The Ninja's Daughter (3 page)

One of the dōshin caught the yoriki's eye and nodded toward Shijō Road. A man and two women had just stepped off the bridge.

The man had a narrow face and a slender build. He walked with his shoulders rounded forward, face turned down, and heavy feet, as if his grief weighed more than he could bear. The woman to his left had graying hair and a work-worn face that retained the shadow of its former beauty. She leaned on a teenage girl whose features echoed hers in a plainer way.

When they had almost reached the body, the older woman fell to her knees. She covered her mouth with her hands and sobbed as tears spilled down her cheeks. The daughter knelt beside her mother, leaving the man to approach the scene alone. As he reached a respectful distance, he knelt and pressed his face to the ground.

After a moment long enough to reinforce his status, the yoriki said, “I assume you have come to claim this body?”

The man pushed himself to a kneeling position, but kept his face turned down.

“Speak up,” the yoriki snapped. “I don't have time to listen to your silence.”

“Noble yoriki,” the man replied, “this girl is my daughter Emi.”

A muffled sob escaped the lips of the woman behind him.

The man tensed. “Please forgive my wife,” he said, “she means no disrespect. Sometimes a woman can't control her tears.”

“What is your name and occupation?” the yoriki demanded.

“I am Satsu, an actor, from the Yutoku-
za
.”

Hiro's stomach dropped at the name of the actor and his guild. He wished he had made the Jesuit stay at home.

Father Mateo leaned toward Hiro and whispered, “What are they waiting for?”

“Permission,” Hiro whispered back. “The family cannot move the body until the yoriki consents.”

The yoriki turned to Hiro. “Tell your master he may leave. No one here requires his aid.”

“I have no intention of leaving,” Father Mateo said. “This family needs my help.”

The yoriki laid a hand on his sword. “This matter does not concern you. I have decided. My word is law.” He looked at Hiro. “Translate to ensure he understands!”

Hiro complied, to avoid a fight and to give the Jesuit time to reconsider. In truth, the yoriki couldn't forbid an investigation—only the magistrate had that power—but magistrates tended to approve the decisions a yoriki made in the field.

Also, people shouldn't pick fights with men who could arrest them.

When Hiro finished translating the order into Portuguese, Father Mateo bowed and said, “Perhaps you misunderstood my intentions. I merely wish to pray with this family and comfort them in this difficult time.”

“These people do not warrant a priest's attention,” the yoriki said.

“What about the ground beneath the body?” Father Mateo gestured toward, but did not look at, the murdered girl. “Only a priest can cleanse the defilement after the family moves her.”

“A Japanese priest,” the yoriki said. “Our kami do not speak your foreign tongue.”

“The Christian God inhabits Japan as well as other places,” the Jesuit said. “Would you knowingly risk his wrath by refusing me?”

Hiro admired the Jesuit's gamble but doubted it would work. The yoriki didn't strike him as the type of man who feared a foreign god.

“I do not want to waste the morning arguing with you.” The yoriki turned to the pair of burly dōshin. “Go to Kenninji and fetch a priest to cleanse the ground. Tell him the Yutoku-za will cover the donations.”

The dōshin bowed. As they swaggered off, the yoriki turned to Hiro. “Ensure your master does no more than pray. I will hold you both responsible if he tries to investigate.”

Hiro bowed to avoid a reply. Until he heard the actor's name, he might have agreed to prevent an investigation. Now, he made no promises.

The yoriki turned and walked away without another word.

A keening wail rose from Satsu's wife as she crawled to her murdered daughter's side. Her grief brought unexpected tears to Hiro's eyes. He had seen, and heard, such pain before, on the day that he—the second son—became his mother's eldest living child.

He forced the memory away, and his emotions with it.

Satsu said, “Chou, help your mother. I will carry Emi. We must go before the samurai return.” The actor kept his face turned down, shielding it from view.

Father Mateo took a step toward the family. “If you please, may I speak with you before you go?”

Satsu bowed his head to the ground. His wife and daughter bowed as well.

“Forgive me,” Satsu said, “but a man like you would only defile himself with the likes of us. Please allow us to take our dead and leave.”

CHAPTER 5

“Nothing outside a man can defile him,” Father Mateo said.

Chou looked at the Jesuit. “Truly?”

Satsu's wife reached out and slapped the girl across the face, her movement as fast as a striking snake and just as startling. Satsu's daughter clutched her cheek in pain.

“Please don't kill her!” The woman wailed as she resumed her prone position.

Father Mateo seemed confused, but Hiro understood. By law, a commoner had no right to question the word of a samurai, and the priest, though not actually samurai, had equivalent status—at least, in a commoner's eyes.

“I will not harm her,” Father Mateo said. “I simply wish to talk with you, and pray. If not here, perhaps we could follow you home.”

Hiro frowned. The Jesuit did not understand the problem his words created. These people could not refuse his request, but their house would not be prepared to receive a man of samurai rank. Accepting would also place the family at risk, if the yoriki discovered what they'd done.

“Let them go,” Hiro said. “We should leave them to their grief.”

Father Mateo lowered his voice and switched to Portuguese. “Have you no conscience? But for us, this girl will have no justice.”

“The law does not entitle her to justice.” Hiro wanted to agree with the priest, but he would not place this family at risk.

“The girl is not a pile of trash, or a beast,” the Jesuit said. “Her life had meaning. No one had the right to take it from her.”

“You heard the yoriki. He forbade—” Hiro fell silent at the sight of Satsu's face.

The actor had risen to his knees. He looked at Hiro with surprise—and recognition. Hiro searched his memory, but couldn't place the actor's face beyond a fuzzy memory he did not trust as truth. Still, in combination with the name . . .

Father Mateo followed Hiro's gaze.

