The Ninja's Daughter (10 page)

“I help him with our customs as well as the language,” Hiro said.

Haru opened his mouth to speak, but Chou nudged him. “Enough.” She bowed again. “I apologize for my brother. He is young and forgets his manners. How may I help you?”

Father Mateo reached into his purse. “Your father asked me to find the owner of the coin your sister wore the night she died.”

He displayed the golden coin in his palm. The leather dangled toward the street.

Chou clutched the sides of her faded kimono. “I'm sorry, sir, I don't know where that came from. I saw it only yesterday morning, after we brought her home.”

“Might a friend have given it to her?” Father Mateo asked.

Chou shook her head. “Emi didn't have any friends who could give a gift like that.”

Father Mateo glanced at Hiro. The Jesuit seemed to have run out of questions.

“Your brother speaks well for his age,” Hiro said. “Does he act on the stage?”

Haru straightened with obvious pride.

“He will make his debut as a
kokata
soon,” Chou said.

“A child actor,” Hiro translated for Father Mateo's benefit. “Some plays have special roles that are played by children.”

“I will take the stage next month,” Haru said.

“Will Yuji act in that performance also?” Hiro asked.

“Perhaps.” Chou blushed and cast her eyes downward at the mention of Yuji's name.

“But not as shite,” Haru added, “only in the lesser roles. When I am older, I will play the shite's roles, but Yuji never will.” He spoke without arrogance, as if simply stating a fact that everyone took for truth.

“Do not say such things,” Chou cried, with a hint of anger.

“I'm only repeating what Grandfather said.” Haru raised his chin. “Yuji's flower does not advance as it should. He cannot handle the larger roles.”

“Haru,” Chou began as if to scold the boy, but her demeanor suddenly changed. “Did you notice the drummers warming up as we left the house?”

“No!” Haru said. “You promised to tell me when they started. I want to see the practice!”

Chou gestured toward the house. “You haven't missed it. . . .”

“Please excuse me.” Haru bowed and hurried back inside.

Hiro admired the ease with which Chou diverted her brother's attention. He also hoped she had something useful to tell them, now that they were alone.

CHAPTER 18

“I apologize for Haru,” Chou said as the door swung shut behind the boy. “Talented children in our art do not receive much discipline before the age of eight. Grandfather says that too much restriction distorts their natural talent.”

“Is your father waiting for Yuji's skills to improve before you wed?” Hiro spoke too bluntly for a conversation between men, but samurai owed no subtlety to a woman.

Chou bowed her head. “Our parents wanted us to wed last New Year, after the festival, but Yuji's father died two days before the festival began. Now, we will marry as soon as our year of mourning is complete.”

“Do you participate in the mourning also?” Father Mateo asked.

Chou nodded. “I will soon be Yuji's wife. It is proper that I share this duty.”

“Had your parents found a husband for Emi also?” Hiro asked.

“No, sir.” Chou paused as if deciding how much to say. At last she settled on, “My father couldn't find an appropriate match.”

“Did Emi cause problems within the Yutoku-za?” Father Mateo asked.

“No, sir, quite the opposite. Father couldn't find a man he thought was good enough for Emi. Not with Yuji already betrothed to me. And despite what Haru said, my Yuji is a rising star. Grandfather simply thinks he needs more time for his talent to mature. No one is as handsome, or as skilled on the stage, as Yuji.”

“You seem to know him well,” Father Mateo said.

The comment made Hiro wonder whether the Jesuit had noticed Chou's unusual use of the words, “my Yuji.” Few unmarried women, and not even many wives, would speak of a man with such familiarity.

“We grew up together, in the za,” Chou said. “Our parents always planned for us to marry. They arranged it before Emi was even born.”

Hiro caught a hint of defensiveness in her tone. He wondered whether there was more to her possessiveness—and Emi's lack of a husband—than Chou revealed. He decided not to press the issue further. Not for the moment, anyway.

“Did Emi have a suitor your parents didn't know about?” Father Mateo asked. “Perhaps a man who gave her the coin as a pledge?”

