Gloria Oliver (40 page)

“Father!”

The man’s eyes flickered in Himiko’s direction. “Daughter. It’s been a long time.”

He nodded slightly before walking past her into the room. After a moment, Himiko broke her stunned gaze from him long enough to close the door.

Toshi struggled to stand and bow as all others in the room bowed low. Kirin stood away from the table and escorted Asano to the room’s place of honor close to the rear wall. “Lord Asano, it’s good to see you.”

“Yes, my old friend, it has been too long.” Both men’s faces softened for a moment.

Asano sat down, his hard gaze glued to Toshi’s face. He glanced at the others for a moment.

“You will all leave us now,” he commanded. “I don’t have much time, and I wish to amuse myself as long as possible.”

Toshi dared not look at Kirin or Himiko as they and the guards quickly filed out of the room. His heart beat faster as he heard the door pulled close behind him.

“Approach,” Asano said.

Bowing deeply, Toshi grabbed the kettle and stepped forward. Stopping an appropriate distance from the man, he sat and bowed until his forehead rested on the mat beneath him.

“What is your name?” Himiko’s father demanded.

“Kazete Toshiro, Asano-sama.”

“I’ve heard you’ve been wanting an audience with me.”

Now that the moment was here, Toshi was quivering inside. “Yes, that’s true, Asano-sama.” He waited for the question that must surely follow. It didn’t.

“Over the years, I’ve had a number of unusual people come to visit me,” the lord said casually. “Not a small number of them have had a kettle looking very much like yours.”

Toshi’s surprise flashed across his face before he could try to conceal it.

“Who sent you, boy?” Asano’s voice turned harsh.

He swallowed hard, feeling crushed beneath Asano’s steel stare, and forced himself to answer. “I’m here on behalf of Asaka Ietsugu, Asano-sama.”

“Asaka Ietsugu is dead.” There was no emotion in the lord’s tone.

“I know that, sir,” he said, “but even so, I’m here on his behalf.”

The look of incredulity that passed across Asano’s eyes reminded Toshi of his first meeting with Himiko.

“Can you prove he sent you here?”

A light tone of mocking disbelief colored Asano’s voice.

Toshi’s mind went blank. “Uh, yes, lord, I can.”

Reaching inside his kimono, he removed the bamboo tube containing the writ. For the first time, it occurred to him to wonder if it had been damaged during his vigil in the rain. Sending a quick prayer to the gods, he crawled forward to lay it close to Asano’s feet and then moved back. He tried to keep a sudden wave of nervousness under control as Asano leaned forward to pick up the bamboo cylinder.

Stifling a yawn, the lord removed the paper rolled up inside.

Toshi held his breath as Asano read through the writ. He watched the lord’s face harden as he read it a second time, all signs of boredom disappearing. His cold gaze rose to meet Toshi’s.

He threw the writ to the floor. As it landed, Asano began to laugh. There was something in the sound that sent shivers scurrying down his spine.

“This interview is over,” Asano said.

“Sir?”

Asano laughed at the open shock on his face. “What, did Tsuyu truly believe I would fall for this only because he’d somehow obtained Asaka’s permit and set up a good show? It seals his guilt, if nothing else. What a fool he has become to think I would fall for it. I haven’t lost my wits so far that I’d believe Ietsugu somehow sent a young boy to me years after his death.” Asano’s harsh laughter filled the room again. “He really outdid himself this time.”

Toshi felt his face drain of color. “Lord Asano, you must believe me! I was sent here to complete the mission you gave to Asaka-sama. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth! I’m not affiliated with Tsuyu. He has twice tried to have me killed. Please, I beg you, at least examine the kettle. It should prove if I’m telling the truth or not.”

He placed his palms down and bowed to the floor in supplication. He ignored the pain his shoulder brought him, still too confused at how all of this was going wrong.

“Excellent, Kazete-san, excellent!” Asano clapped in obvious amusement. “An almost magnificent performance. Tsuyu would be quite proud of your efforts. Nevertheless, this interview is over.”

Hot tears pooled on the matted floor as he heard Asano rise to his feet. It couldn’t end like this! Not after all they’d gone through. How could Asano just dismiss him, without even giving him a chance? He was negligently damning the others to eternally roam the earth.

