The Ronin’s Mistress si-15 Page 10

  “You would have been wiser to keep your business private,” Chiyo said.

  Masahiro sensed that Chiyo didn’t like Okaru.

  Okaru hung her head. “I realize that now, but they were so interested, and so kind. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

  “In the future, don’t be so frank with strangers,” Reiko said.

  Masahiro agreed that Okaru should have kept quiet, but his mother and Chiyo shouldn’t blame her; she was too innocent to know that not everyone could be trusted.

  Okaru nodded humbly. “Thank you for your advice.” She finished eating and said, “I’m so worried about Oishi. Have you any news of him?”

  “My husband has put him under house arrest,” Reiko said, and explained about the supreme court.

  Breathless with relief, Okaru clasped a hand to her bosom. “At least he’s still alive.”

  A pain as sharp as a stab pierced Masahiro’s heart. Somehow, it hurt to see how much she loved Oishi. Masahiro was beginning to dislike Oishi, even though yesterday he’d admired the man as an example of samurai honor. Everything had seemed so simple then. The world had turned into a strange, confusing place overnight.

  “Is there a chance that Oishi will be pardoned?” Okaru said eagerly.

  “Perhaps only a small one,” Reiko said. “Many important people are in favor of condemning all of the forty-seven ronin to death. My husband is investigating the case. Everything depends on what he learns. I told him what you said Oishi told you about the vendetta. He promised to take it into account. But it would help if you could remember anything else Oishi said.”

  Okaru shook her head sadly. “I’ve tried and tried, but I really don’t remember.”

  The door slid open, pushed so hard that it crashed against its frame. A woman stumbled into the room. She was breathing hard; she brought with her a stale, sour smell. Tall and very thin, she wore a baggy coat and had long, gray-streaked hair twisted carelessly in a knot. Her face was square, her fine features emaciated.

  “Which one of you is Okaru?” Her eyes, red and watery from the cold, blazed with anger.

  Everyone stared at her in surprise. Reiko said, “Who are you?”

  The woman’s gaze settled on Okaru. She advanced on the girl, who leaned back, intimidated. She ignored everyone else. Masahiro thought she seemed angry, satisfied, and sad at the same time. “My name is Ukihashi. I’m Oishi’s wife.”

  Shock parted Okaru’s lips. “What-why-?”

  As Ukihashi gazed down at Okaru, her expression turned to disgust. “Merciful gods, you’re less than half his age.” The anger in her eyes flared. “You stole my husband!”

  “No,” Okaru said in a faint voice. “I didn’t-”

  “Don’t pretend to be so innocent,” Ukihashi shouted. “You seduced him. But he’s as guilty as you are.” Fists clenched, she spat her words into Okaru’s face. “Because of him, I’ve come down in the world. Once I was as pretty as you are, but look at me now!” She flung out her arms. She wore ragged gloves, her fingers bare. Her face had dry, scaly patches of skin; her lips were cracked and raw. Her padded coat was faded, stained, ripped, and leaking feathers.

  “I’m sorry.” Okaru looked so ashamed that Masahiro felt bad for her. “But, you see, Oishi had already divorced you by the time he met-”

  Ukihashi slapped Okaru’s face. “You evil little whore!”

  Okaru yelped in pain. Ukihashi grabbed the front of her robe, hauled her to her feet, and shook her, spewing curses. “Help!” Okaru cried.

  Masahiro rushed to Ukihashi and tried to pull her off Okaru. But Ukihashi was stronger than she looked. Hauling Okaru across the room, she towed Masahiro along.

  “Stop!” Reiko ordered.

  Ukihashi dragged Okaru out the door and began hitting her. “Thief! You couldn’t get a man of your own, so you took mine!”

  She shoved Okaru. The girl screamed, fell off the veranda, and landed in the snow. Ukihashi wrenched free of Masahiro, pounced on Okaru, and clawed at her eyes. Okaru struggled, crying, “Leave me alone, you crazy woman!”

  Men watching over the fence cheered. The inn’s other guests came out of their rooms to see what was happening. The proprietor rushed over and said, “She climbed the fence. I couldn’t stop her.” He wrung his hands as the two women fought. “Will someone please break it up?”

