Kill the Shogun

CHAPTER 10

Nobu entered his room. The shutters on the window were closed and the single candle he held hardly penetrated the gloomy darkness.

He sighed. He was tired. Like the rest of Boss Akinari’s men, he had spent most of the night looking for the ronin. Unsuccessfully.

His futon was already spread on the floor. He lived in Boss Akinari’s house, just like all the high-ranking members of the gang, and the servants would take out the bedding from a shelf every night and spread it on the floor of the plain room, ready for sleep.

Nobu was debating about going to get a bath before flopping down on the futon when a voice said, “Why did your Boss want to kill me?”

Nobu was a man not easily startled, but the voice coming from the dark corners of his own room made him jump. He held the candle up, so the light could penetrate the gloom. In the darkest corner, Nobu saw the dim outline of a man sitting. The figure moved his arm and into the yellow light of the candle the tip of an unsheathed sword appeared. The ronin!

“Why did your boss want to kill me?” Kaze repeated, letting his naked sword add urgency to the question.

“How did you get in here?” Nobu asked.

“I never left,” Kaze replied.

“How did you know this was my room?”

Kaze pointed with his sword. “After the maids laid out the futons, it was easy to tell which one was yours. It’s twice the size of a normal one.”

“But-”

“I’m the one who stayed just so I could ask you a few questions,” Kaze interrupted. “It is most impolite to ignore my questions as I answer yours. Now, why did Boss Akinari want me killed?”

“He wanted to collect the reward. He knows.”

For a moment, Kaze thought that Akinari knew that he was a man wanted by the Tokugawas because of his ties to the Toyotomis. He decided to clarify this. “He knows what?”

“That you tried to assassinate the Shogun.”

Now it was Kaze’s turn to be surprised. He stayed silent, to see if silence would extract more information. It did.

Nobu licked his lips. Then he said, “I didn’t want you to be killed, but the reward for your head is ten thousand ryo. No one could pass that up. There’s a thousand ryo just for leading the authorities to you.”

Even a thousand ryo was considerably larger than the reward for turning in a Toyotomi loyalist.

Kaze stayed silent for several more minutes, but Nobu didn’t volunteer more. Finally, Kaze asked, “How does Boss Akinari know about this reward? I haven’t seen notice boards posted around the city.”

“The district captain told him. We give a payoff to him every month. Otherwise we couldn’t operate a gambling den in this place. He said they don’t want to post the reward on public notice boards yet, so you won’t know and will be surprised.”

Kaze was indeed surprised, but not because someone had suddenly tried to take his life. That had happened often enough. It was the thought that the Tokugawas had identified him as Ieyasu’s would-be assassin that surprised him.

“Why do they think I’m the one who tried to kill the Shogun?”

“You were spotted near the place where the gunman hid.”

The young captain who looked at Kaze so strangely when Kaze was doing his street act with the tops.

“Well, I didn’t try to kill Ieyasu-sama,” Kaze said conversationally. “If I had, he would be dead. But I suppose that doesn’t matter if the authorities think I’m the one who tried to kill him. What a bother!”

Nobu looked like he was going to ask about what kind of bother it was, but Kaze stood up. He wasn’t going to explain to the big wrestler about his quest to find the daughter of his Lord and Lady. Becoming the most hunted man in Edo would make it difficult to observe the Little Flower Whorehouse to see if the girl was still there, and to develop a plan to rescue her if she was. “What a bother!” he said again.

Kaze pointed to Nobu with his sword. “You’re a good fellow, and I like you. I should kill you now, to keep you quiet. Instead, I’m going to walk out of here and I want you to treat our conversation as a dream. You must be tired, spending the night in the cold looking for me. I suggest you crawl onto the futon and go to bed. But whatever you do, please don’t make me sorry I let you live. If you do, I promise I will do my best to come back and correct that mistake.”

Then, without warning, Kaze took a cut at the candle. The sword moved with such speed that Nobu heard it more than saw it. A quick swish of air that seemed too gentle a sound to carry death with it. Nobu didn’t see the sword hit the candle, but the light was snuffed out. Nobu could see the dying ember of the wick, fading to orange in the darkness. Incredibly, the ronin had cut off the burning wick of the candle, but left the rest intact.

