The Iris Fan

42

Edo at night rested in an uneasy state of cease-fire. The army, swelled by troops newly arrived from the provinces, occupied the city. The rebel daimyo and their armies had retreated into their estates. The rain had stopped, and the fog dissipated, but smoke from bonfires veiled the sky. Soldiers loaded corpses onto oxcarts that rolled through the deserted city toward the temple districts and the crematoriums.

Inside Lord Mori’s estate, a sick ward had been set up in the barracks. Physicians ministered to wounded soldiers who lay on beds in rows on the floor. Maids brought tea, gruel, and fresh bandages and removed soiled dressings and basins of blood-tinted water. The atmosphere was thick with heat from charcoal braziers and the smell of medicine.

“I have to get back to the castle.” Detective Marume, wearing a bandage wrapped around his left shoulder and back, sat up in his bed. “Sano-san is up there alone!”

“You have to rest.” Kneeling beside him, her bandaged arm in a sling, Reiko sponged his face. She’d found him lying unconscious outside the palace. “You’re badly hurt.”

“It’s just a flesh wound. Sano-san needs me.”

“He can take care of himself.” But Reiko was worried about Sano, too. Some twelve hours had passed since they’d left Sano at the castle, and they’d had no word of what was happening there.

A physician said to Marume, “Rest or you won’t heal. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He glanced at Reiko. “So have you. Go to bed or infection could set in. You could lose your arm.”

Marume reluctantly lay down. Reiko walked on shaky legs to the guest quarters. She feared that even if Sano survived, their marriage wouldn’t. She’d realized how much she loved him, but maybe it was too late.

* * *

Inside the palace reception chamber, Lord Ienobu sat on the dais. Sano, his hand stitched and bandaged, knelt at Ienobu’s right. On the floor below them, the Council of Elders sat in a row apart from the Tokugawa branch clan leaders, who included Lord Yoshimune. Sano had briefed them on the extraordinary events in the shogun’s bedchamber. They looked as shocked as Sano still was.

Sano still couldn’t believe Yanagisawa was dead. He felt strangely unbalanced, as if a part of him was gone and he hadn’t yet adjusted to the missing weight. Although he’d seen Yanagisawa’s body carried out of the palace, and he knew Yoshisato had gone to the Mori estate to break the news to Yanagisawa’s family, the reality of Yanagisawa’s death wouldn’t sink in until he’d checked the whole city and made sure his enemy wasn’t lurking someplace.

But he couldn’t leave the castle yet. Masahiro had taken Reiko and Akiko, the paralyzed Hirata, and the wounded Marume to the Mori estate, while Sano stayed behind to deal with the aftermath of the war. A messenger had brought Sano the news that Lady Yanagisawa had killed herself and Kikuko. Heaven only knew when Sano would see his family again or what else would happen. Sano gazed down at the assembly gathered to figure out what the government should do.

“Call the meeting to order,” Sano said.

“I call the meeting to order,” Lord Ienobu said.

The senior elder, a bald, pugnacious man named Ogita, scrutinized Lord Ienobu. “Is his mental condition permanent?”

“It’s impossible to tell,” Sano said.

“He’s otherwise normal?”

“Apparently. His physician has examined him.” Sano added, “He can eat and attend to his personal needs and read and write, but he doesn’t seem to remember anything at all.”

“And he won’t do or say anything unless you tell him to.”

“That seems to be the case.”

Lord Matsudaira, spokesman for the daimyo, glared down his long nose at Sano. “For all practical purposes you’re in control of the shogun, the regime, and the whole country.”

Sano was still shocked by this reversal of his fate.

“This is an untenable situation,” Senior Elder Ogita protested. “We can’t have a shogun who’s unable to think for himself!”

A chagrined silence ensued as everyone recalled the dead shogun, his body hastily cremated because of the measles.

“Lord Ienobu has an extreme case of mental impairment,” Lord Matsudaira said. “He shouldn’t be shogun.” Other daimyo nodded. Yoshimune was silent, perhaps chastened by the knowledge that he might have been convicted and put to death for the old shogun’s murder if Lady Nobuko hadn’t confessed.

