The Ninja's Daughter (29 page)

“I dragged her body up the bank and left her with the sleeping man. I hoped the police would blame him for her death. It was wrong, but I was scared.” She looked at Yuji. “I thought, with Emi dead, you'd want to marry me again.”

Yuji's eyes were wide with horror. Rika and Nori seemed equally stunned.

Satsu stared at his daughter with an expression that slowly hardened into regret.

Hiro did not envy the difficult choice that Satsu had to make.

Nori's whisper broke the silence. “Why?”

“I never meant to hurt her.” Chou turned to her mother. “You have to believe me. I had no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Satsu said, “until the deed is done. Now, however, the lot is cast and you must answer for your crime.”

“My crime?” The glaze in Chou's eyes suggested her mind refused to process the situation fully.

Nori shook her head and whispered, “
No
. I cannot lose them both.”

“You killed your sister,” Satsu said.

“But it's over.” Chou seemed puzzled. “Emi is gone and the mask is also.”

“Emi is gone,” Hiro said, “but the mask is not.”

CHAPTER 54

Hiro gestured to Father Mateo. The Jesuit opened the bag and withdrew the mask.

Satsu's mouth dropped open. “You found it? How?”

“As you suspected, by tracing the coin,” Hiro said. “The morning after the theft, Emi left the mask with a moneylender—a relative of the merchant she met by the river—as collateral for a loan. I don't know whether she planned to sell the mask in Kyoto or in Edo, but she knew that no one would look for it in a moneylender's storehouse.”

“How did you trace the moneylender?” Satsu asked. “How did you know she hadn't sold the mask?”

“She had no reason to stay in Kyoto once she had the money from the sale,” Hiro said, “and a mask like this is worth far more than a single golden coin. Once I knew she didn't get the coin from a suitor, or from Yuji, I realized a moneylender offered the perfect place to hide the mask. The moneylender would keep it safe, and the loan she received—a coin—was fairly easy to conceal.”

“Kyoto has dozens of moneylenders,” Satsu said. “How did you find the right one?”

“The man Emi met by the river worked for a moneylender.” Hiro omitted the clue about Jiro having coins to spend. “I decided to try the logical option first. It proved correct.”

Satsu bowed to Hiro, and then to Father Mateo. “May I have the honor of returning the mask to Botan? I will confess that Emi stole it and accept whatever penalty he demands.”

Father Mateo handed the mask to Satsu, who accepted it with another bow.

“It is yours to return,” Hiro said, “but Yuji should suffer the penalty for the theft.”

“I didn't steal it!” Yuji snapped.

Rika's hand flashed out and slapped her son across the face. “Bow down and beg the samurai's forgiveness!”

Speechless, Yuji lowered his face to the floor.

“Your father was too proud of you,” Rika continued. “He fostered your talent at the cost of your character. Others accomplished the theft, and the murder, but you set the chain of events in motion. You will accept responsibility for your actions, even if it ends your career. At least it won't put a rope around your neck.”

Rika looked at Chou. “Not everyone here will be as fortunate.”

Chou shook her head, eyes wide, as Rika's meaning struck her.

“
No!
” Nori threw herself at her husband's feet. “I beg you. No one has to know. We do not have to lose them both for this.”

Satsu closed his eyes for a moment, as if steeling himself to speak. “The law is clear. Death is the only penalty for murder. It must be done.”

Nori did not raise her face. Her body shook with desperate sobs.

Chou hung her head, accepting her father's judgment. “I only wish I did not have to cause you public shame.”

Satsu looked at Hiro with a question in his eyes.

Hiro nodded.

“If you are strong enough,” Satsu said, “we do not need to involve the magistrate.”

A keening wail rose from Nori, who rocked back and forth as if in pain. Rika moved to Nori's side. Yuji pushed himself to a kneeling position, but kept his gaze on the floor.

“Can a woman commit . . . self-determination?” Father Mateo whispered in Portuguese, substituting the translated word for
seppuku
.

Hiro shook his head. “That ritual is reserved for samurai.”

“Then how?” the Jesuit asked.

“A rope and a tree,” Hiro answered.

“Suicide is a mortal sin,” Father Mateo whispered.

