Death on an Autumn River

Chapter Seventeen

As Tora walked to the Naniwa waterfront, he got the peculiar feeling that he was being followed. A sudden turn to scan the street revealed nothing but harmless activity. No one paid any attention to him, and yet he felt it again a little later when he bought boat passage to Kawajiri-that sense that someone’s eyes were drilling holes into his back. He swung around and thought this time he saw a man’s back disappearing into an alley. Tora ran to check the alley, but only a scarecrow of a beggar was rifling through garbage for something to eat. He put it from his mind as a case of nerves.

The regular passenger boat took him swiftly and uneventfully to Kawajiri. Like Akitada, Tora was greatly impressed with the large ships docking and the sight of more ships at anchor in the bay. Unlike his master, he postponed sightseeing. He chose a narrow street leading to a district of small shops and poor shacks. It thronged with sailors and laborers. Cheap prostitutes leaned from windows even at this early hour.

Tora discovered what he was looking for within a block of the harbor. Squeezed between two larger buildings was a tiny shop that sold used clothing. He ducked in under the low lintel and found himself in a sort of cave where the walls and ceiling were made of clothing draped over beams, ropes, and racks. In the tiny open space sat a tiny woman sewing. She had a wrinkled face and her hair cut short like a nun’s. Peering up at him, she asked, “What will it be, handsome?”

The light was dim. Tora let his eyes adjust a little. Recalling what his master had said about the poor needing to make a living, he smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

Her eyes twinkled. “What did you steal? Let me see it.”

“What? Do I look like a thief?”

“Maybe not, but you’d be surprised what people walk in here with stolen goods. Gamblers will stop at nothing.” She added glumly, “There ought to be a special hell for them,”

He crouched down. “This is legitimate business, auntie. I’m being followed and I need to throw them off my trail. For that I need to change clothes. I’ll pay you for the outfit, but I want you to keep my own clothes for me until I pick them up. Will you do that and not tell anyone?”

She stuck her needle into the woman’s robe she had been mending. “How exciting! Who’s been following you? Some girl who’s fallen for your looks? Or maybe her husband or brother?”

He laughed. “No, nothing so romantic. Find me some clothes that a man would wear who’s down on his luck.”

She cocked her head. “Plenty of those around,” she said, getting to her feet. She felt Tora’s robe. “Nice. I could get some money for this. The boots, too. And the sword. You sure you don’t want to sell?”

“I’m sure, and I’ll keep the sword. Where can I change?”

She pushed aside a curtain of clothing and revealed a narrow space between it and another line of robes, coats, and trousers. “As private as you could wish,” she said. “Is your business dangerous? Is that why you carry the sword?”

“Too many questions. Let me see what you have.”

She disappeared among her curtains of clothing. Tora sniffed stale air mixed with the smell of dirt and garbage.

When she reemerged, she carried an armful of clothing. This she dumped on the floor. “Take your pick.”

Tora rummaged through the pile and came up with a pair of full knee-length cotton trousers that once had a black and white check pattern but now were mottled gray. He combined these with a torn shirt that was almost white, and a full jacket of a rust brown color with a large number of stains.

“I can sew up that tear,” said the woman.

“No, it’s perfect like that. What about shoes?”

She studied his feet. “No boots, but plenty of sandals.”

Tora made a face but nodded reluctantly.

She scooped up the rejected merchandise, disappeared among the swaying, odoriferous lines of clothing. This time, she brought forth five pairs of sandals and one pair of leather shoes. The leather shoes had once been boots, but a previous owner had cut off the tops for some other purpose. Tora slipped them on. They looked ridiculous but fitted like gloves and would last longer than sandals. He nodded.

He changed behind a wall of clothing. Then he untied his hair and let it hang loose. He had not been shaved since they arrived in Naniwa. The stubble added to his derelict appearance. He handed over his own clothes and paid for the rags. The price was high but Tora counted the overcharges as a fee for safe-guarding his property.

She tucked the money away, looked him over by walking all around him, and brought out a square of red and white fabric. “Here,” she said, “No extra charge. Twist it and tie your hair up with this. Anyone can see that you used to wear a topknot.”

Tora gave her one of his big smiles, twisted the square of fabric and tied it around his head. She came and stood on tiptoes to disarrange his hair, tucking parts under, so that it looked uneven. “Now you look fine,” she said.

Tora made her an exaggerated bow. “You’ve been blessed with superior intelligence as well as an eye for fashion, madam. Many thanks,” he said, and pushed his sword into the belt, making sure that the jacket covered it. Then he headed for the door.

“What do I do with your stuff if you don’t come back?” she called after him.

“If I’m not back in a week, you can sell it.”

