Exhaustion overcame her and Sano. They slept.
* * *
In the room next to theirs, Masahiro lay awake. He’d heard his parents’ conversation, and he was troubled by the part about Okaru. Could she really be responsible for the attack on his grandfather? What should he do?
30
When morning came, Reiko was reluctant to speak to Okaru. She didn’t want to disturb the poor girl, especially since Okaru was a guest. Reiko lingered over breakfast with the children. Finally, unable to avoid the difficult task, she went to Okaru’s room.
The room was empty, the exterior door open. Reiko stepped out onto the veranda, blinking in the pale sunlight, folding her arms against the cold. Okaru was crouched near the foot of the steps, digging with her hands in ground she’d cleared of snow.
“What are you doing?” Reiko asked.
Okaru looked up and brushed a strand of hair off her tear-swollen face. Her fingers smeared mud on her cheek. She gave Reiko a wan smile. “Digging a hole. To bury this.” She pointed to a small red lacquer box on the step.
“What’s in it?” Reiko said.
Okaru opened the box’s hinged lid to reveal a pink paper flower, a writing brush with frayed bristles, and a lock of black and gray hair tied with a green thread. “Oishi bought me this flower. He threw this old brush away, and I picked it out of the trash. He let me clip some of his hair to keep.” She gently touched each item. “They’re all I have left of him.”
Pity for Okaru made Reiko’s task even harder. “Why do you need to bury them?”
“Because after what happened with Oishi the other day, I can’t bear to look at them.” Okaru’s eyes welled. “The memories hurt too much. I hope it’s all right to bury the box here. I don’t have any place else.”
“It’s all right.”
Okaru sniffled, said, “Thank you,” and finished digging. She set the box in the hole.
“I need to talk to you,” Reiko said.
“About what?” Okaru’s hands trickled dirt onto the box.
“My father. He was attacked the night before last. He was badly beaten.” Reiko swallowed. “He may die.”
“I’m sorry.” Okaru looked up. “I didn’t know.”
Studying her closely, Reiko saw sympathy in her eyes but no sign of falsehood. “Did you know that my father is Magistrate Ueda? And that he’s a judge on the supreme court that will decide what should happen to the forty-seven ronin?”
“Yes. I heard the servants talking about it.”
The suspicions that Sano had raised about Okaru last night seemed ridiculous now. Reiko could hardly envision a person less capable of an assassination attempt. Furthermore, Okaru hadn’t been out of the estate-except for the trip to see Oishi-since Reiko had brought her here. Yet Reiko knew that unlikely people did commit crimes.
“Are you angry at Oishi?” Reiko said.
Okaru patted down the dirt that covered the box. Her hands were black with soil. “I guess I am, a little.”
“Did you want to hurt him because he hurt you?”
“No.” Okaru sounded as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “I would never.”
“Have you changed your mind about wanting to save him?” Reiko asked. “Do you want him to be put to death?”
Okaru gaped. “Of course not. I still love him. Even though he doesn’t love me.”
“Did you ask someone to make the supreme court condemn him and his friends?”
“I don’t understand. How would someone make the supreme court do anything?”
“By killing my father, the judge who was leading the faction that wants to pardon the forty-seven ronin,” Reiko said.
“I didn’t even know that your father wants to pardon them.” Okaru stood up and regarded Reiko with bewilderment. “And even if I had wanted to kill him, who would I have asked to do it? I don’t know anyone in Edo except the people in your house.”
“You do know someone else in Edo,” Reiko said. “Your servant. Goza.”
Okaru’s mouth and eyes opened into perfect circles. “She wouldn’t-”
“She’s devoted to you. She tried to strangle Oishi. Why stop at that? Why not have him put to death?”
“Goza was only protecting me!” Okaru cried. “Now that I’m safe, why should she want to hurt Oishi anymore?”
“To pay him back for breaking your heart,” Reiko suggested.
“If you knew Goza, you wouldn’t think that.” Okaru hastened to explain, “Goza is an orphan, like me. She grew up cleaning teahouses in Miyako. People used to make fun of her. They threw stones at her and called her ugly names. But Goza never lifted a hand to them. She’s really a gentle person. She doesn’t care about revenge.”
“Maybe not for herself, but what about for you?” Reiko said, warming to her own theory. Her fondness for Okaru gave way before a new onslaught of suspicion. “I think she would do whatever you asked. That includes hiring an assassin to kill my father and turn the supreme court against Oishi.”
“I didn’t ask!” Indignation filled Okaru’s eyes. “We would never do anything to hurt your family.”
“Where is Goza?” Reiko asked. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”
Suddenly frightened, Okaru said, “I-I don’t know.”
Reiko recalled Chiyo saying she’d seen Goza sneak in and out of the house. Horror trickled through Reiko. Was she harboring the people responsible for her father’s injuries? Had she ruined her friendship with Chiyo for someone who’d repaid her kindness with evil?
“Tell me the truth. You owe me that much,” Reiko said, her sympathy toward Okaru cooling fast. “Did you plot with Goza to kill my father?”
Although her face was a picture of terror and misery, Okaru spoke bravely: “No, I didn’t. But I can see that you don’t trust me. I think Goza and I should leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Until I find out the truth, I want you where I can watch you.” Reiko marched Okaru into the mansion, called Lieutenant Tanuma, and told him, “Find a place to lock her up, and her servant when she comes back. Guard them and don’t let them out of your sight.”
* * *
When Sano arrived at the Hosokawa clan estate, the guards directed him to the martial arts practice room in the barracks. There, a crowd of samurai cheered the two men engaged in combat.
Naked to the waist, dressed in white trousers, Oishi and his son Chikara brandished swords, circled, lunged toward, and struck at each other. Their reflections in the mirrors on the wall followed their moves. The room echoed with their grunts, the clang of their blades, the stomp of their bare feet, and the audiences’ cheers. Sano watched Oishi and Chikara. The son was quicker, but the father moved with the skill that comes only from long experience. Sano noticed that their swords weren’t wooden practice weapons; the blades were steel.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Sano yelled, “That’s enough!”
The audiences’ shouts dwindled into silence. Oishi and Chikara retreated.
“What is this?” Sano asked the Hosokawa men in the audience. “You’re supposed to be guarding them.” He pointed at Oishi and Chikara. “And you put real weapons in their hands?” He ordered, “Drop those swords.”
Oishi obeyed, his face impassive. Chikara waited a moment, in defiance, then followed suit. They took their white coats from a rack and draped them over their shoulders. One of the Hosokawa men said sheepishly, “They weren’t going to hurt anybody.”
“That’s what Kira thought until they cut off his head.” Sano turned to Oishi and Chikara. “I want to talk to you.”
“We can go to my quarters,” Oishi said.
He and Chikara led Sano into the mansion, to a guest chamber with gold-inlaid teak cabinets, a matching desk in a raised study niche, embroidered screens, and a wall mural that depicted water birds by a river. Heat shimmered up from sunken braziers. The lavish accommodations were further evidence of the Hosokawa clan’s goodwill toward the ronin.
Oishi put a silk cushion in front of the alcove, which contained a calligraphy scroll hanging above a branch of winter berries in a black ceramic vase. Sano knelt on the cushion, in the place of honor. Oishi crouched opposite; Chikara hovered near the door. The atmosphere was as charged with the heat of combat as the martial arts practice room. Father and son waited expectantly, identical scowls on their faces.