The Toyotomi Blades

27

The forest was a wild and feral place. Giant cryptomerias grew in profusion. The rough, red bark of the trees clung to the large trunks, making a curtain that shrouded the forest beyond. Between the trees hagi, or bush clover, grew. A low morning mist clung to the roots of the trees, adding an eerie highlight to the forest.

“You sure you want to split up?” Junko asked.

“Yes. I was looking over the maps last night and I realized that the treasure was just as likely to be in the western part of the valley as here. It will be more efficient if you scout that location while Mariko and I look here. Meet us here at three o’clock and we’ll compare notes. If we find anything interesting here, we’ll still have time to take you to it so you can see what you want to film for the show.”

That morning Junko had joined us claiming she had slept like a baby the night before. Mariko and I exchanged what Henry James used to call “significant looks.” If I remember right, James meant those looks to signify love, but in our case the looks signified the cementing of a conspiracy to keep Junko away from the prime location for the treasure. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did know we were being lied to.

“Okay, I’ll see you at three this afternoon, then,” Junko said as she put the Patrol in gear and pulled away.

“Are you ready?” I asked Mariko. She was bundled up and carrying a knapsack over one shoulder.

“Sure.”

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” I asked, a wave of second thoughts rolling over me.

She snorted her disdain for my backsliding and started purposefully down the path into the forest. Feeling a little foolish, I followed.

The hiking trail was well marked, so even though we plunged into a sort of gloomy twilight as we entered the forest, I didn’t think we would get lost. I looked at Mariko and said, “So I gather you’re ready to go treasure hunting?”

She stopped and let me catch up. She reached up and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. Her mouth was very cold and wet from the morning air. “I’m more than ready,” she said. “Let’s go see if we can find where there’s a pile of gold.”

“I don’t see how we’re going to find a group of trees or rocks that looks like an M,” I said after we had been hiking for ten minutes or so. “I thought there’d be only a few groves of trees in this area, but now I see the whole area is a forest.”

“Well, it’s pretty anyway,” Mariko said. “If we can’t find billions in gold and silver, we can at least have a nice hike.”

“That’s very philosophical of you. I hoped to make enough off this treasure hunt to buy most of Japan. Now, according to you, I should just come back with a few memories of pretty countryside.”

“You don’t really expect to find the treasure, do you?”

“Well, I guess not,” I admitted. “And if I did find it, I’m sure the government of Japan will have something to say about who keeps it. I haven’t even checked into what the laws are about treasure hunting in Japan, but I’m sure it’s not just finders-keepers.”

We came across a stream that I had seen on the map and started following it. Despite my disappointment in seeing that the terrain was all woods, I was pretty happy. Having Mariko with me on this treasure hunt in Japan was an unexpected bonus, and it’s always better when you share an exciting experience with someone you love. In the back of my mind, I just kept hoping that it wouldn’t get too exciting, thanks to Sugimoto, Junko, the Yakuza, the Nippon Tokkotai, and whoever else might be interested.

After hiking for about an hour, Mariko said, “I’m hungry.”

“What? Already? It’s not even ten o’clock.”

“So what. Come on, let’s stop and eat.”

“I don’t understand how someone as small as you can pack in so much food.”

“Jealous?”

“Damn right. If I ate as much food as you, you’d have to roll me along the side of this stream because I’d be shaped like a barrel.”

Mariko laughed and said, “Look, there’s a little clearing ahead. Let’s eat there. Mrs. Sakurai packed us some kind of lunch.” She patted her knapsack. “And I’m anxious to see what kind of goodies we have. We’ll have a picnic.”

The clearing was like a miniature meadow by the side of the stream. Perhaps it was the aftermath of a long forgotten small fire, or perhaps the boulders that dotted the meadow gave a clue to the possibility that the ground was too rocky for the large trees to grow. Regardless, it let some sunlight into the gloom of the forest.

Mariko and I found a large rock to sit on. She unslung the pack, and before she got the lunches out, I leaned over and gave her a kiss. She gave me a happy hug in return. From the knapsack she brought out two black lacquered lunchboxes. She gave me one and took the top off the other and peered inside.