“Impossible.” Chou shook her head. “We shared a room, and shared our secrets. If she had a man . . . or a golden coin . . . I would have known.”

“Then you believe, as your father does, that Emi acquired the coin the night she died?” the Jesuit asked.

Hiro gave the priest a disapproving look.

Chou didn't seem to notice. “That must be what happened. A thing like that, she certainly would have shown me.”

“Do you know where your sister went that evening?” Father Mateo asked.

“Yes, sir.” Chou gestured to the shrine across the road. “To Chugenji. She went there every evening, sometimes even when it rained.”

“She prayed there?” Father Mateo sounded surprised as he turned to look at the little shrine. “Not at one of the larger temples?”

Chou shrugged. “She thought, because the shrine is small, the god would hear her prayers more clearly than the kami at the bigger temples.”

“She went only to that shrine?” Hiro asked.

“As far as I know, sir. She would have mentioned another.” After a pause, Chou added, “Emi often walked by the river after praying. She said it gave her space to think—‘to think,' she would say . . . as if she was a man. I told her, girls like us don't need to think. We marry and our husbands do the thinking.”

“Did Emi tell you what she thought about?” Father Mateo asked.

“No, sir.” Chou looked at the ground. “She said I would not understand.”

“Then how do you know she had no need to think?” Father Mateo asked.

Chou seemed to struggle between an honest answer and the prohibition on contradicting a man of samurai rank. At last she said, “Nice girls don't walk alone by the river at night, for any reason.”

Hiro noted the nonresponsive answer. “Did your parents know that Emi walked by the river?”

Chou looked up with fear in her eyes. “Please, sir, do not speak to them of this. They would be angry. . . . Emi swore she never stopped or talked to anyone by the river. She told me she only went there alone—to think—and I believed her. . . .”

“Do you believe something different now?” Father Mateo asked.

Chou's nose turned red. Tears filled her eyes. “I do not know what I believe. Someone gave that coin to my sister. I don't know who, or why. Please . . . I don't want my parents to blame me for her death, because I didn't tell . . .”

“I see no reason to mention it, as long as you've told the truth,” Hiro said.

“I've told you everything.” Chou sounded desperate. “I promise.”

“We appreciate your assistance,” Father Mateo said.

“Perhaps you can help with another issue also,” Hiro added. “Father Mateo wishes to learn as much as he can about Japan, but has yet to speak with an actor about his craft. Perhaps you would ask Yuji to share his knowledge of nō with the priest?”

Chou's face burst into a brilliant smile. “Of course!” She bowed to Hiro and then to Father Mateo. “My Yuji would be honored to help the foreigner. When would you like to speak with him?”

“Now, if possible,” Hiro said. “We can wait for him here and go to a teahouse. We do not wish to disrupt your home.”

Hopefully, the choice to conduct the conversation away from the house would keep Chou from returning along with Yuji. Even if she did, a woman was easily sent away when a group of men decided to visit a teahouse.

After Chou disappeared into the house, Father Mateo asked, “Do you think she will tell her parents that she spoke with us?”

“No chance of that.” Hiro shook his head. “Especially since she lied.”

“She did? Which part was a lie?”

“There's more to her relationship with Yuji than she shared, and I suspect she knows more about Emi's walks than she let on. I'm curious to see what Yuji tells us.”

“Do you think he's involved in the murder?” For once, the Jesuit didn't sound surprised.

But Hiro was. “What makes you think he might be?”

“I'd like to believe that Chou's betrothed would not have made advances toward her sister. However, Emi was beautiful, Chou is not, and I doubt that fact escaped young Yuji's notice.”

Hiro wondered how the priest understood the Japanese concept of beauty so well, when his own appearance diverged so widely from it. He tried to imagine a female version of Father Mateo's pale skin, enormous nose, and unusual height. He decided that Portuguese women must look like trolls.

“You don't agree?” Father Mateo asked. “You've got an odd look on your face.”

“Do women in your country have noses like yours?” Hiro asked.

“What's wrong with my nose?” Father Mateo touched it gingerly. “In Portugal, this is considered a nice-looking nose.”

