Hijikata stared at her with such ferocity that Emmi wanted to confess to bad things that she’d never even considered doing, but she managed to keep chanting the velvet rope theory in her mind.
Act like you belong. Act like you belong. Act like you belong…
“May I leave now?” she asked, throwing a bit of attitude into it.
“I should put you back in a cell without the benefit of the comforts Yamanami arranged for you the last time.”
Hijikata glared again, as did his feral-looking companions, but her fear of these men, who’d taken many lives in the course of their duties, was being replaced by an inborn sense of nobility and the knowledge that her own background was far loftier than theirs were.
As Kaemon’s father had so succinctly put it the other day, these men were just a bunch of farmers with swords, while the blood of highly ranked samurai ran through her veins. In fact, it was some of the same blood shared by the current shogun himself.
Emmi swept her gaze over the men and stood. “Fine. Put me in a cell. I’m sure that when Kaemon finds out where I am—and he will—he’ll just ask his father to get me a pardon, signed by his uncle, the emperor.”
Oh shit
. The semi-concealed surprise in Hijikata’s smug eyes told Emmi she’d screwed up and blabbed Kaemon’s secret. Of course, it was too late to back down now. She took a deep breath and folded her arms in front of her. “Well?”
Hijikata smirked then pulled a fan from his obi and began to fan himself lazily. “I suppose detaining you would be more trouble than you’re worth, Maeda-dono.”
Emmi let the dig slide, though it pissed her off to do so. She’d taken one step toward the door when Hijikata stopped her. Emmi turned back to see him writing something with a thin brush and ink. He fanned it dry then folded it in thirds and handed it to her.
“This should get you where you need to go.”
“Thank you,” Emmi said sharply, taking the paper and leaving quickly.
Emmi waited until she was outside the gates of the compound before opening the paper. Her kanji skills weren’t all they could be, especially when it came to this old style of writing, but she made out enough to get the gist, that this “obnoxious upstart from the Kaga Han” was awaiting the arrival in Kyoto of the relative they’d been separated from and who retained their official travel papers.
Gee, thanks
, Emmi grumbled to herself as she headed back toward Shimabara, instead of being practical and returning to Nijo. She paused when she realized Hijikata hadn’t made mention of being dressed like a guy. He’d even indicated she was male in the paper he’d just given her. A bad feeling hit her, but she pushed it away. Kae had dressed her like this before. That was the reason Hijikata was going along. She wasn’t turning back now. She couldn’t.
She had to find where this Aneko was and get the mirror back.
Chapter Fifteen
Emmi didn’t know how late it was, but she was glad that the aggravation of being in Hijikata’s presence had gotten her adrenaline going enough to make her wide awake. She walked quickly, forcing herself to ignore the potentially distracting sights and sounds surrounding her. At last the gates to Shimabara appeared in the distance once again.
Shimabara was brighter, noisier and more crowded than the streets leading there had been, and Emmi felt slightly relieved. Here she would be able to blend in with the milling crowd. Emmi doubted that anyone in these parts would be checking IDs, unless there was trouble, and she planned to stay as far from trouble as possible.
Weaving her way past two palanquins, Emmi looked at each of the buildings she passed. Restaurant, restaurant, teahouse, brothel—by the looks of the women seated near the windows flirting with male passersby…
Emmi ignored the painted women’s calls of “Oh, boy, visit with us!” and kept on walking. Receiving quite a few looks from some creepy men, Emmi wished she’d had the sense to ask Hijikata for the loan of a short sword or at least a dagger. Of course, he probably would have blown off that idea.
Oh well, best to keep with the ‘velvet rope’ attitude and keep looking like she knew where she was going and what she was looking for.
Chidori had mentioned that Aneko was a premiere courtesan at the Inamoto-ro, one of the top brothels in the Licensed Quarters. Emmi slowed her pace just a bit and turned to look back the way she’d come. Inamoto-ro was supposed to be not far from the main gates.
There were signs posted, but they weren’t the clearest. Emmi made a note to practice her kanji reading when she got back home—just in case she ever needed it again. At the first sign with a ‘moto’ in the name, Emmi entered.
