar. Kaze’s favorite was the cherry, which created a faint perfume that entered his nostrils and dispersed its sweetness to his very fingertips.

Following a boyhood habit, he picked a wildflower, then scaled one of the trees that had a sturdy branch growing parallel to the ground, and sat on the branch in the lotus position, his sword across his lap. He looked down at the flower, focusing on it. It was an old trick.

By focusing on a specific object like the flower, one could block out the clutter that filled the mind. Then, when one stopped thinking about the specific, one was not consciously thinking at all. This state of non-mindedness led to revelation and understanding. Paradoxically, non-mindedness opened up the consciousness to new thoughts, approaches, and insight, drawing from the entire universe of enlightenment, instead of the narrow circle of self that usually confined thoughts.

When he had satisfied himself with his inspection of the flower, really not knowing if it took a minute or an hour, he dropped the flower from his perch in the tree and watched it tumble to the
ground. It turned madly, responding to the vagaries of the gentle wind that stirred the air. How like our lives, Kaze thought, so at the mercy of circumstances, illness, war, and the actions of others. With his head down and his soul in a state of repose, he stared at the ground, not really focusing. He did
kanki-issoku
, quietly exhaling completely through his mouth, using his stomach, then inhaling through his nose. He meditated, opening his mind to solutions to the problems facing him, depending on the deeper resources of his spirit instead of the finite abilities of his mind.

When Kaze stopped meditating, it was night. He was surprised to find himself surrounded by darkness, with the hard points of stars splashed across the sky. If someone had approached him in his meditative state, he would have been instantly alert. But to the natural cycle of day into night, he remained oblivious.

Kaze dropped out of the tree, landing on his feet as lightly as a cat. His muscles were sore from inactivity, but by maintaining a proper
zazen
posture, even while perched on a branch, he was not as stiff as he would otherwise be.

He found himself a grassy spot under the tree and wrapped his kimono a bit tighter. Hugging his sword in his arms, he lay down to sleep, happy at being outdoors once again, far away from the city.

He was surprised at the conclusions he had come to about the attempted assassination of Ieyasu. He was also surprised at his plan for rescuing the Lady’s daughter from the Little Flower Whorehouse. Before drifting to sleep, he marveled at what thoughts came to you when you simply put yourself into a state to receive them.