Inside was a pair of disposable chopsticks sitting on top of the beautifully prepared and neatly packed food. Rolls of rice covered with black sesame seeds and garnished with green, purple, and yellow pickles, made up one side of the box. Grilled fish, vegetables, and what looked like a rolled egg omelet made up the other half of the box. “Hey, that looks pretty good,” I said, as I took the lid off my own bento, or box lunch. The Japanese would call this a honeymoon bento, because it was the kind of special lunch that a newly married salaryman could expect, prepared with care and with a delicious variety of foods. According to Japanese lore, eventually the salaryman would make the transition to a one-thousand Yen Samurai, whose wife would give him a daily allowance of one thousand yen with which he was supposed to buy lunch and other daily incidentals. In samurai times, the women kept the household purse strings, and many Japanese couples retain this custom, so a daily allowance for the man isn’t unusual.

By the time I had my chopsticks broken apart, Mariko already had one of the rice rolls stuffed into her mouth. She closed her eyes in ecstasy and said, “Um. Delicious.”

I tasted one of the rice rolls. “It’s good.”

“It’s especially good. Maybe it’s the way it’s cooked, or maybe because they use spring water to cook it in.”

“You don’t think the fact that we’re eating outdoors has anything to do with the way it tastes to you? Eating outdoors usually makes food taste better.”

“Skeptic,” she said. “Just eat your bento and don’t bother me with your doubts. When I tell you it’s delicious, it’s because it’s delicious. We could be eating inside a trailer parked in Kansas, and this rice would still be delicious.”

I smiled and ate another rice roll.

Around us the brush and trees were still a bit lifeless, as if they were anticipating the impending winter, but I could tell that in the spring and early fall this area must be spectacular. I picked up a bit of the grilled fish and tasted it. It was very good. It had a charcoal flavor from being cooked over a hibachi. I picked up a piece of vegetable and looked up the mountainside that was on the other side of the stream as I brought it to my mouth.

I froze. Then I dropped the vegetable into my lap. Seeing the expression on my face, Mariko said, “What’s the matter?”

Using the chopsticks, I pointed up the mountainside. “Look.”

Mariko looked across the stream. On the other side she saw the rising slope of a wooded hill that rapidly turned itself into a mountain. At the top of the hill, sitting like some brooding castle, was an outcropping of rock. Two peaks of dark gray granite, forming the shape of the letter M.

“It’s the pattern on the third blade,” she said.

“That’s right. It’s an outcropping of rock.”

I put the lunchbox down and stood up. Then I started dancing around the clearing. “We found it! We found it!” I grabbed the stunned Mariko by the hand and dragged her to her feet. “I’m sure that’s it. We’re gonna be rich. We’re gonna be rich,” I sang an improvised tune, dancing around Mariko. Okay, the lyrics weren’t exactly Cole Porter, and I admit the tune wasn’t Gershwin, but it sounded pretty damn good to me at the time.

A sharp crack rang out in the meadow and something hit the rock next to Mariko, scattering chips of stone and dirt. I pulled Mariko to the ground. “What was that?” she asked, startled.

I had a flashback to Vietnam. I was there only three weeks, but I knew exactly what was going on. “Somebody’s shooting at us. Come on,” I said. “Get behind the rock and let’s get into the brush.”

Mariko nodded and scuttled around the rock on her hands and knees. I followed. As we made our way into the brush, I heard excited voices from the other side of the clearing. “Get up and run like hell,” I said. “Those guys mean business.”

Mariko nimbly got to her feet and started running through the brush and trees with me crashing around behind her. As we ran I could hear shouts and voices behind us. “I think they’re following us,” I told Mariko.

I could see the forest ahead was getting thicker with brush and I realized that if we kept running in this direction we’d soon get tangled up and caught. “I’ll cut to the left and cross the stream, making a lot of noise,” I said. “You go ahead for a little bit, then cut to the right and double back towards where Junko dropped us off. Get help.”

“No. I’m not going to leave you,” Mariko said.

