Kill the Shogun

CHAPTER 18

Toyama was in a rage. He had spent the morning in his villa’s study, writing instructions to his retainers in his home fief and notes to relatives. None of the correspondence discussed his growing anxiety over his position with Ieyasu or his desire to distinguish himself when others, like Yoshida, Honda, and Okubo, seemed to be getting ahead in the new order that was coming from Ieyasu’s Shogunate.

Toyama was also anxious to hear from the ninja he had hired to kill Matsuyama Kaze. As soon as he heard Kaze was dead, Toyama intended to tell Ieyasu, disclosing his role in hiring the ninja. Yet despite days of waiting, he had heard nothing.

The only comfort Toyama had was that Yoshida, with all the power of the Shogunate’s troops behind him, was doing no better. Toyama delighted that Yoshida’s search of Ningyo-cho had disclosed nothing, despite the effort he put into closing off that quarter of the city and sending troops to examine every house, business, and alleyway.

Buoyed by that thought, Toyama had decided to treat himself to a walk in the garden before he finished his correspondence. It was a fine day. Toyama was told that Edo was hot and humid in the summer, and dreary in the winter, but today, one of the last days of fall, the weather was glorious. Above, the clouds looked like white swirls on deep blue silk, and in the luxury of his garden, he was insulated from the bustle of the city.

Toyama returned to his study refreshed. On the low desk he was using to write, he found a letter. Toyama was puzzled. When he left, he was sure that the desk had been clear, save for a few sheets of fine paper, an ink stone, a stick of ink, and some fox hair brushes.

Toyama called out, and one of the guards in the hallway slid open the door.

“Yes, Lord!”

“Did one of the servants just deliver a letter?”

“No, Lord. No one has come down the hallway.”

Toyama waved a hand to dismiss the guard. He knelt on the low cushion placed before the writing desk and picked up the letter. It was not placed in an outer wrapping, like some formal correspondence might be. Instead, the letter was folded tightly until it formed a flat strip, and then the strip was folded over into a decorative knot. “Lord Toyama” was written on one of the paper ends coming from the knot. His name was written in proper kanji, using a very thin brush and a fine hand. Toyama undid the loose knot, then unfolded the paper. Inside was a note in the squiggly lines of hiragana, written with the same brush and fine hand.

To Lord Toyama-

Five have died, but the target still lives. The contract has been completed, but was not successful.

The note was unsigned, but Toyama knew who it was from. The ninja! He let out a shout of frustration and anger that caused the guard to slide the door open again.

“Lord, is there something wrong?”

“No! Close the door, you fool!” The guard hastily did as he was ordered.

Those peasant murderers would not be allowed to get away with this, Toyama fumed. He looked at the words “The contract has been completed” and “not successful” and threw the letter down. Toyama would go to Ieyasu. He would explain what happened, and how much money he had paid these ninja. Then he would enlist Ieyasu’s support for a campaign to exterminate these assassins and spies. Why, it wouldn’t surprise him if the attempted assassination of Ieyasu had really been a ninja plot. It was just like them to strike from hiding, when the victim would least expect it. He would show them that they couldn’t trifle with a Toyama! With Ieyasu’s help, he would hunt them down, every one of them, and rip the guts from their women and children before he crucified the men. He would be merciless! No amount of begging or pleading would deter him from exacting a terrible vengeance on the ninja, wiping them from…

Toyama’s eyes fixed on the letter, lying crumpled in a corner where he had thrown it. A terrible thought entered his head. “Guard!” he bellowed.

The door slid open instantly. The guard, his eyes wide with fear over his Lord’s inexplicable actions, said, “Yes, Lord!”

“Are you sure no one was in my study?”

“Yes, my Lord. There are two of us. We would certainly know if someone had entered your room.”

A chill seized Toyama’s spine, and he actually felt the flesh on his arms rising to chicken skin. “All right,” he said breathlessly. When the guard continued to look at him, seeing if he was possessed, he simply waved him away.

Toyama was possessed. Possessed with fear. A ninja had managed to penetrate his villa, delivering a letter to Toyama’s study unseen and unheard, in the few minutes available when Toyama left his study to walk in his garden. Toyama had heard many legends of ninja magic. Even without magic, he also knew the ninja were incredibly tenacious.

