“No, I mean, didn’t you report the murder?” Hirata said.
“Not right away. There was no one to report a murder to. The police who hadn’t died in the fire had their hands full keeping order in the city. Later, when things settled down, I told them what had happened. But they weren’t interested. So many people had died; who cared about one boy? They figured he’d been killed in a fight over food. That happened a lot during those days.”
The police hadn’t known he was a member of the Tokugawa clan, or they would have investigated his murder, Sano thought. But his mother had known Tadatoshi. She’d known very well who he was. And she’d known that she had taken part in his murder all the while she’d told Sano she was innocent.
Now fury quickened Sano’s pace along the corridor. He remembered that Hirata had said, on their way back to the castle, “You shouldn’t be too quick to believe Rintayu. He’s a total stranger. Why take his word over your mother’s?”
“Because he has no reason to lie,” Sano answered, “whereas she obviously does.” And he’d felt certain all along that she had withheld the facts.
Reiko had been right about his mother’s guilt.
He arrived, winded and panting, in the guest room. His mother knelt at the dressing table, her profile toward him. She wore a silk kimono, patterned in lavender and forest green, that Reiko must have loaned her. She was brushing her hair. The kimono’s subdued yet rich colors and her long, loose hair gave her a semblance of youth and Sano a glimpse of how beautiful she’d been when she was young-when she’d murdered a boy. His rage at her burned hotter.
She turned to him and reverted to the old woman she was. Her wrinkled face brightened with the same fond affection as always when she saw Sano. Then she noticed his expression. “What is it?” she asked, her smile fading.
Sano said, “Tell me what happened to Tadatoshi. This time I want the truth.”
“I already told you everything. Stop hounding me!”
Her command momentarily silenced Sano. He flashed back to the time when his mother had been the boss, so long ago he’d almost forgotten. Recovering, he said, “You told me that you and Egen the tutor were lovers, that the two of you spied on Tadatoshi after you caught him setting a fire. But you didn’t tell me everything.”
Alarm opened her eyes and mouth wide. “When did I tell you that?”
“When you were in jail,” Sano said. “Dr. Ito gave you a potion that loosened your tongue.”
“Oh, no.” An ugly blush stained her face, which she covered with her hands. “I never wanted you to know about me and Egen. I’m so ashamed!”
“What else didn’t you want me to know?” Sano grabbed her wrists and yanked her hands away from her face. “What did you do to Tadatoshi?”
Her gaze was woeful yet vexed. “I didn’t-”
“There’s no use denying it.” Sano held her wrists while she strained to pull free. “I went to the shrine today. I met the man who was its priest at the time of the Great Fire. He overheard Tadatoshi’s murder. You were there, with two men. He heard them speak your name.”
She stiffened, her face a mask of shock. Sano heard her draw in a long, hissing breath. Then she went limp in his grasp as the breath drained out of her. “I remember hearing someone in the woods that night,” she whispered.
“You might as well tell me what happened,” Sano said, releasing her hands. “Based on what the witness said, it sounds as if you and those men killed Tadatoshi. I want your side of the story.”
Despite his anger at her, despite the evidence against her that included the blood Hana had seen on her clothes, Sano still hoped that his mother was innocent, that the witness hadn’t heard what he’d thought. Despite his effort to be objective, a part of him believed her incapable of murder.
“I can’t tell you.” Her voice quavered.
“You must,” Sano said, “so that I can help you.” He couldn’t help wanting to despite his fury at her deception, her past behavior. “I have to know the truth and minimize the damage before anyone else learns you were at the shrine when Tadatoshi died.”
He doubted he could keep it quiet even though he’d sworn the old man and the current priest to secrecy. People talked; it was human nature. And Sano’s enemies were good at digging up the most carefully buried information.
“You told me most of the story. Now tell me the rest,” Sano said.
An internal struggle beset his mother; her habit of obedience vied with the resolve that had kept her past a secret. She bit her lips as though to prevent them from speaking; she sat still, her head cocked and gaze directed inward, as if listening to an argument in her head. Then she let out a sad, defeated sigh.
“All right,” she said. “But if you don’t like what you hear, please don’t be angry.”
MEIREKI YEAR THREE (1657)
They searched all day for Tadatoshi.
All day the fire burned and spread, flames leaping roofs and canals, consuming the city. Etsuko and Egen roamed deep into the Nihonbashi merchant quarter. When night came, the fires lit the sky more brilliantly red than any sunset. Etsuko and Egen stopped to rest in a doorway in an abandoned neighborhood.
“We’ll never find him. We might as well give up,” Egen said, wiping sweat off his face. The fire had heated the winter night; the air was as warm as in summer.
“His father said not to come back without him.” Etsuko opened her cape and fanned herself with her leather helmet.
They gazed at the terrible red sky. They could hear the fire crackling in the distance, smell the black smoke that billowed to the heavens like gigantic, shape-changing demons.
“It’s too dangerous to stay out here,” Egen said. “We tried our best. Let’s go home.”
Tired, hungry, and defeated, Etsuko agreed. She and Egen ran hand in hand past buildings on fire, past fleeing crowds. She struggled to keep up with him as the smoke grew denser. They reached a canal, where hundreds of people blocked the bridge. They were trapped in the mob. Egen’s hand ripped loose from hers. He was lost in the crush. She was alone.
Then Doi miraculously appeared beside her. He pulled her along through the mob. Etsuko sobbed with gratitude that he cared enough about her to save her, even after she’d betrayed him. She heard Egen shouting her name, saw his frantic face in the crowd, his hand waving.
“Egen’s over there!” she said.
Doi plowed past the people who separated him and Etsuko from Egen. The men shoved and fought everyone in their way. When they broke free of the crush, Doi said, “We can’t go home. The fire has already burned down the estate. I saw.”
Etsuko was horrified. “What’s become of everyone?”
“I don’t know,” Doi said.
“The fire’s coming. Where do we go?” Egen said urgently.
Doi led Etsuko and Egen on a mad dash through the inferno. They raced holding hands, their quarrel forgotten, united by the desire to survive. Every neighborhood they traversed was on fire. Tongues of flame shot into masses of people who pushed wheeled chests filled with their possessions. Etsuko, Egen, and Doi climbed over abandoned chests that blocked the gates and intersections. Not until morning did they find refuge.
They fell to their knees, exhausted, inside the Koishikawa district. Edo Castle loomed above a neighborhood of walled samurai estates. The fire had so far spared the district, but men on horseback and ladies in palanquins, accompanied by servants loaded with baggage, moved in processions toward the hills. Firemen wielded pickaxes, tearing down houses at the edge of the district, clearing bare space that the fire couldn’t cross. They’d already leveled a swath littered with ruins.
“We’ll be safe here,” Egen said. His face and Doi’s were black with soot, their clothes charred.
Etsuko coughed up phlegm that tasted like smoke. She felt dizzy and sick from breathing it all night. Doi said, “I’ll climb up that fire-watch tower and see what’s happening.”