Bundori: A Novel of Japan (31 page)

Sano regained his balance, sidestepped and parried, but too late. Chūgo’s blade sliced his left upper arm. A gush of blood warmed his cold skin. Darting backward just in time to avoid a cut to his neck, he launched an offensive, but his reflexes were dangerously slow. Spiritual energy couldn’t entirely compensate for an exhausted body. Chūgo effortlessly parried every cut, inserting thrusts between each, driving Sano backward into the stern. The boat swayed as it careened downstream, hurling Sano at Chūgo. Ever more unsure that he could defeat the guard captain, Sano tried to reason with him.

“Give up, Chūgo,” he urged between gasps. “Even if you kill me, you won’t get away. Especially if you harm the chamberlain. The army will hunt you down. And without a hostage, they’ll have no reason to spare your life.”

Chūgo dealt a low cut that sliced Sano’s calf. Sano’s instinctive jump saved his leg from mortal damage, but his despair increased because he’d easily recognized Chūgo’s maneuver as one he’d faced during practice sessions, yet had been too weak to react soon enough. He had only his wits to use against the madman’s superior strength.

Chūgo’s assault propelled him around the port deck and into the bow. Still parrying frantically, Sano circled the foredeck, noting how, as the boat tipped, the sail swung back and forth in an arc. With a sideways leap that strained his bursting lungs, Sano forced Chūgo to pivot and fight with his back to the sail. Sano lashed out at Chūgo and took a cut to his shoulder. Dodging, he tripped over the anchor. Then the wind whipped the sail around. The boom whacked Chūgo across the back; he stumbled. Sano sliced at Chūgo’s sword hand. The tilting boat knocked him off balance again, and the blade only grazed Chūgo’s knuckles, but the captain dropped his sword. Sano lunged at Chūgo. Then the boat lurched, throwing him backward.

Sano’s feet skidded on the flooded deck. His arms instinctively shot out. As he hit the cabin, Chūgo was upon him, one hand gripping his throat, the other clamped around his wrist, immobilizing his sword. The boat rocked again. Together he and Chūgo pitched forward. Now Chūgo, in a deft maneuver, reversed their positions. Sano reeled backward, past the swinging sail, and into the bow. His back struck the railing as he grappled with Chūgo. The guard captain increased the pressure on his throat, bending his head back.

Sano coughed, struggling with his left hand to break Chūgo’s hold, and with his right to free his sword. Back, back, he arched over the railing. Faintly, he heard Yanagisawa’s screams. Rain filled his gaping mouth, splattered his eyes. Above him he saw the stormy sky, then a soaring arch of crossed and parallel wooden beams. They were passing beneath the Ryōgoku Bridge. Sano couldn’t resist Chūgo any longer. His feet left the deck-

With a sudden, shuddering crash from the port side that Sano initially took for thunder, the boat stopped. He barely had time to register that it had struck one of the bridge’s supports. Their forward momentum carried him and Chūgo over the railing. They were falling…

The resultant splash jarred Sano’s bones. He gasped and gurgled when the cold water closed over his head. Kicking and thrashing, he tried to raise himself above the surface, but Chūgo kept hold of his wrist, twisting it. Pain shot through his arm; he let go the sword. Then Chūgo clasped both hands around his throat, throttling him, holding his head underwater.

The blood thundered in Sano’s head while he tried to tear Chūgo’s hands away. Seemingly made of steel, they didn’t budge. Sano retched and wheezed. Through the water that swirled across his vision, he saw Chūgo’s face: fierce, teeth bared, maniacal. The bridge seemed to sway above him, while the boat tossed beside it. Desperately Sano scissored his legs, pulling Chūgo down with him. At the same time, he grabbed for the short sword at his waist.

Obviously guessing his intention, the guard captain released Sano’s neck and intercepted his hand. Together they shot above the surface. Sano gulped a breath of air before a wave hit his face. He reached the sword, but Chūgo’s hand pinned his at his side. The captain’s muscular legs locked around Sano’s waist; his other hand pressed against Sano’s face, gradually pushing him back underwater. Sano’s strength was fading and his struggles weakened. Then despair brought inspiration. Behind Chūgo, the boat’s rocking, curved bow rose. Sano thought of the obsession that had compelled Chūgo to commit four murders and embark on this perilous journey.

“Chūgo,” he choked out, timing his words with the boat’s movements, “General Fujiwara and Lord Oda Nobunaga command you to let me go!”