As he walked away, he realized that she did not expect him to be back and thought about what lay ahead. If all went well, he should be done in a day, perhaps two. He carried very little money, but even this could spoil his plan. He stepped behind a shed and secreted the two silver pieces between the leather and lining of his shoes. When he reemerged into the street, he collided with a man who was hurrying past. Tora called an apology after him, but the man neither turned nor acknowledged it. He disappeared around the next corner. Tora shook his head and walked on. There had been something familiar about that thin, angular back in its non-descript gray jacket and pants. Still, half of the inhabitants of the poorer quarters of any city were scrawny and dressed in old clothes. He looked down at his own outfit with some complacency. It marked him as a poor man but it was colorful and gave him a certain presence. Plus, he was tall and muscular. All quite useful for this adventure.

After a while, he stopped to ask a small boy the way to the Hostel of the Flying Cranes. The grimy child pointed to a side street up ahead. Tora approached the hostel from the front. When he passed an old woman enthroned on an upturned basket beside her front door, it occurred to him she must be the one who had seen Sadenari leaving with the sailors from the Black Dragon. He gave her a smile and a nod.

“Stop a moment to talk to a lonely granny,” she cried. “What’s your rush? Come give Granny a kiss, you handsome dog!”

Tora laughed and did as she asked. With the speed of a striking adder, her hand darted to his groin, and he jumped back several feet. She cackled. “As skittish as a virgin! With such fine jewels, you needn’t be shy, handsome. I’ve a good mind to take you to bed.”

Tora flushed with the shock. “Where’s your modesty, old woman?” he demanded from a safe distance.

She shook with laughter. “Lost that more years ago than you’ve been alive. Come back here,” she wheedled. “How about just a little fondling? A little tongue?” She stuck it out.

Tora decided the incident was funny. “Sorry, Granny, you’re too much woman for me,” he said with a laugh. “I hear you’ve got your eye on all the sailors from the hostel.” Shaking his head, he walked on. First the postmaster’s tale of the aged princess with her young lovers and now this. What was the matter with old women here? Something in the water maybe.

Her cackling laughter pursued him all the way to the hostel.

He liked the looks of it. This was the very sort of place that attracted men who lived outside the law. When he reached the door, he heard angry shouting and squeals. He walked in and followed the sounds to the back of the place.

They had been gambling again. Dice lay on the scuffed floor, and a large man with a tattoo of a writhing dragon on his bare thigh had a smaller, older man by the neck and was shaking him like a rat. The smaller man did the squealing, while the big brute shouted. Coins dropped from the smaller man’s clothes. Three other men, also middle-aged, cowered in a corner.

The shouting involved words like “thieving bastards” and “I’ll make you eat your dice.” Tora grinned. No doubt, fleecing customers was a regular pastime here, but this time the customer had caught on.

The customer with the dragon tattoo was a brute, easily twice the bulk of the little fellow he was throttling. Tora decided to take the side of the underdog, regardless of the underdog’s offense. He waded into the fray with a roar, seized the brute’s topknot and jerked him back sharply.

The man howled, let go of his victim, and swung around. What followed was one of the uglier battles Tora had engaged in.

Dragon Tattoo twisted out of Tora’s grasp, leaving a handful of hair behind, and rammed a fist into Tora’s stomach with such force that Tora flew back and hit a pillar, doubling up. The pillar saved him from falling flat on his back. He pushed away and butted his head into the other man’s middle as he came again with fists flying. There was a grunt, and then the brute vomited up an evil-smelling flood. Tora waited for the vomiting to stop, and when the other man’s head came up, he smashed his fist into his face. Blood spurted, and suddenly a knife appeared in the man’s hand.

Tora stepped back and drew his sword.

For a moment, the action froze. Then the brute cursed long and volubly. He snarled, “This isn’t over, you bastards! I’ll be back and get you both.” Raising the knife, he made a slashing motion across his throat. Then he turned and lumbered from the room.

Tora put away his sword. His stomach was on fire, and he felt a sudden nausea rising. Moving away from the stench of the vomit, he asked, “Who was that?”

His audience exchanged glances and then stared at him. The huddle in the corner dissolved as the three men crept forward. The one who had been throttled, coughed and bent to pick up the coins and dice. “One of the sailors,” he rasped.

“He’s a pirate,” offered one of the others. “Said he’s coming back. What will you do, Kunimitsu?”

So the man he had saved was the manager of the hostel. Tora considered briefly that it might have been wiser to befriend the pirate than him. “You run this place?” he asked.

Kunimitsu massaged his throat. “What do you want?” he asked sourly.

“What? Not a word of thanks?” Tora raised his brows in mock horror. “Shall I run after the guy and tell him to go ahead with what he’d planned for you and offer to help him? I take it, you’ve been cheating him at dice?”

“That’s a lie,” blustered Kunimitsu. “And you made things worse.”

The others burst into assorted dire predictions.

Tora sighed and sat down. “I have a few coppers,” he said, “but I’m out of work and need a place to stay. I’ll play you for it.” He tried not to think of the promise he had made his wife, Hanae. But this was not for pleasure. This was part of the job.

