Shinju (36 page)

He would regain his former status as
yoriki
, thereby positioning himself to investigate and thwart the plot against the government. He would reclaim his honor. His father would live.

Noon came and went. The street quieted as the craftsmen had their meals, then clamored with activity again when they returned to work. Still no O-hisa. Sano's optimism waned. He began fabricating excuses for her. Lord Niu had decided to stay longer at the villa and had kept the servants with him. Lady Niu or one of the other women had detained her with some task, and O-hisa would sneak away as soon as she could. Finally, though, he had to entertain the worst of all possibilities: she'd changed her mind. Or been found out by the Nius and silenced. She wasn't coming. He'd lost his chance to salvage his family's honor, and all hope of his father's recovery.

Panic made Sano reckless. He rushed through Nihonbashi to the daimyo district. Just as he reached the Nius' gate, it opened. Hope swelled, then died again when he saw not O-hisa, but a mounted samurai come charging through the portals. One look at the man's face sent him running for cover. It was Lord Niu.

In an instant, Sano had to weigh his choices. He could wait for O-hisa, who might never appear, or he could follow Lord Niu and perhaps learn more about the plot. His commitment to O-hisa and their earlier plan warred with his curiosity. He took a step in Lord Niu's direction, then paused, looking back at the estate. Finally a
desire for positive action swayed his decision. He hurried after Lord Niu.

Following the daimyo's son proved harder than it had yesterday, but not because he was on foot while Lord Niu rode. Although
Setsubun
wouldn't officially start until dark, the streets of Nihonbashi were filling with rowdy townspeople who had begun their celebrations early. Young men dressed in women's clothes assailed Lord Niu with mock come-ons, persisting until he waved his sword at them. His horse shied when children threw firecrackers that popped near its hooves. Housewives hurried to and fro with bundles of last-minute purchases for their New Year's Day feasts. In such confusion, a mounted man could travel no faster than one who walked. But without his disguise, Sano had to lag far behind Lord Niu to avoid being seen and recognized. The crowds got in his way and distracted him. What if he confused Lord Niu with some other rider dressed in plain dark clothing? A drunken old man accosted Sano, urging sake upon him. A group of adolescent boys blocked his way with a mock sword battle. With relief he emerged from the suffocating residential district into a wide, relatively uncrowded street of fine shops and rich merchants' dwellings. He was just in time to see the back of Lord Niu's horse disappear down an alley on the other side. He hurried forward, but a roaring wave of sound, comprised of shouts, hoofbeats, and the tramp of countless marching feet, bore down on him.

A horde of mounted samurai rounded the corner, bearing banners emblazoned with the cross-within-a-square Asano crest. Ahead of them, runners dashed back and forth across the street.

“Out of the way!” they yelled. “Bow down! Bow down!”

All around Sano, people hastened to comply. Dropping their bundles, they fell to their knees in the gutters, arms extended before them, foreheads pressed to the ground. Everyone knew that the samurai wouldn't hesitate to exercise
kirisute
—their legal right to cut down and kill any peasant not quick enough to bow before
a daimyo's procession. Sano leaped forward, hoping to cross the street ahead of the procession. But rows of kneeling bodies blocked his way.

The procession thundered past. First the horsemen, haughty and upright, then hundreds of servants carrying baskets of provisions and treasure. Foot soldiers came next, wearing big, circular wicker hats, shoulders moving in their characteristic, bold “cutting the air” manner. Finally the daimyo's gaudy palanquin appeared, followed by endless regiments of more samurai and servants.

Sano ran sideways, hoping to cross the street behind them. He couldn't bear to lose Lord Niu. But he couldn't get around the corner; there, the marchers filled the street from wall to wall. Fairly hopping with impatience, he was forced to wait until the whole procession passed.

Finally the street cleared. The peasants picked themselves up and went about their business. Sano dashed across the street and into the alley, only to find that Lord Niu had vanished without a trace.

Cursing his bad luck, Sano raced through the streets, asking shopowners and pedestrians, “Did you see a young samurai on horseback pass this way?”

No one had. Either the procession had claimed all their attention, or else the sight of one ordinary rider was too unremarkable to remember.

Sano refused to give up. He climbed a rickety ladder to a vacant fire-watch tower and looked down over the rooftops to the seething streets. In the distance he saw several horsemen, but he couldn't tell which, if any of them, was Lord Niu. Then, just as he was descending the ladder, he saw a familiar figure emerge from an inn down the block.

