Blade of the Samurai: A Shinobi Mystery (Shinobi Mysteries) (7 page)

Hiro hid his surprise as Akira complied with the child’s demand. “My condolences, young master Ashikaga.”

The boy watched Akira’s bow with a critical eye. He seemed disinclined to return it, but Saburo’s wife gave her son a look and the boy bent forward gracefully.

As he straightened, he noticed Father Mateo. His mouth fell open in surprise and he hurried toward the foreign priest. When he reached a comfortable speaking distance he stopped, pulled his hands to his sides, and bowed.

“
Bun dia,
” he said in strongly accented Portuguese. “You are not Father Virera, though you are from his country, I think.”

The boy’s pronunciation needed work, and he mangled Father Vilela’s name, but few Japanese spoke Portuguese at all.

“
Bom dia,
” Father Mateo said.

The boy cocked his head to the side like a bird inspecting an interesting seed.

“
Bom dia,
” he repeated. This time he pronounced it perfectly.

“And to you.” The Jesuit bowed low and switched to Japanese. “My name is Father Mateo.”

“I am Ashikaga Ichiro, only son of Ashikaga Saburo. This is my mother, Lady Netsuko.” After a pause he added, “I have not seen you here before.”

“I work in another part of Kyoto,” Father Mateo said, “near Okazaki Shrine.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “There are two Christian temples in Kyoto?” He looked at Akira. “Did you know this?”

“There is only one of consequence.” Akira gave the Jesuit a hostile look. “These men are helping us find your father’s killer.”

Ichiro looked at Hiro. “And you? What is your name?”

Hiro bowed. “I am Matsui Hiro, Father Mateo’s translator and scribe.”

The boy looked from Hiro to the priest. “He seems to speak our language well enough.”

“Simple phrases, yes.” Hiro offered the standard explanation. “But he often misses the finer implications of Japanese speech.”

Ichiro considered this. After a moment he nodded once and continued, “Your speech has the accent of Iga Province. Do you know Ito Kazu?” The boy frowned. “Kazu did not kill my father.”

Hiro regarded Ichiro with surprise. “Does someone say he did?”

Before the boy could answer, his mother laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“My son must have overheard the messenger,” she said, “the one who delivered the news of my husband’s death. He claimed Saburo was killed with Kazu’s dagger.”

“Kazu did not do this.” Ichiro looked and sounded like a tiny samurai.

Hiro decided to treat him as one. “Why do you think he is innocent?”

Netsuko spoke first. “Kazu was Ichiro’s tutor.”

“He remains my tutor, and I am not a child who needs a woman to speak in his place.” Ichiro shook off his mother’s arm. “You do not know Kazu as I do. He is an honorable man.”

Ichiro’s hands clenched at his sides. He looked at each man in turn, as if daring them to contradict his words.

“Indeed?” Hiro found the boy’s reaction interesting. Except for his size, Ichiro didn’t seem like a child.

“You do not believe me.” Ichiro squared his shoulders. “I am fourteen and ready for
genpuku
.”

He paused. His fists clenched tighter. His lips pressed into a line as he took a deep, slow breath. “That is, I would have been, had my father lived to approve Kazu’s recommendation.”

“I am very sorry,” Hiro said. “Please accept my condolences.” He found the boy’s restraint impressive, especially under the circumstances.

“Thank you,” Ichiro said. “I am pleased to have this chance to speak with the men investigating my father’s death. I will not have Kazu wrongfully accused. I know him better than any of you, and I know he did not do this.”

Hiro found the boy’s loyalty surprising, particularly since Kazu had never mentioned Ichiro. Then again, Kazu didn’t discuss his work in detail. No shinobi would.

Hiro felt a flash of regret for encouraging Kazu’s flight. An innocent man should have stayed to defend himself. In the predawn confusion, an execution seemed inescapable. Now Hiro wasn’t so certain. But then, he no longer felt sure of Kazu’s innocence either.

Father Mateo bowed to Akira. “Thank you for your assistance this morning. We will leave you to escort Ashikaga
-san
’s family and return to continue our work in the afternoon.”

The men exchanged bows, and Hiro and Father Mateo left the compound.

They walked as far as the Kamo River in silence. As they crossed the bridge Father Mateo asked, “What do you think? Is the boy correct about Kazu?”

That very question had bothered Hiro since leaving the shogunate. “Kazu claims he did not kill Saburo. As yet, I have no reason to think he lied. I am more concerned about finding the killer before Lord Oda’s embassy arrives.”

