The pounding of feet coming up the hallway reassured Kumogiri. Now numbers were on his side. His confidence grew as he tried to force his fear down. The entire off-duty squad of police officers fanned out on either side of their yoriki. Juttes were in everyone’s hands. They were looking upon the wounded doshin and, wanting revenge, raised their juttes over their heads. Kumogiri managed to smile to himself. Police everywhere rallied when one of their own was injured. He would have these two ronin killed slowly before the night was over.

  Hideki spoke to Jubei. “I’m so glad we approached this mission with professionalism and have not let our personal feelings get in the way.”

  “Sorry, the sight of him made me angry. When he struck, I reacted with reflex.”

  “Yes, well, try to keep your temper in check while we conduct official business,” Then, turning to the yoriki, he asked, “What is your name?”

  “I am Kumogiri Denjiro, yoriki of the south magistrate and these are my policemen.” He did not bow.

  Hideki bowed just his head. “I am Yoshinobu Hideki, cousin to the shogun and younger brother to the new south magistrate.”

  The juttes that were so threatening a moment ago drooped with Hideki’s introduction. Many of the police officers looked to their yoriki for guidance.

  Hideki moved his head in Jubei’s direction. “My friend here is Yagyu Jubei, son of the chamberlain to the shogun, head of the Shinkage-ryu fencing school, former fencing master to the Tokugawa.”

  At Jubei’s introduction, the police officers physically shrunk back.

  “Nonsense,” Kumogiri said. “Anyone can claim to be of high birth. Where is your proof?” he demanded.

  “I thought you were going to take some convincing,” Hideki said. He reached into his kimono, removed a large folded paper, and held it aloft for all to see.

  “Do you recognize this? On your knees! On your knees before the emblem of the shogun’s representative!” Hideki commanded loudly.

  There were sharp intakes of breath and the clanging of juttes striking the hardwood as knees and hands and foreheads touched the floor. The large golden emblem on the outside of the folded paper was the mon of the Tokugawa family. It was the golden hollyhock. No one would dare use it falsely. Even Kumogiri was on his knees bowing deeply.

  Using the same loud voice, Hideki commanded, “Two of you, get this fool to a bed and send for a doctor. If he lives, he can use his good hand to empty the honey buckets.”

  The one-handed doshin exited with cloth rags tied to his stump to stem the flow of blood. Hideki stepped closer to the group, careful not to step in the small lake of the doshin’s blood.

  “Kumogiri Denjiro, I will leave this document with you. You can waste time comparing the signature with the written directive you received yesterday alerting you to my brother’s posting as magistrate. Jubei-sama and I have just eaten our noon meal. Therefore, we are in the hour of the horse,” identifying the time period between 11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. “My brother and his advisors will arrive in the hour of the monkey,” referring now to the time period between 3:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m., “for an inspection of the Hatchobori.

  “I have given my brother my report on your villainous ways, but he will have to make up his own mind. You have some time to clean up the place for his arrival. I would advise all the traitorous thieves and bullies among you to turn in your juttes and go back to your other lines of work. My brother does not take bribes and will not be flattered. Either you are an honest police officer or you can leave today without reprisal. But if you stay and continue to be crooked, you will be punished severely,” Hideki concluded.

  Jubei stepped around to Hideki’s left toward the prostrate Kumogiri. “You do not know how badly I want to kill you and string your intestines along the street. You can thank Buddha and the Yoshinobu for your life. But if I see you on the street, you had better turn and run, or I will have your head on a stick in front of this building,” His warning completed, Jubei turned and strode to the entrance.

  “Okay, I think that concludes our business,” Hideki said and dropped the official decree in the pool of blood at his feet.

  At the entrance, he sat down to strap on his sandals. Hideki looked up at Jubei, who had already donned is footwear. “Jubei-sama, I am not used to being the voice of reason and restraint. With you along I have to assume new roles.”