The guard captain’s hold on him relaxed-just for an instant, but it was enough. With all his remaining strength, Sano threw his weight against Chūgo. Chūgo surged backward just as a wave lifted the boat. Then the boat dropped, smashing its hull against Chūgo’s crown. The captain’s face froze in an expression of puzzled surprise; his legs and hands fell away from Sano. Unconscious, he floated on his back amid rain and waves.

Sano wasted no time savoring his triumph. He had to get himself and his prisoner out of the river before they both drowned, free Yanagisawa, and tie the boat to the bridge, so a rescue party could reach them. Crooking his arm around Chūgo’s neck, Sano swam around to the stern and found the rope he’d climbed earlier. He tied it around Chūgo’s chest, then pulled himself up the rope and aboard the boat. Heaving and straining until his muscles almost tore and tears came to his eyes, he got Chūgo onto the deck…

… only to find that, while he was laboring, the boat had drifted out of reach of the bridge and down the river. Waves washed over the deck and dashed against the cabin. Sano used the rope to tie Chūgo’s hands and feet and lash him upright to a lantern pole. He slumped against the railing in despair as he scanned the deserted riverscape. Even if he anchored the boat, it might capsize before help arrived. Sano staggered around to the starboard deck, where Yanagisawa lay moaning and sobbing in a pool of water.

“Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Can you sail a boat?”

Yanagisawa abruptly quieted. Gulping in surprise, he raised his head. Rain, tears, and blood drenched his face. His mouth trembled; his swollen eyes were wells of stark fear.

“
You
,”he croaked. “Where’s Chūgo?”

Sano’s animosity toward the chamberlain dissolved into pity, leavened by a slight pang of satisfaction at seeing his enemy thus. “I’ve tied him up. He can’t hurt you. Chamberlain-”

Yanagisawa’s features contorted into the familiar mask of hatred. “I order you to untie me, Sano Ichirō,” he rasped. Safe from Chūgo, he’d recovered his authority. He wriggled toward Sano, spitting hoarse curses.

The boat was speeding down the river, smacking the waves. Lightning forks stabbed the sky. Sano repeated, “Can you sail this boat?”

“Of course not, you imbecile. I’m not a common sailor. Now free me, so I can kill you!”

Sano grabbed Yanagisawa by the armpits and dragged him into the cabin. Then, leaving the chamberlain tied, Sano hurried out to the stern. He’d never sailed a boat before, but he would have to try. Through the rain, he squinted in dismay at the bewildering web of ropes that ran from the sail, over the cabin, and through wooden fittings on the gunwales. What to do?

Sano seized the tiller and tried to turn the boat shoreward. Nothing happened. The oars, designed for a team of rowers, were too heavy and too far apart for one man to operate alone. Sano grabbed the sail’s lines and yanked, turning the flapping sheet at a diagonal. The headwind filled it, pushing the boat right-too hard. The boat heeled sharply. Sano’s heart seized as he first let out the sail, then heaved the other way and tried to brace his feet on the slippery, tilting deck.

“I’ll kill you!” Yanagisawa screamed from the cabin.

Just when Sano thought the boat would capsize, it bobbed upright. But his next attempt to change direction met with similar, near-disastrous results. He realized that he would have to correct the boat’s course gradually. He turned the sail again, this time at a slighter angle to the wind. The boat heeled, but held stable. As it raced downstream, it continued to turn. The bow aimed west and shoreward. Soon Sano saw looming toward him Edo ’s docks and warehouses. Now he heard other shouts besides Yanagisawa’s. He saw ahead the tiny figures of people waving from warehouse doors. One man separated himself from a group and ran out on the dock, jumping up and down. Recognizing Hirata, Sano laughed aloud in sheer, joyous relief. Now he was approaching his assistant on a diagonal. He waited until he neared the dock, then let loose the sail.

The boat turned downstream and drew up alongside the dock. Its bow crashed into small craft moored there; its hull scraped against the pilings. But the boat stopped. The storm still raged around Sano, yet the world stood still.

Suddenly the boat was swarming with men: a
doshin
and assistants; two boatmen in wide hats and straw rain cloaks; Yanagisawa’s retainers. The boatmen secured the vessel to the dock and lowered the gangplank. The police untied Chūgo-conscious now, but dazed-and led him away. Yanagisawa’s retainers rushed into the cabin.

“
Sōsakan-sama
!” Hirata ran up to Sano, his face radiant with joy and excitement. “You’ve done it, you’ve caught the Bundori Killer! Come on, let’s go.”

Suddenly too weak to stand, Sano let his assistant help him down the gangplank.

“Sano Ichirō!”

Turning, Sano saw Chamberlain Yanagisawa emerge from the cabin, leaning on his retainers.

