Heart of the Ronin (36 page)

He had been so eager to leave his mountain home, to leave his teacher, to meet other human beings, but he had been foolish. People were so often cruel, heartless, unfriendly. Everywhere he went, he was an outsider to be feared or distrusted. Now, seeing his harsh, abrasive old teacher again would make him so happy. Even the comfort of the drafty old cave on the mountaintop would have been preferable to yesterday’s relentless downpour.

He set his pouch on the ground and wiped the tears from his face. For a while, he just stared at the dirt of the path, finding patterns in the lay of the stones, the colors of the earth, feeling as if a tremendous weight rested on his shoulders, bearing them down.

Until he heard something beside him. He glanced to his side and saw his pouch was moving. It was moving because there was a nose in it. A reddish-brown furry nose. Two deep brown eyes gazed up at him.

The dog backed away. Ken’ishi’s last rice cake was in its mouth.

The sobs in the breath changed to laughter. Laughter like sweet relief from endless pain. He laughed so hard he fell onto his back holding his belly. Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks, but they were tears of a different sort. After all of his troubles, all of the injustices done to him, all of his hunger and privation, his last bit of food was stolen by a dog! He laughed all the harder.

When the laughter died, he sat up again, and the dog was still there, watching him. The leaf-wrapped rice cake was still in its mouth. Its muscles were poised to run.

Ken’ishi spoke in the animal tongue he learned as a child. “You can have the rice cake. Don’t worry, I won’t harm you.”

The dog jumped in surprise. Animals were always so surprised when they discovered that Ken’ishi could speak to them. Some were so surprised they just ran away. Then the dog placed the rice cake on the ground at its feet so that it could speak clearly.

The dog spoke slowly. “Thought you were sleeping. Didn’t move for a long time. How can you speak?” The dog’s eyes glinted with intelligence. Its ribs were visible under its rusty red fur.

“Because I learned. Same as you. You can eat the rice cake. I don’t mind.”

“Why? So angry before.”

“You were watching me?”

“For a while.”

“Well, I’m not angry now.”

“Why? Stole your food.”

Ken’ishi smiled and lay back on the ground, resting his head on his arms. “I never have any food. I’m used to it. You look hungry.”

“Hungry, yes.” With that, the dog gulped down the rice cake, leafy covering and all. “Don’t like man food, but eat it sometimes.”

Ken’ishi did not look at the dog, just gazed up through the leafy canopy at the hot blue sky. “I imagine you like red meat, warm and bloody and still on the bone.”

“Yes, rabbits are best.”

The dog’s feet padded nearer.

“You like rabbits?”

“Yes, but not raw. Cooked.”

“Too bad. Cooking spoils flavor. Makes it taste like chicken.”

Ken’ishi looked over as the dog lay down beside him. It was then he noticed the dark, wet, rusty red stain on its hindquarters, and the stump of wood protruding from the fur. “You’re wounded.”

“Stole food. Caught.”

Ken’ishi sat up. “I can try to take it out.”

The dog whimpered. The arrow had been gnawed off, leaving only a couple of fingerbreadths to grasp. The wood was wet with half-crusted blood. It would be difficult if the arrowhead were deep. But he knew what to do.

“Hold still,” he said.

He leaned down with his head and clamped onto the wood with his teeth. He could taste the wood and blood, but he didn’t care. The hard wood crunched between his teeth, and he knew he had a good grip, then he placed his hands on the dog’s hindquarters. The dog whined again. Ken’ishi pulled with his teeth and pushed with his hands. The dog yelped and howled and leaped away, but in so doing finished drawing the arrowhead from its flesh. The animal stumbled and fell. Blood welled from the puncture wound, spreading a fresh stain in the already matted fur.

Ken’ishi spat out the stump of arrow and stood up. The dog was not moving. Its mouth was open, tongue lolling in the dirt. He picked it up and began to carry it. He had to find water to wash the wound or it might still die. The animal was surprisingly light, and its bones poked against the skin. It was starving even more than him.

He carried the dog for perhaps an hour, sighing with relief as he came upon a stream gurgling with fresh, clear water. He cleaned the wound and set the dog on a comfortable-looking grassy spot while he bathed, drank his fill, and replenished his water bottle. He felt the kami of the stream smiling at him, and he luxuriated naked in the water’s cool touch, a blessed respite from the summer heat and his worries.