  “I am sorry Hideki. Every time I think of the humiliation and injury I suffered at their hands, I want to kill them all,” Jubei growled.

  “I understand that, Jubei. Believe me I do. It offends your samurai pride. Nevertheless, we have to think of Nagamasa. We are working toward a higher goal here.”

  Jubei smiled. “You are my junior in years, but my senior in maturity. Maybe I need to study under Musashi.”

  “Like I said, that could be arranged. Now let’s go find Naga.”

  Chapter 16: Saving the Five Families

  “Jii-sama, sumimasin,” Yoshi apologized.

  The old man almost jumped from his low desk where he had been reading. “Yoshi! You startled me. I will never understand how you just seem to materialize,” Jii said in exasperation.

  “Sorry to disturb you Lord, but I need a few minutes of your time.”

  Jii placed the scroll he had been reading on the low desk before him. “You are a valued counselor to the family. Of course, I have time for you. Sit down.”

  Yoshi moved onto the tatami in his tabi from the hardwood entrance, took up a position opposite the old man, and sat cross-legged in the spot designated. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “What is it? Do you need more money?” Jii asked.

  “What? No, no, I’ve got plenty of money.”

  “What then? Do you want to bring your young wife and family to Edo?” Jii guessed.

  “Oh no, Jii-sama; they are already here.”

  “Oh? Why have I not met them? Why don’t you move them into the compound. There is plenty of room.”

  “Thank you, Lord; we can talk about them later. What I want to discuss has to do with your grandsons and the contract on their lives,” Yoshi said.

  “Okay,” Jii said, repositioning from the folded-legs position to the informal cross-legged posture of Yoshi. “Now you’ve got my attention.”

  “Lord, I have a plan to cancel the assassination contract on Hideki and Naga.”

  Jii arched an eyebrow. “Really? I thought Ninjas didn’t cancel contracts?”

  “Normally you are correct. But these are not normal times,” Yoshi said.

  “What would make them cancel the contract?”

  “We would have to give them something more valuable than Hideki and Naga,” Yoshi said.

  “I don’t have anything more valuable than my grandsons,” the old man said firmly.

  “They may think you do if we broach the subject carefully.”

  “Do they suspect you’ve switched sides?” Jii asked.

  “I am sure they do.”

  Jii’s gaze was focused and intent. “What makes you think so?”

  “I’ve been here too long and no one has died,” Yoshi said. “Besides, I have been summoned to two meetings with the Five Families which I have ignored. They will suspect me for sure.”

  “You’ve been summoned again, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this time you plan to go?” Jii asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You know they’ll kill you?” Jii asked matter-of-factly.

  “Most likely they will try, but only if I don’t go prepared with a good plan and something valuable to trade,” Yoshi said.

  “What do you plan to trade?” Jii asked.

  “You.”

  Jii covered his initial surprise. Then he looked Yoshi in the eyes. “Maybe I’d better hear this plan.”

  Yoshi walked bent over. On his back were tree branches broken into short lengths and placed in a large wicker basket. The basket rode on his back. One thumb tucked into one of the rope shoulder harnesses kept the basket in place and the other gripped a gnarled walking stick. His dress was that of a peasant. He wore straw sandals without tabi. His legs and feet were dirty. On his lower torso he wore the knee-length monpe or cloth pants. There were holes in the knees and tears on the bottom. A hippari, or short jacket stopping at the waist and ending at the elbows, covered his upper torso. It too had seen better days.

  A dirty cloth of indistinguishable color covered his head. The cloth started just above his eyebrows and ended tied behind his head with a flap over the knot. It covered most of his hair. He had carefully placed lines on his face with charcoal and rouge to create the illusion of age. His fingers looked crooked with rheumatism, and the backs of his hands sported carefully-crafted liver spots, a trick of the rouge and charcoal combination.

  He walked as if the weight of the world was on his old back. His gait barely kept up with the flow of people. He stopped every so often to try to contend with the heavy load. No one paid him any attention. He was just another wood carrier returning to his humble shack somewhere on the edge of town with the remnants of what Edo housewives had not purchased.

