Egen shook his head. “I couldn’t. Not when my heart belonged to you.” He took her hand in his, pressed it to his chest, and said, “It still does.”
Now Etsuko wept with relief and joy. The spring was a time of youth and hopes restored, of a new beginning. But she still harbored painful regrets. “I wish I could have waited for you!”
Egen’s tanned face crinkled, all smiles. “It looks as if you did.”
Outside the reception room Hirata loitered under the cherry trees in the garden, watching Etsuko and Egen. He smiled, glad that he’d brought them together, moved by their emotions. His children and Sano’s ran and frolicked under the pink petals that fell like snow.
Midori came up to him. His senses tingled alive. He held himself as still as if she were a wild deer in a forest and any move from him would scare her off. They stood side by side, watched Egen place Etsuko’s hand over his heart. As the old woman wept joyfully, Midori said in awe, “They’re still in love. After such a long separation.”
Hirata fought the impulse to respond instinctively, as he would in combat, with a move that would defeat his opponent. He chose his words carefully, for much more was at stake than his life. “Yes. They’ve been apart since before we were born.” He paused, then said, “It makes our separation seem short.”
He felt Midori tense. “Perhaps.” Her tone was grudging yet thoughtful. They watched Etsuko and Egen happily conversing, catching up on each other’s lives, making plans. “They look so happy,” Midori said. “But they’re so old. How much time can they possibly have together?”
Hirata pondered, took a deep breath, and said, “Not as much as we can.”
He turned to Midori. She folded her arms, suspicious and defensive.
Hirata spoke urgently, from his heart instead of his intellect. “I don’t want us to be like them in forty-three years, looking back on the time we wasted apart when we should have been together, regretting the past. Because I love you. And I hope you still love me.”
His voice went gruff. It was harder to express his feelings to his wife than to conquer the most powerful enemy. “If she can forgive him for leaving her, can’t you forgive me? If they can make a new start, can’t we?”
Midori’s eyes shone with tears. Hirata saw in them her pain, her anger at him, and her fear that he would leave her again. The mystic martial arts still exercised a powerful hold over him. He must pursue his destiny wherever it led him, whenever it called. And Midori knew that if they were to go on, she must learn to cope in his absences. He also saw love for him in her eyes. He held his breath. Was her love strong enough that she thought brief periods of time together were better than nothing?
Was he strong and wise enough to deserve her love, to preserve their marriage, against all odds?
Midori said, “I suppose we can try.”
Reiko sat in the pavilion in the garden, amid the pink blaze of cherry blossoms. She was glad to be home. She was glad she’d lived to see this day.
Lord Matsudaira was gone, her family safe from him. After his death, his retainers had flocked to pledge their service to Sano. Joining their lord’s enemy’s camp was preferable to a disgraceful existence as masterless samurai. One had offered a gift to convince Sano to take him in: He’d identified the assassins sent to kill Sano’s children. Those men had been executed.
Reiko watched Masahiro run about the garden with Akiko. They rolled in the pink blanket of petals that covered the grass. Masahiro laughed, carefree for once, his obsession with martial arts practice temporarily forgotten. He’d regained his childhood, at least for today. Reiko was glad of that. But she felt no peace.
She grieved for Lieutenant Asukai. She’d left the estate for the first time since the ambush during which he’d saved her life, in order to attend his funeral. She would miss him forever. And she was concerned about Sano.
He’d returned to her five days ago, weary but elated. He’d told her that he’d forced Yanagisawa to surface, and Lord Matsudaira was dead. He’d also told her the details about how his mother had confessed to the murder and the shogun had overheard. After summarizing the consequences, he’d said, “The shogun is hosting a banquet to celebrate Yanagisawa’s homecoming. He expects me to be there. I have to go.”
Reiko hadn’t seen him since, except from a distance, when he came home once in a while to sleep or tend to official business. They hadn’t discussed his mother. Reiko had used the time while he was gone to woo her daughter, employing treats and gentle talk, as one might a wild rabbit. Even though Akiko was still shy, she no longer screamed whenever she saw Reiko.
Now Akiko came running up to the pavilion. She held a sprig of cherry blossoms. She stopped and regarded Reiko with somber black eyes. Reiko smiled and said, “Come here, Akiko. Show me your flowers.”
For a long moment Akiko didn’t move. Then she slowly, hesitantly, climbed the steps of the pavilion. She extended the flowers to Reiko, who accepted them. Then Akiko ran off to play. Reiko’s eyes stung. She felt new hope for a reconciliation.
Then she saw Sano walking across the garden toward her, his face closed and stoic. Her heart began to pound with anxiety for him. He entered the pavilion and crouched beside her. He didn’t look at her, and she kept her eyes averted from him because she perceived that he was trying to contain his emotions and wouldn’t welcome her scrutiny. She waited until the silence grew unbearable.
“Has anything happened?” she said, hesitant to speak but eager for news, political and personal.
“The shogun has given the post of chamberlain to both Yanagisawa and me.” Sano’s voice was calm, controlled. “It looks as if we’ll be fighting our battle to the finish while running the government together.”
Reiko was astounded. “That’s another in the recent series of shocks.”
“But not the biggest.” Sano turned to her, and Reiko saw disbelief, astonishment, hurt, and anger on his face. “You were right about my mother.”
Reiko felt no triumph. She couldn’t throw in his face the fact that he’d been wrong. “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling his pain as her own.
“Even though I saved her, even though I’m glad, I can’t accept what she did,” Sano said. “She has the blood of my lord’s kin on her hands.”
This was a sin that any honorable samurai would find difficult to overlook, no matter the circumstances, Reiko knew. She herself hadn’t known how to treat her mother-in-law. When she’d returned home, she hadn’t known what to say to Etsuko.
Etsuko had spoken first. “Honorable Daughter-in-law, I killed the shogun’s cousin-just as you thought. I’ll explain why, if you like.” Her quiet manner had a new confidence and dignity. “But I’m a murderess, and if you want me out of your house, I’ll leave at once.”
Reiko was too surprised to say anything but no, Etsuko must stay until Sano returned; he would want to see her. Since then, Reiko had been cautious with Etsuko, aware that they were on new, equal terms. Reiko saw that there would be no more condescending to her mother-in-law, who would no longer shrink before her. The truth had turned Etsuko into a force worthy of esteem. Reiko realized that they weren’t so different after all. Both of them were women with strong principles, who would risk their lives and flout convention for a good cause. Reiko began to like her mother-in-law better than she’d ever thought possible. Perhaps they could be friends someday. Now she rose to Etsuko’s defense.
“Tadatoshi deserved to be killed,” Reiko said. “Your mother did the world a service.”
“I know. She probably saved thousands of lives.” Wanting to believe, yet unrelenting, Sano shook his head.
“She was a young girl who’d just been through hell on earth during the Great Fire,” Reiko said. “When she came across Tadatoshi afterward, it would have been easier and better for her to let him go. But she was selfless enough to think of the people he’d killed, the people he would kill in the future. And so she took justice into her own hands. She had courage.”
Although Sano nodded, the unhappiness in his expression deepened. “She also had the nerve to lie about what she did, not only to the shogun, but to me.”