* * *

The air cooled with the coming of evening. The three of them found the pond just as Tetta described it, in a beautiful, secluded glade. Slanting sunbeams filtered through the leaves to dapple on the water. The pond was perhaps eighty paces across at its widest point, tapering at one end, with much of its bank draped in trees and undergrowth. He had no idea how deep it might be. Most of the waterline was choked with reeds, but as he bulled through the patches of dense growth, he found short stretches where the reeds had been flattened or removed for fishing. In these areas, he found footprints, bits of string, and even a broken fishing pole. Akao disappeared, to perform his own meticulous search. The pond was flanked along one side by a steep rock face that stretched up through the boughs out of sight. As they searched the banks of the pond, Ken’ishi felt the endless weight of the hill above looming over him, an eternal presence in this secluded spot. Water trickled down the rock face, leaving interwoven tracks of many colors, surrounded by patches of deep green lichen. The water was deep and murky in the middle, so Ken’ishi could not see far into its depths.

They searched the banks for an hour, but found no trace of Tetta. They searched the path between the pond and the village for spilled blood or any signs of a struggle, but found nothing. Eventually the gathering darkness forced them to give up.

They returned to the village as the sun was beginning to set. They found Norikage waiting for them at the constabulary. As Ken’ishi entered the office, Norikage said, “I made several inquiries around the village. No one has seen Tetta today.”

Ken’ishi said, “Let’s go and talk to Chiba. Perhaps he had something to do with this.”

“Of course, but he would deny it,” Norikage said.

“Then we will interrogate him until he confesses.”

“Let us not be overzealous. Chiba and his brothers have friends among the other fishermen. We should not turn the town against us. The people of Aoka respect you, Ken’ishi, but never forget that you are an outsider. We are both outsiders. They will turn on us before they turn on one of their own unless our claims cannot be disputed. Do not confuse respect for friendship.”

“They must obey.”

“That is true, but we are two and they are many. Remember our position. We cannot turn to the government for assistance if they turn on us. We must keep order. When there is no doubt, then we will act.”

Ken’ishi sighed, feeling helpless and worried about Tetta. Kiosé stood just behind him, and he could tell from her face that she was even more worried than he was. Despite the fact that Tetta owned her, he treated her better than most women in her position could expect, and he protected her from Chiba. Tetta had a son who would inherit the inn if Tetta were dead, but Gonta was young and inexperienced, and he sometimes ridiculed her without mercy. Ken’ishi knew that she feared what would happen to her if Tetta were gone, even more so now with the impending revelation of her condition.

Norikage said, “I have an idea. We will not arrest Chiba, but he is a stupid boy and does not like pressure. If he believes we suspect him in Tetta’s disappearance, he may inadvertently provide us with what we seek.”

Ken’ishi smiled grimly. “You’re a devious man, Norikage.”

“Remember where I come from.”

Ken’ishi said, “Kiosé, remain here in Norikage’s office. Do not open the door for anyone but us.”

She bowed. “Understood.”

“Now, Ken’ishi,” Norikage said as he began to lead Ken’ishi away from the office, “Let me do all the talking. You merely have to stand and look threatening. Make sure he can see your sword.”

* * *

Darkness had fallen by the time they found Chiba at the docks, securing his fishing boat for the night. The moment he saw them, he stood rod straight and glanced about for a means of easy escape. Ken’ishi and Norikage walked down the dock toward him. If Chiba were going to run, he would have to leap into the water first.

Chiba demanded, “What do you want?”

Ken’ishi caught Norikage’s glance warning him to be silent. Norikage answered, “Your cooperation, Chiba.”

The young man glanced back and forth between them. He was about Ken’ishi’s age, but the fisherman’s hard life had already darkened his skin, worked deep lines into his face, and left thick calluses on his hands. Ken’ishi sized him up. Chiba was strong and well muscled. His features were broad and blunt, like his father’s, with thick lips and an outthrust jaw, close-set eyes, and thick, brine-encrusted hair hanging in ragged strands around his face. Ken’ishi noted that he wore a sheathed knife tied to his waist, perhaps the same boning knife Yoba had used to kill Masahige. Ken’ishi’s fists and teeth clenched. His blood thundered in his ears. How badly he wanted to punish this miscreant for beating Kiosé! Silently he entreated the kami to coax Chiba into giving him an excuse.

