A mischievous smile gleamed on Yanagisawa's face. "I have four sons and a daughter of marriageable age. It's too bad for you that your children are so young." As he strode off to join his allies, he said over his shoulder, "Whatever you think happened, I've won this round."
For four days Hirata had been riding through the city, trying to lure his enemy to him. For four days he'd had no luck. Now, as the twilight descended upon Edo, he found himself in the fish market by the Nihonbashi Bridge.
The stalls were vacant. The orange rays of the setting sun cast long black shadows over the empty aisles. Rats and stray dogs scavenged through heaps of seashells. Hirata climbed off his horse and stood in the center of the market. He projected his senses outward, searching.
Once again he failed to detect his enemy's presence.
Hirata breathed his own desperation, which smelled as rotten as the fish market. He was weak, light-headed, and ill from the fatigue born of sleepless nights and constant anxiety. The old wound in his leg ached. He felt as if the enemy had used his own body and mind as weapons against him, had conquered him without a battle.
That was the strategy of the top martial artists in history. Perhaps it had been his enemy's all along.
Other troubles contributed to Hirata's sorry mental and physical state. Before his death, Ogita had told the shogun that Hirata had killed his servant. The shogun, already upset because Hirata had killed too many other men in duels, had decided that Hirata was too dangerous to be allowed near him. Even if Hirata hadn't had to give up his estate to Sano, he'd have had to move out of Edo Castle. Now he and his family lived in a small estate across the river, banished and disgraced.
But Hirata was determined to make amends and regain his good standing. He meant to fight the enemy face-to-face. If he lost, he would at least see his conqueror and know his name before he died.
"Here I am!" he called. "Come and get me. Or are you afraid?"
His taunt echoed across the deserted market. Hirata listened, then froze alert at the sound of footsteps. They approached from every direction, like a multitude converging on Hirata, but they all had the same stealthy, measured gait; they belonged to one lone man. With them came the unmistakable pulse of the enemy's shield.
Even though the familiar panic surged through Hirata, he didn't turn in circles in a futile attempt to locate the man; he resisted the urge to strike out blindly; he didn't waste his strength. He stood still, looked straight ahead down the aisle of stalls, and simply waited.
A man glided into view at the end of the aisle perhaps a hundred paces from Hirata. By some trick of light or sleight of mind he appeared closer, his size formidably magnified. With the sun's orange glow behind him, Hirata couldn't see his features. He was a tall, black silhouette, his topknot a bulge above his shaved crown, his two swords jutting at his waist.
Hirata felt his heart race and the impulse to flee or give chase leap within him as he and his enemy faced each other. He called, "Who are you?"
The enemy turned away, and the fading sun briefly lit the right side of his face. Hirata glimpsed its high cheekbone and strong jaw, and the curve of a smile that was serene and chilling. Then the man stepped behind the stalls and vanished.
Hirata let him go. He knew they would meet again, just as he knew that the matter of when or where wasn't his to choose. The time and place, the weapons and the circumstances, would be the enemy's decision. And then they would fight to the death.
That was their destiny.
"Yanagisawa is right about one thing," Sano told Reiko as they sat in their chamber that night. "He has won this time."
"He did it by fighting dirty." Reiko brushed her hair with hard, angry strokes. "He always does." Sano had told her everything, and she was furious at Yanagisawa. For Sano's sake, she made an effort to smile and look on the bright side of the situation. "This isn't so bad. You always liked investigating crimes better than running the government. And we're back where we started, in the place we lived when we were first married."
Sano nodded. But they both knew that things weren't the same as in the past. He'd suffered a tremendous loss of face, a mortal wound to his samurai honor.
"You'll win in the end," Reiko assured Sano.
"I appreciate your faith in me," Sano said wryly. "And I'm not finished yet."
He had to climb back up the ladder of the regime, Reiko knew. Not only did his honor depend on it; people were counting on him to save Japan from Yanagisawa.
"But Yanagisawa is right about something else, too," Sano said.
"What?" Reiko didn't want to hear that Yanagisawa had yet another advantage over her husband.
"We're not just rivals for power in the here and now, but in the future. And maybe the score won't be settled by us." Sano contemplated Akiko playing in the next room with her dolls. "Maybe that's up to our children."
Reiko was dismayed to think the children would inherit the war between their fathers. "How can we protect them? Especially after we're gone?" That time might come sooner rather than later, if Sano didn't regain the shogun's favor. Even if the shogun was on the decline, he still had the power of life and death over everyone.
"It's not too early to think about marriages for Akiko and Masahiro."
Even though Reiko knew Sano was right, she said, "But they're still babies!"
"There won't be any weddings until they're adults. But we could betroth them to members of powerful clans. That's done all the time. It would not only create more alliances for me; it would secure Masahiro's and Akiko's futures."
Reiko sighed; she wished her children could marry for love, not politi cal considerations. But she and Sano had found love in their arranged marriage. Maybe the children would be lucky, too. "A match for Masahiro should come first, because he's the elder."
"Speaking of Masahiro," Sano said. He put a finger to his lips as their son entered the room. They greeted Masahiro, and Sano asked, "What did you do today?"
"I played detective," Masahiro said.
Sano and Reiko exchanged glances. After he'd proved the worth of his talents, they couldn't not let him play his favorite game. Sano said, "I need to ask you a question. How did you know that the shogun's wife refused Yanagisawa's proposal? I thought you said you couldn't hear what Yanagisawa and the ladies were saying."
"I was too far away the first time they met," Masahiro said. "The second time, it was just Yanagisawa and the shogun's wife, and I heard everything because-" He clapped his hand over his mouth.
"The second time!" Shocked, Reiko said, "Do you mean you spied on Yanagisawa again?" Masahiro's sheepish silence was his answer. She turned to Sano. "How did you know?"
"It was something Toda Ikkyu let slip," Sano said. "He wasn't entirely truthful with me, either."
"We forbade you to go spying on Yanagisawa," Reiko reminded Masahiro. "You disobeyed us!"
Masahiro winced. "Am I going to be punished?"
Reiko spread her hands helplessly and looked at Sano.
"You punish him. I don't have the heart," Sano said.
Neither did Reiko, after Masahiro had helped them figure out Yanagisawa's plot. She leveled a stern look on Masahiro. "You were lucky this time, but don't ever do it again."
"I won't," Masahiro said somberly. "I promise."
Reiko heard the echo of her own voice on past occasions, promising Sano that she wouldn't do something or other, all the while knowing that she would. She felt Sano looking at her, obviously remembering that she'd said she wouldn't go to the Kumazawa house again. But Masahiro's actions had made her feel more optimistic about his future. He'd inherited his father's cleverness and her own talent for getting out of as well as into trouble.