34
Back at Edo Castle, Sano, Hirata, Marume, and Fukida went to the office of the keepers of the castle. It was late in the evening; only a few men were still present, tidying their papers, extinguishing lamps. Sano said, “Where is Kajikawa?”
An old assistant with a humped back led Sano to an empty desk enclosed by lattice partitions. “That’s odd. He was here a moment ago.”
“The lamp on the desk is still lit,” Hirata pointed out. “He must have just left.”
Sano felt a chilly draft, which he followed down a passage. He and Hirata and the detectives gazed out an open door onto a courtyard. Barely visible in the twilight were footprints gouged into the snow, left by a man running.
“He heard me asking for him,” Sano deduced. “He guessed that we found out he hired the man who attacked Magistrate Ueda, and he panicked.”
“Shouldn’t you be able to track him down?” Marume asked Hirata in a challenging tone.
“He has a weak aura,” Hirata said. “It’ll be hard to detect, but I’ll try.” He moved swiftly, following the footsteps.
“Organize search parties,” Sano told the detectives. “Comb the castle. I’ll tell the captain of the guard to have all the gates closed. But just in case Kajikawa slips out, send a search party to his home.” Sano turned to the assistant. “Where does he live?”
The assistant gave directions to a house in the district near Edo Castle occupied by the hereditary Tokugawa vassals. As Sano, Marume, and Fukida hurried off, the assistant tagged after them. “Did Kajikawa really hire someone to kill the magistrate?”
“It’s looking that way,” Sano said.
“I can’t believe he would do such a thing. He seems so harmless. Although he hasn’t been quite himself recently. But then it’s understandable.”
“What’s understandable?” Sano slowed down, his curiosity piqued.
“That he would be depressed. His son committed suicide three years ago.”
Was this the event that had turned Kajikawa from a good man into a criminal? “Tell me how it happened,” Sano said.
“Kajikawa’s son was named Tsunamori. He was twelve years old,” the assistant said. “He hanged himself.”
Sano was shocked and grieved that a boy only a little older than Masahiro had taken his own life. He became aware of a recurring pattern in the events that had followed the vendetta: Sano and Masahiro; Oishi and Chikara; Yanagisawa and Yoritomo; fathers and sons. Here was another father-and-son pair, at the heart of the pattern.
“Why did he do it?”
“I don’t know. Kajikawa doesn’t talk about it. But one night soon after it happened, I came upon him crying at his desk. He was cursing and muttering. He didn’t notice me, and I thought it best to leave him alone. But I heard him say something to the effect that he blamed his son’s death on Kira Yoshinaka.”
Sano felt a mounting excitement. Even if he didn’t yet know how Kira was involved in the boy’s suicide, he had Kajikawa’s motive for wanting Kira dead, for setting the vendetta in motion. The forty-seven ronin had been Kajikawa’s tool for his own revenge.
* * *
“I want a game of go,” the shogun announced to the boys gathered in his chamber. Some were playing music on samisens and flutes or singing, some joking among themselves. His gaze settled on Masahiro, who was trying to be unobtrusive. “Bring me my set.”
Carrying the lacquer case, Masahiro mounted the dais. As he passed Yoritomo, who sat beside the shogun, Yoritomo stuck out his foot. Masahiro tripped, went sprawling, and dropped the go set. Black and white marbles flew everywhere. Everyone laughed. Masahiro flushed with embarrassment and seethed with anger as he picked himself up.
“What a clumsy oaf Masahiro is,” Yoritomo said to the shogun. “Shall we send him away before he hurts somebody besides himself, Your Excellency?”
Masahiro knew he should have been paying closer attention to Yoritomo, but he’d been too busy thinking about Goza, the bloody clothes, and the tattoos. He felt a pang of fear. Was Yoritomo finally about to succeed in putting him out of the shogun’s good graces? What would his parents say?
“No, it was just a, ahh, harmless mistake.” The shogun smiled kindly at Masahiro and patted the floor on his other side. “Come sit by me.”
Almost as dismayed as he was relieved, Masahiro sat. The shogun told Yoritomo, “Pick up those marbles. Set up the board. Masahiro and I will play.”
Yoritomo obeyed, looking so furious that Masahiro imagined smoke coming out of his ears. The shogun smiled too fondly at Masahiro as they took turns placing marbles on the gridded board. Masahiro squirmed. He heard the other boys whispering. They were probably betting on whether he would become the shogun’s next favorite. But not even that threat could distract Masahiro from his present dilemma.
He had to tell his parents about Goza. There was no question in his mind. He owed his first loyalty to them. But he hated to get Okaru in trouble, especially since he couldn’t help thinking she was innocent in spite of the evidence against her servant. He was so preoccupied that he almost forgot to lose the game.
“I win!” the shogun exclaimed. Everyone clapped. “Now it’s time for my massage.”
He left with Yoritomo, who gave Masahiro a baleful parting glance. Masahiro went home, dreading what he had to do. At the gate, he asked the sentry, “Are my parents here?”
“No, young master.”
But Masahiro couldn’t put off telling them forever. If Okaru and Goza were responsible for beating his grandfather and killing the two bodyguards, they must be punished. “Did anything happen while I was gone?”
“Hirata-san caught the man who attacked your grandfather.” The sentry told Masahiro about the hired assassin.
It wasn’t Goza! Masahiro felt a huge relief. He wouldn’t have to tell his parents. He wouldn’t have to see their disappointment that he’d kept a bad secret from them. But his relief quickly faded as suspicion reared its head again. “Who hired him?”
“Your parents are trying to find out.”
It could have been Goza, Masahiro thought unhappily. “Where’s Okaru?”
“Still under house arrest.”
That meant his mother still didn’t trust her. Masahiro decided to talk to Okaru. Maybe he could help her prove she was innocent. He ran so fast that he was out of breath when he arrived at her room. Outside it, Lieutenant Tanuma sat against the wall. He saw Masahiro, jumped up, and said, “Young master, can you guard Okaru for a moment? I have to go to the Place of Relief.” He rushed off without waiting for an answer.
Masahiro went into the room. Excitement mounted in him; his heart thudded. Okaru knelt on the bed, plaiting her hair into thin braids, then combing them out with her fingers. She turned to him. Her beautiful face was sad, scrubbed clean of makeup, and puffy around her eyes. She looked as if she’d stopped expecting anything good.
“I-is there anything you need?” Masahiro said.
Okaru forced a smile. Her lips looked soft, bruised. “No, but thank you for asking.” She added, “I’m sorry I was mean to you yesterday.”
“That’s all right.” Masahiro was embarrassed and unhappy to see her so sad. “They caught the man who attacked my grandfather,” he blurted out.
“I know,” Okaru said. “I heard one of the guards tell Lieutenant Tanuma.” Sighing, she twisted her hair around her hand. “I feel so bad that your mother thinks I had something to do with the attack. She thinks I’m a dog who bites the hand that feeds me. But I can understand why she does. Girls like me … well, we’re famous for causing trouble and taking advantage of people. But your mother has been so good to me.” Her eyes briefly glowed with her affection for Reiko, then filled with anguish. “I would never do anything to hurt her family. Never!”
She wasn’t angry, Masahiro saw. He would have been furious at anyone who wrongfully accused him. But Okaru made excuses for his mother and blamed herself. “I believe you,” he said, carried away by the conviction in her voice and his admiration for her.