“Get back to the road and get help. I’m not acting like a hero, I’m just doing what’s sensible. When I cut to the left, you go ahead and then double back. Find someone and get the police. Then bring them back here. If I lose them, I’ll be hiding around the meadow. Okay?” I panted out the last few words. The thin mountain air made me tired, even after the short sprint.

“But Ken…”

“For God’s sake, please do it! We’ve got to work together. We don’t have time to argue.”

“Okay.” Mariko stopped running, turned around, and grabbed me around the neck. With my forward momentum, it almost tumbled us to the ground. She gave me a brief, fierce kiss and said, “I love you. I’ll bring back help, no matter what. Don’t take any risks!”

“Don’t be silly. Just get help. I love you, too.” She let go of my neck and started running to the right, up the slope of a hill. My grand plan was for her to go forward a little before she cut to the right, but the way she darted through the woods like a deer made me think she probably knew more about it than I did. Now my job was to draw off our pursuers. I turned left and started crashing through the brush, shouting to an imaginary companion. I could hear people yelling to each other, so I was sure they could hear me, too.

I came the edge of the stream. It was only four feet wide and I jumped it at a dead run. Now I was running uphill and fatigue started dragging at my legs. Behind me I heard shouting, so I knew I was being followed. I also knew I couldn’t elude my pursuers long enough for Mariko to get help unless I thought of something more imaginative than just staying ahead of them.

As I clambered higher up the hill the slope got steeper and the thick trunks of the trees grew closer together. Below me I could hear men shouting to each other. It sounded like three of them, and they had spread out into a picket line, making inexorable progress up the mountainside. I realized I would soon be trapped.

I looked around for a weapon and, acting on an instinct as old as man, I stooped down and picked up a rock the size of my fist. Then I looked for a place to hide.

Ahead I saw two trees growing so closely together that the trunks of the trees were mated, forming an expanse of wood wide enough for me to hide behind. I scurried up the slope and got to the uphill side of the trees. Then I pressed back against the trunks, pushing my back against the unyielding wood and holding the rock tightly in my hand.

My breath came in ragged gasps and my heart was beating so loudly I was sure the men would be able to hear it long before they came upon the tree. I fought to control my breathing, closing my eyes momentarily and trying to focus my energy.

Around me the woods took on a strange silence and time seemed to pass with excruciating slowness. I was sure they were right behind me, but I stood pressed against the trees so long that I thought they might have given up the chase.

Then I heard the slide of rocks and dirt as someone scrambled up the hillside. The sound came closer and I raised the rock. If the man passed more than a few feet away, I realized I was probably a dead man because there was no way to throw the rock faster than the flight of a bullet. Besides, as a kid, baseball was not my game. I wasn’t sure how good my aim was.

My lungs were burning and I realized I had been holding my breath. I allowed myself the luxury of a slow exhale as I waited for the first sign of my pursuers.

Suddenly, at the edge of the tree, a brown hand grasped the trunk. On instinct, I stepped from behind the tree and brought the rock down with all my weight behind it. The wolfish Yakuza looked up with surprise. In his other hand was a gun, but he was off balance, pulling himself up the hillside, and couldn’t get a shot off.

The rock came crashing down on his cheekbone with a sickening crunch. He crumpled, releasing the gun and letting it skitter down the steep hillside. I fought to regain my balance so I wouldn’t go tumbling down the slope, too.

I grabbed the tree to steady myself and looked down at the man. Fresh blood already covered one side of his face, and he was making a feeble attempt to cover his head with his arms. The smart thing to do would have been to hit him again to finish him off, but I guess I’m not smart. I didn’t feel remorse for hitting him. The bastard had a gun and, for all I knew, he was the one who had shot at Mariko and me. But I just didn’t have the stomach to strike a second blow.

Instead, I looked for the gun that had slipped down the slope. I couldn’t see it, and I was about to start a search for it when I heard another voice shouting to my right. The voice called a couple of times, and I heard the man at my feet moan a kind of response. I figured someone would be coming to investigate why their buddy wasn’t responding to their hail, and it was time to move out again.

Abandoning my search for the gun, I dropped the rock and started scrambling up the hill again.