Pandora's Closet

ANCESTRAL ARMOR by John Helfers

Wreathed in the golden rays of the rising sun, the samurai stood motionless, one hand at his side, the other resting on the hilt of his katana. He was dressed in a magnificent suit of armor, with a do maru, or breastplate; kuzakuri, armored skirt; haidate, thigh guards, and sode, large square arm guards, all made of gleaming dark green lamellar: thousands of overlapping tiny scales lacquered into small plates and bound together with leather cords. All of the pieces had been decorated with hundreds of small, stylized pine trees, each one centered in a mountain peak so that they formed a pattern of larger scales on the armor. His arms were encased in dark blue kote, padded sleeves with metal plates attached at the end to protect his hands. His suneate, or shin guards, were made of dark blue lamellar, as was his nodowa, or throat protector. His kabuto, or helmet, was also colored in the same motif, with a dark green shikoro, or flared neck guard attached under the deep blue helm. Unlike other samurai, this warrior did not have a large crest on his kabuto but instead had a simple round medallion featuring the black pine tree affixed to the front brim. His unblinking, dark brown eyes were visible above a dark green menpo, a carved mask that covered the lower half of his face.

Four armed and ready men surrounded him, two holding swords and two wielding spears. They were clad in various pieces of mismatched armor, with plain helmets and iron breastplates. Each of the quartet was completely focused on the samurai in their midst.

A few steps away, Kitsune did his best to remain absolutely still, not wanting to disturb the scene that was ready to burst into furious motion at any second. Beside him, Ashiga Asano, his mentor in the arts of sorcery and court physician to the Emperor of Japan, regarded the men with his usual calm gaze, his arms folded inside his simple silk kimono, leaving the empty sleeves to flutter in the spring breeze. Next to him stood a broad, imposing man with his hair drawn back in the traditional topknot. He was dressed in a neat kimono with a large pine tree and mountain sigil embroidered on the back, and he carried the katana and wakizashi of the samurai sheathed on his uwa-obi, or belt.

Asano looked sidelong at Kitsune, a whisper leaking out of the corner of his mouth. “Would you care to predict what is about to happen?”

Kitsune stared at the five poised men, sensing their ki, or inner energy, rolling off in waves, battling across the field in a kind of psychic duel, each one waiting for their opponent’s concentration to flag for even an instant-for that would be the time to strike. “I suspect that the next several moments will not go to according to the four men’s wishes.”

Asano nodded. “They have already lost-”

As the words left his lips, the five men exploded into furious action. The pair in front of the samurai attacked as one, the spear-wielder thrusting his weapon at his opponent’s head while the swordsman raised his blade and lunged, ready to cleave the man from shoulder to waist. The two men in the rear were also on the move, charging the samurai’s unprotected back.

The armored warrior stepped forward to meet the charge of his enemy, ducking underneath the spear’s point while executing a flawless iaijutsu draw and slicing across the swordsman’s abdomen. Before the man fell to the ground, the samurai whirled in a half-turn and brought his blade around in a deadly arc, opening the spearman’s side even while he tried to bring the butt of his weapon up in defense. The spear fell harmlessly aside as the second enemy went down, his chest slashed open.

The samurai completed his turn to face the remaining two men as they closed. The swordsman came in first, with the spearman following. The armored warrior continued his circular attack, bringing the sword up in a diagonal slice across the man’s chest as his opponent tried to swing his weapon down at the same time. The samurai struck first, and the warrior fell, the third victim of the single sword stroke.

The final soldier charged with his spear, but the samurai, his katana still raised, used the blade to parry the point and shove it to one side. As the spearman ran past, the armored warrior grabbed the wooden shaft with his free hand and jerked the fighter even farther forward. The man staggered, trying to keep his balance as the samurai executed another half-turn and slashed him across the back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“-they just had not realized it yet.” Asano finished.

The entire fight had taken less than three seconds.

