“You’ll just have to put up with it until the guards get tired of you or Kira finds someone else to pick on,” Kajikawa told Tsunamori the next day.
“Yes, Father,” Tsunamori said meekly.
As months passed, Kajikawa couldn’t meet Tsunamori’s eyes and think of what his son suffered while he looked the other way. He couldn’t bear to admit he’d let Tsunamori down.
One winter night, Tsunamori didn’t come home. The next morning, Kajikawa ran all over the castle, searching for him. He found Tsunamori at the shrine, dangling from a noose tied to a branch of a tree in the clearing where the guards had raped him. Kajikawa had come too late. Tsunamori was dead.
In his anguish, Kajikawa blamed Kira. Kira had brought about the degradation that had caused Tsunamori to take his own life. Kira should be punished. But Kajikawa was still afraid of Kira. Instead of registering a vendetta and killing his enemy, Kajikawa sought another way to settle the score. He began spying on Kira. He secretly watched and listened to Kira torment Lord Asano. He witnessed sharp exchanges between Kira and Oishi. Eventually, he followed Kira to the squalid little inn by the river.
He hid in a bamboo grove and watched Kira peek through a hole in the window of a room. After a short while, Kira left, smiling his ugly smile. Then Kajikawa saw Oishi exit the room next to the one Kira had spied on. Oishi’s expression was grim enough to turn wine into vinegar. A few moments afterward, a woman ran weeping from the room on the other side. Interested to see what had upset her and Oishi so much, Kajikawa tiptoed to the window and looked through Kira’s peephole.
In the room, Lord Asano slumped naked on the bed. A woman stood with her back to him, dressing. Her head was bowed as if in shame. Lord Asano said, “Your husband is my loyal chief retainer and best friend. I wish I could take back what I did.”
“I wish I could take it back, too,” the woman said. “Your wife is my best friend.”
They both sounded remorseful about their illicit love affair. Kajikawa deduced the women’s identities: This one was Oishi’s wife. The weeping woman from the next room must be Lord Asano’s.
“I’m sorry,” Lord Asano said.
“It’s not your fault,” Oishi’s wife said bitterly. “It’s Kira’s.”
Kajikawa realized that he and his son weren’t the only people that Kira had manipulated into a sordid scene for his own pleasure. Kira had forced Lord Asano to bed Oishi’s wife, and arranged for Oishi and Lady Asano to see it. Kajikawa was disgusted by the enormity of Kira’s perversion. He was elated when Lord Asano attacked Kira, and disappointed because Kira didn’t die.
After months of ruminating on past events, he realized that Lord Asano had presented him with an opportunity for revenge. He concocted a plan and worked up the nerve to set it in motion.
Kajikawa went looking for Oishi and discovered that the man had gone to Miyako. He traveled there, found the house where Oishi was living, and waited outside. When Oishi emerged, Kajikawa said, “Oishi-san, what a surprise. How about a drink?”
When they were seated in the teahouse and had drunk a few cups, Kajikawa described what he’d seen at the inn. He told Oishi that Kira had organized the tryst between Oishi’s wife and Lord Asano.
Oishi pounded on the table and cursed. “Kira is a dead man!”
Kajikawa felt a searing satisfaction in his heart. What he couldn’t do, Oishi would. He felt guilty as he egged Oishi into plotting an illegal vendetta, but he told Oishi, and himself, that he could protect Oishi from the consequences. They would both get their revenge, and neither would be punished.
* * *
Hirataraced through the torii gate that led to the Momijiyama. Temple dogs glared at him through a coating of ice. A forest of crystallized trees shivered around him as he skidded along the slippery flagstone path. He perceived a faint trace of Kajikawa’s aura and stopped. He lifted his head. The aura emanated from the forest, which was silent except for the tinkle of falling ice crystals. Hirata followed the aura, crunching on brittle snow. He arrived at a clearing where rays of pale daylight shone through the ice-draped canopy of tree branches.
The clearing was empty. The aura came from a strip of white paper that lay atop frozen leaves. Hirata picked up the paper. Written on it in shaky calligraphy were the words, Tsunamori. Your father is sorry.
Hirata laid down the paper and left the forest. On the path he met a Shinto priest, who said, “You’re too late. He left almost an hour ago.”
Hirata remembered where else Kajikawa had been sighted. He ran for the palace.
* * *
In the Shogun’s chamber, Sano realized that he had finally uncovered the truth behind the forty-seven ronin’s vendetta. The story of the vendetta was like a tapestry, thickly woven with details. Sano had picked apart the many threads-the conflicting versions of events-before discovering that the forty-seven ronin hadn’t been the only men bent on destroying Kira.
There was a forty-eighth avenger.
But even while Kajikawa held his blade to the shogun’s throat, he seemed the unlikeliest avenger in the world.
“I thought Oishi would kill Kira and I could feel that I’d paid Kira back for my son’s death,” Kajikawa lamented, his tiny features dripping tears. “I can’t believe how wrong everything went. All I wanted was justice for my son!”
“And you got it,” Sano said, thinking fast, searching for the words to turn the situation around. “Even though I don’t approve of the way you went about it, I think you did right by your son.” One’s son deserved vengeance even more than one’s lord did. If Sano had discovered that Kira had made a prostitute of Masahiro, he would have killed Kira on the spot instead of bringing in another injured party to do it. Still, Kajikawa had done the best he could. “Kira was a monster.”
“Yes!” Kajikawa gasped in his relief that Sano understood. “Kira deserved to die!” He spoke into the shogun’s ear. “Your Excellency thought Kira shouldn’t be punished for his quarrel with Lord Asano because Kira fooled you. He fooled everybody into thinking he was good, but he was an evil, corrupt old snake. Lord Asano never said so, but I put the words in his mouth because they’re true!”
The shogun was beyond hearing. His mouth gaped like that of a fish thrown ashore, fighting for its last breath. The other people in the room listened, silent, immobile, and helpless.
Kajikawa’s eyes shone with triumph. “We put an end to him, Oishi and I!” Then he relapsed into misery. “I’m sorry for getting Oishi and his men in trouble. They wouldn’t have gone after Kira if not for me. The supreme court is going to sentence them to death, and it’s my fault. I’m sorry about Magistrate Ueda, too.” Sobs choked him. “I’m sorry for everything except that Kira is dead.”
Sano seized on the words. “Yes, you did put an end to Kira. And now it’s time to put an end to this, before any other innocent person is hurt. Let go of His Excellency. Walk out of the palace by yourself and surrender.”
A yearning expression came over Kajikawa’s face. Sano could tell how much he was tempted to give up, how eager for the relief. Kajikawa said, “But if I were to surrender, I would be a coward. I was a coward when Kira abused my son and I looked the other way. But I’ll never be a coward again.” He sniffled, blinked away tears, firmed up his mouth, and said to Yoritomo, “Let’s go.”
With a desperate glance at his father, Yoritomo trudged forward. He walked through the door, his shoulders slumped and head bowed.
“Not yet,” Sano said urgently. “We’re not finished talking.”
“I am.” Kajikawa edged around Sano. The shogun was so senseless with hysteria, his body so limp, that Kajikawa was almost carrying him. “I’ve had my say. I’m going to meet my fate like the brave samurai I should have been when my son needed me.” He and the shogun followed Yoritomo out the door.