“You’ll pay for this, Sano Ichirō!” Yanagisawa shrilled, shaking his fist. Pale, disheveled, and furious, he looked like a mad demon from one of the shogun’s No plays. “I swear you’ll pay for this!”

Sano’s mind closed against the chamberlain’s threats as a temporarily forgotten longing swelled his heart.

“Aoi,” he whispered.

One month after the Bundori Killer’s capture, the shogun’s banquet hall sparkled with noisy festivity. Lanterns brightened the huge room and the garden, visible through sliding doors opened to admit the warm, summer night breeze. Beautiful attendants, both male and female, served refreshments to gaudily robed men who reclined on silk cushions in laughing, joking clusters, or moved about the room to pour liquor for one another in the customary social ritual. On the veranda, musicians performed songs from the shogun’s favorite plays. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, seated on the dais, struck a dramatic pose and intoned:

“
I am a wanderer in life’s journey

I know not when it might end
- ”

Occupying places of honor just below the dais, the Council of Elders, Chamberlain Yanagisawa, and the boy actor Shichisaburō laughed and applauded.

Sano sat alone in a corner, isolated by the terrible devastation that had followed Chūgo’s capture and destroyed much of the pleasure he’d derived from succeeding in his lord’s task. Seeing Tsunayoshi’s quizzical glance at him, he forced himself to approach the nearest group of guests, which included Hirata-his former assistant and now retainer-his former superior, Noguchi, and Magistrate Ueda. He poured them a round of sake and joined in their conversation. He must show gratitude and pretend enjoyment, even though his spirit was dying inside him.

“Silence!” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi clapped his hands.

The music ceased; conversation halted. The guests expectantly awaited their host’s words.

“As you know, this, ahh, banquet is being held in honor of
Sōsakan
Sano,” the shogun said, face flushed and speech slurred from the sake he’d consumed. “Tonight we officially celebrate two momentous events in the life of this most dedicated retainer, the first of which is, ahh, his capture of the Bundori Killer, who, I am glad to say, no longer terrorizes the city.”

Everyone turned to Sano. Hirata beamed in vicarious triumph. Noguchi smiled and bobbed his head. Magistrate Ueda merely nodded approval, but Sano saw genuine admiration in his eyes. The elders bowed gravely; the other guests applauded. Only Chamberlain Yanagisawa made no gesture of respect or congratulation. Yanagisawa, who Sano guessed-but couldn’t prove- was responsible for his beating. Yanagisawa, the “evil spirit” he might eventually have to destroy. Yanagisawa, powerless against him for only as long as he managed to retain the changeable Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s favor. From his place at the shogun’s feet, he glared at Sano with undisguised hatred.

“
Sōsakan
Sano’s deed required all the qualities most admirable in a samurai: courage, loyalty, intelligence, and, ahh, perseverance.” The shogun’s eyes twinkled. “Though I believe you had a little help from Chamberlain Yanagisawa?”

The shogun laughed heartily at his own quip. He’d received the news of Yanagisawa’s role in Chūgo’s capture with great amusement. He seemed unaware of the chamberlain’s attempts to obstruct the investigation; Sano, prohibited from speaking ill of a superior, hadn’t told him. The guests, except for the chamberlain, laughed too. Yanagisawa’s gaze shot pure venom at Sano. With a fingertip, he touched the scars on his lip and eyelid.

“Now,” continued Tsunayoshi, “I shall perform a song I have composed, describing the trial of Chūgo Gichin.

“
It was during the time of the cherry blossoms

That evil was vanquished
-”

The manner of Chūgo’s demise had so tickled the shogun’s fancy that he’d completely forgotten the doubts Chamberlain Yanagisawa had instilled in him and welcomed Sano back into his favor. He’d even come to the Court of Justice to watch Chūgo’s trial. Now, as the shogun chanted his song, Sano relived the unforgettable experience.

Three days after the capture, Sano had appeared before Magistrate Ueda to present the evidence against the accused. While the shogun smiled delightedly and a curious crowd gathered outside the hall’s barred windows, Sano described how he’d identified Chūgo as a suspect, then tricked him into revealing himself as the killer.

“A later search of Chūgo’s house revealed a list of the names and whereabouts of Araki and Endō clan members,” Sano continued. “I also found the mate to the death’s-head sword given me by the witness whose confidential statement you just heard. And I found deeds to three houses-one in Nihonbashi, the others near Yoshiwara and Zōjō Temple -all under different aliases. Chūgo’s financial records prove that he bought them with money borrowed from Matsui Minoru. When I searched the houses, I found boards, spikes, face paint, incense, and traces of blood.”