Somehow the scruffy, glaring bouncer, or whatever he was, did not give the impression of the ‘first-class’ house Chidori had described. Emmi backed away from the half-curtained doorway as a couple of men exited and more entered.
She walked down the street but didn’t see anything with ‘moto’ in the name, so she then returned to the first place. To enter, she snuck in alongside some rather fat old guys wearing garish green haoris.
Emmi followed them through the spacious main room. She tried not to sneeze or choke on the thick, heavy incense that filled the air. Why couldn’t they use that nice, unobtrusive sandalwood blend that they had at Nijo? This stuff was bad…
Emmi was distracted by the sight of a large screen in a smaller room to the left. Not thinking, she stepped inside to gawk at it. It was unusual to say the least, and she wondered what Uncle Jake would make of it.
It depicted men. Lots of men doing lots of…things with each other. Emmi stepped closer and tilted her head to the left. Was that what she thought it was? Was the pretty guy in nothing but a gold haori really doing what it looked like he was doing to that other guy? Was it even possible to be in such a position and enjoy it the way they seemed to be doing? And those three in the right corner. Could two guys even do that to another guy at once? Damn, that looked painful.
“Interesting piece, isn’t it?”
Emmi swallowed hard. “Yes. Interesting.” She tensed when she felt the person step up very close behind her.
He chuckled. “Nervous? Surely, this isn’t your first time?”
Emmi stayed facing the screen, though it did nothing but add to the awkwardness of this whole situation. “I’m actually looking for someone. I thought he might be here.”
“Oh, so you’ve been referred by a satisfied client.”
“Something like that.”
The screen was really getting to her, so Emmi decided to take her chances by turning. Not the brightest idea, she realized when the finely dressed man behind her got this strange look of…awe upon seeing her.
Emmi hoped her male cover wasn’t totally blown. He beamed a smile, which might have been quite nice if it hadn’t freaked her out so much. She felt like that cartoon chicken being slobbered over by that bug-eyed weasel thing.
“Oh, I know who sent you.”
“You…do?”
“I do.” He took hold of her elbow and urged her forward. “Please follow me.”
Emmi tried backing away. His grip tightened, and surprisingly so, considering his rather geeky appearance and slight build.
“I think you’re mistaken about me.”
The man’s slimy smile fell. “I am not.”
“You are,” Emmi said roughly, trying to wrench away again. “I’m looking for a woman named Aneko who works out of Inamoto-ro. I’m in the wrong place. I’m sorry.”
From seemingly out of nowhere, two big guys came and flanked her as the thin guy moved aside. Each of the gorillas grabbed Emmi by an arm. She tried kicking them, but it was to no avail.
The thin guy stepped in front of her and brandished a small knife.
“Enough.”
“Listen to me,” Emmi said, hoping he could hear over the pounding of her heart. “I have papers verifying who I am. I’m looking for my uncle from Kaga.”
“I thought it was a woman you wanted.”
“No. I mean yes. I thought she could help me find him.”
The thin guy jerked his head, and the gorillas dragged Emmi behind the painted screen and through a door hidden behind it.
“I know the Shinsengumi,” Emmi blurted.
The thin guy laughed. “As do I and the one who is buying you for the evening.”
“Buying me?”
The thin guy chuckled but said nothing.
Emmi struggled with the men who pulled her through the shoji and into a dimly lit room with another obscene picture screen in the corner and a big futon unrolled in the center of the room.
“No, no, no!” Emmi craned her neck to look at the thin guy. “Look at my papers!”
The thin guy replied with a disgusted look then motioned for the others to let her go.
Emmi took the advantage. She darted past the thin guy and out through the shoji. She pushed over the big floor screen and ran to the other door and into the narrow corridor, pushing her way past those in her path. She made it to the front door and ran, shoving through the crowd, cutting off pedestrians and palanquins alike. Emmi didn’t slow or stop, though she could hear shouts of “Stop that boy!”
Emmi sprinted through the streets. It was not supposed to go this way. She was supposed to find that Aneko woman, get the mirror, then sneak back into Nijo. Why couldn’t things just go the way they were supposed to go?