Too stunned to move, Nobu strained to hear where the ronin was. He heard nothing, but suddenly, behind him, the door to his room opened. The dim light of the hall spilled into the darkened room. He turned to see who was entering the room and instead he saw the ronin leaving. Nobu’s spine tingled at the thought of a man who could move so quickly and so silently. He watched the ronin’s feet as he left the room. He wanted to make sure the ronin walked with his heel touching the ground before his toes. Ghosts walked with their toes touching first, and he wanted to assure himself that this ronin was a man, and not an obake.

After he was sure the ronin was gone, Nobu made his way to the bath. His body was covered with sticky, dried sweat. He tried to tell himself that the sweat had come from the search, but he knew he had not been sweaty when he walked into his room.

The bathhouse had been cleaned up. The bodies of the slain men were removed, and the walls and floor were still wet from countless buckets of water used to wash off the blood. Because of this extra effort, the attendant was not around. Nobu surmised that, like all of them, the attendant was tired after this extraordinary night. He stuck his hand into the ofuro and the water was hot enough, so he decided to take his bath without getting the attendant to help scrub his back and tend to the fire.

As Nobu started stripping down, he noticed that only one of the wooden stools was sitting on the bathhouse floor. There were usually two stools in the bathhouse, and Nobu was so large that he generally put the two of them side by side to sit on.

He looked around for the second stool, and found the pieces of it neatly stacked in a corner. Nobu was puzzled. In another corner of the bathhouse, he saw something curious. He went over and picked it up, holding it up to the lantern that illuminated the bathhouse so he could see it better. Someone had taken one of the legs from the broken stool and carved a Kannon, the Goddess of Mercy. Then the artist had placed the Kannon so it looked upon the place where the two men had died.

Nobu looked around and saw nothing else to explain the little statue. He looked back at the Kannon, seeing a face of infinite beauty and tranquility. Reverently, he placed the Kannon back in place.

Kaze continued to move as silently as a shadow cast by a swinging lantern as he made his way back to the merchant’s house. He had decided he would not spend the night, but there was something there he wanted; his sword-cleaning materials. It was common for a samurai to get his sword wet, in rain or when fording streams, but every samurai also took care of his sword, because the sword was an expression of his spirit and soul.

Kaze had just immersed his sword in water. Now he wanted to clean his sword and give it a light coating of oil, to protect it. “Fly Cutter” was precious to him. It was new, and he had never had a sword so lively and finely balanced. It was a natural extension of his arms, and was rapidly becoming part of his spiritual core.

Kaze approached the merchant’s house and observed it for several minutes. All seemed normal, with light peeking out through tiny gaps in the shutters. Kaze crossed to the house and opened the door.

“Tadaima. I’m home,” Kaze said.

The merchant’s wife and the maid were sitting on the floor, whispering to each other across a low table. They looked up when Kaze entered, and gave an answering bow of their heads as Kaze dipped his head in greeting. He was puzzled that they were still up, but he didn’t want to engage them in conversation.

Kaze made his way up the steep stairs, almost a ladder, to his room. Next to the folded futon sitting on a shelf was a bundle wrapped in a cloth. Kaze took the bundle and unwrapped it, taking out soft cloths and a small flask of oil. He carefully wiped down his blade, cleaning it. After he had cleaned it to his satisfaction, he took the flask of oil, poured some on a cloth, and coated the blade. He thought of disassembling the handle to clean the tang, but decided he didn’t want to feel vulnerable while his sword was taken apart. He would do that when he had a safer place.

Just as he was sliding the blade back into its scabbard, he heard some footsteps on the stairs.

“Sumimasen! Excuse us! May we come up to see you?” It was the voice of the merchant’s wife.

“Dozo. Please.” Kaze was curious about what she wanted.

The wife and the maid came up the stairs, entering Kaze’s small room and standing next to the stairwell, looking nervous. They were dressed in plain kimonos, but Kaze realized they were probably the finest kimonos they owned, because they were not patched. Clothes were expensive and were often given as a special present by a lord to a vassal. Most common people had their everyday kimonos patched in some way. Every other day he was in the house, Kaze had noticed the patches on the kimonos of the wife and servant, and he was curious about why they had apparently put on their best kimonos tonight.

“Well?” Kaze asked.

“My husband is still out…” The wife spoke haltingly, then stopped.

“Yes?” Kaze encouraged.

