The Iris Fan

16

Accompanied by one of Sano’s few troops, Reiko walked up through the snow-blanketed passages inside Edo Castle. The trembling began as she neared the palace. Her heart raced as her memory carried her back in time.

The day she’d lost the baby had begun with her and Sano and the children escaping from house arrest and a death sentence. Since then, her mind had gone over and over each moment of that day, like a waterwheel churning a pond. Now, more than four years later, as she walked the same path as then, she again felt the weight of her pregnant belly and the painful contractions that signaled that the baby was coming soon, too soon.

“What’s the matter?”

Her escort’s worried voice jolted Reiko out of memory, into reality. She was bent over, panting, and holding her stomach outside the little house where the shogun’s wife lived. The soldier asked, “Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine.” But the sight of the house made Reiko feel giddy and faint. She hadn’t been here since that day; the last time she’d seen Lady Nobuko was four years ago, at her own home. This was where she’d come to confront Lady Nobuko, to extract information that would save her family. She’d succeeded at the cost of her baby’s life. Black spots coalesced in her vision, as if from the darkness that the house exuded.

She couldn’t go in there. Sano was right: She wasn’t up to it. The boldness that had sustained her through fifteen investigations was gone.

“Do you want me to take you home?” asked the soldier, a fatherly, kind man.

But she’d made Sano let her question Lady Nobuko. It was her duty to help him, no matter how bad things were between them, and she had to protect her family. The gods help them if they didn’t solve this crime.

“No,” Reiko said. She mustn’t be a coward. “Wait here.”

As she walked up to the door and knocked, she strained against panic as if against a fierce wind. A woman with a mouth like a pickled plum opened the door, looked at Reiko, and said, “You’re not welcome here.”

“I know,” Reiko said. Lady Nobuko had declared, during their last conversation, that she was severing all ties between them. The memory of that conversation dredged up anger, which formed a screen between Reiko and her panic. “I don’t care.”

She pushed through the door and moved down the passage even though she was shaking. Lady Nobuko was in her chamber, kneeling at a low table, ink brush in hand. The brush’s tip was poised above a sheet of paper covered with spiky black calligraphy. All manner of evil memories buzzed like wasps behind the mental screen of Reiko’s anger.

Lady Nobuko glared up at Reiko. “I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

Her right eye was half closed, the muscles on that side of her narrow face bunched together by the pain of her constant headache. Her figure was as bony as a skeleton in her padded lavender silk robe, and her hair had gone white since Reiko had last seen her, but she’d held up remarkably well. She looked as if she were sustained by drinking vinegar, unaffected by the events that had devastated Reiko.

“If you hadn’t pretended to be too sick to speak with my husband, then I wouldn’t have had to come,” Reiko said.

Lady Nobuko didn’t argue that she really had fallen ill upon hearing the news that the shogun had been stabbed. She regarded Reiko with a dislike colored by amusement. “So you’re dabbling in another investigation. I would have thought you’d learned your lesson. After all, you gave birth to a dead baby last time.”

Reiko felt as if Lady Nobuko had stabbed her in the heart. To hear the baby’s death mentioned in such a callous manner was unbearable. Tears welled up from the bottomless reservoir inside Reiko.

“Besides that, you and your husband came to a mistaken conclusion about the murder of the shogun’s daughter,” Lady Nobuko said. “Lord Ienobu wasn’t responsible.”

“We weren’t mistaken.” Reiko’s voice quavered.

“So you told me the last time we met. I must say this for you: You never give up.” Lady Nobuko’s tone scorned Reiko’s persistence. “I hope you think it was worth it.” She obviously knew all about Sano’s downfall. Studying Reiko, she said, “You’re losing your looks.” Her facial spasm relaxed a little; Reiko’s loss was balm to her headache. “You used to be beautiful.”

Her cruelty worsened Reiko’s anguish. Reiko had insisted to Sano that she could handle Lady Nobuko, but she’d been wrong. Struggling not to cry, Reiko lashed back at Lady Nobuko. “You should have listened to us and helped us avenge the death of the shogun’s daughter. But you prefer to believe the official story because you don’t like to think that Lord Ienobu got away with conspiring to kill Tsuruhime. You’d rather think that my husband and I are wrong than that you let Tsuruhime down.”

Lady Nobuko winced with grief. She was Tsuruhime’s stepmother, but she’d loved Tsuruhime as if she’d been her own child. In a fit of anger she threw down her writing brush. “You have the gall to say I let Tsuruhime down! You’re the one who killed your baby!”

The low blow hit Reiko right in the tender, vulnerable center of her guilt. Her tears spilled even as she furiously blinked them away. To talk back would invite more personal attacks, but there was no other choice except running out of the room, and Reiko could imagine Lady Nobuko jeering at her. “You’re the one who’s made a mistake, by allying with Lord Ienobu after he learned that my husband was reinvestigating Yoshisato’s murder.”