  Masahiro waded into the snow. Ukihashi had Okaru on the ground under her knees. He pulled on Ukihashi while she mashed snow into Okaru’s face. Okaru squealed. Ukihashi turned on Masahiro and shrieked, “Stay out of this!”

  She punched his face. He yelled as the blow exploded against his nose and propelled him backward. He landed on his buttocks in the snow. Hot, salty-sweet blood trickled down his throat and spilled from his nostrils. He heard his mother call her guards. They rushed in and tore Ukihashi away from Okaru. It took three men to hold Ukihashi while she struggled and screamed and the spectators cheered. Okaru sat up, coughing and spitting out snow. Reiko and Chiyo hurried to Masahiro.

  “Are you hurt?” Reiko asked anxiously. “Oh, your nose is bleeding!” Chiyo offered a handkerchief. Reiko pressed it against his nose. “Tilt your head back. Come inside.”

  As he obeyed, he saw Okaru turn her head in his direction. His face went hot with embarrassment. That he’d tried to protect her and had his nose bloodied by an old woman! And now he was being treated like a baby.

  “Leave me alone,” he said gruffly. “I’m all right.”

  Chiyo helped Okaru to her feet and into the room. Masahiro tried to shrug off his mother as she continued fussing over him. Reiko removed the handkerchief long enough to see that blood was still oozing from his nose. “Stay still. Don’t be so impatient.”

  Masahiro couldn’t bear to look at Okaru. He couldn’t help looking. She smiled at him while she wiped her face and hair with a towel. Embarrassment turned to humiliation.

  Lieutenant Tanuma appeared at the door. “Lady Reiko, what do you want us to do with that woman? Should we let her go?”

  “No,” Reiko said. “I want to talk to her.” She turned to Masahiro. “Keep your head back and keep pressing on your nose with the handkerchief.”

  “Should I come with you or stay with Masahiro?” Chiyo said.

  “You can go,” Okaru said. “I’ll be here.”

  When his mother and Chiyo left, Masahiro panicked. He’d fought in battles and faced death like a man, but he was terrified to be alone with Okaru. What would he say to her? Masahiro clutched the handkerchief against his nose and stared desperately at the ceiling, as if he could find the answer written there.

  Okaru knelt beside him. He glanced sideways at her. She smiled again. Masahiro realized how stupid he must look. He tilted his head down and cautiously sniffed.

  “Has the bleeding stopped?” Okaru asked.

  “I think so.”

  “That’s good.”

  Shyness tied Masahiro’s tongue. This was the first conversation he’d ever had with Okaru, and he couldn’t think of how to keep it going. He took the handkerchief off his nose.

  “There’s blood on your face.” Okaru went to a basin of water, dipped in a cloth, and wrung it out. “Here, let me.”

  Masahiro sat rigid, afraid to move, while she dabbed his cheeks and lips. Okaru was so close to him that he could hear her soft breathing and smell her sweet, fresh scent. Afraid to stare rudely at her face, he cast his gaze downward. He saw the loose neckline of her kimono and the hollow between her breasts. A thrill swept through him. He felt a rush of pleasure, and a strange, urgent need. His heart began to pound so thunderously, he was afraid Okaru would hear it. He longed to touch her, but he was terrified of what she would think if he did.

  “There.” Okaru sat back on her heels and studied him. “Your nose is swollen. Does it hurt?” She gently touched his nose.

  Masahiro said, “Yes. I mean, no.” Her fingertips were as soft and cool as flower petals, but they seemed to burn his skin.

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” Okaru said.


  He frowned, wondering if she was joking; but her expression was serious. “I didn’t rescue you,” he was forced to admit. “My mother’s guards did.”

  “If not for you, that woman might have killed me before they came.” Okaru smiled. “You’re my hero.”

  All Masahiro could do was look at the floor and blush so hotly that he felt as if he were on fire.

  13

  Hirata followed Chikara to a room in the barracks where the Hosokawa clan retainers practiced martial arts. Wooden swords and spears hung from racks. The bare wooden floor was marred by scuffs, nicks, and gouges. Polished steel mirrors were mounted on one wall. Chikara stood in the center of the room, his arms folded, a safe distance from Hirata.