Although he’d not asked for the opportunity to rule Japan through the new shogun, Sano was reluctant to let it slip away. Yanagisawa would die of envy. Sano had to remind himself that Yanagisawa was dead. “I could tell Lord Ienobu to step down, and he would do it, but then who would be shogun?”

“I understand Yoshisato has given up his claim to the dictatorship,” Lord Matsudaira said.

“That’s correct,” Sano said. Yoshisato had told him so.

“Lord Ienobu’s son is next in line for the succession,” Senior Elder Ogita said. “He’s only two years old, but a regent could be appointed to rule on his behalf until he comes of age.”

“Lord Ienobu wouldn’t have wanted to be shunted aside,” Sano said. A big responsibility accompanied his stroke of good fortune: It was now his duty to look out for the interests of Lord Ienobu, who was helpless to look after them himself. And it was a chance for Sano to try his hand at ruling Japan as well as to control his own destiny.

Maybe he’d absorbed some ambition from Yanagisawa at the moment he’d taken his life. The thought was disconcerting.

“What he would have wanted in the past is irrelevant. He obviously hasn’t any objection now.” Senior Elder Ogita eyed the placid, silent Lord Ienobu.

“How would we explain to the world why he was stepping down?” Sano asked.

“We could say he was seriously injured during the battle. Which would be true.”

“If his son becomes shogun, the government will be in virtually the same situation as it is now-with a dictator who’s unfit to rule. It’ll just be someone other than me in charge.”

Lord Matsudaira smirked. “Precisely.” The other daimyo, except for Yoshimune, nodded.

“Who would be the regent?” Sano asked.

Each daimyo except Yoshimune volunteered for the job. The elders chimed in to support their favorites. During the loud, heated argument about who was most qualified or deserving, Sano said to Lord Ienobu, “Tell them to stop.”

“Stop!” ordered Lord Ienobu.

The argument fizzled. Sano said, “You’re already fighting about who’ll control the dictatorship. What makes you think it will be one of you?” The men looked startled. “A regime with a child at its head and his clansmen squabbling over control of it-that’s a ripe apple for picking. Remember, many of the other daimyo revolted today. They could start a full-scale civil war, and if they win, that’ll be the end of the Tokugawa regime.”

Sano was disturbed to hear another voice in his head, speaking the same words-Yanagisawa’s. How long would it be until he stopped hearing that voice? How long until he could speak or act and not wonder if it was what Yanagisawa would have said or done?

“Sano-san has a point,” Senior Elder Ogita said reluctantly.

“He’s just trying to hang on to the power that his influence over Lord Ienobu gives him,” Lord Matsudaira said. “If we let him, he’ll pick the apple!”

The very idea amazed Sano. So did the fact that although he’d once done his best to keep Lord Ienobu from rising to the top of the regime, now he was trying to keep him there. “The regime will be more stable with an adult as shogun, and the other daimyo respect Lord Ienobu even if they don’t like him.”

Outraged and incredulous, Lord Matsudaira said, “He’s your puppet!”

“Not a word of what’s happened to Lord Ienobu will appear in the official record,” Sano improvised. “Only a few people know. We’ll swear them to secrecy.”

“He never went out much,” Senior Elder Ogita admitted. “If he stays out of sight, no one will suspect the reason.” The other elders nodded.

“You can’t hide him all the time,” Lord Matsudaira said. “He’ll have to hold audiences.”

“I’ll make sure he behaves properly,” Sano said. “And Manabe will look after him when I’m not with him.” Sano and Manabe had made a deal: Manabe would take care of Ienobu, keep quiet about his condition, and not make trouble for Sano; Sano wouldn’t punish Manabe for kidnapping Yoshisato and deceiving the old shogun. It went without saying that Ienobu had gotten his comeuppance for those offenses.

“But he’ll be even less in charge than the previous shogun was, which is to say not at all! You’ll be as good as ruling Japan!”

“I did it while I was chamberlain to the previous shogun,” Sano pointed out. “I’ll be Lord Ienobu’s chamberlain and do it again.”