Sano had tried to keep his investigation secret, but someone he’d questioned had informed on him. Ienobu had begun persecuting Sano with Lady Nobuko’s help. Lady Nobuko was a powerful ally, but not because she was married to the shogun-theirs was a marriage of convenience; they rarely, if ever, spoke. Lady Nobuko had amassed a fortune by investing an inheritance from her father. She had Japan’s biggest bankers under her thumb because she was their best client. They extended credit or called in debts on her orders. Reiko hadn’t known that about Lady Nobuko until she’d become Sano’s enemy. Lady Nobuko had persuaded her powerful relatives who were allies of Sano to desert him and pressure other powerful clans to do the same. Rather than let her bankrupt them, they’d obeyed.

Blotting the page she’d written, Lady Nobuko said, “I don’t believe Lord Ienobu is guilty of Yoshisato’s murder, either.”

“It’s in your interest not to.” Reiko heard her voice rise too high and break as she recalled how much of her family’s trouble was due to Lady Nobuko. The information that Lady Nobuko had withheld could have prevented Sano from being charged with Yoshisato’s murder. It might have prevented Reiko from losing the baby during her strenuous efforts to prove Sano’s innocence. She was flustered by anger as well as grief. “Lord Ienobu stands to inherit the dictatorship. You need his goodwill.” She had to breathe deeply and swallow a sob before she said, “Did he tell you to kill the shogun? What did he offer you in return?”

Lady Nobuko squinted at Reiko. “Do you really think I stabbed my husband as a favor to Lord Ienobu?”

“I’m beginning to.” Reiko thought the old woman was ruthless and heartless enough.

“And you came here to make me admit it?” Lady Nobuko chuckled. “Look at you! You’re so weak, you’re still crying over a baby that died four years ago. You couldn’t make a mouse squeal!”

Humiliated, Reiko couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

“There, there, it’s all right.” Lady Nobuko’s false sympathy was like sugar syrup mixed with lye. “I’m going to make things easy for you.” She picked up her jade signature seal and pressed the carved end into a red ink stick. “I’ve written out my statement.” She applied the seal to the paper, under her spiky writing, then handed the paper to Reiko.

Reiko read, I did not stab the shogun. I was asleep in bed when it happened. My lady-in-waiting can vouch for me. I had no reason to want him dead. I am innocent.

“Take it to your husband. Then you can go home and have a good cry.”

Hating herself because that was what she wanted to do, insulted because Lady Nobuko thought Sano would be stupid enough to accept this statement, Reiko said, “Your lady-in-waiting would say anything you ordered.”

“Nevertheless, she is my witness.” Lady Nobuko radiated complacency. “You don’t have a witness to prove I wasn’t asleep when my husband was stabbed. Now get out.”

She was obviously not going to give Reiko any evidence against herself or Lord Ienobu. Reiko had failed. Longing to escape before she completely broke down, Reiko said, “First I’ll search your quarters.”

“You will not.” Bracing herself on the table, Lady Nobuko stood up. Her skeletal body leaned toward the distorted side of her angry face, as if the pain were an unbalancing weight.

“If you won’t let me, it must mean you have something to hide.” Reiko resorted to a threat that was stronger than her own power of persuasion. “My husband will tell the shogun.”

Lady Nobuko gave an exasperated, conceding sigh.

* * *

At Edo Castle, Sano on his horse, accompanied by Yoshisato and the gangsters on foot, marched up to the main gate. The sentries said to Sano, “You can come in. They can’t.”

“This is the shogun’s son,” Sano said.

The sentries laughed; they thought Sano was joking. Yoshisato said, “Bow down! Show some respect!” The sound of his voice choked off their laughter. They stared at him with shocked recognition.

“But-but you’re dead,” one said.

“Obviously not,” Yoshisato said.

The sentries fell over themselves in their rush to open the gate and spread the news. Sano dismounted and walked Yoshisato and the gangsters up the hill, through the stone-walled passages inside Edo Castle. An uproar followed them. Patrol guards shouted, “Yoshisato is back!” Curious faces peered from watchtowers. Running footsteps echoed as people flocked to see the shogun’s resurrected son. Officials poured out of their quarter, blocked the passage, and craned their necks.

Plowing through the crowd, Sano and Yoshisato hurried to deliver the news to the shogun before anyone else could. At the palace Sano rushed Yoshisato past the sentries and in through the door. “Wait outside,” Yoshisato called to his gangsters.

Sano and Yoshisato raced through corridors, past gawking officials and servants. Yoshisato strode into the shogun’s bedchamber, then Sano did. The shogun was asleep, his eyes closed in his pale, damp face. A soldier knelt near each side of the bed, the doctor at the end. Along the wall, Yanagisawa and Lord Ienobu sat with Captain Hosono between them. Everybody except the shogun looked up in surprise.