“And, ah, and …”

Kaze was puzzled. The two women looked at each other nervously, then back at Kaze. He smiled, to encourage the wife.

“And …” the wife began, before halting again.

“My mistress wants to say,” the maid broke in, “that we are both grateful for what you did, saving us from the gamblers.”

“Yes?”

“And, ah, and …”

Kaze was losing patience with the wife’s halting explanation. He frowned. The maid saw this and once again broke in.

“Anyway, my mistress and I are so grateful that we want to show our gratitude by giving you a most exciting night.”

“Exciting?” Kaze asked, puzzled.

By way of answer, the maid loosened her kimono sash and shrugged the garment off her shoulders. She was wearing the cloth wrap that served as a foundation garment and underwear beneath. She quickly undid the wrap and let that fall to the floor, too. She stood naked, giving Kaze a nervous smile.

Seeing her maid’s actions, the merchant’s wife did likewise, and in an instant, Kaze was confronted with two nervous and naked women. The wife had an arm across her breast and a hand across her loins, but the maid stood brazenly, looking at Kaze’s reaction.

Kaze’s reaction was surprise. Another surprise on a most surprising night. He was about to speak when he saw the eyes of the wife dart nervously toward the stairs. In an instant, he was on his feet, his sword drawn from its scabbard. He dashed to the stairwell and looked down it. Looking up at him in surprise was an armored samurai, creeping up the stairs, sword in hand, with at least a half-dozen men behind him.

Seeing Kaze, the samurai shouted and charged up the stairs. Kaze allowed him to get his head and shoulders past the top stair. The samurai took a cut at Kaze’s legs with his drawn sword. Kaze dropped his sword blade to block the officer’s blow; then he immediately twisted his blade to the side and thrust the point into one of the few places not protected by the armor, right under the samurai’s chin.

The samurai grabbed at the blade as Kaze withdrew his sword, then immediately collapsed, knocking the two men behind him off the stairs and down on the remaining men on the ground floor.

The wife and maid shrank away from Kaze, snatching up their kimonos and huddling together in a corner of the room. They looked at Kaze with fear, uncertain about what revenge he might take. Instead, Kaze picked up his scabbard and ran to the shuttered window, opening it. Shoving his scabbard into his kimono sash, he started stepping out of the window and onto the tiled roof. Despite the sound of men running up the stairs, he paused before he completely exited the room, looking over his shoulder at the merchant’s wife and the maid.

“It has already been an exciting night,” he said. “You didn’t have to add to it.” Then, he added, “By the way, I would have turned you down.”

There was a pale quarter-moon casting long gray shadows when Kaze went out on the roof. He looked down and was surprised to see hordes of soldiers rushing out of nearby houses and running to the vegetable merchant’s house. Evidently the men on the stairs were just the vanguard of a larger party of troops sent to kill or capture him. Kaze surmised that Boss Akinari, unable to collect the ten-thousand-ryo reward, had settled for the thousand for turning him in.

It’s not convenient to be the most wanted man in Edo, Kaze thought as he made his way up the roof and over the peak. He had seen red glows moving with several of the men and he knew that meant they had guns. He wanted to be on the opposite side of the roof from men with matchlock muskets.

Behind him, he could hear the men shouting and passing through the window onto the roof. The houses of Edo were jammed together, so often two, three, and even four houses had their roofs touching. The roofs were made of board and tile. Because of cost, board was the most popular, but there was talk of the Tokugawas requiring tile roofs, to cut down on fires. Many of the side streets and alleys were so narrow that Kaze thought he could easily jump them.

Kaze had left his sandals at the entry to the merchant’s house, but he still had on his tabi socks and they were slippery on the sloping roof. He almost slid off the roof when he tried to stop and had to put one hand down to maintain his balance. As soon as he regained his equilibrium, he ripped one of the tabi off.

This delay allowed the first pursuer to catch him. Kaze caught the pursuer’s blow on his blade, and his tabi-covered foot slipped, making it impossible for Kaze to immediately counterattack. Another man might have cursed this situation, but Kaze simply shifted his stance so his weight was primarily on his bare foot, which had much better purchase on the slippery slope.