The samurai sheathed his katana in one fluid motion as the four men rose, all bowing to each other. The victorious warrior untied his mempo and helmet and removed both, revealing the unlined face of a young man barely out of his teens under black hair shaved at the sides and back and bound in a topknot. Tucking the helmet under his arm, he strode toward the small group that had been watching and bowed to each of them in turn, including Kitsune. As he came up, he rocked back on his heels, his right hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. Despite the casualness of the group, his eyes flicked from each of them, his body tense, as if expecting another attack at any moment.

“Your skill is impressive indeed, Nishina-san. Your province is certainly in the hands of a capable warrior.” Asano studied the young warrior’s helmet. “I see that your family’s crest signifies longevity.”

“Not only my family’s crest, this was my grandfather’s and my father’s suit of battle armor, may their spirits rest in peace.” The man noticed Kitsune’s eyes on his katana. “My grandfather’s and father’s-and now my-blade, of course.”

Kitsune knew what was expected. “A magnificent weapon, and superbly wielded this fine spring morning.”

Nishina bowed. “Perhaps later I could arrange a closer examination of the entire daisho, if you wish.”

Asano nodded. “It would be an honor for us to have a closer look at the famed Nishina blades.”

The young man’s eyes lit up at Asano’s words, but his reply was interrupted.

“Morning practice is over, Nishina-san. Perhaps you should change before we break our fast.” This came from the stocky man that had also observed the fight, the Nishina clan’s sensei.

For a moment, the young man looked as if he was about to protest, but he nodded instead. “Hai, Inoue-san. I should review the terrain and mountain passes to the south again anyway.” The young man bowed to the group again, then turned on his heel and stalked across the practice field toward the white multistory pagoda castle that loomed over everyone.

The sensei exhaled, and Kitsune noticed the older man’s lips tighten and his shoulders slump ever so slightly as he watched the other man leave. Silence reigned among the three of them for a moment, and he breathed in the blossoming spring morning, enjoying the scent of the immaculate lines of cherry trees on the grounds.

“It is good to see you again, Ashiga-san.” The sensei did not look at Asano, but kept his eyes fixed on the distant samurai as he climbed the steps to the castle.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it, Inoue-san?” Asano’s mouth quirked in a brief smile. “The last time we spoke was at court.”

“Your memory serves you well indeed. Afterward I traveled north, until I found my current employment. Nagai was very good to me, and his son, Satomi… has been most kind as well.” Inoue’s pause was so small it would have gone unnoticed in casual conversation. “I see that there have been changes in your life as well.” He nodded toward Kitsune.

“Of late I have felt the need to pass on some of my wisdom to the next generation. However, given my pupil’s rapt admiration of your student, perhaps he now feels that he has chosen a profession that does not suit him.” Asano turned his slitted gaze on his protégé. “What are your thoughts on the matter, Kitsune? I’m sure Inoue-san could provide excellent instruction in the martial arts, even for one as old as you, and then you would no longer have to traipse behind an old man across the length and breadth of our revered Emperor’s majestic kingdom, never knowing what might await us around the next bend in the road.”

Kitsune kept his face impassive as Asano spoke, quite familiar with his own sensei’s often-brusque style. “There are those whom are fated to learn the ways of bushido, as Inoue-san and Nashida-san have expertly demonstrated this morning. However, my path lies along a different route, and I must regretfully decline my sensei’s offer, in order that I may continue traipsing behind him wherever he may lead.” As he finished speaking, Kitsune bowed deeply, eliciting grunts and nods of approval from both. Besides, the study of the infinite world of magic and the realms beyond this one holds more fascination to me than ten thousand warriors, he thought.

“Well put, young one, well put indeed.” Inoue chuckled. “Some things about you still haven’t changed, Asano-san. Come, let us stroll through the gardens on our way back. After all, they are the highlight of the estate, and most relaxing, particularly in the first bloom of spring.”