“Three days,” Father Mateo said. “Perhaps the shogun would grant an extension?”

“No chance of that,” Hiro said, “and if we fail to find the true murderer, Hisahide will probably execute me instead.”

And perhaps you also.

“You?” Father Mateo raised his hands in surprise. “He didn’t say that.”

“Not openly, but he made his meaning clear. The shogun wants a dead murderer to impress Lord Oda’s retainers, and an innocent corpse looks very much like a guilty one.”

“But why you?” Father Mateo asked. “I know the law permits execution of relatives in a criminal’s place, on the theory that the clan should pay for the crime, but you and Kazu are not related.”

“We are both from Iga Province, and we are friends. That will suffice.”

“You assumed all that from Hisahide’s comments?” Father Mateo asked.

“I don’t make assumptions and didn’t need to. He made himself perfectly clear.”

“To a samurai, maybe.” Father Mateo shook his head in frustration. “A man should say what he means directly.”

Hiro shrugged. It was not the Japanese way.

“If that’s the case,” the priest continued, “Kazu had better have told the truth.”

Father Mateo said no more, but Hiro had the same thought himself.

“Indeed,” the shinobi said, “I will find it most inconvenient if Kazu killed Saburo and left me to bear the punishment in his stead.”

Chapter 13

Hiro and Father Mateo found Ana on the front porch of the Jesuit’s house, wielding a broom like a warrior monk. She flung up clouds of dust with a force that made the shinobi wonder what new irritation caused the fit of pique.

She noticed the men approaching and laid one hand on her hip in a manner that boded ill for someone. Hiro didn’t have to wonder who. In Ana’s eyes, the Jesuit did no wrong.

The shinobi ran through the usual list of complaints, but came up empty. He hadn’t brought sake home since Ana dumped the last flask in the koi pond to demonstrate her disapproval of alcohol, and she didn’t know that Hiro was shinobi.

Still, she watched him approach like a mother preparing to paddle a naughty child.

“Hm,” she sniffed as he reached the veranda. “You said your friend was leaving.”

“He did leave.” Hiro paused. “He came back?”

Relief flooded through him. If Kazu hadn’t left Kyoto, they might still preserve the illusion of his innocence.

“Well, I don’t mean Gato,” Ana said.

“When did Kazu return?” Father Mateo asked.

“A few minutes after you left,” she said. “I mistook him for a monk in that crazy outfit. He walked right into the house without even knocking. When I told him to leave, he took off his hat and said he would wait for you instead.”

“And you let him?” Hiro hoped she let Kazu stay. He needed to talk with the younger shinobi before Hisahide did.

Ana’s frown deepened the wrinkles around her eyes. “I didn’t want to. But he threatened to tell the neighbors Father Mateo refused a meal to a monk in need. I couldn’t let him say a thing like that!”

Hiro stifled a smile. Ana’s loyalty made her easy to manipulate.

“I told him to wait by the hearth,” she said, then added, “I didn’t give him anything to eat.”

She sounded triumphant. To Ana, withholding food was a serious punishment.

“Has Luis returned?” Father Mateo tried to sound conversational, but Hiro caught a hint of concern in his voice. The merchant could not be trusted to keep Kazu’s visit secret.

“Not yet,” Ana said.

Hiro stepped out of his sandals and onto the veranda. “I’ll talk to Kazu. He won’t stay long.”

“Hm,” Ana said, “he better not. You cause enough trouble. I don’t need your vagrant friends underfoot.” She raised the broom and resumed her vigorous sweeping.

Hiro found Kazu by the hearth. The basket-hat sat on the floor beside him.

“I’m sorry, Hiro.” Kazu stood up and bowed. “The shogun has guards on all the roads. They’re checking everyone, even monks.”

“I’m glad you couldn’t get through,” Hiro said. “You need to get back to the shogunate.”

“For my execution?” Kazu shook his head. “No thank you.”

Ana’s voice carried in from the porch. “Welcome back, Luis
-san
!”

Hiro appreciated the warning. “My room. Now.”

Kazu scooped up the basket-hat and hurried across the
oe
. He slid open Hiro’s door and disappeared through it. Hiro followed. He had just reached the doorway when Luis entered the common room.

The merchant’s face looked even more flushed than usual, as if his doublet and puff-sleeved shirt conspired to strangle him. A pair of tight wool breeches did no favors for Luis’s portly legs.