  “I’ve heard of you,” Chikara said, his voice unsteady but belligerent. “You’re the famous fighter. Well, you don’t scare me.”

  “That’s good,” Hirata said, “because I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Chikara looked askance at Hirata. He reached for the swords he usually wore at his waist, but his hand closed around empty air. He glanced at the weapons on the racks, realized that they were wooden and Hirata’s blades were steel, and discarded the idea of fighting.

  “A good choice,” Hirata said. “You’re wiser than a lot of men twice your age.”

  Chikara peered at Hirata, wondering if Hirata was making fun of him. Hirata solemnly returned his gaze. Chikara asked, “What do you want with me?”

  “I want you to tell me about the vendetta.”

  “What about it?” Chikara asked warily.

  “Why did you wait so long to go after Kira?” This wasn’t a minor issue that Hirata wanted to clear up so that he could set the record straight. Twenty-two months was a long time. A lot could have happened besides the forty-seven ronin stewing about their master’s death and fixating on revenge. Maybe something else had gone on, which could affect the supreme court’s decision-and Sano’s and Hirata’s fate.

  Chikara tilted his head. “Isn’t it obvious why waiting was a good idea?”

  “Suppose you tell me, and I’ll decide whether it is,” Hirata said.

  Chikara hesitated for a moment that was fraught with his reluctance to obey and his fear of the consequences of disobeying. “All right.”

  1701 May

  After the dissolution of the Asano estate in Edo, Oishi gathered Lord Asano’s remaining men in his shabby little rented house and said, “Let us make our plan to avenge our master.”

  “Why do we need a plan?” Chikara had always been rash and hotheaded, unlike his prudent, calculating father. “Why can’t we just go kill Kira now?”

  The other men eagerly seconded Chikara. But Oishi said, “Because Kira is expecting us. He’s surrounded by guards. We have to lull him into thinking we’re not coming.”

  “And in the meantime, we do nothing?” Chikara said in dismay.

  “Far from it. We have important work to do.”

  Chikara felt the group’s morale rise. His father had given them a mission, a purpose that their lives had lost when they’d become ronin. “What kind of work?”

  “I’ll try to get the house of Asano reinstated,” Oishi said. “I don’t expect to succeed, but I owe it to Lord Asano. The rest of you will convince Kira that revenge is the last thing on our minds. You can pretend to accept that you’ve lost your samurai status and go to work like good little commoners. Or you can pretend to become good-for-nothing bums. Make sure that lots of people see you. We want word to get back to Kira.”

  One man said, “I’ll be a bum. That’s easier than working.” Laughter arose.

  “Remember that it’s just an act,” Oishi warned. “You have to stay strong and keep your wits. Kira is a careful bastard. Even after he thinks he’s safe, he’ll still keep troops around him. We’ll have to fight. You need to be ready.

  “We also need someone to spy on Kira, to determine the best place and time to attack.” Oishi chose three of the cleverest men. “Learn his routine. Cultivate some informants. If he’s spying on us, we need to be aware. And we’d better split up, so he won’t guess that we’re conspiring against him.” He divided the men into three groups that would stage themselves in Osaka, Kamakura, and Miyako.

  “How will we keep in contact?” one of the spies asked.

  “Chikara and I will stay in Edo,” Oishi said. “Send me messages here unless I give you other instructions. Everyone let me know where you can be reached. I’ll let you know when it’s time to act.” He rose. “Are we understood?”

  The men stood and said in unison, “Yes.” Chikara felt their spirits and his swell with a sense of destiny.

  “Then farewell,” Oishi said, “until we meet again.”

  Time passed. His campaign to reinstate the house of Asano failed. His spies reported that Kira was still vigilant about security. The Asano ronin were scattered across Japan. One night in the early summer of the year after Lord Asano’s death, Chikara and his parents were sitting by the hearth, his young sisters asleep in a corner, when there was a knock at the door. Oishi let in Kinemon, one of the spies.

  “I’ve come to warn you,” Kinemon said. “Kira is suspicious. He’s been making inquiries about you. He thinks you’re up to something. I heard that he plans to have you framed for some kind of crime and exiled to Sado Island.”