The Nishina sensei led the way, with Asano falling in beside him, and Kitsune following a few steps behind. He felt a presence several yards away and knew that Asano’s ever-present bodyguard-a tall, taciturn bushi known only as Maseda-was nearby. The fact that they had not seen him during the combat demonstration didn’t mean that he hadn’t been present, for the man-at least, Kitsune assumed he was a man-had uncommon powers of stealth and concealment. More than once Kitsune had suspected him of being a ninja, or thought that Asano had perhaps struck a bargain with some kind of demon and bound it into human form to serve and protect him. Whatever his background, Maseda was loyal, efficient, and utterly ruthless when dispatched against anyone that might cause harm to Asano-or Kitsune. He could probably defeat the young Nishina leader without breaking a sweat. Kitsune had seen the tall man’s katana in action, and the silent warrior’s speed made the young man seem positively glacial by comparison.

Asano’s voice brought him back to the present. “It would appear that Nishina-san is taking his duties as leader quite seriously.”

“Yes, perhaps a bit too seriously.” The humor slipped from Inoue’s face. “That is why I had invited you here as soon as the mountain trails were clear.”

Still careful to keep a respectful distance from the two men, Kitsune kept an ear on the conversation, intrigued by Inoue’s dispensing with the common small talk so quickly. Asano said nothing, but merely nodded thoughtfully while waiting for his old friend to continue. The three strolled though the large, gorgeous garden, with more white-studded cherry tree branches waving gently in the breeze all around them. Paths lined with crushed white stone led in several directions, around and to wooden bridges over calm ponds containing large koi fish gliding through the clear water. The land around them was a pleasant riot of fragrances, from graceful snow willow trees studding the garden here and there to the clusters of pink azaleas, violet hydrangea, white daphne, purple wisteria, and red and white lotus flowers planted in artful configurations. It was the exact opposite of the mountains in winter, and Kitsune felt a flash of dizziness for a moment, overcome as he was by the beauty of it all.

“Kitsune!” Asano’s voice snapped him back to reality. “You are to be attending to your duties, not wandering along dumbfounded with your mouth hanging open at the wonders of this beautiful garden we are most fortunate to be touring.”

With a quick bow, Kitsune quickened his pace and fell in behind the two men again.

Inoue continued as if nothing had happened. “Please understand that I have nothing but the utmost respect for Satomi. Indeed, over these past few years he has been my finest student. However, recently I have noticed a subtle yet definite change come over him.”

“Indeed? From what I could see, he seemed a sober, serious young man.”

“You speak the truth, but although he has always excelled in his martial skills, he also made sure to devote the time to hone a samurai’s other talents. Over the past few months, his thoughts have turned darker, and he often speaks of battle, even proposing to start a war with the Yamazaki family to the south, which we have been at peace with for many years. He has neglected the spiritual side-poetry, the tea ceremony, origami-all these have been abandoned in favor of preparing for combat. The most unusual thing is that he has taken to wearing his armor more often, even during the day when there is no need for it. He has even hung it in his room so that he can don it quickly if necessary, as if he expects a surprise assault in the night.”

“That would explain his comment about reviewing the land to the south of your border.”

“Correct.”

“And with the Shogun on his way to tour the northern lands, the last thing you desire would be to have him discover one of his loyal subjects tryign to provoke a provincial war.” Asano brought his hands out from inside his pale blue kimono and folded them together.

Inoue frowned. “No one wants a war breaking out. The Shogun would order forces from all the surrounding provinces to march against Nishina’s family. They would be utterly destroyed.”

“Is there any reason that you know of why Nishina-san would wish to attack his southern neighbor?”

I believe that Satomi feels that there has been some kind of slight to his honor that he is using as a pretext. He has never said anything about it, but what other reason could there be?”

“And yet he does not make his grievance public, either by letter or in person at court, or demand restitution or compensation instead?” Asano asked. At the other man’s shake of his head, he continued. “I am not sure what anyone save our honored Shogun, or perhaps our most noble Emperor himself, could do in a case such as this. A man who wishes to wage war will often seize on any reason, real or imagined, to do so.”