“I won’t bow to your authority!”

Yoshimune spoke up. “Give Sano-san a chance. So he’s a puppeteer-if you don’t like how his show is going, then you can cancel it and make Lord Ienobu’s son shogun.”

There were murmurs of agreement. Yoshimune still had a commanding air about him. Lord Matsudaira, overruled and disgruntled, said to Sano, “All right, here’s your first test: How do you propose to handle the men from Yanagisawa’s faction?”

Sano turned to Lord Ienobu. “Pardon them all.”

“I pardon them all,” Lord Ienobu said.

An uproar broke out. Senior Elder Ogita said, “Pardon the enemy? Are you serious? It’s never happened in all of history.”

“A lot has happened today that’s never happened in all of history. Pardon them, put the whole blame on Yanagisawa, and the regime will hold together. Charge them big fines. But if you try to confiscate domains and hand out death sentences, you’ll start that civil war you don’t want.” Sano thought of Yoshisato’s plan for a coalition to improve the government. He added, “I don’t intend to run Lord Ienobu’s government by myself. I welcome your advice. Somebody else might not be so willing to cooperate for the good of Japan.”

“I suppose you’ll be purging your enemies and putting your relatives and friends in high positions,” Lord Matsudaira said.

“My son, Masahiro, will have my old post as chief investigator. I may make some other changes. Anyone who doesn’t perform to my satisfaction had better improve or watch out.”

“What are you going to do with Lady Nobuko?” Senior Elder Ogita asked. “Don’t forget she murdered the shogun.”

“It wouldn’t do to let the world know,” Sano said. “A regime that let its dictator be stabbed by his crazy wife? We’ll go down in history as the biggest laughingstock of all time. His official cause of death will be measles. I’ll have Lady Nobuko put in a convent and kept quiet.”

Everybody seemed willing to let that matter lie. Everybody also seemed willing to give Sano his chance to run the government-rope to hang himself. “Next he’ll be pardoning all the criminals in Edo Jail,” Lord Matsudaira grumbled.

Not true, but Sano would issue a pardon for Dr. Ito.

Lord Ienobu raised his hand. Sano said, “You may speak.”

“I’m hungry. Can I have something to eat?”

As Sano led Lord Ienobu from the chamber and everyone bowed to them, Sano imagined Yanagisawa fuming at him from the netherworld.

* * *

At the Mori estate, Hirata lay on his back in bed, his eyes half closed, while his wife and children held a vigil around him. He felt no sensation in his body. It was like a carcass connected to his head, swollen with blood and poisons leaking from its damaged organs. He drifted in and out of consciousness, through different dimensions in time and space, as his brain gradually died.

He saw Midori crying and the solemn faces of Taeko, Tatsuo, and Chiyoko. He and Sano rode their horses through Edo, laughing together at some joke. He sat cross-legged outside a mountain temple, meditating. He and General Otani dueled on the battlefield at Sekigahara. They were the only ones still standing; the field was strewn with corpses. They lunged and swung their swords at each other. Cuts in their armor oozed blood from their wounds. General Otani roared, “Damn you for ruining everything! I’ll make you pay!”

There was no one to break the spell that had put the ghost inside Hirata. They were both shackled to Hirata’s mortally injured body.

Hirata floated in darkness, near the mouth of a cave where strange lights and shadows flickered. The cave was the portal to the netherworld. The sound of Midori crying returned him to his bed. She crawled onto it and wrapped her arms around him. Hirata couldn’t feel her except where her face, wet with tears, touched his.

“We can’t part like this.” Her murmur in his ear was raw with sorrow. “The last words I said to you-” Time inverted. They were in the alley in Nihonbashi. She screamed, “I hate you! I wish you were dead! I never want to see you again!”

Now, as they lay together, Midori wailed, “I wish I could take it back. I didn’t mean it. I was so hurt, I wanted to hurt you. I never-”

They stood facing each other at the portal to the netherworld. They were as young as when they’d first met nineteen years ago. Hirata was healthy and strong, Midori fresh and pretty. Her tears gleamed on smooth, rosy cheeks. “I never stopped loving you,” she said.