“What kind of cooperation, honored constables?” Chiba’s words dripped with disdain.

Ken’ishi clamped his will down upon the rage surging in his belly. He took a long deep breath, focusing his will.

Norikage said, “We only wish to ask you a few simple questions, Chiba. Have you seen Tetta today?”

Ken’ishi noted the flash of panic in Chiba’s eyes. The young fisherman knew why they were here.

“I have not seen Tetta today.”

“When did you see him last?” Norikage said.

“A few days ago. I saw him in the street. He stayed away from me.”

“And why is that?”

“You know why! Because of his whore!”

“What of her? We know where
she
is. Tetta is the one who is missing. His family is worried about him.”

“Why are you asking me these questions?”

“We are asking everyone questions. We only want to find out where Tetta might have gone. His family is concerned.”

Even through the haze of his own anger, Ken’ishi noted the skill with which Norikage used his voice to alternatively wheedle and demand answers.

Norikage said, “Why are you so nervous, Chiba? Surely you do not think we suspect you had something to do with Tetta’s disappearance.”

Chiba’s jaw clenched so ferociously that the muscles of his cheeks flexed. He said nothing.

“Very well. If you say you have not seen him, then you have not seen him. Let’s go, Ken’ishi.” Norikage bowed slightly, turned, and flashed a coaxing glance at Ken’ishi.

Ken’ishi took a step toward Chiba, and the fisherman took a wary step back. He thrust the hilt of his sword forward. “Chiba, if anything has happened to Tetta, I will kill you. If anything happens to Kiosé, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Chiba’s face blanched as white as a fish’s belly.

“Do you understand!” he roared.

Chiba flinched, but hatred smoldered like hidden embers behind the fear in his eyes. “Yes, constable! I understand.” His words were subservient, but his bearing was not.

Ken’ishi leaped forward, grabbed Chiba by the collar, and struck him across the cheek with the back of his fist.
“Do you understand!
”

Chiba reeled from the force of Ken’ishi’s blow, and his knees buckled. The defiance drained out of him like water from a punctured bladder. His voice was quiet and respectful, quivering with fear. “Yes, constable. Understood.”

“Come, Ken’ishi. There are more people we must speak to.” Norikage’s voice was bright and cheery, belying the tension of the moment.

Ken’ishi released the fisherman’s collar and backed away several steps, then he turned to follow Norikage.

When they were out of Chiba’s earshot, Norikage said, “That went well. He is frightened. Frightened men make mistakes. We shall soon see the truth, I think.”

Ken’ishi grunted in agreement, but he was not so sure.

“Now,” said Norikage, “I think we need to speak to Tetta’s son. Gonta may be able to tell us when Tetta was last at home. And there is something else. He is the person most likely to benefit if something happened to Tetta.”

Ken’ishi glanced at him. “Are you saying Gonta might have killed his own father?”

“That is not what I’m saying, but I do not think it is impossible. In the capital, I heard of many far more heinous acts. Perhaps Gonta helped his father into an early grave so that he could take over the inn.”

Ken’ishi thought about that. A son killing his own father was one of the most heinous acts he could imagine. For a moment he considered how things would change if Tetta were dead. Tetta’s family would suffer a grievous loss. Kiosé’s welfare would suffer, too, and Gonta might force her to cease her relations with Ken’ishi. And Ken’ishi would lose one of his most influential allies in Aoka village, the innkeeper.

When they arrived at the inn, they found Gonta hard at work preparing the noon meal. There were no travelers staying in the inn, but some of the villagers occasionally went to the inn to eat or have a cup of tea or sake. There were no customers today, but when they entered, Ken’ishi saw several small baskets of food and gifts placed on tables in the main room, an outpouring of concern from many of the villagers.

When Gonta saw them enter, he hurried toward them. His brow glistened with sweat from his work. He was long and lean, much like his father, with the same forehead and bulbous skull, but with less of the joviality that Tetta put to such good use in his inn. He was a young man, in his early twenties, and had not yet found a wife. Gonta said, “Thank you very much for coming to visit, honorable constables. Have you any news about my father’s whereabouts?”