“That may be true, but Satomi is not normally like this. I can only guess that something is affecting his mind, making him see enemies where there are none.” Inoue turned to look directly at Asano. “I hope that there is something that can be done in regard to this matter before it is too late.”

“We shall see, Inoue-san.” Asano had stopped on a wooden walkway that zigged and zagged at right angles over a large, koi-filled pond. “I would like to think about what you have told me in this place of tranquility. Kitsune and I will soon join you at the morning meal.”

Inoue bowed deep. “Hai, as you wish, Asano-san. I look forward to it. Please let any servant on the grounds know if there is anything you desire.”

“Your hospitality is most kind.” Asano bowed back, and turned to look at the pond as Inoue left.

Kitsune approached his mentor’s side, studying the pond and the ripples of water that the koi caused when they rose to the surface. He said nothing, but simply waited for Asano.

“What do you make of Inoue-san’s statements?”

“He shows great concern for his daimyo.”

“Do you feel that his words are sincere?”

Kitsune frowned. “He certainly looked and sounded genuinely worried about Nashima-san.”

“Yes, he did. Even though I have known Inoue-san for many years, in speaking with him, as with anyone else, I always examine the conversation at hand for anything that may have changed, for things that should be there but are not, or new things that should not exist in the first place. Even an old friend’s loyalties can change over time.”

“But Asano, he asked you to come here. Surely inviting his trusted friend to help his daimyo proves his good intentions?”

“It might, or possibly he plans on enlisting my support in removing Nishina-san from his position, perhaps to install himself in the youth’s place.” Asano chuckled when he saw Kitsune’s expression. “Do not be alarmed, my pupil, I do not believe that is what is happening here. However, that doesn’t mean that people do not often hide their true intentions behind false faces.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Our challenge is to find out whether Nishina is behind these designs of war, or if someone else is manipulating events. For now, you and I will simply observe young Nishina-san for the rest of the day. Simply mark anything he might say or do that could prove of interest, and we will compare our findings this evening. Now come-the first thing we will need is full bellies if we are to get to the heart of this matter.”

Although Kitsune thought Asano’s plan seemed sound, he found that executing it was another matter. Although the staff of the Nishimas’ hilltop fortress were polite and accommodating, the master of the province was maddeningly elusive, sequestering himself in meetings with senior members of his staff and, more ominously, officers in his standing army.

By late afternoon, Kitsune had grown frustrated with his lack of progress. Usually his perceived lesser stature as a child, combined with his unusual position as Asano’s right-hand man, enabled him to glean information from the household staff wherever Asano and he found themselves. However, this time he had been met with blank looks and humble bows, accompanied by no useful information.

Where the hawk soars, it is difficult for the fox to follow, Kitsune mused as he walked among the flowered garden paths again, trying to figure out a new course of action. He considered meeting with Asano, but he dismissed the idea as there was nothing new to share. His thoughts were interrupted by an approaching shadow, and Kitsune looked up to see a servant girl bow low in front of him, her gaze respectfully on the ground.

“My pardon, Kitsune-san, but our daimyo requests your presence in the main hall. The Nishina blades have been prepared for viewing.”

At last, Kitsune thought as he bowed to her. “I am looking forward to it.” He followed her out of the garden, up the broad sloped pathways, and through several heavily fortified gates and baileys that were designed to slow and entrap an invading force. More than once Kitsune passed small groups of guards hurrying somewhere or preparing horses and what looked like weapons and provisions. Is Nishina-san planning on attacking sooner than Asano thought? Kitsune wondered.

They reached the entrance to the main hall, where Kitsune slipped off his wooden sandals and put on soft slippers.