Joy elated Hirata. His wife loved him despite all the wrongs he’d done her. He took her in his arms. She clung to him and whispered, “Please say you forgive me.”

On the corpse-strewn battlefield, Hirata and General Otani were so wounded and exhausted, they could barely lift their swords, but they kept fighting. In the room where Midori hugged the paralyzed wreck that he was now, Hirata moved his cracked, gray lips and whispered, “… I forgive. Do you?”

“Yes!” Midori wept with relief and gratitude. The shadows and light from the netherworld played across her young, smooth face. “I love you,” Hirata said, as young and ardent as on the day they’d married. He stepped free of her embrace. “I have to go.” A sense of peace comforted him: Their separation was only temporary. “Tell the children…”

“Good-bye for now,” he whispered to Taeko, Tatsuo, and Chiyoko.

He saw their tearful smiles and heard them echo his farewell. As he backed away from Midori, she ran after him, arms outstretched, calling his name. The distance between them widened and her figure shrank. “I’ll be waiting for all of you,” Hirata called.

He collapsed on the Sekigahara battleground. General Otani fell beside him. Darkness obliterated the field, the dead soldiers. The portal to the netherworld beckoned. Hirata crawled through it, dragging General Otani with him. General Otani beat at him with armored fists and shouted, “Damn you to hell for all eternity!”

They were across the threshold. As they melded with the light and shadows, Hirata’s last sensation was the ghost disengaging from him, like a chain around his spirit loosening and crumbling away.

* * *

MORNING DAWNED COLD and clear, with a wind that chased white clouds across the pale blue sky as the sun rose. Servants outside the castle lugged away dead horses, raked up arrows and bullets, and mopped blood off the streets. Sano rode accompanied by a big retinue of troops from the same army he’d fought against two days ago. The man who controlled the shogun was a target for assassination.

When he reached Kan’ei Temple, Sano left his horse and retinue outside the cemetery. He entered the gold-trimmed, red double gate flanked by pillars. On a stone pedestal surrounded by evergreen trees and snow stood the shogun’s funerary urn-a big stone drum with symbolic carvings. A few wooden prayer stakes were planted in the ground around the base amid a few rice cakes, cups of sake, and lit candles. The fact that the shogun had the measles had been kept quiet, and so had the stabbing. The citizens wouldn’t learn of his death until they returned to Edo, and in the aftermath of the war, his officials and troops were too busy to visit his grave.

Sano pressed his prayer stake into the hard soil. He bowed his head as he came to the humbling realization that although it was easy to criticize someone else’s shortcomings as a dictator, it would be harder to avoid making mistakes now that he was in effect the dictator himself. The shogun had taught him a valuable lesson-how not to rule a nation. How to rule it well was up to Sano.

He heard a step behind him, turned, and saw Lord Yoshimune. “I hope you don’t mind my joining you.”

“Not at all.” Sano was finished, for now.

“I want to thank you,” Lord Yoshimune said as they stood side by side at the grave. “So does my cousin Tomoe. If you hadn’t discovered that it was Lady Nobuko who stabbed the shogun, we might have been put to death by now.”

“All in a day’s work.”

“I’d like to repay you for saving my life and Tomoe’s. Whatever I can do for you, just ask.”

Sano recognized that Yoshimune, like any astute politician, wanted to be on the good side of the power behind Lord Ienobu. “Support the new shogun.” Lord Yoshimune had already helped him bring the council under his control. “Tell the other daimyo to do the same.”

“That’s little enough. I suppose you’d rather not call in the whole favor until I’m in a position to do more for you.” Contemplating the grave, Yoshimune said, “I’ll be shogun someday.”

“When Lord Ienobu dies, his son will inherit the dictatorship. His son’s only two. He could reign for a long time and outlive you.”

Yoshimune shrugged, unperturbed. “Anything can happen. The events of the past few days have proved that. Besides, I feel lucky.” His grin showed a hint of his old brashness. “When I’m shogun, if you’re still around, I’ll give you a nice position in my regime.” He bowed and departed.