“Mind if I join you?” Yoshisato said.

The shogun’s eyelids fluttered. Everybody else stared at Yoshisato and reared up on their knees. Yanagisawa slumped forward. His right hand braced him against the floor. His left hand clutched his heart. Lord Ienobu’s eyes bulged.

“You weren’t expecting me, were you?” Yoshisato directed his question at Yanagisawa and Ienobu, who’d known all along that he was alive.

Mouth open, Yanagisawa wheezed. Lord Ienobu coiled into himself like a snake trying to hide under a rock. The shogun opened bloodshot, sunken eyes. He gasped, propped himself up on his elbow, and said in a voice filled with awe, “Yoshisato? My son?”

Yoshisato moved toward the shogun. “Yes, Honorable Father, it’s me.”

“Am I dreaming?” The shogun blenched with sudden fear; he raised his hand to stop Yoshisato. “Are you a ghost?”

“No, Honorable Father.” Yoshisato knelt and took the shogun’s hand in his. Sano had told him the shogun had measles, but he appeared unconcerned about catching it. “You can feel that I’m real.”

The shogun pressed his nose and mouth to Yoshisato’s hand as if to inhale Yoshisato, devour him. “You are! The gods have brought you back to life!” He sobbed in ecstasy, then convulsed with pain and moaned.

Lord Ienobu and Yanagisawa watched, dumbstruck. Yoshisato smiled, gratified by the drama he’d created. A woman burst into the room. She had disheveled, graying hair and a sallow complexion; her soiled gray kimono hung on her emaciated figure; she smelled stale, fetid. She cried, “I heard the news. I had to come and find out, is it true? Is Yoshisato alive?” Her hollow eyes spied Yoshisato. She screamed, pushed the shogun away, and flung herself on the young man, then caressed his face while she keened, “Yoshisato! Yoshisato!” and wept.

Yoshisato held her. “Mother.” His voice trembled; his eyes glistened.

It was a scene that Sano wouldn’t have missed for the world. It was a scene that nobody here would ever forget.

“Mother, I have business to discuss with these people.” Yoshisato had his emotions under control again. “Go home and wait for me.”

She stumbled out, weeping with joy. The bewildered shogun studied Yoshisato. “Where have you been all this time?” Noticing Yoshisato’s tattoos, he gasped. “Why are you so changed?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Yoshisato said. “It’s time you learned the truth about my so-called death.”

As he told his story, Sano watched Yanagisawa and Lord Ienobu. Yanagisawa’s face darkened with anger as he heard how Yoshisato had been drugged, kidnapped, and imprisoned. Ienobu’s protuberant eyes skittered, chasing frantic thoughts.

“He let everyone think I was dead.” Yoshisato pointed at Lord Ienobu. “He wanted me out of the way so that he could be the next shogun.”

The shogun collapsed back on the bed. His horrified stare turned on Ienobu. “Is this true, Nephew?”

“It certainly is not.” Ienobu regained his haughty poise. His eyes were steady now, brimming with scorn. “Yoshisato is lying.”

“Of course you would deny it, to save your own ugly skin,” Yoshisato retorted.

Waving his frail hand to interrupt the argument, the shogun said to Ienobu, “If he’s lying, then how do you account for the extra corpse in the fire? How do you explain the fact that my son is alive?”

“The corpse must have been a servant who was in the heir’s residence when the fire started. Yoshisato is responsible for his own absence. He didn’t want to be the next dictator. He has no stomach for politics.” Ienobu’s contemptuous glance called Yoshisato a coward. “When the fire started, he saw his chance. He ran away.”

Yoshisato uttered a shout of disdainful laughter. The shogun demanded, “If Yoshisato doesn’t want to inherit the regime, then why did he come back?”

Perspiration beaded Ienobu’s forehead, but he sat his ground. “Because starting a new life isn’t easy. He decided that being shogun would be nicer than being a gangster.”

“I have to admire you, Lord Ienobu-you think fast on your feet,” Yoshisato said with a pitying smile. “But I have a witness to prove I’m telling the truth.” He looked to Yanagisawa.

* * *

Yanagisawa still couldn’t believe that after he’d searched for Yoshisato for so long, Yoshisato had just strolled into the palace. He felt as if the sun had come out after an endless night. Yoshisato glowed so dazzlingly that Yanagisawa could barely see the other people in the room. Even Sano, the blight on his existence, was a mere shadow. Yanagisawa wanted to feast on the sight of Yoshisato, but if he looked directly at him, he would break down and blubber; his heart overflowed with so much love for Yoshisato, so much joy.