“So is murder,” Hiro replied, “if I remember the tenets of your faith.”

Father Mateo seemed surprised. “You paid attention?”

“Your house has open rafters.” Hiro shrugged. “And voices carry.”

“Please excuse us,” Satsu said to Hiro. “I must help my daughter do what must be done.”

Nori lunged for Chou and sheltered her daughter beneath her body. “Satsu, no. I cannot lose them both. You cannot take her from me.”

“Is there no alternative?” Father Mateo asked the actor. “I could speak to the magistrate.”

“No!” Nori shrieked. “He will order her hanged in public!”

Satsu turned to the priest, eyes red and glassy with unshed tears. “My wife is correct. Chou's life must answer for her crime. Privacy is the only mercy anyone can offer. That way, the Yutoku-za will not suffer public shame as well.”

Chou embraced her mother and stood up, though it took some effort to disentangle herself from Nori's grasp. When she did, the older woman collapsed to the floor.

“I am sorry, Mother,” Chou said, “but I have disgraced you enough already. Please forgive me. There is no other choice.”

“A day,” Nori begged. “Just one more day.”

“I would rather do it now.” Chou blinked back tears. “Before I lose my nerve.”

“May I go too and pray with her?” Father Mateo asked.

“We do not pray to your foreign god.” Satsu spoke gently. “Thank you for the sentiment, but it is better if you leave.”

Hiro caught the Jesuit's eye. “You cannot help her,” he said in Portuguese. “You must not interfere.”

Father Mateo seemed on the verge of tears as well, which startled Hiro into silence.

“Please excuse me,” Satsu said. “I will walk you out, and then I must go with Chou, to assist. I give you my word, this will be done today.”

“Of course.” Hiro bowed to Satsu. “Please accept my condolences on your losses.”

The actor bowed back more deeply. “Thank you for allowing me to keep this matter private.”

“I will stay with Nori,” Rika said, “and my worthless son will confess to Botan. I promise he will take responsibility for his actions.”

Yuji hung his head like a beaten dog.

Hiro nodded. “We will leave you to your duty.”

Satsu escorted Hiro and Father Mateo to the door. When they reached the street, he stepped outside and closed the door behind them.

“I must go and help my daughter,” he said, “but first, I wish to apologize. I did not believe you would help me if you knew that Chou was guilty from the start. When did you know I realized she was the killer?”

“When Chou removed the coin from Emi's body, you asked if she was positive that Emi hadn't told her about the coin.” Hiro paused. “You didn't ask the expected question—if Chou had seen the coin before—which meant you knew she had.”

“Because she used it to murder her sister.” Satsu sighed. “Did you know the entire truth from that moment?”

“No,” Hiro said. “In fact, I didn't realize the importance of your statement until last night. Without all the evidence, taken together, the words alone would not have solved the crime.”

“I regret that we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances,” Satsu said.

“I regret it also,” Hiro said. “We are leaving the city this afternoon. Have you any messages for Iga?”

“Please thank your mother for raising an honorable son.”

“You should leave the city also,” Father Mateo said. “The Miyoshi army is marching on Kyoto.”

“I've heard the rumors,” Satsu replied, “but for now, I think we will stay. Samurai always need entertainment, and men who wear masks can often survive where those who wear swords cannot.” His smile faded. “Please excuse me. I have a daughter to assist . . . and then to mourn.”

CHAPTER 55

Hiro and Father Mateo walked home together in heavy silence.

Hiro knew the Jesuit disapproved of death by suicide. He wondered if the priest would have preferred Chou die by public hanging, but didn't ask.

Words that could not help were often better left unspoken.

As they reached the bridge at Marutamachi Road, the samurai on duty stepped out to meet them. “Heading home?”

Father Mateo bowed. “I have finished my business.”

Hiro sensed finality in the words.

As the samurai moved aside to let them pass, a voice behind them yelled, “Stop those men!”

Hiro turned to see the yoriki approaching.

The guard looked wary. Hiro considered running, but it wouldn't solve the problem. Better to talk their way out of this, if they could.

“Is something wrong?” the samurai asked as Yoriki Hosokawa reached them.