Magistrate Ueda, dignified in his black garments, sat upon the dais, flanked by secretaries who recorded the proceedings. “The case seems sufficient,” he said. To the courtroom attendants: “Bring in Chūgo Gichin.”

Sano heard Chūgo coming before the guard captain reached the hall. From the mob outside came angry calls for the Bundori Killer’s blood, and above the commotion rose Chūgo’s wild rantings. The guard captain had gone completely mad during his stay in Edo Jail.

The main door flew open, and the attendants dragged in the cursing, thrashing defendant. The shogun, his retinue, and the rest of the audience gasped and murmured. Sano stared, amazed at the change in Chūgo.

Stripped of swords, armor, and Tokugawa crests, Chūgo wore a torn, filthy cotton kimono. His wrists were tied behind his back and iron shackles hobbled his legs. His eyes rolled; his teeth were bared in a fierce grimace.

“May demons destroy all you who would stop me from honoring my ancestor as a samurai should!” he shouted, trying to throw off his escorts.

The attendants dumped him on a mat on the
shirasu
-the “white sand of truth” that covered the floor before the magistrate’s dais. Not until they’d administered several hard kicks did he kneel and cease cursing, and even then, an angry, animal growl rumbled in his throat. Though Sano couldn’t forget Chūgo’s terrible crimes, he could pity the once proud warrior.

“Chūgo Gichin, you are charged with the murders of four men: Kaibara Tōju,
hatamoto
to His Excellency; the
rōnin
Tōzawa Jigori; the priest Endō Azumanaru; and an
eta
,” Magistrate Ueda said. “You are also accused of ordering two attacks on
Sōsakan
Sano: one by a mercenary swordsman in Nihonbashi; the other at Edo Castle. What have you to say in your own defense?”

“They were not murders,” Chūgo snapped. “They were acts of war. Of vengeance. The Endō and the Araki killed my lord Oda Nobunaga, and for that they deserved death by my hand!”

Obviously unable to distinguish his victims from the long-dead traitors or himself from General Fujiwara, he flung a wild glance at Sano. “I had to act before Kaibara, the last member of the Araki clan, died. Then I decided to kill every last Endō. That cursed
sōsakan
tried to stop me, so I hired an assassin to kill him. And if someone else hadn’t already had him beaten, I would have!”

Magistrate Ueda frowned. “Then you deny the last charge, but not the others?”

“Deny what I’ve done?” Chūgo’s laugh resembled a dog’s howl. “Why? I want the world to know that General Fujiwara is at last avenging his lord’s murder!”

Exclamations swept the audience. Sano, though shocked by the extent of Chūgo’s delusion, was relieved that his confession would shorten his path to justice.

“Silence.” Magistrate Ueda’s raised hand quieted the room. “Then, Chūgo, you do not repent of the crimes to which you have confessed?”

“Repent? Pah! A samurai doesn’t apologize for doing his rightful duty by his master.”

There was a fresh outcry from the audience, which Magistrate Ueda also silenced. “Then I am sorry to say that I must deny you the privilege of committing
seppuku
to which your rank entitles you. Instead you will be beheaded at the public execution ground immediately, and your remains displayed as a warning to would-be criminals.”

Sano closed his eyes as the guards dragged Chūgo from the hall. The awful spectacle of disgrace poisoned his satisfaction at seeing his investigation successfully concluded, a killer brought to justice. Through his horror, he heard the shogun’s high, excited voice:

“Ahh. A marvelous show. Well done,
sōsakan
!”

Now that same voice recalled Sano to the present. “Yes, this is an accomplishment that must be entered into the nation’s official history.” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s face brightened with inspiration. “Since you are a historian, you yourself shall have the privilege of chronicling your, ahh, miraculous deeds for the castle archives.”

Heads nodded; murmurs of approval came from the guests.

“This is a great honor, and I thank you, Your Excellency.” Sano tried to infuse his voice with enthusiasm. Here at last was the fulfillment of his promise to his father. Sano took pride in his deed; his samurai spirit basked in the shogun’s praise. But Sano still felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest, leaving behind a vast, aching emptiness that grew larger and hurt more with each passing day.

Aoi had vanished, apparently for good.

After conveying Chūgo to Edo Jail, giving statements to the police and magistrate, and reporting the success of his investigation to the shogun, Sano had rushed to the Momijiyama to see Aoi- only to find another woman installed as chief shrine attendant and unable to tell him more than that Aoi had disappeared, leaving no explanation.

Frantic with grief and bewilderment, Sano had spent the past month searching for her, to no avail. Then, this evening, as he dressed for the banquet, he’d found the note hidden among his ceremonial robes.