The large main hall was cool and shadowed, with the rice paper partitions drawn to enclose the room, even though it was still a beautiful day outside. As Kitsune stepped inside, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness of the open space, and he thought he was alone for a moment. Then he spotted a sitting figure on a low dais at the other end of the hall, with an ornate, lacquered wooden rack holding three sheathed blades of varying lengths next to him.

“Welcome, Kitsune-san. Please, come, sit.”

“You honor me, Nishina-san.” Keeping his steps formal and precise, as his father had taught him years ago, Kitsune walked across the great hall until he was only a few feet away from the lord of Nishina Castle. He knelt and bowed low, touching his forehead to the floor, then raised himself up to sit cross-legged. Nishina bowed as well, lower than he was obligated to, an action that Kitsune found made the young daimyo seem more human. Unfortunately, that action was offset by the same dark green do maru and kozakuri armor he still wore over his kimono. He had removed his arm and leg guards, but Kitsune noticed that his kabuto was at his side, within easy reach. Even though the samurai appeared relaxed, Kitsune felt the tenseness coiled inside the young man, ready to be unleashed at the slightest opportunity.

Steadying his breathing, Kitsune relaxed enough to slip into a semi-meditative state, so that he could see the psychic aura that surrounded every living thing-including Nishina-san. The young lord’s aura reflected his turmoil, with tendrils of crimson and black swirling around him and occasionally drifting off to dissipate into the surrounding air. He also shows an inner core of light blue and white-purity and strength of purpose. Whatever he’s planning, he believes that he’s doing the right thing, Kitsune realized. Yet-something’s not right here. The aura wasn’t as crisp and defined as usual; instead, it was as if the apprentice viewed the man through a curtain of flowing water that blurred the individual shades together into a smeared palette of dark and light colors.

There is a spirit at work here! But I will need Asano’s help to discern any more. With a start, Kitsune realized that Nishina-san was talking.

“-enjoyed the castle grounds?”

Kitsune wrenched himself out of the slight trance with more force than necessary, turning the movement into a graceful bow. “After seeing the cold, stark beauty of winter for so long, the delicate flowering of your magnificent gardens warms my heart.”

Nishina-san bowed again. “We are privileged to have Ashiga-san and yourself as our honored guests. Your master has sent word that he would be along shortly, and that we are to await his arrival.”

“No doubt it will only be a small delay.” Kitsune knew otherwise; if Asano was delayed, there was a good reason for it. Of course! Asano was delaying so that Kitsune could find out something-anything-in the time he was alone with Nishima-san. Very well. Now, how to begin? “Your martial display this morning was most impressive. I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen a katana as exquisite as yours.”

Nishina peered past Kitsune at the closed doors behind him, then leaned forward. “Thank you. To have Ashiga-san and yourself as an audience inspired me to make sure my performance was flawless.” He waved Kitsune closer to him. “I know we should wait for your master, but I do not suppose it will hurt anything if I give you a preview of the Nishina daisho now.”

“You are most kind.” Kitsune bent his head to the floor again, then scooted gracefully over to the edge of the dais, right next to Nishina.

Draping a piece of silk over his hands, Nishina removed the middle blade, the shorter wakizashi, from the rack and offered it to Kitsune, who accepted the weapon, being sure to hold it only by the silk cloth.

“This is something you might find interesting.” Nishima drew the blade out a few inches, revealing the gleaming steel, even in the dim light. “See the hamon?”

Kitsune examined the temper line of the blade, created by coating the back half of the single-edged weapon in heat-resistant clay and heating the edge until it became even harder, leaving a line that marked the border between the softer, more resilient steel, and the sharper cutting edge. This hamon was dark gray near the blade edge and faded into an almost black near the mune, or back of the katana.

“It is rumored, although it has never been proved, that this matched set is the only surviving daisho forged by Senzo Muramasa, student to the great Masamune himself.”