Cherry Eater, hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, craned his neck as if looking for someone. He carried a large cloth
bundle slung over his shoulder; it thumped against his back as he broke into a run.

Jumping the last few rungs, Sano landed with a jolt and hurried after Cherry Eater. He remembered Lord Niu ordering the
shunga
dealer to pick up his money today. Perhaps the two of them had arranged to meet again somewhere away from the Niu estate afterward. If Cherry Eater didn't lead him to Lord Niu, Sano would return to the swordmaker's shop to look for O-hisa again.

The
shunga
dealer seemed afraid of being followed. He kept looking back over his shoulder. He would suddenly veer around corners or hide behind notice boards. He ducked into shops and teahouses, waited awhile, then cautiously poked his ugly face out to look both ways before emerging again. Once he stayed so long that Sano wondered whether whatever misfortune he feared had befallen him inside. Then, realizing what had happened, Sano ran around the block just in time to see Cherry Eater come out the teahouse's rear door and hurry away.

He almost lost Cherry Eater again at the fish market, which sprawled over the banks of the canal beside the Nihonbashi Bridge. Cherry Eater plunged into the vast, noisy building, threading his way through the crowds that choked the narrow pathways between row upon row of stalls. Sano dodged around barrels of live mackerel and tuna and baskets of clams and scallops. The reek of rotting fish filled his nostrils. A cluster of customers haggling over the price of three huge sharks suspended from a horizontal pole blocked his way. By the time he'd elbowed past them, Cherry Eater was far ahead of him, leaning over a table laden with seaweed to talk to the proprietor.

Catching up, Sano heard Cherry Eater shout, “I need my money now! Give it to me!”

“But I don't have it,” the man protested.

Cherry Eater gave a howl of pure despair. He turned and ran, darting out through one of the arched doorways and into the
sunshine. Sano lunged forward. His feet slipped in the fish scales and entrails that befouled the ground, and he almost fell. Why, he wondered, did Cherry Eater need money so badly after extorting a fortune from Lord Niu? He thought of questioning the seaweed vendor, but he mustn't lose Cherry Eater.

Outside, Cherry Eater made straight for the canal, where fishermen had drawn their boats up to the bank to auction off their catches. Sano hurried after him as he picked his way through the shouting bidders. Cherry Eater squinted at each boat. Then he paused, his drooping posture making it obvious that he hadn't found the one he sought. He spoke to a few fishermen, and Sano caught a few phrases:

“Have you seen … the boat was supposed to be waiting …”

Getting only shakes of the head in answer, Cherry Eater headed back toward the market. But instead of going inside, he cut across an alley and entered one of a long line of establishments in a dingy building whose once-white plaster walls had turned a scabrous gray.

Sano hesitated about twenty paces from the doorway.
FRESH-CATCH SUSHI
, the sign read. Teahouses filled with fishermen and laborers occupied the rooms on either side. When Cherry Eater didn't reappear immediately, Sano wondered whether to look for him at the back door, or wait in one of the teahouses. Was Cherry Eater meeting Lord Niu now, or just trying to shake pursuers? Sano risked a walk past the sushi restaurant and glanced inside.

A chest-high counter ran along the right side of the long, narrow room, stopping just short of the back wall, where a curtained doorway led to the kitchen. Behind the counter the chef, wearing a blue headband over bushy eyebrows, sliced raw fish, encased it in rolls of vinegared rice and seaweed, and distributed it to his seven customers with remarkable speed and precision. Cherry Eater stood near the end of the counter, his back to the door. Oblivious to the full plate before him, he was speaking in urgent tones to the man beside him.

The room was dim, and hazy with smoke from the customers' pipes. Sano took another chance. Entering the restaurant, he stood at the counter two places away from Cherry Eater. His neighbors, both ripe-smelling dockworkers, scowled their greetings and reluctantly moved aside to make room for him.

“What will you have, master?” the chef called to Sano, not looking up from his flashing knife.

“Anything that's good,” Sano answered absentmindedly. Keeping his face averted, he listened to Cherry Eater's conversation.

The
shunga
dealer had dropped his bundle. Wringing his insectile hands, he moaned, “Yes, I know it's a lot of money, and more than we agreed on.” For once he did not offer a wisecrack or veiled insult; anxiety had stifled his wit. “But I need it, and I need it now.”