  He would probably stop at the Zojoji Temple to pray for a lighter load and more buyers tomorrow. At least, that is what everyone who saw him would think. Yoshi hoped no one would think of him at all. He was invisible in the evening throng of people who were focused on home and an evening meal.

  Yoshi slowly and methodically passed through the large three-storied red gates with their red-tiled roofs marking the entrance to the temple grounds. The triple pathways were huge with enough width to allow three horses abreast to enter into any of the three double gates. Once through the gates, a very wide stone pathway wound its way through several acres of trees and buildings.

  On either side of the pathway, meticulously attended dirt areas with large evergreen trees encased the grounds. Each one had its own rail fence. Yoshi slowly moved past the large, cast-iron temple bell that hung vertically from its own pavilion of stout cedar poles. Buddhist prayers written on paper strips festooned the wood. The evening breeze made them dance and send the prayers to the Buddha. Passing the bell, he noticed a young woman pouring water from a wooden ladle over a stone jizo statue of the Buddha, incanting a blessing for a loved one.

  Yoshi had to force his mind to be patient. This walk to the temple was taking a very long time. He had to remain invisible if he was going to survey the area without detection.

  Next, he passed row after row of stone and wooden jizos about two shaku in height, just a little over knee high. Flowers and cloth hats adorned many. Each one reminded someone of a loved one lost.

  Finally, he could see his destination. The Ankokuden was a two-storied, wooden building with the pagoda double roof sloping down from its peak and then slightly upward again. On the end of the spine of the roof, he could just make out the golden temple dogs in the fading light. He took his time climbing the steps, resting every fourth and then seventh step.

  Once inside, he took care squatting down and letting the large basket come to rest on the floor in the reception area, then extricated his shoulders from the load. He removed his sandals and moved into the main temple room. The main area was small by temple standards, made smaller by the spate of beautifully carved furniture and gold flowers that gilded the statue of the Buddha on the far wall. Many candles and lamps reflected off the ornate, wooden shrine encasing the Buddha, making it appear dark. Hence, the townspeople called it the Black Buddha. Ieyasu, the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate, had made it his family temple. As Edo grew, so grew the items donated. Now it looked more like a warehouse than a shrine.

  However, Yoshi was interested in neither the architecture nor the furniture except when it provided him good cover and concealment. He moved to the first room off the main hall on the right in the bent and limping gait of an old man. He placed his hand on the sliding door and stopped to listen. He slid the door back and entered, closing the door behind him. He moved to the center of the room where a small fire pit presented itself. He sat down cross-legged and waited. Reaching into his jacket, he extracted a pipe and tobacco and lit it from a small lantern resting on the sand. Two bowls later, his haragai alerted him to his visitors.

  “Welcome, head of the Five Families and Sachi,” he said to no one.

  Both Sachi and her father dropped lightly to the floor.

  “So, you had the courage to show yourself, traitor,” Sachi challenged.

  “I have betrayed no one.”

  “Then why are the Yoshinobu not dead?” she demanded.

  “Because it would not be in your best interest to do so,” Yoshi explained.

  “You do not know your place. Such decisions are not yours to make,” she said.

  She was dressed like her father in white pilgrim’s garb. Neither wore hats. Both carried long staffs, but the usual rings at the top were missing.

  “I would think you would thank me for not executing the Yoshinobu.”

  “Why would you think that?” she asked.

  “Because your destinies are linked,” Yoshi said.

  “What are you babbling about, traitor?”

  “I merely state what you have already discovered,” Yoshi replied, shaking burnt ashes into the pit. The motion drew the pair’s eyes to the pipe while his other hand drew two throwing darts from the hem of his pants. “If you assassinate the Yoshinobu, you are next.”

  Both looked but did not speak. “I thought so,” Yoshi said. “You have seen it yourselves. If you had not, you would not be the head of the Five Families.”