As Nishina talked, a chill stole over Kitsune. While they traveled, Asano had often regaled his eager apprentice with tales of great leaders, warriors, monks, and others that lived in Nippon during centuries past, and he immediately recognized the name Nishima had uttered. A swordsmith of great renown during the fourteenth century, he had also possessed an unstable mind, and it was rumored that the blades he had created often took on the darker aspects of his personality, driving their wielders to unnecessary violence and even murder.

If the spirit in the sword is urging Nishima-san to begin this war, surely that would allow the blades to revel in as much blood as they could possibly want, he thought. Outwardly, he betrayed no physical reaction to Nishina’s words as he replied, “Fascinating. I was under the impression that all of Senzo-san’s blades had been struck from the official court records.”

A guarded look of cunning appeared on Nishima’s face. “True, but stricken from the records does not mean the swords were destroyed. But do not fear-as I said, it is only a rumor. The written provenance of these blades states that they were forged by a minor smith, one Rokugo Kagenori.” The satisfied expression on Nishima’s face, however, told Kitsume which version of the swords’ history the young daimyo believed.

Which fits everything that has happened recently, Kitsune thought. Before he could attempt to elicit more information from his host, the main doors slid open, and Asano hobbled into the room, leaning on his carved wooden staff as he approached. As soon as the doors had moved, Nishima replaced the short sword on the rack and moved to the center of the dais, winking at Kitsune as he settled into the formal cross-legged position.

Asano bowed, straightening up with what appeared to be a visible effort. “Please excuse my tardiness, I came as quickly as I could once I had received your summons, but these old bones do not move as they once did, and I must admit that the beauty of your gardens was a distraction to my senses that delayed me even more.”

“Your words honor my gardeners, all of whom labor mightily to bring forth nature’s beauty around our castle.”

“I hope I have not caused too much impatience. My apprentice is no doubt eager to see the famed Nishina blades, one of the last remaining complete daisho crafted during the end of the Masamune era.”

Yes, there is much you need to learn about the Nishina blades, Kitsune thought as Asano took entirely too long to fold himself into the lotus position, his joints creaking and popping as he lowered himself to the ground. Kitsune tried to direct his attention to the swords, but Asano kept muttering and settling himself until both Kitsune and Nishina were hard-pressed to contain their annoyance.

“If Ashiga-san is ready at last?”

Asano paused for a bare second, and Kitsune realized that his mentor was delaying getting comfortable for a reason; apparently, he wanted to unnerve the samurai. His next words proved the boy’s suspicions correct.

“I had a most interesting conversation with Inoue-san this morning, regarding the Yamazaki province to the south.”

Nishina’s features darkened, and his right hand reached over toward the sword rack before he brought it back to his side hard enough to slap the cloth of his hakima. “Inoue-san should keep to his training and not talk of things that he does not have full knowledge of.”

Asano continued as if the younger man hadn’t spoken. “Inoue-san seemed to think that you are about to move against Yamazaki family, which has been at peace with the Nishinas for the past century, and which would be in direct violation of our honored Shogun’s edicts against aggression-”

“Enough!” Nishima’s voice was loud enough to echo even in the paper-walled room. “How dare you, who come to my home as honored guests, presume to comment on the plans of my family, of which you know nothing!” He reached for the gleaming scabbard of his katana and pulled the weapon to his chest. “I, Nishima Satomi, demand that you leave this place immediately!”

Asano lifted his head, and his black eyes seemed alight with controlled fury in the dark room. “I would be most pleased to acquiesce to that order, if in fact it was given by the heir of Nishima. But-” His penetrating gaze seemed to burn straight through the furiously quivering samurai on the dais. “-that is not the case here, is it, Nishima Takahashi?”

Kitsune, his eyes riveted on Nishima even as he was about to call for Maseda, turned to stare at Asano with an expression of surprise that mirrored the young samurai’s, who froze in the act of grabbing the hilt of his katana.

“Nishima Takahashi? Asano, the swords are-”

“-of no consequence here.” Using his walking stick, Asano rose to stand in front of the Nishima daimyo. “I have spent the better part of today meditating on a possible cause of Nishima Satomi’s sudden change of heart, and once I investigated your family’s history, the truth became apparent.”