Sano bid the dead shogun a silent, grateful farewell, then went to join his retinue. He had another meeting that promised to be less friendly than this one.

* * *

Taeko stood, her face puffy and tear-stained, on the veranda of the guest quarters of the Mori estate. She’d come outside for a respite from trying to comfort her brother and sister while her mother and the servants prepared her father’s body for the funeral. In the garden where she and Masahiro had quarreled, patterns of sunlight and cloud shadow moved across the muddy snow. She looked at the opposite wing of the house and thought of Kikuko dead and all the blood. She’d wished Masahiro’s wife would die, and she felt as guilty as if she herself had cut Kikuko’s throat.

Masahiro came out of the house and stood beside her. Taeko felt even guiltier. She still loved him and wanted him so much that his very presence made her tremble. After everything that had happened, she was still hurt by his betrayal and terrified of what would become of her. What a selfish person she was!

“Can I talk to you?” Masahiro sounded uncertain and nervous.

She couldn’t look at him, didn’t deserve to have him with her. Afraid of what he would say, she nodded.

“I’m sorry about your father.”

Fresh tears of grief, shame, and guilt burned down Taeko’s chilled face. She was worrying about her troubles when her father had sacrificed his life! She knew what courtesy required her to say to Masahiro. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

But it was only half true. She was sorry that Kikuko had died in such a horrible way, murdered by her mother, but she wasn’t sorry Kikuko was dead.

“So am I,” Masahiro said with a sigh. Taeko stole a glance at him, to see whether he was heartbroken. But he only looked exhausted. “This probably isn’t a good time … so soon after … but…” He drummed his fingers on the veranda railing and said gruffly, “I want to explain why I … the other night … well, you know.”

Taeko gripped her arms under her sleeves, pressing them against the baby, as the memory of him and Kikuko sickened her stomach.

“I didn’t mean to,” Masahiro said, “but she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. And she somehow knew the things I wanted. It was so … exciting, we did it three times, all different ways. I couldn’t help myself.”

The news that he’d betrayed her not once but three times, and the awe in his tone, were like stabs to Taeko’s heart, and he didn’t seem aware that he was hurting her. It was her punishment for wanting Kikuko to die.

“But I didn’t love her. I don’t think I ever could have. Because it’s you I love.”

The passion in his voice astonished Taeko. She turned to gape at him. He seized her hands and said, “Please tell me you don’t really hate me! Please take me back!”

It didn’t matter that he only thought he couldn’t have loved Kikuko; it didn’t matter that her death might be the only reason he wanted to be with Taeko again. Taeko pressed his hands to her face and sobbed, wracked by joy and guilt. Masahiro sniffled as they clung to each other. He stepped back to look at Taeko. His cheeks were wet from their tears. “Will you marry me?”

She was so unworthy of this good fortune. If he only knew about her evil thoughts toward his wife! She had to confess.

He misinterpreted her hesitation. “Oh, you’re worried about our parents. But I’ll stand up to them this time. I want to be with you, and our baby.”

“But-”

“I know, you’re not sure you should trust me.” He drew a deep breath, let it out, and said, “I’m not going to make any more promises I can’t keep. If somebody else like Kikuko comes along … well, I’m as weak and selfish as you said. All I can say is, if you marry me, I’ll try to be better.” Impatient, he said, “Will you?”

Taeko was impressed by his honesty, thrilled by the prospect of being his wife and their baby having a father. “Yes,” she whispered. She could live with knowing that Masahiro might hurt her again someday. She would probably hurt him again. They would make up. She would remember Kikuko, and she would try to be better, too.

Masahiro laughed, hugged her, lifted her off her feet, and spun her around until she laughed with him. “As soon as my father comes back, we’ll tell everybody.”

* * *

Sano left his retinue in the courtyard of an inn located down the street from the Shark Teahouse. He climbed the stairs to the balcony and knocked on a door. Yoshisato opened it. He wore plain cotton garments and a somber, aloof expression. The sight of him gave Sano a shock. Despite his tattoos, Sano could see Yanagisawa in him more clearly than ever. It was as if Yoshisato had absorbed some of Yanagisawa’s persona.