Suddenly, Toshi’s heart hardened with anger. “You say Lord Asaka was dead long ago, and that is true.

But, I have, regardless of that fact, spoken to him.”

He sat up and stared at Asano’s startled face. “Shinto speaks the truth, spirits are
real
. Tortured souls do remain bound to the earth as they search for atonement or retribution.”

He stared hard at the man he had sought for so long.

“I have seen and spoken to those who drowned on the way to do your bidding,” he continued hotly.

“They tore me from my life so I might help them
serve
you.”

He reached up and touched his whitened hair. “I paid the price wanted by the spirit of a priest to retrieve this kettle for you. Of my own choice, I traveled all the way here to bring it to you. I came into Shiroyama alone; but over a night ago, they entered the grounds using the very same means as the assassins Tsuyu had hired to kill me. I have seen with my own eyes the dead can haunt the living.”

He carefully removed Asaka’s wakizashi from its sheath. “I swear to you, if you do not accept what I have brought and restore the honor due to the Asaka clan, I will commit seppuku right here and now and haunt you with my spirit the rest of your life.”

He didn’t wait for Asano’s reaction, but instead focused on the naked blade before him. He wasn’t samurai, but he would come back. He would give the ultimate protest by ending his life and then force his spirit to return to perpetuate it—for eternity, if need be. What Asano was doing was wrong, and he wasn’t about to allow all he and the others had gone through to be in vain. He would haunt Asano and those of his line until justice was served!

Laying the blade on the floor before him, he parted his kimono to expose his stomach. He tucked his sleeves beneath his legs to hold him upright if he should falter. Ignoring Asano, he took up the blade. His shoulder flared with pain, and he tried not to flinch as he grabbed the blade with both hands. He turned the wakizashi until its sharp point was aimed at his belly, the residence of his soul.

Closing his eyes, he calmly begged the Great Buddha not to allow him to be taken to his next life.

Quickly, he tried composing a short death poem, as he’d heard samurai often did; but nothing he came up with satisfied him. Instead, he pictured in his mind the way he had dreamed Asaka and Miko would have appeared in real life. He let Himiko’s young face drift above theirs and was again sorry she and Miko would never meet.

Slowly, he stretched out his arms and tensed, his eyes still closed. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled them in to plunge the blade into his stomach.

“Hold!”

The order came too late. He couldn’t stop himself. Yet, the blade never pierced his skin. He opened his eyes in confusion as two strong arms continued to hold him back.

“Blood will not be spilled from a guest in my house,” Asano said, his eyes locking with Toshi’s. “If you’ll give me a moment, I will look at the gift you have so graciously brought.”

Staring in disbelief, Toshi didn’t fight as Asano pried the wakizashi out of his taut fingers. His left shoulder spasmed painfully as he tried to relax. He watched intently as Asano placed his wakizashi on the floor several feet away before returning to his previous seat, kettle in hand.

Toshi’s whole body shuddered. His face was flushed, his breathing labored. His eyes settled on the wakizashi’s glittering blade as he tried to come to grips with the fact he wasn’t going to die.

A cracking sound made him look up from the blade to Asano. The castle’s lord sat cross-legged with the kettle in his lap and a small eating blade in one hand. He heard the cracking sound again as Asano slipped the knife between the kettle’s wooden handle and its metal hinge and broke it away. Horrified at the obviously uncaring destruction of what he’d labored so long to bring, Toshi could do nothing but stare. Was Asano mocking him?

The samurai lord pulled the handle free from the kettle; and, grasping it in both hands, he twisted each end in opposite directions. A cracking, ripping sound echoed through the room as the handle split suddenly in two. Toshi gasped as Asano tipped both ends and a small cylindrical object fell out from the one in his right hand onto his lap. Asano picked it up and studied it carefully.

He was taken aback as the lord bowed deeply in his direction. “My profound apologies, Kazete-san.

You have, indeed, brought me that which I have sought for so long.”

His heart soared. It was done. Asaka’s mission had been completed. He started to smile, until he saw Asano sit on folded legs and draw out his wakizashi. “Lord Asano?”

With one swift stroke, Asano struck the small cylinder and split it long ways. He hacked at it again and again until the cylinder was no longer recognizable. Crestfallen and confused, Toshi looked behind him as the room’s sliding doors were violently thrust open.