The young lord angrily shook his head. “What ‘truth’ are you babbling about? The Yamazaki family has-”

“Been at peace with you since shortly after the time of the Sekigahara massacre. In fact, it was that very mention of the Yamazaki family that set me on the path to unraveling this mystery and Takahashi’s role in it.”

“My grandfather has been dead for more than a decade! He would not stand for your casual slandering of his name, and neither will I!” Lightning-fast, Satomi drew his katana and lunged at the unmoving Asano, sword raised to cleave him in two.

Kitsune had just opened his mouth to yell for help when a black blur leaped out of the shadows, a katana raised to parry Satomi’s attack. The two swords clashed as their wielders slammed together in a tangle of arms, legs, and steel. Satomi and the other warrior sprang apart, each facing the other with their respective weapons poised to strike.

“Maseda-san, punctual as always.” Asano inclined his head at the tall bushi, just as the main doors burst open and Inoue, armed with a yori, or long spear, and flanked by a half-dozen armed guards, rushed into the room.

“What is going on here? We heard shouting, and then the clash of swords. My lord, have these men attacked you?”

“They have insulted my family’s honor with baseless claims!” Nishima pointed at Asano, Kitsune, and Maseda. “They have come into my home under the guise of friendship only to spread lies about my ancestors! They are to be placed under guard until I decide what shall be done with them!”

The guards spread out in a loose semicircle around the three, with Inoue still in the middle of his men. Maseda glanced at Asano, who made a small motion with his hand that caused the warrior to drop his guard and sheathe his sword.

Asano bowed low to Nishima. “Honored host, if I have said anything that is not true, then I humbly submit the three of us to any punishment that you see fit to mete out. However, as the royal physician to the court of our most noble Emperor, I also request the chance to prove that I have only spoken truth here.”

Upon seeing Maseda relax, Satomi straightened as well, lowering his katana but not sheathing it. “It is only due to the knowledge of your renown throughout the kingdom that I will consent in this instance. Fail to prove the truth of your words, however, and the punishment for all of you will be swift, merciless, and final.”

Kitsune gulped, but Asano ignored his unease as he walked over to the boy. “Did you use the spirit-sight on him?”

Kitsune nodded.

“As did I, when I saw him this morning. I did not wish to alarm Inoue or anyone else until I knew exactly what was transpiring here.” As he spoke, Asano brought forth a small paper box from inside his robes. “This should enable us to bring forth the spirit that is influencing Nishina-san.” He handed Kitsune a small, heavy egg with a tiny stopper at one end. “When I tell you, throw this on the ground in front of the spirit as hard as you can.”

Kitsune nodded and stepped back, the strange missile heavy in his hand.

Asano turned to Nishina, who stood tensed in front of him. “Honored Nishina-san, if I may ask for your assistance as I reveal what has been happening here.” He held up the paper box.” I know that your training by Inoue-san is excellent, of course. If you would indulge me by slicing open this box when I toss it up in the air?”

A frown on his face, Satomi nodded, his fingers tight on the hilt of his katana.

“And… now!” Asano launched the box into the air, the small container arcing over Nishina’s head. The samurai’s blade flashed, and the box separated into not two but four pieces that fluttered to the ground, along with a fine spray of twinkling crimson powder that enveloped the agile warrior.

“What-sorcery-is-this?” Nishima stared at the cloud around him, his sword ready, but with no true target to strike at. The dust did not affect him in the least, but seemed to be drawn to his breastplate, coating it in a layer of sparkling red particles.

Asano mumbled something under his breath, then raised his voice as he lifted his hand in a “come forward” motion at Nishima. “See now what has been behind your quest to wage war on your allies to the south.”