  “You have broken a contract. You know the penalty. You cannot think we will let you walk out of here. Even you are not that arrogant,” she said, not concealing her disgust.

  “Oh, you may be foolish enough to try,” Yoshi said.

  “What?” Sachi laughed. “You are not so deranged as to believe you can survive combat with my father and me? Besides, one whistle and there will be ten family members here.”

  Yoshi looked into the old man’s eyes. “Were he in his prime, no, probably not. Now? Yes! I can defeat you both.”

  “What arrogance. I’ve waited a long time for this you country bumpkin. You never should have been selected,” she said before placing her fingers to her mouth and whistling a shrill blast.

  Nothing happened. No one came. She whistled again. Still nothing happened.

  “Save your breath daughter,” the old man said. “I believe Yoshi has disabled our reserves.”

  Sachi’s eyes grew wide with anger. “Have you killed all ten?”

  “You count poorly Sachi. There were twelve. But to answer your question, no, they are not dead. Not if my instructions were followed.”

  She turned sideways to Yoshi and flashed a fierce gaze. “So what is it to be, traitor, a fight to the death?”

  “By the Buddha, no!” Yoshi said. “And please do not turn back and throw that shuriken in your left hand.”

  “Be still girl,” the old man said. “We are probably surrounded now; we have no reserves and you are trying to bait a very skilled killer. Let’s hear what he has to say and then judge what kind of a man he is.”

  “Thank you,” Yoshi said. “I am here to offer a solution to both our problems.”

  “What kind of a problem do we have?” asked Sachi, pacing around the room behind her father as she scanned the room, searching for any advantage.

  “Come sit beside your father, Sachi. I did not come to harm either of you.”

  Sachi made no move to obey. “Sit daughter,” the old man ordered, and she did.

  “You were hired to kill the Yoshinobu by someone in Edo castle.” Yoshi spoke in calm and deliberate tones. He did not expect an answer and was not disappointed. “It was either a member of the Roju or Tairo. The Fox Gang roams the country with impunity, killing Tokugawa heirs and making the crime look like a robbery and murder. Nevertheless, the Fox Gang is ninja; believe me, I know. I have fought with them.”

  “Is there a point to this story?” Sachi demanded.

  “The Fox Gang is being run by the same person or persons who hired you to kill the Yoshinobu. The Yoshinobu are Shinpan. They are Tokugawa. No matter who becomes the next shogun, this can only end in one way for the Five Families. If the Fox Gang is successful and their candidate takes over, the Fox Gang will become the new Ometsuke government spies. The Iga and Koga ninja will have one last mission. That is to find you and eradicate the Five Families. Whoever engineered this kyodai goroshi will want no loose ends.

  “The second scenario is that the Yoshinobu survive. Then you are exposed as contracting to kill a Tokugawa. Hittori Hanzo will then send the Iga and Koga ninja to eliminate you as a threat to the government. Either way you die.”

  At the mention of Hittori Hanzo, Sachi’s eyes got large. “Hittori Hanzo knows about us?” she asked.

  “Of course he does. If the hunt for the Fox Gang was not consuming all his time, you would be dead already.”

  “How do you know this?” Sachi asked.

  “He told me so,” Yoshi said.

  “Hittori Hanzo actually talks to you?”

  “Yes, we have spoken several times,” Yoshi said.

  “I think you boast too much. You are just a little man who has gotten a position in the Yoshinobu household, and now you think yourself grand.”

  Yoshi looked directly at her. “How can the sempai of the Five Families be so stupid?”

  Sachi started to reply when her father’s sharp stare cut her off. The old man turned back to Yoshi, “Why do you think she is my sempai?”

  Sachi’s look of contempt and anger turned to fear. She shook her head from side to side pleading for Yoshi not to betray her. She was not supposed to have revealed herself to him the night they shared his shack. Yoshi shook his head. Her pride would get her killed one day.