True, Sherlock was already beginning to lose feeling in the tips of his toes. It wasn’t painful to the point of being unbearable, but if the master of the house had suspended with formalities then it was pointless for him to suffer in pride. He crossed his legs as well.
The girls, though, remained in seiza, and were shortly joined by Umeko, who took a seat next to Asako. The three showed no signs of discomfort. With some sense of obligation, Sherlock attempted to return to seiza as well.
Ito held up a hand. “Please, stay as you are, Mr. Holmes. We Japanese are accustomed to the position. The ladies take no great pains, I assure you.”
Sherlock re-crossed his legs. “I see. Then if you do not mind.”
“I believe you have already met my wife. These are my daughters, Ikuko and Asako.”
So the second young woman’s name was Ikuko. She and Asako bowed their heads deeply. “Welcome to our home,” Ikuko said in English. “It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Holmes.”
Her pronunciation was impeccable. “Can you speak English as well, Asako?” Sherlock asked.
“I can,” the girl returned, smiling. “I have heard many rumors about you from my father.”
“Oh? Rumors of what kind?”
“Well,” Asako began softly, and a mischievous grin lit up her features. “What can you deduce about us merely by looking?”
“Asako,” Umeko cut in, frowning at the girl.
“It’s quite all right,” Sherlock reassured her. “I won’t say anything rude. It is fortunate, though, that you remain here even after your recent move. If you had been at your other house, near the springs outside the city, I should have lost the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
Asako glanced at Ikuko, a twinkle in her eye.
Ikuko stared, as if she could not believe what she had just heard. “We were told never to speak of our other home in Odawara. How could you know of it?”
Sherlock smiled. “A simple observation. I see as well that your mother is an exemplary woman. Generous of heart, tolerant, and—”
Suddenly Ito interrupted, as though he had realized something. “That is enough for today,” he told his wife and children. “You may leave.”
Asako balked. “I want to hear more about London…”
“Asako,” Umeko restrained her daughter again. “Enough.”
The dissatisfaction was apparent on Asako’s face. “Now, now,” Ito started in an appeasing manner, “you can speak to Mr. Holmes tomorrow morning. That is, if Mr. Holmes is willing.”
Sherlock gently lifted his shoulders and lowered them again. “Naturally.”
Asako lost her glum expression. The three women bowed deeply, rose solemnly, and disappeared through the sliding door.
Once they were gone, Ito released a heavy sigh. “I didn’t realize it was you at first, with that beard.”
“You agree with me, I assume, that your wife is very generous-hearted. I gathered as soon as I observed your daughters’ noses. Ikuko is your wife’s legitimate daughter, yes. But Asako is not. You may dote on her, but your wife displays considerable patience in enduring such a situation.”
Ito grimaced. “From whom did you learn of our house in Odawara?” he whispered.
“From Umeko and Ikuko. By observing their faces I could discern they have been in poor health these many years. As a politician of great stature, it would hardly do for your family to take the waters at a public inn. The most suitable solution would be the springs close to Tokyo.”
“You are correct—as always. It seems the people in my family are fated to poor constitutions. I am the rare exception. My father did not manage to have any other children besides myself, and my first daughter with Umeko died when she was only two and a half years old.”
“My sympathies. But surely a lack of sons is no cause to sport with other women.”
“I believe I told you once that I admit to my own faults. Despite appearances, Umeko, too, was formerly a geisha.”
“Then she is a wife of many talents. Indispensable, I should think, to a household with such complicated affairs.”
“Mr. Holmes,” Ito said abruptly, and his face grew serious. “You will forgive my rudeness but I have inspected your belongings. Our residence in this house is temporary, and our presence here is not public knowledge. Though you may be an acquaintance, for a foreigner to suddenly appear at our door… It was necessary that I ensure you brought with you nothing dangerous. I hope you understand.”
Sherlock started. “Surely you did not report my presence—” he said, staring at Ito.
“No,” Ito shook his head. “There was a letter in your bag from Mycroft… from your brother. I have grasped the situation.”
His heart sank. “As Prime Minister of an entire nation, of course you are under no obligation to shelter a dead man.”
Here Ito stopped him. “I am no longer the Prime Minister. I abdicated my position to draft our constitution. I now head the Privy Council.”
“The Privy Council are the Emperor’s closest advisors. You are a man of position, after all. I am but a common citizen. And assumed dead, at that.”
“We are the same. If the Bakufu had found me when I had come to London I would have been put to death. It was thanks to Professor Alexander Williamson and his wife, whom I know you respect, that I and my four comrades survived. I am only grateful that I can now repay my debt to England.”
Sherlock openly stared, only to meet the other man’s calm gaze.
His chest swelled. He was at a loss for words. He had never been very good at handling emotion. “I can’t thank you enough,” he murmured.
“Nor I, you,” said Ito, taking a small vessel from his zen and lifting it into the air. “Shall we toast?”
Sherlock recognized the vessel. It was a cup used for drinking rice wine. He lifted his own. In response Ito tipped the saké bottle over in his hand, filling his cup with a clear liquid.
Ito glanced down at Sherlock’s hands as he poured. The scars from where the ropes had been wound about his hands were still obvious. It would be some time before they faded. And Sherlock had not forgotten that Ito had sported those same scars while in London.
A look of sympathy crossed Ito’s face, now that he had perhaps inferred how difficult Sherlock’s journey had been.
They were silent for a moment. Ito filled his own cup with saké and raised it into the air. “To second lives.”
Awash in emotion, Sherlock raised his own cup in response. As he brought it close to his lips he detected an exuberant, banana-like aroma. He tipped the cup back and swallowed. It was warm, he thought, near body temperature. As a result, it diffused readily through his stomach. The drink had an attractive profile, with a smooth sweetness accompanied by refreshing acidity. A mellow richness, different from wine, spread over his tongue.
At last, here was a meal fit for human consumption. Just the thought was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He spoke unguardedly. “I thought I should never actually find you.”
“This villa belongs to the Arisugawa-no-miya household, but I was given free use of it. It has been some time since I have been able to enjoy such a traditional Japanese lifestyle. It is impressive that you managed to find this place.”
“The search gave me an opportunity to familiarize myself to some extent with the geography of the prefecture and city of Tokyo. I have the safety and orderliness of the streets, as well as the kindness of the people, to thank for my success. The design of the city is quite efficient. The gas lamps in Yokohama reminded me of London.”
“I arranged for those lamps.”
“You did?”
“My time in London left a deep impression on me. If we are to have trains, I thought, we must have gas lamps fronting the station. It was foolish of me, perhaps.”