As everyone in the room watched, the red powder on the armor shifted and bulged, forming into a large face with blazing green eyes, a proud, hooked nose, and hair bound in a topknot on the breastplate, snarling in silent rage. As the dumbfounded Nishima watched, the face emerged from the armor, followed by a neck, shoulders, long, spindly arms, and a torso that trailed off into a stream of vapor. The spirit flew from the armor to the ceiling, circling the room once, then streaked for a far wall.

“Now, Kitsune!”

Kitsune hurled the egg at the floor in front of the wall, the grenade bursting apart in a shower of hard rice grains. The spirit immediately stopped its flight and sank to the floor, peering intently at the grains of rice while pointing to each one with a spectral finger, its lips moving silently.

Asano bowed to Kitsune. “My apprentice was on the right path, but he was focused on the wrong instrument of Takahashi’s-or should I say, his spirit’s-plan for revenge from the afterlife.” He turned to bow to Nishima. “Your grandfather was very active in the civil war leading up to the true joining of our great land that began in 1600. However, he harbored a deep hatred of the Yamazaki, even after the peace accord was drawn up. Apparently, much like Senzo-san’s famed swords, his emotions against the Yamazaki were so great that a portion of his soul was imbued in the armor itself. Your father, Nagai, had no use for the suit and, therefore, never wore it; but when you began to use it in your training, the spirit was wakened from its rest and sought to finish through you what it had not been able to do in life.”

Nishima’s katana dropped from a shaking hand, and he fell to the floor, crawling toward Asano. “I have committed the gravest insult to you, Asano-san… I must absolve myself-” He grabbed at the hem of the sorcerer’s kimono and wept.

Asano bent over and helped the young man to his feet. “Stand, Nishina-san, and be at peace. Not only have you not insulted me, but on this night you are responsible for assisting your honored ancestor’s spirit to his final rest. That spirit is Takahashi’s base emotions-hatred, lust, fear, jealousy-given form, albeit a simple one. That is why the rice grains stopped it-these types of spirits crave order in all things. Without that aspect of his personality restored to Takahashi, he cannot ascend to the great wheel and take his rightful place in the heavens.”

“Can you-can you help restore my grandfather’s soul?” Nishina asked.

“It is a simple matter.” Asano produced another small paper box, walked over to the frantically counting spirit, and poured it out. A fine brown powder wafted over the apparition, and as it settled, the ghost became more and more insubstantial, until it faded into nothingness. “I have sent this konpaku to the spirit realm, where it will be drawn to your grandfather’s soul to join with him, and restore that which was sundered between the world of the living and the world of the dead.”

Nishina bowed deeply, holding the position for several seconds. “Domo arigato, Ashiga-san. My family is forever in your debt, myself most of all. You have saved my clan from eternal shame and dishonor.”

Asano bowed low as well, a small smile on his lips. “You honor me with your words, Nishina-san. All that I would ask is that you take the strength of your grandfather and your father and turn them toward keeping the peace in your lands and the lands of your neighbors.”

Nishina fell to the floor again. “On the souls of all my ancestors, I swear it will be done.”

“Then rise, Nishina-san, and assume the true role of the leader of your family.” Asano looked at Kitsune. “As for us, I think a good meal is in order, and then we will speak about the preparations for the Shogun’s impending visit.”

Still slightly dazed from what he had just witnessed, Nishina stumbled from the room, surrounded by Inoue and the other guards. Kitsune and Asano watched him go, flanked by Maseda, who stood impassively next to them.

Kitsune bowed to Asano. “You were correct about the false faces, even if it was a ghost of the past that had caused all this trouble.”

“Indeed, my apprentice, it is not always those of flesh and blood that seek to influence the living, but the spirits often have their own designs on our humble world as well.” Asano leaned on his staff and headed for the door. “I expect that the rest of our stay will be a relaxing one, and I am looking forward to some peace and quiet-at least, until the Shogun arrives.”

“My master is correct, as always.” Kitsune bowed and followed as they left the main room-and the ghost laid to its final rest there-behind.