His opponent was well trained and disciplined, the hallmark of a good swordsman. Kaze parried two of his cuts, but the other swordsman wasn’t trying to press his advantage. Kaze realized that his opponent didn’t have to. All he had to do was hold Kaze in place until his comrades arrived or a musketeer could get a shot from the ground. Despite his lack of a firm stance, Kaze went on the attack.

The other swordsman parried two of Kaze’s cuts, but not the third. Kaze’s sword caught him on the side of the neck, and the man fell to the roof, sliding to the edge, almost taking Kaze with him as he tumbled over.

Kaze still wanted to remove the other tabi sock, but he had no time. The next man out of the window was over the roof’s peak and upon him. This man wasn’t as disciplined or as good a swordsman as the first. Kaze dodged his cut and brought his own blade down across the man’s forearm, slicing it in two. The man was holding his sword in two hands, and he looked down with surprise as suddenly he was holding it with one. He saw the severed arm hit the roof and a look of befuddlement passed across his face, the shock, pain, and reality of the situation not yet registering.

Not waiting to see the man’s reaction, Kaze immediately ripped off the other tabi and started running across the roof. The merchant’s house was so close to his neighbor’s that Kaze was able to easily step from one roof to the other without breaking stride. Behind him, he could hear shouts and running feet.

At the end of this roof, Kaze had to make a short leap to cover the distance across a side street. As he did so, he heard the crack of a musket firing. Kaze didn’t feel the ball whistle past, but he knew the shot was aimed at him. On the next roof, he changed direction, jumping to a roof behind the house he was running on. He looked over his shoulder and saw at least three samurai in pursuit. He knew that was just the vanguard and that there would be others.

He ran up the slope of the new roof and over the peak. He cut to the left and started running again. Behind him he heard one of his pursuers crest the roof and start after him. With sandals on, however, his pursuer didn’t make the change in direction in time, and he skidded off the roof, falling down to the street below with a yell. Probably not high enough to kill a man, Kaze thought, but the fall certainly resulted in broken bones.

Kaze ran across three more roofs. Though he could keep ahead of the men pursuing him across the rooftops, he couldn’t run faster on the uneven and steep roofs of Edo than the men pursuing him on the ground. As he changed directions, the men on the ground fanned out, searching for him. Sometimes his pursuers on the rooftops shouted directions to the men on the ground, and sometimes the men on the ground directed the pursuers on the roof. Occasionally, a musketeer on the ground fired a shot at him, but none of the shots came close, and they may have been fired more as a signal to the other men of Kaze’s location than as an attempt to hit him.

As Kaze ran, he tried to anticipate an end game, and none of the possibilities looked good. With the number of men pursuing him, he couldn’t fight them. Even if he killed several of them, there were more to replace them. He could open one of the occasional attic windows, like the one in his room, but then he was likely to be trapped between the pursuers on the roof and the pursuers on the ground: not a pleasant alternative. Lacking a better plan, he continued to cross the rooftops, leaping the gaps between roofs, pulling ahead of the pursuers behind him, but not outdistancing the ones on the ground.

He came to the end of a string of three roofs and recognized where he was. Ahead of him, across the gap of a major street, were warehouses lined up along one of the many canals that cut through Edo. Kaze stood and looked at the gap ahead of him. The distance was long, and he was winded. He put his sword in its scabbard, looked over his shoulder at the men chasing him, and risked running backward, so he would have a running start at the leap. He stopped, and just as the first of his pursuers had almost caught him, he started running forward again, this time at full speed, toward the wide chasm between the roof he was on and a roof on the other side of the wide street.

He reached the end of the roof and launched himself into space, flinging himself into the nighttime void, stretching forward to bridge the gap between the two roofs. He flew through the air, sustained only by his determination to elude his pursuers. He landed on the edge of the other roof hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him as he skidded across the tiles.

Behind him, he heard one of his pursuers yell, “I’ll get him! Make sure the men on the ground surround the warehouses.”

Kaze looked over his shoulder and saw one of the pursuers running toward the gap. The man launched himself into space as Kaze had done, intending to clear the street and reach the safety of the warehouse roof. But Kaze was barefoot and wearing a kimono. This man had sandals on, and he had the extra weight of a helmet and armored jacket. He fell short of the roof, one hand barely reaching the roof’s edge and grabbing desperately at a tile. The tile was yanked out of its mud base and the man, still clutching the tile, fell to the ground with a thud. Out of instinct, Kaze peeked over the edge of the warehouse and looked down at the body crumpled on the street below. It lay very still.