As always, Hiro found the merchant’s Portuguese clothing foolish and inconvenient.

Luis glared at Hiro. “You people and your impossible demands,” he fumed. “Why can’t you understand simple logic?”

Hiro raised an eyebrow at the merchant.

Luis thumped across the tatami and flung himself down by the hearth with a heavy sigh. As usual, he took the host’s position opposite the entrance.

“Ana!” he yelled. “Tea!”

Hiro heard the vehement swish of a broom against the veranda. Ana had no intention of responding to Luis’s call.

Father Mateo tested the pot that hung above the hearth. “There’s water here. You have tea in your room, don’t you?”

“Assuming someone didn’t steal it all.” Luis stood up and pulled his green doublet down over his bulging stomach. His girth and the unfortunate color made Hiro think of a giant
sudachi,
though Luis’s face looked even sourer than the bitter little citrus fruit.

Hiro started to enter his room, but Luis’s next complaint made him pause.

“How on earth can he expect me to find two hundred arquebuses in three days’ time?”

“Two hundred?” Father Mateo repeated.

“Yes,” Luis grumbled. “An impossible number of firearms on an equally irrational timeline.”

“Who wants them?” the Jesuit asked.

Luis hadn’t stopped talking. “I told him it was impossible, but of course he wouldn’t listen. Samurai are all alike. Demand, insist, threaten—that’s all they know. If the profits didn’t run so high, I’d have left this godforsaken island years ago.”

“God has not forsaken Japan.” Father Mateo spoke with unusual sharpness.

Luis snorted.

Hiro could see the priest preparing to argue and jumped in to keep the conversation going. “Why does this samurai need the weapons so quickly?”

Luis turned, eager to continue his litany of complaints. “A show of force, to keep some uppity lord from attacking Kyoto. I told him the shogun could hold his compound with half that many firearms, but he insisted. No less than two hundred will do.”

“So the shogun wants them?” Hiro asked.

“No.” Luis shook his head. “One of his retainers. Matsu-something.”

“Matsunaga Hisahide,” Hiro said.

“That’s the one.”

“What will happen if the weapons don’t arrive in time?” Hiro asked.

Luis looked smug. “Of course they’ll get here in time. Most merchants couldn’t have managed it, but I have special connections. Where do you think I’ve been? I rode to Osaka to check the warehouse there. They hadn’t enough, but they expect a shipment today or tomorrow and said they would send them on immediately.”

“Dispatch is no guarantee of arrival,” Hiro said.

Luis sniffed. “This sale will fund Mateo’s work for a year, and my own share is nothing to sneer at. I’ll see that the arquebuses arrive on time.”

The merchant turned back to Father Mateo, dismissing Hiro from the conversation. The shinobi didn’t mind. He stepped into his room and closed the door behind him.

The room looked empty, but Hiro knew better. He crossed to the futon chest and rapped softly on the lid.

“Kazu, it’s safe to come out.”

Chapter 14

The wooden chest opened, revealing Kazu’s face. “How did you know where I was?”

“Because I put you there earlier,” Hiro said, “and you’ve never been good at hiding.”

“Not everyone can turn to smoke at will.” Kazu stood up and stepped out of the chest. “Which reminds me. Why did Hanzo send the best shinobi in Iga to guard a priest?”

Hiro regarded the younger man evenly. “Should he have sent a novice, doomed to fail?”

Kazu could wonder about the assignment all he wished. Hiro would never reveal the truth—even if he had known it.

Instead, he changed the subject.

“Who killed Saburo?”

“I don’t know,” Kazu said. “If I did I would have turned him in myself.”

“Ask around when you return to work. You might learn something.”

Kazu’s eyes widened. “I can’t go back.”

“You must. Hisahide doubts your guilt, and Saburo’s son proclaims your innocence. Miyoshi Akira believes you’re guilty, but I think we can persuade him otherwise.”

“Persuade him?” Kazu shook his head. “I can’t even explain where I was without looking guilty.”

“I have a plan,” Hiro said. “Is there somewhere you can hide for a few more hours?”

Kazu gestured. “What’s wrong with here?”

“I won’t risk Father Mateo’s safety.” Hiro indicated the woven hat. “Put your disguise back on and go into the city. Keep moving, and stay by the river—it’s less busy in the rain. Don’t talk if you can avoid it. And meet me at Ginjiro’s three hours from now.”

“How will staying away excuse my absence?” Kazu asked.