“Come in,” Yoshisato said.

Sano recalled Yanagisawa’s last words to him: This isn’t over. We’ll meet again someday. Next time I’ll win. Maybe they didn’t need to meet again in order for Sano to get his comeuppance. It was a son’s duty to avenge his father’s death. But Yoshisato gave no hint of aggression. Sano entered the room, which was small, sparsely furnished with a bedroll and a charcoal brazier on the tatami floor, but clean. He heard someone moving around in the chamber on the other side of the wooden partition. Yoshisato faced Sano and waited.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Sano didn’t offer the excuse that Yanagisawa had attacked first. Nor did he say he was sorry he’d killed Yanagisawa. That would be a lie, and Yoshisato would know and feel insulted.

Yoshisato accepted Sano’s qualified but genuine sympathy with a stoic nod. In the awkward silence, Sano looked around the room and noticed a trunk and a knapsack in the corner and Yoshisato’s cloak thrown over them. “Where are you going?”

“Back to Osaka.”

“To your gang?”

“Yes. My mother is coming with me.” Yoshisato slid open the partition. In the adjacent room Lady Someko knelt by a trunk, folding clothes into it. She looked up at Sano, smiled, and bowed. “It’ll be a fresh start for her.”

“You don’t have to leave Edo,” Sano said. “Lord Ienobu is going to pardon everyone who fought in the war against him.”

“You mean, you’re pardoning us.” Yoshisato’s eyes glinted with amusement; he was among those who knew what had happened to Lord Ienobu. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody that you’re the real shogun. But I am leaving. It’s for the best.”

“I came to offer you a position in the regime.”

“You don’t need to buy me off. You’ve nothing to fear from me-I won’t swear out a vendetta against you. Yanagisawa’s death was really his own fault.” Bitter sorrow twisted Yoshisato’s mouth. “He had a grudge against you, and he just couldn’t let it go.”

Sano was impressed that Yoshisato had the insight to realize it and not simply blame Sano. “I’m not trying to buy you off.” Sano was trying to assuage his guilt about hurting Yoshisato, whom he now respected more than ever. “The regime needs talented, capable men like you.”

Yoshisato’s thin smile said he saw through Sano’s ploy. “I’m honored, but no thanks.”

“Please consider it,” Sano urged. “Your life as a gang boss is bound to be violent and short.”

“And my life at court wouldn’t be?” Yoshisato uttered a sarcastic laugh that sounded eerily like Yanagisawa’s. “I saw what politics did to my father. They brought out the worst in him. I’m not following in his footsteps.”

Sano remembered Lord Ienobu saying that Yoshisato had no stomach for politics. It hadn’t been true then, but now Yoshisato had made up his mind and wasn’t going to change it. And perhaps he was right: Politics and power could destroy, and Yoshisato might have more in common with Yanagisawa than mannerisms. Blood was blood.

“Let me at least do something for you,” Sano said.

“All I want is this: Just leave me alone. I promise not to hurt you. Whatever I do, look the other way.”

That was a lot for the boss of a criminal gang to ask, but Sano said, “Very well.”

* * *

When Sano returned to the Mori estate, Akiko ran ahead of him through the guest quarters, exclaiming joyously, “Papa’s back!”

More nervous than when he’d faced the assembly at Edo Castle, Sano entered the chamber where Reiko and Masahiro, and Midori and her children knelt by an oblong wooden box wrapped in white cloth and a table that held smoking incense burners. Sano already knew Hirata was dead; he’d heard it from Marume, whom he’d just visited in the sick ward. The others were silent while Sano stood by the coffin, bowed his head, and said a final, unspoken good-bye to his friend. A sense of peace alleviated Sano’s grief. Death was better than living trapped with a ghost inside a paralyzed body. Sano and Hirata had already said everything that was necessary. Sano raised his head; his gaze met Reiko’s.