This time, Satsu didn't hide his face. “I apologize, noble sir, if you find me rude, but . . . 
do I hear Iga's shadow in your speech
?”

The coded question identified Satsu as an Iga shinobi in need of aid. It would have obligated Hiro even if he hadn't recognized the actor's name.

Once again, he wondered how Satsu knew him.

“What do you care if my speech bears Iga's shadow?” Hiro asked.

“After so many years away, even the shadow of home seems bright as sunlight,” Satsu said. “It drew me, as twilight draws the shadows close.”

Father Mateo looked from Hiro to Satsu, puzzled.

“I am only a humble man,” the actor continued, “but I would be honored, and grateful, if you and the priest would accompany me home.”

Hiro nodded. He didn't know what Satsu wanted, but as long as it didn't endanger Hiro's mission to protect the priest, he had an obligation to assist. Since Father Mateo seemed inclined to help the family anyway, it wouldn't hurt to hear the actor out.

“What changed his mind?” Father Mateo asked in Portuguese as he and Hiro followed Satsu's family across the bridge at Shijō Road.

The samurai on guard had let them pass without a word. The mourning family, and the corpse, required no explanation.

“Do you intend to investigate this murder?” Hiro asked.

“Of course I do,” the Jesuit said, “regardless of the yoriki's threats.”

“What will you do with the killer?” Hiro asked. “You can't turn him in to the magistrate. The yoriki would arrest us both for disobeying orders.”

“When did you start to worry about the yoriki?” Father Mateo asked.

Instead of answering, Hiro looked at the family ahead on the bridge.

Satsu's living daughter, Chou, walked behind her father with an outstretched arm around her mother's shoulders. Just in front of them, Satsu carried Emi in his arms. The stiffness that followed after death had already frozen Emi's muscles, but Satsu had no trouble balancing her tiny frame. Etiquette didn't allow the other men to offer help, but Hiro suspected Satsu would have refused it anyway.

“What happened back there?” Father Mateo glanced over his shoulder toward the river. “One moment you tell me to leave him alone, the next you're talking nonsense, and now—” His eyes widened with realization. “Shadows of Iga . . . Satsu . . . He's like you?”

Hiro appreciated the priest's decision not to say “shinobi.” Wise men didn't use the word aloud. He was also impressed. The Jesuit had made the connection faster than Hiro anticipated.

“Do you know him?” Father Mateo asked. “You treated him like a stranger.”

Hiro increased his pace as Satsu's family reached the eastern end of the bridge. He didn't want to lose them in the narrow streets beyond the river.

“He is a stranger,” Hiro said, “and also my uncle, on my mother's side.”

CHAPTER 6

“That man is your uncle?” Father Mateo stared at Satsu. “How do you know, if he's a stranger?”

Hiro answered in Portuguese. “When I left home, my mother mentioned her brother had come to Kyoto years ago. She told me the name that he assumed and that he had joined a school of actors called the Yutoku-za.”

“Why haven't you mentioned him?” Father Mateo asked.

“And risk his safety? Two men keep secrets only if one is dead.” Hiro hoped the priest would understand the awkward phrasing. Despite three years of study, and his aptitude for languages, he sometimes failed to express himself precisely in Portuguese.

“Can we trust him?” Father Mateo asked.

Hiro shrugged. “I don't.”

“Then why go with him?” Father Mateo asked.

“You're the one who wanted to follow him home.”

“He wasn't dangerous then,” the Jesuit said.

Hiro raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, he was no less a threat before you knew the truth. I do not trust him, but he asked for help, so I must hear him out. If he refuses to answer my questions, or threatens us in any way, I will kill him—and his family—at once.”

“You'd kill your own uncle?” Father Mateo sounded horrified.

“I am paid to keep you alive,” Hiro said.

“Though we don't know why, or by whom,” the priest interjected. “Surely family supersedes the orders of a stranger.”

“Duty knows no family, and duty must prevail.” Hiro paused to let the words sink in. “My orders are to protect you, and I will not hesitate to kill anyone who threatens that objective.”

“If you don't know Satsu, how did he know you?” Father Mateo asked.

Hiro noted the change of subject, a tactic the Jesuit often used to avoid unpleasant topics—like whether or not his friend would run a sword through a relative's heart.

“That's a question I intend to ask him.”

Satsu's recognition didn't surprise Hiro nearly as much as the fact that the actor requested help. No shinobi would risk exposure over a simple murder. But Hiro wouldn't speculate about the cause until he talked with Satsu. Speculation led to assumptions. Assumptions caused mistakes.

“This doesn't seem suspicious to you?” Father Mateo asked.

“No more than any other family asking us for help.”

Satsu stopped in front of a wooden building on the north side of the street. It was larger than Hiro expected, though theater troupes did need significant room for practice and storage spaces. An indigo
noren
hung in the entry. Characters running down the fabric panels read “YUTOKU-ZA, PERFORMERS OF
NŌ
.”

Satsu spoke to his wife and Chou, who bowed and entered the building while the actor stood outside with Emi's body.

Hiro stopped a short distance away. “We should give them time to make arrangements.”

“Do they live there?” Father Mateo asked. “That looks like a business.”

“Actors live with their troupes,” Hiro said. “The building most likely belongs to the man who leads the Yutoku-za.”

Chou reappeared in the doorway. Satsu followed her inside.

Father Mateo started forward, but Hiro stopped him. “Wait. He will come to us.”

More than courtesy prompted the words. The street gave Hiro room to maneuver. Defending against attack would prove more difficult indoors.

As he waited for Satsu, Hiro watched a handful of people enter and leave the tiny shrine across the road. Unlike the larger temples, which had landscaped grounds and many buildings, this one encompassed only a single yard and a couple of tiny structures. Lettering over the entrance gate identified the temple as Chugenji.