My dearest,

Please forgive me for leaving without saying good-bye. I had no choice. With each passing year, my enslavement to the Tokugawa has grown harder to bear. When we met, my spirit had been dying little by little. It would have gone on dying, if not for you, who restored my hope, happiness, and desire to live.

But now Chamberlain Yanagisawa has ordered me to kill you. Rather than obey, I have fled, in the hope that I can join my family and escape with them before the troops come for us. Perhaps fate will spare your life and mine, even if we can’t spend them together.

I beg you not to pursue me, or tell anyone of our liaison. To reveal the full extent to which I’ve betrayed my master would only endanger me more.

Don’t be angry with me, or blame yourself for what is entirely my own decision. Instead, remember me as I will you:

With eternal love,

Aoi

The message closed with the crude sketch of a veiled female figure facing a mountain range. Sano, remembering their conversation the night of his beating, understood that Aoi had taken the perilous step of making her dream a reality. Disguised as a nun, living on roots and nuts and the alms of strangers, she was making her way toward Iga Province. Despite her attempt to absolve him of guilt, Sano knew he’d provided the final impetus for her action.

He’d saved lives by stopping Chūgo’s killing spree, but endangered the woman he loved by winning her affection and letting her forsake her duty. Guilt embittered Sano’s misery. Despite the ninja’s renowned ability to survive, he pictured Aoi hunted down, tortured, slain. And he could do nothing to prevent it. He couldn’t even thank her for her help, to which he owed much of his success, or for the gift of his life, which she’d purchased with her own.

Then Sano gasped in surprise. The characters of the note were fading. Written in magic ninja ink, they vanished, withdrawing from him as their writer had. Soon Sano held a blank sheet of paper.

As blank as his life was without Aoi.

Now, as the shogun praised his courage, Sano faced the hardest task of all: to stay at his post instead of following his heart and going after the woman he loved but couldn’t save. He wanted to dash from the room, mount his horse, and gallop wildly into the night, shouting Aoi’s name. He wanted to search every road, village, forest, and field between Edo and Iga Province until he found her. Yet her wishes and his own duty forbade him.

In his misery, Sano saw his life stripped of illusion. The castle was a luxurious prison. The shogun for whom he’d almost sacrificed his life, who now rambled drunkenly upon the dais, was merely the chamberlain’s puppet. Bushido was cruel; a place in history an empty reward. Heartbreak had shown him the truth of Dr. Ito’s words.

The shogun’s high, merry voice cut into Sano’s thoughts. “Ahh. Let us also rejoice in
Sōsakan
Sano’s engagement to Magistrate Ueda’s daughter.”

Except for Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who narrowed his eyes and compressed his lips, the assembly cheered. Sano woodenly exchanged nods with Magistrate Ueda. His change in fortune had induced the magistrate to bestow upon him Reiko’s hand. Sano valued the match that his father had desired for him, and an association with a man he respected. But he would gladly give it up for one brief moment with Aoi, to again know the exhilarating joy of
ishin-denshin
-their precious, unspoken soul-to-soul communication.

The shogun spoke about the match’s propriety and offered his blessings for its success. Then he said, “But enough of speeches.” He laughed and clapped his hands. The music resumed. “Come, ahh, let us enjoy ourselves!”

Sano accepted a sake decanter from a servant and reluctantly rose to perform the courtesy he’d been avoiding all night. Approaching Chamberlain Yanagisawa, he knelt, bowed, proffered the decanter, and said, “Honorable Chamberlain, please permit me.”

Ritual dictated that the chamberlain raise his cup and bow. This Yanagisawa did with characteristic elegance, but his expression was frigid, and as Sano poured the liquor, Yanagisawa’s hand trembled as though he longed to throw it in Sano’s face.

“I won’t forget,
sōsakan
,” he said in a vicious murmur meant only for Sano’s ears. He downed the sake, grimacing as if the taste sickened him, then bowed to the shogun. “If you will excuse me,” he said, and swept from the room.

Sano knew the chamberlain would never forgive him for causing, albeit unintentionally, his terrifying abduction. Nor would he forget that because of Sano, the shogun had enjoyed a joke at his expense. Above all, Yanagisawa would never forgive him for witnessing his humiliation, or for rescuing him. These last had won Sano the powerful chamberlain’s permanent enmity. From now on, whatever he did, Yanagisawa would thwart him at every turn. With his spirit broken over Aoi’s departure, this prospect was more than Sano could stand. His position had lost its meaning for him and presented a challenge to which he no longer desired to rise.