He remembered the rumor of how Uesugi had died. A ninja dug a tunnel under Uesugi’s garden, directly under the privy next to Uesugi’s manor. The tunnel exited right under the hole in the wooden floor of the privy, intersecting the deep shaft dug to hold human waste. The ninja crawled down the tunnel and waited, in the stinking darkness, for days, until Lord Uesugi finally used that privy to relieve himself. Then the ninja had thrust a sword up Uesugi’s backside, impaling him and causing him an agonizing death.

At first, the servants thought Lord Uesugi had had some kind of terrible seizure, until they saw the blood gushing from his bottom. Afterward, Uesugi’s guards discovered the tunnel and were able to piece together how their Lord was killed. The official story was that Uesugi had died of a sudden fit while going to the bathroom, but six guards committed seppuku in apology for the successful assassination. Toyama thought this was a waste, because who but a ninja would conceive of such a terrible way to kill a man? How would you defend a lord from such a thing?

If Toyama declared a vendetta against the ninja, they would undoubtedly reciprocate. He would forever be fearful about using a privy. But even such a bizarre precaution couldn’t save him from the ninja’s revenge. He looked at the crumpled-up letter and realized that it had been delivered in a specific manner to serve as a warning.

Toyama slid over and picked up the letter with a trembling hand. He opened it and stared at the phrase, “Five have died.” What manner of demon was this Matsuyama, that he could kill five of the ninja devils?

The demon Matsuyama was sitting in a pine tree, looking at a flower. He had walked the entire night and most of the morning. Edo was large and growing larger by the day, but it wasn’t so large that one couldn’t escape the city and its satellite villages on foot. One direction being as good as another, Kaze had started walking toward Fuji-san, that snowcapped slope of perfection seen in the distance from Edo.

Passing farms and villages in the still, early morning hours, he came to rolling hills, thick with woods. This was what he was seeking.

Kaze could taste the scent of the trees on his tongue. If they were pines or cryptomerias, it was a heady taste of pitch and tar. Kaze’s favorite was the cherry, which created a faint perfume that entered his nostrils and dispersed its sweetness to his very fingertips.

Following a boyhood habit, he picked a wildflower, then scaled one of the trees that had a sturdy branch growing parallel to the ground, and sat on the branch in the lotus position, his sword across his lap. He looked down at the flower, focusing on it. It was an old trick.

By focusing on a specific object like the flower, one could block out the clutter that filled the mind. Then, when one stopped thinking about the specific, one was not consciously thinking at all. This state of non-mindedness led to revelation and understanding. Paradoxically, non-mindedness opened up the consciousness to new thoughts, approaches, and insight, drawing from the entire universe of enlightenment, instead of the narrow circle of self that usually confined thoughts.

When he had satisfied himself with his inspection of the flower, really not knowing if it took a minute or an hour, he dropped the flower from his perch in the tree and watched it tumble to the ground. It turned madly, responding to the vagaries of the gentle wind that stirred the air. How like our lives, Kaze thought, so at the mercy of circumstances, illness, war, and the actions of others. With his head down and his soul in a state of repose, he stared at the ground, not really focusing. He did kanki-issoku, quietly exhaling completely through his mouth, using his stomach, then inhaling through his nose. He meditated, opening his mind to solutions to the problems facing him, depending on the deeper resources of his spirit instead of the finite abilities of his mind.

When Kaze stopped meditating, it was night. He was surprised to find himself surrounded by darkness, with the hard points of stars splashed across the sky. If someone had approached him in his meditative state, he would have been instantly alert. But to the natural cycle of day into night, he remained oblivious.

Kaze dropped out of the tree, landing on his feet as lightly as a cat. His muscles were sore from inactivity, but by maintaining a proper zazen posture, even while perched on a branch, he was not as stiff as he would otherwise be.

He found himself a grassy spot under the tree and wrapped his kimono a bit tighter. Hugging his sword in his arms, he lay down to sleep, happy at being outdoors once again, far away from the city.

He was surprised at the conclusions he had come to about the attempted assassination of Ieyasu. He was also surprised at his plan for rescuing the Lady’s daughter from the Little Flower Whorehouse. Before drifting to sleep, he marveled at what thoughts came to you when you simply put yourself into a state to receive them.