“I'm sure it is,” Hiro said. “I was trying to picture it on a woman's face.”

“We don't all have the same noses,” Father Mateo said. “If anything, we look even more different from one another than Japanese people do.”

Hiro opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again as a middle-aged woman emerged from the Yutoku-za.

She wore a dark kimono and the purposeful look of someone on an errand. Her gaze settled on Hiro and Father Mateo, and she approached as if she knew them. The lines on her face suggested age, though her ebony hair revealed no trace of gray. Her clothing was cut in the latest style and embroidered with colorful leaves and flowers, but Hiro noted the silk itself was not of the finest quality.

The woman stopped in front of them and bowed. Although she waited for them to address her, as custom required, she carried herself with unusual boldness, and Hiro doubted she would permit rebuff.

CHAPTER 19

“Good morning.” Father Mateo's tone suggested he didn't know the woman. “May we help you?”

“Good morning, sir. My name is Rika, and my son is Yuji, of the Yutoku-za.” After a pause she continued, “I came to tell you my son is ill and cannot see visitors this morning. He sends his apologies.”

“How considerate of you to come, instead of sending Chou to deliver the message,” Hiro said.

Father Mateo tensed, as he often did when Hiro behaved more rudely than a situation warranted. However, Hiro considered his abruptness justified. Only a daring mother—or a guilty one—would intervene on her son's behalf.

“With respect, you do not need to interview Yuji about the murder,” Rika said. “He barely knew Emi, and though her death was a tragedy, my son knows nothing of it.”

“Who mentioned an interview?” Hiro asked.

“Chou claimed the foreign gentlemen has interest in nō,” Rika said, “but—again, with respect—my future daughter-in-law is quick to believe any compliment given to Yuji. Samurai have no interest in riverbank people except when a crime occurs. You asked for my son. A girl is dead. An investigation is the reasonable inference.”

Hiro decided to overlook the woman's lack of deference. He also respected her reasoning skills too much to persist in the lie. “Where was Yuji two nights ago?”

Rika didn't hesitate. “Home, with me.”

“Can anyone else confirm that?” Hiro asked.

“As I mentioned, my son has been ill,” Rika said. “He left his room for lessons with Master Botan, nothing more.”

“Thank you for confirming Yuji's whereabouts,” Father Mateo said, “and do not worry, we don't suspect him of the crime. We're trying to find the owner of this coin.” He held it up. “Have you seen it before? Do you know who it belongs to?”

Rika shook her head. “I'm sorry. I might have seen it, but how would I know? It looks no different than any other.”

“Does Yuji possess any golden coins?” Hiro asked.

“Not that you would find near Emi's body,” Rika said. “My son is betrothed to Chou. He would not give a gift to another woman.”

Hiro found it curious that Rika characterized the coin as a gift, and also that she knew where it had come from. “You're certain your son didn't leave the house two nights ago? Not even briefly?”

“Only to use the latrine.” She started to say something more but stopped.

“What were you going to say?” Hiro asked.

“Nothing, sir.” She shook her head.

“A person's lips don't part for nothing.” Hiro affected a samurai scowl. “Tell me what you began to say.”

“I apologize.” Rika hung her head. “The comment was inappropriate.”

“Women do not tell samurai what is and is not appropriate,” Hiro growled.

The tone drew a disapproving glance from Father Mateo.

“A thousand apologies.” Rika bowed and held the obeisance for several seconds. “I started to say that Yuji wanted nothing to do with Emi—alive or dead.”

“How do you know this?” Father Mateo asked.

Rika straightened. “My husband and I chose Chou for Yuji many years ago. She is plain, but also steady of temper, patient, and hardworking. She will make an excellent wife.”

“And Emi?” Father Mateo asked.

Rika's lips took on a pinched expression. “The girl had dreams beyond her station.”

Hiro turned to the priest and spoke in Portuguese. “Few women want their sons to marry a beautiful, independent girl. A son who loves his wife too much is difficult for a mother to control.” He switched to Japanese. “Did Yuji share your opinion of Emi?”