“Lord Asano! What are you doing here?” Tsuyu strode into the room, six guards following behind him—more stood waiting outside.

“Ah, Tsuyu, how nice of you to come,” Asano said pleasantly. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.”

Tsuyu had been gracing Toshi with a hate-filled stare until something he heard in Asano’s voice brought him up short.

“Tsuyu, come here and look at the wonderful gift this young samurai has brought me.”

For the first time, Tsuyu noticed the discarded kettle and its broken handle. Toshi saw Tsuyu’s face pale even as he stared at the small bits of wood chopped up in front of Asano.

“Ah, I see you recognize it for what it is. It’s so pleasant, isn’t it, to finally be able to comply with our daimyo’s wishes?” Asano’s words were sweet, but his face held a murderous grin.

“Are—are you sure it was the real one? This boy could be trying to pull some sort of trick.”

“I am absolutely sure, Tsuyu.
Absolutely
sure.” Asano’s hand drifted toward the hilt of his katana. “You and I have been playing a most fabulous game these last few years. It’s time, however, it was brought to an end.”

Tsuyu took a step back. “I have a large number of men under my control. You can’t say it’s over just because of this,” he stammered.

Asano’s grin widened as he stood. Toshi stared at the newly forceful countenance before him, not understanding what was going on between the two men.

“If you wish to play that game, I’m more than willing. Thunderclap has wanted a taste of Tsuyu blood for some time.”

Asano placed his thumb beneath his katana’s guard and snapped the blade a quarter of an inch out of its sheath. He took a commanding step forward. All signs of boredom and lethargy were gone. Asano’s face was hardened rock with flaming fury showing in his eyes. Tsuyu stood his ground, his face flickering with emotions.

Asano took another step forward, and suddenly Tsuyu took one back.

“This isn’t over! My father won’t allow it to be over.”

Asano took another calculated step forward. “I give you permission to leave. Take your men with you but leave all else.
All
else.”

Toshi felt dizzy watching the exchange. All of Tsuyu’s power had rested on the fact Asano had not gotten a seal?

Tsuyu backed hesitantly out of the room, never daring to turn his back on Asano. The lord of the castle continued advancing until he’d reached the room’s doorway.

“Kirin-san!”

Asano’s call echoed down the hall even as Tsuyu and his men sped up their retreat. Within moments, Kirin appeared before him.

“Ah! Kirin-san,” Asano said. “Would you please do me the honor of escorting our no longer welcome guests out the front gates?”

“With pleasure, Asano-sama.” Kirin bowed, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Please feel free to do so with as many of our men as might wish to say goodbye to them.”

“Hai, Asano-sama.” Kirin left.

Toshi stared at Asano’s back as the latter watched his vassal leave. As soon as Kirin had gone out of sight, Asano began to close the doors into the room.

“Father?” Toshi recognized Himiko’s voice, but couldn’t see her.

“Himiko-chan.”

She gasped in surprise at her father’s use of the endearment.

“Would you be so kind as to serve your aging father and his guest a cup of tea?”

“Yes, Father.” Shyly, she entered the room as Asano opened the door wide for her. She shuffled toward the table as she sent Toshi a glance filled with hope-entangled misery. With shaking hands, she filled two cups with cooling tea. Asano returned to his place of honor and watched her as she poured.

Still shaken by all that had happened around him, Toshi stared at the transformed man before him and then at Asano’s suddenly demure daughter. Himiko took the cups and, while staring at the floor, took one to her father. Leaving him, she still stared at the floor as she placed the other into Toshi’s hand. Bowing to them, she then turned to leave.

“Himiko-chan,” Asano said.

She stopped, shaking, and turned around.

“I understand you know this young man?”

“Yes, Father.” Her uncertainty and long-hidden pain shone clearly in her eyes. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Has he told you much of how he came to be here?”

Her eyes rose momentarily in Toshi’s direction. “No, not really, Father.”

“Ah, well, then, join us,” he said amiably. “I was just about to ask Kazete-san to tell me his story.”

Her look of uncertainty, now filled with something more, swept again in Toshi’s direction. He tried to give her what reassurance he could by flashing a small smile. Nodding to him in return, she sat close to the closed doors, to be out of their way.