“These men are under arrest,” the yoriki said. “They failed to pay a fine.”

“The fine is not due until later today.” Hiro gestured toward the sun. “We still have several hours.”

“The fine is overdue,” the yoriki snapped.

Father Mateo turned to the guard. “Please help me. I have committed no crime. This man abuses his power to steal from the innocent.”

“How dare you!” Sunlight flashed on the yoriki's sword as it flew toward Father Mateo's neck—and stopped with a clang as Hiro's katana met it in the air.

The yoriki froze, stunned by the interference.

“Step aside, ronin!” he demanded.

“No.” Hiro didn't lower his sword. “I am saving you the embarrassment of killing a foreign priest and starting a war. Come to the foreigner's home. We will pay you in full.”

Hiro felt the pressure on his katana lessen slightly as Yoriki Hosokawa considered the offer. He hoped the yoriki's greed would prevail. The man wanted money badly, and Father Mateo would earn him nothing dead.

Hosokawa lowered his sword. “Fine. But we're going immediately. No tricks.”

Hiro sheathed his katana. “A samurai always honors his word.”

The guard stepped away with visible relief as Yoriki Hosokawa returned his sword to its sheath as well.

Hiro and Father Mateo walked up the road with the yoriki between them.

The Jesuit leaned forward and looked at Hiro. “Have you got the money?” he asked in Portuguese.

“Speak Japanese!” the yoriki ordered. “None of your foreign trickery.”

Hiro didn't answer. He was working out a plan.

They had almost reached the Jesuit's home when the yoriki stopped and demanded, “What's going on here?”

A horse-drawn wagon stood in the road in front of Father Mateo's home. Straw-wrapped sake barrels filled the cart. A man in an artisan's tunic and trousers stood beside the bony horses hitched to the front of the wagon. He turned, and Hiro realized with shock that the man was Ginjiro.

Luis and Ana emerged from the house with woven baskets in their hands.

The yoriki turned to Father Mateo. “You were planning to flee the city!” He reached for his sword.

“Wait!” Hiro raised a hand. “We have the payment in the house, as you demanded. We would never leave without paying you.”

Yoriki Hosokawa looked suspicious. “Why is the cart already here?”

“Packing a house takes time,” Hiro said. “Please come inside.”

“No tricks.” The yoriki drew his sword. “The foreigner goes first. Then you. Then me.”

Father Mateo walked toward the house. Hiro followed.

“You stay here,” the yoriki growled at Ana and Luis as he passed.

“Go to the kitchen and don't look back,” Hiro whispered in Portuguese as they entered the common room.

“No foreign talk!” the yoriki snapped. “I told yo—”

The final word became a gurgle as Hiro spun, wakizashi in hand, and opened a gash in the yoriki's throat.

Yoriki Hosokawa dropped his sword and clutched his neck. His eyes went wide with surprise and disbelief.

Crimson blood welled up between his fingers and spilled down across his tunic. The flow pulsed with every beat of his heart. He choked and spat out blood.

Hiro stepped forward and thrust his sword through the yoriki's chest, using an upward angle designed to pierce the lungs and heart.

Yoriki Hosokawa fell to his knees and coughed again. A rivulet of blood dripped off his lips and spattered on the wooden floor.

“I promised you payment in full, and now you have it.” Hiro withdrew the sword. “A samurai keeps his word.”

Yoriki Hosokawa tried to speak. The effort sent a spray of blood across the floor. He choked and slumped over, dead. Blood drained from his mouth and pooled around his face.

Hiro wiped the blade of his sword on the yoriki's surcoat.

“Hiro,” Father Mateo gasped, “what have you done?”

“What I had to.” He returned his sword to its sheath.

“Luis has silver. We could have paid him.”

“He would have killed you the moment he had it.” Hiro looked down at the yoriki's body. “He could not risk you telling Magistrate Ishimaki what he'd done.”

“He didn't kill Botan or Jiro,” Father Mateo objected.

“Commoners have no access to the magistrate, but Ishimaki would listen to you. He had no intention of letting you live.” Hiro shook his head. “The Hosokawa are mostly noble. The clan is better off without him in it.”