The pursuers on the ground reached the scene and two of them, in the red glow of the fuses on the matchlock muskets, stopped and took aim. Kaze withdrew his head from the roof’s edge as the muskets fired. This time the shots were close enough for Kaze to hear the lead balls whizzing by.

Still gasping for air, Kaze crossed the roof to get near the canal side. He reached there, looked down, and realized that there was a street even wider than the one he had jumped between the warehouse and the dark waters of the canal. With the wind knocked out of him, Kaze couldn’t make another long jump at that moment, and he lay back on the roof, staying out of sight and trying to regain his breath.

Below, he heard the noise of men as they surrounded the warehouse. In a few seconds, he heard the clatter of a horse arriving on the scene. Obviously, the officer in charge.

“Where is he?”

“He’s up there on the roof, sir!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, we have men on the roof on the opposite side so he can’t go back, and all four sides of the warehouse are surrounded.”

“Can we get men on that roof?”

“Apparently not, sir. Kojima tried jumping it from the other side and fell. He’s hurt pretty bad-”

“Yakamashii! Shut up! I don’t want a health report when all you men couldn’t trap one lone ronin. Just get a party of men into that warehouse and see if there’s any way to the roof. Bust the door down if you have to. You and you! Go to the nearest fire station and get their ladders. Bring them here and we’ll send men up to the roof from two different sides. And you! Get me my gun. I’ll guard the canal side of the building. Go around the entire building and make sure the other musketeers are spread out and ready, in case he shows himself. Is that clear?”

Several voices shouted, “Hai! Yes!” Then Kaze heard the sound of running feet.

Kaze was impressed. Whoever was in charge of the operation was a good officer. In a few minutes, the officer’s efficient planning would soon flush him out from the warehouse roof, one way or another. Kaze decided he would be flushed out in the best way possible for him, and not in the ways the officer had planned.

With the musketeers set and ready, there was a good chance he would be hit when he tried to jump to the canal. He shrugged one arm out of his kimono sleeve and crawled to the edge of the roof. He took the scabbard out of his sash and stuck the tip into the loose sleeve. He started lifting the sleeve slowly. In the dark of the night, the black mass of the sleeve would look like someone peering over the edge of the roof. Kaze had barely gotten the sleeve raised when there was the crack of a gun. He was surprised to feel the tug on his scabbard as the cloth of his sleeve was shoved back. At the report of the first gun, two other muskets at other sides of the building were fired, out of sheer nervousness and tension, because it was impossible for the musketeers to see anything.

Kaze now had a few seconds before the muskets could be reloaded. He jumped to his feet and took a quick look down. A man in an officer’s helmet was furiously reloading his musket. Holding his sword in one hand and the scabbard in the other, he summoned all his strength, took two quick steps, and jumped into space.

The officer was sure he hit the figure on the roof, so he was surprised when his quarry jumped up before the echoes of the musket died down. He was even more surprised as the man jumped off the roof. Sword and scabbard in each hand, with one sleeve of his kimono flapping behind him, the man looked like a tengu, a quarrelsome creature that was half man and half bird, and able to fly.

While reloading his musket, he followed the arc of the man’s jump as he sailed over his head toward the canal. The man made it to the canal water with no distance to spare, entering the black water with a tremendous splash that threw water high past the edge of the canal. The water caught the pale moonlight, transmuting it from black to silver as it sparkled in the air.

The officer finished loading his gun and ran to the edge of the canal. He couldn’t see the man, but he fired into the center of the splash, hoping to hit him. In seconds, other musketeers had run up to the canal’s edge, and a ragged volley of shots pierced the blackness.

Some of the men ran down the canal to a bridge, crossed over, and lined the opposite bank. All the men were observing the dark water, waiting to see a head pop up. The officer reloaded his musket and waited along with the rest, hopeful to get another shot at the ronin. Even against the darkness of the water, he was confident he would hit the man’s head as soon as it broke the surface.

But it didn’t break the surface.

After many long minutes, the officer wondered if his shots or one of the other shots had killed the man after he entered the water. He ordered torches brought, and he told his men to secure boats and long poles, so they could probe the murky waters of the canal to see if they could find the ronin’s body.