Sano put a hand on Marume’s arm. “Go deliver that scroll.”
Marume shot an ominous glance at Hirata as he departed. Sano didn’t seem surprised to see Hirata. He didn’t seem glad, either. He said, “I had a bad encounter with a smoking basket,” and stepped into his chamber. Uncertain about whether Sano wanted him to come in, Hirata followed.
“What are you doing here?” Sano asked.
“I heard you were arrested for killing Yoshisato,” Hirata said.
“I suppose everybody has heard by now.”
Sano’s voice frightened Hirata. It had a wooden quality, as if the black veins in his aura had drained away his spirit. Hirata said, “I know you didn’t do it.”
“Thank you for your faith in me.” Sano spoke without sarcasm or sincerity.
“I came to see if I could help.” Hirata realized that there was something seriously wrong with Sano, something that went deeper than the cuts on his face and beyond the fact that he was accused of murder.
“That’s good of you,” Sano said.
He was in shock, Hirata supposed. Although Hirata hated to see Sano like this, maybe now he could make up for the wrong he’d done Sano and reconcile himself with his master. “I’ll find out who really killed Yoshisato. I’ll exonerate you.”
“Well. I appreciate the offer.” The first sign of emotion inflected Sano’s voice. It was doubt.
Shame flushed Hirata’s cheeks. Sano hadn’t forgotten the times Hirata had promised to do things for him and let him down. Hirata thought of Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi. If he didn’t show up at the canal, Tahara and Kitano would get suspicious. And he mustn’t let them get suspicious before he and Deguchi could kill them. Hirata didn’t have time to hunt Yoshisato’s murderer. He had to do something faster and more spectacular for Sano.
“Is Yanagisawa responsible for your arrest?” Hirata asked.
“How did you guess?” The usual wry humor was absent from Sano’s tone.
“I’ll assassinate Yanagisawa. Then he can’t get you convicted.”
Hirata braced himself for an angry reaction. Sano had never been willing to kill Yanagisawa because Yanagisawa was the shogun’s delegate and Sano’s loyalty to the shogun extended to him. Hirata prepared to convince Sano that lowering his standards was necessary and that if Hirata did the deed, Sano’s hands would be technically clean.
“No,” Sano said. “The shogun thinks I killed his son, and he’s set on killing me. He doesn’t need Yanagisawa to egg him on.” Sano fingered the bandages on his face. “Killing Yanagisawa wouldn’t solve my problem. But thank you anyway.”
Hirata was shocked. Sano had rejected the idea because he didn’t think it would work, not because he thought it was wrong. “I’ll kill the shogun, too, then,” Hirata said. “If he and Yanagisawa both die, nobody else will care much about Yoshisato. You’ll be safe.”
It was a blasphemous idea. Even to speak it was treason. But Sano didn’t revile it as he once would have. His aura turned darker as the black veins swelled. It was like watching a healthy animal consumed by a fast-growing cancer. It made Hirata sick, but he hastened to nudge Sano toward the decision he seemed ready to make.
“I’ll make it look like a natural death.” Hirata looked beyond the simple act of eliminating Sano’s adversaries. “The government will be in chaos. You can take advantage of it. You’ll have a fresh start.” And so, Hirata thought, will I.
“A fresh start,” Sano echoed, and Hirata heard another tinge of emotion in his voice. This time it was yearning.
“Well?” Hirata said. “Should I go ahead?”
Sano pondered. His aura was almost completely black. Hirata held his breath against an onslaught of exhilaration and fear. Merciful gods, Sano was actually going to say yes!
A spasm shuddered through Sano. His bloodshot eyes filled with horror. The black veins in his aura constricted, as if he’d sucked the darkness back inside him.
“I can’t believe we’re talking like this,” Sano said in a tone of wonder. He shook his head violently. “No. I’m not that far gone. I forbid you to kill the shogun!”
Hirata started to argue, but Sano raised his hand and demanded, “Where are your secret society friends? Is this their plan-for you to assassinate the shogun and make me a party to it?”
A terrible realization struck Hirata: If he killed the shogun, Ienobu would surely inherit the dictatorship. Hirata would have played right into the ghost’s hands.
Sano backed away from Hirata. “I can’t listen to any more of this! Get out!”
* * *
Hirata was so shaken that he stumbled through the corridors. By offering to assassinate the shogun, he’d tempted Sano to join him in a treasonous conspiracy. Sano, in a moment of weakness, had almost stepped into the pit of disgrace that Hirata had dug. Hirata was so angry at himself that he wanted to strike his own face until it was as damaged as Sano’s. He’d almost corrupted Sano, the most honorable samurai he knew. Sano would never forgive him. Even if he shut down the secret society, he’d permanently ruined his relationship with Sano.
Hirata belatedly noticed he wasn’t alone. A boy stood in the corridor, watching him. His heart gave a painful thump. “Tatsuo?”
His son had grown taller since Hirata had been away. Tatsuo took a step backward. His solemn eyes widened in fear.
Dismayed, Hirata said, “It’s Papa.” Five months must seem a long time to a child. “Don’t you remember me?”
A door down the hall opened. A girl came out. Hirata was surprised to recognize his daughter. How grown up and beautiful Taeko was! She eyed him warily. Tatsuo ran to her. They stood together, speechless. Tears burned Hirata’s eyes. He’d missed his children so much, and they were looking at him like two fawns cornered by a hunter.
He heard a gasp. He turned. There was Midori, holding their baby, her eyes filled with amazement. Seeing his wife and youngest child, Hirata felt a joy like an updraft of warm wind that lifted him out of his misery.
“You.” Midori’s cold voice brought Hirata down to earth. “Why did you come back?”
Hirata didn’t want to lie to her; he’d done it too many times, and she hated it. He’d already blown his relationship with Sano; now his marriage was at stake. But if he told her what had happened between him and Sano, she would be even madder. And if he told her anything about the secret society, she would be in danger.
“I missed you and the children,” Hirata said.
Skepticism and her need to believe him warred in Midori’s eyes. “Go play outside,” she told the children.
She didn’t want to quarrel in front of them, and neither did Hirata, but he said, “Please don’t send them away.” He smiled at Tatsuo and Taeko. “Would you like to play a game?”
They shrank from him. Midori laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Do you think you can just walk back into their lives? They’re afraid of you.”
“Why are they afraid? Have you been telling them bad things about me?”
Midori put herself between him and the children. “I’ve only told them the truth-that you left us because you don’t care about us.”
“That’s not true,” Hirata protested. “I love them. I love you. I didn’t want to leave. But I had to.”
“I can’t listen to any more excuses!” Midori said. The baby in her arms started to cry. “I can’t take any more of your coming and going and lying! Go away!” She burst into tears. “Never come back again!”
30
Sano knelt at Reiko’s dressing table and looked in the mirror. His reflection belonged to an alien that wore white cotton bandages on its cheek and brow. The rest of its face was a bloated mask of garish purple bruises and red cuts, shiny with medicinal balm. Sano swallowed hard. He watched his hand rise to touch the alien’s split, puffy lips. He’d never been vain about his looks, but the extent of his injuries was appalling. His face seemed an ugly manifestation of his wicked thoughts about the shogun, his lapse of honor.