Kunimitsu looked him over. “How many coppers do you have?”

Tora fished ten from his jacket and laid them down tenderly in two rows of five.

Kunimitsu snorted. “That’s all? What about your sword?”

“No. I might need it when that bastard comes to slit your throat.”

Silence.

The one who had spoken earlier said, “You’re a greedy cunt, Kunimitsu. He tried to help you.”

Kunimitsu frowned. “Shut up, Yoshi. You talk too much.” But he leaned forward and pushed the coppers toward Tora. “You can stay.”

Tora grinned and scooped up the coins. “For free?”

“For free.”

The chatty fellow clapped his hands. “Let’s drink on it.”

Kunimitsu got up and shuffled to an old barrel. He fumbled around in its depths and brought out an earthenware bottle. Sitting down again, he removed a rag that served as stopper, drank deeply and then passed the bottle to Tora. Tora drank, smacked his lips, and passed the wine on. The pain in his stomach subsided, replaced by a pleasant burn.

“So, who was he?” Tora asked.

Kunimitsu looked glum. “Gave the name Tojo. I wouldn’t take his word for it.”

“And he’s a pirate?”

Kunimitsu snorted. “Of course not. Yoshi likes to make up stories. He’s just a sailor.”

“He’s got the tattoo,” offered Yoshi.

Kunimitsu glared at him. “So what? Anybody can have a tattoo. You’re gonna give my place a bad name, Yoshi.”

Yoshi muttered, “Sorry.”

Tora said, “So he’s a sailor. I don’t get it.”

“It’s not important. I don’t think he’ll be back.” Kunimitsu took another gulp of wine. “What’s your name and where are you from?”

“I’m Tora.” No point in confusing himself with too many aliases.

“So you’re a tiger?” They grinned at that. Kunimitsu sneered, “If you’re so good, how come you’re looking for work?”

“Got into a fight with my overseer in the capital. He messed with my woman. Had to leave kinda quick.”

They stared at him. “You killed him?” asked Yoshi, his eyes large.

Tora did not answer. “How about that game?”

Kunimitsu fished out the dice and some of his money. The others brought out their coppers. Tora picked up the dice and inspected them. They seemed all right. They played fast and with total concentration. Though Tora watched carefully, he did not see anyone cheating. He won a little and lost a little, and after some time had passed with grunts and moans from the others, he asked, “Who owns the ships here?”

Kunimitsu counted his money. “Watamaro owns most of them in Kawajiri and Kanzaki, and on some of the islands in the Inland Sea. Why?”

“I need a job. I hear the pay is very good on some ships.”

Silence fell. Then Yoshi said, “You’re not a sailor. It’s dangerous work. People get killed on some ships.”

Tora grinned. “Maybe, but if the reward is big enough, I’ll risk it.”

They stared at him. Then Kunimitsu sighed and put the dice away. “It’s getting late.” he said. “You can stay the night because I promised, but if you want to stay alive, don’t meddle in other people’s business.”

The party broke up quickly after that. When the others had left, Kunimitsu looked at Tora. “Who told you about pirates?”

“Oh, come on. All a man has to do is to watch and listen. Someone said this was the place to get in touch with them.”

Kunimitsu shook his head. “You must be mad. Let me show you where you can sleep.”

Carrying an oil lamp, he led the way to a room on the ground level. Unlike the open areas of the hostel, this had wooden walls and a wooden door out to the back of the building. Tora was flattered. “Thanks, Kunimitsu. This is nice.”

Kunimitsu dragged in a roll of bedding. “Well, get some rest. If you haven’t changed your mind in the morning, I’ll ask around.”

Tora slapped his shoulder. “Thanks, brother.”

*

It had been a long day, and Tora was tired. He checked the two doors and found that he could bar them. Then he unrolled the bedding, kicked off his shoes and lay down. He kept his clothes on and his hand around the grip of his sword was asleep in an instant.

Sometime in the night, he became aware of a scratching noise. Rats, he thought, but there was something too persistent about it. He stayed very still and listened. The scratching was accompanied by hissing and seemed to come from the door to the outside. Getting up silently, Tora tip-toed to the door and put his ear against it. Yes, someone was outside, scratching and whispering. He considered, gripping his sword. Then he eased the bar back slowly. The scratching continued, and Tora opened the door a crack.

It was dark, but there was a full moon. Outside his door crouched a creature. Pushing the sword through the opening, Tora asked, “What do you want?”

The creature popped up, and in the moonlight, Tora saw the horrible head of a demon. He slammed the door shut, rammed the bar across, and recited the spell against evil spirits.

After a while, he heard steps receding and crept back to his bedding. It was a long time before he dozed off again, and then he dreamed. He was a pirate and they were attacking a ship. On the ship was a beautiful lady. She screamed when she saw him, but he did not care. He was about to kill her, when he saw that she was Hanae and lowered his sword.