Emmi almost ran into a couple coming from a side street but managed to veer right at the last second. Unfortunately she ran into a palanquin bearer, knocking him off balance. The heavy conveyance shifted, and the man fell with a sickening crunch of broken bone. The palanquin hit the ground. A passenger inside shrieked, and the bearer in back cried out as his foot was crushed under the weight of it all.
“Ohmygod!” Emmi cried out, not knowing what to do. She picked herself off the ground and tried to help the trapped man in the rear. Two men who’d come running to help shoved her aside.
“Aneko-han!” two young girls shrieked, running from a building up ahead. They fell to their knees and helped the palanquin’s occupant out. The woman had a large, bleeding cut across her cheek. Two of her three decorative hair sticks were broken and sections of oiled hair came loose from the elaborate coiffure.
Emmi reached out. “Let me help—”
Her words died when Nakagawa Kaemon pulled himself out of the palanquin after the little girls had helped the woman to her feet.
“What are you doing here?” Kae and Emmi asked in unison.
“Do not move!” Kaemon ordered before he hurried to help the woman who’d been injured.
The woman screamed when she realized her face was bleeding, and she lunged at Emmi. Kaemon grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground.
“Come inside, Aneko. It doesn’t seem that bad. You’ll be fine.”
Aneko?
Emmi took a step forward but stopped when Kae whipped around and shot her a look that froze her in her tracks.
Damn. So close and yet so far.
Chapter Sixteen
A wave of guilt washed over Emmi as she watched someone tend to the injured palanquin bearers, until a shout of “There he is!” caught her attention.
Emmi turned to see those gorillas from before rushing through the crowd. She looked toward the front of the brothel that Kaemon had entered then ran inside calling his name. Emmi called out every Japanese variation of “I’m sorry” she knew as she plowed through the busy rooms, bumping into and stepping on customers and prostitutes alike.
Many shouting, angry people were hot on her trail by the time Kae showed his face in a room at the rear of the building. Emmi ducked behind him and crouched down in a vain attempt to hide herself in the folds of his haori. She cringed when she heard the sound of weapons being drawn. She scrunched her eyes shut seconds before she was shoved backward to land flat on her ass.
Emmi opened her eyes to see Kaemon standing in the center of the small room. He held his sword with both hands, but low—pointing downward in front of him, in the position her father and Jake jokingly called the “stupid wannabe” stance.
It was strictly a movie-type maneuver, they said. A
real
swordsman wouldn’t use it since a
real
swordsman wouldn’t be stupid enough to invite an open attack from a dozen guys and still think he could come out on top.
Of course, Nakagawa Kaemon hadn’t ever seen a movie to know any better…
Two older women shrieked for the men to stop, but no one paid attention. The first one rushed Kae and had his attack easily deflected. Two more rushed, then a third circled behind Kae, followed by another. Emmi mashed herself into the corner and shut her eyes again. She didn’t want to hear the clashing of steel blades, didn’t want to hear the sound of breaking wood or the ripping of rice paper-paneled walls and silk screens.
And Emmi absolutely did not want to hear the grunts or cries of men being injured and killed or feel the hot, sticky spray of blood hit her face.
Emmi looked, hoping it wasn’t Kaemon’s blood.
It wasn’t, and Emmi found herself watching the single-minded artistry in this life or death situation. He sidestepped an attacker and spun to gash another’s forearm. He switched his katana to his left hand and crouched to avoid a rush. He kicked the man’s legs out from under him, then seized his short sword and pierced the man’s heart.
He was clearly on the defensive, and yet he switched gears better than a choreographed stuntman and attacked those who got in too close.
A man fell in front of her, his sword hand bleeding profusely. Even as Kae reached for his tanto, Emmi instinctively kicked the man in the head. She lunged for the fallen dagger herself, but the man grabbed her. She slashed backward with his tanto and scrambled away. A wave of nausea washed over her when reality hit and she saw the gaping wound she’d caused, but the queasiness vanished in the rush of adrenaline that followed.
Out of nowhere came a small throwing knife that hit Kae in the upper thigh. He staggered and lost his footing in a slick puddle of blood. Not thinking, Emmi dove at the knife thrower, who sought the advantage over Kae. She jammed the tanto into his groin.