“But Asano, he asked you to come here. Surely inviting his trusted friend to help his daimyo proves his good intentions?”
“It might, or possibly he plans on enlisting my support in removing Nishina-san from his position, perhaps to install himself in the youth’s place.” Asano chuckled when he saw Kitsune’s expression. “Do not be alarmed, my pupil, I do not believe that is what is happening here. However, that doesn’t mean that people do not often hide their true intentions behind false faces.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Our challenge is to find out whether Nishina is behind these designs of war, or if someone else is manipulating events. For now, you and I will simply observe young Nishina-san for the rest of the day. Simply mark anything he might say or do that could prove of interest, and we will compare our findings this evening. Now come-the first thing we will need is full bellies if we are to get to the heart of this matter.”
Although Kitsune thought Asano’s plan seemed sound, he found that executing it was another matter. Although the staff of the Nishimas’ hilltop fortress were polite and accommodating, the master of the province was maddeningly elusive, sequestering himself in meetings with senior members of his staff and, more ominously, officers in his standing army.
By late afternoon, Kitsune had grown frustrated with his lack of progress. Usually his perceived lesser stature as a child, combined with his unusual position as Asano’s right-hand man, enabled him to glean information from the household staff wherever Asano and he found themselves. However, this time he had been met with blank looks and humble bows, accompanied by no useful information.
Where the hawk soars, it is difficult for the fox to follow, Kitsune mused as he walked among the flowered garden paths again, trying to figure out a new course of action. He considered meeting with Asano, but he dismissed the idea as there was nothing new to share. His thoughts were interrupted by an approaching shadow, and Kitsune looked up to see a servant girl bow low in front of him, her gaze respectfully on the ground.
“My pardon, Kitsune-san, but our daimyo requests your presence in the main hall. The Nishina blades have been prepared for viewing.”
At last, Kitsune thought as he bowed to her. “I am looking forward to it.” He followed her out of the garden, up the broad sloped pathways, and through several heavily fortified gates and baileys that were designed to slow and entrap an invading force. More than once Kitsune passed small groups of guards hurrying somewhere or preparing horses and what looked like weapons and provisions. Is Nishina-san planning on attacking sooner than Asano thought? Kitsune wondered.
They reached the entrance to the main hall, where Kitsune slipped off his wooden sandals and put on soft slippers.
The large main hall was cool and shadowed, with the rice paper partitions drawn to enclose the room, even though it was still a beautiful day outside. As Kitsune stepped inside, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness of the open space, and he thought he was alone for a moment. Then he spotted a sitting figure on a low dais at the other end of the hall, with an ornate, lacquered wooden rack holding three sheathed blades of varying lengths next to him.
“Welcome, Kitsune-san. Please, come, sit.”
“You honor me, Nishina-san.” Keeping his steps formal and precise, as his father had taught him years ago, Kitsune walked across the great hall until he was only a few feet away from the lord of Nishina Castle. He knelt and bowed low, touching his forehead to the floor, then raised himself up to sit cross-legged. Nishina bowed as well, lower than he was obligated to, an action that Kitsune found made the young daimyo seem more human. Unfortunately, that action was offset by the same dark green do maru and kozakuri armor he still wore over his kimono. He had removed his arm and leg guards, but Kitsune noticed that his kabuto was at his side, within easy reach. Even though the samurai appeared relaxed, Kitsune felt the tenseness coiled inside the young man, ready to be unleashed at the slightest opportunity.
Steadying his breathing, Kitsune relaxed enough to slip into a semi-meditative state, so that he could see the psychic aura that surrounded every living thing-including Nishina-san. The young lord’s aura reflected his turmoil, with tendrils of crimson and black swirling around him and occasionally drifting off to dissipate into the surrounding air. He also shows an inner core of light blue and white-purity and strength of purpose. Whatever he’s planning, he believes that he’s doing the right thing, Kitsune realized. Yet-something’s not right here. The aura wasn’t as crisp and defined as usual; instead, it was as if the apprentice viewed the man through a curtain of flowing water that blurred the individual shades together into a smeared palette of dark and light colors.
There is a spirit at work here! But I will need Asano’s help to discern any more. With a start, Kitsune realized that Nishina-san was talking.
“-enjoyed the castle grounds?”
Kitsune wrenched himself out of the slight trance with more force than necessary, turning the movement into a graceful bow. “After seeing the cold, stark beauty of winter for so long, the delicate flowering of your magnificent gardens warms my heart.”
Nishina-san bowed again. “We are privileged to have Ashiga-san and yourself as our honored guests. Your master has sent word that he would be along shortly, and that we are to await his arrival.”
“No doubt it will only be a small delay.” Kitsune knew otherwise; if Asano was delayed, there was a good reason for it. Of course! Asano was delaying so that Kitsune could find out something-anything-in the time he was alone with Nishima-san. Very well. Now, how to begin? “Your martial display this morning was most impressive. I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen a katana as exquisite as yours.”
Nishina peered past Kitsune at the closed doors behind him, then leaned forward. “Thank you. To have Ashiga-san and yourself as an audience inspired me to make sure my performance was flawless.” He waved Kitsune closer to him. “I know we should wait for your master, but I do not suppose it will hurt anything if I give you a preview of the Nishina daisho now.”
“You are most kind.” Kitsune bent his head to the floor again, then scooted gracefully over to the edge of the dais, right next to Nishina.
Draping a piece of silk over his hands, Nishina removed the middle blade, the shorter wakizashi, from the rack and offered it to Kitsune, who accepted the weapon, being sure to hold it only by the silk cloth.
“This is something you might find interesting.” Nishima drew the blade out a few inches, revealing the gleaming steel, even in the dim light. “See the hamon?”
Kitsune examined the temper line of the blade, created by coating the back half of the single-edged weapon in heat-resistant clay and heating the edge until it became even harder, leaving a line that marked the border between the softer, more resilient steel, and the sharper cutting edge. This hamon was dark gray near the blade edge and faded into an almost black near the mune, or back of the katana.
“It is rumored, although it has never been proved, that this matched set is the only surviving daisho forged by Senzo Muramasa, student to the great Masamune himself.”
As Nishina talked, a chill stole over Kitsune. While they traveled, Asano had often regaled his eager apprentice with tales of great leaders, warriors, monks, and others that lived in Nippon during centuries past, and he immediately recognized the name Nishima had uttered. A swordsmith of great renown during the fourteenth century, he had also possessed an unstable mind, and it was rumored that the blades he had created often took on the darker aspects of his personality, driving their wielders to unnecessary violence and even murder.