Her eyes reflected his uncertainty and discomposure. Sano was hardly aware of walking with her to their chamber; everyone else seemed to recede from them while their surroundings changed as in a theater set moved by hidden stagehands. Sano spoke first rather than let her say what he dreaded hearing-now that the crisis was over, she was going to leave him. As he explained what had happened at Edo Castle, his gaze moved between her impassive face and her bandaged arm, which symbolized all the ways in which he’d brought her pain.

Why had she defended him against Yanagisawa? Surely not because she cared about him, but because he was her children’s father, because of duty toward him, not love.

When he was finished, Reiko spoke in a toneless voice. “You and your honor won.”

She seemed dismayed rather than gladdened by his reversal of fortune. She saw his victory as a victory over her. That was how she thought he saw it. But nothing could have been farther from how he really did.

His honor had stood up to every test. By faithfully serving it, he’d gained power beyond imagination. But the spoils of his victory were devalued by what he’d lost-the woman he loved in spite of all their differences, the wife who’d risked her own life to save his. He felt as defeated as if he, not Yanagisawa, had been killed in their fight. The dam that contained his emotions crumbled. Anguish flooded Sano. He wished he had been killed, rather than live without Reiko. All he could do was give her what she wanted, what he owed her after ignoring her wishes for so long.

“I’m moving back to Edo Castle. If you don’t want to come with me-if you don’t want to be my wife anymore…” Sano blinked and swallowed; he was going to cry. But although it devastated him, he would let Reiko go. “I’ll give you a divorce. Pick a place you’d like to live, and I’ll build you a house there and support you.” Sano’s heart broke as he thought of the children. He couldn’t take Akiko from her mother, and Masahiro surely wanted to be free of his father’s demands. “Masahiro and Akiko can live with you. None of you will ever have to see me again.”

Reiko stared as if at a tornado whirling toward her. Sano was too distraught to analyze her reaction. Tears ran down his face; sobs heaved his chest. He was as good as shogun, and he must pay the price. “You’ll never again have to take second place to my honor.”

Honor was all he would have when his family was gone.

“Is that what you think I want?” Reiko cried. Horror was written so clearly on her face that Sano couldn’t miss it. “No, that’s what you want-never to see me again!” She was crying, too. “It was too much to hope for, that you would still love me after I’ve criticized and blamed you. Why should you, just because I still love you?” Her expression scorned her own hope. “Don’t worry-I won’t fight you this time.” She held her head high, wiped her streaming eyes on her sleeve, and gathered her pride around her like a torn cloak. “I’ll go.”

“What?” Sano said. “No! That’s not what I want!”

Confused and astounded, they stared at each other. Reiko said, “Do you mean-” and Sano said, “I want you with me. Because I love you. I want us to start over.” She gasped, smiling through her tears, and nodded. Overjoyed that she still wanted to be with him, astonished that love had survived their ordeals, he felt as if he had the world at his command.

Sano slowly moved toward Reiko; she slowly moved toward him. Her eyes reflected his caution as they came close. After years of avoided contact, they’d forgotten how to be lovers, but their bodies remembered. Reiko’s waist fitted into the curve of Sano’s arm. His cheek rested against her hair, her cheek on its familiar place against his heart. They were careful not to touch the wound on her arm, his palm. Eyes closed, they wept as they held each other.

It was a line crossed that Sano had thought they would never be able to cross.

As happy as he was that they could make a fresh start, Sano didn’t want it founded on the illusion that love erased everything that had kept them apart. He had to be brutally honest with Reiko, with himself. He sniffled, cleared his throat, then said, “I have to tell you: There are people who don’t want me controlling the regime. I can’t promise you and the children safety or prosperity or peace.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Reiko said with quiet passion. “When I saw you losing the fight with Yanagisawa … well, I didn’t try to save you from him because I wanted to be free of you. We belong together.”

Sano was glad to learn that, but he said, “Before you decide whether you really want to be with me, hear this: If I had it all to do over again, I would do it the same way.” Coming close to losing what he held dearest changed a man, but not entirely. Reiko was motionless, quiet, listening. “If you stay with me, I promise to do the best by you and the children that I can. But”-voicing the truth that would never change, he faltered over words whose solemn formality didn’t come naturally to him-“I’m just as married to honor as I am to you.”