How he regretted that they’d parted on bad terms! He’d let Yoshisato go away thinking he was nothing to Yanagisawa except a political pawn. Now Yanagisawa could tell Yoshisato how he felt. But not yet. Later he could marvel at Yoshisato’s miraculous return. Later he would find out what in the world Yoshisato and Sano were doing together. This was his long-awaited chance to send Lord Ienobu to hell.

Engorged with vengefulness, Yanagisawa rose. Ienobu looked like a snake cornered by a man with an axe. “A few days after the fire, you came to me and told me Yoshisato was alive.” Yanagisawa’s voice was clear, resonant, and loud with the anger that had reopened the airway constricted by shock. “You showed me the letter you made him write to me.”

He felt a sensation like a tight iron band around his chest snapping loose. “My silence and cooperation were the price you put on Yoshisato’s life.” To speak freely again was an exhilarating relief. “You said that unless I helped you become the next shogun, you would kill Yoshisato. But now I don’t have to do any more of your dirty work. I don’t have to keep quiet.” Yanagisawa told the shogun, “Lord Ienobu duped you. He tried to take over the regime by kidnapping your son and holding him hostage. He’s a traitor! He should be put to death!”

Anger encroached on the confusion on the shogun’s face. Yanagisawa had planted a seed of suspicion in him, and it had taken root.

Lord Ienobu stood up on his rickety legs. “Yanagisawa-san is lying! There was no letter, no such conversation. Here’s what really happened, Uncle: After the fire, he came to me. He was terrified that with Yoshisato dead, he would lose his position at court. He begged me to let him work for me so that he wouldn’t become a rōnin and starve!”

“Look at him,” Yanagisawa jeered. “See him shaking. Do you want to know why he’s so afraid?”

The shogun nodded, rapt with attention. Here Yanagisawa had the advantage over Lord Ienobu: Yanagisawa had controlled the shogun for almost three decades; the shogun had been under Ienobu’s influence for a fraction of that time. The shogun raised a hand to prevent Ienobu from speaking. Now Yanagisawa had to make the most of his advantage. There had never been a situation like this; it was an unfamiliar battleground in fast-moving flux. All his instincts, honed by a lifetime in politics, told Yanagisawa that persuading the shogun that Ienobu had kidnapped Yoshisato wouldn’t carry the day. The shogun had limited concern for other people. Yanagisawa had to exploit the shogun’s selfishness in order to stick it to Lord Ienobu.

“Lord Ienobu is afraid because what’s happened today proves he’s responsible for the attack on Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said. “He knew that Yoshisato was alive and on the loose and if Yoshisato returned to court, he would take back his place as your heir. There were two ways for Lord Ienobu to prevent that. He had to find Yoshisato and kill him-or to make sure you died and he became shogun before Yoshisato showed up.” Yanagisawa held up his thumb, then his forefinger. “But he couldn’t find Yoshisato.” Yanagisawa folded down his thumb. “So he chose option number two.” He pointed his forefinger at Ienobu, who was jittering so hard that the floor shook. “He sent an assassin to murder you, Your Excellency.”

The shogun sat up, panting. “Yanagisawa-san is right!” His red, tearful eyes blazed at Ienobu. “You tried to have me killed so that you could rule Japan!”

Yanagisawa tasted victory coming, so sweet after years of humiliation from Ienobu.

“I didn’t!” Terrified, Ienobu extended his clasped hands to the shogun. “Please, Uncle, believe me!”

To cap his argument, Yanagisawa said, “If the assassin had succeeded, you would be dead now, Your Excellency. Ienobu would be shogun. And if your son ever surfaced, Ienobu would slaughter him like a lamb.”

“Traitor!” the shogun screamed at Ienobu. Spasms gripped him; he moaned. “I want your head on a post by the Nihonbashi Bridge!”

“I swear on my life, I’m innocent!” Ienobu bleated.

Sano stepped forward. “Pardon me, Your Excellency, but even though Lord Ienobu’s motive for the attack on you looks stronger in light of these new circumstances, there’s still no evidence against him. There are other suspects.”

“He’s right!” Ienobu gasped with relief that someone was taking his side. “Let him finish his investigation. It will prove that someone else is guilty!”

The angry determination on the shogun’s face wavered. A curse on that bastard, Sano! Yanagisawa thought. He wouldn’t let Sano redirect the tide that was finally flowing in the direction he wanted. “Sano-san is right,” he said. Sano frowned in surprise at his capitulation. “We don’t know for sure who stabbed Your Excellency, but one thing is certain: Yoshisato is back.” He felt the warmth of Yoshisato’s dazzling light. “Yoshisato was your first choice for an heir. Lord Ienobu was only a poor second. You should rename Yoshisato as your heir.”

“Yes, yes!” the shogun exclaimed, clutching at Yoshisato. “You are my heir.”

“And Acting Shogun,” Yanagisawa prompted.

“And Acting Shogun. Nephew, I don’t need you anymore. Good-bye!”