Hearing “Toyotomi,” the man in charge of the cooper’s yard understood the situation immediately.
A few moments later, Okubo’s men thundered up to the gates of the cooper’s yard, panting from the exertion of running in armor. Sword drawn, the officer in charge walked into the yard and looked around. The men in the yard seemed to be going about their business, making barrels or tying them up for transport. The officer looked behind him and satisfied himself that the street was a trap. The man he was looking for, Lord Okubo’s enemy, must be in the yard. Dreams of reward flitted into his head, blanking out the thought that this man, a renowned swordsman, would be dangerous when trapped.
“Who’s in charge!” the officer shouted.
A burly man walked up to him and bowed.
“Where is he?” the officer demanded.
“He, Samurai-sama?”
The officer gave the lout a cuff with the back of his hand. The burly man staggered from the blow.
“The ronin,” the officer shouted. “Where did the ronin go?”
Holding his cheek, the burly man pointed toward the back of the yard with his chin. “He went back there, Samurai-sama. I thought he was looking for a barrel to buy.”
The officer snorted and motioned to his men to fan out and search. They took out their swords and formed a long line that covered the yard from side to side. They moved forward cautiously, not sure if the quarry would bolt from behind a stack of barrels or attack in a desperate, suicidal attempt to evade capture. Their quarry’s ability with a sword was well known. All of them knew the story of how their Lord had been crippled with a wooden practice sword by this samurai.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers stopped by a large overturned barrel. At the foot of the barrel was a small purple eggplant. He waved to his comrades and his officer, putting his finger to his lips to demand silence.
The troops quietly gathered around the barrel, weapons at the ready. The officer approached, and the soldier pointed to the egg-plant. The officer nodded his understanding.
He waited until his entire contingent of troops had surrounded the barrel. Looking at their faces, he saw anticipation, anxiety, and flashes of fear. The officer approached the large barrel as quietly as possible. He lifted one foot and placed it on the side of the barrel. Then, in a sudden move, he kicked the heavy barrel on its side, jumping back out of harm’s way.
The barrel toppled over with a clatter, forcing the encircling troops on that side to leap back. There, on the ground under the barrel, was the straw sling and the rest of the eggplants.
A few streets away, two men were walking with the rolling gait of palanquin porters. The reason for this peculiar walk was a thick bamboo pole resting on their shoulders. Suspended from the center of the pole was a large covered barrel. The men turned into an alley and put the barrel down. After looking to see that they weren’t being observed, they knocked on the top of the barrel. The top was shoved aside and Kaze popped up.
“Thank-you,” Kaze said to the burly head of the cooper’s yard. “Any trouble?”
“No. Once they thought you were hidden in the yard, they completely ignored us.”
“Do you want to know why they were chasing me?”
“No. I just want to deliver this barrel.”
Kaze smiled and got out of the barrel.
CHAPTER 19
Make your hidden plans.
Weave your nefarious web,
you silent spider.
The ninja carefully studied the floor plan using a tiny candle. Satisfied that he had the villa design committed to memory, he put out the candle to let his eyes adjust to the dark.
The ninja had started his training as a child. As with most Japanese occupations, the teaching of ninjutsu, the art of the ninja, was started young. Ninja had existed from the time of Prince Regent Shotoku, so the ninja followed a craft with a lineage of almost one thousand years. Engaging in assassination, espionage, and even pitched battles, the ninja were organized around clans, just as the samurai were. Unlike the samurai, the ninja clans were secret societies. When they were not on an assignment, ninja lived the lives of farmers, also like early samurai. While the samurai evolved into a professional warrior class, however, the ninja remained disguised as farmers, keeping their deadly talents away from the eyes of the authorities and others.
The villages of Iga and Koga were the best known centers of nin-jutsu, but there were several others. It was well known the Tokugawa used the ninja of Koga for their dirty work and spying. This ninja’s clan did not have patrons as powerful as the Tokugawas, but once they accepted a fee, always paid in advance, an agent was committed either to completing the contract or dying in the attempt. The contract was negotiated by the ninja clan leader, the jonin, and conveyed to him by his leader, the chunin. He was a simple agent, a genin, but a good one.
He was born to the profession, as were his father and his father before him. People almost never studied ninjutsu by choice, for they could not find a member of a ninja clan who would teach them. To reveal the secrets of the clan was an offense punishable by death.
The ninja was hiding in a closet normally used to store linens. The closet was specifically chosen because it abutted an outside wall of the villa. The ninja knew that the last few roof boards in a home, the ones nearest the outer wall, were not fastened down. They were only weighted with stones to keep them in place.
He stepped on a shelf in the closet and reached up, moving the ceiling boards to allow access to the attic. He did a last check to assure that his equipment was secured and wouldn’t make a noise, then, using the closet shelves as a ladder, he crawled up into the attic of the villa.
In a farmhouse, the attic would be stuffed with everything from old tatami mats to food, but Hishigawa’s villa had the luxury of space, so the area above the ceiling was occupied only by dust. Staying on the taruki, the cross beams, the ninja traversed most of the length of the villa before he started moving to his left, balancing from beam to beam. The attic space was washed with a faint light that leaked in from holes in the wooden lattice that covered openings in the crest of the roof. The lattice was designed to keep birds and other animals out of the attic, while allowing summer heat and smoke from winter hi-bachi to escape.
When he was in the proper spot, he stopped. He risked striking flint to steel to light his small candle again, and he was able to see the top of the ceiling of the room he was interested in.
The ceiling was supported by thin wooden sticks stretched from wall to wall. On top of these strips were thin slats of wood that formed the actual surface of the ceiling. Each slat lapped its neighbor, small bamboo pegs holding them in place. He used a knife to pry the pegs out of one slat. He put out his candle, then he lifted the slat to peek into the room below.
The ronin was sleeping on his back, his head resting on a wooden neck rest. The futon was pulled up under his neck, and he seemed to be sleeping comfortably.
The ninja returned the slat to its place. He did everything methodically and slowly. With the victim sleeping soundly, there was no need to hurry.
He crabbed his way across the ceiling until he was in the spot directly over the ronin’s head. Once again he lit the candle and pried out the bamboo pegs holding the ceiling slat in place. Then he snuffed the candle and quietly lifted the slat to look down on the face of his victim.