Reiko tilted up her head to look at him. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.” Her smile was serene with a hint of the mischief he hadn’t seen in years. “Before you decide whether you really want me, hear this: If I ever think you’re doing something wrong, I will tell you.”

Her warning meant more than that she would never be a conventional wife; she would always put their family ahead of honor and duty. A revelation during a life-and-death crisis hadn’t changed her entirely, and Sano was glad. He wouldn’t want her any other way. He laughed with exhilarated humor. “Fair enough.”

They were both laughing now, tearfully, their emotions spent. They both knew that life in the inner circle of the new shogun’s court wouldn’t be easy, but being together on any terms was better than what had almost happened-losing each other forever.

Akiko rushed into the room, breathless with excitement. “Masahiro and Taeko have something to tell you!”

* * *

Masahiro and Taeko came in, solemn and frightened. Midori trailed them, wringing her hands under her sleeves. Reiko stepped away from Sano, reluctant to leave the newfound warmth of his embrace. Her gaze flew to Masahiro’s and Taeko’s clasped hands.

“We’re getting married,” Masahiro announced.

It was so soon after Kikuko’s death, but Reiko was glad to see him and Taeko reunited. She wouldn’t deny them the mutual comfort of their love. They deserved it, after Masahiro’s first brief marriage that had been forced on them, that had ended so disastrously.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said.

Masahiro and Taeko smiled, but they knew that Reiko’s opinion wasn’t the one that counted. They turned anxiously to Sano. His expression was sad, fond, and regretful.

“Please let them!” Midori begged, extending her clasped hands to Sano. Frantic to secure her daughter’s happiness, she called in the favor that his family owed hers. “Taeko’s father sacrificed his life for you. That ought to make her good enough to marry your son even though she can’t bring you a big dowry or important connections!”

“I did what you wanted last time,” Masahiro said. “This time I’m going to marry Taeko and nobody else.”

This was the first test of Sano’s promise to do his best by the children. Reiko held her breath, afraid he didn’t understand, wouldn’t pass the test. Then he said mildly, “I think it’s a wonderful idea, too. In fact, I was going to suggest it.” He added with a wry smile, “I’m sure the shogun won’t have any objections, either.”

Now that he was in control of the shogun and the government, he could afford the risk of letting his son marry for love and foregoing a politically advantageous match. Reiko exhaled and Midori wept with relief. Masahiro and Taeko laughed and jumped up and down.

“The wedding has to be soon,” Masahiro said. “Taeko is going to have a baby.”

Reiko’s breath caught. She and Sano gaped at Masahiro, who looked proud and sheepish, and at Taeko, who blushed, clasped her stomach, and looked at the floor. They turned to Midori and Akiko, who beamed-they’d already been told. Sano and Reiko looked at each other, not really surprised by the news of the pregnancy but astonished to realize they were going to be grandparents.

“She’s so young, she won’t know what to do with a baby,” Midori said, putting her arm around Taeko, “but that’s all right.” She seemed at peace with Hirata’s death and ready to forgive Sano and his family for the sake of her daughter. “I’m going to live with her and Masahiro and help her take care of it. She’ll learn.”

The thought of a baby evoked the familiar surge of emotions in Reiko, but the tears that fell were tears of joy that diluted her sorrow for the baby she’d lost. She felt Akiko tug her hand, and knew that the vestige of emptiness inside her would soon be filled by her first grandchild.

“I have news, too,” Sano said. “Masahiro is the shogun’s new chief investigator. Which means he’ll not only have a good stipend, but he and his new family can live in our old estate inside Edo Castle.”

Everyone expressed delight, including Reiko, but she was alarmed by the thought of her son taking on such an important, responsible position. “But he’s so young and inexperienced.”

“I can handle it, Mother,” Masahiro said, brashly confident. Taeko beheld him with love, pride, and trust.

“He’ll have you and me to advise him and Detective Marume as his assistant. He’ll learn.” Sano looked at Reiko; they smiled as they remembered the hard lessons of the past and looked ahead to the challenges of the future.

“We all did,” Sano said. “We all will.”