“Not yet,” Reiko said. “My husband is taking me today.”
“Before I say good-bye, I want to thank you for your kindness,” Okaru said. “You helped me when I had no one else to turn to.”
“It was nothing,” Reiko said, glad that Okaru didn’t bear her any grudge.
“There’s something I’d like to ask…?”
“What is it?”
“Masahiro was kind to me. May I say good-bye to him?”
“Of course.” Reiko didn’t think it could hurt. “He’s outside.”
As soon as Okaru had left, Chiyo arrived for a visit. “Did you hear that?” Reiko asked.
Chiyo nodded. “I couldn’t resist eavesdropping.”
“What do you think?”
“I think that although many people have suffered because of the forty-seven ronin business, Okaru has managed to land on her feet.” Chiyo spoke with annoyance and admiration.
“She certainly has.” Reiko added ruefully, “You were right about her being trouble.”
“But you were right to act on Okaru’s information about the vendetta,” Chiyo hastened to say. “Discovering the truth is important, no matter the cost.”
They smiled at each other. Reiko was glad that Okaru hadn’t permanently come between them. Their friendship had weathered a difference of opinion and emerged stronger because each could appreciate the other’s viewpoint.
* * *
Masahiro heard Okaru call his name and saw her tripping toward him beneath the cherry trees. His heart soared. Ever since she’d left, he’d felt a hollow ache inside. He’d thought of looking for her, but his shame about what had happened while she was here had stopped him. He wasn’t only bothered by his mother catching them together; he felt guilty because of Goza, the tattoos, the bloody clothes, and the fact that he’d delayed telling his parents about them because he’d wanted to protect Okaru. It was his first, upsetting taste of divided loyalty. Now he was glad he hadn’t gone after Okaru, because although she smiled and held out her arms, he could tell that she didn’t feel the same way about him as he did about her.
She wasn’t in love with him, and she never would be.
“Hello! Do you remember me?” Okaru said gaily.
Masahiro was so downcast that all he could do was nod. She thought he was a child, like Akiko and Taeko and Tatsuo, who were running and playing nearby.
“I felt bad because I left without saying good-bye to you,” Okaru said.
She’d come to say good-bye now, Masahiro realized. The ache inside him grew. “Where are you going?” he managed to say.
“Not far. I’ll be staying in Nihonbashi.” Dimples wreathed Okaru’s face. “I’m getting married.”
The news was like a stab to his heart. All his vague dreams about Okaru died for good. While she rambled on about her fiance, the house she would live in, and the children she hoped to have, Masahiro was struck by how far apart the few years’ difference in their ages put them. Okaru was a grown woman, while he was still a boy. Sadness filled him, but he also felt relief. He wasn’t ready for marriage, or housekeeping, or even love. He had too many other things to do first. And although he still desired Okaru, they weren’t meant for each other. He could accept that they belonged to different worlds.
“It would be nice if you would come and visit me,” Okaru said.
“Yes.” But Masahiro knew he would never see her again. That was as it should be.
After a pause, Okaru said, “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry about … what happened.”
Masahiro felt his cheeks flame.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I was so unhappy, I needed somebody, and you were there.” Okaru seemed ashamed, too. “I’m sorry I upset your mother.”
To her, the embrace that had caused him so much excitement and pleasure had been nothing but a mistake. But Masahiro could accept that, too. “It’s all right,” he said.
“I’m glad you’re not mad at me. I’ll never forget how you protected me from Oishi’s wife.” Okaru smiled fondly. “You’re my hero.” Then she took a closer look at him, and surprise raised her eyebrows. She frowned as her gaze held his.
Masahiro heard a thought, as clear as if she’d spoken it: If things were different … His heart was suddenly lighter.
Okaru’s smile turned wistful. “I guess I should be going.” She bowed. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” Masahiro said.
Okaru hesitated, then held out her hand. Masahiro hesitated, then reached for it. Their fingers clasped, then let go. The soft warmth of her skin lingered on his as Okaru walked away through the rain of falling cherry blossoms.
“Masahiro!” Taeko called. “Try and catch me!”
And now he was running, laughing as he chased Taeko. It felt good to be so carefree. Masahiro spared a moment to wonder if he would fall in love again someday. Would he be lucky enough that the girl he fell in love with would fall in love with him, too?
He thought he probably would.
* * *
“Shh, don’t cry,” Hirata crooned to his baby daughter. He rocked her in his arms. “Papa’s here.”
The baby squalled, her little fists waving, her feet kicking inside the blanket wrapped around her. Hirata smiled. It was amazing how much one could love such a tiny, new person.
Midori bustled into the room. “She’s hungry. Give her to me.”
Hirata handed the baby over. “She’s also wet,” he said, holding out the damp sleeve of his kimono. “It’s amazing how much water such a tiny person can make.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Midori said. “You have visitors.”
When Hirata went into the reception room, there were Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano. They bowed politely. “Hello,” Tahara said with his rakish smile.
Chilling fear and fuming anger beset Hirata. “What are you doing here?”
“Now, now, is that any way to greet your guests?” Kitano’s eyes crinkled in his scarred, paralyzed face.
“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Tahara said, “so we decided to stop by.” Deguchi watched Hirata through heavy-lidded eyes, inscrutable. “Have you been avoiding us?”
Hirata had. Whenever he’d felt their aura, he’d walked in the opposite direction. Whenever he’d seen them around town, he’d pretended not to notice them. He hadn’t wanted to talk to them until he’d made sense of the incident at the palace. But no matter how much he mulled it over, he ended up with the same questions that only they could answer.
“We thought it was time for another talk,” Kitano said.
“I agree,” Hirata said, “but not here.” He didn’t want them in his house.
They went to the castle’s herb garden. The plots were green with new spring plants, the air scented with mint, coriander, and honeysuckle. Bees hummed; butterflies flitted.
“Did you know that Yoritomo would pick up the branch?” Hirata demanded. “That if it hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have tried to attack Kajikawa and he would still be alive? Or that if he hadn’t, the shogun might have died?”
Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano exchanged unreadable glances. “Not exactly,” Tahara said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hirata said, vexed by their obtuseness.
“The rituals tell us what to do,” Kitano said. “Not always the specifics or the results.”
“Did you want Yoritomo to die?” Hirata pressed. “Why? What are you up to?”
“It was meant to be,” Tahara said. “Our mission is to see that destiny is fulfilled.”
“Without knowing how? Or who’ll get hurt?” Hirata was incredulous. “Shouldn’t you figure out what’s going to happen first, and then decide what’s best to do?”
Tahara shrugged. Deguchi shook his head, calm and radiant. Kitano said, “That’s not how it works.”
Hirata folded his arms. “Well, I won’t even consider joining your society until you tell me more about these rituals and what your plans are.”
“When you join us, you’ll be told,” Tahara said.
“I’m supposed to take an oath of loyalty to the society, swear that it’s my top priority, that I’ll keep its business a secret, and that I’ll abide by all its decisions, based on nothing?”