Or perhaps someone else was walking the same way. He stopped and turned, but he saw no one. The sun had set, and the narrow street lay in deep shadow.
He reached remnants of a tall fence and thick shrubberies, but a footpath turned the corner to the hostel. It was a mere track between leaning fences and tall weeds. Uncertain, Akitada stopped again, and this time he heard the steps clearly.
He hurried forward. The hostel was just ahead; he could reach it before his shadow caught up with him.
He was wrong.
The footpath led to a dead end. Between him and the hostel rose a high wall. He stood in a mere patch of weedy dirt that was being used for cast-off utensils and waste.
And he knew in an instant that he was in trouble. The helpful man had lied to him and sent him down a blind alley and he was about to find out what trap he had walked into.
He was looking down the path, when two burly men suddenly appeared on either side of him. Akitada dashed toward the wall. He saw they had knives – knives with long and sharp blades. Being unarmed, Akitada had no hope of fighting them.
There was also no point in shouting for help. In this area, it would do no good at all. He tried reasoning with them.
“Come, you don’t want trouble, do you?” he said. “I’m an official from the capital. Attacking me will bring down the wrath of the government on your entire neighborhood.”
They were big, and the one with the pock-marked face was also heavy and muscular. The other was thinner but moved like a practiced fighter. Their faces were dirty and covered with stubble, and their greasy hair hung loose. They were probably Akitada’s age or a bit younger, but such men lived and fought rough every day of their lives.
And they had knives.
And they were not reasonable men.
They kept coming, slowly, a step at a time. Warily, but with a predatory gleam in their eyes. Enjoying themselves.
Akitada pulled all his money from his sash and threw it on the dusty ground in front of them. “There, take it!”
They did not even glance at it.
He backed away a little farther.
The heavier man on the right grinned, his teeth a brief gleam in the twilight.
“What do you want?” shouted Akitada.
No answer, but they kept coming. They meant to kill him here in this weed-overgrown, forgotten corner of Naniwa.
Glancing around for something he could use as a weapon among the debris, he realized that he could not reach it in time. He had only moments, but in that small space of time, memories of his wife and of their little daughter, of Tora and Seimei, of Genba, and even of the dog Trouble flashed through his mind. They seemed incredibly precious because they were about to be lost forever. And for what? A foolish young man’s mistake? Another ridiculous assignment from his superiors? Or his own careless exploration of the slums of Kawajiri?
From among these tangled thoughts, one crystallized: even in a hopeless situation, a man must try to defend himself, must make at least an effort to escape. He must fight the two killers with their long knives who had waited for him here. And in the unlikely event that he got past these two, he must fight or evade at least one more. Because those footsteps that had followed him meant that there was at least one more.
Akitada moved suddenly, putting the tall attacker between himself and the other man. Then he jumped. He meant to twist the knife out of his hand, then slip past and run.
It did not work.
The big man cursed and veered aside as he snatched for the knife, and Akitada fell. He fell hard, on his face and right shoulder and nearly passed out from the sudden pain that shot through his arm and across his back. At first he thought he had a knife in his back. The relief that he did not was short-lived. He was down and expected to be killed. But the expected blow from the knife did not come. Instead there were shouts and grunts. He raised his head a little and blinked dirt out of his eyes. Three pairs of legs moved before him. He got to his knees.
The thin robber stood quite still with a ludicrous expression of astonishment on his face, while the big man was falling to his knees, clutching at his neck. Blood seeped from between his fingers. A third man was moving between them like a grey ghost.
Akitada stumbled to his feet. His right shoulder and arm were stiff with pain and he was confused. The thin man made a choking sound and collapsed. Both of his attackers were on the ground.
None of it made sense.
Beyond the failed attack on the big man, he had done nothing to account for the defeat of the two ruffians, and yet there was blood. He had not touched the second man, yet he lay dead or unconscious on the ground, bleeding from his throat.
Akitada looked at the third man. His eyes still watered and the third man was a thin grey shape against the background of weathered fencing. He moved to the fallen men and bent to feel their necks.
Recognition came, and with it more confusion. What the devil was he doing here?
The ugly man from the restaurant pushed one of the bodies out of the way and bent to pick up an object which he put inside his patched robe.
Then he finally met Akitada’s eyes and said calmly, “We’d better leave before someone comes.”
Akitada still gaped. “You? You followed me?”
The ugly man took his elbow to pull him away. Akitada gasped with pain.
“Sorry. Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing. I fell.” Akitada found his feet and started walking
“Can you run?”
They ran back the way he had come, Akitada cradling his arm and gritting his teeth. For a while, he followed the man Saburo blindly. He was about twenty years younger than his savior, but catching up with him took all of his strength.
They were both gasping by then. Akitada managed, “Thank you for that,” and the ugly man gave him a grimace that might have been a smile.
Eventually, they saw the masts of the ships ahead. It was nearly dark by then, but the restaurants had their lanterns lit, and people moved about. Akitada slowed down.
“Thank the gods,” he said with feeling when he had caught his breath. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come in time.” There was no answer, and he turned.
The ugly man was gone.
Chapter Seven
Akitada returned to Naniwa at sunset. As before, the boatman maneuvered his craft skillfully, though much of the trip was upstream and it took longer. But he was a young man, and Akitada paid him little intention, being preoccupied with assorted aches and a sense of confusion and anger.
As he trudged back to the Foreign Trade Office, he was still trying to understand what had just happened. The best he had come up with was that Sadenari’s questioning of the people in Naniwa must have alerted someone involved in the piracies, and Akitada’s presence had become a threat. In other words, someone had given orders to eliminate him, and perhaps the foolish Sadenari had met the same fate.
The role of the ugly man was completely incomprehensible. Why had he taken the trouble to shadow Akitada, and then saved his life? And how had he done it? Akitada had not expected an ally and was distracted at the time, but whatever weapon the ugly man had used, he had been incredibly quick and silent. And what had been his weapon? A knife long enough to do much damage was not easily hidden.
Akitada had meant to ask, but the man had disappeared again.
There was something very peculiar about him.
In the end, all these considerations were overshadowed by a furious anger that the villains – whoever they were – had dared make this attack on an imperial official. Holding his painful arm, he stormed into Nakahara’s office.