His companion was not Lord Niu, but a gray-haired, shabbily dressed fat man who answered in a gruff mumble that Sano strained to understand. Was he a moneylender? Or another of Cherry Eater's blackmail victims? Unfortunately, the chef chose that moment to interrupt.

“Dancing sushi, best in town,” he barked, zinging a plate down the counter toward Sano. “Eat up now.”

“Thank you.” Sano picked up a still-wriggling prawn with his chopsticks and ate it, wishing the chef would keep quiet. He'd missed Fat Man's entire reply.

“Easy for you to say do not worry,” Cherry Eater railed. “You are not running for your life!”

Sano ate the rest of his prawns without tasting them. Now he grasped the significance of Cherry Eater's bulky bundle, his panicky flight, his need for money, and the boat. Something or someone had frightened him into an abrupt departure from Edo. Was it Lord Niu? Maybe Cherry Eater hadn't gotten money from him, but a death threat.

Mumble mumble
was all Sano heard from Fat Man.

“I must leave immediately,” Cherry Eater said. “Now where is the money you owe me?”

The chef slid Sano two more plates, announcing loudly, “Tuna and sea bream.”

Sano raised a hand to signal that he wanted nothing more. He saw Fat Man take a pouch from inside his baggy cloak and give it to Cherry Eater. Then he frowned as Fat Man's hands caught his attention. Too white and slender and graceful to belong to such a gross person, they also looked familiar. Sano had a sudden image of them holding a fan instead of a pouch. He took a closer look at Fat Man—and froze with his chopsticks held halfway to his mouth.

The gray wig and padded clothing effectively changed the man's age and shape. He'd plumped his face, probably by stuffing cloth in his cheeks and nostrils. But he couldn't disguise the hands, which tipped Sano off to his real identity.

Fat Man was none other than Kikunojo, the great Kabuki actor—in male attire for another secret rendezvous.

Sano looked away before Kikunojo could recognize him. He'd more or less dismissed Kikunojo as a suspect, but the actor's sudden reappearance raised strong questions in his mind. Kikunojo had evidently lied about refusing to pay blackmail, and perhaps about other things as well. Had his forbidden affair been with a married woman—or Yukiko? Could he have killed her and Noriyoshi because he feared that either might reveal the affair to the Nius, who would have destroyed him if they'd learned of it? Had he worn a disguise to follow Sano along the Tōkaido and kill Tsunehiko?

These questions went unanswered as Cherry Eater dominated the conversation, apparently out of a reckless desire to confide.

“… shouldn't have asked him for more money … didn't know how dangerous … he'll have my head if I don't get away fast.…”

Cherry Eater's voice had dropped to a fretful mutter, but Sano understood his meaning. Lord Niu had refused to tolerate more
extortion. Did Cherry Eater believe—as Sano still did, despite Kikunojo's reemergence as a suspect—that Lord Niu had killed Noriyoshi, Yukiko, and the samurai child and would not hesitate to kill again to protect himself? The
shunga
dealer's fear suggested that he did. But then why had he risked blackmail? Sano felt a certain admiration for Cherry Eater's nerve and enterprising spirit. The ugly little man was quick to seize opportunities to make money wherever he found them.

Kikunojo mumbled something else.

“But it did not seem like a bad idea at first!” In his agitation, Cherry Eater forgot to keep his voice low. “Do you think I am so stupid as to follow in my miserable employee's footsteps?” He gave a shrill, hysterical laugh. “No. I merely suggested that an increase in my commission was called for. Because of that boy who died. I had to pay his family a fortune not to tell the police. How was I supposed to know that Lord—” He caught himself. “That a certain person would misunderstand my intentions and assume that I, too, am a
metsuke
informer who wants money in exchange for not telling the authorities about his conspiracy?”

Sano nearly choked on a mouthful of sea bream. It didn't surprise him that Noriyoshi had learned about the conspiracy, or that he'd attempted to use his knowledge for personal gain. But never had he guessed that Noriyoshi was an informer for the Tokugawa spies. This unexpected piece of information strengthened Lord Niu's motive immeasurably. How much more dangerous was the knowledge in an informer's hands than in those of a simple blackmailer! Sano conjectured that the self-serving Noriyoshi had first used the secrets he learned for his own benefit, reporting them to his employers only after he'd wrung enough money out of his victims. This time, however, it appeared that Lord Niu had made sure Noriyoshi didn't live long enough to report the conspiracy.