  Horror filled Chikara. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’ll allay Kira’s suspicions.” Oishi stood, calm and resigned. “I will leave Edo. Tonight.”

  Chikara’s mother stared in shock and grief at his father. She said, “Please don’t leave me!”

  “My dearest,” Oishi said tenderly. “You knew this day would come.”

  She was the only person outside the group of ronin who knew about the plan. “But not so soon.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “You know what I have to do,” Oishi said. “You know it’s against the law. To save you and our children from sharing my punishment, I must sever my ties with you.” He spoke with pain and reluctance. “I will obtain a divorce.”

  Ukihashi wept, but she didn’t protest. She understood her husband’s obligations.

  Oishi said to Chikara, “You can come with me, or you can stay and take care of your mother and sisters.”

  Chikara understood that this was the biggest decision he would ever have to make. His mother sobbed. They both knew where his duty lay. Without hesitation he said, “I’ll go with you, Father.”

  As Chikara and his father packed a few belongings, Oishi said, “We won’t wake the girls.”

  “What shall I tell them?” Ukihashi asked.

  Oishi held her hands, looked into her eyes. “People will say terrible things about me. They’ll probably be true. But I swear that no matter what I do, I love you and our girls. Tell them that. Remember.”

  Ukihashi whispered, “I will.” She embraced him, then Chikara, for the last time.

  Oishi and Chikara traveled to Miyako. That summer, at a teahouse named Ichiriki, they secretly met up with nineteen ronin that Oishi had sent there. The men had become laborers, traders, or monks. None sported the trappings of their former class. Oishi and Chikara had left their swords at their lodgings; hats covered their crowns, where stubble had begun to grow. After greetings and toasts, Oishi said, “Let’s take an oath.” He raised his fist. “I swear, on my ancestors’ graves, to deliver Kira to justice and avenge Lord Asano.”

  Chikara’s and everyone else’s fists shot into the air. Voices solemnly repeated the oath. A foreboding silence fell. Then one of the men said, “Why have you come, Oishi-san? I thought you were going to stay in Edo until it’s time for the deed to be done.” When Oishi explained, the man said, “Kira has spies in Miyako, too. They’re always watching us. They’re bound to find out that you’re here.”

  “I’ll give them something to report.”

  The next day Oishi began frequenting the teahouses, where he pretended to drink too much. He became loud and obnoxious; he picked fights. He took a mistre
ss, a young girl named Okaru, who was too stupid to realize that she was just part of his act. One day he poured wine over himself, then collapsed on the street, in a feigned, drunken stupor.

  Chikara waited nearby, watching people jeer at Oishi. A man with a cross face stopped and said, “Oishi-san? Is that you? Why are you lying in the gutter? What happened?” He recoiled in disgust. “The rumors are true, then. You’ve become a bum.” He announced, “This is Oishi Kuranosuke, former retainer to Lord Asano. He doesn’t have the courage to avenge his master’s death. Faithless beast!” He trampled on Oishi and spat in his face. “You are unworthy of the name of samurai!”

  Oishi signaled Chikara to stand back while a crowd joined in the taunting, kicking, and spitting. His plan to defame himself worked. The winter after he and Chikara left Edo, they learned, from their own spies there, that Kira thought he had nothing to fear from the Asano ronin. His estate was no longer as heavily guarded as a fort. It was time.

  Oishi contacted the ronin who’d gone to other cities. Forty-seven men, counting Oishi and Chikara, still remained loyal. They returned to Edo, one by one, anonymously and inconspicuously, and gathered at a cheap inn.

  “I’ve found out Kira is having a banquet at his house tomorrow,” Kinemon said. “He and his men are sure to drink so much that they’ll be easy targets.”

  “We’ll attack late tomorrow night,” Oishi decided.

  Kinemon unrolled a large sheet of paper on the table. “Here are the plans for the house.”

  “How did you get them?”

  “I married the daughter of the man who built Kira’s estate. I stole the plans from his office.”

  Reviewing the plans, Oishi discovered the secret exit in Kira’s bedchamber. The forty-seven ronin checked the equipment they’d brought; they settled on their strategy. Oishi looked around the table and said, “You can back out if you want.”